The solid warmth of Dave’s chest against his back reassured him. How long had it been? How long since he’d thrown caution to the winds and just let his instinct take him where it would? He knew the answer. Too damned long.
“How about a brandy? I think we’ve got some.” Taylor smiled at him from over by the hotel dresser that had been pressed into service as a bar.
“Brandy?” Stewart’s eyebrows arched.
“Christmas season, man, gotta be prepared.” Dave’s chuckle was soft near his ear. “Ho, ho, ho and all that stuff.”
“Brandy it is then.” Stewart nodded, enjoying the pleasant shiver of warmth that wound down his spine as Dave’s breath ghosted along his neck.
“Dave? You too?” Taylor reached for the bottle.
“You betcha.” Dave’s hand slid slowly down his back. “Take the sofa, Stewart, make yourself at home. Mi casa es su casa as they say.”
“Mi hotel es su hotel maybe?” Stewart chuckled as he moved towards the sofa, sprawling his length along one end.
“Don’t they all become one and the same after a while?” Dave flopped down on the other end of the sofa. “Nature of the beast is what it is. Not much you can do about it in our line of work.”
“Except do your best to make the hotel room home.” Taylor handed a glass to Dave then turned to Stewart. “And have company over from time to time.” He grinned.
Stewart accepted the glass of amber liquid and returned the smile. The red Santa cap would look ridiculous on most grown men, but atop the boyish Taylor’s flyaway blond hair it looked… well… it looked cute.
“Now, isn’t this more comfy than hanging out in the hotel bar?” Taylor settled himself on the arm of the sofa next to Stewart, sipping his brandy with obvious enjoyment.
“It’s certainly more private.” Stewart leaned his head back and closed his eyes, the nervous flutter in his stomach relaxing into a quiver of anticipation.
An hour earlier, he’d been sitting at the hotel bar, nursing a beer and chatting about nothing with the bartender. Promotional tours at this time of the year were hell, they always brought with them memories of other, earlier tours with Andy… and Sting, before everything started to head south between them. Now here he was, sipping brandy with half The Foo Fighters and feeling the sexual tension in the room growing with each passing second.
“Private is good.” Taylor said, combing his fingers through Stewart’s hair. “Meeting up with you was a stroke of good luck, wasn’t it Dave?”
“Sure was, almost like an early Christmas present for you, Tay.” Dave’s hand reached over to rest on Stewart’s thigh. “You know you’ve been one of Taylor’s heroes since… well… fuck, forever.”
Stewart’s eyes fluttered open at the touch. He looked from the hand on his leg to the dark eyes partially hidden by shaggy dark bangs, his jeans becoming pleasantly tight. He twisted his head to look back at Taylor.
“Forever? That’s a long time.” The kid was so young, so fresh-faced; Stewart knew he should feel like a dirty old pervert for enjoying the want that Taylor’s closeness was creating in him, but he didn’t. He felt like the devil-may-care, try-anything young drummer he’d felt back in those days with Andy and Sting.
“Had your poster on my wall.” Taylor’s teeth gleamed white between the close-cropped beard and moustache as he grinned yet again. “Still do.” Taylor ran a finger along the side of Stewart’s neck. “For inspiration.”
Stewart met Taylor’s gaze and heat kindled between them.
“I’m flattered.”
“It’s true.” Taylor’s head bobbed as he nodded, the tail of the Santa hat swinging over his eyes.
“Hey, how about some music?” The hand on Stewart’s thigh squeezed and a moment later, Dave had bounced to his feet. “Any requests?” He moved across the room to the boom box that it seemed every musician traveled with.
“Just not Christmas carols!” Stewart’s eyes gave a little roll behind his glasses. “Heard enough of those to last me until next goddamned Christmas.” He took another swallow of brandy.
“I’ve got something.” Taylor slid off the arm of the sofa, his hand giving Stewart’s shoulder a reassuring pat. “Some indie jazz stuff, it’s really good.” He moved to Dave’s side and began to rifle through the pile of CD’s next to the boom box.
“Eclectic, he is.” Dave turned and flashed a grin back at Stewart.
The two stood together, heads bent, one dark, one light, over the jewel cases and Dave’s hand slid beneath the back of Taylor’s t-shirt. Stewart watched, mesmerized as the hand moved in what could only be termed a lover’s caress.
“That’s it.” Taylor snapped the CD into place and soft, sinuous music began to play.
“This shit always turns me on.” Dave grinned over at Stewart again, both hands now pushing Taylor’s t-shirt up. “Doesn’t it, Tay?” He pulled the t-shirt over Taylor’s head and tossed it, letting one hand trail down Taylor’s chest.
Stewart’s breath caught in his throat.
“Sure does.” Taylor leaned into Dave and before Stewart remembered to breathe again was kissing him hungrily. Dave’s hand slid around to Taylor’s ass, pulling him even closer, rocking his hips against him. One of them moaned… or maybe it was even Stewart, he didn’t know for sure.
Dave broke the kiss, panting softly as Taylor’s head bent to nibble along his neck. One hand reached between them and deftly undid the snap of Taylor’s jeans, then both his hands were down the back of Taylor’s pants.
Stewart shifted on the sofa, his own jeans now unbearably tight. The easy uninhibited way that the two of them touched and tasted each other while Dave undressed Taylor was making him ache in a way he hadn’t ached in a long time. He swallowed the last of his brandy, feeling a sheen of sweat break out all over his own body.
“I’m right in thinking this doesn’t bother you, aren’t I?” Dave turned his head to face Stewart. “Ahhh… that’s nice, Tay…” he murmured as Taylor slipped his hand into his jeans. “Real nice.” His eyes met Stewart’s as Taylor’s hand stroked him.
“Doesn’t…” Stewart cleared his throat, “doesn’t bother me…”
Taylor’s head moved until he too was able to look at Stewart. “Then come and join us,” he invited, his voice soft. “There’s enough to go around.” He turned back to Dave and smiled. “Go get him.” He moved away from Dave and sank down on the bed, naked except for the Santa cap.
“It is the season for giving, after all.” Dave moved back to the sofa and extended a hand.
Stewart grasped the hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. This was insane, but God, he wanted it. He wanted to share just a little bit of the warmth and connection that these two offered. No, it wouldn’t be like the days with Andy and Sting—nothing could compare to that—but he knew it would be good. It would fill a spot he hadn’t realized was so empty until this morning when he’d received that damned Christmas card signed only Sting.
Dear Lord, they were so young though… especially Taylor, what did they want with a man twenty years their senior?
Dave led him to the side of the bed and stood behind him, as he’d stood behind him at the door, only this time, Dave’s hands were on his shoulders, his strong fingers massaging, sensing the slight apprehension that still lingered within him.
“Relax, Stewart.” Dave’s tongue flicked along the curve of his ear. “It’s a drummer’s jam.” He chuckled softly.
“Yeah.” Taylor rose up on his knees and moved to the edge of the bed. “A meeting of the Secret Drummer’s Society.” He began to undo the buttons of Stewart’s shirt.
“Is that what this is?” Stewart laughed a little breathlessly as Taylor’s hands parted his shirt. Dave slid the shirt from his shoulders, bending to nibble at the curve of his neck and Stewart felt his knees tremble just a little.
“Partly.” Taylor’s fingers worked at the button’s of his fly. One… two… three… four… five… as Dave’s mouth moved over his shoulder, biting softly, licking, then biting again.
“Partly?” Stewart inhaled sharply as Dave’s arms encircled him, his hands moving over Stewart’s chest, his fingertips brushing over Stewart’s nipples sending sharp stabs of want deep into his balls.
“Yeah.” Taylor raised his gaze to meet Stewart’s. “It’s also a personal fantasy of mine.” He tugged the jeans down with a grin. “I’ve always wanted to be in a bed with you.” He stroked the backs of his knuckles over the bulge in Stewart’s dark blue briefs a few times and Stewart thought his knees just might give out.
“God.” Stewart swallowed. “I hope I don’t disappoint.”
Dave’s thumbs hooked under the elastic of the briefs and pulled them down and suddenly Taylor’s fingers were stroking Stewart’s cock.
“Oh, you won’t.” Taylor grinned again and curled his fingers around the cock and squeezed gently. Stewart groaned as his knees buckled. He’d have fallen if not for Dave’s hands sliding back up his flanks holding him steady.
“Tay, he’s got a nice long body.” Dave continued running his hands over Stewart, pressed up against his back. “It feels good.”
“It sure as shit does.” Taylor moved even closer, releasing Stewart’s cock and running his hands up Stewart’s chest to the sides of Stewart’s neck. “Feels fuckin’ amazing.” His fingers splayed along Stewart’s jawline and suddenly he was kissing him as hungrily as he’d kissed Dave.
Taylor’s tongue was insistent, his body hard against Stewart’s chest, his hips pressing forward into Stewart their cocks rubbing against each other, overwhelming Stewart so that he barely noticed when Dave moved away from his back. He reached around Taylor and gripped Taylor’s ass cheeks, pulling him even closer, dragging his mouth from Taylor’s in an effort to breathe again.
“Fuck, you guys are hot.” Dave was on the bed now, his clothes in a heap on the floor, his hand moving over his belly in a slow, languorous motion as he leaned back against the heap of pillows. He reached out with his other hand and circled Stewart’s wrist. “Welcome to our bed.” He grinned as he pulled Stewart down beside him.
“Lay back and enjoy.” Taylor settled his Santa cap more firmly on his head then stretched out along Stewart’s other side while Dave plucked the glasses from Stewart’s face and set them on the nightstand.
“Oh, sweet Jesus.” Stewart closed his eyes as two heads bent over him. There was a moment of brief regret at the long ago image of two other heads hovering over his naked body before here and now obliterated the past with bodies he could feel and touch.
He moaned in surrender.
He didn’t know whose teeth were leaving marks on his chest, whose fingers teased at his nipples, whose mouth was on his cock, whose finger was in his ass. He didn’t care. Slick, sweaty limbs curled around his body, tongues licked at him, teeth nipped, mouths sucked, hands stroked and caressed until his whole body hummed with an aching need for release.
“Please…” He gasped out. “Oh fuck… please…”
Dave held him from behind, propped up against the headboard of the bed, Stewart’s long body between his legs. He smoothed the sweat-dampened hair from Stewart’s forehead and gave a nod to Taylor.
“He’s yours, T, all yours.”
Stewart moaned softly as Taylor’s mouth encircled the head of his cock. Dave’s hands moved gently over his chest, soothing him, his head bending to nuzzle against him.
“He’s got a lovely mouth, our Taylor,” Dave murmured near his ear. “Can take even the biggest cock so deep. Suck it so hard and then so soft. Does things with his tongue that even I can’t explain but will make your head explode it feels so good.”
All the while, Taylor’s mouth inched lower, covering more and more of Stewart’s cock.
“Bet you’re aching to come, aren’t you, Stewart?” Dave’s thumbs stroked over Stewart’s nipples, teasing them to hard nubs once again. “Balls about ready to burst.”
“Yes!” Stewart groaned as his hips began to rock. Dave was right, Taylor’s mouth was incredibly lovely… his tongue fluttering against his cock as he began to suck in earnest. So hot… so wet… so fuckingly incredibly good.
“Almost there now.” Dave crooned, rolling and pinching Stewart’s nipples, bending his head to suck at the curve of Stewart’s neck.
Stewart’s fingers clawed at Dave’s thighs on either side of him as Taylor’s head bobbed up and down over his cock, the absurd Santa’s hat still securely atop his blond hair.
Dave bit into his skin.
Stewart’s hips thrust upwards with a harsh cry. Hot, blessed relief washed through him, leaving him trembling as Taylor swallowed again and again, sucking every last drop of come from him.
“That was good.” Taylor’s voice seemed to come from far away. Stewart opened his eyes and found himself looking into the smiling hazel gaze of the man with the extremely talented mouth. “Real good.” Taylor leaned in and kissed Stewart gently, leaving the taste of Stewart on Stewart’s own lips.
“You were good.” Stewart smiled at him.
“Dude, you look like an elfin pervert.” Dave chuckled softly, reaching to pull the hat down over Taylor’s eyes, giving his cheek an affectionate caress as he did so.
“It’s Christmastime.” Taylor pushed the hat up and curled next to Stewart with a contented sigh.
“That works for me.” Stewart shifted onto his side and slipped his arm around Taylor and settled him a little more comfortably.
“As long as it works.” Dave slid down a little and draped his arm across Stewart, just able to rest his hand on Taylor’s hip.
Tangled together, they slept.
~*~*~
“Stewart, man, I’m really sorry. I have no bloody idea how you got sent one of the stupid-arsed corporate cards.”
“I have to admit, it did hurt my feelings.” He wondered how long he could let Sting swing for. After all these years, even over the phone, Stewart could still tell when Sting was being really contrite and not just blowing smoke. This was one of those times.
“I had a bloody letter and everything to send you… pictures of the family. Bloody hell, Stewart, I really feel like such a wanker.”
“Stingo, it’s cool, okay?” Stewart couldn’t drag it out any longer. Their lines of communication were too new, too fragile to stand much stress. “Shit happens.”
“You’re sure?” Was that uncertainty in Sting’s voice? “You’re not pissed at me? I’d be bloody pissed at me. But if you’re not… we’re okay then?”
“We’re okay, Sting. Promise.” Stewart chuckled softly. “I had other things to keep my mind from dwelling on it.” He picked up the Santa hat and twirled it on the end of his finger, a smile creasing his lean cheeks. He was due to meet the other members of the Secret Drummer’s Society to spend their last night together in the city before they all headed home for the holidays. He was already a few minutes late, he realized, glancing at his watch.
“We really should get together, don’t you think? You, me and Andy? On the quiet like… talk… get things straight. Just the three of us. Like old times.” Sting was making an overture? Damn, it was a bloody Christmas miracle.
“Yeah, Sting, that’d be great. Just the three of us.” Stewart smiled. Maybe it could work. Who knew? Stranger things had happened. “Maybe in the New Year, yeah?”
“I miss the closeness we had, Stewart, the intimacy between the three of us. I never found it with anyone else, you know?” Sting’s voice was soft.
“Yeah, I know.” Stewart rubbed his finger along the edge of the Santa hat. “Sometimes you get close though,” he said wistfully. “For a little while anyway.”
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