I’d worked out that when he did that, it was a sign he was struggling with cravings, and was keeping his hands busy on the keys, rather than reaching for cigarettes, or booze, or anything else that could topple him off the wagon.
“Is it no good?” She wrinkled her nose. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell, you know?
“Are you high? It’s not good.” The words had gushed out of me, almost tripping over each other.
“Okay, well back to the drawing board then. It’s fine, there will be more ideas where that one came from.”
“No. It’s not good. It’s fucking perfect.” Rome was right. It was. “It’s everything.”
“You feel that way about us?” I knew she loved us, of course I did, but to hear it spelled out in such poignant lyrics. Lyrics that we would later share with the world—was next level. All sorts of crazy shit was running through my mind, but ultimately, it could be summed up by the fact that Quincy owned me, heart and soul, lock, stock, and painfully erect smoking barrel.
“Fuck, you really went there, huh?” Rome’s voice had been heavy with emotion, nothing more than a low growl. “You fucking ripped our hearts out, and then handed them back to us with your name scored into them. Every time they beat in our chests, it’s for you. You know that, right?”
Quincy was deadly still, her only movement, the rapid blink of her eyelids. Why is she fighting back tears?
“Hey, don’t cry, it’s a good thing.”
“I’m not crying. Well, I am, but they’re happy tears, so that doesn’t really count, right?”
“I don’t know, but how about we give you something else to think about, and wash those tears right away?”
“Oh?” She’d cocked an eyebrow Rome’s way. “And what exactly did you have in mi—”
Before she could finish, he’d reached across the grand piano and pulled Quincy quickly to him, taking advantage of the smooth, shiny surface.
“Oh! Umm...”
Rome had pulled her so that her feet crashed down onto the keys, and her legs were open, and facing him.
“So pretty.” He mumbled the words more to himself than anyone, as he had a clear view up her skirt.
He leaned forward, nudged Quincy’s knees farther apart, and spent a while showing her pussy a good time. I had looked on, frozen to the spot, my eyes glued to the scene unfolding in front of me, until my dick ached so much still folded into my jeans that I had to undo my zipper and set it free.
I stayed that way, dick in hand while Rome had taken care of business. Something I was learning about myself as we progressed in this “thing” together, was that I liked to watch almost as much as I liked to partake. Almost. Quin and Row together really was just the hottest fucking thing on the planet.
When he was done, Rome emerged from between Quincy’s legs and licked his lips as though he’d just eaten the most delicious meal. I guessed that wasn’t too far from the truth.
While Quincy recovered from the onslaught, Rome had quickly undone his jeans and freed his dick also, and I watched as he stroked and pumped it a few times. Not that he’d needed to stoke those flames, he already had wood and was raring to go.
When he was done, he gave her legs another big yank, sliding her off the top of the piano, and clattering down onto the keys. The sound was God-awful, but that was the last thing on any of our minds. He pulled her more gently this time, and guided her onto him.
Her gaze had been locked in with Rome’s, but as she settled onto him, she swung her focus to me. “Hey, stranger, what are you doing all the way over there? Come join us.” She’d stared pointedly at my dick for emphasis, as though I needed any encouragement. I absolutely didn’t. I closed the gap between us in two mammoth strides, and was in front of her before she’d drawn her next breath.
“Oh, hey there!” She’d smiled down at my dick, before leaning forward slightly, and sucking me into her mouth. Oh fuck.
...Back in the present, I glanced down at my phone to check the time. Twenty minutes ‘til showtime on the last night of our Light and Shade Tour. And what an epic rollercoaster it had been. There had been none of the drama of the Bowed and Dangerous tour, which in hindsight was a blessing, but nevertheless, it represented another milestone in our relationship, and a huge shift in terms of knowing how to be together in the pressure cooker that was any tour—even calm ones, where nobody ended up almost dying on stage.
Still, it had been a learning curve for us all. The fact was, nothing was more of a litmus test of the strength of a relationship, or friendship, or musical partnership, than traveling the world at breakneck speed on a grueling schedule. But we’d made it, mostly unscathed, and not only had we lived to tell the tale, but we still loved hard.
Even more remarkably, Rome had managed to stay on the wagon throughout, I was sure in part due to the fact that, despite his protestations to the contrary, we’d maintained a “dry” tour. No alcohol was permitted anywhere backstage in any of the tour locations. I was sure that all of the crew hated us for it, but fuck them and the horses they rode in on. They could bite me, and if they didn’t like it, they could show themselves the fucking door.
Although Rome had sworn until he was blue in the face that it wouldn’t be necessary, Quincy and I had overridden him. The way I saw it, he’d been doing so well on home soil, we owed it to him to do what we could to help him keep that up on the road. If that meant that a bunch of grown-ass men could only get access to alcohol in the privacy of their own hotel rooms, or in bars, then so be it. Our circus. Our monkeys.
The fact was, even at home he’d had his struggles, especially before the three of us had worked our shit out. Tensions had run high, and so had temptation, but despite wavering, he’d stayed strong. It would have been negligent, therefore, to risk all of that on the road.
We knew we couldn’t wrap him in cotton everywhere we went, but where we could, we did, and it had worked well.
What had also worked was us. The three of us. It was as though we’d always been together, musically and romantically; it just all felt like the most natural thing in the world.
More surprisingly, on stage, we were even better than we had been for the first tour. Critics, including the few who’d previously been detractors, were now calling the sold-out tour the “gig of the century,” and our album sales were smashing records all over the world. It was the ride of our lives, and one that—if we were lucky—wouldn’t end when the tour did.
Chapter 23
Quincy
I looked across at Rome as he slouched in the easy chair listening to music on his phone. He had his wireless headphones in, so I couldn’t hear what he was listening to, but judging by the way he was scrunching up his face, and air-guitaring or drumming wildly, my guess was something crazy like German thrash metal.
“Rome.” He showed no signs of hearing me, so I spoke up a little. “Rome.” Still nothing. “Rome!” Finally I tapped the toe of his outstretched leg with mine, and yelled.
“Yeah? What?” He looked somewhat taken aback, but recovered quickly. “Need me to service you before you go on?” He grinned lasciviously, and grabbed his dick through his ubiquitous black jeans. The thing was, knowing Rome, he was only partially joking.