“Yes you did.” Trey’s sunny smile showed off a hint of his dimples. “But I did too, because I fucking love your sound. Is there a song you want to do but haven’t tried yet?”
“‘My Immortal.’” Dom had been a huge fan of Evanescence since stumbling over them on YouTube. He had every song from their first two albums memorized on keys, and he’d practiced a lot of the songs with his strings, but he couldn’t get “My Immortal” alone. And until Trey, he’d never felt right playing with anyone else.
He hadn’t wanted to share that part of himself before.
Losing Trey was going to hurt like hell, but Dom would take what he could have until it was over.
“Amy Lee is my girl crush,” Trey said. “Man, anyone who says there’s no such thing as fate can bite my sac.”
Dom crossed his arms and leaned against the bed support. “I don’t know, I think you might enjoy that.”
Trey smirked. “You’re probably right. Wanna find out for yourself?”
“Maybe later.” Dom could play with a hard-on but he’d prefer not to. “You know the song?”
“Duh.” Trey changed a few configurations on the board, then played the opening notes.
“Cool.”
Dom released his violin from its case. He tuned it carefully, taking his time because he hadn’t brought any extra strings on this trip. He drew the horsehair bow across the strings, pulling out a few strains of the song’s melody.
“Ready?” Trey asked.
“Definitely.”
Dom closed his eyes after the first new notes, allowing the music to fill his entire being. Consume him and light him on fire. He entered in at the right moment, drawing out the lyrics with his bow and strings and fingers, making his violin sing words he knew by heart. Words that rang in his mind as he re-created them in melody. His throat closed at the simple beauty of what they were doing. His chest ached for how much he’d missed playing the violin with someone else. His eyes stung for the longing and sadness in the song, and for how perfect the moment was.
A fleeting moment over too damned soon.
As the music stopped, Dom blinked hard. He swiped at a tear on his cheek, unembarrassed at his body’s response to something so amazing that he hadn’t been able to contain it.
Trey was watching him with wide, shining eyes, his cheeks flushed and lips parted. “That was . . .”
Dom cleared his throat and lowered his violin. “Yeah. That was. ‘Bring Me to Life’?”
“Hell yeah.”
Before they started, Dom turned on the audio recorder on his phone, kind of wishing he’d done it for the previous song. They played “Bring Me to Life,” “Going Under,” and “Hello.” In those fifteen or so minutes, Dom had never felt more alive. More perfectly in the moment. And instead of closing his eyes, he watched Trey. Watched the way Trey’s fingers expertly danced across the keyboard. The way he’d stick the tip of his tongue out during an intense section. And especially the frequent way he’d meet Dom’s eyes with an intense knowing.
Whatever it was between them, they both felt it. And Dom had no idea what to do next.
Trey saved him any higher thought by standing, which showed off his wood, and gently taking Dom’s violin away. He tucked it into the case, then came up to Dom from behind. He slid a hand across Dom’s chest and splayed his fingers on Dom’s stomach. His erection pressed low against Dom’s ass, and Dom surprised himself by not tensing up. Trey nipped at his earlobe while his other hand pushed into his shorts.
Dom groaned when rough fingers clasped his dick.
“Sometimes I get hard when I play, but not like this,” Trey whispered. His thumb circled the slit of Dom’s cock.
“Me too.” He tilted his head to give Trey better access to his neck, then reached behind to grab a handful of Trey’s ass. “Want you again.”
“Fuck.”
That was less of an “oh yeah” fuck than it was an “uh-oh” fuck. “Too sore?”
“A little.” Trey stopped licking his neck and looked at him, curiosity brightening his eyes. “Have you ever?”
Dom didn’t ask for clarification given the conversation, and he was proud of himself for not reacting beyond a casual head shake. “I’ve played around with a finger or two but never could make it feel right. I don’t see it being something I’d enjoy, even with someone I trusted.”
“Fair enough.”
