Chapter 20
DeAnna Zankich
Sequel to | Sweet Redemption
Summary: The days leading up to the big `I do'.
Warnings: None
Author Notes: A thousand thanks to my sweet friend Kristina Grönberg for the title.
Spoilers: None
Sitting at the counter rifling through the mail that had stacked up all week, Brian drank a glass of Merlot while Justin tended his marinara sauce. He could feel it every time the kid looked at him-- those impossibly blue eyes watching him for any indication of his mood or of his next move. The relentless attention Justin gave him was maddening most of the time, but once in a while . . . it was just what the doctor ordered.
"Do you want your salad now?" the young man asked.
"Sure." Brian sipped his wine and frowned at the interest he was being charged on his Visa.
Justin served him a clear glass bowl of fresh greens with some sliced tomato, green onion and mushrooms in it and he set the bottle of Ranch dressing beside it with a purposeful thunk. Brian lifted his eyebrows curiously.
"I still can't believe you're going to eat that," he said.
"It's just salad dressing."
"It's liquid fat," Justin said prissily.
Brian twisted the cap off with a defiant flick of his wrist and the phone rang again. While Justin was out getting the groceries, there had been four other calls Brian hadn't answered. One from Cynthia making sure she still had a boss, one from his mother asking if he'd seen his father that day (apparently Jack Kinney was lost), one from a hot little bank teller Brian and Michael met a few days before they left and one from Michael himself. Brian's best friend sounded tired and a little raw and he'd almost picked up the phone to talk to him, but something stopped him. Brian just wasn't ready to speak to anyone. Well, no one but Kate--and of course she hadn't called.
After the outgoing message, the machine beeped and Michael started talking again.
"Hey, sorry to bug you. Are you even there? Anyway, I just wanted to talk to you . . . I've been thinking about everything that happened at the hotel that night and I really think we should talk about it some more . . ."
Brian set the bottle down and tried not to look like he was rushing to pick up the phone. In the time it took him to stride across the room and grab the receiver, Michael had already said something into the machine about the events of `that night at the hotel' and Brian just cringed. He knew Justin had heard. Justin never missed anything. Bringing the phone to his ear, Brian pressed the talk button and sighed.
"Hey," he said. "I'm here."
"Oh, hey," Michael said, clearly startled. "I thought you went into the office or something. Your cell phone's off."
"It's recharging."
"Oh. Did you get my other message?"
"I haven't played the messages on the machine yet," he lied. "When did you call?" He leaned against the couch and looked at his nails.
"About an hour ago. Listen, I don't mean to be a pest, but I've been thinking about all that stuff that happened and I . . . I don't know, I just think we should talk about it."
"Didn't we already?" He couldn't stop himself from looking up and, just like he expected, Justin was looking right at him.
"Well, sort of," Michael said. "But . . . I guess I don't feel like we worked through it."
"What do you mean, Mikey? I apologized, you forgave me. It's over."
Michael sighed. "I still feel weird."
"Why?" Brian walked around the couch and laid down, pressing the phone to his ear. After a moment, he heard Justin walking across the room and for an instant he was annoyed that the kid would interrupt him while he was talking to Michael. But Justin had only come over to give him his wine glass. Brian mouthed the word `thanks' and Justin returned to the kitchen.
"It's just because we've never done anything like that before," Michael went on. "Well, other than that near miss with Patrick Swayze, but that didn't count. I guess I just feel like . . . something's different now."
"Nothing's different, Mikey," he said, trying to keep his voice low but not so low that Michael would ask why he was whispering. "Everything's exactly the same. We're fine."
"Brian," he insisted and his voice wavered slightly. "We had sex."
"No, we didn't." He took a sip of wine and tried to relax. Brian's heartbeat was picking up rapidly. He really did not want to have this conversation.
After a long pause, Michael said "it was sex to me. We made out, we came. It was sex."
"If you say so. But what difference does it make, Mikey? Friends fuck all the time." He knew he'd said that last too quietly and Michael spoke right on cue.
"Why are you whispering? Is someone there?"
Brian said nothing, knowing his silence would be answer enough.
Michael heaved an annoyed sigh. "Christ, Brian. Why don't you call me after you discharge Boy Wonder." He hung up briskly and Brian glared at the phone before putting it down on the coffee table.
"Whatever," he muttered, standing up and returning to his seat at the bar. Picking up his Visa bill again, he scanned the list of charges from the last time he was in England. His eye fell on the hotel bill from his most recent stay in Manchester and he sighed. That was the first time he'd thought of Stuart in almost two hours.
"Everything okay with Michael?" Justin said, slowly stirring his pasta sauce.
"Uh huh." Brian put the credit card bill aside and reached for his utility bill, having no intention of saying anything more. He could feel Justin's watchful eyes on him and he looked up with an irritated frown.
"Something really intense happened to you over there, huh?" the boy said quietly.
After a moment's pause, Brian said "I don't want to talk about it."
Justin breathed a sarcastic laugh. "Imagine that." He turned around and opened a cupboard over the sink, taking down the colander. "You never want to talk to me about anything, Brian. You just want to fuck me." He looked back over his shoulder, his sharp blue eyes openly revealing his injury.
"I talk to you all the time," Brian offered, knowing his tone sounded much cooler than he intended.
Justin set the colander in the sink then turned back to get the boiling pasta off the burner. "You communicate your desires to me, but you don't ever SHARE anything with me." He used potholders to carry the steaming pan to the sink where he drained the cooked spaghetti carefully. As the steam rose around him he continued his diatribe, his words growing more and more clipped as he went on. "You tell me what feels good when I touch you, you tell me when you want to be kissed or sucked or licked, you tell me when I can stay the night and when you want me to leave you alone, you tell me you love my ass, you tell me how much you like fucking me and you tell me the occasional stupid joke." He set the pot down on the counter with a thud, then he turned to Brian with his hands parked on his lean hips. "You do a fuckload of talking, Brian, but you never TELL me anything that matters."
Brian blinked, unsure of what to say next. He was more unsure of whether he even wanted to get into this conversation in the first place. Of course the kid was right, but Brian wasn't ready to adjust the current settings of their relationship.
Apparently he took too long to respond because Justin sighed and shook his blonde head. "You're such an asshole," he said, more as a statement of fact than as an insult. "I don't even know why I bother." He turned to the sink and lifted the colander carefully, shaking out the last of the water on the pasta.
Brian watched him gently add the pasta to the pan containing the marinara sauce and then Justin began adding some dried spices to the mix. His young jaw was set and clenching visibly and his cheeks were flushed from his tirade. He was clearly upset.
"Why don't you have a glass of wine?" Brian said softly. "I think you need to relax."
"I'm fine," he said snappishly, his smooth brow knitting just above his nose.
Trying not to smile, Brian slid off the barstool and walked over to where he'd left the open bottle of Merlot. Grabbing a glass out of the rack, he filled it half way with the mild wine then handed it to Justin.
Reluctantly, the younger man took the glass and drank from it, but he kept his eyes down. His expression had gone from injured to angry to deflated as he used a big wooden spoon to slowly mix the pasta with the sauce.
Brian topped off his own glass then leaned against the counter next to the stove. He knew he should say he was sorry for being so closed off, but he wouldn't. He knew he should explain why he was so emotional that day, but he wasn't planning to. He also knew he should tell Justin how much he appreciated him being there--how much it was helping to have his company--but there was little chance of that happening, either. He felt Justin look over at him and he returned the look, hoping to show something soft in his expression-- something that would help him explain without him actually having to.
Justin lowered his chin and regarded him incredulously. "Oh, please."
"What?"
"Don't EVEN try to `puppy dog' me, Brian," he said. "I'm not having that today." He reached across the counter and grabbed the peppershaker, dumping a small pile of it into his hand.
Sighing, Brian looked away. "I don't know what you want me to say."
"I don't want you to say anything," Justin replied. "I just wish it wasn't so hard for you to talk to me. I mean, you're so intimate with me in bed but you never really let me . . ." He gave his head an annoyed little shake. "Never mind. This is stupid. I'm just hungry and it's making me crabby. Let's not talk about this anymore." He reached across the counter again to grab the saltshaker and Brian took hold of his hand.
Softly, he closed Justin's smaller hand in between both of his own, warming the skin with gentle circular strokes. While he did that, Brian found it impossible to look at the boy. He had never been able to open himself in more than one way at a time--a limitation that had often resulted in misunderstandings.
Justin stood still, letting Brian pet his hand and watching the side of the older man's face intently. In a soft whisper, he said "what happened in London? Are you and Michael okay?"
Brian nodded, trying not to be dismissive. "It's not Mikey," he said. "It's . . ." He let go of Justin's hand and leaned against the counter again. After a moment he looked up and his heart was racing like mad. Brian had never enjoyed being exposed emotionally and he knew he was taking a huge risk doing it at that moment--with that person. Sighing, he looked away again and spoke very softly. "It's that thing Deb told you about," he began lamely.
Justin reached over his head and got out two plates for the pasta. "That guy? The one in England?"
Brian nodded and then he sipped his wine. For the moment, that much explanation was all he could manage.
Justin served up two hearty helpings of the pasta. He took the plates and set them on the counter, then he got out forks and pasta spoons. "Can you eat?" he said.
"Yeah." Brian said, but he wasn't entirely sure he could. He walked around the counter with his wine glass and sat down again, shoving aside the pile of bills and mail. He was trembling slightly and he kept his hands out of Justin's sight. Picking up his fork, he stabbed his salad and took a bite, trying to steady his heart rate.
Walking around the counter, Justin sat beside him and picked up his fork. "What's his name?" he asked, his voice a little rough.
"Stuart." Brian set his fork down and scrubbed his hands through his hair. "Look, I don't know how much of this I can . . ."
"Okay," Justin said, calmly. "Don't, then. Just eat."
Brian looked at his young companion with a mixture of desperation and gratitude. The expression was apparently quite affecting to the boy, because Justin put his fork down and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Brian's shoulders.
"God," he breathed against Brian's ear. "Don't tell me about it at all if it's going to make you look like that. Just forget it. I don't need to know."
Brian took a shaky breath and closed his eyes, lowering his forehead onto Justin's shoulder. He let the boy hold him for a moment--just until it started to feel like he was going to give away too much--then he turned back to his food. Picking up his fork again, he reached for his salad and then froze.
Suddenly, Brian's senses were flooded with the rich fragrance of roses.
"What?" Justin asked, his hand resting gently on Brian's shoulder. "Are you okay? You're totally pale."
Brian looked at him. "You don't smell that at all, do you? The roses."
Justin took a deep breath and shook his head. "I don't. Is it the same smell as before?"
"No. That was . . . some other kind of flowers. This is most definitely roses." Brian inhaled and was almost knocked out by the intensity of the fragrance. It was so palpable, he could almost feel the soft brush of the petals against his skin.
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Stuart:
The warm glow of the candle light made the ocean of roses all over their bed seem to radiate warmth. He stood in the doorway for a moment just looking at the display his partner had arranged in their bedroom. He heard himself take a deep breath, savoring the lovely smell of the flowers.
"Oh my God, Vince . . ."
Stepping up behind him in the doorway, Vince pressed against Stuart's back. His arms wound around his waist and pulled Stuart into a tight hug. "Is that a good `oh my god'?" he whispered. "Do you like it?"
Stuart turned his head and put soft kisses on Vince's lips and cheeks. "You're such a sad romantic," he teased, but his throat was tight with fresh tears.
"Ah, I know," Vince said. "But I reckon you only get married once. If you're lucky, that is. Might as well go all out to celebrate." He slipped passed Stuart and went into the room, reaching for a handful of the deep red petals. "Do you know why I did this?" he said, slowly approaching Stuart again.
"Like I said--because you're a sad romantic."
With a seductive little smile Vince stood right in front of him and took up one of the rose petals on the end of his index finger. Reaching out, he ran the petal down the bridge of Stuart's nose very slowly. The delicate petal caressed his skin like damp silk and Vince moved it over his lover's nose to his lips. Stroking it back and forth over first the top lip, then the bottom, Stuart's nipples tingled at the unbelievable softness of the flower. The petal left behind a sweet bit of moisture that made him want to lick it like a confection.
"Rose petals are very soft, my beautiful, sensual lover," Vince purred. He ran the petal down the cleft of Stuart's neck, passing it across his clavicle bones. "With them all over the bed like this, they can touch you everywhere I can't while I'm making love to you. Not one speck of your lovely body will go without being stroked as long as you're lying in our bed tonight." He slid the petal down the center of Stuart's chest, opening the shirt and pushing it off his shoulders. Circling Stuart's left nipple with the rose petal, Vince leaned forward and covered his mouth with a wet, hungry kiss.
Now completely naked, Stuart shivered as his body responded to his lover's touch. He greedily removed the rest of Vince's clothing and gently urged him back toward the bed. Just as he was about to push Vince down on the rose covered mattress, his boyish lover stopped and switched their positions.
Holding Stuart's wrists firmly in his hands, Vince lowered him down slowly onto the pile of rose petals. He smiled into Stuart's eyes lovingly as the fragrant flowers seemed to envelope themselves around his body. Stuart sighed and took a deep breath.
The petals touched him like tiny silken fingers making their way into every crevice of his body. His legs slid apart instinctively and he wrapped them around Vince's waist to pull him down. Stuart could feel the petals stroking him behind his neck, against his earlobes, along his spine and up his sides. They fluttered lightly under his arms and against his naked backside, tickling deliciously along his legs. The sensation was all encompassing and completely decadent. He laughed softly as he and Vince kissed, rolling gently on the bed of flowers.
Nibbling Stuart's neck, Vince whispered to him. "Do you feel that, luv? Do you feel me touching you everywhere?"
"Mmmm . . . I feel it," Stuart sighed, sliding his fingers up Vince's back. He closed his eyes and reached down between their closely pressed bellies, gently taking hold of Vince's swelling cock. He held it in his hand as they kissed, loving the heat and weight of it, gently stroking it until it strained in his grasp. Vince's warm pre- come made his hand slick and he covered that hard cock with the silky moisture. Vince moaned in his arms and trembled slightly, raising up on his knees.
Looking down at his lover, Vince said "you want me inside you again?"
"To start off," Stuart said. "I want us to do everything tonight." He took Vince's bottom lip into his mouth and sucked on it until his lover sighed against him. Stuart's own cock itched with anticipation and he raised his hips slightly to rub it against Vince's erection. He loved that feeling--cock on cock--all that pulsating heat and taut, satiny skin.
Reaching under the pillow, Vince drew out the bottle of Kama Sutra oil. He held it up so Stuart could see it, grinning lustfully. "We haven't used this in a while."
"I love that stuff," Stuart said, grinning back. "Put some on my nipples . . ."
Vince tugged out the little cork stopper and poured a small puddle of the oil in the center of Stuart's chest, letting it run in one slow, erotic drop down his belly. They both watched it make its way to his navel and then split into two tracks that ran down either side of his waist. Setting the bottle on the night table, Vince raised up on his hands and knees and hovered over Stuart's body. With his fingers he traced the line of oil back up from his lover's belly to his left nipple, gently circling the sensitive kernel of flesh. Once that nipple swelled and hardened under the delicious synthetic heat of the oil, Vince ran his finger over to the right nipple and gave it the same treatment.
Stuart stroked his lover's powerful arms and wriggled under him anxiously. Every time he moved, the rose petals moved so slightly against him, reaching for him wherever his body pulled away from them. They seemed to need to cling to him, to stroke him. They did indeed seem to be an extension of Vince's touch.
Kissing Stuart again, Vince's slick fingers caressed their way down his belly and over the insides of his thighs, making Stuart moan softly. When he felt the first touch of the hot oil on his hungry opening, Stuart dug his fingers into the flesh of Vince's arms.
"Ooh . . . yes . . ." he purred, trembling as the oil heated him from the inside.
Vince smiled against their kiss and rubbed his oily thumb against Stuart's balls, spreading the heat all over his most sensitive parts.
With his eyes closed, Stuart realized he was drenched in delicious sensations. Every inch of his body was feeling some sort of pleasure and warmth. Even though he felt satisfied just from being touched all over like that, his appetite was whet and growing. He urged Vince's cock down, lifting his hips to accept it.
Sliding his fingers out, Vince entered his lover's body slowly, confidently, holding Stuart's hips firmly in his slightly slippery hands. They held each other's gaze intently while the connection was completed and then they both smiled as the pleasure swept over them.
"I love it when you hang onto me like that . . ." Stuart said, stroking Vince's fingers as they guided his hips gently.
"You love to be taken," Vince said against his ear.
"Only by you . . ." Stuart said as they kissed again.
Vince pulled back and gave him a sidelong smile. "Oh, come on."
Stuart giggled. "All right," he acquiesced. "Don't you dare talk about him right now."
Laughing softly, Vince tightened his grip on Stuart's hips and guided his body close to increase the depth of his penetration. He moved slowly, tenderly, stroking Stuart's body from the inside as well as the outside.
Moaning and sighing, Stuart whispered "God, I'm tingling everywhere . . ."
"I want you to feel how much I adore you," Vince murmured. "I want you to drown in it . . ." He reached under Stuart's body and his fingers found the oil that had slipped down his sides. Gently he spread that delicate warmth over Stuart's back and over his buttocks, holding his body up in his strong arms as they continued their soft lovemaking.
When Vince lifted him away from the rose petals, Stuart felt a few of them clinging to his skin. They quivered and gently fell away as they rolled over on the bed, shifting positions.
Stuart straddled Vince's body and held still for a moment, both of them flushed and panting. They smiled at each other wantonly.
"This is nice," Vince offered playfully.
"Mmmm." Stuart reached for his lover's hand and brought it to his own cock. "Make me really hard. I want to be inside you now . . ."
His pale blue eyes glinting with love and passion, Vince rubbed the oil on his fingers over Stuart's cock slowly, stroking and pulling gently until the organ stood straight against his belly, just waiting. Vince's gaze remained intent on his task and he bit his bottom lip with lustful concentration.
Stuart tilted his hips forward slightly, presenting his engorged erection like a trophy. "Lovely, isn't it?" he teased conceitedly.
Vince licked his lips and raised his eyebrows. "Fantastic," he concurred. He grabbed Stuart's hips again and lifted him up, gently separating their connection. "I'd like to have that gorgeous cock inside me, please," he said, shifting on the bed of petals to drape his legs over Stuart's shoulders. "After all, it is your wifely duty to please me."
Stuart chuckled and shook his head, moving into position gracefully. Some of the rose petals were gently crushed under his knees and they released a fresh explosion of perfume into the air. "You're being right cheeky tonight, Vince," he said. "I'd be careful if I were you?"
"Why is that, luv?" Vince winked and reached down, softly cupping Stuart's tight balls with his hand. He gave them a tender squeeze and Stuart shivered. "I thought you liked it when I was cheeky."
Stuart wet his fingers generously with saliva and slipped them inside his lover's body. Vince groaned and closed his eyes, begging for the penetration with every gesture. His toes curled in the air just above Stuart's shoulders and his fingers gripped the rose petals below him.
Stuart let his eyes comb over Vince's sculpted torso, savoring the beauty of each muscle and each fine, golden hair. He marveled at the intricate craftsmanship of the trinity knot design, the way its shape seemed to breathe with Vince and follow his every move. Stuart looked forward to memorizing every detail of that tattoo with his tongue and his fingertips and his eyes. Every curve and line, every wonderful, unique flaw. He wanted to know that ink mark as though it were on his own body.
Vince's pink nipples called to him, plump and warm and pleading to be sucked. Breathing deeply, Stuart pushed his body forward and gently drove his stiff cock into Vince's burning hole, pressing his legs back so he was balancing on his toes. He rocked forward and supported his weight with his hands on either side of his lover's shoulders.
Vince's legs were bent gently but not deeply and he moaned into the penetration. His fingers dug into the mattress and he used his flattened arms to hoist his body up, meeting Stuart's thrusts with perfect rhythm. His cries were desperate humming moans and a fine sweat broke out over his gorgeous body. Vince's eyes locked on Stuart's and held them fast as their pace increased.
"Oooh . . ." he said in a trembling sigh. "I'm . . . closer than I thought . . ." He arched his back up slightly and tightened his inner muscles, pulling on Stuart's cock inside his body.
That was too much. Stuart's body trembled and a fast flush of heat raced through him. Suddenly he was coming and riding on the soft pulse of Vince's orgasm as it rippled through him in slow waves. They moaned together, softly panting and watching each other, following the visual pattern of the other's pleasure. Stuart loved to watch Vince come. His sweet, abandoned expressions were a thing of beauty.
"I love . . . to watch you come . . ." Vince breathed.
Stuart smiled at their connection of thought. He lowered down and kissed his lover gently, feeling the soft rise and fall of Vince's respiration as they both began to relax. He felt like he could stay inside Vince's body for the rest of his life, just transferring warmth and fluid back and forth forever. Just as his spent cock slipped softly free, Vince rolled them over again and smiled down at him.
For a long time, they just looked at each other. Stuart tried to read his partner's thoughts but was unable. Vince seemed to be thinking of a thousand things at once. His expression went through miniscule changes, flutters of sadness and bliss, rapture and pain, joy and giddiness, lust and anger.
"Wha'?" Stuart finally asked.
With a low laugh, Vince said "`you are the tenant of my heart'."
Stuart stroked those blonde lashes with his thumbs very slowly, unable to keep himself from smiling. "I thought you'd like that."
Vince brought Stuart's fingers down to his lips and kissed them. "Yeah," he whispered. "I liked that very much. It was extremely telling."
"Of what?" Stuart shifted them on the mattress slightly so Vince was wedged comfortably between his legs.
"Of the way you see our relationship," Vince replied. "You regard me as your guest in a way. Like you need to maintain everything for me, to keep everything up."
Stuart frowned. "Is that what you think?"
"That's what YOU think. I mean, I know you rely on me emotionally and all, but deep down you still think you have to look after me." Vince rested his chin on Stuart's chest and looked in his eyes. "You don't, you know. I'm much happier looking after you."
"I wasn't trying to say that I look after you, Vince. I was just . . . trying to say that I feel at home with you. That you ARE my home. Maybe I should have used different words."
Vince shook his head, his expression suddenly concerned. "No, not at all, luv. I love the words you used. I just have a bit of a different impression of them, is all." He smiled sweetly. "Either way, what you meant was what I feel, as well. We're not just in love, we're each other's home."
Stuart ran his fingers softly through Vince's golden hair. "Yeah," he said, his fingers trailing down Vince's naked arms. "Nicely furnished, too."
Vince chuckled seductively in agreement.
Glancing around the warmly lit room, Stuart smiled. "Thanks for that lovely breakfast," he said.
Vince kissed his belly softly.
"And the photo," Stuart went on. "I barely remember that being taken."
"Alex sent it to me a few weeks ago. He had it all this time. Said we looked like a couple o' newlyweds in it so he felt like it was appropriate." He grinned and his eyes sparkled beautifully. "Oh my God," Vince said.
"What?"
"You bloody married me, Stuart Jones." He crawled up Stuart's body and crouched over him, softly pressing their bellies together. He held Stuart's hands over his head then bent down to kiss him deeply.
Once again, Stuart felt enveloped by the delicate, fragrant flowers and by his handsome lover's warmth. He sighed and returned the kiss, hoping Vince could feel the affection and trust radiating out of him.
He thought of the day they had just come through, of the implications of their words to each other in his father's garden. He thought about the way Vince looked in the waning afternoon sunlight, the soft shadows of his lashes on his cheeks as they stood there exchanging promises in front of their loved ones. Stuart thought of everything at once and let himself feel everything at once--all the love and fear and wonder and impatience and sadness. He let himself think of the good things and the bad things that had crossed the path of their wedding day.
But he did not let himself think of his conversation with Rebecca Kincaid.
Somewhere inside while he and Vince had been making love, Stuart had decided that twenty-five years was a very long time. And that if he really did have that much life to share with his perfect lover, he was unbelievably lucky. Stuart had decided that if fortunetellers were to be believed, the lifeline of their marriage was long and bountiful.
"What did you wish?" Vince whispered to him, pressing hot little kisses against his neck.
Sighing with pleasure and growing arousal, Stuart stroked his lover's hair. "I wished for something you might not think is romantic," he said.
"It doesn't have to be romantic, luv," Vince purred. "It just has to be what you really want." He fluttered his lips over Stuart's so softly, it felt like the tickle of hummingbird wings. "Just tell me . . ."
Stuart opened his eyes and they looked at each other for a long moment. "I wished . . . that you would always fancy me like you do now. I wished that we would always feel like this, that we would always starve for each other's touch like now." He smiled a bit shyly. "Is that all right?"
Vince kissed him again and his fingers wound into Stuart's curls. "I think it's lovely," he said. "And I hope it comes true." He lifted Stuart's chin with his nose and kissed the tender skin just under his jaw.
"What about you?" Stuart whispered. "What did you wish?"
Nuzzling Stuart's earlobe, Vince said "I wished that you would never go bald."
They burst out laughing and Stuart smacked Vince's naked backside loudly.
"Bastard!" he said. "I'll bloody murder you if you really did that!"
Vince shook his head, still laughing a little. "Of course not," he said. "I'm just jokin'. I wished the same thing I've always wished where you're concerned."
"And what is that?"
Looking away shyly, Vince picked up one of the rose petals and slowly stroked it over Stuart's chest. "I wished that you would always need me, Stuart. That for the rest of your life, I would be the only one who could really comfort you. That it would always be me you slept beside at night."
Stuart smiled. "We made two parts of the same wish."
"Yeah," Vince said. "Funny, that." He closed the gap between them and covered Stuart's mouth with another kiss. "Great minds think alike."
Laughing softly, Stuart rolled them over again, covering them both in the silky warmth of the roses.
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Kate:
Right after I get out of the shower that night, I crawl under the lush covers in the hotel next to Richard. He's stretched out with those sexy glasses on his nose and his chest bare, reading the London Times. He loves being in England, just like I do. We should just move here.
"Hey, there," he says to me, curling his arm around my shoulders as I snuggle against him. He smells so good. I love his soft skin and the fine salt and pepper hair on his chest. "Tired?"
"Not terribly," I say with a playful wink. "I do have to call Brian, though."
"Ah," Richard says, nodding. "Are you really sure he wants to hear about the wedding."
I give Richard a kiss on his warm, good-smelling cheek. "Yes, bunny. In fact, I'm gonna get a raft of shit because I haven't called him sooner."
The phone is sitting on the night table by my husband, so he picks it up and hands it to me. Sitting up I dial for an outside line, then I start punching that long list of international numbers. Just as I expect, Brian answers right away. He's been waiting for me.
"Yeah?" He sounds sad and instantly I'm worried.
"Hey, you. Are you okay?"
"Uh huh." I can tell he's lying. "So, how was it?"
"It was . . . so nice," I say, trying not to gush. "I cried my ass off. Everyone did. Stuart wore a kilt."
"He did not."
"He did. You should have seen him, Bri. He was gorgeous." I look over at Richard just in time to see him raise a mildly admonishing eyebrow at me. He's right, I know. I should just shut the hell up about how gorgeous Stuart was. "How was the flight home?"
"Fine," Brian says. "Long."
In the background at his loft, I hear pots rattling. "Is the maid there?" I ask.
"No," he answers plainly. "How long did the party go on?"
"We were the last ones out and it was about 11:30."
"Hm. Sounds like it was fun."
"It was fun." I have to look away from my husband before I say the next thing. "He asked about you."
Richard nudges my leg and I wave an annoyed hand at him.
"You're doing it again," my husband whispers. "Just let it be, Katherine."
"Is that Richard?" Brian says.
"Yes. He's scolding me for instigating."
Brian snickers. "Tell him thanks."
"Oh, fuck off. You know you wanted me to call you tonight and tell you all about it."
"I wanted you to call and tell me if it happened," Brian says in a soft voice. I don't think I've ever heard him use a tone like that and it makes me sad.
"Okay," I say and then I don't know what to say. "It did. They're married."
I hear Brian sigh. "Well, good for them. I'm glad. Vince makes him happy."
"Yeah," I agree and then I realize I'm using that same tone he did a moment before. It's not really sadness, it's more like surrender. I'm a bit amazed to discover that I had been harboring a secret hope that Brian and Stuart would get together. For a moment I feel terribly guilty.
"It's not like we were gonna be boyfriends," he says presciently. Brian has never been particularly prescient and I wonder about that, too. Before he always appeared too self-absorbed to pick up subtle nuances from others.
"How did you know that was what I was thinking? I didn't even know until right this second."
He breathes a weary laugh. "Katherine, it's obvious. If you couldn't have him, you wanted me to. But neither of us had the right stuff. Neither of us were Vince."
"But I really like Vince," I say, defending my newfound secret desire.
"I know," he says. "I do, too. And--having known him in the Biblical sense, I can see why Stuart digs him so much. He's great. At everything. And he cooks, too."
I laugh. "Yeah, our Stuey's no fool. If he'd got together with you, he'd probably starve to death."
Brian groans. "Whatever. Listen, I have company. I'm gonna go. You guys off to Balmoral tomorrow?"
"Yep. Want anything special?"
"Bring me a sheep."
"Deal," I say, deciding not to ask him about his guest. I can guess who it is.
"Love you," he says. "Thanks for calling. Finally."
"I love you, too, Bri. Talk to you soon." I hang up and hand the phone back to Richard who is still giving me that look.
"You're incorrigible," he says, tossing the newspaper aside so it scatters dramatically on the floor. "Come here, you little troublemaker." Growling like a bear, he lunges across the bed at me and scoops me into his wonderful embrace.
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Brian:
He stared at the phone for a long time after he hung up with Kate. He knew Justin was behind him, even though the boy was intentionally staying back a few feet. He was waiting to be invited to offer comfort and Brian appreciated that. After a moment, he looked up at the blonde hoping his expression wasn't too revealing.
"How does it feel for you?" he asked.
Justin's brow crinkled curiously. "How does what feel?" He took a tentative step across the floor from the kitchen to wear Brian leaned on the arm of the white couch.
"Being in love with me," Brian said, his heart beating thickly as though it were submerged in mud. "Is it like being sick? Like having the flu?"
Justin stopped about an arm's length away and tried a soothing smile. "It's more like a really bad chest cold most of the time. You know, fever, chills, dizzy spells and this really tight, full feeling right here." He gestured to his nicely formed chest with his hand. "Like something's pressing on me."
Brian nodded slowly. "Hm. Yeah," he said, thinking that was a perfect description. Suddenly he felt terribly sorry for Justin and he couldn't bring himself to look at the boy for a long time.
Slowly closing the distance between them, Justin leaned on the arm of the couch beside him, gently pressing their legs together. His fingers brushed Brian's on the upholstery. "Are you okay?"
All he could do was nod.
"You don't look okay."
Standing up, Brian filled his lungs with air and pulled Justin into a brief companionable hug. He put an almost brotherly kiss on the young man's head, then let go of him, walking across the room to the kitchen to get more wine.
Justin walked over to the bar and gripped the edge of it with his hands. "Brian, I know you don't want to talk about it, but I just want you to know . . ."
Brian looked up, waiting for him to finish.
"You can," Justin said. "If you want. I mean, even if I get jealous or whatever, it's still okay. I just want to help you."
He looked at the young man for a long time, just taking in the sight of him there--holding the counter with his fingers so anxiously, wondering if Brian was going to explode and tell him to leave at any second. Justin wore his thoughts on his face so clearly that sometimes it was hard to watch.
"I told you," Brian said. "You are helping me."
"I'm not doing anything," Justin said, his face screwing up. "I feel totally helpless. You're obvious hurting and I'm just . . . standing here like a dork."
Brian smiled and shook his head, reaching for the wine bottle next to the frig. He filled his glass again and topped off Justin's, walking it over to him at the counter. "Cheers," he said and they touched their glasses together. He watched Justin's eyes as they both drank, enjoying the way they sparkled in the early evening light.
"It's really not that bad," Brian said. "I'm just not used to it. I hear this happens to people all the time."
"Yes," Justin affirmed. "It does. And usually people don't die from it. In fact, it supposed to make you stronger . . . if you let it."
He rolled his eyes and walked around to sit heavily in one of the bar chairs. "Everyone keeps telling me that. I'm sick to fucking death of hearing that. How can anything that feels this shitty be of any use to me?"
Justin just watched him for a while, leaning on the counter and sipping his wine. After a moment, he said in a low voice "what's he like? Stuart."
Brian shrugged. "I don't know. Hot. Annoying. Guarded. Unavailable."
The blonde laughed. "Sounds familiar."
Shaking his head, Brian said "he's nothing like me. Stuart is . . ." He sighed, frustrated that he couldn't find the right words. "He's nothing like me."
"Did you and Michael have sex?" Justin asked, out of the blue.
Brian scowled at him. "What are you talking about?"
Shrugging, Justin said "on the machine, Michael was talking about something that happened one night at the hotel and how he felt weird about it. I just added two and two." He sipped his wine, keeping his challenging blue eyes on Brian.
"That could mean anything," he pointed out tersely. "Why would you assume we had sex?"
"Because. I just do."
Brian sighed petulantly. "Don't fuck up now, Justin. You were doing so well." He walked up to the bedroom and sprawled on the unmade bed, reaching for his cigarettes on the night table. He expected the boy to follow him, yammering on about how he was going to ruin his friendship with Michael, blah, blah, blah. But the lithe blonde just shuffled over to the couch and turned on the television. Brian was disappointed by the lack of fuss and instantly irritated by his own feelings. He was getting tired of feeling so many things in one day and he really wished he could just shut down for awhile.
Digging in the night table drawer, he found his stash box shoved all the way into the back. Inside were four neatly rolled joints and a small baggie of pills. He plucked out one of the joints then replaced the box in the drawer, resting back against a pile of pillows on the bed. He lit up and took a deep drag, holding the smoke in his lungs until it burned. He did this three times until he started to feel the sweet loosening in his limbs. His skin tingled and his cock twitched like it always did when he was stoned. Reaching down, he unbuttoned his jeans and teased his penis with his fingers.
Glancing across the room, he looked at Justin sitting on the couch and found the boy looking back at him.
"I suppose you want me to come up there, now," he said.
Brian just grinned.
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Vince:
He and Stuart rolled the rose petals up in the top sheet and left it on the floor by the bed, figuring they would leave a note for their housekeeper to explain it. The candles still flickered around the bedroom, but they were both exhausted and bone weary and wanting sleep. Vince's thighs ached from their repeated lovemaking and his eyes felt heavy, but he was also literally flowing with happiness. He felt full and warm and more complete than he ever had in his life.
He took the white comforter and the soft cashmere blanket out of the wardrobe and spread them over the bed while Stuart brushed his teeth. A few of the rose petals were still scattered around the pillows but he let them be. They were lovely, really. A romantic decoration for their wedding bed.
Vince walked down to the kitchen to get a bottle of water and while he stood there in the large quiet main room of their flat, he took a moment to look around.
The place was still a bit of a mess from the party, but for the most part everything was in order. The fish tank burbled softly and the frig hummed behind him. The serving staff had put the furniture back where it belonged and taken the rented tables and chairs with them when they left. Their housekeeper was coming the day after they left for Greece, so at least they would come home to a clean space. Up in the bedroom, he could see Stuart walking around blowing out the candles one at a time. The acrid scent of the smoke rising from each wick wafted down to where Vince stood and he smiled. That smell always reminded him of birthdays and wishes and making love on the rug in the lounge with Stuart. Happy times.
He turned off the lights in the kitchen and then in the lounge and started back to the bedroom. Stuart greeted him in the doorway, holding the last burning white candle. The flame glimmered in his beautiful sapphire eyes and Vince could see a bit of moisture balancing just above his black eyelashes. He tucked the bottle of water under his arm and touched Stuart's naked hips with his fingers.
"Are you crying again?" he said sweetly.
"There are seventeen of them," Stuart said, his voice wobbly even though he was smiling.
Vince blushed and looked down. "Yeah. I was wondering if you'd notice that." He breathed a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. "I know, I'm so sad."
Stuart set the candle on the dresser just inside the door then he wrapped his arms around Vince's neck. He felt a tiny spot of warmth drop onto his naked shoulder and slide down his back as those tears in Stuart's eyes broke free.
"You're fantastic, Vince," Stuart murmured. "Completely fantastic."
Pulling his lover's warm body close, Vince buried his face in those delectable black curls. "I can't tell you how happy I am that you think so, luv," he said. "Very happy, indeed."
Stuart sniffed as he turned toward the bed, reaching back for Vince's hand. "Christ," he said. "I've got a fuckin' headache from crying all night." He crawled onto the bed and lifted the soft covers, sinking down between them.
"Well, you weren't crying ALL night," Vince said, batting his eyes. "You did a little laughing and a lot of moaning. Sighing."
Stuart grinned at him as he fluffed the pillows for them. "Was a nice evening, yeah?"
"Might stick in me mind for a bit." He winked playfully, then leaned over to blow out the candle on the dresser.
"No, leave it," Stuart said. "We'll sleep with it burning."
"What if it catches something on fire?"
Stuart rolled his eyes. "Don't be daft. It's perfectly contained. The worst it will do is just burn itself out. Come on." He patted the mattress beside him. "I want to snuggle with my husband."
Glancing warily at the candle one last time, Vince sighed. He shook his head and walked around to get in bed beside Stuart.
The kitteny cashmere blanket touched his skin and he was instantly sleepy. He tucked the covers around them and spooned up against Stuart's smooth silky back, draping his arm over that lean waist. Just like he always did, he gently cupped Stuart's cock and balls with his hand, warming them lovingly.
As they were drifting off, Stuart whispered to him "goodnight Mrs. Jones."
"Goodnight Mrs. Tyler," he returned. They both giggled softly, like kids with a silly secret.
When they woke up in the morning, the candle still burned steadily on the dresser like a quiet, watchful sentry.
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Brian:
Debbie had a welcome home brunch for the boys on Sunday morning. Her sunny kitchen was full of voices and bodies and laughter as she served up heaping plates of omelets, home fries and fresh fruit. Michael carried Gus around for almost an hour, whispering softly to the baby about the things they saw and did in Europe. David sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee talking to Vic about some human-interest story that was on the CNN the night before. Occasionally, he would glance up at Michael with the baby and Brian thought he saw more than a hint of jealousy in the good doctor's eyes.
Justin had stayed the night and the two of them had slept late, just lounging in Brian's big bed like a couple of house cats. They didn't have sex, they just laid on each other and kissed a lot. It had been nice, but Brian couldn't find the right words to tell his young companion so. He was hoping Justin just knew.
Michael brought Gus to his dad and handed the baby over. "I swear he grew six inches while we were gone," he said.
Brian held his son in his arms and looked up and down the length of his pajama-covered body. "He looks the same to me," he said.
Michael shrugged. "Maybe I wasn't paying attention before."
Looking over at his friend, Brian gave him a little smile. "Did you and the doc have a nice long fuck last night?"
"Brian," he admonished, his eyes flitted over to his boyfriend sheepishly. "I'm not telling you about that! Well, not here."
Chuckling, he lifted Gus up in the air and smiled into the baby's bright eyes. And then, once again, he was suddenly overcome by a strong, irrational scent. He froze and took a deep breath, lifting his nose into the air.
"What's the matter, honey? You smell somethin'?" Debbie asked him, looking around her kitchen nervously.
Brian sniffed twice just to make sure of the odor. "Jet fuel," he said under his breath.
"Jet fuel!" Debbie repeated incredulously.
"The airport is thirty miles from here," Vic pointed out.
Brian nodded with a secret little smile. "Yeah. It's at least that far." He walked over to Justin and gently handed him the baby.
"You went from roses to airplane fuel?" the blonde whispered. "Maybe you have a brain tumor."
"Nah," he said. "Probably just a chest cold." Brian winked then walked over to the counter to get a cup of coffee.
Debbie was eyeing him in that way of hers--suspicious and curious and worried. "You okay, sugar?"
"Fine," he said filling a white ceramic mug with a big pink triangle on it. "The food's great, Deb. Thanks." He kissed her forehead and smiled at her. "It's kinda nice to be home."
She smirked and lowered her voice. "Now I KNOW there's something wrong with you."
Brian just shook his head, ignoring her comment. The truth was, he felt better that day than he had in months. He felt a little like a creature that had molted over night. Even though he couldn't really explain it, Brian felt like he had new skin on the inside.
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Stuart:
Standing in the Olympic Airlines terminal, he looked out the window at the huge jets taxiing around the tarmac while Vince spoke to one of the airline's employees at the information desk. His lover was making sure Stuart had a window seat, even though Stuart really didn't care. He had just wanted to give Vince something to do while they waited for the flight to keep his mind of the flying itself. All Stuart really wanted was to get to Athens and get Vince out of his clothes and onto the nearest beach.
After what appeared to be a satisfactory exchange, Vince sauntered over to the window where his lover stood.
"Right," he said, speaking in Stuart's ear softly. "It's all sorted."
"Thanks, luv." Stuart pressed his shoulders back into Vince's solid chest. The terminal was fairly full of other waiting passengers so he didn't want to be too demonstrative, but he did want contact with his lover's body. They stood in front of the window and looked out as the plane that would take them to Greece rolled up to the gate.
"Looks safe enough," Vince mused, but Stuart could hear the shaky quality of his voice.
"Don't worry," he said. "We'll be fine. Do you want a Vicodin?" He turned around and touched their foreheads together, batting his eyes.
"God, no," Vince said, blushing. "Last time I had one I got so bloody horny I almost shagged you in the street!"
Stuart chuckled. "You were so cute." He lifted Vince's pullover just above his belt buckle and reached under the fabric with his fingers. He knew right where the tattoo was on his lover's belly and he stroked the skin there softly.
"Now, now," Vince warned. "Don't be giving me a hard-on out here where all these people can see."
"Then let's go to the bar and have a few drinks. We've got time. I want you to relax."
"I'm fine," he said, and he truly seemed to be. "In fact, I'm only a bit anxious this time. I must be getting better at this jet-setting thing."
Stuart looked into those lovely pale blue eyes. "I'm glad. I want you to. I'd love it if we could travel, see things together."
Vince nodded. "Yeah. Me, too. I'd really like that, actually."
"Where do you wanna go, then?" Stuart said, smiling happily. "Anywhere."
"Ah," Vince took a deep breath and looked out the window thoughtfully. "I'd like to see America. New York especially. I'd love to see Arizona and New Mexico. Maybe drive a convertible across the desert."
Stuart nodded. "Sounds good. What else?" He leaned back against the window and he could feel the vibration of the jet engines rattling the structure around them. It was a wild sensation, full of potential danger and excitement.
"Perhaps we could go to Australia," Vince said brightly. "Melbourne's meant to be nice."
Stuart turned up his nose. "Ick. The problem with Australia is that it's full of Australians."
Vince laughed. "You can't hate all of them just because of Cameron Roberts."
"Yes, I can." Stuart took hold of Vince's left hand and touched the Claddagh with his fingers. "That bastard made me so fucking jealous."
Vince rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and that was even before you knew you loved me."
Stuart looked right at him and said "no, it wasn't."
Clearly surprised by that statement, Vince only smiled. They looked at each other for a long time, both of them searching each other's eyes for the thoughts going on inside.
"Are you glad we did it?" Vince said after a while.
"Extremely glad," Stuart said. "If you think about it, there was really no other way. I wasn't letting you just leave me, after all."
"I was never going to leave you." Vince reached for Stuart's left hand and rolled the sturdy platinum ring gently. "But I still worry about what we're gonna do now?"
"Now," Stuart said, looking out at their plane again. The vibration in the wall at his back had grown stronger, more urgent, as the jet engines readied themselves for take-off. "Now we try and make it work." He turned back to Vince and squeezed his hand gently. "Should be adventure enough for both of us, that."
Vince breathed a laugh. "Yeah, should be." He draped his arm softly around Stuart's waist and leaned against the window with him. "Blimey," he said, apparently feeling the rattle in the wall.
"Yeah. It's the engines."
Vince smiled and nuzzled Stuart's curls at the back of his neck. Looking out the window, they were both content to just watch the planes outside as they gathered their power to fly.
The End.
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