Vivaldi in the Dark

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Vivaldi in the Dark Page 15

by Matthew J. Metzger


  “Nope. Guess again.”

  “You’re like a ninja,” Jayden accused.

  “Mm, closer,” Darren shrugged, plucking the Coke from Jayden’s hand and putting it on the counter, pushing Jayden back against the fridge door with his chest.

  His mouth was cold from the Coke, and his hands slid straight under Jayden’s T-shirt like it didn’t even exist. Jayden hummed against his lips before giving way and opening his mouth to the taste of oatmeal shortbread and Coke, and the faint hint of orange juice and toothpaste. He tangled his fingers into Darren’s hair, pulling him closer to find more of that zing along the edges of his tongue where it bounced off the icy influences of the drink.

  “W-want…” Jayden cleared his throat when Darren pulled back, looking slightly dazed. “Um. Want to go upstairs?”

  The glazed expression vanished; Darren’s eyes really were ridiculously perfect at this distance.

  “Not, you know, not for…not for sex, just, you know, maybe…explore a bit? Um. I mean, it’s okay if…”

  Darren kissed him again, although it was really more a brush of his mouth over Jayden’s than a real, proper kiss.

  “That didn’t count,” Jayden told him in a whisper, and Darren grinned.

  “Shut you up, didn’t it?” he said.

  “Don’t get smart with me,” Jayden threatened.

  “Kinky.”

  Jayden tugged on the zip of Darren’s fleece warningly; Darren raised his hands in submission and gave him an expression that might have been wide-eyed innocence if not for the messed hair and the rush of blood to his lips. As it was, it was just…kind of really hot, actually.

  “Bring the cookies and Coke.”

  “Yes, sir.” Darren grinned in a distinctly lecherous fashion, and had to stretch to get them, Jayden not loosening his grip on the fleece in the slightest. “I thought they were shortbread.”

  “Shut up, it sounded better.”

  “Wasn’t going to question it.”

  “You did question it,” Jayden said, dragging him into the hall by the zip. He let go once they passed into his bedroom, and Darren dropped to sit on the edge of the bed, abandoning the can and the biscuits onto the side table and wriggling out of the fleece. His hair went mad once he whipped it off, and his glasses askew was just about the hottest thing that Jayden had ever seen.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. You’re just all…ruffled up, and you look…all kissed…”

  “You sound kind of drunk.”

  “Come here.” Jayden held out his hands, pulling Darren back off the bed and towards the door, which he kicked shut as they approached. Leaning against it, he pulled Darren in and placed those large hands on his own waist. “I…I liked it like this,” he admitted, blushing so hard he thought his face was going to melt.

  “Okay,” Darren said, and a little piece of Jayden fell in love all over again when he didn’t comment, didn’t question it, didn’t—God forbid—laugh, and just leaned in and kissed him again like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  And it was. Chasing after that little hint of orange on Darren’s tongue was easy, and when those wide hands slid to the small of Jayden’s back, it was easy to arch into it and let them slip under the hem of his T-shirt. His hands were warm and dry and a little rough because he refused to use moisturiser, and so simple and so real that they left little sparks in their wake. It was instinct to pull at the edges of that clingy polyester excuse for a long-sleeved shirt until it parted company with Darren’s belt and Jayden could push his fingers into the gap, pressing his hands up the warm, flat run of a hard stomach, from the traces of hair at the top of his belt to the bottom of his ribs, flexing gently as he breathed.

  Jayden felt giddy—with triumph, with lust, with a sheer want so intense that it was giving him vertigo—and he dared to push his hands higher, rubbing the contours of Darren’s back, feeling the sharp edges of his shoulder blades. When Darren bit his bottom lip, Jayden pushed the shirt up entirely until he could run his hands from the gentle slope of his collarbone to the curved top of a hip where it pushed against the leather belt.

  “I don’t think this is very fair,” Darren murmured against his mouth, and he tugged sharply on Jayden’s shirt. “If I have to get shirtless, so do you.”

  Jayden laughed breathlessly and peeled the T-shirt off over his head. He felt emboldened by Darren’s obvious want, pushed forward by those certain hands and the simple feel of him. He felt daring.

  Darren didn’t even look; the moment Jayden dropped the shirt, he was being pressed up against the door again, and the shock of Darren’s bare chest against his own sent sparks skittering along the surface. He clutched at Darren’s arms, dizzy, and Darren let him drink it in, mouthing at his neck in a decidedly smug fashion.

  “If you could purr, you would be,” Jayden accused him weakly.

  “Mhmm.”

  Jayden pushed at the shirt, tracing Darren’s chest and shoulders as he pulled it off, his hair exploding yet again. He had the faintest smatter of curls on his chest too, and Jayden touched them with fascination as Darren dropped the shirt to the floor and returned his own hands to Jayden’s chest. His fingers were electrical, and Jayden tilted his head for another kiss to the neck, shivering when it morphed into a bite, and groaning when Darren sucked. Hard.

  “You’ll leave a mark.”

  “That’s the point,” Darren said and did it again

  He braced his hands on the door and pinned Jayden with his lower body. He was half-hard, Jayden realised with a thrill that was caught between lust and anxiety. He trailed his fingers down one arm lightly, half-focused on the pressure at his neck, half-focused on the pressure at his groin. Maybe…if he just let his hand wander down, then maybe this time…

  His fingers, tracing lightly over the crook of Darren’s elbow, hit a snag. A quite literal one: something caught at his fingers, and Jayden opened his eyes from their blissfully closed state to peer down at it.

  From the light skin of Darren’s arm gleamed an even lighter mark. Short, narrow, and perfectly straight. Jayden touched it again, and Darren suddenly froze against him.

  “Darren?”

  “Don’t touch that.” His voice was suddenly hoarse.

  Jayden licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. “Does it…does it hurt?”

  “No, but…don’t touch it anyway.”

  Jayden ran his fingers over it lightly. Scar tissue. Harder than the skin around it, and perfectly hairless. “Is that…is that where you…”

  Darren wasn’t moving.

  “Did you do that to yourself?”

  Darren took a shaky breath and nodded against Jayden’s neck.

  “Are there others?”

  He didn’t really need to ask. Rubbing his thumb in wide sweeps over the bent elbow, Jayden could feel that there were more. Without examining the skin close-up, he couldn’t really see anything, but he could feel it: criss-crossing lines, most of them short and stubby things, scored into the softer skin and muscle in very exact patterns up and down for perhaps a two or three inch run.

  But none new. He pulled on that, reaching his other hand to find Darren’s right arm and perform the same sweeping searches. They were there, but far fewer, and more irregular. Less firm to the touch. Shallower, maybe. Less serious. And old. They were all old.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered.

  Darren said nothing. He was vibrating lightly against Jayden, and not in any good way. Jayden let go of his arms entirely and wrapped around him in a hug, resting his head against the top of Darren’s shoulder until he felt those amazing hands slowly slide around his back.

  “It’s okay,” he repeated softly. “It’s all right. It’s history, right? You said you hadn’t done that since May. It’s all right.”

  “It’s sick.”

  Jayden kissed the bare neck. “It’s not sick,” he insisted quietly. “And you don’t do it anymore. That’s the important part. You’re getting better if you don�
�t do that anymore.”

  Darren had withdrawn, and Jayden silently cursed himself for having given in to the curiosity. What else was a snag on his inner arm going to be? He’d known. Darren had told him about this.

  He didn’t voice his frustration, though, guiding Darren back to the bed by the hug and the litany of how it was fine, they were fine, it was all fine. They ended up laid out in the wintry sunlight over the sheets, wound loosely around each other, Jayden pushing for little kisses and rubbing his fingers lightly over the near-invisible scars, trying to show it was okay. The wandering hands were gone; Darren kept them still at Jayden’s waist, but the more Jayden pushed little kisses into his mouth and jaw and neck, the more Darren seemed willing to answer him, and Jayden felt a thrill of triumph when Darren eventually pushed himself up on an elbow and settled over him to return his attention to the hickey he’d been leaving when Jayden had found the scar.

  “Just make sure I can cover it up,” Jayden commanded breathlessly, tangling a hand into Darren’s hair to keep his mouth just where it was. The sucking was pleasant enough but when he bit down, it felt like Jayden’s blood had caught fire. He was beginning to feel a bit dizzy.

  Then they both jumped like they’d been electrocuted when something buzzed between them, Jayden’s entire system shrieking in mixed shock and intense pleasure. Because specifically, it had buzzed less than an inch from their crotches.

  “Oh, my God, you can do that?” Jayden blurted out, and Darren cracked up laughing.

  “No, my phone can do that,” he said and fumbled it out of his pocket. “Sorry,” he added, dropping it on the sheets by Jayden’s head and nosing along his collarbone to find another spot.

  “S’okay,” Jayden murmured breathlessly as Darren settled back in and began to leave heavy, wet kisses along the top of his shoulder. He was gearing up for a bite, and Jayden’s eyes rolled back in his head when it was finally bestowed upon the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “Oh, my God.”

  “Mm,” Darren hummed, and his hands finally moved to slide around Jayden’s hips.

  The phone buzzed again; Jayden huffed and reached for it. “C’mere,” he mumbled, pulling Darren’s head back to his neck and holding the phone above them to peer at it. “No, come on, I have to be symmetrical.”

  “Bossy,” Darren grumbled, but obediently wrapped his mouth around Jayden’s neck again.

  “Mm. Paul’s texting you.”

  “So?”

  “Um.” Jayden fumbled the text open with a shaking thumb. “Um, he wants you to go to work. You have a job?”

  “No, he does. He’s bored. Tell him to piss off.”

  Sorry, I’m busy right now, Jayden managed, and dropped it again to get both hands into that amazing hair and pull Darren up for a proper kiss. His neck and shoulders were tingling; he was struck with the urge to give Darren the same treatment, and pushed him sideways, turning them towards the wall to avoid falling off the bed entirely.

  Then a pop song exploded into the room, and Darren groaned. “What the fuck?” he asked, fumbling for the singing phone. “What did you tell Paul?”

  “That you were busy.”

  “…You used that many words?”

  “I’m not you,” Jayden jibed.

  “Now you’ve done it,” Darren mumbled and flopped back into the pillows to answer the call. “Hey, man. You what? Yeah, well, I was. None of yours, you nosy bastard.”

  Jayden wriggled under the raised arm and slid a hand up Darren’s chest, kissing his neck. He could feel a pulse under his lips, and opened his mouth to suck on it lightly. Darren’s voice faltered above him.

  “Nothing. God, Paul, you’re worse than a wife, I swear. Dump your girlfriend and marry me.”

  Jayden bit him; Darren swore and groaned, his hips arching momentarily.

  “All right, all right, Jesus—okay, seriously, no, I need to go,” Darren babbled and dropped the phone to push Jayden off and back onto the bed. “You,” he said, straddling Jayden’s hips. A little thrill coursed through Jayden’s blood, but tempered by a little apprehension too. “You are a bastard.”

  “Well. Yeah,” Jayden admitted.

  Darren shook his head. “Come on, we need to get dressed and go out. Paul’s demanding we go to his work now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s a nosy fuck and pissed that I was, quote, ‘macking with some boy I don’t even know.’ Apparently I’m a complete slag too.”

  “Well…”

  Darren snorted and got off him, roaming to find their abandoned shirts. “I’m fat and a slag. Why do I date you?”

  Jayden dared to grin at him. Darren fluffed up like a cat was maybe the most amazing sight ever, especially with those wonky glasses he still hadn’t corrected. “Why do I date you?” he parried.

  “Trust me,” Darren pulled his shirt back on and shook out his fleece, “when you meet the dynamic duo, you’re going to ask yourself that very same question. But seriously.”

  Chapter 19

  Darren dragged Jayden back into town right after a short lunch, inflicted by Mum, who’d caught them on their way downstairs. Jayden had flushed so hard he was sure Mum had seen right through him, but she’d not said anything, and he’d been kind of grateful for Darren’s reasons to escape.

  “She’s going to work us out,” he warned Darren as they waited for the bus.

  “So?”

  “So I’m not out yet, and I don’t know how she’d react, and…”

  “And cross that bridge when you come to it,” Darren advised. “Your mum’s not going to freak. My mother might freak, but yours is more likely to hug us both to death.”

  “Not much better,” Jayden grumbled, but let it slide.

  Town was busy. The economy was crap (apparently; Jayden didn’t know the first thing about economics) and the January sales were intense, drawing people into the high street despite the icy weather. Hidden in the crowd, Jayden dared—under the pretence of protection against the icy pavement—to slide his hand into the crook of Darren’s elbow.

  “Where are we even going?” he asked.

  “Roastie’s,” Darren said. The cafe, an airy affair at the bottom of Queen Street, was actually called Roasted Toast, but the entire universe agreed that that was a shitty name for anything, and it had been dubbed Roastie’s by the local population.

  “…Why?”

  “That’s where Paul works.” Darren shrugged. “And this is what you get for sparking his interest.”

  “So this is my fault?”

  “Yes,” Darren insisted as they turned onto the narrow street and the bright front of Roastie’s came into view. “Never, ever spark their interest. To put this in context, Jayden, I hadn’t told them I had a boyfriend. They merely suspected. So to be doing something else with someone else, Paul has guessed.”

  “Oh,” Jayden said dumbly and flushed. “Um. So…is this the part where I get scared?”

  “If you have any sense, yes.”

  “Charming,” Jayden said, huffing, but he couldn’t find it in him to be angry. There was something…nice about getting to meet Darren’s friends. Like Darren was letting him into his life, bit by bit. In the aftermath of the bad spell, that Darren still trusted him enough to do it—still wanted to do it…

  “Don’t sound so relaxed,” Darren said, holding the door for him. “They’re godawful.”

  “Who’s godawful?”

  There were two people in the cafe: a tiny, little old lady by the window, sipping from a stupidly large mug of tea and reading The Daily Mail, and the barista, a lanky black kid with hands that rivalled Darren’s in size, and a grin that went from ear to ear.

  “That better not be me you’re talking about, man,” the barista warned, and Darren snorted.

  “Paul, Jayden. Jayden, this is one half of the Ambiguously Gay Duo of St. John’s.”

  Jayden shook the hand that Paul offered. From a three-foot vantage point, he wasn’t as lanky as the baggy shirt made him look, and h
e wasn’t really any taller than either of them. His grip was powerful, and he looked to have the same lean strength wrapped around his upper body that Darren did. There, the similarity ended. His head was shaved, his grin was huge and unabashed, and his eyes warm with a loud sort of humour that Jayden found odd next to Darren’s dry, eye-rolling exasperation.

  Maybe Paul was the reason for it.

  “So you’re Darren’s boyfriend?”

  “Yes,” Jayden said, trying not to smile at being able to say that. Boyfriend. Though maybe this explained why Darren had never changed his Facebook relationship status. Maybe Jayden could make him now.

  “He’s been keeping you in the closet,” Paul confided, and Darren rolled his eyes. “Don’t you pull that face at me, Chopin. It’s totally true.”

  “Chopin was a pianist, you moron.”

  “So? You play piano.”

  “Oh, my God, I can’t take this much stupid without some caffeine. Do your job—and a latte with a shot of caramel espresso for this one.”

  “You even know his coffee order; that’s so fucking cute that I’ll just head out the back and puke into the recycling bin.”

  Jayden couldn’t help but laugh at the harsh words undermined by Darren’s usual half-amused expression, and Paul’s huge grin like an overexcited puppy. He worked as he talked, effortlessly raising his voice over the sound of the machine, and thumbing out a text in the middle of pouring without thinking what might happen if he poured boiling water over himself.

  “Ethan’s coming,” he announced as he plonked the cups unceremoniously on the counter. “Then I’ll take my break and you are gonna get grilled, Jayden. You like pineapple on your gammon, ‘cause we’re gonna make you into ham.”

  “I’m sorry,” Darren said, staring Jayden straight in the face. “He tries to be hard and—what is it, Paul? ‘Gangsta’ in the ghetto?”

  “Shut up, man, Crossley’s not a ghetto. It’s full of old people.”

  “Sure it is. Old ghetto.”

  “I am the only non-white kid in the place.”

  “So your little sister lives where, exactly? Your Dad ship her back to Antigua?”

 

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