Looking At Forever (The Rock Gods Book 4) (25 page)

“Fuckkkkkk,” Wheland sighed, and fell down on top of Rooster’s chest. His forehead rolled against Rooster’s. He was gasping for breath and trying to calm them both through the aftershocks; his fingers running through the soft, damp waves of Rooster’s hair. “Baby, I love you,” Wheland said.

Rooster’s arm wrapped around Wheland’s shoulders. “Love you, too,” Rooster said.

Wheland eased himself out of Rooster’s body and rolled to his side, pulling Rooster close to him. “Are you still okay with going bare?” Wheland asked.

Rooster chuckled. “Kind of late for second thoughts. Don’t you think?” Rooster asked.

They both laughed and then the smile faded from Wheland’s face.

“Thank you for taking that step with me,” Wheland said.

“You’re the only one I’d do it with,” Rooster said.

Wheland and Rooster slept late the next morning; comfortably wrapped around each other. They showered together, then dressed in jeans and t-shirts. By the time they finally emerged from Wheland’s room everyone was already up, had eaten breakfast, and were packing up their things in preparation to hit the road for the next stop on the tour. Wheland saw the suitcases and backpacks sitting by the door to the suite and swallowed hard. It was a punch to the gut, knowing how quickly his time with Rooster was coming to an end.

Rooster ran his fingers up the length of Wheland’s back and squeezed the tight muscle at his nape. Wheland leaned in to the touch; already missing what he knew would be gone in just a few short hours. Rooster pressed his lips to the shell of Wheland’s ear. Wheland heard the soft intake of air and Rooster’s warm exhale against his skin.

God, what you fucking do to me.

“Don’t think about it,” Rooster said softly.

Wheland caught Rooster’s eyes. “You know what I’m thinking?”

“I saw you look over at the bags by the door and I felt your body tense,” Rooster said.

Wheland smiled. They were so tuned in to each other’s every nuance, every mood, and facial expression. He should have expected Rooster would know how sick he was over the thought of him flying back to L.A. today.

“It’s okay,” Rooster said. “We’ll have breakfast and start the day same as any other.”

Wheland shook his head and opened his mouth to dispute what Rooster had said, but Rooster covered his mouth with his and sucked the words right out of his throat.

“Didn’t you two get enough of each other last night?” Alex asked, from where he was seated on the living room couch.

Wheland’s eyes flicked to Alex. The smile he saw stretching Alex’s lips let him know how supportive they all were of him and Rooster. Wheland was happy to see it because he knew he’d be relying heavily on that support while trying to get through the dark days he knew were ahead of him.

Wheland turned back to Rooster and their gaze held. There was no way in hell he wanted to be on this tour without Rooster. He had no clue how he’d emotionally survive. He blinked forcing the feelings bubbling to the surface, and Rooster set his forehead to Wheland’s.

“I swear this will all work out,” Rooster whispered. “We’ll get through it and I’ll come back as soon as I get another break from the recording.”

“Promise?” Wheland asked.

“Absolutely,” Rooster said. “Go make us some coffee and I’ll get my shit packed and join you.”

Wheland watched Rooster walk back in to the bedroom and closed his eyes. A moment later, Cooper draped an arm around Wheland’s shoulders.

“We’ll all here for you,” Cooper said to Wheland. “We’ll keep you so busy over the next few weeks you’ll forget all about your shiny new toy.”

Wheland did his best to laugh and gave Cooper a shove away from him. “Fuck you,” Wheland said. “I don’t think I’ll need your kind of distractions.”

“Oh, I think you’ll love exactly what we have to offer,” Cooper said.

Wheland looked skeptically around the room. He knew these people loved him like family and their heart was in the right place. They were the ones who knew him best and those he could trust the most, so why did Cooper’s declaration scare him just a little bit?

“I’ll be fine,” Wheland said.

“That’s what you say now,” Alex said with a wink.

Why did Wheland have the feeling this was going to be one, long as fuck tour?

Chapter Twenty

It didn’t take long to get to their next venue in Philadelphia. Wheland kept to himself on the tour bus, sitting at the kitchen table with his ear buds in and doing his best to ignore the few of his bandmates that attempted conversation with him, except for Alex. When Alex sat down, Wheland took out his ear buds. That’s just something you did for Alex. He trumped all the others.

“You doing okay?” Alex asked Wheland.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Wheland asked.

“Because you had a helluva weekend with Rooster and now he’s on his way back to the West Coast,” Alex said. “I’m hoping his absence won’t fuck with your head to the point it reflects in your performance on stage.”

“Has shit like that ever affected my playing?” Wheland asked.

“You’ve never been serious with anyone before Rooster,” Alex said.

“How do you know that?” Wheland asked. He knew it was a stupid question and because of that he didn’t bother to stop the smile that crept across his face.

“It’s cool,” Alex said. “I like the fact we all seem to be settling down.” Alex ran his fingers through his hair and chuckled. “We started trying for a baby a while ago,” Alex said.

“What? You mean the three of you?”

Alex nodded and smiled. “Yep. How’s that for settling down?” he chuckled. “So far no luck, but one of these days it’ll take and then I’ll probably shit my pants.”

Wheland set his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “If you don’t mind me asking, how’s that work – you know, with you and Chase? Who’s gonna be the daddy?”

“That’s a valid question,” Alex said. “We talked about it and decided it didn’t matter who proved to be the biological father because Chase and I would both be fathers to this child. The DNA wouldn’t establish that for us. So, we’ll both have a... hand in this baby making process, but we won’t know who the actual daddy is.”

Wheland loved the smile that lifted Alex’s lips and the sparkle dancing in his eyes. In all the years he’d known Alex, he’d never seen him happier. The love pouring from him for his partners was awe inspiring. It made Wheland wonder if he might have something like this with Rooster one day. The thought of that had Wheland’s heart banging harder behind his ribs.

“A kid? Jesus! That
is
serious,” Wheland said. “All these years of trying
not
to get someone pregnant and now you’re deliberately going for it. It’s hard to wrap my brain around that.”

“I know,” Alex said. “Me, too, but we want kids and Danni says she’s not getting any younger.”

“Cool,” Wheland said, a foolish grin lighting up his face. “Does that mean I’ll be an honorary uncle?”

“We’re family. You’ll be a real uncle,” Alex said, then lowered his voice. “We’re not making an announcement about the baby making, so keep that to yourself for now. When it happens and it’s official, we’ll tell everyone.”

“You got it,” Wheland said.

Alex grinned again and stood up from the table, then walked down the aisle toward the front to talk to their bus driver. Wheland inhaled deeply, digesting what Alex had told him. It seemed all of their lives were changing in big ways. Maybe all of them except for Tony and Jared. Wheland glanced over his shoulder and saw Tony and Jared huddled together on the leather couch in the living room space of the bus playing some sort of video game on the flat screen television mounted above them on the wall.

Wheland smirked at what he saw. Tony and Jared looked cozy together. That was the best way to describe it. The shoulder bumps exchanged between them and the subtle touches; more and more Wheland was beginning to think Rooster had the right idea about them. Maybe things were changing for all of them after all.

His thoughts shifted to Rooster. His absence felt so final, like he’d never have the opportunity to see Rooster again. He knew that scenario was unlikely since they’d finally declared their love for each other. Wheland smiled at the memory of their shower confession. He was relieved to have it all out on the table now. At least he knew they were both on the same page with this relationship. But, the idea Rooster could love him was surreal.

Wheland had hoped one day he’d find someone special to plan a future with, but he never expected it to be a man or it being Rooster. Six months ago, he would have laughed at the absurdity of him falling hard for a man. Now, he couldn’t imagine it being any different, nor could he imagine this happening with anyone other than Rooster. Rooster was his other half. He was sure of it.

Wheland pulled out his phone and typed a quick text message to Rooster. It was short and sweet, simply saying:
Love you.
A moment later Wheland got a response.

Love you, too. Boarding plane. I’ll call when I get home.

Would he ever get tired of hearing Rooster say he loved him? Probably not. Even seeing it typed out in a text message got his heart racing. This was new and shiny and so very exciting for him. All he could do was work hard at making sure it stayed just like this every day forward.

That one simple thought carried Wheland through the sold-out show at the Wells Fargo Center in Philly and into the after party downtown at a club called Halo. Shortly after arriving at the club, he received a text message from Rooster. Rooster was updating Wheland saying he’d arrived at LAX and was headed home. Jesus, he loved the sound of that and knowing it was a home they were sharing together. The only problem with that was, Wheland wouldn’t be back to that home anytime soon to share that space with Rooster and that ripped his heart out of his chest.

Wheland said hello to a few people at the club party and quickly drained his bottle of beer, then he found Fizzbo and told him he wanted to head back to the hotel. Ever since the disturbance in the hallway on their opening night with the homophobic roadie, Wheland had been careful to follow the rules set in place by their security team. After all, that’s what they were paying them to do: watch their backs. Wheland said good-bye to the rest of his band and left the party with Fizzbo by his side. Since Wheland was alone this time, Fizzbo sat in the back of the town car with him. They made small talk during the short ride back to the hotel, but Wheland’s main focus was on Rooster. He couldn’t wait to get back to his room to call Rooster.

As soon as Wheland checked in to his private room at the Four Seasons Hotel, he pressed the speed dial button for Rooster’s cell.

“Hey, babe,” Wheland said.

“How was the Philly show?” Rooster asked.

“Incredible crowd,” Wheland said. “We nailed the encore this time, but I still need help with Devil’s Ladder. It’s a Black Ice song, so I may ask Dante to show me a few fingerings on that one.”

“The solo on that song is intense,” Rooster said.

“The concert version is even worse,” Wheland said. “Tonight Dante and I played that solo for a solid seven minutes.”

Rooster laughed softly. “Were your fingers bleeding afterward?”

“It felt like they should have been,” Wheland said. “I guess the calluses I have are thick enough to prevent serious damage.”

“I love the way those calloused fingers feel on my skin,” Rooster said, his voice a soft purr.

Wheland’s cock flexed inside the confines of his pants from Rooster’s heated statement. “Are you back at the house yet?” Wheland asked.

“Almost,” Rooster said. “I’m at the gate punching in the security code.”

“Feel like video chatting?” Wheland asked. His palm pressed against the erection straining behind his zipper.

“Video chatting?”

“Yeah, I need to see your gorgeous face,” Wheland said. “And that big, fat cock.”

“Hmmm, someone’s horny,” Rooster said.

“For you? Always,” Wheland said.

Wheland heard some beeping noises, then Rooster’s voice came through the phone again.

“Okay, I’m inside your house,” Rooster said.

“
Our
house, babe.”

“Well, for this place to truly be
our
house, I need to start contributing to the bills,” Rooster said.

“Discussions like that are a sure way to kill a good boner and are a total buzz kill,” Wheland said.

Rooster smiled at Wheland’s comment. Wheland was nothing less than honest, but if Rooster really was to be considered something other than a houseguest, he needed to feel like he was contributing.

“Agreed, but we do need to talk about that eventually,” Rooster said.

“Fine, and we will. But, right now I want to talk about the big hard-on I have for you,” Wheland said.

Rooster laughed out loud. “What a long fucking trip it is flying coast to coast,” Rooster said. “I’m exhausted.”

“Are you too tired to talk to me?” Wheland asked.

“I’m never too tired for you, babe.”

“Good to know,” Wheland said. “So, about my boner...”

Rooster and Wheland slipped in to a routine of sorts, neither one liking it, but managing as best they could while missing the other. The first week was the worst, with Wheland zig-zagging along the eastern states and Rooster lonely on the opposite coast. They chatted several times a day and sometimes ended the day with a sexy video chat before they fell asleep. It was something to keep them connected, and a whole lot better than nothing, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

Rooster did his best to keep himself busy, spending countless hours at the recording studio working with his band and sometimes laying tracks by himself. On his way back to Wheland’s house after a recording session, Rooster dialed the phone number for his parents, Sophie and Marcos. Rooster had been close to his family before the divorce. His parents had loved Priscilla, still did, and couldn’t understand why the marriage hadn’t worked. Cilla took a little too much pleasure in telling his parents about his attraction for men. What she did was unfair and it had taken Rooster a long time to regain a reasonable relationship with them. Even now, some of their conversations leaned toward the awkward or strained categories, but Rooster kept at it because they were his parents.

It wasn’t like Sophie or Marcos had a problem with gays. It was more they couldn’t understand it for their son. They had not ever seen him with a man, nor had they heard him ever talk about one in a romantic way. Rooster’s father had a daily mantra. “You were always with women, Salvatore. Why suddenly men?” Rooster knew there was nothing sudden about it. It was more like his shadowy alter ego, always following him around, lurking in the dark corners, until it refused to stay hidden any longer. But, how in hell did you explain that to your parents? All he could do is hope one day they would come to understand and fully accept him as he was: their gay son. Until that day arrived, Rooster would continue with the phone calls and random visits when he could work either into his schedule.

He’d managed one phone call to them just after he’d moved into Wheland’s house, but still hadn’t been home for a visit, nor had he mentioned Wheland to them. Rooster’s parent’s house was about two hours north west of Los Angeles, not too far from the impressive cliffs and bluffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean. This hadn’t been Rooster’s childhood home, but still home to him nonetheless.

Rooster’s father had a birthday coming up and Rooster thought he might try and tie in a visit to see them around his dad’s birthday. His phone call home today was to see if he could make that happen. On the third ring, his mother answered the call.

“Salvatore, sweetheart,” Rooster’s mother said. “It’s so good to hear from you.”

“You, too, Mom,” Rooster said. No matter how many times he’d asked her not to call him by his full name, she insisted on doing it. He’d stopped trying years ago because her explanation was always the same. Rooster was given the name of her father; a proud man of honor; a man loved by all who knew him, and she wanted her son to have this name, too. It was simple enough to deal with, since by the time he became a teenager all his friends were calling him Rooster. No one in his life seemed to use his abbreviated name: Sonny.

Except for Wheland.

Rooster loved having that be special between them. Same as him calling Wheland by his first name. Knowing he was the only one Wheland allowed to use that name meant something and Rooster loved it. He also loved when Wheland corrected anyone else that called him Mick.

“Salvatore?” his mother asked, pulling Rooster out of his thoughts.