“No.” Damon squeezed Cain’s hip. “Why won’t you do it again?”
“Lose my temper?” Cain nearly shouted, well aware of the irony he had going on there. “Because it doesn’t fucking feel good!”
“Yeah it does!” Damon’s face was nearly in Cain’s now, looming over him. “Especially when you’re not hurting anyone else. Just let it go.”
“No.”
“Do it.”
“No!”
“Kid.”
“Fine! Fuckingfine.”Cain grabbed the spoon from Damon’s hand and hurled it at the sink. “Are you happy now?” He grabbed it and hurled it again, and again, and again, until he was breathing hard and shaking.
“I’m sorry,” Damon said. He rubbed his thumbs under Cain’s eyes, and Cain was mortified to realize there was wetness there. He’d been crying and hadn’t even realized.
Super mature and adult behavior. No wonder he doesn’t trust you.
“Sorry for what?” Cain whispered, closing his eyes.
“Because I was being selfish. This isn’t only about me, and I… I keep forgetting that.”
Cain’s eyes flew open. Damon was so close,soclose. “I wanted to help you,” he admitted. “I had this idea. Stupid idea, probably. But I wanted to help you. I’m not…noton your side, Damon. There are things I just can’t do.”
God, what was it about this guy that had him spilling his guts all over the floor? Why did he give a shit what Damon Fitzpatrick thought of him? Guilt was part of it, but… He looked into Damon’s eyes and knew for a fact it wasn’t the only, or even the largest, part.
“Yeah. Alright.” The gruff words were spoken into his hair as Damon gathered him into a hug. “Can’t very well call you a kid and then be pissed off because you made an adult decision I don’t happen to agree with.” He sighed and rubbed his hand along Cain’s arm, tracing the tattoos there with his fingertips.
Cain didn’t protest, even when the gentle touch tickled. He was exhausted, as though he hadn’t slept at all. One half-cup of coffee and a trip on the emotional roller coaster that was Damon Fitzpatrick, and he was completely wrung out.
“I was looking at these while you slept,” Damon said. “I didn’t realize you had tattoos. I didn’t know you were the type.”
“I didn’t realize there were rules I was supposed to stick to.” He sighed. “Okay, no, that’s a lie. I definitely know there are rules I have to stick to. My father is great for rules. But I went through a rebellious phase a few months back.”
“That so?” Damon was too close, his breath hot on Cain's neck in a way that made his pulse beat frantically. It made Cain think about other rebellious, ill-advised things he could be doing, and he wondered if the shift of Damon’s body, the hitch of his breathing, meant his thoughts were running in the same direction. “I kinda like the idea of you breaking the rules.”
Cain’s cheek buzzed with the vibrations from Damon’s chest - pleasant little chills that soothed and excited at the same time, just like in his dream. His mind helpfully conjured up the kiss from last night, the bone-melting heat and all-encompassing security of Damon’s lips on his. He wanted more, even though hooking up with Damon would only complicate the Gordian-knot complexity of Cain’s life.
Should he kiss Damon? Did Damon want him to?
Damon’s gentle fingers continued their motions, but otherwise he didn’t make a move, so Cain kept talking just so he could put off the inevitable moment when he’d have to step away.
“I was drinking a lot. I mean, not like I was an alcoholic, except… maybe I was? Am? I don’t know how it works, exactly. I started out drinking on the weekends, just to unwind from school. And then Thursday and Friday became the weekend, too. And I wasn’t having enough to unwind, I was having enough to… you know, forget where I was and who I’d been with and what I’d been doing.”
Damon’s chest froze and his arms squeezed Cain at the waist and arm. “Did something bad happen?”
Cain shook his head slightly. “Not like I was attacked or anything like that. It could have happened,” he admitted. “I was lucky. But I did some really stupid shit. Hooking up with people who didn’t know enough to keep their mouths shut. Getting caught on a cell-phone camera with a bunch of people skinny-dipping.”
“Other than the hookups, that sounds pretty typical.”
“Yeah, not when you’re the only son of a senator. He made it all go away, because…”
“Because that’s his M.O., and he needs to keep up appearances,” Damon concluded.
“Yeah. Pretty much. One night, he was discussing my future - telling me how I needed to step up, get some ambition, grow some balls.” Cain sighed. “I was pissed, so I went and got this done.” He held up his arm, the scroll of the words and the outlined flames dancing over his skin. “My roommate has a friend who’s a tattoo artist. I described to him exactly what I wanted, and he did it for me.”
“It’s gorgeous, but it looks half-done.” Damon’s fingers danced over his skin again, and Cain felt like the flames inked on his skin had become real.
