Ruin Porn (10 page)

Fans needed a Twitter account to access the meet-ups, and Evin didn’t have one, let alone a cell phone that was even a bit smart. He had been left to watch the broadcasts after they were done and archived, usually at the library because his Internet connection in whatever rathole apartment he lived in at the time was shit. Now he was sitting in a hotel suite in Paris with the Detroit 3 doing one of those interviews. It was bizarre yet beginning to feel more normal than he ever would have expected.

All this fan insanity was constantly swirling around them, but when it was just the four of them, none of that existed. Within these walls, within the protection of the other members, they were just guys who liked to make music and taunt each other about stupid shit.

Ritchie rang the bell directly next to Miah’s ear, and Miah wheeled a fist back, punching Ritchie in the arm. “Guess that means the clock has started,” Miah began as Ritchie rubbed his biceps. “Four questions for Rez, for lack of a catchier title. You can thank Evin for the name change and the extra question,” Miah said to the screen.

“You’re welcome,” Evin croaked out as he watched the visitor count soar as each second passed.

“So this is Shonda,” Miah introduced. Shonda waved. “She’s going to make sure you’re all nice to us.”

She surveyed the screen. “I like this one to start. Where does the title
Ruin Porn
come from?”

They all looked to Miah. “That’s a good one, Shonda. I’d guess that a lot of you probably haven’t been to Detroit, but I’m sure you’ve heard about the auto company bankruptcies, the city’s corruption issues, and the destruction all of those events left in their wake. We have a lot of abandoned buildings and places where nature has taken back what was once urban. There are people who travel to the city to specifically take pictures of the pervasive disuse and wreckage of the city’s infrastructure. Detroiters call those shots of destruction ruin porn—because people get off on seeing what happens when civilization is left to rot. When something goes from being deeply loved to thoroughly forsaken, there’s curiosity. It’s human nature to want to witness the fall.”

“But blight isn’t the only thing in Detroit, and blight isn’t always ugly.” Finn’s voice was low, almost quiet enough that Evin had to wonder if anyone else would hear him.

“Exactly,” Miah nodded enthusiastically. “That’s why we named the album that. We own our ruin porn, we embrace it, and yet we also own that it’s our responsibility to learn from it and change.”

Ritchie slapped him on the back. “That’s really fucking deep, Miah.”

“Deep as a holy well, baby.”

Finn stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared at the ceiling, muttering, “I don’t even want to know what that is.” He tapped Shonda on the shoulder. “Can I ring the bell?” Miah swatted his hand away.

Shonda laughed as she peered at the screen. “Everyone wants to know what the bell is for. You want to explain, Ritchie?”

“I think that counts as one of our four questions.” A memory of Finn always being the one who kept time on the sessions came back to Evin. Finn wasn’t big on promo so of course it would be him making sure Ritchie and Miah didn’t spend a whole day fucking around with fans online.

Ritchie ruffled Evin’s hair. “It’s to keep the new guy under control, he’s pretty wild.”

Evin’s cheeks heated. “Nah, it’s so we can locate Finn when we have to drag him home at night.”

Evin chewed on the corner of his lip as Ritchie and Miah exploded into raucous laughter and Finn sat with his mouth agape. “You asshole,” he said with a smile.

“See, totally wild,” Ritchie said.

“We’ve got two more,” Shonda announced. She scanned down the list as the comments from Rezors continued to pop up.

“How about this one?” Ritchie pointed at the screen.

“I’m not showing off my ass,” Finn objected. “There’s nothing there anyway.”

Miah gave a sage nod. “There really isn’t. Someone wants to know if you get pedicures, Finn.”

“Every week,” Finn said, and Evin couldn’t tell whether Finn was fucking with them or serious. “That’s question three.”

Shonda rang the bell and laughed again. “Focus.”

Miah gave Shonda a wicked grin. “One of the Rezors thinks you should let us ring your bell.”

“All of you, then?” she volleyed back.

“I think that counts as question four,” Finn said.

“Nice try.” Shonda leaned her elbow on the desk and looked straight at Evin. “Along the same line, though, you’re still a mystery to most of us, Evin. So are you single?”

Miah prodded him in the side. “Yeah, Ev. Got a hot thing on the side?”

He’d known these type of questions would come up eventually, but he was in no way prepared to answer that today. Didn’t matter, he was going to have to get used to answering uncomfortable questions: with grace—or at least humor—and on the fly. Oh yeah, and to lie effectively in the process. For now, answers that were just a hint of truth were going to be the easiest to get past. He hitched his thumb over his shoulder at the lead guitarist sitting on the bed behind him and grinned.

“Just Finn.”

Finn punched him on the shoulder as the other guys guffawed, then waved good-bye, blew kisses, and Shonda signed off the Livestream.

“Over thirty thousand fans that time,” Sid said.

“Success,” Miah declared. “Let’s go out. Shonda, you want to come with?”

Her professional demeanor now much warmer, she accepted. “That would be fun.”

Evin didn’t realize he was still staring at the laptop until Ritchie was sitting next to him. “We all Skyped our families earlier. You want a turn, Ev?”

“Sure.” He nodded, despite it being a cold day in hell when he tried to call his parents without a scheduled appointment. “I’m going to see what they’re up to, then crash. Long day, right? Have fun out with Shonda.” He was mentally worn out from that one simple question and didn’t think he could deal with the possibility of interacting with any fans in person, let alone Finn right now.

So the Detroit 3 hit the bars and Evin hit the wall.

“W
HERE
’
S
M
IAH
?”
Finn slurred.

Ritchie listed to the side and Finn yanked him away from slamming into the wall. “Last I saw him, he and that big-tittied blonde were playing tonsil hockey in the VIP room.”

“Oh yeah,” Finn chuckled. “He looked ridiculous with that red lipstick smeared all over his face. I think she was trying to eat him.”

Ritchie took Finn’s key card from him, opened the door, and held it for him. Finn hit both sides of the doorjamb before stumbling into the hotel room. “Whoa. I probably shouldn’t have had that last shot.”

“Shh,” Ritchie prompted in a very unquiet voice. “Keep it down. You’ll wake up Evin.”

“Oh right. Shh.” Finn placed his finger over his lips and blew. The air squeaked out sounding like air escaping from a balloon when the opening was stretched. He giggled. Couldn’t help it. He’d gotten way too drunk tonight, but at least Ritchie had realized it and decided to come back to the hotel with him, both of them forgoing Miah duty in favor of crashing. Let Sid earn his keep and stay out all night for a change.

Ritchie slung an arm over Finn’s shoulders, steadying him. “Come on. I’ll help you get your shower started.”

“I can do it.” He pulled away from Ritchie and tripped over his feet.

Ritchie grabbed his shoulders in both his hands and once again steadied Finn. “Uh-huh, sure you can.”

Although he’d been talking about needing a shower for the last hour, he briefly thought about forgetting it and face-planting on the bed. But waking up stinking of tobacco smoke and stale alcohol wasn’t appealing and the thought made his gut churn.

Ritchie steered him into the bathroom and flipped on the light. Finn spotted his toothbrush on the counter and grabbed it and the toothpaste like a lifeline. “I need this so, so bad.”

“Here, let me have that before you make a mess.” Ritchie took the tube, opened it, put a small amount on Finn’s toothbrush, and handed the toothbrush over.

“You’re so good to me, Mama,” Finn murmured around a mouth full of toothpaste.

Ritchie closed the lid on the toilet and set some folded towels on it, then began to set the taps on the shower, ignoring Finn’s comment.

Finn rinsed his mouth, then dried his hands and face. “Did you hear me?”

He grabbed Ritchie’s belt loops and spun him around. The sudden movement caused Finn to stumble back against the sink. Ritchie crashed into him with a loud
oomph
.

Finn scrambled to keep his footing and wrapped his arms around Ritchie. They were chest to chest, groin to groin, staring at each other for longer than should have been comfortable.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him,” Ritchie murmured finally. “You got to be more careful, Finn.”

Finn’s head was beginning to spin in all the bad ways, but he was still coherent enough to know denial was the only river he needed to be floating down right then. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ritchie chuffed. “Don’t play stupid, it’s me you’re talking to. I know you want him. I mean, fuck, who wouldn’t—Evin is hot—but you got to be careful.”

Finn wanted to look away, needed to deny this, but Ritchie could see through his bullshit. Had always been able to. “Yeah, I know, but Jesus, it’s hard some days.”

“I know.” Ritchie was still under his hands. So fucking still. If it was anyone else, Finn would wonder if he was being judged.

He was usually good about hiding his attraction to men, but ever since Evin had joined their band, it had been tough. Getting tougher every day. The way Evin’s eyes lit up when he smiled, the way he moved, that tight ass swaying back and forth when he played bass. Even the man’s propensity for his chi-chi organic lavender soap was boner-popping-worthy. Everything that Evin was turning out to be was driving Finn crazy. His libido had been on overdrive for days and if he didn’t get some relief soon, he was going to fucking explode. A guy could only get so far with his hand, a bottle of lube, and severely limited time to get off.

He stared at Ritchie, who was looking at him with understanding eyes, and in that instant he didn’t want Ritchie’s sympathy. He wanted to touch, be touched. To feel. He smashed his mouth against Ritchie’s and took what he needed.

They’d only played this game a dozen times since they were teenagers and hadn’t spoken of it more than they needed to, but obviously Ritchie was on board. His tongue pushed past Finn’s lips with the same urgency. They stayed pressed together in a deep lip-lock, exploring, tasting. They interrupted the kiss only long enough to remove their T-shirts, then went back at it hard and deep. Finn slid his hands down Ritchie’s back, grabbing his ass in two handfuls and pulling him closer still. Finn canted his hips, rubbing their cocks together as he kneaded and rubbed that tight muscular ass.

Ritchie pulled back from the kiss with a gasp. He stared at Finn, his panting breath warm against Finn’s lips as he gripped Finn’s arms. Want, desire, confusion, shock, and even a little fear flashed in Ritchie’s blue eyes. Finn held his gaze, continuing to roll his hips, waiting to see how far Ritchie was going to allow it to go. It didn’t take long. Ritchie groaned and thrust hard against Finn before diving in for another hungry kiss.

They rutted and kissed until Finn’s cock began to throb, the rough denim of his jeans beginning to chafe. He reached between their bodies and popped the button on Ritchie’s jeans, unzipped, tried to push them down, but they were too tight. The fact that Ritchie was swaying and thrusting against Finn didn’t help.

“Get these off,” Finn growled.

“Lower your fucking voice.” Ritchie shoved his pants down, exposing his long slender cock. He was hard, the flared head a deep purplish red.

“Yeah, yeah,” Finn grumbled, but lowered his voice. He undid his own pants and pushed them down to his thighs. “Now get back over here.” He grabbed Ritchie’s ass cheek with one hand, swatted blindly at the door in an attempt to close it with the other. The instant their cocks made contact, Finn grabbed Ritchie’s other ass cheek, blunt fingers digging in the warm, taut flesh, and fucked against him in earnest.

“Fuck yeah,” Ritchie groaned against Finn’s neck. He licked and nipped the tender skin, sending a tingling sensation racing down Finn’s spine.

The steam in the room rolled around them, giving everything a dreamlike quality, and Finn was aware this was a bad idea but his alcohol-addled brain didn’t care about anything but
now
and the need to get off. The friction of cockhead sliding over cockhead, the intensity of Ritchie’s mouth against his neck, the heat, and desire was all a green light to just fucking go. Finn gyrated his hips, a knot forming at the base of his spine, and he shuddered.

“Come on me,” Finn groaned.

Ritchie tipped his head back, his mouth open in a silent scream as he came, shooting a wet blast of heat over Finn’s dick. Finn kept rocking, grasped Ritchie in a tight embrace, and buried his face in Ritchie’s neck to muffle the screams the powerful orgasm demanded.

Finn held on to Ritchie for a moment longer, until his legs stopped shaking and his panting breath slowed. When his brain started clicking everything back into place, ticking off the boxes of how many contract clauses they’d just broken in five minutes, he had to laugh. Fuck it. If Miah got his rocks off every night, then he and Ritchie deserved the same outlet.

He playfully shoved Ritchie back. “Dude, you slimed me. Shower time!”

Ritchie caught himself before he could fall back into the tub. He ran a hand through the mess on his belly, stared at it for a moment, then slowly looked up at Finn with a teasing smile.

“Don’t you even fucking think about it,” Finn warned. Keeping a wary eye on Ritchie, he stepped out of his jeans. He pointed toward the shower. “Get your ass in there and wash that shit off.”

“You gonna wash my back?” Ritchie asked, waggling his brows as he got rid of his shoes and jeans.

“Wash your own damn back.” Finn stepped past Ritchie and into the warm spray.