Note: Sorry for the little longer wait. My laptop decided to die on me and had to wait until I could save my stuff off it (including our writings). But now we're back :)

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Chapter 6

“FREE MY SEVERED HEART, GIVE ME YOU - I WANT IT
(I don't want to be myself)”

Seeing the guys again was good. But getting on the buses one man short was hard on everyone. Especially on Corey. Probably that’s why he’s been sticking around Jim more than usual. He was a bit quieter too as he nuzzled or hugged the tall man time after time in need of support. It didn’t take long for the other guys either to notice the change in their relationship. It seemed they were okay with that (the “fucking finally” comments from Joey and Chris were kinda amusing) – except maybe for Sid. Jim got a strange vibe from the kid, but then he could be an impulsive one. They were still on the road when Jim had to take a leak and on his way back to the others on the narrow corridor Sid bumped his shoulder a bit harder than necessary. The tall man looked after him frowning but then shook his head and went to take care of his business.

However, when he headed back to the living area of the bus, he saw that Sid took his place on Corey’s side and the look he sent Jim was kinda challenging. That made the guitarist wondering what exactly was going on and what the kid’s real relationship was with Corey. Jim’d noticed previously that Sid had a thing for their singer (who wouldn’t? – Jim thought) and that Corey liked to play along a bit. But was there something more Jim didn’t know about? He should soon ask Corey about it, he decided as he sat down next to Mick, opposite the singer, Sid and Chris on the couch. To pass some more time Jim started talking about some guitar-related stuff with Mick, but kept an eye on Corey in case he needed him.

If the bus ride was strange then getting on stage for the rehearsal was even worse. Yes, they’d done a few rehearsals before they had hit the road, but standing on an actual stage without Paul was… fucking hard. Jim found his eyes wandering over to their late bassist’s empty spot (where his jumpsuit, mask and a bass would go during the shows), but knew that he wasn’t the one playing the bass line anymore. If that wasn’t hard enough, Sid was starting to get on his nerves too.

The first day was pure hell. All manifested in Corey's guilt. Paul was not there. Not on the bus. Or the bunk above him. Or to banter and laugh with them on the ride. He unconsciously kept hugging and leaning to Jim for support, of course the others saw it all. There were never many secrets between them, even if none of them said a damn thing, they all knew it all about the others. Everyone was kinda okay with him closer now to Jim, except for Sid, of course, who always tried to crawl under his skin and kept acting like his pet.

The sound check was hell. As always, he kept looking to the left side of the drums but his lover was not there. For the first time in his career Corey felt lost and scared standing there. Felt defenseless against all that may come. He knew that Jim was there for him and he loved the tall man. Yeah, he accepted his feeling. But still. Pauly was gone. He needed to get a drink or two to pull through that show.

It was in the slight shaking of Corey’s voice not many could pick up on, it was in every move he made. Jim could feel and see it. And it was killing him to know how much Corey was hurting because of this fucking show. If Jim could, he would’ve cancelled everything until Corey was better. Ready. But he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to be ready. Maybe on the long-run it was going to be better to do this. Like ripping off a band-aid. It fucking hurts at first but then it slowly gets better. Maybe the shows will get a bit easier with time too… Or not. Who the fuck was Jim to know that? He wasn’t some fortuneteller…

When he deemed it to be okay, he got closer to Corey during the rehearsal so that he could feel his support, and Jim had the feeling he’d have to do that during the show too. But he was okay with that as long as Corey survived somehow.

After they were finished and everything was set up with their equipment, Jim exchanged a long look with Shawn, who nodded. That was all the cue Jim needed and he gave his guitar to a tech guy to take care of it and went to Corey. Putting a long arm around his shoulder (ignoring an ugly look from Sid), he pulled the singer along to one of the smaller dressing rooms at the back. They didn’t have much time before the show, but hopefully enough to pour some strength and liquor into both of them to do this.

Corey went along with Jim. Only about half an hour to stand before everyone and talk about the loss of their brother, his mate. And anything Jim had in mind in that far back dressing room was damn fucking fine with him. He probably was never that nervous in his life.

Jim didn’t say anything for a while, just shared the bottle of Jack Shawn had stashed previously in the dressing room for them (along with their stage outfit, masks and make up). Just in case. And Jim was right to ask him to do that. He himself took a few good swigs to be able to handle the night and he was a little guilty to feel relieved from the familiar burning in his stomach. It was quality stuff too.

While they were drinking in silence, Jim was holding Corey against his side, letting the singer cuddle him. He kept caressing his hair, neck and shoulder for a while. Then as the time grew nearer, he got up to change into his jumpsuit. Zipping it up he took Corey’s to the sitting man and helped him stand. He made quick job on removing his street clothes then he dressed the quiet man with care, making him sit back on the couch afterwards. Kneeling between Corey’s legs, Jim did the same with applying the singer’s make up, only pausing when they both took swigs from the bottle. Then he did a quick job around his own eyes and lips too. Only their masks were left.

He gave Corey his then put his own on. He hated that part. But once the mask was on, he didn’t care anymore. Helping to adjust Corey’s once they were finally done, Jim took both smaller hands and squeezed them. No words have passed their lips until Jim said “It’s time” once they heard a subtle knock on the door.

It was time. The mask was on and the beast was surfacing. No turning back. With the strong liquor in his veins and his other persona summoned with the mask, he walked with Jim towards the stage. Nothing new there. Clown being nervous as fuck. Chris throwing up. Joey kneeling and praying to anyone who’d listen. Paul was not there. But he will make Paul proud! Even if he dies right there on that fucking stage!

The show was okay. They had better, had worse too when all of them were not even near sober. The raging beast he had inside him, like they all did, was happy to come out and rage. 

It was done, they walked off, all the way back to the dressing room and changed and showered and not one word was needed between Jim and him. They got pretty drunk by then. 
So was the rest of the band as he noticed once they got back on the bus with Jimmy. What a fucking day... He couldn't wait to get to the hotel and throw himself at his mate to have some relief.

Sweat, running make up and tears. That’s what Jim had under his mask as he was banging his head to the music, his fingers running along the fret board (only slipping a few times because of the alcohol sloshing in his veins). His own beast was painfully veiling along with his guitar for the loss of a brother, at times anger and disappointment joining the overwhelming mix. They were all kinda out of it, trying to work out some of the numbing pain they all felt.

Jim found himself drifting towards Corey more than usual, but sometimes they met half-way since the singer must have orbited towards him too. No words were needed, just a look, a gesture or a brief hug then they were back at their places. It was a painful, but okay show. Could’ve been better, yes. Especially if Sid didn’t act like an annoying fly, trying to get a rise out of Jim. Yes, he was usually patient and calm, but not that night. Not when he was just as fucked up as the others.

Still, Sid’s little stunts were going over the line. He’d never done anything like this with Jim on stage before. Yeah, they moved around, but always respected the others’ space. Now that wasn’t the case. For instance, it started maybe after the second song that Sid ran across the stage so close in front of Jim that the guitarist nearly tripped. Then as the show progressed and their emotions got more all over the place, as Sid was jumping down from the structures, he once stomped hard behind Jim, even bumping his back. It nearly made Jim fuck up his part. But what really made Jim see red was when the kid – probably coming off as “playful” for the audience – was starting to pull on the guitar’s electric cord while Jim was in the middle of a solo. Jim even turned around and shouted over the music to fuck off. In return Sid flipped him the bird for a second before running off into the other direction. What the fuck was with that kid?

These, of course, pushed Jim out of his balance even more and when his beast was so close to the surface, it was always a dangerous thing. He was moments away from snapping, but afterwards Sid stayed away from him and Jim could finally focus on his playing and Corey.

Maybe it was the first time that Jim was glad that he could take off his guitar and leave the stage. From somewhere they got more booze and kept drinking during showering and changing and on the bus too. This show fucked up and riled up everyone pretty much.

***

Corey was lost in his head from all the emotions and drinks. He drank with Jim too, but now this was the more like "regular" kind of drinking. The type most of them got for "free" in various times and facilities. Just like Corey. Still, none of these "ex" alcoholics cared about the next day. Who could blame them anyway?

The singer wanted nothing more than to get to the room he shared with Jim and engage in some – at first tender lovemaking – then rough mind-blowing fucking to forget what a coward shit he was for leaving his mate alone to die, and half-way faking happiness to the other person caring for him in the purest way he would never deserve. 

He noticed his DJ was more active than usual during the gig. And probably pissing Jim off on purpose, but the way Sid ran after them and practically pulled the elevator door open to get in and make comments about Corey and Jim being on their honeymoon and how he didn't want to bother the "newlyweds" was pissing Corey off too on some level.

Anyway... who cares... When the doors opened he shrugged and went ahead to find their room and get to his plan of getting fucked hard. Leaving the other two to argue, what he did not even notice because of being too lost in his own haze and drunken state.

Corey was very silent since the show. He barely said a word or two and although Jim understood it, it also concerned him. He couldn’t let the singer sink deeper. Or at least he was going to try giving him the distraction he so badly needed. Jim could see it in his sad blue eyes when they looked at each other during the bus ride and even in the elevator. The tall man was already thinking about how he could help Corey the best that night. Maybe starting slow then letting all their instincts and frustrations loose…

At least that was the plan until Sid decided to continue being the annoying little shit of the night. Those comments… Jim suspected that their DJ’s blood was probably laced with more than just alcohol, but still… How could he? Jim knew that Sid was lucky that Corey was in one of his “who cares” moods and ignored it, but the guitarist’s protective side – which was already overworking on that difficult night along with his dark side – kicked into full gear. He let Corey go ahead then as Jim left the elevator, he threw an arm out to hold the door and stop Sid from stepping out.

“I don’t know what your problem is, man, but knock it off, Sid. Don’t follow us. Not tonight,” Jim forced himself to stay as calm as possible given the circumstances then let the elevator door go to follow the singer to their room.

From afar Corey heard what was going on between his two band mates, but as he stood by the door and waited for a while he got the idea that Jim would punch the kid in a bad way so he got closer to see what was up.

“Or what? You’ll punch me, Jimmy?” Sid exited the elevator after all. Stupid kid.

“I might if you keep this up. What’s your problem with me? You’ve been giving me shit all day,” he turned around. “Are you jealous or some shit?” Jim chuckled not really believing that it might be true. Sid couldn’t really be into Corey that much. Right?

“What the fuck is up with you two?” Corey yelled at them. “Sid, what the hell you pissing Jim off for? Told you to piss off!” he grunted at the DJ just when he heard Jim's question and chuckle. “Sid, don't be jealous!”

“I can be what I want. We have a past too, Cor. You will regret your choice,” Sid hissed almost into Jim's face.

It didn’t matter that Sid was drunk or maybe it was because Jim was too, but those words stung. What past was he talking about? The question was in his eyes as he glimpsed at Corey for a moment, asking him without words. But their friend just couldn’t shut his mouth now, could he?

“I’d be a much better one than the fat giant,” he added, knowing well how to push Jim’s buttons.

And that’s when Jim snapped and grabbed him by the collar. In the next second Sid was pinned to the corridor’s wall by Jim’s forearm across his chest, his other hand fisted in the air, ready to hit. The guitarist was towering over the much smaller man menacingly – something he rarely was.

“Fuck Sid, you're so fucking stupid!!!” Corey yelled trying to pull Jim off the much smaller wiggling guy. “Jim, let him go. He doesn’t know what he’s taking about. Come on! And you! Shut your fucking mouth and stay out of my fucking business, dipshit. The past you talk about is you trying to hit on me. I flirt with everyone. That's no secret, not even for the press. Now fuck off!” he growled at the DJ when Jim finally let himself be pulled back a bit.

Jim was still seeing red, nearly growling, but in the end he didn’t hit the kid with that stupid big mouth of his and let Corey pull him back. Huffing he let Sid go, who probably sensed that he’d lost this one and cursing he stumbled back to the elevator. But Jim didn’t see him leave since he turned around and marched toward their room on his long legs while fishing out the key card from his pocket. He was so fucking pissed and hurt. Not because of the “fight over Corey”. It wasn’t the singer’s fault. But because Sid pulled on two of his biggest fucking insecurities on purpose. Not being enough and being so fucking aware of his body. What if he was right?

“Fucking shit,” Corey growled as he tried to hurry after Jim and just caught the closing door to enter.  “Jim… Jimmy… Come on… He is stupid and drunk. Probably high even. You know Sid. Don't take it serious,” he tried feeling suddenly very sober as he got closer to the bed where Jim dropped himself down, staring at the ceiling.

“It sounded bloody serious…” Jim snorted, his own buzz quickly fading. If he wasn’t so tired to get up from the bed, he would’ve raided the mini fridge by then. “Is it true what you said about you two?” he asked quietly, glimpsing at Corey, but his expression was too much for Jim at the moment and he dropped his eyes, staring at the cover instead. How could he compete with everyone who loved and wanted the singer? Sid, Steph, the press, the fans and all the rest? He was just an okay guitar player who’d give half his arm to Corey if he wanted it. But who could tell that one day the singer wouldn’t wake up not wanting to do anything with him anymore? Fuck this day! It was getting worse and was never going to end…

“That he wanted to hit on me? Yeah… But nothing ever happened… Paul was there and you for me,” Corey said slowly as he crawled on the bed and laid next to his mate, hugging him. “I only wanted you two from here. You know that, right? You know how important you are to me, right? You're my master and I am your puppy…” he used his submissive voice and nuzzled and kissed into the long neck. He truly wanted Jim, kinda always did. He wanted to calm him and show this to him.

Corey’s closeness was welcomed – as always – and as Jim was listening to him, he started calming down a bit. He believed what Corey was saying about Sid. He wouldn’t doubt the singer in something like this. And he also knew that he was important to him, but… Jim swallowed hard from that submissive voice and the kiss in his neck and he turned onto his side to slowly hug Corey back. He was just holding him there for a couple of minutes, inhaling his scent and warmth.

“I’m sorry… For nearly losing my shit out there with Sid. He’s an asshole. But I’ll eventually forgive him, I guess…” he slid lower and pushed Corey on his back so this time Jim could rest his head in the crook of the singer’s neck, hugging him just as tight as before. “And I’m sorry for adding more drama to this already fucking hard day. I love you with all my heart, Corey.” Please don’t throw that away, he added in thought.

“I love you too, Jim,” Corey whispered hugging the bigger man tight, caressing his head and nape slowly and lovingly, kissing his temple every now and then. He felt how insecure his mate was and now it was his turn to console the other.

“Nothing will change that, Jimmy. Never forget that,” he said the truth. The feelings he had for Jim were not new, just newly accepted and he would never feel different. But the truth was also that his soul would always belong to Paul too.

“I'm always here for you, Jimmy. No matter what or why you need me. I need you too,” his hand drew small circles on the guitarist’s back, going lower then caressing his side back up. Again and again making the tense body clinging to him slowly ease up from the tender treating.

*** 

In the end they just stayed like that until they fell asleep since they were both physically and emotionally exhausted from that day. The next was maybe a bit better if they didn’t count the hangover or the fact that a pouting Sid was avoiding them as much as he could. The other guys eventually picked up on the tension too, but they probably thought the three of them would sooner or later work it out among themselves.

The guitarist was replaying Corey’s words over and over from that night in his head. The singer loved him too and told him he needed Jim. He was trying so hard to believe it with his whole heart and being, but thanks to his own demons, there was still some doubt left in Jim. Why was he so different from everyone else? Yeah, he could understand Corey and his needs, that was true. Probably not many would. He even shared a demon or two with him. But surely there were better people in the world who could help him more and were more confident in their skin or better at this Dom thing… Yes, by then Jim was able to make Corey fall apart, but as the perfectionist he was, he wanted to get better, give more, help more, be enough… But could he?

These thoughts have been bugging him again and again during the following weeks too as they were nearly constantly on the road. The shows and the cities were starting to blur together and maybe they weren’t ready for all the new people and faces so soon after Paul’s death. After a while all their pitying looks and kind words started to bug Jim and he pulled himself out from more and more press stuff. He – and probably the others too – wanted to heal, but they were constantly reopening this deep wound. Who knew how long they had before they’d bleed out?

As Corey had to stand out and be the frontman for the wounded band, he slipped further and further into his addiction again. He just couldn't stand the questions about how it was to play without Paul, what their plans were, and all the other same fucking bullshit every night, plus the shows where he had to speak and perform without Paul.

He tried to focus on Jim as he could, knowing and feeling his mate also going through a hard time. On many nights they just ended up cuddling and sleeping in Corey's bunk. The other members of the band were also slowly falling apart, so no one, not even Sid dared to say a word about their affection and bond showing.

Both of them were drinking again. But the singer sneaked out from old habit too, he had to somehow pull through this tour alive.

There was an itch under Jim’s skin that’s been growing stronger with each passing day. Something the alcohol he drank couldn’t fully satisfy either. He knew he and Corey were slipping back into the old habits with getting wasted. But at least Sid and the rest of the band left them alone. The kid hadn’t apologized but retreated to only give Jim the stink-eye at times. No fucking things up for him on stage after that first night they nearly fought. They weren’t talking either, although he noticed Chris and Shawn speaking to Sid a few times. Then as Jim and Corey fell into a routine of drinking and/or cuddling in the singer’s bunk or the room they shared on hotel nights, the guitarist didn’t care anymore.

He saw how much the interviews and the shows were wearing Corey off. Everyone was always reminding him on Paul. And Jim wasn’t sure how to help or what to do as he was sinking lower in his drinking too. He knew he was failing Corey and the promise he’d made at Paul’s grave and it weighted heavily on his soul. He felt drained and helpless and that usually resulted in one thing. That itch he so wanted to scratch.

And one afternoon when Corey slipped away somewhere on his own – like he did more often now, coming back drunk – Jim had dialed a familiar number, his voice slightly shaking.

“Yeah man, it’s been a while. Could you get me some?” He was losing against his demons.

Corey was feeding his guilt with every gulp of the secretly consumed liquor in the shady pub. He should be strong and look after the band and Jim. He just cannot take it.

Stumbling back to their room he was thinking about how good it was that they have two days off and can sleep in an actual bed.

Entering the room and calling for Jim had no result. Which was strange from his mate who always waited him back whenever he snuck out. Getting closer to the bed all became clear to Corey as he saw the small mirror and a short piece of a straw with some suspicious white powder here and there. “Fuck, Jimmy...” he sighed checking in the bathroom to find a giggly hyper and very unstable guitarist clinging to him like a koala.

The familiar rush that nearly immediately flooded his mind made Jim moan. It was a guilty pleasure from the more dangerous kind, but his conscience was quickly fading, because that fucking tightness in his chest was finally easing up. He’d missed this, he could admit this at least to himself. Sniffing he giggled and somehow ended up in the bathroom.

Not much later when Corey entered, he was all over him, putting his long arms around him for a nearly painfully tight hug. “Hey, baby! You’re back!” he grinned from ear to ear, not even caring if Corey figured out what was causing his high. They had two fucking days off! And Jim was finally feeling happy. He was so boring with all the quiet brooding and depressed thoughts! It was so much easier to bear himself like this. And Corey... “You’re so amazing, Cor! So fucking amazing. Did I tell you that? I love you so fucking much,” he gave a wet kiss on the singer’s face, although he aimed for his mouth. Who cared? It was still a sign of his bottomless affection towards his mate. “I’ve missed you,” he pressed himself closer, although he probably looked funny bent over the shorter man like that. Again: who cared? He didn’t.

“I love you too, babe,” Corey laughed and hugged and caressed back his mate, slowly guiding him towards the bed. “You seem happier than before,” his mate was rather cuddly, to say the least. Not that the slightly drunk singer would mind a little passionate snuggling. His more dominant side was surfacing from the way Jim’s neediness showed.

They dropped on the bed, on their sides giggling and sharing sloppy heated kisses, getting more and more lost in the other.

See? Even Corey noticed how much happier Jim was. In his fucked up mind it reassured the guitarist that this was a good idea after all. Corey was smiling and chuckling at that. He always had a beautiful and playful smile Jim could kill for! Fuck, he’d do anything for this man…

Maybe that was the reason he let the singer lead him back to the bed then something even better came: they were lying there kissing – and Corey initiated it. He wanted Jim, who just got happier and needier from this as he nuzzled him, pulling Corey’s hand around his body and under his worn-out tee, not even caring about his belly. Every morsel of his mate’s affection was like pushing Jim higher. Corey was the best drug he could ever wish for.

The drunk singer got even more wasted on the passionate need of his mate. He adored his body! Jim was so fucking tall and he couldn't get enough of the feeling of caressing the long arms and the actually small round belly. He soon pulled the tee off the other and was all over kissing, biting and sucking on his lover's upper body, moaning from the taste of sweaty skin, laying on top of him and rubbing his hardening cock to the other’s very alive member under him.

Jim’s head was slightly spinning and he was already panting for air from all the attention Corey’s lips and hands were giving him. He was practically worshiping him and his body, and it made Jim’s skin crawl with need. He might or might not have made a few whimpering sounds too, his hands resting numbly on Corey’s thighs, fingers weakly digging into his jeans.

For once he didn’t shy away or tensed up as Corey’s hands caressed him all over again and again. He was one of the very, very few people Jim allowed to touch him however he wanted and now Jim needed to be touched and wanted so fucking badly. “Please…” he whimpered, slowly losing control over his own body and thoughts. All he knew was that he wanted more.

“Tell me, love. What you want from me. I do whatever you want from me,” the singer whispered into the neck of his mate. He was ready for anything right there and then, but his promise to look after Jim still got through his drunk and aroused brain.

A few labored pants left Jim’s suddenly dry lips first before he could form coherent words again. It was fucking difficult when a hard Corey Taylor was rubbing up against his equally hard cock through his boxers that was left on his body now that his tee was lying somewhere in the room.

“I want… I need… I need your fingers on me… in me…” he slurred high and drunk on not just the booze and coke mix but on lust too. He was at the brink of asking for more, but he vaguely remembered their agreement months back: baby steps. And since then it was usually Jim who had to take care of and support Corey, so no real steps were taken in this direction. But now he was burning for something. Anything. “Please, Corey…” he forced his hazy eyes open and let the singer see just how much he needed this.

Corey had to swallow hearing the begging of his mate and seeing the desperation in those deep eyes he adored so much. “I'll do anything to make you feel good, Jimmy,” he breathed on his lips and kissed him deep and raw, sucking and biting on the other's tongue, demanding control. Showing with everything how much he needed Jim and wanted to please him.

Traveling down the praised body of his lover the boxer came off fast and the singer was laying between the long endless thighs, sucking and nibbling on the inner side of them as well as the throbbing shaft so eager for attention.

The man under him swallowed hard and nodded then made a choking sound as Corey started devouring his mouth. Jim usually took lead after a few seconds, but not now. Now he melted under Corey’s actions. Thanks to the “cocktail” he took previously, he really felt as if his body became one giant ragdoll, which was a funny thought but laughing was the last thing on his messed up mind now. His fingers weakly curled around the sheets as Corey finally let him come up for air.

Chest heaving he let him take off the last piece of his clothes and his legs fell apart for him. Corey between his thighs was always a sight to behold, but what he was about to do made this picture even more special. Not that this was the first time he’d get fingers up in him, Jim did that to himself before, but this was Corey… his mate. For the first time… And maybe this was the prequel to the grand finale that would come one day… Corey already had Jim’s heart and now he gave him his complete trust – over him and his body. He knew even in his fucked up state that the singer would never intentionally hurt him. He’d probably know too that this was huge for the guitarist.

Sucking on the long cock was something coming natural for Corey, but now his curious lips moved lower. First to pay attention to those prize-winning balls, sucking them one by one into his mouth. Then he just had to lick at his mate's entrance to prepare him for his fingers after his long tongue probing into his squirming body.

The familiar suction around his hardness and balls felt just as good as each time Corey did this to him, but when he moved lower, Jim’s thighs started lightly shaking. The bites then that fucking tongue right there where he needed it the most! He couldn’t hold his shocked but lustful moans back or his long body reacting to the sensations by moving his hips. “Fuck… Yeah… Fuck!” That’s all he could say – and repeat a few times as he was giving in to the sensations, the tension in his body bleeding out of him.

Corey loved every sound Jim made, it encouraged him to push his tongue deeper and roll it around. Loosening up the tight muscles and also loving to do this to his mate. After a while his middle finer found the way into the other’s body, soon to be joined by a second and turning his hand around he searched for Jim's pleasure spot as his fingers curved inside the shaking body, rubbing against the spot that made Jim curse out and grumble loud.

“Fucking hell!” he shouted, his body jerking. This was so much better than when he did this to himself. All thoughts melted away as Corey was giving him exactly what he was burning for so fucking much. His cock was leaking and throbbing like crazy while he was moaning his head off, now bucking back against the fingers that were fucking up into him. “So… good!” he babbled along with some other incoherent thoughts as he was falling apart into tiny pieces right in front of his mate’s watchful eyes. “I’m gonna… Make me… please!” And to emphasize his words, his cock slightly jumped, smearing pre-cum across the lower half of his belly. “I need… Corey!”

“Anything you want,” the singer whispered mesmerized by the sight of his mate so lost in pleasure. He wanted to give it all Jim needed. To make him feel the greatest pleasure he ever felt in his life! Hearing the plea, his lips closed around the jerking shaft and sucked hard to the rhythm of his fingers’ moves to finish off his lover.

And that was just too much for his poor body, heart and mind and he came down on Corey’s throat with an animalistic roar, his body jerking and clamping down on those fucking amazing fingers. The pleasure and feeling of “fucking finally” were so intense that Jim’s eyes welled up. Because it felt as if a missing piece of the puzzle just fell into place. The guitarist had no idea that he needed this so fucking badly. To belong. To be wanted. To sometimes be taken care of like he took care of Corey. He had no idea if it was just the drugs or what Corey had just done to him or both, but he wanted to cry and laugh at the same time while floating on his little cloud of (temporary) happiness. Now nothing could hurt him and he didn’t have to worry about anything, because Corey was there to keep him safe.

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