but then his expression switches to puzzled. “Come again?”

“You heard me the first time,” I grin.

“This is no joking matter, Mister,” he tells me sternly, with that adorable frown on his face.

“What makes you think I’m joking?”

“But…” the frown deepens, “your life is here.”

I chuckle softly. “My life is where I want it to be.”

For the split of a second, he looks heartbreakingly happy while still disbelieving. He closes his

laptop with a soft click, now completely focused on me. “You serious? But… what do you want to do in

Berlin?”

“I’m planning on studying music, actually. At the JIB, if they let me.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “The JIB! That’s a music school for jazz, isn’t it?” he asks a little

breathlessly. “Oh… wow. That’s… Danny, that’s awesome.” His face lights up then, and it makes my

heart beat just a little faster. “Not to sound like your dad, but music, it’s your thing. You should do it. No

matter if it’s in Berlin or…”

“It will be in Berlin. I’ll see to that.”

“You’re not doing this because of me, are you? Because I wouldn’t want you to…”

“Oh, shut up.” I pull him close and kiss him, and I can feel his smile on my lips. He gives in for a

little while, but then he breaks the kiss and looks at me seriously.

“I need to know this, though. Is this really what you want to do, or is it just because it will suck balls

being so far apart for so long?”

“I want this, J. I never felt better about anything in my life. I know it’s the right decision.”

He looks cautiously happy then, before another thought crosses his mind. “But you don’t even speak

German!”

I grin mischievously. “Ein bisschen schon.”

He laughs. “A little bit? That sounds like more than just a little bit to me. What the hell, D? Why did

you never tell me that?”

I shrug with a smile. “You never asked.”

He laughs softly and shakes his head. “I’m gonna have to do a lot of asking, it seems. You,” - he

pokes me in the chest - “are such a mystery, Danny Rizzo.”

“Is that a good thing?” I wink at him.

“It’s a you thing. So naturally, it would be good.”

We both laugh and I take his hand in mine, and I feel so happy that it’s almost unreal. We fall down

on the bed and just lay there, looking at each other.

“Your mind is set then, about coming to Berlin with me?” he asks quietly, looking into my eyes.

“All set, Jimmy Boy.”

“That’s good. Because if you change your mind about this later, I’m gonna seriously kick your ass.”

I laugh. “Never gonna happen.”

“You changing your mind, or me kicking your ass?”

“Neither, smartass.”

There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he props his head up on his hand. “You don’t think I could take you,

do you?”

To tell the truth, I’m not even sure. I think he could easily take me if surprise was on his side, and if

there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you don’t underestimate J, ever. But hell if I’m gonna admit that

aloud. “I’d like to see you try.”

He rolls me over and has me pinned down faster than I can blink, and I get turned on.

“Screw you,” I grin, far from admitting defeat.

He bends down and whispers into my ear. “I’d rather screw you this time, if you don’t mind.”

God. That’s my undoing. I arch up and kiss him, and he returns it just as hungrily. It’s a matter of

seconds and we’re panting, struggling to pull each other’s clothes off. It’s kinda frantic, and not all that

sexy, and we both end up laughing into each other’s kisses. Sex between us is still a wild, complicated

creature that won’t be tamed. We both like it a little rough, and it’s always a dance along the edge.

Nothing has ever turned me on like that. I swear I dream of him taking me at night, and there’s this

craving for him underneath my skin, all the time. I like to pitch as much as the next guy, don’t get me

wrong, but damn, I’m such a whore for James riding me hard and good. There’s something almost a

little desperate in it, always, and I can see something in his eyes that get so intense then. Like he still

can’t fully believe I’m his, and he wants to leave his mark on me somehow. There’s this rhythm to it that

goes: Love me, love me, never be with anyone else. Want me like I want you. Burn for me like I burn for

you. And damn if that doesn’t turn me on so bad. I know how much he loves to see me come completely

undone at his touch, and I’ve learned to let it show. If that’s what he needs to see to believe in us, fine

by me. I’m done holding back, I’m done with all the masks, all the lies, all this circus. I’m more me

with him now than I’ve ever been.

Then we’re both naked, skin on skin, rubbing against each other, his hands worshipping my skin like

I’m something holy, and I’m so hard I might die if I don’t feel him inside me right this second. I kiss his

neck, suck on his skin, savoring the taste of him, and he moans softly. The moan turns into a pleased

little gasp when I bite down carefully, not breaking the skin, just teasing a little, like he loves it. I can

see it in his eyes, something whispering: Scar me. Leave your mark. Add it to the scars that tell my

story.

Oh, I will, Jimmy Boy. In secret places. Just wait and see.

My skin’s on fire from his touch, and when he reaches for condom and lube, my last coherent

thought is: I can’t wait to do this on the flight to Berlin. Mile high, baby, all the way.

* * *

We’re sitting in the back row at the large theater auditorium. It always smells a little dusty in here. It’s

early evening and the stage is abuzz with people running around, moving the props to their proper

places. The first dress rehearsal is just about to start, and James flat out refuses to write the review of

the play for the school paper.

“I wouldn’t be able to be objective,” he admits with an amused little smile.

I grin. “I’m sure you’d manage, Mr. Editor.”

He gives me a look. “You have leather pants. Your argument is invalid.”

Those damn trousers are far too tight. Seriously, what were the costume people thinking? That blood

circulation is highly overrated? Watch me suffer for my art. “I’ll still demand your honest opinion.”

“Fine. I’ll try to come up with something vaguely coherent.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

He takes me in from head to toe and smiles in a way that makes my pulse race. His eyes seem to say,

proudly: Mine. That’s right, Jimmy Boy. About time you realized.

“Would anyone notice if you took the costume home tonight?” he grins.

I laugh softly. “Kinky. I like.”

“Well, will they?”

“I’m afraid they’re sworn to guard it with their lives.”

J sighs deeply. “Damn. My life, so hard.”

“You’ll have to wait for opening night. Everyone will be too distracted to notice then.”

“That sounds like you have some experience in the costume smuggling business, Mr. Rizzo.”

I wink at him. “Possibly.”

“You dirty dog,” he says fondly, and I shut him up with a kiss.

When we finally manage to part, we sit in comfortable silence for a while, just watching the comings

and goings in the room. Jeff is bellowing orders from backstage that appear to be mostly ignored. I like

the little rush of excitement that always sets in before a show, even if it’s just a full run-through

rehearsal. But James will be watching.

“Will you tell Nick?” he asks quietly, and we both look over to Keller who’s standing to the side of

the stage. Rhea is fiddling with the collar of his shirt that won’t stay down properly, and he’s trying in

vain to evade her hands. He looks good in his costume.

I know immediately that J’s talking about Berlin, and nod. “Yeah. Let me do it.”