Page 127 of Sycopation
“What do you see when you sing ‘Dare to Be’?”The question from all those months ago came back, along with the strength of Zavier’s arms and the whisper of his breath.
Ray set down his bag of groceries and stared at the flowers.Burgundy with dots of sky blue.“Dare to Be” flew through his head, this time with Zavier’s drumming—they’d just finished nailing down that part—and every bit of Ray burned. These flowers were for Ray, fromZavier. He both understood and didn’t understand the gesture.
Zavier didn’t buy flowers.
There was a small envelope leaning up against the crystal vase. No writing on it, but that wasn’t needed. Ray picked it up, opened it, and slid the thick piece of paper out.
Please put away the groceries and join me in my office.
—Zavier
Ray ran his thumb along the side of the card stock. An invitation. To a scene? To something else? He didn’t know this time. At other times, it was more obvious whether they were orders Zavier left on his cards, or when they were simply little notes.
The flowers threw him, but Ray treated the note as the beginning of a scene, anyway. Hell, he wanted it to be the beginning of a scene. He put the groceries away, careful to place items in their proper places in the pantry. Zavier had insisted at least that part of the kitchen be orderly. Everything else—dishes, pots and pans, the fridge, drawers—those were kept at Ray levels of chaos.
The balance worked, and when Ray slacked off, Zavier got to remind him of their decision, usually bent over one of the kitchen stools with a wooden spoon that never seemed to be used for anything else.
Ray wasn’t above shifting things out of order when hewantedthe punishment. But he wouldn’t do that tonight. He finished up, picked up the card, and headed to Zavier’s office.
The room was dressed in warm shades of yellow and brown and black, like an old study or smoking room. Bookshelves lined one wall. Along the other was Zavier’s desk, complete with one of those ink-blotters. Zavier sat in his brown leather chair, reading an actual hard-backed book, though there were also small piles of mail on his desk, along with a package that had been opened.
Ray hadn’t been quiet in his approach, so when he reached the door, Zavier met his gaze, slipped a bookmark into his book, and set it aside. “Everything put away in the kitchen?” Soft voice.
Could be play or just an inquiry. Ray nodded, turning over the card in his hands. “You bought me flowers.”
Color touched Zavier’s cheeks. “So I did. I thought you might like them.”
“I do.” Burgundy and blue. “They’re ‘Dare to Be.’”
Ray had seen him blush before, but not quite like this, not with so much uncertainty. “Yes.” Zavier took a breath. “Was that an okay thing to do?”
So maybe this wasn’t a scene after all. Ray crossed the threshold from the hall into Zavier’s domain, and sat himself down on his lap. “It was an incredibly thoughtful thing to do, Zav.” Ray kissed him on the cheek. “I very much appreciate them.”
Warm arms wrapped around Ray, and Zavier pulled him tighter, even as tension drained from Zavier’s expression. “Oh, good.”
Sweet man. Ray’s heart tumbled over and over, like it always did. “You don’t have to get me flowers. Or chocolate.” That had been last week. “I’m utterly content with you and our home. With us.”
They’d been living together since that night Zavier had returned to Ray. He’d been there through the legal wrangling with the record label, for the settlement and release from their contract, and for the satisfaction of Carl pleading guilty to criminal mischief. Ray’d wanted more, but as expected, plea bargaining had reduced the charge and the sentence. Zavier had consoled him in every manner he could and that had kept Ray so calm.
After a month back in New York City, they’d gotten married at the courthouse with only Mish and Dom present. As Zavier had said, a legal formality—much easier to tie their lives together that way than any other.
Zavier’s aromanticism was as much a part of him as his drumming or Ray’s singing or their kinky sex. Ray didn’t want to changeanyof it. They were husbands, yes. But alsofriends and partners. Bandmates. And sometimes Dominant and submissive, when they felt the need.
But always, always friends. He loved Zavier so much it hurt sometimes. He still wore Zavier’s bracelet on his ankle. Even under socks.
Zavier kissed Ray’s throat. “I know that. But it’s a little thing that makes you happy, so why not? I walked by this florist and saw the colors and thought of the other night. And maybe it made a little sense in my head to buy them.”
Ray tossed the card onto Zavier’s desk. “And here I thought you were gonna put me on my knees.”
A deep chuckle. “Oh, I intend to do that, and quite a bit more before dinner.”
Sparks everywhere, and that deep calm that Zavier could draw out of him in an instant. “I’d like that.” He slid a palm along Zavier’s chest and was rewarded by a nip at his chin and Zavier cupping his ass.
“You say that now,” Zavier murmured. He pulled back. “I have plans.”
“Do tell.”
Zavier patted Ray’s ass. “Get up a moment, and I’ll show you what came today.”
