Chapter Sixteen
SKYLAR THOUGHT THE meeting with Hardin went well—the man was annoyed at being bullied into giving away money, but Skylar and Unc were a force to be reckoned with, and so were the Lucky 7 staff, and Pamela too. Xander’s glower was formidable, and Zelda seemed to come with some kind of invisible battle axe. Hardin acknowledged the bind he put them in, and with the greasing of the wheels from Delta Sig, he began to bend. But not without a fight.
“I don’t understand why the two of you are so invested in this,” he kept saying, gesturing to Unc and Skylar. “This isn’t your type of thing, this little newspaper.”
“It’s a magazine,” Jacob corrected.
Skylar smoothed him over. “A literary magazine dating to the founding of the college. Jeff and I are both avid readers of the serial manga taking up most of the contents these days.”
Then, from nowhere, Xander said, “They’re going to join the staff as well, both of them.”
Everyone in the room turned to him, surprised to hear he’d spoken. Hardin blinked at him, then at Skylar. “You can’t be serious.”
Skylar had no idea how to respond. Xander, apparently, did. “Skylar is going to be a staff writer for the manga. Un—Jeff is on tech support. With the new equipment, we’ll need him.”
Unc’s cheeks flushed with pleasure. “Well. Yes. I suppose you will.”
Skylar didn’t know what to say. He stared at Xander, trying to decide if this was some kind of joke for Hardin’s benefit, except Xander looked serious as a heart attack.
Hardin scoffed. “Your father, Stone, would have some things to say about you taking on such a ridiculous charge.”
Beside Skylar, Unc stilled, underscoring the sick feeling Skylar had. Before he could so much as sort out how to react to it, however, Pamela pushed out of the shadows of the room.
“Frank Hardin. I’m sorry, did I hear you incorrectly, or did you just threaten a student?”
Hardin sputtered. “Of course I didn’t, I would never—”
Pamela waved him silent with a bored hand. “Good, good. Then why don’t you go back to telling them how you’ll give them whatever they need? They’ve done all the work for you, even freed you up more adjunct office space because they’re doing their work in my garage. Unless you think I should ask my lawyer if I should be billing the college?”
“No, no. This will be fine.” Hardin fell over himself to hurry the meeting to a close.
Outside the office, once it was over, everyone hugged each other and patted one another on the back in celebration. But Skylar pulled Xander aside. “Why did you say that about us being on the staff?”
Xander had a devilish expression on his face. “Because I think you should be on the staff. Duh.”
“I’m totally in, yo.” Unc high-fived Cory. “I will be your bitch. You tell me where you need me and I’m in. Goddamn, I can’t believe I get to work with you guys! Do I get to help look stuff up too?”
Sara groaned. “Oh my God, you’re required to. That’s the most annoying part, all the research. This is why they give it to me, the flunky.” She made puppy eyes at Skylar. “Do you really want to write for us?”
Skylar glanced around the staff members’ faces, unsure what was happening. “I—I would love to, but I don’t have much experience—”
“He’s written a lot before, just not lately.” Xander nodded at Unc. “So seriously, how are you with research?”
“Dude, for this shit? I’m all fucking over it. Skylar is too. He’s being shy because he’s Sky.”
Skylar blushed. “I’m not being shy. I’m simply saying I don’t have the qualifications—”
“You said you wanted to write a manga with me.” Xander raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well? Here’s your chance.”
I don’t really have the time. That was the true objection, the one he should have said. The one he needed to say. But Skylar couldn’t, not when Xander stared at him, daring him to say no. Reminding him of what it felt like to be with him when he created. Of how much he wanted to be a part of that.
But could he truly be a part of that? Did he have it in him?
Skylar swallowed nervously, glancing around the faces looking at him expectantly. All but Zelda, he noted, who stood off to the side, looking as if they’d like to slice him into ribbons and put him under the microscope for further study. Which, now that he thought of it, was what he’d expected and was overdue. Why hadn’t Zelda been more forceful in the meeting? He’d expected more opposition from them, given what Xander had said.
Not something to worry about right now. He let out a breath. “I’ll…I’ll give it a try.”
Everyone cheered, and Pamela declared they had to come back to the Palace of the Sun where she would make them all a feast, which turned out to be that she ordered pizza. It was good pizza, though, and Skylar enjoyed sitting in the living room and laughing with everyone. Pamela served him jasmine tea, which he hadn’t had before but discovered he loved, and he sipped it as he listened to Cory and Jacob and Sara plan how and when they were moving in, to Pamela and Unc as they discussed how best to clear out the garage attic to set up office space. Apparently Zelda was joining the Palace too, though they weren’t part of the joyful planning. They were off in a corner with Xander having an earnest discussion—from the way Xander kept glancing Skylar’s way, Skylar had a feeling the discussion was about him.
He wondered if he should go over and inject himself in the conversation, cut off some of the drama at the pass.
Before he could make a decision on that front, his phone rang. A glance at the caller ID told him it was his father.
Skylar couldn’t say why he decided to answer. Perhaps it was to get the confrontation about his missing the fundraiser over with and out of the way. Perhaps it was because he was unsure how to handle Zelda yet, and in that moment his father seemed a safer outlet. Whatever the reason, he excused himself, stepped onto the front porch, and took the call.
“Yes, sir.”
“Well. It’s good to know you’re not dead after all, as your mother was starting to fear.”
Skylar leaned against a support pillar. “Sorry about that. I came back to campus and landed in a small crisis at the fraternity.”
“This begs the question, of course, as to why you went back to campus at all. You were told to attend your mother’s fundraiser with a suitable escort. Instead I’m pulled out of my own schedule to reprimand you for not only failing to show and ignoring attempts to reach you but for allowing the inappropriate punk you nearly arrived with to speak rudely to your mother’s assistant.”
Skylar shut his eyes and tipped his head back. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? Well. Isn’t that helpful. I’m so glad I left my golf meeting to hear you tell me how sorry you are.”
Skylar bit his lip to keep another sorry from slipping out.
His father continued, acid dripping from each word. “I certainly hope this is some kind of aberration and not an indication of how you’ve been spending your time this summer.”
Skylar felt sick. It was, in a way, exactly that. “I’ll do better, I promise—”
“Do not waste my time with promises. Show me some results, son. I’m counting on you. Your mother is too. She was looking forward to seeing you.”
Now Skylar felt horribly guilty. If it weren’t too late, he’d get in the car and drive to Connecticut right now. “I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t solve anything, but I am.”
“You can’t afford distractions right now. Whoever that was you brought with you, the one who spoke so rudely to Patricia—get rid of them. They’re no good for you.”
Skylar stilled. He felt queasy with shock—and fear. “I—” He couldn’t say anything else.
Get rid of Xander? The idea was completely unthinkable.
His father continued. “Your job right now is to study for that test and to get the highest score you can. Between you and me, I don’t care that you missed the fundraiser, and I could give a damn if you find dirt on the President himself right now. That test, however, is another matter entirely. Buckle down and eliminate everything that keeps you from getting the best score you can on the LSAT. Keep your nose and the Stone name clean. Be the son I raised you to be. Do you understand?”
Someone laughed inside, a sharp trill, and it made no sense, but the sound, combined with his father’s words, felt like a punch to Skylar’s gut. As if the air, the words, the pain all swirled and combined, and for a second he couldn’t catch his wind.
Eliminate everything that keeps you from getting the best score you can.
Whoever that was you brought with you…get rid of them.
Be the son I raised you to be.
Skylar drew a shallow breath. But it wasn’t you who raised me, really, Father.
Even this defiant thought, though, couldn’t help him shake the aching need to curry favor from his father, to please him and find a way to get him to say, “Good job, son.” Yet for the first time in his life, as Skylar spoke to his father, there was a warring yearning, another pull of desire. Even as he longed to hear his father tell him he was good, his mind offered up an image of Xander, glowering, arms folded in front of his body.
Skylar wanted Xander too—wanted him with a pull stronger than the one drawing him to his father. He didn’t want approval from Xander. He simply…wanted.
“I said, Skylar, do you understand me?”
Skylar cleared his throat, shaking off the image of Xander. “Yes, sir. Of course.”
“Good.”
With that, Leighton hung up.
Shaking, Skylar lowered the phone and let his head fall all the way back against the pillar.
“Hey.”
He righted himself, masking his emotions as best he could, heartbeat quickening as he wondered what had been playing across his face, what whoever this was had seen.
It was Zelda. Alone, and from the look on their face, they’d maneuvered things so Xander wouldn’t be rushing out to interrupt them. Not until they’d finished saying whatever was on their mind.
Great. This, in fact, fit the shark Xander had described. Leave it to them to strike Skylar right when he had no defenses left.
Skylar tried to push himself into Silver mode, to charm them the way he knew he needed to for Xander’s sake. But the weekend had spent him, his father had bled him, and all he wanted right now was to go to Xander, to lose himself in his arms.
The fastest way to get to that point, he decided, was through this individual. He dropped his shields, put his hands in his pockets, and met Zelda with a flat smile. “Would you care to go for a drive?”
They snorted. “Not if you’re driving.”
“I have absolutely no desire to do so. Do we want a pretense to get ice cream or coffee, or are we simply leaving so Xander can’t stop you from demanding some answers?”
Their eyebrows went higher, and the corner of their mouth lifted. “Look at you go. Huh. Well, are you buying?”
The impulse to be polite tried to kick in, but weariness overrode it, and Skylar almost snarled. “No. If you’re going to interrogate me when I already feel wrecked, you’re buying.”
“Bitch.” Zelda laughed. “Don’t make me like you. Get in the car. I’m the piece-of-shit Chevy on the end.”
They walked toward the car, but Zelda peered at Skylar’s phone as he pulled it out to text. “Phoning a friend?”
“Texting Xander, so he knows where I am. I don’t want him to worry.”
“He doesn’t answer texts.”
“He answers mine.” Skylar finished his message, hit send, and tucked his phone away. “I suggest you hurry us out of here. If he reads that now, you won’t make it out of the driveway.”
“Jesus, I’m not kidnapping you.”
“Oh, you’re not?” But he couldn’t help smiling a little as he said it.
They drove aimlessly, quietly at first, and Skylar didn’t mind. He sat back and watched the road go by, willing it to pull his father’s conversation out of his head. It didn’t work. It kept echoing.
“That your dad you were talking to?”
Apparently it echoed all over the car. Skylar nodded. “My father, yes.”
“You call your father sir often?”
“It’s how he prefers to be addressed.”
“Your father’s an asshole.”
“He can be that, yes. He does good things too.”
Zelda hissed through their teeth. “Boy do I hate that. Justification. ‘This is wrong, but here’s why it’s okay to be wrong this one time.’ Bullshit. Right is right. Wrong is wrong. Our world is so fucked, and it’s all because of people like your dad. Blurring the lines. I want to punch everyone like that in the face. Make them pay for what they’ve done to us, to the whole world.”
“Bishamonten.”
“What?”
Skylar had his eyes closed, and he smiled. He wished Unc were here. This was a fun game. “In the Shichifukujin you’re Bishamonten. The god of war. Of order and law. Remember when Jeff and I were assigning everyone roles from the Japanese pantheon? He’s Hotei. Xander’s Fudō Myōō. You’re Bishamonten.”
“You’re weird.” They sighed. “But you’re not an asshole.”
“Thank you.”
They rode in silence a while longer. This time Skylar broke it.
“You’ve been friends with Xander a long time?”
“Since he came to Benten looking like a grumpy mouse nobody else was going to take care of.”
They hadn’t come up in his background research, though. Interesting. Skylar wondered how he’d missed them.
Zelda tapped their thumb on the wheel. “I’m willing to acknowledge you’re not who I thought you were. But that doesn’t change the fact that if you’re just using Xander, I’m going to gut you. I don’t care how much damn money you stuff in your mattress.”
“I’m not using Xander. I wouldn’t ever do such a thing.” He thought of Tabitha and his string of previous dates, glanced at Zelda to check the murder in their eyes, and decided to add, “Not to Xander.”
“So you admit to using other people.”
Skylar nodded reluctantly. “Not…consciously. Not with that intent. But yes. It was Xander who pointed it out to me, what I was doing.”
“How it was fucking wrong?”
“How it was hurting my chances with someone like him.”
More steering wheel tapping. “So you are gay.”
Skylar shut his eyes, breathing slowly as he fished for how to play this. He didn’t know. All he had was his truth, now. “No. I’m not.”
“Bisexual, then.”
“No.”
Predictable as the setting sun on the road ahead of them came Zelda’s fury. “So you’re what, gay baiting him? He’s the magic gay who turns you queer? Which is legit, by the way, sometimes one person flips your switch for you, but then you fucking own it, you don’t stand there and no homo them—”
“I didn’t say I was straight.”
The words startled him as much as they did Zelda. They shut them down, but the words stirred him up, made him want to climb the walls of the car, leap onto the roof and into the wind. But there was nowhere to go, nothing to do but sit with his confession, and try to remember to breathe.
This time when Zelda spoke—after a lengthy, almost painful silence—their voice was still sharp, but it had softer edges. “So you know, none of this is jealousy. I’m total protective parent over him, nothing more. I’m aroace.”
Skylar kept breathing as best he could manage.
Eventually Zelda spoke again. “How about you? Got a term you prefer?”
Skylar choked on bitter laughter, turning his face to the window. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
This time the silence wasn’t as cloying, but Skylar was tired now. He wanted to go back to Xander. He wanted to sit in the Palace of the Sun and listen to everyone plan.
He wanted…something else, but he couldn’t figure it out. He was too tired.
“I’m not going to push you.” Zelda’s voice had lost all its edges now. “Xander told me you two were good—he insisted you were, and he’s going to be super pissed at me for interrogating you. Especially if I take you back looking like I punched your kidney. Which, for the record, really sucks, because I wanted to punch your kidney. If you’re going to look like that, at least let me, all right?”
Skylar wiped his face, dislodging tears he didn’t know he’d shed. Felt the stubble of his beard, thought of Xander—and tears pricked his eyes again.
He drew in a sharp breath, pinched the bridge of his nose, but it was too late.
“Hey.” He felt the warmth of Zelda’s hand near his thigh, not touching. “Do you need me to pull over? I’m heading back, but I can stop. Do you want me to call him?”
Skylar shook his head. He wiped his eyes, but when he stared up at the car’s ceiling, the tears kept coming anyway. “What do you care about rich assholes like me, Zelda?”
“I told you. You’re not an asshole.” Their voice became almost tender. “And I care a whole hell of a lot about hurting aces.”
Skylar couldn’t tell if he laughed, sighed, or cried out to the universe. All he knew was that something in his soul, something so tight and small and terrified, broke free. Said, fuck this shit, bounced around the car, and started to talk.
“I don’t know what I am. I thought I was aroace, once. But the term felt like a straightjacket. I thought maybe it was because my family wouldn’t like that choice.”
“It’s not a choice.”
“I know. But at the time… My head wasn’t in the right place. In so many ways. I couldn’t tell if that meant the label felt wrong because it was wrong or I was. So I decided I wouldn’t be anything. I would be useful. I’d be whatever anyone wanted me to be.”
“Oh my God. Jesus. Fuck, Skylar.”
The empathy bleeding from caustic Zelda’s tones hit Skylar like knives. He let the cuts come, let the puss bleed out. “Everyone was so happy for me to be who they wanted me to be. Everyone was happy, that is, except…”
“Except your parents.”
So cliché. Except… “And Xander. My parents wanted more. Xander—he wanted nothing.”
Zelda chuckled. “Oh, that’s how he got to you. Makes all the sense, now. He’s your kryptonite. You want to please everyone. He’s impossible to please. That’s why you about looked like you wanted to dry hump him when you were setting him up for that computer. You were dry humping him. That’s sex for you. Getting Xander Fairchild to soften in your hands.” When he withdrew, looking uncomfortable, they waved a hand at him. “I didn’t say it was bad. I was just working it out. Didn’t mean to get into your pants. So to speak.”
This was an odd conversation, and a bit more intimate than Skylar would normally prefer with someone he barely knew, but he’d never sat with someone who so casually acknowledged their asexuality before. It was like a drug. He couldn’t stop. “I do…have a little attraction. Sexually. And arousal. It’s different, though, I think, than most people’s.” He paused. “Is this okay to talk about?”
“It’s on the edge for me. There are some other aces I think you’d do better to connect with, but for now, let’s roll with this. I’m a little sex averse, so if we could pull the curtain of decency on any specific details, that would be great.”
Good to know, because Skylar had been ready to go straight down that road. He diverted to another line of questioning bothering him. “So…how does it work, then, if I do feel attraction? I mean…does that make me an ace, still? I thought…”
“Look, there isn’t any one definition for asexual. It’s a spectrum for a damn reason. Though if you start using the label and share it with civilians, be ready to be compared to starfish.”
Skylar blinked. “I—what?” He turned to Zelda, ready to hear the punch line to the joke, but they weren’t laughing.
In fact, they screwed up their face and pitched their voice high as they role-played what was clearly a commonly asked stupid question. “‘Oh, you’re asexual? Like starfish?’” They glowered. “And if you point out that no, starfish reproduce asexually, they start arguing you should change your label because it’s confusing. Demisexuals get it too. I have a friend whose cousin argued for an hour with her that demisexual had to do with philosophy, and another had her mom telling everyone she was a demigod. Then got mad when she corrected her, because how was she supposed to know? Fucking allosexual privilege.”
“I don’t really know if I’m demi or ace or some other kind of gray or what, though. Thinking about labels makes me crazy, to be honest.”
“That’s fine. You don’t need to use the labels if you don’t want to. I like them. A lot. You might change your mind later—that’s also okay. You might change your mind about which label you like. Again, this is fine. Basically you make all the rules and everyone else is going to agree with your rules or I come and drop-kick them.”
Skylar couldn’t help smiling at that, but he did still have some concerns, and he wanted to talk them out. “Okay, but I do have to take Xander and his needs into consideration, and I’m not exactly sure how to do that. We’re just getting started, so I’m kind of ahead of myself, but at the same time I feel like I don’t know who I am anymore, so I don’t know how to plan. I thought I didn’t have this. Attraction, I mean. Now I wonder what else is going to happen. I didn’t think I wanted to kiss anyone. Now I think I maybe want to kiss Xander. Possibly. But what if I’m wrong? And why am I thinking so much about this? Is this actually normal? Is there something wrong with me?”
“Yes, you’re normal, no, there’s nothing wrong with you. Stop that damn train, all right? You’ve passed all your physicals, yes? You’ve been this way your whole life? This is who you are. Oh, it’s possible some asshole will do a study and tell us all about our brain chemistry and offer a fucking purple pill to fix us. Fuck that bitch before he even gets here. You’d be a different person if you’d spent your high school years fucking everything that moved, or even if you were slightly motivated. It’s the same as Xander.”
Skylar shook his head, thinking of the libidinous way Xander ogled him. “He’s not ace.”
“No. But he’s reserved and caustic and cranky and a fucking hermit. You were going to spend the summer turning him into a social butterfly, from what I gather. What a nightmare if you could have managed it. You realize that now, right? His social media pages you made him make me want to puke, by the way. They’re not him at all. He is human leather. You called him Fudō Myōō? You’re right. He’s a wisdom king, fighting in his own strange way. You can’t corrupt him. He sees things as they are. I love him so much for that. Because he’s so bitter, and then he paints such beauty. What if the people who run around ‘fixing things,’ fitting everyone into molds and binaries, could make him happy? They could, you know. I bet a heavy antidepressant would even him out but good.”
“He’s not depressed.”
“Doesn’t matter, right? Or rather, it depends on who defines what depressed is. Remember, there’s still places in the country where people get taken by good families to doctors for treatment for the simple crime of being queer. And nobody stops them.”
The thought made Skylar want to vomit. “There’s nothing wrong with Xander. He doesn’t need fixing. In any way.”
“Exactly. Don’t fuck with who he is, if he isn’t broken. He’s cranky, but he’s a good person, and he makes great art. You’re a good person too, and you’re more than functional. Don’t fuck with who you are. You have low sexual desire. Almost none, from the sounds of things. You’ve discovered a slightly different kink that aligns with Xander, and that’s great. Chase that happiness. This world is a nightmare full of pain. You found someone you can make beauty with. Don’t question how it happens or worry you aren’t doing it the right way. Call yourself demi or an ace or gray, or refuse to take a name. It’s all up to you. Call yourself the man who loves Xander Fairchild, the grumpiest, most antisocial asshole who ever lived. The one who made Xander love someone back.”
Skylar wanted to cry again, but he was too spent. Also, there was a shadow over him, his father’s phone call, echoing in his ears. He could see the Palace of the Sun outlined in the distance, against the purple of the twilight sky, could see Xander standing on the porch, waiting.
“My father…I don’t want him near this. Near him.”
“What would he do? What could he, real talk, actually do?”
He thought of his father’s warning for him to stay away from Xander. He’d never heard his father actually give a warning before.
Of course, Skylar hadn’t ever been inclined to ignore a warning, either. The thought terrified him, but the idea of turning away from Xander was like shutting out the sun. Inconceivable.
“I don’t know,” he said at last. “I’m afraid to know.”
Zelda sighed. This time when they reached across the seat, they took his hand and squeezed it. “What did you call me? That god of war?”
“Bishamonten.”
“This god badass?”
“Extremely.”
Zelda nodded. Laced their fingers through Skylar’s. “Consider Bishamonten officially on your team.”
XANDER WAS READY to do battle with Zelda as they came up the driveway, his whole body lit up as he prepared to tell them off for doing exactly what he’d said not to and taking Skylar away to interrogate him. The air went out of him, however, as he saw the way the two of them were walking together. The way Zelda had their body turned toward Skylar, checking him like a bodyguard. The way, when Skylar swayed briefly on his feet, Zelda caught his elbow and righted him before anyone but Xander noticed, reassuring him quietly.
Goddamn, but the two of them hadn’t simply gotten along. They’d fucking bonded.
Had Skylar come out to them?
All signs pointed to yes, given the way Zelda approached Xander with Skylar as if they were returning a comrade in arms. They inclined their head at Xander, a small apology, then checked back on Skylar. “You all right?”
Skylar smiled at them, a real smile, one that made Xander jealous because he’d thought this kind of smile was only for him. “Yes. Thank you.”
“I will get you those names.” Zelda caught Xander glaring and rolled their eyes. “For fuck’s sake. You know I’m not going to poach.”
“You know it doesn’t work like that, Zelda.” Skylar sounded pleased.
Zelda waved goodbye to them both, casting one last glance at Skylar, and ducked back inside.
Skylar slipped an arm around Xander’s waist. It wasn’t a subtle move—they were outside, and they were alone, but they were also in full view of the others through the window, if anyone chose to look out. Xander couldn’t help glancing around. “People can see us.”
“That’s my hope, yes.” Skylar pulled Xander a little closer to him. “Is that all right?”
Xander’s heart felt like a drum, its beats reverberating through his body. “If you claim me in front of my friends?”
“If I claim you in front of anyone. Everyone. I like the way it makes you blush. But I also simply like you. And I want everyone to know.” Skylar nuzzled Xander’s hair briefly with his lips. “Is it all right?”
Xander melted into his side, shutting his eyes. “Yes. It’s fine.”
Skylar stroked his side, resting his chin on Xander’s hair. “I want to go upstairs with you. To your apartment.”
Are we going to make out? A dumb question. The way Skylar stroked him, the tone of his voice? Yeah. They were going to make out. The real mystery was, how would they do it? It wouldn’t be that they opened the door and Skylar pushed him to the wall, ramming his tongue down Xander’s throat. Once upon a time that had been the stuff of his fantasy. Now, that sort of thing occurring in real life would jar and upset him, because it wouldn’t be Skylar. But whatever happened, it would be sensual and intense, and Skylar would wring Xander like a washrag before they were done.
Xander had to swallow before he could reply. “Yes. Let’s do that.”
As they wound their way up the stairs to Xander’s place, questions nagged and eventually bubbled to the surface. Xander didn’t turn around, choosing instead to ask them of the stairs ahead of him. “What happens when school starts in the fall, Skylar? Will you still want to claim me in front of people?”
“Yes.”
That answer, frankly, shocked Xander, and he turned around to see if Skylar was joking. He wasn’t.
Xander frowned at him. “You seriously are going to come up to me on campus and—” The mental image flashed, of him in a quiet spot, bombarded by Skylar and a harem of giggling sorority girls and glaring frat boys. He backed up a step. “Oh, hell no.”
Skylar stayed where he was, penning him in tight with both hands on either side of the railing. He didn’t laugh or even smile. “Hell yes. Or is it you who is ashamed of me?”
Low blow. “You’re honestly going to let them all think you’re gay?”
There was an odd steel about Skylar’s expression. “Let them think what they want. I don’t care.”
Skylar looked serious, but Xander couldn’t help pushing back. “You care a hell of a lot and you know it.”
“I care more about you. About myself. I don’t want to live like that anymore.” His shoulders sagged. “Please, Xander. I don’t want to fight. I want to be with you.”
Now Xander felt like shit. “I’m sorry.” He took Skylar’s hand, prying it off the metal rail. “Come on. Let’s do some sketching.”
This, as he predicted, put some life into Skylar. “Of me?”
“Of you.” Xander teased Skylar’s hand, turning it into a light kiss of fingers. “I thought maybe I could talk you into showing me some skin tonight.”
They were at the door now, and Skylar crowded Xander into it. “Oh? This is different. And exciting. You want to draw me nude?”
“Well, not precisely nude yet.” Xander unlocked the door and let them inside, catching Skylar’s hand and leading him into the main room. Hiromu was perched on the counter, looking sullen beside her empty food dish, but Hokusai was nowhere to be seen. Xander put food in the dish for the cat before he got out his sketchbook and supplies. “I would feel uncomfortable. Because I want to actually draw you, not turn this into a porno introduction. Also…”
“Also, you’re shy.” Skylar ran a hand down Xander’s arm and moved to the center of the room, where he began unbuttoning his shirt. He’d worn a suit to face down Hardin, and he still had it on. “All right. How far down do you want me to go?”
Xander watched Skylar’s long fingers work his buttons, hypnotized. All the way down. On me. He cleared his throat. “Start with your shirt off. Dress and undershirt. Please.”
“Teach me that in Japanese.”
Xander’s brain was pudding as he watched first Skylar’s suit coat come away, then the panels of his cotton shirt open up, one button at a time. “There are a lot of ways.”
“Teach them all to me, then.”
His shirt was open now, and he’d moved onto the cuffs. “Onegaishimasu. That’s the main one that I taught you already. You can shorten it to Onegai.”
“Mmm. But there are others?”
One cuff was done. The second was giving him trouble. “Kudasai. It’s used with te-form verbs. Please do it for me.”
The cuff came free, and Skylar shrugged out of his shirt. “Ah, such as, strip to your underwear for me, kudasai.”
He took the white T-shirt clinging to his skin with both hands, tugged with a smooth motion, and peeled it from his body.
“Sō desu ne,” Xander whispered.
Skylar tossed the T-shirt onto his growing pile of clothing and arched an eyebrow. “Another way to say please?”
“No. That’s more something you say when you don’t know what else to say.”
Skylar grinned. “Well, you have me as you wanted me.” He hooked a thumb in his waistband, tugging it down ever so slightly. “Sure you want to stop?”
Xander wanted to get to the floor and bury his face in that waistband. Except…he also didn’t. He swallowed and licked his lips. “Can I ask you a question? I promise it’s not to start a fight.”
Skylar stayed where he was and kept his thumb in his waistband. “Sure.”
“I don’t—I really don’t want this today. I couldn’t do it. But…sometimes my fantasies of you are…pretty erotic. Mostly of”—his cheeks flamed—“me sucking your skin. Or…you. Or you me. But then I wonder, do they need to stay fantasy? I guess I just want to know.”
Skylar’s expression was hard to read. “Would it upset you if I said they would have to? That I couldn’t do that?”
“Of course not. It’s why I asked, because I wanted to know.”
“But what do you mean, ‘of course not’?”
This was a weird conversation. Xander tried to mentally map the minefield, but it was hard with Skylar’s incredibly attractive chest staring at him. “I mean, of course not because if you can’t do that, then I find something else to get hot over you about. There are roughly a billion things about you that turn me on. What, you think I’m some kind of asshole who would stop wanting to be with you because you didn’t want me to suck your dick? Jesus. I haven’t even kissed you on the mouth and I’m so far gone for you—” He cut himself off, not having planned to confess so much.
Skylar honed in on that too. “What if I can’t even do that? What if I can’t kiss you on the mouth?”
“Why does this matter to you so much? Where is this coming from?”
“I don’t want you to find me lacking! I don’t want to come this close to you and then find out if I would have bent, just a little—”
Something inside Xander snapped—he could almost see it, and it was a tiny, red-hot rubber band. “Hai. Take off your clothes, all of them, Skylar-san, onegaishimasu.” When Skylar only stared at him, he clapped his hands twice. “Hayaku.”
Skylar faltered. “All?”
A flicker of doubt rose in Xander, but the wave of red in him snuffed it out. “I’m going to draw you.” He paced a circle around Skylar, already mapping him with his artist’s eye. “I want to see all of you. Every line and curve. I’m going to draw you as I see you. As I feel you.” He spied his manga markers on the edge of his desk, felt the rush, and went with the impulse. “It’s going to be a manga drawing. A big one. It’s going to take some time. This won’t be like our other modeling sessions. You’ll need to get comfortable. Be ready for a long session. Watch for cramps. Take breaks, get hydrated.”
Skylar’s breathing had changed. He’d gone softer too. For once Xander was in control. “Okay.”
The rest of the clothing removal wasn’t as charged as the first half, even though this part contained the aspects of Skylar Xander had yet to see and most coveted. He did allow himself a moment to appreciate the beautiful curve of Skylar’s backside, the slope of his hips and lower back. Before he turned around, though…
“Do you want a sock?”
Skylar glanced over his shoulder. He was blushing. Xander memorized it so he could sketch it. “Seems silly.”
“Not if you’re shy. A lot of male models wear one.”
The blush was replaced by a sharp look of jealousy. “Have you seen a lot of naked male models, then?”
Xander smiled slowly. “I have. I’m a BFA student with an emphasis in drawing and painting. Naked men and women to the point they look like blobs of flesh, I’m afraid.”
“Hmm. Is that all I am right now? Another blob?”
“No.”
Skylar held still, waffling. “It’s not the sock or not. I just feel…very exposed. Which is obvious, but…”
Xander thought he understood what Skylar was saying. “The balance is off. Hold on.” He set his sketchbook down, stood, and tugged his own shirt over his head. “Better?”
Skylar turned a little more to get a good look. “Hmm. Maybe?”
Xander undid his pants. “I’m not going full monty, because if I sit here bare-assed, it’s all I’m going to think about. But I’m willing to go to my skivvies.”
“I think I’d appreciate your skivvies.” Skylar cleared his throat. “And…a sock for myself. Ku..kud…”
“Kudasai.”
“A sock, kudasai.”
Xander went to his room and came back with a clean tan sock, and handed it to Skylar. It was long, and Skylar held it up by the end, raising an eyebrow. “You’re a little optimistic.”
Xander laughed. “It’s the only tan one I have. I don’t want it to pull focus.”
Skylar put the sock on the organ it was intended for. “You plan to spend a lot of attention around my groin area?”
“I do. I find it beautiful. I can’t wait to draw it.”
He ran his hand down Skylar’s arm, noting the way it made him shiver. Xander kept stroking, keeping his touch light, soothing.
Eventually Skylar gasped and flinched, covering his sock with his hands, which had…started to rise. “Oh. That’s—that’s very…”
Xander smiled. “Nice?”
Skylar looked taken aback. Slightly hungry, slightly apprehensive. “It’s that sustained, light touch. From you. If it were harder or had more intent behind it…”
Ideas began to pop inside Xander’s head. “Hmm. We’ll have to try drawing on your skin sometime. Or maybe simply using a paintbrush. But not today.” He patted Skylar’s shoulder and stepped away. “Today I’m going to draw you. Come sit over here on this pile of cushions, and face my easel.”
Skylar sat. He was used to sitting for portraits now, but Xander hadn’t been kidding, this was a marathon session, and it had a thread beneath it like no other. Xander had set up a pair of mirrors behind Skylar, to help him get a better view of the whole, and it gave him a view of himself too as he worked, and Skylar’s body posture. How nervous he was.
It showed, to Xander’s surprise, how confident he was.
He’d watched himself work before, for self-portraits, but he’d never seen this. Never seen himself this strong and confident. It made him feel sexy and powerful. It gave him a big head, made him reckless.
Made him say, as he sketched Skylar, “Tell me about the rest of these seven gods. If you’re not Hotei, who else might you be?”
The question was a good one, because it relaxed Skylar somewhat. “Hmm. Well, I already told Zelda they were Bishamonten.”
Xander laughed. “God of war. Good call. Okay, that one’s taken.” He smoothed the line of Skylar’s hip. “And Unc is Hotei. But keep telling me about the others. There are seven. That’s two. Who are the other five?”
“There’s Ebisu, the laughing god. His origins are the most Japanese. He’s the god of prosperity and wealth. Loved by fishermen. In his origin story he was born without bones.”
That wasn’t Skylar. “Who else?”
“Daikokuten is the god of commerce and prosperity. Cooks, farmers, and bakers consider him their patron god. He’s also known as a demon hunter.”
Also a no. “Next?”
“Jurōjin is the incarnation of the southern polestar, the god of the elderly and longevity. He’s based on a real person and has a very long head. Loves wine. Very cheerful.”
“You really know all of them by heart. Okay, who are the last two?”
“Well, one is kind of an either/or. One of the gods can be either Fukurokuju or Kichijōten, depending on if they’re male or female. This is a hermit god who can resurrect the dead. Patron saint of chess players. Known for wisdom, wealth, longevity, and happiness.” Skylar shifted his foot, flexed his ankle. “Then the last one, of course, is Benzaiten. Our school’s patron goddess, also known as Benten. Patron of arts and artists. Goddess of talent, beauty, and music.”
Bingo. The rush of rightness flowed through Xander, and he knew he had the center of the piece now. His breathing slowed, his body took on a stillness which was, he supposed, its own kind of arousal. An artist’s arousal.
Let me make love to you, Skylar.
“Shift onto your elbows, please, and widen your hips. Use the pillows behind you to prop yourself up if you need to. But open your knees.”
Skylar moved into position, but he trembled a little. “That’s…a rather exposed posture. Pretty erotic.”
“You’re an erotic subject, and it’s an erotic piece.” He kept his gaze on his paper, flicking it up to Skylar when necessary, losing himself in the zone, but when he looked up once, something felt off, and the expression on Skylar’s face pulled him out, made him stop. “Are you okay? Do you need a break?”
Skylar shook his head, but he seemed…hesitant. “You’re so…different when you work.”
“Different bad?”
“Just different. You really are only seeing me as a blob of flesh.”
Xander shook his head. “No. Okay—I’ll grant I’m not looking at you the way I do when I’m admiring you. But I’m not looking at you the way I do my usual subjects, either. I’m highly aware of who I’m drawing right now. Of what I want this portrait to say, to whom I want it to speak.”
Now Skylar softened. “You’re drawing for me?”
“Everything I’ve drawn lately has been for you.”
The air was charged now, but in a way that allowed them to be comfortable in the silence while Xander worked. Occasionally he urged Skylar to shift and put blood in his limbs, take a drink, and then eventually he told him he could get up.
“You’re finished?”
“No. But I don’t need you for this part.” He glanced in the mirror, checking his image, but Skylar had stepped into it. “Could you move to the right, please?”
Skylar had wrapped a blanket around himself. “You’re drawing yourself?”
Xander nodded. “Go get something to drink.” A howl came from the kitchen, and he added, “And feed Hokusai, please.”
It took him another half hour to finish the sketch, at which point Skylar was dressed in Xander’s sweats and wanted to see, but Xander refused. The fire of the piece burned in him—he’d thought of making it a simple drawing, doing it in Copic, but he wanted to paint it now, and he wanted to be alone, so he sent Skylar to bed, pulling him in close and making out with his hand, caressing his other arm and shoulder, promising it would be worth it if he would wait.
Once he had the living room to himself, he set up his easel, his paints, turned on his stereo, and lost himself.
He’d never done this before. Never painted manga style. It was odd, but it worked surprisingly well. He got off on the sharp black strokes—did them in marker, so they’d stay—then brought in his brush and smoothed the color over the canvas, watching it spill and soak into the white.
Benzaiten, he thought as he painted, his mind calling up her desecrated shrine. I know he isn’t you. But he is worthy of you. Please look kindly on him, and take care of him. And please consider my work a humble offering for all you have done for him, and for me.
It was dawn when he finished. The record had ended long ago. His shoulders ached. His fingers were cramped. His body was splattered with paint, and he was cold—something he didn’t consciously acknowledge until he crept down the hall and climbed into bed beside Skylar.
“You’re like ice.” Skylar shivered as he wrapped his body around him. “You smell like paint. I like it.”
“I’m done. You can see it.” Xander’s body turned to lead. “But not yet. Let me sleep first.”
Skylar pinched his backside. “Not a chance. I’ve waited all night for this. I’ve barely slept.”
Xander groaned, but he relented, getting out of bed. The fire was out of him, doubt creeping in. “I’m not sure of the composition. The color might be off too.”
“Shut up and let me see my damn painting.” Skylar tugged him, blanket-wrapped, down the hall. He flipped on the light. “I want—oh my God.”
He stopped in the doorway.
He let go of Xander, took three steps forward, put his hands over his mouth. Sank to the floor, where he sat on his knees and stared.
Xander’s stomach was a queasy mess now. “Is this bad?”
Skylar pointed at the painting, his finger shaking. “That…that’s Benzaiten’s shrine. The one that was in Delta Eta Sigma—except it’s not wrecked. But you never saw it this way. How…?”
That’s what he was upset about? “I’m an artist. Imagination comes with the job description.”
“But that’s me lying in her shrine. Like I’m the body of the god! And…and that’s you at the torii, and you’re…” He pressed his hands to his cheeks. “You’re Fudō Myōō.”
Xander hoped to hell—or heaven, or wherever—this wasn’t sacrilegious. “It’s called Fudō Myōō Comes to Remove Benzaiten’s Obstacles.” He took a step closer, waiting for Skylar to see the rest.
Skylar leaned in, squinted, then froze. “Xander.”
This part of the painting was the one Xander was sure about. “It was tricky, coming up with images to represent conventional sexuality without wrecking the composition. So I decided Tabitha and your old dates owed me one last favor. Good old carnal images of men and women wrapped around her—your—wrists and ankles.” He gestured to Fudō’s sword. “I mean, he’s not going to hack them or anything. More dislodge them with the tip. Unless someone gets feisty. Then all bets are off.”
Skylar had tears running down his cheeks, and he spoke in a whisper. He couldn’t look away from the painting. “What did I do to deserve you?”
“You told me not to throw away my work. You chased me down and made me open up. Enough to see things I needed to see.” Xander stepped closer and put a hand carefully on Skylar’s hip. “This is how I make love to you, Skylar Stone. I make you take off your clothes and spread your legs for me. I get you to tell me stories of goddesses and turn you into one. I turn your deepest fears into the most beautiful painting I know how to create, and then I stay up all night to give it to you.” He rested his nose on Skylar’s shoulder, nipping him smartly. “The very idea I need to slobber on a body part to do it is insulting.”
Without turning around, Skylar found Xander’s hand and laced their fingers tight. “What happens if I tell you that I love you?”
Xander shut his eyes, smiling into Skylar’s skin as his heart soared. He squeezed their joined hands tighter. “I’ll tell you that I love you back.”