Irons and Works: The Complete Series

by E M Lindsey

  Basil couldn’t ignore a sudden pang of possessive anger and jealousy at the thought of Derek moving on to anyone who wasn’t him. He hadn’t yet committed, expressed any real outward interest, and yet, he let himself feel it. ‘Do you want to date?’

  Derek bit his lip as he considered the question. ‘Yes. I’m lonely, but it’s hard. I have PTSD,’ he signed the letters slowly, with only a slight tremble in his fingers. ‘The night at the bank, it happens sometimes. My dad…’ He stopped again, and Basil didn’t dare ask him to go on. He didn’t need to, his trauma was more than obvious. ‘I don’t want to be a burden.’ When he spelled the last word, he didn’t ask Basil for clarification.

  ‘You’re not,’ Basil told him quickly.

  Derek shrugged. ‘I will never be normal. Never be fine. Always afraid, always a little broken.’ He hesitated, his hands fluttering a little in front of him. ‘My brother fell in love. He was engaged. Then his fiancé got sick and died. Rare disease, they didn’t know he had it, and then he was gone.’

  Basil let out an involuntary rush of air, unable to stop himself from making a small noise in the back of his throat with it. It was unreal to think about how much Derek and his brother had suffered, and how long that suffering had continued through his life. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Derek shook his head. ‘I’m afraid of that, too. Afraid I’ll fall in love and lose him.’

  Basil didn’t really need to consider what he was going to say next. He never talked about Chad—occasionally with Amaranth but only when she pushed until he was forced to give in. But as he raised his hands, he felt the words come without that familiar resistance. ‘I went to University. A Deaf University, you know?’ Derek nodded. ‘It’s in DC, and I worked at a coffee shop by campus. A guy used to come in, he was an intern for a senator, and he liked me. I never dated a hearing person before, but he was nice, my friends told me it was a good idea.’ He paused to make sure Derek was following, and though Derek probably wasn’t getting all if it, by his face it was obvious he was getting enough. ‘We were together a long time. Two years. We shared an apartment. He told me to take speech therapy, he didn’t know much sign, wanted to voice and write. He would invite friends over and before I could read lips at all, they would mock me to my face because I couldn’t understand.’

  “Fuck,” Derek’s lips said, an involuntary slip that Basil could read easily.

  He huffed a laugh and nodded. ‘One day I could understand, and I knew. The whole time, it was like that. So, I left, and I promised I would never date a hearing person again.’ He watched in that moment a Derek’s face crumpled when he fully understood what Basil was saying, his emotions playing out before he was able to control it. And it was in that moment Basil knew without a doubt there was more than just friendly interest.

  And he knew he was okay with it.

  ‘I understand,’ Derek finally replied, that look still on his face.

  ‘I know,’ Basil told him with a half-smile. ‘That’s why I let myself like you.’

  Derek’s entire body twitched with surprise, his gaze flickering back and forth between Basil’s hands and face like maybe he’d read the signs all wrong. But Basil had gone slow, had spelled the words he knew Derek didn’t know yet, had mouthed them, taken his time because he wanted to be understood.

  ‘You like?’ Derek’s hands repeated.

  Basil licked his lips, then took a step in close—not enough to encroach on their signing space, but enough he could just feel the heat of Derek’s body. ‘I like you,’ he repeated.

  Derek’s entire face pinked, and he lifted both hands, curled them into the I love you sign, then circled them in front of each other. ‘Romance.’

  It was probably one of those cheesy throw-away signs his teacher had given as a reward at the end of one of their classes. It was how all the hearing people he’d met knew swears and pick-up lines, but this felt different. He could picture Derek practicing the sign, clinging to it, hoping to use it one day.

  Maybe that was an arrogant line of thought, but the way Derek was looking at him mirrored the way he was feeling inside. Because if the roles were reversed, he might have done the same thing. Basil’s bitterness toward Chad had eclipsed his growing feelings for Derek for a little while, but he was too far gone now to ignore it. The moment Derek had pressed his hand against his arm and marked his skin forever, he was lost.

  Basil nodded, stepping in even closer now, making it impossible for them to talk. His hands raised, curling around Derek’s neck, watching his face for any signs that he didn’t want it. Derek’s lips parted and he felt a rush of air hit him. His breath was sweet from the ice cream, and still a little cold, and under his fingers he felt the slight vibration of what might have been a moan.

  His dick twitched, and he knew there was no going back now. Even if Derek backed away and said he couldn’t do this—didn’t want this—Basil wouldn’t be able to turn it off. Things had changed, evolved, and he was ready for it.

  His hand lifted to his face. ‘Kiss,’ he signed.

  Derek licked his lips, and even if he didn’t entirely understand that sign, it was clear enough he got the point. His head dipped low, his hands lifting to press against Basil’s waist, and then there was no space between them at all.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was all happening so fast, his head was spinning so intensely, Derek wasn’t entirely sure the moment wasn’t a long hallucination until Basil’s lips met his. The first press of their mouths together was a little clumsy, not exactly on target. Derek mostly got Basil’s stubbly chin and he felt a hot brush of air against his nose. Then Basil’s head rearranged, and the grip on Derek’s neck got a little tighter, and it changed.

  Like a gust of wind hit him, suddenly he felt rocked off center, and he fell down to his back against the love seat cushions as Basil hovered over him kissing him breathless. Derek kept his grip on Basil’s hips, fingers digging into his rough jeans, holding them together in a furious press of bodies in desperation to keep it going. Basil’s mouth was insistent, demanding, exactly the way he imagined it might be when he let himself.

  His head was reeling, body aching with want because it had been so fucking long since he’d let himself be touched like this, let himself touch anyone with this kind of intimacy. And before this, there hadn’t been meaning behind it. He’d given in to his body’s desire to reach orgasm with another person in the past, but he’d never let himself feel—he’d never wanted to. He hadn’t been lying when he said watching Sage break apart and nearly give up had terrified him beyond reason.

  And yet, Basil made that fear worth it. The mouth drifting from his own to press searing hot kisses along his jaw, down his neck, sucking at his pulse-point was enough to remind him that some risks were worth taking. His hands drifted lower, pushing Basil’s shirt up, splaying wide against his warm skin.

  He felt more than heard Basil’s soft groan, pressed into the crook of his neck as Basil’s hips shifted. He felt the hardness there against his thigh, felt Basil rut up into the V of his hip, and his eyes rolled back in his head. With a gentle pressure, he pushed Basil up just slightly, just enough to see the hand he lifted to sign, ‘Home,’ against his cheek, then pat himself in the center of the chest. ‘My home.’ It took him two tries to properly spell, ‘Condoms, lube,’ because his head just didn’t want to focus, but he got it, and Basil’s eyes widened.

  ‘Sex,’ he spelled.

  Derek shrugged as Basil pulled off him a little more. ‘I want you,’ he said. He knew those words might not be the exact ones a person might use when talking about sex—because ASL didn’t share the same structure as English, but the way Basil’s breath caught in his chest, his meaning was obvious and plain.

  He started to fidget with nerves when Basil continued to stare at him, and just when he thought maybe he’d crossed a line and ruined it all, Basil nodded. His hand lifted like maybe he was going to say something, but then it touched his cheek, drawing him in for another, hot ki
ss.

  Derek lost himself to the sensation, lost time as Basil’s tongue dragged across his, and it was okay. They’d been there half the night, a short conversation taking an eternity because Derek still needed them to go slow, still needed most of the words spelled out, but he barely felt it. The bubble he existed in with Basil was enough to make the rest of the world feel so goddamn unimportant.

  When he pulled away again, Basil signed something else, but in his daze, he didn’t understand until he spelled it out. ‘You live alone?’

  Derek nodded. He wanted to tell him that yeah, he lived alone, and they wouldn’t be bothered because everyone else knew that was his sanctuary and they couldn’t just barge in and make themselves comfortable. But he didn’t have the words to say it quickly and didn’t have the patience to go through the motions of it all.

  Basil didn’t seem to need all of that explanation right then, and really, it didn’t matter. He’d learn it all the longer he was around and got to know everyone. The more he learned Derek’s routine and how strict it had to be, and maybe he’d even understand how momentous it was that Derek was asking Basil to be part of that.

  Of course, right then, the only thing that did matter was collecting their things and leaving the shop, and not letting go of each other as they made their way down the street to Derek’s car. They had to part, but instead of Derek letting him go right away, he crowded him back up against the side of the car. Cupping his face, he felt the warmth of Basil’s cheeks under his palms.

  Basil made an involuntary noise in his throat, pushing his hips out, seeking friction, and Derek pushed right back. He’d dreamt of this from the moment he became profoundly aware of just how much he wanted Basil, and it was everything he imagined. No, it was better. It was overwhelming his senses, making him drunk on want. He tipped his head down and captured Basil’s mouth for a long, drawn out kiss.

  It was only when he felt the breeze, heard a bottle break and someone start laughing down the street, that he tore himself away. Panting heavily, he pressed his forehead to Basil’s for a moment, then finally stepped back. Basil looked just as dazed as he did, blinking slowly before he reached for the door handle and let himself in.

  Derek’s feet felt like they weren’t even making contact with the pavement as he rushed to the driver’s side, and he said a moment of silent thanks to the universe that his place was less than a ten-minute drive away. Basil’s hand rested over his on the gear shift, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing that the dark interior of the car made conversation almost impossible. What he did know was that it was comfortable and as he pulled to his parking space, he didn’t regret a single second that led to that moment right there.

  Switching the car off, he palmed his keys and turned to see Basil watching him carefully. Without breaking eye contact, Derek reached up and flicked the overhead light on, the car flooding with a dim yellow glow above their heads. Basil blinked, the corners of his lips turning up into a half smile, and he bit down on his lower lip like he was trying to keep his grin from going any wider.

  ‘Nervous,’ Derek signed. He didn’t indicate it was a question, but it wasn’t entirely a statement either.

  ‘Me too,’ Basil signed.

  He felt a puff of air escape his lungs, then he reached out and Basil reached back, and they were kissing again. It was a slow dance between them, awkward with the console pressing into his stomach as he leaned over as far as he could go, but feeling Basil’s warm hands on his shoulders, holding him steady and keeping the little space between them from growing, it felt right.

  ‘Inside,’ Derek spelled with his fingers after they pulled away. Basil nodded, and Derek got out, leading him over the walkway and to his front door.

  The key in the lock sounded like a gunshot in the profound silence, and he was hit with the all-too familiar scent of drying paint and old coffee. He turned to apologize, but Basil’s gaze was drifting around the room, taking it all in.

  Derek had always been a minimalist, even long before he left home. Growing up, he never had to clean, his father had employed a housekeeper to do the fine tuning, so their place always looked like a show-room. His bedroom had never contained any of him in it, just the things his father wanted to present to the world, even if no one ever saw it. Derek often wondered if it was simply to convince him and Sage of the people they should be instead of the people they were.

  Part of him wished his father was in his right mind now, so when Derek stood in front of him in his glory—inked up and pierced and everything he was told he was never allowed to be—his father would be able to absorb the impact of it. But it was what it was.

  He approached Basil, who was standing in front of three canvases which were hanging to set the varnish, and he let his shoulder gently rub along the other man’s. When Basil looked, Derek shrugged. ‘New,’ he signed.

  Basil nodded slowly. He reached out, letting his finger drift along the corner of the canvas where Derek would eventually paint a black coating to give it a frame, and his face softened into something sweet and understanding. ‘Beautiful.’

  Derek turned and studied the painting. He never really considered his art in terms of beautiful or ugly. He never really wanted to qualify or quantify his work, because he could show it to a thousand people—a million people, even—and only get a handful of similar opinions. The only thing that mattered was that it represented what he saw when he closed his eyes.

  These paintings were simple—dream-like images of his past when he was a child and he and Sage would sneak off during their stay in Missouri. His mother and father had purchased a little cottage on the banks of the Lake of the Ozarks when they were six. They hired a full-time caretaker for the place, who looked after the cottage and his father’s hunting dogs.

  Derek and Sage would sneak off into the woods and explore and feel how different it was there to anywhere else they had ever been. Growing up in New York, he understood profoundly the term Concrete Jungle, but it never really made sense until he had something to compare it to. There were trees everywhere, vines growing up out of the earth, wrapping around thick, brown trunks. Moss covered the ground, fallen leaves making a cushion for when one of them climbed to a low branch and fell.

  Derek discovered a cluster of trees with branches so close together, they made a hammock between them. His father had been angry one day when Derek was thirteen, the year after his mother died. He’d been frustrated by a phone call Derek had been around for, but he’d taken his temper out on Derek with the edge of his thick leather belt. Derek rested his welted back against those soft branches and spent hours watching the sun through the leaves make strange shapes. He laid there for hours until Sage found him and talked him home.

  He didn’t think about that trip for years, but right after he met Basil, right after he knew Basil was someone he wanted and didn’t think he could have, he dreamt of that day. He closed his eyes and saw those shapes and felt a promise of a life he didn’t think would ever be his. Now it was, and the thought almost brought him to his knees.

  ‘You okay?’ Basil asked after touching his arm to get his attention.

  Derek cleared his throat, then turned to him. ‘Yes,’ he signed, his wrist hurting just a little from work. ‘Yes, I’m fine. These are a memory from my childhood. We had a cottage in Missouri, and we would stay there some summers. It was nice before my mother died.’ He licked his lips, then rolled his eyes to the ceiling for a second before looking back at the other man. ‘I’m happy you’re here.’

  Basil’s eyes seemed to glow at that, and although he didn’t smile, there was something about his lips that spoke of a shared joy. He stepped closer and his hands came out to touch again, and Derek let him. Derek stepped into him and let himself feel every second of that impact.

  So few people had touched him with tenderness in his life, and this was almost too much. It was like the softness was painful in a way, but he didn’t want to let it go. His hook-ups before had been quick and dirty
, never shameful—he’d never let himself feel like that about who he was and what he wanted—but they’d never been kind. Biting kisses when he let himself be kissed, and harsh thrusts and stinging pain.

  But never this. Never a soft mouth at the hinge of his jaw threatening to bring him to both climax and tears. His breath stuttered and shook in his chest, even as he dragged his hands down Basil’s arms and linked their fingers together.

  He gently tugged him, his chin jutting toward the bedroom and Basil let himself be led away. The walk felt like it took a hundred years, and yet not time at all, and suddenly they were in the dim room with the door closed, and Basil had Derek pressed against the wood behind him. The door knob dug into the small of his back, but he didn’t notice it. How could he, when Basil’s hands were suddenly everywhere, scrambling for every inch of skin he could reach.

  With the faintest groan, Basil shoved his thigh between Derek’s spread legs, gently pushing upward as his lips closed around his stretched lobe. His tongue toyed with the ring inside, giving sudden sensation to skin he’d long-since thought was numb. His eyes rolled back, head falling until it thudded against the door, and he ground down on the heavy weight of Basil’s leg holding him up.

  ‘Bed.’ Basil had to sign it three times before it registered, but when it did, Derek nodded frantically and pushed him back the ten steps before they fell onto the unmade covers. The sheets beneath them were cool, soothing to his overheated skin, and he suddenly felt choked by his clothes.

  The sensation lasted only seconds, though, because Basil immediately got to work. He pulled at zips, yanking at buttons, stripping away fabric from both of them until it was just hot, slightly tacky skin pressed together as their mouths melded again.

  It was a strange thing, not saying anything, knowing that his groans were felt and not heard. He was profoundly aware of what Basil’s hand was doing as it rested on his throat when he gave a particularly loud moan, and part of him wished he could block his ears to experience it that way.