It was quiet. It was hesitant.
It was beautiful.
He sat along the wall by the door, zoning in and out of consciousness. The song was pretty. Sad, but pretty. He wished he could hear more of it. When he shut his eyes, nodding off, the music drifted in and out of his dreams, a strange, halting soundtrack.
Eventually it lulled him completely to sleep, and he didn’t wake until it was six and the door opened. Jerking awake, he looked up to find Aaron standing over him, disheveled, stiff and wild-eyed.
“I need you.” He pulled Giles to his feet.
The room spun a bit as Aaron tugged Giles into the parlor. Giles felt as if he were half in a dream still, which was why when Aaron asked, he shook his head to clear it and blinked. “Sorry—still asleep. You want me to what?”
“Help. I need you to help.” Aaron braced one palm on the top of Fred and half crouched over the keyboard as his right hand plunked out the same melody that had put Giles to sleep.
Help what? Giles listened to the phrase, let it burble in his chest. “I like it. Keep going.”
“I can’t. That’s just it.” Aaron hit a discordant clump of notes and stood, shoving his fingers into his hair in desperation. “It’s a mess. A huge fucking mess. I’m stuck. Also, this sucks. I don’t know why I keep fucking with it.”
“What in the world are you talking about?” Giles’s hand slipped over the keys, and after a few fumbles, he played the melody line, smiling. “I love it. You just need to resolve, then build.”
“Resolve how? I can’t see the end.” Aaron balled up a piece of composition paper and tossed it over the piano. “I don’t have enough training. I don’t know what I’m doing. I need to fucking stop.”
“You need to keep going.”
Aaron turned on him, the tendons in his throat bulging. “What the fuck is it for, anyway? Who cares about my stupid song? It’s infantile and stupid, and I’m copying the goddamn cartoon.”
“I care about your stupid song. I want to hear it. I’m who it’s for.”
That apparently was the wrong thing to say because Aaron sagged like Giles had punched him in the stomach. “It is for you. I keep trying, but I suck.”
Giles closed the space between them. “You play beautifully. You sing. And you make wonderful music.” He touched the center of Aaron’s chest, pressed his palm there. “Write from this. Nobody can copy your heart. Nobody else can write your songs.”
“What if it’s a stupid song?”
“Then make it the greatest stupid song there is. And I’ll love it no matter what because I love you.”
Aaron pressed his forehead to Giles’s, breathing out hard. “Sometimes everything swirls in my head like snow and I’m going to be buried alive.”
Giles shut his eyes and drew Aaron close. He caught Aaron’s bottom lip, sucked on it. “I’ll dig you out. Every time.”
With a shudder, Aaron nuzzled Giles, opening for him, inviting him in.
Giles guided them to the floor, stripping Aaron out of his clothes as they went down. He started to undress himself, but Aaron stopped him, lifting his hem slowly as he nibbled his way up Giles’s naked chest. When he made it to Giles’s mouth, he smiled—sweetly, sadly—and kissed him again.
Then he went to his knees, naked, and undid Giles’s fly to take him in his mouth.
Giles braced himself against the piano, music still flying in his head as Aaron sucked him. He watched, feasting on the visual of Aaron peeking up at him through those thick bangs with Giles’s cock stretching his mouth, but he heard the music too. The music of Aaron, of the two of them together.
He came with almost no warning—he hadn’t meant to, he’d wanted to fuck Aaron, but the orgasm caught him by surprise, and Aaron wouldn’t let him go. When he’d finished, Giles sank bonelessly to the piano bench, tweaking Aaron’s nose and wiping a bit of come out of the corner of his mouth as he rose. “What about you?”
“I want to figure this out.” Aaron plunked himself naked on the piano bench beside Giles, cock jutting out as he banged out the melody. “I could resolve it like this—” He played the line then finished with a third. “Except it feels wrong.”
Giles tried to climb out of his orgasm-soaked brain. “Yeah. That’s…obvious.” After doing up his pants, he sat beside Aaron and plunked out the line again. “There’s this.” He finished back at key base. “Except it feels juvenile.” The problem was, everything else would be wrong. Wrong key, wrong…just wrong.
“I think the thing is it doesn’t end yet. Maybe.” Aaron played the line, started another one—then shifted down. A key change, another lift, and then…
Giles grinned. “Now if you resolve on the third—” He played it and laughed.
Aaron did too. “That’s it.” He nipped at Giles’s shoulder. “Okay. Let me keep going.”
Giles ruffled his hair, smiling, and got up from the bench. When he put his hand on the door, though, the music stopped.
“Where are you going?” Aaron called.
Giles raised an eyebrow at him. “You said—”
Aaron waved impatiently at him. “I said I wanted to keep going. I didn’t ask you to leave.” He hesitated. “Unless this is boring?”
Love and pleasure purred inside Giles’s belly. “Not at all.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
No matter how long they stayed together, no matter how many times he watched his lover compose, Giles knew this day, the first time, would be etched in his brain in a way nothing else would. He felt as if he’d been allowed inside magic, given a VIP pass to watch it form. He thought of the reserved, walled-off Aaron he’d worshipped in high school compared to this wild-eyed, naked near-animal in front of him, pounding out notes and swearing, whispering yes and no, goddamn it. Of those blue eyes turning to him, desperate for an anchor—sometimes a touch, sometimes a kiss, sometimes just a look.
They fucked twice more—when Aaron got frustrated, he climbed onto Giles’s lap in the window seat and bit his neck as he spread his legs, guiding Giles’s fingers to his hole. When Giles tried to protest he didn’t have condoms or lube, Aaron stuffed Giles’s fingers in his mouth, sucked them sloppy, then begged to be fucked.
Giles had to pry himself away and all but bolt to Baz’s room half naked to get supplies, because Aaron was lost to the gods and couldn’t be bothered with things like STDs or rectal discomfort. As the frenzy claimed Giles too, barely allowing him to get the condom on before he slid into his lover, he made a mental note to keep condoms and lube in his bag, and probably in the music room. Before he lost himself to the rush of Aaron on the floor, kneeling in front of him, begging, holding on to the piano leg as Giles drove into him, he promised himself he had the gumption to ask his dad, really ask, how many clean tests they needed with how many months between. Because yeah. He wanted to go raw into Aaron yesterday.
No way, though, was he doing it until he knew neither one of them would accidentally fuck up all their tomorrows.
The next time Aaron climbed onto him, Giles’s dick was a little sore, so he laid Aaron flat on the floor and covered him in hickeys, wrenched his legs open and rimmed him until he wept. When he drew Aaron’s leaky cock into his mouth, Aaron objected, saying he thought not coming was helping, but Giles ignored him and sucked his brain out through his slit.
He slapped Aaron’s thigh as he rose. “Put on your pants and finish the song.”
“I’m hungry.” Still lying on his back, Aaron shook the thermos, then tossed it weakly. “And we’re out of coffee.”
Giles picked it up and helped Aaron to his feet. “I’ll get you food and caffeine.” He kissed Aaron and chucked his chin. “You get rid of the noise.”
Aaron bit Giles’s lip and settled onto the bench.
Giles didn’t cook—he ordered a pizza and started a fresh pot of coffee. As he leaned against the sink and looked up l
ocal clinics, he played the day over in his head.
He could get used to this. He shut his eyes, smiling, imagining a future where they were in their own house, where Aaron banged away at the piano, nagged him for sex when he was stuck, and Giles made dinner.
It was going to happen. He would make it happen.
The pizza arrived. Giles was crossing the living room with the box and full carafe when Aaron burst through the door, still naked.
“Get in here.” Aaron motioned wildly, bouncing on his feet, his flaccid cock flapping against his thigh. “Get in here. I’ve got it.” He took the pizza from Giles as he entered, tossing it onto the top of Fred as he sat down. “The whole thing. I have it. The whole thing.”
Giles settled in beside him on the bench. “Let’s hear it.”
Aaron played.
Giles shut his eyes and listened.
His breathing slowed, his heart opened, and for a minute, he thought he felt it. The kernel Mina had told him about. The little bite of pain making things brighter. Richer. Better.
Beautiful.
As he finished, he kissed Aaron’s cheek, his mouth. “Aaron—it’s perfect.”
Aaron nipped at his lip and fiddled with the left-hand part again. “I still need to tweak. I want to turn it into a full score—vocals and orchestra. It’ll be a year before I even know how to fully work it up. But the bones are there. I can feel it now.” He lowered his hand from the keys and leaned into Giles. “Thank you. For today. For everything.”
“Anything. Any time.” For always.
Aaron drew in a deep breath and groaned. “Oh my God, the pizza smells so fucking good.”
“Then go eat it.” Giles laughed and pinched his ass. “You going to always do this, compose naked?”
“Yes. And make you fuck me at regular intervals.”
Giles watched his naked lover dive into the pizza, and he felt a deep, beautiful ache pull at the center of his belly. “Works for me.”
When Aaron came home from the White House, he didn’t just feel as if he’d finished a composition. He’d climbed a goddamned mountain. Scaled it, knocked the top off it and sailed down in a tricked-out sled. He could do anything. He hummed through the halls of Titus, waving and smiling at everyone he passed, laughing and all but standing on the couch in the lounge, shouting he was king of the world.
He got to his room, and it all came crashing down. The Princes were there, doing their usual dance of hate over their son before departing. Mr. Prince’s face glowed with rage as he left, and Elijah was like a frayed nerve ready to fall to pieces.
Frankly, Aaron had seen enough. Calling up the rush from composition, he crossed the room to loom over his roommate’s desk.
Elijah glanced up, waspish aggression cracking through his hollow countenance. “What?”
Yeah, fuck this. “I want to know what’s going on.”
“I’m sitting here trying to work and you’re being a freak, that’s what’s going on.”
“Your parents. You. What the fuck is this shit, seriously?”
His roommate’s eyes darkened, face shuttering to anger after a flash of pain tripped all Aaron’s warning bells. “Trust me, perfect little boy, you don’t want to hear anything about what’s going on with me.”
Aaron was pretty sure he didn’t, but he also knew he had to hear. “I want it. All of it. Right now.”
“I’m not telling you shit until you tell me a few things.” Elijah nodded at the pile of gift cards and donated food. “What’s with the Meals on Wheels since we got back from J-term break? Why does everyone act like your dog died? Why does your precious boyfriend treat you like a baby bird egg?”
The baby bird comment made Aaron want to wince, but he pushed the bait aside. Would telling his own story get Elijah to trust him? Aaron considered a moment, then thought, fuck, why not. “My parents kicked me out.”
Elijah snorted and regarded Aaron with disbelief.
Drawing his desk chair over, Aaron sat in it. “They found out I was majoring in music instead of law. I could change my major or leave, then and there. So I left. They haven’t talked to me since except to yell at me to start toeing the line. They stopped paying for school, kept all my stuff except for my clothes.”
He tracked the way Elijah’s eyes flashed in a kind of hurt-rage. “I call bullshit. You’re one of those. They’d never kick you out.”
One of those what? “They did. I’ll give you my mom’s number to call if you want to verify. She might answer, but I doubt it. She doesn’t no matter what number I call her from. I wouldn’t advise talking to my dad without body armor.” He leaned forward. “Now. What’s going on with you and your parents?”
Elijah glared at him for almost a full minute before he said anything, but Aaron was ready to sit there until hell froze over. When Elijah finally spoke, his voice was flat, unemotional, and his gaze never wavered from Aaron’s. “My parents kicked me out when I was sixteen because I was gay.”
Aaron’s eyebrows rose slightly, and he glanced at the door where the Princes had recently disappeared.
Elijah smirked. “That was when I was sixteen. I left for a year, or rather until it got really fucking cold, and then I found Jesus, and they let me come home.”
“You found Jesus?” Aaron didn’t bother to hide his skepticism.
Elijah blinked angelically and adopted a rather good Southern accent. “Yes sir, I surely did. Jesus came to me in the gutter and led me home. I’ve left my sinful ways behind, and I follow the Way now.” The angelic look fell, Elijah’s lip curling in derision. “At least to the extent it gets me tuition at a fairly decent four-year college near a large metropolitan area.”
Aaron laughed. It felt weird to do it, but damn, this was funny, in a sick, twisted sort of way. “You’re telling me you’re conning them out of a college degree? And turning tricks via Grindr on the side?”
“Trying to.” The weariness was back, but he was still rigid, untrusting. “You said you got kicked out, which I’m still not buying, by the way, but it doesn’t explain why everyone is stopping by.” His nostrils flared. “Oh my fucking God, is this them reacting to you getting kicked out? They’re coming by with fucking fruit baskets?”
“I didn’t ask them to. They’re my friends. They want to help.”
Elijah recoiled. “Are you fucking serious? God, of course you are. Look at you. You have one little hiccup and the whole fucking world shows up to wipe your hole. You fucking entitled asshole. Go call up your boy toy. Take your offerings from your fucking admirers and drown in them. Leave me the fuck alone.”
“I want to help you.”
“Am I your good deed for the day? What are you going to do, share your gift cards and groceries?”
“I don’t know—maybe. Why are you yelling? I’m trying to help.”
“Do you have a spare thirty thousand a year, hon? Because that’s what I need help with. I need a goddamn college education so I can maybe get a real job because I don’t want to live on the streets of Minneapolis and suck dick and take it raw up the ass until I contract AIDS and die. Unlike you, I don’t have adoring hordes rushing to bring me milk money when Mommy and Daddy hurt my feelings.”
God, enough. “Maybe you would have adoring hordes if you weren’t such a caustic ass.”
At this point Elijah’s face was weird, as if he were some kind of explosion held back behind rapidly thawing ice. “If I weren’t such a caustic asshole, I would have killed myself years ago.” For the barest second tears shone in Elijah’s eyes, and he all but snarled. “There. I’ve told you, and now you can cry for me, Argentina. Leave me the fuck alone.”
Aaron leaned forward. “No.”
He worried Elijah was going to hit him. “I hate you. I hate how you’re cute. That you’re gay, have a boyfriend who tricked me but fell for you. I hate how the college loves you and you
practically have your name on a plaque and then this happens—I bet you already have a scholarship, don’t you, you fucking asshole.” Tears leaked out of his eyes, and he wiped them furiously away. “Now. This is the part where you protest you didn’t ask for any of this, it all just sort of happened to you, blah, blah blah. Right?” He curled his hands into fists, unclenching his jaw enough to bite off the rest. “It only makes me hate you more.”
Aaron wasn’t sure why all this yelling, which normally would have him cowering, only calmed him down. “So you don’t want any of the gift cards at all? Not even the pizza ones?”
Elijah shut his eyes. “Shut up. I’m done talking to you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Oh, I so fucking am.”
“Just because people are running up to save me doesn’t mean I don’t know exactly how it feels to have the people who are supposed to be on your side suddenly not be.” He waved his hand at the bed full of gifts in disgust. “You don’t think I’d trade it all for parents who wouldn’t do this? You want to feel like an asshole, try having your boyfriend, his family and all your friends shower you with stuff to try and fill the hole inside you. It doesn’t work. It’s still a hole.” Rage which had built in him for years, buried under his caution and reserve, bubbled out, landing entirely in Elijah’s lap. Aaron rose, pacing back and forth in the space between their bed and Elijah’s desk. “I’ve done whatever they’ve told me for years, let them move me around and divide up my life and take away friends and activities, all because I was afraid of this—I stand up for myself for half a second, and none of it matters.”
“Cry me a river.”
“Fuck you. Hate me all you want, but none of it matters when you feel like shit inside. Nobody can buy you a parent who loves you. No amount of ramen noodles or gift cards or scholarships can replace the fact that the people who are supposed to be on your side unless you rob a bank or kill somebody won’t help you out of a gutter. Giles’s mom? She’d help him hide the fucking body. She spent over four thousand dollars on me and stuffed five hundred dollars into my wallet. Everybody’s lining up to save me.” The tears he hadn’t shed, not even when Walter was crying on him, broke over the edge of his dam. “All but the two people I want to tell me they love me for what I am, that whatever I do, whatever I am is okay.” He laughed, a bitter, broken sound. “Okay. Yeah. I get why you’re such an asshole now. But fucking knock it off. Don’t pull this shit with me. Not anymore.”
Fever Pitch Page 29