Behind Iron Lace

by Celeste, Mercy

  “Take me home, now before I lose this feeling. I never want to lose this feeling, Caleb.” Darcy reluctantly climbed off his lap, his body pulsing in places he never knew could pulse, but he ignored the sensation long enough to work his phone and let the department secretary know he was leaving for the day.

  “Think it’s safe to go out there? I mean you look like you’re about to come in your pants. Your lips are swollen, beb, like you’ve been well kissed.” Caleb’s laugh coupled with the fire burning in his eyes made Darcy weak.

  “And you think you look any more composed? God, Caleb the monster hard on you’ve got in your pants makes me want to—”

  “Christ, don’t say it. I’ll never get it under control if you say it.”

  “Suck you dry.”

  “Now that, cher, was just mean. Shit, grab your stuff, let’s get out of here. I need to get you naked in the worst possible way.”

  Darcy let Caleb leave first, just in case there were any students lingering in the hall. Darcy met him downstairs and followed him to his rental car. “My apartment isn’t far. I walk in on nice days like today.”

  “You call this nice? It’s overcast and cold. I should have brought a jacket.” Caleb let him in and closed the door. Darcy watched him walk around the car, one almost exactly like the one he’d had in New Orleans except black.

  “Welcome to Oregon, it’s like this pretty much year round.”

  “No wonder you couldn’t handle the New Orleans heat.” He started the car, but didn’t put it in gear, instead he turned and kissed him quickly.

  “I got used to it.” Darcy said trying to catch his breath. “Shit, don’t do that again. At least not until we get off this fucking campus.”

  “Tell me where to go.” Caleb put the car in reverse and in moments Darcy had him heading in the right direction.

  “My apartment is in an old townhome on the top floor, it’s on the small side but it is decent,” he said, giving directions for the quickest way off the campus and into the parking space he never used.

  They climbed the stairs and just as soon as Darcy had the door open, Caleb pressed him against the wall, his mouth found all the right spots, his fingers were almost magical in their ability to strip him of clothes and breath. “Bed or floor?”

  “Bed, it’s over there.” Darcy nodded to the mattress set on the floor in the middle of his living room. “I never managed to get it to the bedroom. Saw no reason to, really.”

  “None at all,” Caleb agreed, his eyes going to the lone piece of art in the whole place. “That’s mine.”

  “I know. I bought it after I came home. I needed something of you and that piece tore my heart out.”

  “I painted it after my dad died in an accident. Never could get the fucking colors right.” He tugged Darcy toward the bed and fell backward taking him with him. “I like that you have it.”

  Darcy pulled Caleb’s shirt over his head, taking the vest with it and tossed them to the floor. He pulled the fly on his jeans open and with a sigh, took both of them in his hand and stroked.

  “Christ, where the hell did you learn that?” Caleb bucked against him, throwing his head back. “Shit—feels good. Do you have anything?”

  “In the bathroom, down the hall.” Darcy lay against him. He licked his neck as he strained, slowly grinding his body into Caleb’s. The fabric of his jeans was rough against his legs, but Darcy didn’t mind, it felt good.

  “That’s too far away. You were careful?” Caleb gripped his ass cheeks, his fingers digging in. “Fuck, Darcy, baby, it’s been too long, I’m too close.”

  “I was careful. Come for me, Caleb, I want to see you come.” Darcy pressed into him grinding his cock between them. He leaned over him holding his mouth just over Caleb’s and flicked his lips with his tongue. The helplessness in Caleb’s eyes drove him to do things he never would have before. “That’s it, baby, purr for me.”

  “I like you like this.” Caleb panted against his mouth, straining to close the distance. “Kiss me, I’m coming. Shit, Darcy, kiss me.”

  Darcy leaned over him and pressed his mouth to Caleb’s, he swallowed his moans of pleasure and then gave him his in return. “I love you,” he said when he could form the words.

  Caleb lay still beneath him, his breath coming in short gasps. “Mon amour doux, my sweet love, Je t’aime.”

  “God I love when you speak French. Makes me horny as hell.” Darcy could feel Caleb’s chest vibrate before he heard the rumbling laugh and then all he heard was French, slow soft words he didn’t know the meaning of but his body didn’t care. “I know what Je t’aime means and that is all that counts.”

  “Say it back to me.” Caleb ran his hands over his body. The heat of his fingers had him hard again in seconds flat.

  “Je t’aime.”

  “That’s my cher.” Caleb grinned that wicked grin of his and Darcy forgot there was a world outside their bed.

  Chapter Nine

  “Tell me about this?” Darcy lay below him, his blue eyes mere slits, his hand pressed between their bodies, clasping the cross medallion.

  Caleb sighed and rolled to his side, he rested his hand on top of Darcy’s. “It was my grandmother’s. I wanted you to have it. I don’t know, Darcy, I can’t find the words to explain right now.”

  “It was special to you.” Darcy didn’t want to let it go. “You never speak of her.”

  “I don’t remember her. She died of congestive heart failure when I was a little kid. I remember she wore the cross and these.” He held his arms up letting the silver slither over his skin. He remembered how she was kind to him and that she smelled of roses and had a thick French accent. “She was French, from Paris, it’s why we all know the language and not just the Cajun French. She barely spoke English. I don’t like remembering.”

  “Why?” Darcy rolled to face him. His long arms embraced him, holding him close. He rubbed his nose to Caleb’s cheek.

  “My maman and father were nineteen when I was born. My grand-pere forced the marriage on my father. He went to South Carolina and threw money at my other grandparents. He was a hard man to like. My maman came home when I was around two. It was the first time I ever came to New Orleans. And there she was, this sweet smelling woman who held me and gave me cookies. I didn’t understand a thing she said, but she smiled a lot and she wore the cross and other silver necklaces. Always. I never saw her without them. She taught me French. And what it was like to be loved. I didn’t know what love felt like.”

  “I’m sorry, baby, I shouldn’t have pried.” Darcy held him closer and nuzzled his neck.

  “It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would,” Caleb said honestly. He could see the wrought iron railing surrounding the house in New Orleans. The rocking chair she would sit in just holding him and singing to him. “Her name was Clemence. My maman was so young. She was also vain and selfish. Her only thought was my daddy. And he didn’t think of her at all. They fought all the time. Never should have married. I look just like him except for my eyes. They’re my grand-pere’s eyes, and my maman’s. Jeb has Grand-mere’s eyes. He’s a lot like her. It’s why Grand-pere didn’t leave the family business to him. Jeb didn’t want it. Anyway. She died when I was five, I think. And my daddy came to New Orleans and took us back to Charleston. I barely spoke English at the time. And I didn’t know who he was. It’s all wrapped together in my memory. I didn’t understand why maw-maw was gone and this angry man had taken me away from her. I didn’t understand the people I lived with. My other grandmother was cold, hateful. My grandfather was a silent man who said very little. His son had disappointed him. But they had money again. My parents split up and came back together about seven times. He was cold to me. Martha came to live with us when we bought the big house outside town. She became the only person who cared about me. Made sure I had food, and clothes. She took me to school and ferried me to afterschool things. She took the place of my maw-maw. After I was banished, she found me in New York.
She wasn’t afraid of Grand-pere. She flew up to see me and she brought me the jewelry. Maman sent it. Maman couldn’t come, Papa wouldn’t. Maman gave me the silver because she knew I loved playing with it when I was a child. It gave me some peace. I had the shorter chains made into bracelets. I had a picture of the townhouse with maw-maw and me sitting on the front steps. I took it to a friend at a tattoo place and I covered my scars from prison with the iron lace on the railings we sat behind watching as New Orleans flowed past us. Sounds silly. That was more than thirty years ago.”

  “It’s not silly, Caleb,” Darcy placed a kiss on his nose, then his lips. His eyes were filled with tears. “Not silly at all. You have a large capacity for love. You needed to be loved.”

  “Right now, bebe, I need to love you.” Caleb grinned as confusion filled those blue eyes. The smile on his lips told him he agreed. “I need to love you, Darce, to fill you full and make you mine.”

  “I am yours. I’ve been yours since you walked into O’Doul’s bar that afternoon. I just didn’t know it then.” Darcy slid his fingers along Caleb’s back making him gasp. “Make love to me, like you did our first night together.”

  His voice was soft, merely a whisper, caressing Caleb through to his heart. “Mon amour doux. My sweet, sweet, Darcy, love.”

  He found the bottle they’d stashed under a pillow and worked his fingers inside him, and then he rolled him onto his back. “Make me forget my name. Make me yours.”

  “You are mine. Only mine.” Caleb loved this man. He loved the blue eyes that held his heart and his sweet lips that said Caleb’s name as if it were precious. “Mine. My bebe.”

  He eased inside his lover. He swallowed the gasp that formed on Darcy’s lips, taking it deep into his being. “Love you, Darcy. Love you,” he said as he stroked into him. “I love what you do to me. I—oh baby, you feel so good. So tight around me. I love being inside you. Making love to you.”

  “Caleb.” Darcy wrapped his arms and his legs around him. He arched into him meeting his thrusts. “Feels so good Caleb. So—I’m—I love you so much. Stay with me. Let me love you. I want to—love—oh—”

  Caleb felt Darcy’s orgasm begin. He reached between their bodies and stroked him, pushing him over. Only when he lay trembling in his arms did Caleb allow himself to tumble over.

  He lay sprawled atop his lover, sweat soaked and heavy limbed. Light still spilled in around the blinds. It was still today. And today, he was Darcy’s. “I’m hungry, bebe, you want to go out to eat or order something in.”

  “What if you’re the only thing I want right now?” Darcy groaned against his neck. “Oh, God, that was intense, I could lie here with you forever.”

  “Sounds good to me, cher,” Caleb laughed, it felt so good to laugh. “But we need to eat.”

  “Later.” Darcy flipped him on the bed, his voice a growl. “We’ll eat later. Right now, I need to make sure you know I meant what I said.”

  “And what exactly did you say?” Caleb sighed at the first taste of his luscious lips. He could stay here forever. He didn’t really need food as long as he had Darcy.

  “I love you.” His voice was soft, almost timid. He blushed as he traced a long finger over Caleb’s lips. “Don’t leave me.”

  “I won’t. I’m yours. I love you more than I know how to begin to tell you.” It was true. He had no frame of reference. This thing with Darcy was completely uncharted territory for him. “So, bebe, what you going to do about it?”

  Darcy just smiled his eyes sparkled with mischief. Oh, God but he loved this man. Darcy kissed him then. And Caleb forgot all about hunger and everything else.

  Somehow, the next morning Darcy managed to leave for class without waking Caleb. They’d never made it out of the house that evening, ordered in food and stayed in bed until sleep finally found them both in the early morning.

  Darcy couldn’t remember ever talking so much to one person. Or laughing. Caleb made him laugh. He made him feel special. Loved. He whistled as he walked to work. The sun was out, it was nearly fifty degrees, a nice fall day to be sure. Halloween was coming. He needed to buy new furniture. He thought about a bigger bed but he liked sleeping pressed close to Caleb, he liked having his legs tangled with Caleb’s. They should probably get a bigger place.

  He stopped walking as a thought occurred to him. What if Caleb didn’t want to move in with him? Caleb was used to mansions and—

  He shook the worry away, no use borrowing trouble.

  His first two classes were uneventful, American literature, followed by Freshman English and the dreaded essays.

  His Brit lit class started out as usual. The grumblings about having to read aloud. The “why do we have to do this Mr B? This sucks.”

  But after they finished Macbeth, and the laughter at his falsetto Lady Macbeth died away he asked for questions. A girl from the back row raised her hand, Darcy couldn’t remember her name. She was one of the quiet ones, one of his Goths, with her purple lips and heavily lined eyes. “Mr B, we were all wondering who the guy from yesterday is? He looked like a rock star.”

  Darcy felt the blood drain from his face. He hadn’t expected the bold question, he forced a smile. “He’s not a rock star, he’s an artist.”

  “Ooh, look at Mr B blush,” another girl said, one of the preps this time.

  Darcy didn’t like where this was going. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest.

  “Did you hear his accent? Oh my God, where’s he from, Mr B? Sounds like something you hear on TV.”

  “He’s from New Orleans.” Oh shit, why didn’t he just shut the fuck up?

  “Is he your boyfriend, I bet he is, I saw the way you looked at him yesterday and thought Mr B is in love.” It was the Goth girl again. She rested her chin on her hand and stared directly at him with a pair of lavender no-nonsense eyes.

  “Oh come on, Mr B, you may as well fess up. He’s your boyfriend isn’t he?”

  Darcy didn’t know who said it. His fingers trembled. He clutched the book too tight, bending it. “What if he is?”

  “We knew it! Mr B is in love.”

  “Oh, come on, Mr B, this is the twenty-first century no one cares if you’re gay.”

  Darcy couldn’t process everything he was hearing, his heart had yet to go back to normal. Did they really not care?

  “His name is Caleb, we met last summer. He’s Cajun. I fell in love with his accent.” Shit why was he telling his students this?

  “I have just one question.” Goth girl sighed very loudly, Darcy had hardly ever heard her speak before now and gave her his full attention. “Why is it all the really pretty men like really pretty men? Seriously, Mr B, I just don’t get it.”

  Darcy felt the blush spread down his neck. “I can’t answer that, Jewel.” He finally remembered her name. “I’m sure there are several pretty men out there who are into girls as pretty as you. All you have to do is take a look around.”

  It was her turn to blush, Darcy sighed with relief when the attention turned to her instead of him.

  “Okay, back to Macbeth, what do you think Shakespeare meant to accomplish by his use of magic and murder in this story?”

  After class, Darcy managed to slip out without any further questioning. The walk home seemed longer than it should. Doubts began to form in his brain. What if Caleb wasn’t there? What if it had all been a lie?

  He shouldn’t have worried; Caleb was stretched out on his stomach asleep with the blankets wrapped around his waist, one long tanned leg hanging off the mattress. His sun-streaked hair lay around his shoulders in a tousled mess, the pale growth of beard making him look almost piratical.

  Darcy studied the tattoo across his lower back, black ink scrolling like the iron railings in New Orleans, yet beneath it he could just barely make out the raised edges of Caleb’s past. He shivered. He didn’t think it was from the cold permeating the room.

  “Come to bed, cher, keep me warm.” One green eye peered at him, his lips stretche
d into a wide smile. Darcy could hear exhaustion in his voice. His whole body ached from wanting him, and needing sleep.

  “I—” he closed his mouth on what he was going to say, he didn’t want him knowing how insecure he was right now. He stripped to the skin and in seconds he was under the blanket and pressed against Caleb’s warm body.

  “I meant it when I said I’d stay. You don’t have to worry about me leaving, beb.” His lips were warm, on Darcy’s cheek. “How was class?”

  “Same as usual.” He didn’t want to discuss what happened in his last class just yet. There were other more important things on his mind. “Will you move in with me?”

  Caleb raised up on his elbow and peered down into his eyes. “I thought I already had, cher.” He tugged at the cross around Darcy’s neck. “I’m not going anywhere without you, Darcy. Never again.”

  “Not even back to New Orleans?”

  “There’s nothing left there, my heart is here with you. ‘Course it could be warmer, but I know a really great way to stay warm.” He trailed kisses across Darcy’s shoulder, ultimately finding his mouth. “A little game called down the bayou, want to play?”

  Darcy didn’t have to say a word, Caleb just smiled and slowly worked his way southward along Darcy’s body, until he had him so hot and bothered he forgot there was such a thing as a past, nor did he care if there was a future. All that mattered was the here and now, and the incredible things a French speaking Cajun man could do with his mouth.

  “Merde.” He reached out, sinking his hands in Caleb’s hair, the word the only thing he could think to say for a very long time.

  Chapter Ten

  The sun was still up when Darcy managed to drag Caleb out of the small apartment. It was Friday, and Caleb would have just as soon stayed in bed for another day or two. “Come on, it’s a gorgeous day outside. Sunny, warm, in the mid-fifties, let’s go out and do something?”