“You're not.” Except that Leo's voice sounded much less certain than he had only a moment ago, and Caleb knew if he reached a hand around to Leo's own dick, it'd be getting hard.
“What if I do . . . this?” Caleb asked, slipping his hand around Leo's waist, a path it had traveled so many times over the years he knew the path it needed to take by memory. His fingertips danced over the sensitive edges of Leo's lower abs and finally settled, just as he'd expected, around Leo's hardening cock.
“Fuck,” Leo grumbled into the pillow. “Fuck . . . don't stop. That feels good.”
“I know it does,” Caleb murmured into his ear, nibbling a little on his earlobe, just the way he liked. Leo arched into his touch, as he slid his hand into Leo's briefs.
It only took a moment for Leo to shake off the last of the sleep clogging his brain, and Caleb let out a gasp when he aligned his round, flawlessly curved ass against Caleb's dick. “Yeah,” he said in a gravelly, sleepy voice, “that does feel good, doesn't it?”
“Yes,” Caleb said in a choked voice. With his other, unoccupied hand, he snaked his way between his body and Leo's, tugging down his briefs in the back, just enough that his cock slid right into the crack of Leo's ass.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Leo groaned as he felt it. “You gonna get off like that?”
The feel of Leo's bare skin against his dick had been enough—arousal was firing through him now, and if Leo wiggled just the right way, with the feel of him in his arms, the familiar weight of his dick in his hand, Caleb thought it would definitely be enough. He squeezed and pulled faster; the precome leaking out of the head of Leo's dick just enough to smooth the way.
He started to thrust too, leaving streaks of wet against Leo's skin that he would absolutely complain about later, but definitely was enjoying now. At least if his groan was any indication.
“I was having a . . .” Leo's voice caught as Caleb's hand squeezed. There was nothing hotter than hearing just how much Caleb turned him on—and it never failed to ratchet up Caleb's own arousal. It was the world's greatest feedback loop, as far as he was concerned. “I was having a real good dream,” he finally finished, his voice cracking.
“Better than this one?”
For a long moment, Leo dissolved into a whole bunch of untranslatable noises. Caleb nipped at his ear again, and he gasped. “Yes, yes, definitely better than this one,” Leo hissed. “A hundred fucking times better.”
There was nothing better than wearing Leo down, until he could no longer keep up his normal stream of snarky, sarcastic bullshit. Caleb felt a thrill run up his spine. The very best part was when Leo really made him work for it. “What about this,” Caleb murmured, sliding his lips down from Leo's ear to his shoulder, right where his neck met his shoulder, the bones pronounced under his delicate skin. Caleb had learned from long practice if he craned his neck at one particular angle, he could nibble on Leo's collarbones, right over the Pegasus tattoo, which never failed to reduce him to raving gibberish.
“Shit,” Leo exhaled as Caleb got a particularly good nip in, teeth closing over the bone. “Shit, fuck, damn, I'm gonna . . .” And then he did, body trembling, and cock squirting into his hand as he groaned.
The feedback loop buzzed through Caleb, and he only got another few half-hearted thrusts in before he was coming, likely earning Leo's wrath, all over that gorgeous ass.
“Damnit,” Leo whined. “Now I'm going to have to take a shower too, if I want to go back to sleep.”
But Caleb decided he didn't give a damn about Leo's complaining—which was superficial, at best. Giving Leo one last little love bite, he released him and rolled back over onto his back, enjoying the endorphins coasting through him. Despite the fact that he and Brad had coaxed his song into a pretty decent recording, and even the notoriously picky Leo had liked it well enough, he hadn't slept well. He'd been anxious, and every time he'd woken up, one of Brad's casual, devastating utterances had been running through his head.
If the song they'd done yesterday hadn't turned out so well, Caleb probably would have said fuck it to the whole experiment despite Brad Maxwell's reputation. But the song was good, and Brad's instincts had been spot on about giving it a more upbeat, poppy melody, because a lot of the songs he'd written were kind of depressing.
Not really a surprise considering his past, but even Caleb could acknowledge that not every person wanted to wallow in all that angst, all the time.
“Did you really like it?” Caleb asked, watching as Leo slid out of bed and walked, magnificent ass and all, towards the bathroom.
“Like what? The wake-up sex?” Leo called out, his voice echoing from all the marble in the bathroom.
“No, silly, that was a given,” Caleb said, smiling despite the worries. “The song. I meant the song.”
Caleb heard the shower flip on. “Yes,” Leo called out over the running water. “It has potential.”
Potential. It wasn't the most rousing endorsement ever, even from Leo, who tended to understate most things. Groaning, Caleb rolled out of bed and headed towards the bathroom, catching Leo just as he was tipping his head back into the spray of the rain showerhead. His naked body was mottled through the fogged glass of the enclosure.
“Potential?” Caleb asked, leaning against the counter.
He could see Leo shrug as he reached for the shampoo. “Listen, it's an idea, not one I'd have ever associated with you. Maybe it works, maybe it doesn't. It just feels . . . weird . . . that there's this strange guy, who barely knows you, who's deciding what you should sound like.”
It wasn't so much different from the thoughts Caleb had already been having, but hearing them from Leo's mouth still set him on edge. “Isn't that what producers do?” Caleb asked.
“Well, yeah,” Leo said defensively. “But when I produce a track, at least I try to find something in it that reflects the personality of the singer or the group. It's like when we just started out with Star Shadow, and we had all these crazy ideas about the music we’d be making, and then it turned out to be this horrible marketing exercise. I think they even audience-tested our debut album. It wasn't about us at all.”
“Of course it wasn't,” Caleb said, and he was annoyed despite himself. Annoyed that Leo had made the connection to their early Star Shadow days and annoyed that he hadn't been able to help it either.
“But this is different?” The shower turned off and Caleb reached over, handing Leo a towel.
“That's the thing, I'm not sure it is,” Leo said as he dried off.
“I'm not going to let Brad Maxwell change who I am,” Caleb said. He meant it. Mostly. Who was he, anyway? He was a man who loved his boyfriend. He was an addict who still struggled sometimes to stay clean. He was in a band—or else he had been, though nobody was sure whether that was a temporary or a permanent situation. But these days, he wasn't sure what else he was.
There was some wiggle room in there for Brad to work, and likely Brad knew it. Knew Caleb was even begrudgingly willing to work in that gray zone.
Maybe he was a semi-pop star who sang upbeat ’70s-inspired songs.