Chapter Seven #2
From the way he lit the fire, Xander could tell he’d done it before. Knew exactly where to get the kindling set and in only a few minutes, there was a roaring bonfire in their midst, chasing away the evening chill in the air.
Xander dug out the container of marshmallows and stuck two on the end of the sticks, handed one to Kian.
“They look delicious,” Damon said when he wandered back over. He reached down and popped one from the container at Xander’s feet into his mouth. “Taste delicious too,” he said through a mouthful of marshmallow.
“I proved it to you. What do I get in return?” he teased, all too aware that Damon was standing close, much nearer than he needed to, only a few inches away, their shoulders practically touching. He leaned in closer.
“Anything you want,” Damon said quietly, eyes flicking to Xander’s, and then over to where Kian was standing, prepping his own s’mores. Xander felt a single brush on his hand and glanced down to see Damon extending a finger to graze the back of his hand.
It felt more tremendous and shattering than a hundred other, far more intimate touches.
“I’m not good at this,” Xander repeated from earlier.
Damon smiled, a bittersweet story written in his eyes Xander hoped he might hear one day. “Me either. But I’m running out of reasons why we shouldn’t try anyway.”
“Me too.” Xander kept his voice low, hoping that Kian, who was pointedly turned away from them, nearly around the other side of the bonfire, wouldn’t hear them.
It had been the right thing to do to bring Kian, considering their recent problems, but he also regretted bringing him along.
Anticipation filled him, all too aware that something was going to happen between him and Damon, but not entirely sure when.
Xander reached back and looped their fingers together.
He hoped Damon understood. Felt it when he saw Damon’s quiet, satisfied smile.
Sometimes Xander felt like he’d made a career out of falling for the wrong men; never before had he started anything with anybody feeling like it wasn’t going to eventually end in disaster.
But this felt fated. Like he’d come here in the middle of a rainstorm not because he needed to stop Damon, but because he’d needed to meet him instead.
“Let’s make some s’mores,” he said after a minute. “We can’t let Kian have all the fun.”
He reluctantly detached their fingers and held the stick with the marshmallow closer to the flames.
“Can you get the chocolate and the graham crackers ready?” Xander asked distractedly, trying to rotate the stick so the marshmallow didn’t spontaneously burst into flames. The fire was hot, and burning even hotter every second. “This is going to go pretty quick.”
When he glanced back, Damon was there, the requested items already unpackaged and waiting. “Oh,” Xander said.
“I have made s’mores before,” Damon said, amused. “I might not be your culinary equal, but I can help.”
Was it any wonder that Xander, despite all the reasons to be afraid of this, and to approach it more carefully, more cautiously, kept wanting to throw all his worries to the wind and make Damon his?
Xander carefully deposited his marshmallow on the upturned chocolate and cracker and left Damon happily munching away as he went to go check on Kian.
“Didn’t Nate say he wasn’t working tonight?” Xander asked his friend, hoping he wouldn’t immediately understand what he was really asking.
“You mean, can’t Nate come get me so you can make out with sexy farmer over there?” Kian asked archly.
“No, yes, um, I mean . . .” Xander stumbled.
He and Kian might not have been as close as they once were, and he wasn’t quite as familiar with this more pointed Kian.
Kian with all his soft edges beginning to harden and sharpen.
Xander wasn’t sure he liked it, but he definitely knew who was to blame for it.
“I took care of it,” Kian said.
“You took care of it?” Xander questioned.
“He should be here in a few minutes,” was all Kian would say.
“You didn’t ask Nate?”
Kian turned to face him. He didn’t look happy. “Nate told me what you did. That wasn’t cool, Xander.”
“I thought maybe . . . I don’t know. I thought maybe I should be trying the easy way for once, not just fruitlessly pursuing the hard way.”
“Nate is a person, he’s not an experiment,” Kian argued. “And it doesn’t really look fruitless from over here.”
“I didn’t . . . I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know.” They were all bad excuses, and Xander already knew he was going to have to make a groveling apology to Nate at some point, but he hadn’t known he was going to be called out by Kian for not doing it yet.
“Not all of us are good at this,” Xander continued after taking a short, clearing breath. “I’m trying.” He took another breath, trying to say the right thing for once. “I think what I’m trying to say is that not all of us are as sure as you.”
Kian looked surprised. It made sense, because Xander had surprised even himself. “What, no more warnings?” He looked up, like he saw something in the distance and gave a little wave.
Must be the person Kian had called to pick him up.
Then the person walked closer, and his shadowy form cleared into the recognizable bulk of Bastian Aquino.
“He texted me to check on how I was doing after service,” Kian said, and Xander knew the defensive tone he was using was all his own fault.
Was Bastian the right person for Kian? Maybe it was only for Kian to say.
“I told him he could come and check on me in person. We’ll get out of your hair in a minute. ”
“No warnings,” Xander answered Kian’s earlier question with certainty. “You’re an adult. You know what you’re doing.”
Kian sighed. “Not really. But maybe. Maybe soon.”
Damon watched as Bastian and Kian left. Xander walked over, a partially eaten s’more in his hand.
“Was that Aquino?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer.
Somehow being alone with Xander had been easier with the added protection of Kian’s presence.
Now they were alone and his nerves were flaring.
Did he have the right to do this? Even with the warning to Xander that he was bad at this?
Still, Xander couldn’t say that he hadn’t been as upfront and honest as he could be.
He knew Damon was an alcoholic. Sober and recovering, but still an alcoholic.
Rachel hadn’t known when they’d started dating, but that was high school and even Damon hadn’t known what the future held.
“Yeah.” Xander stared out at the retreating figures, and Damon had a feeling more than just their burgeoning relationship was on his mind.
“You okay?”
Xander finished his s’more and nodded. “I keep trying to save him from a big mistake with Aquino but maybe it’s not a mistake. Maybe I’m wrong. Who’s to say I’m right?”
“Probably everyone else who knows Aquino?” Damon suggested. It occurred to him that if Xander’s friends knew about his alcoholism, and what had happened with Rachel, they might be warning Xander off him. The same way Xander had warned Kian off Bastian Aquino.
“The truth is,” Damon continued with a heavy sigh. “None of us have a perfect track record with relationships. All we can do is make the effort to do better.”
Xander’s dark eyes were very serious. “Is that what you want?”
Damon wanted all sorts of things. He wanted to be good, to be a better man—both for himself and for Xander—and he also wanted to be very, very bad.
He reached out and took Xander’s whole hand this time, lacing their fingers together.
Maybe this was supposed to be hard, but he’d known since Rachel walked out that eventually he’d date again, and it might not be a woman.
Wrapping his head around dating again was really the tough part, not the fact that Xander was male. “I want you.”
Damon didn’t know how Xander could still look surprised, but he did. It was a happy sort of surprise, like winning a lottery you hadn’t entered, but Damon had to ask.
“You look . . .”
“Surprised?” Xander answered wryly. “Well, you did say you were married before. To a woman.”
It had never occurred to Damon before that this could be a problem. He’d heard vague rumblings of the gay community underappreciating bisexuality, but he never would have pegged Xander with that sort of prejudice.
“Is that a problem?”
“No, no, of course not,” Xander reassured him, gripping his hand tighter, and tugging him closer.
He slid a hand around Damon’s waist, and it felt so good that he had to hold back the pleasurable shudder.
It had been so long since anybody had touched him.
But it wasn’t just that; it was Xander. Only Xander.
“I hoped. I hoped even though I’ve been let down before. The truth is, I couldn’t help myself.”
“I didn’t think I was very subtle,” Damon said with a wry laugh.
“I told you I wasn’t good at this. I’m . . . it’s hard for me to open up for people. But I want to try.”
“And I want you to,” Damon said. Resting his hand on Xander’s shoulder, and pulling him into an embrace felt as natural as breathing.
He’d thought about it before, but now he knew for sure. If Xander tipped his head back just a fraction, their lips would meet.
Damon had just about gathered enough courage. He knew Xander wanted this. He knew he wanted this. But then Xander spoke again.
“Did you know this would happen when you came to Terroir?” he asked softly.
“I didn’t know. But I sure hoped,” Damon admitted. “I knew the way I felt—the way I could feel—and I hoped you felt a little of what I did.”
Xander’s eyes were so soft. Damon admitted that he didn’t know him that well, but he’d never seen Xander look at anything—or anyone—like that before. It was incredibly humbling, and more than a little enthralling, that it was him on the receiving end of that look.
“I looked for you for months,” Xander said. “I wanted to do this. Even back then. Even if it seemed like a terrible idea.”
He moved so slow that it felt an eternity before Xander’s lips met Damon’s. So slow that he would have lots of time to change his mind. He had a feeling that was Xander’s whole plan. And that was before Xander even knew this was his first kiss with a man.
Damon didn’t think of how different it felt because it was a man, only that it was different because it was Xander. It was slow and sweet and gentle, just the softest brush of his lips over Damon’s. Once, then twice, and then he held a little longer the third time.
“Was that your first kiss with a man?” Xander asked, a shy grin on his mouth. Damon couldn’t wait to kiss it again. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed just kissing, and he had a lot of lost time to make up for.
“Yes. And I’m glad it was with you.”
“I have to say,” Xander said, “I keep expecting you to freak out but you seem fairly calm about all this.”
“Freak out because I’m interested in a guy? I’ve known I was bisexual since I was in junior high. I just met my ex-wife young and never really had a chance to experiment. Even if experimenting was my type of thing.”
“It’s not?” The question was coy and a little flirtatious. Damon knew this was an important conversation—but he also wanted to know why they were still talking when they could be kissing.
“You. You’re my type of thing. I don’t need to sleep with a bunch of people to know what I like.”
Xander seemed really pleased at this answer. “So I don’t need to ask if you’re sure?”
“Have I seemed not sure during any of this?” Damon asked archly.
He pondered this for a moment and then answered. “No. Actually no. You’re good.”
Damon grinned. “Let me prove to you just how good I am.”
It turned out that it was both very much the same and also very different kissing Xander than it had been kissing Rachel.
Then Xander shifted his mouth to a different angle, slanting it much more purposefully against Damon’s, and his mind dissolved into perfectly white static.
His hands gripped Xander’s shoulders, sliding down his sides to grasp his hips and pull him closer.
Kissing was good. Kissing was great. Making out was fantastic.
Xander tasted like spun sugar, and his tongue was clever, twisting Damon into knots of pleasure, his cock hard against the zipper of his jeans.
He didn’t even know he wanted to be touched until Xander did, sliding a palm against it and laughing into Damon’s mouth as it twitched in surprise and in an overload of feeling.
Damon broke the kiss, panting embarrassingly, wanting to devour Xander all over again when he saw how red and wet his mouth looked in the remnants of the fire.
It felt like there were two roads. One led to easy, uncomplicated pleasure, and maybe a more complicated journey to figuring out what they wanted from each other.
It would be so easy to take that road now, to take Xander’s hand and lead him back to the house.
To even lead him to the barrel house, which was so much closer, and to let them both take the quick, easy pleasure that they both clearly wanted.
Or they could wait. They could take the road slower. Make it deeper. Make it feel more meaningful when Xander finally came to his bed.
Damon already knew he was going to be happier and also way more disappointed by the choice he was going to suggest. And also that that particular path was probably going to lead to blue balls tonight and more nights in the future.
“Can we take this slow?” he asked, and hearing it out loud, he remembered all too well the awkward teenager he’d been and laughed.
But Xander didn’t look embarrassed or disappointed. He looked like he was happy to do whatever made Damon happy. “Sure, of course. I’m happy to go at your pace. This is all new to you.”
Damon tugged him close again, making sure he could feel how much he wanted him—though Xander had to know, it was important that he didn’t think this had anything to do with him.
“I’m going to enjoy having you show me everything. Every single thing you want,” Damon whispered in his ear, pressing a single kiss against his neck. He tasted like smoky sugar, and Damon was never going to eat a marshmallow again without getting hard.
And if he kept Xander around, and Xander kept making him marshmallows, then that might work out well for both of them.