The Gift (23 page)

August frowned and tilted his head. "The first time?"

Doren nodded. "The first time I found the music. I was so scared I thought I was going to snap. I could feel the bugs walking over my skin and hear the mice chewing at things just inches from my face. Everything I touched felt like the skin of some evil snake and it was so dark my eyes never got used to it. After a couple of hours of screaming I lost my voice. And I just sat there thinking the dark and the rodents were going to swallow me up. All I could hear was gnaw, gnaw, gnaw and drip, drip, drip. And I was so thirsty and dry and my throat hurt so badly. I think I was starting to blackout a little when it finally happened. The sleep kind of caught up with me, and everything started to go fuzzy, you know? But that's what brought the relaxation. When I finally sat back and let all those sounds go around me, they became something more than themselves. I couldn't catch it on my own; the more I tried, the faster it slipped away. I had to kind of send up the signal, wait for something to find it, and then relax myself to take it back. And the more I managed to work it, the bigger I could feel it grow inside me. And when I was brushed up against by something too big and too furry to be just a mouse I told it to 'go'. And it did. Just like that. So I got the idea to try the lock. And 'open' and it did. It just clicked open."

He waited for August to digest what he'd said. "That's how I got in your room that night. I listened to your dream, I let it feed me, and then I used its strength to unlock the door."

He smiled up at August like a guilty child and August narrowed his eyes and tugged Doren's hair. "I knew it was locked!"

They sat quiet for a long time and watched the day begin to pulse around them. The delivery truck finished unloading and pulled away. New guests began to arrive and work their way into the underground parking. Children rushed outside to greet the long-awaited sun, screaming and screeching their way through hide-and-seek and hopscotch. Maintenance men began the arduous job of cleaning the debris from the outside pool.

They sat as outsiders, hand in hand, not part of any of it yet taking in all of it, until Cooper stuck his head out with a grin. "Hey, who wants to go for pancakes?" He held up a bandana and a pair of sunglasses. "We've made you a disguise!"

August looked up and caught him watching as pancake became goop. "What?"

"Oh, nothing really," Doren answered with a grimace. "I just thought maybe you'd like a little pancake to go with your syrup."

"Nah," August said, popping it in his mouth. "I think I'm good, thanks."

Curtis gave them both a look of exaggerated impatience. "All right, you two, get a room."

Cooper dropped back into his chair with an irritated huff. "Forty-six bucks for pancakes? I mean, really? And how come I always get stuck with the bill? Why don't you get Mr. Money-Bags to nut up for it?"

"You know why," Curtis said, rolling his leftover pancakes into a napkin. "He can't use his credit card right now. He's on the D-L. I'm sure he'll make it up to you after the show is over."

"Yeah, right," Cooper sulked. "Because then everything is going to miraculously be roses and butterflies, right?" He nodded at Doren. "What makes you think you and the studio are going to get everything all fixed up? What if you don't? What if they fire you?"

Doren laughed out loud. "Come on, Coop! Would you fire me?"

Cooper shrugged. "I dunno. I'm just saying that they've got all the power. It might be a wise idea to be a little more cooperative. Guys like that can make or break you."

Doren reached out and grabbed Cooper's wrist. "Listen, Coop, you go around thinking like that and you're setting yourself up to always be someone else's puppet. Guys like Anton only have power because that's what people give them. Without us," he pointed around the table, "they have nothing. We're the backbone. We bring the music, the music brings the people, and the people bring the money. They can't fire me. But I sure as hell can fire them."

Dawson looked up, hesitant to get in on the conversation. "But aren't you under contract, Doren? Surely they weren't stupid enough to send you out here and set you up like this without getting you to sign a contract first?"

"What's a contract, Daws? A piece of paper with a signature on it? Big deal." He nodded to himself in confirmation. "Big fucking deal."

August dropped his napkin and rose from the table. "'S'cuse me, gents. I'm going to go wash my sticky fingers." He wriggled hands that were more than sticky. They were downright disgusting.

"Did you actually get any of that in your mouth?" Doren asked, cringing as August opened and closed his fingers delightedly. He left the table and Doren took a good long look at his ass as it was walked away from them.

Curtis waved his hand in front of Doren's face. "So, how about some business here, Doren. Are we going to practice before Thursday or are we just going up there blind?"

Doren frowned. "Blind? You mean you don't know what you're doing?"

Curtis raised his eyebrow. "Of course we know what we're doing. We all had to learn the songs before we could audition. But all we've ever practiced with is a recording. We've never had a chance to learn the intricacies of your actual voice."

Doren's expression relaxed. "Well then you'll be fine."

Curtis sighed. "It's not the same. A real voice is always different from a recording. They do things to a recording—adjust the tone, lighten this, tweak that—we need to know how to respond to how you sound in real life. You know, without the glitz."

He smiled at his aggravated drummer. "Not my recordings. It's all me."

"Come on," Curtis exclaimed. "Not even you are that good."

"Except that I am." Doren smirked. "Trust me, you'll have no problem playing with me. And I will have no problem singing with you. That's why all my songs start with a score, so I get a chance to hear the music a bit before I start to sing. We'll be fine." He flashed a look towards the bathroom. The door was still closed. "But," he continued, "there is something I might like you to try." He sat back in the booth and stared at each one of them in turn, grinning. "If you think you're good enough."

Four pairs of eyes narrowed. Curtis was the first to speak. "We're the best."

Dawson and Cooper nodded but Geoff was the one to ask, "What were you thinking of?"

Doren reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. It had been unfolded and refolded so many times the edges looked worn enough to be centuries old. In reality, it had been brand new just days before. "I have a new song," he said, "and I think we just might be able to pull it off."

"Well, I don't know what you guys have planned, but I'm going to lie down." He hadn't been able to stop yawning through breakfast and the walk back to the hotel had felt like it was going to kill him. It wasn't so much that August hadn't slept well; he just hadn't slept enough.

Cooper gave August a quick smile and August couldn't help but give one back. Cooper had such a way with expression, like a kid that was always one step away from getting himself into shit and having no clue why. Cooper had already been out to the patio for his morning constitutional the minute they'd come back from eating, so his reach was a little sloppy when he patted August's hand. "Why don't you lie down on my bed in the other room? That way you can close the door so we don't bug you too much while we practice?"

"Thanks, Cooper," August sighed gratefully. "I'm not going to find any half-asleep groupies in there, am I?"

Geoff laughed. "Hell, no. We'd have shipped them out before we left. If you're stupid enough to leave groupies alone in your hotel room, you're stupid enough to find everything you own up for sale on e-Bay."

While August doubted the fact, the statement was worth a chuckle anyway. He left the rest of them in the adjoining room, closed the door behind him, and slipped off his jeans and his socks. Then he tucked under the covers of the first bed and pulled them up to his chin, ignoring the faint smell of someone else that always made unfamiliar beds an icky concept to him.

He didn't give pause to the fact the linen was probably in desperate need of changing, made a pointed effort to push it from his mind, in fact. Rather, August let his mind drift with memories of hands and tongues and throats and fingers. And once the mental image was in place, it didn't matter how many times August tried to tighten his eyes and block it out; no matter how many times he flipped over to find a more comfortable position, the memory of Doren's touch continued to keep August awake. It didn't surprise August that he'd liked it; he enjoyed the way his toy felt, loved the feeling of pressure inside his body. What surprised him was how much he kept thinking about it, how badly he wanted to ask Doren to push him farther down the path of sensation. How could a person be so afraid of something and yet want it so damn badly at the same time?

August finally gave up trying to ignore his cock and let fantasy take over, if for no other reason than he could get off and get some sleep. He heard the quiet click of the door mid-stroke and turned his face to grin. Doren leaned against the frame with a devilish smile on his face. "Can't sleep?"

He shook his head.

Doren reached for the knob, palm open, holding August's eyes with his own. "Lock."

Oh, God, August chuckled out loud when he heard the tumblers fall in place at Doren's command. It was official. He was a total sucker for cool. And that … was just so damn cool.

Doren advanced, undoing his jeans with slow, methodical fingertips. "Maybe I should lay with you until you fall asleep?" He stopped at the side of the bed to kick off his jeans and pull up his shirt. "You know, tuck you in?"

The air in the room was cooler than what was under the covers and August shivered when Doren lifted them and stared. "Mm, nice start." He didn't rest beside; instead Doren pulled August's right leg over and crawled between both of August's legs. What had to be seven billion Congo drums started beating in August's chest as Doren slid forward, skin against cotton, face to face, held up by one arm, and lowered his lips to August's mouth. August reached for the kiss and Doren shifted his face to the side with a grin, his breath a warm tease on August's cheek. "Do you have any idea," he brushed his chin over August's ear, "how hot you sound when you touch yourself?"

A flush broke out over August's skin that was only half embarrassment. The rest of the reaction was one of heated thrill. It swelled August's cock, brought goose bumps to surfaces, and forced his lips open. He noted the way Doren's eyes raked over his body, the way Doren's dick responded in fashion, and August wondered just how much Doren actually heard when he cared to try. Did Doren know how desperately his soul seemed to want what his mind insisted he dared not give up?

Doren groaned and lowered his face into the crook of August's neck, tasting the skin he found there, flipping on switches that August didn't even realize were available. As if on their own accord, August's legs wrapped around Doren's thighs, not high enough to suggest an offer that August would just end up denying him, but enough to draw both their bodies together completely.

"Wait ..." Doren caught the back of August's thighs and pushed both of August's legs together while he resettled on his knees. August's eyes flew to catch Doren's so quickly that even August thought of startled sparrows taking to flight.

"Don't freak out," Doren said. "I'm not going to insist you do something you're not ready for." Doren pressed August's legs back, fingertips digging so hard August was sure they would bruise, yet August was fully aware he did not give a single fuck about that fact. His breath was racing from lungs to atmosphere, every nerve was burning, and he could not stop staring at the expression of lust on Doren's face. "Pretty," Doren said, dragging a fingertip over August's exposed hole, and every part of August trembled.

"Doren—"

"Lube would be nice," Doren mumbled, the light stroke of Doren's finger becoming an entirely too enticing swirl.

"Doren, please …"

Keeping his hand in place, Doren nudged August closer, placing a knee over each of his shoulders. With the back of August's thighs up tight against his chest, Doren pushed his cock between the hard muscles of August's legs. The low growl Doren released pinged more breath, more heat, and more sweet tension through August's core. "Yes," Doren huffed. "Lube would definitely be nice."

The thought of Doren sliding between his legs just about set August on fire. Once again his eyes flew, this time off Doren's face to search out the room. A group of men, in a hotel, touring as a rock band? There had to be something … "Lotion?"

"Would be awesome."

August's motor skills lacked finesse as he reached for the bedside table and grabbed the bottle. In a fit of bravery he didn't hand it over; he drew a thick, long squirt of cream from the container and opened his legs enough to stroke it over Doren's cock. The blue of Doren's eyes seemed to burn as Doren watched him coat the twitching length between them. And even though Doren's skin was slippery and ready, August was stopped when he moved to put the bottle back. "In my hand," Doren told him.

He struggled to understand, thinking first that Doren meant the bottle, but Doren's hand was cupped, not extended, and he offered another smear of lotion into Doren's palm. He realized intent when Doren worked the slick fluid over right, then left hand and rested the first back against his hole and fisted August's dick with the second. "Keep your legs tight," Doren told him. "I have no more hands to hold them in place."

"I can do this," August said, reaching into his lap.

"I know you
can
," Doren grinned. "But I want to."

Doren's body was hard and tense as he slid between August's legs. He dipped fingertips into August's heat, opening his mouth into a soft pant when August didn't stop him. As he increased pressure and depth, exchanging one for two, he also moved faster, both with hips and grip. And that was nice, August decided. Quite nice indeed. Would it feel the same with hard cock? Better? Worse? Because it wasn't just the friction on his dick that had August catching his cheek with his teeth to keep back the moans. And heated, moving, twitching, reaching, fingers did far more titillating of special parts inside him than a dildo ever had.