Beats of the Heart - Chapter 22: Chapter 22

Miles and Shawn were alone in the lobby, surrounded by glass and the view of the city. Miles turned back to the windows, mesmerized by the cityscape bathed in the orange lights from sunset.
"I can't get over this view," Miles said softly as he made his way to the window.
Shawn stepped behind him. "It's the reason why I set up my office here. But, I am normally stuck behind my desk or in meetings, so I haven't really looked in a long time."
"That's too bad."
"Perhaps. But I live in a world of give and take. Sacrifices are to be expected, even if that means I cannot enjoy the view from my office."
"What do you get in return?"
Shawn laughed. "I suppose the success."
Miles smiled in response and leaned against the window, mesmerized by how beautiful the city could look from above.
Shawn ran his knuckle down Miles' spine. "Miles," he murmured, suddenly closer than before.
Miles shivered from the touch. "Yes?"
"Can we stop pretending?" Shawn's hands grabbed his hips and pulled him close until their bodies were flushed. A gasp slipped through Miles' lips as he felt Shawn's body pressed against his back.
"What do you mean?"
"Stop pretending we haven't kissed before... Stop pretending that I don't want to kiss you over and over."
Shawn's hands gripped him harder as he lowered his head to nuzzle Miles' neck. Miles tilted his head to the side, giving Shawn more access. He trembled when Shawn's lips brushed against his skin.
"Is this okay?" Shawn asked in a husky whisper.
"Very okay," murmured Miles.
Shawn's hands moved to Miles' stomach. He lifted Miles' shirt so his large hands were splayed across his skin. Miles arched into the touch and groaned when Shawn started to kiss his neck.
"I have waited all day to do this," Shawn said breathlessly.
He turned Miles around to face him and pushed his back against the window. His arms boxed Miles in, and he leaned in closer with a hungry look in his eyes.
"In the studio, when you were in your zone... fuck." Shawn started and nipped at Miles' lips. "It took everything inside of me to keep my hands to myself."
Miles grinned and leaned into Shawn, retaking his lips. The kiss mirrored their desire—passionate, wanton, and primal. Shawn's tongue swept across Miles' lips, and Miles gladly allowed Shawn's invasion. Miles groaned from the feeling. He could kiss Shawn forever if he could.
Miles' hands trailed up Shawn's chest and circled around the back of his neck.
Shawn smiled against Miles' lips and pulled back slightly. "How are you so talented?"
"Are you complimenting my kissing skills?" Miles' voice was octaves lower than usual, drawing a desperate groan from Shawn.
"Baby, the things these lips do to me... but you know I'm also talking about your skills on the soundboard and the piano." He said as he brushed another kiss along Miles' jaw.
Miles hummed and closed his eyes. "Are you turned on by talent?"
Shawn rolled his hips against Miles, making him moan when he felt Shawn's hard bulge.
"I'm turned on by you," Shawn whispered and nipped at his earlobe.
Shawn easily lifted Miles, and he wrapped his legs around Shawn's waist and started to kiss him again deeply. Shawn turned him and pressed him against the piano. However, Miles pulled back from the kiss.
"Don't you dare put me on the piano," he said hoarsely.
"What?" Shawn was still dazed.
"It's a fucking nice piano," Miles murmured.
Shawn laughed and kissed him again. He pulled away from the piano and walked him to the office. He clicked a button on the wall, and the glass frosted, giving them privacy from the rest of the lobby.
He sat Miles down on his desk, trailing kisses down his neck and collarbone. Miles threw his head back, aching for more. Shawn helped Miles lie down on the large desk with a light push. His lips trailed down Miles' chest, enjoying how Miles would arch and moan with his touches.
Shawn's hands lingered at the hem of Miles' shirt, and he looked at Miles to gain permission to remove it. Miles nodded, and Shawn slowly pulled Miles' shirt upwards. Shawn released a shaky breath and started kissing the tattoos on Miles' stomach. He noticed a scar on Miles' side and gingerly kissed it, then moved back to the tattoos that painted Miles' body.
"I want to trace your tattoos with my tongue," he whispered, his hot breath blanketing Miles' skin.
"That would take a while," Miles said with a strained voice.
"It would take weeks, at least. Weeks of me worshiping your body. I can't wait."
Miles shivered at the thought and had to bite his lip to stop himself from begging for it. He had no idea how things had come to this. At one time, he pined for Shawn from a distance. But now he was suddenly under Shawn and quivering from his touches. The attraction that he felt years ago was not a lie. It was vivid and real. Suddenly he was alive again, like he was on stage, and everything was falling into place. It was like he was hitting all his scratches, and his transitions were flawless—this moment was perfection.
It was like the world had crumbled under his feet, but instead of falling, he was flying.
Shawn lifted his shirt higher, exposing more of his chest. He followed the lines of Miles' muscles with his kisses until he successfully pulled Miles' shirt over his head. He hovered over Miles for a moment, and his eyes raked over Mile's body.
"You're a piece of art," he said softly. His fingers brushed over the complex tattoos. "More beautiful than my memories."
Miles reached up, grabbed his tie, and pulled him down. Shawn chuckled and captured his lips again. The kiss was painfully slow, taking their time exploring each other.
Shawn shifted his weight to one arm and used the other to grab Miles' wrists, trapping Miles' arms against the desk over his head and stretching his lithe body. Shawn continued to kiss him. His fingers brushed against Miles' wrists, and he felt the raised skin of the long scar.
He paused for half a second before he went to kiss Miles again. However, Miles was frozen. The heat in his eyes was replaced with fear. He pulled out of Shawn's grasp and brought his hands to his chest, trying to hide the scars on his wrists.
There was no way Shawn could mistake what the scars were for. They were telling—the dark truth of Miles' past. The failure to take his own life was forever etched onto his body.
Miles turned his head away, terrified to see the look in Shawn's eyes. Would he see him as a petulant child? Or would he see him as an unstable mess? A mistake? Weak?
No one had noticed his scars before. Not Eve or Desmond. Not the hookups he had before. Somehow, Shawn had discovered this secret.
"Miles," Shawn's voice was soft.
Miles shut his eyes, his hands were still clutched to his chest, and he trembled slightly. Shawn stood up and suddenly picked up Miles in his arms. He carried him to the couch and sat down with Miles on his lap.
"What are you doing?" Miles asked in a broken voice.
"Holding you," he answered, wrapping his arms around Miles' waist.
"Stop," Miles bristled. "I'm not fragile."
Shawn chuckled and kissed his temple. "Believe me; I know you're not."
Miles sunk into Shawn's embrace and fell silent. However, he kept his wrists hidden. After a while, when the sun had set, and the office was only lit by the low ambient light, Miles finally asked, "Are you going to ask about it?"
"Do you want me to ask about it?"
Miles hesitated as he mulled over the question. "No," he said quietly.
Shawn kissed the top of his head. "Then I won't ask."
"Do you pity me?" His voice was laced with his vulnerability.
"No," Shawn said as he nuzzled Miles. "I'm not going to make assumptions about what happened to cause those scars."
A sad laugh bubbled from Miles' lips. "You're being nice again."
Shawn ran his hand up Miles' arm, remembering Miles was on edge because of his concern 12 years ago. "Is that so bad?"
"It's suspicious," Miles repeated his answer from their first dialogue. It was so many years ago, but it was apparent that they both held on to that memory and didn't let go.
"Last time we had this conversation, I simply wanted to care about the insanely attractive man I met at the bar... but this time, I have an ulterior motive," Shawn said.
"Not helping the suspicious factor," Miles said but found a smile forming on his lips.
"I don't know if you have noticed, but I want you, Miles. Not just for your body. I want to know what makes you tick—your past, your struggles, your happiest memories. I want to know you."
"But my body is a selling point," Miles weakly deflected with a joke.
Shawn smiled, and his hand ran along his collarbone and up his neck. "Oh, the thing I will do to your body will make the devil blush."
Miles bit back a whimper but was still self-conscious. "You're not... put off by it? Or think I'm weak or something?"
"I'm not," Shawn reassured him.
Miles looked down at his wrists. The tattoos obscured the long scar, but a the raised skin still showed through if he looked carefully.
Shawn lifted his hand, and before he touched Miles, he stopped. "May I?"
Miles was surprised that he would ask for permission for something like this, but he felt a weight lifted from his chest nonetheless. He nodded stiffly.
Shawn carefully took Miles' hand and lifted it to his lips. He slowly kissed his palm down to the scars Miles was ashamed of. "I've said it before: you're a good man, Miles. These scars are only a part of the story I want to know. So, when you're ready, I hope you will tell me about it."
"You make me sound better than I am."
Shawn smiled. "I'll be happy to always remind you how amazing you are when you doubt yourself."
Miles was still raw from emotion, so he kept his thoughts to himself. Instead, he nodded stiffly.
Shawn grabbed his chin, tilted his head upwards, and kissed him softly. "How about we get you dressed again? I believe you promised me food, music, and alcohol."
Miles finally found the courage to look Shawn in the eyes. He was comforted to see that Shawn only expressed affection. "Are you sure?"
"Only if you want to," Shawn assured.
Miles nodded and crawled off Shawn's lap, instantly missing the warmth of his embrace. He grabbed his shirt from the floor and hastily pulled it over his head. He looked back and noticed Shawn simply watching him from the couch.
"It's not much of a show if I am putting my clothes on," Miles said with a smile, trying to shake off the flurry of emotions in his chest.
"Anything you do captures my attention."
Miles felt heat rush to his cheeks. Somehow Shawn found ways to make him feel bashful. He pulled out emotions he never knew he had. Miles chuckled and shook his head. "If you don't hurry up, I'm leaving you behind."
Shawn jumped from the couch and caught him in his arms. "Let's go," he whispered, leading Miles out of the office.
In the car, the radio volume was low, but Miles seemed to know every song that played. He hummed along to each song, lightly tapping to the beat. Sometimes, he would flick his fingers as if adding a scratch on a turntable when inspiration hit. Shawn didn't interrupt him but silently enjoyed the comforting sound.
Miles noticed that the townhouse was dark when they parked, so he checked his phone for messages. He saw he missed one from Danny that stated that he would be with Courtney and Rob late at a game.
"The kids will be late tonight," Miles said as he and Shawn walked into the dark townhouse. Miles turned on the light to the entryway, hoping it was still dark enough to hide the flush in his cheeks.
He went to his gas fireplace and started it. The glow of the fire lit up the room in low light, and as he turned back around to face Shawn, and was instantly captivated.
Shawn was sitting on the couch's armrest and rolling up the sleeves of his button-down shirt. His hair was slightly disheveled from their time in the office, and some strands had fallen in front of his face. He seemed to have noticed Miles' gaze and dragged his eyes upwards to meet Miles. A smile crept on his face.
Miles' breath staggered as he soaked in the view.
He watched for a while like he was a painting to admire. He bit his lip to wake from his stupor, and with great difficulty, he turned away. He browsed through his vinyl and pulled out an Otis Rush record. With a gentle caress of the sleeve, he placed the record on his turntable and set down the needle.
The parlor was greeted with the twang of the guitar, slow and sensual. Miles closed his eyes as he listened to the intro, relishing the beauty of the Blues. He hummed quietly with the song.
He stopped, his breath hitched, and he tensed as he felt a pair of strong arms wrap around him from behind.
"Keep going." Shawn's voice was deep and quiet, right beside Miles' ear.  Miles shivered as his breath brushed against his neck, and his body relaxed.
"What are you doing?" It came out like a broken whisper.
Shawn turned him around so Miles was flushed against his chest. "Asking you for a dance."
Miles gave a low laugh. "I don't dance."
Shawn whispered, "Please."
"I hate you." Miles hissed out but still wrapped his arms around Shawn's neck.
"Then dance with me like you hate me." Shawn smiled and started to rock with Miles in the middle of the living room.
Miles wanted to argue but decided to give in and nuzzled up against Shawn's neck. A slight smirk played on his lips when he heard Shawn gasp sharply.
Miles closed his eyes and just let himself relax for a moment. He felt content in Shawn's arms like the desire to fight had finally left him. He started humming again to the music, letting his chest rumble against Shawn's.
"Is this hating me?" Shawn asked quietly as he slow danced with him.
"Pure loathing," Miles murmured.
With nothing but the ambient light of the fireplace, they danced as if the night belonged to them.