Head [01] - Hot Head

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Head [01] - Hot Head Page 29

by Damon Suede


  Well, now. Griff looked down at his clenched fist, deliberately loosened his fingers. He lifted his gaze again.

  Dante’s black-green eyes were trying to read his. “So I guess the new, grown-up me needs to find out what the hel you want.” Griff laid his hand open between them on the bed.

  Here goes nothing.

  Dante nodded, waiting for whatever came next.

  “I want”—Griff bumped his legs against his lover’s—“to be with you, Dante Inigo Anastagio. Us to be together, I guess. God.” Dante’s smile made the room brighter. “Oh. Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Like together, together? Just us.” Dante laced their caloused fingers, pink and gold, and squeezed once. And I’l never pretend this didn’t—”

  “The guys are gonna shit a brick.” Griff tried to imagine their friends’ faces. What the hell are we doing?

  Dante bit back a snort of laughter. “Seriously. No rush there. But my family needs to….” He roled onto his side with his head propped on his hand.

  Griff lay back, a bal of cold nerves knotting inside him. He tried to smooth the sheet between them.

  “Griff, I told my dad.” Dante’s voice was low. “How I felt, I mean.”

  “You what?!”

  “The day we walpapered. I told him that—”

  “And I heard you, but I thought….” Griff frowned. “Never mind. Obviously, I was a dumbass. What’d he say?”

  “Not to hurt you. He said I had to be honest. And he warned me not to get my hopes up in case…. He didn’t give a shit about us being two guys. No, he was happy. They love you. You’re a way better son than I am. And it’s not like they don’t have enough grandkids. I think my ma knew already.”

  “What?!” Griff’s face had frozen, pale and hard, looking at the ceiling.

  “She’s said a couple things when I’m over there. I mean, I never told her how I felt about you, but I think she figured it out. She’s seen us together. She’s my mother, so probably.”

  “Did you tel anyone else?” Griff thought about Tommy, patched up and miserable somewhere. “I dunno, the firehouse, maybe. Jesus.”

  “Gimme a little credit.”

  “I’l give you anything you want.”

  “Wel, I don’t want you drinking yourself to death. Or working yourself 24/7.” Dante was almost scowling, but his hand was gentle on Griff’s leg. “I worry about you hurting yourself.”

  “I only drank to keep myself from doing something insane. Like this.”

  “Or like fucking me through the concrete? Yeah. From now on, if you aren’t doing that regular, there’s gonna be hel to pay. I’m way worse than a wife

  ’cause I know al the tricks and al your bulshit.”

  “Likewise, Anastagio. You with the triple shifts and no sleep. You could have fucking kiled yourself, idiot.” Griff slapped Dante’s butt.

  “Ow!” Dante yelped and tugged a sheet over himself, but the length of their legs pressed together, warm through the buttery cotton.

  “So if you were kiling yourself to get me here, I’m here. Enough with the heroic suicide bulshit, okay?” Dante looked annoyed and scootched closer. “Sir, yes, sir. Any other commandments?”

  “No more making porn. If you need something, you come to me and I’l get it.” Griff knew he sounded like his father. Scary.

  “I’m not a chick. You don’t have to pay for me.”

  “Stop! Sheesh! That’s not what I’m saying. I don’t want you—”

  “Okay. Done.” Dante had already dismissed the thought. “But Alek has more videos to run. I mean the one of you and me. The, uh, BJ.”

  “No.” Griff held his eyes firmly. “I talked to him already. I took care of that.”

  “When?”

  “It’s a long story…. I made a deal with Alek.”

  “The hel? Griffin—”

  “Later.” Griff nudged Dante’s face to one side and took a lungful of the sweet musk at his nape.

  “Want some breakfast, meatbal?” Dante bit Griff’s chest.

  “Later.” Griff realized he was smiling for some reason. It was a serious conversation, but it felt like promises. It felt like they were figuring out a path through al the rubble.

  “Cool.” Dante’s eyes searched the ceiling. “So maybe we could. I dunno. Hang out. Go to dinner.”

  “Like a date….” Griff blushed at the simple pleasure of bumping knees under a table, Dante steering him through a crowd with a hand at the smal of his back. Together. “A second date.”

  Then Dante blew hair out of his face and looked annoyed. “Hel. I don’t want to let you out of the house. I’m gonna have to get over that, I guess.” Griff bit his shoulder. “C’mon. I’ve always been yours, D.”

  Their heads were on the same pilow. Black hair and red. Where there’s smoke….

  Dante roled his head to meet his gaze and melted. Griff smiled, and Dante pressed a kiss under his jaw, whispering against the skin, “God. You make me so fucking happy I’m gonna split open.”

  Griff hedged a little. “Look, it’s not like we gotta go to a balet or something, but I’d like to go out together for real. Even if it’s hockey and a pizza.”

  “But how is that different from what we do already? Except for this, I mean….” Dante cupped Griff’s semi-hard dick.

  “’Cause we’re going to tel the truth. ’Cause I get a say. And you get a say. ’Cause it matters and we’re gonna make it matter, together. Deal?” Griff nodded, like they’d shaken hands. In a way they had. Maybe this wasn’t so hard.

  Dante scowled. “And I don’t want you getting confused. From now on I’m teling you every time I think something, so you don’t start trying to guess what I might be thinking.” Dante wiggled his toes under the red sheet. “Dig?”

  “Dig.” Griff bobbed his head once. Could it realy be that easy? Make a wish. Griff kept waiting for something to ruin what was happening.

  “’Cause unless you’re thinking ‘Dante loves when I do that’ and ‘Dante whacks off thinking about when I do this’ you’re fucking wrong.” Griff laughed. “Okay… I mean, yessir.”

  “Did you—” Dante sat up “—just cal me sir?” An impish grin smeared across his face until he was beaming.

  Griff sputtered, wanting to protest, then gave up. “I think I did.”

  Dante’s erection jerked between them. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

  “You are a kinky son of a bitch, Anastagio.”

  “You—” kiss “—have—” kiss “—no—” kiss “—idea.” Dante smacked him on his haunch, hard enough to leave a handprint on the fair skin. Before Griff could grab him, he was in the bathroom chortling with the door slammed behind him.

  Griff roled onto his side and stared out the window, his window, their window.

  Then Dante was back, crawling back to him, onto their bed.

  EVENTUALLY, they did head down and Dante made breakfast, an apron over his naked skin to protect his front. Griff wound up pressed against his back for almost as long as it took to fry six eggs and bacon, his heart filed with helium.

  This every day.

  Dante dumped their eggs on one plate and Griff grabbed two forks. They headed back to the big couch in the living room and sat cross-legged, sharing the breakfast between them.

  When they’d eaten, Griff fel back, swalowed a little satisfied belch, and smiled. “Sunday nap? Hey. What is it?”

  “Thanks, G. I know al of this has been stupid, and you’re patient even when it is.”

  “What?”

  Dante was trying to get something out. “I don’t know how to explain….”

  “I’m your best friend, dumbass. Try me.”

  Dante roled over and puled his knees up to his chest, sitting next to him and gathering the thought.

  Griff nodded before he even started, but kept silent.

  “I wanted to build something. I’m tired of just keeping stuff from faling down and racing to cover my mortgage. I want to m
ake something that’s mine.” Dante looked at him. “That’s ours.”

  “That sounds suspiciously like mature thinking, Anastagio.”

  Dante held his fork up thoughtfuly. “You know, if I had a roommate here to help with the mortgage, I wouldn’t have to bust my ass over every bil and every little repair.”

  “A roommate, huh?” Griff turned and crossed his arms over his big chest. The leather was cool under his butt, and his bals bunched against the cushion.

  “Yeah. And if they’d be wiling to help out around the house, I’d keep the rent reasonable.” Dante put the plate and their forks on the coffee table.

  “Extra hands and extra income.” Griff slid down a bit so their legs were touching.

  “It couldn’t just be some stranger. I’d have to be able to trust them with everything.”

  “Folks would be shocked if someone else was cramping your style. They’d think al kinds of crazy shit if you let someone get that close. People might get the wrong idea.”

  “Maybe. But they might get the right ideas, and that’d be okay too. It’d be our house… if I could find the right person.” Dante was smug now, and he turned to crawl over Griff like a jungle cat. Bastard.

  The couch creaked under them.

  “You gonna advertise?”

  “I guess I’l have to. Craigslist. Want ads. Ful disclosure too, because I don’t want problems down the line.”

  “Pictures?”

  Dante grinned. “Of the house or me?”

  “No.” Griff slapped his butt.

  “Hey! Wel, I thought pictures might be overkil. Better to get somebody local, who knows the neighborhood, knows the house.” Dante snaked hands around his waist, rubbing their cocks together with a delicious shivery friction that made Griff’s breath catch.

  “Yeah?” Griff tried to stop smiling and failed. “Good plan.” He raised his knees a little so Dante was cradled between them.

  Dante tapped his chest thoughtfuly. “Yeah. I mean I need someone who’l stay the hel out of the kitchen but who knows how to wash up.”

  “Plus they gotta be able to deal with a crazy work schedule. Firefighter hours.”

  Dante scratched his head— scritch-scritch— and carded fingers through the sooty tumble of his curls til it stood up in tendrils . “ Good with power tools so they can pitch in on the renovations.”

  “Wel….” Griff ticked off the criteria on his fingers. “Someone who loves footbal. And hockey.”

  “Someone who won’t flip out if I get loud in the sack. ’Cause I get loud in the sack.” Griff snorted. “Uh-hum. I noticed. And in the kitchen.”

  “I mean, I’m a bastard to live with.” Dante shrugged in mock modesty.

  “Sh-yeah!” Griff laughed. “A slob. A loudmouth. A womanizer.”

  “Not anymore. Wel, not a womanizer anymore. I think we can safely cross that one off.”

  “A midget.”

  “Fuck off!”

  Griff patted him with a reassuring hand. “So they’d have to be tal, for when you can’t reach things.” Dante grabbed Griff’s nuts and squeezed. “I can be a hothead if I’m not careful.”

  Griff bit his ear gently and pried his fingers loose. “Me too. But that’s done with. You’re past al that.”

  “Absolutely. And no goddamn pets.” He poked Griff in the chest emphaticaly.

  Griff snorted. “I got you; that’s plenty.”

  “Hey!”

  Griff puled Dante against him so their lengths were pressed. “Wel, Mr. Anastagio, I think you got a problem.” Dante’s mouth was close enough that when he spoke, their lips brushed. “I do.”

  “You realize how smal your candidate pool is?” Griff pressed a light kiss on the corner of his mouth.

  “I do.”

  Griff’s gray eyes crinkled into a smile. “I think there might only be one person qualified. You realy want to take that kinda risk?”

  “I do.” Then Dante tilted his head and licked Griff’s lips for entry, tasting his mouth, puling back to tip their heads together.

  “Okay, D.” Griff snaked an arm under his shoulders and tugged him over to hold Dante close to his chest. “But we’l build it together. Deal?”

  “I’m not stupid.” Dante struggled against him getting ready to argue. “I’m not an invalid.”

  “Duh. Thanks. Yeah. But let me be here with you, huh? As a favor.” Griff carded his thick fingers through the smoky tangle of Dante’s hair. “Maybe we can build it together from now on. Yeah?”

  Dante stiled against him; he toyed with Griff’s chest hair. His voice was almost a murmur. “Okay, G. You and me.” Griff squeezed his man hard for a second and pressed lips to the top of his head. His eyes shut of their own accord, and if a happy tear slipped out, neither of them noticed.

  Chapter 17

  EIGHT days later, Griff’s HotHead photo shoot almost split them up.

  Two hundred hours of waking up together, of making smal repairs and moving Griff’s stuff and paying off the debt and fucking like mink. Then Griff had to make good on his agreement with Alek.

  Dante blew a gasket.

  If he’d been jealous before, now he was completely irrational. It didn’t matter that they’d been on a website doing porn. It didn’t matter that this would keep them safe. It didn’t matter that no one would even know it was Griff in the photos. Now that they were a couple, Dante couldn’t take the idea of letting Griff stand in a studio for three days while some “whore” felt him up and snapped shots of his junk.

  Dante had even gone to Alek and tried to take his place. He’d begged and threatened, actualy, but Alek was adamant; he wanted Griff for the photos.

  Period. Which of course only exacerbated the situation. On the plus side, Dante didn’t physicaly attack Alek, but only because Griff apologized fast and got him to the truck in time.

  In the end, Griff agreed to let him come along, and Dante was determined to make the next three days a living hel for everyone involved, Griff included.

  During the ride up, Dante stood across the elevator fuming. His hostility smoked off him like heat in the desert until Griff was sure he was bending the air, forming mirages around them out of his rage.

  God save us from possessive Italians.

  They had taken the subway to Broadway-Lafayette and walked over to an old beat-up loft conversion on the Bowery, next to a homeless shelter and a methadone clinic. The battered red door opened to a grubby halway. This place had obviously been a factory at some point, and the elevator was open-faced, with a metal gate that alowed them to watch the bare concrete of the shaft as they crawled slowly up to the photographer’s apartment in tense silence.

  Finaly, as the lift crawled past graffiti painted on the concrete between the fourth and fifth floors, Dante muttered, “What a shithole.”

  “C’mon. She needs the space. Alek said she was realy talented and chil.” Griff glanced at Dante’s stiff shoulders; why was he stil acting so crazy? This had to be the slowest elevator in the universe.

  Dante smiled, but it didn’t reach his cold eyes. “Alek wants you so bad he’d cut his own throat to get your hands on him.”

  “Easy, tiger.” Griff clamped his lips together.

  Ding! They stepped out and looked right, then left into a hardwood-floored hal that creaked under their feet. There was faint music coming from one end; instinctively, they both headed in that direction.

  Dante walked a little ahead of him, making sure he got there first so he could give her what-for. “I’m not gonna put up with some slutty piece drooling over you and fondling you.”

  “D, you can’t have it both ways.”

  “Yeah, if I’m flirting with someone, I’m in charge. But how can I be sure what she does with you—” Dante realized he was talking to the air and walking alone. “Where are you going?”

  Griff had turned and was striding back across the creaking floor toward the elevators. “Going home. We’re gonna have to do this together. I spent my whole life trying t
o get to you. I’m not gonna wreck it over some chick we never met before who just wants to take some pictures. Alek is being generous to us. This is generous, dipshit.” Griff pressed the button.

  Dante reached him and raised a hand to touch him but didn’t. “C’mon, G. I’m sorry. I know… look, if the shoe was on the other—”

  “Then I’d fucking deal. Oh wait, I already did! ” Griff exploded in the empty halway, not giving a shit who heard. “I’m cleaning up a mess you made. You think I didn’t watch you on that site, flirting with Alek. A hundred times? A thousand? You think I don’t know every word you said, that I didn’t want to flush myself down the crapper every time you winked at him or licked your fucking mouth like you were gonna let him blow you? Like it wasn’t an axe in my head?” Dante’s face was frozen. His eyes were midnight glass, any trace of that green buried deep. “Wh—I—”

  “You know what? Fuck you. Fuck you twice. The idea of going in there to strip off for strangers and I wanna puke. But I’m doing it.” Griff braced himself against the wal and bent over, hands on his knees, looking at the floor. Finaly, he muttered, “I’m doing this for us. For you! It’s awful enough without you twisting the fucking knife.” He could see Dante standing close out of the corner of his eye, but neither of them moved.

  Dante made a smal sound that made Griff turn. He was fucking crying, standing like a broken soldier. Dante’s face was a rictus of agony, a tragic mask slick with pain.

  When Griff straightened to look at him, they both seemed smal in the vast halway.

  Dante nodded at the floor. “I can’t lose you, man.”

  “Then talk to me. Just talk to me and we’l figure it out.” Griff’s hand held out looked too big, like he would knock a hole in the plaster wals if he wasn’t careful.

  Dante shook in front of him, frustration leaking onto the floor one stinging drop at a time. He wouldn’t let himself take the pale hand.

  “C’mon, D. Enough with that bulshit. You know better.” Griff straightened and puled Dante into his chest, not giving a shit who saw the queer firemen. “You be brave for me and I’l do the same.” He kissed the top of the tangled head.

 

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