Fall Apart (21 page)

“Damon,” Alarik answered, completely breathless.

The music was still playing downstairs and filtering upward. Every now and then Damon thought he heard a familiar word or two. Something about kissing or falling in love. He breathed in deeply and wrapped Alarik even tighter in his arms.

This does feel like falling in love.
His eyes fluttered closed and he breathed in Alarik’s scent, tasting the skin at his nape.

“Damon,” Alarik whispered.

 
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The clock read just after four a.m. when Alarik woke. He blinked a few times, for some reason expecting to see the hotel room in Santa Barbara instead of his own bedroom in L.A. His entire right side was toasty warm and he turned his head to find Damon asleep, curled on his side and tucked in close. Alarik’s heart swelled a bit at the sight; it was so boyish and innocent.

The stereo was still on downstairs, slowly working its way through his iPod library. As quietly as he could, he slipped from bed and out into the hallway, shutting the door gently behind him. The air was cold on his naked ass and he tiptoed to the thermostat to get some heat moving. He didn’t know why, but he always had trouble sleeping with company in his bed. There weren’t a lot of long-term relationships in his history, but the few that lasted longer than six months, meant he’d spent about three months getting used to sharing a bed. At least Damon was a very quiet sleeper.

He shut off the music and the lights, poured the glasses of wine into the sink, and dragged the blanket from the back of the couch to cover himself. It was only once he was wrapped up on one end of the couch, looking out on his very small backyard, that he allowed himself to think about last night.

So passionate. It surpassed his fantasies.

Alarik adjusted his position, a little sore from the festivities. He rarely bottomed. Very rarely. And he hadn’t expected to bottom with Damon at first, but there was something so
possessive
about what they experienced together that he’d actually wanted to make himself vulnerable to Damon. He needed the other man to take control with that subtle power of his, and he was rewarded for that trust.

That first day at the wedding brunch, Alarik never would’ve pegged Damon as such a thoughtful, giving man. He began to see it when Mandy told him about the Wright family’s situation and the way Damon had stepped up. When Alarik made the trip to Ventura and got to witness the other man chatting with his mother, the picture continued to develop. And last night…

When it came down to the two of them in the moment, Alarik felt for the first time that he might actually be
valuable
to someone else. Not a “nice lay,” or a “good time,” or an “on the side” thing. If they kept on the way they were, Damon would become essential to him. He wanted to be essential to Damon in return.

How many days since he saw his Mr. Wright at that brunch? Four. Just four.

It wasn’t love…yet.

Smiling a little, he thought about that. “I’m intoxicated,” he whispered to himself, “and I don’t want it to end. I want more all the time.”

Alarik wanted to see those shy, brilliant smiles Damon doled out so frugally, and he wanted to be the cause of them. They could be great together; he knew it.

This could be the real thing.

Quickly doing the math, Alarik retrieved his phone from his bag by the door and scrolled through his contacts. On the second ring his aunt answered, the sound of her sweet voice making his eyes itch with pinpricks.

“Hello, you!” she exclaimed into his ear. “It’s awfully early your time. Are you alright, darling?”

“I’m wonderful,” he spoke in Finnish. “I met someone.”

Aunt Shannon paused for a long moment before giving a fun little laugh. “Tell me everything, gorgeous boy! Does he deserve you?”

***

Sleeping in was a rarity for Damon; he always had somewhere to be and he usually had to be there fast. The sound of the bedroom door opening managed to bring him around and one of the first things he saw was the clock on the bedside table.
Damn…10:00.

He stretched, grunting a little and looked up to see Alarik leaning in the doorway, showered, dressed, and very
Mr. Bond
. It was so hot.

“Hi,” he said sleepily, a happy smile stretching over his features.

“Mr. Wright.” Half of Alarik’s mouth tilted upward alluringly. “You’re my very own sleeping beauty, locked away in the tower.”

Damon rolled over onto his back and another full-body stretch came on unexpectedly. “Your bed’s so nice. I haven’t slept that well in… Well, maybe not ever.”

Alarik’s gray eyes traveled the length of him, pausing for a moment at his groin before continuing the journey upward. “I’m glad. I want you to be comfortable here.”

“Oh, I was plenty comfortable.”

“You look delectable like that. My fingers are itching for my camera.”

Damon watched the way Alarik was taking him in and the awesome sensation of power seized him. “Go get it. Take my picture if you want.”

Alarik’s head shot up. “Really?”

Damon nodded, resting his hands behind his head. “Go get it.”

The words weren’t out of his mouth before Alarik was out the door and across the hall, banging around in his studio. He returned in less than a minute, digging through a camera bag and switching out lenses. It was a different camera than the one Damon had already seen. It looked more expensive than the first.

“Now,” Alarik said roughly, “you promise to do as I say? No argument?”

A frenetic buzz went through his body, but he agreed. “No arguments. Use me as you see fit.”

Alarik actually groaned in pleasure at the words, his eyes rolling back a little before he let out a laugh. “If you’re not careful, this will be about more than pictures.”

The sheet tented a bit.

At first, Damon didn’t have to do much at all. He lay there naturally, occasionally looking at Alarik as he clicked away. When the directions started flowing, he posed himself however Alarik ordered: on his stomach, looking into the camera, stretched out on his back with the sheets barely covering him. Alarik moved around him with complete focus. Sometimes he was on the mattress, shooting pictures from above, other times he was on his knees beside the bed or lying on his own stomach and taking shots from Damon’s perspective.

For the first time in his life, Damon felt
sexy
. The kind of sexy that Alarik seemed to come by so naturally with his skimpy underwear and wanton smile.

As he moved around, Alarik didn’t say much, but when he did, it was with murmurs of approval and pleasure. The camera was almost always in front of his face, but twice, he dropped it to his side to look at Damon with admiration.

He was kneeling on the bed and had just taken a picture when he let the camera fall away.

“What is it?” Damon asked, running his fingers through his hair to get it off of his forehead. He could only imagine how it was going to look in these pictures. In fact, it might be better for him not to see them.

Alarik didn’t respond at first, setting the camera on a pillow. He slid across the bed and pulled Damon into a tight embrace.

“Enough,” he whispered. “It almost hurts to have you here and not hold you.”

Damon’s heart went wild
.
“Be honest,” he dropped a kiss the other man’s shoulder, neck, and Adam’s apple. “How many shots did you take of my hard on?”

Alarik laughed, his smile wicked as he pulled back to look into Damon’s eyes. “What hard on—
oh!
” His hand dropped down over Damon’s stomach. “You mean
this
hard on.” He squeezed gently, eliciting a breathless grunt.

“Yeah,” Damon rasped, automatically lifting his hips. “That one.”

“I took a few. Why wouldn’t I want to photograph such a willing subject?”

Damon rolled his eyes. “Well, don’t get any ideas. I won’t do a sex tape.”

Alarik dipped his head down and gave him the softest of morning kisses. “Never fear. I’ll keep you For My Eyes Only.”

Damon’s stomach chose that moment to let out a ferocious growl and the two of them chuckled. Alarik pulled away and grabbed his camera. “Up, you. I’m taking you out for breakfast, but I need to drop off that wretched rental car first.”

“Hmm. Breakfast. Yes.”

“I brought your bag upstairs; it’s on the chair, there.”

Even though Damon had just been on grand display for Alarik, his body still flushed with warmth as he slid from the bed with nothing on but what God had given him. He moved like greased lightening into the bathroom, ignoring Alarik’s teasing laughter that followed. He had to take a shower before he could take a piss because his dick was singing a rendition of
Oh, What A Beautiful Morning!
and he didn’t have the flexibility required for morning bladder stunt work.

The door to the hall was open when he finished in the bathroom and Damon could hear Alarik working in his studio. Dressing as quickly as he could, his stomach still roaring, he crossed the hall and stopped mid-stride as he entered the room.

The studio office was incredible. Organized chaos. There were three large computer screens side by side on a tall desk. Alarik was working with images on all three screens, using a stool to roll back and forth in front of them. His hands were flying over keyboards, using a mouse and fiddling with what looked like a desktop tablet. Images of Damon in bed were everywhere.

“Just look at you, Damon,” Alarik breathed, never turning his attention from the pictures. “Your smile in this one,” he pointed. “Your eyes, your hair, your body…” he kept pointing in turn at individual pictures. “It takes my breath away.”

Damon was incredibly pleased for no good reason and he shyly stepped up behind Alarik for a closer look. He was amazed. He had no idea he could look like this, especially first thing in the morning with bed head and stubble.

“That’s me?” he asked, not quite believing it.

Alarik spun around on the stool and pulled Damon forward to stand between his legs. “It’s you, darling… What do you think of yourself?”

Damon’s eyes kept bouncing from image to image, dumbfounded. “I think that I’m going out with an amazing photographer.”

Alarik smirked. “This is how you
look
, Damon. This is what I see whether you’re rolling around on a bed for me, or going with me to drop off a rental car.”

“You lucked out, then, ‘cause I’m hot.” The genuine laughter that met this comment made Damon grin.
I made a funny.
“Come on. We’ll drop off the car and get some food. Your gorgeous sex slave needs to preserve his strength.”

“Yes, yes,” Alarik grumbled playfully, turning to tap at his keyboards until the screens went dark. “We can’t have you becoming weak.”

Damon was led through the house to a door near the kitchen that he hadn’t noticed the night before. It opened up into a small garage that barely allowed space for its occupant: a shining, dark blue Audi S5. Alarik turned in the tight space and held out a key fob. “Can you follow me?”

His first instinct was to grab the key and laugh maniacally, but Damon kept his cool. “Sure.”

“It’s a tight squeeze out of the garage, and the plants make it a bit hard to see.”

Damon almost missed the warning because he got distracted by the way Alarik said “garage.”

“I’ll treat her like I can’t afford to fix her, which I can’t.”

Alarik grinned and punched the button to open the door. “I’ll just pull around with the rental, shall I? Then, you can follow.”

Damon had to wait for Alarik to leave so he could open the car door and squeeze in. He sank into the seat and looked around like a kid. The car was only a couple years old, but it was in terrific condition. Leather seats and all the right accents. If he’d ever wondered about Alarik making more money than him, he needn’t any longer.

“You still drive the used truck you bought in college,” he said aloud. “And you live in your grandma’s old place.”

That’s not bad; it’s frugal.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

Alarik didn’t take long at the rental place and when he emerged from the building, Damon moved to the passenger seat, smiling when Alarik let out a sigh of contentment behind the wheel.

“I only get to drive her when I’m in L.A. It’s pointless for me to keep a car in New York.”

Sure. Pointless, Damon thought dryly.

They drove to a restaurant that was less than two blocks away and parked on the street. The sign read
Vinnie’s Diner
above the door and the old-fashioned neon lettering was flickering. Inside, the place was definitely showing its age, but in a well used, satisfying kind of way. It was exactly the type of joint that he and the fellas would choose if they were out together. Maybe if he and Todd hiked any trails down this way they could stop here.

A cute girl in her twenties took their order to the actual Vinnie, a rail-thin man with a white mustache, who was managing all the orders with precision. Nothing distracted him from his task and the counter help and wait staff moved around him in a perfectly organized dance. Every couple minutes he’d smack a bell and slide a plate out for pick up. When someone came in and shouted a hello to him, he would answer without looking up.
“Fred, sit at the counter—apple pie’s in the case!”

“I’m not in town often enough to be recognized like Fred over there. Though, that might change.” Alarik took a sip of water and Damon tried not to read too much into those words, even though his ears were one hundred percent perked.

“You’re thinking you might do a little more work on the west coast after your vacation?”

“It’s looking more like that every day. I have several jobs lined up in a week and a half, some of them here in L.A. and some in New York, but I got an interesting offer from Max last night.”

Damon sensed his scowl forming like it rode on a wave from the back of his head. “Maybe we should talk a little bit about that.”

Alarik’s expression closed a tad. “What do you mean—my history with him? Or his job offer?”

Damon shrugged, warming his hands on his coffee mug to give himself something to do under that scrutiny. “I meant what I said last night—”