Notturno (2 page)

him thirsty and dry. They’d had good weather so far, and he

guessed that it would continue, given that it was midsummer.

The weather in Los Angeles was bound to be hot, and he hoped

the final authentication would go smoothly so he could get

home to the Olympic Peninsula—for a while at least—before

business called him out again or the school term started.

Adin always wore two watches when he traveled, a habit that

was so ingrained he even did it when he was traveling within the

same time zone. One had been his father’s, a large and

handsome round gold analog with a brown leather strap that

he’d replaced at least twice since his father’s death. He looked at the second watch on his wrist, a more modern white gold

Rolex, California time, and figured that he was probably

somewhere over the Midwest. He made his way through the

darkened cabin in his stocking feet, headed toward the

bathroom with his toiletry kit, knowing that later he would have

less opportunity as people began waking up.

Adin got out his electric razor and plugged it in, getting

ready to defoliate. He had his iPod on and was listening to the

Black Eyed Peas’ “Pump It” as he prepared for his morning

routine. He didn’t want to arrive in L.A. jet-lagged and spacey.

A quick look in the mirror revealed that his suit was rumpled,

but as soon as he got to his hotel, he’d change. He’d closed his

eyes and brushed his teeth, taking a moment to enjoy his music,

when he felt a draft and a change in the light. He looked up,

stunned, as a man entered the tiny, cramped airplane bathroom.

The man closed the door and leaned against it, looking at Adin,

squeezing him farther back into the small space.

6 Z.A. Maxfield

“What the hell?” Adin asked, sure he was drooling

toothpaste. He almost choked, and wiped his mouth on a paper

towel. “I’m sorry. I was sure I locked the door.” He waited for

the man to catch on. “Occupied.” He pointed to the little

sliding sign on the door. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

The man made no move to leave. He stood implacably, and

Adin took in the rich texture of his clothing, which appeared

completely unaffected by the long flight, and his face, which

Adin might have described as darkly handsome had he not been

pissed off.

“Excuse me,” said Adin, pausing his music. He looked into

dark brown eyes that showed a hint of warmth but gave off

none.

“Of course,” said the man. “Go ahead with your ablutions. I

will wait.”

“Excuse me?” Adin said again, this time framing a question.

“It’s customary to wait outside.”

“I think you’ll find that I’m not a very customary man,

Adin.” He said Adin’s name like a warm caress, carefully, saying

AH-din
like it was supposed to be pronounced.

“Have we met?” asked Adin.

“No, not really.” The man had a full, mobile mouth,

sensuous, with lips that looked stained dark but were probably

just a little dry from flying. Maybe he, like Adin, had been

compensating by licking them. The thought made Adin want to

look at them again. His gaze dropped from the stranger’s eyes

to those full, soft lips, and sure enough, that tongue swept out

and over them, luscious and glistening. “If we had, you would

remember.”

“I see,” said Adin, not quite sure what to make of that. The

man still didn’t move, and Adin removed his earbuds. “Who are

you, exactly?”

“I don’t know who I am, exactly, Adin. I doubt you know

who you are,
exactly
. I will say that sometimes I’m a Russian poet, sometimes I’m an Italian count, and sometimes I’m a

French fur trader. That was fun. Once I even owned a brothel

NOTTURNO
7

in San Francisco, but the girls were far more trouble than they

were ultimately worth.”

Actor, thought Adin dismissively, turning back to shave.

“I really must get ready.”

“Where are my manners? I’m called Donte.” He reached for

Adin’s shoulder and turned him back around.

“Donte? Not Dante?”

“Dante? No,
DOHN-tay
. Like you are
AH-din
and not
AY-den
.” The man had a peculiar accent, as though he tasted each word like a treat, rolling it on his tongue and biting it off like it was juicy to him.

“I see,” said Adin.

“I doubt that,” murmured Donte. “I saw you, you know, at

the opera with your friend. What was his name?”

“Tariq.” Adin wondered why he answered. Something about

Donte’s gaze was so compelling…

“Tariq. A good name. I saw you together and knew…”

“What?”

“That he would get to fuck you at the end of the evening

while I would have to go home and imagine it.” Donte put out

a finger and lightly trailed it down Adin’s cheek. “So pretty.”

“You are on crack,” snapped Adin, jerking his head away.

He’d known he was being stalked. Worried now, he eyed the

door against which the man was standing. He originally thought

no one could harm him on an airplane at thirty thousand feet,

but this man…

“Don’t be afraid, Adin,” Donte crooned to him, his voice

moving through Adin like good liquor. The man stroked his

hair softly, and Adin leaned into his touch.

“I’m not afraid.” Adin found that it was true. He was

alarmed but unafraid. He shook his head to clear it. His brain

felt fuzzy and filled with noise. “But I could call for an air

marshal, and I’m sure neither of us wants to go through that.”

“No, we don’t. You’re curious. You want to know why I’m

here. You want to know why I invaded your privacy.”

8 Z.A. Maxfield

Adin’s mouth, already dry, was now crusty and stuck.

“Why?”

“For this,” Donte whispered, seeming to come even closer

without moving a muscle. He slid his hands up to the collar of

Adin’s shirt and caught his fingers in Adin’s tie, unknotting and

removing it. Donte’s hands feathered Adin with gentle caresses

as he slipped them across Adin’s chest to undress him. Donte

found skin and slid a hand under Adin’s shirt to graze it. One

silky finger moved over his nipple.

Adin hissed in response, and Donte smiled.

“So pretty,” he repeated. Donte openly admired Adin,

tugging the shirt down off his shoulders and letting it slide to

the floor. They had no room to maneuver, less than the space

they stood in, but somehow, where once they stood not

touching, suddenly their bodies were pressed together, straining,

the heat between them growing exponentially. Adin’s body

responded with lethal hunger.

“I don’t…”

“No, of course you don’t,
caro
.”

Nevertheless, he was certainly about to… Damn it. Adin

strained toward the beautiful man who now worked open his

trousers, pushing and tugging until he was almost naked. “No,

but I really, really…” Adin’s trousers and briefs hit the floor,

and he stepped out of them in a daze.

“I can see that,” said Donte with a smile. “You are willing

only for me, yes?
Un
amore vietato,
non
?”

“Yes…no!” Adin tried to back up, but there was nowhere to

go. “Please, this is crazy.”

“But here we are.” Donte cupped Adin’s face with both

hands. “You are already nude, and you haven’t yet even put

your lips to mine. Come, Adin. Kiss me.” And Adin did. His

whole life, his whole world, all his thoughts and feelings and

desires, were supplanted by the suggestion to kiss Donte.

Adin’s mind registered that it could not be real. It was some

kind of glamour magic of the moment, something that worked

within his brain like oxygen deprivation, but he kissed Donte

NOTTURNO
9

and went on kissing him. When Donte pulled his thick, uncut

cock from his trousers and pushed Adin up against the wall,

Adin wrapped his legs around the handsome man and pressed

his feet on the backs of Donte’s muscled thighs for traction, his

only murmur causing the briefest time-out for Donte to put on

a condom and slick himself with lube, which Adin supplied

from his own damned toiletry kit.

Nothing could have prepared Adin for the exquisite feel of

Donte parting his ass cheeks and taking him in a single

powerful thrust. The red-hot burn that seemed cold at the same

time, the pressure, the fullness, and even the pain evolved into

something hot and primitive. Adin breathed in sex and man and

something else, something extraordinary that infused the air

with the aroma of fresh herbs like thyme or basil. Something

that teased at his nostrils, complex and earthy and completely at

odds with getting busy in an airplane bathroom. Something that

felt warm, even though the man who held and coolly fucked

him felt anything but.

Donte was impossibly strong; his muscled arms held Adin

steady while his cock surged into Adin’s ass. His kisses were

possessive and demanding. Adin could only cling, kiss back, and

feel the heat race through him. He lost himself in the moment

completely, so that when Donte sought out the tender flesh at

the junction of his neck and shoulder and bit down, immense

shock waves of pleasure slid down Adin’s spine and ended in

explosions from his cock. Adin soared into his climax without

ever having touched himself, and Donte followed as Adin

convulsed around him. He jerked his hips, fierce and hard,

slamming Adin back against the wall and pressing in deep until

he emptied himself into the latex.

After they stopped pulsing together and their ragged

breathing turned to sighs, Donte allowed Adin to slump to the

commode while he removed and tossed the condom. Adin’s

legs trembled uncontrollably. Donte cleaned the semen stains

off his suit as well as he could, looking at himself in the mirror.

Adin didn’t see him. The angle, Adin supposed, was wrong. He

would have liked to see Donte’s face just then.

10 Z.A. Maxfield

“Adin,” said Donte. “You have something that belongs to

me.”

“I do?” Adin looked up at the man who seemed like a dark

tower in the tiny space. “What?”

“You must not be angry when I take it from you, caro.” He

took Adin’s arms and helped him to stand, then kissed him

tenderly, opening Adin up again and taking his mouth. “I will

give you something of equal value in return; I’ll find something

extraordinary, and it will be yours.”

“Oh,” said Adin. Truly, when he got back he was going to

have a thorough neurological workup.

“
Per favori, non dimenticarmi,
” he whispered.
Please don’t forget
me.

When Donte left the bathroom quietly, the privacy slider on

the door still clearly said OCCUPIED. Adin gazed around him for

a moment, still foggy, still wondering what the hell was going

on. He dressed himself, his trousers, shirt, and jacket looking

even more disreputable than they had before. His tie was gone.

His tie? Was Donte a trophy hunter?

Adin stared at his face in the mirror. He looked at his hands,

which gripped the counter next to the sink, pressing down hard,

white at the knuckles. He still tasted that deeply green herb

scent on his tongue. He’d had impromptu sex before; in fact, he

had fucked men without even the exchange of names. It was all

aboveboard, a very
civilized
primitive exchange. Something told him that Donte was neither aboveboard nor civilized. Yet the

simple truth was that if he had it to do over again, he would.

Adin left the bathroom sometime later, having made his

clothing as presentable as possible. Anyone seeing him would

think he was just another tired traveler. A little pale, maybe. By

the time he got to his seat, he was so dizzy he could hardly stand, and he dropped into it, glad he’d chosen the aisle, glad

his seatmate was two spaces over in the window seat, sound

asleep. He tried to smack his lips together to wet them. He

didn’t have the strength to lift his arm and push the flight

attendant Call button. He was suddenly afraid that something

was very wrong. His hands fell into his lap and curled up into

NOTTURNO
11

fists as he lost consciousness. He knew there was something he

ought to be doing—something he ought to be thinking—but

then the darkness claimed him and he knew nothing more.

^\

Adin turned back to the window of his room on the

seventeenth floor. He saw his face clearly reflected. He sipped

his whiskey slowly, allowing it to warm him, cautious because

he’d lost blood. Donated blood. Because whatever Donte had

nicked him with had been razor-sharp, and he hadn’t imagined

the sucking, couldn’t have imagined the intense pleasure that it

brought him. His breath puffed steamy air against the glass. He

wondered if he should tell anyone and then thought better of it.

After all, who could he tell?

“Fucking out of my mind,” he said aloud. He turned back to

the room and the rolling Pullman on the bed. It was funny. He

tried not to laugh, because he was alone and he already felt

more than a little insane. His last act as he packed and finished