Zac
“Someone’s coming in early on that bridge,” Isaac said, his voice dripping with judgment. The song we had been rehearsing came to an abrupt stop at his words.
I sighed and tossed down my drumsticks. Things had gone well on this tour, which I think was a surprise to all of us. It was no secret that we had barely managed to finish the album because, for one reason or another, we always seemed to be at each other’s throats. Rarely did our fights happen for a good reason, but after so many of them one right after another, the reason why didn’t matter. When we had just barely patched things up, going out on the road seemed insane, but it had been smooth enough sailing… so far.
“Well, can you blame us when the drums are lagging way behind?” Taylor replied.
My head snapped up and I glared at him. “How would you even know? You’re too busy dry humping your keyboard to notice whether you’re even playing the same song as the rest of us.”
Taylor’s eyes widened, his hand on his hip and his mouth hanging open dumbly. No words came out, probably because he hadn’t expected me to snap like that.
Truthfully, I hadn’t expected me to, either. I had been on edge for days, though, something that I could only attribute to how hard it was to find any private time with Carrick and the fact that, even when we did manage to steal a few moments together, we barely did more than make out like horny little teenagers too scared to go all the way. I couldn’t blame Carrick for my problems, of course, but all that sexual tension was definitely taking its toll.
“Okay,” Isaac said, drawing the word out. “I don’t think any of us need that mental image floating around in our brains. So why don’t we just give the song one more try and maybe we can all attempt to not suck at it this time?”
“Sure,” Taylor replied. “If Zac admits he’s the one who keeps fucking up the song.”
“I’ll admit that when you admit you have some kind of strange piano fetish. Seriously, Taylor. It’s getting obscene.”
Isaac heaved a sigh and sat his guitar down. “Alright, let’s just take a break for the day. How about that? We’ve run through every other song, so we’ll just have to wing it on Tragic Symphony and hope no one notices how much it sucks.”
“Sounds great to me,” I replied, standing up. “I’ve had about enough of you all for today anyway.”
“Yeah, go run off to your boyfriend,” Taylor said, his voice low enough that no one else seemed to catch what he had said. But I did.
I glared at Taylor, and the look on his face was so fucking smug. He knew I couldn’t respond. If I did, it would be as good as admitting that Carrick was my boyfriend, a fact that I was sure Taylor didn’t know. It wasn’t the first time someone had joked about how close the two of us were, and usually it didn’t bother me. But now that it was true, it needed to stay a secret and not be the subject of stupid jokes.
Of course, there was no way Taylor knew it was true. He just wanted to get under my skin any way that he possibly could. At least, that was what I tried to tell myself as I stormed off.
I ignored everyone I passed as made my way through the venue. A good run was what I needed to clear my mind, I decided. I stopped by the green room to grab a hoodie; even though it was really too warm, I pulled the hood up in hopes that no fans lingering near the venue would notice that the guy jogging by was me. I slipped out the back of the venue unnoticed and set off down the street, hoping this would ease my mind some.
I couldn’t really say why I was so upset or why I had snapped so easily. Soundcheck was always stressful; we all wanted to sound perfect and when we didn’t, we took it out on each other. It wasn’t fair, but it was just us. So why did Taylor, and especially his comment about my boyfriend, get under my skin so much this time?
The obvious answer was because Carrick really was my boyfriend now. It might have been secret and more than a little bit wrong, but I thought it was safe to say–at least to myself–that he held that title. We were dating. I was cheating on my wife with a man.
I wasn’t proud of that, though. Sure, our marriage wasn’t perfect, but did Kate really deserve that? Did anyone? I supposed it wasn’t up to me to judge everyone and why they cheated. The only person I could judge was myself, and if I were completely honest… I didn’t really like myself very much.
Would that stop me, though? If I were a halfway decent person, it would. Neither Kate nor Carrick deserved the way I was half-assing our relationships. Deep down, I knew that. But I also knew that I couldn’t imagine losing either of them.
In the end, I supposed I had snapped not because I was upset with my brothers, but upset with myself. Because even though I could see myself making mistake after mistake, I knew I would just keep making more.
With that thought in mind, I pushed myself to run as long and hard as possible, until I wasn’t even sure I could find my way back to the venue again. I tried to retrace my steps as quickly as possible, and by the time I finally did make it back, Carrick was already on stage for his soundcheck. A part of me wanted to stop and watch, but it occurred to me that I hadn’t called Kate for a few days. It wouldn’t fix everything to have a quick conversation with her, but it would ease my guilty conscience just enough to get me through the day.
Thankfully, the green room was empty. I stripped off my hoodie and dug my phone from my pocket. Kate’s name was still at the top of the recent calls list, because practically everyone else I ever called was on tour with me. I clicked on her name and flopped down onto the couch as I waited for her to answer.
The ringer droned on and on in my ear until finally her voicemail picked up. I didn’t bother leaving a message. What would I say anyway, besides some stupid platitudes about how much I missed her and needed to hear her voice? Both things were true, in their own way, but Kate knew all of that without me saying it.
At least, I thought she did. I also thought she always answered her phone when I called, but she had just proven that wrong. Sure, she might have been busy with the kids, but something about it all just felt off. It sent a strange tingle up my spine, the kind you feel when you know something bad is happening or about to happen, but you have no clue what. All you’re left with is that odd feeling that your world just went a little bit off course.
Maybe I was being overly dramatic because nothing seemed to be going my way that day. But maybe I wasn’t. Either way, I had a concert to do and no time to sit around feeling sorry for myself.
Taylor’s head slammed against the shower wall with a resounding thud. There was no way that everyone else on the bus hadn’t heard that, he thought to himself. And if that sound hadn’t reached their ears, then surely Taylor’s moans had.
But how could he help but moan when Zac’s rock hard dick was pressed against his ass? It was simply impossible. Zac was teasing him, rubbing against him but not giving Taylor what he wanted. It was torture, and it made Taylor’s moans turn to pathetic whines. He wasn’t proud of it, but he had never been able to deny how badly he wanted Zac.
Finally, when Taylor thought he could take no more, Zac pushed in, inch by inch. He wasn’t gentle, because he never was, but he wasn’t needlessly rough, either. It was just the way Taylor needed it, and Taylor was sure that Zac knew that. Taylor could say plenty of harsh things about Zac, all of them true, but he couldn’t deny that Zac always gave him what he needed.
And what he needed right then was to be pounded into the wall.
His palms were white against the tile, his legs trembling too much for him to dare lower a hand, no matter how much his dick was begging for relief. But Zac knew. Zac always knew. Zac’s hand snaked around and wrapped around Taylor’s dick, matching the relentless pace of his thrusts. Both were moaning now, and Taylor was far past caring if every single person on the bus was listening.
His orgasm came on hard and fast, and he was far past caring about that, too. Taylor didn’t care how pathetic he looked, whimpering as his come splattered against the pale green tile. Zac let out a throaty chuckle, and Taylor wanted to be angry, but his blissed-out, post-orgasm body had other ideas. He let his head fall against the cold tile as Zac continued to thrust into him, his pace slowing and his thrusts deepening as his own orgasm approached. Taylor knew all the signs. Sure enough, only seconds later, Zac had gone completely still, his fingernails digging into Taylor’s hip as he filled Taylor with his own load.
When Zac finally pulled away, Taylor’s knees buckled. But Zac was there to catch him, one strong arm wrapping around Taylor’s waist. He chuckled again and pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to Taylor’s cheek.
Taylor tried to speak, but no words would come. He watched the evidence of their encounter wash down the drain as Zac wordlessly climbed out of the shower and towelled himself dry. He was still putting on a show for Taylor, and Taylor could do nothing but watch. The spell was only broken when Zac slipped out the door, leaving Taylor to wonder if it had all been nothing but a figment of his imagination.
I knew I would just need another shower after the concert, but a scalding hot shower seemed like just the thing to wash away my problems. The bus shower was cramped and didn’t offer all that much hot water, but it was still better than nothing.
As I watched the shampoo suds go down the drain, I felt that familiar tingle go up my spine. My dick stiffened, seeming to have a mind of its own, and I realized I didn’t have much choice but to deal with that little problem. It was just another form of stress relief, I supposed, and began to stroke myself quickly, while I still had at least a little hot water left.
My eyes fell shut and I leaned back against the shower wall. Hadn’t I read something like this recently, something with Taylor and just a few surprisingly accurate details? Then again, I was sure tons of busses had green tile. It was just a coincidence, I was sure, but the fic was hot. As I stroked myself the rest of the way to a surprisingly powerful orgasm, images flashed through my mind, some Taylor, some Carrick and all of them hot.
I didn’t bother putting on anything more than a pair of boxers before walking out of the bathroom. With my towel slung over my shoulder, I headed to my bunk to find something to wear for the concert. I had just begun to dig around in my duffel bag when I felt a hand on my hip.
“Hey,” Carrick said.
I relaxed when I realized it was him, but who else could it have been? “Well, hey there.”
He planted a soft kiss to my neck. “Heard you had a little spat with the diva.”
I shrugged, and spun around to face him. “Just another day that ends in y, I guess. Shouldn’t be surprised he’s running around whining about it, either.”
“Oh, he told me all about it,” Carrick replied, walking toward the back lounge of the bus. “Said you accused him of humping his piano?”
“Is it really an accusation if it’s true?” I asked, following closely behind him.
“Not really,” he replied with a snort. He closed and locked the door behind us, which I hoped was a good sign. So what if I had just gotten off in the shower? “Didn’t think you’d be the one to complain about it, though.”
“Well, when he’s too busy trying to impregnate an inanimate object to play the song correctly…” I flopped down on the couch, and shook my head as though that could clear the angry, frustrated thoughts away. “Anyway, doesn’t matter. He’ll get over it by tomorrow or he’ll find something else to whine about. All that matters now is that I’m here… and you’re here…”
“So it seems…” Carrick replied, his eyes trailing up and down my body. He took a few slow steps toward me, then finally sat down next to me, our legs touching, and put an arm over my shoulder.
“We’ve still got a while before the show,” I said, grinning at him in hopes that he would get my meaning. “Might as well make the most of it…”
Carrick chuckled, which wasn’t at all the sort of response I was going for. With a shake of his head, as though he couldn’t believe me at all, he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. One hand found its way into my hair, and I couldn’t resist grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him closer. Just a little bit of Carrick wasn’t enough. Now that I’d had a taste, it would never be enough.
To my dismay, Carrick pulled back and placed a hand on my chest. In between soft kisses to my neck, he said, “Easy, tiger. We’ve got time.”
“Do we?” I breathed out, letting my head fall back.
“Mhm…” Carrick replied, his lips moving down to my shoulders, then my chest. All the while, his eyes were trained on mine.
“Aww, now don’t act like you don’t want me,” I replied, trying to give him my best puppy dog eyes. My lips betrayed me, turning up into a smirk. Of course he wanted me, possibly almost as much as I wanted him.
“Shut up,” Carrick said, rolling his eyes. Before I could respond, he leaned down and clamped his teeth down on my nipple–not enough to really hurt, but enough that anyone else would have heeded the warning.
“Hey!” I yelped. “That’s kinda kinky.”
“You complaining?” Carrick raised an eyebrow. He leaned down again, and this time didn’t just bite down, but tugged a little.
I shook my head. “Nope. Not a bit.”
Carrick moved to the other side, his hands dancing up and down my sides teasingly as he gave both of my nipples equal attention. In between, he said, “Doesn’t have to always be hard and fast. Slow can be fun, too, you know.”
“Well, that may be true,” I replied, chuckling softly, “but one of us is due on stage pretty soon, and I don’t think anyone would be happy to find out the opening act is late for his set because he’s too busy fucking the headliner.”
“Zac…” Carrick said, pulling back and sighing.
“What?” I blinked at him. That hadn’t been the reaction I wanted at all. I didn’t want him to stop; I wanted him to speed up. But I shouldn’t have been surprised, since the theme of the day seemed to be nothing going my way.
Carrick looked away and ran a hand through his hair. “Nothing.”
I knew it wasn’t nothing. The fact was practically a giant neon sign flashing over his head, telling me that I needed to do something to make amends. But how could I do that when I wasn’t even sure what I had done wrong? Simple; make a joke.
“Just put my foot in my mouth again, didn’t I? God knows there are better things I could be putting there…”
He groaned, but seconds later a laugh followed. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“Hmm, seems like I’ve heard that before,” I replied.
“Wonder where,” Carrick replied, his head down. He picked at a spot on his jeans for a moment, then asked. “Any news?”
It took me a moment to realize he was asking about Kate. When that dawned on me, I sighed. “No. The exact opposite of news, in fact.”
Carrick stiffened and raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“She just…” I trailed off, waving my hands dismissively. “She didn’t even answer my call. And hasn’t called back, either. It’s not like her.”
“Oh, okay,” he replied, relaxing a bit. “I mean, that sucks. Maybe she was just busy with the kids? Or maybe… a lawyer?”
“I guess…” I was going to hell for lying to him. I knew it. But I had already dug myself into too deep to try to get out. “I mean, I don’t know. It probably doesn’t mean anything. She’ll call back, I’m sure.”
“Oh… yeah. I’m sure she will, too.” Carrick took my hand in his. “I know this must be really rough on you. And fighting with your brothers can’t be helping. So, I’m glad I can be here for you. You know you can always come to me when they get on your case.”
“It’s fine.” I shrugged, not meeting Carrick’s eyes. If I didn’t look at him, it was a little easier to lie. “I mean, it is what it is, you know? Anyway, I don’t really wanna talk about that. Kinda killing the mood.”
“Zac…” He sighed. “Okay… that’s fine, I guess.”
He punctuated the statement with a kiss, but I could tell that his heart wasn’t really in it. Truthfully, mine wasn’t either, even though I kissed him back. Surely he could see through my lies. It would only be a matter of time before he realized that I had exaggerated how badly things were going with Kate. And if I explained why I had done it… well, I didn’t think that would help my case, either.
“You know, I locked the door this time…” Carrick mumbled, kissing a trail down my neck.
“Mhm… you suggesting something?”
“Maybe,” he replied, with a smirk. He trailed a finger down my chest, letting it fall away just before reaching my boxers. “I dunno, though. You just got clean. It’d be a shame if you got all dirty again.”
I pouted, but truthfully I was relieved that he was giving me an out. Something like guilt was creeping up on me, and I didn’t like it. “Well, there’s always after the show. Get out… all that leftover adrenaline…”
“We’ll see,” Carrick replied, chuckling. He gave me a quick kiss, then sat up and asked, “Hey, Zac…. feel like getting something to eat?”
“Is that a euphemism?” I asked, only partially joking.
Carrick rolled his eyes as he stood up and offered me a hand. “No, you ass. It’s an invite. You know… a date.”
“Oh,” I replied. To my own surprise, I felt my cheeks heating up. Had Carrick really made me blush? I couldn’t remember the last time anything had done that. “I… yeah. Yeah, let’s do it. Let’s go on a date.”
Carrick pulled me to my feet and pressed his lips gently to mine. I kissed him back, and this time I didn’t feel so guilty for it.