by Shawn Bailey
Eli hopped out of the seat and followed him like a fly being led into a web by a spider.
* * * *
“Would you like a beer?” Dimitri asked Eli once they were in his apartment.
“No thank you,” Eli said. He walked around looking at all the jazz memorabilia on the walls.
“You’re a very talented violinist,” Dimitri said. “How long have you been taking lessons?”
“Thirteen years,” Eli answered.
“Would you care for a soda, some coffee, or perhaps tea?”
“No thank you,” Eli said. “This isn’t a social visit.” Dimitri popped the tab off the beer can and sipped some. He walked out of the kitchen and came into the living room area. He leaned against the wall and watched Eli look around. He stopped browsing and turned to face him.
“I want you to remove these tattoos you put on me.”
“Oh, I see,” Dimitri said, feinting shock. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like them?”
Eli stood across from him with his arms crossed. He was actually taller than Dimitri remembered, about five feet nine, but still shorter than him. “No, how can I put this? They’re just not me.” Dimitri smirked at him. He already knew that. “Awe, I think they’re cute and sexy.”
Eli scowled at him. “If I wanted a man’s name tattooed across my butt, it wouldn’t be your name.”
Dimitri put the beer can on the table and walked over to him.
“What’s wrong with my name? It’s a good Russian name. Consider yourself lucky. I could have covered you in erotic pictures like your friend Trey suggested.”
Eli stepped back like he’d just insulted him. Or did he not know that Trey was the one who told Dimitri to tattoo Eli as a joke?
“What’s wrong? Are you afraid that I’m going to kiss you again?” Eli blushed hotly under all that tanned skin. “Don’t you dare.” Dimitri moved in closer. “What would you do?” Eli stepped back. He didn’t have anywhere to run since Dimitri had cornered him by a wall. “Will you please remove the tattoos? My parents will kill me if they see them.” Dimitri smirked at the admission. “Kiss me first.” Eli glared at him. “I don’t kiss men.”
“Well, you better get used to kissing me because that’s the only way I’ll remove them.” Eli’s scent filled his nostrils. He smelled divine. And he bet that was a real sapphire dangling from the silver chain around his neck.
“I have money,” Eli said, not backing down from him. “I’ll pay anything to have them removed.”
“Ah, that’s right, you have two tattoos. If I’m not mistaken you have one near your cock, lover.” He closed in on Eli.
Eli dropped his brave facade, but he didn’t move.
“You can keep your money. I don’t want it. My reward is just knowing that every time you get freaky with some young society girl, she’ll see my name and run away screaming.” Eli bravely braced up to him. “You’re not the only tattoo artist in town. I’ll find someone else to remove them.” Dimitri shoved him roughly against the wall and braced his hands against it, trapping Eli. “Don’t you dare defile my work. No, I change my mind. Go ahead and find someone else to do it. Laser surgery is both painful and costly. And you’ll forever have two big, ugly scars marring that perfect preppy body.” He lowered his head and stole a kiss.
“Let me go,” Eli said against his lips.
Dimitri ignored him and pushed his tongue inside Eli’s mouth.
Eli gasped, shuddered, and tried to push him away.
The kid had some serious young muscles, but that didn’t deter Dimitri as he tried to kiss Eli senseless. He felt Eli’s confusion as his hands shook against Dimitri’s chest. He also felt the moment Eli’s resistance shattered. He relaxed his lips and Dimitri took advantage of the situation and ran his tongue around Eli’s mouth and played tongue tag with him. Their bodies were so tightly pressed against each other that he knew the moment Eli got an erection. The kid whimpered as his body betrayed him.
Dimitri broke the kiss to give him a chance to breathe. “Why fight it, Eli? We both know the real reason you’re here. You’re just a little curious.”
“You’re crazy,” Eli said, pushing Dimitri off him.
“Am I? You can call me what you want, but your dick’s about to rip through the seams of those fancy trousers.” He lowered one of his arms, reached between Eli’s legs, and squeezed gently to demonstrate.
Eli flinched and tried to get away from Dimitri’s prying fingers.
“There’s no need to be embarrassed. This happens to the best of us.” He leaned in and kissed him again and continued to massage Eli’s swollen cock.
Eli trembled and whimpered again.
Maybe he should take it easy. He remembered his first time with a man. He nearly wet his pants. “I’ll be gentle,” Dimitri whispered to him.
Eli continued to tremble as his dick hardened. “Please stop. I don’t want this.”
Dimitri freed him. He didn’t want to take him by force either. He felt bad for manhandling Eli this way, but the kid had his nose wide open. He backed away. “Some other time maybe?” His answer came in the form of a fist. The preppy boy punched him in the face and then kicked his legs from under him. “Don’t you ever touch me again. I hate you.” He ran from the apartment.
“Ouch,” Dimitri said, shaking away the pain in his jaw. The lick had packed quite a wallop. And the little bastard had kicked him on his ass. He’d laugh if he didn’t hurt so badly. Dimitri struggled to sit up. “Oh?” Damn, he had a boner. He groaned and rose to his feet.
What kind of nut got turned on by physical violence? He hobbled to the kitchen and fixed an ice compress. He placed it to his jaw for a couple of minutes and then lowered his pants and placed it against his dick. He grimaced as the cold got to his skin. Maybe he’d underestimated Eli. Someone had apparently taught him how to defend himself against predators. He raised his pants, tossed the compress away, and limped back downstairs. Both Greer and Jose looked up when he entered the shop.
“What happened to you man?” Jose asked. “You look like hell.”
“I’m fine,” Dimitri lied, limping over to his station.
Greer grinned at him. “Pretty boy too much for you to handle?” Dimitri scowled at him. “I’m wearing him down.” Greer scoffed. “He hightailed it out of here like the place was on fire. You’re slipping, bro.”
Dimitri felt his jaw again. It still hurt like crazy. “I think I just went about it the wrong way. He’s the type that needs to be romanced.”
Jose laughed. “Did he hit you?”
Dimitri nodded. “I guess he didn’t appreciate my hands on his dick.”
Jose growled like a tiger. “He’s an alpha male, hombre…a seme.
You should have crawled on your knees and begged him to take you.” Dimitri frowned. What? He’d never been submissive to any man before, and he wasn’t about to start now. “Never. There’s only room for one king in my den. You’ll see, I’ll have him on his knees soon enough. But first I have to find out his last name and where he lives.”
“You can start by asking his teacher,” Greer said. “The name on that SUV he and that other violinist left in earlier said Dubisson School of Music.”
Dubisson? That was the name of his music teacher and the school he’d attended. Could it be the same? He limped over to the telephone book and looked up the school. Yes, it was the same place. Tomorrow he’d pay a visit to his teacher and catch up on old times.
Chapter Three
Eli lay in his bed angry at what had happened and angry at himself for responding to a man’s touch. What was with his body lately? He’d gotten erections around girls plenty of times since puberty, but never one so forceful. The thought shamed him. He wasn’t gay. So why had Dimitri’s touch turned him on? Even right now his cock rose at the thought of the other man and begged for relief. He shuddered and tried to shake away the idea. He didn’t want to imagine Dimitri screwing him lustfully and kissing him silly. He groaned. Why couldn’t he forget
what had happened or Dimitri? A week had gone by already and he hadn’t seen him since then.
He got out of the bed because he had swimming practice. He’d gotten out of it last week, but he didn’t think he could come up with an excuse since this was the last class he’d be attending for a while.
He also had another practice with Mr. Dubisson. Today they would begin practice for the upcoming annual recital, which meant all the students would be there. Also, this year he would be performing a solo since this was his last year as a student. After thirteen years of lessons, he’d finally be graduating. And in a week he would be moving out of his parents’ home and moving into his first bachelor’s apartment. Eli was looking toward the experience with both anticipation and dread. He’d never lived on his own before, but he supposed he’d be too busy with college classes and activities to even notice.
Eli went down to breakfast after dressing. His parents were away for the weekend and Emma had his breakfast prepared and waiting for him on the table. He uncovered the dish and found sausage, eggs, and grits. In a week he’d be on his own and would have to cook for himself. Luckily he wasn’t a complete idiot in the kitchen. Emma had given him lessons over the years, and he could fix simple meals but nothing extravagant.
Eli ate his breakfast while reading the morning paper. He flipped to the entertainment section. The Seafood Festival was featuring a lot of live bands. He’d always wanted to attend one of those types of festivals, but he never seemed to have the time or anyone to go with.
Maybe he’d check it out if he could convince Justin or Henry to go along with him.
Eli cleared away his dishes, grabbed his keys, and headed out to his car. A half hour later he parked his car in a parking spot outside of Dubisson’s Music School and went inside.
A lot of the students had arrived already. Eli waved to some of them and continued to the auditorium where practice would be held.
He spotted Randall. The young man was trying to set up his music stand, but having a hard time because his hair kept getting into his eyes.
“Here, let me help you,” Eli said, tucking the long black strands behind Randall’s ears. He has soft hair. “There, that should do it.”
“Thank you,” Randall said, smiling shyly. “I didn’t have a chance to put it in a tail before I left home.” Eli smiled back at him. Why hadn’t he noticed how handsome Randall was, or how pretty his eyes were? Eli stopped smiling and groaned inwardly. What was happening to him?
“You cut your hair,” Randall said as he adjusted his glasses on his face.
Eli nodded. “I had it done last Saturday after we left the café.”
“I like it,” Randall said. “It makes you look like an adult.”
“Thank you,” Eli said, suddenly feeling a bit flushed. His eyes landed on Randall’s lips. They looked especially pink and pouty. His penis rose slightly in his briefs. Eli bit his bottom lip hard and turned away.
“Have you been practicing for your solo?” Randall asked.
“A little,” Eli said as he stopped panicking and started putting up his music stand. He’d been so busy checking on the delivery of his furniture and trying to find someone to get rid of his tattoos that he hadn’t had time for much else. The tattoos didn’t appear as colorful as they had a week ago. Maybe they were fading. Well, he hoped so.
“I’ll be performing ‘Danse Russe’ by Tchaikovsky.”
“That’s a very difficult piece,” the younger teen said, staring at Eli.
Randall’s blue eyes seemed even larger behind his glasses. Eli gulped, trying not to notice. “Yes, but I am confident I can play it.” He couldn’t tear his eyes off Randall no matter how hard he tried. He felt like a vampire checking out his prey. Randall was about his height, but with a smaller frame. He was also a year younger and his voice had finally stopped cracking a couple of months ago. His new voice was soft, but manly.
Both Randall’s parents were lawyers, and like him, Randall was an only child. They had been taking lessons together for twelve years and he’d never noticed how close they’d become. They didn’t hang out like he did with Justin and the others, but they’d been together almost every Saturday since they were toddlers. “Where is Mr.
Dubisson?” he asked to distract him from undressing Randall with his eyes. Maybe he’d have to seek out therapy if this continued.
“He was here earlier,” Randall said, pulling his violin out of the case. “But he has a visitor…a former student.” Mr. Dubisson had taught a lot of kids since he opened the school thirty years ago, and some of the students had gone on to become famous musicians. Eli supposed one of them had come to pay a friendly visit.
“Mr. Dubisson seemed very happy to see the man. I think he used to be a violinist.”
Used to be? Did that mean the man no longer played? Eli couldn’t imagine not playing the violin. Maybe the guy had hurt his hands or something. Anyway, it wasn’t his concern.
Eli finished setting up the stand and took out his sheets of music.
Then he pulled out his violin. He’d had this one since he was ten. It was a gift from his grandfather who’d played for the New Orleans Symphony Orchestra until he retired ten years ago. He was the one who discovered that Eli had talent at the tender age of five, when he picked up his grandfather’s violin and mimicked a song he’d heard the older man perform.
The other students piled into the auditorium. A few minutes later Mr. Dubisson entered with a young man. The violinist? Eli looked the other man over. He was dressed nicely in a suit and tie. His heart thumped hard in his chest and his palms got all sweaty. He sighed.
Some days it just didn’t pay to get out of bed.
Mr. Dubisson brought the young man to the front of the auditorium and introduced him. “Everyone, I’d like to introduce you to a former student of mine, Dimitri Miller.” He did remember seeing some trophies in Dimitri’s apartment, but he assumed he’d gotten them for something like bowling or tattooing.
Eli never believed in fate. Nor did he believe in coincidences.
“Dimitri played the violin and was a gifted student.” Mr. Dubisson was never one to give out stray or frivolous compliments. If he thought Dimitri had talent, then he had talent. So what had turned a gifted violinist into a tattoo artist and why didn’t he remember seeing him at the school?
Mr. Dubisson walked Dimitri around and introduced him to some of the kids. Apparently he was going to spend some time with them today.
“This is Randall Watkins,” Mr. Dubisson told Dimitri. “He plays second chair. He’s been taking lessons with me since he was four and will be a senior when school resumes in the fall. I’m very proud of him. He is truly a talented violinist.”
If Randall recognized Dimitri, he didn’t let on. He did notice the blush as it rose on Randall’s cheeks when he shook Dimitri’s hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, Randall. Please keep up the good work.”
“And this is Eli Coleman, our first chair,” Mr. Dubisson told Dimitri. “Eli just recently graduated from high school and has been accepted at Loyola University’s School of Music on a full scholarship.”
“A music scholarship? Wow. That means he’s pretty good,” Dimitri said. He winked at Eli.
“I don’t mean to brag,” Mr. Dubisson said. “But Eli is a genius when it comes to the violin. He’s been taking lessons with me since he was five. He’s a straight A student, and led his school to several music championships.” Mr. Dubisson paused. “His achievements just bring tears to my eyes. He’s already gotten offers from several orchestras around the world, even Paris.”
“A young virtuoso?” Dimitri asked.
“Yes,” Mr. Dubisson said. “I am proud of him. You must come to hear him play at the recital. He’s performing ‘Danse Russe’ by Tchaikovsky.”
Dimitri whistled. “That’s a very difficult piece.” He extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Eli Coleman.” Eli hesitated at first but didn’t want to appear rude in front of his teacher
and peers. He accepted Dimitri’s hand. It encircled his. Eli’s heart did that freaky little thumping thing again. The sound echoed in his ears. “Nice to meet you,” he said. He slid his hand out of Dimitri’s.
“I’m looking forward to hearing you perform at the recital. Your parents must be very proud of you.”
“His father is a judge,” Mr. Dubisson said. “And yes, they are very proud of him.”
Dimitri raised an eyebrow.
Eli looked away. If Mr. Dubisson didn’t stop singing his praises, he was going to choke him. Dimitri just seemed to take all the information in, smiling sweetly at him. Eli’s cock stretched in his briefs, more furiously than it had for Randall. He’d pay for the psychiatrist himself. Someone had to cure him of this new passion he’d acquired.
“Everyone take your seats,” Mr. Dubisson finally said. He turned to Dimitri. “You can sit in the booth upstairs behind the bandstand,” he told him. “You can get a perfect view of the students from there and the acoustics are great in that room.” He led Dimitri to the room and then returned to begin the practice.
Eli peered upstairs briefly and then raised his violin. It was a long, grueling two hours, and once it ended, he gathered his things and hightailed it out of the school and to his car. He didn’t expect to find Dimitri leaning against it. How did the man know which car belonged to him?
“What kind of parents give an eighteen-year-old a BMW?” Dimitri asked.
“Kiss off,” Eli said, opening the backseat and gently placing his violin case inside.
Dimitri didn’t appear offended by the rebuff. “I’d rather kiss you,” Dimitri said.
Eli nearly bumped his head on the top of the door when Dimitri said this to him. He looked around nervously, afraid their conversation might be overheard. “What are you doing here?”
