Guarding January (11 page)

“I haven’t eaten meat in a long time.” Little vegan Rye baby. God, the cuteness of that image.

“No? I have a lot of mass to feed. And I’ll admit that I like my red meat a lot.”

“Sometimes I wish I could just not eat, ever again.”

“When you’re tired, I bet.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Rye knew him.

“Ironically, that’s when you need it the most.”

“Do you…. Do you get tired of me? I do, sometimes. I was more fun, on the uppers.”

“You were out of your mind on the uppers. I don’t need you to entertain me, Jeff. And I like you just how you are.”

God, he was a loser, but Jeff held on to the words like a drowning man.

A soft kiss was pressed to the side of his head. “This is the best job I ever took.”

“I kind of love you, man. Really.” Stupid, but true.

“Me too.”

“We’re a little stupid, you and me.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s the smartest thing either of us has ever done.”

“Maybe. We’ll see.” He didn’t think it would really matter.

“So we’ll hold on to each other, and you’ll make it through this tour.”

“I hope so.” Jeff hoped a lot of things.

“You will.” Rye sounded so sure. He hoped Rye was right.

R
YE
GRABBED
hold of Jeff as he came off the stage after the second encore. Looming over Jeff, he then pushed through the people assembled there, going straight to the dressing room.

The place was lousy with groupies, and he put his mouth next to Jeff’s ear. “You need the toilet or anything before we go to the car?”

“Go.” Jeff was pouring with sweat, dripping with fake blood, and smelled like rot.

Grabbing hold of one shoulder, he loomed over Jeff again, getting them back out into the hallway and making the trip down the corridor to the back doors.

“Package on its way,” Rye told Big T, who was driving.

“Mailbox ready for package, boss.”

The crowd was still roaring in the stadium above, stomping and screaming. It was insane.

They hit the back door, and Big T opened it for them. He hustled Jeff in, the door slamming behind them. Seconds later they were on their way, Big T getting them out onto the road with a minimum of fuss.

“Here.” Rye put his hand in front of Jeff’s chin. “Spit out your teeth.”

Jeff nodded, pushing them out. Next were the fucking contacts. Rye had the containers for both with him. He slid the containers in his pockets and grabbed a couple of baby wipes, trying to deal with some of the blood smeared on Jeff’s face.

“How was the show? Did you enjoy it?” Jeff asked.

It had been… insane.

Blood and screaming guitars and smoke and props and Jeff flying on wires. “You know how I feel about Lord January, babe.” He wasn’t going to lie to Jeff.

“I know, but… at least say I was impressive.”

“Oh, you were very impressive. It was rather… amazing in a terrifying way.”

“That’s my job. Big, spooky vampire lord.”

“I think Jeff is far more compelling.”

“You’re biased.” Jeff leaned back, eyes closed, as he started to shiver, sweat drying.

“I am. Doesn’t mean it’s not true.” Rye hit the controls, heat blasting from the vents.

“I can still hear the music inside me.”

“Do you like it?”

“Like what?”

“The music. Do you like it at all?”

“I love music. I minored in music in college.”

“Yeah, you’d said. The vampire stuff, though. Does that really count as music?” He hoped he wasn’t being insulting.

“Sure it does. The lyrics are good, for the most part, and the music is solid—just ramped up, distorted.”

“Huh.”

They pulled up in the back of the hotel, and Big T went out to make sure the way was clear. A moment later he knocked on the door.

“Okay, let’s get you upstairs and into the shower,” Rye suggested.

“God, yes. Please. A long hot shower. I….” Jeff swayed, suddenly pale. “Rye. Sick.”

“Okay.” He pulled Jeff out of the SUV and supported him as he threw up on the ground. Rubbing gently, he soothed Jeff as best he could, Big T blocking them in case anyone was looking down the alley.

As soon as Jeff was done, he hurried the man upstairs.

“Sorry. So sorry.”

“Shh. It’s okay.” Rye went straight to the bathroom and began stripping Jeff’s clothes off.

The clothes were foul, heavy with sweat and makeup and stinking of smoke. Rye dumped them in the corner and got the shower going as Jeff brushed his teeth. After stripping himself down, he pulled Jeff into the shower with him.

This was going to be their routine for forty-nine more shows. Shit, they were all going to need to eat their Wheaties. He swore that Jeff had lost ten pounds just from one show.

He tilted Jeff’s face into the spray, supporting the slender body. The concert makeup didn’t come off as easily; it was so greasy. He kept at it, soaping and resoaping, rubbing.

Finally, Jeff’s face was clean, and Rye stared down at it, fingers tracing Jeff’s features.

“Hey.” Jeff smiled at him.

Smiling back, he slowly lowered his head and touched his lips gently to Jeff’s. It was the most gentle touch, just a chaste, easy kiss.

Then he grabbed the soap back up and washed the rest of Jeff.

J
EFF
STARED
at his cock, totally stunned that he was erect. He didn’t get hard-ons. He didn’t have the energy for it. He hadn’t gotten hard in months. Maybe longer.

He didn’t.

Huh.

He pulled his pants up and on, then headed out to play his guitar.

Rye was sitting on the big, ornate couch, frowning at his plate.

“What’s the matter?”

“They gave me sunny-side up eggs. I can’t eat sunny-side up eggs—they’re
looking
at me.”

“Oh.” Jeff went to the phone, hit the concierge number, and started screaming, going full-on asshole Lord January “get me more motherfucking eggs right now.” “There you go.”

Rye blinked at him. “You didn’t have to do that. I could have just eaten the bacon and toast—”

“I pay a fucking fortune for this room.” He grabbed his guitar and started playing, but his mind was going a million miles a minute.

“Hey.” Rye came and sat next to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He couldn’t meet Rye’s eyes.

Rye grabbed his chin, tilting his head up. “Tell me.”

“I got hard.” The demand surprised him so much, he answered.

“Oh.” Rye gave him a small smile. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“I don’t get erections anymore. It’s… unnerving.”

Rye stroked his cheek. “I think it means your body is healing from the drugs, from the starving.”

He opened his mouth to answer when a knock came to the door. “Your eggs are here.”

Rye kissed him again, quick and short. “Thank you.” Then he got up and went to the door.

A squeal came from behind the room service guy, and Jeff ran, hiding in the bathroom. He could hear Rye shouting—not the words, but Rye was angry.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. “Jeff, it’s me. Ollie Ollie Oxen Free, the room is safe.”

“Sorry. Sorry. Your eggs?” He opened the bathroom door.

“My eggs came with a half-dozen groupies. I told room service off, then I called the front desk and told them off.”

“Mean giant security guy.” He was actually a little tickled.

“That’s me.” Rye flexed. “Grrrr.”

“Go eat your eggs.” Jeff snickered, following Rye out into the main room.

“I’ll eat my eggs if you eat something too. I ordered you a bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.”

“I’ll try.” The last hotel had been nasty, and he’d refused any of the food. Maybe this one was better.

“If you don’t like the soup, I’ll get one of the guys to go pick up some tomatoes at the market, and I’ll make you some.” Rye took his hand and led him to the couch, sat with him.

“We’re back on the bus tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah. Although I’m tempted to put you on it tonight, right after the show.” Rye shoveled in a mouthful of eggs. “It feels more like home than these big hotels.”

“Yeah. I’d like that. The bus is home.”

“All right. I’ll call Barney and make sure he knows to have all his pretravel shit done before the show’s over. That way when everyone comes down to the busses, we’re already there. We’ll miss having to move you through the groupies and fans waiting to steal a touch.” Rye looked gleeful at that.

“Perfect. Then we can have our own bed.” He looked at the cheese in the sandwich. He wasn’t eating that. No. Way.

Rye caught his look and went over to his bag, pulled something out of it, and tossed it over. It turned out to be a bag of mixed nuts. “Have some of those—they’re good for you.” Then Rye grabbed his phone and began texting.

“Okay….” Jeff picked out the pecans and the cashews and, oh, pistachios.

“There.” Rye set his phone down. “Shopping list sent. The fridge in the bus will be restocked by this afternoon.”

“Good. I only want your soup.” He only wanted the not-from-a-can stuff.

“You’re going to give me a swelled head.”

“You’re already really big, Rye. Like really.”

Leaning against the couch, Rye chuckled. “All the better to keep you safe, my pretty.”

Jeff chuckled and ate another pecan before settling back again.

“I asked them to close the pool this morning. Roach and the boys are going to spend a bit of time in the lobby, centralize the fans so we can slip upstairs and use it unnoticed.” Rye looked pleased.

“You did that? Really?” Rye was good to him, truly. “That sounds fun.”

“It does, doesn’t it? Although if you tie your hair back and wear something with color, I bet no one would even realize who you play onstage.”

“I don’t have… do I have swim trunks?”

Rye gave him a grin. “Of course you do.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Thank Janie. I told her you needed a pair, and she made it happen.”

“You must think I’m useless.”

“Nope. I think you’re stressed, and you have the weight of this entire tour on your shoulders.”

Jeff searched Rye’s eyes, looking for the truth in the words. The blue eyes met his head-on. He pushed into Rye’s arms, hugging tight. Rye held him close, warm and solid and good. His body started to tighten, his cock beginning to fill, so he pulled away, the sensation unsure.

“What’s the matter?” Rye pushed his hair out of his face.

“Nothing. I’m okay.”

Rye looked into his face a moment longer. “Okay. Wanna go swim?”

“Uh-huh.” God, he was nervous.

Unnerved.

“Okay, I’ve got both our suits in my bag—figured it was better, just in case someone got snoopy in your stuff.”

“Cool.” He got up and paced to the window, to the door of the suite.

“You’re like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs today.”

Jeff nodded. “I am. I’m nervous. I’m—” He waved toward his groin. “Weird.”

“I’m still thinking a hard-on is a good thing. Your body is recovering from being a drug addict. It’s coming back.”

“It’s worrisome.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like having sex.”

“Then you’ve never done it right.”

“That’s what everybody says, Rye.” He chuckled, went over for another hug.

Rye held him close and whispered in his ear. “It’s true. Sex is fantastic.”

“It isn’t all that.”

“Maybe one day I’ll be able to change your mind about that.”

If anyone could, it would be Rye. “You convinced me to eat your soup.”

Rye’s laughter rubbed them together. “I did, indeed.”

He lifted his face, begging for a kiss. Rye gave it to him, gaze holding his as their mouths met softly. Jeff sighed. This connection made his belly ache, deep. Rye’s tongue flicked out and touched his lips. His tongue touched Rye’s, barely stroking it. Groaning, Rye touched his back. He liked how Rye tasted, the caress.

One big hand slid along his back, slowly up and down, leaving warmth and tingles in its wake. Jeff’s eyelids got heavy, too heavy to hold open, and the kiss went on and on.

Rye’s other hand cupped the back of his head, tilting him slightly as Rye’s tongue slipped between his lips. Jeff’s hands slid up Rye’s arms and wrapped around the huge, broad shoulders.

A low sound filled his mouth, and he could feel Rye’s breath brushing on his face. He arched, body pressing into Rye for a moment. That earned him another groan.

What a fascinating sound.

The hand on his back kept moving, warming up the bones of his spine. He leaned into it, almost like he was dancing to Rye’s music. In fact, Rye hummed for him, and the sounds and the touches and the kisses joined together like a beautiful harmony. His cock filled, going heavy and solid.

Oh God.

Rye just kept kissing him, filling him with a surprising amount of pleasure. Rye’s strength supported him, held him firm even when his knees buckled. Shifting him closer, Rye brought their bodies together, and Jeff could feel that Rye was hard too. Hot through their clothes. Hot and hard and big.

Like really big. Just like the rest of Rye.

Their lips parted, Rye resting their foreheads together and panting.

“It’s good?” He loved Rye’s eyes.

“I think so. I hope you do too.”

He nodded, grinned. “No one would believe it, that I liked necking.”

“I’m not planning on telling anyone. This is ours.”

“Our secret.” Jeff loved that.

“Yes.” Rye rubbed their noses together and took another kiss. This one was light, playful, making him giggle. Rye picked him up, squeezed him.

“One day, can we go to the mountains? Like a cabin? Just us?”

“Baby, we can do anything you want.”

“Okay. I want to go to the mountains together one day.”

“Sounds good.” Every day he spent with Rye felt good, strong. “So… swimming or more kissing?”

He sighed happily and leaned into Rye again. He could swim at home.

K
ISSING
J
EFF
was as easy as breathing.