Fall Apart

by SE Culpepper

“Oh, I was plenty comfortable.”

  “You look delectable like that. My fingers are itching for my camera.”

  Damon watched the way Alarik was taking him in and the awesome sensation of power seized him. “Go get it. Take my picture if you want.”

  Alarik’s head shot up. “Really?”

  Damon nodded, resting his hands behind his head. “Go get it.”

  The words weren’t out of his mouth before Alarik was out the door and across the hall, banging around in his studio. He returned in less than a minute, digging through a camera bag and switching out lenses. It was a different camera than the one Damon had already seen. It looked more expensive than the first.

  “Now,” Alarik said roughly, “you promise to do as I say? No argument?”

  A frenetic buzz went through his body, but he agreed. “No arguments. Use me as you see fit.”

  Alarik actually groaned in pleasure at the words, his eyes rolling back a little before he let out a laugh. “If you’re not careful, this will be about more than pictures.”

  The sheet tented a bit.

  At first, Damon didn’t have to do much at all. He lay there naturally, occasionally looking at Alarik as he clicked away. When the directions started flowing, he posed himself however Alarik ordered: on his stomach, looking into the camera, stretched out on his back with the sheets barely covering him. Alarik moved around him with complete focus. Sometimes he was on the mattress, shooting pictures from above, other times he was on his knees beside the bed or lying on his own stomach and taking shots from Damon’s perspective.

  For the first time in his life, Damon felt sexy. The kind of sexy that Alarik seemed to come by so naturally with his skimpy underwear and wanton smile.

  As he moved around, Alarik didn’t say much, but when he did, it was with murmurs of approval and pleasure. The camera was almost always in front of his face, but twice, he dropped it to his side to look at Damon with admiration.

  He was kneeling on the bed and had just taken a picture when he let the camera fall away.

  “What is it?” Damon asked, running his fingers through his hair to get it off of his forehead. He could only imagine how it was going to look in these pictures. In fact, it might be better for him not to see them.

  Alarik didn’t respond at first, setting the camera on a pillow. He slid across the bed and pulled Damon into a tight embrace.

  “Enough,” he whispered. “It almost hurts to have you here and not hold you.”

  Damon’s heart went wild. “Be honest,” he dropped a kiss the other man’s shoulder, neck, and Adam’s apple. “How many shots did you take of my hard on?”

  Alarik laughed, his smile wicked as he pulled back to look into Damon’s eyes. “What hard on—oh!” His hand dropped down over Damon’s stomach. “You mean this hard on.” He squeezed gently, eliciting a breathless grunt.

  “Yeah,” Damon rasped, automatically lifting his hips. “That one.”

  “I took a few. Why wouldn’t I want to photograph such a willing subject?”

  Damon rolled his eyes. “Well, don’t get any ideas. I won’t do a sex tape.”

  Alarik dipped his head down and gave him the softest of morning kisses. “Never fear. I’ll keep you For My Eyes Only.”

  Damon’s stomach chose that moment to let out a ferocious growl and the two of them chuckled. Alarik pulled away and grabbed his camera. “Up, you. I’m taking you out for breakfast, but I need to drop off that wretched rental car first.”

  “Hmm. Breakfast. Yes.”

  “I brought your bag upstairs; it’s on the chair, there.”

  Even though Damon had just been on grand display for Alarik, his body still flushed with warmth as he slid from the bed with nothing on but what God had given him. He moved like greased lightening into the bathroom, ignoring Alarik’s teasing laughter that followed. He had to take a shower before he could take a piss because his dick was singing a rendition of Oh, What A Beautiful Morning! and he didn’t have the flexibility required for morning bladder stunt work.

  The door to the hall was open when he finished in the bathroom and Damon could hear Alarik working in his studio. Dressing as quickly as he could, his stomach still roaring, he crossed the hall and stopped mid-stride as he entered the room.

  The studio office was incredible. Organized chaos. There were three large computer screens side by side on a tall desk. Alarik was working with images on all three screens, using a stool to roll back and forth in front of them. His hands were flying over keyboards, using a mouse and fiddling with what looked like a desktop tablet. Images of Damon in bed were everywhere.

  “Just look at you, Damon,” Alarik breathed, never turning his attention from the pictures. “Your smile in this one,” he pointed. “Your eyes, your hair, your body…” he kept pointing in turn at individual pictures. “It takes my breath away.”

  Damon was incredibly pleased for no good reason and he shyly stepped up behind Alarik for a closer look. He was amazed. He had no idea he could look like this, especially first thing in the morning with bed head and stubble.

  “That’s me?” he asked, not quite believing it.

  Alarik spun around on the stool and pulled Damon forward to stand between his legs. “It’s you, darling… What do you think of yourself?”

  Damon’s eyes kept bouncing from image to image, dumbfounded. “I think that I’m going out with an amazing photographer.”

  Alarik smirked. “This is how you look, Damon. This is what I see whether you’re rolling around on a bed for me, or going with me to drop off a rental car.”

  “You lucked out, then, ‘cause I’m hot.” The genuine laughter that met this comment made Damon grin. I made a funny. “Come on. We’ll drop off the car and get some food. Your gorgeous sex slave needs to preserve his strength.”

  “Yes, yes,” Alarik grumbled playfully, turning to tap at his keyboards until the screens went dark. “We can’t have you becoming weak.”

  Damon was led through the house to a door near the kitchen that he hadn’t noticed the night before. It opened up into a small garage that barely allowed space for its occupant: a shining, dark blue Audi S5. Alarik turned in the tight space and held out a key fob. “Can you follow me?”

  His first instinct was to grab the key and laugh maniacally, but Damon kept his cool. “Sure.”

  “It’s a tight squeeze out of the garage, and the plants make it a bit hard to see.”

  Damon almost missed the warning because he got distracted by the way Alarik said “garage.”

  “I’ll treat her like I can’t afford to fix her, which I can’t.”

  Alarik grinned and punched the button to open the door. “I’ll just pull around with the rental, shall I? Then, you can follow.”

  Damon had to wait for Alarik to leave so he could open the car door and squeeze in. He sank into the seat and looked around like a kid. The car was only a couple years old, but it was in terrific condition. Leather seats and all the right accents. If he’d ever wondered about Alarik making more money than him, he needn’t any longer.

  “You still drive the used truck you bought in college,” he said aloud. “And you live in your grandma’s old place.”

  That’s not bad; it’s frugal.

  “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

  Alarik didn’t take long at the rental place and when he emerged from the building, Damon moved to the passenger seat, smiling when Alarik let out a sigh of contentment behind the wheel.

  “I only get to drive her when I’m in L.A. It’s pointless for me to keep a car in New York.”

  Sure. Pointless, Damon thought dryly.

  They drove to a restaurant that was less than two blocks away and parked on the street. The sign read Vinnie’s Diner above the door and the old-fashioned neon lettering was flickering. Inside, the place was definitely showing its age, but in a well used, satisfying kind of way. It was exactly the type of joint that he and the fellas would choose if they were out together. Maybe if he
and Todd hiked any trails down this way they could stop here.

  A cute girl in her twenties took their order to the actual Vinnie, a rail-thin man with a white mustache, who was managing all the orders with precision. Nothing distracted him from his task and the counter help and wait staff moved around him in a perfectly organized dance. Every couple minutes he’d smack a bell and slide a plate out for pick up. When someone came in and shouted a hello to him, he would answer without looking up. “Fred, sit at the counter—apple pie’s in the case!”

  “I’m not in town often enough to be recognized like Fred over there. Though, that might change.” Alarik took a sip of water and Damon tried not to read too much into those words, even though his ears were one hundred percent perked.

  “You’re thinking you might do a little more work on the west coast after your vacation?”

  “It’s looking more like that every day. I have several jobs lined up in a week and a half, some of them here in L.A. and some in New York, but I got an interesting offer from Max last night.”

  Damon sensed his scowl forming like it rode on a wave from the back of his head. “Maybe we should talk a little bit about that.”

  Alarik’s expression closed a tad. “What do you mean—my history with him? Or his job offer?”

  Damon shrugged, warming his hands on his coffee mug to give himself something to do under that scrutiny. “I meant what I said last night—”

  “I’m glad you did. I don’t want to be ‘shared,’” his tone was matter of fact. “Max asked me to work with him and Zane on this latest movie.”

  “What’d you say?” Damon asked, unable to keep himself from wondering what this unexpected offer meant for them.

  “I told him that I need to think it over. I have to look at my schedule—possibly find an assistant to help me manage things. But the offer is…attractive. I think they would offer a suitable contract.” When Damon didn’t respond right away, Alarik grabbed him around the wrist, his thumb running over the pulse point. “It would mean that I might be nearby when I’m not needed on location. If I don’t take the job, there’s no guarantee where I’ll be over the next few months. It would be nice to pretend that I have no obligations forever, but it would be a very rude awakening when I have to return to work.”

  The biological workings of Damon’s body seized up. Was Alarik actually saying that he was ready to take a job simply because it meant they might be closer? Wasn’t it early for decisions like that? Did this mean they were being smart jumping over that awkward relationship hurdle now, or were they being naïve because of attraction and a night of sex?

  Alarik’s confidence and sincerity were once again fucking with Damon’s mind. He couldn’t seem to find it within himself to match that mettle; it didn’t matter if he felt like he was falling for the other man or not, Damon didn’t think he could trust himself. This would be a great time to have Todd whispering to him through an earpiece. Relationship Secret Service.

  “I, uh, I guess you should do what you think is best for your career because, I mean, this could be good and bad for your work, right?”

  What superb delivery. Faultless poise there, jackoff.

  Alarik let go of Damon’s wrist and sat back in his seat, his sharp eyes everywhere, constantly assessing. “That’s how you feel about it? You’re concerned that I make a proper decision about my future.”

  Damon’s hackles rose. “Hey, it’s not only that. I just don’t want you to rush a decision on my account.”

  Alarik absorbed those words with an odd look on his face. If Damon had a little more time to analyze it, he’d say the guy was irritated. When a soft, “I see,” followed, Damon knew he was too late to prepare himself for what came next. Vinnie’s bell gave a loud Ding! like the start of a boxing match.

  “Do you want to know what I want?” Alarik asked tightly. “I want for you to answer a few important questions. Are you ready?”

  Damon opened his mouth to answer, but Alarik bulldozed him.

  “Do you want to see me after this week? After today?”

  Blood rushed to Damon’s face, but he gave the smallest of nods.

  “Aloud, if you please,” Alarik ordered, his gray eyes like gunmetal.

  “Yes…”

  “Very well. Tell me then, does it bother you that I’m certain enough of my own wishes that I’m unafraid of telling them to you?”

  No. It was intimidating. It was a quality that Damon envied. “No,” he answered.

  Alarik leaned over the table between them until they were staring directly into one another’s eyes. Blue to gray. Uncertain to firm. “Mr. Wright, four days isn’t enough for me. I want many more. I want your attention, your focus, your mind, your body. I want you, sir. This relationship can only go somewhere if we let it. So, it would do wonders for my frantic mind if you were to sit across from me now and tell me what you want.”

  It could’ve been a moment when Damon chose to get pissed off, but the words frantic mind stood out and he realized what that look in Alarik’s eyes meant. He was scared, too. “I’m quite at your mercy,” Alarik had said only days ago.

  “I think it’d be perfect if you could take that job so we can see where this goes,” Damon said quickly. “Even if it means you’re working for a man who wishes I were dead.”

  Alarik didn’t move or react. “So, you want me as I want you?”

  “No,” Damon smiled. “I want you more.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  On Friday morning Damon went in to work early, but he still didn’t get there before his dad. The bell jangled his arrival and Leo looked up from a stack of receipts with a broad smile.

  “Hey, kid.”

  Damon saluted and rounded the counter to give his dad a one-armed squeeze around the shoulders. “You look good, dad.”

  “Feelin’ good.”

  “How’s mom?”

  Leo made a whistling noise, trying to cover up his enjoyment. “Oh, she’s curious and annoyed about it.”

  Damon rolled his eyes and leaned over the counter, resting his chin on his arms. “Figures. What’s bugging her most?”

  “She went by your place yesterday and you hadn’t come home yet.”

  Damon immediately straightened. “She’s checking up on me? She went to my place?”

  “Your mom wanted to return that book you let her borrow three years ago.”

  “What book?”

  “Exactly.” Leo nudged him. “Don’t get too worked up. This is how she shows she cares. A mother who stalks is a mother who loves.”

  Damon snorted and began a round of the store, folding clothes that were out of place, adjusting hangers on the racks. “Alarik dropped me off last night around six. You can share that with her.”

  Leo dragged the tall stool he usually rested on from behind the counter and took a seat. “I don’t want to pry. Whatever you say doesn’t automatically get shared with your mother, Day.”

  A slice of guilt came and went and Damon apologetically looked up from a rack of speedos. “I know. And I know she means well, too. She wants me to be with someone, but the second she finds out about a guy I dated or am dating, she gets nasty.”

  “She doesn’t like that she can’t protect you kids from everything.”

  Damon gave a nod and went back to arranging the neon swimsuits. “I have some news she wouldn’t believe in a million years…”

  Leo’s brows lifted expectantly.

  “I met The Mercenary.”

  His dad clasped his knees with both hands and his eyes bugged a bit. “Did you see him at a restaurant with your friend?”

  Damon laughed. “His house was the restaurant. I ate steak and grilled vegetables at Zane Whitlow’s house. Apparently, he and Alarik go way back.”

  “You fuckin’ with me?”

  Reaching into his back pocket, he grabbed his phone and pulled up his photos. “I figured I wouldn’t have the chance again and nobody would believe me, so I turned into a fan girl. Asked for a few pics.”
Damon handed the phone to his dad and moved beside him so they could scroll through the pictures together. “That’s him—right there. Tall, right? And this one is of him and his husband, Mark.”

  “Oh, yeah, yeah! I forgot he got hitched. I forgot he was gay, actually,” Leo commented, plucking a pair of reading glasses from his front pocket to get a better look. He touched the screen to slide to the third picture. “You and Zane, huh?”

  “With his arm over my shoulder like that, I look short.”

  “Nah.”

  The last picture was of Alarik and Zane together. Damon had forgotten about it. Max Hayama was even in the background.

  “Who’s this with Whitlow?”

  “That’s uh…” Damon swallowed. “That’s my—the guy I told you about. Alarik.”

  Leo adjusted his glasses, holding the phone up close, then far away like he was playing an imaginary trombone. “He seems like a nice young man—dresses nice, doesn’t he?”

  “Yeah,” Damon answered, carefully observing every nuance of his father’s reaction. He was surprised how much the approval meant to him. “I think you’d like him, Pop.”

  Leo handed his son the phone and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “If you think so, I’m sure you’re right. How old is he?”

  Needing something to do with his hands, Damon talked while he worked, every now and then glancing up to try and read his dad’s expression. “He’s thirty-eight. A photographer. He was born in Finland, raised by his aunt and uncle in London.”

  “Exotic! You and me, we like unique people. Look at your mom—she’s nuts.”

  “She’d flatten you if she heard you say that,” Damon warned.

  “Probably, but then all I have to do is fake a heart attack. This contraption I’m wearing ain’t just for looks. It has its uses.”

  Damon knew it was only a joke, but it hollowed out his stomach all the same. It was too easy to remember how his dad looked those times they’d nearly lost him. “Don’t kid around about that stuff, dad.”

  Leo brushed off the comment and slouched lower in his chair. “Everybody’s so sensitive nowadays. It’s a bad heart, not a bad joke.” When Damon began to protest, Leo raised his hand to cut him off. “Fine, I’ll only make jokes about you. That being said, I want to tell you that if you ever want to bring Alarik by the house, he’s welcome. I’d like to meet him some time if you’re okay with that. Otherwise, I have to rely on what your mother says and she’s convinced he’s MI-6.”