by Anna Zabo
He stroked a hand down Dominic’s thigh. “That’s my story.”
“That’s a lot of story.” Dominic sat on the edge of the sofa and put his head in his hands. “Wow.”
Adrian looked around the coffee shop again. Yes, he’d come back here. But right now? “I think I’d like to walk some more.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
They gathered up the dishes and placed them in the bin near the front, then headed back out into the warm summer day.
It was, Adrian realized, slightly unfair of him to drop all of that into Dominic’s lap. But another part of him was utterly curious to see what he might share in return.
Because there was so much behind those brown eyes and that sometimes shy, sometimes wicked smile, and Adrian longed for it the same way he’d longed for the very streets they now walked.
He could wait, though. He was very good at waiting.
* * *
The walk with Adrian had been enlightening and humbling, and had set Dom’s head spinning. They spent some time watching a pickup basketball game, found a spot neither of them had eaten at before for lunch, and on the way home had even bought a pie from a place Adrian claimed was the best pie shop in all of New York.
All the while, Dom marveled at the man next to him, the one with the huge heart and stunning eyes. The one with old pain in his past, and a touch that could be tender or commanding.
He still wanted to kneel beside him, wrap his arms around him, and give him as much of himself as he could.
But he didn’t know how much that was. He talked a little about his childhood in New Jersey, how supportive his parents had been when he’d come out in high school and realized that his infatuation with boys wasn’t at all a phase. He talked about his friendship with Ray, though he didn’t name him. Trips to the shore. His love of music and history, graduating with a bachelor’s in the latter and a minor in the former. How he’d waited tables while at Montclair State University. His trips into New York with his classmates. Clubbing. Listening to the buskers whenever he saw one.
“Did you ever busk?”
Dom shifted on the stool by Adrian’s breakfast counter. They were in his kitchen again, with Adrian at the stove working on dinner. Lamb chops and stir-fried vegetables. Seasoned rice. The place smelled fantastic.
“No. I...get stage fright a lot, especially performing solo. It’s not so bad in groups.” Thrilling even, now that he had Domino to put on. Much better than the wreck he used to be in public. He looked down at his nails. Most of the time on tour he painted them random colors that would chip as soon as he played, even when he used a pick. He hadn’t worn polish in months.
“Hence being in a band.”
Dom heard the question in Adrian’s voice...and ignored it. “Exactly.”
Adrian shook the skillet of vegetables on the stove and mixed them again. “You have a passion for more than history I think, given your interests in literature.”
“I haven’t met a book I didn’t like.”
At that, Adrian turned around completely and raised an eyebrow in utter disbelief.
Dom couldn’t help laughing. “Okay, yes I have. There’s a lot of books I can’t stand. But I’ll start pretty much anything you put in my hands, and read until I can’t.”
“I do hope you have a good level of can’t because there’s so many books in this world...”
And so many two floors above his head in that lovely attic of Adrian’s. “When I was young, I used to read everything to completion, but now? Yeah, can’t comes a lot faster than it used it. A lot.”
Adrian’s lips twitched a bit. Subtle, but Dom still caught the smirk he was trying to hold back. It was rather like the ones both Ray and Zavier got sometimes. “What?”
Adrian glanced over his shoulder, eyes a mockery of innocence. “Oh, nothing.”
Dom slipped off the stool and joined Adrian at the stove. He placed his hand at the small of Adrian’s back. “Nothing?” He nuzzled at that tempting neck. “I don’t think so.”
Adrian hissed. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to distract the cook?”
“It’s nothing,” Dom said.
Adrian turned off the gas on the burner, set down the wooden spatula. The next thing Dom knew, his arms were pinned behind his back and Adrian had him up against the fridge, scattering magnets and papers to the floor, thigh between Dom’s legs and mouth inches from his own. “Not nothing at all.”
“You first.” Dom licked at Adrian’s mouth, and that earned him a groan. Adrian’s thigh pressed against Dom’s swelling cock.
“You’re not at all old.” Adrian kissed the side of his mouth. “And you’re delectable. After we eat, I think I want to savor more of your ink.”
That didn’t help the state of Dom’s dick. Or did. Depended on which way he wanted this to go.
“Your turn.” Adrian sucked on Dom’s neck.
“Fuck.”
That only earned him a chuckle and a nip to his earlobe, which made him unable to think at all. He squirmed against the refrigerator and Adrian’s hard body, his limbs on fire. Felt so good, so real, so right.
“Want me to make you come, babe?” Adrian’s hot breath tickled his face and his teeth scraped against Dom’s stubble. “An appetizer before dinner?”
God, Adrian could make him hard and hot in an instant. “What...whatever you want.” Because he couldn’t decide. Waiting was its own pain and pleasure. But this—oh god, he would die from this, too.
Adrian let out a breath that was pure bliss. “Ah, thank you for that.”
In the next moment, Adrian had trapped both Dom’s wrists in his hand, taken his mouth, and had his other hand in Dom’s jeans.
Holy shit. Dom moaned and fought as Adrian jacked him off and feasted on his mouth. The only thing that existed was Adrian’s hard body, the hum of the fridge vibrating into his back, and the feel of that hand fisting his cock hard and fast. There was no way he’d last, but he fought anyway until he came, light blinding his vision and Adrian drinking down his screams.
When Dom came down from his high, he was sagging in Adrian’s arms. “How—how do you do that?”
“How can I not?” Adrian nuzzled his temple. “You look so amazing when you come.”
He hitched a breath. “I’m a mess.” He was falling in love. He shouldn’t be falling in love. Mind-blowing sex wasn’t enough to hang a relationship on.
Except it wasn’t just that. It was everything in between.
Adrian pressed another kiss, this one to Dom’s cheek. “Go clean yourself up, and I’ll finish dinner.”
Dom raised his gaze and found himself looking into those flecked brown eyes. “If this is the appetizer, what’s for dessert?”
Laughter washed over Dom like light and joy, and Adrian’s smile was a spotlight shining on Dom. “Pie. And anything you’d like.”
Oh. Oh god. Dom swallowed, his mind whirling at what that meant. “Anything?”
“Yes.”
“I should go clean up, then.” Dom found his footing and straightened.
Adrian tapped him on the ass. “I’ll be waiting.”
Dom went, cleaned himself up as best he could, then came back downstairs. Dinner was amazing, and yes, between this and the French toast in the morning, Adrian had proved he could cook just as good as he’d implied he could.
They shared a slice of pie—after Adrian had retrieved his cuffs and a blindfold from his bedroom. Hands restrained, eyes covered, Dom ate from Adrian’s fork, and his mind and body exploded with each bite. The pie, bourbon chocolate pecan, was the best he’d ever had of that flavor, but the experience of eating it turned his head inside out and melted his bones.
He was so damn hard again by the end, it wasn’t at all fair. “You’re gonna kill me.”
Adrian kissed him before removing the blindfold and
unlatching the cuffs from each other. “Strangely, that doesn’t sound like a complaint.”
“It’s not,” Dom said. He rotated one of the cuffs. “I’m gonna guess you don’t get off on being tied up.”
“No, I don’t.” Adrian’s lips quirked. “Opposite, in fact.”
Yeah, he figured. “How about being fucked by someone wearing your cuffs?”
That hit—and hard. Adrian’s breath caught and he shivered. “Yes.” His answer was full of rumble and gravel. “That would get me off nicely.”
Dom smiled, stole a kiss from that shocked face, dragged Adrian upstairs and did just that, making it last as long as he possibly could.
Sunday, they cleaned the kitchen, went out for bagels and coffee, and spent the rest of the time in Adrian’s library, reading one another interesting snippets of texts until they succumbed to each other.
“I’ve never made love to anyone up here,” Adrian murmured, his mouth skimming over Dom’s now naked back.
“There’s always a first time.”
That earned him a laugh. Adrian also laid Dom out on the daybed in the reading nook and took his sweet time making them both come.
Sex and books. Dom could get used to that. So fast. So much.
But when evening ticked around, they both knew what was coming—the end of the weekend and a return to their own lives. This time, they ordered pizza, drank it with wine, and watched episodes of White Collar on Netflix until the sunlight slipped away into the night. Dom’s heart dropped. “I should go home,” he whispered.
Adrian chuckled and kissed his brow, then his mouth. “Probably. I have work in the morning, and I am not twenty-seven.”
“Thirty-six.”
That earned him a longer kiss. “And I can keep up with you, babe. Don’t you forget it.”
God, he loved hearing Adrian call him babe. Almost as much as the silky caress of Dominic. “I won’t.”
“But it does mean I need to sleep tonight if I want to have any hope of being coherent for my nine o’clock meeting.”
“Oh, fuck that. Some days I’m glad I’m a musician.”
“Some days?” It was a quiet question, but one with a lot of weight. Adrian hadn’t probed, hadn’t pushed for more about that part of his life. But Dom had left the door open.
He cupped Adrian’s face and traced his cheeks with his fingers, memorizing the texture, the bone structure. “Honestly? Every day. I’m grateful every day.”
Adrian closed his eyes and smiled. “Good. You deserve all the happiness, Dominic.”
Fuck, that hurt, but in a deeply good way. His chest tightened and he blinked a couple times, clearing his vision. “Adrian—so do you.”
Those eyes flicked open, and Adrian’s smile turned sad at the edges. “Maybe.”
“You do,” Dom repeated. “And maybe I can be a part of that.”
A huff of laughter. “So we are dating, then?”
“Well, I found myself thinking that next weekend, I probably ought to bring a change of clothes...so...yeah. I think we are.”
“Next weekend sounds lovely.” Adrian’s voice was so quiet, so perfect, Dom kissed him again.
It was many more kisses before Dom made it to the front door with the books Adrian had pulled from his library earlier in the day, and then at least another dozen more before he found himself walking down Adrian’s steps, out his gate and into the summer night alone.
He turned and looked back up at Adrian, framed in the doorway. “Good night, Adrian.”
“Night, babe. I hope you have a good week.”
As Dom walked home, he realized it didn’t matter what kind of week he had—it wouldn’t be better than the two astounding days he’d just lived through.
He was in deep, deep trouble when it came to Adrian Doran.
Chapter Nine
The weekend with Adrian had knocked Dom so off-kilter that he nearly forgot Twisted Wishes had an interview with a journalist from RockPass Magazine. Thank god the photo shoot would be later, because he had more bruises from the manhandling Adrian had subjected him to than he wanted to admit.
A manhandling he’d begged for.
But out in public with the band meant pulling Domino out of the closet—and that was hard. Playing the guitar? Well, mostly it was him doing that, using Domino to cover for his overwhelming stage fright and the singular fact that no one wanted to see a nerd prancing around stage with the likes of Ray and Mish. But the publicity stuff?
Oh god, that’s when he acted the most like Domino. He could be brash and flippant and they wouldn’t ask him too many personal questions, which left the ones about music, and Dom never minded answering those.
But he really wasn’t ready to be Domino, not after this weekend. Two days and two nights of...everything. Amazing sex. Some of the best food he’d ever eaten. Cuddles in front of the TV. Long walks through Brooklyn. Learning about Adrian and who he was...outside of being a computer programmer for a bank and a guy who adored putting his lovers on their knees and tying them up. His heart ached at Adrian’s story, at the loss of his parents, then the estrangement from his siblings.
Dom wanted to make the world bright for him, especially since Adrian’s day-to-day job was...well enough. And he’d seen the look in those eyes when he’d mentioned returning to work and 9 AM meetings.
Dom was so lucky he got to live his fucking dream, even if he had to do it as Domino, and even if it did require the occasional interview.
Dom checked his phone and reread the text from Ray. They needed to be at the magazine’s office by noon, which meant that he needed to be over at Ray and Zavier’s by ten-thirty so he could transform into Domino. They’d go by limo from there, like the rock stars they were.
Fuck. He needed an outfit. He pulled out one of his white ripped tanks artistically held together with safety pins. It would show off enough ink and keep him cool—the opposite of what he normally wore as Dominic.
A pair of tight black jeans followed. A studded belt. His boots with their heels and their bling. Thankfully, Domino was one walking wrinkled outfit, so he could shove all of it into a duffel and not worry one bit.
From his dresser, he pulled out Domino’s makeup kit and took a quick look inside to make sure he had everything. Yup. All the essentials, sans gel. He grabbed the bottle of hair goop and turned it over in his hand. In an instant, he was taken back to Adrian’s bathroom and his own reflection, how he’d looked Saturday morning, mussed with sleep and sex and the slow realization that he—Dominic—was having a life.
Dom blew out a breath. He really wanted to rewind the day to his walks with Adrian, to those intimate moments that weren’t about sex. He’d learned so much and even shared what he’d felt comfortable giving. Couldn’t he even have one day to dwell on that? Turn it over in his head? Enjoy the thought of being Dominic before he was thrust back into Domino?
He rammed the drawer on his dresser closed, rattling the items on top. Photo frames. A bottle of cologne. Some anime figurines.
Get a grip. It’s not like you’ve been Domino at all this summer. True. Mostly they’d been practicing at the studio. And since the building housed other businesses, no one even gave him a second glance when he wandered in for practice. He walked right by fans in his button-downs, glasses, and bowties.
Today, he threw on a thicker white T-shirt to cover his tats, and a training jacket, pants, and a ball cap to match. It kinda looked like a uniform...and hopefully that would be enough to allow him to waltz up to Ray and Zav’s place and enter without anyone being the wiser.
There weren’t always fans there, of course, but they were there often enough.
Dom had a key to Ray and Zavier’s place, and Mish’s, just like they all had a key to his. They’d been through too much not to have each other’s backs, not to be family. Getting to Ray and Zav’s was tricky, but getting
in without notice was harder. Thankfully, their place had a doorman who’d been given a heads-up about Dom as a friend of the Van Zeller-Demos household, so he often slipped in the front door. Most people thought he was some kind of employee. He’d even been asked if he could take notes in from fans.
He’d just kept his head down and mumbled something about losing his job if he did that, and they left him alone.
But someday, someone was gonna figure it out. Terror lurked behind that thought, ’cause he had no idea what he’d do on that day. None. Maybe hang up his guitar. Or never leave his house again. He didn’t have the strength or resolve the others had.
He slung the bag that contained Domino over his shoulder and headed out to catch a train into Manhattan again. They lived in the Upper East Side, in a spacious apartment. Both Ray and Zavier loved the pulse and beat of the city, and never seemed to mind the fans and photographers that sometimes trailed them.
Dom had opted for something a little less expensive, with a little more space and a little more anonymity. A house next to a bunch of others, not an expensive apartment in Manhattan.
Then again, the fans had never been a problem. Not yet anyway.
Getting across town at rush hour? That was a problem. The trains were packed, but he managed. On the inevitable delay as they sat on the Manhattan Bridge, he stared out at the water, then caught the reflection of a businessman next to him.
Shit.
He hadn’t considered that. He and Adrian lived close enough together that they might end up on the same train at the same time at some point. And how would he explain where he was going? If he said to practice, would Adrian want to tag along? He’d seemed honestly curious about Dom’s music, even if rock was totally not his thing.
