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This story contains sexual descriptions.

You can now find the story on Amazon and purchase the Kindle book or a paperback book at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B087WKT398/ref=cm_sw_em_r_mt_dp_U_LteREb9NTMCH4

U-N-I - 15. Chapter 15

Robbie's point of view

Two hours had gone by since Mark had left and I was still lying in bed, full of self-loathing, numb, drowsy and depressed as I tried to figure out what I needed to do to make things better between Mark and I. He was my rock and I didn't know what to do without him. I hated myself for literally pushing him away because of my self-destructive behavior.

However, it didn’t matter how hard I tried to turn things around in my head, I always came to the same conclusion… I was famous. Way too famous for my own good. And it complicated everything. It had led me into this situation. I wished I knew what to do not to let fame completely destroy me and rob me of everything that was good in my life, from everything that could keep me sane.

Be that as it may, I really didn’t want to go to rehab. I wasn’t sure what it was I needed, but I sure as hell knew it wasn’t rehab. I wasn’t an alcoholic nor a drug addict. I didn’t need to drink. I didn’t need to down a bottle of vodka to get through the day. I only had a drink when I was out partying, just like everyone else.

My phone buzzed. As I picked it up, I prayed it might be Mark and that somehow, he was going to tell me that he had changed his mind… but instead, it was a whatsapp message from Tom.

"Band meeting in the hotel restaurant in half an hour. You'd better all be there. You’ve got some explaining to do."

'There you go' I thought, 'another lecture'. He had to know Mark had left.

I had another shower and got dressed. Mark had taken all of his stuff and it was so strange to be alone in that room. It had never happened before. We had always shared a room together. I suddenly came to the realization that we hadn't been apart for more than a few days in years. The longest we'd ever been apart was when we were kids and he went to France for most of the summer with his parents. How was I supposed to be without him for god knows how long? … and what made him think that he could do it?

I went down to the hotel restaurant. I was the last one to get there. It seemed like Jordan and Damon had just arrived though and the two empty glasses on the table indicated that Tom and Dylan had been sitting there for some minutes.

I sat down on the last chair available and remained silent, not looking at any of them. I hoped I'd just have to sit there, shut up and be lectured because I sure as hell didn't want to talk. For a few seconds, no one said a word either. It seemed as if none of us wanted to admit our mistakes or start a painful conversation about the consequences of our actions and how badly it could impact the future of our band.

The heavy silence and tension in the air started to make Damon impatient and uncomfortable.

"Are we waiting for Mark? Where is he?" he asked.

I looked over at Dylan and studied his reaction to see if he knew.

He looked back at me with a hard to read expression, as if he was mad at me but also felt bad for me.

"He won't be coming," he answered "he left for the airport like an hour ago."

Jordan looked at me. His eyes narrowed and then he turned to Dylan,

"He did what?"

"Shit!" Damon exclaimed, "He did it?" he asked with surprise.

He then looked at me as well, as if he was trying to see how I was doing,

"He warned me that he might do that," he said with hesitance in his voice.

My brows furrowed as I looked at him,

"Well, thanks for telling me," I said bitterly.

"I didn't think he was serious about it." he claimed. "Did you know?" he asked Dylan.

"Of course I did. I've just spent an hour with him talking about the three of you again…. "

"And you didn't try to stop him from leaving?" I asked.

I was beginning to realize that I was taking it out on them, when they really didn't have much to do with the problems Mark and I were having. I was the only one responsible for him leaving.

He looked at me with the same expression,

"No, Rob, I didn’t. Cuz I agree with him two hundred percent. That's all he and I have been able to talk about recently… what to do about the three of you."

I shook my head. I felt betrayed that he wouldn't even tell me that Mark wanted to leave.

"Where did he go?" I asked him insistently, demanding an answer which he didn't give me.

"You know where he went, so just tell me." I insisted.

He sighed before answering he knew I wouldn't let it go,

"He went to New York for now. He's gonna stay with Jimmy. He wants to finish editing the songs and work on a few demos with him."

Jordan raised his eyebrows and breathed,

"Well, at least he still cares about the band."

"Oh! 'Cause he's the one who doesn't care?" Dylan snapped at him.

"I didn't mean it like that," he replied.

"Jeez, Jordan, you need to fucking grow up," he said angrily to him.

Obviously, Mark wasn't the only one to be mad at us.

"We're the only ones who seem to care! We've been doing everything lately, and you three just go out and party. That's not how it works. We're all supposed to be involved."

“Oh, come on!" Jordan responded, hardly containing his frustration, "You make it sound as if we haven’t been doing anything."

"Well, you haven't been doing much!" he exclaimed.

"We’re allowed to go out for a few drinks at the end of the day if we fucking feel like it.”

“Yeah, sure!" Dylan agreed. "As long as you’re still able to function properly the next day!"

"We've never missed a recording session, have we?" Jordan said, defending himself.

"We don't need you to just stand there and play what we tell you to play or sing what we tell you to sing," he said to us and then focused on me,

"You just take it for granted that Mark will do all the song writing when you used to do it with him…. When we ALL used to do it with him," he added, also blaming Jordan and Damon.

I opened my mouth to say something, but quickly admitted to myself that I couldn't argue with that. We had expected Mark to do all the work and I hadn’t been involved much in the songwriting process.

"Basically, you all expect him to come into the studio with fully written songs or to do all the editing on the ones we've already recorded, so you don't have to put in the work. That is not how we work and you know that!"

"Oh, c'mon," Jordan began saying, "We've recorded enough songs already. Why can't you two be happy with what we've written for once!"

"Are you serious?" Dylan asked dubiously, "They're still so amateurish. They're far from being ready to be released. We might've enough songs to make an ok album. - but is that what you want to do? Settle for ok?”

“Well, do we have a choice?”

“For fuck's sake. Most of the songs we’ve recorded so far are just not good enough. They could be so much better. We need to put a lot more effort into them. I wouldn’t even release them as B-sides. Potentially, if you give a shit, Mark and I have been writing new songs, and we’re not gonna settle for ok. We’re not gonna let you make us release a crappy record because you’re too wrapped up in yourselves to care.”

I shook my head and said,

“I’ve said from the beginning that we should've focused on writing and recording. But nooo, we have to be all over the place.”

“Right.” Dylan said. “That’s a valid point. But we were all ok with doing it this way.”

So far Damon hadn't dared say anything. He quietly tried to find a solution,

“Can't the release of the album be postponed? I mean, we can't meet the deadlines, we all know that's not gonna happen.”

“Damon," Tom finally intervened and replied, "if we postpone the album, we postpone the tour. If we postpone the tour we have to postpone it by at least a year! Venues have been booked for months and there are so many people involved already and expecting to have a job next summer. We have to take everything into careful consideration before we decide to do that.”

“The tickets haven’t gone on sale,” I said.

“Yes. I’m aware of that. But this is gonna cost money to the label anyway, and they’re not gonna like that.”

“Well, fuck the label." I exclaimed.

"That's very mature."

"Yeah. It's not as if they hadn't made a shitload of money out of us already," I said angrily.

"Alright, enough!" Tom snapped at me, but I honestly didn't give a shit because he was in part responsible for the hectic schedule we were forced to maintain. I was pissed off.

"I've let this go on for too long," he continued. "Yes, you lads are only twenty-seven and you're allowed to have some fun … and yes, we're in Amsterdam…," he said to Jordan. "but getting shitfaced every day and not giving a damn about what needs to be done? I don't think so," he said dramatically. "If you want to behave as stupid, irresponsible kids, I can treat you as such. That's all you've been doing since the recording started and this cannot go on. You're gonna have to start realizing that it's time to stop having fun and take things more seriously because you've got deadlines to meet."

I looked up at him and he pointed his finger at me.

"Don't you dare tell me to fuck the deadlines too."

"Alright. I'm thinking it really hard though," I answered, being a bit of a smart ass, "we should be allowed to release an album whenever we damn feel ready to do so. And not to please any fucking label."

"Rob, it's not just the label. The fans are expecting you to release a new record at the end of the year, and they're expecting a tour next summer."

"Well, they'll just have to wait, won't they?" I knew I was being unreasonable because that was what we had told the media but I just didn't want to please anyone to my own detriment anymore.

Tom looked down and sighed. He thought for a brief moment and then looked up at me with a defeated expression on his face,

"Is that what you wanna do? Postpone everything?"

"We can't do that," Damon immediately said with a sigh.

"Damon, I used to have total faith in your ability to work well under pressure, but this time, I don't see how you could possibly keep the promises you've made to the public… or the label."

"Rob?" he asked in mildly more considered tone, so that I'd look at him, "You said to Mark that last night was just a one time thing, do you really mean that?"

I didn't answer.

"What about you?" he asked Jordan, who just shrugged, just as annoyed as I was by this lecture.

"Rob," Tom continued, talking directly to me, "I know you're going through something. We can all sense that. You've been up and down emotionally lately. But instead of trying to understand why, I didn't do anything and just assumed you were a bit burnt out and that it'd pass. I shouldn't have. We’ve been too busy and wrapped up in everything that needs to be done but I think the time has come to address some of the issues you’re facing because things have gone too far and I'm sorry I’ve let it go on for this long. How long have I been your manager now? Over seven years. I've watched you grow from boys to men, and I probably know you better than your own parents these days. And as a parent myself, I wouldn't like to see my son behave the way you do. I'd be worried sick. I'm starting to feel concerned here. I mean… Doing coke? Is that the kind of band you wanna become? … You've all been raised better than that. You know better."

Since I still wasn't talking, he asked,

“What do you want Rob?”

I shrugged slightly,

"To not be famous anymore. To have some kind of normal life again. Can you make that happen?” I asked sarcastically.

He sighed and remained silent for a moment.

They all looked at me but I didn't look at any of them.

"Alright," Tom announced as he stood up. "I'm gonna make a few phone calls and cancel the interview and TV show in Madrid on Monday," he said. "but we're not done discussing this." he walked away and headed out of the restaurant.

They all remained silent. I could tell they didn't know what to say to me. Again, Damon got uncomfortable and broke the silence,

"Damn, you screwed up pretty bad last night, didn't you? I can't believe you guys did cocaine and alcohol at the same time. Aren't you afraid of anything?"

Jordan chuckled,

"I think we felt invincible last night."

"You're not though!" Damon responded, he just watched us before adding, "well, I'd say the fun is over. We're gonna have to rethink our priorities here."

Dylan nodded. "Thank you! Cause contrary to what you seem to be thinking, the album's not gonna write itself, and people aren't gonna plan every little detail of the tour for us."

"Rob?" Damon called after a moment of silence.

Rob? He called again.

I looked up at him.

"Seriously, can you talk to us? How're you feeling?" he asked, concerned.

"Right now? Like I've been run over by a bus and got my heart ripped out of my chest."

Jordan leaned closer to me and whispered,

"Over exaggerating it a little?" I glared at him, "No?" he chuckled. "Ok."

"I can't believe he left," I sighed.

"He'll be back," Jordan said, doing his best to reassure me, "He just wants to teach you a lesson."

"Rob," Dylan breathed. "he just wants you to be okay. That's what we all want. Let’s be honest here. You’re losing control. You've been putting yourself under too much pressure. You've been going out way too much and this… this isn't like you. That's not how you get ready for a world tour and you know that. The last one was so demanding and look at you, you're already exhausted."

I sighed and still didn't answer. I was done defending myself. They seemed to have me all figured out anyway.

"Alright," Dylan continued, "I'm pretty sure Tom's gonna cancel everything he had scheduled for us… so, here's what's gonna happen."

Jordan interrupted him and snickered,

"Mark's fucking gone. What are we supposed to do without him anyway? I'd say everything's pretty much on hold for now."

"You know, he needs a fucking break too!" Dylan exclaimed, "He can't do it all alone. That's not fair to him. He's had enough of your bullshit … and so have I."

"Why doesn't he just say so instead of leaving," Jordan said.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Dylan snapped at him, "How many times have we tried to talk to you? You just chose not to listen. Now this time, maybe you will."

"You," he said to me, "You're gonna fly to L.A and go to this place," he showed me the rehab centre webpage on his phone.

"Oh, will you all cut it out with that rehab bullshit. I'm not a freaking alcoholic."

"No one said you were." Dylan said, "Don't get all defensive on me. And that's not why we want you to go there. But right now, you have to stop with all the partying and drinking and all that shit. You need to take more care of yourself, and of your voice, if you want to be ready mentally and physically for the next tour. 'Cause right now you're just not! And if you keep acting the way you've been acting lately, you never will be!"

"Maybe I don't wanna be!" I snapped. "And I don't want to go there by myself. What do you expect me to do there? I'm gonna be bored out my mind."

"No, you won't. It'll be good for you. To get away for a while and to be on your own."

I shook my head and he turned to Damon and Jordan,

"And you. You're gonna go back to Dublin and stay with your folks for a while. You've been pampered too much. Everyone telling us how great we are, you need to go back to your house and get in trouble for not putting the milk away. Should be enough for you!"

"Can't I just do that too?" I exclaimed.

“Has Tom talked to our folks?” Jordan asked worriedly.

“He's had your dad on the phone, yeah. He’s expecting you,” he answered slyly. Jordan's dad was the kind to keep a close watch on his kids, and now that we were famous, he was constantly making sure we were all doing fine.

“Oh, for fuck's sake. What's he told him? He’s gonna kill me.”

“We sure hope he does.” Dylan said, half-jokingly.

"I don't need my father to lecture me. I'm a grown man."

"Then, start acting like one."

Tom walked back to our table. As he sat back down he announced, "Alright, let's start making some much needed changes…"


Mark's point of view

I had been in New York for almost two weeks already and I had only talked to Rob once. For a couple of days after leaving Amsterdam, he texted me, tried to call me and left me several messages, asking me to come home. He was back in London and against the idea of going to Los Angeles. At first, I didn't answer his calls, because I was mad, and because I needed him to understand that I was not coming back. When I finally did answer, we talked pretty maturely about the situation.

"Rob," I told him at some point in the conversation so that he'd try to figure out why he was starting to have a conflicted relationship with fame, "I know we always said we'd make the band and the fans our priority no matter what, but you have to be a bit selfish here. You need to go to LA. I want you to go. You can rest and talk to therapists. They can help you make sense of everything that's happened to us. You can't go on like this. I want you to feel better in your own skin, so you can enjoy it again."

"It's not that I hate it. I love performing…," he began saying, but didn't finish his sentence.

"Yeah, you do. But you also find it hard and you struggle with it more and more every day. So much so that you don't even know how to be yourself anymore. I want the real you back. I want you to be happy with what we have and what we do."

He let out a deep sigh, as a way of expressing his sadness and weariness and remained silent for a moment. When he finally spoke, there was a bit of anger in his voice,

"Are you breaking up with me?" he asked. "Is that what this is? This is you breaking up with me?"

I remained silent. I hated this. I could feel tears welling up from hearing his voice and knowing I couldn't be with him but I couldn't let myself cry,

"No, I don't know. It doesn't matter," I answered, "I don't want to be without you …," I admitted in a whisper.

"Then don't be! You really think you leaving me is gonna help? Come on Mark, how is that gonna help me?"

"I've tried everything else!" I told him. "All I do is love you and try to help you, but you don't let me. I can't be with you right now if all you do is refuse to talk to me and turn to drink and drugs to cope with the pressure. I won't let you do that."

"Fine. You want me to talk to you, I'll talk to you. What do you want me to say? That I'm exhausted, that I'm tired of it."

I didn't respond.

"Yes, I'm exhausted and I'm fucking tired of it! Of course I am. I'm tired of trying to meet everyone's expectations, including yours. Now please just come home so we can work this out together," he begged.

Again, I didn't answer but I had heard him.

I couldn't blame him for trying but he knew I wasn’t coming back until he agreed to go to therapy. We couldn't solve our relationship problems as long as he didn't try to overcome his issues.

"Mark, I don't need therapy," he continued. "I just need some time to recharge."

"You know, you're really the only one who thinks that you don't need therapy," I interrupted him, "there's nothing wrong with admitting that you're losing control of your life and that you need a bit of help. You can pretend everything's fine and lie to everyone else, but not to me. You know you don't have to pretend with me."

He sighed heavily,

"It doesn't matter whether I tell you or not. It's not like you feel the need to slow things down. You don't want to. You're all perfectly fine with the way things are, so why shouldn't I be if everyone else is."

"Because you're allowed to not want to do it anymore when you're the one with the biggest spotlight. You'd rather avoid me as much as you can than admit to me that you've had enough. I know you don't wanna hurt me or burden me with your problems, but we're in this together, and if you're not ok, then I'm not ok. And if you're not physically able to go back on tour and do it all over again, then none of us can. So if you need a break, then ok, we can stop everything. But you'll have to use that time to actually deal with what's been eating you up inside and you have to be by yourself to do that."

He was quiet for a moment then said,

"I don't wanna be by myself," his voice was full of tears and emotion as if he was trying to stop himself from crying, "I miss you. I don't know how to be without you."

"I miss you too," I breathed sadly.

For a moment, we didn't speak. He let out another heavy sigh and spoke,

"But you're not coming back…"

"No," I answered, slightly shaking my head.

I closed my eyes and almost felt like I was right there with him, holding him. At that moment, I wished I could have taken all of his pain away, even though I was the one causing it.

I felt horrible after ending the call. He had finally admitted that he wasn't enjoying being in the position he was in and that being this famous made him feel sad and depressed most of the time, when he used to love it before. I could only hope that he was finally going to start acknowledging the fact that he needed help to better deal with fame. He was beginning to realize that addiction was affecting him. Going out all the time and drinking too much was one thing but getting high on drugs was another one.

I had expected him to try cocaine. I was even sort of waiting for him to take that next step and I already knew that when he did, I would not let him get away with it. I had to stop him from getting into drugs because if I didn't do anything the first time, he'd do it again… and he'd start lying… and he'd shut me out even more… and then he'd be so much harder to make him stop. I couldn't let him develop a tragic relationship with drugs that he wouldn't be able to get out of. If he started using them to cope and manage the overwhelming pressure, it would just give him some temporary relief and he may continue despite knowing the negative consequences. This was already the reason why he was going out and partying so much instead of being one hundred percent dedicated to the band like he used to be.

He had managed to make most people think that he was happy, that he ‘had it all’. But I wasn't being fooled. I knew how hard it was for him to cope with fame, stardom, wealth, the pressure to perform, the high expectations, and most importantly the public scrutiny that went along with it. Lately, it sometimes felt like we had a perfect storm swirling around us that could have led anyone down a treacherous path of destruction. I knew addiction was a progressive illness and that things would only get worse if we didn't address the problem.

During the next few days, I found it incredibly hard to fight the urge to call or text him several times a day about every little thing that was going on. I was so used to sharing everything with him that his absence was at times unbearable. I missed hearing his voice; I missed talking with him, laughing with him, kissing him, feeling his body close to mine in the morning… There was this feeling of emptiness in my heart that I wasn't used to and that I wasn't sure I would be able to fill without him. But no matter how bad I was missing him, I knew that I had to give him space, even if he didn't think he needed any. He had to learn how to take control of his own life again, to understand why he was sad, without me.

Every time I felt the need to call him, I'd back down because I just couldn't hear his voice again. I knew that if I called him, he might say something that would make me want to be on the next flight home. But I couldn't do that, not yet. So, I tried to remind myself of the many reasons why I had made the decision to leave. They were all valid ones, but for some reason, when I found myself missing him, they didn't seem so valid anymore. But I had sworn to myself that I would not go back to him unless he went to LA, or at least some sort of therapy, and I was determined to stick to my word.

I loved him and I missed him but I was also very angry with him. I didn't need any apologies from him. I knew what he was going through and I couldn't blame him for finding it hard to adjust to life as a celebrity. He had lost his freedom little by little, much more than I had, and now he was starting to lose himself. But he had stopped making me and the band a priority. He had stopped caring about anything I said to him and he had shut me out. He had taken our success for granted, not wanting to work much to stay at the top, and he had taken me for granted. And it fucking hurt.

We could not go forward as long as he refused to get the help he needed, and the band couldn't go forward either. Our relationship, the band, the two were linked. We couldn't really have one without the other.

Since I couldn't talk to him, but I felt the need to keep some sort of connection with him, I was on the phone with Rachel or Dylan every day so they'd tell me how he was doing and if he was considering going to LA. Jane, his mother, had called me several times to understand better what was going on and I knew she was in London to talk some sense into him, and so was his father.

In New York, I was staying with a friend called Jimmy. I needed to keep myself busy and playing music seemed to be all I could do to not lose my mind over Rob. I didn't feel much like working and I wasn't very focused on anything we were doing in the studio but I had promised Jimmy that I'd come to New York to edit some of our songs with him.

I was aware the release of our record was being postponed for now and there were no more deadlines to meet but maybe going to New York to work on a few songs made me feel like I wasn't completely giving up on the band… just in case there might be a slight chance we'd be able to do what we had promised the fans we'd do, which was to release our fourth album in October and go back on tour in April.

Jimmy owned a huge apartment in New York but he seldom would spend more than an hour at his place during the day. He led a busy life. He'd leave early in the morning and go out to various events in the evening. He was the kind of guy who lived life at hundred miles per hour. So did I actually, but for the first few days there, I needed a bit of calm and quiet to reflect on my life; so I got accustomed to his place and just enjoyed walking around New York. Then I went to work with him for a few hours in the afternoons and went out for dinner to catch up with a few friends living in New York that I hadn't seen in a while.

A whole week had gone by since I had last talked to Rob. I had spent the evening catching up with a couple of friends. I was on my way back to Jimmy's place when I got a whatsapp notification. Sitting in the back of a cab, I felt a slight adrenaline rush as I opened the app and saw it was from Rob.

"Miss you so much tonight. I'm lying in bed, bored to death and I can't stop thinking of you. I'm not even touching myself and I'm totally hard, wonder why? I wish you were here to cuddle with me baby. And then we'd make love. I miss your lips, your skin, your touch. I need to feel your body so bad, I can't handle it."

As I read, I felt my chest tighten, my stomach clench and my cock get hard. The prospect of going to bed alone became pretty excruciating. I would have loved nothing more than to feel him against me. This was exactly what stopped me from calling him. He knew what to say to make me want to run straight back and be with him. I pondered over whether I should text him back. I wasn't sure that sexting each other was a good idea but I was glad to see that, at least, he wasn't out again, drinking his sorrow away.

I was beginning to seriously miss having sex with him. It had always been very much part of our routine and lately, it was even more so. It seemed to be the only thing that brought us together and kept us connected since he would much rather fuck than talk about stuff. To me, it was beginning to feel like we spent time alone together only to have sex, which wouldn't have bothered me that much, had he not been so out of it the rest of the time.

We had never gone this long without having sex and it didn't matter whether or not I was mad at him, I was horny as hell now and I wanted to text him back. I got back to my apartment, even though it wasn't mine, but it was starting to feel like my place. I tossed my jacket on the living room couch and walked up the stairs. I began typing, feeling my erection grow harder in my jeans as I thought of him, naked, probably slowly stroking himself, wanting me.

"Just got back from dinner with Shawn and Charlotte. They're doing great. They've basically spent the whole year traveling around the world. So many things to talk about. I'm gonna grab a shower now. It might feel like something's missing in there … namely you on your knees taking care of that hard on you just gave me."

As I entered the bathroom in my bedroom, I placed my phone down on the stone ledge, knowing I'd soon receive a text from him.

I got undressed and stepped into the shower, which was a wonder of engineering and plumbing. It was as large as a small bathroom itself. It had a smooth, gray stone floor. Throughout the stone walls, there were nozzles that sprayed water in all heights and directions. There were shower heads in all four corners, and one giant shower head located in the ceiling that rained water directly on top of you. It was heaven. I began thinking that the shower Rob and I had paled in comparison and that we definitely needed to get one of these. And then, I felt sad and a bit worried. When would I be back in London?

I thought of him, lying in bed, probably naked as the day he was born and stroking his hard, smooth, thick cock. I pictured him playing with himself as I chose the water functions I wanted. The water was instantly warm and felt incredible against my body. I was a bit tense so I sighed in relief as some of the water pounded my shoulders, wishing Rob's hands were on me, massaging my shoulders and kissing my neck. I reached for the shower gel and started washing myself. I wrapped my hand around my cock and imagine it was Rob's ass. Though I couldn't begin to recreate the incredible feeling of being in him, the intensity of my stroking soon had me close to cumming. I stopped myself before going over the edge.

As soon as I stepped out, I grabbed a towel and quickly wiped off the excess water from my body. I picked up my phone to read his text,

"Good 4 them. Would've liked to see them again. Damn, I wish I was there with you to dry you off when you get out of the shower sexy, your body is so hot. And then I'd definitely drop to my knees and blow you til you spurt all you jizz in my mouth. Your hard dick tastes so good in my mouth. I hope you've been saving up for me. I'm so hungry 4 it"

I smiled and started stroking myself again as I rested my body against the stone ledge. It didn't take long before I could feel my cum building up and I was ready to burst again. I looked down at my cock, leaking profusely as I imagined his wet, hot mouth moving up and down my shaft. I threw my head back and came hard, shooting several long, white streams of cum onto my abdomen. Once my dick stopped spurting, I rinsed the cum off my hand and texted him back,

"Defo been savin' up. Got cum all over my chest now. It was awesome. You'd love to lick this off me. I might need another shower now"

I stepped into the shower again and washed the cum off my chest before reading his response,

"What a shame it's not in my mouth. I would've swallowed it all. I bet ur still hard. I wish you'd take me to bed, lick me all over and then fuck the cum right out of me. Your cock would feel so good inside of me I'd probably shoot without touching myself. I miss this. I miss you."

I walked over to my bed, climbed under the covers and started typing, pretty sure he hadn't cum yet,

"I miss you too. I'd love to kiss and lick you all over till my tongue runs up and down your crack and makes you tremble when I push it in and out to open you up. I'd make you beg for my cock. Then I'd shove it in you and pound your ass as hard as you want till I feel the cum blast out of you. I know how much you love to cum with my dick buried deep inside you. I love that too"

It didn't take him very long to answer,

"Damn, now I've got cum all over too and my hole is tingling, waiting for you. So when R U coming home to do that with me?"

I hesitated, not sure I wanted to ruin the moment, but finally typed,

"Nice try. When R U flying to LA?"

"I'd much rather fly to NY."

"I bet you would. I guess we'll have to keep having this daydream that one of us is inside the other, in some way :) until one of us gives in! U know it won't be me, so why wait?

'You're really not letting this go, are you?"

"I'm really not."

"Right now, I hate you just as much as I love you ;)"

"I know. Right back at you ;)"

"Good night. I might be dreaming of all the dirty things I'd like to do with you if you don't mind!"

"I don't mind. I know I'll wake up with something pointy and hard in my underwear. your sexy body will be all I think about when I jack off. Good night"

Over the next few nights, we continued texting each other and I was kinda looking forward to it, almost wanting to text him as soon as I woke up in the morning, which he did a couple of times. I'd always think that we probably ought to stop though because I didn't really know where we stood and it was kind of confusing.

I started going out more with Jimmy in the evening, and I knew Rob was often out again because he wouldn't text me as much and Rachel or Dylan would also tell me when they knew that he was out. He'd tell them that he didn't feel the need to go to therapy or that he didn't feel ready to go. They were doing their best to make him go, but at the end of the day, it was really up to him.

Jimmy led an interesting life and knew so many people. He was invited to all the trendy events, which was great. For a couple of weeks I went out every night eating out in gourmet restaurants, going to concerts, clubs, broadway plays or art galleries openings… I was having a good time, although I often wished Rob could have been there with me.

One Thursday afternoon I left Jimmy’s place around 1pm to go work on editing a couple of songs I was still hoping would make the album. When I got there, a noticed there was a guy sitting on the stairs, checking his phone. I recognized him immediately.

"Hey," Damien said, smiling demurely at me. He seemed kinda reserved, as if he was apprehensive of the way I'd react.

"Hey," I said, wondering what the hell he was doing here.

I hadn't seen him, talked to him or heard from him in over two years. He looked a bit different, slightly older. He had longer hair and looked like he hadn't shaved in a day or two, which I thought suited him great. He also seemed more tanned than I remembered and it made his blue eyes stand out. I was about to ask him what he was doing here and he studied me as I searched for my words, not sure how to ask him without sounding rude.

"I'm not stalking you," he announced.

I opened my mouth to say something but for a couple of seconds, no words came out,

"That's good to know," I finally said.

He looked at me with a slight grin,

"How've you been?"

"Good," I answered as he stood up and walked closer to me.

"Yeah?" he gazed at me and added, "you look great."

We stood face to face and he began explaining his presence.

"I'm working at "The Cutting Room" with Alex Cooke… you had dinner with him on Sunday. He's friends with Jimmy. He told me you were staying with him … and that you were alone?" he said inquisitively.

"I wasn't alone," I replied.

He pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side,

"You weren't with your normal circle of friends either… Aren't you supposed to be super busy recording?"

"Yeah. I guess. But we're taking a break. We're all a bit burnt out. We all need some time off from the band."

"Oh," he let out a small chuckle, "you're taking a break only a few months away from the release?" he asked doubtfully.

"I don't think we're gonna release it as planned."

"Are you postponing it?" he asked a bit shocked.

"Probably, yeah," I confirmed.

"Oh. That's too bad," he said, sensing that we might be going through a particularly difficult time, "Sooo….," he began saying hesitantly. "are you taking a break from Rob too?"

I stared at him, then looked away briefly and he smirked.

"Don't look so happy," I told him, slightly shaking my head.

"I'm not. Just wondering," he said with a shrug.

"Well," I began saying. "I should be going in." I said, briefly turning my head toward the door of the studio. "It was nice seeing you again."

He understood that I was cutting the conversation short so he quickly added,

"Hey, there's this great coffee shop just around the corner. I'm sure you've been there. Do you wanna have coffee or something when you're done?"

I looked away and sighed,

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"Come on, Mark, it's just coffee. It'd be nice to catch up. I'd love to know how your last tour went."

I must have briefly looked like I was hesitating so he added,

"I'm actually seeing someone you know… just in case you're worried that I might be tempted to jump your bones."

"Good for you." I sniggered, knowing that he was lying, or that if he wasn't, he didn't seem to be very committed to the guy he was with. "Then, what the hell are you doing here?" I asked aggravated.

"I just want to know how you're doing. I haven't seen you in two years."

"Well, I'm doing fine. I guess you can go now that you have this information."

He noddeed with a smile,

"How long 'd'you think you're gonna be in there?" he asked.

"About three hours," I answered with a slight shrug.

"Could you maybe use a sound arranger's help? I'm free today."

"Is that how you wanna spend your day off?" I said with a small chuckle.

"I guess it is," he said, waiting for my answer.

"We don't need any help. I hope you won't still be here when I come out."

The expression on his face made it pretty clear that he might be.

I stepped closer to him and added,

"Let's make one thing clear. Why I'm here without Rob is none of your business. I'm still with him and nothing has changed."

"Alright, I get it. It's fine. I told you, I'm seeing someone. I wasn't gonna wait forever… Although just so you know, moving on wasn't easy. Why can't we just catch up over a cup of coffee. What's the big deal here?"

"I hate coffee," I answered dryly as I turned on my heels and headed toward the door of the studio.

Copyright 2017, unilive. All Rights Reserved
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Chapter Comments

Damien’s “someone” is a placeholder for Mark, he would drop that person like a hot potato if he thought Mark was even a little interested.

Alright, I get it. It's fine. I told you, I'm seeing someone. I wasn't gonna wait forever… Although just so you know, moving on wasn't easy. Why can't we just catch up over a cup of coffee. What's the big deal here?"

You rushing to the studio Mark’s recording at the second you knew he was there is the big deal, Damien.  

I'm not stalking you," he announced.

"I'm working at "The Cutting Room" with Alex Cooke… you had dinner with him on Sunday. He's friends with Jimmy. He told me you were staying with him … and that you were alone….?" he said inquisitively.

If you’re not stalking him now, you will soon.




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On 2/20/2020 at 12:05 AM, IBEX said:

Excellent description of the downward slope with drugs...

Thank you, I'm so glad you're still enjoying the story 👍

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I generally like what you're doing here in part 3. It wasn't possible to rinse and repeat part 2 and sustain the story's interest. Everything had pretty much fell into Rob and Mark's lap from early in their career. So we need to know how they can cope personally through some rough times.

My main criticism is that Mark should have sweetened the deal by offering to go with Rob to L.A. to drop him off at the therapists and stay in the vicinity for emotional support. That's what friends would do to show that they are truly a priority in their lives.

Now that Damien's sniffing around, we know that Mark really hasn't the strength of character to avoid being gulled by him. By his own admission he loves to be flattered by the chase.

If Rob finds out, it won't be just drinks and drugs that he'll be partying hard with.

Mark is playing a very dangerous game and seems happy to risk losing Rob, now that he has all the ammunition he needs to put the blame on him.

Edited by Bard Simpson
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@Bard Simpsonyou are a victim of your own insight indeed. True, Mark should have gone with Rob, it wouldn't have been the sensible thing to do... but then if he had, it woud have been no fun for me to write! 😜


Edited by unilive
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these last two chapters are making me pissed off at  Rob for being a dumb fuck and not willing to get help. he needs to man up put adult pants on and admit that he needs help before its too late. and when i say too late I mean him being 6 feet under cause that's were it could end up to if he doesn't stop.

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