by Jude Sierra
Erik touched the very edge of the tattoo on River’s shoulder. “I can’t get you on your back, then? Not fair.”
“Another time,” River said, laughing softly against Erik’s cheek. He stayed propped on his elbows, arching into Erik’s body, humming appreciatively when Erik climbed over his lap.
Erik’s mouth hovered over River’s. “Look at me,” Erik whispered. His hand snaked between River’s legs and wrapped around him. “Look at me,” he said again. River opened his eyes.
Erik had never thought sex was particularly intimate. Being demiromantic meant that intimacy came later for him. But this, them, River’s eyelashes fluttering and the long string of deep, slow kisses that followed, couldn’t have been anything else.
Intimacy was a place with River, and Erik still couldn’t figure out how he’d landed there.
They lay on their sides after, lips close, hands resting on tired bodies. A door opened and closed.
“Whose coat is this?” A soft voice inquired from the living room.
Erik’s mouth pulled into a playful grimace, and he snorted, trying to choke down a bout of laughter. River covered Erik’s mouth with his palm and snatched his phone off the nightstand. One quick text later and River’s roommate’s cackling filled the apartment.
“Sorry, I should’ve grabbed it,” Erik whispered. His lips parted for River’s fingertips. He kissed along River’s palm, his heart line, and the back of his knuckles. “You’ve got pretty hands.”
Pretty everything.
River hummed. Their legs were tangled above rumpled sheets. Shadows bathed the bedroom, tense and electrified by lingering desire. He slid his fingers from Erik’s mouth, down his chest, and splayed them gently over the bruise on Erik’s side. “Have you ever gotten hurt?”
Something hidden fluttered in Erik’s chest. He remembered Beverly’s smile, how it’d ruptured just before he ended the call. Yes. But not enough. “Define hurt.”
Rich, brown eyes flicked around Erik’s face. “Hospital visit?”
“No. Urgent care, but that was for a brace.”
“Where?”
Erik propped himself on his elbow and touched the black ink below his right hip. A set of praying hands holding a rosary with an upside-down cross was tattooed in the hollow there. He touched the skin above it and gestured to his rib cage. “Someone smashed their heel right…” He took River’s hand and guided it over his bruised rib. “Here, feel that?” He pressed River’s hand into the crooked bow of his rib. “It was broken. I got one of those tight brace, corset things and had to sit out two fights so it could heal.”
“That’s allowed?” River traced the praying hands with his index finger.
“Regulations are for the weak,” Erik teased.
River didn’t seem too keen on joking around. “Could’ve been your neck.”
“But it wasn’t.”
A buzz from River’s phone halted the conversation. Erik watched him pick it up, glance at the screen and flinch. He swiped the call away and tossed his phone out of reach.
“Someone else want your attention?” Erik draped his arm over River’s side and smiled, thoroughly enjoying the little-to-no space between the tips of their noses.
“Yeah, my mom,” River said on a sigh. He kept his palm over Erik’s hip, memorizing bone and scar. “We don’t talk much anymore… I mean, we do, it’s just complicated.” He shrugged. “It is what it is. Do your parents know you fight?”
“No,” Erik said. “They’d come here and try to rescue me, and I don’t need rescuing. They don’t need to see me fight, ever.”
“Can I watch you fight?” River asked.
Erik followed the line of River’s easy smile, leaned into the touch that drifted from his hip to the inside of his thigh. “No,” he whispered. “Don’t come see me fight.”
River’s smile turned into a timid laugh. “Why not?”
“Because I’d rather you see me like this,” Erik said. The truth turned thick and syrupy in his mouth. He chewed on it. Mulled it over. I don’t want you to know what I’m capable of. “Seriously,” he added. “Don’t, okay?”
River blinked. His mouth opened and closed, but he stayed quiet. His hand stilled on Erik’s thigh; his eyes were tense under furrowed brows. Before he could respond, Erik gripped his cheek and closed the distance between them. His hips rolled against River’s, and a shiver ran down his spine when River whispered, “Hold me down.”
“Your tattoo,” Erik countered.
River shook his head, eyes softer than they had been all night. “It’ll be fine. Do it—hold me down.”
Erik pushed River onto his back, grabbed his arms, and pinned them. He gripped both wrists in one hand then stretched the other across River’s throat, thumb below one ear, pinky below the other.
Their bodies kept them awake, chasing sensation after sensation. Sometime after midnight and before morning, River said, “Stay.” But Erik couldn’t.
He kissed River before he left, once on the cheek and then the mouth, and he closed the door silently behind him on his way out. River had asked him to stay. Erik was too used to leaving to consider it. But that didn’t stop the knowing from sinking into his bones.
River Svoboda was under Erik’s skin, and Erik wanted desperately to keep him there.
Chapter Eight
River’s hair was damp, and he was still pulling on a shirt when he entered the kitchen, searching for his phone. They’d agreed on a meeting time, but he wanted to be sure Erik hadn’t texted again. Nerves danced under River’s skin, squeezing his heart. First-date nerves seemed ridiculous when it came to Erik—someone he’d seen on his knees already, someone who had seen him bare and panting.
He wasn’t expecting to run into Pax—not Pax looking like this, at least.
River raised an eyebrow. “Going somewhere?”
Pax paused for a long, surprised breath before grabbing the glass he’d been reaching for. He wore what might have been the tightest jeans River had ever seen someone squeezed into. Their deep maroon accented a black tank top. A silver graphic—some band—drew his eyes to the delicate arches of Pax’s collarbones. His eyes were bright and dark, the blue brilliant against smudged eyeliner. This was a boy ready to find trouble, his outfit designed to draw attention to his small stature and lithe body.
This was a Pax he’d never seen, creating a deep dissonance River had to shake his head to clear.
For the most part, they circled each other in the same small space. They got along well, easily adapting to what each of them needed—River’s yoga and a disciplined order in his home, and Pax’s studies and quiet. It was easier than living with Brigid, who brought chaos with her everywhere she went and had never failed to disorder his physical, mental, and emotional space.
River didn’t know any of Pax’s friends, and prior to Erik, he’d avoided bringing anyone over. He preferred to slink out in the deep night. It was easier to disappear from someone else’s bed—he didn’t have to stay, and he never had to kick anyone out.
Erik was an anomaly.
“Nowhere,” Pax said. He cleared his throat and rolled his eyes at himself. “I mean, obviously somewhere. Just, you know. Out.”
“Well, I didn’t think you were dressed up to lurk in the kitchen with a glass of water,” River said.
Pax’s mouth twitched, and he looked away. “My friend. She wanted to go out. Not usually my thing, but…”
Huh. River schooled his face. Pax was lying. River might not have known Pax all that well, but he knew the look of someone caught in a lie. But Pax was entitled to his privacy, and it wasn’t River’s business to call him out when he was obviously uncomfortable.
“Cool,” River said, trying to segue past the awkwardness. “I was just…looking for my phone.”
“It’s on the table by the door.” Pax nodded toward the entryway and slid out of the kitchen. Somehow, dressed like he was, his movements were smoother, slinky and graceful.
“Yeah, um, thanks
.” River bit his lip. This was ridiculously weird.
“So, you going out?” Pax latched on to his own change in subject. “With coat-in-the-hall guy?”
“Yeah. Erik.” River traced a tile with his toes. “I’m taking him to the movies.”
Pax pinched his lips together as if he held in a laugh.
“Central Cinema,” River blurted. His face heated. It was a perfectly respectable date choice. He couldn’t quite say why he felt embarrassed admitting it. Maybe because the movies seemed so mundane, when what Erik inspired in him was anything but. Last time he’d seen Erik, their banter about seeing a movie had seemed like a prelude. River knew he’d wanted more from Erik but didn’t know how much he was allowed to have. Now, he wanted to make good on the offer.
“Cool. Classic.” Pax laced his black Converse high tops. It shouldn’t have worked, but it did, serving to highlight his youth. “Anyway.” Pax pocketed his keys and phone.
“Good luck,” River said, then winced. He could hear Pax’s laughter through the shut door.
Wolfbite013: Six, right?
Watermarked: Yeah. See you in a few.
River smiled, thumbing through their conversations, wondering. It’d been a while since he’d been in this position—testing something new and unrestrained. It was terrifying and delicious.
…
Central Cinema charmed, slightly dilapidated but not—a series of contradictions River understood. A marquee surrounded by old brick framed a set-back mosaic around the doors and ticket window. He’d only been here once before, but he wanted to show off Seattle’s best—the secrets and crowd pleasers.
River, selfishly, craved Erik’s rare, delightful laugh.
If River had thought the cinema charmed before, it was nothing compared to Erik casually slouched against a brick wall outside the theater, one booted foot propped up, black leather jacket stark in a city sighing into nightfall.
“Hey,” River said. He leaned next to Erik, who finished typing whatever he’d been looking at on his phone and then pocketed it. “You look—”
“—amazing,” Erik finished, and then grinned. “I mean, you look amazing.” He tugged on River’s scarf and leaned in for a fleeting kiss.
“So, how do you feel about heckling?” River murmured against his lips.
Erik laughed, breath fogging the air between them. “Are you planning to critique my skills?”
River kissed him again, because he could, because Erik made him want so many things. “The movie, I mean. Hecklevision.”
“What?” Erik shifted back a bit, fingers still tangled in River’s scarf.
“You can send texts to a particular number, and it posts them on the screen. That way you can heckle during the movie.”
Erik let go of River’s scarf. “Sounds interesting. Lead the way.”
River bought tickets at the window while Erik looked over the mosaic, then hustled him inside and to the right theater. He wanted Erik to like this odd little corner of the city, but also this date. He wanted to see Erik’s face fold into laughter, to learn the nuances of his smiles.
“Hey, weren’t you going to feed me?” Erik said, tugging on River’s hand. River stumbled back into him. Erik nosed at his neck, and when River closed his eyes, he chased chills that burned through his body.
“Come on, I’ll show you.”
Couches filled the theater instead of individual chairs. Each one had a table stocked with a food and drink menu.
“Oh, huh,” Erik said. He stepped down two rows before turning back to River. And there, there was a smile River had never seen. Curious, maybe? A little surprised and, River hoped, delighted.
“So, what’s your philosophy on proximity to the screen?” River stepped down to join him and surveyed the theater. There was one other couple there, precisely in the middle, and an older man in the third row.
“When I’m on a date with you?” Erik squeezed River’s hand and pulled them together. River eyed the couple next to them and shook his head minutely. Erik’s brows spoke volumes.
“Sorry, it’s—there’s something…” River bit his lip and tried to think through his phrasing. “I know this is dumb, but some places just feel safer. Or at least some sight lines do.”
Erik considered him for a long moment before smiling. “That’s what back rows are for.”
River rolled his eyes but didn’t try to control his smile. Erik led them into the darkest corner of the theater, behind the couple. It was close enough to movie time that River wasn’t sure many more people would be joining them. He settled in, curling one leg up on the couch, ankle hooked under his other knee, body orienting toward Erik. He took a menu when Erik handed it to him.
“Do we go out to order?”
“No, it’s table service. A server’ll come by in a minute.”
“Hmm.” Erik didn’t look up from the drinks menu. “Oh, the Best Boy,” he said, and glanced at River, the sweep of his eyelashes casting shadows in the dim lighting.
“Is that what you need?” River scooted closer until his knee touched Erik’s thigh. “The best boy?” he cooed. Erik knocked his knee away playfully.
“I’ll show you later,” he said. Despite the brisk tone, River knew he would.
Their waiter arrived. River ordered the Best Boy, while Erik ordered the Leschi. Seemed fitting that River wanted to try something with elderflower while Erik chose something laced with bitters.
The thought gave him pause. He wasn’t sure he even knew Erik well enough to think that. Only he did. He’d read it in the lines of Erik’s body when confronted with questions he didn’t want to answer. When he talked about fighting. When things triggered a past he seemed reticent to talk about. River was an expert on hiding his own shadows. Now, watching the planes of Erik’s face, he wondered what Erik saw in him. If his past was as hidden as he hoped.
River ordered tomato chorizo tarts to share, and once their cocktails arrived, he allowed himself to relax enough to scoot toward Erik. Their thighs and arms touched. He leaned his head back against the couch and contemplated the ceiling. They were quiet. Erik’s hand lingered on his thigh while they ordered dinner. Ginger beer fizzed in his mouth, accented by cherry and lemon, and an odd but delicious flavor that must have been the elderberry. He ordered another one when the movie began.
“What are we seeing?” Erik whispered.
“You didn’t look?”
“I wanted to be surprised.”
I want to keep surprising you.
River laughed, and it was too loud for the small space. The man in front of them turned around with a frown, and River had to cover his mouth to keep the laughter in. He scooted lower in his seat. There was a lovely warmth in his limbs and tongue, a thrilling heat against his body that was all Erik.
“It’s The Lost Boys.” River turned his face into Erik’s shoulder.
“You want me to heckle a classic?” River couldn’t tell if Erik was playing or if he really was scandalized. He dissolved into more laughter. Erik cupped the back of his neck, and he turned his face into Erik’s chest to muffle it. Luckily the movie started before River could get chastised again.
Erik, as it turned out, couldn’t heckle for the life of him. He laughed at some of the on-screen comments, and River’s whispered jokes, but really, he was more intent on tracing the inside seam of River’s pants and the slope of his neck. River didn’t mind.
“Aren’t we too old to be making out in a theater?” River asked. Erik kissed him in response. River chased hints of vermouth and cherries. He pulled back and took a deep breath. Erik’s arm was around him, his eyes intent in the dark. River did the only sensible thing he could think of and threw popcorn at him.
“None of that. You keep going, and you’ll get us tossed out for indecency.”
“Will you shut up?” the man in front of them called out.
“Jesus wept, asshole, it’s not—”
River’s hand slapped over Erik’s mouth before he started a bar fight in
a movie theater. He kissed Erik hard and pulled out his phone.
River was skilled at many things, one of which was redirection. He typed quickly.
What has 36 teeth and holds back the Incredible Hulk? My zipper.
Erik snorted out a surprised laugh, his eyes darting toward River, who was still typing.
Are you a cat? Because I’m feline a connection between us.
Now the old man in the front of the theater was laughing, as well as the teenagers in the back on the other side.
Are you a beaver? Cause daaaaaaaaam!
Okay, so there was something else River was good at.
Dad jokes.
Beside him, Erik squeezed his lips together and held back laughter. His shoulders shook. Excellent. River typed as fast as he could. He and Steve used to hold competitive “dad joke” contests which generally ended when one of them was too drunk to keep going.
Roses are red, violets are blue, how would you like it if I came on you?
Erik laughed out loud, a startled punch of noise that brought River’s attention to the screen.
“Oh, shit.” He shook his head and sunk down.
Sorry about that. Let’s try the PG version. The teenagers were beside themselves. Roses are red, violets are blue, how would you like if I came on TO you?
“You’re crazy,” Erik said, laughter hiccupping under his breath.
“I could keep going.” River held up his phone. Erik kissed him, deep enough to bend him back, hard enough to bruise his lips. River dropped his phone and gripped Erik’s shoulders.
“You are a man of many talents,” Erik whispered, mouth busy behind River’s ear.
River thought then, just before a shivering pleasure rose between them, how much he wanted to keep surprising Erik. How much he wanted Erik to know him. How a contradiction could be a wish, much too soon between two people.
If nothing lasts forever, will you be my nothing?
Steve had taught him that one. River had always thought it too heavy for a joke, and Steve had teased him about being too philosophical. But now River understood something he hadn’t before. Erik was built to break things. Erik was soft in the midst of pleasure, sharp in the world, hard-edged with people he didn’t know, and skittish with his own desire for affection. This might not last. A year, two years from now, River could be nothing in Erik’s memory. He was used to that; his mother and Brigid had taught him this many times—how to be loved and erased at once.
