Beyond the Footlights, page 32
Come ran out of Kilmer’s mouth, around Tanner’s cock. His throat was already full of hot, throbbing flesh. There was no more room to swallow and what didn’t flow freely down into him, dribbled out over his chin. It was a lot. Too much. He sputtered, trapped and frantic for a split second, before Tanner released him and he could back off enough to pull in breath and make his throat work properly.
Sweat coated his body. Come trickled through his stubble. His wrist ached, and he realized he had been torqueing the ropes tighter, rather than looser. It took him a long moment to realize he was no longer hard. He hadn’t come, but he was so relaxed, so happy, he didn’t really care.
Lifting his face to look at Tanner, he knew his eyes glittered with tears. A few of them had escaped to join the sweat and come, and he probably looked very debauched and used.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so completely at ease. Calm. Satisfied and happy.
Tanner hauled in a deep breath as they stared at one another. And for a few moments, a few heavy, contented heartbeats, that’s all they did. Stare and breathe. Tanner looked as zen as Kilmer felt.
“Can you stand?” Tanner asked at last, when it seemed he had stabilized his own heartbeat.
Kilmer nodded and got shakily to his feet. He wasn’t sure why he was so unsteady. It wasn’t like he hadn’t experienced this exact thing many times before.
Gently Tanner took his arm and turned him, plucked open the knots of the rope, and let it fall with a muted thump to the floor. When he turned Kilmer back around, it was for a warm, sensual kiss. He didn’t seem to care about the mess. His tongue was heavy and thick in Kilmer’s mouth, the exact perfect finish to the entire proceedings.
“Come on.” Tanner took his hand and led him to the bathroom where he took his time stripping Kilmer, running the water to a nice hot stream, and soaping him up. He didn’t seem inclined to speak, and Kilmer was okay with that.
He liked the quiet.
There was no analyzing what had happened, how he had performed. Just acceptance that it had been good for both of them, and moving on to clean up and cuddle under the sheets.
“Thank you,” Tanner said later when they had lain quietly in bed for quite some time. Kilmer had his head on Tanner’s shoulder, and Tanner slung his arm loosely around him. Kilmer was happy there, content and for once calm, inside and out.
His brain had slowed its manic spiral of analyzing what to do, what not to do, how to please, and he had simply acted. Now Tanner was relaxed at his side, and it seemed he had managed to perform exactly as needed.
He wanted it to be like this. Every time. He wanted to know he could please his lover no matter what. He wanted his world to be this simple, his life this easy.
“Don’t think too hard about it,” Tanner warned him. “We have some work to do. But now we know for sure it will be worth it.”
“We do?” Kilmer wasn’t sure if he meant we do have some work to do? or we know it will be worth it? Maybe both.
“Discipline.”
Kilmer hated that word. The concept. His lethargy melted under a new tension.
“Don’t,” Tanner said, softly kissing his hair. “Don’t mistake discipline for punishment. They are very different things. We take what we know works for you and practice it. Get better at it. Ropes and confinement. Clear instructions. We’ll talk about it. Think of it like training for the Olympics.”
Kilmer snorted despite his unease. “Olympics of kink. Sign me up!”
They laughed and kissed some more, and Tanner held him down a bit until the wild edges were tamed. He was hard again. It was almost not in him to ask, but he did, imploring with soft moans and pleas when Tanner began kissing down his torso.
Tanner made him hold on to the bedposts again. He clamped unforgiving hands on Kilmer’s widely spread thighs, keeping him from all movement and interaction, while he teased and edged him. It was an exposed, helpless position that made Kilmer’s pulse pound and his heart thrash wildly. It was a terrifyingly lovely feeling to know even this wasn’t about his pleasure but about Tanner’s possession of him and the ability—the permission—to do whatever he wanted with Kilmer’s body.
Eventually, finally, he did swallow Kilmer down and suck him off to spectacular effect. Kilmer was left panting and sweating and spinning, and couldn’t even manage to lift his exhausted ass out of bed for another shower. Tanner just smoothed a warm cloth over his skin in long, slow strokes until Kilmer fell asleep.
35
ON CHRISTMAS Day, they didn’t make it to the ranch until well past noon. Kilmer and Tanner hadn’t opened a single present yet—other than each other of course—but Tanner didn’t give a flying fuck if he never got another Christmas, birthday, or other gift as long as he lived. He had Kilmer’s hand confidently in his as they walked in the door. He didn’t need anything else.
Len met them both with hugs. Vance shook his hand, and oddly it wasn’t like shaking the hand of a returning hero and shining star. It was like receiving the blessing of possibly the only person who could have made Kilmer think twice about Tanner.
They didn’t say anything. Vance nodded at Tanner. Tanner nodded back. Len grunted at them both, shook his head, and ordered Tanner and Kilmer into the living room, where the tree was. Gifts were opened and they were pretty spectacular. Vance and Len certainly were not stingy with their wealth.
Kilmer got a few rare parts he needed for the truck he had inherited from Jacko. Maggie got a new set of very high-end kitchen knives. Patrick and Janet received a small parcel of land on the edge of the ranch, already split off, that they could begin paying the property taxes on once Janet was done with school. Vance had already hauled an old double-wide trailer, refurbished from when it had been a ranchhand abode, out to the site and arranged for electric and water to be run when the ground thawed. Of course this was described as a bribe to keep Maggie on-site for the foreseeable future so it was a gift to them all. That was Vance’s excuse, but it was clear as day that Vance was cementing his family in a land he’d adopted as his own.
Katie of course was spoiled rotten, even if she was much too young to appreciate it all.
Tanner hadn’t expected anything. It was enough to know he was welcome. So when Len shyly handed him a small, neatly wrapped box, he was pleasantly surprised.
“You didn’t have to.”
“We did,” Vance grumbled, though he was watching Len with affection and pride.
Tanner picked apart the paper and ribbons and opened the box. It was a ring with half-a-dozen keys attached, and he frowned.
“For the main house and the sound studio,” Len said, rhyming off which door each one opened. “You can come and go as you please. Arnie won’t harass you anymore.”
“Made the list, did I?” he asked, voice caught in a low, ragged register.
“You have to sign guests in of course,” Vance put in. “Arnie’s a stickler about that. But you should be able to come and go. Kil spends a lot of time here when I’m away, so.”
“You barely know me,” Tanner said, looking up at him.
“I know enough.” Vance glanced over at Kilmer. “I trust my boy over there—” He grimaced. “Shit, man. I—” His brows drew together.
Tanner’s instinctual snarl stopped just before he released it, and he shook himself. It was an old connection between Kilmer and Vance—not brothers or lovers or friends but at the same time, all of those things. He couldn’t understand the relationship, but he had to respect it if he respected his lover.
“No,” he said. “It’s fine. I get it.” And he did in a way, even if he had never experienced anything like it. He couldn’t deny Kilmer his closest, tightest bonds. Vance was encouraging him to get to know the family Kilmer had made for himself, and he would do that. “Thank you.”
AFTER THEY had all eaten too much turkey and mashed potatoes and apple pie, after Maggie and Janet had watched the men clean up and Patrick had escorted them and Katie back to the cabin, Len, Vance, Kilmer, and Tanner slouched in the living room under the light of the Christmas tree. There was so much silence it was like a fifth presence in the room.
“You haven’t talked much about the tour,” Kilmer said at last. “Is it going well?”
“Yeah, sure. Fans are always awesome in person.” The answer was so generic and uninformative, even Tanner winced.
Kilmer nodded, though he looked troubled.
“Tex?” Tanner asked, touching his thigh.
Kilmer glanced at him and fixed a look back on Vance. “What?” he asked, an edge to his voice.
“I wasn’t going to mention it until later,” Vance confessed.
So there was something. Instantly Tanner felt the rough texture of Kilmer’s palm against his, and he laced his fingers through Kilmer’s.
“Just tell me,” Kilmer demanded.
“Jacko ain’t well, Kil.” Vance’s accent was thick and authentic in a way it wasn’t onstage. Then it was a sort of polished, flash of Texan over the down-home country boy. Now it was bone-deep and weary, dense and heavy over his sadness.
“Stan took him off the tour. It was best. I told him rehab or stay away. From me, the band.” He met Kilmer’s gaze. “You.”
“What did he say?”
Vance shrugged, heavy and miserable. “Nothin’. Got on his bike and took off after the last gig. Ain’t seen or heard from ’im since. Stan and Alice are doin’ their best to find him, but you know how he can be. No tellin’ where he went or—”
“Are they checking rehab centers? AA meetings?”
“I don’t ask.” He twisted his lips. If it was meant to be a smile, it fell far short. “I trust Stan to take care of it, if anyone can. But I thought you should know.”
“Is he likely to just turn up?” Tanner asked, worried the unexpected appearance of his lover’s ex might set Kilmer back months in his own emotional recovery.
“No,” Kilmer said softly, squeezing tightly and shifting their hands closer. “He won’t. He’s takin’ care o’ himself.”
“Kil, we don’t know—”
“I do. He won’t tell anyone. He’s shown enough weakness. He might never come back, but when he’s sober, he’ll let us know. Might take a while, but he’ll get in touch somehow.”
“You’re so sure.” Tanner studied him.
“I’m sure. I know him. He hates that he let it get this bad. Hates himself for everything that happened. He needs to deal with that. He will, because deep down he’s a good man. He wasn’t good for me, and he got lost somehow, but someday he’ll find himself again. I’m sorry I couldn’t help him with that.”
“It wasn’t your place, Kil,” Vance told him.
Kilmer smiled, but his eyes shone with tears and the smile was devastating. “I know. Still wish it had been, for his sake. I hope he’s okay. I hope he makes it through. That’s all.” He lifted Tanner’s hand to kiss his knuckles. “Thanks for tellin’ me, Van.”
“Yeah.” Vance didn’t look at all happy about it, though, and shifted the subject slightly. “Leaves a hole onstage, though.” He looked directly at Kilmer, then Tanner.
“No,” Kilmer snapped.
“Not a chance,” Tanner said at the same instant.
They glanced at one another and grinned.
“Well.” Vance harrumphed and slumped back in his seat next to Len. “I hate auditioning people.”
Squeezing his hand, Len gave him an impish smile. “You’ll find someone. In the meantime I can—”
Vance kissed him to shut him up.
It seemed like an eminently sensible thing to do, and Tanner glanced at Kilmer, who met his gaze. The sadness was already receding. It wouldn’t go away. Kilmer wouldn’t just forget the man who had been such integral a part of his life for so long. But it wasn’t his default anymore, and that at least deserved a rewarding kiss if anything did.
Kilmer met his approach with warmth and hunger. They were so not staying at the ranch much longer, Tanner thought as he absorbed all the eager attentiveness Kilmer offered.
When they pulled apart, Vance and Len were eyeing them slyly.
“I’d call it a night if I was you,” Vance advised.
Tanner grunted and hauled Kilmer to his feet. It was advice he didn’t need. “See you when we see you,” he growled, staring at Kilmer, all kissed and disheveled.
The only response was a giggle from Len and a snort from Vance. Then he and Kilmer were pushing one another toward the door and the relaxing week ahead of them. He had some excellent ideas about how to bring in the New Year. They all involved a lot of rope, lube, and very few clothes.
Epilogue
ONE THING Kilmer hadn’t ever anticipated enjoying was looking after Jacko’s truck. The registration was in his name now, so technically it wasn’t Jacko’s anymore. But he would probably never think of it as anything else. Or, well, maybe he would. It was hard to say. But he had found an unexpected satisfaction in fixing it up with the new parts Vance had given him, even if it had taken nearly five months to talk himself into doing it.
He stepped back to get a better look at his handiwork. He’d begun by removing the temporary side mirrors Jacko had put on to make it roadworthy and replacing them with the set of original ones Vance had given him for Christmas. They were rechromed and the mechanisms that tilted the glass refurbished, so Kilmer knew they couldn’t have been cheap. But they did look good now that they were finally in place.
“Nice.” Tanner slipped an arm around his waist. “You okay?”
Kilmer sighed. “I guess.”
“You still mad at me?”
Kilmer turned to face him. “I was never mad at you.”
“Don’t lie.” Tanner grinned. “You were pissed I made you come out here and do this.”
“No. You were right. It needed to be done.”
“Talk to me, Tex.” Tanner stepped away but took his hand and led him over to a truck bench seat they had bolted to the garage floor to give them a place to lounge. He sat and pulled Kilmer down next to him.
“What’s to talk about? Van went out of his way to get them for me. I shouldn’t have waited so long to install them.”
“I know why you did.”
“Oh, do you?”
Tanner settled and draped an arm over the back of the seat. After a moment of his protracted silence, Kilmer leaned back as well and allowed himself to sink some of his weight against Tanner’s side.
“Why do you think you waited?”
“Oh. I hate shrink talk,” Kilmer complained.
Tanner took his chin in hand and turned his face, delivered a blistering kiss, then sat back again. “Speak.”
“It’s his truck,” Kilmer blurted after a few seconds.
“He gave it to you. Signed over the pink slip.”
Kilmer watched as the dog plodded across the garage to them and settled directly on his feet. “He signed over a lot of things,” Kilmer said quietly. “Hey, Moose.” He stroked the dog’s ears and tried not to wonder if Jacko would approve of the wholly Canadian name he’d chosen for the oversize mutt.
“He did. But that’s his problem. We’re talking about yours. Why did you wait?”
“In case he came back for it?”
“For you?”
“No!” Kilmer turned, almost drawing a knee up into Tanner’s ribs in his haste. “I’m yours now. He didn’t sign me over. He wrote me off. He doesn’t get a second chance.”
“Good.” Tanner studied him, tracing fingers over his features and looking into his eyes. “But deep down what’s the truth?”
“The truth is….” Kilmer licked his lips. “The truth is I have a hard time letting go.” He’d had this conversation with Lenore a few times. He clung to things in ways his parents hadn’t clung to him. He was afraid if he let go, there would be nothing tethering him to his life.
Tanner cupped his face. “You know that I am never letting go of you.”
Kilmer nodded.
“You know that I am in this for the happily ever after.”
Another nod.
“You know that claiming what’s left of what you and Jacko had is not letting go of him. It’s the exact opposite.”
“I just wish I knew,” Kilmer whispered.
“And maybe someday you will. But this is us and now. We move on together. We remember him, because everything he left you with was not bad, and we hope he figures his life out. Maybe comes back to us. But that’s his issue not yours. You keep fixing what’s broke, and if he does come back, you’ll be ready to deal. Yeah?”
Kilmer smiled at him. “Kiss me again?”
Tanner did, long and thorough enough to make Kilmer forget where he was and what they had been talking about.
When they parted, Tanner’s eyes shone. “You can do this. It’s going to get easier. I promise.”
“I know.” Some days it was harder.
“I have to get ready. Sound check is at six, and I have to stop by the realtor to sign some papers.”
“You’re sure about that?” Kilmer asked. “First you let your apartment go, now you’re selling the house? Mine’s not even done yet.”
“It will be. And I’m sure. There’s no point in having two places. It confuses Moose and costs us money we don’t need to be spending.”
“You didn’t even counteroffer, though.”
“I don’t care much about the price. Dad bought it at a steal, made it better, and anything I get for it is going to be profit at this point.” He stopped in the doorway. “You having second thoughts?”
How could he? Tanner had all but moved into his house over a month ago. They’d piecemeal moved his handmade furniture in and Kilmer’s old dilapidated junk to the curb. Between the renovations and the custom furniture, the house was swiftly becoming the place Kilmer wanted it to be. The commute to and from the ranch became less and less bothersome the more he realized Tanner was always going to be at the end of it.
