Chapter Twelve

 

Raven

“Shouldn’t you answer that? It might be important.”

Ireland’s phone rang on the coffee table, the vibrations rattling it closer to the edge. It was the third time someone had called in under twenty minutes, and the third time it had gone unanswered.

Ireland eyed his phone like it was a bomb set to go off as he packed a small lunch bag with granola bars, juice boxes, cut up fruit, and his black pouch with his glucometer.

“They can leave a message. I’ll call them later. We’re going to be late. The last thing the guys need is their lead singer missing the boat.”

The band had been booked to play on an afternoon boat cruise which would travel down the river for a few miles into the open water before circling around and returning to the docks late in the evening. A newlywed couple were celebrating their reception on board and had invited Stone Angel to play in place of having a DJ.

Ireland returned his focus to his emergency food stash, ignoring the incessant ringing, so I scooped his phone off the table and checked the screen.

“It’s the nursing home.”

“I know.” He refused to meet my eyes.

“You can’t ignore them. It might be an emergency.”

His lips firmed, but he still made no move to accept his phone from my extended hand. The ringing went silent, so I stood and approached him, waiting for him to acknowledge me. When he lifted his head, the wariness behind his eyes was prominent.

I lifted my hand and held it near his face before warning him, “I’m going to touch you, okay?”

He went rigid—he always reacted, if only slightly—but nodded for me to advance.

It was the middle of August. We’d made slow progress over the past month. All intimacy was restricted to kissing—Ireland controlled—and mutual jerk off sessions. Once, Ireland had taken me in hand and brought me to orgasm. It was a huge step forward. More and more, he allowed me to touch him with a warning. It was becoming a rare occurrence for him to deny me.

With his permission, I cupped his face and stroked my thumb over his cheek. “What’s going on? Why are you ignoring the home?”

He ducked away from the contact, despite having allowed it, and threaded fingers through his hair as he paced his living room.

“Because I know why they’re calling. She’s getting worse. I know what a decline in Alzheimer’s looks like. I’ve been given the scoop many times. I just…” He shook his head. “If I go see her, I risk fucking this up.”

He waved a hand between us.

“I’m doing good. I’m so fucking tired of failing. I risk losing everything we’ve gained. Maybe you.”

“But she’s your mother.”

He stopped pacing and faced me, the combination of emotions displayed across his face were too many to read.

“Do you hear me?” he asked, shaking his head like I mustn’t be understanding.

“I hear you.”

“Do you understand what I’m telling you? Seeing her is a huge potential trigger. Huge!”

“Yes, I know. And if we have to start back at the beginning and suffer through endless games of Cat’s Cradle and letter cards, so be it. You will not lose me, understand that right now.”

His lips parted and face crumpled. “Julia would have locked me in the house and tied me up if she thought I was even considering visiting the home.”

“Yeah, well, pardon my French, but she sounds like a selfish bitch if you ask me.”

Checking the time, I sighed. “Come on, we’ve gotta get going, or we’ll miss the boat. Call the home back while I drive. I’m serious,” I added when he continued to look uncertain.

This time when I held out his phone, he accepted it. Before I could turn away, he caught my shirt front and halted me. Our similar height put our eyes at almost level. Ireland leaned in and joined our mouths in a claiming kiss. It was more forceful than any we’d shared over the past month. I gave back just as much, carefully resting my hands on his sides as he moved in closer. He opened his mouth, teased his tongue with mine, and searched desperately for more.

Another step closer brought our bodies in line. Ireland’s hand wrapped around my neck and held me in the kiss, his other looped around my waist. God, he felt amazing. It was rare for us to be this close, and I noted and treasured each sensation like the gifts they were. However forceful and determined, his nerves shone through, and after a solid minute of licking and tasting each other, he stepped back.

“Let’s go,” he breathed.

Go? All I wanted to do was drag him into the bedroom and say fuck-it to the boat gig. If he could get that close, how much closer was possible? Could he be naked against me like that? All I wanted to do was find out. I hoped he retained that confidence once we got home late tonight.

In the car, Ireland returned the nursing home’s call. It was hard not to listen in and even harder keeping my hand from reaching out and touching his knee as it bounced.

When he hung up, he stared out the window deep in thought.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

He shrugged and kept staring unseeing. “She’s emotional and wants to go home. That’s normal, I guess. She doesn’t truly know what home is anymore. She’s being difficult. She doesn’t understand much and is fighting them tooth and nail. They think I should visit.”

“And you don’t want to.”

Silence.

I knew it was a difficult topic. I couldn’t even fathom being in his shoes. Dealing with a sick mother who suffered from Alzheimer’s and a mental illness was one thing but fighting your own mental health battle while avoiding triggers was another matter altogether. Especially since the two were interlinked.

Taking the hint that he didn’t want to talk about it, I drove us to the marina and the docks where the mini cruise ship was waiting to set sail. I caught sight of G and Reece making their way toward me as I pulled into the closest parking space I could find.

“Stone! Where the fuck have you been? We’re on a crunch. Gotta get loaded and set up, and we are at T minus thirty minutes,” G called as I climbed out of the van.

“Then let’s get moving. Where is everyone?”

Reece grinned and thumbed over his shoulder. “Free bar on board.”

“Wonderful. Zack better not be getting wasted before we even start.”

“I put a limit on him. The bartender is aware.” G and I knocked fists, and then he nodded at Ireland who rounded the van to meet us. “Hey, man. Good to see you.”

Ireland shoved his hands in his pockets but nodded to Reece and G with a warm smile. His troubles seemed to have been packed away for the time being. “Are you kidding? I wasn’t about to turn down an afternoon on the water with some good music.”

“Our official roadie slash sound guy for the day,” I announced.

G chuckled. “I knew you’d find a way to sneak your boy aboard.”

“Let’s move.”

The four of us made a few trips to the boat carrying gear. Once they were ready to sail, we were halfway through setup. Ireland didn’t know much about running our soundboard, but with a bit of instruction, he was decent help.

The wedding party was young and geared up for a memorable night. It was exactly the kind of crowd we enjoyed playing for. By the time we started into our first set, I was certain half the people on board were well on their way to being intoxicated.

Ireland found a spot by himself looking out over the water. His troubled mind returned and showed clear on his face. Instead of watching us perform, his gaze was stuck in the distance somewhere faraway only he could see. The rigidity in his shoulders and the way he hugged himself were all sure signs he wasn’t okay. His decision to avoid his mother was eating him alive.

After hammering out over a dozen songs, we took a break. The guys mingled with the guests while I made my way to a buffet that had been set up at the far end of the ship. It was wedding style and consisted of fancy hors d’oeuvres I couldn’t name. I filled a plate, grabbed a couple of bottles of water, and weaved my way through the congestion of people to where Ireland leaned against the edge of the ship, quietly observing the crowd.

“Hey, are you hungry?”

He checked the time on his phone and sighed. “Yeah, I should probably eat something.” He picked a mini tart off my plate and examined it before popping it into his mouth. “They love you guys. You especially. You’re quite the showman with your gravelly deep voice all sexy-like.”

I chuckled as I scanned the busy groups of people all dressed in their finest. “Yeah right. It’s a fun bunch. It’s going to be a wild night. I can see it already.”

Ireland took a second to administer a shot of insulin before helping himself to more food off my plate.

“I enjoy watching you sing,” he said as he cracked his water bottle. “It’s incredibly sexy. The way you practically make love to your microphone. Makes me all jealous.”

I nearly choked on my water, laughing. “Oh, yeah, I’m so sure.”

His face broke into an eye-creasing smile. I was glad to see it. “Seriously, based on the looks you’re getting, you could have had your pick of bridesmaids. Don’t be surprised if they’re climbing your leg later once they are too drunk to care.”

“What a horrible thought. Would you save me? Would you throw them off and claim me for yourself?”

“Nah, I’d watch you squirm.”

“Of course, you would.”

We ate the rest of the food I’d collected as Ireland continued to tease me about all the hungry looks I was receiving. After having sung in the band for over twenty years, I was immune to the catcalls and flirtations of both the men and women in the audience. For some reason, way too many people had skewed rock band, lead singer fantasies. And I wanted no part of them.

Well, maybe in my twenties I had, but not anymore.

I set our empty plate on a vacant table and turned to look out across the water. Ireland leaned beside me, only inches separating us. I watched him a moment, taking in every part of him until a smile broke across his face and he eyed me.

“What? You’re staring.”

“You’re gorgeous.”

He snorted and turned back to the water. “Stop.”

“I’m serious. If you were a stranger in the crowd tonight, no one else would stand a chance. I’d only have eyes for you.”

Seeing him shyly accept my compliment warmed my blood even more. Ireland may be physically impressive with his fit body, muscles, and tattoos, but inside he struggled. The longer I knew him, the more obvious his insecurities.

“Kiss me,” I said, pulling his gaze back around. “Claim me. Don’t let those drunk women think they can have their way with me. Or…” I trailed off, leaning closer, not touching but bringing my lips precariously close to his neck. I blew gently over his skin. “Let me kiss you.”

I blew again. When he didn’t tell me no or pull away, I said, “Let that be your warning, Ireland.”

I brushed my lips up his neck, a ghosting, feathering touch that made him shiver. When I reached his ear, I flicked it once with my tongue, and he groaned.

“Give me your mouth,” I whispered

He turned his head, and we came together, tongues clashing, lips pressed tight and fighting for ownership. No other part of our bodies touched, but I felt it right from my head to my toes. He sucked my tongue, nipped my lip and leaned hard into the kiss, taking all and leaving no part of me unexplored. He’d come so far.

A sharp whistle drew us apart, and I glanced over Ireland’s shoulder to see G approaching with a stupid, shit-eating grin on his face.

“You two keep that up, you’ll outshine the bride and groom.”

Ireland wiped his mouth and turned, putting his back against the rail. I copied and dipped my chin at G in greeting.

“Find yourself a bridesmaid yet?”

“I’m working on it. Let the alcohol do its thing. You know, Stone, they might have available rooms downstairs.” G glanced over the top of heads as he peeked at the stairs leading below deck. “I could find out for you. So long as you two can get done fast. Just sayin’.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t encourage me or you’ll be singing for the rest of the night by yourself.”

G grimaced. “Can’t have that. These vocal chords don’t do much more than background.”

“And poorly at that. We’d probably be booed off the ship.”

“Fuck off, asshole. You want Zack backing you up? I can arrange it.”

Ireland chuckled, and I glared between them. “Don’t encourage him. Have you heard Zack sing?”

“I saw his impression of that seagull from the Little Mermaid when you guys rehearsed the other day, unless that’s what you call singing?”

“Exactly.”

“Anyhow.” G rubbed his hands together. “We’re up in ten. Just coming to let you know.”

“Thanks.”

G winked at Ireland. “As you were, mate.” Then he swung around and made his way past the bar to grab a beer before heading to our setup. He placed his beer aside then slung his guitar over his shoulder.

“I better get over there.”

Ireland leaned in and pecked me on the lips. “I’m coming home with you tonight. Plan to not sleep much.”

A flutter of anticipation erupted in my stomach and washed over my skin in hot waves. I grinned at his lust-drunk expression. “Mmm… I like that.”

After another lingering kiss, I left him by the railing to take my place on stage. The second set was solid, and by the time we were midway through the third, it was long past dark, and a blanket of stars shimmered overhead. The August heat had dropped significantly with sundown, and a breeze blew across the open water. It was a perfect night for celebration and singing.

I couldn’t take my eyes off Ireland and sang every word of every song to him while losing myself in his gaze. His smile creased the corners of his eyes, and I wandered more than once down a road of imagining and wondering where our night might lead. Lately, his determination was fierce. He pushed himself hard. There was no denying that our intimate encounters had escalated.

By the time we pulled up the long driveway to the farmhouse hours later, I had one thing and one thing only on my mind.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one.

“I want you naked. Now.”

We’d barely made it up the ladder into the loft, and Ireland was tugging my shirt over my head. This was the most handsy he’d ever been, and I wasn’t about to argue. His clothes followed mine and landed on the ground in a messy pile. When he took my face between his hands, I held my breath, waiting for a kiss that didn’t come.

“Listen, I need you to know and understand something before we keep going. Just because I am able to do things to you doesn’t mean I’m able to accept them in return. Touching and being touched are two very different things in my mind.”

“I understand.”

“I hope so.”

With that, he dropped to his knees and took my already granite dick in hand. I couldn’t hide my surprise and sucked in a breath when he licked his lips and peered up at me.

“Ah, fuck. Are you serious?”

“Yeah, ah fuck. I’m very serious. I’m gonna suck your dick, but I need you not to help. You need to keep your hands to yourself. It’s already a lot to process, okay?”

Shit, I hoped he wasn’t pushing himself too far. Even without contact, I was too far gone at the thought to properly examine the situation. I jerked my head in what was supposed to be a nod. “Hands to myself, got it.”

He stroked me a few times, and I squeezed my eyes closed. I wasn’t going to survive this. How many times had I dreamed of having his mouth on me?

“By the way,” he said, his tongue trailing and circling my head. “Ever been sucked by a guy with a tongue piercing?”

My eyes sprung open, but before I could respond, the ball of metal flicked against a sensitive area on my head, and I cried out. Oh, shit, I’d forgotten about that.

“You’re going to kill me. Jesus.”

His mouth surrounded me without further warning, and he sucked me all the way into his warm mouth before hollowing his cheeks and pulling up again. He ran his tongue around my head, ensuring to caress that damn piercing in all the right places. My knees trembled. It was already too much being surrounded by his mouth, but to have that added sensation was making me lose my mind a lot faster than I wanted.

He took me in again, sucking long deliberate pulls up and down my shaft, flicking with his tongue, tormenting me with the metal ball, and driving me out of my mind.

My orgasm didn’t creep up quietly but surfaced so fast, and with such force, I didn’t have time to warn him. I grabbed his shoulders with both hands for leverage as I cried out and shot into the back of his throat. The impact of such an intense orgasm made the world fade away for a few minutes as I pulsed and clenched and tried desperately to stay on my feet. I was only half aware of Ireland swatting my hands off his shoulders and ducking to get away when I reached out again to prevent myself from falling over.

His mouth was gone, and the pillar I’d been leaning against with it. I collapsed on my knees and struggled to catch my breath as my senses realigned.

“I’m… shit… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” I gasped, fighting to voice each word.

My dick throbbed with residual spasms as I peered around the room in a haze, trying to see where he’d gone. In my delirious state, I’d fucked up. Ireland stood a few feet away, naked, erect, and not looking as angry as I feared.

Thank God.

“On the bed. Lie down,” he said, stroking himself and pinning me with a look so fierce with hunger my sated dick jerked again.

My legs shook, but I pulled myself off the ground and did as he asked. Flat on my back, I watched him approach. He kneeled beside me and indicated to my hands.

“Behind your head.”

I complied.

Then, he shuffled over and straddled me, his inner thighs aligned with my hips. All I could envision at that moment was having him exactly like this, and thrusting into his ass—even though I knew the idea was probably not possible. Apart from a fleeting conversation one time, we’d never discussed anal again.

Ireland stroked himself, his features set with determination, but I didn’t miss the worry marring his forehead or the haunted look behind his eyes. The fight was real. Every step took great effort. Again, I worried he was pushing himself beyond his limits.

Ireland placed a hand beside my head and leaned over me, bringing his dick so close to my mouth, I wanted to lift my head and suck him down my throat. The only thing I’d dreamed about more than him giving me head, was me doing the same to him.

“Can I? Please?” I had to ask. I needed it like I needed air, but I’d never cross that line unless I knew it was okay.

His worry deepened, but his hand never stopped. Faster, he jerked himself, pulling his skin back each time and showing the dark red head just aching to spill. He bit hard onto the hoop in his lip and squeezed his eyes closed before nodding.

He nodded. He fucking nodded. That was a yes. Oh shit.

Keeping aware of any signs that I should stop, I lifted my head and flicked my tongue over his head, lapping at the growing spill of precum. It was too good to be true, and I wanted more. Desperately. I traced his tip again, and he groaned, jerking his hand faster and finally opening his eyes to watch.

“Again,” he ordered. His breathing was ragged, and his entire body trembled.

I licked him again, then raised my head further and sucked his tip into my mouth wholly and completely.

“Fuck… fuck… okay, stop. Please.”

I stopped, and he pulled back a bit. His jaw remained clenched, and the surface of his eyes glistened before he squeezed them shut again. Worry stirred my gut. I couldn’t tell if he was lost in bliss or fighting his mind.

God, Ireland, don’t push too hard. I’ll always wait. No matter how incredible this is.

“I’m… I’m gonna come.”

I licked my lips and fought the urge to take him in my mouth again. He’d asked me to stop. Whatever the reasoning, I would listen. In less than a second, he threw his head back and ground out, “Now, suck me now. Do it!”

Despite my shock, I didn’t hesitate for a second and took him all the way down my throat just as he blasted into orgasm. His dick throbbed and pulsed against my tongue, and I swallowed multiple times, taking his entire offering before he pushed me back and scrambled away, falling onto the bed beside me.

I thought all was well. The euphoria of having tasted him, watching him take his pleasure right above me had made me forget those signs he’d displayed. Now that it was over, his mask fell away, and Ireland shook beside me. He covered his face, his body vibrating so strongly it radiated over the bed.

Dammit!

“Hey, hey,” I shuffled to my side. “Look at me. Woah, Ireland, hey, what’s going on?”

He wouldn’t look, and I knew enough not to reach out and lower his hands from his face—no matter how desperately I wanted to. This wasn’t the sign of after-orgasm bliss, this was extreme distress.

When he continued to ignore my pleas and goosebumps prickled across his bare skin, I risked making him upset. I needed him to talk to me. Leaning over him, I blew softly across his temple like I’d done earlier on the boat. “Consider that your warning.” Then I kissed him in that exact spot. Next, I moved to his neck and did the same. A gentle bit of air followed by a kiss. Another on his shoulder and a fourth by his ear. Then, I whispered my intent, “I’m going to touch your hands and take them down from your face.”

After I spoke, I gave him a second to protest. When it didn’t come, I guided them down. His eyes remained closed, so I blew a soft tickle of air over his cheek and kissed him there before moving to his mouth.

“Kiss me.”

And he did.

He cupped my face and kept me in place as we shared a kiss. When his cheeks became damp, and he shuddered against my lips in staggered, tear-broken cries, I wished more than anything I could hold him. When we broke apart, he opened his eyes and batted away the lingering tears in shame as he sniffled and pulled up a wall, blocking away those vulnerable emotions. He studied me as a world of agony consumed him.

“I want so much more with you,” he said, swallowing audibly before continuing. “I’m sorry I’m so limited.”

“Can I ask you something?” He waited without speaking, so I continued. “Did you enjoy it, what we did?”

“I did. But that was all I could give you, and I know you wanted more. It’s so fucking frustrating.” He gnashed his teeth and blinked hard, warding off what would have been more tears. “If I push too hard, my head screams in defiance. I have to fight constantly to make it okay. It’s like a war inside me tearing me in two different directions.”

“Then stop pushing so hard. I love what we have, Ireland. I love what we share. Why can’t you believe me? I only ever want you to give me what you can. Don’t ever push yourself. Look at how far we’ve come. A few months ago, you told me this was impossible. It’s not impossible, it just takes time, and I’ll wait. I’ll always wait.”

It sometimes felt like Ireland was blind to his own progress. He saw perfection on the horizon, his fabled idea of normal, and hated that he could never reach it. Instead of progress, he saw constant failure. Instead of being proud of what he’d achieved, he focused on all the things too far out of reach.

Without warning, I leaned down and kissed him deeply and passionately, trying to show him all he meant to me and how completely invested I was in our relationship. He needed to know and understand that he wasn’t going to frighten me off. I wasn’t like those people he’d dated in the past.

He kissed me back without hesitation and surprised me even more when he took my hand and brought it to rest against his body.

“Touch me,” he said into our kiss. “Please.”

My heart flipped, and I kissed him deeper, gliding my hand over his abdomen, touching and taking in all that I’d been denied until that moment. I explored him slowly, leaving no place unmapped, skimming the contours of his muscles, the curves of his body, and memorizing him.

Our tongues joined, our breaths mingled, and the world outside disappeared. It was him and I. For many months, I didn’t know if this would ever be possible, but that treasured moment opened my eyes to the possibilities in our future.

After a time, soft moans passed through Ireland’s lips as we kissed, and he raised his hips off the bed. When he clasped hold of my wrist, I thought he was going to throw me off and tell me it was enough, but he guided me down to where his dick was hard once more. I wrapped my hand around him and stroked leisurely.

He broke our kiss and panted as he watched my face.

“Is this okay?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

I watched him closely, cautiously, ready to stop at the first sign of uncertainty.

“You like that?” I firmed my grip, tugging him and smearing the leaking spill over his head.

It was the most control he’d allowed, and I treasured it.

“Yeah.” He licked his lips. “So good. Don’t stop.”

That time, as I brought Ireland to orgasm, he looked me in the eyes the entire time. He was the most beautiful thing when he let himself go. Watching him, seeing him unravel, and feeling his fingers dig into my skin when he tipped over the edge was enough to give me hope. He wanted it so badly.