He’s fumbling behind me, out of my line of sight, grabbing something and shifting his weight, but I don’t think much of it. I’m too busy losing my damn mind over how ridiculously good he feels. Always so fucking tight, so perfect, hot and needy, like he’s made for me, and only fucking me.
I push in harder, deeper, and he takes all of me—but when I bottom out, I feel his lubed hand at my ass, pushing two fingers inside me in one go.
“Whatcha doing?” I ask for the second time that day, groaning against his mouth when I feel something cold press against me—and instantly understandexactlywhat the fuck he’s doing.
He’s using the damn dildo.
The weight of it shifts, nudging inside with firm pressure, and my brain shorts out for a second as I gasp—because yeah, that’s definitely silicone, and it’s definitely fucking hot.
I give a couple of experimental thrusts inside him and—holy fucking shit—this is unreal, way too fucking much. We find a rhythm. Every time I surge forward, the dildo nearly slips free, and when I pull back…Christ.It sinks back in so fucking good, pushing all the right buttons and lights me the fuck on fire.
Something drops to the floor with a clack next to the bed as we really start to get into it.
My gaze snaps down over the side of the bed, to the neon pink dildo now lying on the floor.
“Tyler, baby?” I grit out through my teeth, my fingers clenching on his thighs as I bottom out again, barely able to hold on.
“Oh, fuck yeah. Right there. Fill me deeper, harder.”
A stuttered chuckle escapes my lips as he pegs my prostate with the dildo, his other hand firmly lodged on my right butt-cheek. Dude issoout of it, he doesn’t even notice…
“Ty,” I try again, and this time, his heavy-lidded gaze locks on mine. “Are you by any chance fucking me with my own dick?”
“Wha?” He gives the Clone-a-Willy in question a jiggle, sending all kinds of shivers up my spine.
“I think,hng, you grabbed the wrong… ah… dildo.” A moan rips from my throat when he turns on the vibration. It’s the first time I’m stuffed while stuffing him, and it’s kinda awesome, even if itisa silicone model of my own damn cock. Not that I give a single shit right now, because holy fucking hell.
It’ssoawesome it takes exactly three more thrusts before I let my forehead drop to his, gasping, falling apart, filling him up, which triggers his own orgasm.
He moans deep, broken, against the corner of my mouth, his entire body going taut before shuddering and groaning beneath me, warmth spills between our stomachs as he comes hard, and I feel the dildo slipping free as he lets it go and wraps his arms around me instead, clinging to me like he never wants to let go.
A feeling that’s entirely fucking mutual.
I drop my head in his sweaty neck with a chuckle. “Shit. Guess wecando quickies, huh?”
He’s still shuddering beneath me, laughing hoarsely, reaching out to my cloned cock that’s still vibrating beside us to shut it off before hugging me close again.
We stay there for a moment, tangled and breathless, clinging to the last seconds we’ve got before we have to go to the venue. The sweat and cum cooling on our skin doesn’t matter. The clock ticking doesn’t matter. Just this. Him. Us.
I trace his jaw, then the little lines around his eyes, smoothing them out with my fingertips. I think my fuck-Ty-into-a-pliable-pile offensive has worked, because some of his softness seems to have returned since he got here. Every muscle in his body feels loose, all his limbs relaxed, a hint of a soft smile curling his lips.
“Nine more weeks, Ty.” I kiss his cheek and drop my forehead against his sweaty temple.
“Nine more weeks,” he breathes against my cheek, nudging his nose to mine.
I hold on to him, hold himsofucking tight. “Nine. Only nine. You can do this. I can do this. Fuck it,wecan do this.” I tilt back a bit, cup his face, lock our gazes. “Tell me you can do it.”
He smiles. But it’s a watery one. A sad one.
“I can do it. And you as well,” he says—and some of the conviction comes back into his voice. “I’ll be busy with camp and the season starting, so that’ll take my mind off things. And you’re going to get so swamped with all the hype around the album.” He smiles again, which reaches his eyes this time. “I’m so fucking proud of you. Everyone’s so excited about the song. The album. You need to enjoy it, share the joy with your friends.”
The rest of the band is ecstatic, out of their minds with excitement, because besides the fact thatmy sanity is hangingin the balance here,our song and album fuckingflewup the charts.
I can’t blame them. I should be happy as well, and Iam. Shit, everything we dreamed about…Idreamed about since I was a kid and Julita took me to my first guitar lesson—it’s all coming true,hascome true. But how the fuck can I be happy when there is a very real chance I’m getting yeeted out of the country? Shit, even the situation with Mick feels redundant at this point. Thereisno situation with Mick if I have to go back to Europe, anyway, so what’s the point of worrying about drama when I might not even be here?
“It’ll be okay,” Ty says softly. “Tom said it was an easy fix, right?” He uses my dad’s first name, like somehow always knowing exactly where my head is at. “He said the label mixed up your work and student visa? Is that even possible?”
I nod. Slow, heavy. “Yeah. It’s possible. Sloppy as hell, but possible. They forgot to file something when I switched from student to professional status. It’s dumb, and it’s fucking small. But it’s the kind of small that can fuck up everything.”
