Beyond The Music (The Rock Gods Book 7) (39 page)

“More,” Aaron huffed. “I need more.”

Lincoln thrust as deeply as he could and quickened his pace; his cock hammering into Aaron. He wanted Aaron to feel him for days after this, every time he sat down or moved. He wanted Aaron’s ache to be a constant reminder of who was loving him. Lincoln pulled his cock out until only the head was being held inside Aaron. He looked down between their bodies to see the spot they remained connected in a profound way that far exceeded the sexual. He studied the girth of his own erection, still pulsing hard and strong at the opening of Aaron’s ass. He felt like king of the world right now, more potent and masculine then he thought possible.

“Babe, please,” Aaron moaned. “Don’t stop. I’m so close.”

Lincoln smiled broadly at Aaron. He leaned forward to rest his weight on his hands set beside Aaron’s shoulders on the bed. “No way in hell I’m stopping,” Lincoln answered right before his hips slammed forward and Aaron exhaled loudly.

“Oh, my god! Yes! Yes!” Aaron’s voice was pitchy and had raised in decibels to echo inside their hotel bedroom.

Lincoln increased his rhythm and snapped his hips forward again and again into Aaron’s hot, slick channel at a relentless pace. Aaron’s head pressed into the pillows. Lincoln watched Aaron unravel beneath him. Aaron held his own legs open for Lincoln. His ramblings were incoherent prose worthy of being in a love song . . . if they actually made sense.

Lincoln’s own orgasm was racing to the surface with a force he couldn’t hold off or deny. “Come with me,” Lincoln urged. He wrapped his fingers around Aaron’s shaft and began a series of twisting strokes and Aaron blew apart before he eyes.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckkkkkk,” Aaron shouted.

Rope after rope of come splashed over Aaron’s stomach and chest. Watching it was enough to push Lincoln into an orgasm so powerful he truly did see stars. He pumped through the waves of bliss that made his body quake and shiver, then fell forward on top of Aaron in an absolute sated state. They stayed there like that for a few minutes before Aaron finally began to stir beneath Lincoln.

“You . . .” Aaron sighed. “I have no words for that. None.”

Lincoln chuckled and lifted up onto one elbow. “I think you just said plenty.” Lincoln stretched for the lyric book he had sitting on the bedside table. He pushed himself up against the pillows at the headboard and quickly started jotting down his thoughts.

“Don’t you want to clean up?” Aaron asked.

“I will,” Lincoln replied. “But you’ve inspired lyrics in me.”

Aaron squeezed the back of Lincoln’s neck and kissed his temple. “I’m going to go shower,” Aaron said. “Join me when you finish.”

Lincoln heard the door to the bathroom shut and closed his eyes to allow the words to flow through him. It was a process that he thought was similar to a medium channeling spirits. Sometimes he felt little control over when the lyrics hit him, but he’d learned long ago not to fight it. His hand moved as fast as possible to capture the words on paper before they were lost from his memory and before Aaron had finished with his shower, Lincoln had it all written down. He was smiling at the page in the notebook when Aaron appeared beside the bed.

“Did you finish?” Aaron asked.

“I did.” Lincoln grinned up at him.

“Can I see?”

“Of course,” Lincoln answered and handed him the notebook. He watched Aaron’s eyes move across the page and the sudden flush of heat that turned his cheeks pink. Lincoln also saw the emotion building in Aaron’s gorgeous eyes. “It’s rough and probably sounds a little sappy, but I’ll smooth it all out later.”

“Babe, this is beautiful,” Aaron said. “Do you have a melody yet?”

Lincoln nodded. He took the notebook from Aaron’s hand and started to hum the intro to the song. Soon he was singing lyrics Aaron had once again inspired in that low, bluesy tone he was known for.

~ My Love Is Real ~

Breathe you in.

I don’t fear your love.

It’s a sweet surrender.

A peaceful state of bliss that I won’t fight.

You took me there; no one but you.

Made me feel your strength; your insight,

and I felt loved.

Take me in,

into your body and soul.

Let me give you my love.

Show you it’s real.

We’ll fall together, in this tight embrace.

It’ll be a softer landing when we’re

lying face to face.

Living out a fantasy.

That’s all become so true.

You made who I am today.

So much stronger because of you.

Wrap me in your love and hold me ‘til dawn.

I’ll lie with you forever.

I’ll be your only one.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Lincoln paced the floor of the holding area off to the side of the pressroom while the media was led in to take their seats. The team of personal security guards were clearly visible, stationed at the end of the hallway on both sides of the band. They would reposition themselves inside the pressroom once all the band members were safely inside the room.

Their band manager waited with them and got them up to speed on what was going on inside the pressroom. He said every seat was occupied and several more reporters were standing in the back of the room and along the sides. Lincoln couldn’t understand the interest in him. He wasn’t exactly Dagger or Alex, after all, so what the fuck was the draw to hear him talk? Maybe after this interview was over they’d realize he was the boring loner of the group and they were stupid to want to be here to hear him talk. All he knew was he wanted this interview over with and behind him.

The rest of the guys in Black Ice joined him and Aaron in the holding area, followed by Ivory Tower. Even Spumoni took time out of his equipment duties to be here for Lincoln. They all patted Lincoln on the back and offered hugs of support. The united front they were giving to Lincoln made his heart swell. The love surrounding him was overflowing and Lincoln felt empowered to do what he needed to do: face the media vultures and tell his truth to the world.

“Okay, they’re ready for you,” a stage manager announced to Lincoln and the others.

Lincoln reached for Aaron’s hand and started for the door. Aaron pulled him to a stop and gave him one last embrace before he walked out to face the media. Forehead to forehead, Aaron transferred his strength in his own special way prior to saying the three words that always managed to lift Lincoln when he was feeling his lowest.

“I love you,” Aaron said softly.

“Love you, too.”

The stage director held the door open for everyone and they paraded into the pressroom single file. Camera flashes fired in the room and Lincoln adjusted the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose to try to block out some of the light. Aaron let go of Lincoln’s hand and was prepared to step off to the side of the room, but Lincoln reached for him again and tugged him toward the long table with the microphone positioned in the center. Dagger, Dante, and Ashton took seats next to Lincoln at the table while Aaron stood behind him with his hands squeezing his shoulders. Alex and his band members created a line behind Lincoln and Aaron. Once everyone was in position at the table, Lincoln took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

“Thank you all for coming here today,” Lincoln began. “I have a brief statement to make and then I’ll be able to answer a few questions before we need to warm-up for the show.”

Lincoln glanced over his shoulder at the men standing behind him and at Dagger, Dante, and Ashton to his side. Aaron rubbed at the tight knots of muscle at Lincoln’s nape. Lincoln reached up to touch Aaron’s hand for assurance before he pulled out a piece of paper with his handwritten notes.

“As you know, I fell on stage last night,” Lincoln stated. “I got a bunch of fucking stitches in my forehead, but luckily everything else is okay. What none of you know is
why
I fell and that is the reason I am here to talk to you today. The stories being printed about me are completely false and I am feeling the need to set the record straight.”

So far so good . . . I can fucking do this,
Lincoln said inside his head. His eyes danced around the room at the reporters all poised for the next soundbite Lincoln might have to offer. It was ridiculous at best and annoying on other levels, but Lincoln pushed on.

“About two years ago, I began experiencing odd physical symptoms that didn’t make sense,” Lincoln said. “So, I did my best to ignore it and managed to do a pretty good job of it until around six months ago when I started tripping for no good reason. About a month or so ago I lost partial sight in my left eye and that’s when I realized I could no longer ignore what was going on with me.”

Lincoln drew in another deep breath and exhaled slowly. Dagger reached over and gripped his forearm and he felt Aaron’s soothing touch on the back of his neck. “After a series of tests with a neurologist back in Los Angeles, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. I’m not an expert on the disease, but I’m guessing if you googled it you’d be able to find out everything you need to know.”

More flashes lit up the room like a fireworks display in July and Lincoln had to shield his eyes. “The sight loss I have is from an optic neuritis in my left eye which has made me extremely sensitive to sudden light changes and that is what led to the seizure and me falling on stage. I do not have drug or alcohol problems, as some have speculated. What I do have is a disease I can hopefully keep managed from here on out with proper diet, exercise, and a disease modifying injection medication called Rebif.”

Lincoln glanced around the room again and noticed numerous reporters with hands lifted to ask a question. Words escaped him on the level of distaste he had for being pushed into this particular situation. He was a quiet loner for a reason. What was private to him he wanted to keep private. Exposing himself in front of reporters ready to twist his words for anyone willing to read or listen to them made Lincoln feel sick. Even still, he swallowed down the bile and pushed on. Another few minutes and he could put this nightmare behind him and go back to some semblance of a simple life. But something deep inside him told him those days were long gone for him and that made his heart ache. He hadn’t asked for this, nor did he feel he was deserving of something this scary and uncertain.

The stroke of Aaron’s fingers down the back of his long hair drew Lincoln back into the moment. “I guess that’s all I have to say about it,” Lincoln said into the microphone. “But I have time for a few of your questions.”

A reporter about halfway back in the crowd jumped to his feet. “Drake Hendricks from the BBC,” he quickly stated. “Lincoln, I also have MS, so I am familiar with the disease. Can you tell us which form of the disease you have?”

Lincoln fought the panic wanting to rush through him and turned to Aaron for the answer. After exchanging a few private words, Lincoln leaned back into the microphone. “I have relapsing-remitting MS.”

A woman sitting down front spoke next. “Stacey Foxe from Entertainment Nightly,” she said. “Lincoln, what does this mean for your future with Black Ice? Will you be retiring?”

Lincoln was quick to fire back his answer to this question. More than any other bit of information the reporters walked away with from this press conference today hung on this very answer. Lincoln needed to be as clear and concise about it as possible. “I have no plans now—or anytime soon of retiring from my position as bass player for Black Ice,” Lincoln firmly stated with conviction. “This disease won’t stop me from living, now or ever. The way I see it, this is just one small detail of who I am and nothing more. It will not define me.”

“Won’t this disease slow you down or fatigue you to a point you won’t be able to perform?” another reporter was quick to ask.

“I am going to do my absolute best and work really hard to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Lincoln answered.

Reporter after reporter stood up and fired questions at Lincoln. It was becoming overwhelming for him to keep up. He looked over at the door for the stage director. The man pointed to his watch and Lincoln was never more grateful to get the “wrap it up” signal in all his life.

“I believe that’s all the time I have for questions,” Lincoln said. “But, in closing, I want to be clear on this. There won’t be any major changes taking place in my life. I plan on living the same way I did before I knew the medical issues I was dealing with, and I’ll be doing it with minimal modifications. I may have MS, but MS won’t ever have me. Think about those last ten words and that will tell you all you need to know about my future.” Lincoln stood up from his chair. He forced a smile onto his face and waved at the audience of reporters before he followed everyone off the platform and through the door into the holding area.

As soon as they reached the hallway opposite the media room, Lincoln crumbled against the wall and Aaron was right there to catch him. “I am so proud of you,” Aaron said beside Lincoln’s ear.