Chapter Fourteen A Different River

A Different River

The heat woke Jesse.

Cocooned in Demetrios’ arms, he squinted. He couldn’t see much without his glasses, nor with buttery yellow rays searing into his vision, but the thin curtains blown into the room by a passing breeze and sounds of sea lapping against the shore with people strolling along the seafront filtered into the room, suggesting morning had broken. Demetrios’ apartment was directly above the taverna, facing the sea, and Jesse could hear tables being dragged along concrete and Greek voices muttering to each other.

How long had they been asleep?

He lifted his head, cheek sticking to Demetrios’ sweaty chest, and searched for a clock. There was one, but the numbers were blurry. So he rose higher to check on Demetrios. Lips parted, head tilted toward him, almost-black hair dishevelled and stubble cutting through his perfectly tanned skin while he slept, Demetrios was the epitome of a Greek Adonis, and he’d proven he was a worthy contender for that title last night.

“Dem?” he whispered into his ear, gently shaking him.

“Hmm?” Demetrios licked his lips, eyes remaining closed.

“What’s the time?”

Demetrios rubbed his eyes, wriggling beneath Jesse to reach for his nightstand, where he twisted the small clock to face him. “Októ,” he croaked out in Greek. Then cleared his throat to translate. “Eight.”

“Doesn’t the taverna open at eight?”

“Yes.” Demetrios shimmied down, closing his eyes and hugging Jesse back to his chest.

“Do you need to be there?”

“Yes.” Demetrios didn’t move.

Maybe he was still groggy? Not completely awake yet to realise what Jesse had said. He waited for Demetrios to come to. Eventually, Demetrios flung his lids open, peering down at him through bleary and tired eyes. Jesse smiled, raising his eyebrows. Demetrios smiled back, stroking Jesse’s hair from his forehead.

A phone somewhere on the floor vibrated.

“Fuck it,” Demetrios said, and the low, hoarse rumble went right to Jesse’s waking cock. It woke up even more when Demetrios threw the crumpled sheet over them both, held Jesse to him and kissed him, a deep hum emanating from his throat.

They kissed and stroked, squeezed and scratched, nipped and licked, which soon turned into rutting, groaning, sweating body sliding against sweaty body, and God, it felt good.

Dirty. Filthy. Good.

A loud bang on the door shunted them apart.

“Demetrios!” Yiannis barked through the wood.

Demetros held a finger to Jesse’s lips adding a shhh.

“Deme!” The door handle twisted, but the lock prevented Yiannis from walking straight in. He thumped the door though. “Egoistikó kommáti skatá.” The voice faded. Yiannis, no doubt, clambering back down the stairs.

Demetrios exhaled, removing his finger from Jesse’s lips.

“What did he say?” Jesse asked.

“Called me a selfish piece of shit.”

“Oh.”

Demetrios shrugged and went right back to what they were doing before being disturbed, except this time Demetrios gripped Jesse’s cock and jerked on him with vehemence. With need. With passion and desperation to have Jesse fall apart quickly and dirtily. Jesse wasn’t going to go alone though, and he wrapped his hand around Demetrios’ cock, fisting him in synch.

“Jesse…” Demetrios came first, spilling his load into Jesse’s hand and splattering on the sheets. He then slowed his pace on Jesse before ripping off the covers, shoving Jesse onto his back, and clambering over him. He wriggled between his spread legs, gulping Jesse’s cock to the root. Not more than a few sucks had Jesse arching his back, coming down Demetrios’ throat.

Demetrios rose on his knees, straddling Jesse and scraping back his sweaty hair with both hands, chest hair sticking to his skin, towering over him like a monolithic Greek God come to life. Stunning. Gorgeous. Beautiful. Jesse wished he could see better. And as if Demetrios could read his thoughts, he leaned over to the nightstand, grabbed his glasses, unfolded them, and slipped them on Jesse for him to see him in all his naked, glistening glory.

He winked.

Jesse snorted, adjusting the glasses to their preferred position and drank in the view. “Not bad.”

Demetrios clambered over him and off the bed, stretching to give Jesse a view of the back half, buttocks clenched.

“Not bad at all.”

Demetrios grinned over his shoulder. “You want to shower?”

Jesse sat up against the wall, the concrete cool on his hot skin. “I could go back to my room to do that.”

“You could.” Demetrios twisted back around, one knee on the bed to tilt forward, and kissed him. “But I’m not there.”

“Good, valid point. Well made.”

Demetrios grabbed his hand, hauling him up, and led him to the en-suite bathroom. His room was more of an apartment than Jesse’s was. More self-contained. Not just a room in a house, but similar to those the Kallis family rented out to the holidaymakers. The bathroom wasn’t just a wet room shower, but kitted out with bath and shower, ample storage for all the things Demetrios needed to make him look as drop dead gorgeous as he was, and a sink and toilet completing the room. Demetrios opened the glass door to the shower, turned the water on and waited while it warmed up. Jesse discarded his glasses on the shelf under the mirror, then Demetrios pulled him under the spray.

They washed each other, scrubbing each other’s hair, lathering their bodies with soft, white bubbles. And they laughed, blowing the suds into each other’s faces as if they were reckless teenagers. They wiped off the sand, grit, and salt residue from their skin and when Jesse turned his back on him, Demetrios massaged the aches and pains of his night with him away. He then swivelled him back to face him and took him in his arms, kissing him under the warm spray, running his hands along his back to cup his buttocks.

It was so romantic, Jesse could have wept.

And as he stood there, the spray washing over them, Demetrios holding him, forehead pressed to his and almost swaying to music that wasn’t playing, Jesse’s stomach merged from fluttering to plummeting. This was so easy. So natural. He wasn’t self-conscious as he would have been with anyone else, certainly someone like Demetrios. He was content. Demetrios made him feel good. Inside. Outside. Made him happy to be himself. With Demetrios’ arms around him, he felt strong enough to take on the world.

What would happen when his arms weren’t clasped around him anymore? When he wrapped them back around someone else?

The water tempered, turning cold and Demetrios switched off the spray, stepping back into the bathroom and flicking a towel off the rail. He dried Jesse first, then wrapped the towel around his shoulders, before tending to himself. How had this man become so caring? Was he like this with everyone?

Jesse shook off the doubt when Demetrios replaced his glasses on his nose for him.

“You should invest in new eye wear,” Demetrios said, tapping the broken arm fixed with brown tape.

“These are my spare pair.” Jesse adjusted them. “I broke my Ralph Laurens back home when scrambling to get here.”

Demetrios meandered back into the main apartment area, which Jesse could take in better now it wasn’t dark, nor preoccupied, and had his glasses on. It was nice. Simple. Modern. Greek. A bed, a sliding wardrobe, a set of drawers, a sofa pushed up against one wall that faced a flat screen on a cabinet, and the balcony facing to the front had a bistro table set. Jesse could imagine that was where Demetrios drank his coffee made from the machine he had perched on top of the chest of drawers, the mini fridge by the sofa housing the milk and, possibly, beers and ouzo. He had everything he needed. Jesse could understand why he hadn’t moved out of the Kallis Apartments into his own place. It was also convenient for work if all he had to do was run down the stairs.

But other thoughts struck him, too. Like, how often had he shared this room with Elias? Shared the bed? Snuggled on the sofa watching movies? Sat on the balcony with a coffee or beer? How many others had he showered with, whispered sweet nothings to, taken care of in the most intimate of ways?

Jesse noticed the pin board above the sofa area and he edged closer to it. Containing the usual notes, postcards, important letters, but tucked beneath and scattered around the edges were handwritten letters and pencil drawings. His letters and drawings. The ones he’d sent when they’d been kids and separated by thousands of miles of land and sea. The letters that had developed a simple holiday playdate into something more. A friendship that spanned years. And those letters and drawings Jesse had sent him, before the phone calls and texts had taken over, had Jesse’s heart poured all over them.

Jesse blinked back the tears.

But to save face, he gathered up his clothes. They stank of sea and sand and sweat and tears. “I can’t put these back on.” He flicked them out, grit raining on the thin rug covering the floor tiles.

Demetrios rummaged through his drawers, jumping into his underwear. “Run across the hall.”

“Naked?”

“Wrap the towel around you.”

Jesse dried off his hair, then did as Demetrios suggested, tucking in the end of the towel by his hip. “Check if anyone’s out there first.”

“Yiannis will be in the taverna.”

“Humour me.”

Demetrios cocked his head, then slammed his drawer shut and stamped over to the door. He unlocked it, poking his head out of the gap, then shut it. “All clear.”

Jesse grabbed his clothes from the floor and rushed over, but before he could leave, Demetrios gripped his arm and kissed him. “I’ll be downstairs. We should talk.”

“Mmm hmm.” Jesse nodded, the word ‘talk’ hitting him like a high-speed train. They needed to talk. They should have talked last night. The question being, what were they going to talk about? How would that conversation go? Because there was only one way it could go. And Jesse’s chest squeezed, tightening around him like a vice grip as though he was about to cut off half of himself.

Demetrios opened the door, and Jesse nipped out, running across the landing. He was about to let himself into his bedroom when he realised he’d left his bag with Demetrios. Dumping his clothes by the door, he spun, tiptoeing back over to knock on Demetrios’ door.

Demetrios opened it, leaning on the frame, toothbrush in his mouth. He smirked. Wickedly. “Couldn’t keep away, huh?”

“My bag.” Jesse pointed to the floor.

Demetrios picked up the satchel by his feet. He handed it to him, but snatched it back. Then when Jesse had a grip on it, Demetrios dragged him forward, slurping the toothbrush from his mouth, and kissed him. Minty froth exploded on Jesse’s lips like a blast of arctic ice.

“We could have been sneaking into each other’s rooms for years.” Demetrios said as they pulled apart. “Might’ve been fun.”

Jesse smiled against his lips. Demetrios was playful. Fun. Like how Jesse remembered him from all those years ago. From the child he’d met on the beach teaching him how to do handstands, to the teen who’d sneaked ouzo into his drink, to the young adult who’d taken him dancing until the early hours of the morning, Demetrios had shed the weight, the sorrow, the sadness that Jesse had loaded him with when he’d said ‘no’. It was intoxicating. Exhilarating. Powerful to know he had such influence over him. But Demetrios had been in charge of his happiness, too. No wonder neither had found someone else. They were so entangled with each other that even if they had tried, they couldn’t have given themselves to someone else.

Jesse suddenly couldn’t breathe.

“Jesse?”

But that stern call of his name had him leaping away from Demetrios, eyes wide as he twisted to find his dad marching up the stairs.

“Dad!” Jesse held onto the corner of his towel and adjusted his glasses. “What are you doing here?”

Richard glared at him, then Demetrios, and Yiannis poked out from behind. “Please tell me you haven’t,” Richard said, voice low and broken with the same look on his face he’d had the day Freya had told him she was leaving him.

“Dad—”

Yiannis yelled at Demetrios in Greek and Demetrios shouted back, gesticulating, pointing his toothbrush at him, then gesturing to Jesse, then Richard, spitting back words Jesse couldn’t understand other than the occasional belting out of his name.

Richard shook his head. “Not him.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Demetrios. “How could you let yourself become just another one, Jesse?”

Demetrios turned away from the argument with Yiannis to address Jesse. “Jess, don’t listen—”

“Stop!” Jesse held up a hand. “All of you, fucking stop!”

Silence. All three held their tongues as Jesse, chest rising and falling, tried to get a handle on the situation.

“The soil hasn’t even settled around Mum and you lot are already arguing.” Jesse ran a hand through his hair. “Do you think she’d want this? All of us at each other’s throats?”

Yiannis spluttered something in Greek, Demetrios shouting back at him and whether it was in Jesse’s defence, it didn’t matter because Jesse couldn’t take it.

“Shut up!” he yelled, then inhaled, exhaled, fighting the urge to scream. “Yiannis, I’m sorry Dem’s late but, for fuck’s sake, allow me a little time with him when you fucked up anything we could have had when you fucked my mum!”

“Jess—”

“Dem, don’t.” Jesse closed his eyes, then opened them to Demetrios gazing back at him with concern, with fear, with aggravation at the whole situation. “He’s my dad, Dem. He’s hurting, and all this has put him through the ringer. And this,” he waved a hand between them, “us? It makes it worse. Think about that before you say anything else.”

“Jesse, please—” Demetrios stepped forward. “Don’t let him ruin this. Not again.”

Jesse held up a hand. “And, Dad?”

Richard clenched his jaw, stiff and unyielding.

“I heard you. I heard you back then. I heard you yesterday. But I’m old enough to make my own mistakes.”

“I’m only watching out for you—.”

Jesse shook his head. “What are you even doing here?”

“I’ve been calling you. No answer. Now I know why.” He sneered at Demetrios, regarding him up and down as if he were dirt. “I came to remind you we have a boat to catch in one hour.” He checked his watch. “Flight home in six.” He manoeuvred around Yiannis and Demetrios to the stairs. “I’ll see you outside.”

Richard then left, trundling down the stairs, door slamming closed after. Yiannis said something in Greek to Demetrios, then he, too, stomped back down, door opening, door closing, leaving him and Demetrios alone in the aftermath.

“That’s one way to tell ‘em,” Jesse said, raking a hand through his hair.

“Jess—” Demetrios reached for him.

“Shit!” Jesse yelled to the ceiling. “Shit, shit, shit!”

“Hey.” Demetrios grabbed his arm. “It’s okay. We can work through this.”

“How?” Jesse deflated, releasing his frustration like a wilting balloon. “How, Dem? I’m getting on a flight in six hours.”

Demetrios fingers loosened around his arm. “It doesn’t have to mean this is over?”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No. We can…I can…”

Jesse stroked a hand through Demetrios’ hair. “Neither of us can. We never could.”

Demetrios bowed his head, ghosting his forehead to Jesse’s. “What next?”

“I don’t know. We get on with our lives. Like we did before.”

“Did we?”

Jesse shivered. It couldn’t be from the cold, as it was rising to the thirties already. It was the thought of leaving. Of doing this all over again. Of going back home to miserable, rainy England and knowing his life had irrevocably changed and having to pretend as if everything was normal. How could it be normal after this? His mother was dead. Buried in Greece. He couldn’t tell her he was sorry. He couldn’t start over. But more than any of that, now he knew what he’d turned down all those years ago, how on earth could he turn his back on it again? On Demetrios. On what they had.

But if he didn’t, what would happen to his dad?

“I have to get dressed.” Jesse willed himself to move away, but he couldn’t.

Demetrios screwed his eyes shut, moisture seeping from the corners.

Jesse gripped his neck. “No tears, remember.”

Demetrios opened his eyes, then kissed him. Jesse could taste the bitter tears as they slithered down his face and seeped into his mouth. God, it hurt. He might have had the power to make him happy, but with that came the ability to make him cry. Make him hurt. Make him crumble. Just like Demetrios could him. And every time he’d walked away, he’d hoped the tears would dry quicker. The goodbyes would become easier.

That he would love him less.

He never did.

“God, Dem, please.” Jesse stepped back, sniffed and held his gaze. A broken man stood before him. “I have to…Neither of us can make the sacrifice to make this happen.” He shook his head. “Why don’t we keep hold of the fairytale? Reality sucks, anyway.” It took all his effort to turn his back on Demetrios, after all the promises of last night. He walked on trembling legs to his bedroom door.

“You were worth it.”

Jesse peered over his shoulder. “So were you.”

“Another snippet in our history book, eh?”

History. They had a boatload. Enough to fill the one he had to catch in fifty minutes.

And he hated how their history kept repeating itself.