I briefly considered going to my knees and begging him to play something, but I thought if I did that, it would probably just lead to sex. Which I totally wanted—but in that moment, I genuinely was just trying to hear Leo’s music.
The sex would come later.
I knew I had to do something if I wanted to hear him play. So I went over to the piano, sat on the bench, and opened the lid gently.
“What are you doing?” he said, his voice calm but confused. “You just said you don’t know how to play anything.”
I feigned ignorance. “What’s this?” I said, pressing down on one of the keys. The warm tone of the piano reverberated throughout the room. “Is that, like, the M key?”
Leo uncrossed his arm, and took a few steps toward me. “There’s—there’s no M key, Jamie. That was an E key you just played.” Leo leaned over me and lightly placed his fingers over the keys, playing a simple scale. “A, B, C, D, E, F, G, A,” he said, playing each note softly as he called out the notes.
“Wow, cool,” I said, scooting over a little, giving him ample space to sit down. “So, like—” I randomly mashed some fingers against some keys, throwing an awful, dissonant sound into the room, “—is that a chord?”
He crossed his arms again and looked at me sternly. “Jamie, this is really cute, but I know what you’re doing.”
I actually fucking batted my eyelashes at him—at that point, I had no shame. “I’ve just always wanted to learn, but, as you can tell I’m… kind of inept.”
Leo smiled, nearly rolling his eyes, then sat down on the piano bench next to me. The side of his body pressed against mine, our hips touching on the narrow bench, and it took everything in me not to turn and drape my arms around him.
But I needed to stay focused.
“So, like, what is an… A-minor chord?” I asked, looking back down at the keys.
He placed his fingers on the keys, confidently, and gently played the chord.
“Cool,” I said. “What about, uh… E-flat?”
“E-flat minor?” He played another chord.
“My dad always played Beethoven in his store when it was the end of a long day and he was sick of listening to classic rock radio. Do you know any of that stuff?” I asked.
Leo shrugged. “Yeah, some.” He took his hands away from the keys and put them on his thighs, wiping his palms against his pants. He met my eyes and looked hesitant, like he wasn’t sure what to do next.
“Oh my god, what’s that, like, really pretty and sad one? I used to listen to it in the store and like, scan the aisles for old silver-plated cutlery and teacups, and pretend I was some ancient wealthy widower.”
“If I had to guess, I’d say you’re probably thinking of Moonlight Sonata.” He looked down to the keys and softly played a few opening notes. I sat, silently, listening, thinking I’d won, and that he was going to finally play for me.
But after a few notes, he stopped short. “That the one?” he asked.
It had totally been the one. “Um,” I said, “I don’t know. You’re gonna have to play more.”
Leo smiled at me like he knew full well what I was doing, but he took a deep breath, and looked down at the keys. “I like Moonlight Sonata just fine, but I’ll play you something else that I like better.”
I saw him swallow, and as he rested his fingers on the keys I saw a slight shake in them, and the faintest streak of pink on the tops of his cheeks.
He was really fucking nervous about this.
About playing piano for me, an idiot who knew nothing about piano, and would probably love anything he did.
Sitting next to me, he finally started to play. And I had no idea what the piece was that he played—like I said, I know nothing about classical music—but holy hell, it was gorgeous, lush in parts and spare in others, and completely romantic, what with the grey and rain pattering against the tall windows, the cool light pouring into the room. The piece started out slow but eventually grew in momentum, and as Leo played, he seemed to lose himself. After a minute I don’t think he even remembered I was there, he was so focused—until a part came where he needed to reach some keys higher up, and he had to sort of reach past me and push up against the side of my body. I would have pulled him into a hug if I wasn’t enjoying the music so damn much.
The song was relatively slow and didn’t last too long, and after probably four minutes, it was over. Leo slid his fingers gently from the keys and turned to me with a sheepish shrug. The blush came back to his face, but he half-smiled.
“Bra-vo,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “Mother of God, Leo, you can play the hell out of that piano.”
“It’s just practice,” he said, shaking his head and looking away. “Anyone could do it if they tried hard enough. I’ve played that song a lot. I really like it.”
“What is it?” I said, “And fuck you, take a compliment—that was beautiful.”
He sighed, swallowing. “It was Mendelssohn,” he said, “One of his Songs Without Words... I think Opus 30, Number 1?” Leo pulled a book of sheet music from a box under the piano and flipped to a page, confirming that he was correct.
“Never heard of it. But I love it,” I said.
There was a pause for a moment where we listened to the rain outside as it momentarily swelled in intensity. I felt transfixed, hypnotized—I wanted to stay in this room, this house, this day forever, and I didn’t want it to end.
“Play another,” I said, asking him, telling him.
He shook his head so I brought one of my hands up to his face, trailing my hand gently against his cheek. “Please?” I said, my voice gentle. “I like it so much.” I kept my hand cupped against him and leaned in, closing the short distance between us, and slowly kissed him right at his cheekbone.
His eyes fluttered closed for a moment and he leaned against my hand, pushing the side of his face into me. Finally, he opened his eyes again.
“Okay,” he said, turning his face and kissing into my palm before sitting straight again, and looking down to the keys.
I sat next to him as he played again, this time an even more complex and utterly gorgeous song that I didn’t recognize. I brought my hand to his back, just gently resting against him, feeling the warmth between us as he played. The piece was longer and more varied than the last one, and near the end it got intense, and Leo actually closed his eyes as he played the last few passages.
And then it was over, and Leo sat back, taking a deep breath.
“God,” I said, my voice soft. “Fucking gorgeous.”
His blush was deeper this time, and he turned to me, looking kind of wild. He brought his hand to the back of my neck and pulled me in close. I expected a kiss, but instead he rested his forehead against mine, his skin warm. Feeling him so close was intoxicating.
“I’ve never done that before,” he said, trailing his hand into my hair.
“Hmm?” I asked, leaning back slightly to look at him.
“That was—that was one of my songs,” he said, eyeing me. “Or, one of my pieces, I guess I should say. I never know what to call them.”
I looked at him, incredulous. “You wrote that?”
“Uh, yeah,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s still kind of rough, and it’s not what I really want it to be, but, yeah.”
“Holy motherfucking shit, Leo, you’re incredible,” I said.
“Eh,” he said, looking away from me.
“No, like, seriously.” I caught the side of his face and gently turned him toward me again.
He looked at me skeptically. “You said it yourself, you don’t know much about music, right? I’m sure most people would just think it was stupid.”
“Jesus Christ,” I said, grabbing his shoulders in my hands. “You are fucking insane if you don’t show people how well you can play. Yeah, I don’t know much about music, but why the fuck don’t you, like, play something on TV or something? People would go nuts seeing you do that.”
He shook his head fast
. “Couldn’t do it. I would freeze up and not be able to get any of the notes right. I told you, stage fright is a motherfucker when it’s just me and a piano. This isn’t like 5*Star.”
I sighed, exasperated. “Damn right this isn’t like 5*Star. Shit.”
He looked to me for a moment before leaning in close and pressing his lips to mine. He kissed me desperately, his lips warm and hungry.
I moaned into him, surprised and delighted at the unexpected contact. It was like playing the piece had unlocked something in him. I grasped at his arms and then down lower onto his chest, feeling him there next to me, and wanting so much, too much.
I couldn’t believe what he was capable of—and that the world had no idea he was capable of it. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops. He was so talented, and no one but me knew.
He was clutching at me, grasping at the fabric of my shirt and pulling me in as close as he could.
“God, Jamie,” he said, breaking the kiss for a moment, his breath hot against my face. “You… you kind of make me feel like I can do anything.”
His mouth was at my neck, then, kissing into my skin, and I arched backward in response.
“You can do anything you want,” I said, leaning into his touch, pressing my body against his. “So what is it? What do you want?”
He let out a sort of strangled groan, and then was lifting me, actually lifting my entire body, into the air, as he stood up from the piano bench. He carried me over to the wall and held me against it. He laced his fingers into mine and leaned toward my ear.
“I want you, Jamie.”
Fifteen
Leo
It sounded simple, when I said it. “I want you, Jamie.”
But it couldn’t even come close, couldn’t even scratch the fucking surface of how I felt then, propelled toward him, like if I didn’t touch him I wouldn’t be able to go on. I needed his skin, his sweat, his scent, and I couldn’t quite hold myself back anymore. It was almost a little scary.
I pressed him up against the wall, our hands entwined. He leaned against me hard, but I pinned him back to the wall with my hips, and he let out a little gasp as I did.
But it wasn’t enough, it was never enough. I released his hands and pulled up against the hem of his shirt, leaning off him long enough so that I could pull it off of him.
“Mmh,” I heard myself say, “Fucking gorgeous.” Pale skin, softer than I could believe. I dropped to my knees and kissed along the side of his waist, pressing my lips to three small, dark freckles there. I felt his hand in my hair, his fingers lacing through and gripping me. He pulled on my hair, just the slightest bit, angling my head upward.
I cast my gaze up and met his eyes. He was looking down at me, flushed and half-lidded.
“Will you… would you….” He trailed off. Suddenly Jamie was shy?
“Anything,” I said, kissing wet at the top of his hipbone.
“God,” he whispered, closing his eyes for a moment before looking at me again. “Would you take off your clothes? I want to—I have to see you,” he said, almost pleading.
I obliged him immediately, standing and removing my shirt and then my pants gracelessly, and then pressing up against him again, hot skin on skin.
He sighed as he trailed his hands down my back.
“Thank you,” he said, dipping to kiss me at my neck. It was essentially unbearable, almost unbelievable how good it felt. His hands pressed to the small of my back and his cock aching and hard against mine.
And yet I still wanted more. I took his hips in my hands and gripped him firmly there, and he leaned up to meet me in a deep kiss, his arms wrapped around my shoulders.
I pulled back, and twisted him under my hands. “Turn around,” I said, “Put your hands up against the wall. Here,” I said, grasping his hands in mine and as he turned, I pushed them to the wall, under mine, until they were flat against it.
I moaned into him, pressing the length of my body onto his from behind. His back was against my chest, my cock against his ass, and his head leaning backward toward me. The skin at the back of his neck was lightly salty and sweet as I kissed him there, slowly and deliberately, down to the warm curve where neck dipped to shoulder. He smelled completely of me—my shampoo he’d used in the morning, the leftover scent of my laundry from the shirt I’d lent him. There was something uniquely intoxicating about it, knowing he’d spent the day in my things, after spending the night in my bed.
I trailed my hands down his back, keeping my touches light at first, tracing over his supple skin and his shoulderblades. I kissed the spaces my hand had traced, and Jamie sank against me, pressing back in response to every touch. I placed a hand right at the small of his back and gave him a firm push toward the wall. It made him whimper and my cock throb.
I dropped to my knees behind him and kissed just above the waistband of his pants. I hitched my fingers into the waistband and pulled down slowly, until they fell to his feet, and I lifted his legs so that I could toss them away.
And there he was, in front of me, totally naked with his hands pressed to the wall.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Jamie.”
I kissed along the backs of his thighs, moving upward until I was at his ass. I slipped my tongue along the crease, wanting him so badly, needing to taste him.
“Oh my God,” he said, turning around halfway and looking down at me. He put a hand in my hair and looked at me, his eyes wide.
“Are you sure?” he said, looking hesitant.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I said, my hand wrapped around his leg, trailing my finger lightly along his inner thigh. “There’s nothing I want more.”
“No one’s ever… really wanted to do this before, with me.”
“Their fucking loss,” I said kissing against his hip and moving him back to his position against the wall.
“I just…” he said, trailing off. “Is it… okay?”
I spread him gently, and dragged my tongue across his hole.
“Holy fucking hell,” he said, leaning against the wall. “Oh my God. Can you… can you do that again?”
I smiled, thankful that he couldn’t see me grinning like an idiot.
I pressed forward again, licking against his warmth, and he started to moan and babble incoherently above me. Either he’d forgotten to hold back or he didn’t care anymore.
It was exactly what I’d wanted. And it felt fucking amazing to hear him come apart like that, writhing against my tongue, as I traced circles against him and tasted him.
After a while his breathing turned heavy, and he began to press back against me harder. I gripped him and licked into him, and I knew he had to be close.
I tongued him as I slowly reached forward, past his hips, to take his straining cock in my hand.
The second I touched it, Jamie called out.
“Oh fuck,” he moaned, and all at once he was leaning back into me with all his weight as he stiffened and came, before I even had the chance to stroke him with any certainty. He spilled onto my hand and onto the wall, gasping and moaning, falling apart in my arms, against my mouth.
And it was the most utterly sexy thing I could remember ever witnessing.
I kissed him up the small of his back, and up his spine as I stood. I held him for a few moments, one of my arms wrapped around him, holding him up, while the other rested around his cock.
“Leo,” he said, his voice weak, “I’m literally shaking.” He put a hand against my lip and I felt its tremble, and my cock throbbed in response, pressed up between us. It was so much that it almost felt like vertigo.
I softened my grip and Jamie turned around to face me. He kissed me, light and chaste, before dropping to the ground and wrapping his lips around my straining cock.
This. This beautiful creature that I had no right to be with. Already I was so goddamn close. He took me deliberately, wrapping around the tip and then pushing maddeningly slowly to the base, until he’d taken me to the hilt.
“Fu
ck, Jamie,” I said, my voice sounding hoarse and unfamiliar. “I’m already—”
He hummed around me and started to move in a steady rhythm, his mouth tight and firm around me. And I couldn’t help it, I was at an utter loss for control—I bucked my hips forward, fucking into his mouth.
“Jesus Christ,” I said, looking down at him. He cast his eyes upward to me as he moved, looking up at me with his long lashes. “Too good. Jamie—”
And I felt myself tipping over the edge, coming into Jamie’s mouth as he moaned around me, and I was gone. Completely gone, lost to sensation, my eyes barely open enough to keep looking at him, this incredible person. Jamie. I felt the waves of orgasm rock through me, and I was blissfully unaware of anything in the world but him.
He swallowed around me, then stood up and kissed me.
I was dazed as I recovered, for minutes, at least. I had him in my arms, just resting gently against me, as we both leaned against the wall, finding our breath. Listening to the rain.
And I was hit with an overwhelming set of feelings for Jamie that I couldn’t deny, and couldn’t turn away from.
“Stay with me,” I said, because I didn’t know how to express how I felt. I gathered him against me, holding him tight.
“I’m right here,” he said, pressing a kiss against my chest.
He hadn’t realized what I’d meant. I could barely comprehend it myself.
Because I was his, completely. I just couldn’t tell him how much I wanted him to be mine.
I woke at fuck knows what time to the shrill sound of my phone going off. It wasn’t my alarm, it was an actual call, and I couldn’t, in my sleep-haze, determine who the hell would go so far as to call me at a time like this.
And it was made infinitely worse by the fact that I was lying on my side in bed with Jamie wrapped in my arms. He was warm and stirred slightly as the phone went off, and when he rolled over and away from me it felt like an incomprehensible loss. I wanted him next to me again, and I wanted whoever was calling to go away.
The sun was out again. It came through the window behind the bed and glared against my cell phone screen as I checked who it was. Ella.
Your Fallen Star: Under the Stars Book 1 Page 13