PAZIENZA
Part Five
… Year 5
“Great evening!” enthused the
director of the City Gallery. “WEI
always knows how to throw a party!” He
leant in towards Quatre, who tried bravely not to flinch away. It was past 10 pm already, the function room
was hot and crowded and noisy, and the man in front of him had already drunk
far too many glasses of expensive wine.
His hot breath smelled of canapés and alcohol, and his face had a ruddy
circle high on each cheek. “And the
gallery idea of yours – brilliant, brilliant!
Ticket receipts have already increased, and this is traditionally a
quiet month.”
“And how are people receiving the new art? The local exhibits?”
“I was surprised, I don’t mind telling you. I mean, we didn’t want a sudden swamping of
stark blue canvases and sliced farm animals, now did we?” The man leered, and Quatre bit back a
sigh. “But the quality has been
excellent! Obviously there were works we
would never have thought to show before.”
“That would have been a sad loss for the Gallery, of
course?” Quatre prompted gently.
“Yes indeed!” The
director waved the stick from out of a chewed smoked salmon roll, and nearly
put out Quatre’s eye. “Isn’t that what
I’ve been saying? My fellow directors
are looking forward to next month’s submissions already, and maybe we’ll
consider a rolling theme, or special occasion events
…”
As the man swayed a little back towards the buffet table,
Quatre took the opportunity to slip away.
A couple of photographers peeled themselves away from a far wall and
looked like they were making their eager way towards him; he wheeled quickly in
another direction and backed up against one of the other WEI department
managers. He turned gratefully to talk
to him.
“It’s gone well, Winner,” the man said, lifting his glass in
an imaginary toast to Quatre. His eyes
flickered towards the confused photographers and he grinned. “Inspired idea, and very
tabloid-friendly, eh?”
“You should know, Magnus, you’re in Promotions,” Quatre
smiled in return. “Your lot spread us all over the papers and snap away at us for
the glossies. It’s all for the benefit
of WEI, of course.”
“Of course,” Magnus nodded.
“But your lot had the idea in
the first place! A new
gallery area, solely for the showing of new, modern artists, with an open
submissions policy and a regular turnover of exhibits. And free entrance for school parties and
concessions! Excellent, I must say. Sounded like a few of your
team were reluctant to go back to their old jobs in the corporation, after the
success of your glamorous little plot to save the Gallery.”
“Maybe the coffee was better,” retorted Quatre,
good-naturedly. “I hear the stuff in Promotions is so perilously close to the
kitchens, you might have washed up in it a few times.”
Magnus raised an eyebrow, good-naturedly. “‘Stuff’,
Mr Winner?
Since when have you used the parlance of the common man at such a formal
event? Guess the makeshift nature of
your department is rubbing off on you. I
hear you work the kids there way beyond homework time.”
Quatre tensed slightly, and didn’t answer. Magnus was wise enough to know he’d stepped
over a mark. “Sorry,” he apologised. “Didn’t mean to sound so trite. I’ve had the work experience kids in myself,
before now. Some of
‘em can’t count paperclips, but some have contributed well. I hear your guy is one of the better
ones.
“Sounds like Duo,” smiled Quatre, but his attention was a
little distracted now.
Magnus waved the half-full glass at him. “You making the
speech soon? Or looking for someone?”
Looking
for someone… Quatre couldn’t remember when he hadn’t been doing that.
“Where is Duo?” he
asked.
*
Duo had found the whole event intimidating. Fucking
intimidating, as his school friends would have said. The hotel was the best and the biggest in
town – hell, the damned foyer was larger than his apartment – but he’d never
been in such a place in his life and didn’t quite know how to behave. The guy
at the front door had looked a little suspicious when he said he didn’t have a
coat to give up to him, but he’d produced his special invitation with a
triumphant flourish and been respectfully waved through to the function rooms.
He’d been pleased to see Rashid at the door to the WEI
event, but the big guy was on duty and hadn’t been allowed to stop and chat
with him. He looked even larger in a
formal suit and tie but still the same calm, stolid expression that served him
so well in his work. Not so stolid around a pack of cards… mused Duo smugly to himself.
With a rueful smile exchanged between the two of them, Duo had walked on
in.
It had been like plunging into a bath of cold water, with
the resulting shock! A very large,
high-ceilinged, beautifully decorated ‘bath’, admittedly, with lights so bright
he thought he ought to be confessing something, people milling everywhere with
voices too loud and clothes too exclusive, and tables full of food and drink
with no attendants to restrict the intake.
Ah… food! Duo had
been happy at the buffet table for a while, eating stuff he wasn’t quite sure
the name of, and sipping cautiously at a rich red-coloured
fruit punch. He’d started to relax a
little.
Around the far end of the table, there was a group of guys
with smart suits and ridiculously bright, wide neckties, laughing and clapping
and slapping other guys on the back, and generally braying their business all
over the place. There was the clink of
glasses being knocked together in mock toasts, and in real toasts. He recognised a few from the department he’d been working in .
“Duo!”
One of the young executives called over to him. “Hey kid, you OK?”
Duo jumped when he heard his name called – he’d thought he
was unnoticed, or at least he’d tried to be.
“Yeah,” he called back and grinned.
It was Rich, one of the guys in Marketing, also a trainee, though on the
permanent staff. He was surrounded by
half a dozen of the other guys in the department, and some others from
accounts. Rich was a bit of a dork, but
Duo quite liked him. He was one of the
first trainees who’d been friendly to him during his work experience, and had
nudged Duo along during the time he’d been at WEI so that he didn’t make a
complete ass of himself. Shit, he was
the only one Duo allowed to call him ‘kid’!
Duo gave his friend the thumbs up, but when Rick beckoned
for him to come over and join the group, he shook his head. How
long can I hover around here? he thought, feeling
as much a dork as Rich. He brushed
crumbs off his new red shirt and gripped the glass of punch in his hand even
more tightly. He just didn’t feel very
confident here; this was Quatre’s world.
Like, he was happy enough with the guys, but this evening was something different.
He hadn’t seen Quatre since he first arrived. Their eyes had smiled welcome over the heads
of a whole bunch of important looking people, Quatre shaking hand after hand in
greeting them all. He didn’t get around
to greeting Duo, but Duo guessed that was the way it was when you were the heir
to the organisation that was hosting the whole
shebang. You were the guy they wanted to see; you were in the front line.
Duo kicked one of his boots at the table leg. He felt young. He didn’t like it one miserable jot.
When the waiter passed with a tray of empty glasses, he
followed him and slipped out of the room in his wake. They pattered down a corridor to the kitchen
– the staff had seen him in the function room, so he assumed they’d think he
was allowed to wander at will. He gazed
around the large, clinically-bright room, apparently admiring the well-wiped
counters and savouring the rich aroma of the cooked dishes,
all the time smiling innocently at the staff as if he had as much right to be
there as they did. It seemed to work, or
else they were all too busy serving to care about one young man who wasn’t
really getting in their way. Eventually,
they’d all gone and he was left alone.
He picked himself another plate of the first-round of sandwiches and
snagged another glass of the vibrantly-coloured
punch, then made his way out of the kitchen by another route.
I think
I’ve done my duty now – I’ve had enough of the whole social thing. He decided to find the lobby again
and sneak back home. He knew where the
buses went from; worst came to the worst, he’d use the emergency money in his
back pocket for a cab.
Then he found a corridor of much quieter, sober rooms, and
he paused to look inside the first one – the door was ajar, and it was empty of
guests. All he could hear from the rooms
he’d left behind was the erratic hum of voices and the occasionally burst of
laughter. He drew a breath and slipped
into the quiet, warm room; it felt like some kind of sanctuary after the bright
liveliness of the function. It was a
kind of games room, he thought. There
were chairs and small tables for drinks.
One side was dominated by a full-sized billiards table, with a couple of
felt-covered card tables at its side.
The lamps were deliberately shaded in here, and everything seemed
furnished with wood or dark fabrics. It
created a light like a particularly luscious early summer sunset. There was still the lingering smell of cigar
smoke and fine spirits, obviously from previous guests. Or so Duo imagined; it wasn’t like he’d been
in any private games clubs in his short, not-yet-fully-adult life.
Whatever he thought of it, it was a comfortable, restful
room. He sat down on one of the
armchairs and ate his sandwiches slowly.
The punch slid down very pleasantly, even more than the earlier
glasses. He felt his body relax and sink
down into the cushions; he considered kicking off his boots, but thought he
ought to fight off the temptation. It
was a damned pity, but he ought to watch his step here…
“Where have you been?” came a slow voice at his
shoulder. “I’ve been looking for you to
take some of the congratulations off my shoulders – after all, you had a hand
in this scheme from the very beginning.”
“Fuck!” Duo lurched up in his seat, the empty plate
and glass sliding off his knees and tumbling on to the floor. He bit back the expletive, but way too late. He snapped his head round to glare at the
speaker. “Dammit, Quatre, you scared the
hell out of me! Don’t creep up on me
like that!”
Quatre’s face twisted briefly with concern, but then he
relaxed and smiled. “Guilty
conscience, Duo? You’ve been
drinking too much punch, maybe?”
Duo looked up into his friend’s bright blue eyes then down
at the glass on the floor. He bit his
lip rather ruefully. “So OK, I had a
glass or two. Someone gonna challenge me
on that?”
“Maybe not,” admitted Quatre. “But anyone with half a brain would be
tempted to.”
“And you,” said Duo,
the lights over the billiard table sparkling their reflection in his eyes,
“could most certainly be said to have that,
right?”
“Right,” agreed Quatre.
“At the very least a half, I should say.” His smile got broader. “And anyway, Rashid’s been watching you for
the last hour back in the function room, and took great pleasure in telling me just how many glasses you’d had since
you arrived.”
Duo remembered the times he’d looked across to the large man
standing stolidly at the entrance to the room, and caught his eye. Every time it seemed that Rashid had
studiously ignored him, and instead had fixed his gaze on any guests who were
arriving, showing unnatural concentration as if they were rare insects worthy
of dissection. And I felt sorry for the poor sap, always on duty, always working…
“He’s a stalker,” snapped Duo. “A sneak.”
“His job is to protect me.
And you,” said Quatre, calmly.
Duo stood up, brushing the last crumbs off his shirt and
snorted. “You think I’ll get violent or
drunk and throw up on the carpet here?
You think I’m just a kid who can’t take it?” He knew he sounded belligerent. Quatre’s hand landed gently on his shoulder
as if to pacify him, and the two of them leant into each other a little.
Duo lifted his eyes and looked back at his friend – he’d
barely seen this guy all evening! He
knew there were press there, and government representatives who had
responsibility for the issue of research grants and suchlike, and the
management board of the Gallery itself.
The whole event had been laid on to celebrate the first six months’
success of the new initiative at the City Gallery – and also the formal
confirmation for the work to begin on the new, additional Winner Foundation
wing. The ‘art challenge’ (as it was called in the press) had captured the
imagination of artists and visitors alike, and was appropriately cute to have
captured the eye of the media, too. Duo
had overheard snippets of excited chatter about a link with other major galleries,
and with art colleges.
Oh, and there’d been plenty of
chatter about the cute Quatre Winner,
too.
Quatre… His father
had attended at an earlier stage of the evening, but it was Quatre who was in
the forefront of the whole event.
Duo found his eyes running quickly over his friend. Quatre was wearing a grey coloured
suit in a silk fabric that hung fluidly from his broad shoulders. It had obviously been made to measure for
him; there was no way an off-the-peg garment would fit that well around his
torso, and have pants that moulded against his hips
like they moved with his skin. It was
perfectly smart and yet had a style that befitted a handsome young man, rather
than the more traditional suits his father wore. His shirt was a muted blue – a colour that suited him well – and he’d foregone his
necktie. There was a glint of fine
silver at his neck.
Duo realised with a jolt of
pleasure that he was wearing the chain he’d bought him.
He realised that the sight of
Quatre was a whole jolt of pleasure in itself.
What was up with him tonight?
“So it’s going well?” he asked, his voice a little more
contrite.
Quatre nodded. “Very well. And I
meant it – that I want to share the congratulations with you.”
“And the grovelling… and the
sucking up?” added Duo, and then he grinned.
“That as well,” said Quatre.
He laughed, softly. Duo felt the
usual warmth when he made Quatre laugh. “Plenty of that, of
course. But that’s what I’m here
for – to handle all that.” Obviously the
evening had been a trial as well as a triumph; but Quatre Winner was very well
equipped to deal with both with perfect poise.
Duo sighed, so softly that he didn’t think Quatre had
noticed.
The blond man looked a little tired round the eyes, but
there was a vibrancy to his body that showed how wired
up he really was. Duo knew the look; he
knew the excitement that was coursing through him. Quatre spent so many of his hours behaving
just as he should, and facing up to the public’s expectations; he spent so many
more in concerning himself with how others felt and what they were
achieving. Exciting, yes – but
exhausting, too.
“You need something for yourself,” Duo said, abruptly.
Quatre looked quizzical.
Duo had the terrible feeling that he was acting like a dork now, too, but he couldn’t seem to stop
himself. So what was up with him tonight? He was suddenly afraid that someone would
arrive at the door to the games room and move him on, or Quatre would be called
away by one of his managers. Or maybe
his friend would just give Duo that gentle smile of his, and turn away in
embarrassment or boredom.
He suddenly felt awkward with Quatre. He’d known him for years. It was fucking ridiculous…
“You know,” persisted Duo. His
voice sounded a little odd, even to his own ears. “You give too much away of yourself, all the
time. You need things just for you –
really special things. You deserve the
best of everything.”
Quatre was taken aback at Duo’s very personal words. He raised an eyebrow as if to dismiss the
comment, but inside he felt a rush of surprised pleasure. He took his hand from the other man’s
shoulder but it hovered between them; he realised he
didn’t know whether to withdraw it or touch Duo in some other way.
“Hey…” He could tell that Duo was embarrassed. He kicked his boots on the floor whenever he was
disconcerted, and Quatre watched him doing it now as he spoke. “Sorry, Quatre, talking
total crapola tonight. Don’t know what’s up with me. Guess you were right about the punch.”
Quatre caught a breath that bubbled dangerously in his
throat and swallowed it back down. “It …
hey, I’m not saying you’re drunk, OK?
But… it can make you act differently…”
“Uh-huh. Or make
things a lot clearer.” The words were
only mumbled.
Quatre looked steadily at Duo, standing there, almost the
same height as him. The younger man wore
smart black pants, just a little too long and curling up on the top of his
boots. The silver buckle of his belt
caught a glint from the lights around them.
His shirt was a deep russet colour, and
unbuttoned a few inches, showing his throat and the top of his torso. Beads of sweat glimmered against the muscles
there. The colour
of the shirt complemented his colouring; his eyes
shone the brighter in contrast against the darkness of its fabric.
Duo was flushed now, and he pushed impatiently at the hair
that fell over his brow. Quatre watched
him, unable to tear his eyes away. He
was worried that he was staring, but he knew there wasn’t a hell of a lot he could
do about it. He watched the way that
Duo’s braid clung to his back, snagging on the cloth as the young man tossed
his head to resettle it. The hair was
the same brunette colour as always, thought Quatre,
but then again it wasn’t. Tonight it
caught the glow from the subdued lighting in the room – it seemed to show the colours of autumn; the shine of beech leaves; the richness
of real chestnuts. Quatre chided himself
for being so fanciful, but despite that he knew how it would feel, and he
wanted to touch it; run it through his fingers.
Oh God, he
thought, misery and frustration swamping him.
Oh my God. I’ve known it for years, haven’t I? But I thought I could live with this. I
thought we could just be friends. I
never knew it would be this painful…
*
Meanwhile, standing only a foot away from the blond man, Duo
was finding it difficult to breathe. He
stared back into Quatre’s eyes and was worried he didn’t seem to be able to
focus properly. Quatre seemed disturbed
about something but all Duo could think about was the harsh beating of his own
heart. The other man stood very close to
him – or perhaps he, Duo, was overly sensitive to it. Quatre smelled good… Quatre’s smile was very
nervous… and suddenly Duo wanted Quatre to reach out his strong, careful hands
and put them on his shoulders again.
There were words in his mouth asking to be released, but they were
tangled up with the inexplicable urge to laugh and a desire to shout something
out aloud. He didn’t know what he wanted to shout! Probably something about Quatre – something
about the way he was making him feel.
Something about the strange emotions that were suddenly swamping him … nah, he thought, don’t fool yourself, Maxwell! Such
feelings had been brewing impatiently inside him for quite a while now. Hadn’t they?
“That weekend,” he said, suddenly. His voice sounded hoarse. “When we went walking…”
They’d never managed to repeat the adventure – never found
the mutually convenient time. Quatre
nodded, encouraging him to go on. Looked
like he wanted to speak, but bit it back.
“All I wanted was to be with you. You know?
All I wanted was to touch you.”
He saw Quatre’s eyes widen suddenly with shock. Was that fear there, too? “I never said anything – didn’t know how
to. What
to say. It’s been … bugging me ever
since.” Duo groaned to himself. What the
fuck is wrong with me? I’m disturbing
Quatre – fucking it all up … He shifted his gaze down, pretending he was
searching for his spilled plate. ”Look,
I don’t know where all this is coming from.
It’s late … whatever. This isn’t
really my scene, is it, I’m not really part of this
stuff. It’s been a few months since I
worked at WEI, and I was just a trainee there, a gofer, whatever. Nothing special. Things are all back to normal for me
now. It was sort of kind of you to
invite me to this, but it’s better if I just get lost
–“
Quatre’s hand moved very suddenly, grabbing at his
shoulder. “No!” he said, so sharply that Duo jumped. He couldn’t remember ever hearing Quatre
speak that fiercely before.
“You mustn’t go,” the blond urged, though he dropped the
tone of his voice. ”Nothing
special?” He couldn’t be further from the truth… “Hell Duo, this whole
business is only good because you’re here!”
Duo searched the other man’s eyes – he didn’t fully
understand the expression there. He gave
a nervous laugh. “I’m the comedy
interlude, right –?“
Quatre shook his head, impatiently. “You’re acting
like it! But that’s not what I mean,
and you know it. Look at me, Duo – look
at me, properly!”
He gripped at Duo’s shoulder; he guessed he was too rough,
but it was suddenly desperately important that he didn’t lose this moment
between them. Duo lifted wide blue eyes
to him, moist with confusion, bright with … something new. There seemed to be a shiver running down his
body. “You don’t have to bully me,
Winner,” he groaned.
“Yes, I think I do,” Quatre growled back. “You can take it, you said; you said you
didn’t want to be treated like a kid. So
look me in the eye and be honest with me!”
He watched the younger man flush with indignation, but stand his
ground. Listen to me, though Quatre, his whole heart thudding through his
veins. I didn’t know this would happen tonight – I’ve practised
for this so many times, in my mind – I’ve dreamt of this so many nights. Now I don’t know what to say… Duo was almost staring him in the face, but
Quatre could feel the trembling in the lean body in front of him, the vibration
playing through the hand he had on Duo’s shoulder.
“Duo, you’re here because you contributed to the success of
this scheme, and because we all want you to be here. And I –“ he drew a deeper
breath because he knew he could hear his voice shaking. “I want
you here – I want you here more… more than anyone else ever could.” All
those years of public speaking coaching, he thought wryly. And now
I stammer and dry up! But I just want
him to listen to me… to believe me… to understand…
He started again.
“That weekend, you said. You felt
things that weekend that made you uneasy – unhappy…”
“No!” Duo
interrupted, then looked shocked, as if the words had
escaped involuntarily. “I mean – no, that wasn’t it, not unhappy.” Now the fierceness was in his eyes, as if he challenged Quatre to
laugh at him. “I’m not as good with the
speeches as you, Quatre. I don’t know
how to say this…”
Quatre almost laughed aloud at the ridiculous image of them
both as tongue-tied as each other. One man who was the master of celebrity interviews, and the other
who had rarely been caught without a smart answer.
“So, if you weren’t unhappy with it…” he paused, struggling
to find the right words. “Well, neither
was I.” Master of understatement, he groaned to himself. “You say you don’t know where all your
feelings tonight are coming from, but I think my own feelings are much the same
– and I’ve had them for years now.”
Since I
met you, came the thought, a huge relief
flooding through him with the admission at last.
Duo’s eyes narrowed.
“You mean maybe you’re the
stalker, not Rashid?”
Quatre flushed. “Duo,
I’m sorry. If you feel that way, it’s I
who should get lost –“
Duo had immediately regretted his flip words, even as they
tumbled out of his mouth. “No!” he rushed to reassure, and somewhere along the
way he saw his hand settle firmly on Quatre’s arm. “Hell, Quatre, that
was just one of my fucking bad jokes. It
backfired on me. I’d never think of you
that way. You’ve always been there for
me – I’ve never known anyone like you!”
Quatre seemed to be grinding some words out from between his
teeth. ’You’ve known so few, though …”
And then Duo did
let the anger out. What was the guy
going on about? “Don’t patronise me!” he snapped.
“I’m not as fucking young as you think – haven’t had some kind of
sheltered life. Not like you!”
It was a fair point, but never voiced between them
before. Quatre had all the benefits and
luxuries of his world – but never the freedom of Duo’s. The blond man opened his mouth to protest,
but shut it again. His words were
carefully measured, as if he tried to avoid anything provocative. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t fucking apologise,
either!” Duo was still snapping. He shook his head impatiently, deliberately
swallowing the sudden anger. “I mean
that I’ll never know anyone like
you. And that’s what I like; what I
want. It’s been good – it’s all been
good.“ Where were the words, for God’s sake? What was he really trying to say? “It’s always good, being with you. There’s no-one means so much – could mean so
much.”
“I just don’t want you to miss out. On other friends – other
experiences.” Quatre’s voice was uncharacteristically
nervous. It gave Duo a burst of
confidence.
“Ain’t gonna happen. How can I miss out? I can have everything I want with you. Already do.”
“You do?” Quatre
paused, searching Duo’s expression.
“I do,” said Duo, firmly.
“So you say you’re not so young,” said Quatre, softly. “So you say...” He still sounded nervous, but his eyes were
searching Duo’s face now. His other hand
drifted almost imperceptibly around Duo’s waist; when it settled there, Duo
felt the shudder run through them both.
“Yeah.
So I say…” he murmured.
Quatre knew he should be evaluating this new feeling; this
feeling that was barely under his control; this feeling that allowed Duo to
step forward both physically and emotionally and provoke him in such a way. Dammit, he couldn’t have evaluated a glass of
punch at that moment, his head was so full of
astonished pleasure and anticipation!
When Duo put up a hand to cup his cheek, he gasped aloud and his hand
tightened round the younger man’s waist.
“I don’t … Duo, you shouldn’t joke
about this …”
Duo’s laugh was very soft and mischievous – yet tentative,
too. “I’m not. Keep up with me, man. I may be laughing, but it’s not at you – or
this.”
Yeah, he
thought, in some kind of awe. Never been less of a joker in my life.
He reached his other hand to Quatre’s face, too. The irrepressible joy was welling up again
and his thumbs brushed the man’s jaw line, feeling the tight, smooth skin. Quatre’s lips opened slightly, and his tongue
slipped out to moisten them. Duo felt
the warmth from his breath; saw the dampness on his mouth.
He leant his head forward and kissed those lips.
Time stood still for a moment.
Quatre felt the lips touch him and went into slight
shock. He still gripped at Duo, but now
the hand he had on Duo’s shoulder slipped around the younger man’s neck and
tugged him closer. Duo’s mouth tasted of
damp fruit from the punch, and the lips yielded at the touch of Quatre’s
tongue. How many has he kissed before?
Has he kissed a man
before? Quatre was almost ashamed of
the desire that flared up and consumed him, at the same time as he worried
about Duo. But he couldn’t resist it –
didn’t want to! Duo felt hesitant but then confident against
him. He slipped his tongue into Duo’s
mouth and felt the other man’s tongue thrust back at him.
They clung more tightly.
Duo tilted his head slightly to the side so that they fit together more
easily. A soft moan escaped him. His hands seemed at a temporary loss as to
where to settle, and one of them clenched too tightly into Quatre’s hair. His body pressed against Quatre’s, and one of
his knees nudged gently between the other man’s thighs.
Quatre knew he was more aroused than he could ever remember
being. He couldn’t believe how quickly
he’d lost control! He couldn’t believe
how vital this reality was, compared to his dreams of how one day he might
caress Duo… Duo might let him… Duo might want even more from him.
His hands slipped across Duo’s shoulders, sliding gently
along the silky fabric, feeling the shape of the other man’s muscles, the knots
of tension at his neck. His tongue
continued to explore Duo’s mouth, so very excited at the taste and possession
of him, so very scared that he’d hurt
or panic him –
But he was unable to stop, now.
*
They broke at last.
Maybe it was just for air, maybe it was because there were a few
discordant sounds out in the hallway that distracted them, as if some guests
were passing by on their way elsewhere, or the staff were
moving to and from the various functions that were being hosted in the hotel
tonight.
Duo looked into Quatre’s face with nervousness. His lips still felt a little numb, and his
heart raced. He wanted to touch the
other man again – to reach his mouth back to that haven – to feel that slick
tongue inside him, licking at him, Quatre’s mouth passing its hot, panting
breath into him.
He had a hell of an erection, he knew it! Shit…
“If Rashid saw us now he’d tell us to get a room,” he joked,
shakily.
Quatre’s eyes were half closed, the
pupils very dark in amongst the soft blue.
He looked like he was drifting somewhere, somewhere warm and
delightful. Duo gazed at them,
astonished; excited; fascinated by another view of the man he’d known for so
long as a friend.
Then Quatre drew breath, opened his eyes fully and
smiled. “I doubt Rashid would approve of
us making out in a public hotel room, I’m sure you’re right.” The smile was slower than before, and very
warm, and meant solely for Duo. “Anyway,
I do have a room.”
“Here? Tonight?” Duo’s eyes
narrowed.
“Yes. For when the event has finished, so that I don’t have to make my
way back to the house. But I
don’t mean … Duo, stop this, I don’t think you …”
“I’m not going to stop when it’s the best fucking thing I’ve
ever felt,” whispered Duo, and leaned back in to nip gently at Quatre’s
lips. The other man’s body shuddered
inside his clothes. Suddenly it was very
important to Duo that he touch that body – and also
inside the clothes. “Mom is helping with
the stocktake at the store tonight – she doesn’t
expect me back. I often stay out, round
at
Quatre moaned. Duo
felt a ripple of hot excitement run through him at the sound; he wanted to hear
Quatre make that sound again. And that
was what Quatre wanted, too, wasn’t it?
“I’ll … look, I could go to the room … we could both go there, y’know? We
could … talk about it. Something. Be more private.”
Quatre’s eyes clouded, just for a second, and Duo felt a
sick horror in the pit of his stomach. What the fuck had he been playing at…He
pulled his hand away sharply. “Hey, I’m sorry. More crapola. I said you deserved the best, right? That’s never gonna be me, I’m just Duo, just …”
Quatre gazed at him in wonder. His own hand quivered gently, like a nerve
was trapped somewhere. He reached out
and grasped Duo’s wrist, holding off his retreat. “Stop that!
You’re the best thing to me, Duo, the very best thing in my life!
God, how could you ever think different?
I should have told you, should have said before, but I was always so
worried that it’d upset you; that you’d think I was abusing our
friendship.” He let go of Duo’s wrist
and put the hand to the chestnut-haired man’s face instead. He ran his fingers along the chin, watching
how Duo’s head nuzzled up against his palm.
“Believe me, I want to be somewhere private
with you, Duo. I want to talk to you
about it all … I just don’t know whether it’s right, tonight. Whether here is the right time or
place.” How could he tell Duo how he
wanted things to be good for him? Perfect for him? He wanted to spend time, slowly acclimatising the younger man to something more than
friendship. He was terrified of
frightening him; disgusting him; disappointing
him.
He realised with a sudden shock
that maybe he was the one who needed
the acclimatisation.
The feeling that churned inside him was suspiciously akin to fear.
“But you say you’ve been feeling this way for ages?” Duo’s soft voice broke in. His eyes were wide and fierce, demanding that
Quatre pay attention to him.
Quatre nodded, not entirely trusting his speech. He touched at him, instead, feeling Duo’s
face moving under his hands, the smile creasing, the jaw tightening, the hair
brushing against his arm …
“So why the hesitation now? I bet the rooms are really special here. All those thick towels and
iced water in jugs and individual soaps, and decent hot water for a long, long bath. Maybe we could get some more punch sent
up.” Duo’s words were jocular, but
Quatre heard the tremor in his voice. He
was nervous – but he was eager, too.
“But then you’ve got your speech to give, haven’t you? Can’t leave all those
important guests without a Winner to nurse them.”
“To hell with the speech,” said Quatre, quite sharply.
Duo’s eyes glittered and his smile grew even broader. “No, Mr Winner –
you’ve still got to do your duty.” He
ran his hand down the front of Quatre’s shirt, stroking him beneath the silk
fabric. His breath was getting shorter;
Quatre could see the gleam of new sweat on his temples.
“I don’t want to wait to be with you.”
“No, I know. I feel
the same way. But we can wait. This has been … this has been around for a
while, right? It won’t run away just ‘cause we can’t get away from a corporate event. Um..” Duo’s tongue
slipped out to moisten his lips and Quatre felt the blood rush away from his
extremities. “How long
before the speech?”
Quatre shook his head; impatient, disorientated. How long for what -? How the hell was he meant to know what time
it was now -? Duo grasped his
companion’s wrist and twisted it to look at the gold watch. “In ten minutes time. So you go and give your speech and I’ll slip
up to the room and wait for you there.”
Quatre nodded, dumbly.
He stared at the flush on Duo’s cheeks; the rise and fall of his chest
under his vibrant shirt; the slim fingers ghosting over Quatre’s torso, as if
unsure where they wanted to touch first.
He fumbled in his jacket pocket and brought out a card key. Duo took it.
They both stood for a second, breathing heavily.
“Just one card to the room?”
Quatre’s heart lurched inside him. “You – but you’ll be there, won’t you, when
I’m done here? Look, if you want to
leave here, after all, it’s OK –“
Duo laid a hand on his arm and squeezed gently. “I’ll be there to let you in.”
“Might be a while – the speech …”
“I’ll still be there.”
“ – congratulations – some other
speeches, maybe –“
“Go,” said Duo, firmly.
He pushed gently at Quatre, a strange motion that hovered equally
between dismissal and caress. “For
fuck’s sake, Quatre Winner, go! Then the sooner you’ll be back!”