Chapter 15
Dmitri
Days of moping around my house have made me miserable. I’ve done nothing but relive those harsh truths Eric hurled at me, replaying them on an endless, punishing loop until my mind feels bruised and raw. Sleep doesn't come, and I'm barely existing.
I’ve been terrified to face him again and see the years I wasted reflected in his eyes. To accept and admit that my actions stole something irreplaceable from us both.
Like a coward, I wanted to hide and let the regret bury me alive. I almost didn’t come to practice today, and now I wish I hadn’t.
Eric sits on the ground outside the studio with Tai beside him, and Tai’s long, slender pianist’s fingers trace slow, deliberate patterns along Eric’s knuckles.
They pass in gentle circles and soft strokes, with the kind of touch that carries weight and history.
The late afternoon sun catches the motion, highlighting how Tai’s fingertips glide over Eric's skin.
The sight hits like a physical blow, and the air punches out of my lungs as my stomach drops. A cold, sharp twist in my gut as I sit frozen, watching. Eric’s shoulders relax under the touch, and when he doesn’t pull away, something inside me fractures quietly.
Eric's expression is even more pained than usual, and that realization reignites the anguish that's been lodged in my gut since I saw him last. I’m responsible for it—for all of it. I'd been unable to handle the guilt from what I’d done and how much I’d cost us, so I ran away.
I left him to deal with my chaotic aftermath.
Again.
In his eyes, it was that night all over again. He was hurting just as deeply as I was, but he was brave enough to open himself up to me and I didn't come back. It was the one thing he needed from me, and the one thing I didn't give him.
Tai leans over and says something to him, and Eric’s face lights up with a bright smile. He looks… happy. There’s no biting anger or pain. They don’t carry years of animosity toward each other. None of this hot-and-cold, I-hate-you-but-I-want-you bullshit.
No history of breaking his heart.
“Fuck this,” I mutter, cranking the ignition of my truck. Eric’s eyes whip up and find mine in an instant, and my lungs forget how to take in oxygen.
For a foolish moment, I’d let myself pretend he could be mine.
Let myself believe I could ever make it up to him.
Too little, too late.
Too late.
I punch the gas harder than I intend, kicking gravel and squealing my tires in my haste to get away. Eric scrambles to stand, but I’m gone.
Dante will just have to understand that I can’t be a part of the band. There’s too much history, too much fucking pain there for me to do anything but pine over a man who keeps slipping through my fingers.
He deserves better.
He deserves the entire world.
And god, what I’d give to offer it to him.
Forty-five minutes pass in a blur. I’m lifeless on my couch while the ceiling fan blades spin a monotonous circle overhead, their soft whir mocking the silence in my skull.
The TV flickers silently in the corner—some forgotten show I haven’t bothered to change—but it’s just meaningless static against the loop playing in my head.
Every moment of the past few days replays on repeat: every word I said, every look he gave me, and every mistake I made.
Fucking worthless.
I ordered pizza out of habit, because even though my appetite is gone, my body knows it’s supposed to eat.
All I want is to wallow in self-pity. To bathe in the thick, suffocating loathing that’s become my second skin. To find new, creative ways to hate myself for screwing this up all over again.
A knock at my door interrupts the brooding. It's sharp and insistent, cutting through the fog like a blade, then turns into pounding that rattles the frame.
“Alright, I’m coming,” I yell, dragging myself up and flinging the door open with more force than necessary.
“The fuck was that?” Eric shouts, catching me completely off guard.
He doesn’t wait for an invitation as he storms right into my house.
He shoves my shoulders back with enough force to rock me on my heels, then kicks the door shut behind him with a bang.
“Huh? What was that? You say those things to me, kiss me like you can’t live without it, then walk away?
Give me the silent treatment for three goddamned days, only to drive off before I can even get a word in? I don’t fucking think so.”
Whatever fight he’s looking for, he won’t find it in me. I’m too beaten down, too hollowed out to do anything but take it as he shoves me again.
“I don’t want to fight,” I say, voice flat.
“Well, too bad. Too fucking bad, because we’re fighting.”
“No, we’re not, Eric. Go back to Tai and let me be alone.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” he mutters as his lip curls up in a snarl, brows pinching above his nose. “You did not just say that. You are a first-class moron, do you know that? Stage five dumbass. Go back to Tai? The fuck does that even mean?”
“Come on,” I argue, flinging my hands out. “I saw the two of you sitting there. I’m not blind.”
“Apparently you are, or you're fucking stupid. Which is it?”
My eyes squeeze shut, searching for patience as I cross my arms over my chest. When I finally speak, my voice is perfectly calm.
“You don’t owe me anything. All I’ve ever done is fuck this up.
And I’m sorry. For what I did back then, and for how I reacted when you told me.
I’m sorry for leaving you alone for so long, and I’m so fucking sorry that I ever made you believe you weren’t enough. ”
“Dmitri…”
My head shakes in defeat, my eyes fixated on the floor as my composure slips. “If… if Tai makes you happy, don’t let me take that away from you. I’ve taken enough. I’ll step out of the band, and I won’t… I won’t get in your way.”
A gentle hand on my cheek startles me, and I gaze up into those stunning hazel eyes. The golden flecks dance like glitter, scattering the fire behind them like light through a prism.
“Goddamn you,” he whispers, and I can’t help myself as I place my hand over his.
His thumb brushes over my bottom lip as I fight to remain still.
“You are stupidly gorgeous, and absolutely ridiculous, and the most infuriatingly rock-headed man I’ve ever met.
But you are also a fucking idiot. I’m not with Tai. Never have been, never will be.”
“But he was holding your hand,” I say, the words sounding weak and pathetic even as they cross my lips.
He clicks his tongue. “He was making sure my hand wasn’t broken after I punched Dante.”
I blink a few times in surprise. “Wait, you punched Dante?”
“Yep,” he says with a rueful chuckle. “I busted his lip for abandoning you at that bar. And then I had to eat crow and apologize so I could get your address.”
The corner of my lip twitches in a fraction of a smile. “Eventful afternoon.”
“God, you have no idea,” he mutters, that thumb still mindlessly stroking over my bottom lip.
My entire body is amped up, focusing on the hypnotizing swipe back and forth.
“There are no more secrets, Dmitri. Now that everything’s out on the table, nothing is in our way.
The only thing holding you back is you.”
Hope tiptoes softly beneath my ribs, fragile and uncertain. “Can you ever forgive me?”
His eyes lock on mine, and his tongue rolls under his upper lip as he slides it across his teeth. “There’s nothing left to forgive.”
“But there is,” I argue, shaking my head as that thumb continues to drive me to the brink of madness. “Being drunk doesn’t excuse what I did.”
Eric sighs, offering me a small, pained smile as he inches closer. “After I had to pick you up from the bar, I started to piece together what happened. Dante and Theo said neither of them realized how drunk you were because you acted so normal.”
“I hurt you,” I say softly.
He gives a tiny shake of his head. “We can’t change the past. That time is gone, regardless of how much we sit around and argue about it. But the responsibility isn’t just yours. We’re both to blame. I hurt you, too.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Don’t be a martyr,” he argues with a flare of irritation behind it.
“It matters. Of course it matters, because as painful as it was to hear, you were right. If I would’ve manned up instead of avoiding the conversation, I wouldn’t have spent the last seven years comparing everyone in my life to the one person I couldn’t have. ”
“You had me. You've always had me,” I whisper.
His hopeful eyes meet mine until he’s so close the warmth of his breath fans across my lips. “And… and now?”
“What about now?”
“Can I have you now?” he asks, his lips brushing mine.
“God, yes,” I say on an exhale as I obliterate this infinitely small distance between us.
His lips are gentle against mine, not allowing me to rush as he kisses me.
He captures my bottom lip between his, teasing it with his tongue before gently grazing his teeth along the delicate skin.
I nip at his lips, trying to coax his mouth open, but he doesn’t give in.
“Patience,” he murmurs as he keeps kissing me in this infuriatingly thorough and unhurried way. “I want this to last.”
Another whimper leaves me, and my hands drift around his back and fist his shirt.
By the time he finally opens and lets me in, I’m desperate to taste him.
I deepen the kiss and slip my tongue into his mouth to dance with his as I tug at his clothes, pulling his body against mine.
His hands find my hair, dragging his fingernails across my scalp as a full-body shiver makes its way down my spine.
“I’ve missed you,” I whisper as an intense, burning need for him consumes every inch of me. He gasps against my mouth as I spin us, pushing his back against the wall and blanketing his body with mine. “So, so much.”
My erection strains against the fabric of my shorts, and I shift my hips until I line us up, rocking against him as the underside of my cock slides over his.
“Oh, holy fuck, that feels amazing,” he groans as his head thumps against the wall.
I lick my way up the column of his neck to his prominent Adam’s apple, tongue gliding and lips tugging at his skin. The salt from his sweat and the rasp of his beard sends my entire body into overdrive. His chest rises and falls under mine, his heartbeat erratic as I draw on his pulse point.
It beats like a drum against my tongue.
My fists clutch the fabric of his shirt, and I pull him away from the wall to wrestle it over his head.
Miles of golden skin are now exposed, and I pause to let my eyes roam his body, but looking isn't enough.
My mouth lands on his neck once more before journeying downward, sucking on his collarbones before landing on his nipple.
Every step of the way, his body responds to me in the most incredible ways. Goosebumps and shivers, jagged breaths and the arc of his hips.
Absolute perfection.
The metal barbell through his nipple clicks against my teeth as I draw it into my mouth with a gentle tug. “Fuck, Dmitri,” he gasps as I soothe it with my tongue before shifting to the other side.
He grips the back of my head, holding me in place as I toy with his piercings. The display of dominance hits me straight in the balls, and I moan against his pebbled skin.
“That feels so fucking good,” he says on a heavy exhale.
I glance downward and find the clear silhouette of his rock-hard cock pushing against the denim of his pants, and a tremor courses through my entire being as I drop to my knees.
“Oh, shit,” he whispers as I pepper kisses across his stomach.
“What was it I called this?” I ask, my eyes never leaving his as I drag my tongue along his waistband.
“A… a teeny belly,” he gasps as I pause just below his navel, inches from his straining cock.
I dip my head until I’m hovering where he wants me. “That's right… but that’s all that’s teeny on you, isn’t it, Eric?”
“Fuck, fuck… fuck,” he breathes as I move closer, brushing my lips against the ridge that pushes against his jeans.
My fingertips tease up his thighs before I dip them into his pants, then slowly work his button open. The exaggerated whir of his zipper rings out as I inch it down. By the time I get him fully unzipped, his cock pushes out of the opening, covered by his olive-green boxer briefs.
“Look at you. So fucking big and hard for me, aren’t you?”
“God, yes,” he groans, flexing his hips forward. His cheeks are flushed and his mouth hangs open as he breathes in rough pants, completely undone. My eyes drift back down to the damp spot on his underwear that spreads outwards, and I lean in to press a gentle kiss on his cock.
He whines as he flexes again. “Please, Dmitri… fucking please.”
My fingers dance up his length with a gossamer-light touch before I tug his jeans down around his thick thighs.
The light dances off the sandy blond hair that trails from his navel into his boxers.
I push my nose against it, inhaling his masculine scent before I peel the last layer of his clothing away and expose him to me.
The last time I was in this position, it was too dark and he was too frantic for me to admire him. But we have all the time in the world now, and I’m going to use it.
Slow and steady until he begs for more.
His cock is perfect, not as long as mine, but thicker with a fat, pink head that’s glistening with precum. Veins run down his length, swollen and ready for my tongue to map, with a thatch of neatly trimmed hair on his groin. A low moan erupts from the back of his throat as I reach for him.
“Are you going to make some noise for me?” I mutter, voice rough.
He answers by getting louder, hips jerking as I wrap my fingers around him. The heat of him fills my palm, thick and pulsing, already slick at the tip.
“Fuck, I like that,” I growl. “Get loud, baby. Tell me how good I make you feel.”
I spare him one last grin that promises every wicked thought in my head before I take him in. The sound he makes is pure sin, a shuddering groan that vibrates straight down my spine.