Feuds and Interludes (Rock ‘n’ Romance Legends #1)

Chapter 26

Twenty-Six

B oone

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a bit of a chaos demon in the morning?”

Shane had my pillow over his face, the sheet pulled down below his navel, and his hand dramatically draped over what would be his forehead if my pillow wasn’t in the way.

I kicked my shoes off and crawled onto the bed next to him on my knees.

“I’m not sure anyone ever put it quite so adorably, but yes, I’ve been called lots of things in the morning. Annoying, obnoxious, gassy?—”

He pulled the pillow away and I loved his sleepy scowl. It was somewhat laughable, him trying to look scary when he was all soft and warm with creases in his cheek from the pillow.

“Gassy? As in?—”

“Oh, yeah. We’re not there yet in our comfort level, so you’re safe. It’s honestly better since I quit drinking but Shane! I have news! Are you awake enough for me to tell you news?”

I pressed kisses down the middle of his chest, taking time to lick his navel and blow on it.

“While you’re down there?—”

“You’re awake. If you’re thinking about sex, you’re awake.”

He shoved the pillow back on his face and let out a long, loud exhale, and then he pulled it off.“Okay. I’m awake. Speak, but at a lower decibel, please.”

“Sorry,” I whispered with a chuckle. “The twins are gone, they got flights out this morning, but they said they’re open to discussing recording with us after Rocktoberfest.”

“So, not a resounding yes,” Shane said, and he pushed himself up to sitting. “I get it. I should have talked to you about it before I brought it up.”

“It’s fine. It’ll be fine. They’ll get to know you better and we’ll come up with a business plan for them to look at, not just ‘hey, come play on our looove album.’” He gave me a half smile.

“As long as you don’t say kumbaya again.”

“Right. And I definitely won’t sing it, but Shane! I had an idea!”

I knew I was coming off a little manic, but I’d woken up in the wee hours full of thoughts and it had taken every ounce of restraint I had—which wasn’t much—to keep from pouncing on him then and unloading on him.

“What’s your idea, babe?”

“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous. You have no clue, do you?”

“The idea?” He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled for real this time, only it was that indulgent smile that let me know he was doing his best to be patient because he really did love me.

He loves me. And he’d said it last night. More than once.

“The idea! I woke up from a dream in which you and I were on TV, you know, like those interviews they do before a big movie comes out? And like the interviewers are asking probing questions.”

“You dreamed about this?”

“Yes. I think you and I should do a mini press tour before Rocktoberfest! Get people excited about our performance. Of course they’re going to ask questions about our so-called beef with each other?—”

“I never had beef with you, Boone.”

“You did, but it’s okay. I was an asshole. I deserved it. But this way, if we pick the media and we control the narrative, we can hype up the performance, turn it into hype for the foundation, and then hint at a project together. We can gauge what the reception will be, maybe get our prospective labels excited about it…and if everything goes as well as I think it’s going to, we’ll have paved a nice little path for future Butler Collins collabs. It will also take a bit of the gossipy bullshit out of the story. We say yeah, we’re dating, we’re working together, but it’s about the music. Our music and the legacy of our families. What do you think?”

I wasn’t sure if it had come out as polished as I’d hoped, but the walk back from breakfast, where I’d said goodbye to the twins and gotten their blessing on all things Rocktoberfest, hadn’t been a super long time to craft my pitch.

“So we get out ahead of all the speculation. We tell them upfront. It could work. Who did you have in mind to talk to?”

“I did an interview with Sammara Gunderson not too long ago. I’m sure she’s going to be at Rocktoberfest, since Maggie’s Bones is playing. Did you know they were reuniting for the festival?”

“I’d heard. I’m tight with Devon Boudreaux and his wife Jaylene. She’s my tattoo artist. I used to work on his guitars way back when they were recording their last album in LA. That was fetus Wicked Soul days.”

“Fetus,” I said, laughing at Shane’s Emo side that came out every once in a while. He might play music that had the classic metal feel of Metallica and Megadeth in terms of heaviness and vibe, but he was from the generation that made Emo a massive force in music, and Maggie’s Bones had been one of the heaviest, alongside Bullet For My Valentine and pre-pop Bring Me The Horizon.

My vocal stylings with Stellar were on the other side of the rock spectrum. I spent my formative years not only trying to emulate my grandfather, but also being influenced by singers like Scott Weiland, Myles Kennedy, and of course, Freddy Mercury. Shane’s vocals on Wicked Soul songs were frankly a little terrifying in the pure evilness he managed to pour into his performances, and I’d always found them sexy as fuck. Rather than scare people with my music, though, I wanted to get them hot and bothered so they’d go home with their partners and do what nature intended.

He rolled his eyes playfully. “I could also call up Krish Guruvayoor. I bet he’d do a piece. Now that he’s taken Chaz Vella’s position at Alt-Scene things have gotten a lot better. I’ve got contacts at Kerrang! and Pops’s buddies at Classic Rock mag would probably dig it.” He frowned a bit. “So Annie and Bran aren’t keen on the Butler Collins project, huh?”

“It’s not that they aren’t keen on it. The thing is, you and I wrote the music. They’re not used to being sessions musicians, you know? I don’t think they’re opposed to me doing it, per se, but I think they recognize it as our baby and they don’t want to be, like, rock ’n’ roll godparents.”

Shane rubbed at his mustache. It was thin, just barely covering his upper lip in a line, but I fucking loved it. It made him resemble a villain or like an old-timey performer in a speakeasy. Watching him rub it? Did things to me. But we needed to have this serious conversation, which meant I needed to focus on something other than that, or his pleasure trail leading underneath the sheet.

“We’ll get through Rocktoberfest and regroup, then. And if they don’t feel comfortable recording with us?—”

“ We do it. Hell, between the two of us, we can play everything.”

“You play the drums?” he asked me.

“Oh yeah. I’m not as fancy as Bran. I kinda look like a gremlin when I play, but it’s fun.”

Shane grinned at me. “This I gotta see.”

I wiggled my eyebrows and walked my fingers to the edge of the sheet. “Speaking of seeing?—”

He put his hand over mine. “Hey, I’m serious, Boone. I don’t want to put any discord between you and your band. They’re right. Let’s talk about it after Rocktoberfest. Besides, you can’t really make any plans until after you meet with your label. They’re going to put you guys everywhere. We have time, babe. I’ll be around.”

That made shit real, quick. “What are you going to do?” I asked him.

“That’s a really good question. I don’t know. And right now, I’m okay with that. I’ll go back to LA and regroup. That’s all I can do. We’ve got Rocktoberfest and that’s as far as I’m worrying about right now. I want to enjoy my time with you until you go on your way.”

He smiled, but it was a little sad.

“I don’t want it to be me going on my way. I want it to be me going on tour, talking to you every day over FaceTime, and if you’re free, seeing you when we can meet up. People have relationships that continue when they’re on tour, right?”

Shane tugged on my hand and pulled me to straddle his lap.

“Of course they do.” He pushed my hair back and ran his thumb over my pulse in my throat. “You sayin’ you want me around?”

“God, yes. I do, Shane.” I bent over and kissed him. “I fucking do. I don’t want this to be over when we go home.”

Shane moaned and pulled away from the kiss. “Move in with me.”

I froze. His eyes were a little wide, like maybe he hadn’t planned on saying that.

“Are you… Seriously? Haven’t you seen what I do to a domicile?”

He pulled my shirt up and over my head. “I can live with your mess. I have a cleaner come in every week anyway. As long as your shit’s picked up before she comes.” He ran his finger over my nipple. “How come these aren’t pierced?”

“They were. I had to take them out when I had all my tests done and I never got around to putting them back in.”

“But the Prince Albert you did.” He grinned.

I ran my fingers over his muscular chest and shrugged. “I didn’t want it to close up and have to go through the healing process again. Plus, it feels good.”

“It sure does. I love it on my tongue.”

“Fuck, Shane.” I was about to rip the rest of my clothes off, but we were having a serious conversation. “How about a trial run? I won’t move my shit in, but I’ll stay with you.”

“Stay with me,” he said, wrapping his arms around me. “Sleep with me. Make a life with me. Love me, Boone. The rest is just details we can figure out later.” He kissed me, and I fucking melted. He was offering me everything I ever wanted wrapped up in a gorgeous, kind, talented, thoughtful, loving package, and I was ready to jump in with both feet. And pray I didn’t falter.

“Just remember,” I said as he went to work pulling down my pants. I lifted up to slide them off my legs and pulled the sheet down, putting us skin to skin. “You asked for it.”

He chuckled against my throat as he grasped my shaft, causing me to make sounds I couldn’t even describe if I tried, and I kind of describe things with words for a living.

“Then gimme it. Give me what I want, Boone,” he murmured. He slid his fingers between the globes of my ass and tapped on my hole. “I promise I’ll make everything good for you. Always, babe. I want all of you.”

Believe me, I said a whole lot of yes after that. Yes to his fingers inside me in the gentlest way, coaxing my body to open for him. Yes to his cock in me as he drove home his point that I belonged to him, and he took care of what was his. Oh, did he take care. I lost track of the number of positions he folded me into over the rest of the day as we fucked and fucked and fucked as only two fairly young men, in decent shape and ludicrously in love, could do.

We napped and went at it again. We soaked in the tub and went at it again. I could barely lift a finger by the time nightfall came, so Shane dressed and went to get us a feast from Felix before he shut the kitchen. Shane fed me from his fingers. He sang to me as he attempted to braid my hair and barely managed to not tangle it before he figured out what to do. He played guitar for me. If he were trying to convince me to do something ridiculous like sell all of my belongings and go live off the grid in the wilderness (I liked my creature comforts, thank you), I’d give him anything he wanted at that point.

Turned out, all he wanted was for me to hold him as he fell asleep.

We packed our shit the next morning, said ta ta for now to the crew at Bolder Breed, and departed for Shane’s place in LA. We’d debated renting a car and driving like our grandparents had, but I assured Shane that sitting for that long might be a little uncomfortable after our Gay Sex Olympic Games the day before. Instead, I booked time with the private jet company I was a member of and Rose drove us and our gear to the airport.

Neither of us was up for joining the mile high club. We were both a bit too tender for that, but he did give me another love bite, this one on my hip so only he could see it. I bargained with him to please keep them under my clothes until after Rocktoberfest. He begrudgingly agreed.

We opted to get settled into domesticity at his place before going to see our grandparents. It was nice to hold on to a little bit of that feeling we’d nurtured while up at Bolder Breed, like we were cocooned, and the world couldn’t hurt us.

Shane’s place was a sweet condo in Silver Lake that was part of a super-cute Spanish-style home with archways and tile that gave it a lovely touch. The downstairs contained a kitchen and the rest was a sprawling workspace full of recording equipment. Upstairs he had two bedrooms, laundry, and a gorgeous view of the reservoir. He had a private patio out back with a grill and what looked like an herb garden. It was, like everything else about Shane, not at all what I expected.

“The only thing metal about your place, darling, are the stainless-steel appliances in your kitchen,” I remarked as we stepped inside. We dropped off our guitar cases in his great room and I looked around expecting…something else?

He sniffed. “Wait ’til you see my room.”

I followed him up the stairs and he directed me to leave my duffel in the laundry room.

He stood in front of his bedroom door and raised an eyebrow at me so severely, it set me to giggling.

“I don’t know if you’re ready for this.”

I clapped my hands together. “Oh please oh please. I can’t wait!”

“All right, but what goes on in this room, what you see in this room, stays between us.”

My eyes flared. “Do you have a sex dungeon in there, Shane? Restraints? Ooo! One of those swings?”

He rolled his eyes. “Is that all you think I am?” He absolutely was messing with me.

“Fine, I promise. Just open the door!”

He sighed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He opened the door—and he was right. I wasn’t ready.

The room had high ceilings and arched doorways leading to the master bath and a large walk-in closet. There was a medieval-looking king-sized four-poster bed in the middle of the room, and on each of the four sides hung black and white flags from what I assumed were Shane’s favorite bands—Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Judas Priest, Metallica, Megadeth, Van Halen—and on the ceiling above the bed were posters of Dio, Spinal Tap, Tenacious D, Ozzy Osbourne and more.

But the walls…

“Oh my God, Shane…”

The far wall was covered with a detailed mural that was the artwork from California’s debut album cover.

“That was my test run. I wanted to do it as a surprise for Pops in his new place, so I did it here first. His turned out better.”

“And now someone else has it. Oh, Shane?—”

“It’s fine. I did it like six years ago, I think. Maybe seven.”

I linked my arm with his. “We’ll have to think of a housewarming-slash-engagement gift for the happy couple. Besides me moving out.”

Shane put his arms around me and kissed my head. “I meant what I said, Boone?—”

“I know. And if you still mean it after Rocktoberfest, I’ll take you up on it. This place is amaz—is that a snake?”

Shane smiled bashfully. “Yeah, that’s Duncan. Pops got him for me when I was fifteen. I thought it made me more metal, having a snake. Turns out he’s on the small side for a ball python and he’s kind of clueless. Every time I’ve let him out, he’s tried to end his little slithery life. Poor guy. Inbreeding has not been kind. So now he’s a pampered pet, not a badass prop.”

“I take back what I said. This place is definitely metal.” This man was so freaking adorable.

“And you haven’t even seen the best part yet.”

He gestured for me to go into the bathroom, where I found a shower that would absolutely fit seven people with several showerheads pointed strategically, and an intricately tiled bathtub tucked into a corner with a full-length stained-glass window surrounding it.

“Shane…”

“All this could be yours,” he said in a cheesy gameshow host voice.

“And I want it.” I placed my hand on his cheek. He seemed nervous showing me around his place. “I’m just a lot to take, Shane. I don’t want you to regret any of this. Ask me again after the festival, okay?”

He dropped his head and nodded. “Gives me time to persuade you.”

“Persuade me?”

He grinned. “We have the best Persian, Greek, Japanese, Brazilian, and Peruvian restaurants in SoCal in this neighborhood. What can I tempt you with tonight?”

I fluttered my eyelashes at him. “How ’bout pizza?”

He groaned. “You’re not going to make it easy, huh.”

“Just for tonight. Please? Doesn’t pizza and a movie sound awesome?”

His frustrated expression softened and he smiled that soft smile I loved so much. “Totally awesome.”

“Great. You order and I’ll get the laundry started.”

“You don’t have to?—”

“If I’m going to be here, I’m going to attempt to do my part. Besides. I’m great at laundry…making it messy and getting it clean. Do you have any requirements?”

“Not that I can think of? I’ve got three baskets for sorting and one for stuff that goes to the cleaners. Oh, yeah. No fabric softener.”

“No?”

He shrugged. “I used to get rashes as a kid. Mom yelled at me for getting into shit with my good clothes on, she thought it must be pollen or grass or something I was allergic to. Turned out it was her fancy fabric softener. She didn’t like having to stop using it.”

I nodded. “Good to know.” My Metal Menace had more than an emotionally sensitive side. I kinda loved it.

We sorted our clothes together like an established couple and he showed me how to use his machines. Then he ordered mushroom and olive on pesto for me and spinach and white sauce for him, along with salads. He gave me a pair of comfy lounge pants that I had to tighten up with my hair tie, and we crawled into his massive bed. He lowered a screen from the ceiling at the foot of the bed, turned on a sound system, and we talked about our favorite movies until the pizza came.

We ate standing up in the kitchen, crawled back into bed, and watched The Big Lebowski , which turned out to be both of our favorites. We curled up and recited lines together, laughing until my stomach hurt, and I thought, this…really is everything I ever wanted.

I just hoped I didn’t fuck it up.