Counterpoint

by Anna Zabo

  “This was your idea.” Adrian slid an arm around him again, and pulled their bodies close. “And I don’t have to—you’re already tipsy.” Drunk on old instruments and sound.

  A huff of a laugh. “I’ll give you that.”

  They opted to split a sandwich and get two glasses of wine. It was still early enough that the bar wasn’t horribly crowded, which was good, since there wasn’t anywhere to sit, so they leaned on the railing.

  Dominic ate his half of lunch in silence, peering out over Central Park. He cleared his throat, then sipped his wine. “I don’t know if I can explain what it means to be able to touch an instrument like that, to play it, to be connected to all that history.” He shook his head.

  “You don’t have to explain.” Adrian turned from the stellar view of the city to take in an even better one—Dominic’s soft smile. “I saw what it meant when you played. What it means to you now.”

  Dominic’s eyes were lovely and full of thanks. “I’m glad we’re here.”

  So was he. Adrian was so very grateful he was standing on the roof of the Met and that Dominic Bradley was in his life.

  * * *

  For Dom, one of the best parts about Sunday was when Adrian cooked breakfast. Anything Dom asked for. Waffles. Pancakes. Bacon. Today, he’d asked for an omelet and Adrian had crafted this brilliant one of onions, bacon, tomatoes, and some very sharp cheddar.

  Perfect. Utterly. And the look on Adrian’s face when Dom groaned at the taste only made the moment better. When he could talk without a full mouth, he spoke. “You kinda get off on cooking and feeding me, don’t you?”

  Adrian’s grin was lopsided and matched his messy hair. He wore a pair of shorts low on his hips and nothing else. “I enjoy taking care of you in many ways.”

  Including holding him down and fucking him until he couldn’t think. Dom squirmed on the breakfast bar stool. “I wish there was something I could give back to you.”

  Adrian stilled, and Dom got the distinct impression that he almost said something before a tight smile returned. “You give me enough.”

  “What? What were you going to say?”

  A touch of color on those cheeks. “Not something I should ask for.”

  That baffled Dom. Because honestly, he couldn’t think of anything Adrian could ask for that he wouldn’t give. Well, maybe not a gangbang or something like that. But he didn’t think that was Adrian’s thing anyway. “Tell me. I mean, if I’m not willing, I’ll let you know.”

  Adrian turned away to grab the pan off the stove and take it to the sink. The lines of his body were sharp and tense. “Hearing you play that old guitar yesterday was amazing. I’d very much like to hear you play again.” He turned, and there was sadness in his eyes. “But I know it’s off the table.”

  God, the conflict in Dom’s head and heart hurt. He wanted to share that with Adrian, but the moment he outed Domino, what he had with Adrian might end. Or Domino would. He let out a breath.

  Adrian’s shoulders dropped, and sorrow moved from his eyes to his smile. “That’s why I didn’t want to ask.”

  Dom pressed a hand to his chest. He hated when his heart beat like this, flopping and hard. It made his lungs tight and his mind race. Fucking hell. Maybe, maybe there was a way to play for Adrian without bringing in Domino. After all, he had played at the Met. “We can get my acoustic.” He managed to push the words out.

  A play of emotions crossed Adrian’s face before settling into concern. “Are you sure, Dominic? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

  It wasn’t Adrian doing that, it was Dom’s own life. The voice that told him Adrian could never love a rocker like Domino. But acoustic and classical pieces, he could play those. Tension drained from his back and the voice quieted. “Yeah. We just have to go to my place to get it.”

  A soft smile replaced the frown. “Thank you.”

  They finished breakfast, and though they were both quiet, it was still warm and tender. Adrian skimmed fingers over Dom’s bare back, and pressed a kiss to his shoulder before grabbing their dishes.

  They showered and dressed and headed out into the overcast day. Warm and humid, one of those sticky summer days when you hoped it would rain. Nearly matched Dom’s mood. He caught Adrian’s hand in his. “My place isn’t as nice as yours on the inside. It’s still kind of sterile. Would you mind if we came back here after I grab my guitar?”

  “Not at all,” Adrian murmured.

  Dom led them toward his place, down streets and through Prospect Park. He really didn’t think of the brick town house as home that much. Was his on paper, but not really in his soul. Classic on the outside. Modern inside. Kind of the opposite of Dom, really.

  Throughout the walk, Dom knew Adrian had questions. Wanted answers. He watched those eyes and that face and the restraint.

  He fucking didn’t deserve this man. At all. He never wanted to let him go.

  When they made it to his place, Adrian tilted his head. “Shall I wait here?”

  Dom nodded, his throat tight. Adrian knew where he lived now. But inviting him inside would expose too much of Domino. “Do you mind? It’s kind of a disaster inside. I haven’t picked up recently.” Not entirely the truth, but not really a lie, either. There was so much of his rock-star life scattered around the house at the moment, anyone stepping inside would know instantly who Dom was.

  There was that sad smile again. But Adrian drew him in and kissed him on the forehead. “Go. I’ll wait here.”

  Dom went, heart in his throat. Up the steps, into his house and to the living room, where he kept his favorite acoustic guitar. He slipped it into its case, and was back out the door as fast as he could manage, heart slamming in his chest. He could do this. Bring a tiny bit of his musical life to Adrian.

  Adrian kissed him when he returned. “Better?”

  It was. The fear was there, the thought that this was a mistake, but not so horrible now. “Yeah. Thanks for understanding.”

  Fingers brushed the hair from his forehead. “Privacy is important.”

  So was trust. He should trust Adrian. But a knot kept forming in his soul at the thought of unraveling his life that much. If Adrian rejected Domino, where would that leave Dominic? And if Adrian didn’t—how soon would the world know about Dom’s real name?

  The walk back was relaxed, and like the sun peeping though the clouds, Adrian’s smile broke through the gloom in Dom’s soul.

  He didn’t take the guitar out right away. They relaxed in the library, reading snippets of books to each other until Adrian’s sensual poetry reading got the better of Dom, and he plucked the book from Adrian’s hands and kissed him until they were both breathless and hard.

  “Downstairs. Now.” Adrian’s voice was both commanding and guttural. Dom did as told, with pleasure.

  Clothing ended up everywhere in their wake. On the stairs, in the hallway when Adrian rammed Dom up against the wall and jacked him off until he was moaning and struggling against that hard body. “Gonna come,” he gasped between kisses.

  “Not yet, you aren’t.” But Adrian didn’t stop stroking, not until Dom was trembling and incoherent.

  Wasn’t fair. Was absolutely everything Dom loved.

  When they finally ended up in bed, there was only skin and mouths and teeth. Lubed fingers and moans. Cocks grinding together. Then Adrian entered him and everything was right in Dom’s world. He was full and home and Adrian had him.

  He loved the way Adrian fucked him, somehow brutal and tender at the same time. Dom came hard and fast, too stunned to even cry out.

  Adrian followed, Dom’s name—all three syllables—on his lips. In the aftermath, when they were tangled in each other’s arms under the sheets, Dom whispered, “Can I play for you?”

  He felt Adrian’s shudder. His answer was full of gravel and almost begging. “Please, Dominic. Please.”
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  The air in the house was cool and the trip down to the living room to collect his guitar felt like a dream. But then, everything in Adrian’s house was that way.

  When Dom returned, he sank down on the bed next to Adrian, guitar in hand, and touched the strings to tune them.

  Then he played.

  The calm was breathtaking. Just like always. Music was the life he’d chosen, the one he’d loved. With or without Domino, in the still and quiet, he could stroke the strings, feel the vibration against his skin and hear the notes. So many notes. Snippets of classical pieces. Jazz. Modern. He even played a few lines from one of the band’s new songs.

  When he finished, he found Adrian’s gaze and it was full of admiration and awe, and that both broke and healed Dom’s heart.

  “Babe,” Adrian whispered. “That was beautiful. Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome.” He rose and set the guitar back in its case.

  When he returned to bed, Adrian pulled him into his arms. “You’re a gift.”

  He didn’t know about that, only that his soul ached as much as his heart and he so desperately wanted to climb over the fear that held him from telling Adrian about Domino.

  But that wall seemed too high and the fall on the other side so great. Instead, he lay in Adrian’s arms and drank in his warmth, touch, and kisses.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dom was getting used to the whiplash effect of moving in and out of his two lives. Weekdays, more often now than not, he was Domino, even dressing the part to go into the studio.

  Part of it was a marketing ploy—their show was coming up. He even headed out on the town with the rest of the band a few times. Camera and cell phone flashes. Autographs. People screaming their names. His name.

  God, he loved it. As much as the stage and the center of attention scared Dominic, Domino thrived in that environment. Dom could be as brash and cocky and brave as he wanted to be in this, his other life.

  And he had another life now, not just moments as Dominic, but during the weekends and a few weeknights, he was Dominic and with Adrian, thoroughly enjoying every aspect of what it meant to be dating him, from the lovely food to the stimulating conversation, to the sex that left him wrecked and panting and wanting more, even when he topped.

  Thursday had been a full-out Twisted Wishes fun fest. He’d started the day as Domino, sneaking out of his house in the very early mornings, hoodie pulled over his head and slouching through the subway. Once in Manhattan, he’d relaxed and let people see a little more—and soon he’d caught some kids staring and trying surreptitiously to take photos of him.

  Dom raised his head, held up his middle finger to his lips, then broke into a smile when the kids gasped and laughed. Then he let them take selfies with him and signed one girl’s arm.

  At the next stop, he got off because he was close enough to walk to the studio without too much trouble. He stepped out into the bright day, tossed his hoodie back, and strode through the city on his way to their studio.

  When he got there, Ray gave him a look. “Having a little fun?” He waved his phone with Instagram opened and photos of him and the kids on the subway displayed.

  Dom shrugged. “Eh, it’s been a while.”

  Mish snorted. “For someone who claims to hate the spotlight, you have such an odd fucking way of showing it.”

  Zavier was silently fiddling with his drum kit, but he had the damn smile on his face.

  “Look,” Dom said. “I kinda miss being Domino sometimes. And I can be in the spotlight as him.” He certainly couldn’t as Dominic.

  “Actually, I’m glad for this.” Ray waved his phone again. “’Cause it’s good they’re seeing you out, too. There were some really weird rumors you’d been booted from the band.”

  Dom laughed. He couldn’t help it. But once the absurdity had worn off, sobriety slipped in—the humbling kind. “Yeah, I guess I could see how people might think that.”

  “But the more they see you—coming to the studio, going out with us, out on your own—the more those will go away. They’ll know you’re a part of the band.”

  “I’ve been here the entire time!”

  Zavier stood. “But not as Domino. And you’ve been enjoying your other life.”

  Dom swung around, fear twisting up his spine. “What are you saying, Zav?”

  He held up his hands. “Nothing in particular. Just that you haven’t melded these two sides of you.”

  “I don’t intend to.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he’d said and what that meant—keeping Adrian out of the loop permanently. Which wasn’t sustainable. He was going to lose Adrian in the end.

  But the thought of the spotlight shining down on the Dominic that Adrian knew—and that light being trained on Adrian himself—tied Dom’s stomach into knots and had his heart pounding. It was as if he’d been transported back to that first time onstage behind Ray—as himself, not Domino. Ray could take the spotlight, the crowds, and the scrutiny. But could Adrian? Was it even fair to ask him to endure what he couldn’t without a disguise?

  Dom couldn’t do it, not as Dominic. He thought he could, but he’d been wrong.

  Zavier’s shoulders dropped. “Dom.”

  “Don’t you start.” He rounded on them all. “Don’t any of you start. It’s my life and my decision.” Even if a voice in the back of his head screamed that it was perhaps the most foolish one he’d ever made in his life.

  “I can’t be Dominic and Domino at the same time.” He spoke softly, and peered at Ray, his oldest friend. The one that had been there in high school after that talent show, when he’d puked his nerves up into porcelain. “I can’t. I’m not—” he gestured at himself “—built for rock-and-roll when you take all this shit off.”

  Ray opened his mouth as if to say something, then must have thought better of it. But after another moment, he did speak. “You’re the best damn guitarist I know, Dom.”

  The anger was ebbing, but the horror, the creeping along his veins at the thought of leaving Adrian started working up his body. “Can we just play? That’s what we’re here for, right?”

  Mish clapped him on the back. “Get your guitar, sweetheart, and let’s get to work.”

  Took a few songs to get out of his head and into the music, but once he did, Dom felt so much better. Didn’t matter if it was his electric or some three-hundred-year-old instrument—when there were strings under his fingers and notes in the air, everything in the world faded away.

  It was like being onstage. Or in Adrian’s bed.

  He didn’t fumble the next chord, or any of the ones after, even though his heart was in his throat and tears lurked behind his eyes.

  Domino Grinder didn’t cry, and there was a saving grace to that.

  * * *

  He didn’t go to Adrian’s Friday night—that he spent as Domino, too. Dinner out with the band, then hitting Broadway for a show. He’d let Adrian know earlier in the week that he’d have to break their streak of Friday dinners. “It’s...um...work-related.”

  “Ah,” Adrian had said, his voice thin over the phone. “I see. Well, I will miss you, certainly, but I know you do have a life outside of the one you share with me.”

  It was, as digs go, very gentle. Still, it hurt. “You free Saturday?”

  The reply came instantly, and was warm and smooth. “Of course. You’re welcome here anytime, Dominic. Any evening, any day.” He paused. “Though, if it’s during the week, I’m likely killing brain cells from stress in a cube.”

  Dom laughed. “Is it really that bad?”

  “Sometimes.” Ruefulness played out in his voice. “When should I expect you Saturday?”

  Dom dropped his voice low. “Early. Don’t bother getting dressed, ’cause I’ll just drag you back to your bed.”

  “Sounds lovely.” The
cheer was back in Adrian’s voice. “I can’t wait.”

  Now it was six-thirty in the morning, Dom hadn’t had any coffee, and he was standing on Adrian’s steps, wondering if this was, indeed, too early. He rang the bell and waited. When he was about to ring it a second time, the distinct click of locks being thrown sounded, and the door cracked open to reveal Adrian, muss-haired, bleary-eyed, and blinking, and wearing nothing but a pair of boxers that were way too low-slung.

  Damn, Dom would never get enough of seeing that body. “Hi.”

  Adrian’s smile was the best thing in the universe. He opened the door wider and reached for Dom. “Come here.” A whisper, slurred with exhaustion.

  He went, and wrapped his arms around this man he cared so damn much for. Kissed the junction where his neck met his shoulder.

  Adrian drew him inside, kicked the door closed, and threw the locks. “Upstairs,” he murmured against Dom’s hair.

  Dom let the duffel slip off his shoulder, let Adrian lead him up those stairs, strip every last piece of clothing off of him, and pull him down into his bed.

  Felt like home. Dom closed his eyes against kisses and touches. Adrian’s hands—his whole body—were warm. He’d lost the boxers along the way, and their bodies meshed perfectly, molding and sliding until there was very little space between them. When Adrian took his mouth, Dom moaned and tried desperately to beg for what he wanted without using words.

  Speaking would mean Adrian’s mouth wouldn’t be on his—and he needed to be lost in that kiss.

  Maybe Adrian figured it out, or maybe he wanted the same thing, but it only took a little bit of time for Adrian to get the lube and a condom, and then he was pressing in, opening up Dom. Minimum prep, which was fine, because he needed the sharpness, the fullness, to grunt and cry as Adrian took him.

  But it wasn’t the fast fucking he’d been expecting—no. It was something far more profound. Deep, long, slow strokes. Teasing kisses, smiles, and murmurs of endearments. His name. Babe.

  He came with tears in his eyes and Adrian swallowing his own name on Dom’s lips. Those long strokes turned shorter and harder, until he, too, had fallen over the edge into bliss.