Shadows You Left

by Jude Sierra

  As soon as River’s breath replaced his teeth, Erik took the opportunity to grip River’s hips and turn him around. River’s back hit his chest. His ass was snug against Erik’s crotch. River’s breath gusted from him, one arm lifted, fingers light on Erik’s nape, while he swayed his hips. Erik’s thumb played along the edge of River’s belt. It was surreal—this, them. It made him dizzy with want—wanting River, wanting more with River, wanting desperately to be known.

  River turned his face toward Erik’s, fingers tight in Erik’s hair, and kissed him.

  How the fuck did this happen? I’m done for.

  Erik’s thumb dug into the hollow of River’s hip, fingernail sliding against his skin. River trembled, his moan a hot breath in Erik’s mouth, and ground his ass hard between Erik’s legs.

  A familiar voice shouted over the music. “Someone better take you to confession, O’Malley!”

  Of-fucking-course.

  River’s eyes shot open. He glanced at Erik, then at Jadis, who stood far too close to the two of them.

  “Look at you.” Jadis trailed their fingers up River’s chest. Erik swatted them away. “Damn, Erik. I’d go missing, too, if this was in my bed.”

  “Can you not, Jadis?” Erik’s laugh came out light. He swatted their hand away again when they playfully clawed at the air. “River, Jadis—Jadis, River.”

  Jadis lifted a purple brow. A tight black shirt clung to their chest and a pair of denim shorts—barely long enough to be deemed shorts—fit snug over black tights.

  River glanced from Erik to Jadis and offered an awkward smile.

  Erik squeezed River’s hips reassuringly. He nodded to Jadis. “You here with Des?”

  Jadis pointed at the bar. “Yeah. Wanna stop dry humping and get a drink?”

  River shrugged and nodded. Erik didn’t necessarily want to leave the dance floor, but another drink sounded good. If Erik and River continued where they left off, they probably would’ve ditched the dance floor for a dark corner, anyway.

  Once they were out of the crowd, River tugged on Erik’s hand. “Friend of yours?”

  Erik nodded. “Yeah, I met them through Desiree when I first moved to Seattle. They’re…” Erik grimaced playfully. “Interesting.”

  “Them?”

  “Singular,” Erik clarified.

  River nodded.

  “Look what I found,” Jadis said.

  Desiree’s short cream dress hugged her muscular build. She grinned as soon as she laid eyes on Erik and River. The glitter dusted on her eyelids sparkled in the low light. A few other people were clustered around them. One was a tall, handsome fighter Erik had faced twice in the ring. His dark skin was flecked with deep, violet bruises, probably earned hours ago at Virgo. Another was a willowy woman with a mane of blonde curls. She touched Desiree’s waist in the familiar way that lovers did.

  “You have hot friends,” River said.

  “Desiree’s friends.” Erik’s palm smoothed over River’s lower back. “But they’re pretty cool.”

  “Hey, honey,” Desiree said. She smiled at River and held out her hand. “We didn’t formally meet at Gem. I’m Desiree. River, right?”

  River’s smile wasn’t strained or disingenuous. He gripped Desiree’s hand and nodded. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “He’s a catch.” Jadis bumped their shoulder against Erik’s. “Bet the three of us could have some fun, Erik. Bring him over, we’ll pop a couple blue butterflies, light some candles—”

  “How about we never do that?” Erik grinned sarcastically at Jadis. River’s lips parted, and his eyes widened. Jadis and Erik laughed, the full, buzzed kind of cackling that he couldn’t help. “Stay away from my boyfriend, you succubus.”

  The bartender pushed their drinks toward them. Erik replayed what he’d just said. Once. Twice. A third time.

  Everything, everything, came to a tilted, strangled pause.

  Jadis winked at River and bit a smile at Erik before they sauntered toward someone else at the other end of the bar.

  “Did they just… Ask us to have a threesome with them?” River asked, brows furrowed, fighting back laughter.

  Embarrassment squirmed in Erik’s stomach. “Yes, and they’ll definitely ask again,” he said.

  River’s laughter came easy. They sipped their cocktails and made small talk with Desiree. Erik pestered River into doing a shot with him, and Jadis pestered them both into doing another. By the time River tugged on Erik’s hand to lead him back to the dance floor, they were both pleasantly warm and loose, inhibitions chased away.

  Erik pressed his lips to the shell of River’s ear. “If we go back out there, everyone will get a show.”

  River bit his lip. He dug his phone out of his pocket and shoved it at Erik’s chest. The Lyft app was open.

  “Your place or mine?” Erik scraped his teeth across River’s jaw.

  “I don’t fucking care,” River said, voice clipped and breathless. “Just hurry up.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  River’s place was closer. They crashed through the door, clumsily tangled. Erik was a fever, burning up in River’s arms, his laugh low and dark when River curled a leg around his waist.

  “You’re surprisingly flexible.”

  “Daily yoga,” River said on a breath. “Don’t tell.”

  He accidentally ripped Erik’s shirt at the collar. River had carried their aching, dark desperation from the club all the way home, vibrating and on edge while he and Erik watched each other. They didn’t touch once during the car ride, but somehow Erik’s eyes on every visible part of River held the weight of unspeakable eroticism. No one had ever looked at him like that. He wanted to be wrecked.

  “Push me,” he said once Erik was free of his ruined shirt. Bottled up and storming, he wanted to use more than his body to speak. It was all he had, though, a way to combat the sharp sting of Erik’s words that had managed to stay with him. In his gut, River knew that Erik’s feelings went beyond their explosive sex life. River knew there was more to this than physicality. A part of him wished Erik would confront that. “Push me, push me.”

  “Push you?” Erik asked.

  River rolled his eyes. “To my limits, c’mon. You know what I mean.”

  He’d told Erik he’d never say Paris, and he meant it.

  “Not that I mind,” Erik said. His hands under River’s ass gripped too hard when he lifted him. River wrapped his thighs around Erik’s trim waist and sank his teeth into his neck. Erik tripped them toward his room. “But what’s gotten into you?”

  “Best fuck of your life, remember?” River couldn’t pretend to keep the knives out of his voice. “Goes both ways. You make me forget who I am.”

  Erik’s breath caught. “River—”

  “God, I wanna climb you like a fuckin’ tree.” River didn’t want to hear the apology in Erik’s voice. An excuse would hurt more than his unwillingness to be honest.

  “Babe, you basically just did.”

  River thrilled, limbs flushing hot, desire throbbing under his skin. He’d never liked pet names before, never used them for other lovers. But it betrayed Erik, even in his distance. Babe. Half the time, River didn’t think Erik even realized he was saying it, like calling him his boyfriend in the club.

  “Enough talking.” He bit Erik’s lip and let himself go boneless on the bed when Erik pushed him onto it. Erik’s hair was growing out, just enough for River to thread his fingers through as he cupped the back of his head.

  A reckless addiction seared through him, the urge to be taken any way Erik would have him. And it wasn’t enough. Even face down on his bed, teeth digging a bruise into his fisted hand, River wasn’t remotely close to his limits. “Oh, fuck.” River could barely speak. Erik inside him, Erik’s hands on his hips, the rough and quick strokes that wound him higher and tighter, stole the breath right from his throat. “Faster—h-harder, I don’t care.”

  “What does that mean?” Erik panted, pausing to grind into him. River co
uld feel him pulsing, and moaned.

  “Whatever you want, whatever, fuck, any-anything.” River cried out. Erik broke him apart, every cell and breath centered on begging for more. That insatiable hunger that followed Erik, every curiosity and worry, every touch they’d shared coalesced, a flashbang of an orgasm catching them both by surprise. It lasted and lasted until River was gasping for breath. When he was done, Erik’s thrusts slowed, but River wanted nothing like courtesy, couldn’t bear the thought of Erik stopping before he got to the place that he had—a breaking space that would hull him out completely.

  “Don’t stop,” he begged. “I mean it. Use me for whatever you want.”

  With a groan, Erik did.

  …

  “That’s never happened before,” River said, then giggled. “I don’t think I’ve ever made that noise before, either. Don’t ever let me laugh like that again.”

  River’s muscles were like jelly, his lips still tingling, parts of him deliciously sore. Erik lifted River’s limp arm from where it was draped over his chest. It flopped onto Erik when he let go.

  “It’s a knockout. Adorable,” Erik said. River warmed in Erik’s laughter. “What do you mean, though? What’s never happened? I’m taking notes for the future.”

  River kissed his chest and then the bruise he’d left on Erik’s neck. A teasing Erik was the loveliest Erik.

  “Getting off untouched, I mean,” River said.

  “Huh, really?” Erik squirmed until they were face-to-face on their sides. “Score one for the home team.”

  “Uh, duh, we’re in my bed. You’re the away.”

  “Did you really just duh me?” Shivers chased Erik’s fingers all the way up the ladder of River’s ribs.

  “You fucked me stupid, what can I say.” Unbothered, River let himself kiss Erik exactly how he felt, tender and raw and almost worshipful. Erik met him in every moment. River closed his eyes and sighed against his mouth. He tucked himself back against Erik and let himself glow under Erik’s fingers. Erik touched every inch of River’s sleeve, tracing rough lines and feathering over watercolors.

  “God, I love this,” Erik said. He kissed the inside of River’s elbow.

  “Thanks. My friend Carl did it. I met him when I was at Cornish.”

  “Did you design it?”

  “No, I let the artists choose my tattoos. I trusted him—I’d seen his work. Carl’s the reason I went into tattooing.”

  Erik’s fingers paused. “You were in a relationship with him?”

  “No, he’s straight as an arrow.” River propped his head up, leaning against his palm on a crooked elbow. It was probably problematic that River wanted to hear the jealousy in Erik’s tone. But he understood. Erik’s sharp-eyed friend had roused a similar edge in him earlier. Jadis’s insinuations, their dangerous offer and the barbs laced into each word prickled through River. He didn’t want to share Erik. He wanted to be wanted the same way.

  “So, Cornish. You dropped out, right?”

  River rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I guess.” He flopped back down; his long-suppressed flare for the dramatic peeking through.

  “That wasn’t judgment, babe,” Erik said, smile soft and eyes wide. They were more moss than brown, caught in the buttery light of the single low-watt bulb of his lamp.

  “I know. It’s fine. I have baggage about it.”

  “Because you want to go back?”

  River played with Erik’s fingertips. He shivered, and Erik wormed their bodies under the covers. “No. I couldn’t care less about that. I made the right choice. College was definitely not for me. I can paint on my own, and I love my job.”

  “You still paint?” Erik said. River wasn’t sure what it was about the inquiry, but it made him want to purr like a cat. They’d skirted the edges of these conversations before, but not with this depth. River knew he’d wanted more, but until this moment, he hadn’t realized how badly.

  “Yeah.” River gestured toward the corner of his room where he’d stored the painting of Val-in-progress. “I did the ones in the shop, too. They’re hanging on the wall in my station.”

  “Seriously? That watercolor flower is amazing, River.”

  River’s eyebrows shot up. “I’da picked you for a Pennywise kind of guy.”

  Erik rubbed his face against the pillow when he laughed, soft and sheepish. “Want to know a secret?”

  Yes, please. I want to know them all. River nodded, trying not to look too eager.

  “Clowns freak me out,” Erik said. River bit the inside of his cheek. “It’s okay, you can laugh. I know it’s stupid.”

  “It’s really not.” River put his hand on Erik’s cheek. “I just like seeing this. You. Who you are.”

  A tense pause grew heavier and heavier between them until River knew he’d said the wrong thing. Erik studied the canvas. Val wasn’t clear yet, just barely sketched.

  “So, I gotta ask,” Erik said, putting some space between them. “What’s with the names? River and Valeria?”

  “Oh, jeez.” River laughed and scrubbed his face with his hands. “My parents are very different from each other. They couldn’t agree on names—or so the story goes—so they each got to pick one. My father is of Eastern European descent. He picked Valeria. My mother was going through a flower-child phase when they had me.”

  “And she picked River.” Erik’s eyes were lined with laughter.

  “Shut up,” River said, holding back his own.

  “What does she look like?” Erik asked. “Your sister, I mean.”

  River fished around for his pants on the floor. He was more than half-draped over Erik and about one inch from falling on his face before he spotted them.

  “Careful, babe.” Erik’s hand was steady and wide and very warm on his lower back. River snagged the pants and tried to force his body to calm down. Back under the covers, River put some space between them and swiped through his phone until he found the right picture.

  “This is Valeria. She’s a little less than two years older than me.” Val was on the floor by a Christmas tree, surrounded by mounds of shredded paper. River sat cross-legged across from her, his smile in the shadows. Val’s ripped sleep shirt was sliding down one shoulder, her hair tangled and her captured laugh a mess, unpracticed and completely genuine. “That’s when I gave her the Pennywise painting.”

  “And she gave it back?”

  “Well, it wasn’t her real present.” River tried to put the smile back on Erik’s face. “She’s afraid of clowns, too.”

  “Oh, I see.” Erik handed the phone back. His palm found the shape of River’s ribs. “That’s how you treat people’s fears.”

  “Well, yeah. I’m a heartless asshole.” It was flippant and thoughtless, words slipping out in the cadence of well-practiced self-deprecation.

  “River, you are far from—”

  “Here,” River interrupted, his face heating over the insistent warmth in Erik’s words. Maybe he wasn’t as ready to be seen as he thought. “This picture”—he tapped the photo of her laughing—“is who Val really is.” He swiped to another picture. “But this is who Val wants the world to see.”

  It was Val and Morgan’s yearly holiday photo, the one she sent out religiously on December first. It was awful, all postcard perfection. The light played up her highlighted hair, and her makeup was flawless. They wore understated but classy clothes—no trace of clichéd Christmas colors and coordinating outfits. Her silver top and his blue button-down contrasted with the fake snow adorning what could have been a Martha Stewart approved tree.

  “That’s her husband, Morgan.” River liked Morgan well enough, though it had taken time. Morgan was a safe bet, their young marriage a promise of the secure American dream Valeria chased insistently.

  Erik studied the picture at length. River settled into the silence, watching him.

  “She’s really beautiful. And—”

  “And?”

  Erik shook his head. He put River’s phone face down on the table
. “Nothing. It’s a picture—I…”

  River’s palm absorbed the vibration of Erik’s sigh, wide on the planes of his stomach.

  “Yes. She’s well-off. She works at a company—I’m not even sure what she does anymore because she started in Supply Chain Management and worked her way up. I fall asleep when she talks about it. It’s kinda like when Pax describes what he’s studying. Or his actual job right now.”

  Erik didn’t laugh, but his eyes crinkled, just a little, at the corners.

  “Anyway, she’s always put together; her house is always clean.”

  Erik’s pointed glance at River’s ruthlessly ordered room went ignored.

  “Really, though, she’s everything I’m not. I guess that’s why I rolled my eyes.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Why was he even telling Erik this? River was weak enough when it came to him.

  “Because I like who I am and where I am, and I’m happy, but I know I won’t live up to what she’s accomplished.”

  “Babe—”

  River’s kiss caught Erik before he could say more. It was clumsy and too hard, teeth clicking and off center. Erik made a protesting noise. River wasn’t ready to hear comfort, and he didn’t want false assurances from anyone. He didn’t mind being someone else’s shadow in Erik’s eyes, because he wanted the truth. He wanted them both, eventually, to be their most naked, stripped selves. He climbed on top of Erik.

  The soft light from River’s nightstand highlighted Erik’s face, softened his sharp edges. River sat up. He touched Erik’s cheek, the scar where it’d been split. The barely-there hint of the healed cut by his lip. The bridge of his nose, which read of breakage, maybe more than once. His eyebrows. Erik twitched under his scrutiny. “What?”

  “Can I watch you fight?” River didn’t know what to imagine. Erik’s body was a bundle of barely contained violence, but beautiful in its strength. River had caught the edges of that potential, the way he used River’s body to channel it into something else.

  Erik went cold in a breath, with the flat eyes of a shark, empty and searching at once. “No. You can’t.”