Chapter Length: 3.7k (Heavy duty chapter)🙈
Chapter Song: Valentine (What's It Gonna Be) - Rina Sawayama
#
Mechanically, I cleaned my brushes and left them to soak in a cleaning fluid before going to wash my hands. As annoyed as I was from my conversation with Mike I made sure to wash them well.
Then, I took a shower, washed my hair and got into bed. There were a couple messages from Mike that I ignored and a few from Ira that I replied to. I could totally do this falling in love with Ira thing. It would just take time, and I had to focus more on Ira than stupid Mike.
Despite that, I was feeling a little lonely. Lately, all Chrissa did was talk about Kevin, and Roe was six, she couldn't exactly inspire any intelligent conversation. So, I stared at my phone a little before calling Ky. He picked up as quickly as I expected him to.
"Why in the fuck are you calling past midnight, Derrick?" Ky's voice was strained and gruff and as annoyed as I expected it to sound. It was a good sound.
"Can we meet tomorrow at our usual time?" I asked quietly.
And just like that Ky was professional. As crass as he could be he knew how to be nice to me at the right moments and I always appreciated him for that. "Did something happen? Are you having any strange pains?"
"No, I just...need someone to talk to." I admitted.
"Oh," his voice softened, and he shuffled around. "That's okay, too."
"It's just—Mike's being stupid and I accused Ricky of cheating on him. And Ira is acting like I'm a criminal and Tommy thinks he can say whatever he wants and I'll just take it. And Roe is perfect, she's always perfect. She makes me hate children less. And I don't know—Everything is just not where I want it to be." And I felt like I'd never get to that place where I was completely satisfied with my life since I was constantly fucking things up.
Ky took a deep breath. "My brain is not awake enough to process this. We are going to attempt to unpack these things, tomorrow. Is that okay?"
"Yeah," I mumbled. "Sure."
"Or, I can come over? If you feel that it's urgent I really don't mind, Derrick. Honestly."
"That would be nice." I nearly whispered because that's really what I wanted.
#
When Ky arrived he came with a wrapped plate of cookies. They were lopsided and misshapen with heavy icing all over.
"My son is experimenting with baking and everything tastes pretty good but I'm worried about getting fat." Ky said as he clobbered into my apartment. He was dressed casually, in a form fitting red t-shirt and some fleece sweatpants. He was a lot taller than me, and having him stand by me made me feel towered over.
I snorted. "You have the kind of body that's used to seeing the inside of a gym. You, of all people, are not going to get fat."
Ky twisted every which way, scrutinizing his body, before patting his noticeably flat stomach. "Well..." Then he blinked. "Ah, well, never mind. Tell me about your day."
I ushered Ky into my living room and we made ourselves comfortable. He folded his long legs up on the couch, and huddled against a blanket. He was sitting across from me and it reminded me of our weekly sessions.
Sol sashayed into the living room, giving Ky a look before leaping elegantly onto the couch and curling up beside me.
Ky raised his eyebrows. "That cat is massive! What're you feeding her?"
"The breed is just big boned! I feed her enough." I shot back. "Anyways, I'm fine. Things are just— weird." I took a deep breath, and twisted my hands together, not exactly sure where to start.
"Okay, tell me what is going okay?" Ky prodded gently.
"My art career is going surprisingly well. And most of the celebrities I have to tattoo seem pretty chill. Some of them are a little snobby but I just remind them they can go somewhere else if they want to act like an asshole. They get this little look on their face that reminds them that they're human and they dial it down pretty quick."
"That's a really big accomplishment, Derrick. You should feel proud of yourself."
I flushed, shrugging my shoulders. "I don't know, I'm just being me—what exactly is there to be proud of?" Somehow, my eyes filled with tears and I looked up at the ceiling, willing the wetness to go away. "Mike is so fed up with me right now. And he's wrapped right around his boyfriend's little finger. I don't get what he sees in that guy."
Ky put one leg over the other and leaned back in his chair. "Did you two have an argument?"
In quiet mumbles I told Ky the entire ugly ordeal, and the way Ira had judged me and how I hung up on Mike, and Ky was silent.
"I see," he eventually said. "Have you considered that maybe it was an inappropriate comment?"
"I mean— he looked like—"
Ky held up a finger. "Ah, ah, ah. Was it the time or the place?"
I rubbed my forehead. "No. I made myself seem crazy." The bursts of silence were disturbing me. I shot up out of my seat. "Do you want tea? I can make tea?"
I wandered into the kitchen and turned on the kettle feeling Ky's presence behind me as he followed me there. "You're not crazy," he said softly.
I snorted. "Thanks for your therapist appointed answer."
"I think, I of all people, can tell you you're not crazy."
Finally, I looked up at him. Ky was standing close to me and giving me a kind look. For some reason he finally looked like the mid forties he was supposed to be, the lines of age around his eyes making me feel like I could believe someone with the life experiences he had. He raised his arm to ruffle my hair and I felt like some kind of kid. It wasn't a bad feeling.
"You'll be alright, Derrick. Things just take time."
Feeling thankful for his presence and emotional, I could only nod.
#
"Hey, Derrick." Ira leant down and kissed me on the forehead. Then, he shuffled into my apartment and began to put his jacket in the closet.
"Hey," I said with a smile. "It's nice to see you."
He turned suddenly, giving me a surprised look. "It's nice to see you, too."
It had been a while and I took in his tall, lanky frame, all that pale skin, the curious slant of his mouth and those deep blue eyes. Ira's dark hair was shortly cropped and it further defines his jaw. He was still attractive as fuck and a little time only made him look better.
"I don't know," I began to ramble, looking at his eyes, and then his mouth and then finally the wall. "After our last hang out you've been busy and I just thought— I don't know." It had been nearly two weeks since I saw Ira, since I had heard from Mike and since the bowling incident. Over the past few weeks, Ira and I were supposed to hang out but he cancelled twice without much notice and I had begun to think he was over me. He still updated me on how his days were but whenever I asked to hang out he was "really busy" with work.
Right, work. Maybe I'd lost a big chunk of my memory but I knew when I was being avoided. So it surprised me when Ira eventually said we could have a home date. And here he was, right at the doorway of my apartment.
Ira finished putting away his jacket and leaned down. I wasn't sure what he was doing until his lips pressed against mine. I melted, knowing that Ira's kisses made me forget everything. More than anything, he made me feel good.
His tongue was warm and heavy in my mouth and his hand was under my shirt, tracing my skin, feeling up my stomach, pulling at the snap of my jeans, pulling at my waistband...
I stepped back so quickly I whacked my head against the wall. "Woah!" I blurted out. "What the fuck, Ira?"
He gave me a sly look, shrugging. "Oh, are we not there, yet?" One of his hands was sketching out a distracting tattoo against my stomach. It was nice yet irritating at the same time. We'd barely exchanged any words and he was already groping me.
I felt dizzy because my lips were warm and my body was singing. "No, Ira we are not there yet." I turned around —making his hand fall— for a semblance of privacy and buttoned up my pants before fixing my shirt.
When I turned back around he had an odd look on his face, annoyed, and like he was trying to hide it.
"What?" I said, sharply.
His eyes seemed like an especially dark blue today and his voice was cool. "Derrick, can we just order pizza? There's this great deep dish place I've been wanting to order from. I haven't seen you in a while and I just want to hang out."
I paused. "Okay." Maybe, I really was over reacting about seemingly everything. It was just a kiss that had gone a little too far and we both stopped. There wasn't an issue.
He kissed me on the forehead again and made his way to the living room. Ira plopped down onto the couch and gestured for me sit with him. I snuggled in on his side, lying part way against him. Warm and comfortable, the knot in my stomach began to unravel. It was the calmest I'd felt in days, and my eyes became heavy.
Ira chuckled and the sound rumbled through his chest and into me.
"Are you sleeping?" he said softly. In fact, he sounded amused.
"No," I said with a yawn.
"I finally understand why you have a cat. You basically act like one."
"I do not."
"You do! Look at you now, all curled up on me, basking in my warmth , and ready to sleep. It's actually adorable."
I smiled. "I'm just resting my eyes, Ira, that's all."
"Uh-huh." His voice was dry. "Right."
Ira put one hand in my hair, stroking, as he hummed something. It seemed overtly complicated and like one of the violin pieces he was always practicing.
Somehow, I fell asleep, and when I woke up on the couch I was alone.
"Ira?" I called, my voice tired and throaty from sleep.
Feeling like something was wrong, I got up and turned around, somehow thinking that he would pop out from behind a couch or something.
"Ira?" I said again.
"In here!" he called.
I followed his voice until I was in my art room, and there was Ira looking at my various paintings around the room. He was standing in the middle, walking over to one easel and peering at it before moving to another. Eventually, he turned to look at me. "This is amazing, Derrick. I mean I've seen your art, but this stuff is so- real looking. Wow, my boyfriend is so incredible at art."
I blinked and the world spun a little faster. "Huh?"
Ira had a brilliant smile lighting up his face. He walked over to me and interlaced our fingers together. "No wonder you're so tired. This stuff must keep you so busy, and you make time to see me anyways. Sorry, I've been weird today, work has just been so hectic and when I'm around you, a hug and a kiss do a lot to melt my stress away."
"Boyfriend?" I mouthed, feeling like I was dreaming.
Ira let go of my hands and cupped my cheeks. "Is this where we make it official?"
"We can make whatever you want official." I said, loving the feel of his hands on my face.
Usually, I waited for Ira to kiss me, but that night, I found myself impatient. Fixated on his mouth I grabbed his shirt and pulled him down until his lips smashed against mine.
He let out a delightful groan and kissed me back just as hard. This time, when his hands roamed across my body, I was into it, and pulling at his clothes just as much.
In all our little moments together, I was always the one losing clothing items so it surprised me when Ira let me take off his shirt.
"Holy shit, Ira." I said, taking his lean, bare chest in. His skin was pale, and lacking any sort of blemishes. His chest was hairless and my hands trailed reverentially across the swell and curve and muscle and the flat ridges of his six pack. "How the fuck are you so ripped?"
Ira laughed, blushing just a bit. "I work out a little." He shrugged, giving me a smug look.
It was arrogant, conceited and also hot as fuck.
Trailing my hands across his skin, I squeezed his pec and he sighed, closing his eyes. "I don't think I can stand anymore teasing today, Derrick."
"Who's teasing?"
"You give me those looks. You lick your lips. Every time you play with your hair. When you kiss me." he groaned, "I'm losing my fucking mind."
I kissed him, and it was so good it turned into another kiss. Between that kiss and the next l was dragging Ira to my bedroom.
I had been feeling like things were headed in this direction with Ira, and so my bedroom was clean, fresh and cat-hair free. The room was made simple with a Queens size bed smack in the middle of the room with the prescribed dresser and closet as well as bedside tables. I had a few charts on my wall of magic exercises and my monthly schedules as well as a few posters.
"Why do you have a Van Gogh on the wall?" Ira blurted.
"Oh?"
Ira was gesturing towards the almond blossoms picture plastered on my wall. It was something from my old apartment and the style was similar to the style of vine and flower tattoos strewn across my body. I wasn't really sure why the old me had liked it, but it somehow felt significant and so I had kept it. Now, it sat high on the wall, framed and laminated and ever-present.
—Almond Blossoms—
But, I didn't really care about the paining just at that moment. We tumbled onto the bed and I hesitated.
Ira paused. "What's wrong?"
"I'm more comfortable on the receiving end of things..." I murmured.
"What?" Ira said, but I knew he heard me. His gaze was molten and he started to tug off my sweats in rough movements.
I raised my rear off the bed and soon I was just in my boxers. My face felt hot and I wasn't sure why I was feeling nervous. I wasn't a virgin, and I was into Ira as much as he was into me.
My tattoos moved across my thighs and Ira froze with an entranced look on his face. He gripped my thigh and squeezed.
"God, you look so good in these tattoos."
Ira touching me so high up on my thigh was making me short circuit. He continued to trace imaginary patterns into my skin while kissing me. The kisses were frantic and not as coordinated as usual but somehow still as good.
Ira manhandled my boxers until they were off, and I was naked. I wasn't embarrassed anymore, only frustrated. "Ira, please, can you just—" And then Ira's hand was on new territory, stroking, pulling and twisting. I stopped speaking, losing my train of thought.
"You're sweet, Derrick. I'd never imagine you so flustered." Ira said.
"You'll see me more than flustered if you don't stop teasing me." I shot back.
"Isn't foreplay the most important part of the whole thing?"
"You've got me here, in bed by the balls, and you think foreplay is the most important part of the whole thing? If you don't—"
Ira stopped me with another forceful kiss. "Too much talking."
He pushed me down onto the bed and spread my legs, reaching for the lube on my side counter.
"You do realize that for things to go any further you can't proceed while wearing your jeans?" I said dryly.
"Are you a top or a bottom?" Ira asked instead.
I looked up at him from between my legs. "I'm whatever you want me to be."
"Good." Ira said.
There wasn't much talking after that. Ira finally stripped down to nudity and I felt good that his body was clearly interested in mine. Not to mention Ira had a look on his face like he was a starving man who had just seen water. His excitement was infectious and soon I was wishboned between Ira's legs and we were kissing.
Ira kissed from my forehead, to the side of my jaw, down the line of my throat, along my chest and veered down further until he was kissing the vines on my skin. To my surprise, every kiss brought a little thrill to my body and soon I was trembling.
Soon, Ira was unwrapping the condom and putting it on.
Then that familiar yet innate instinct kicked in and it was like a dance. The kind of dance that made me roll my hips, sway side to side and had me clinging to my partner desperately. I was burning from the inside out; a delicious burn that curled from the core of my belly to each of my extremities. It was good. It was so fucking good.
The dance built, throbbed and swelled until we reached the climax. And if the dance was warmth then the climax was an explosion of heat. It left me panting and shivering in wonder.
Ira rolled away from me, but not before kissing my shoulder.
His voice was soft and he was out of breath. "Dear God, Derrick, you've been holding out on me."
"I could say the same to you."
The two of us were flat on our backs, out of breath and silent.
Ira reached over towards the strip of condoms. "Are you ready for round two?"
"God, yes!"
~One Round Later~
"Are we still ordering pizza?" Ira said later.
I laid halfway across his chest and he had a hand in my hair, twirling and tugging gently. I felt like a wet noodle, or maybe jello. And, Ira was loving it.
"We can do whatever you want, Ira." I mumbled, still enjoying the afterglow.
His voice had that smug cadence to it, and his other hand drew imaginary patterns on the side of my hip. "Damn, I made you feel good, didn't I?"
I was too mellow to argue. "Yeah," I agreed. "You did."
He squeezed my hip. "After pizza I gotta go, okay?"
I raised my head and looked at Ira. His hair was smashed against his forehead and he looked a little sweaty and very perfect.
I frowned.
"Aw, no need to pout."
"I'm not pouting."
He sighed, edging away from me. "We just did just about the most intimate thing two people can do and you're really sitting there and putting your guard up."
I bristled. "I'm not."
"You know what I liked about this, Derrick? I liked how you were open. How your body reacted so honestly to mine with no shame and no hiding. I loved that. But now you're all—"
I turned over and got up from the bed. "Well, I don't want to be sweaty and sticky so I'm going to take a shower."
Ira's voice was dark. "Derrick—"
"There's another washroom out in the hall, and you can probably find some toiletries there. I've got some new toothbrushes in the bottom cabinet—" I traipsed about the room, picking out some boxers, sweats and a t-shirt.
But then Ira interrupted, and his voice had such an ugly note to it, I froze. "So, that's it, huh. Hit it and quit it? I see how it is."
I whipped around. "Don't be unfair, Ira."
"How exactly am I being unfair? I make one comment about how distant you can be, and you're fleeing the room!" He raised his voice in exasperation and I flinched.
"Don't yell at me!" I said, hotly,
Ira's face fell as he stood up. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell. You're just completely disregarding what I'm saying and I'm upset."
"There's just some stuff I don't like talking about, okay?" I squinted really hard at the almond blossom painting and at anywhere that wasn't Ira. He was in the bed, and on the sheets, and it just felt like he was everywhere.
Ira's voice was becoming increasingly annoyed. "Okay, and? That's fine. But you can't just talk over what I'm saying. Use your words, tell me you don't want want to fucking talk and I'll accept it."
"I don't want to fucking talk about how you think I constantly have my guard up, when I don't. I'm naked right now, figuratively and literally." It just reminded me of arguments Mike and I had had about the same thing. I was as open as I could be. I was trying.
"Okay." Ira said in a small, exhausted voice.
And then he did the strangest thing—he hugged me. His skin was warm and flush against mine as he embraced me, startling me into stillness.
"Sorry for offending you." He said, rubbing my back.
"I'm sorry." I said against his chest. "And...thank you."
It should've been sort of gross. Both of us sticky with our naked bits rubbing together awkwardly, but it was such a good hug and that overshadowed everything.
#
How do you view the relationship between Ky and Derrick? I feel like time has made Ky a little paternal towards Derrick.
How do you feel about the relationship between Derrick and Ira? They tend to banter with one another, does it feel natural?
Thoughts on the intimacy scene? It feels a little lengthy to me, but how do you feel about the dance metaphor, does it work?
Most of you seem to dislike Mike now, but idk I'll always have a soft spot for him. 🐥