Counterpoint

by Anna Zabo

  Their musical paths did cross a little. Jazz. Classical. Some Spanish guitar schools. “I just like to listen,” Adrian had said. Dom had been lying in his arms listening to a compilation of 1940s jazz, and Adrian had trailed his fingers over the musical notes tattooed on the outside of Dom’s right arm. “I have no talent for playing, or even singing.”

  Also no interest in current rock music. “I just can’t get into it,” he’d said. “Hard to find the soul.”

  The dismissal hurt a bit. A lot. And he guessed Adrian had noticed that, because he’d shifted and turned Dom’s face so they looked each other in the eyes. “I’m sorry, that was heartless of me. The fault is likely mine. Sometimes I’m too set in my ways.”

  “Maybe I can find something you’d like.”

  Adrian had smiled and kissed him. They’d ended up making love on the couch, this time Dom topping Adrian because that, it turned out, was something Adrian wanted, as well.

  “I like when you fuck me,” Adrian had said later. “It’s—”

  “Sweet?”

  That had gotten him a laugh. “No. It’s very much you.”

  “And I’m not sweet?”

  “Oh, you are, but you’re so much more as well, Dominic.”

  The train jerked forward, and Dom gripped the poll to keep from tumbling into other passengers. Shit. Mind in the clouds. Or with Adrian, which was where he wanted to be.

  Except Adrian was likely at work. They’d already set up to meet again on Friday—both their weeks were too busy for any evening meet-ups. Not with the way they tended to spend so much of it screwing each other. Or talking.

  They needed more hours for both.

  By the time Dom got to Ray and Zav’s, he was hot and sweaty and cranky beyond belief. Thankfully, there weren’t any fans or pap that he could see, so he made it into the building and past security with no issue, but he was still in a mood by the time he got into their apartment, and it obviously showed, because unflappable Zavier raised both eyebrows and backed away. “He’s all yours, Ray.”

  “What?” Dom snapped.

  “You’re, um. Not happy,” Ray said.

  No, he wasn’t. “I just spent far too long crammed in a train car in this getup.” He gestured at himself. “And you expect me to be happy?” And even he could hear the crack of annoyance in his voice.

  After a very pregnant silence, Dom closed his eyes. “Shit.” He set the duffel down and dropped the ball cap on top of it. “Can I catch a shower?”

  Ray nodded. “Dude, of course.”

  He high-tailed it for the guest room and took a nice cool one, and then slipped some of Domino’s clothes on. Odd to see those two halves of him again. When he was dressed enough, he headed back out to find Ray and Zav.

  They were talking in the kitchen, coffee in hand. Zavier was casually holding a wooden spoon, though there wasn’t a damn thing cooking on the stove. Ray had one of his dopey sexy smiles he only ever got for Zavier.

  Did Dom look like that with Adrian? He cleared his throat, and they both turned. Zavier placed the spoon on the counter. “Feel better?”

  “Yeah, and I’m sorry I was hellish when I got here. I’m... It was a long weekend.”

  Ray’s face fell. “Your date didn’t go well?”

  That...what? Then Dom pieced together why Ray thought that and started laughing. He crossed the room and plunked himself down on a chair at the kitchen table. “Oh my god, no. The date was amazing. I spent almost the entire weekend with Adrian.”

  “Ah.” Zavier had this wicked little grin. “You’re pissed off that it’s not the weekend anymore.”

  Yup. That was it exactly. Dom’s humor fled and he scrubbed a hand through his wet hair. “Got it in one.”

  “That explains the bruises,” Zavier murmured.

  Ray punched him in the arm—not hard. “You’re not supposed to say shit like that, Zav. It’s rude!”

  Zavier’s smile sharpened, and he turned to his husband. “Really?”

  “I mean.” Ray waved his arms. “It’s personal.”

  “Guys...” Dom said. “I...don’t actually mind. I mean, it’s Zav. He says that shit all the damn time. Wouldn’t be him if he didn’t.”

  Zavier shrugged and gestured at Dom.

  “Wait.” Ray pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re taking his side? I’m your best friend!” But there was a smile on both their faces, and Dom felt a hell of a lot better.

  Dom raised his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying.” He pushed himself out of the chair. “I better go deal with this before it dries.” He gestured to his hair.

  “I should get better dressed than this.” Ray tugged at his T-shirt.

  Zavier looked perfect. But then, he always did.

  Dom headed back into the bathroom and gooped up his hair into the perfect spiked Domino mess and even sprinkled a bit of glitter in it.

  “You know, every time you come here, it takes six months to get rid of the glitter. It even ends up in my office.” Zavier leaned against the bathroom doorframe.

  Dom flipped him off and Zavier snorted.

  He got to work on Domino’s makeup next, under Zavier’s watchful eyes. “Does your Adrian have a last name?”

  He stared at Zavier in the mirror for a second before resuming work with his eye pencil. “Gonna do a background check on him or something?”

  “Would you be mad if I said yes?”

  No. ’Cause that was Zav, too. Watching out for the band. “Well, it’s either you or Mish. One of you is gonna check up on him.”

  Zavier chuckled. “You like him.”

  “He’s—” Dom put down the pencil and studied his own eyes. Makeup on point. “Zav, he makes me feel like I haven’t felt before. I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.”

  “You like him,” Zavier repeated.

  “I like him. A lot. Maybe more than I should.”

  “Is there such a thing?”

  Dom grabbed eyeshadow next. “Yeah, maybe? I don’t know.”

  Zavier crossed his arms and levered his foot up on the opposite doorframe. It was a pose that should have been in a magazine, but those came so natural to Zav. “What was the best moment of your weekend?”

  Breath caught in Dom’s throat. That moment in Adrian’s office when he fell on his knees and had held on to Adrian's legs. “I...uh. Don’t know if I could explain it to you.”

  Zavier looked at the toe of the leather shoe he had up on the doorframe, pursed his lips, and met Dom’s stare in the mirror. “Try me.”

  It was, Dom realized, said in the same tone Adrian sometimes used. He straightened and turned around. “So the morning after he fucked me into oblivion, I woke up and found him in his office. In boxers. Paying his bills. He was just...himself. And we talked and...all I wanted to do was kneel at his feet.”

  Zavier’s foot slid off the doorframe and he straightened, his eyes a little wide. “Did you?”

  “Yeah, I told him and he let me.”

  “And?”

  “And that’s it. I held on to him and he played with my hair, and I don’t think I ever felt more calm than in that moment.”

  Zavier let out a breath. “I think you should give me his last name, Dom.”

  A little spike of panic raced through him. “Was that wrong? What we did?”

  Zavier blinked a few times. “No. Not at all. From what you’ve said, it was absolutely right.”

  “Oh.” The panic subsided and Dom turned back to the mirror, his heart still pounding. “Then why...”

  “Because you’re my friend. And Ray’s, and Mish’s, and I’m an overprotective asshole who looks out for his own. Your gentleman sounds fine. But our...interests overlap a bit, I think. And you have me curious.”

  Dom looked into a reflection that was mostly Domino Grinder. “He’s Adrian
Doran. And I think I might fall in love with him.”

  Zavier grunted. “I can’t help you there.”

  Dom laughed. “I don’t think anyone can.” Because fall was an apt description.

  He rooted through the kit and pulled out a blood-red shade of lipstick and put the finishing touches onto Domino Grinder’s face.

  * * *

  Adrian made it into the locker room before Jackson, but he hadn’t managed to change completely before his friend joined him. Jackson took one look at his torso and whistled. “Someone had fun this weekend.”

  While Jackson changed, Adrian gave his friend a once-over. There were telltale bruises on his hips and back, too. “Looks like I’m not the only one.”

  That flash of smile was bright, if a bit weary.

  “Club conquest or...”

  Jackson waved the question away. “Club. You know my routine.”

  Except he also knew what Jackson craved—and it wasn’t just a young buck. “This one interesting?”

  Jackson made a dismissive noise. “Too young. He’s a player.” He closed the locker and leaned against it. “Don’t give me that look, Adi.”

  Adrian held up both hands and held his tongue. He’d given the advice often enough—Jackson should get out of the clubs if he wanted more than Mr. Right Now.

  Jackson eyed Adrian. “What about you?”

  “Spent the weekend with my catnip, as you so generously called him.”

  That earned him a laugh. “And?”

  “We fucked and ate and I told him my life story.”

  At that last bit the smile fell from Jackson’s lips. “Damn. You are serious about this one.”

  He was. Quite. And it seemed like Dominic was, too. Adrian shoved his duffel in the locker, grabbed his water bottle, and nodded toward the exit. “Shall we?”

  Jackson rolled his eyes, and they headed out to cycle through whatever routine was in store for today.

  As it turned out, Jackson went easy on him—and Adrian wanted to thank whoever Mr. Right Now had been for taking the edge off their workout. He didn’t want to admit how sore—and tired—he was from his weekend with Dominic. But the workout soothed the part of him that was roaring in circles as he processed what had happened.

  He’d given much of himself. Gotten back quite a lot, too—including Dominic’s almost natural submission. That need to give in, to kneel, to give himself over. Adrian had also gotten a taste of another part of Dominic, one that blazed with strength and power. He was very much like the intricate knot-work on his shoulder—beautiful and complex. One moment, Dominic would moan and cry as Adrian took everything, and the next he could kiss and fuck Adrian with such passion and conviction.

  A jewel indeed.

  He turned all these thoughts over in his head, even as they headed into the office.

  “He’s gotten to you.” Jackson adjusted his tie in the mirrored surface of the elevator bank. “Your catnip.”

  “He has.” He met Jackson’s gaze. “And his name is Dominic.”

  The elevator dinged, and Jackson clapped him on the back and murmured, “Good.”

  They entered, and Adrian rode up to his well-enough job in a cube. Not quite nine. He wondered if Dominic was even awake yet.

  Adrian woke his computer and sighed. Friday seemed very far away indeed.

  * * *

  Midday Wednesday was one of the hottest of the year. Before heading out to lunch, Adrian stripped off his suit jacket and tie, and rolled up his sleeves—and was utterly remorseful he hadn’t thought to bring shorts and a tank to work when the wall of humid, sticky air hit him when he strode out of his office building.

  Thank goodness he’d settled on lunch with Janelle close by. Hopefully she wouldn’t want to sit outside, because he would both bake and burn—his Irish heritage was no match for sunlight like this, even if the brightness lifted his mood.

  Unfortunately, she was waiting for him at a table on the patio. Thankfully, it was in the shade and there was a current of air that swept around them—fans, he realized. She offered her hand, and he took it, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “You look lovely.”

  She did, too. He never flattered unnecessarily, and she knew it. A stylish sundress of reds and yellow complemented her rich brown skin and thick black hair. Every bit of her looked perfect and elegant and cool, despite the heat.

  “Adrian,” she murmured as he sat opposite. “How are you?”

  “Doing well, actually.”

  “Mmm. Then what do I owe the pleasure of your company to, if not for consolation?”

  He laughed. Yes, he did tend to seek her out when he needed advice or a sounding board about topics that made Jackson uncomfortable. More personal things. Family. Kink. “How about consultation?”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  Just then, the server came to take their orders. They both opted for salads and ice water—it was too hot for anything else. After the server left, Janelle’s eyebrow went right back up. “Consultation?”

  He folded his hands on the table and studied them before looking up. “I’ve met someone.”

  “My dear Adrian, I know you. You meet someones all the time. You’ve never asked me to lunch to consult about one of your flings.”

  “He’s not a fling.”

  That got her interest. “Are you getting serious, Adrian? Settling down?”

  Ouch. “I’ve always been serious.” Even his couple-hour conquests had been done with thought and care.

  “Not about sex. But this isn’t just about getting your rocks off, is it?”

  There, to the heart of the matter. “No, it’s not. And I don’t want to fuck it up.”

  Their waters came first, and he was glad for something to hold. He liked Janelle quite a bit, but she was perceptive and cut through bullshit, and that always intimidated him, though he knew he needed that, too.

  Stay humble. Feet on the ground.

  “He’s never had any experience with bondage or submission.”

  “Ah.” She picked up her glass. “And you want advice on how to broach the subject?” She sipped her water.

  “No. I’ve already tied him to my bed and fucked him.”

  Janelle choked on her water and Adrian almost laughed. Instead he continued, “And he knelt for me for no other reason than he wanted to.”

  That had her swallowing delicately and placing the glass back on the table. “Well, that is interesting.”

  “I’m in the weeds here.” He spread his hands helplessly.

  “No, Adrian. I don’t think you are.” She studied him, her dark eyes meeting his. “Is he running scared? Backing away?”

  No. They’d even exchanged more text messages than he wanted to admit since the first one landed on his phone Monday afternoon. That evening, he finally figured out how good sexting could be. “Quite the opposite.”

  “Then you’re not in the weeds. Or the woods. Or any other metaphor you might care to use.”

  “It’s like it comes naturally to him.”

  “What, the desire to please you? To enjoy what you offer?” Janelle laughed. “Oh, Adrian, that’s what lovers do!”

  Of course, that was when their server arrived, somewhat ruddy-cheeked, to deliver their salads.

  Janelle gave Adrian a look once they were alone again. “Please tip that poor thing well.”

  “Oh, I will.” He drizzled dressing over his salad. “I’ve had more lovers than I really should enumerate.”

  “You’ve had numerous fucks, but precious few lovers. Only one since you returned to New York.” She paused. “Well, one before your current lover.”

  One? “Who?”

  The look she leveled him was every part are you fucking kidding me, and the day became unbearably hot.

  “I—who?”

  “Jackson.”
>
  Jackson? “We didn’t date.”

  “You did date. Both of you refused to call it that, and you also both figured out quickly enough that you weren’t compatible for the long run. But you still loved and cared and worked to please each other—as lovers should.”

  He could only study the pile of greens in front of him.

  “And you’re still good friends.”

  Adrian lifted his gaze. “Dominic is nothing like Jackson.”

  “No doubt, if he’s kneeling for you.”

  He gave her that, completely. “And I actually am dating Dominic.”

  She laughed. “Of course you are.”

  He spread his hands again. “Janelle.”

  She’d perfected her long-suffering sigh, and it made him smile that little bit. A smile graced her lips, too. “Adrian, here’s my advice—Continue to do as you’re doing. You’re a good soul and it’s about damn time you found someone to share yourself with. If this man is coming to you, returning to you, kneeling for you, then he needs you, too. Needs what you have to offer him.”

  She stabbed her fork into her salad. “Or to put it more simply, stop overthinking.”

  His own sigh was less long-suffering and more of a huff.

  “And yes, I realize not overthinking is asking the world of you, Adrian.” She smiled at him. “But I believe in you.”

  Stop thinking too much. Enjoy Dominic. “Let the kink come as it may?”

  “Exactly.”

  He could do that. Tension dripped away, much like the sweat on his brow, and he worked on his own salad while silence fell between them.

  Their conversation drifted off Dominic and to Janelle’s life. Local parties. Some gossip. But it was no one he knew—some timpanist turned rock star who’d been active in the scene once upon a time. Apparently he was back in New York and the scene was abuzz about if he’d return.

  “You met him once—the Juilliard student.”

  That would have been on one of his last trips back from California. “I honestly don’t remember.”

  He let Janelle’s commentary swirl around them, soaking in her presence and calm.

  Don’t overthink.

  He deserved someone to share his life with. Was that where this was heading? Maybe. Too early to tell.