Ruin Porn (20 page)

Evin made it all easier.

The line of cameras click-flashed in front of them, the photographers calling out in an indiscernible mix of Spanish and English instructions. Finn allowed the push and pull of Evin’s hand around his waist to steer him into position. The care with which Evin touched him was too comfortable, but Finn couldn’t find the desire to pull away.

Finn slid his right hand into Evin’s back pocket, fingers digging in with just enough pressure for Evin to feel the possessiveness.

He leaned into Evin’s side and put his lips as close to Evin’s ear as he could get away with. “We’re going to a club tonight.” But he didn’t dare linger against Evin’s skin for too long. There were way too many witnesses.

“We grabbing Ritchie?”

Finn shook his head, but didn’t make eye contact. “Just us.”

Evin licked his lips and the arm slung around Finn’s waist tightened.

“Ritchie and Miah would never go out on the last night of a tour,” Finn explained. “Something about not wanting to drink away the success, like how you’re not supposed to do laundry on New Year’s Day. I think it’s because they’re tired but they’re both too stubborn to admit it. Anyway—”

“We won’t need to make excuses, then,” Evin finished for him.

“And since Ritchie and Miah are rooming together for one more night,” Finn started. “We really won’t need to make excuses.”

Evin’s responding smile devastated him.

T
HEY
WERE
trailed by paps as soon as they left the record store. Evin flipped his hood up and kept his head down. The only thing keeping him calm was Finn at his side.

“Club’s around the corner,” Finn said to him and ventured one touch of his hand on Evin’s back to steer him in the right direction. Finn’s hand was slipping away just as Evin registered the warmth of him, but they had to be careful. It was one thing to take a risk when they thought they were alone, it was a whole other thing when they were being actively stalked by the media and fans.

Sid’s call ahead to the club ensured that the bouncers knew two members of Rez were on their way, and some locally contracted bodyguard, standard now when any of the four of them headed out, made their presence known as soon as they arrived so Finn and he didn’t have to wait outside to have their identities verified. They were shuttled through a set of doors at the side of the club—the paparazzi forced to hold back at the door—away from the queue at the front, and into a private VIP area with beer already chilling for them.

Finn popped the top on two of the bottles and gave one to Evin. He held his up and clinked it against Evin’s. “You were fucking brilliant tonight. I mean that.”

Evin took a drink but couldn’t hide his smile. “You’re just saying that. Everything I am today is because of you.”

Finn shook his head as if he didn’t believe what Evin had just told him was real. “You humble me, Ev.”

Evin wanted to pull Finn in for a kiss, to show this rock god just how much he meant to him that was beyond his skill on a stringed instrument. But the club’s security crew of four burly guys stood around them and their appearance had been noticed by the club-goers on the floor who pointed to the second-floor VIP rooms that had only a metal railing separating them from the crowd below.

Yeah, lip-locking with Finn here was so not a good idea. Taking his mind off his wayward thoughts, Evin surveyed the dance floor below and asked, “You going to dance?”

Finn took a swig of his beer. “Why? Did Miah tell you I like to dance?”

Evin guffawed. “You really do? I was just making conversation.”

“I fucking love it.” Finn downed the rest of his beer, set the bottle down, and picked up another, popping it open. He stepped closer to Evin but not too close. “If it was just you and me and not all of this insanity, I would fucking wreck you on the dance floor.”

Evin’s cock came to full attention. “Have no doubt you would.”

“We’ll do the pressure release thing later,” Finn promised. “You stay here and do the fan thing. Get some pics with hotties that will make Schaffer happy. I’ll head down to the floor and do the same with the chicks down there.”

Pain sliced through Evin’s chest.
It’s my job
, he repeated to himself, and nodded at Finn. “Okay. I’ll be here.” He dropped down to the plush black-velvet couch and huffed out a frustrated breath.

Finn leaned down, his lips grazing Evin’s jaw. “Just know that I’ll be thinking of you.”

After Finn disappeared, Evin got out his phone and tweeted a thank-you to the management of the club for hooking them up and told the security guards to scope out the floor for a few women to bring up and drink with him. When they asked about his preference, he shrugged and resisted saying
men
, but just barely.

He stood at the edge of the VIP lounge drinking, a rotation of women at his side that insisted on taking selfies and tagging him on every social media site, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from Finn. His heart hurt with how fucking unfair this was, and each beer he finished drove his resentment deeper. But Finn looked like he was having the time of his life and never once did his eyes stray back up where Evin waited for him.

Just when Evin was feeling slanted, blurry, and on the verge of walking out if he had to talk to one more fan, because it was as if he’d been trapped in this purgatory for literal eternity, he felt a hand on the small of his back and Finn’s breath on his neck.

“Come on, Ev. Time to take me home. Want you to fuck me.”

He’d never sobered up faster.

E
VIN
TOOK
his time stripping Finn, kissing every inch of skin as it was revealed to him.

There were many spots on a man’s body that Evin touched solely for the reaction, but two he sought out because they were unanticipated, rarely touched, and therefore much more erotic than expected.

He nipped at the underside of Finn’s knees, savoring the way Finn arched off the bed with the pressure to sensitive skin. He worked his way up Finn’s body, leaving a spit-slick trail from balls to his stomach to Finn’s chest as he removed his shirt, and then he nuzzled at the insides of Finn’s elbows, Finn squirming under him with pleasure, rubbing their cocks together.

He sat up and flipped Finn’s legs up, swiped his tongue over Finn’s asshole, pressing inside him and adding a finger to open him, need overtaking him.

But Finn slowed them down again, insisting on rolling the condom on Evin and slicking him up. Evin closed his eyes and let Finn work. Finn’s lips were on Evin’s nipples as he put that latex barrier in place. He was going to come before he could get inside Finn.

There was nothing virginal about Evin. But sex with Finn was different, as if there was meaning—genuine intention—behind every touch of Finn’s fingers on his skin. He could feel the calluses, skin roughened with years of practice, years of passion and sweat poured into his gift. And that Evin felt like he was being strategically unwound, unwrapped like a gift couldn’t have been a coincidence. But Evin stuffed that consideration down and away. This was just sex. Getting off. Just like it was when Ritchie was there with them.

“You are a fucking devil, Finn,” Evin worshipped, totally under Finn’s control despite him being buried in Finn’s body.

“Nah, I’m Robert Johnson at the crossroads, babe.” Finn chuckled, that familiar sound lighting up Evin’s blood. Then, whispered, rushed, “I sold my soul to you.”

Evin opened his eyes and stared at Finn, unsure if he’d heard that correctly or if he was too drunk and well-fucked to think anymore, but Finn grabbed the back of his neck and dragged him in for another breath-stealing kiss.

“How the fuck did you do this to me?” Evin laid himself out over Finn. “I want to fuck you hard and fast and yet grab your hips and sink into you with aching slowness. I want—”
I want it all.

“Do whatever you want with me.”

With those words, every ounce of restraint Evin had was erased. Finn clenched around him, groaning, his name on Finn’s lips as he came, and Evin lost himself in the overwhelming heat of the moment.

But even as he clamped his eyes shut and shot into Finn’s body, he knew it wasn’t his place to lose himself to anyone who had no desire to seek him out for more than pressure release. He collapsed next to Finn and rolled away, sprawling across the bed as he stared at the ceiling and then out the window—looking anywhere besides to the man lying next to him. The quiet around them settled into something uncomfortable as each minute passed and Evin’s alcohol and sex haze was replaced with a dull thudding in his head.

“Fuck LA, Ev,” Finn finally said. “Come home with me.”

Finn twined his fingers with Evin’s and the simple touch ricocheted through Evin’s bloodstream.

Finn chuckled. “You, me, and Ritchie. We can spend our days doing this.”

Evin’s blood went cold. This
was
just pressure release for Finn, nothing more. He had to get his head in the right place—and that was as far from Finn as he could physically be.

“Ritchie…,” Evin said out loud before he could stop himself. Ritchie had always been a part of Finn’s life. There was a history there that Evin could never catch up to.

Finn squeezed his hand, and Evin pulled away, going to his feet. He couldn’t be this close to Finn—in bed
or
in Detroit—because it made him want more, and that wasn’t what Finn wanted.

Evin brushed his hair back and tried to keep his tone as flippant as he could. If Finn could do casual, then so could he. “You Midwesterners are too backwater. It’s not where I belong.”

Finn opened his mouth like he was going to say something, his brows furrowed together, but nothing came out.

Evin sighed and let it go. “Come on. Let’s clean up and get to sleep. I have an early flight to catch.”

E
VIN
SIPPED
at his cup of coffee and stared at the hint of orange just beginning to pop over the horizon. He was seated at a table on the rooftop of their hotel, high enough that the sunrise was an unobscured view. He’d slipped out of bed when Finn was asleep, mouth open, snoring, his left arm and leg twisted into the sheets and the rest of him still naked. Evin hadn’t taken any time to look, though, because that was going to make him
think
. The last thing he needed to do when it came to Finnegan Reese was think about him.

“Hey,” Ritchie said softly, pulling out the chair next to Evin. “Taken?”

“All yours,” Evin answered, trying not to sound as wrecked as he felt inside.

Ritchie settled in next to him, flipped over the mug, and waved at the waiter. He pushed back in his chair a little, stretching his long legs out and putting his hands in his pockets. There was only a bit of the previous night’s chill in the air, the edges of the sun beginning to push the touch of winter away.

“I can’t believe we go home today,” Ritchie finally said, breaking the silence.

“Two months off is a long time,” Evin said.
Way too long to be away from all of you.

“You sure you want to stay in LA for the break? One of us would put you up in Detroit. Hell, you could rent an apartment downtown for almost nothing. Hold that thought,” he said as the waiter approached.

“Good morning, sir.” The waiter set a glass of water down in front of Ritchie and then poured coffee in his mug. “Is there anything else I can get you, sir?” he asked as he topped off Evin’s coffee.

“No, this is fine, thanks,” Ritchie responded and wrapped his hands around his mug. “So, Detroit….”

Evin’s decision to go home had only solidified from last night. The Detroit 3 had already given so much to him, it was time for him to figure out his personal life and let them live theirs. They had family to catch up with, local bars to frequent, old friends to reconnect with and half-flickering flames to reignite so they had someone to take the edge off in their downtime. Ritchie, Finn, and Miah had a life in Detroit, and just because Evin didn’t have the same in LA didn’t mean he should interfere in theirs.

“Nah, I need to get home. See my family.”

Ritchie sighed. “Your family doesn’t like you, Ev.”

He smiled through the sadness, but guessed Ritchie could see it anyway. “I know. But it’s going to be fucking cold in Detroit. I’ll stick with the sun. And I’ll see you the couple of times we do sessions for the second album.”

“Two months will fly by.”

Evin hoped so. “We’ll be back in practice for the tour before you know it.”

“So, you and Finn. Can I ask what’s going on with that?”

Evin nodded and sipped on his coffee, but didn’t answer right away.

“So what’s going on with that?”

Evin wasn’t sure where to go with this. Would Ritchie freak out that they’d now hooked up twice without him? Was this going to totally mess with band dynamics and the potential for a lifelong friendship? That Finn was starting to mean something different to Evin than Ritchie did…. Shit. Those were all things Evin should have thought about before he got too entangled. But now it was way too late.

Evin forced himself to look Ritchie in the eye. “I fucked him last night.”

“Whoa.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Evin leaned forward in his chair. “Look, man, I didn’t know—”

Ritchie held up his hand, stopping Evin midsentence. “I’m not pissed you did, I’m surprised. Finn and I have never done that.”

Evin froze. That was not what he’d expected to come out of Ritchie’s mouth. Ritchie had mentioned no one was going to drill him, but Evin had figured that was for that one night only, never considered….

Ritchie laughed. “I didn’t think Finn got off on any of that butt stuff since he likes dick so much.”

Evin quirked an eyebrow. From anyone else that might have been a dig, but from Ritchie it was a love taunt. “He got off just fine.”

Ritchie chuckled. “I’m sure he did.” He turned serious from one breath to the next. “So why do you look like someone just shit in your coffee and doused that stunning sunrise?”