Launi

We had to be on the bus early this morning. This next stretch of traveling will take about twenty-four hours on the road. I've been told we will stop for food and to take breaks, but the idea is to get there as soon as we can in case there are any problems at the next venue. I've been in my bunk for hours, hiding out and putting together videos so there isn't a lag in posting on the accounts.

At lunch time, we pull into a town and stop for pizza. Due to our sheer numbers, we are scattered around the tiny restaurant, sharing large pizzas and breadsticks. I can feel Rye at times, but I don't look up to find him. It's hard to eat, my throat feels tight and all I want to do is go back to my bunk and close the curtains making sure I won't accidently glance at him and feel that pit in my stomach again.

We load back onto the bus, and I quickly tuck myself in for the next few hours. My dad and the boys are watching TV, but Rye is in his bunk with the curtain drawn too. I hear him at times, shifting his weight or rolling over. Knowing he's right there makes me feel antsy and unable to relax. I finally am able to doze off myself and don't wake up until they let us know we'll be stopping for dinner and to stretch. Some of the drivers will need to switch so we will have some time at the stop.

I twist my hair up and throw on a hoodie over my shirt. When I get down from my bunk, I hear Rye draw back the curtains on his. We give each other a nod and then I head out, wishing I had moved faster. The parking lot we are stopped in is near three major fast-food chains. Everyone is wondering around, getting food from whatever place looks best to them. I head into one and go straight to the bathroom. When I get out, Sean is standing near the entrance.

"You following me?" I tease.

"Yes," he answers honestly. "It's my job, remember?"

"There are more important people to have your eye on," I tell him.

"Not according to your father," he says. "What's for dinner?" he asks, switching the subject and avoiding any argument I would have against my father's meddling.

"Combo number three," I say. "With a cookie."

We stand in line and order our food, then make our way to a small two-top in the back. Sean sits with his back to the wall, making sure to have a clear view of the doors at the front. The thought crosses my mind that Rye could choose this place also, but when our food arrives and there's no sign of him, I feel my shoulders relax and I'm able to have a conversation with Sean without thinking about it anymore.

After an hour or so, the signal goes out to security to round us all up and everyone heads back to the buses, some carrying drinks and others with bags of food to stash away for later. I have my cookie in my hoodie pocket so I can't really judge. The excitement and non-stop energy from the last few days catches up with me. I feel drained. My eyes are tired from staring at technology for hours and as I climb back up into my bunk, all I can think about is how good it will feel to close them.

When I wake up, it's pitch black in the bunk. I peek out and find the rest of the bus just as dark with only a few tiny lights to mark the walking path. Unless we drive under a light on the highway, the interior is blacked out with visibility being a few inches in front of your face. The blinds are shut on all the windows except the front. I want my cookie, but I don't want crumbs in my bunk. No one else is up, so I make my way down and out to the living room area. The bus jolts on the road, and I lose my balance, reaching for something to keep myself from falling over. Instead, large hands catch me, holding me at my hip.

"Sorry," I whisper.

"No problem," Rye answers.

"Can't sleep?" I ask quietly.

"No. My shoulder hurts," he says. His free hand moves to rub at it, and I step away so he doesn't have to hold me up.

Once again, the bus jolts and he has to catch me.

"Sit down," he says. "We don't have time to stop if you get a concussion."

I feel around and find the empty spot next to him. The smell of his soap teasing me and making it hard not to lean into his warm body.

"What's going on with your shoulder?" I ask.

"Tight muscles I'm hoping," he says, leaning his head back to rest it against the wall behind him.

"Maybe you can get a masseuse to come to your room when we get to Idaho,' I suggest.

Rye nods in the dark. It's hard to see but I can barely make it out. His hand grips his shoulder mindlessly. I feel terrible for him.

"Come here," I say. I motion for him to sit between my legs.

"You don't have to," he tells me, but he's already moving.

I laugh quietly. "Shut up."

Rye presses his back against the couch, my legs on either side of him. I run my thumbs along his shoulders, and he moans softly as if it's the best feeling and allows his head to fall forward. The muscles along his back are so tight, they roll beneath my fingers as I get to work. It's hard to get my fingers deep with his sweater on so I tell him, "Take this off."

He leans forward, pulling it over his head and his bare back is right beneath my fingertips. The heat from his body radiates against my inner thighs and calves. I touch him again, my fists gripping onto him harder now, the knots inside relaxing as I press and stretch. I close my eyes and lean forward, breathing in the scent of his shampoo and wanting so badly to press my lips to the back of his head.

Rye adjusts himself and lets his hand wrap around my calf. His touch feels hot and has the power to melt me. The sounds he makes that only we can hear drive me wild. My breathing is heavy even when I try to calm it down. His fingers massage my leg as I massage his neck.

"That feels so good," he tells me in a low, quiet voice.

I close my eyes, noticing how his words make me ache in all the right places. I run my fingers up into his hair and can feel him lean back into me as I tug at it and scratch along his scalp.

"Fuck," he whispers.

I trace my fingers back down his neck and along his shoulders before letting them dip lower to his chest. His hand captures my wrist and pulls my hand lower. He drags it across his pecks and slowly down his abs as I lean forward over him. It's no longer a shoulder massage, but neither of us are stopping it. He turns his face to mine, our foreheads touching as he moves my hand over his hot flesh. He twists his body slightly, using his free hand to snake up into my hair and pull my lips to his. His hand on mine grows more insistent. I would let this man lead my hands anywhere he wanted. He moves his lips over mine softly, barely brushing as if he's trying to hold back. I want him to give in. Finally, he looks into my eyes and slowly finishes the last few inches to his cock. I take his lead, leaving my palm flat until I feel him hard beneath me. Our breathes are in sync as I wrap my hand around him through his sweats. His hand in my hair fists and pulls slightly, igniting a hot tide that rolls through my body and right between my legs.

As he begins to pull my hand up his shaft and above his waistband, he licks my lip and then kisses me as he tucks my hand beneath his pants. The bus jolts and we both lose our balance, but the moment is broken and we pull away from each other before we get caught.