Page 7

CHAPTER 7

Zeb

After dropping Katy off to meet some friends for dinner, I bow out.

Not that I have anything against Katy’s friends or anything, I mean I consider some of them my friends, too, but I just want to go home, order some Door Dash, and curl up on my couch for a bit.

I know it’s probably stupid to get all bent out of shape over a song.

But it’s not just a song, to me.

It’s the embodiment of everything that never was and never will be.

I’d written something similar, eleven years ago.

It was called Hellbound .

I wrote songs like crazy during those three years we worked together, and Geo was always interested in what I was writing.

Every time I saw him, he asked if I was working on something, or begged me to play for him, and every time, it was like a hundred balloon salute.

He had no idea my songs were about him, and that every time I serenaded him, I was putting my stupid heart out there.

And every time he’d grin, his eyes shining with pride and excitement like I was it.

Like I was a star.

And I held on to every smile, every word of praise like it was fucking air.

But his favorite was Hellbound .

I get lost in the memories for a few minutes.

Mourning what could’ve been if only I’d had the balls.

“It would be fun to do a double album. Hellbound and Heaven Sent,” he said.

“The artwork would be sick! Can you imagine? Just like one could be all black with glowing neon devil horns,” I replied as I grabbed my sketchbook.

“Oh! Maybe a swishy devil tail.”

“Oh! The Heaven Sent one could have neon blue angel wings. And a halo,” he gushed, his eyes shining.

“Heaven Sent could have all these religious undertones, too. You know, go all in on the heavenly metaphors.”

Geo strummed away on his guitar, his glasses sliding down his nose just a fraction and the corners of his lips perked up in a smile.

He always looked sexy as hell when he smiled like that.

“You’d have to write all the Hellbound songs, though,” he demanded as I sketched away some angel and devil wings next to him.

He leaned back, the motion making the couch cushions dip just a fraction, which put us closer together.

I nonchalantly leaned back against the cushions behind us, and he didn’t move.

I could smell his sweet orange blossom and spice scent.

I glanced up for the fraction of a moment, noting the slender expanse of his exposed neck, the curve of his Adam’s Apple.

I stopped sketching.

“Why do you say that?” I asked, swallowing hard.

I watched his long fingers play with the strings, his touch delicate and precise.

His hands, the perfect design.

Calloused from playing, but supremely hot when you watch him do it.

The way his fingers glide, the way the muscles and joints move, making the veins stand out.

I thought about those hands often, wondering what they’d feel like in my hair.

Around my neck.

“Because you’re the expert, of course,” he says lightly.

I let out a nervous laugh.

“You calling me a demon, Geo?”

Geo turned toward me, the motion making his thigh brush against mine.

He smirked.

“If the shoe fits, Z.” His dark, amber gaze implored me as he handed me his guitar.

I took it from his hands, as he glanced at it.

“Play for me,” he ordered.

I bit my lip, because I knew I should say no.

I sank a little closer to him as he leaned his arm against the back cushion, shifting once more, turning toward me.

“Please?”

He watched me with interest, and I knew I couldn’t say no.

How could I when he looked at me like that?

“What do you want to hear?” I asked.

“Hellbound,” he said, leaning his head against his palm.

His amber eyes sparkled as he smiled softly.

“It’s my favorite.”

I smiled and nodded as I strummed out the chords.

“Heaven won’t take me because I’m a sinner

Earth won’t keep me on the ground

My heart wants to fly beyond its cage

I want to scream but I can’t make a sound

Because every time you look at me, baby, I know I’m Hellbound.”

I pull up to my house, the sun lighting up the sky in shades of ochre and violet, casting a golden glow on my memories.

I set about to making myself something to eat instead of ordering out, if only because cooking usually helps keep me busy enough my thoughts won’t wander.

I glance at the clock as I chop some avocado for my burrito bowl, noting it’s nearing seven.

He hasn’t called.

And I doubt he’s going to.

Once I’m finished with my chopping, I turn on my Spotify and play some fast-paced emo music.

I get undressed, grab a beer, and relax on my couch with my laptop, my phone on the cushion next to me.

I scroll through social media absentmindedly, stopping when I come across an article shared in Vanity Fair from last month featuring the musicians from the Pillars Of Rock tour.

Geo looks up at me from the photo in the post, alongside his label mates— Felix Heart , Mage Of Mercy , and Heart Killer .

I stop, my fingers hovering over the group photo.

He looks so different now than the man I remember.

Gone are the cute thick glasses and the messy blond-brown hair, that boyish smile.

But his eyes are the same.

Deep, rich amber eyes that pull me in like a magnet.

I click through the photos, until I get to his solo set, because I truly am a glutton for punishment.

I swallow as my fingers touch the screen.

He stands before me, those perfect hands on his hips.

Decked out in bracelets, and a familiar shiny, silver ring, somehow, they look hotter.

If that’s possible.

My gaze travels across his torso, noting the definition of his hips.

His fucking six pack beneath his ink.

A giant black cross that covers his chest and torso.

My gaze travels down to his tapered waist, to his tight black, ripped jeans and bare feet.

I stopped looking up Geo nine years ago, because I didn’t want to be reminded of what was one of the worst days of my life, and my first real heartbreak.

I didn’t want to see him, because it hurt to look at him.

But now.

.

.

Now, I can’t take my eyes off of him.

My cock twitches in my boxers, and I suck in a heavy breath.

I always thought Geo was attractive, but now.

.

.

It’s like he truly went from Heaven Sent to Hellbound .

I slip my hand beneath my waistband, if only to adjust my cock, and I notice a bead of wetness pebbling my cockhead.

I swallow harshly, swiping my thumb across the tip, if only to remove it, but the touch only makes it worse.

My gaze fixates on Geo’s photograph, the way he’s cocked his head, showcasing his not-so-slender-anymore neck.

His shoulders are thicker, his frame fuller, defined.

He gazes at me through his dark lashes, amber eyes rimmed in kohl liner.

Those perfect, pouty lips parted just enough.

My cock throbs and my hips move of their own accord, eliciting a guilty groan from my throat.

I shouldn’t fucking do this.

It’s wrong on so many levels, and I know it’s not good for me.

But it’s not like anyone is going to suddenly walk in on me and find me like this.

I’m a single man who lives alone.

Maybe just this once.

For old time’s sake.

My gaze dips to the tagline below the image which boasts, “Get Undressed With Gravedigger : Sex, Love, & Rock ‘N’ Roll.”

Without thinking, I click on the hyperlink, which brings me to a page with a much larger image of Geo.

Lying down on a velvet couch, his arm behind his head, showcasing thick biceps with prominent veins, his dark eyes staring at me, those perfect full lips.

Fuck, that’s hot.

I lean back, pulling my cock out as I press my lips together.

I close my eyes, trying to focus on building a slow, steady rhythm, but I can’t focus.

I open my eyes, staring at his image.

At the way his tattoo spans across his defined pecs, how the bottom of the cross doesn’t stop at the waistband of his jeans.

It goes below the waistband, and I find myself wondering where it ends.

I never would have dreamed in a million years Geo would be the guy with a giant tattoo that covers his entire chest and torso, but I can’t deny that it’s sexy as hell.

The thought of tracing those lines with my tongue—across his pecs, down his abs, below his fucking waistband—pushes through my psyche and I let out another grunt of guilt.

I think about those perfect hands, fingers threaded through my hair, pushing me down on his cock.

I knew Geo was a virgin when we met.

I never judged him for it, even though he was older, because it made sense.

His family was pretty religious, and he was a popular Christian artist.

But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t fantasize about driving my mouth over his fucking cock and showing him what Heaven really felt like, even if he was way out of my league.

I close my eyes once more as the familiar fantasy resurfaces and my breath catches in my throat as I let myself succumb to it.

I imagine my fingers gripping his thighs, my tongue swiping across his slit, tasting the salty sweetness of his precum.

I let myself imagine those calloused fingers gripping my hair as he thrusts himself into the back of my throat.

My thrusts come faster, harder, and the sound of wet skin slapping against my palm echoes in the empty, quiet space of my living room

“Oh, fuck,” I curse as my muscles tighten, my abs spasming as I erupt like a volcano.

A deep moan escapes me as warm, thick cum sprays onto my abdomen, and I curse.

Just as the phone rings.

Panic sets in, and I move for my phone, ready to silence it, because I can’t do this right now, I can’t.

.

.

But my hands are slippery and the damn thing falls right off my couch, onto the floor, and.

.

.

“Hello?” Geo’s voice echoes in the space as I bury my face in my pillow, my cock still pulsing, still squirting out the remains of my guilty release.

I let out a petulant groan.

If God exists, why does he hate me so fucking much?

“Zeb, are you there?” he asks, his voice like warm sugar.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here,” I say as I lift my head, looking at the ceiling.

I should have just hung up when I had the chance.