Sex in C Major
Chapter 60

And yet...

Slowly, Stefan pushed against the wood, and inched into the master bedroom.

The moon was up. Silvery light was pouring in through the window. The curtains had been left wide open, and the dark shadow of the cat was perched on the sill, green eyes peering at Stefan critically.

Stefan paused.

Staring.

He had imagined-

Well, he didn't know what. He had never really been able to see Yannis asleep. He was typically blindfolded, or Yannis came and went while Stefan was still asleep. And now, getting to really look, it wasn't what Stefan had imagined.

He had expected something stiff and quiet, like Yannis when he was awake. What Stefan got, though, was a sprawl. Yannis was a starfish of limbs, the sheets ripped down to his waist. He was shirtless. As Stefan's eyes adjusted to the light, he could see a thin, pale scar that he'd never noticed before, slicing just shy of a dark nipple. Another was stretched out on the underside of Yannis' left arm, long and savage from elbow to wrist. A deep, deliberate score into the skin. Without his glasses, he looked younger. Mouth half-open, and the thick shadow of a beard encroaching on the jaw that had been clean-shaven when Stefan had arrived that morning, Yannis looked-messy. Chaotic.

Attractive.

Stefan shifted a little uncomfortably at the thought. But it was true. He was built like Daz-all long, lean limbs and wild dark hair. Cut shorter, and tamed far better than Daz's, but still with that fluffy, fierce quality. A foot was sticking out the bottom of the sheet, and the ankle looked almost delicate.

And the way his fingers had pressed and carved the music from the double bass. The way he could elicit both the deep roar and the soft grumbles...

Stefan bit his lip, and slid completely into the room. He ghosted around the bed to Daz's side, neat and empty, and carefully hooked back the sheets. When he sat down, and the mattress dipped, Yannis mumbled and turned on his side, but didn't wake.

Carefully, Stefan lay down.

Yannis kept sleeping.

Stefan curled up, tucking a hand under his cheek, and watching that blank, sombre face in the gloom. Slowly-so slowly he barely moved-Stefan inched his other hand across the mattress, and touched the very tips of his fingers to Yannis' hand.

It twitched.

And didn't pull away.

Stefan stayed there, absolutely still, barely daring to breathe, and wondered what he was doing, why he couldn't stop doing it, and what-what-did it mean. 23

It was a rumble that woke Stefan in the morning.

For a split second, he thought it was thunder, or a lorry in the narrow street outside. But then the pitch changed, and he realised Yannis was playing the bass downstairs.

Stefan stretched out in the empty sheets, and listened.

He didn't recognise the tune, but it was something of a classical bent. He could imagine that sombre face turned down towards the strings, and the shiver of his wrist as a C rolled out through the house in a trembling groan.

Yannis would look beautiful.

He always looked beautiful when he was playing, Stefan decided. Perhaps he was naturally sombre and severe, but there was something else beating beneath the surface. The thing that Daz loved. The reason they were together. Stefan had thought, in those early days, that passionate Daz was mad for being with such a dull, dry person, but he'd been wrong. Daz's vibrancy was just closer to the surface. In Yannis, it had to be unearthed.

And Stefan wanted to unearth it.

Suddenly, he wanted to know how a strings player would play a body. How those callused fingers would feel on his skin. Whether he fucked in perfunctory thrusts, or whether he read sex like he read music. Daz had sex in violence, but Yannis -Yannis, Stefan thought, would have sex some other way. Oh, Daz had said he didn't like it and didn't do it often, but when he did, Stefan thought, it would be...

Manipulative.

Daz was a dog ripping apart its prey. But Yannis would be a cat.

Yannis would toy with him first.

Stefan's dick began to throb at the thought, and his hand was halfway down his body before he stopped it. No masturbating. Daz had said so. But-

But the bass was rumbling downstairs, and Yannis would be a sadist of an entirely different type, and Stefan wanted...

He pushed the sheets back and got up. He'd gone to bed in his T-shirt and underwear, and stripped the latter off, careful not to touch his swollen cock. Perhaps even if Yannis wouldn't play with him, he'd give a cold, perfunctory type of fuck instead? Just to tide Stefan over until Daz came back from Birmingham.