Art of Love (Valley Boys Book 1)

by Vicki Tharp

  Demetri, Grant, and Sebastian worked with some of the younger kids on the animal wall while Roman corralled a couple of kids as they worked on the frames for the graffiti wall.

  The sun was high and hot, but at least the Santa Anas had died down quite a bit, so the wind didn’t whip up the dirt and ruin all the paint.

  By five in the afternoon, most of the parents had come to pick up their kids. Vondra entertained the few that remained on one of the concrete pads that had been poured during the week. There was still more concrete that needed to be poured, but the concrete company was backed up and didn’t yet know when they could come back.

  They still had to paint the four-square boxes and the hopscotch lines, but they were going to wait until they didn’t have so many kids running around that they would have to worry about one of them accidentally running through it.

  Roman gathered up the pans of paint and started pouring them into their respective cans. A little girl walked up, maybe four or five, her blond hair sweaty and sticking to her forehead. She hadn’t been one of the kids helping with the wall. Roman assumed she’d come from the churchyard next door.

  “Watcha doin’?” She squatted down beside him and watched him pour. “It’s so pretty. Gween’s my favorite color.”

  “Are you here alone?” Roman glanced around. Parents were driving up to the front of the church, picking up kids, but none of them appeared to belong to the little girl.

  “I’m with Jakey. He’s my bubba.”

  “Your brother?”

  The little girl nodded.

  “Malorie!” A boy of about ten came running up and grabbed her hand. “I told you not to leave the playground.”

  “I wanted to see the pretty colors.”

  Roman handed her the green brush. It still had some paint on it that hadn’t dried. He pointed to the short stack of newspapers. “Wipe the brush on there. You can help me use up the paint.”

  Malorie painted the newspaper, and before Roman could put the top back on the green paint can, she dunked the brush into the can almost up to her hand and slathered on more.

  The brother slapped a hand on his equally sweaty forehead. “I’m sorry.” He tugged her hand. “Put it down, Mal. Mom’s gonna be here any minute.”

  Roman held up a staying hand. “It’s okay. She’s not hurting anything.”

  “What are you guys doing here, anyway?”

  Roman gave him the basics. “The lot is for the whole community, even though The Cory Center owns the lot. If it’s okay with your parents, you’re more than welcome to come another day and help.”

  “That would be cool.”

  Malorie dipped her brush again, and Roman laughed. “I think your sister would want to come, too.”

  Over Jake’s shoulder, Roman watched the pastor start walking their way, that pickled expression plastered on his face that he always seemed to have every time he glanced over at the lot.

  The man put his hands on the boy’s shoulders, and to Roman said, “You need to leave these kids alone. It’s not right what you’re doing here.”

  The confusion on the boy’s face had him looking up at the pastor.

  “They’re making the ugly lot nice for everyone. What’s wrong with that?”

  Demetri must have noticed the pastor had wandered over because he showed up beside Roman and casually linked a couple of fingers with him. Subtle, but enough to let Roman know he wasn’t facing the pastor alone.

  “We don’t appreciate your kind recruiting young children into a life of sin. They are impressionable and—”

  “Is there a problem, Pastor Tom?” A woman walked up, and Malorie put her brush down and took the woman’s hand.

  “I caught these men talking to your children. Don’t worry. I’ll speak to the city council and—”

  “He only asked if we wanted to come help paint sometime,” the boy told his mother.

  “Is he your boyfriend?” Malorie asked Roman.

  Demetri squeezed Roman’s hand. “Yes, he is.”

  The pastor became apoplectic, his face turning red. “That’s preposterous. Why would you say that to them? How do you explain to a young child—” The pastor waved his hand in the general direction of Roman and Demetri’s linked hands as if voicing their hand-holding was a sin.

  “Well,” the mother said, “Let’s see.” She squatted down next to her daughter. “All kinds of people fall in love. Sometimes it’s a mommy and a daddy. But sometimes guys love other guys, and girls love other girls.”

  “Like Julia? She has two daddies.”

  The mother grinned. “Yeah, like that.”

  Malorie looked like she was thinking about it for a second, then she said, “Can I get a Happy Meal on the way home?”

  “Sure.” The mother held out her hand, and Roman shook it. “Thank you for letting her paint. That was very sweet of you.” Then she turned to the pastor. “I think tomorrow’s sermon on love thy neighbor is particularly timely, don’t you think?”

  The boy giggled and ran ahead to his car. The pastor stormed off, and Malorie turned and waved at Roman. He waved back.

  “You have a way with kids,” Demetri said. “You attract them like bees to honey.”

  “I’m sure the pastor doesn’t think I’m so sweet. But I fucking loved that mother.”

  “She was amazing. For a minute there, I thought the pastor had stroked out, the way he stood there with his mouth agape, his eyes blinking rapidly in confusion.”

  “We should be so lucky. I know I shouldn’t be so surprised when a person is filled with irrational hate.” Like his mother. But Roman didn’t want to bring her into this. The more he didn’t think about her, the better. “But I’m surprised every time.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get over here sooner.”

  Roman squeezed Demetri’s hand before letting go. “Thanks. It’s nice to know someone has my back.”

  He squatted down and started hammering the lids onto the paint cans before Demetri could see the moisture pooling in his eyes. He hadn’t expected that discovering he wasn’t alone in the world would hit him so hard it would make his eyes leak and his chest refuse to expand.

  “Always.” Demetri leaned over and dunked all the brushes into the water bucket and started rinsing them.

  “And that whole boyfriend thing. You didn’t have to say that when we’re only...”

  Roman didn’t know how to finish that sentence, so he let it hang out there. Maybe Demetri wouldn’t notice he didn’t have the words.

  “I figured calling us fuck buddies was too reductive, and lovers sounds like something my mother would say.” Demetri fake shivered. “I don’t need that thought in my head. Besides, that’s what we are, right?”

  “You’re not afraid the pastor is going to tell the college?”

  “He has no reason to know who the hell I am, or even that you’re in one of my classes. I’m not worried about him. And I might have found a workaround for that pesky student-teacher problem, too.”

  They picked up the paint cans and old newspaper and started carrying them toward Grant’s truck. “What is it?”

  “I’ll tell you tonight.”

  Sounded like they had a lot to talk about. The potential solution to their biggest problem, and whatever the hell had been eating at Demetri that morning. Maybe once they got everything out into the open, that twist in Roman’s gut would finally unwind, and he could appreciate the fact that he had a boyfriend.

  Demetri led Roman through his front door. The exhausting day should have put a damper on his libido, but Roman always managed to rev his engines and get him hard no matter how sore or tired he was. His horniness even penetrated through his personal mindfuck of knowing he’d disclose later that night.

  That anxiety should have kept him soft, but short of being neutered, Demetri didn’t think that was possible with Roman in his house. As soon as the door closed, Roman pulled Demetri back and trapped him against the door, his hard cock pressed into Demetri’s hip. />
  “I’ve been waiting all day to get you like this.”

  For the first time since he’d bought the house, Demetri reached out and closed the front blinds. He’d never bothered before, loving the way the light came through the house.

  He’d been an open book, and living in a fishbowl hadn’t been a problem.

  Until he had something to hide. Or rather, someone.

  Closing those blinds went against Demetri’s nature, like a thief walking past a stack of hundred dollar bills and not taking them, but until they had everything figured out, he wanted to limit the chances of word about him and Roman getting out.

  That, and he liked the idea of keeping Roman naked as much as humanly possible.

  Roman kissed him slow and deep until the goosebumps flashed across Demetri’s flesh, and his cock developed a life of its own. He ground against Roman, and his resolve to not have sex until they talked faltered.

  Breaking the kiss, through heavy breaths, Roman said, “I think we need to hop in the shower and get clean so we can get dirty.”

  Roman didn’t wait for an answer. He took Demetri’s hand and headed for his shower, stepping around some of Joss’s construction debris in the hallway as he went.

  Demetri took his time washing Roman, loving the play of Roman’s thick muscles under his soaped-up hands. He cleaned every inch of Roman’s magnificent body, from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist to the two little indents above the most mouth-watering ass he’d ever gotten his hands on.

  He tried to memorize the form and the shading and the play of light and suds over Roman’s skin so he could paint him later, even though he knew that not even Michelangelo possessed the skill to do Roman justice.

  Because Demetri knew something Michelangelo didn’t. As classically beautiful as Roman was on the outside, it was the inside of the man that made him stunning.

  Next, Roman had his turn, and Demetri braced his hands on the cool tile. Water sluiced off his back from the rain shower head above. Roman liberally applied the soap, using his hands instead of a washcloth. He got into all the nooks and crannies and the crack of Demetri’s ass.

  “I love your ass.” Roman’s slick finger slid up and down Demetri’s crack, his finger lingering around his hole, teasing and torturing.

  Demetri groaned. “I love having your hands on my ass.”

  Roman shifted to the side so he could continue playing with Demetri’s hole and stroke Demetri’s dick at the same time. All thought and reason left Demetri, the way it always did when Roman put his hands on him.

  Demetri’s head fell between his shoulders. Roman worked his cock with expert hands until Demetri’s balls drew up, and he started thrusting into Roman’s fist.

  Roman chuckled and nipped at the tender skin at the base of Demetri’s neck. “You’re so fucking sexy when you’re at the brink of losing control, when your breath catches, and your hips lose all rhythm.”

  “You’re a wizard who’s cast a spell I can’t break.”

  Roman spun him around, shoving him against the tile, Roman’s hot breath in Demetri’s ear. “Don’t you forget it. You’re mine.”

  “Fuck,” Demetri muttered as Roman’s hand started jacking him again. “I’m so fucking gone for you.” He opened his eyes and met Roman’s heated, heavy gaze. “You know that, right?”

  Demetri almost didn’t notice that fractional hesitation, before Roman nibbled on Demetri’s ear and said, “Same.”

  Their words weren’t a declaration of love. It seemed too early for that, but those exact feelings held Demetri’s heart hostage. Even if Demetri had wanted, he couldn’t break free.

  As Roman brought Demetri to the brink, his quads quivering and his locked legs threatening to buckle, Roman sank to his knees. “I want to taste you. I want you to fill my mouth and—”

  Fuck. Demetri shoved Roman’s shoulders too hard. Roman landed on his ass on the shower floor. Anger flashed in Roman’s eyes, but the hurt beneath it slashed Demetri’s heart.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Slowly, Roman stood and cut off the taps, water cascading down the wide expanse of his chest.

  Demetri stepped out of the shower, grabbed two towels, and tossed one to Roman. Roman threw it aside, not caring that he dripped water all over the bathroom while Demetri hurriedly dried himself.

  Roman caught his arm. “I asked you a question.”

  Demetri wrapped the towel around his waist and his still-hard cock. He didn’t know who was more pissed, Roman or Demetri’s dick. “I should get dinner started.”

  Roman’s head dropped as he shook it in disbelief. When he glanced up, he couldn’t hide the pain and the confusion, or the anger. But the disappointment in Roman’s eyes added a few more cuts to Demetri’s already shredded heart. “I’m going to take a few laps in the pool and blow off some steam. Unless you need my help.”

  At least Roman wasn’t running. Roman was a reasonable man. The fact that he hadn’t already left proved that. Demetri could fix this.

  You can’t fix it. It’s not spilled paint or a torn canvas Roman already knows something’s wrong. He just doesn’t know how wrong.

  “No. I’ve got this.”

  “Great.” Though by Roman’s clouded expression, it was anything but. “You don’t need my help with dinner or getting off. Noted.” Roman brushed past him, their shoulders bumping as he went by.

  Demetri wanted to call out and tell him it wasn’t like that. But talking to Roman when both of their emotions lay ragged couldn’t work in their favor. He’d let Roman calm down, get a little food in his belly, then they would talk.

  Before starting dinner, he set a towel on one of the loungers for when Roman finished swimming. Demetri stood there on the threshold of the sliding glass door and watched Roman’s powerful arms churn through the water. The wave in front of him sloshing over the ends of the pool with each turn.

  He left Roman to start dinner.

  Sometime later, as he added the ground beef to the spaghetti sauce and the timer on the garlic bread beeped, Roman opened the slider as he dried his face and head with the towel.

  Demetri turned the heat down on the bubbling sauce. Roman came up behind him and threaded his arms around Demetri’s waist, his breathing still elevated from what had looked like a brutal workout.

  The calm vibes rolling off Roman were what Demetri noticed first. Roman rested his chin on Demetri’s shoulder. “Smells good.”

  “Thanks.”

  Neither apologized. Demetri didn’t because then he’d have to explain. Roman didn’t because he had nothing to apologize for.

  Roman patted Demetri’s belly and took a step back. “You have any shorts I can borrow? I forgot to bring a change of clothes with me this morning.”

  Demetri turned and sized him up. “I don’t think anything of mine will fit you, but I think there is a blue pair of athletic shorts in the bottom drawer of my dresser his ex had left behind ages ago.

  A pair of shorts wasn’t all he’d left you with.

  Demetri set the table and dished out the food. Still no sign of Roman. Demetri almost went to rescue him. His drawers weren’t exactly the best organized, and those shorts might be in a different drawer.

  As he set the Parmesan cheese on the table, Roman returned with something in his hand. On the table in front of him, Roman dropped a handful of Polaroids, his expression inscrutable.

  Demetri didn’t see the trap even as he walked into it.

  He picked up the photos and shuffled through them, garnering a chuckle. Fuck, he’d been wild when he was younger. All the photos were of him and some of the guys he’d hooked up with—sometimes one-on-one, sometimes three or more—all back in the day. As much fun and adventure and experimenting he’d done in college, his sex life since then would appear tame.

  If anything, he should have caught HIV then. Before the age of PrEP. Back when he’d been horny and reckless. Not when he’d been in a supposedly monogamous relationship.

  Karma’s a bit
ch.

  Demetri didn’t even know if he believed in Karma. But it had bitten him on the ass anyway.

  “Coachella and Burning Man,” Demetri said, naming the annual art and music festivals where sex with friends and randos was just another day. “I had some fun in college.”

  Roman’s lips went flat, and his hands went to his hips.

  “You’re mad because I had sex with random people fifteen years ago?”

  Roman rolled his eyes. “I don’t care about that.”

  Demetri found it hard to keep his anger in check. He didn’t see the problem. “Then what is it?” It didn’t exactly come out as a snarl, but it didn’t sound exactly civil either.

  Roman gathered up the photos. He held the first one up. “You getting fucked.” He threw it down onto the table and held up the next. “You fucking someone.” He held up another. “This one’s nice, you’re fucking someone at the same time someone is fucking you.” Then the next photo. “You being spit-roasted.”

  “I like fucking and being fucked. I told you that. Why is that such a big surprise?”

  Roman blew out a breath. His frustration glittered in his eyes, along with a darker emotion Demetri couldn’t read. “Right. Then it’s me you won’t fuck.”

  “Wait. It’s not like that.”

  “You are so full of shit.” Roman ran his hand over his short hair, seemingly at a loss for words. “You know what. Fuck dinner. And fuck you, too. I’m out of here.”

  He grabbed his keys out of the bowl on the kitchen island and headed for the door.

  “Roman, wait.”

  But Roman didn’t wait. He didn’t even slow as he strode out the door to the garage, not even bothering to close it behind him. He hit the button for the garage door opener, and Demetri hollered out. “I’m poz.”

  He ran after Roman.

  Roman had his car door open, one foot on the floorboard as the grinding gears of the garage door opener came to a stop. “What did you say?”