Chapter Twelve Second Chance Chaos

Second Chance Chaos

Present day

Jesse said goodbye to his dad at the Konstantin Apartment block. Richard had needed a lie down after the emotional rollercoaster and Jesse had a few things to sort out himself, so he vowed to see him in the morning and wandered along behind the main strip where he found the weekday market his father had mentioned. Stretching out a few hundred yards with individual stalls selling Greek food, trinkets, handmade souvenirs and knickknacks, it was a tourist’s delight. Jesse stopped at an art stall for a while, handmade paintings stuffed into boxes like vinyls in an old record shop. He flicked through some, mainly artwork of the island attractions—Plaka beach, the Temple of Apollo, Panagia Aperathitissa, Mount Zeus and the ancient Old Town with the castle ruins.

Drowning in memories, he pushed the cellophane wrapped pictures back into their slots. The pain of seeing those places through someone else’s eyes too much to take then. Was his father right? Had his experience been a lie? Had it all been a ploy to keep him occupied so his mum could continue her affair with Yiannis? Had everything he’d felt been for nothing?

How could it when it had felt so real? Demetrios had felt so real. How many times would he question it?

Desperate to talk to someone, he fished out his phone. Still nothing from Demetrios. His flatmate would be at work, so there wasn’t much point in calling her. And Castor was still offline.

Shoving his phone back, he mooched farther along the market, finding the stall where his dad must have bought the flowers sitting at the end. One bunch of pink roses remained in a bucket, so he grabbed them and paid the five euros in cash to the florist. He then wandered back through the arch between tavernas and apartments to find himself back on the main strip of Aegleia Beach and a stone’s throw from Kallis Taverna.

As fate would have it, Demetrios emerged from inside the restaurant to the terrace, clearing up the vacant tables. Jesse froze. The sight of him having discarded the funeral suit and changed into his usual attire of a salmon-pink T-shirt paired with khaki shorts slapped him with bittersweet nostalgia. It weighed heavy in his gut. Demetrios was like a movie. A memory. A vision from the past as he flicked out a cloth tucked in his waistband and wiped down a table. Jesse recalled each day and every night when he’d sat watching Demetrios work, wiling away the time by sketching him from one of the colourful wooden chairs on the beach, counting his chickens at how lucky he was.

How could that be fake?

Demetrios heaved a weary sigh, glancing up to the cloudless sky, and collapsed to sit on the terrace ledge, burying his face in his hands. He looked beaten. Broken. As though the weight of the world pressed down on his shoulders and he didn’t know how to shake it off.

Then Diane and Andrew scurried out from the taverna, hugging and kissing Yiannis before spotting Jesse. Diane rushed over, hugging him. “Glad we caught you. We’re off,” she said. “Catching the ferry.” She held him closer, rubbing his back. “Take care, Jellybean. Don’t be a stranger.”

“And you.”

Diane let him go, holding his gaze for a moment, then peered over to where Demetrios sat with his head in his hands.

“You should talk to him,” she said, then gathered up her suitcase, tapped his cheek and stepped away.

Andrew shook his hand, and Jesse watched them saunter away from the taverna toward the marina before turning his gaze back on Demetrios. Where it always went. No matter how hard he tried for it not to.

Guilt had Jesse wandering over and the need to find out the truth had him calling a cautious, “Hey.”

Demetrios shot his head up, wide and weary eyes taking in Jesse as if he were a ghost. “Jesse.”

Jesse sat next to him, dumping his bag on the sand, and placing the flowers on top. Tiny grains sneaked inside his shoes, irritating his bare feet.

“How’s your dad?” Demetrios asked to fill the fraught silence.

Jesse tilted his neck, sucking in his bottom lip in contemplation. “Better,” he settled on. “Think he might have turned a corner.”

“That’s good.”

“Shame it took my mum dying to get him there.” Jesse shrugged off the potent statement. “Guess he’s like, ‘no one can have her now, ha ha’.” He hung his head. Not even he could have her when she’d been alive. Ultimately, his own fault. But the blame lay with how his dad had never recovered and his continued threats of how he would end it all if Jesse didn’t stay with him.

“I’m so sorry, Jesse.”

Jesse nodded at the sentiment, blinking back tears. And because he was needy, because he’d always think of himself first, because Demetrios would never be more than one thought away, he burst out the question that had been burning through his mind for hours, “Where did you go last night?”

“I…” Demetrios breathed out a self-deprecating laugh. “Spent a night in the cells with the Hellenic Police.”

Jesse’s mouth dropped open, and he noticed the distinct bruising along Demetrios’ knuckles as he clenched his hands between his legs, trying to hide them from him.

“It was you,” Jesse realised aloud. “You punched Elias.”

Demetrios nodded, head bowing in shame. Jesse’s stomach dropped, body sinking into the concrete. Why would Demetrios have done that? What could Elias have possibly said to warrant Demetrios snapping? Had it been his fault? He reached for Demetrios’ swollen hand, pulling it away from his other one to take it in his own. He stroked a thumb along the raw knuckles, careful not to hurt him, desperate to wipe away the pain. Demetrios held steady, eyes on Jesse. He looked so vulnerable then. So sad.

Jesse had only seen him like that once before.

How could that be fake?

“Why’d you hit him?” Jesse asked, voice barely a whisper carrying on the sea breeze.

“He said something I didn’t like.”

“What?”

Demetrios shook his head, then linked his fingers with Jesse’s. Jesse didn’t stop him. Why would he? It was natural, nice, to be holding his hand again, the way they once had so easily.

“Elias told me you left with someone else,” Jesse said, eyes on Demetrios’ hand in his.

Demetrios clenched his fingers. “I would never—”

“I know.” Jesse sighed. “He also said we should fuck, film it and send it to you.”

“I should have hit him harder.”

Jesse snorted, stroking his knuckles and soothing his beast. Demetrios peered behind him to the roses.

“Are you going to see your mum?”

“No. No, not really.” He contemplated for a moment, then bit his lip, tilting his head. “Do you still have your scooter?”

“Not the same one as…I have a bike, yeah. You want to borrow it?”

“God, no. Can you imagine me riding a scooter?” Jesse chuckled. “I don’t suppose you could take a few hours off? There’s something I want to do. If you can take me?”

Demetrios thought about it for a moment. “Babá’s already mad about having to bail me out last night.” He stood, pulling Jesse up by his hand. “But give me ten minutes.”

For a moment, Jesse thought Demetrios might lean in for a kiss. And it felt natural for him to do so. As though no time at all had passed between when they’d done that so easily. Perhaps not here, out in the wild, but when it had been the two of them, finding a piece of solitude to lock lips. Jesse braced himself for it, but Demetrios let go of his hand and disappeared back into the taverna. Loud Greek words filtered out after, starting heated, then toning down to amicable. Jesse flung his bag over his shoulder, clutching the roses in his hand as customers came to settle at the vacant tables on the terrace.

Demetrios rushed out clutching a plastic bag and a bike helmet, yanking out the cloth from his shorts’ waistband. He then skipped around, throwing the cloth at Yiannis hovering by the open doors. He said something in Greek and Yiannis gave a dubious look, but laid eyes on Jesse. Muttering to himself, he wandered off to greet the new customers.

“Ready?” Demetrios asked Jesse as he snaked around the tables.

“What did you say to your dad?”

“That you needed a lift.”

Jesse was unconvinced, but he followed Demetrios under the passageway to emerge at the road, various vehicles parked along the curb. One, in particular, had Jesse widening his eyes. “That’s a motorbike!”

Demetrios grinned, and opened the back box of a luscious blue Honda. He took out a helmet and threw it at Jesse. “This one’s got a little more speed than the last.”

“I’ll bet.” Jesse swallowed, clutching onto the helmet and raking his gaze over the stylish blue metal with sand ingrained in the tyres.

“Put your stuff in there.” Demetrios held open the lid to the top-box, stuffing his plastic bag inside.

Jesse laid the flowers on top of his bag and Demetrios shut the lid, then secured his helmet. “Need help?”

“No. Nope.” Jesse slipped on the headgear, fiddling with the buckles beneath. It was already too big, heavy on his head.

Demetrios stepped forward, ducking to see beneath his chin and helped him to adjust the straps. “Better?” he asked, voice muffled through the foam of his helmet.

“Yeah.” Jesse nodded, throat closing around the memories that made his body ache. “Thanks.”

Demetrios winked, then threw his leg over the bike, flicking the stand up to settle the heavy machine between his legs. Jesse’s heart thumped. He’d thought Demetrios couldn’t get any sexier, and had been hot stuff when riding the scooter, but this was a whole new level of sex appeal that had Jesse’s pulse racing.

“Shouldn’t we be in leathers or something?” Jesse called over the growl of the engine.

“You want to be in leathers?” Demetrios arched an eyebrow. “Jesse Hough, you into kink?”

Jesse blushed, but with the helmet covering most of his face, Demetrios wouldn’t notice. “I just meant—”

“Get on, Jesse.”

Tortured with a mix of eagerness and apprehension, Jesse did as he was told and settled on behind Demetrios. His hands trembled as he struggled to find a place to rest them, eventually wrapping them around Demetrios’ waist. Demetrios glanced over his shoulder, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips and sparking a shiver down Jesse’s spine.

“Better hold on. She’s fast.”

Jesse tightened his arms around Demetrios and, oh, God, it was magnificent to be like this again. To meld their bodies together. To hold him. Feel him. Demetrios hadn’t ever been scrawny, not even when a boy. But now, at thirty, he was one hundred percent man and beneath the T-shirt, his flat stomach tensed and flexed, allowing Jesse to feel the rippling sensation as he splayed his hands over his abdominals. He drew in a breath. The body that had turned him on when he’d grown from a boy to a man now elevated Jesse’s pulse, spine tingling at being able to touch.

“Where we going?” Demetrios asked over his shoulder.

“Toward Chora. I’ll tell you where to stop.”

Demetrios sped up the bike to pass through the bustle of the mid-week market and onto the coastal road that led them from Aegleia toward the capital city Chana. Despite Jesse not having retraced this route for years, it had come back to him in his dreams often enough that he could map it with his eyes closed.

After nearly twenty minutes of climbing up and over, twining country roads and coastal routes, Jesse tapped Demetrios’ leg and pointed to a dip beside a cliff top. Demetrios skirted over and stopped, flicking down the stand to steady the bike. He ripped off his helmet, shaking out his hair, and the realisation sparked in his dark eyes. Jesse smiled, arms still wrapped around his waist as if he’d fall if he let go.

He would.

He’d fall hard, fast, and it would hurt. A lot.

Eventually, Jesse let go, and he stepped off the bike, unclipping his helmet and pulling it off. Demetrios took it from him, clipping it to his seat, then opening the top-box to take out their bags and Jesse’s flowers. After putting the spare helmet in the box, they both headed to the rocky descent they’d once trudged years ago. Somehow, Jesse was better footed, not needing Demetrios’ support to scramble down to the secluded cove, golden sand untouched, fresh and ready for their return.

They meandered to the middle, shoulder to shoulder, gazing at the waves lapping on the shore. Then Jesse sat, unzipping his satchel to pull out his sketch pad. He flicked through the pages, finding the one he’d drawn of his mother that morning, and ripped it from the pad. He then unwrapped the roses from the paper and stood.

“That’s amazing,” Demetrios said, peering over his shoulder, warm breath trickling down his neck.

Jesse turned his head, lips a whisker away. “Give me a minute?”

Demetrios took a step back. “Sure.”

Jesse kicked off his shoes and strode toward the water, then sloped into the sea. It was gentle and warm, like a hug around his legs, and he trudged over to the rocks on his left, curving and hiding the secluded beach away from the stretch. There, he found a rock to sit on, placed the picture beside him with the roses on top.

“I know you’re not really here,” he said to the drawing. “Yiannis gave you your final resting place. But I’d always wanted to tell you about here. Wanted to show you it to you. But I kept everything hidden and I shouldn’t have. You might’ve been happy for me. I’m sorry I didn’t give you the chance to be that for me.” He sniffed, glancing up and over at Demetrios leaning back on his elbows, ankles crossed over each other, watching him from afar. Jesse bowed his head, pushing his glasses up his nose. “This is my favourite place.” He lowered his voice to a whisper, as if Demetrios would hear. He couldn’t. He was too far away, but it gave a sense of intimacy and confidentiality. What he should have allowed his mum before she’d died. “I fell in love here.” He angled his head to Demetrios. “With him.”

Jesse lifted his head, glancing out at the sea, then groaned from deep within his gut. “What do I do, mum?”

A bigger wave crashed against the rock, drenching Jesse’s bare feet and spattering foam on his drawing and the roses. Jesse peeked over at Demetrios. He bolted upright, checking to make sure Jesse hadn’t swept away into the sea. Then, realising he was fine, he leaned back on his elbows, but his eyes stayed trained on Jesse.

How could that be fake?

“Did he know, Mum?” Jesse asked the breeze. “Did Yiannis ask him to be my friend? Did you both concoct a plan for him to take me away so you could be together?” He waited a beat, testing whether she would reply. “Did you know I’d fall for him? Did you care?”

Jesse sighed. He’d never get the answer to those questions.

“He’s very good at making me feel as if I’m the only person in the world,” Jesse spoke to the picture. “Was he like that with all the others? With Elias?”

He wished he could draw her a speech bubble in his head, like the illustrations in the children’s books he worked on. But he didn’t write those words. Someone else did. What would be written in her bubble? What would she say? What would she tell him right then?

“Follow your heart, Jellybean. Even if it gets broken. What ifs can’t heal.”

Jesse secured the paper under a rock, slotting the roses by her face and finding smaller pebbles to keep the page in place. He knew it wouldn’t last. Nothing did. But it would be there in his mind. Like the memories he had of her. Of this place.

He slipped off the rocky edge, into the sea, and made his way back to the shore. Demetrios lured him closer with the eyes he refused to take off him, and he fell to sit beside him, taking off his glasses to wipe the lenses on his T-shirt. When he put them back on, he glanced out to the sea.

Demetrios held his tongue, allowing Jesse the moment he’d asked for and rustled in his bag, taking out a picnic of Greek delights from hummus and flatbread, olives and sundried tomatoes, feta and herb parcels, with two bottles of water. He’d thought of everything, as he always had. He then ripped off his T-shirt, using it to create a blanket on the sand in front of them, and they ate in silence. Kallis hummus and bread were unmatched, and he’d share that right then, but he didn’t want to ruin the stillness with idle conversation. The air felt too heavy for it.

Demetrios always spoke in touch though, and when they’d finished the pot and bread, he threw the rubbish into the bag and glided a hand up Jesse’s back, rubbing soothing circles along his shoulder blades. Jesse hung his head, focusing on the different gold and yellow colours of the sand particles. Then Demetrios’ hand tightened on his shoulder and he dragged him in, kissing his temple as Jesse rested his head on the soft part between his shoulder and chest, inhaling his familiar scent.

Jesse wasn’t sure which of them initiated the drop to sand, but they lay down together, with Demetrios holding him, Jesse curled up on his chest as if it was the most natural thing for him to do. He didn’t care either. Because it was nice. Comforting. And when Demetrios stroked his fingers through Jesse’s hair, breathing soothing and the deep thuds of his heart beating through his chest, Jesse could have lain there forever.

Like his mother would.

“Did you know?” Jesse asked, smoothing his hand up Demetrios’ stomach to his chest, feeling his skin for the first time. It was the same question he’d asked over and over. And Demetrios always kept to the same line that Jesse always disregarded as a lie. He didn’t even care if it was a lie anymore.

“No.” There wasn’t the usual desperation or exasperation in his tone that he’d had in previous years. Almost as if he’d come to terms with not being believed, despite him having said it all earlier. “I don’t know why you can’t believe me.”

“Because I was told different.”

“How can anyone know but me?”

Jesse circled Demetrios’ nipple, coarse dark hair surrounding it soft under his fingertips. He didn’t know why he had so much doubt. Maybe it was because he’d heard his dad so often. Richard’s bitterness and hurt had become Jesse’s ear worm.

But maybe the real question was, would it matter if Demetrios had known?

So he asked instead, “Was it real? What we had. Was it real?”

“Very.”

“We fucked it up, though.”

“It was fucked up for us.” Demetrios fingers dug into his back.

That might have been true, but Jesse couldn’t help feeling responsible for what happened between them. He should have been stronger. He and Demetrios might have had a chance. Demetrios might not have jumped into bed with others.

And because he felt safe, he was brave enough to ask what he feared most. “How many others have there been?”

Demetrios tucked his spare hand under his head. “Depends what you mean.”

“Elias is one. Any others?”

“Elias was the only long term.”

Jesse’s glasses pinched his temple, so he lifted to take them off and dumped them on the sand. “No girls?”

“Not long term, no.”

“Why not? Surely they’re much easier to come by.”

“They don’t stick around. Not that I wanted them to.”

“Why not?”

Demetrios sighed, arm tightening around Jesse. “It’s hard to put into words.”

“Try.”

“I…never wanted to fall in love with anyone. Losing myself in other people for a short time was…easier.”

“But Elias? Didn’t you fall in love with him?”

“No. Not really. I wanted to. I’d had enough of bouncing from one bed to the other. I lost hope that you’d ever come back. I tried it. But, really, I knew he wasn’t right, and that’s probably why I let myself go there at all. I was still holding back, even when I thought I wasn’t.” He rubbed his forehead. “Guess that doesn’t make sense.”

“No, it does.” Jesse went quiet then, allowing Demetrios to hold him as the waves crashed along the shore and because Demetrios remained tight-lipped, because Jesse had been pondering the same question since last night, because he was semi comfortable in his arms, he threw out the words, “What did you even see in Elias?”

Demetrios’ chest rose, Jesse’s head coming along for the ride. It didn’t feel as though he would answer, so Jesse’s mouth ran away with him.

“I mean, apart from the hair, which, FYI, mine is natural golden,” he prodded Demetrios’ chest, “we don’t look alike. Not that I’m, like, your type or anything.”

“You are my type.”

Jesse smiled despite Demetrios not being able to see him. “Okay, if we’re judging on those you speak to after you, y’know…”

“We didn’t — “

“Depends on your outlook on that.” Jesse wished he hadn’t started this whole thing, but in for a penny, might as well exchange it for the current currency. “What I mean is, Elias is a jerk. No, wait, a prick. I don’t get what you saw in him.”

“Apart from the nipple piercing?”

“Oh.” Jesse sank into the sand.

Then after a wistful inhale, Demetrios said, “He likes to dance.”

Jesse peered up at him, despite him being nothing but a distorted outline without his lenses. He was the most gorgeous blur Jesse had ever seen. “That’s it?”

Demetrios shrugged, stroking a hand up Jesse’s back. “I like to dance. Usually, with somebody.”

Jesse snuggled back in. He wasn’t sure how to take that. But Demetrios changed the subject back on him, anyway.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How many have there been for you?”

Jesse blew out a vexed breath. “Long term? None. Recurring? Two. One-night stands? Not as many as you’d think.”

Demetrios tensed beneath him, as though his flippancy pained him.

“Who are the recurring?”

“A guy from work. A writer. Has my agent but, sadly, he’s only published one book. Keeps telling me his YA fantasy novel is just around the corner and when it is, I’ll be the one to illustrate the cover and the inside character bios. Swear he does it to get me into bed, as I don’t see him for months after.” Jesse tutted. “Writers.”

“And the other?”

“Dom from Uni.”

“A dom?”

“Dominic. He’s now an actor. And those guys are just as unreliable.” He smoothed his fingers along Demetrios’ stomach. “There’s also another guy.”

“Hmm?”

“An…online guy.”

“Online?”

“Yeah. Don’t judge.”

Demetrios held up his hand in surrender, then tucked it back under his head. “What do you mean by ‘online’?”

“A bloke I talk to through a messenger app and it…progressed.”

“To what?”

Jesse stiffened.

Demetrios peered down at him. “Do you…do stuff online?”

“Not like web cam stuff.” Jesse winced. “But we do text stuff we’d like to do to each other and, yeah, maybe I finish myself off after I’ve read it.”

Demetrios pursed his lips, curtailing a laugh. “What does he want to do to you?”

“It’s not smut.”

“Okay.”

“It’s…romantic. He’s very…sensual.”

“Sensual, huh?”

“Yeah. He could be a writer. A poet.” Jesse’s head vibrated with Demetrios’ shaking chest and he peered up, narrowing his eyes at Demetrios trying to stop laughing. “You’re judging.” He pouted and slumped back down on his chest.

“I’m not.” He laughed, then stroked along Jesse’s back. “Just intrigued why, if he’s so romantic and sensual, you keep it online. Why not meet and do the stuff?”

“Circumstance.”

“Circumstance?”

“He doesn’t live in London. Away for work a lot. And I…like the mystery. He’s sweet. Kind. Considerate. Can sext better than the romance novelist on my agent’s books. But I’ll bet in reality, he’ll be just like all the others.”

“All the others?”

“A miss.”

“He might not be.”

“It’s not really the others who’re the issue, though.”

“No?”

Somehow it was easier to say all the things he kept secret when he wasn’t looking at Demetrios. “It’s hard to have a relationship when you gave your heart up a long time ago.”

Demetrios stalled his hand on Jesse’s back. Jesse peered up. Smiled. And Demetrios slid his hand along his neck, forcing him closer and whoever it was who went first, it didn’t matter, because the kiss would have happened, regardless. As explosive as it had been on this beach years ago, as powerful as it had been in the club last night, as amazing as it always would be in his dreams, the kiss reignited in Jesse everything he remembered. How could he have ever thought that Demetrios wasn’t real when he kissed like this? When he gripped his neck with such longing? When he whimpered from his throat, holding onto Jesse as if he was precious? His.

“Jesse,” Demetrios whispered between parting lips.

Jesse climbed over him, sitting astride his hips, gazing down at the marvel that was Demetrios as a man, smoothing his hands over his nipples. “God, you’re fucking gorgeous.”

Demetrios rose, snaking one arm around Jesse’s waist, the other holding himself up to kiss him. It turned up a notch, with Demetrios running his hands up Jesse’s top and ghosting his spine to make him tingle, then down grappling inside the back of his shorts. And whilst Jesse wanted this man, what he needed more than a quick fumble was time with him. The time they’d lost.

He drew back from Demetrios’ demanding mouth. “Like to dance, huh?”

“You know I do.”

Jesse clambered off, searching for his bag, and fished out his phone. Demetrios perched up on his elbows, watching with curiosity. “Wanna dance with somebody?” Jesse selected a playlist, music bursting out of his phone speaker, and he turned the volume up as high as it would go, then beckoned for Demetrios to get up.

With a grin full of relish, Demetrios smacked his hand into Jesse’s and Jesse yanked him up, Maroon 5’s Sugar ruining the tranquillity of the secluded beach, but rushing sweet endorphins through Jesse’s veins as though they could make him fly. This time, though, it was a natural high. One that came from the moment. From the man in front of him. Demetrios sang along to the lyrics in his accented English, and Jesse laughed, dancing to the music on their own private patch of beach, no one watching except for, maybe, his mum.

They took each other’s hands, raising them in the air and Jesse spun beneath Demetrios’ arm, Demetrios dragging him to his chest, swaying their hips together, singing a perfect falsetto in Jesse’s ear. Jesse hadn’t felt exhilaration like it. Not since he was last here. On this beach. With Demetrios. Falling in love for the first time.

The only time.

Was it surreal to be happy? Was it wrong, considering he’d just said a final goodbye to his mother? But there was something uplifting about being here. About dancing with Demetrios who had also lost his mum too soon, and been gifted Jesse’s for a while. It was as though the stars were aligning. As though they’d been given this second chance to find out. That their heartache had all been for this. This place. This time. This undying love they shared, but had always been too afraid to admit.

Because what happened beyond this beach, over the rocky walls, when Jesse returned home, would be messy and painful.

None of that mattered now though, as the playlist merged from one track to the next, and they danced and sang until the sun dipped down over the horizon and they lost all light.

Demetrios lifted Jesse over his shoulder, spun him round, then settled him onto the sand, smoothing himself out on top of him, stroking away the strands of Jesse’s hair. “To moró mou.”

The lump Jesse had been trying to swallow for the past few weeks reemerged in his throat, and his eyes welled. “Kiss me,” he begged, as if still clinging to the time when he’d lost his privilege and Demetrios held all the cards. “Please kiss me.”

Demetrios did, and Jesse held onto him, tears falling in unrelenting catharsis.

It was too dark to stay where they were, although Jesse could have lain there forever. But Demetrios got him up, and they packed away their things, Demetrios aiding Jesse back up the rocky incline to the bike. In profound and all-consuming silence, they put on their helmets, mounted the Honda, Jesse snaking his arms around Demetrios’ waist, and drove away, leaving their beach behind.

At the Kallis Apartments, Demetrios parked beside the house, resting his foot on the ground to steady the bike. Jesse squeezed his arms tighter around his waist, not willing to let him go just then. Not ready for it to end. Demetrios stroked his hands, linking their fingers over his stomach, not rushing him, and stayed like that for what felt like hours. It was barely minutes. Then Jesse slipped his arms away, allowing Demetrios to climb off first, with Jesse tumbling after, releasing his helmet, and handing it to Demetrios.

“Do you need to go?” Jesse asked. “To work, I mean?”

It was past ten, but that was a prime time for the taverna to serve drinks to the late night diners who preferred a sea view with their wine and beers.

“Not if you don’t want me to.” Demetrios set the helmets on the bike and turned to face Jesse. There wasn’t much light on this side of the strip, the apartments and road blocking out the twinkling lamps dotted along the beachfront, but Jesse could see the warmth settling on Demetrios’ face and he couldn’t let the moment pass.

Not again.

“I’m sober,” he said. “Stone cold sober.”

“You want a drink?”

Jesse edged closer, sliding a hand up Demetrios’ neck and tilted forward to speak into his ear, fingertips gripping him in desperation. “I want you.”

Demetrios leaned away, lips parting.

“Not someone. Not anyone. You.” He inhaled. “Make love to me, Dem.”