Page 24 of Refraction

7

Tucker sawdemons.

He saw them on the street; he saw them in his dreams. He lived with them—toothy and clawed, dripping with sex and promise and hunger. He didn’t worry about them—they were his obsession, his work, his life. They teased him, appearing where he least expected them, shocking him in tea rooms and libraries, in the empty barn and the parking lot lights in the Walmart.

Here, in this place? The demons surrounded them.

Calvin touched him, though, and he didn’t care.

There might have been things he could have told Calvin about that. Calvin asked; the man wanted to know. But words were pointless in here, and anyway, Calvin couldn’t see what he was seeing.

Calvin saw other things, though, about him and his paintings. Things experience had taught him that ordinary people didn’t see.

That touch came again, firm, heady, and his attention snapped to Calvin, the club fading. The music thrummed, and Calvin’s hips thrust, rolling against him.Oh. Oh, dancing. Right.

Dancing and wondering what Calvin wore under his kilt.

Calvin’s eyes were green, but in this light they just looked dark. Dark enough it was hard to tell the pupil from the iris. Framed in that thick eyeliner, they stood out, though, even when the shifting and fading club lighting left his face in shadow.

Still, Calvin’s face didn’t change, no demons appeared, and the only things in the world were thrumming bass, sweat, and pure need.

A tall man danced into them, making Calvin take a step backward. The man grinned at Tucker, gave Calvin a little apologetic wave, and when Calvin smiled back, the guy gave him a twirl. Calvin spun around, looking surprised, but laughed and seemed to enjoy the attention.

Tucker smiled, but he didn’t mean it. Not really. Another couple stepped between him and Calvin, one of these men a deep, bright crimson.

Stop it. Breathe. Don’t look at them. This wasn’t like home. This wasn’t a stray wanting to be painted. He was under the ground, where the demons lived. Tucker looked for Calvin, but he couldn’t quite find him in all the lights and confusion.

An eternity, or maybe just a few seconds later, a blond head popped up in front of him. He didn’t dare focus; the man was standing too close. But he could only look away for so long before the guy’s eyes found his. Green eyes ringed in black eyeliner. Soft fingers stroking his beard.

“Hey, honey.” He knew Calvin couldn’t hear him; it didn’t matter. He leaned into the touch, one hand finding the increasingly familiar spot on Calvin’s hip.

He got a smile brighter than sunshine, and he could clearly read the wordsorryon Calvin’s lips.

Calvin stuck out his tongue, crossed his eyes, and drew little crazy circles up next to his ear.

Oh, that made him laugh, and he dared to steal a kiss, hard and fast, hidden under the brim of his hat.

He felt the sound Calvin made against his lips and the hand that snaked around behind his neck, fingers hot as coals. Calvin started moving again, hips swaying to the beat of the music without breaking the kiss or putting even a hint of colored light between them.

He followed, the music and Calvin’s hips creating a draw that kept them pressed tight together, gyrating, undulating.

There was no way to tell with club music being what it was—no real beginning and no real end—how much time was passing, but Calvin kept him dancing between his kisses and his smiles for a good long while.

When Calvin did step away, he had a lock of damp hair stuck to his forehead and bedroom eyes. He pointed toward the ceiling and grinned.

Tucker looked up, the lights beautiful, primaries blending into secondary and tertiary colors, and where they touched all three? White. “Light versus ink. Painting versus life.”

“What?” Calvin shouted just loud enough Tucker actually heard it. He raised an eyebrow and pointed toward the staircase.

Tucker nodded and smiled, then started moving them, slow and steady toward the steps.

As soon as they reached the top of the staircase, Calvin turned around and looked at him. “What were you trying to tell me? I couldn’t hear you.”

It was much quieter by comparison up here, and cooler too.

“The lights. They’re the opposite of paint.” They pretended to flood whatever they touched, and paint faked the presence of light.

Calvin sighed. “Are you hungry?”

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