I frowned, words falling on my mental page like music notes. “For as long as I want you here? You’re my snow on Christmas morning in a big city. No matter how many pieces I perfect, none are as beautiful as your laugh. You’re not the cherry on top of my sundae, you’re the three scoops of ice cream and everything else is just extra. I love you and want you around forever.”
It was surprising to me just how easy it was to say the words. I’d been muzzled for so long I was sure I could have never expressed my feelings so easily.
A smile ticked at his lips, his eyes shining with tears. His tone was rough when he spoke. “So, what you’re saying is you want me to be your house boy?”
I rolled my eyes and huffed. “You’d look terrible in a maid’s outfit. Like a yeti in a dress.”
He simply smiled tenderly at me.
I was on a roll and being honest felt good. “I want sexy things, of course, but when I play in a concerto before thousands of people, I want you in the audience. And when I accept awards and take interviews, I want you beside me, holding my hand.” I dropped my tone and smirked. “You think I just want to keep you around as my house boy? Cook me dinner, take care of me when I’m sick? Blowjob when I want it?”
“You can’t help it can you?” he said with a little rumble of laughter.
“No, I don't think so. I’m still discovering who I am. What movie stars I’m attracted to and whether I like being the top or the bottom. But I do knowone thing.”
“Hm?”
The musical notes chimed in my mind, making sense as if they were the keys to the universe and all its mysteries. “You are the notes of “Adagio for Strings”, and the triumphant conclusion of Wagner's “Liebestod”. Just as I can’t survive without my music, I can’t live without you. I want you around for as long as you want to be around.”
His smile widened, his eyes glittering like emeralds. “Hm…looks like we might be agreeing on something here.”
“You think?”
“I just want you to be sure I’m what you want. You’re still young and deserve to experience the world. We can’t ignore the fact that when you’re thirty, I’ll be almost fifty.”
I conceded his point and ran my thumb over his hands that needed serious moisturizing. “The Fernandez family was once very big. I had an aunt that died when I was three from cancer and a cousin that was killed in a car crash. One of my uncles who passed before I was born lost two children to a drowning accident when they were three. No one is guaranteed years. I could die tomorrow. So as long as we walk this Earth, I want it to be with you.”
He smiled as if I’d told him everything he’d wanted to hear. I climbed into his lap, his bigger body easily supporting me and I kissed the hell out of him because I was happy for the first time in my life.
He broke away and pegged me with intense green eyes that burned deep to my soul. “How dare you come into my life and turn everything upside down? You think there won’t be consequences?”
“I expect you’ll dish them out in bed,” I murmured against his lips.
“And in your shower. On top of the washing machine.” He gripped my chin roughly. He actually looked angry, but his expression quickly softened. “I keep trying to figure out whenI fell for you. But I don’t think there is a single moment I can pinpoint. Everything we’ve shared over the years is just notes. Put them together and you get a beautiful piece of music.”
Feeling playful, I said, “You had no chance. You’re a Lisztomaniac for me, admit it. You think I’m hot. You want to fuck me, kiss me, and love me.”
“Okay, Miss Congeniality.”
I passed him a quizzical look.
“Oh God, you haven’t discovered Sandra Bullock yet. You’re going to love her.”
He took my lips, pushing his tongue so deep into my mouth, he stamped himself on every fiber of my being. Was this the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with? No matter what happened between us, he’d ruined me. I’d never love anyone as much as I did him.
“Play for me,” he whispered. “You’re so beautiful when you do.”
I beamed, slid off him, and started the opening of Schumann’s “Scherzo No. 2”, the piece lively and upbeat, summing up all the hope and excitement for our future. Time ticked on by and it meant absolutely nothing. I switched to a fun, energetic ragtime tune Nana used to play and he busted silly dance moves that had me giggling and missing notes. The morning wound on. I tried teaching him a simple chord, but his sausage fingers blundered it.
“Here,” I said and took his hand. I slid my fingers up and down the bones of his. “It’s not just in the digits. It’s also in the wrist and the palm. The movements need to flow naturally and shouldn’t be forced. The fingers should fall gently on the keys.”
“We're both going to have to accept that I’m more rough grizzly than sweet Pooh.”
I started playing again, his contribution to the song embarrassing but it was all in genuine fun. I stopped abruptly.“You said I could fuck you on my piano. Now seems as good a time as any.”
“I said we’d fuck on your piano, not that you could fuck me.”
I growled in excitement, feeling an argument coming on. “You’re my bottom-bitch, remember?”
