DeAnna Zankich
Sequel is | Eat, Drink, and Be Catty
Summary: Boyfriends, eh? Let's see how they're doing.
Warnings: None
Author Notes:
Spoilers:
The television was on in the living room and Vince had been sprawled on the couch most of the day bashing through the hundreds of channels on the satellite dish, looking for something to catch his interest. Presently, he'd stopped on a rugby game and then he got up to go the bathroom. As he passed Stuart at his desk, Vince leaned over and kissed his neck.
"Is the telly bothering you?"
"No. I'm almost done, anyway." Stuart licked his lover's ear before he moved away.
Vince winked at him, turning toward the bedroom. He looked adorable in his white briefs and t-shirt and Stuart relished the sight of his ass as he went up the steps and disappeared into the loo. Turning back to his last e-mail, Stuart opened a file next to him on the desk to copy some information out of the proposal.
He could hear the toilet flush, then Vince came out to the basin to wash his hands. Then Stuart heard drawers and cabinets opening and closing and he glanced back over his shoulder.
"Looking for something?" he called.
"Nail clippers," Vince said.
"Second shelf in the medicine cabinet."
"Oh. I must have looked right passed them," Vince said. "Thanks."
Stuart heard the slight squeak of the cabinet's hinges as it opened, then he turned his attention back to the computer. A few more lines, then he ran a spelling check over the text he'd just typed. There, finished. Sometimes he was amazed that he got paid so bloody well to do something that was so simple for him.
He got up from the desk and stretched, looking back through the glass walls at the bathroom. He expected to see Vince standing there at the counter clipping his fingernails, but he wasn't there. Walking up to the bedroom, Stuart peered around the corner searching for his companion.
"Where'd you get off to?" he said, walking back to the section of the large bathroom that surrounded the shower.
Vince knelt before a low cabinet with the door open, craning his neck to see all the way to the back of the shelves inside. He moved some folded towels and paper products out of the way and squinted into the opening, intently.
Stuart smirked, knowing his approach had been undetected and that Vince was totally unaware he was being watched. "What are you looking for?" he said, suddenly.
Vince flinched, turning around with his eyes wide. He smiled, bashfully. "Sorry," he said, closing the cabinet and standing up. He was blushing like crazy and he was clearly embarrassed, but he looked beautiful.
"What?" Stuart slinked forward to poke him in the belly, playfully. "Are you snooping?"
"No," Vince said, genuinely, and Stuart believed him. But he had been after something . . .
"Did you need something?"
"No, no. Never mind." Vince brushed their noses together, and then he padded out of the bathroom and made his way back to the couch.
Stuart stood there for a moment, looking around trying to figure out what Vince might have been searching for. Absolutely nothing came to mind. Shaking his head, he followed his lover to the living room.
Vince was lying on his back on the couch; his head propped up on some throw pillows. Stuart could see the outline of his cock perfectly through his cotton shorts and he grinned.
"If you tell me what you were looking for, I'll suck your cock."
"Oh! Sexual manipulation already? It's only been two days." Vince was still blushing, but he seemed to have overcome his embarrassment.
Stuart laid down on top of him, nestling between Vince's legs and resting his chin on his folded hands. He could feel the gentle rise and fall of Vince's breathing. "What were you looking for?" he asked again.
"I said, nothing. Never mind."
Taking a deep breath, Stuart stretched his spine inward, capturing Vince's slightly stiff cock in the warm hollow between his pects. "Is it something sexual?" he cooed.
Vince looked at the rugby match on the television, his blue eyes squinting thoughtfully. "Um, yes. It is. But I didn't find it, so never mind."
"Vince," Stuart protested. "Tell me. If you want me to get something, I will. Anything. Just say what it is." He pushed up Vince's t-shirt and kissed his silky belly several times.
"Look, just give it a rest, all right? I don't want to talk about it." He looked at Stuart directly and it was clear that he meant what he said.
Sighing, Stuart acquiesced, resting his head on his lover's belly. "Am I too heavy?"
"No, you feel nice. Perfect fit." Vince's fingers caressed Stuart's bare arms as he turned his attention back to the game.
Stuart's mind raced with possibilities. What on earth was Vince looking for? Sex toys? No, he wouldn't be looking for them in the bathroom. No one keeps toys in the bathroom. Oil? Lotion of some kind? That made more sense, but why wouldn't he just say that's what he wanted? It wasn't as though Stuart would be offended by anything at that point, so why wouldn't Vince talk about this?
"I can't drop it," he said. "Just tell me what you were after."
"Hush," Vince said, his tone just slightly stern. He wasn't going to be budged.
"Stubborn twat. Tell me."
Vince looked at him, smirking. "I'm only a `stubborn twat' because I won't do what YOU want me to do. I told you I don't want to discuss it and I'm not going to. Now, you can either lie here and behave or you can fuck off."
Stuart laughed, digging his fingers into Vince's ribs. "Look at you! You're so bloody proud!"
"No tickling!" Vince shouted, his hands darting out to grab Stuart's wrists and pin them down. "I'm serious, Stuart. I hate that."
"Okay, okay. Jesus. What the fuck's wrong with you today?"
"Nothing," Vince said, petulantly. "I just hate being tickled." Warily, he released Stuart's hands, watching him with keen distrust. "Are you going to behave?"
Stuart made like he was considering it, then he smiled. "Okay." He settled down again, getting comfortable on his belly in the `v' of Vince's open legs. He nuzzled the skin he'd exposed by lifting up Vince's t-shirt, nipping at it gently with his teeth. He felt Vince's fingers dip into his curls at the back of his neck, gently tugging them. He tingled all the way down to his toes and moaned, softly.
"I loooove that," Stuart whispered, kissing Vince's just below his navel.
"Good thing," Vince said, lifting his other hand into Stuart's hair. "'Cos I can't help doing it. Would be a sad situation if you didn't like it." With the fingers on his right hand Vince twirled and extended the dense curls at the nape of Stuart's neck, playing with each ringlet individually, while his left hand gently caressed the curls near his forehead. He smoothed all the hair down, then wove his fingers back in, being careful not to pull or snag any errant tangles.
Stuart sighed, burrowing deeper into the satiny skin of Vince's tummy. He could feel his lover's cock warming and growing against his chest and the sensation inspired his own cock to lengthen. He rubbed against the soft leather cushion beneath him until he was fully erect, knowing he could come from that friction if he did it long enough. Ever since he and Vince had become lovers, Stuart's libido had been kicked into overdrive. He hadn't been so constantly aroused since he was a teenager. He felt like he could fuck all day if the spirit moved him. It made him feel vibrant and alive and happy, like everything was new again.
Vince squirmed under him, lifting his hips and breathing a deep moan. He pressed his cock against Stuart's chest, also rubbing up and down until he was fully hard. His fingers danced in Stuart's hair covetously, stroking and digging, scratching his scalp very lightly with his nails.
Still grinding on the leather cushion, Stuart looked up at Vince, laughing a little. "Christ," he said. "I could come from this."
Vince licked his lips, looking down into Stuart's eyes. His expression was fervent and lustful and it was clear that he thought coming from this was an excellent plan. Stuart kissed his exposed skin, running his tongue up the line of soft hair between his navel and the waistband of his shorts. He reached up with his hands and tugged the cotton fabric, but Vince stopped him.
"Wait. Don't suck me. Just lie down on me," he said, breathing hard. "I want to rub myself off on your chest and play with your hair."
Smiling, Stuart settled back down, wiggling around until he'd arranged Vince's erection into the hollow between his ribs and breastbone. Amazing, the many ways human bodies fit together. He buried his face again and inhaled, deeply, drowning in Vince's supple, fragrant skin. All the while, he pressed his own tingling cock into the cushion beneath him, humping it like a horny schoolboy.
Vince's hands tugged at his hair firmly but never roughly. He rubbed his palms over the curls, teasing the tender skin of Stuart's earlobes and the nape of his neck, then he tangled the thickest ringlets around his fingers and pet them, lovingly. Moaning deep in his throat, he worked his cock against Stuart's body, pressing tightly, almost grinding. In no time, he was trembling slightly, eyes closed, head dropped back--lost in a private world of pleasure.
Stuart watched him closely, feeling his lover's intensity increasing so quickly. This was clearly a psychological turn-on for Vince and Stuart was quietly amazed to witness it. It felt like a secret being revealed--like a closed door opening in a long hallway. It wasn't possessiveness he felt in those stroking hands, it was more like blatant, obsessive adoration. Like Vince just couldn't touch him enough.
His muscular thighs tightened around Stuart's ribs and he groaned, rubbing against him with quick pumps of his hips. He came in a shuddering gasp, all his breath running out of lungs at once.
Stuart slithered up his body, kissing every inch of Vince's skin that he could get to on the way to his neck, where he left a deep love bite just above the collarbone. Still gasping for air, Vince reached his hand down into Stuart's loose trousers and stroked the slick head of his cock, deftly drawing out the orgasm waiting there. Stuart moaned, lying his head down on Vince's chest, and rode the wave of pleasure coursing through him. It seemed that every orgasm he had with Vince was unimaginably better than the last, more intense, deeper. The closer they became, the more freedom he felt and the more his imagination opened up.
Collapsed in a heap on the couch, they lay in each other's arms for a long time before either one spoke.
"Right, tell me what you were looking for," Stuart said, lifting up to look in Vince's eyes.
Laughing, Vince shook his head. "You're unbelievable. It should be obvious."
"Well, it isn't."
Although he was still flushed from his orgasm, Vince's cheeks darkened even more. "Stuart . . . I don't want to tell you. Just forget it."
"I think we've already established that I'm not going to forget it. So, just tell me. It can't be THAT embarrassing."
"Oh, yes it can." Vince chuckled, shyly, covering his face with his hands.
Stuart resorted to simply staring at Vince determinedly, unblinking, knowing this tactic would eventually work. It had been tried and true many times over.
Rolling his eyes, reluctantly, Vince finally relented. "If you take the piss, I'll leave. I will!"
Stuart couldn't help giggling then. "You are being such a twat. Just tell me."
Vince sighed. "I was looking for a hair brush," he said, quietly, his cheeks blushing eight shades of crimson.
Stuart blinked, his mind rifling all the possible uses for a hair brush. "You said it was something sexual."
"Yeah."
"Did you want me to spank you with it?" Stuart asked, playfully, if a bit surprised.
"No," Vince said. "Nothing like that."
"Did you want to spank ME with it?"
"I said, it's nothing like that. The pain and torture thing doesn't interest me."
"Well, then you bloody picked the wrong boyfriend, didn't you?" Stuart teased.
Vince just smiled at him, sweetly, but made no reply.
"Okay, if you don't want to use it for a paddle, what do you want a hair brush for?"
Looking down shyly, Vince smiled. "Stuart," he said. "I wanted to brush your hair."
Stuart laughed, pulling his lover into a tight, affectionate embrace. "Oh my God, you're killing me! You're so sweet, you make my teeth ache." He cradled Vince against his chest, hugging him.
Vince groaned, miserably. "Bastard! You said you weren't gonna take the piss."
"No, I didn't."
"Bastard," Vince muttered again.
Finally getting passed the humor of it, Stuart put a kiss on his lover's forehead. "Well, I don't have a hair brush," he said. "But, I've got about twenty-seven million combs. Will a comb work?"
"No," he answered simply without any elaboration. "Why don't you have one? How do you do your hair like that?" Vince looked at him, seriously, eyeing his hair with interest. "It's not even messed up now--after all that."
Stuart ran his fingers through it, feeling for the style he knew by touch. "When it's at the right length, it just goes like this. Most days, that is. Some days it sticks up in back, right here. I fuckin' hate that. There's nothing I can do about it, either."
"You just have to keep it cut right?" Vince said, incredulously.
"Yeah. I comb it when it's wet, do the part where I want it and it stays. It's curly, Vince. It's not going anywhere. You remember when we were young--my hair used to look like shit all the time."
"No, it didn't," Vince said. "That's disgusting. You ARE perfect, aren't you?"
"Well," Stuart said, sighing dramatically. "Somebody's got to be." He laughed, good-naturedly. "Seriously, luv. Do you want me to get one?"
Vince shrugged. "Do you like having your hair brushed?"
"I'm sure I'll like it if you do it," he grinned, running his finger over Vince's bottom lip. "You and you're sweet little fetish."
"Shut up," Vince bit his finger, gently. "It's not a fetish. I can't stand that bloody word."
"Vince, I hate to tell you this, but you have a fetish. Now that I think about it, you touch my hair all the time." He winked, poking Vince's rib. "And the way you came just then . . . Lover, trust me. You have a fetish. There's nothing to be ashamed of."
Vince lowered his face down on Stuart's chest, sighing. "I'm just slightly obsessed. It's not a fetish."
"All right. I won't call it that." Stuart shifted on the couch to get up, rolling Vince over onto his back. He stood up and stretched, then went up to the bedroom where he grabbed a clean pair of soft flannel pajama bottoms. He stepped out of the sweats he was wearing, wiping the semen off his belly with them, then tossing them into the hamper in the closet. Slipping on the clean pajamas, he reached into a drawer in the closet and took out a neatly folded pair of Calvin's. He brought these back to the couch.
"Put these on," he said.
"Oh, thanks." Vince wriggled out of his damp underwear.
While he was naked, Stuart leaned over him and slowly, softly cleaned his skin with his tongue. The salty, musky semen was still warm and the familiar taste of it made Stuart moan quietly. He made sure to be very gentle, knowing Vince was still too sensitive from coming to get hard again. This was a gesture of pure affection, not one of seduction.
"That feels lovely," Vince purred.
Stuart put a kiss on the silky head of Vince's cock, then he smiled. "We'll continue this later."
Vince stretched, contentedly. "Okay . . ." He took the clean underwear from Stuart and put them on, scooting over on the couch to make room for his lover to lie beside him.
"You should keep some things here," Stuart said. "I mean, you could just keep yourself here. Move in if you want. I've said that before."
"Trying to keep an eye on me, eh?" Vince teased. "Afraid I'll misbehave?"
"Never know," he winked. "Anyway, you could move in. If you want. It's up to you." Stuart snuggled against him, sliding his leg between Vince's.
Looking at the rugby match again, Vince frowned slightly. "Let's just wait, all right?"
"Wait for what?"
Vince shrugged. "It's only been a weekend, Stuart. We should see how things are going to go before we make a commitment like."
"What do you mean, how things are going to go? They're going to go like this. Vince, it's not like we just met or something. We agreed to have nothing change but the sex bit and that's how it's going to be."
"Yeah, but that's a lot. And it's got a lot of other things attached to it. Things we haven't even come across, yet. I'm just saying I want to wait for a while before we move in together. And I don't know if I'd want to move in here, anyway. This place is yours. It's so . . . yours."
Stuart's brow knit and he chewed his thumbnail. "We could get a house. Whatever you want. I'll pay. We'll get a house with a big extra bedroom just for all your Dr. Who tapes. Wide screen telly in there, that ratty old couch from your flat."
"Oi, I like that couch." Vince said, but he was smiling and that had been the point. The conversation was getting far too serious for Stuart's liking.
"Anything you want. Really."
Vince smiled at him in that sweet, patient way of his. "Then, I want to wait a bit before we start talking about moving house. All right?"
Stuart agreed, rolling over and spooning back against his lover on the couch.
He wasn't sure how long he could sit still for everyone thinking he was going to blow this relationship. It was getting old, everyone expecting him to fail. After all, he loved Vince. The whole `boyfriend' thing had been HIS idea. As far as Stuart was concerned, it was one thing to have all their extended family and friends doubting him, but it was an entirely different thing having Vince doubt him.
Stuart would have to do something about that. And quick.
Vince:
"God, he's having a day," Sandra said on the phone, her voice low. "He's taken everyone's head off within a five mile radius. I don't think I can get him to take a personal call."
"If he's in that sort of mood, I don't want to talk to him, anyway," Vince told her. "Just let him know I'll be there by 6:30 to pick him up for dinner. I have the car."
"All right, luv. See ya later."
"Keep your head down," Vince warned and he hung up.
Fine, then. Stuart was in a mood. Smiling to himself, Vince thought he had just the right cure for that.
At 6:30 it was chucking down rain and Vince had to run from where he parked the jeep, across the street and in through the glass doors of the Thrive lobby. He shook out his raincoat before going up the stairs to Stuart's floor, but he left it on over his black leather jacket. He had something to conceal and wanted the advantage of clothing layers.
It was Wednesday night and the office was still buzzing with activity. Phones rang, people chattered, computer screens flashed. Vince made his way through the energetic cluster of assistants out on the main floor and flopped himself down into the chair beside Sandra's desk.
She was on the phone but gave him a warm smile, holding up her finger to indicated she'd only be a moment. After she hung up, she leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek.
"Vince! I haven't seen you in ages! How are you?"
"Good, good. And you?"
"Oh, you know. I still work for Stuart Jones so I'm not allowed to be too happy," she teased, then she leaned in, lowering her voice. "I hear you two are an item now."
"Yeah," he said. "Imagine that."
"You're the only man alive that could handle him, Vince. Is he behaving himself?"
"So far," he said. "But it's only been a week. Not even, six days."
She smiled, glancing back over her shoulder at Stuart's closed office door. "He seems a bit different, I must say. I mean, normally he's such a whirlwind of energy and, as you know, he never censors anything he says. He just blurts whatever comes to mind, regardless of who he might offend. But lately--the passed few weeks--he's been sort of . . . I don't know, thoughtful is the word I'm looking for. Like he's always got something on his mind."
"I reckon he does," Vince said. "I've given him plenty to think about."
"Well, you've always been good for him," Sandra said. "But now that you're a couple, I think your influence might have a tremendous effect on him. He might actually be nice for a change."
"Christ, if he's suddenly nice, I'd call an ambulance," Vince laughed and Sandra did, too.
Stuart's office door swung open as though a bomb had gone off under it and he stormed out onto the main floor with a file folder clutched in his hand. "Sandra!" he bellowed. "Get me Frank Darlington, NOW! Bastard thinks he can slip this fucking charge passed me . . ." He looked up and saw Vince sitting there. "Sandra, you didn't tell me my wife was here."
"Fuck off," Vince said, cheerfully. "Bad day, I hear."
His expression softened somewhat and he walked over to Sandra's desk, setting the folder down on the corner. "Just the usual," he said. "Bastards and shitheads and twats."
"Oh my," Sandra finished on cue, rifling her Rolodex for Darlington's number.
Vince laughed at their telepathic humor, his gaze traveling up Stuart's body as he stood before him. The lovely brunette was dressed in navy trousers and a crisp, white button down with a subtlely patterned silk tie. A black leather belt shone softly around his lean waist, the silver buckle catching the light from the street lamps outside the wall of windows.
Stuart stepped up close to him, touching Vince's knee with his own and smiling at him, sexily. "I have to make this call then we can go."
"Take your time," Vince said, looking at his lover adoringly. He tugged gently at the fabric of Stuart's trousers. "You look so polished. Did you have a meeting today."
Stuart scrubbed his eyes with his fingers, wearily. "SIX meetings. Was fucking disgusting. My head's spinning."
"He didn't eat lunch," Sandra informed Vince. "I'm surprised he hasn't fallen over." She spoke into the receiver. "Yes, hello, I have Stuart Jones calling from Thrive. Yes. I see. Right, can we leave word, then? Thank you." She hung up and shook her head. "Gone for the day, that Darlington."
"He's sitting right there telling his assistant he won't take my fucking call. Cunt." He grabbed the file and turned on the heel of his shiny black Kenneth Cole's and strolled back to his office, hips rolling naturally. At the door, he glanced back at Vince. "Coming?"
"Just enjoying the view." He smiled, standing up and going toward Stuart's office.
"Did you hear that, Sandra?" Stuart said. "This man is sexually harassing me. Call security."
"Oh, if I called security every time a man was sexually harassed on this floor, Stuart, you'd be in prison by now." She said, laughing.
He giggled, giving Vince a playful shove as he joined him in the office. "So, what are we doing for dinner. I'm starving."
Vince sat in the chair opposite Stuart's desk, arranging his raincoat under him. He was careful to keep his leather jacket closed in front, covering what he wore underneath. "I have to go by Hazel's but then we can wherever you want."
Stuart nodded, walking around behind his desk to turn off the computer. He grabbed his suit coat and slipped into it while the hard drive whirred into shut down mode. "Why don't we ring her and see if she wants to go out with us? She WILL let me buy her dinner, I assume."
"I'm sure," Vince said.
Stuart pressed the speaker button on the phone on his desk and dialed the number from memory. They listened to the line ring twice before Hazel picked up.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Mum," Vince said. "I'm here with Stuart at his office."
"Hiya," he said.
"Hello, lads. What are you up to?"
"We want to take you out to dinner," Stuart said.
"Oh, are we celebrating?" she asked.
"Yeah," Vince said, smiling at his lover. "Let's celebrate."
"Well, that sounds lovely," Hazel said. "I just need to change clothes and I'll be ready to go. Give me twenty minutes?"
"See you then," Stuart said, disconnecting the call. He walked around to where Vince was seated and stood right in front of him. "We've got fifteen minutes," he said. "We could get up to a lot in fifteen minutes."
Leaning over and placing his hands on the arms of the chair, he nuzzled Vince's mouth like one cat scent-marking another. He had just a bit of stubble on his skin and the slight scratch of it on Vince's clean-shaven face was incredible. Stuart's lips were satiny and hot.
"I haven't kissed you since yesterday," Stuart whispered, opening his lips over Vince's and reaching into his mouth with his tongue.
Vince accepted the kiss willingly, his fingers exploring the tight wall of sinewy muscles on Stuart's torso through the crisp cotton shirt. They kissed for a long time, slowly licking each other's tongues, teasing the nerves there and building the heat between them. After six days of really avid practice, they almost had this kissing thing down pat. They'd kissed each other in every conceivable way--soft, sensual smacks, little pecks, hard, probing snogs, biting, sucking--the whole nine yards. But they seemed to always return to this technique--these wet, caressing endeavors in mutual tongue massage that could go on for days if they were allowed. Erotic torture, these kisses were. Perfect.
"Eh hem," Sandra cleared her throat dramatically as she stood in the office doorway. She grinned when they looked up at her. "Sorry to interrupt such a lovely snog, but I just wanted to let you know I was leaving."
Stuart smiled at her. "Thanks for everything today, Sandra. Sorry I was such a bastard all day."
"You're a bastard every day, Stuart. Never apologized for it before." She looked at Vince and raised her eyebrows. "You see what I mean? He's like a different person." She gave Vince's shoulder an affectionate squeeze then she turned to go.
Stuart shut the door after she left and then he wiggled into Vince's lap in the narrow chair. Amazingly, they both fit just fine. Vince reached around and cupped his lover's perfect ass, smiling up into those piercing blue-gray eyes.
"Miss me today?" Stuart said.
"I always do."
"Still love me?"
"Maybe. A bit." Vince kissed him again. "We have to pick up my mother. We shouldn't get too involved here."
Stuart grinned, seductively. "I want to give you something before we go." He reached over his desk and pulled a small rectangular box out from behind a row of stacking trays. It was wrapped in shiny gold paper with a white satin ribbon around it.
"More presents?" Vince said. "You're spoiling me."
"I love buying you presents and I intend to spoil you rotten." Stuart handed him the box and sat there on his lap, grinning.
Vince slid the ribbon off and peeled the gold paper back, revealing a simple white box with a lid. Inside was a fine, silver-plated hair brush. "Oh, my God . . ." Vince said, blushing. "I KNEW you were going to take the piss endlessly about that."
Stuart shook his head, his expression serious. "You keep thinking I'm teasing you, but I'm not. I love the way you touch my hair. It gets me crazy." He nibbled Vince's bottom lip gently. "I want to encourage you toward that behavior in any way I can."
Vince took the brush out and held it up to inspect it. The bristles were thick and soft and they tickled his palm deliciously when he touched it. He could already imagine it stroking through those lustrous black curls, the soft swishing sound it would make as it separated the strands carefully, silkening them.
Vince laughed, self-consciously, shaking his head.
"What?" Stuart asked.
"I . . . think you're right. It IS a bit of a fetish." He felt his cheeks burning and he lowered his chin bashfully. "But, it's not just me who has one."
"Oh, Vince. I probably have so many bloody fetishes I could be in the record books. I don't care. I'm not ashamed of what turns me on."
"Neither am I," Vince defended, but as soon as he said it, he knew it was a lie. The words felt wrong coming out. He frowned, placing the fancy brush back in its box.
Stuart lifted his chin and looked in his eyes. "I made you shy about stuff like this `cos I was always winding you up about it. I know my opinion matters to you. I'm your best friend. Your opinion matters to me, as well. More than you might think. Don't think I'm unaware of my contribution to your insecurities, Vince." He smiled, sadly. "But, I'm hoping you'll give me a chance to make it up to you."
Vince squinted, suspiciously. "I just need to know one thing," he said.
"What?"
"Who are you and what have done with Stuart?" He chuckled playfully, giving his lover a quick, soft kiss. "Come on, we have to go."
Stuart got up and held out his hand to Vince, pulling him to his feet. "If you don't want me to be nice, I won't bother," he said, defensively.
"Oh, hush." Vince lowered his chin, smiling patiently. "You're such a baby sometimes. I'm just joking. I appreciate you saying all that. Really. And I love the hair brush." He kissed Stuart a bit more deeply. "It's really quite pretty. Like it should be in a rich little girl's bedroom."
"I have to confess that Sandra found it," Stuart said, reaching behind Vince to flip off the light. He grabbed his umbrella that was leaning by the door and started out.
"What?! You told Sandra?" Vince's eyes widened and his jaw dropped.
"No, you twat," he laughed. "I told her it was a gift for Marie. Come on. Let's go get your mother."
Vince shook his head, following Stuart out to the stairs.
They rushed into the foyer at Hazel's house, pulling the umbrella in after them. The rain pummeled the front porch, pelting the tarp that was pulled over Hazel's motorbike.
"Jesus!" Stuart cursed. "Fucking rain. We need to move to the desert."
"Rains in the desert, too," Vince said, shaking his raincoat but still not taking it off. He'd used his key to get into Hazel's house and the bottom floor seemed strangely quiet. "Mum? It's us."
"Be down in a minute, lads," she called from her bedroom. "Just hitching up my girdle."
"I'm coming up," Vince said. "Make sure you're decent." He started up the stairs but Stuart stopped him.
"What are you doing? Are you giving her money?"
Vince didn't reply.
"Vince. Let ME do it. I'll give her anything she needs."
He just shook his head. "We'll talk about this later, Stuart. We'll be down in a minute." He smiled, sweetly, then proceeded up the stairs.
* * *
Stuart:
Shaking his head, he walked down the hall into the kitchen. As he rounded the corner, he caught sight of Nathan sitting in a chair by the telly. A textbook was open on his lap and steam curled out of a cup on the table beside him. He looked at Stuart plaintively, his round blue eyes fixed, watchful.
"Hiya," Nathan said, softly.
"Hey." Stuart's heart was hammering in his chest but he was determined to appear non-plussed. He strolled over to the counter and leaned against it, picking up a newspaper from off the kitchen table. Crossing one leg over the other, he opened the paper and casually turned the pages. He could feel the boy's eyes on him.
"Nice suit," Nathan said.
"Thanks. What are you studying?"
Nathan took a moment to answer and Stuart looked over at him.
"You, at present," he said, his expression changing from mild panic to bold flirtation.
Flattered and enjoying the tension, Stuart couldn't stop the little smirk from pulling his lips. But he didn't respond.
"Too bad you turned me down last weekend," Nathan went on, his voice just above a whisper.
Stuart shook his head, recalling that interesting and awkward moment in the men's room at Babylon. "Did you know it was us in there?"
"No. I didn't know ANYONE was in there. The door wasn't locked." Nathan smirked, his eyes flashing. "Imagine my surprise at what I saw."
Giggling, Stuart tossed the newspaper back on the table and turned to Nathan. "You're going to get me in a world of shit with Vince, you know. Didn't I ask you to leave me alone?"
"I didn't know it was you in that stall, Stuart," he said. "It was just a weird coincidence." Nathan licked his lips and chewed the end of the highlighter pen in his hand. "It was brilliant, though, seeing you like that. On your knees and hard. Can't get the image out of my mind, in fact."
"Well, you'd better enjoy that memory. It's all your gonna see of me for quite a while."
Moving the textbook aside, Nathan scooted down a bit in the chair. Eyes locked on Stuart's, he slid his hand down the front of his trousers and touched his cock, brazenly. The tip of his tongue poked out between his front teeth and his eyes smoldered with lust. "Are you sure about that?" he whispered. "I'm perfectly willing to overlook this boyfriend thing."
Stuart's mouth flooded with saliva and he licked his lips, watching the boy fondling himself only a few feet away. His mind raced with images of that hot, young cock and the eager, starved way that Nathan fucked.
Running on pure adrenaline and instinct, Stuart took two slow steps forward and leaned over the chair where Nathan sat. He supported himself with his hands on the chair arms just as he'd done with Vince only a short while before.
Nathan looked up at him, expectantly, lustfully, adoringly. His hand worked inside his trousers, picking up speed.
Stuart made sure he didn't touch Nathan anywhere and he looked down on the boy, controllingly. "Show me," he whispered.
Nathan's chest heaved and he unbuttoned his fly, pushing the flaps of fabric back. He shoved his underwear down and out of the way, exposing his straining erection.
"Make yourself come," Stuart instructed, almost menacingly. He stared in Nathan's eyes as the boy wanked himself roughly, struggling to keep from making any noise. He came in no time, biting his full bottom lip to keep back the pleasure sounds. His thick semen splattered the front of his t-shirt all the way up to his chest.
Standing up and slipping his hands into his pockets, Stuart smiled coldly at Nathan. He turned around and strolled back over to the counter where he leaned once again. His heart was beating so hard he thought he might faint, but he'd managed to keep from getting an erection. The manipulation of the moment had been the true rush, anyway. He watched as Nathan zipped up and wiped at the spray of semen on his shirt with a tissue. His young face was flushed prettily and it was obvious that he'd just had an orgasm, but Stuart didn't think either Vince or Hazel would notice. It would be too unexpected so they wouldn't be looking for it.
Almost on cue, Stuart heard the Tyler's descending the stairs, chattering away to each other about where they should have dinner. Stuart picked up that newspaper again and Nathan dropped his textbook back over his lap, both completely composed by the time Vince and Hazel came into the room.
"Right, then, if we're taking votes, I'm all for pasta," Hazel announced. She was dressed in a fuzzy black jumper and a pair of shiny, snakeskin patterned trousers. Her hair was tied up in a shimmery black scarf.
It wasn't until Vince looked at Stuart that he actually felt anything emotional about what had just transpired with Nathan. Before he made eye contact with his lover, that whole scene had been fueled entirely by Stuart's natural instinct. No thoughts or feelings, just predatory calculation. But when Vince looked at him then--his innocent, lovely blue eyes so open and trusting--Stuart feared he might blow apart from guilt. Technically, he hadn't DONE anything, but he knew that the instigating was just as bad. If not worse.
Vince completely ignored Nathan, like he wasn't even there. He walked over and stood in front of Stuart, smiling at him coyly. "Ready?"
"Yeah. If I don't eat soon, I'm gonna chew off my leg."
Hazel took her coat off the rack on the wall and slipped into it. "We'd better go, then. Your tailor would never forgive you." She opened her hand bag on the table and rifled through it momentarily, making sure she had everything she needed.
While she did that, Vince took a step closer to Stuart at the counter and reached out to pick up his hands. Stuart watched curiously as Vince lifted his hands to his nose and smelled his palms. Vince was testing him, knowing he'd been alone for more than a moment with Nathan. Anything could have happened.
Seeming to be satisfied that the boy's scent wasn't on Stuart's hands, Vince leaned forward and extended his tongue just enough to run it over his lover's lips--tasting him, just to make sure no kissing had occurred. Stuart smiled a bit sadly, but inside he was screaming. They both knew this test was absolutely necessary in light of the circumstances.
Vince seemed to be appeased that all was well and he gave Stuart a quick, but very hot kiss--almost like a reward. Then, he took Stuart's right hand and slipped it under his jacket, pressing the fingers against his body.
Stuart took in a breath as he felt the impossibly soft texture of that black, cashmere sweater he'd bought for Vince a few weeks ago. The one they had both enjoyed so thoroughly that afternoon at his flat.
"I had it cleaned," Vince whispered for only Stuart to hear. "The stains came out nicely."
Grinning, Stuart reached his other hand inside Vince's jacket and stroked the kitteny fabric. "You naughty boy, you," he whispered back, giggling.
Against his ear, Vince said, "you want to talk about fetishes, Stuart Jones. You are the only man I know who gets hard from looking at folded garments through shop windows."
Stuart laughed, pinching his lover's belly playfully.
"Oh, come on, you two," Hazel said. "Can't you keep your hands off each other for two seconds?" She stood at the kitchen doorway with her arms folded, waiting patiently for them.
Vince took Stuart's hand and led him toward the hallway. "See ya later, Nathan," Vince said, with a tinge of triumphant coldness.
"Yeah, see ya." Nathan replied, quietly.
Stuart glanced back at the boy in the chair as he followed Hazel and Vince toward the door.
Stuart wandered off to check his voicemail on his mobile leaving Hazel and Vince standing under the awning of the restaurant after dinner. They were waiting for the valet to bring the car around. There was a break in the rain and the night air was cold and fresh, almost bracing. Hazel huddled against her son for warmth, tickling him playfully while they stood there waiting.
"Get off," Vince laughed. "I hate being tickled."
"Oh, be happy about it. If you weren't so bloody cute, no one would want to," she said.
They were both fairly drunk from consuming several bottles of wine with dinner and then having a few rounds of cocktails in the bar afterward. The three of them just seemed to have a lot to say and the conversation kept going for hours. It was nearly 12:30 and the boys both had work the next day.
Hazel rested her chin on Vince's chest and looked up at him. "Seems to be going pretty well, you two."
"Yeah," he said, his eyes watching Stuart as he paced on the sidewalk, his mobile pressed to his ear. "Something's niggling him, though."
"How do you mean?" she said, glancing over at him. "He's considerably pissed and you should drive, but otherwise he seems all right."
Vince squinted, shaking his head. "I dunno . . . I think something happened with Nathan."
"What? Tonight?" Hazel said, her eyes wide.
Vince nodded. "I don't know what, but . . . didn't you feel the tension in there when we came in?"
"No," she said. "But that's no big surprise. I'm the last to know when anything interesting happens. That's why you did that, then? That little smell and taste test?"
"Yeah."
Hazel shook her head. "Vinnie, you'll have to trust him some time."
"Do you think?" Vince watched his lover speculatively; wondering if he should ask about his suspicion or just let it go. Everything was going so well, he certainly didn't want to start an argument for no reason. But if there WAS a reason . . .
Stuart flipped the phone closed and dropped it in his pocket, walking back over to where they stood against the building. He was a bit wobbly on his legs, weaving slightly as he put his arms around them both in a group hug.
"Thanks for dinner, kid," Hazel said, kissing his nose.
"Pleasure. Gonna let me pay the mortgage, now?"
She and Vince sighed at the same time and this got them all laughing.
The car pulled up to the curb and the valet jumped out, rushing around to open the passenger door and assist Hazel up to the seat. Vince pushed the driver's seat back and motioned for Stuart to get into the back.
"I'm driving," Stuart said.
"You're NOT driving. Get in there."
Rolling his eyes, Stuart rubbed up against him, stroking the cashmere sweater wantonly before he climbed into the backseat.
"What is it with that bloody jumper?" Hazel said. "You two have been petting it like a cat all night."
"Stuart has a fetish," Vince stated, climbing into the driver's seat.
"Only one?" she said.
In the back seat, Stuart started giggling and the giggles went from a short burst to a long, continuous stream of laughter that was quickly taking control of him.
"Oh, no," Vince said to his mother. "Now look what you've done. He'll be laughing all night long."
Hazel grinned back at Stuart. "Do you?" she needled. "Do you have a fetish?"
"I have MILLIONS!" he said through the laughter. "Your son and I did extremely salacious things with that sweater so now I have a fetish for IT."
"Oh, I don't want to know," she said, holding up her hand.
"Yes, you do," Stuart said, rolling on the backseat laughing. "You want all the juicy details and don't try to claim otherwise! You're such a pervert, Hazel!"
"Stuart Alan Jones, you can sod right off!!" She reached back and smacked his leg, hard. "But it takes one to know one, doesn't it, you little bastard?"
"Now, now," Vince admonished, gently. "No brawling in the car." He pulled away from the curb and started toward his mother's house, hoping there were no police around. He wasn't exactly fit to be driving, either, but at least he was more sober than Stuart was.
Suddenly, Stuart's head appeared between the two front seats and he looked at her with mock seriousness. "Hazel," he said. "You're my mother-in-law, now!"
She put her hand flat on his forehead and shoved him into the backseat where he collapsed into another fit of hysterical laughter.
Rolling her eyes, she said to Vince, "You've got a night ahead of you."
"Are you mad? I'm dumping him off in front of his flat and leaving him." He glanced in the rearview and winked at Stuart.
"Oh, no! You have to come up and shag me blind. You're not wearing that sweater around me and then just swanning off." He leaned forward again between the seats. "Your son is an EXCELLENT shag," he said to her, slurring badly.
"So you've said. Over and over." She pushed him back into a giggling heap once again.
Vince shook his head, embarrassed.
"Oh," she nudged his arm, gently. "It's not like I didn't suspect. Nice blokes are always the best lovers."
"Mum!" He felt the blush creeping up his throat and spreading out over his face, but thankfully it was too dark in the car for that to be seen.
A few minutes later, Vince pulled the jeep up in front of Hazel's house and offered to walk her up to the door.
"No, thanks, love," she said. "I can manage." She turned to Stuart in the back seat who was still giggling away. "Come here, you."
He leaned forward and gave her a good, solid smacking kiss on the lips which got him cracking up even harder all over again.
"You behave," she said, brandishing her finger at him. Hazel gave Vince a kiss on the cheek then she climbed out of the car and walked across the street to her house. Vince waited until she got inside, waving goodnight as she shut the front door.
Stuart scrambled through the opening between the seats and slid down into the passenger seat, still chuckling softly. He leaned over and turned Vince to face him by nudging him with his nose. Then he took Vince's bottom lip in his teeth, chewing gently.
Vince loved this and his cock stirred to life immediately. He pulled Stuart into a wet kiss, stroking the curls above his collar, lovingly.
"I really, really, really need you to fuck me," Stuart panted.
Snogging him again, Vince said, "I can really, really, really do that." He smiled, happily. "Now, buckle up. Be good."
Stuart snapped his safety belt in place and sat dutifully in the passenger seat.
As he pulled away from the curb, Vince debated if he should mention his suspicion about Nathan, but then Stuart started giggling again and his thoughts were sidetracked until they arrived at Stuart's flat. He parked the jeep under the building in the carport and they stumbled into the lift, kissing and rubbing against each other. The alcohol made them greedy and uninhibited and they paid little attention to how much noise they were making on their way up to the door. Stuart couldn't keep his hands off that sweater and he giggled like a kid every time he touched it.
As soon as they were inside the flat, Stuart stripped off every bit of clothing he was wearing right there in the entryway. Vince stood back and watched this display with the utmost attention, taking his raincoat and jacket off slowly. The box with the fancy hair brush in it was in the inside pocket of his coat and it clunked on the wood floor when he let the garment drop.
Stuart sauntered naked across the room to the bedroom steps, turning inside the doorway and posing with both hands against the door jamb. The light from the bathroom silhouetted his lean, muscular body and his curls glowed like a halo.
"Beautiful," Vince grinned, crossing the room slowly. He stood on the ground floor in front of Stuart and in that position, his face was almost directly in front of his lover's cock. The organ stood proudly erect against Stuart's flat tummy, the engorged head glistening. Vince's mouth watered and his own cock tingled hungrily.
Stepping forward, he kissed Stuart's nicely defined thighs worshipfully, making his way up to his lover's large, tight balls. He tongued them and kissed them, holding them in his hand and rolling them gently.
Stuart reached down, hauling Vince up the steps by the collar. "Come here," he growled, backing up toward the bed. He unbuttoned Vince's trousers and slipped them off, stopping on his knees to kiss and nuzzle his cock through the fabric of his shorts. Then, he tugged the cotton briefs off and sucked Vince's cock greedily--but just enough to make him really hard. Stuart stood up and ran his hands over the soft sweater, slipping his tongue into his lover's mouth. "Will you keep this on while you fuck me?"
"I'd planned to," Vince said, gently teasing Stuart's nipples with his fingertips while they kissed. "Are you ready?"
"God, yes . . ." Stuart breathed, crawling onto the bed and piling up the pillows near the headboard. When he moved one of the pillows, he revealed a small collection of condoms and a bottle of lube on the mattress there. This made Vince smile.
"You're so prepared," he said. "Have those always been there?"
"Just since you," Stuart said. "No sense wasting valuable shagging time with my boyfriend looking around for supplies."
He grinned, crawling across the bed until he was kneeling over Stuart on his hands and knees. The prone brunette wrapped his legs around Vince's waist, pulling up until his cock touched the fuzzy sweater. He groaned with pleasure.
"I can't wait for you to fuck me in this, Vince . . . please . . . I'm dying for you . . ." he held Vince's face in his hands and drove his tongue into his mouth, suckling and nibbling. He writhed, rubbing his erection on his lover's belly with unabashed lust.
"Christ, you're on fire, luv . . . what's got into you?" Vince whispered, reaching for the little lube bottle. He flipped up the lid and squeezed a copious amount of it onto his fingers, then he reached around Stuart's raised hips to slide his fingers inside him.
"Oooohhh yessss," Stuart moaned, arching his back into the penetration, already a captive to the pleasure.
Vince nipped his lover's earlobe and whispered to him. "I've noticed that you like to be fucked when you feel vulnerable or guilty," he said, hating himself a little for the tactic he was using. "Are you feeling guilty, Stuart?"
To Vince's surprise, Stuart never flinched. He just continued rubbing against Vince and moaning, squirming on the fingers probing inside him. "Yes," he said. "I feel horrible . . . Vince . . . please . . ."
Sliding his fingers out, Vince grabbed a condom and tore it open, quickly rolling it on. He was suddenly overcome with a wave of primal lust and he absolutely could not wait to be inside Stuart. He planted his hands on either side of the sensuous brunette and propped up those narrow hips with his knee. They were becoming so familiar with each other's bodies, that preparations like that were almost second nature. Vince's cock knew just where to go without any fumbling or need for guidance. He drove in all the way to the hilt and just hovered there, feeling Stuart's heartbeat pulsing against his cock and reveling in the pleasure radiating throughout his own body.
Stuart's fingers clutched at the soft sweater, grabbing for purchase on Vince's arms. His stormy eyes were closed and he trembled and moaned helplessly.
Vince realized his lover was completely surrendered at that moment--vulnerable. The small seed of jealous anger that had been turning inside him all night suddenly burned away, being replaced by that falling feeling of infatuated love. Stuart was completely open to him in that instant, utterly and without a doubt--his.
In that keening moment, Stuart opened his eyes and they saw each other--really looked at each other. Breathing hard and shaking from desire, he held Vince's face in his hands.
"I didn't do anything," he said, desperately.
Vince almost started crying and he shook his head. "I know," he whispered. "I know you didn't." Reeling with emotion, he lowered his forehead onto Stuart's chest and then he began sliding his cock in and out, very slowly.
They moved together, rolling on the bed over and over until Stuart was on top. He balanced on his shins and threw his head back, riding Vince's cock wildly, squeezing it with his burning anus. His thick, pulsing cock was dark red and it bobbed stiffly as hemoved up and down. Vince was transfixed by this, watching the organ swell and shudder as he rammed Stuart's prostate from the inside.
He stroked the silky cashmere sweater almost frantically and then, with one final thrust, Stuart's cock erupted without being touched and he shouted as he came. His semen arced across Vince's chest, splattering him just above his upper lip. Vince darted out his tongue and licked at the hot seed on his face, the raw, musky taste of it making him come instantly. He bucked against Stuart in a frenzy, driving his quivering cock in and out as the delicious spasms had their way with him.
"Vince," Stuart gasped, leaning forward and kissing his lover, roughly. He lapped the rest of his come off Vince's face. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry." He collapsed on the bed, pulling gently away from the cock inside him, and he covered his face with his folded arms.
Still breathing hard, Vince looked at him, somberly. "Stuart. What have you done?"
He shook his head. "I didn't DO anything. I just . . ."
"What? Just tell me." Vince felt his heart sink and he started to panic.
"It's nothing," Stuart said. "I just . . . watched. I never touched him, never kissed him. I just watched him . . ."
"Watched him do WHAT?" Vince insisted.
"He had a wank and I watched! That was all. Really."
Vince shook his head in disbelief. "You're incredible! You were only alone with him for five bloody minutes--if that!"
"Do you want to know what happened?" Stuart said, sitting bolt upright on the bed. "Do you want me to tell you?" He was defensive and pouting and still very drunk and his handsome face crumpled, miserably. "I never touched him, Vince! I swear to you."
"We've established that," Vince said, coldly. "Explain to me how this got started in the first place."
Frustrated, Stuart slid off the bed and walked down to the kitchen where he pulled open the fridge and took out a bottle of water. Standing there naked and glowing with sex sweat, he drank deeply from the bottle before returning to the bedroom. He handed the bottle to Vince who sat up to drink from it.
"I was going to tell you, anyway," Stuart said.
"Because you're guilty. You have to get it off your chest."
"I shouldn't need to be guilty," he said, childishly. "I didn't break any of your precious rules. I didn't touch him, I didn't kiss him, and I didn't even get a fucking hard-on! I just watched him have a wank."
"What, did you walk in there and catch him in the middle of it?" Vince said, taking a deep drink of the icy cold water.
"No," Stuart said. He stood by the bed, gorgeous and knowing it, chewing his thumbnail and frowning as he tried to explain himself. "I was trying not to talk to him. I didn't even know he was in there when I went in the kitchen. He started flirting . . ."
"Did he say about Babylon?"
"Yeah. He said he didn't know it was us in that stall. The door wasn't locked, Vince. That was our fault."
"Bollocks," Vince spat.
"How the fuck would he know, Vince?! Be realistic. I didn't even
now HE was at the club."
"He's stalking you, Stuart! He's dying for you! And you just can't get passed
that! You're addicted to his obsession with you."
Stuart had no reply to that at first. Then, he sighed and reached for the
water bottle again. "You and Hazel keep trying to make it about some deep-seated
psychological thing. Just like that--like saying I'm addicted to his obsession
for me. It would be easier for you if it was something like that. Something
mental." He tipped the bottle up and drank, watching Vince the whole time.
"You even had me convinced. But, that day I had coffee with him and sat and
talked, I tried to dig down and find whatever hidden agenda I'm meant to
be having with him and do you know what, Vince?"
Vince waited, his stomach in a knot. He knew what. He'd always known.
"I DON'T have a psychological explanation for my interest in Nathan Maloney,"
Stuart said. "There's nothing bloody mental about it at all. I just fancy
him, Vince. I'm dead attracted to him and I find him just short of irresistible."
He spread his hands, matter-of-factly. "That's it. That's all there is. I
just WANT him sexually. I don't want to KNOW him or CARE for him or even
be his fucking friend. I just want to have sex with him. And I want it badly.
It tortures me."
Vince got off the bed and shouldered passed Stuart on his way to the door.
But, Stuart grabbed his arm and held on, turning himaround.
"You can't go swanning off until I've said my piece. I'm not done. Will you
sit?"
"Just say it," Vince said, his teeth clenched tightly, trying to keep from
showing the pain on his face.
"What happened tonight, Vince--that was important to me. It was important
because I didn't DO ANYTHING. I didn't act on the physical reaction I was
having to him, even though he was luring me and pushing me. I didn't do it.
And that means something to me."
"What's that?" Vince snapped.
"It means that I love you more than I need to fuck Nathan. It means that
I love you so much, that that emotion completely outweighed anything else.
Vince, you've known me for sixteen years and you know how I am. You know
me better than anyone. I've never once put anyone else before myself. I'm
a selfish, over-sexed twat who doesn't give a toss about anyone else's feelings.
But, tonight . . . tonight was different." Stuart was still clutching Vince's
wrist tightly, meaning to hold him there.
Vince stared at him for a long time, processing what had just been said.
"Are you asking me to give you credit for what you did?"
"I'm not asking you to give me anything," Stuart said and his voice was tight
and quavering. "I only wanted to explain." Finally, he let go of Vince's
wrist. "If you still want to walk out, I won't stop you. But I told you the
truth just now. Vince . . . I can't change a lifetime of behavior overnight.
I have to do it in stages if it's ever going to stick. And if you really
want to make this work, you're going to have to help me once in a while.
Maybe more often than that."
Vince grabbed his clothes off the bedroom floor and started dressing. Stuart
sat on the bed watching him, not saying anything more. Once he was fully
dressed, Vince walked out of the bedroom and down to where he'd left his
coat. He pulled on his leather jacket, then draped the rain coat over his
arm. In doing so, the box with the fancy hair brush in it slipped out of
his pocket and dropped onto the wood floor with a thump.
He picked it up and walked it over to the kitchen counter where he set it
down next to Stuart's keys. Vince just stood there for a moment, too shaken
to do anything else.
Stuart crept down the stairs from the bedroom and approached Vince carefully,
stopping a few feet behind him. "Are you giving up on me?" he said and Vince
could tell he was crying.
He couldn't look. He knew he'd be unable to stand it if he saw tears in Stuart's
eyes. Vince just shook his head, feeling sick all over. "I'm not giving up,
Stuart. That's not an option for me. I'd die without you." He turned toward
the door and started walking. If he could just get to the door, he'd be all
right . . .
"Where are you going, then?" Stuart said, softly, imploringly.
"I . . . just have to be on me own for a while. Just . . . need to think."
Finally, he reached the door and pushed it open, stepping through it and
closing it behind him.
Stuart tried to sleep but couldn't.
He paced, turned on the television, looking at the flickering picture, but
seeing nothing. Finally, he just sat on the steps outside the bedroom with
his thick, white down comforter wrapped around him, waiting for the door
to open or the phone to ring--any indication that Vince was coming back.
Vince found him there a few hours later asleep on the steps, his head on
his knees. It was still dark out but nearly dawn and he gathered Stuart silently
in his arms, taking him back to bed.
Stuart woke only partially at first, knowing the warmth of his lover's body
and reaching for it, instinctively. Their hands worked together removing
Vince's clothes, the soft, black sweater being the last thing to go before
they were pressed naked together under the comforter.
Stuart buried his face in Vince's neck, smelling the cool night air on his
skin. He must have been out walking. With his hands, he stroked Vince's back,
loving him, begging him silently for forgiveness, for acceptance of these
challenging terms. He felt he couldn't get close enough to his lover's body
to aptly communicate this desperate request. Stuart squeezed himself against
Vince, groaning softly out of frustration, wishing he had the right words
to explain himself, but knowing such words simply did not exist. For him
there was only this--this intense expresson of touch.
As he continued to ask forgiveness with his hands, he felt the tension in
Vince's body softening, melting. Stuart stroked him everywhere, nuzzling
his hair, petting him. Slowly, Vince seemed to be agreeing to forgive, agreeing
to accept. Stuart's eyes welled up and he wrapped himself around Vince, arms,
legs, soul. They squeezed each other tightly and the squeezing became kissing,
the kissing became hungry. Stuart tasted salt on Vince's cheeks, loving it
and hating it simultaneously.
In a soft frenzy, the aroused each other and caressed each other, fingers
seeking tender spots, pushing the established limits, gently grappling for
control. When they came against each other, it was almost subtle, supplicating
. . . neither of them in control, they were simply inside the experience
together.
Then finally, exhausted and drained, they fell asleep in a tangle of limbs.
Vince was gone when by the time the alarm went off and Stuart sat up in bed,
frowning, wondering if he'd ever really come back.The quality of the encounter
had been so deep and dreamlike that it could easily have BEEN a dream.
He made coffee and showered, shaved, brushed his teeth. Then when he opened
the drawer in the bathroom counter to get a comb, he saw it. The fancy hair
brush was there, out of its gift box and sitting in the drawer next to Stuart's
combs. The last place he'd seen it was just before Vince had walked out last
night, when he'd dropped it out of his coat then set the box down on the
kitchen counter.
Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Stuart knew that Vince had indeed come back
the night before. He'd come and gone like a forgiving phantom and put that
brush in the drawer as a symbol that everything was all right.
This time.
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