Chalk Butterfly: Part One (First Time Erotic Romance) (17 page)

Natalie carefully eased a sterile needle
into one of the blisters, quickly covering it in the salve.

“Older than you,” she replied. “My age,
maybe. How did you meet him?”

“Why does it matter?” Another blistered was
popped, and a fat tear rolled down Alexander’s cheek.

“Only a few more,” Natalie said quietly. She
finished his hands in silence, and it was times like these when
Alexander really appreciated his mother. She could be overbearing,
but she helped him without comment and was always there when he
needed her.

And she’d dropped the subject of Daniel.

“I’m worried about these blisters,” she
finally said, reaching over and turning the faucet of the tub on.
“Soak in here for a bit and reapply the salve when you get out.
Wrap your hands before you go to bed. And don’t try to skip it.
These sores could get infected if you leave the bandages off during
the night, especially these ones. You’ve been doing so well on your
own up until recently.”

Alexander nodded. He knew it would help to
reapply the bandages every evening and wear them when he slept, but
it was just one more pain he didn’t have time for in the morning.
He tried to minimize his pain throughout the day, and grow
accustomed to the pain that couldn’t be helped.

“Maybe you should see Dr. Holmes about
these, I’m worried,” she said.

“Mum, I’m fine, really. I’ll just be more
careful. They’ve been far worse.”

“A few less days at work might clear up some
of the stress for you,” she added. “I don’t know if the situation
with you and Elijah is the best.”

“Mum, I don’t have a thing for Eli,”
Alexander whined, scrunching his nose up.

“Oh, there’s my little Alex,” Natalie said
with a smile. “All right, you tell me whatever you want, but a
mother knows.”

Alexander sighed.

“I’m not talking about Elijah. Don’t look so
shocked, we mothers have women’s intuition.”

Alexander smiled then, blushing. “I
don’t--”

“Want to talk about it. I know sweetheart.
Give us a kiss.” Alexander kissed his mother sweetly on the cheek
and leaned back into her shoulder. She was the one person he felt
comfortable embracing. “Goodnight, darling.”

“’
Night, mum. I love you,” Alexander
whispered.

“Love you too, Alex.”

Natalie padded quietly out of the room and
Alexander carefully turned the faucet off. He was facing the bath
again.

Very slowly he slipped out of his clothes,
feeling lazy with his motions. It had been an absurdly long day,
and he was ready to just dissolve into the water.

He flicked the overhead lights off, leaving
the room dark and hot with the steam rising off the tub.

Settling into the water, he sighed. His
mother had the water set to the perfect temperature.

But his mother wasn’t on his mind.

It seemed thoughts of Daniel were to
monopolize Alexander’s bathing time. It was somewhat obscene,
Alexander’s skin wet and bare. It took little time for Alexander to
feel that familiar ache in his belly, coursing through his thighs
and groin.

He had to but think of Daniel’s voice and he
was lost.

Daniel liked him. He hadn’t been upset with
Alexander’s outbursts, or his near breakdown.

And he hadn’t pushed him.

Alexander let his hands soak as his eyes
adjusted to the darkness. He could see down his body, watch the way
the water played off his skin.

What would Daniel say if he saw Alexander
this way? What would he do?

Alexander wanted to know, in some deep
dangerous part of his mind he wanted it. But he would never tell
Daniel or act on his feelings.

Daniel was kind to him, but he didn’t know
even half of what Alexander went through on a daily basis. He
wouldn’t want what Alexander had to offer, because it was all
grief.

Alexander let out a long breath and settled
in deeper, the water touching his chin. The water embraced him
intimately like no other, kept him warm and safe.

He wondered if Daniel would feel liquid
too.

***

Daniel crossed out an entire section of the
notes and scowled.

“Owen, dancing girls are out of the
question,” Daniel said, giving his friend a wary look.

“Hey!” Owen said in defense, putting his
hands up. “Madeline wrote that in.”

Madeline leaned in between the two men, her
elbows on the bar. “It’d bring in new clientele,” she said, pouring
Owen a shot.

“Don’t be getting him plastered just yet,”
Daniel said, pushing the shot down the bar. “I need another few
hours out of him.”

“Fuck all, Daniel, it’s ten o’clock,” Owen
said, rubbing at his eyes. “The restaurant closes in two and we’ve
been at this since nine this morning.”

“We’ve only got a few months before the list
goes out, Owen,” Daniel said seriously. “And we haven’t got one
decent idea here to up City Lights Over Park Place on that
list.”

“That bleedin’ list,” Owen said gruffly.
“Seems like a waste of time.”

“It’s something to aspire to,” Daniel said
resolutely. “We could use a few more folks in here, too. Especially
on those slow Sunday nights.”

“The first logical step,” Owen said, popping
a pretzel in his mouth, “is to stop filling up other
restaurants.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow and Owen
chuckled.

“You brought some sweetheart to Roberto’s
last night,” Owen said, smirking. “Checking out the competition, or
checking something else out?”

Daniel rolled his eyes. “It’s not like that,
and what, are you… following me around?”

“Again?” Madeline added, sauntering back up
to the bar.

“My cousin’s dating the Hostess,” Owen said.
“So, who’s the lucky boy?”

“Boy?” Madeline asked, shooting Daniel a
shocked look. “How old is this one?”

“Excuse me,” Daniel interjected. “We’re not
even dating.”

“But you took him out,” Owen said. “That’s
not your style.”

“He’s got you there. When’s the last time
you went on a casual date?” Madeline asked.

“When’s the last time you minded your own
business?” Daniel shot back, not unkindly. Madeline gasped, and
swatted Daniel upside the head.

“He’s got you there,” Owen said, giving her
a leering wink.

“So, Daniel’s fallen for some kid,
then?”

“Looks like it, Madeline,” Owen agreed.
“What do you have to say for yourself?”

Daniel cocked his head to one side and
sighed dramatically.

“I’ll have a scotch.”

***

Alexander stepped out of the tub carefully.
He pulled the drain plug and almost enjoyed the numbing sting that
followed all up his fingers

Anything to distract from the coiling
madness in his belly.

Alexander had the knack for working himself
up to a near frenzy of arousal, just by the simple task of thought.
No touch had excited him to the state he was presently in; hard and
trembling.

He had trouble releasing the ache, his hands
were useless and other methods were more frustrating than
relieving. So why did he do this to himself?

When he’d wake up in the morning, that kind
of arousal was unintentional…

He wrapped his hands, naked and hot.

Soft whimpers filled the bathroom as he
eased the last piece of gauze in place. The pain helped, helped to
calm his body.

Slipping his pajama pants on, he let the
soft material drag across his cock and nearly groaned aloud at the
friction. It was the type of sensation that almost burned in its
raw pleasure. He leaned into the sink and panted against the
mirror, watching the condensation trickle down.

He had to stop this.

Alexander pulled his shirt on and exited the
bathroom, blushing when he caught sight of his mother asleep on the
pull out couch. He carefully crept to his door, turning back to see
Cat curled up cozily with his mother.

“Traitor,” he whispered, and slipped into
his room.

The room was cool, and he pulled the
blankets down and crawled into bed.

His eyes would not remain shut and he stared
blindly up at the ceiling. His hips pressed up once into the heavy
blankets, a low groan escaping his throat.

This wouldn’t be enough, not by far.

“Daniel,” he thought, and his eyes flickered
shut.

Chapter
Ten

back to top

Daniel woke with a start, jumping from
dreams to consciousness abruptly.

Startled but moreover drowsy, he stumbled
from bed and leaned heavily against the large windows in his room.
The blinds kept the light out, and the slats pressed into his
palm.

Something felt subtly different that
morning.

Smiling at the new feeling, he made his way
into the kitchen, which was open completely to the living room. His
apartment was filled with choked light.

He padded into the living room, feet bare on
the cold hardwood.

Daniel drew open the long closed curtains
and invited the light in. The apartment, bone white and sterile,
glowed warm yellow in the morning.

The change set an instant spark in Daniel,
starting at his fingertips and working all across his skin to the
deep insides of his body.

Without a thought, he hunched low in his old
flannel pajama bottoms and pushed the center coffee table to the
far wall. He dragged the loveseat over next, arranging every item
in the living room to the walls and into the open kitchen.

His living room floor was mostly bare, and
he nodded and left the room. A few moments later the floor was
covered in a large white tarp, and then atop that, a dusty canvas
and a few half empty tubes of paint with their ends rolled up,
squeezed of every last drop.

Daniel knelt down and set three brushes
beside the canvas, smoothing his hand over the blank surface and
brushing the dust off.

With a long look at his mess of paintings on
the wall he set about making a larger mess on the canvas in front
of him.

His progress started slow at first as he
reacquainted himself with his acrylics and found the fit of the
brushes in his hand. But as an hour ended, he was laying paint down
easily, smoothing it out across accidental strokes and making
purposeful mistakes just for the joy of finding ways to fix
them.

It had been a long time since he last got
lost in painting, and though the results were confusing at best, at
the end of four straight hours, he felt satisfied. He stood up and
looked down at his drying work; colors swirling and meshing with
others, reds suffocating browns and blacks, blacks breaking through
yellows.

The work in itself didn’t say much, it was
just a study in patience and care. He had completed something, as
hideous and useless to the eye as it was, but he had done it.

Feeling overly proud of himself, he sat back
and let the late morning sun ease up along his body, just feeling
the subtle changes everywhere.

And then his half lidded eyes veered to the
paintings he had already hung up on the wall. They were considered
well done by those with a grasp for the artistic, but Daniel
couldn’t remember what they were about or who he had been when he
had painted them.

His eyes shifted to the side and he noticed
a slight scratch in the white wall paint. He settled up on his
elbows and examined the walls.

It would be easy to just fix up the
scratch.

He nodded and stood.

He found himself in the small storage unit
he rented, which was just below his apartment. Somewhere in the
mess of boxes were large cans of house paint. It didn’t take long
for him to find the boxes, but he got caught up in digging through
others as his curiosity piqued. He had so many things. They seemed
like worthless items, but Daniel had saved them all with care.

When he'd moved out of his older apartment,
a small cramped affair, he'd promised himself that his new flat
would be kept tidy. So he boxed up all of the clutter and hid it in
a cement walled tomb.

It was almost like opening up a time
capsule.

He pulled himself away from an old stack of
photos, and dug out the paint cans. Much to his amusement, he
didn’t have a single can of white paint amongst the collection.

But there was yellow.

It was... abhorrent.

He smiled and picked up two of the cans.

He’d have to find a roller.

****

“You need a can opener, that’s why.”

“Mum, Eli takes me every week,” Alexander
protested. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow.”

“There’s no sense in it,” Natalie replied,
folding her arms. “You’re nearly out of cat food, too. Let your
mother pick you up some nice things.”