Come On Over (26 page)

Dominic swears he goes momentarily blind as his own orgasm hits, all of
his senses narrowing down to the heat of Killian's body against his, the way he
tastes, the way he feels, the way his amazing scent fills Dominic up and
summons a crushing wave of euphoria and complete, utter bliss. He never wants
it to end, never wants it to fade. He could stay suspended in this moment
forever.

When the moment does end, he accepts it with some reluctance. The
feeling of Killian's warm, sated body underneath him helps though, and he pulls
back a little, trying to catch his breath as he watches Killian's soft,
blissed
-out expression. Neither of them speaks, still
tangled together and coming back down from the exquisite, endorphin high. Then
Killian huffs a laugh, using his hand to push back the sweaty strands of hair
plastered to Dominic's forehead.

"You're a mess," he says, out of breath, and Dominic smiles
exhaustedly.

"Take it as a compliment," he says, leaning down and planting
a chaste kiss against Killian's lips. Killian hums.

"Oh, I do," he says. He watches Dominic as he pulls back,
before glancing to the side. "I get the feeling that the bed is nearing
its end, though."

Dominic lets out a grunt of agreement.

"Probably," he says.

"We should probably put it out of its misery," Killian says.
"You know, seeing as how I'll be staying here for a while, and all."

Dominic smiles.

"Sounds good to me."

They put those plans on hold for the night, however, in favor of curling
up against the sheets, Killian resting with his head against Dominic's chest
and his arm slung over his stomach, none of which Dominic has any problem
whatsoever with. It's after about half-an-hour of drowsing together in the bed
that he hears a light tapping, and he turns to the nearest window. It has
started raining, and the gentle patter quickly intensifies, drops soon
smattering loudly against the glass. It's not the first time it has rained in
the past two months, but where it hasn't gone past a light drizzle before, it
has now turned into a heavy downpour, much louder and more intense than Dominic
has heard in a while. He's thankful, though; with any luck, the heavy humidity
that has been hanging in the air lately will have dissipated by tomorrow.

"It's
raining," he says absently, pointlessly―because who could miss that
noise, seriously―and Killian shifts in his arms. He lifts his head to
glance over at the closed window, the glass rippled by the downpour. He grunts.

"About
damn time," he mutters, settling back against Dominic's chest and nuzzling
against his skin. Dominic smiles down fondly at that uncharacteristically
messy, dark hair, before he closes his eyes, slowly drifting off to the
soothing sounds of slow breathing and heavy rain.

Chapter 17

Vagabond

Dominic can't
remember being nervous for something like this, before. He has never been shy
about showing his work, never self-conscious, and yet when he goes over his
photo series one last time, he can feel some trepidation.

After
two months, it's finally time to show the results of all the hard work, Dominic
and the rest of his classmates getting ready to set up their exhibits at the
small gallery a few blocks away from the college. It's in an older part of
town, the streets cluttered with used-book stores and cafés, and although the
exhibition doesn't start for another ten hours, Dominic is starting to feel a
little jittery.

"Would
you relax?" Killian says, pointedly plucking a photo out of his hands and
making him look up. "Do something useful, instead of just standing
there."

He
puts the photo down gently on a nearby table, where Dominic's folder lies open
next to his bag, with several other photos scattered around it.

"I'm
trying," Dominic says. "Just wanna make sure I got it right."

"A
little late for that, don't you think?"

Killian
gives him a pointed eyebrow-raise, and Dominic sighs. He can't argue with that.

"How
are you not nervous?" he asks. "I mean, you're in all of these."

He
gestures at the photos waiting to be put up, but Killian just shrugs.

"I've
made my peace with it," he says. "I've got my own shit to worry
about."

He
cocks his head in the direction of his own area, which is at the opposite end
of the large, low-ceilinged room they're in. Their teacher assigned a spot for
everyone, so as to distribute the different media as well as possible, as she
put it. Dominic is nearby
Jemma's
sculptures and
Marcel's display of graffiti art, while Killian is next to some other
photographer's stuff, and a slew of dreamlike drawings that Dominic noticed
belong to that jumpy red-haired girl he remembers seeing on his first day.

"And
how are you not nervous about
that
?"
Dominic says, and Killian scoffs.

"Oh,
I'm nervous," he says lightly. "I just have a better poker face than
you."

Dominic
narrows his eyes at him. It's true; he has become intimately familiar with
every possible expression on Killian's face, and even he can't tell that he's
anything but completely cool, calm, and collected, right now.

"Well,
lucky you," Dominic says dryly. "You've still got some setting up to
do though, why are you over here?"

Killian's
mouth curves into a small smile, and he moves closer to his boyfriend, planting
a slow, warm kiss on his lips.

"Because
you're freaking out," he says in a low voice, "and I thought I might
help. Also, your freak-out face is kind of adorable."

Dominic
just grumbles.

"Fine,"
he says. "If you want to help, how about you help me decide which order
these should go in."

He
gestures at the photos again, and Killian turns to them, a pensive look on his
face. There are seven photos in total, all hand-picked by Dominic, rather
large, and printed in a quality much higher than what Dominic would have
managed without the printers at the art building. Three of them are
black-and-white, the rest are in color, and all of them depict Killian. Most of
them are candid shots, but all of them have that same feeling that made Dominic
fall in love with him as a subject, in the first place.

Killian
taps his fingers against the table's edge, and Dominic would be lying if he
said it didn't make him even more nervous to have Killian watch the photos so
intently, even though he has seen them several times before, by now.

"Maybe
this one somewhere in the middle," Killian says, pointing at one
particular photo in the bunch. It's in color, so as to fully bring forth the
vibrant shades of paint spattered and smudged across the skin of Killian's
photographed self. "I like that one."

"I
like it, too," Dominic says, turning to watch Killian's face as he keeps
his eyes on the photos. The picture is one of his favorites, but it still has
nothing on the real deal.

"And
this one at one end," Killian continues, oblivious to Dominic's staring.
"I think it'd round out the series nicely."

Dominic
flicks his gaze to the selected photo. It's in black-and-white, strikingly
similar to the very first photo he ever took of Killian, weeks ago, charcoal
smudged across his fingers and lower arms. It's subdued compared to the others,
and Dominic agrees with the choice.

"Well,
that's two," he says, gently picking up the black-and-white one, careful
not to touch and get fingerprints all over the surface of the photo, holding on
to the black background it's attached to, instead. He moves past the table and
holds the piece up against the white, stark wall, as if to estimate how it
would look, hanging there. Not that it does much good, since there is nothing
to compare it to, with none of the other photos having been put up, just yet.

"I'm
sure it'll look great, no matter how you do it," Killian says in a tone
softer and more reassuring than Dominic is still used to hearing from him. He
lowers the photo in his hands and turns to look over his shoulder.

"You
have more faith in that than I do," he says, and Killian slips his hands
around his waist, smoothing them down to settle on his hips. He presses a kiss
against Dominic's neck―he's the shorter of the two of them, but that
doesn't stop him.

"Come
on," he says fondly. "You'll do great."

Dominic
nudges his head with his own.

"So
will you," he says. "See, I can say that now with confidence, since
I've actually seen your stuff."

Even
aside from the fact that Killian would have had very little opportunity to hide
his work, staying at Dominic's place, he recently decided that it was done, and
so showed it to Dominic. The paintings he ended up choosing are a series of
three, all following the same theme, but portraying different variations of it,
rather than imitating each other. They're all abstract, one almost jarring in
its bright, bold colors, and the other two more subdued, but all three have the
same jagged, rough brush strokes that Dominic remembers thinking Killian would
most likely use. He was right, even back then; anyone who knows Killian would
easily be able to tell that the paintings are his work.

Killian
makes a soft, groaning sound at the back of his throat, leaning with his chin
against Dominic's shoulder.

"Told
you you'd see it eventually," he says. Dominic turns around in his arms
and is just about to go in for a kiss, when a throat-clearing interrupts them.
He looks up, as does Killian, and they spot Annie, arms folded over her chest
as she watches the two of them.

"Adorable,
you guys," she says. "But Shanti needs a hand with her stuff."

Dominic
shrugs.

"And?"
he says flippantly, and Annie gives him a bored look.

"And,"
she says, "I've seen those arms, I know both of you are pretty capable of
some heavy lifting. Pretty please?"

She
doesn't say it sweetly or with any kind of pleading. Instead, it's with a type
of sarcasm that seems to be particular to her, and Dominic huffs a laugh.

"Fine,"
he says. "Can I finish up with my stuff first?"

Killian
cuts in before Annie can answer.

"No,
you stay here," he says resolutely. "Get your shit ready, I'll help
her out."

Dominic
pulls back a little, giving his boyfriend a teasingly disbelieving look.

"What's
gotten into you, today?" he asks, but Killian just grunts, kissing him
firmly.

"Shut
up and do your job," he says, and Dominic finds himself marveling at how
words so harsh can sound like sonnets of love, coming out of Killian's mouth.

"Fine,"
he says, as Killian pulls away from him and goes to join Annie. "See you
later."

Annie
and Killian make their way to the far end of the room, where a short hallway
curves into another space, and Dominic turns back to the blank, white wall in
front of him. He looks down at the photo in his hands, and gets to work.

The nerves come
back out to play once the gallery opens that night. Dominic anxiously hovers
around, uncharacteristically on edge, and Killian has to more than once
physically hold him still.

"Alright,
seriously," he says under his breath. "You're making me nervous,
chill."

"I
thought you said you
were
nervous," Dominic says, earning a glare in return.

"Just
stop jumping around," Killian says. "It's fine. You're fine."

He
sounds a little annoyed, but sincere, and Dominic decides to make an effort for
his sake.

There's
quite the turn-out; since it's open for the public, the gallery fills up with
both friends and family of the artists involved, but also with other people
who, as far as Dominic can tell, have nothing but genuine interest in the
exhibition. At first, he and the rest of his classmates mostly hang around
their own exhibits, before cutting loose and making their way around the place.
It gives them a chance to view each other's work properly, in all its
purposefully staged glory, instead of just glancing at it during the set-up.

Jemma's
clay sculptures are eye-catching, to say the least.
Several inches high and depicting human shapes in all kinds of contortions and
poses, they convey many aspects of the theme, with
heart
being interpreted here in both its good, and less-appealing,
nuances. They have been painted in all kinds of colors, with a surrealistic
touch, and Dominic finds them both unsettling and spellbinding to look at.
Annie's work, meanwhile, is brighter and softer, a reflection of her
personality, and with life-like portraits and other heartfelt drawings, just
like she said. They make Dominic smile.

Shanti's
exhibit is in the other room, with a higher ceiling and more open space. It
occurs to Dominic that he doesn't actually know much about her project, with
her being so private about it, and although he knows she prefers working with
her hands, he's not quite prepared when he sees her work. It's a large
sculpture, almost as tall as he is, made up from mostly metal and wood, all of
it painted with swirls and intricate patterns. It's colorful and strange, but
vibrant, and Dominic tries to imagine Shanti working with the tools no doubt
needed to create the flowing, slightly surreal shape. He understands now what
Annie meant about her stuff requiring some heavy lifting, and he peers through
the holes and gaps between the twisted forms, taking it in.

Dominic
is honestly incredibly impressed by all of his friends' works, not just because
of the quality, but because of the creativity, the originality, and the way
every single piece in here stands out from the rest. He can't help but find his
own work a little underwhelming in comparison, before he remembers that
photography is different, just like every medium here is different from the
next. It only takes another glance at his own series of photos for him to
remind himself that
yeah, he did good.

Later
on, Dominic is talking to Kim and her girlfriend,
Carly
,
the crowd of people milling around them, when he feels a tap on his shoulder.
He turns around, only to spot Isaac grinning at him.

"Hey,"
Dominic says, pleasantly surprised, and he pulls his friend into a hug.
"Wasn't sure you'd show up."

Kim
and
Carly
spot someone they know, and take their
leave, allowing Dominic to give Isaac his undivided attention.

"You
kidding?" Isaac says. "Wouldn't miss it. How's it going so far?"

Dominic
makes a noncommittal noise, glancing around the crowded room.

"It's
good," he says, nodding. "I've overheard some good things about my
stuff, so there's that. Can't complain."

It's
true; he hovered around his exhibit earlier and heard some people talk amongst
themselves about his work, having nothing but good things to say, and the fact
that they were complete strangers made it all the more exciting.

"Overheard?"
Isaac says, eyebrows raised. "You could just talk to them, you know."

Dominic
shrugs.

"Nah,"
he says. "People tend to be more honest when they talk
about
you, rather than
to
you. Trust me, I'd rather
overhear."

He
doesn't mention how the idea of actually approaching someone about their
opinions on his work is rather daunting.

"Yeah,
sure," Isaac says, a little absently. He looks around the room, clearly
searching for something, and Dominic narrows his eyes.

"You
didn't come here for me, did you?" he says with soft, joking accusation,
and Isaac flicks his eyes back to him.

"I
totally did," he says quickly. "Of course. I just... Kind of promised
Shanti I'd show up."