Guy swallowed hard. “N-no one. I swear! Just give it back!” He tried to lunge towards the camera, but I pulled it back just in time.
“No one else, huh?” I leaned back, eyeing the camera. “So you really are just sickly obsessed with us.” Interesting. “You asked who our muse was…who inspired us to sing and perform?” I glared at Guy. “The Broken Museismy muse, Guy. They’re my closest friends, my inspiration, and my family. And no one fucks with my family.” I threw the camera down against the concrete floor with all my strength. Guy shouted, his eyes burning with tears as he watched me crush the remnants with my boot, stomping them against the concrete. I then raised him onto the tips of his toes and whispered into his ear while he sobbed. “If I ever see your ugly face creeping around me or any of my band members or team, I’ll do something far more damaging to your weak ass.” I leaned back and licked his cheek as he groaned and tried to break free. “Now, crawl back to whatever dark hole you slithered from.” I dropped Guy from my grasp, and he fell to the concrete floor.
Motley tried to lean down to help pick up the broken camera pieces, but I stopped him. “Kash,” he grumbled.
“No.” We looked at one another, then glanced down at Guy. He scrambled to gather the broken pieces, attempting to piece them together like a puzzle. His glasses were now fogged from his tears, little drops hitting the concrete as he sobbed quietly to himself. “This ishismess.” Guy glanced up through his glasses and glared at me. I moved my hand and mimicked taking a photo, making the sound as I pretended to capture the moment. It might have been a bit sadistic but I smiled. “Let’s go.”
Motley readjusted his grip on the nearly empty ice bucket and led the way. I followed him back to his motel room, ensuring Guy didn’t stalk either of us. Motley’s room was on the whole other side of the same floor, as far away from my room as humanly possible. I wasn’t sure if that was intentional or not.
I remained close, breaking the awkward silence. “Ugh, I am just so tired of that little prick trying to pocket off us! I just don’t?—”
Motley exhaled deeply. “But you didn’t have to break his camera, Kash. Those things aren’t cheap. I mean, did you see his face?” I blink at him, confused by his sudden sentiment for Guy’s feelings. “It was wrong.”
I blinked again. “I’m sorry, I think I had a fucking stroke…did you say that was wrong?” I cocked my head. “Motley, the fucker has been stalking the band for months. Months! He snuck into Carmen’s house at one point and woke her son up while snapping photos of the poor kid in his bed while they were asleep!”
Motley shook his head. “I know what he’s done, Kash! But Guy is still a person! What you did was, well, it was destruction of property! Fuck, you don’t get it, do you? He can press charges!” And like that, his real fears became crystal clear.
Motley had a past, much like the rest of us, but his was dark. He didn’t always just bang his drums and run around performing. Before I met him, he was a lost soul that frequentedbars and hung around some pretty bad people. They’d shoot him up with drugs and wind him up like some jacked up bull raging at the color red. He was their muscle, and he used that strength way too often. All it took was one bad move that landed Motley in jail for a few years. He did his time, fighting every step of the way. But eventually, fate, or sheer dumb luck, landed on his side, and thanks to a technicality, he was released early. It was when he got out that I found him slunken and half broken in a bar, playing drums for some wannabe cover band. He didn’t ever seem happy except when he was on stage. And truthfully, I think that’s when I first saw him. The real him. Over time, I would return to the bar and watch him play, but I didn’t just watch him. I studied him. And one day, he noticed me. We’d become almost inseparable since, and then we found sweet Carmen, who back then was a pregnant bartender trying to keep up with life and scared shitless of her future. Together, we became this group of misfits that just clicked, despite our many and obvious differences. We built a band and a symbiotic relationship, helping one another as if our lives depended on each other to remain standing. And we’d been that way ever since. Motley wasn’t scared of some secret coming out, and he didn’t care about Guy’s camera. What he really cared about was that fear of being locked away again. It almost drove him mad before, and I knew that was something he feared more than anything else.
“Motley.” He turned away from me as I stepped closer. “You’re never going back there. I promise.”
Motley shook his head, opening the motel door. “You don’t know that, Kash. One day, things could change.” He stepped through the motel doorway, leaving me standing there alone. The sun burned against my back as I watched him, this strong and beautiful man, now a shadow of himself, filled with fear and trauma. “Anything can happen, Kash. Anything,” he whispered.
I stepped through into his motel room and kicked the door shut behind me. Motley turned to look at me, taken aback by the look on my face. I was pissed, not at him, but at Guy for bringing such a sensitive thing up—for taunting him with his own past like that. “No matter what happens, I willneverlet you go back.” I stopped directly in front of him. “I don’t care what crime you may commit or how dark your past may be, I’ll never let them take you back. Never!” He stared at me with those wide blue eyes of his. “You don’t belong in that darkness, Motley. You belong in the sun. The goddamn sun, like a fucking god.” I grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him forward as his body slammed into mine. My forehead pressed against his, my entire body burning and overwhelmed with this possessive desire to protect and comfort him. “I will never let that happen. You’re not just a member of this band, or a close friend—” I choked on my words, realizing something was weighing on my chest and clawing to be spoken aloud. Anxiety began to fill my heart as it raced, but I knew I needed to say this. I raised my eyes to look at him and our sights locked. “You—you’re mine, Motley. And I don’t plan on letting anyone take you away from me. I-I need you. You’re the only one who sees the real me. Not the Kash on stage, or the one holding hands with Twila, putting on a show. You seeme. And I’m not sharing you with anyone.” My eyes burned with tears.
Motley’s blue eyes clashed with the red around them as he tried to fight back his own emotions. “Kash,” he whispered my name, and I almost fell to my knees. “I’ve always seen you. But you got one thing wrong.” I made a face, and he smiled. “You’re mine, songbird. You always have been, since the day I saw you sitting in that old bar.” The sun peeked through the tiny sliver of the window along the motel room wall, and sunlight beamed across his face. His skin glowed like fire, and he looked more likea god than ever before. Fuck, he was breathtaking. And he was right. He wasn’t mine. I was his.
Motley stepped closer, guiding me as my back slammed into the motel room door. He then used his free hand to lock it, gazing into my eyes. “What’re you doing?” I asked, my cheeks flushed and hot.
Motley threw the bucket of ice down and pressed his arm against the door, next to my head. I was tall, but Motley was even taller. And the way he towered over me was both intimidating and a turn on. “I’m doing whatever the fuck I want. You’re mine, Kash. Now, be a good boy, and sing for me.” He slammed his mouth onto mine and kissed me hard. A whimpering moan escaped my throat and danced into his. “There he is,” he breathed into me. “My pretty little songbird.”
Motley’s words melted me. My body crumbled into his, and I pushed back, spinning us until I could slam him into the door. Our mouths broke, and he watched with hungry eyes, as if he tasted some piece of forbidden fruit and yearned for more. He might be hungry, but I was starving. I glanced down and noticed his drumsticks on the end of his bed, and a wicked little thought popped into my mind. “You want me to sing?” I asked, picking them up. “Then make me.” I tossed the sticks to Motley, removing my leather jacket and shoes. He eyed me closely, raising a brow while I unlatched my belt. “Go on, drummer boy. Make. Me. Sing.”
Motley wasted no time, charging me. He tore my shirt from my body and kissed me fiercely. Light moans and gasps escaped my mouth as I kissed him back, feeling his rock hard body. My hands grazed up his back, pulling the cropped muscle shirt from his torso. We smiled, completely lost in the ecstasy we felt between us. Motley cupped my face and leaned close until his lips hovered over mine. “I’ll never forget the way you looked atme that night in the bar. It’s exactly how you’re looking at me right now.”
My hand pressed against his chest. “And how is that?” I asked.
Motley smiled. “Like you had seen the sun for the very first time and realized the world isn’t as dark and cold as you thought it was.” Fuck, he was good.
I swallowed. “Is that how you see me?” I tried to ask the question as calmly as possible, but I knew he could sense my sensitive curiosity.
“No.” He shook his head. “I see you quite the opposite.”
The opposite?
“You see, I’ve spent my whole life in the blistering sun. It burned me up and left me to wither away, no substance or energy left to survive off. A never ending fire of pain and emptiness. Until you showed up. You cast a shadow over the light, and like the moon, you shined brighter than any sun or star, leaving me to bask in the glow of your existence. You saved me, Kash.” My throat burned from trying to hold back my tears. Motley grinned and kissed me gently. “Don’t worry. My words may be sweet, but my dick won’t be.” He then forced my mouth open and slithered his tongue deep down my throat. “Now let me worship you, my midnight moon.”
Motley roughly spun me around and bent me over the side of his bed. His body leaned over mine, his hands feeling every inch as he kissed my cheek. I closed my eyes, enjoying his touch. He then kissed my neck, licking my flesh until his mouth finally found its way to my back. He gently bit the skin around my shoulder blade, and I whimpered. Motley breathed a hot laugh and kissed the aching bite. He then pulled back only to return with the drumsticks.
“Open wide,” he breathed. I did as I was told and bit down on the wooden sticks. “Good boy.” Motley kissed my body a fewmore times before leaning over and pulling my now dripping dick from my jeans. My teeth bit hard into the wooden sticks, fighting back my pleasure while he stroked me.
Oh fuck!
He pulled tightly, pressing against my tip as small beads of excitement rolled from my body. God, he knew my body so well. “Oh, you’re so wet,” he moaned. Motley rubbed his pelvis against my backside, groaning while he continued to feel me, increasing both his speed and pressure. “Now, let me feel just how tight you are for me.” He quickly pulled back and removed his own dick and pressed it against my body. I flinched at the warm touch, knowing just how intense he always felt inside me with his girthy self and pierced tip. He stroked himself, playing with me until it was almost too much for either of us. Motley then yanked the drumsticks from my mouth and held his hand out. “Spit.” I did as he asked, hacking up a mouthful of saliva as I carefully spat it into his palm. He returned the drumsticks to my mouth and used my spit to lube himself up, moaning as he smothered his swollen tip. Motley then spread my ass cheeks and positioned himself perfectly before gently pushing inside my body. I knew he didn’t like wasting time, but damn, the pressure and strength behind his enormous dick made my eyes water as I cried out, the drumsticks muffling my sounds. I gripped his bedding, squeezing it tight. He felt so good inside me, my tightness making him really work for it.
Motley held my hips and thrusted harder, his moans nearly drowning out my own. My body rocked against his and time dissolved. Motley’s hands kept slipping from my waist until he realized a better way to hold me still. His hands grabbed both ends of the drumsticks in my mouth and repositioned himself. Immediately, he rammed deeper inside me, enjoying his new placement. “Oh fuck,” he cried out. He fucked me hard and good until he was ready to come.
“Don’t you dare pull out,” I begged through the drumsticks.
