“Whiner. Besides, I don’t have that much either.” Zach made a face. “Guess neither of us have a lot of testosterone or something.”
“You have plenty for me,” David said. “Besides, guys with hairy chests usually go bald. I like the fact that your dad still has lots of hair.”
“Got a thing for Dick, Taff?” Zach grinned down at him as he unbuttoned David’s khakis and slid them down his legs.
“Just yours,” David murmured as Zach bent to kiss David’s belly. He ran his hands over Zach’s head. “Your hair’s growing,” he said, still in that sleepy murmur. “I can almost get my hands through it.”
“Time for a haircut.” Zach kissed David’s hip, then nuzzled his groin, his cheek against the curve of David’s cock. “God, you smell so good. Makes me want to eat you up.”
“Come up here,” David said, patting the comforter at his side. “I wanna kiss you.”
“Not yet. I’ve got something I’m interested in here.” He slid his arms under David’s thighs, lifting his hips. “Push that pillow under your butt.”
David obeyed and Zach let David’s rear settle on the pillow, but kept his upper arms under David’s legs, holding him so he could gently mouth David’s balls. David groaned faintly. “Feels so good,” he mumbled.
Zach smiled and rolled David’s balls in his mouth, playing gently with them with his tongue. He tasted so good, spicy and musky, salty and sweet, all at the same time. David shifted, his hand coming down to curl around his cock and rub his thumb across the head; Zach reached up and put his hand over David’s. “Let me take care of you for a change, Taff,” he whispered. “Let me….” And he dragged his tongue over the silky skin of the tip of David’s cock. David moaned again, and Zach slid his mouth down to bury his nose in the soft curls at the base, his free hand cupping David’s testicles. David turned his wrist beneath the hand that held his and laced his fingers through Zach’s, holding on tightly as Zach swallowed, taking David deep.
David lay under Zach’s hands and mouth, exhausted from the crying jag and lost in wonder at the gentleness Zach was showing him. Sex with him before had been fierce and athletic, and David had loved Zach’s hungry passion. But he didn’t realize that he wanted this kind of loving, too, had missed it ever since he’d broken up with Jerry. When he finally came, it was still powerful, but slow, more a wave running through him than the electric shock of climax that rougher, wilder sex brought; a deep, easy, rippling sensation that had him arching his back and rocking up into Zach’s warm, welcoming mouth.
Zach came up beside him then and lay on the pillow, smiling at him. “Was it good?” he asked.
David smiled lazily back at him. “Amazing. Where did you learn to do that?” As a kid, Zach had been sweet-natured, but he’d changed so much since his return that David hadn’t realized that Zach could still show a tender side. How had he managed to keep the gentleness he’d always had as a kid through the long night of his captivity?
The smile faded from Zach’s face and his eyes went shuttered again. “I just did what felt good,” he said coolly.
“Shit,” David said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything….”
“I know.” Zach swallowed hard, then said, “Esteban didn’t make me do that much… only a couple of times. I think he was afraid of me in that way. I mean, he didn’t make me do it until he knew for sure he’d broken me, but afterwards, once when I was, he sort of patted my head and I couldn’t help myself. I growled at him.” He shuddered. “He hit me then, but he didn’t make me suck him off any more after that. I was glad. He smelled bad.”
David rolled over and put his arms around Zach. “Never again,” he said fiercely. “From now on you belong to me, Zach Tyler. And you make the choices, okay? I loved that. Loved it. But it’s always gonna be your decision, got it?”
Zach gazed back at him with solemn eyes. “Why are you so good to me, Taff?” he asked in a small voice. “Why did you give up Jerry for me? Why did you come back here when for all you knew I could have been a ravening lunatic—more of a ravening lunatic than I already am?”
“I had to take the chance,” David said. He smoothed his fingers over Zach’s face, feeling the tiny scars along his jawbone, the rough sandpapery whiskers on his cheek. “I had to know if your captivity changed that one important thing about you.”
“Which important thing?”
“Whatever it was that made you kiss me that afternoon. I’m hoping it was love.”
“I’ve never kissed anyone but you,” Zach said abruptly.
David blinked. “What?”
“I’ve never kissed anyone but you. That kiss—that was the only time I ever kissed anyone. Until Saturday. I didn’t want to kiss anyone but you. I still don’t.”
“Good,” David said, and kissed him. “Do you want to make love?” He slid his hand up Zach’s jeans-clad leg.
“No,” Zach said with a grin, “I want to eat pizza. Get under the blankets and I’ll go get it.”
“SO, I talked to Maggie today,” Zach said as he dug his fork into the bowl of salad he and David were sharing.
David had been asleep when Zach came back with the bowl of salad, a platter of warmed-up pizza, and two bottles of water; Zach had set it all down on the dresser and pulled the comforter over David, sitting down at his drafting table to wait for his lover to wake up. A minute or two later, he had, blinking in confusion a moment before sitting up and giving Zach a sleepy smile. “Sorry,” he’d said. Zach had told him no problem, and now they were sitting with their legs folded under, Zach on top of the comforter and David underneath with it tucked around his waist, the pizza platter and bowl of salad balanced on the comforter between them, just as they had when they were kids and Zach stayed over with David for one of Annie’s absentee dinners.
David finished chewing his bite of pizza, then said, “Maggie? What about?”
“I asked if she could tutor me for my GED,” Zach replied. “She asked me a whole bunch of questions, and when we were done, she said she thought that with intensive study I might be able to get it by the end of the summer. Then I talked to Dad this afternoon and he’s going to talk to some of the professors he knows at UCo, and see if he can’t get some of them to tutor me this fall and winter, and then maybe I can apply at MIT for next fall. Depending on how the tutoring goes. Might not really be for another year or two, but I’ve kind of decided to do that, so the timing is flexible.”
David was staring at him, his pizza slice hanging limply from his fingers. “What? When did you decide all this, Zach?”
“I thought about what you said. And I thought, so what if I missed a couple years of high school? I’d already gotten the early admission thing from MIT. So it should mostly just be trying to remember what I knew, not so much learning things I didn’t, right? And I thought about you offering to tutor me in CAD, and if you’re still up for it, I’d like that. But I need stuff like biology and math, not to mention the usual core classes you gotta take, like literature and history and that. I thought Maggie’s really smart with that stuff, and better than you at the history and literature, so if she can give me some real intense tutoring then maybe I can test out of some of the classes, and Dad has a lot of friends at UCo that he thinks would be willing to take some time tutoring me too. Talking with Maggie made me think that maybe you’re right, I’m not so much stupid as I am undereducated, and that’s fixable. And my therapy yesterday and today were about fear and dealing with fear, and I realized in my afternoon session today that most of what I’m afraid of is people making judgments about me and if I don’t do anything to, to improve myself, then I deserve whatever judgments they make.”
Taking a bite of pizza, David chewed a moment, then said thoughtfully, “Whoa. Info dump. Let me take a minute to process, okay? Cuz this is, like, completely a new direction for you.”
“Yeah,” Zach said anxiously. “You don’t think it’s stupid, do you?”
“Hell, no,” David replied.
“Good. Because your opinion is important to me.” Zach sighed faintly.
David brushed his fingers across Zach’s hand. “I have a good opinion of you, Zach. I’ve always had a good opinion of you. Just the fact that you survived as well as you did all the horrible stuff that bastard did to you—that alone makes you a hero in my book. The rest is gravy.” He grinned. “Really good gravy, like Mom makes for breakfast, the kind with the fabulous sausage in it.” This time, he wriggled his eyebrows significantly. “Sausage and meatballs and gravy…”
“You’re a moron,” Zach said, laughing. “A sick, sick moron.”
“Seriously,” David said. “This is just awesome. Not only because I think you can do it, and do it well, but because it’s moving forward. You’re taking control of your life instead of letting that bastard keep ruling it from beyond the grave.” He took Zach’s hand in his. “Sometimes I wish you had been the one to kill Esteban, instead of Pritzger and his dudes. Just because you deserve to have that revenge on him. But really, I think that it’s better you didn’t. Because that would have… I don’t know, damaged you, you know? It would leave more scars on your soul than you have on your body. I can’t imagine how it would feel to kill someone, but it must be fucking awful, even if you hate the guy. Even if he tried to destroy you like he did. But sometimes I think you feel like by not killing him you left something undone. This, though, this is so good, because it’s you taking control again. You sort of killing Esteban, without actually killing him.” David studied Zach’s suddenly closed face. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to remind you of all that. But it’s good, see? You’re moving on.”
“Yeah,” Zach said expressionlessly. He put his half-eaten slice of pizza on the plate. “You want any more?”
“No, I’m good.”
“Okay.” He got up and picked up the platter and the bowl. “I’ll take these down on my way out.”
“Whoa—wait a minute,” David said, confused. “You’re leaving?”
“I probably should.”
“Why?”
Zach stared down at the dishes in his hands. “It’s late. You wanted to get up early to run.”
“Not that late, and yeah, I’m tired, and yeah, I do plan to get up early to run. But you don’t have to go. You could just stay over. We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. But we could if you do.”
There was a long silence, then Zach said finally, “Okay. I’ll just bring this stuff downstairs. But I’ll come back.”
“That’s all I ask, dweeb,” David said affectionately. “That you come back.”
David didn’t know.
Mechanically, Zach moved around the kitchen, putting away the leftover pizza and salad, washing and drying the dishes and putting them into the cabinets, leaving the kitchen as tidy as David had left his yesterday morning. He understood now why David had done so: the mindlessness of his task kept him from focusing on what was really bothering him.
Too soon, though, he was done; the kitchen couldn’t get any cleaner. Zach was left with nothing to do but as he promised, go back upstairs to David. Who didn’t know.
He didn’t know why it shocked him that David hadn’t been aware of the facts. David himself had told him weeks ago that he knew little about Zach’s experiences, and it wasn’t like it was common knowledge anyway. His parents knew, of course, and Dr. Barrett; he’d assumed that Annie was in the loop, too, since she and his mother kept no secrets from each other. But there was no reason for David to know. Except that he’d fallen back into the habit of believing that David knew everything about him. All-seeing, all-knowing David, who never let Zach pull anything over on him, always one step ahead of him in the game. Even when he’d told Zach how little he knew of Zach’s captivity, Zach hadn’t realized on the gut level that he really didn’t know anything about it. When Zach had told him about being Esteban’s whore, David hadn’t seemed as surprised as he was furious. Maybe that had fooled Zach subconsciously. Maybe that was why he was so shocked now at David’s innocence.
He folded the dishtowel neatly and set it on the granite countertop beside the sink. The worst thing about the situation was that he’d been working under the assumption that David knew, and accepted it. Everything he’d been building in the last few days, every dream he had that this might actually work out, that David loved him enough to look past the scars, the panic attacks, the nightmares, the erratic behavior: everything had been predicated on the belief that David already knew the worst about him.
He swallowed against a heart that was beating too fast. It was too late. He couldn’t let things change now. David was his and he was David’s, and it would kill him if David rejected him at this point. He’d put himself out there, his scars and his neuroses and his nutjob behavior, and left himself vulnerable to David; and the idea of David walking away, leaving him hanging out there without him, was a cold fire in his chest, a pounding ache in his head, and chill numbness in his hands. He caught his breath. Losing David wasn’t an option.
David can’t ever find out. The voice in Zach’s head was his own, but it was stark and cold, blasting through Zach’s mind like a bitter winter wind, leaving behind a stunning clarity. The tension leached out of his body; feeling came back into his hands, his head stopped aching. It was a decision made all unconsciously, instantaneously. David couldn’t ever know. No matter what, he could never let David know. He had to protect David from the truth. David, and this fragile new relationship they were building.
And it wouldn’t be lying, not quite. He just wouldn’t correct David’s suppositions about Esteban’s death. He’d have to make sure that his parents and Annie didn’t tell him, but if they hadn’t over the course of the last two years, they probably wouldn’t. And Annie had kept in close contact with David over those years. No, he’d confirm it with his folks, but he was pretty sure they wouldn’t tell David anyway. He took a long slow breath and let it out just as slowly. No. The subject would never come up, and he would never lie about it, and David would never know.
He went back upstairs quietly. David was asleep; Zach went and dug out a pair of relatively subdued plaid cotton pajama pants from the garish collection in David’s dresser, and changed out of his jeans and into the pajamas, then eased into the bed beside David, trying not to wake him. David’s eyes didn’t open, but as soon as Zach had settled, he’d turned into Zach’s arms, nuzzling unconsciously at Zach’s T-shirt-covered chest. Zach slid his arm under David’s neck and settled back into the pillows, letting David’s head rest on his shoulder, the weight and the warmth so natural, so comfortable, so comforting, that he drifted almost immediately to sleep.
“BALANCE AND symmetry are not the same thing,” David said, pacing up and down in front of his Introduction to Drawing class. “Symmetry is balanced, true, but it’s a static form. The eye settles on the symmetry and goes no further, doesn’t invest in the piece. A good composition requires movement, to draw the observer in. The movement of the eye around the artwork makes the observer invest in the message that the artist is trying to convey. Balance creates the illusion of movement within the composition.”
“How can you have balance and movement at the same time?” one of the students asked in puzzlement.
“Dancers do it,” David said. “And martial artists….” He swung around into a side kick in demonstration, halting the movement halfway, with his foot in the air, his body in counterbalance. “Martial artists, and dancers, and athletes always have to be in balance, otherwise the power behind the movement is lost,” he went on, holding the position effortlessly. “In art, you always want to make the observer feel that he is looking at a frozen moment in time; that any moment the action is going to continue. The way to do that is to compose the piece so as to draw the observer into the picture. Keep the eyes moving. Make them notice details. Make them see the art breathe. Make them believe that the next movement is only a second away.” He finished the kick and swung back into his beginning position. “Balancing the elements of th
e composition so that the eye keeps moving is the challenge we’re taking up next. You’ve had some experience with shapes and shading; now we’re going to integrate those into a composition that contains both balance and movement. Between now and your next class, I want you to look at as many different paintings in as many different styles as you can and see if you can recognize how the artists use motion and balance. Good paintings, mind you, not your little brother’s refrigerator art!” He grinned at them as they laughed. “Although, who knows? He might be a budding Picasso. Anyway, Thursday’s class will be an audio-visual extravaganza, which I’m sure you’re thrilled about. See you Thursday.” He pointed to his eyes with two V’d fingers, then pointed the fingers back at them. “Look for balance. Look for movement. Look. Now get.”
A few of them came up after class to ask him questions, a couple of them girls who he suspected just wanted to flirt with him. He was smilingly polite, but dismissed them as quickly and courteously as he could.
To his surprise, the last person waiting to talk to him at the back of the art room wasn’t one of his students. It took a minute for him to connect the name and face. “Brian, right?” he said coolly. “What brings you to my humble classroom? Looking for art lessons?”
“No, thanks,” Brian said, grinning. He held out his hand. “Formal introductions. Brian McCarthy. David Evans, right?”
David shook his hand reluctantly. “Right. So what can I do for you, Brian McCarthy? Aside from the obvious, and this is a completely inappropriate venue, so I’m hoping that this has nothing to do with why you hang out at places like Fat Charlie’s. Because if it does, I’m kicking your ass from here to the front door.”
Brian held up the hand David had just released. “No inappropriateness involved. Besides, I know you’re involved right now, and as attractive as I find both of you, I’m cool with that. I wasn’t for a while, you know. You strike me as a kind of laid back, low-key type of guy, and I couldn’t see how you would be good for him. He’s built up such a thick wall of ice around himself that I couldn’t see how anyone like you could get through. After that scene at Terry’s that one time, it surprised the hell out of me to find out that you were together. But I see now I was wrong about that.”
Dreamspinner Press Year Four Greatest Hits Page 22
