Page 78 of Feuds and Interludes
“But the Prince Albert you did.” He grinned.
I ran my fingers over his muscular chest and shrugged. “I didn’t want it to close up and have to go through the healing process again. Plus, it feels good.”
“It sure does. I love it on my tongue.”
“Fuck, Shane.” I was about to rip the rest of my clothes off, but we were having a serious conversation. “How about a trial run? I won’t move my shit in, but I’ll stay with you.”
“Stay with me,” he said, wrapping his arms around me. “Sleep with me. Make a life with me. Love me, Boone. The rest is just details we can figure out later.” He kissed me, and I fucking melted. He was offering me everything I ever wanted wrapped up in a gorgeous, kind, talented, thoughtful, loving package, and I was ready to jump in with both feet. And pray I didn’t falter.
“Just remember,” I said as he went to work pulling down my pants. I lifted up to slide them off my legs and pulled the sheet down, putting us skin to skin. “You asked for it.”
He chuckled against my throat as he grasped my shaft, causing me to make sounds I couldn’t even describe if I tried, and I kind of describe things with words for a living.
“Then gimme it. Give me what I want, Boone,” he murmured. He slid his fingers between the globes of my ass and tapped on my hole. “I promise I’ll make everything good for you. Always, babe. I want all of you.”
Believe me, I said a whole lot of yes after that. Yes to his fingers inside me in the gentlest way, coaxing my body to open for him. Yes to his cock in me as he drove home his point that I belonged to him, and he took care of what was his.Oh,did he take care. I lost track of the number of positions he folded me into over the rest of the day as we fucked and fucked and fucked as only two fairly young men, in decent shape and ludicrously in love, could do.
We napped and went at it again. We soaked in the tub and went at it again. I could barely lift a finger by the time nightfall came, so Shane dressed and went to get us a feast from Felix before he shut the kitchen. Shane fed me from his fingers. He sang to me as he attempted to braid my hair and barely managed to not tangle it before he figured out what to do. He played guitar for me. If he were trying to convince me to do something ridiculous like sell all of my belongings and go live off the grid in the wilderness (I liked my creature comforts, thank you), I’d give him anything he wanted at that point.
Turned out, all he wanted was for me to hold him as he fell asleep.
We packed our shit the next morning, said ta ta for now to the crew at Bolder Breed, and departed for Shane’s place in LA. We’d debated renting a car and driving like our grandparents had, but I assured Shane that sitting for that long might be alittle uncomfortable after our Gay Sex Olympic Games the day before. Instead, I booked time with the private jet company I was a member of and Rose drove us and our gear to the airport.
Neither of us was up for joining the mile high club. We were both a bit too tender for that, but he did give me another love bite, this one on my hip so only he could see it. I bargained with him to please keep them under my clothes until after Rocktoberfest. He begrudgingly agreed.
We opted to get settled into domesticity at his place before going to see our grandparents. It was nice to hold on to a little bit of that feeling we’d nurtured while up at Bolder Breed, like we were cocooned, and the world couldn’t hurt us.
Shane’s place was a sweet condo in Silver Lake that was part of a super-cute Spanish-style home with archways and tile that gave it a lovely touch. The downstairs contained a kitchen and the rest was a sprawling workspace full of recording equipment. Upstairs he had two bedrooms, laundry, and a gorgeous view of the reservoir. He had a private patio out back with a grill and what looked like an herb garden. It was, like everything else about Shane, not at all what I expected.
“The only thing metal about your place, darling, are the stainless-steel appliances in your kitchen,” I remarked as we stepped inside. We dropped off our guitar cases in his great room and I looked around expecting…something else?
He sniffed. “Wait ’til you see my room.”
I followed him up the stairs and he directed me to leave my duffel in the laundry room.
He stood in front of his bedroom door and raised an eyebrow at me so severely, it set me to giggling.
“I don’t know if you’re ready for this.”
I clapped my hands together. “Oh please oh please. I can’t wait!”
“All right, but what goes on in this room, what you see in this room, stays between us.”
My eyes flared. “Do you have a sex dungeon in there, Shane? Restraints? Ooo! One of those swings?”
He rolled his eyes. “Is that all you think I am?” He absolutely was messing with me.
“Fine, I promise. Just open the door!”
He sighed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He opened the door—and he was right. I wasn’t ready.
The room had high ceilings and arched doorways leading to the master bath and a large walk-in closet. There was a medieval-looking king-sized four-poster bed in the middle of the room, and on each of the four sides hung black and white flags from what I assumed were Shane’s favorite bands—Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Judas Priest, Metallica, Megadeth, Van Halen—and on the ceiling above the bed were posters of Dio, Spinal Tap, Tenacious D, Ozzy Osbourne and more.
But the walls…
“Oh my God, Shane…”
