Beautiful Music: Daze on End

Faith Talbot

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Copyright ©2010 Faith Talbot

ISBN: 978-1-60521-420-7
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Beautiful Music: Daze on End

Faith Talbot

When Kayla gets an extra ticket to a rock concert from her assistant, she never dreams
she’ll be hooking up with the far younger lead singer before the show. It’s a great

one-night stand -- until the bass player, Erik, calls her a few nights later. Jason is sick,
and only Kayla can help him.

Jason and Erik of Daze on End have navigated a strange, energy-based sexual puzzle

their whole lives. When Kayla enters their lives, some of the answers begin to fall
into place as the three of them find themselves beginning an erotic journey that will
change all their lives.

Chapter One

He was rangy and lean, with shaggy dark blond hair, and shoulders a little too

wide for the rest of him. It was the kind of body so many men don’t grow into until

their mid-thirties, Kayla thought. A good body. He had a few more years of muscle-

building to go.

His cock tasted like salt and iron.

He had his back up against the wall, his mouth slack, gray eyes glazed as his

orgasm trembled its way into his hips. She curled her fingers around the base of his

dick to hold him off, and he moaned a protest. She grinned, mouth stretching around

his shaft.

It wasn’t the best place for a blowjob. She wasn’t even sure where they were --

she’d just followed him when he led the way. It wasn’t the bathrooms and it wasn’t

backstage, but it was somewhere between the bar and the place where the band would

be preparing for their performance in a few minutes. She didn’t really care. She had a

mouth full of cock, the smell of his musk tickling her nose, the taut skin of his belly

trembling under her fingers. It’s all good.

She hadn’t really meant to pick him up. In fact, she still wasn’t sure if she’d

picked him up or he’d picked her up. It was hard to tell sometimes, when you met each

other’s eyes across a bar and that lightning-fast “fuck me” shot across the room between

you. She bought him a drink, he came to her table; the courtship lasted perhaps fifteen

minutes and ended with her on her knees.

She curled her fingers around his scrotum, feeling his balls draw up. A careful

squeeze stopped him, and his sharp sound of protest sounded almost like pain. She

couldn’t help laughing at him. She knew how to do these things. She had the experience

he was too young to have accumulated. Far too young.

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Her chuckle made his hand tighten in her hair. “Don’t hold me off, baby. I have

to go on in fifteen minutes.” His tone was easy and amused. No anger in it at all. She

had to give him credit there, since she’d strangled his orgasm twice now.

Go on. She wondered at the statement, but not for long. He pushed his cock into

her mouth, pressing against the back of her throat. Not hard, just a little demanding.

She decided she liked him. She swallowed with the head of his cock pressed against the

very back of her mouth, and he gave an appreciative hum. His hips tilted back a little

and his fingers tightened in her hair. She knew this was his signal that she should pull

back or swallow a good mouthful of jizz. Kayla opted to swallow.

Above her, she heard his gasp, ecstasy threaded with surprise, maybe a little

gratitude. I do like him. I really do.

His hips bucked, his back arching against the wall behind him. His fingers

clenched in Kayla’s hair, then relaxed until he was combing through it instead of

holding on.

She drew back, licked the full length of his shaft, the sleek, trembling head. He

flinched back, wincing and laughing at the same time. Kayla tucked him neatly back in

and refastened his fly, then kissed the layer of denim on top of the zipper. His hand

came down to her shoulder, and his gentle touch drew her to her feet.

He was at least six inches taller than she was. He didn’t just dip his head to kiss

her -- he lowered his whole body, bent knees, bowed spine, like he was surrendering all

of himself into her space.

His mouth was generously shaped, and he knew what to do with it. She craved it

suddenly, wanted it between her thighs. Not here, though. If this was a bad place for

fellatio, it was an even worse place for cunnilingus.

He was probably about to leave, anyway, if he had to “go on.” It sounded like he

must be with the opening band. Kayla had had no idea.

He took his time kissing her, though, behaving not at all like someone who

needed to be somewhere else in ten minutes. His hand lifted to cup the back of her head

and he angled her a little, giving himself better access to her mouth. She opened

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beneath him. She only knew she was about to moan when she felt the vibration in the

back of her throat. He chuckled at the sound and stroked her tongue with his. He

tasted… like beer and like man, maybe vaguely of weed. It wasn’t the most appetizing

combination, but it was arousing. Ridiculously so.

Kayla knew he was going to leave any minute -- this was probably the good-bye

smooch. The kiss-off, as it were, but oh, it was a good one. She knew this, but she still

wanted… more than he had time to give her.

It was the want, the need, that made her hand press down between her own legs,

where her cunt felt too big for the space allotted for it there. And wet. Slick. So wet it

felt like her body could slide in half, like he could press fingers, hand, his entire arm

inside her and meet no resistance.

The heel of her hand pressed between her legs, into that heat burning through

her jeans, and brushed against another hand on its way to the same place. Surprised,

she opened her eyes and drew her head back. He was looking at her with mischief in

his gray eyes. A thick shock of messy blond hair nearly obscured them. She had a

sudden urge to brush it back.

“You have to go on,” she said, barely hearing herself. Her ears were buzzing, her

whole body an aching throb longing for release.

He grinned. His fingers -- long, slim, a musician’s fingers, and how could she

have missed that? -- brushed hers aside and he slid his hand down the front of her

jeans. No unbuttoning, no unzipping -- just his hand down past the fly and inside her

panties. It was a bit tight in there for him to maneuver, but he managed it, and his

fingertips slid unerringly onto her clit. She flinched, and he chuckled.

“So wet,” he muttered. “So fucking wet.”

She grabbed his head and dragged his mouth back down to hers. Suddenly she

didn’t want him looking at her. It was one thing when she had his dick in her mouth,

and he was too blinded by lust to see through the shadows. To figure out she was a

long way away from having been in his graduating class.

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He devoured her mouth while his thumb rolled against her clit and long, clever

fingers slid down and inside her. He pressed hard, pressed in, and she couldn’t help it.

She fell apart as a shower of sparks broke behind her eyelids. The sounds she made

were ridiculous, but he swallowed them down, sucking her tongue into his mouth.

When he drew back, he was laughing. “See?” The smugness in his voice was

almost enough to make her want to smack him. Almost. “That didn’t take long at all.”

“You’re horrible,” she told him.

He kissed her again, soundly. “Seems to me, I’m pretty damn good.”

There was a moment. A strange moment, somehow. Not the kind of moment she

expected from a one-time near-fuck up against a wall somewhere between the bar and

the stage. He smiled, and there was an unexpected softness in his eyes. “Watch the

show,” he said. “I can put you right down in front.”

She knew there had been teenage girls lined up outside for hours for the

privilege of standing at the barricade. They wouldn’t be happy.

Fuck ‘em. They were probably here for the headliner, anyway.

She nodded. He took her hand and started to head down the hall toward the

stage.

“Wait,” Kayla said suddenly. He stopped, turned back to look at her. “What’s

your name?”

“Jason,” he said with a wry grin.

“Kayla.”

The grin turned wicked. “Nice to meet you.”

And he put his fingers in his mouth -- the fingers he’d just had inside her panties,

inside her. They slid out with a soft pop. “Let’s go.”

* * *

It had been a long time since she’d stood at the barricade. Twenty years,

probably. Since you were his age, a traitorous corner of her mind whispered. She told it to

shut up. She didn’t quite have twenty years on him. Sixteen, maybe. Eighteen, tops.

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The girls already in prime position weren’t happy. Brent, whom Jason had

introduced as the tour manager, made it clear they’d at the very least lose their spots, at

the worst be thrown out, if they didn’t cooperate. They relented. Kayla could feel their

pissy glares like laser beams between her shoulder blades.

Kayla had never felt so smug in her life. She tried not to snigger. And failed in

the end, when Brent brought her a drink. He winked at her and slipped away to put

bottles of water on the stage.

The band was called Daze on End. She remembered seeing the name on the

ticket when Linda had handed it to her after work tonight, but hadn’t recognized it. She

tried to keep somewhat abreast of the local music scene, but these guys were from

Indianapolis, not Chicago. The girls behind her were snarking -- they wanted to see the

headliner. Kayla stood and sipped her rum and Coke -- how had he known? -- and

waited.

The lights went down. A tingle of anticipation swooped through her stomach.

Anticipation, fear -- and arousal.

A single light came back up and he was there, haloed in gold. His head tipped

up, exposing his throat to the light. His eyes were closed. The guitar cradled against his

body seemed almost a part of him.

Kayla drew in a quick breath, mesmerized. The darkening tingle between her

legs went deeper.

The guitar rose first, a delicate, deliberately uneven arpeggio in a minor key. The

sound was layered, and shifted a bit just before his voice joined it -- she saw him touch

a pedal with his foot to alter the effects.

His voice -- God, his voice. It was honey and whiskey and musk, similar to but at

the same time utterly different from the voice that had whispered need into her ear.

God, but he was beautiful.

The light expanded to reveal the rest of the band. There were two other young

men, but she could see nothing but him.

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As the music ratcheted up, his voice became a driving thing, not quite strident,

but commanding. She vaguely noted the words, but they were secondary. Right now it

was only the voice, the lithe, contained movement of his body. His hips pumped against

the back of the Telecaster as if he were fucking it.

The heat poured through her. She could feel arousal everywhere -- cunt, ass, the

backs of her knees, the tips of her fingers. The back of her tongue. It tasted like salt and

metal.

And then he looked at her. Straight at her, as if there were no one else in the

entire room. She knew it wasn’t a trick of her eyes or wishful thinking. There was

enough light cast down on the pit behind the barricade that she knew he could truly see

her.

He smiled. Her body pulsed, and for a moment she thought she would slide

sideways into an orgasm from the touch of his gaze alone. Then he looked away, not

dismissively, but naturally, because he had to, because he had a show to put on.

It was almost as if he had touched her. She could still feel the contact on her face.

She must have been staring at him with everything she was feeling in her eyes,

because, as the song died down, she heard a voice behind her.

“Jesus, look at her.”

“I know,” replied another voice. Young girls, strident and judgmental in the way

only teens and just post-teens could be. Too young to understand much of anything.

“That’s so gross. God, she’s old enough to be my mom.”

Kayla only smiled. Because, after all, she already knew what his dick tasted like.

* * *

While Jason sang, Erik watched. He always watched Jason, kept track of him, but

tonight he was watching more closely than ever.

He had felt the shift when Jason had connected with the woman in the bar. Not

when they’d nearly fucked in the hallway, but before. He was used to sensing the ebb

and flow when Jason was having sex, but feeling that tug at the base of his spine when

there’d been no more than eye contact -- that was new.

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He and Jason knew far too little about what they really were and what their

strange bond meant. He’d had his suspicions for a time that an added third might be

inevitable, or even necessary, especially as the flow between himself and Jason had

become harder to maintain. While this odd blip on Erik’s radar didn’t necessarily mean

a confirmation of his theory, he was certain it meant something.

Watching Jason on stage, the way his attention kept moving back to the woman,

only added to his suspicions. He’d have to keep an eye on things. Jason, as much as Erik

loved him, would probably miss most of the signals until they smacked him in the face.

Jason was just kind of oblivious that way.

He smiled a little to himself. Yes, he did love Jason, in all his faily glory. Looking

up, he caught Jason’s nod, the signal for the next song. Erik eased the heavy Fender bass

back along his hip and launched into the intro.

Chapter Two

By the time he played the last chord of the last song, Jason was so hard he

thought he was going to break open with it. He’d never felt anything like this before,

not since he and Erik had finally worked out their strange, symbiotic bond.

He knew what he shared with Erik wasn’t normal. He didn’t spend all his life

oblivious to what went on around him, and he knew that, while some people said they

would die without sex, it wasn’t literally true. For Erik, though, it was. With the added

complication that he could only have sex with Jason.

And now Kayla presented another wrinkle. Because his hard, needy cock,

straining behind his fly, wasn’t begging for any willing groupie to fuck him or suck

him. It just wanted Kayla. Wanted to be inside her, as far as he could get.

He’d seen Erik watching him during the show, knew something was distressing

or just intriguing the other man, but he didn’t have time to stop and ask him about it.

Not now, when every molecule in him only wanted to find its way to Kayla.

Something of the need, the hurting, must have shown in his face, because as he

set his guitar in the stand, Brent appeared from nowhere, giving him a look.

“Dude, you okay?”

Jason nodded. “Yeah. Fine.”

Brent nodded back, his lips pressed together. “You have anybody in mind?”

Jason focused on him then, and realized Brent meant to sort out some young

blonde groupie to bring backstage. He’d done it before. Though Brent wasn’t privy to

all the details of Jason’s odd, intense, and necessarily promiscuous sex life -- no one was

but Erik -- he did know how things usually went after the show.

But this time Jason shook his head. “I’ll take care of it,” he said bluntly.

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Brent just nodded and went about his usual business of clearing the equipment

from the stage, while Jason stepped down into the dispersing crowd to find Kayla.

* * *

Kayla stayed where she was by the barricade, biding her time. She’d found a tiny

niche in the crowd and was letting the others -- mostly teen and tween girls -- move

around her. Some were headed to buy merch or drinks before the headliner came on, or

taking the opportunity to run to the ladies’ room.

Kayla was ready to leave so far as the show was concerned. Music-wise, she’d

seen what she wanted to see. In spite of the girls hanging on the barricade laughing and

shrieking in anticipation of the next band, she had no desire to see them. The only

reason she was still here, and she wasn’t too proud to admit it, was the vague hope that

Brent might come to fetch her back to Jason.

Brent didn’t come. But one moment she was standing quietly in her small corner

and the next moment a hand cupped her shoulder. She almost jumped, but didn’t --

somehow the sense of who had touched her reached her consciousness before her body

could respond with startlement.

She turned. He stood behind her. His dark blond hair was mussed and sweaty,

straggling down over his forehead, into his eyes. The gray eyes, their color clear as

water in the club lights, which had been turned up after the encore, were heavy with

what she immediately recognized as need.

“Come with me?” The query in his voice drowned in the slight crack of

desperation. He held out his hand, and she took it without pause or consideration.

There was no need for a spoken answer. He pushed the security barriers open and,

while the young girls behind her gaped and made derisive noises, half-guided, half-

lifted her to the other side.

Everything blurred around her. She could smell him, the sharp, metallic tang of

sweat, the muskiness of male skin. The taste of him sprang suddenly to her mouth,

filling it. Her tongue felt as heavy as her cunt, weeping with need.

“Where?” she asked, almost as if it mattered.

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“Backstage?” His tone was hesitant. Not exactly romantic, she thought, but better

than up against the wall. “There’s a couch,” he added, not only hesitant now but

apologetic. “And, um, they will have cleared out by now.”

“As long as you’re naked, I don’t really care.” She felt brazen and beautiful. His

answering grin made her heart thud even harder. For a moment she wondered if any of

this was really happening. But it was.

The backstage room was empty, which relieved her. She didn’t know if she

would have been mortified if Jason had had to throw fellow band mates out so they

could fuck, but she was glad she didn’t have to find out. The whole place smelled of

sex, sweat and marijuana, reminders of every band that had ever played here.

Perversely, the smells made her that much hotter. The couch itself looked like it had

seen its share of groupies on their backs. Jason glanced at it, then grabbed a hoodie

hanging over the corner of one of the mirrors and spread it across the cushions.

“It’s mine,” he said. “It’s mostly clean.”

She grinned, amused, and started to say something, but before she could, he

pulled at her hand, using her own momentum to swing her into the couch.

He was on her before she could so much as take a breath, his shirt already half

off. “Wait, wait,” she said, and he pulled back, a look of concern crossing his face. She

just reached down and unfastened her jeans, shimmying them half down her legs

before he realized what she was doing and grinned again.

“Foreplay?” he asked.

“God, don’t bother.” She kicked her jeans the rest of the way off and began to

tear at his, the zipper releasing in time to the music of his chuckle.

He pressed the condom into her hand before she had a chance to ask for it. He

didn’t need much prompting, this one, young and horny as he was. She shoved his

jeans down, practically tore his underwear getting it off him. His skin already held a

layer of sweat from the exertion of the show, and his hair falling down into her face was

wet with it. The sweat hadn’t had time to sour yet; it just smelled like lust.

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His hips were already pumping between her thighs; she pushed him back so she

could get to his cock, which seemed to want nothing more than to stab into her. That

was fine with her, but she wanted the condom on it first. Quickly, she rolled it onto him,

aided rather than hindered by his forward thrust into the latex. If anything, he was

longer and harder than he’d been when she’d had him in her mouth.

She’d barely taken her hand off him when he pulsed forward again. Unerringly,

he went into her, all the way in a single thrust. She was so wet already that her body

took him in almost without his help. His hips struck the insides of her thighs and she

grabbed his shoulders, holding him still.

“God,” she breathed.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he said at the same time.

Grabbing his hair with both hands, she dragged him down and kissed him. The

movement brought him deeper inside, and she clenched on him, wrapping her legs

around him. His mouth locked to hers, devouring her as she devoured him.

The heat of it, the intensity -- she’d never felt anything quite like it. It threatened

to swallow her up, drown her. She could feel her own heartbeat in the back of her

throat, in her breasts, her pussy. His teeth scraped over her tongue and he made an odd

sound in the back of his throat.

His hips began to move. Faster, more frantically, shoving hard into her with each

taut thrust. The small noises, guttural and whimpery at the same time, vibrated into her

mouth. He drew back after a time, breaking the kiss as the thrusting demanded more of

his attention. His eyes were glazed and heavy with lust, his mouth slack.

Pressing her hips up against his with every sharp movement, she drew him

closer. Ground herself against him, seeking that contact that would bring her where she

needed to go. Beneath them, the couch had begun to make low moans of protest, much

like Kayla’s low moans of non-protest. She wondered briefly if anyone outside could

hear, but the thought made her nearly laugh, and that wasn’t what she wanted right

now. She just wanted Jason.

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She had him. He shifted again between her legs, pulling her closer to him so that

her breasts mounded against his chest. The smattering of gold-brown hair rubbed

roughly against her nipples. Bending his head, he kissed her neck, then bit her gently.

His cock stroked hard and fast inside her. Another shift, and he had his hand between

them, fingers pressing, then rolling, against her clit.

Her eyes went wide and a strange, high-pitched sound rose as everything

around her turned into fire and stars. Belatedly, she realized the noise was her own.

Jason answered it with a strangled sound that might have been laughter, but whatever

amusement he might have felt was drowned almost immediately in his own low,

drawn-out groan of satisfaction.

He was still for several long seconds, his body pressed hard against hers. She felt

his breath stop, then start again, felt his cock pulse inside her. His face shifted, a cheek

prickly with stubble stroking up the length of hers. He was trembling.

“Jason…” she murmured. There wasn’t enough energy left in her to make it a

question.

He took a long, slow breath, steadying himself, then arranged his weight so he

was no longer pressed so hard against her body. Reluctantly, she loosened the death

grip her legs had formed around his waist and hips. “I don’t…” he started, but stopped.

Gently, he stroked her hair back from her face.

“You don’t what?”

“Don’t want you to go.”

She smiled. “I have to, don’t I? You need to pack up and get ready for the next

show, or whatever it is you do.”

He nodded. “Something like that.”

“And I need to go home. Get back to regular stuff. Work. Life. All that.”

Reflexively, her legs tightened on him again. His softening cock slid out of her, the

condom sticky against her thigh. The plain, blunt humanness of it made her eyes

prickle. She reached up and stroked his hair. “I don’t normally do this kind of thing,

you know.”

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“I know.” Gently, he kissed her. “Come to the Chicago show. Day after

tomorrow. We can…”

“Do this again?” she supplied as he trailed off. “No, I think it’s better this way.

Sweet and a memory.”

His brow furrowed. “Do you really think so?”

“Maybe?”

The corners of his mouth curled up, just a little. “Maybe not?”

She only laughed. But when, finally, she headed back out into the night, after

accepting one last, sound kiss from him, she had his phone number folded up on a

piece of paper in her pocket, and he had hers in his own.

* * *

Erik didn’t want to follow them. He never wanted to follow, but most of the time

he did. It was compulsion more than voyeurism or perversion. It had always been that

way.

He had the courtesy to stay outside the venue this time, though, not even

lingering outside the door to listen. It was raining a little, soft, cold splats of wet that

drained through his sweat-lank hair and collected in a light dew on his face. The chill

felt good, though he knew Jason would have yelled at him if he knew, told him he was

going to catch his death and screw up his voice for background vocals.

He was yards away, outside the building, separated from Jason by wood and

brick and concrete. But it didn’t matter. He could feel the sounds and the movements in

his bones. He always could.

He and Jason were used to it by now, but it was impossible to explain to anyone

else. They’d tried to tell Randy about it when he’d joined the band, but he’d just stared

at them and blinked owlishly and said it sounded like a damn good excuse to fuck as

many groupies as possible. Fortunately he’d been drunk and high at the time, and

didn’t really remember the conversation the next day. Or if he did remember it, he’d

had the good grace to never mention it again. Mostly he just stayed out of the way and

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minded his own business. Which was good, because they needed a drummer and he

was a good one.

Erik made himself straighten, let his head lean back against the brick wall behind

him. He’d done this a hundred times, waited while Jason sated himself, felt the

vibrations and the side effects while he waited his turn. But this was different.

He still wasn’t sure how it was different, but he was certain by now that

whatever he’d sensed when Kayla had appeared in the bar had not been his

imagination. The eddies of energy between her and Jason were unlike anything Erik

had ever experienced. It made his skin hot just feeling them.

Was this a good development? He didn’t even know. Wasn’t sure how to find

out, except to wait and see. And in the meantime, close his eyes and let the rain drift

through his lashes, while every cell in his body felt Jason shudder through an orgasm,

then quietly drift into something very close to sleep.

When it was done, Erik headed back inside, into the bar. Jason wouldn’t be ready

for him for a while, and he needed a drink. Maybe more than he ever had in his life.

Everything was about to change.

Chapter Three

She drove home in the dark and a spattering rain. It was a five-hour drive, and

again she wondered what had possessed her to drive from Chicago to St. Louis for a

concert just because her assistant had had an extra ticket. She hadn’t even seen Mindy

after the first half-hour. And Mindy was twenty-five -- much more able to manage the

lack of sleep. Even though it was Friday night, Kayla had a feeling she’d still be paying

for this on Monday.

Three hours into the drive, the rain changed from a spatter to a torrent. She

clenched the steering wheel and focused on keeping the car from hydroplaning.

The radio provided a largely inaudible backdrop, most of the talk drowned out

by the sound of the rain. But as she slowed to something below highway speeds to

reduce the tire slippage on the wet roads, a familiar voice soared above the pounding

rainfall.

The sound of Jason’s voice filling her car sent a thrill of desire through her so

intense she nearly closed her eyes. Instead she clenched the wheel even harder, letting

her mouth move around words she hadn’t realized she’d memorized. Words she knew

hadn’t been written for her. She wished they had.

The taste of him filled her mouth again. She rubbed her tongue against the roof

of her mouth, spreading it across her palate. Her body shook, her pussy clenching over

a wet flood of arousal.

God. Just his voice could do this to her? Just his voice, mixed and produced and

transmitted through the air, filling her car like sweet, honeyed whiskey, and she was on

the edge of an orgasm already.

She slowed to a speed completely inappropriate for highway driving, even in

these conditions. Fortunately the traffic was sparse, given the hour. And she kept the

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car at its slow crawl until her body shook and shuddered into impossible completion,

until the last note and the last chord faded away.

* * *

The rain had let up by the time she pulled into her driveway. The small house sat

on a small, green, carefully tended lot. She was proud of the house. She’d worked hard

to afford a place in the Chicago suburbs, after spending years in a trendy but high

maintenance brownstone downtown. A puddle of light fell on the porch from the

outside lamp she’d left on. Hands still shaking, she unlocked the door and slid inside.

It was dark; she didn’t bother turning on the light but walked straight into the

house through the warm black. The darkness seemed to caress her as she made her way

to the living room and dropped her purse on the couch. She slid out of her damp coat

and spread it out over the kitchen counter to dry.

She finally turned on a light, clicking the switch above the stove. The pale light

was enough to see by as she made a cup of tea and turned to lean against the stove,

dipping the tea bag up and down, slowly so as not to splash.

There was no denying the intensity of the experience she’d had. Everything had

been perfect, from the first eyelock across the bar to the quiet good-bye. But that didn’t

mean anything. None of it really meant anything. Even the orgasm she’d had in the car

on the way home, spurred only by his voice on the radio, didn’t mean anything. It had

just been a night to remember, and to treasure, but it wasn’t going to lead to anything.

She smiled a little. That was okay. It really was. She would remember it fondly

and forever, and she would think about his words when they had parted, that he

wanted to see her again.

She wanted to see him again, too. But she’d been down this road, or roads

similar enough, to know that seeing each other again guaranteed nothing. There was as

much chance of awkward embarrassment as there was of rekindled passion. Probably

more. Nobody wanted that.

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She wouldn’t go to the Chicago show. Instead she would stay home, put on some

music, have a cup of tea, maybe a glass of wine. And she’d think about Jason, but she

wouldn’t go to him. She would just remember.

* * *

Erik sat at the bar and drank, sipping his way slowly through one beer after

another, one shot of whiskey after another. Even careful not to consume the alcohol too

fast, he was at the edge of his tolerance well before the sun had begun to lighten the

sky.

He slid from the bar stool and made his way to a booth. He slid into it and laid

his head down on the table. There was nothing he could do but wait.

He didn’t realize he’d drifted off to sleep until a hand clasped his elbow and he

jolted awake, sitting straight up. His vision was a little blurry and the abrupt movement

sent an empty shot glass rolling off the table.

“Hey.” Jason’s voice was gentle, his hand squeezing gently on Erik’s arm. “Hey,

you okay?”

“Yeah.” Erik blinked up at Jason. “Yeah, sure.”

“Come on.” He bent forward and kissed Erik gently on the temple. “Let’s go.”

It was what Erik had been waiting for, but his body remained sluggish. He

tripped on his way out of the bar even with Jason’s hand helping to support him. His

legs were weak and wobbly, as if he’d compressed a nerve while he was sitting at the

bar. They were halfway down the hallway before he felt like any of his limbs were truly

under his own control.

“Wait,” he said suddenly as Jason steered him. “Wait.”

Jason stopped, peering at him inquisitively. Erik blinked again, muzzily, trying

to remember what he had meant to say. The sky was no longer black, the stars fading as

the sun crept tentatively closer. Jason was taking him backstage, to lay him down in the

dressing room where it probably still smelled of sex. The sex Jason had just had with

Kayla.

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Why did it matter? How many anonymous groupies had Jason fucked on that

couch, in their various stops and performances here, only to bring Erik back to the same

place? This was not an unfamiliar pattern.

It was, though. Something was still strangely, profoundly different.

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

Nodding, Jason pulled him through the door.

The room didn’t reek of sex, which surprised Erik somewhat. He could smell

Kayla there, though. She hadn’t worn perfume, but there had been another soft,

feminine scent about her. Shampoo, perhaps, or a body wash. He could smell it as Jason

steered him back onto the couch.

“Was she good?” Erik heard himself saying. He winced as the words struck his

ears. He rarely questioned Jason on his sex partners. They just didn’t matter. All that

mattered was what was about to happen here, between the two of them. Everything

else was secondary.

Jason’s eyes narrowed a little, as if he were mulling the question. Finally he said

quietly, “She was. There was something different. Is it going to matter?”

Erik let out a harsh laugh. “How the fuck should I know? God, I know as much

about this as you do.”

“Right.” The considering look on Jason’s face turned to a frown of concentration.

He leaned forward and fitted his mouth to Erik’s.

It began right there, right then, in the touch of lip against lip, the soft intrusion of

Jason’s tongue as he pressed it into Erik’s mouth. A soft, needy sound vibrated low in

Erik’s throat. He held still. Jason slid over him, pinning him to the couch with his lean,

wide-shouldered body.

It began slowly. It always did; it had to. No matter how desperate they might be

for each other, they had to control the first few, tentative minutes. They’d learned that

the hard way, when a frantic coupling had left Erik sick for days with a roiling energy

tearing him up until it had finally settled inside him. They couldn’t get help from

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doctors if anything went wrong -- no doctors would know how to help them. So they

had to be careful, and learn from their mistakes.

Jason’s hands were big and sure, moving over Erik’s chest and stomach,

stroking. It was almost a ritual, the slow, even strokes. Erik could feel the hum

beginning in his chest, under his skin, spreading down into his belly and groin. Jason’s

mouth on his moved gently, tongue pressing in and out in a slow, steady rhythm.

Jason’s body undulated, as well, each wave-like movement of his hips grinding against

Erik’s. Jason was hard and getting harder, his erection moving across Erik’s hipbone.

“Tell me when you’re ready,” he murmured into Erik’s ear.

“You’ll know.” He always did.

“I know. I want to hear you say it.” His teeth scraped the line of Erik’s pulse,

tightened a little on the tendon below his ear. “Say it.”

Erik nodded. Jason knew, of course, that Erik was ready, or he wouldn’t have

made the demand. “I’m ready,” he said. The heat had pooled low in his belly, until it

moved in a warm, swirling sensation at the base of his cock. His erection strained

painfully against his zipper.

Jason’s lips toyed with Erik’s earlobe. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure, of course I’m sure.”

Jason chuckled. “Impatience doesn’t become you.”

“Like you’re not used to it by now --” His voice broke off as Jason’s fingers

pulled his jeans open, making short work of button and zipper. His warm hand closed

on Erik’s shaft. Erik made an incoherent sound, and for a time he could manage nothing

else.

Jason’s body was hot against his, hotter as clothes slipped off and away. Erik was

barely able to register what was happening as need and pure lust swamped him.

He had never gotten used to it. Doubted he ever would. The loss of control, his

body reaching for what it needed without explicit instruction from any intelligence he

possessed. He’d resented it for years, and wasn’t sure he still didn’t. But he couldn’t

walk away from it. He’d tried once, a long time ago, and had nearly died.

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When Jason’s skin slid against his, something inside him opened up. Deep,

empty places that hollowed out over the course of days and only filled again when

Jason took him. Erik spread open beneath him and let it happen.

It was different every time and yet always the same. His body woke when Jason

touched him, skin shivering under questing fingers. It was like a spell, or a drug. He felt

almost out of his body, but so deeply rooted to it that sometimes he thought he would

never be able to come back from the waves of need and passion, the strange, intense

energy that filled him.

That energy was growing even now, like a globe of light shaped by Jason’s hands

as he caressed Erik’s skin. Jason stroked his sides, fingers lingering over the ridges of

his ribcage, then cupping his hipbones. He kissed Erik deeply, tongue stroking and

plunging. Drawing back, he looked into Erik’s face. His eyes were glazed and blurry.

“Yes,” said Erik quietly, and Jason nodded.

The nod meant something. Nothing anyone but Erik would understand, but it

made him certain Jason was still there, still conscious of himself there behind those

glassy eyes. There was a time when he hadn’t been. A time when this part of their

relationship had been strange and frightening for them both.

Sometimes he wondered if Jason loved him. Sometimes he wondered if he loved

Jason. He knew he couldn’t live without the other man, but it was a need so basic, it

was the same as breathing or eating. He would die without the power Jason poured into

him when they made love. There was no point avoiding or resenting it.

Jason’s hands slid down Erik’s thighs, and Erik gasped, the sound raspy and

involuntary. Jason opened Erik’s legs, and a moment later wet heat enclosed Erik’s

balls. Jason’s tongue was a magic thing, rolling and caressing him through the delicate

skin. Then his face lowered as he adjusted the angle of Erik’s body, and his tongue went

inside.

Erik was glad he only sang backup, because the screeling noise that came from

him, no matter how much he tried to hold it back, would have ruined his throat. He

opened his thighs, pressing forward, lifting his hips, letting Jason in as deep as he

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wanted to go. Fingers followed tongue, probing and opening, then his tongue returned,

soft and hot. More -- God, he wanted more, so much more.

Two fingers, then three stretched him wide. Warm saliva and cold lube eased the

passage. Erik wanted it hard and fast and now, but he wasn’t going to get it. He knew

that. Today was not a day for fast. Jason would take what he needed -- he always did --

and today he needed slow.

Erik was okay with that. He could get hard and fast later. All he had to do was

ask. But not now.

Jason had four fingers deep into Erik before he finally slid free. He drew a stripe

with his tongue from ass to the tip of Erik’s cock, then moved forward. His back arched

and his body went taut as he slowly slid inside.

The gasp came from Jason’s mouth now, soft and low. Erik shifted to

accommodate Jason’s body between his legs, thighs spreading, knees bending to

embrace him. Erik felt distant and glassy now, so far beyond controlling his own body

that he couldn’t even manage the rhythm of his own breathing. Jason slid in deep and

out in a slow, slick glide that sent a burning wave of sensation up the middle of Erik’s

chest, all the way to the back of his throat. It tasted like steel.

Jason’s back arched, and his mouth latched to the side of Erik’s neck. He sucked,

his teeth scraping across Erik’s skin. Erik could tell Jason was out of his own body, lost

in the intense waves of need and lust. Erik had lost his own control as his skin went hot,

absorbing the energy sliding over it.

Jason pressed deep, so deep, impossibly deep, and came. A low, animal growl

came from him, tearing from the depths of his chest up to his throat, and out in a flow

of heat across Erik’s face. The touch of it, the wave of energy over him, sent Erik to the

edge. His cock, pressed between his stomach and Jason’s, jerked, then spilled.

“God,” said Jason. “Oh, God, oh, my God.”

It didn’t sound right. It was less an involuntary exclamation of ecstasy and more

an expression of shock, or pain. Coming back to himself just enough to register it, Erik

cupped Jason’s head. His fingers combed into the dark blond hair.

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“Jace. You okay?”

Jason pressed his face into the curve of Erik’s shoulder. “Something hurt. God,

something hurt.”

Gently, Erik kissed his temple. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” He stroked Jason’s face,

kissed his eyelids.

He wasn’t sure it was okay at all.

* * *

In her bedroom, in her house just outside of Chicago, Kayla suddenly woke.

She’d been dreaming something; she didn’t remember what. But when she opened her

eyes to stare at the pale, moonlit darkness, she was crying.

Chapter Four

Jason should have felt better. Usually he was brimming with energy after a

show, after sex. The combination of Kayla followed by his usual encounter with Erik

should have filled the usual need. But he was off-kilter today. Even sound check at the

new venue didn’t seem to be going well. His voice sounded strained, and he felt weak

and uncoordinated. His fingers didn’t seem to want to go to the right frets, and the

words to the songs wandered in and out of his memory as he sang. He hummed

through part of it, making it seem like he was just sparing his voice.

Afterward, he set his guitar in the stand and headed off the stage. He heard Erik

behind him, but didn’t turn.

“Jace,” said Erik. Jason still ignored him, but then Erik’s hand closed on his arm.

“Jason. Wait.”

“What?”

“You okay?”

Jason turned finally to face him. He didn’t want Erik to see, knowing the other

man would immediately know there was a problem. On stage, Randy was chatting with

Brent, but both of them slid gazes toward Jason and Erik. They, too, knew something

was afoot, but Randy at least knew better than to ask questions. Brent did, too, most of

the time.

“I don’t know.” He’d intended to dissemble and act like all was well, but when

he opened his mouth that wasn’t what came out. “I’m gonna… I don’t know… Find.

Something.”

Someone, he meant, and Erik knew it. Frowning, Erik nodded. His normally gray

eyes had darkened with concern, but he didn’t push Jason any further. He just took a

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step back and returned to the stage. When Jason glanced back over his shoulder, Erik

was talking with Randy and Brent, laughing. Acting normal.

Normal. Jason didn’t even know what that meant. He never had. He wondered if

he ever would. At this point, probably not. Normal just wasn’t meant to be part of his

life. For a moment, he watched Erik, noticing the way the other man’s mouth curved,

the way his neck arched when he tossed his head back to laugh. He really was beautiful.

A flash of Kayla’s face passed through his mind, but he shook it away. He had a

feeling she wasn’t coming back. Which was too bad, because he’d felt more than a

passing attraction to her. There had been something else…

The thought drained away as he approached the backstage doors that led into

the street behind the venue. There were girls out there. There always were. Waiting to

see if he might come out, might choose one of them. Fortunately or unfortunately,

depending on how you looked at it, his reputation preceded him everywhere they

played. Women knew he brought groupies backstage more often than not. Of course no

one knew exactly why, but that was his own burden. He was in a rock band and he was

young and healthy and not exactly ugly, so it would have been stranger to those who

kept track of such things if he didn’t behave that way. It was one of the reasons he and

Erik had chosen this career to begin with. It just made things easier.

There were times he wished he didn’t have to. Times he wished he could settle

down and not have to deal with the constant, painful itching beneath his skin. But when

he tried to complain about it out loud, it sounded ridiculous. Why would anyone

complain about having to have sex?

He pushed the door open. Scanning the faces, he automatically noted and

discounted those who were obviously underage. What he was really looking for,

though, was a face with a few lines, framed with blonde hair.

Of course Kayla wasn’t there. He hadn’t expected her to be. Even if she had

decided to come to the show, she wouldn’t be waiting for him here. She wasn’t the type.

She’d be waiting by the bar, or taking her place in the crowd…

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And suddenly, with complete certainty, he knew she wasn’t. She was nowhere

near. If she had been, he would have known it, the same way he knew the temperature

in the room, or knew that Erik was looking at him from a corner of the stage.

God. What had happened between them last night? He couldn’t answer the

question and wasn’t sure he wanted to. But he was just as sure that the answer was

necessary. He would have to face it at some point.

Again, he pushed the thoughts back. There was a lovely girl standing a little

away from the others, with long, black hair and dark, uptilted eyes. Her mouth curved

as he caught her gaze, and he smiled. She was easily in her twenties, and her body was

full and lush. Glancing back toward the door, he indicated she could follow. She made

her way along the wall, sidling past the others, and accompanied him into the building.

She was lovely and willing and exactly what he normally preferred but he knew

even before he opened the door to the backstage lounge that it wasn’t going to happen.

Not tonight. No matter how badly his body burned. Something had changed.

He offered her a bottle of water and she eyed him curiously. The smile remained

on her lips, a soft curve of promise. “I’m a little nervous,” she said.

“It’s okay.” He watched her open the water bottle. He wanted her. Truly he did.

His groin ached all the way up into his belly, almost to his chest, and his mouth was

dry.

Maybe if he tried…

She moistened her lips with the water, and as she lowered the bottle, water

glistening on the seam of her mouth, he leaned forward to kiss her. Her lips were cold

from the water, wet and soft, and her mouth opened softly under his.

She tasted young and sweet. He could bend her back and take her, he knew, and

she would be open and willing, hot and willing. They always were. They took him in

and sated his thirst, and he took what they gave him and shared it with Erik, preserving

the balance between them.

Gently, he cupped her breast with one hand. Her blouse was some finely-woven

material, not silk but of similar texture, and the soft cloth caught on his calluses. He

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winced, afraid he’d ruined the fabric, but she pressed closer, unmindful. He could feel

the hard nub of her nipple rising under his touch.

It hurt. The lust rising through his body felt wrong. There was a sense of weak

sickness behind it rather than pure, healthy need, as if the blood rushing to his dick

carried some strange poison. He closed his eyes and gasped.

For a moment he thought he might be able to pass the noise off as a needy sound

rather than one of discomfort. But she gave him a quick, worried look. “Are you okay?”

He hesitated, then decided it might be best to tell the truth. “I’m not sure. I’m not

feeling right.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re not gonna pass out, are you? Or, like, puke?”

“I don’t think so.” He couldn’t help a small smile. Maybe she was a little younger

than he’d thought. “I’m really sorry. Maybe you should go. I think I need to lie down.”

Thankfully, she looked more worried than upset. “Jesus, yeah. I’ll just get out of

your way. Should I get somebody?”

“No. No, it’s okay. Brent will be by in a few minutes.”

“Okay.” She still seemed hesitant, and before she finally left, she bent and kissed

his mouth. “Okay. Okay. Be careful. Feel better.”

He nodded and watched her slip out through the door.

God, he felt awful. He let himself slide back on the couch, onto his back. Eyes

closed, he held still, waiting for the feeling to subside. He couldn’t be sick -- he had to

be onstage in a couple of hours.

Finally, the wooziness faded. Slowly, he sat up. He grabbed another bottle of

water and drank it slowly, letting its coolness settle his stomach.

With a sigh, he rubbed his face and leaned back in the couch. Nothing like this

had ever happened before. He hoped it never happened again. But he was certain it

would.

* * *

Kayla felt unsettled throughout the day. Work didn’t go as smoothly as it usually

did; one of the junior copywriters hadn’t delivered the copy she needed to present to

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her client that afternoon, and she’d had to pull in a freelancer at the last minute to be

sure the media proposal was finished on time. It had made her cranky. Irate, even.

She hadn’t been in the mood to deal with it. Her skin felt like it was trying to

crawl off her, and her brain couldn’t seem to settle on anything but memories of Jason.

Not so much the sex -- okay, quite a bit the sex -- but more than that. She remembered

the way the light had caught the stubble on his face, the shape of his big hands, the

rapid, graceful movements of his fingers over the fretboard. Those same fingers inside

her…

It had been hard to concentrate and even harder to keep her temper when things

insisted on going wrong. She finally went home nearly two hours after she normally

did, leaving behind the presentation packages she normally would have brought home

with her to be sure she was ready for tomorrow’s advertising clients. She was irritated,

restless, and uncomfortable in her own skin.

At home, she drew a hot bath and poured in sea salt and lavender oil. The smell

of lavender filled the small bathroom along with the steam, calming her almost

immediately. Waiting for the tub to fill, she stripped, picked out a towel, then lowered

herself carefully into the nearly too-hot water.

It felt good. The tension began to drain away, as she’d hoped it would. But

behind it came the suffusing need she’d been fighting ever since she’d walked away

from Jason. It settled hot and wet between her legs, making her thighs tremble in the

warm water.

She wanted him. More than she’d ever wanted any man in her life. It didn’t

make any sense. She’d barely met him. At work today she’d actively fought -- and won

-- against the urge to Google everything she could find out about him, his past, his life,

his family, his music. You know all you need to know, she’d told herself. You know what his

face does when he comes, and you know what his dick tastes like. What else do you need?

And although she’d convinced herself she didn’t need any more than that, she

was certain she didn’t believe it. She needed more. She needed everything.

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Sliding farther down into the water, she closed her eyes and forced the thoughts

away.

* * *

Jason curled up back on the van, taking refuge in the tiny back bench seat. There

were pictures taped to the ceiling above it, of past venues and of friends; he looked at

them and wondered why there were none of Kayla.

Because you just met her, you idiot. Because all you did was fuck her and let her go.

He closed his eyes. Just the thought of it hurt him.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, a hand was shaking

his shoulder. “Jason. Wake up. We gotta go get ready.”

Blinking blearily, he lifted his head to see Erik looking down at him, concern

lining his face. “Yeah,” Jason said. “Yeah, sure.”

“You okay?” Erik asked him, his gaze a little narrow.

“Yeah.” Jason considered, then amended, “Yeah, I think so. Better than I was.”

There was no point trying to dissemble around Erik. Erik knew far too much for his

own good about Jason’s overall state of health.

“Gonna make it through the show?” Erik still seemed skeptical.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Jason was starting to get a bit irritated now.

Erik nodded, lips compressed, then schooled his expression to something less

judgmental. “Good. Let’s go, then.”

They were the second band in the lineup, after a local group who weren’t quite

ready for anything approaching a tour. The relentless sound of them pounded through

into the dressing rooms. Jason closed his eyes. They weren’t bad. The bass and the

drums weren’t quite coordinated, though, and their singer needed to do some work so

he didn’t screech and crack quite so much. Or maybe he liked to screech and crack. Not

really Jason’s business, he supposed. At least he was mostly on key, which was more

than Jason could have said when he’d started out.

He tuned his guitar again -- the high E string liked to slip out of tune if it wasn’t

watched with an eagle eye. The guitar felt good tonight as he balanced it against his

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hipbone. Sometimes the back of the Telecaster slid flat against his belly and it was like

holding a woman. This was one of those nights.

Reluctantly, he disengaged from the guitar strap and set the guitar in its stand.

The opening act would be done soon, and Daze would start setting up.

Jason took a slow breath, closed his eyes again to feel the other band’s bass and

kick drum vibrating through his groin. He was ready.

* * *

Something was wrong. Erik could tell looking at Jason that he wasn’t quite on his

game. He couldn’t tell what exactly wasn’t right, but he knew Jason was off.

So he watched. He always watched. Tonight he watched very closely through

narrow eyes, hands moving automatically over the bass guitar, thumping out the heavy

beats that kept Jason on course. Behind him, Randy was attacking the drum kit with his

usual fervor, so animated that at times he lifted straight off the stool. Erik wondered if

Randy could even tell anything was wrong. He was so wrapped up in what he was

doing, sweat already dripping a thin line down his jaw, and they were only on the first

song.

Erik was watching, and even watching he missed it when it happened. Jason

went straight down to the floor, onto his hands and knees, between verses of “Hearts

and Broken Bones.” But he did that sometimes, going to his knees to bang with his fist

on the back of the kick drum.

He wasn’t banging on anything. And as Erik finally registered that this wasn’t

part of Jason’s usual stage show, Jason went flat to the floor, on his chest.

Randy was still drumming. He couldn’t see over the height of the kit, hadn’t seen

Jason go down. But Erik yanked the bass off over his head and ran for his lead singer.

Suddenly aware Erik had moved, Randy, too, came to a dead silent halt.

The audience was a breath or two behind, still singing along, but within a matter

of seconds they, too, had fallen silent, staring at the stage. The club’s security moved in,

one of the burlier of the men swinging up onto the stage with surprising agility.

“He okay?” the man asked.

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Erik was on his knees next to Jason’s head, a hand combed into the other man’s

hair. It was wet at the roots with sweat, and Jason’s face felt cooler than it should have.

“I don’t think so,” Erik said.

The big security guard turned toward the crowd and called for everyone to back

off. The crowd complied without protest, leaving a wide space in front of the stage. By

this time Randy had come out from behind the circle of drums and was staring wide-

eyed at Jason’s inert body. “Jesus,” he said. “Jesus, what happened?”

“Dunno,” said Erik. He gently turned Jason over. Jason’s eyes were half-open,

and his mouth moved. Erik bent close, but couldn’t hear what he was saying, if

anything. “Let’s get him somewhere where there’s some air.”

Between the two of them, Erik and the security guard lifted Jason’s long, lean,

surprisingly heavy body and maneuvered him off the stage. Great way for the show to

go down, Erik thought, but shit, this was rock and roll. This kind of thing happened all

the time. Somebody would make up a story, and Daze on End would go up another

notch on the cool meter.

That was the least of Erik’s worries, though. Jason was way too limp. They

carried him back to the dressing room and stretched him out on a couch that looked like

it had to be a health hazard.

“Erik?” Jason’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Yeah, dude, I’m here. You okay?”

“Feel like shit,” Jason offered, and closed his eyes again.

Erik turned to see both Randy and the security guard hovering. “Randy, go back

and tell them the show’s off. I’ll stay here with him.” He shifted his attention to the

guard. “Gonna be okay?”

The security guard shrugged. “It’ll have to be. I’ll take care of it.”

“Cool.”

When the others had gone, Erik laid a gentle hand to Jason’s face. He felt

clammy, and Erik didn’t like it. He frowned. After a moment, he patted down the

pockets of Jason’s denim jacket, then shoved his fingers into them until he found the

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little slip of yellow lined paper. There was a number on it. He hadn’t seen Kayla give

Jason the number, but he’d known it would be there. It was only logical.

Erik dug out his own phone and dialed.

Chapter Five

Kayla was in bed, wrapped in a blanket and reading a hardback under the wan,

purplish glow of a book light when her cell phone rang. She stared at it as it sat there

vibrating and warbling “Come Sail Away” at her, wondering why she’d brought it into

the bedroom in the first place. Finally, as the ring tone came to an end and started over,

she picked it up. She didn’t recognize the number, but clicked the button anyway.

“Hello?”

“Kayla?”

She didn’t recognize the voice, either, but if it had been a telemarketer he would

have added her last name. “This is she.”

“Kayla, this is Erik.” A pause as Kayla wondered who the hell Erik was, and Erik

apparently registered that Kayla didn’t know who the hell he was.

“Bass. Daze on End. Jason…” He broke off. His voice sounded breathy and… not

excited, but agitated. “Jason’s sick.”

Jason. Jason of the voice, the depthless eyes, and the cock that she could still taste

at the back of her throat. Jason, whose face had somehow supplanted the mental image

she’d formed of the hero in the romance novel she now held half-shut in her left hand.

“I’m sorry -- I don’t understand why you’re calling me. Can’t you take him to the

doctor?” Her own voice had gone a little thready. Jason. Jesus. She could feel his heat in

the palm of her hand.

“He needs you.”

Kayla shook her head and closed her eyes. “Look, Erik. I’m sorry he’s not feeling

well but I don’t understand why you’re bothering me about it.” She started to lift the

phone away from her face.

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“Don’t hang up!” Erik sounded strangely desperate. “Please, Kayla, don’t hang

up. I swear this is not a joke. I am not being a stalker.”

In spite of herself, she chuckled a little. “I think I’m the one who’s supposed to be

stalking you, if I understand the rules of rock correctly.”

“Right.” He paused. “Listen. I can’t explain. I really can’t. But Jason needs you.

We’ll be in Chicago tonight. I can send you the address to the hotel --”

“Erik. This is ridiculous. I can’t just come to your hotel because you called me.”

“Please. I swear I’m not giving you shit about this. I swear.”

None of it made sense. But Kayla could hear the desperation building in Erik’s

voice. Whatever the hell was going on, it was weird and made no sense, but Erik was

serious.

She was silent a moment, trying to keep herself from saying what she knew she

was about to say. But then she opened her mouth and said it anyway. “Okay. But

dammit, Erik, you’d better not be shitting me.”

“I’m not.” The relief was as evident as the desperation had been. “I swear I’m

not. Thank you, Kayla. Thank you.”

* * *

Erik folded both hands around the phone and pressed it to his lips. His hands

were shaking. He couldn’t believe she’d said yes. But she had. She’d said yes.

He closed his eyes a moment, then turned to look at Jason. The other man had

shifted his position on the couch, lying curled on his side. He appeared to be sleeping

now, his breathing slow and even. His hands were folded together under his face, his

mouth partially open.

Erik let one hand sink gently into Jason’s hair. It would be all right. It had to be.

A movement caught in the tops of his eyes and he looked up to see Brent

standing in the doorway to the dressing room. A frown creased his face, and he jerked

his head to one side, signaling Erik to join him in the hallway. Reluctant to leave Jason,

Erik gave him one last look, then went to see what Brent wanted.

“What did he take?” was Brent’s first question.

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Erik blinked. It was a moment before he realized what Brent meant. “Take?

Dude, he didn’t take anything.” A wad of anger rose in his chest. “He doesn’t do that

shit and you know it.”

“Erik --”

Erik shoved a finger in Brent’s face. Brent was obviously taken aback; Erik never

did that. “Don’t. Even.”

“Dude, there’s a bong in the van.”

“Weed. That’s it. Never anything else. Never. You understand me?”

Brent seemed almost baffled at Erik’s vehemence. “Fine. Then what the fuck is

wrong with him?”

“He’s sick.” Brent wouldn’t understand. How did you explain that to your tour

manager? Sorry, Brent, but Jason’s gonna be off his game until we get that one girl to come

back and fuck him senseless. Hopefully on a regular basis. He shook his head. “He’s just sick.

He needs to rest.”

“You want me to get a doctor?”

Erik shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Brent looked like he wanted to protest, but finally just said, “You think we’ll be

playing in Chicago tomorrow night?”

“I don’t know.”

“All right then.” Brent hesitated. “Let’s get him onto the van. That couch looks

like somebody had an orgy on it.”

* * *

Jason woke up enough to walk most of the way to the van. To Erik he seemed a

bit more coherent, a bit more awake. He needed help, though. Erik wasn’t sure how to

give it to him, or what to give him, for that matter.

Brent helped slip Jason into one of the middle benches in the van, then suddenly

looked uncomfortable, as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands. When he slid a

look at Erik his expression made Erik think he was afraid Erik would squeeze into the

van and start fucking Jason right in front of him.

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“You, uh… need any more help?” Brent ventured.

“I don’t think so. Best to let him sleep for now.”

Brent nodded. “Call me if anything changes, or if you need anything.”

Erik nodded back. “Sure.”

Brent paused, still reluctant to go. Erik knew what he wanted to ask, and also

understood why he didn’t want to ask it.

“Yeah,” said Erik. “We can head for Chicago. We’ll just deal with whatever when

we get there.”

“Okay. Good plan.”

Erik didn’t think it was a good plan at all, but it was what Jason would have

wanted him to do. He watched Brent walk away, still looking distinctly uncomfortable.

Ironic, since Erik not only wasn’t going to fuck Jason, he literally couldn’t.

He did slide into the van with him, though, but not until he’d gotten a bottle of

water. Gently, he stroked Jason’s face until Jason stirred and mumbled at him.

“Drink,” Erik murmured, tipping the water carefully against Jason’s lips. Jason

swallowed a mouthful or so. A bit dribbled down his chin. “Wake up a little.”

Jason shifted in the small space, lifting his head so Erik could help him drink. He

swallowed greedily for a few seconds, then drew back. His eyes were clear again, but

his forehead was creased with confusion and no little pain. “What’s wrong with me?”

Gently, Erik kissed his forehead. “You just need to rest, baby. You just need to

rest.”

Jason’s head turned toward Erik, nestling into the other man’s warmth. “I need…

I need her, don’t I?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you do.”

Jason sighed quietly, then let his head settle back onto the pillow. After a time, he

slept.

* * *

The hotel looked tiny, nestled among a row of shops on Diversey. Inside it was

larger, though the halls were narrow and it all had the feel of a labyrinth, winding back

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into a building that had looked far too small from the outside to house elevators and a

lobby, much less hotel rooms.

Kayla entered the lobby more than a little on guard, one hand clenched around

the carrying strap of her overnight bag. This was crazy, coming here to meet a man she

didn’t know, to help another man she didn’t know. Yet the closer she had come to her

destination, the more certain she was that she’d had no other choice.

She stopped just inside the glass doors to the lobby. Erik was there, sitting on the

edge of a chair, hands folded between his knees. Everything about his posture was

tense, as if he were about to spring up out of the chair. Kayla eyed him for a moment,

and was not particularly surprised when he looked up and met her narrow regard.

If he had responded in any other way, she might have turned around and

headed back home. But the sudden, absolute, completely genuine relief that flooded his

face was the last thing she expected and the only thing she truly believed. Still hesitant,

she moved forward to meet him as he slowly rose from the chair, the coiled tension

draining out of him.

“Thank God,” he said, and reached out to take her hand. She let him, staring

blankly as his strong, callused fingers curled over hers. His fingers were long and

graceful, with torn cuticles and what looked like a healing blister on the tip of his ring

finger.

Kayla swallowed. She didn’t know what to say, but could feel words pressing at

the back of her throat. When she opened her mouth, they came out. “Where is he?”

“He’s in our room.” He squeezed her hand gently, then let it go. “I know this is

nuts. I know it’s a horrible way to treat you.”

She nodded a little, not necessarily agreeing, but acknowledging what he’d said.

“There’s no way I’d ask you to come to a hotel room with two men you barely

know,” he went on, “except I have to. So…” He dug in the pockets of his jeans, which

looked far too tight to allow anything to be shoved into them, and came out with a

container of pepper spray. “Here.”

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It was the clincher. He’d given her a way to defend herself if necessary. She

clenched her teeth, then said firmly, “Take me to him.”

Chapter Six

A tiny, cramped elevator and a narrow hallway led to a small room with two

beds, a huge closet, and fixtures that looked at least a half-century old. Quietly, Erik led

the way in.

Jason lay curled on one of the beds, half under the blankets. His hands lay under

his face, his mouth a little open. So young. He looks so young. Kayla stilled just inside the

door, looking at him. In the silence she could hear his breathing, hoarse and too deep. It

couldn’t be good for his voice.

“I don’t…” She broke off. Erik had moved closer to the bed, peering at Jason with

worried eyes. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

Erik’s gaze swiveled back to her. “This is where it gets weird.”

“It’s already weird, Erik. How much weirder can it get?”

“He needs sex.”

Kayla blinked, then shook her head. “I’m sorry… Don’t you guys have groupies

or something for that kind of thing?”

“Yeah…” Erik shoved a hand through his disheveled hair. “He needs you.”

“Okay, this is fucking stupid. And I thought it was stupid before.” Her hand

clenched on the pepper spray he’d given her and for a moment she seriously considered

giving him a faceful. “I’m leaving.”

She started to swing back toward the door, but the movement was arrested by a

sudden sharp intake of breath from Jason. He opened his eyes. His face was flushed, his

eyes bleary. “Kayla…”

Just the sound of his voice made her stop. She couldn’t leave him. Turning to

face him fully, she swallowed.

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The blue-gray eyes were brimful with pain and need. How could she help him?

It made no sense. But he lifted a hand, reaching toward her, and pushed himself up so

he was half-sitting on the bed. “Please?”

She hesitated for a heartbeat, then laid her purse down on the other bed and

crossed the room to sit next to Jason. It wasn’t until she’d settled by him that she

realized she’d left the pepper spray behind, as well.

She shook the thought off. Gently, she twined her fingers between Jason’s. His

skin was warm. “What do you need?”

Erik had already told her what he needed, but she didn’t want to hear that.

Didn’t want to hear blunt words from the other man, only wanted to hear what Jason

would say.

“Kiss me,” he said. “Just kiss me.”

She nodded. Now that she was here next to him it seemed so little to ask. Even

asking her for her body seemed inconsequential. He’d made love to her before -- what

difference did it make, really?

So she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

At first it was a simple kiss, his mouth warm against hers, hot as it opened. He

remained passive, letting her take the lead. She traced the outline of his lips with her

tongue, tasted the inside of his mouth. He felt warmer than he should have, as if he

might be feverish.

Gently, she cupped his face, drawing back. Her fingers stroked along his jaw, the

stubble sandpapery against her palm. The lines of his face were clean and perfect. In his

eyes, though, she saw the pain he was fighting.

None of it made any sense. He blinked, closed his eyes, opened them again.

Softly, his tongue traced the curve of his lower lip. As he tipped his head forward again,

she met the movement, fitting her mouth again to his.

He was so warm. It didn’t feel like fever now, but like a natural heat, as if his

body temperature were naturally higher than hers. She didn’t remember him feeling

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overly warm at their last encounter, though. And as she continued to kiss him, her

mouth delving deeper into his, it began to feel like something else entirely.

His breath vibrated against the inside of her lips. Thrummed, like the buzzing of

an electrical current or a small engine beneath his skin. She felt her own body

responding to it, her rhythms shifting to match his. Her heartbeat, her breath, all altered

to move in tandem to his. A sound pulsed in her head like a kick drum or a steady

bassline. Her breath quickened. Again, she broke away.

“What is this?”

“You feel it?” His voice was a bare murmur.

“Yes.”

“No one else has ever felt it. Just me and Erik.”

Erik. Kayla decided not to consider the implications of that statement. Instead

she pressed against Jason again, devoured the heat of his mouth. Her hands slid under

his shirt. As she worried buttons free, she realized she’d agreed to everything he’d

asked of her. Everything.

She stripped the shirt back, letting her fingers play across the textures of his chest

and belly. His skin trembled under her touch, shaking with arousal. His mouth fell

open; his head fell back against the pillow. He looked as if she could just touch him

once and he would climax. She wondered if he really would, if she let her fingers press

the right place.

And what would the right place be? Her fingers wandered his body, brushing

his nipples to hard nubs, walking down the line of dark blond hair that arrowed down

to disappear behind the zipper of his jeans. She followed that same line with her

tongue, until she tasted denim, then, carefully, she used her mouth to unsnap the jeans.

His heat poured over her until she no longer felt it as heat. It was something else, but

what, she didn’t know. Not yet.

Eyes burning with something beyond desire, he reached for the buttons of her

shirt, undid them, and peeled it open. His big hands cupped her breasts. His hands

were beautiful, the fingers long and graceful, a musician’s hands. The calluses at the

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tips of his left hand fingers moved roughly over the delicate material of her bra, then he

popped open the catch between the mounds of her breasts. Pulling her to him, he

pressed his own chest hard against hers, then shifted her body to close his mouth

around one straining nipple.

She cried out, a soft sound that seemed to fill her mouth like water before it leapt

free. Everything felt strange, as if a fine layer of… something… lay between them, over

them, grew against the places where skin met skin. It almost felt like she could mold

whatever it was against him, mound it between her hands and press it down into his

body.

What was this? It was so strange, and yet it felt like she’d known it would

happen. She arched back as his teeth tightened on her nipple, his other hand cupping

the mound of the other breast. Reaching between them, she found his zipper and pulled

it down, moved her hand inside to feel the ridge of hard flesh under the soft cotton of

his briefs.

She wanted him inside her. Deep inside, so deep she couldn’t tell anymore where

he ended and she began. Wanted him to thrust inside her until she could taste him at

the back of her throat. Wanted to devour him with her body, her mouth, consume him

with her hands.

Her clothes were in the way, and so were his. She fumbled with them, drawing

back too fast so that a painful stab sliced into her nipple just before he realized what she

was doing and loosened his teeth. “Sorry,” she heard him mumble, but she just shook

her head. His hands slid up her sides, moving her shirt off her, then down her hips to

shove her pants out of the way. She struggled with his jeans, his briefs. It was a strange,

awkward, writhing dance, and suddenly his hips lifted and he was inside her.

She froze over him. She could feel every inch of him, hot and hard, and when she

squeezed down he closed his eyes and tipped his head back. Then in a sudden, not-

quite-expected move, he rolled her over, pinned her to the bed, and fucked her.

God. She spread her legs impossibly wide, pressed her heels against the bends of

his knees as his hips pushed her thighs even farther apart. His mouth went to her neck,

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biting there, then biting her shoulder, her upper arms, her breasts. The thrusting was as

strong and sure as he had been weak and broken when she’d come into the room. And

the heat, the strange, soft something…

Power. It was power. What kind of power, she didn’t know. It felt like a current

of water but not like water at all. She arched her back, feeling it flow between her

breasts, down her body, over the curve of her neck. She could see nothing, but the

tendrils pouring over her skin were unmistakable.

Jason’s thrusts had gone deep, hard, then shallow, and she could feel his whole

body stiffening between her legs and within the curve of her arms. Her own body was

spiraling in on itself, a deep, dangerous whirlpool of sensation gathering where his

body joined hers.

Anticipating his orgasm, and her own, she turned her head to one side.

Erik still sat on the other bed. Watching.

Her eyes met his in a moment of sudden, startling realization, and she came.

Above her, inside her, Jason climaxed simultaneously.

And Erik sat, unmoving, and watched.

Chapter Seven

Kayla woke tangled in bedsheets and Jason’s hot, sticky limbs. She turned her

face toward his chest, rubbing her cheek against the rough hair. He was breathing

deeply and slowly, with a rough, scratching sound that wasn’t quite a snore.

For a few long minutes she lay there, quiet against him, breathing in his smell.

Then she moved a little away, and heard the sound of another person in the room.

Erik, of course. He lay sprawled on his stomach across the other bed, on top of

the covers and still fully clothed. His face was mashed into the pillow, and he, too, slept

deeply and a little noisily.

Kayla watched him for a few minutes as well, feeling Jason’s breathing behind

her. Both men were dead to the world. She knew why Jason was exhausted -- they’d

wrung each other dry -- but Erik hadn’t even touched himself that she’d seen.

She frowned, thinking about what had happened last night. Wondering why it

didn’t bother her more than it did. Somehow Erik and Jason were connected -- she

understood that much from what Erik had told her. More than just bandmates or

friends. There was something else, something she didn’t understand and wasn’t sure

she wanted to.

It might be unavoidable, though. She had a part in all this, too, if Erik was to be

believed. And, regardless of the strangeness of what he’d told her, she did believe him.

Finally, she carefully disentangled herself from Jason. She was hot and sticky, as

well, from having him sprawled half over her through the night, and from the sex.

Everything in the bed still smelled musky, a thick, heady odor of arousal and come.

She needed a shower. Hopefully the noise wouldn’t wake the men up in spite of

the smallness of the room. Regardless, she was going to get clean.

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The small bathroom had fixtures as retro as the rest of the room appeared to be,

but the faucets and the old-fashioned shower head sat side-by-side with modern knobs

and a pulsing massage head, as if the hotel’s remodeling had focused on preserving the

old feel of the place while allowing guests to experience the modern amenities they

were used to. It was an odd effect, but somehow it managed to be charming.

She adjusted the water, glad to find it quickly hot, and with good pressure.

Under the pounding stream -- with a bit of a massage added in, of course -- she felt the

sticky residue of the night sluice off her skin. She scrubbed and shampooed with the

fragrant soaps the hotel provided, then scrubbed dry with a big towel of Egyptian

cotton.

By the time she’d pulled on fresh clothes, she’d almost forgotten there was

anything to be concerned about in the small hotel room. She combed her damp hair

straight back, brushed her teeth, and headed back out of the bathroom.

She froze in the small raised area between the bathroom and the bedroom,

staring. Erik wasn’t in his own bed anymore. He was in Jason’s bed. Under Jason, in

fact, in much the same position she herself had been in only a few hours ago. The sleek,

fluid undulation of Jason’s body between Erik’s thighs was unmistakable.

Kayla couldn’t move. She just stared. Her brain shut down for a moment, then,

as it came back online, she realized the biggest surprise was that she was surprised at

all. Or that it hurt, in that quick stab of, “Oh, my God,” that arrowed down through the

middle of her chest.

She had known this. The look Erik had given both of them last night had been

full of many things, and one of them was this -- that he knew Jason’s body every bit as

well as Kayla did. Probably better. And that whatever lay between the two men,

nothing she could do would disrupt or change it.

So what did she do now? She could just stand there, her mouth gaping open like

a grouper’s, until they finished. And then what? Storm out in a rage? How would that

help or change anything?

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Then Erik’s head shifted ever so slightly, his eyes opened, and he looked right at

her. His brows compressed a bit, his mouth tightened. Not in disapproval, she sensed.

Concern, more likely. Slowly, he raised a hand from Jason’s sweat-sheened back and

held it out to her.

Jason stilled between Erik’s legs. He turned his head and looked back over his

shoulder. He couldn’t possibly see her from that angle -- she was almost directly behind

them -- but he knew she was there. He nodded once.

There was no real rational thought or consideration of what she was about to do.

She just felt her body moving forward, felt her feet take the small step down into the

bedroom area, and she stepped to the bed and took Erik’s hand.

* * *

Erik hadn’t been sure Kayla would accept the invitation, but he knew he had to

ask. Even if he couldn’t do it aloud. And when her fingers closed around his, his eyes

closed in relief, and he let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

Jason was unmoving between his legs, his cock hard and deep inside. Energy

crackled between them -- Erik wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been visible, but

of course it wasn’t. It just threaded all over his skin, fusing him to Jason, quickening his

heartbeat. It had built and risen just the way it always did, but somehow it slid through

him easier. The power came into him like drawing a breath, rather than like trying to

absorb it as quickly as possible through his skin. So easy. So perfect. Just because it had

come from Kayla instead of some anonymous groupie in the alley behind the night’s

venue.

“Kayla.” Jason whispered the words as Kayla’s hand, still joined to Erik’s,

stroked down his back. She moved close against them, and Erik moved over as much as

he could, giving her room. After a moment, Jason realized what was happening and

shifted with him. Kayla slid into the bed next to them.

The moment her body slid against theirs, it was as if a puzzle piece had moved

into place. Her aura, her warmth, even the lush curves of her, fit perfectly into the

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spaces where Jason’s body met Erik’s. She kissed Jason, then turned her head to

tentatively set her lips against Erik’s half-open mouth.

He groaned into the space between her lips. It had been so long since he’d let a

woman touch him like that, afraid of the consequences if things went too far. But her

mouth against his was perfection, beauty, with nothing of danger in it for him.

Could he…? But the thought trailed off as she pressed more firmly against him.

Her hand moved between Jason’s slightly open thighs and her fingers clasped Erik’s

balls.

“God…” He wasn’t sure he said it out loud, but at the same time it felt as if the

words had been torn from him. He flinched, waiting for her touch to hurt him, but there

was no pain, only a searing arrow of desire that shot from where her fingers gently

outlined his testicles all the way to the middle of his chest. His balls drew up hard

under her touch, and he came with a violence that made it impossible to breathe.

He felt Jason come hard inside him, piercing him so deep he thought he might

tear open, but he didn’t, and then Erik’s heart was in his throat, pounding, pounding,

and then everything around him went utterly black.

Chapter Eight

“Oh, my God. Erik.”

Jason was still in a haze of fading orgasm, and it took him a moment to realize

Kayla’s tone was fearful, not aroused. Erik wasn’t driving her to heights of ecstasy -- he

was limp under Jason’s still-taut body, and his eyes had closed, his head lolling to one

side.

“Erik?” He added his own voice, then gently cupped his lover’s face. “Erik?”

“What happened?” Kayla was moving back away from them. She was still fully

clothed, though at some point her jeans had been unzipped and unbuttoned. Bright

purple cotton panties showed past the open zipper. “Is he okay?”

“Shit,” said Jason. “Not sure.”

He levered himself up from Erik, touching his face, his shoulders, his hands. Erik

was breathing evenly, and as Jason began to gently pat his cheek, he gave a deeper,

shuddery breath and opened his eyes.

“Shit,” he said, echoing Jason. “Shit, what happened?”

“I don’t know. You okay?” He peered intently into Erik’s eyes, as if their lust-

darkened color or the passion-blown pupils could tell him anything.

Erik shook his head, a trembling hand rising to his forehead. “It was… I think it

was too much.”

Barely aware he was still naked, Jason carefully helped Erik to a sitting position.

Kayla hovered behind him as if she wanted to help but wasn’t certain what to do or if

she should do anything at all. Jason thought she might be right to stay back for the

moment. He was fairly sure something about her touch had sent Erik over the edge.

“Too much what?” she asked. Her voice sounded uncertain and a little shaky.

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“Too much of…” Jason trailed off, suddenly realizing he had no words to

describe the phenomenon to her. “Too much of… what we get… here.” The vague

words and an equally unhelpful gesture toward the bed were the best he could do.

Surprisingly, Kayla nodded. “I felt it. I felt it before, when I was with you.”

Jason eyed her levelly and saw nothing but sincerity on her face. She knew. She

didn’t quite understand, not yet, but she did know. “Yes. That.”

“It was me?” Now she sounded steadier, strangely enough, but her concerned

tone remained genuine.

“I think so, yes.”

She only nodded, then stepped back a bit more while Jason tended to Erik as best

he could. He fetched a glass of water, propped pillows around the other man, then sat

back, cross-legged, on the bed next to him. “What do you need?”

Erik sipped the water, then shook his head. “I’m better.”

“He’ll need food,” Kayla said decisively. “Food, rest, water. Jason, why don’t

you get cleaned up a little? I can sit with him while you get him some breakfast. And

something for you. How long since the two of you ate?”

Jason blinked at her, barely comprehending. “Um… I’m not sure.”

“That’s what I thought.” Her tone had gone crisp and commanding and nearly

impossible to defy. “Go.” She made shooing motions toward the bathroom. “Go. He’ll

be okay for a few minutes.”

Jason took a step toward the bathroom, then looked at Erik for confirmation. Erik

nodded, a grin lurking around the corners of his mouth. “I’m fine.”

Jason nodded and headed toward the bathroom.

When he had closed the door behind him Erik said to Kayla quietly, “I’m not

fine.”

“I know,” she said. Gently, she stroked his hair back from his forehead. His skin

felt warm and dry. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t know.”

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At least he was being honest with her. The fact surprised her more than a little,

and made her a little ashamed that she’d found it so hard to trust him before. Gently,

she eased down onto the bed next to him, sitting up by his shoulder. Part of her wanted

to stretch out by him and hold him, but the rest of her felt awkward in spite of how

she’d touched him only a few minutes ago.

They were quiet for a time, until Jason emerged from the bathroom and headed

out on his breakfast errand. Then Kayla said gently, “What exactly happened?”

Erik closed his eyes a moment and swallowed, as if gathering his thoughts or his

courage or both. “When Jason and I…” He paused. “It’s some kind of energy that goes

between us. He can only give it to me, and I can only receive it from him. Except just

now I got it from you. I think…” His eyes opened again and he looked at her fleetingly,

his expression almost sheepish. “I think I overloaded.”

Kayla nodded. It was ridiculous, but she knew he was completely serious. She

might still have been able to dismiss it as some kind of crazy ploy to get her into bed

except that she’d felt it, too. Like water over her skin, or a thin layer of electricity, hot

and flowing and not really like anything she’d experienced ever before. “How does it

all… work?”

Erik slid down a little farther into the bed, the pillow bunching up behind his

head. “I found out a long time ago I couldn’t…” He stopped. “I can only have sex with

Jason. Nobody else.” The words came out fast and clipped, as if he were embarrassed.

Kayla couldn’t help but think it was likely he’d never talked about this with anyone

before.

“What happens if you do?”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t get… aroused?”

“No, it’s not that. If I try… I almost died once. I don’t know…” He stopped. To

her surprise, Kayla saw tears gathering along his lower lids.

“Hey,” she said gently. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

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“I do.” His words were firm. “You should know this. It’s not fair if you don’t

know.”

He had a point. She lowered herself down next to him then, stretching out all

along his side and draping an arm over his chest. He reached up and closed a hand

around her wrist. Moving a little closer, she pressed her face against his shoulder.

Maybe he could talk more easily if she didn’t look at him. She was certain it would be

easier for her to listen.

He was silent for a moment; then he began to talk. “Jason and I… we were never

normal. We grew up together in facilities, foster homes. Both abandoned at separate

hospitals at birth. Never knew who our parents were. If they put us in separate foster

homes, we’d get sick. Really sick. We finally ended up at the same place long-term, but

that family threw us out when they found us --”

He broke off. Gently, Kayla stroked his chest. She said nothing.

“They found us together,” he went on. “They were good to us until then but they

freaked out.” He gave a bitter chuckle. “I think they thought we were brothers. Just

made it worse.”

Kayla nodded. She was almost afraid to speak, afraid anything she said might

interrupt the narrative he obviously needed to share. She just kept stroking him,

touching him, hoping the contact would encourage him to continue.

“We tried to be normal. We really did. Jason… he can have any woman he wants.

There’s an energy that comes from the sex, and he gives that to me. But I can’t fuck

anybody but him… sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said automatically, mildly amused that he was apologizing for

his language.

The silence fell again. This time she felt his hand moving gently along her back.

“I always had a feeling there was something missing, some piece of the puzzle.” He

turned his head, his chin stroking along her hair. “It was you.”

“I don’t understand.”

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“I know. Neither do I. But when you and Jason… I could feel it. It was different.

And just now… The energy was more than I could handle, but…”

She waited, but he didn’t go on. And then she realized what she was doing. Her

hand had moved lower down his body, stroking not his chest now but the thatch of hair

below his navel. She stopped. “Am I hurting you?”

“No.”

“Tell me if anything feels wrong.” Shifting, she eased her body over his, her

hand exploring farther. And he didn’t stop her.

* * *

Jason’s quest to fetch food for Erik seemed fraught with misadventure. First the

elevator paused far too long on the second floor, long enough that he was about to

reach for the emergency phone when the doors finally opened, admitting a large, noisy

family who had very little sense of personal space and kept jostling Jason back against

the rails. Finally he slipped out into the lobby.

The Continental breakfast bar that came free with the room wasn’t open

anymore. In the small room adjacent to the lobby, things were being cleaned up and put

away. The only thing he saw that he might be able to sneak out was a decidedly crusty-

looking bagel. He decided to pass. Instead, he grabbed the biggest takeout cup they

had, filled it brimful with coffee, snapped on a lid, and headed out onto Diversey.

Like most hotel coffee, this was strong, black, and terrible. He drank it down

with gusto -- he was used to terrible coffee. It could have used about a cup of sugar,

though. Quickly, he scoped their surroundings. There were restaurants, of course, fast

food and local coffee shops. He picked one at random and headed in.

The lines were long, the service slow, but inside the locally owned shop

everything smelled so good he was reluctant to try a McDonald’s or the ubiquitous

Starbucks. Instead he waited in the line for a big bag of pastries and sandwiches, as well

as two more large coffees and… what would Kayla want? He decided to play it safe and

just got her a latte.

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He’d been gone at least a half hour when he finally made his way back up to the

hotel room. Forty-five minutes, maybe -- he hadn’t checked his watch. Mostly because it

was still lying on the table next to the bed where he and Kayla had slept last night. It

shouldn’t have surprised him when he entered the room and found what he found, not

after everything else that had happened over the last few days. But it did.

They were on the bed, Erik and Kayla, and Kayla was straddling Erik’s hips. Her

upper body was bent over him, her hands on either side of his face. Their eyes were

locked, and Jason could tell by the way Kayla watched Erik that she was judging every

shift of his face, every twitch of his eyelids.

As quietly as he could, he set the bag of food on the table next to the door and

slid into the chair beside it. This had never happened before. Not for any amount of

money, not for anything in the world, would he interrupt Erik right now.

As he watched, Erik suddenly laughed, and with a smooth, collected movement,

rolled over with Kayla under him. “My God,” Erik said, and Kayla laughed, too, and

wrapped her legs around his waist.

She saw Jason then, and looked toward him, one eyebrow raised in a question.

Smiling, he shook his head. Erik glanced over, as well, grinned, and went on about his

business while Jason just watched, and quietly sipped his coffee.

* * *

Some time later -- Jason still hadn’t looked at his watch, or the clock on the

bedside table -- they sat huddled together on the bed eating pastries and sandwiches

that had gone cold but still tasted fantastic. Jason watched Kayla, smiling. She ate like

she made love -- unselfconsciously and enjoying every bite. She had thrown on a hotel

robe, but still wore nothing underneath, and every movement showed tantalizing

glimpses of breast, nipple, belly, the occasional brief flash of the blonde curls between

her legs and the pink lips beneath.

Jason was hard, but he didn’t care at the moment. Erik, also wrapped in a hotel

robe, ate with gusto, as well. Jason himself felt as healthy as he ever had, the episode in

Minneapolis over and forgotten.

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“Hey,” Kayla said suddenly, “don’t you guys play tonight?”

Jason realized he had no idea what arrangements might have been made after his

collapse. He looked at Erik, who finished chewing and offered, “No. Randy called Liz.

They’re taking our spot tonight. He told them we’d fill in for them in Macomb next

month.”

Jason nodded. “Good idea.” Colour Haze was a good band, and popular. Randy

had dated Liz, their bassist, last year. Jason had no idea what had happened there --

they’d seemed like a good couple.

“So the next show is…” Jason mulled. “Urbana?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow.”

There was a long moment of companionable eating and silence. Then Jason said,

“Kayla. Come with us?”

Kayla pressed a napkin to her mouth. “I’ll have to make some calls.”

Jason smiled at her. “Then do that.”

* * *

Kayla made her calls. She couldn’t believe she was doing this -- just abandoning

everything to follow these boys across the state. But what they had given her… She

couldn’t deny the strength of what had built among them. She’d had relationships

before, but nothing had ever felt like this.

She clicked off her cell phone and stared out the hotel window. Erik and Jason

had gone for a walk to give her some time on her own and, she was fairly sure, to talk

to Randy and Brent about the schedule for the next week or so. Outside the sun was

bright, the day clear.

And it hit her. This wasn’t casual. If she kept on like this, it would be permanent.

Everything she knew would change. Nothing about her life would remain untouched if

she decided to stay with Jason and Erik. Her job, her house, her friends…

She took a long, slow breath. She couldn’t make this decision right now. She

would go with them to their next stop, and decide then. It might be unfair to them, but

she needed the time.

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Behind her, the hotel door opened, admitting Jason and Erik, with Randy tailing

behind them. “C’mon,” Jason said to her. “Let’s go. We gotta buy drumsticks.”

So she went with them, and bought drumsticks.

Chapter Nine

The club they were playing in Urbana had once been a movie theater. Kayla

remembered seeing more than one film there when she’d attended the University of

Illinois. She declined to mention this to the others, who undoubtedly were too young to

have had a similar experience. Instead she helped unload the trailer.

“Don’t you have people to do this?” She manhandled an amp, found it even

heavier than she’d expected, and carefully lowered it to the ground.

Jason gave her a lopsided smile. “We can’t afford people to do this. Not yet.”

She shook her head. “Everybody wants to bang a rock star, but nobody tells you

they make you work.”

“Everybody wants to bang a rich rock star,” Erik added, grunting a bit as he

swung his heavy Fender bass down. Randy looked sidelong at them, saying nothing.

Kayla had noticed he didn’t talk much. She wondered how much he really knew about

what was going on in his own band.

Kayla straightened, stretching her back. “You mean the Foo Fighters don’t have

to unload all their own crap?”

“Nope.” Jason flashed her another grin, then pushed his hair back from his eyes

and grabbed another amp.

They were offloaded in what seemed to Kayla to be a fairly reasonable time. She

wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be doing, so she just followed Jason and did

what he asked. Sometimes she had little more than a point and a grunt to go by, but she

was game.

They were the second band on the bill tonight, preceded by a local college band

and followed by a Chicago group who had been building a solid following in the area.

Last summer, Jason told her, they’d even done an East Coast tour, and rumor had it

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they’d be playing the West Coast in a few months. He sounded a bit wistful, if not quite

jealous.

“Well,” she ventured thoughtfully, “what are they doing that you’re not?”

“Living in Chicago, mostly.” They were in the rehearsal room backstage; Jason

bent over his guitar, fiddling with the tuning peg on yet another recalcitrant high E

string.

“You could relocate,” said Kayla, and then stopped. She could see it suddenly --

she lived in Chicago. It could serve as a home base for the band, and -- Shaking off the

rest of the thought, she turned her attention back to Jason.

He was looking at her narrowly, almost as if he knew what she’d been thinking.

“We’ve talked about it,” he told her, but didn’t elaborate. He bent back over the guitar,

chording through a sequence she recognized from the show she’d seen.

Kayla watched him, the graceful, easy movement of his big hands over the

strings. He hummed half under his breath, practicing quietly without straining his

voice.

Her breath caught in her throat and she swallowed. What was it about him? She

barely knew him, but every cell in her body seemed to be tuned to his movements, the

sound of his voice, the rhythm of his breath. Was it true what they’d told her, that the

three of them were bonded in some way none of them understood? It seemed

ridiculous, but the way she felt when she was with them…

He stopped singing and looked up, fingers stilling on the strings, again as if he

could read her thoughts. He gave her a slow, smoldering smile. “It’s gonna be a good

show tonight,” he said.

She smiled back, pushing away the strange trepidation gathering in the back of

her mind. “Yeah. Yeah, I think it is.”

* * *

She stood in front, watching him sing. His gaze slid down to her from time to

time, taking her in, and each time the look was as intimate as if he’d touched her. But

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then he would turn back to the crowd, and she realized that part of him, the part he

gave away when he sang, would never belong to her.

What did belong to her? Could she rightfully claim any part of his heart? The

thought brushed through her mind more than once as she watched him sing, as he

turned the focus to her, then back to the crowd, even to Erik, sometimes to Randy. What

arced between her and Jason was blatantly erotic, but so was what arced between him

and the crowd, and between him and his bandmates -- even Randy, with whom he had

no sexual relationship. It was just the way the music came out of him, the way the

performance drew everyone in.

But how did he feel about her? How did she feel about him? The sex was

amazing -- beyond anything she’d ever experienced, and adding Erik to the mix just

made it that much more daring and extraordinary. But did she love him? She didn’t

even dare to ask if he loved her.

It was too soon to know, of course. Too soon to ask the question. So it was also

too soon to make the decisions.

She wasn’t surprised when Jason and Erik swept her backstage after their set was

over. She’d been able to feel the lust spilling out over her from the stage for the entire

half-hour set. Every small hair on her body had risen during the last song, when Jason

had practically fellated his microphone, his strong, powerful voice dripping with sex,

his body arching and sliding over the stage in a taut, controlled dance as if he could

barely control his own need. The entire audience had been right there with him, girls

calling his name and nearly weeping, some of them. But it was Kayla he caught by the

hand and pulled up onto the stage, Kayla he disappeared with as soon as the gear was

picked up and put away so the headliners could take the stage.

Brent caught Jason’s eye briefly as the three of them went past, hand in hand in

hand. The look he gave them was half amused, half annoyed. “I haven’t checked you

out of the hotel yet. We’ll wait,” he said, and shook his head with a near-smile.

Jason nodded. Behind them, Randy was still storing away the pieces of his drum

kit. Kayla couldn’t help glancing back at him as well, embarrassed and self-conscious.

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Randy’s faced was creased in a frown, but when he caught Kayla’s searching glance he

gave her a wry smile and an equally wry shrug.

They made their way back to the hotel, a short walk under normal conditions,

but seemingly endless tonight. The two men were taut and ready, especially Jason, who

led the way not into the elevators but straight up the stairs to the hotel room.

Erik seemed less driven than Jason. Kayla was fairly sure that was not the case,

and that he was just holding back because of what had happened to him before, because

he couldn’t be sure how things would go this time, and because it was all so new to

him. Reaching back, she took his hand again and, before crossing the threshold into the

hotel room, drew him close and kissed him warmly. He smiled at her and pressed his

forehead to hers.

Hand in hand, they turned to Jason, who was carefully drawing back the

blankets on the bed. The intense focus he gave the task made Kayla smile. It didn’t

matter how neatly he arranged everything, it was going to be a mess by the time they

were done.

Still, the care he was taking to prepare the place where they would soon make

love touched her. It was new, she realized, not just for her, but for all of them. The first

time all three of them would deliberately lie together, to find out what would happen

among them.

When Jason had finally tweaked the blankets to his satisfaction, he held his hand

out to Kayla. His expression was so serious she had to hold back a smile. The look on

his face made it seem like he invited her to a shrine. At that thought, the amusement

faded on its own. This was important. She took his hand, letting his long, slim fingers

close over hers.

As he drew her gently down, she felt Erik come up behind her, his hands moving

around her waist to lie flat against her stomach. Heat and fire wound down through her

body under his touch, drawing a small moan out of her. Carefully, the two men

lowered her between them.

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There was a long moment of awkwardness as Jason began to kiss her and Erik,

behind her, seemed not to know exactly what he should do. He stroked her hair out of

the way and kissed the back of her neck, then slid one hand flat down her belly until his

fingers rested just under the waistband of her jeans. But he stopped there, unsure. As he

shifted behind her, she could almost feel his gaze meet Jason’s over her shoulder. Then

Jason bent forward and kissed Erik, then kissed Kayla’s neck, and Erik let his chin rest

there in the soft curve.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, not sure what she meant, but sensing he needed

reassurance of some kind. Jason’s hold loosened on her a bit, and she turned more fully

to Erik, kissing him full on the mouth.

Erik made a soft noise as Kayla’s tongue traced the seam of his lips. She pressed

his mouth open and kissed him more deeply, feeling his body tauten, then relax against

hers. He was still afraid, she realized, still afraid of what might happen to him if he and

Kayla made love.

Jason reached out and drew them both a little closer to him, to each other, but it

still seemed to Kayla that he was hesitant, unsure. They weren’t used to this. She’d have

to take the lead.

Mentally, she rolled her eyes at them. Young, healthy, virile men, and they were

freaking out about sex just because it wasn’t quite what they’d been used to. On the

other hand, they’d had stranger experiences than most, so maybe she should cut them

some slack.

Fortunately, she had no problem taking control. She shifted them on the bed with

gentle touches, made careful, quiet suggestions --”Kiss him… lick his mouth… Touch

him. Yes, there…” -- all the time easing them out of their clothes, stroking her hands

over bare skin. And when the time came, she slid herself between them, skin on skin on

skin, and said gently, “Erik first.”

It made sense. Erik was the most hesitant, his confidence still uncertain because

of past experience. Even now, his gaze slid to Jason as if asking for permission. Gently,

Kayla cupped his cheek and turned his head back toward her. She kissed him, tongue

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stroking his lips, inside his mouth, until his attention riveted to her. Lifting his hand in

hers, she set it against her breast.

As Kayla’s body slid more firmly against Erik’s, her curves against the planes of

his smoothly muscled torso, Kayla felt Jason move behind her. His chest pressed firmly

against her back, and she felt his cock rub slickly up the groove of her spine. Closing her

eyes, she took a moment to relish the sensation, shivering. Jason kissed the back of her

shoulder, then moved her hair aside to kiss the back of her neck.

He moved with her as she readjusted again, stretching Erik out beneath her and

straddling his hips. She rode him for a few long seconds, letting his cock stroke between

the wet, swelling lips of her cunt. The heat spiraled up into her belly, drilled up through

her chest until she could feel it at the back of her throat. It was more than sexual

sensation. It hummed along her skin, and she felt as if she could gather it in her hands

and spread it over her body, over Erik, over Jason.

“Is it always like this?” Her voice came soft, and for a moment she was unsure

she had spoken at all.

Erik looked up at her, his eyes darkening. The expression on his face was so

open, so vulnerable, that Kayla could barely hold his gaze. “No,” he said. “Not quite.

It’s you.”

She didn’t ask him to explain. Couldn’t. Instead she rocked her hips just so, and

let Erik slide inside her.

He closed his eyes, his head tipping back into the pillow, the strain on his face

reflecting rising ecstasy held back by rigid control. From behind Kayla, Jason reached

around, cupping a breast in each big hand. He lipped her ear, nipping gently at the

lobe. He rolled her nipples under his thumbs, his chin resting on her shoulder. She

knew he was watching Erik’s face as Erik moved beneath her, thrusting up into her.

Erik’s hands rose to close around her waist, and he threw his head back, eyes closed,

and fucked her.

She watched the look on his face go from amazement to joy and then to glassy-

eyed, focused lust. Through the realization that yes, he could do this, to the primal need

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to just do it as his body took over. At the same time, Jason’s hands stroked her, tracing

down her back, cupping her buttocks. His cock slid between her upper thighs, stroking

her next to where Erik thrust in and out of her.

He let Erik have her more or less to himself for a time; then she felt his fingers

straying to darker, deeper places. His hand went between her legs, and by Erik’s

reaction she was certain Jason had touched him, cupped his balls or let the tips of his

fingers slide along his wet dick as he slid out of her and back in. The heat rose there

where they all came together, almost painful, then dissipated up through her body. It

circled, moving through her and back through Jason, forward through Erik, as if their

bodies formed a living electrical circuit. She’d never experienced anything like it before,

not even when she’d made love with them the last time. They must have finally gotten

it right.

For a moment, the heightening of the sensation made her breath come too fast

and her heart beat too hard. She could feel the pounding in her throat, like an incipient

panic attack, and suddenly just wanted them to stop. But it was too late to stop. None of

them could slow or arrest what had been set into motion. Not even Kayla herself.

Jason’s fingers slid upward from her cunt, slick and hot, to circle her ass. She

flinched, then let out a sharp breath as one finger slid inside. She couldn’t even think

anymore, all thought draining into incoherent sentences. Oh, God, stop… Why in the

world would she want him to stop? It was just so much.

His finger pulsed inside her, careful and easy, until her body relaxed around the

intrusion. Then another finger joined the first. His cock pressed just below where his

fingers entered her, feeling strangely like an anchor as Erik continued his steady

thrusting. Nothing was under her control anymore -- she was left to rely on them to

guide and hold her.

They did. Erik’s movements changed, moving into a slower, easier rhythm even

though she could tell by the tension in his body that it took more control than perhaps

he should be expected to exert under the circumstances. As he slowed, Jason moved

behind her, and suddenly she was pierced not by his fingers but by his thick, hard cock.

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He took it gently, but it hurt at first and she froze, then slowly relaxed around

him. She was so full she thought she might burst with both of them inside her. Then

they began to move, perfectly synchronized, and she could feel nothing but the heady

burn, the rapidly rising movement of… whatever it was that they created with their

joining, whatever it was that fueled them.

Amazing, she thought as fireworks burst behind her eyes. Unbelievable. How

can anyone live without this? How can anyone survive it? Then she broke open and

orgasm spilled through her, so intense it felt like she was dying. She couldn’t hear her

heart anymore, couldn’t feel her breath. Erik pulsed inside her, spilling with a sound

that made her weep, and behind her Jason thrust deep into her as well, his hot come

filling her, pouring through her and down her thighs.

She thought she might have passed out for a moment, but she wasn’t sure. When

awareness returned she was still balanced between them, but her weight hung heavy in

Jason’s arms. Gently, he eased her to the bed. Somehow they both stayed inside her

until she met the mattress, then Erik slid from her body. Jason moved a little away from

her and he, too, broke the connection.

They settled into the blankets. Kayla blinked until the blurriness in her vision

cleared. Would it be like this every time?

Pushing the questions aside, she rolled toward Jason and pillowed her head on

his chest. Behind her, Erik had settled onto his back, and she could tell by the slow

sound of his breathing that he was nearing sleep.

Jason’s head turned a little toward hers as she moved to settle her cheek into the

hollow of his shoulder. He kissed her hair.

He was warm and solid beneath her cheek, beneath the hand she had spread in

the middle of his chest. But now that the physical ecstasy had passed, other thoughts

intruded, worming their way into her consciousness and demanding answers.

What did she feel for him? She still barely knew him. She had no idea what it

would be like to stay with him -- with them -- on a permanent basis. Could she truly

give up everything she had for this?

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“Jason?” She heard the word whisper from her lips before she realized she had

decided to speak.

His head moved a little, his chin caressing her hair. “Yes?”

“Do you love me?”

His hesitation was answer enough. She felt his lips move against her hair. “I…”

“There hasn’t been time,” she said firmly. “I know. But could you?”

“I… I think so. I like you.”

She nodded. At least he was honest. “It’s okay,” she said, and kissed his broad

chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath her lips. He pulled her closer against him, and in a

few minutes she was asleep.

Chapter Ten

The men were still sleeping when Kayla woke. She was on the edge of the bed,

and Jason had an arm draped over her waist while Erik lay on his other side, head on

Jason’s chest, their legs tangled in an intimate plait of limbs. They’d shifted positions in

the middle of the night; someone must have had to get up to pee.

Carefully, she slid out from under Jason’s arm and slipped into the bathroom.

She would have preferred a shower, but there was no way to do that without waking

the boys. Instead she used a washcloth to clean her face and chest, letting the cool water

drain over her skin, tracing the lines Jason’s hands had taken over her body. And Erik’s,

his strong, wide hands and certain fingers.

She closed her eyes a moment, her skin remembering every touch. When she

opened them the mirror showed her the face of a woman past what most would

consider her prime, fine fans of wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, lines on her forehead

marking the passage of too much worry, too many frowns. A woman too old for a

vibrant young man, much less two. But the row of reddened bite marks on her throat

spoke otherwise.

That wasn’t what was bothering her, though. She could pretend it was -- it

certainly would make things easier to attribute the doubt and fear to a simple thing like

age. But that wasn’t it at all. It was deeper, more difficult and infinitely more painful.

He wasn’t sure he loved her. That was fine, really, in its way. What ate at her was

that she wasn’t certain she loved him. Either of them. They wanted her; she understood

that. They needed her -- she understood that in a way, but much of what drove the two

of them and what happened among the three of them when they shared a bed still lay

beyond her ability to grasp. But that wasn’t enough.

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She’d been in love before. She knew what it felt like. This hot rush of new lust

that left her face flushed and her skin sticky with sweat was a lovely thing, but it wasn’t

enough. Not for her, and certainly not for them.

With a sigh, she picked up her hairbrush and ran it through her hair. Then she

put it back in her makeup case and began to gather the rest of her things.

* * *

Jason woke with the feeling that something was very, very wrong. What, he

didn’t know at first, but it hit him quickly and painfully and before he had even opened

his eyes.

Kayla was gone.

He wasn’t sure how he knew. Maybe just the absence of the sound of her

breathing, or the empty space next to him on the bed. But she could have just been in

the bathroom, or off to grab breakfast. He knew she wasn’t. He knew she was gone.

He sat up in the bed and ran a hand through his hair. Erik still lay sprawled next

to him, face down, one arm dangling off the other side of the mattress.

Slowly, trying not to disturb Erik, Jason swung his legs over the side and came to

his feet. The chilly draft of the hotel air conditioning brushed across his bare skin. He

didn’t bother pulling on any clothes, but just walked quietly across the room and up the

small stair to the bathroom.

He was right. She was gone. She’d taken all her toiletries, and the clothes she’d

put in the big closet were absent, as well. A surge of panic rose in the middle of his

chest and he swallowed it down as best he could -- What do I do now? How do we stay

alive after this?

She had, at least, left a note. It lay neatly folded on the small table on the landing

across from the bathroom door. The outside of the paper was blank, not addressed to

either of them. He wondered if she’d been afraid of snubbing one or the other, or if

she’d just not quite been able to bring herself to write both names on the sheet.

It didn’t matter. She was gone. Hands shaking a little, he unfolded the paper.

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Her handwriting, he noticed, was small and looked hurried, but neat enough

that he could read it easily. He stared at the letters for a few seconds before their

meaning fought its way through the fog on his brain.

I don’t think I can do this. I’m sorry. K.

That was all. Nothing more. He clenched his teeth. It seemed like she should

have at least offered an explanation. Shaking a little more now, fighting anger along

with the fear, he crushed the paper in his fist.

He knew what she meant. He had given her the wrong answer last night. He

should have told her yes, I love you. Don’t leave me; my God, don’t ever leave me.

But instead he had told her the truth. He wanted her. He needed her,

desperately. But in truth he couldn’t tell her that he loved her. He wouldn’t expect her

to be able to make that vow of emotion, either.

It wasn’t fair. But it was true.

Behind him, he felt more than heard Erik approach. Even knowing he was there,

Jason flinched a little when Erik’s arms came around him.

“She’s gone, isn’t she?” Erik asked, his voice quiet against the back of Jason’s

shoulder.

“Yeah,” Jason said. “She’s gone.”

* * *

There was little else they could do but go on. They had to play another show the

next day. While they headed out in the van, Randy called Liz of Colour Haze to find out

how things had gone and if they’d talked to the venue about a make-up show.

Jason, sprawled over the back seat, watched Randy talk.

“Yeah,” said Randy. “Yeah, okay,” and then lapsed into another pause, during

which Jason could hear the feminine edge of Liz’s voice on the other end but couldn’t

quite make out what she was saying. Randy seemed a little tense -- understandable,

since Liz was his ex. Jason had a feeling there were still things to be settled there. At one

point he slid a glance at Jason, then said, “Yeah, sure. Okay,” and flipped the phone

closed.

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“Everything okay?” Jason asked.

Randy nodded. “Yeah. We gotta have Brent call the guys at the Chicago venue to

clear up all the details.” He hesitated. “Everything okay with you?”

Jason gave him a look. “Yeah, sure. Why?”

“Well…” Randy trailed off, then said, a little too quickly, “Liz said to give you a

message.”

Jason’s eyebrows rose. He barely knew Liz, had met her maybe twice, had

exchanged perhaps a dozen words with her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, she said…” He trailed off again. “This sounds super weird.”

Jason shrugged. “Just tell me.”

“She said, ‘You’ll be okay, even if she’s gone. It’ll be a bitch for a while, but you’ll

be okay.’ You got any idea what that means?”

Jason had stilled, his breath arrested somewhere in the middle of his chest.

Slowly, he let it out. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I do. Thanks.”

And although it raised far more questions than it answered, it at least gave him

something to hold onto.

* * *

Back at work, at home, nothing seemed quite real. Kayla couldn’t focus on

anything, even the new account she’d been given at work, one of the largest accounts

the company had ever seen. While she was sorting through pictures from her

photographer of kiwis and pineapples neatly stacked behind a representative juice

bottle, her mind saw different outlines. Wide shoulders, narrow hips, shaggy hair that

seemed perpetually uncombed.

She’d made the right decision. She was certain of that. She couldn’t leave her

home and her job for something she didn’t know would be permanent, or even feasible.

How could she promise to stay with a man -- with two men -- who had no real

permanent home? Who were still in that not-quite-thirty mindset that made it not a

problem to be nomads?

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At home, she was no less focused. She’d taken home stacks of folders with

photographs and proposals to evaluate for a presentation by the end of the week. After

staring at them without real comprehension for an hour and a half she finally pushed

them aside and pulled out a sketchpad.

Jason. His shoulders wide, padded by the layers of T-shirt, hoodie, and jeans

jacket he perpetually wore on stage, only to strip down to the T-shirt by the last song.

Tight jeans, low-slung. Big hands.

The outline came to life under the tip of the pencil. Behind him, Erik, shorter,

slighter, leaning into the wide pillow of Jason’s shoulder.

And ideas began to string together in her mind, one after the other, as she

sketched. Page after page, and by the time she looked up and realized it was nearly

midnight, she had decided what she had to do.

It didn’t have to be the end for her. She could give them -- all of them -- a new

beginning.

* * *

For the first few days, it was all right. Jason’s strength remained high, and when

he touched Erik a buzz ran from Jason’s skin to his that felt like a battery charging

between them. Whatever the three of them had wrought in that last encounter, its

effects were lasting.

Those shows, those days, slid by so fast Jason barely registered the hollow

feeling in his chest. It was only when Erik came to him and they slipped naked together

into bed that he knew he was slowly draining away. But Liz had been right. It sucked,

but this time he knew it would level out eventually. He would never forget what it had

been to have her there with them, but in the end he would be able to let her go, and live

through it.

They were eating a quick lunch in the back of the van, on the highway halfway

between Detroit and Indianapolis, when Erik said, “We couldn’t make her stay.”

Jason nodded. “I know that. It’s her life. This is ours.”

Erik gave a grim smile. “And ne’er the twain shall meet?”

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Jason’s return smile was a bit surprised. Erik’s attempt at humor had caught him

off guard. “Maybe. We can hope.”

Erik nodded. “Yeah. We can hope.”

When he went on that night, he felt a heartbeat pulsing at the base of his throat

and knew it wasn’t his. It was Kayla’s.

At the end of the set, he headed for the van, pulling his phone out of his back

pocket as soon as he was out of the building and had a clear signal. His fingers

fumbling over the touch keyboard, he sent a single word in a text message to Kayla’s

number.

“Yes.”

* * *

Eighteen hours later, she still hadn’t answered him. He’d looked at his phone

every ten minutes for a while, then every hour, and finally, when they reached the

venue, he’d tossed it randomly toward the back of the van. It had hit hard, and

probably broken, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t bring himself to care about much of

anything.

But when they arrived at the venue and parked the van around the corner,

something felt different. He got out and walked down the sidewalk, hands shoved deep

into his pockets, the sun hot and bright on his back and the air clean and familiar.

He was home. That was part of it, he was sure. Just outside Indianapolis, far

enough away that the city didn’t quite intrude. Close enough that he could sleep in his

own bed tonight.

He was looking forward to that; he had to admit. His own bed, his own food, his

own clothes that he hadn’t worn every day for two weeks. But it still hurt that he might

sleep in that bed alone.

* * *

The groupies… grouped. It was, of course, what they did. But Jason had no

desire for any of them tonight. It would come back eventually, he supposed, but it

wasn’t there yet. For now, he thought about Erik and tried not to think about Kayla.

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Not thinking about her hadn’t done him much good on the way to Indy. He’d

tried to focus on other things, had read a novel and a pile of comic books and finally

had picked up his guitar. And had written a song. He sketched it all out, lyrics and

chords and a few notes for an instrumental bridge, but he’d stuffed it under the seat of

the van afterward and hoped he wouldn’t find it by accident. Ever. Writing it had been

like shoveling his own heart out with a spoon.

He’d helped with the loading in, and after the initial sound check he felt at loose

ends, wandering the sidewalks, lurking back stage when a few fans spotted him. To his

surprise, Colour Haze was there, or at least Liz and Tom were, chatting with Randy

with an ease Jason hadn’t thought possible, after whatever had happened between Liz

and Randy. He’d wondered about that for a while. All he knew was that Liz was with

Tom now, and Randy seemed not entirely happy about the situation.

He said hello, chatted inconsequentially for a few minutes, then the restlessness

creeping up his spine sent him moving again. Outside again, a cup of coffee, another, a

quick stroll before he was spotted again, and finally he headed backstage to check and

recheck all three of his guitars. They were headlining tonight, and he wanted

everything to be perfect.

He was retuning the Telecaster -- again -- when Erik poked his head in around

the door to the dressing room. “C’mon. We’re gonna go watch Monster Breath.”

“Yeah, okay.” He carefully set the guitar back in its stand and followed Erik out.

The open floor of the venue wasn’t packed by any means, but the crowd was

respectable, considering this was Monster Breath’s first show. Jason hadn’t heard them

before, but he vaguely knew their bassist. The music was competent, but they needed

time to grow, he felt, time to find their own voice. Right now they sounded a bit too

much like too many other fledgling bands.

Still, he found himself relaxing to the music, moving a little to the rhythm of the

drums. Erik brought him a beer and leaned against him while they watched. After a few

minutes, Jason dared to put an arm around him, pulling him close. He wanted to kiss

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him, press his lips against his temple, perhaps, but not in the middle of the crowd. But

he leaned in a little, and Erik turned to look up at him with an understanding smile.

It wasn’t until the second band, another newish band from Muncie called Va Va

Ving, that he suddenly felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. And then another

part of his body stood up, and he closed his eyes a moment. His hand clasped Erik’s

tightly. “Oh, my God,” he murmured.

Erik met his gaze, and though his mouth barely curved with a smile, his eyes lit

up like strobes. “Yeah,” he said. “I think you’re right.”

* * *

It hadn’t taken Kayla long to make up her mind. The sketches and pictures,

sorted neatly into a manila folder, had been the first stage of the decision. The buzz of

her cell phone in her pocket, the single word from Jason, had sealed it.

She’d tried several times to reply to him, but nothing seemed right. Nothing said

what she wanted to say, and nothing seemed like enough. “I missed you,” was the

closest she’d been able to come, but in the end she couldn’t bring herself to press the

send button even on that. She needed him to know exactly how she felt, and she

couldn’t do that in a text message.

So instead she’d looked up their show, got directions to the venue in

Indianapolis, and hit the road.

She’d arrived late, but since they were headlining she was relatively sure she

hadn’t missed their set. The bouncer who checked her ID confirmed this, much to her

relief. Heading in, she bought a courage-boosting rum and Coke, glanced at the merch

table, then headed inside.

They were between sets. Kayla recognized Brent, on stage setting up microphone

stands, guitar stands, and checking Randy’s drumset. So Daze would go on next. She’d

gotten there just in time.

Quickly, she scoped out the floor and picked a spot far to stage right, a few rows

back from the stage itself. There was no barricade here, no space between the edge of

the stage and the first row of observers. If she stood in the front row they would see her

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right away, and she wasn’t sure she wanted that. So she hid -- she wasn’t too proud to

call it that -- in a clump of tweenage girls and a couple of tall men wearing baseball

caps. They wouldn’t catch sight of her here, but if she leaned just right she’d be able to

see them.

Nervous, she gulped down the rum and Coke without realizing how fast she was

drinking it. The bartender had been generous, and the rum settled in a warm pool at the

bottom of her stomach. Still nervous, she started eating the ice.

Erik appeared a few minutes later, checking guitars and setting up pedals for

himself and for Jason. Jason was nowhere to be seen. Kayla wondered why he didn’t

take care of his own equipment, but maybe he was preparing backstage. She still didn’t

know exactly what his pre-show preparation consisted of.

She watched Erik. She had barely seen him the first time she’d watched the band.

Now she drank in details -- his graceful hands, the focused expression on his face as he

tuned strings and adjusted settings on the pedals. Then his voice over the microphone

as he sound tested for himself and for Jason, making “higher” and “lower” gestures at

the young man behind the soundboard until finally making an “okay” gesture. With

one odd, almost searching look out over the gathering crowd, he once again

disappeared backstage.

The ice was gone by now, the small plastic cup sweating over the tips of her

fingers. She was sweating under the Tyvek wristband that gave her permission to buy

more rum, but she didn’t want to lose her spot. She felt dizzy, not from the rum and not

from the growing heat in the room but from her proximity to Erik and Jason.

Especially Jason. It didn’t seem fair, she thought, certainly not to Erik, but it was

Jason she was waiting to see right now. Jason’s wide shoulders and slim hips, his big

hands curling around the guitar neck, around the microphone. Closing her eyes, she

rubbed the bridge of her nose. A vague headache was beginning to build along the front

of her forehead.

Then the girls in the front row started to shout, and she looked up, and there was

Jason, and she forgot everything else.

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* * *

He knew she was there. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her, as if her heart

were beating in his chest right next to his own. Erik kept glancing out over the

audience, stage right, and Jason knew Erik felt her, too.

Why hadn’t she come to the edge of the stage? Why wasn’t she where they could

see her? He wanted nothing more than to touch her right then, to lift her up to him and

hold her there.

Maybe that was why she was hiding in the crowd. She didn’t want to disrupt the

show. Or maybe she really didn’t want to see either of them…

No. He shook that thought away and focused on the music. Energy thrummed

through him as it hadn’t since the night she’d left. Everything felt perfect -- the

vibration of the guitar against his body, the way the tones of his voice slipped and slid

through the tones of the guitar.

By the end of the set he was dripping with sweat, hair wet and straggling into his

eyes. He stepped backstage amidst the thunder of applause, whistling and shouting,

and shoved the hair back. Erik stopped next to him and handed him a water bottle.

Jason drank from it, then frowned.

“What are you thinking?” Erik asked.

“I need the acoustic.”

Erik nodded and waved to Brent. Brent responded immediately, then trotted out.

They never used the acoustic during shows; it was purely Jason’s guitar for composing,

so it was in the van.

Randy approached them after a few seconds. “Are we going back out?”

“Yeah,” said Jason. “Brent went to get the acoustic.”

Randy frowned. “What are you playing?”

“Something new.”

“You need me?”

“Yeah, we’ll do ‘War and Roses,’ and then I’ll do this new one.”

“Okay, works for me.”

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Brent reappeared just as the calls from outside were escalating in volume. Jason

took the acoustic, and they headed back onto the stage.

“War and Roses” went as smoothly as it ever did, Erik thumping out a sleek,

sensual bassline while Jason’s voice wove in and out in a sultry growl and Randy

brought the crowd to a screaming frenzy with the intense crescendo of military drums

at the end. Jason drank from the water bottle again while the noise died and he worked

up the nerve to do what he was about to do.

He set the Telecaster aside and slid the acoustic’s strap over his head, then

checked the tuning quickly. The high E string was a bit off -- every high E string on

every guitar ever made was always a bit off, he’d discovered -- and he tweaked it back

into place before plugging the instrument into the amp and flipping on the pickups.

“This is a new song,” he said into the mic. “It’s so new the other guys don’t even

know it. I wrote it in the van on the way here.” He strummed a C chord, then an A

minor, letting the rich tones settle over the crowd. “A few days ago somebody asked me

a question. I gave her the wrong answer. I tried to give her the right answer later, but

I’m not sure she got it. And then I wrote this…” He trailed off. Stroking another chord,

he closed his eyes, then pretended he was alone in the wide room.

No. Not alone. With Kayla, and with Erik.

And he sang.

“You know I love you…

Maybe you don’t?

Haven’t I told you?
Maybe I won’t.

Maybe I can’t, baby, maybe I can’t

Maybe I just fucking can’t.”

He kept singing, hoping she would understand, terrified she wouldn’t, terrified

Erik wouldn’t. But as he continued through the short but intense verses and the

repeating chorus, he could feel her again, and she was getting closer.

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He looked down, stage right, and there she was. The light hit her upturned face

and shone from tears tracing the curves of her face. Moving toward the edge of the

stage, he met her there, and when he had played the last chord he reached down and

drew her up and held her.

The crowd, as they say, went wild. And wilder when she turned her face up and

kissed him, hard. And still wilder when, as much to Jason’s surprise as anyone else’s,

she turned to Erik and kissed him too, no less passionately.

“I’m back,” she murmured to both of them. “You’re not getting rid of me. Not

ever.”

Jason eased her away from him for a moment, studying her face, her eyes.

“You’re sure?”

Kayla smiled. “I’m sure. So very, very sure.”

“Good,” he said, and kissed her again. Then he took her hand, and she took

Erik’s, and with the spotlight still shining on them, they walked together off the stage.

* * *

Daze on End is a fictional band, but don’t tell them that or it will upset them.

Visit their blog at daze-on-end.blogspot.com.

Faith Talbot

Faith Talbot is a fine human being and a wonderful neighbor. That hot young

bass player she was keeping in the basement was just for research, honestly. You can

contact her at [e-mail], or visit her website at faithtalbot.com. She also

tweets on Twitter at twitter.com/faithtalbot.