Chapter Eleven Eros’ Arrow

Eros’ Arrow

June 2013

The scooter’s engine purred as Demetrios twisted the accelerator, increasing the speed and causing the wheels to spin faster. The winding lane stretched ahead, steep and dangerous. Jesse’s arms encircled his waist, pressing his body to him in a perfect fit, leaning into the twists and turns of the road. Demetrios smiled. He could get used to this. The freedom. The wind whipping through their hair as they rode farther away from the smothering walls of Aegleia and his obligation to the family business.

It was Jesse’s fourth day of his summer return and Demetrios had had to work in the taverna each day as Yiannis was away on a work trip. Meaning his time with Jesse had been scarce. Jesse had been hanging out at the taverna with him, a wad of paper and pencils to keep him amused while Demetrios served the tourists. Not that it wasn’t nice to have Jesse taking up a table on the terrace, chipping away at his sketches, some of him, some of the view, some of random cartoons, but Demetrios wanted this holiday to be one to remember, and not one where Jesse occasionally helped serve drinks or cleared up the mess left behind by gaggles of holidaymakers. This was his holiday, too. So he was grateful for his dad’s return, enabling him to take today off and show Jesse more of the island he grew up on.

And to escape the confines of his duty to his father.

And to be alone.

They reached the summit of the cliff, and Jesse threw one arm in the air in exhilaration, T-shirt flapping wildly behind him. They sped forward and his excitable hoot of, “Yahoo!”, filtered through the helmet Demetrios had bought for him with the money he’d saved from his olive picking stint.

It had been a long nine months waiting for Jesse’s return to Naxos. Nine months of constant texts, voice messages, video calls on Skype, and phone calls chatting endlessly into the night. Jesse was easy to talk to. Not that he was the one doing all the talking. Jesse did that enough for both of them. He had more to say. A life back in England. School. Jesse having now finished his sixth form course and leaving his family home for university to study art in September. Demetrios had heard about each university visit, and had both loved and hated seeing Jesse beam about the facilities and art studios and how he couldn’t wait to move out of his parents’ house in Kent and live in London where he could be his true self. His small town didn’t have the LGBT vibe Jesse craved.

Demetrios didn’t have the freedom Jesse did.

Having left school at fifteen to work full time in the taverna, his life now comprised serving drinks and food, occasionally playing his guitar and singing for the off-season guests. During the winter months between October and January, when they had fewer visitors, Demetrios went olive picking to earn extra cash. All very different from Jesse’s autonomous life back in England, where he could choose what he wanted to do.

Demetrios was jealous.

But, more than that, he was in awe of him.

And missed him.

Which was why he wanted to give Jesse the time of his life here. In Naxos. To show him there could be something here for him, too. If he wanted it. His parents weren’t joining him until later in the week, meaning they had the time to see if what had started last summer, kissing in clubs, sneaking off to sheltered corners to kiss and hold hands, and the intervening months of long-distance exchanges, could grow into something more. Something wonderful. Demetrios was eighteen. Officially an adult. And while Jesse was still only seventeen, turning eighteen at the end of the month, it still felt different. They weren’t children exploring feelings anymore. They were young men, coming of age and discovering who they were and what they wanted.

Which for Demetrios was Jesse.

Jesse wrapped his arms back around his waist, resting his head on Demetrios’ shoulder as they rode along the winding coast. The salty ocean breeze whipped through their hair as they passed by quaint mountain villages and ancient ruins, the vibrant greens of the fertile landscape blending into the soft blues of the sky and sea. Eventually, they arrived at the bustling capital of Chora, the picturesque port town filled with cubed shaped houses and medieval Venetian mansions. They stopped for a while to explore, grabbing an ice cream from a local vendor before resting against the scooter near the harbour, watching the ferries drift in and out. With a playful grin, Demetrios wiped a splodge of cream on Jesse’s nose so he could lick it off and steal a cool kiss.

Jesse’s blushing cheeks had Demetrios melting alongside his ice cream.

As they mounted the scooter once again, Demetrios felt the rumble of the engine beneath him, as though it was the vibration of his heart, and they made their way to the next destination on his list—the old town of Kastro. They had to leave the bike to tour the labyrinth of narrow backstreets and vaulted alleys within the hidden medieval world lurking behind the walls of the citadel. Jesse, ever prepared, pulled out a worn drawing pad from his bag and began sketching the castle with practiced strokes as they lingered. Demetrios popped on his shades to watch him, marvelling at how effortlessly he captured the intricate details of the old stone structure and where, beyond the gates, he could recreate the tranquil world of narrow alleys, courtyards adorned with flowers and old mansions with coats of arms on their lintels.

“This is amazing,” Jesse said, eyes darting from the structure he was drawing to his pad. “I can feel what life must have been like back then.” He pushed up his glasses to settle on the bridge of his nose. “How Venetian rulers influenced the people and culture of Naxos.” He pointed the pencil tip at Demetrios. “This is you. Your history.” He grinned. “And I love it.”

Demetrios’ stomach fluttered as Jesse went back to his drawing. He knew he was talking about the ancient acropolis, but hearing those three words, even about his ancestry and culture, gave him hope. Jesse might not leave. He might not go to university as planned. He might stay here. With him.

Forever.

Demetrios smiled at Jesse’s tongue poking out from his lips as he drew. He was a nerd, and Demetrios thought him adorable.

The next stop had to be the Temple of Apollo, where they left the bike at the port to walk the causeway up to the mound. Jesse, once again, took out his drawing materials and set to work. This time, Demetrios strolled around the massive stone mound, giving Jesse space to create his masterpiece. When he’d looped full circle around the ancient structure and came back to Jesse sitting on a rock, pad in his lap, pencil flying across the page, he cocked his head.

“Most people just take a photo.”

Jesse peered over his glasses. “A photo can’t capture how you feel about it,” he replied, going back to perfecting his shading.

Demetrios squinted at the bright sun, casting golden light through the columns, ethereal patterns spreading along the stones below.

“How do you feel about it?”

Jesse deftly smudged the pencil lines with his finger. “You notice how quiet it is?” Jesse smiled. “It’s magical. Mystical. It’s…ancient Greece coming to life.”

Demetrios furrowed his brow. “If you say so.”

Jesse whacked his sketch pad on Demetrios’ knee. “Uncultured swine.”

“Ow!” Demetrios laughed, then hauled Jesse up by his hand. “This is my culture. You English steal it.” He kissed him, because if there were any English around here stealing something, it was Jesse stealing his heart. “But can we go to the beach now?”

Jesse rolled his eyes. “Don’t you get enough of sand?”

“Not when I want to lie in it with you.”

Jesse grinned. “Okay.” He then stepped away, clearing his pad and pencils into his bag. “Let’s go to the beach. Which one?”

“My one.” Demetrios winked.

“Aegleia?”

“No. One that belongs only to me.”

Jesse wrinkled his cute little button nose, and it went right to Demetrios’ already smitten heart.

They walked back along the causeway, hand in hand, and Demetrios aided Jesse onto the scooter before climbing on in front, securing his helmet. Then they rode out of the bustle of Chora, heading toward Aegleia, leaving behind the noise and commotion of the city, searching for a more secluded destination for Demetrios to spend real time with Jesse. Following an offbeat path where only scooters and adventurous pedestrians could navigate, Demetrios found his spot. He parked the bike at the edge of a cliff, resting their helmets on the handlebars, then took Jesse’s hand and led him down the rocky descent. Jesse struggled to find solid footing and slipped a few times, but Demetrios steadied him and guided his steps to reach the bottom.

When he jumped the two feet to sand, Jesse’s jaw dropped.

There, untouched by human hand or feet, was a serene cove of golden sand with turquoise waters gently lapping at the shore, peaceful and secluded, an oasis away from the chaos of the outside world. No sun loungers. No tavernas selling two-for-one cocktails. No passing touts selling massage treatments for extortionate prices. It was their own little slice of paradise.

“Worth the wait?” Demetrios asked him through the gentle breeze.

Jesse met his gaze. “The whole nine months of it.”

Demetrios smiled, then ripped off his T-shirt, chucking it onto the sand. He hopped on one foot to flick off his trainers, dumping them both with his top. “Last one in the sea loses kissing privileges.”

Jesse narrowed his eyes as Demetrios chuckled and shucked down his shorts to reveal his Lycra swim shorts beneath. Jesse’s eyes trailed southwards.

“Up here, Jesse.” Demetrios motioned to his chin. “And unless you plan on swimming in all that, you’re gonna lose.”

Jesse’s eyes narrowed. Challenge accepted. And he dumped his bag on the sand, ripped off his glasses, tossing them carelessly next to Demetrios’ shoes. Demetrios bolted towards the lapping waves, diving straight into the warm sea and when he emerged from the water, flicking back his hair, floating on his back, he cast a devilish grin at Jesse.

Jesse shed his clothes to his underwear. He’d not come prepared to swim, and his cotton boxers left nothing to the imagination. Demetrios licked his lips, lapping up the salty sea water, and watched as Jesse tiptoed into the water. Entranced by the beauty of his pale skin, of his slender physique, and the early scattering of golden hair over his chest where a silver pendant hung from around his neck glimmered in the sunlight, Demetrios couldn’t take his eyes off him. He was like a siren, luring Demetrios to do very bad things.

Were they so bad?

“Get in!” Demetrios kicked his foot to splash him.

“Bugger off!” Jesse held down the bottom of his boxers, bashful over nothing Demetrios could understand. Because he was perfection. Although, perhaps white cotton boxers hadn’t been the best idea for a frolic in the sea.

Demetrios dived under the water and swum beneath the surface toward him, then burst up, grabbed him by the waist and dragged him in.

Jesse squealed as they both sank beneath the water together.

When they emerged treading water, Demetrios pouted. “You lost.”

“But if I lose kissing privileges, that means you don’t get any.” Jesse looked almost concerned at the statement. As though he worried if he were right. If Demetrios were kissing others, too.

He wasn’t.

“I can give the kisses. You can’t.”

“Oh, reall—”

Demetrios cut him off with a possessive kiss and Jesse melted into him, as he always did, and Demetrios wrapped his arms around his waist to hold him close and deepen the kiss while treading water. Jesse threw his legs around him and flung his arms around his neck, holding onto him like two vines in a desperate embrace.

Despite the coolness of the water, it got heated and Demetrios’ self-control was waning with every kiss, a primal desire to take things further overwhelming. But he paused, unsure of where Jesse was in moving things up a notch between them. He needed to leave it to him. But keeping his hands off Jesse was becoming harder with each moment spent with him.

Jesse broke away, swimming a short distance from him and splashing Demetrios to entice him into the shallow waters where they frolicked like carefree children for a while. Like they had when they were kids. Jesse tried dunking Demetrios only for Demetrios to succeed instead. And when Jesse gave up the chase and lay on his back at the edge of the shore, sea lapping over him, Demetrios crawled on top of him and claimed him as his own. God, he loved kissing Jesse. His lips were soft. And warm. And tasty. Demetrios could kiss him forever.

A wave splashed over their entangled bodies, filling their mouths with salty water and nearly drowning them. So Demetrios clambered to his feet, grabbing Jesse’s hand to haul him up as he coughed and spluttered. He laughed. So did Jesse. And Demetrios hadn’t known joy like it.

“Come on.” Demetrios dragged Jesse back to their stuff, and Jesse must have thought it would be his chance to get his own back, because he tucked his foot between his legs, tripping him. Demetrios tumbled to the sand, landing on his back with an oomph.

Jesse dropped to his hands and knees, straddling Demetrios, necklace dangling around his chin and falling into his mouth. Demetrios plucked the chain out, leant up, and kissed him. Demetrios had no way of keeping his hands off him, and he stroked up Jesse’s sides, to his back, ghosting along his spine, then teased his fingers inside the waistband of his soaked boxers.

Jesse clambered off him then, sitting beside him, hugging his knees to his chest, toes sliding into the sand. Too far? Demetrios held in his disappointment to find Jesse’s glasses and hand them to him.

“Thanks.” Jesse put them on, gazing out at the sea.

Demetrios stroked Jesse’s back and wished he could read the thoughts swirling around in Jesse’s head. It was as though he was desperate to talk but unsure how to say what he needed.

Demetrios tickled his fingers up Jesse’s spine. “You okay?”

“Mmm hmm.” Jesse nodded, pursing his lips.

There was something more, but Demetrios didn’t press. If Jesse wanted to talk, he would in his own time. Sometimes it took a whole phone call of idle conversation before Jesse would blurt out what had been playing on his mind. They’d had a year of getting to know each other as intimately as they could when separated by land and sea. In a way, that had been better. It meant they had more than physical attraction. But, boy, there was an abundance of physical attraction on Demetrios’ part, and his fingers itched to touch, his lips tingled to kiss every inch of his toned body, and his tongue burned to lick the salt from his pale skin.

Maybe there was another way to be intimate without coercion?

“Do you have sun cream on?” Demetrios sat up, stroking Jesse’s back. “You’re red here.” He kissed his bare shoulder, salty sweat and sea water exploding on his tongue.

Jesse met his gaze and Demetrios slid his hand around Jesse’s neck, keeping him facing him so he could kiss him.

“Sun cream,” he said as their lips parted.

“Yes, Daddy.”

Demetrios snorted, then leaned away to rummage in Jesse’s bag, locating the cream. He checked the bottle. “Factor forty?”

“We can’t all be Greek gods.”

“Greek god?” Demetrios squirted the cream on his hands. “Which god am I?”

“God of the Sun.”

“Helios.” Demetrios smoothed his hands over Jesse’s shoulders, breathing laboured at the intimacy of the touch.

“I’m going to draw you in a burning chariot.”

“Will you dress me like a true Greek god?”

“Obviously.”

“So…naked?”

Jesse swallowed, and whipped back around to stare at the sea. Demetrios ran his hands down Jesse’s back to smooth in the cream, spokes of his spine protruding and enticing enough to bite. Demetrios should stop. But he couldn’t and his lips found the back of Jesse’s neck, kissing him as he lathered in the cream.

Chest rising and falling, Jesse turned back. “The villa is empty.”

Demetrios tilted back to look him in the eye. “You…want to go back?”

“Do you?”

“I want to do whatever you want to do. Be wherever you are.”

Jesse scrambled up in haste, finding his clothes scattered on the beach and pulling them on. “Let’s go then.”

Demetrios followed suit, heart hammering at what could be happening. At what might happen. At the promise held in Jesse’s sparking eyes.

“When are your parents due?” Demetrios asked as they gathered up their belongings and headed for the steep climb back to the top of the cliff.

“Dad next week and Mum…unsure. She said something about meeting a client before coming to Aegleia.”

Demetrios allowed Jesse to climb up the rocks first. Being behind meant he could catch him if he fell and also check out his backside without being caught. Jesse mis-stepped a few times, giving Demetrios an excuse to hold him and splay his hands over his arse.

“Swear you did that on purpose,” Jesse called down to him as Demetrios squeezed his buttocks.

Demetrios chuckled and pushed Jesse to the top, where they climbed on the scooter and rode back to Aegleia.

He parked on the curb outside the row of villas, and Jesse unlocked the door to his parents’ private holiday home, allowing Demetrios inside first. The place had the hallmarks of a teen let loose living on his own for a while. Four nights by himself had stacked up dirty dishes in the kitchenette’s sink and a variety of clothes and shoes strewn over the three-seater sofa facing the TV.

Jesse dumped his stuff on the dining table that separated the living space from the kitchen, then traipsed over to the sliding glass doors leading out onto the private terrace, where garden loungers and a bistro table sat beside the swimming pool. Demetrios followed Jesse out, and he leaned over the wall separating them from the beach. A handful of people walked along hand in hand through the sea and Demetrios stood beside Jesse, stroking his back.

Jesse dipped into him, resting his head on his shoulder. “What time do you have to be back?” he asked, the real question of ‘how long did they have’ stuck in his throat.

“I don’t.” Demetrios tickled his fingers up Jesse’s neck and into his hair. “Babá gave me the night off, too. As long as I’m back to open.”

Jesse bit his lip, nodding, chest rising and falling with his erratic breaths. His nervous breaths.

“Jess?”

“Mmm hmm?”

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. We can kiss and hug and I’ll still be happy. You can tell me to go, and I’ll go. I’ll still come back.”

Jesse smiled, and Demetrios kissed him. Jesse deepened it, inching his tongue inside Demetrios’ mouth in exploration.

Jesse pulled away. “Have you…before?”

“No.”

Jesse bowed his head and Demetrios didn’t know if that was because Jesse had wanted him to, so he could lead the way, or if he was glad Demetrios had waited.

“I want to.” Demetrios stoked his cheek. “With you. I’d like us to be each other’s firsts. But only when you’re ready.”

“Are you really this perfect?”

Demetrios cocked his head. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

Jesse chuckled, resting again on Demetrios’ shoulder. Demetrios stroked his back. He would wait. He could wait. And he’d wait forever for Jesse. He’d had offers during the months of their separation. His babá had encouraged him to flirt with their guests, to make them feel wanted. And he had. But always stopped himself from doing anything that Jesse might consider cheating. Whilst they hadn’t labelled who they were to each other—how could they when it had comprised a few weeks of kissing followed by months of pining—Demetrios was under no illusion he’d fallen hook, line and sinker for Jesse and wouldn’t do anything to ruin whatever it was they’d found.

“I’m ready,” Jesse said to his feet, suggesting maybe he wasn’t, or perhaps the anticipation was too much.

Demetrios kissed his ear. “You sure?”

“Mmm hmm.” Jesse pursed his lips. “It would make this holiday one to remember.”

“Might keep you coming back for more?” Or might make him want to stay?

If Demetrios did it right.

Jesse raised his head, and behind the lenses of his glasses were blue eyes that held his truth. “I’d keep coming back just to look at you.”

“You have your drawings for that.”

“Never as good as the real thing.”

“Especially not when the real thing can touch you.” Demetrios kissed him again, this time with no holds barred passion, and Jesse twisted in his arms. Demetrios ran his hands under Jesse’s shirt, and Jesse’s shallow gasp had him reeling with want.

Jesse lifted his arms and Demetrios took his top off for him, throwing it onto one of the sun loungers. Then Jesse grabbed Demetrios’ hand and led him back into the villa, passing the living space toward the bedrooms at the back.

At Jesse’s bedroom door, Jesse stopped. “Dem?”

“Yeah?”

“Is this real—?”

The front door smashed open and Jesse flinched, ripping his hand from Demetrios’ as his father stormed into the villa, phone to his ear.

“I’m here, Freya,” he barked, dumping his suitcase by the sofa. “And you are not. Where the fucking hell are you?” He closed the call, glancing up the corridor to Jesse and Demetrios, eyes darting from one to the other. “Jesse?”

Jesse hovered around Demetrios, putting his back to him. “Dad? Thought you weren’t getting in until next week?”

“I wasn’t, but the conference finished early, so I got the first flight out. Where’s your mother?” Richard frowned at the villa. At the mess. At Jesse’s mess.

“She’s at a work thing.”

“She’s what?” Richard turned back.

“At a work thing?” Jesse seemed less sure of himself. “She was coming in tomorrow, I think?”

“She told me she was here with you. I called her from the airport, her phone was off. I’ve left several messages asking her to meet me. She didn’t.”

“She’s at work?” Jesse glanced nervously to Demetrios, then back to his dad. “I’m pretty sure she said she was meeting a seller in Athens.”

Jesse’s mum worked as a luxury food buyer for an upmarket chain of supermarkets in England. She’d tried getting Yiannis to supply her with his homemade hummus to sell. Meeting a seller in Athens meant she was seeing if their product could sell in the store. Or so Demetrios guessed.

“That isn’t what she told me.” Richard slammed his hands on his hips. “So you’ve been here alone? All week?”

“Four days.”

Richard raked his fingers through his hair, then pointed at Demetrios. “He better not have brought all his girlfriends round here.”

Jesse stiffened in front of Demetrios, but Richard hammered it home before he could say anything.

“I know about him.” Richard tutted. “Romancing the tourists is a business, is it not, Demetrios?”

Demetrios clenched his fist. How fucking dare he. Jesse wouldn’t believe that. He wouldn’t. Would he? But he hadn’t looked at him and was a stiff as a bone, pale and breathless, winded and confused. He reached for him, trying to find something to say when the door to the villa opened again, and Freya rushed in, floaty sun dress ruffling in the breeze and frizzy curls a mess of tangles.

“Richard!”

“Freya?”

Jesse furrowed his brow. “Mum?”

“Where the hell have you been?” Richard flapped a hand at her. “Jesse tells me you’re with a client. You tell me you’re here with him. Was this all a game? Was this you letting him have…” He angled his head, voice hushing, “Alone time and not telling me?”

“No, Richard. I’m sorry.” Freya edged closer. “I have been here. On the island.”

“What?” Jesse hovered closer. “Where? When?”

“This isn’t how I wanted either of you to find out, but I can’t keep it a secret anymore.” She closed her eyes, hanging her head in shame. “Yiannis and I have fallen in love.”

“What?”

“What?”

Jesse shook his head, turning back to Demetrios as if for confirmation. He widened his eyes, hands up to defend himself, or his father, he wasn’t sure.

“Are you fucking joking right now?” Richard seethed through gritted teeth.

“No, Richard.” Freya inhaled a sharp breath. “I’m leaving you. I’m staying here. With Yiannis.”

Richard turned his ferocious glare on Demetrios. “Like father like fucking son!”

Demetrios’ world tore open at those words and he wished he could have jumped into the firepit of Hell below, because that would be a lot easier to cope with than having Jesse believe him a love rat.

Like his Babá evidently was.