Ruin Porn (11 page)

“What about a cuddle?” Ritchie moved in behind Finn and reached up, adjusting the showerhead away from Finn, nudging him out of the way.

“Fuck no, and I ain’t going to respect you in the morning neither,” Finn griped and wrestled Ritchie for a spot beneath the flow of the water. Ritchie just laughed in response. “And find your own way back to your room. I’m crashing after this.”

Finn cleaned up quickly, then tossed the washcloth to Ritchie before he stepped out of the shower and grabbed the towel Ritchie had set out for him. He dried off as he headed out of the bathroom. The orgasmic high wore off fast, and his drunken state crept back in, leaving him exhausted.

He stopped short near the bed. A figure lay still beneath the covers, his back to Finn.
Oh shit.
He’d forgotten in his horny haze that Evin hadn’t gone out with them and had been in their room all night. He watched the slow, even rise and fall of Evin’s breathing and sighed in relief. He was still sleeping. Finn tiptoed to his bag and pulled out a pair of boxers, slipping them on before sliding under the covers of the opposite bed. He shivered, the sheets cold against his heated flesh.

Finn stared at the lump in the next bed, stomach churning, pulse racing, wondering what Evin would have done, what he would have thought or said had he woken and caught him and Ritchie. There was a part of him that was curious to know, but a bigger part of him that was relieved he hadn’t found out.

I
N
THE
dark, silent hotel room, Evin lay completely still, scarcely breathing, long after the murmuring from the other bed ceased and Finn finally fell into sleep. The remnants of what Evin had witnessed in the bathroom were cold and dry on his hand and cock.

Ritchie and Finn sharing passionate kisses with hands roaming was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. That was until they dropped their pants, exposing their hard cocks and rubbing off on each other. That sent the hotness factor off the fucking charts.

Evin should have given them their privacy, but he simply couldn’t force his feet to move nor could he look away. Instead, he’d taken himself in hand, pulling and tugging in time to their thrusting hips. He’d come in his pants like a goddamn teenager as the two shot their loads on each other.

Had the two not gotten in the shower, Evin no doubt would have experienced the most embarrassing moment of his life—caught with his dick in his hand and a handful of spunk. However, as he lay there with the events of the evening playing over and over in his mind, he couldn’t help but wish he’d made his presence known. What if they would have invited him to join them? Jesus, had he just blown an opportunity of a lifetime to get his hands on Finn’s gorgeous body? To feel his hard cock against his own?

Evin’s dick twitched, making a gallant effort to harden once again. He strained to hear any sounds that would indicate Finn was still awake but only heard small snuffling sounds. And Ritchie had left the room long ago. Silently Evin slipped from the bed. He didn’t turn on the bathroom light till the door was closed behind him.

“You are a fool, Kevin Rene,” he whispered to his reflection. He shook his head and turned on the tap, letting it run till it was warm, then washed his hands. He grabbed a washcloth, wet it, lathered it up, and washed his dick. A thought occurred to him and he snapped his head up, meeting his own wide-eyed gaze in the mirror.
Holy fuck, Finn and Ritchie are gay.

From the conversation it didn’t sound as if they were a couple, nor had he seen anything between the two that would suggest a relationship—and he’d damn sure been watching Finn. Excitement surged through Evin. Maybe he wasn’t pining after some straight guy after all, but actually had a chance with Finn.

He’d have to be careful and leave a few discreet hints. Goal settled, he flipped off the light and flopped into bed to try and get some sleep before the other guys got up.

It took two hours and another trip to the bathroom to jerk off before Evin finally fell into a fitful sleep. Images of Finn and Ritchie following him into slumber assured that, when he woke at daybreak, he once again had a raging hard-on. But Miah’s chipper greeting had him deflating immediately.

“Good morning. Good morning. We’re all in our places with bright shiny faces. Good morning,” Miah sang as he came through the door sounding way too fucking happy. Evin wouldn’t have put it past Miah to find some ancient fucking ritual where he ate the morning sunshine for love and light, or some such shit. But after his night of unrest, Miah’s sheer joy was irritating as hell. Evin groaned and rolled over, burying his head beneath his pillow. But Miah whipped the pillow away.

“Go away,” Finn mumbled from below his mound of blankets. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“No can do,” Miah retorted. “We’ve got breakfast plans with Sid and then it’s off to do a photo shoot.”

“I’ll shoot you,” Ritchie piped in sleepily as he trudged in behind Miah.

Evin started to close his eyes again and a strike of pain radiated across his ass from a hard slap. Seconds later, his blankets were ripped away.

“Hey! What the hell, man?” Evin jerked upright, trying to glare at Miah, but the harsh light burned his eyes and he covered them.

“Looks like someone was having naughty wet dreams.” Miah chuckled.

Evin’s hand flew to his crotch to cover his half-there erection. He grabbed for the blanket, but Miah pulled it out of his reach. “You can be a real ass sometimes, Miah,” Evin complained and scrambled from the bed, keeping his hand over his cock as he stomped to the bathroom.

“As opposed to a fake one?”

Evin slammed the bathroom door. He could hear Finn curse and Ritchie shouting about something, obviously Miah was now attacking them. A quick piss—not the easiest thing to do with morning wood—and then he set the taps on the shower. No way in hell was Miah going to let any of them go back to sleep. Showered, teeth brushed, and hard-on finally under control, Evin stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, drying his hair with another one.

“About damn time,” Ritchie complained and rushed past him. “Miah didn’t even give me time to piss this morning.”

“Sorry.”

“Come, sit. We have croissants and coffee,” Finn offered, holding up a mug.

Evin took a seat at the small table and grabbed a buttery croissant. “I thought Miah said something about going to breakfast with Sid?”

“We are. This is the appetizer.”

Evin took a big bite, chewing the yummy goodness as he looked around the room. “Where’d he go?”

“Off to irritate the shit out of someone else. Unfortunately we gotta meet him down in the lobby soon.”

Evin snatched up one of the coffees and took a tentative sip from the ceramic mug. Without looking up from his cup, he asked, “So did you guys have fun last night?”

“Eh, it was okay. Drank too much and passed out,” Finn said with vagueness that Evin would have thought was genuine if he didn’t know better. He stored away the fact that Finn was a really good liar and just let him continue. “I feel like shit this morning. I should have gone to bed when you did.”

With me would have been nice.
Evin hid his smile behind his cup. “Well, you know what they say.”

“Yeah, well,
they
should have told me not to have that last shot.”

“Or the five I’m sure you had before you came up,” Evin teased.

“Those too,” Finn admitted. “Hurry up, Myer! Ow.” Finn winced and held his head in his hands. “Note to self—screaming bad.”

Evin pushed away from the table. “I got some aspirin in my bag.”

“Thanks, but Ritchie already hooked me up.”

He sure did.
Evin shoved the rest of his croissant in his mouth and walked over to his duffel. He pulled out some clean boxers and slipped them on before dropping the damp towel on the floor. He bent down to grab his jeans and caught Finn staring at him out of the corner of his eye. Instead of straightening up, Evin rummaged around in his bag, giving Finn all the time he wanted to check out his ass. He found a clean T-shirt, jeans, and socks before he stood. He tossed the clothes on the bed. Keeping his back to Finn, he bent at the waist and put on first one sock, then the other before standing up. He could barely contain his laughter by the time he finished dressing as he turned around and caught Finn still looking at him.

The large bulge in Finn’s sweatpants and the fact that he looked away quickly and dropped his hands to his lap, covering himself, told Evin all he needed to know. Finn obviously liked what he saw.

“All yours, Finn,” Ritchie announced as he stepped out of the bathroom.

Finn shot out of the chair, practically knocking Ritchie down as he rushed to the bathroom.

“Who the hell set your ass on fire?” Ritchie muttered. He stopped dead in his tracks, a disapproving expression on his face. “I told you not to drink that fucking tequila. There’s some Kaopectate in the bag on the counter.”

Evin cracked up.

“Trust me, you won’t be laughing if you have to go in that bathroom after him.”

Evin laughed even harder. Ritchie raised a questioning brow, but Evin just waved it off. “Just thought of something funny is all. Ignore me.”

CHAPTER SIX

Oslo

S
OMEONE
HAD
majorly fucked up. Evin wasn’t about to go around pointing fingers—
Sid, you number-crunching jerkoff
—but seriously, how the hell had a hotel suite with two bedrooms become a small room with one king-size bed and a cot? Two small rooms with a cot wouldn’t have been a big deal, but one room for four dudes, two of which he’d watched fuck around in Paris a week ago and had really, really wanted to be their third… yeah, so not cool.

The excitement he’d felt when he had come to the conclusion that he wasn’t pining after some straight guy—but that he might actually have a chance with Finn—was now a convoluted mess of part indecision and part childish nervousness. The longer he let this smolder, the harder it was going to be to say anything. Yet even knowing that, he found he was having a difficult time meeting Finn’s gaze, shying away from his innocent touches, avoiding conversation, which was stupid as hell. Now, considering they were all jammed together in one tiny little room, it wasn’t just stupid, it was impossible.

Evin was trying his best to stay cool, regardless of the close quarters. His fingers ran smoothly over the strings of Finn’s guitar as he tried to work at a new song he’d been thinking about since hitting the ground in London. But he couldn’t focus. His mind wasn’t on putting words to music. All he could think of was fucking and rutting and how Finn’s cum probably tasted, which was about as opposite as you could get from the soft romantic melody he was strumming.

How the hell did one approach a walking talking wet dream and tell him he’d seen him rubbing off on another guy? Let alone that he wanted to be the guy that was being rubbed on? No matter how many ways Evin spun the potential conversation around in his head, he couldn’t come up with a way to put what he wanted out there without sounding like a major fucking pervert.
Hey dude, I stood outside the bathroom with my dick in my hand as you shot your load all over Ritchie and I was just wondering if you’d mind shooting it on me next time.
Yeah, definitely not the best way to go about getting laid. He’d be lucky not to get his ass kicked all the way back to the States.

“Hey, sweet tune, what is it?” Ritchie asked as he plopped down on the couch next to Evin.

Evin jerked, his fingers stuttering over the strings. He’d been so lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t even heard Ritchie come in. “Um… uh… just a ballad I’ve been working on. Nothing special.”

“Doesn’t sound like it’s nothing special, you got me hooked. You got lyrics?”

Evin shook his head and set the guitar aside. “Nah, I don’t have the melody right yet. The words will come later.”

“You wrote all the songs for Sock, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” And what a heap of clusterfuck that was. Evin had known the other members of Sock in the Sun didn’t have the talent or the drive to take their music to the next level. They were all more consumed with having a good time and adding notches to their bedposts than actually playing music. His only consolation was he’d only given them a few of his songs.

Ritchie stretched out, throwing his legs over Evin’s lap and folding his arms behind his head. “Miah showed me that song ‘Born into Chaos’ you’re working on. It’s fucking epic. You got any more in your bag like it?”

Evin looked down at Ritchie’s legs. All the Detroit 3 were comfortable with invading the other’s personal space without giving it a second thought. Only now, knowing what he did about Finn and Ritchie, all of those touches came with a new meaning. Rather than rest his hand on Ritchie’s calves, like he would have done only days ago, Evin set down his guitar and grabbed the bottle of water off the side table, picking at the label.

“I don’t know about epic, but yeah, I got a crap-ton of songs. Only problem is most of them are just that, crap.” He shrugged.

“I seriously doubt it. You should play some for Miah.” Ritchie jerked upright. “Dude, we’re meeting with Sid today to talk more about the second album, you should totally throw more of your stuff at him and Miah.”

Evin shrugged again. “Maybe. I don’t know….”

Ritchie shifted, moving over close enough to Evin their shoulders were touching, feet stretched out on the coffee table, and snatched Evin’s water from him. “You don’t have to know, I do,” he said with a wink and tipped back the bottle, drinking half of it down in one big gulp. Of course then he handed it back and slung his arm over Evin’s shoulder, pulling him closer still.

Not comfortable being the subject of conversation, Evin deflected, “Where’s Miah and Finn anyway?”

“Finn is in the lobby trying to procure his newest flavor of lollipop and Miah is trying to find out if Oslo sports an herbal colon cleanse spa, dimensional portal tours, Yiddish yoga, or some other weird shit.”