EasyRory
JUB Addict
Chapter Sixty-Five
John led Tom and Heiko to the barn ostensibly for a preview of his exhibition with Clemmie. The horse was impressive, huge and beautifully colored, with a mottled gray body and a white mane. She seemed fully aware of her beauty and pranced a bit in her stall.
“Wie ein schwarzwald pferd,” Heiko blurted in awe of the animal.
“Not just 'like a black forest horse'; she IS a black forest horse,” the groom explained. “Her mane used to be blond, like her ladyship's, when her ladyship fancied being blond. But now it's white. She's getting along in years.”
“Don't say it, Heiko,” Tom warned, barely able to stifle his own laugh.
Abel grinned, enjoying the reaction to his mocking but unspoken comparison.
“Can we see the rest of the stable?” Heiko asked, now serious.
“It's really a barn, these days; but you can see what is left of the old stalls, from when we trained horses here. Follow me.” Abel gave Tom and Heiko a comprehensive tour while John got Clemmie into harness. “You can see what it used to be. In the old tack room, we didn't just keep tack, we made it ourselves. John will be using a rig made right here.” He pointed to a closed door.
“Can we see?”
“I guess so.” Abel knocked and one of the young programmers opened the door. Reluctantly he let them into the large room. Abel explained the former locations of storage, sewing and leather working equipment, and work tables. The programmers made an attempt to cover up what they were doing but otherwise took no particular notice of the visitors.
“Thanks, Mr. Harding,” Tom offered his hand, but Abel nodded instead and left.
“Did you see what was on the desks? It was YOUR data table layout, Tom. The one for the Pacific Film Archive. Is there any doubt now what they're doing? Do you want to call Rory right now?”
“It's ...um … six in the morning in Alameda, I think. We can wait.”
“Cyril will be up, I'm calling him,” Heiko said.
“Do it outside, ok? I'll talk to John.”
“What?” Heiko asked. Tom was looking at him funny.
“You'd make a great cowboy,” Tom said.
Heiko beamed, hooked his thumbs in his waistband, and thrust his hips forward. Then with sly smile, he broke his brief pose and went out the main door punching his phone rapidly.
Tom walked to Clemmie's stall and watched as John finished putting the elaborate harness on the horse. “You're good at that,” he told John.
“She's a great horse. We seem to have hit it off well together. She forgives me my mistakes and I forgive her when she doesn't want to work any more. Plus I slip her a little extra molasses in her oats. She appreciates it. Since we started working out more, she can actually use the calories.”
“She's looking good, John,” Abel added. “You've been very good for her. She's thriving under the attention.” Suddenly Abel listened intently to the sound of a commotion. Clemmie noticed something wrong as well. She stirred restlessly, stamping impatiently. The smell of smoke followed quickly, alarming the horse.
“What?” Abel said to himself and rushed out of the stall.
“Fire! Fire!” came cries. Tom heard the sound of slamming doors and running. He could see smoke in the long passage through the barn. Clemmie panicked. She didn't kick, but she shifted her hind quarters and over a thousand pounds of horse slammed Tom into the stall wall.
Tom saw in perfect detail every grain in stall's wood. Gradually, it seemed to happen with a predictably slow decay, the wood lost its form and only an outline remained. There was a roaring at first that faded to silence as Tom's image of the stall lost its color and faded to white. The white brightened and enveloped him. The odd light had no substance but supported him, like being afloat in an insubstantial milky fluid. Vaguely defined faces appeared, strangers' faces, but benign and welcoming. Then he saw Devon, smiling. He saw his father and mother standing together, looking at him, smiling as if nothing unusual had happened. He reached out but no one took special notice of his distress. But then he wasn't distressed; his agitation resolved itself into a vapid serenity that held no promise, a bleakness of being. Tom felt vaguely sad and wasn't sure why.
“Let's get her out of here!” John said, barely keeping his voice steady as the smoke became thicker. Getting a spooked horse to back up is a trick. He spoke calmly to Clemmie but shoved hard at her shoulders while holding her head down. Step by step he backed her into the passage. Once clear of the stall, he kept her from running and led her out the door at a swift but orderly pace.
“Nice work, John,” Abel commended him as they stroked the horse and tried to calm her. The two programmers were both wide-eyed and talking on their phones.
“Where's Tom?” Heiko asked. “WHERE'S TOM?” he bellowed when no one paid attention.
“He was in the stall,” John said, looking around for him.
Heiko ran into the barn and after going what he hoped was the right distance groped to his left for the stall door. He bent low to avoid as much of the smoke as possible and dimly saw the door standing open not far away. Inside the stall there was less smoke and he quickly found Tom. After calling his name twice and shaking him, Heiko picked up the inert body and carried it out the door into the blessedly clear air of the barnyard. He lay Tom on a hay stack and checked. There was a pulse and Tom was breathing.
“Tom? Tom?” Heiko patted his hand. “Please, Tom, say something.” Impulsively Heiko kissed his friend's forehead and then held Tom's hands in his own.
Tom coughed and his eyes fluttered. He recognized that he was with someone. Heiko wasn't sure he knew who he was. “Were you kissing me?” Tom asked.
“Yes,” Heiko answered.
A faint smile came to Tom's lips and he asked, “Why did you stop?” Then his eyes closed again.
“I think he's ok,” Heiko said, looking up to John and Abel.
The commotion drew Fred to the scene. “Is everyone alright?” she asked. 'Everyone' was aimed specifically at the programmers. She received assurances from John that they were. The programmers ran up to her.
“Lady Tangent, the facility in Clapham ...” one gushed. “The same thing happened ...” the other filled in. “At the same time ...” the first confirmed.
Heiko carried Tom farther from the smoke billowing out the barn door and propped him against a stile and part of a wall forming the paddock. He kissed him again and held his hand, hoping for an answering squeeze. “It worked, Tom,” he whispered. “Cyril's drives worked perfectly.” Heiko kissed Tom's hand and felt reassuring warmth against his lips. “Just the way he predicted. The drives went nuts and self-incinerated.” He unbuttoned the top two buttons of Tom's shirt in case it was restricting. “Please wake up, Tom.” He kissed him again. “The drives wouldn't have done a thing unless they tried to access the Alameda storage. So they must have.” Heiko rubbed Tom's hand. “Must have tried to get access … Please wake up, Tommy, I love you.” Heiko kept massaging Tom's hand. “Has anyone called for an ambulance?” he called to the others who had gathered about the horse.
Tom groaned and his hand squeezed Heiko's. “Are you waking up? Are you ok?” Heiko begged for an answer. Tom groaned again and coughed.
“I think he's coming to,” Heiko called out.
“Don't yell, Heiko. My head hurts,” Tom said quietly.
“You're ok? Really? You sure?”
Tom coughed again and tried to sit up. He abandoned the effort. “Tell me that part again about loving me. I'm hoping I heard that right.”
Before Heiko could say anything, John arrived with a drink that looked like water. “It's vodka,” he warned. Tom took a swallow and coughed some more, but he sat up..
“I guess my little party is ruined. Clemmie won't be in a mood to do anything tomorrow. She'll never go in that barn again,” Fred groused, looking for sympathy.
“Sorry, m'lady,” Abel said. “I'm afraid the old wiring in the barn wasn't up to the needs of a modern office.”
“Neither was the wiring in a London office block, it would seem,” Fred said, looking at Heiko and Tom with an appraising eye.
The next day's party was duly canceled and it seemed prudent to go back to London. Tom's apartment was a few minutes walk from University College Hospital in case of complications. Driving back to Croydon, they spoke occasionally about the fire. Tom reassured Heiko that he was not going to pass out again. Then the conversation lagged. Finally Heiko grabbed the wheel hard and began, “Tom about that loving you comment ...”
“Heiko, let me talk first, ok?” Tom waited and Heiko said nothing. Tom decided to be straight-forward. “I think I fell in love with you the first time I met you. I didn't know it then, but you made such an impression. I'm a city boy, not from the nicest part, either, with a public school education; and I was awed by you, your looks, your education and manners. You were so cool in every way that I was uncool. I was intimidated, to be honest. But then when we started working together, I saw a different side of you. Serious, hard-working, awesomely bright … and I was even more intimidated.”
“Tom ...”
“Let me finish, ok?” Tom asked gently. “The more we worked together, the better I got to know you, the more I realized how attracted I was. But I was never sure what you thought. I was afraid you'd laugh if I said anything or tried anything. I was sure you were teasing or joking every time you hinted about sex. In the last few months, though, here in London, I realized how much … how deeply I care about you and I've been trying, unsuccessfully, to find a way to tell you that.” Tom stopped. “So I guess I found a way. Or actually you found the way for me. Now … I don't know what to say. Have I said too much?”
Heiko took Tom's hand and brought it to his mouth. He kissed the fingers. “I love you, too,” he said simply. Why say five hundred words when four will say everything?
After that, the tension was broken and Heiko had trouble keeping both hands on the wheel. Tom felt just that good to him. It was late when they caught the train and even later when they got to Tom's flat.
Alone at last and naked in Tom's bed, there was an awkward moment. Both men were willing, eager even, but each was timid about precisely how to begin their love life. After a few false starts, Heiko said, “I always like watching you work – the way you work with a laptop. Touch me the way you touch your computer.”
Tom laughed. He held Heiko's face in both hands and kissed him. Then he traced every feature, eyebrows, lips, cheeks. His fingers moved smoothly over the skin and hair as Heiko tried to kiss them. They laughed and did it some more.
“No touchpad ever tried to kiss me before,” Tom said. “Or got an erection, either.”
Heiko grinned, “Do it some more.”
They talked more and kissed more and touched constantly, but they didn't go beyond that.
“Remember when I said I would never leave you?” Heiko asked. Tom nodded. “Did you think I was joking then?” Tom shook his head no. “Good. Well, you're stuck. I will never leave you.”
With that declaration, Heiko fully embraced Tom and their cocks rubbed together. They worked out a shared motion that raised the level of friction perfectly. Heiko came just from the friction and then he stroked Tom's cock to orgasm. Wet and messy, unwilling to let go of each other, they fell asleep. It had been an exhausting day.
“You're with Daniel AND Liam?”
“By 'with' what do you mean? Be precise.” Dylan was deliberately being coy, sipping on a tall, bright red drink he called a Rum Runner .
“Fucking, of course,” Alfred said with a little annoyance and a lot of jealousy. Alfred wasn't 'with' anybody at the moment.
“Well, you know my luck …” Dylan batted his eyes. “It won't last. Daniel and Liam will eventually decide to deal me out of things. Soon, probably. Then I'll be as desperate as you are.”
“I'm not desperate … just selective.” Alfred didn't sound sincere even to himself.
“And you have selected out Tom and George and Curtis and Daniel and ...” Dylan ran out of names.
“... and Crispin and Ben and you,” Alfred added.
“And me? Why eliminate me? I thought we could be each others fall-back. No complications, just the odd grapple now and then. Mmm?”
“You're so ... I don't know … exotic, Dylan.”
“So you haven't ruled me out entirely. I see. And if I were less 'exotic' … what then?”
“No. I like you exotic. You're the only ...uh ...”
“... screaming queen that you know. Is that it?”
“Norwich is a small town, Dylan.”
“What does that mean?” Now Dylan was annoyed. He scrubbed his face with a napkin and then looked up with reddened skin and rumpled hair. “I can butch it up! I don't have to be 'exotic'.”
“I'm saying everything wrong tonight,” Alfred admitted. “You want to come home with me? I'd like a little 'exotic' tonight.”
“Really? You would deign to take an 'exotic' into your bed?” Dylan's reservations were dissolving even as he tried for standoffishness.
“Yes. You're just what I want now and then. Tonight, for instance.”
When they got to Alfred's house, Dylan assumed an exaggerated effeminacy. Then with lisp and delicate gesture, he fucked Alfred with near brutality until Alfred was a gibbering wreck.
“Make me come, Dylan. Please. Make me come!” Alfred begged. His dripping cock was rigid and pulsing, bouncing with each thrust of Dylan's.
“I come first; then you,” Dylan decreed and he slammed into Alfred's ass. But his decree was overruled by nature. Alfred began spurting on his own.
“Fuck! I'm coming. Oh … Fuck!” Alfred couldn't control his body.
Dylan rode Alfred like a horse as he collapsed downward onto the bed. When Alfred stopped bucking Dylan resumed his thrusting and soon came.
“There ... 'Ow'd ye like 'exotic' tonight, me li'l ducklet?” Dylan laughed and pulled his still stiff cock out of Alfred with a pop. Alfred groaned in exquisite pain and Dylan laughed again, observing “I don't do glottal stops very well, do I? Not 'exotic' enough, I expect.” He swung his feet to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed looking for his underpants.
“What are you doing?” Alfred asked dreamily.
“Getting dressed. It's a long trip home.”
“Don't go. Stay with me.”
“Alfred … “
“You can't fuck me like that and then just walk away.”
Both of them knew it had been a spectacular session. Alfred pulled Dylan back into the bed. “Stay, Dylan.” Alfred kissed his throat and cheeks and then moved to his mouth. “Nobody ever fucked me like that.” At this point Dylan was returning the kisses. “I liked it a lot ... Hold me, Dyl. Stay.”
Alistair examined the pamphlet with interest. Hot air ballooning might be just the thing. He noted the times and places it was offered, only weekends and holidays at this time of year. A gentle ascent to over three hundred meters, he noted. That would certainly be high enough. A crisp Christmas morning over Oxfordshire with champagne for just a little over a hundred pounds. Quite a possibility, he concluded and tucked the colorful pamphlet into his letter folder when Persephone came in. He would miss Persephone.
“Tom and Heiko want an exit interview tomorrow morning. Their work is done, it seems.”
“Of course. Can we ask Sir John to attend? They should meet him. And he should meet them, I think.”
“I'll check with his appointments secretary. I don't think he appears much on Saturdays any more.” Persephone looked sharply at Alistair. “I must say, you're looking bright and cheery today.”
“I'm feeling bright and cheery, Percy.” He smiled and waved her away.
He returned to his letter writing when she left. No, not Christmas morning, he decided; that would spoil everyone's holiday. Some Saturday seemed better. Tomorrow was Saturday. Meet with Sir John and the boys in the morning. Could I make Oxford by one-thirty? Possibly. Very possibly. He finished the letter and began sketching.
Matt's surprise trip to Washington was really intended to give him a chance to spend the night with Rawson. He handed a small engagement present to his brother as soon as he got to the garage on Macomb Street. The present was several picture books for Michael and Angela. “I'm sorry I couldn't think of what you might want … or need … and the kids are so easy to buy for,” he told Mike. As soon as he could make an excuse to leave he went to the dacha and waited for Rawson.
Rawson got home early and surprised Matt, who was in the shower. No matter to either of them. Arms full of each other, the suit-and-tied Rawson and the dripping wet Matt hugged. They went immediately to bed and didn't get out of it until late in the evening.
“I have to go back at noon tomorrow, but I had to see you,” Matt said. “I was inconsiderate and neglectful in New York. And then before I could even try to make it up to you, you were gone. Not that I blame you. And then the stupid telephone call...”
“That was as much my fault as yours,” Rawson insisted.
“No long-distance fights, ever … ok? If we're going to fight it has to be in person.”
“Sure,” Rawson said. The agreement came too quickly for Matt.
“Don't get all whatever-you-want-Matt on me. I don't get to dictate anything. I'm coming back, you know. This New York thing isn't forever or even for long. Peter says the show will have a limited run, just like the Washington production. He thinks three weeks in January, post-holidays. And we're taking Christmas week off from rehearsals. I'll be back then, too … if that's ok.”
“More than ok. You just made my year. I haven't had a chance to tell you, but I have an offer from Georgetown to teach.”
“That's great. I guess I haven't totally destroyed your reputation.”
“I don't know. They feel like they have to hire the occasional conservative, maybe they're happier with a damaged one.”
“Damaged … Nothing damaged about you. Everything works just fine.” Matt held Rawson's cock and felt it begin to stir. “Want to show me how this works again?”
In mid-fuck Lucky burst in the door. He shouted, “Oh my God, I'm sorry,” and burst out again.
Matt ran to the door laughing. “Lucky, come back. It's ok. We were done.”
“The hell you were,” Lucky said seeing Matt's semi-hard cock.
“Nothing you haven't seen before. It's just like Mike's,” Matt said casually. Rawson was already in a robe and threw one to Matt.
“That fuck show you're in sure has cured you of any modesty,” Lucky said. “Here this package came for you from New York. I thought it might be important. Sorry for not knocking.”
“It's not a fuck show.” Matt answered automatically and looked at the box. Hewas unsuccessful at opening the box by hand and went to the kitchen area for a knife. He set the box on a table. He slit the tape and them ran the knife down a central seam. Rawson and Lucky watched as Matt extracted a much smaller object wrapped in tissue paper. With the wrapping removed the three men saw a framed photograph of Matt very obviously having sex with LaTrella. There was nothing artistic about it; it was X-rated, cock-in-cootch quality, nothing held back. Rawson and Lucky looked away and Matt covered the photo with the tissue paper again.
“There's a card,” Rawson said, picking an envelope from the floor.
Lucky was out the door again without a word and Rawson walked to a sofa and sat. Matt tore the card open and read aloud, “Three weeks of this every night. Why wait until January? Get your Christmas present early.” Matt looked at Rawson. “She didn't sign it.” Matt waited for Rawson to comment, but he didn't. “It doesn't mean anything, Rawson.” Matt stuttered on the 'm' in mean.
Rawson beckoned with a crooked finger and then pulled Matt close when he sat down. “I hope you look that good fucking me.”
“Rawson, it doesn't mean anything, really. I'm sorry you saw it.”
“Shh. Why don't we finish what Lucky interrupted? I'm all turned on seeing you in porn.”
“Everything I do turns into porn. Everything. A nude Othello ... What was I thinking? What else can you call it? Then Romeo and Juliet … with a pornographic tease of a coda? And now, Lucky's right, it is a fuck show.”
“Shakespeare made his plays as raunchy as he could get away with at the time. You're acting in a fine tradition. And you're hot. Has anyone told you that?”
“Why are you laughing?” Matt was confused. “Why aren't you pissed off?”
“Cause I love you, Matty.”
“Someday I hope I can laugh about this,” Matt said morosely. Rawson tickled him. It didn't work right away. Matt tried to twist out of Rawson's grip but failed; then he giggled; finally he laughed. And then they took up where they had left off before Lucky interrupted.
John led Tom and Heiko to the barn ostensibly for a preview of his exhibition with Clemmie. The horse was impressive, huge and beautifully colored, with a mottled gray body and a white mane. She seemed fully aware of her beauty and pranced a bit in her stall.
“Wie ein schwarzwald pferd,” Heiko blurted in awe of the animal.
“Not just 'like a black forest horse'; she IS a black forest horse,” the groom explained. “Her mane used to be blond, like her ladyship's, when her ladyship fancied being blond. But now it's white. She's getting along in years.”
“Don't say it, Heiko,” Tom warned, barely able to stifle his own laugh.
Abel grinned, enjoying the reaction to his mocking but unspoken comparison.
“Can we see the rest of the stable?” Heiko asked, now serious.
“It's really a barn, these days; but you can see what is left of the old stalls, from when we trained horses here. Follow me.” Abel gave Tom and Heiko a comprehensive tour while John got Clemmie into harness. “You can see what it used to be. In the old tack room, we didn't just keep tack, we made it ourselves. John will be using a rig made right here.” He pointed to a closed door.
“Can we see?”
“I guess so.” Abel knocked and one of the young programmers opened the door. Reluctantly he let them into the large room. Abel explained the former locations of storage, sewing and leather working equipment, and work tables. The programmers made an attempt to cover up what they were doing but otherwise took no particular notice of the visitors.
“Thanks, Mr. Harding,” Tom offered his hand, but Abel nodded instead and left.
“Did you see what was on the desks? It was YOUR data table layout, Tom. The one for the Pacific Film Archive. Is there any doubt now what they're doing? Do you want to call Rory right now?”
“It's ...um … six in the morning in Alameda, I think. We can wait.”
“Cyril will be up, I'm calling him,” Heiko said.
“Do it outside, ok? I'll talk to John.”
“What?” Heiko asked. Tom was looking at him funny.
“You'd make a great cowboy,” Tom said.
Heiko beamed, hooked his thumbs in his waistband, and thrust his hips forward. Then with sly smile, he broke his brief pose and went out the main door punching his phone rapidly.
Tom walked to Clemmie's stall and watched as John finished putting the elaborate harness on the horse. “You're good at that,” he told John.
“She's a great horse. We seem to have hit it off well together. She forgives me my mistakes and I forgive her when she doesn't want to work any more. Plus I slip her a little extra molasses in her oats. She appreciates it. Since we started working out more, she can actually use the calories.”
“She's looking good, John,” Abel added. “You've been very good for her. She's thriving under the attention.” Suddenly Abel listened intently to the sound of a commotion. Clemmie noticed something wrong as well. She stirred restlessly, stamping impatiently. The smell of smoke followed quickly, alarming the horse.
“What?” Abel said to himself and rushed out of the stall.
“Fire! Fire!” came cries. Tom heard the sound of slamming doors and running. He could see smoke in the long passage through the barn. Clemmie panicked. She didn't kick, but she shifted her hind quarters and over a thousand pounds of horse slammed Tom into the stall wall.
Tom saw in perfect detail every grain in stall's wood. Gradually, it seemed to happen with a predictably slow decay, the wood lost its form and only an outline remained. There was a roaring at first that faded to silence as Tom's image of the stall lost its color and faded to white. The white brightened and enveloped him. The odd light had no substance but supported him, like being afloat in an insubstantial milky fluid. Vaguely defined faces appeared, strangers' faces, but benign and welcoming. Then he saw Devon, smiling. He saw his father and mother standing together, looking at him, smiling as if nothing unusual had happened. He reached out but no one took special notice of his distress. But then he wasn't distressed; his agitation resolved itself into a vapid serenity that held no promise, a bleakness of being. Tom felt vaguely sad and wasn't sure why.
“Let's get her out of here!” John said, barely keeping his voice steady as the smoke became thicker. Getting a spooked horse to back up is a trick. He spoke calmly to Clemmie but shoved hard at her shoulders while holding her head down. Step by step he backed her into the passage. Once clear of the stall, he kept her from running and led her out the door at a swift but orderly pace.
“Nice work, John,” Abel commended him as they stroked the horse and tried to calm her. The two programmers were both wide-eyed and talking on their phones.
“Where's Tom?” Heiko asked. “WHERE'S TOM?” he bellowed when no one paid attention.
“He was in the stall,” John said, looking around for him.
Heiko ran into the barn and after going what he hoped was the right distance groped to his left for the stall door. He bent low to avoid as much of the smoke as possible and dimly saw the door standing open not far away. Inside the stall there was less smoke and he quickly found Tom. After calling his name twice and shaking him, Heiko picked up the inert body and carried it out the door into the blessedly clear air of the barnyard. He lay Tom on a hay stack and checked. There was a pulse and Tom was breathing.
“Tom? Tom?” Heiko patted his hand. “Please, Tom, say something.” Impulsively Heiko kissed his friend's forehead and then held Tom's hands in his own.
Tom coughed and his eyes fluttered. He recognized that he was with someone. Heiko wasn't sure he knew who he was. “Were you kissing me?” Tom asked.
“Yes,” Heiko answered.
A faint smile came to Tom's lips and he asked, “Why did you stop?” Then his eyes closed again.
“I think he's ok,” Heiko said, looking up to John and Abel.
The commotion drew Fred to the scene. “Is everyone alright?” she asked. 'Everyone' was aimed specifically at the programmers. She received assurances from John that they were. The programmers ran up to her.
“Lady Tangent, the facility in Clapham ...” one gushed. “The same thing happened ...” the other filled in. “At the same time ...” the first confirmed.
Heiko carried Tom farther from the smoke billowing out the barn door and propped him against a stile and part of a wall forming the paddock. He kissed him again and held his hand, hoping for an answering squeeze. “It worked, Tom,” he whispered. “Cyril's drives worked perfectly.” Heiko kissed Tom's hand and felt reassuring warmth against his lips. “Just the way he predicted. The drives went nuts and self-incinerated.” He unbuttoned the top two buttons of Tom's shirt in case it was restricting. “Please wake up, Tom.” He kissed him again. “The drives wouldn't have done a thing unless they tried to access the Alameda storage. So they must have.” Heiko rubbed Tom's hand. “Must have tried to get access … Please wake up, Tommy, I love you.” Heiko kept massaging Tom's hand. “Has anyone called for an ambulance?” he called to the others who had gathered about the horse.
Tom groaned and his hand squeezed Heiko's. “Are you waking up? Are you ok?” Heiko begged for an answer. Tom groaned again and coughed.
“I think he's coming to,” Heiko called out.
“Don't yell, Heiko. My head hurts,” Tom said quietly.
“You're ok? Really? You sure?”
Tom coughed again and tried to sit up. He abandoned the effort. “Tell me that part again about loving me. I'm hoping I heard that right.”
Before Heiko could say anything, John arrived with a drink that looked like water. “It's vodka,” he warned. Tom took a swallow and coughed some more, but he sat up..
“I guess my little party is ruined. Clemmie won't be in a mood to do anything tomorrow. She'll never go in that barn again,” Fred groused, looking for sympathy.
“Sorry, m'lady,” Abel said. “I'm afraid the old wiring in the barn wasn't up to the needs of a modern office.”
“Neither was the wiring in a London office block, it would seem,” Fred said, looking at Heiko and Tom with an appraising eye.
The next day's party was duly canceled and it seemed prudent to go back to London. Tom's apartment was a few minutes walk from University College Hospital in case of complications. Driving back to Croydon, they spoke occasionally about the fire. Tom reassured Heiko that he was not going to pass out again. Then the conversation lagged. Finally Heiko grabbed the wheel hard and began, “Tom about that loving you comment ...”
“Heiko, let me talk first, ok?” Tom waited and Heiko said nothing. Tom decided to be straight-forward. “I think I fell in love with you the first time I met you. I didn't know it then, but you made such an impression. I'm a city boy, not from the nicest part, either, with a public school education; and I was awed by you, your looks, your education and manners. You were so cool in every way that I was uncool. I was intimidated, to be honest. But then when we started working together, I saw a different side of you. Serious, hard-working, awesomely bright … and I was even more intimidated.”
“Tom ...”
“Let me finish, ok?” Tom asked gently. “The more we worked together, the better I got to know you, the more I realized how attracted I was. But I was never sure what you thought. I was afraid you'd laugh if I said anything or tried anything. I was sure you were teasing or joking every time you hinted about sex. In the last few months, though, here in London, I realized how much … how deeply I care about you and I've been trying, unsuccessfully, to find a way to tell you that.” Tom stopped. “So I guess I found a way. Or actually you found the way for me. Now … I don't know what to say. Have I said too much?”
Heiko took Tom's hand and brought it to his mouth. He kissed the fingers. “I love you, too,” he said simply. Why say five hundred words when four will say everything?
After that, the tension was broken and Heiko had trouble keeping both hands on the wheel. Tom felt just that good to him. It was late when they caught the train and even later when they got to Tom's flat.
Alone at last and naked in Tom's bed, there was an awkward moment. Both men were willing, eager even, but each was timid about precisely how to begin their love life. After a few false starts, Heiko said, “I always like watching you work – the way you work with a laptop. Touch me the way you touch your computer.”
Tom laughed. He held Heiko's face in both hands and kissed him. Then he traced every feature, eyebrows, lips, cheeks. His fingers moved smoothly over the skin and hair as Heiko tried to kiss them. They laughed and did it some more.
“No touchpad ever tried to kiss me before,” Tom said. “Or got an erection, either.”
Heiko grinned, “Do it some more.”
They talked more and kissed more and touched constantly, but they didn't go beyond that.
“Remember when I said I would never leave you?” Heiko asked. Tom nodded. “Did you think I was joking then?” Tom shook his head no. “Good. Well, you're stuck. I will never leave you.”
With that declaration, Heiko fully embraced Tom and their cocks rubbed together. They worked out a shared motion that raised the level of friction perfectly. Heiko came just from the friction and then he stroked Tom's cock to orgasm. Wet and messy, unwilling to let go of each other, they fell asleep. It had been an exhausting day.
“You're with Daniel AND Liam?”
“By 'with' what do you mean? Be precise.” Dylan was deliberately being coy, sipping on a tall, bright red drink he called a Rum Runner .
“Fucking, of course,” Alfred said with a little annoyance and a lot of jealousy. Alfred wasn't 'with' anybody at the moment.
“Well, you know my luck …” Dylan batted his eyes. “It won't last. Daniel and Liam will eventually decide to deal me out of things. Soon, probably. Then I'll be as desperate as you are.”
“I'm not desperate … just selective.” Alfred didn't sound sincere even to himself.
“And you have selected out Tom and George and Curtis and Daniel and ...” Dylan ran out of names.
“... and Crispin and Ben and you,” Alfred added.
“And me? Why eliminate me? I thought we could be each others fall-back. No complications, just the odd grapple now and then. Mmm?”
“You're so ... I don't know … exotic, Dylan.”
“So you haven't ruled me out entirely. I see. And if I were less 'exotic' … what then?”
“No. I like you exotic. You're the only ...uh ...”
“... screaming queen that you know. Is that it?”
“Norwich is a small town, Dylan.”
“What does that mean?” Now Dylan was annoyed. He scrubbed his face with a napkin and then looked up with reddened skin and rumpled hair. “I can butch it up! I don't have to be 'exotic'.”
“I'm saying everything wrong tonight,” Alfred admitted. “You want to come home with me? I'd like a little 'exotic' tonight.”
“Really? You would deign to take an 'exotic' into your bed?” Dylan's reservations were dissolving even as he tried for standoffishness.
“Yes. You're just what I want now and then. Tonight, for instance.”
When they got to Alfred's house, Dylan assumed an exaggerated effeminacy. Then with lisp and delicate gesture, he fucked Alfred with near brutality until Alfred was a gibbering wreck.
“Make me come, Dylan. Please. Make me come!” Alfred begged. His dripping cock was rigid and pulsing, bouncing with each thrust of Dylan's.
“I come first; then you,” Dylan decreed and he slammed into Alfred's ass. But his decree was overruled by nature. Alfred began spurting on his own.
“Fuck! I'm coming. Oh … Fuck!” Alfred couldn't control his body.
Dylan rode Alfred like a horse as he collapsed downward onto the bed. When Alfred stopped bucking Dylan resumed his thrusting and soon came.
“There ... 'Ow'd ye like 'exotic' tonight, me li'l ducklet?” Dylan laughed and pulled his still stiff cock out of Alfred with a pop. Alfred groaned in exquisite pain and Dylan laughed again, observing “I don't do glottal stops very well, do I? Not 'exotic' enough, I expect.” He swung his feet to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed looking for his underpants.
“What are you doing?” Alfred asked dreamily.
“Getting dressed. It's a long trip home.”
“Don't go. Stay with me.”
“Alfred … “
“You can't fuck me like that and then just walk away.”
Both of them knew it had been a spectacular session. Alfred pulled Dylan back into the bed. “Stay, Dylan.” Alfred kissed his throat and cheeks and then moved to his mouth. “Nobody ever fucked me like that.” At this point Dylan was returning the kisses. “I liked it a lot ... Hold me, Dyl. Stay.”
Alistair examined the pamphlet with interest. Hot air ballooning might be just the thing. He noted the times and places it was offered, only weekends and holidays at this time of year. A gentle ascent to over three hundred meters, he noted. That would certainly be high enough. A crisp Christmas morning over Oxfordshire with champagne for just a little over a hundred pounds. Quite a possibility, he concluded and tucked the colorful pamphlet into his letter folder when Persephone came in. He would miss Persephone.
“Tom and Heiko want an exit interview tomorrow morning. Their work is done, it seems.”
“Of course. Can we ask Sir John to attend? They should meet him. And he should meet them, I think.”
“I'll check with his appointments secretary. I don't think he appears much on Saturdays any more.” Persephone looked sharply at Alistair. “I must say, you're looking bright and cheery today.”
“I'm feeling bright and cheery, Percy.” He smiled and waved her away.
He returned to his letter writing when she left. No, not Christmas morning, he decided; that would spoil everyone's holiday. Some Saturday seemed better. Tomorrow was Saturday. Meet with Sir John and the boys in the morning. Could I make Oxford by one-thirty? Possibly. Very possibly. He finished the letter and began sketching.
Matt's surprise trip to Washington was really intended to give him a chance to spend the night with Rawson. He handed a small engagement present to his brother as soon as he got to the garage on Macomb Street. The present was several picture books for Michael and Angela. “I'm sorry I couldn't think of what you might want … or need … and the kids are so easy to buy for,” he told Mike. As soon as he could make an excuse to leave he went to the dacha and waited for Rawson.
Rawson got home early and surprised Matt, who was in the shower. No matter to either of them. Arms full of each other, the suit-and-tied Rawson and the dripping wet Matt hugged. They went immediately to bed and didn't get out of it until late in the evening.
“I have to go back at noon tomorrow, but I had to see you,” Matt said. “I was inconsiderate and neglectful in New York. And then before I could even try to make it up to you, you were gone. Not that I blame you. And then the stupid telephone call...”
“That was as much my fault as yours,” Rawson insisted.
“No long-distance fights, ever … ok? If we're going to fight it has to be in person.”
“Sure,” Rawson said. The agreement came too quickly for Matt.
“Don't get all whatever-you-want-Matt on me. I don't get to dictate anything. I'm coming back, you know. This New York thing isn't forever or even for long. Peter says the show will have a limited run, just like the Washington production. He thinks three weeks in January, post-holidays. And we're taking Christmas week off from rehearsals. I'll be back then, too … if that's ok.”
“More than ok. You just made my year. I haven't had a chance to tell you, but I have an offer from Georgetown to teach.”
“That's great. I guess I haven't totally destroyed your reputation.”
“I don't know. They feel like they have to hire the occasional conservative, maybe they're happier with a damaged one.”
“Damaged … Nothing damaged about you. Everything works just fine.” Matt held Rawson's cock and felt it begin to stir. “Want to show me how this works again?”
In mid-fuck Lucky burst in the door. He shouted, “Oh my God, I'm sorry,” and burst out again.
Matt ran to the door laughing. “Lucky, come back. It's ok. We were done.”
“The hell you were,” Lucky said seeing Matt's semi-hard cock.
“Nothing you haven't seen before. It's just like Mike's,” Matt said casually. Rawson was already in a robe and threw one to Matt.
“That fuck show you're in sure has cured you of any modesty,” Lucky said. “Here this package came for you from New York. I thought it might be important. Sorry for not knocking.”
“It's not a fuck show.” Matt answered automatically and looked at the box. Hewas unsuccessful at opening the box by hand and went to the kitchen area for a knife. He set the box on a table. He slit the tape and them ran the knife down a central seam. Rawson and Lucky watched as Matt extracted a much smaller object wrapped in tissue paper. With the wrapping removed the three men saw a framed photograph of Matt very obviously having sex with LaTrella. There was nothing artistic about it; it was X-rated, cock-in-cootch quality, nothing held back. Rawson and Lucky looked away and Matt covered the photo with the tissue paper again.
“There's a card,” Rawson said, picking an envelope from the floor.
Lucky was out the door again without a word and Rawson walked to a sofa and sat. Matt tore the card open and read aloud, “Three weeks of this every night. Why wait until January? Get your Christmas present early.” Matt looked at Rawson. “She didn't sign it.” Matt waited for Rawson to comment, but he didn't. “It doesn't mean anything, Rawson.” Matt stuttered on the 'm' in mean.
Rawson beckoned with a crooked finger and then pulled Matt close when he sat down. “I hope you look that good fucking me.”
“Rawson, it doesn't mean anything, really. I'm sorry you saw it.”
“Shh. Why don't we finish what Lucky interrupted? I'm all turned on seeing you in porn.”
“Everything I do turns into porn. Everything. A nude Othello ... What was I thinking? What else can you call it? Then Romeo and Juliet … with a pornographic tease of a coda? And now, Lucky's right, it is a fuck show.”
“Shakespeare made his plays as raunchy as he could get away with at the time. You're acting in a fine tradition. And you're hot. Has anyone told you that?”
“Why are you laughing?” Matt was confused. “Why aren't you pissed off?”
“Cause I love you, Matty.”
“Someday I hope I can laugh about this,” Matt said morosely. Rawson tickled him. It didn't work right away. Matt tried to twist out of Rawson's grip but failed; then he giggled; finally he laughed. And then they took up where they had left off before Lucky interrupted.
