Page 43 of Darling
I turn to fully face him, and he does the same. “Well, okay, now thatIknow, is there something else you’d rather do today? Something other than sit in a dark room and watch an eighty-year-old movie with me and eat food that will rot your teeth? Actually, eating food that will rot your teeth is sort of a birthday tradition.” I look at my watch. “But it’s still early, we can do whatever you like, something more exciting than dinner and a movie. Name it and I can attempt to make it happen.”
He studies me a long moment, one hand in his pocket and the other playing with the strap of his crossbody bag absently.
“I actually really wanna see the movie with you. It’s notsomething we really did. I wasn’t kidding, my pop culture references are practically non-existent. So going to the movies is still sort of cool and new for me, and Idefinitelywanna get some of those cinnamon hearts.” He turns to point at them. “Andsome of that salted butter popcorn. After that, we can see what’s up.”
“Okay, then. Movie it is. I’m yours the entire day, so we can play it by ear, do whatever you feel like doing.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Except the one thing I really wanna do, because it couldliterallykill you, right?”
I warm all over as the image of a naked and perfect Asher riding my dick swims into my mind. Taking a step toward him, I reach out to skim a hand over his cheek. It doesn’t matter that we’re in the very open foyer of a cinema in the middle of the day—I don’t know a single person in this city who would be in the foyer of the cinema in the middle of the day—because the need to show him a touch of tenderness on his birthday is too strong. His eyes shutter faintly, and he lets out a soft breath, mouth parting.
“I’m certain I can still make you feel very good without exerting myself too much.”
His bright blue eyes blink open as he draws his tongue over his lower lip. “Yeah, I’m certain you can, too.”
“Let’s get you some teeth-rotting junk and watch an animatronic shark rip people to pieces first.”
“Fuck yesss.” He grins sadistically.
Fourteen
Asher
The movie is good. It’s only like the third movie I’ve seen in a theatre ever, so the experience for me still feels new and a little surreal. (We were prevented from watching movies back in HHM—cultural propaganda, according to Jeremiah—so we never went to the theatre). We didn’t go to the fairground, to carnivals, water parks, or sports games either. Even bookshops were banned. But this third outing to the movies was definitely my favourite: sitting in the dark holding Christian’s hand and watching a ten-foot shark rip people to shreds was a great fucking time.
I’ve had a good birthday so far. I got up late, did a home workout, had a DoorDash breakfast, jerked off in the shower (it was work since I filmed it for the channel), and painted a little before Christian sent a message asking me out on a ‘kind-of date’. Since the guy can’t have sex, I guess I’m surprised he wants to hang out with me at all.I can still make you feel very good without exerting myself too much. I have absolutely no doubt that he can.
He already is.
Sitting here with him, two of only six people in the entire theatre for this anniversary re-release, feels… nice. Wholesomeand nice and sort of perfect. He might have some kind of idea that I should be doing something spectacular for my birthday, but it is still kind of spectacular to be doing anything at all. For eighteen years, my birthday had passed with barely an acknowledgement whatsoever. So this isspectacular for me.
I’ve been trying to think of what we could do next since I have him for the entire day, but I’m sort of restricted by the circumstances. There are a lot of things that I’d like to do, for example: go to the beach. But there isn’t one in DC, so we’d have to drive out of state to Maryland. Which is fine, but not for a random Tuesday afternoon without making plans first. I’d like to just take a long drive with him somewhere, anywhere. But we’d hit commuter traffic and be sitting on the I-495 moving at a crawl, which isn’t wholesome or sexy. I’d like to take a casual bike ride through the park, but would this count as exertion? Probably. The idea I settle on floats into my head fully formed. Probably since it’s not a new one; it’s one I had pretty much the first time I set eyes on him. Side profile lowered, eyes skimming the back of a book, jaw angular and strong, lips full and kissable.
After the movie ends, we make our way outside into the early evening, the sun is heavy and orange and sinking slowly into the Potomac behind us.
“You know, that was just as terrifying as I remember it,” he says, scratching the back of his head.
“I loved it. It was actually more realistic than I was expecting it to be. Can’t believe that wasn’t a real shark.”
He turns to me, eyes glittering with humour. “So, what now,birthday boy?” His mouth curves into a smile. “Are you hungry?”
“Um, not really? All the sugar, I think. You?”
He shrugs. “I could eat, but then I never ate a bag of cinnamon hearts and a kilo of butter popcorn in 124 minutes.”
“Are you…fat shamingme?”
His eyes turn very serious. “Christ no, absolutely not, not at all. It was a stupid comment to make. I’m sorry, I—”
“Christian, I was kidding.”
“Uh. You were?”
“Yeah, totally.”
His shoulders drop with relief. “Right. Good. It’s just… well, I know it can be sort of a sensitive topic for some people. I’d never want you to think I was making any kind of statement about your eating.”
“I didn’t.”