by Feliz Faber
Nothing more was left to say after that. They settled back, and Will closed his eyes, letting the music take the place of the whirling thoughts and emotions in his mind.
“Us,” Louis said after a while.
Will opened his eyes a crack. “Huh?”
“The music. Us by Peter Gabriel. The song’s called ‘Blood of Eden’.”
Will listened to the deep, vibrating bass notes, the shimmering guitar picks. He recognized the lilting singing voice, but the rest had nothing to do with what this singer had done with his band, Genesis. “It’s… interesting,” he said tentatively.
Nic chuckled. “It’s caterwauling.”
Bemused, Will turned to him. “Why’d you listen to it, if you don’t like it?”
“He’s indulging me,” Louis said. “Hopes it’ll get him laid.”
Movement behind Will’s back jarred him, and he shifted to make more room, looking between them. “Oh, is that how it works with the two of you?”
“Apparently he thinks it’s worth a try,” Louis said. His eyes sparkled with mischief and Nic’s crinkled at the corners as both men met Will’s gaze and then exchanged one of their looks. Feeling the air heat between them, Will deemed the moment appropriate to clear out. He made to get up, but Louis’s hand on his chest stopped him once again.
“Francis said you talked. So have you two come to terms?”
“We have. And not.” Will dropped back with a sigh. “We did agree, I guess. Only I’m not quite sure on what.”
They were silent again. The song ended, and the next began with screeching shreds of melody above a driving, pulsing bass line. When Nic got up with a groan and pushed the off-button, Louis stood, too, pulling Will up with him and into a hug.
“You’ll figure it out,” he said. “Once you do, just go for it, whatever it is you want.”
Will gave him a thoughtful look. Then he bent down and pressed his lips to Louis’s mouth. Warm and thin and hard, those lips opened in surprise and for a split second, gave way to Will’s sassy tongue, allowed for a delicious sip of gorgeous and fiery. A deep belly laugh from Nic caused Louis to jerk back with a gasp, and Will let him go, grinning broadly.
“Va-t-en, toi le chiard!” Half laughing, Louis shoved at Will and took a step back, bumping into Nic, who caught him in his arms from behind. After pressing a kiss to the side of Louis’s neck, Nic looked up with a grin, winking. Will grinned back, a silent goodnight, and headed for the door.
“Playing with fire will get you burned.” Nic’s voice, shaking with amusement, drifted after Will, pitched just loud enough for him to hear. He couldn’t understand Louis’s answer, as it was in French and even lower, but he was fairly certain he wasn’t meant to anyway.
Upstairs, the long hall was dark, all doors firmly closed. Just as well. Will wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, if anything at all. Sure, the little show he just put on for Louis’s sake had stirred his libido, but rather in a symbolic way. The aftermath of that damned riding lesson became increasingly harder to ignore; his legs felt wobbly and leaden at once. And what had happened since this morning kept whirling around in his mind. Christ on a cracker, he needed to lie down. Perhaps sleeping on it would help. If he could get any sleep at all. With a sigh, he opened his bedroom door.
Something was off. A particular scent he caught right upon entering was all the warning Will had before he realized there was a man-sized lump under his bedcovers, put into unashamed evidence by the moonlight that streamed in through the flimsy curtains. He stopped dead, staring, as the lump stirred and turned from man-shaped to Francis-shaped, no two ways about it, though Will still switched on the light just to be sure.
“Taken a wrong turn?” Will asked, surprising himself with the firmness of his voice.
Francis blinked and sat up. “No, I’m right where I want to be,” he said, shielding his eyes with his hand. “God, turn off the light, will you? That’s excessive punishment.”
He wore a T-shirt and boxers, Will noticed before he obediently clicked off the light again, casting the room back into moonlit dimness. Immediately, he could’ve kicked himself. He trained you well, didn’t he? Embarrassment made his voice sharp.
“What are you doing in my bed, Francis?”
“What does it look like? Sleeping, if you don’t mind. Preferably with you, but that’s up to you.” Francis swung his legs off the mattress and sat on the edge, hands left and right next to his thighs, his bare limbs a stark contrast to the white linens. “I’ll leave if you tell me to.”
“What if I did?” Will said, anger slowly replacing embarrassment. The gall this man had! It made him even angrier to realize that he wanted him to stay. No, that was too weak. Yearned for him to stay. Arrogant bastard had to know, hadn’t he?
Francis shrugged. “I’ll go sleep in my own room, and we’ll start over again tomorrow. Really, I’m fine with whatever you decide on. I said I wanted to give us a try, and I meant it. Didn’t see the point in wasting any more time.” The moonlight flashed on his smile as he cocked his head. “Anyhow, it’s your bed, your call. Though I rather enjoy sleeping next to you. A lot.”
It was all a bit much. Will walked past the bed to the desk and fiddled with his laptop in order to retain some semblance of dignity. The screen was dark; when Will wiped a finger across the touchpad, it woke to the draft of the article he’d been working at. The realization that Francis hadn’t taken him up on his offer, that he hadn’t nosed around in Will’s notes, took a moment to register. Francis had trusted him. And wasn’t this exactly what Francis was asking of him right now?
Still, once bitten, twice shy. “You’re making assumptions again,” Will said.
Fabric rustled, and he heard bare feet pad across the hardwood floor. Francis stopped right behind him, a warm, solid presence at Will’s back. “It might look that way, but I’m really not, I promise. Whatever we do or don’t do tonight, we’ll be playing by your rules.”
Will closed his eyes, rubbed his face with both hands. How was this man so eloquent right out of bed? How could this sleep-rough voice feel like a caress while the words rubbed him all the wrong way? “I’m too tired for that.” He sighed. “Stay, go, whatever. I need to sleep.”
There was a pause, and then came a soft, “I’ll stay, then,” close to Will’s ear. Tender hands slipped the jacket off his shoulders. Too wrung-out to resist, Will allowed the gentle touch. “Just to keep you company,” Francis whispered, his mouth so close that his breath caressed Will’s skin. Francis’s hands skimmed up Will’s arms, came to rest on his shoulders again. The heels started moving in firm, small circles, applying warm, pleasant pressure on the tense muscles there. Giving in to their touch, giving in to Francis, would’ve been humiliatingly easy.
Stepping aside, Will shrugged Francis’s hands off.
“I can undress myself. And don’t get any funny ideas. I’m not up for anything at all right now.”
“I’ll be good, I promise,” Francis said, turning so Will could walk past him and into the bathroom.
Joining him under the covers a few minutes later, Will muttered, “I still can’t believe I let you get away with this. You’re lucky I’m dead on my feet.”
With a soft chuckle, Francis reached for him. “Guess I’ll have to do my best to make it up to you,” he said. “I’m sure I can think of something appropriate.”
Will fended him off. “Tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Francis gave him a gentle shove. “Roll over, then. You’re shivering.”
He was, and Francis’s big warm body against his back was a welcome relief after the cold air in the room. Will relaxed, surrounded by Francis’s scent, soothed by the sound of his breaths. A familiar ridge nestled neatly in the valley between Will’s butt cheeks, growing harder when Will scooted closer into the comfortable warmth. It felt good. Too good, God damn. Much too close to coming home for Will’s peace of mind, and the notion had him wide awake once again in an instant.
Francis stirred be
hind him. The hand that had been resting on Will’s chest started stroking downward. Will captured it, stilling its movement. “This isn’t a game for me,” he said, turning over in Francis’s arms. “You know that, right?”
Francis met Will’s gaze evenly, his eyes shimmering with reflected moonlight. “I assure you, I’m long past playing too, William.”
With a soft groan, Will reached up and cupped Francis’s cheek. “Fucking stop calling me that already,” he growled, covering Francis’s lips with his own.
They reached for each other at the same time, hands grabbing and groping, digging into fabric and hair and skin, legs kicking at fractious bedding in sudden urgent need, breaking their greedy kisses only long enough to get rid of their clothes. Francis pushed Will over. He dabbed small, sucking bites down Will’s chest and belly, all the way down, and Will arched up from the bed with a moan when wet heat engulfed his cock. He thrust up into it, but it wasn’t enough, not what he wanted, and he scrabbled at Francis’s shoulders, urged him back up until they were chest to chest again, groin to groin. Skin to skin. Will planted his feet and flipped them. Francis gasped, but he went willingly, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight.
“Let me, let me,” Will chanted, and Francis spread his thighs with a chuckle that turned into a groan as Will started rocking against him, their cocks sliding alongside each other in spit and sweat, squeezed deliciously between their taut bellies. Francis drew up his knees and pressed his heels into Will’s ass to add more friction to their frantic rhythm, and Will propped up on his elbows, clutched Francis’s shoulders from behind, and stared down into eyes as wide and wild as his own as he gasped for breath.
There was nothing delicate about this, no finesse, nothing but need and want and now, sweat beading on foreheads and backs, harsh breaths and moans and the slapping of skin on skin. Will felt his orgasm build, the wave of lust rose and crested and broke, and he clawed at Francis’s flesh as it washed over him like a freak tide.
He dropped down heavily, limp and worn, and Francis flipped them again. Sitting astride Will, one hand splayed on the center of his chest, Francis stroked himself furiously, and Will dug his fingers into the powerful thighs that clutched his ribs and drank in the sight of his… yes, lover, he thought in amazement, most certainly his lover now, this incredible, infuriating man who hovered above him and still stared into his eyes, mouth half-open, jaw slack with passion. It took only a few more seconds until Francis squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth and came with a whistling hiss, and Will caught him as he slumped afterward.
Francis landed half on top of him, chest heaving. He hummed contentedly; it sounded like the purr of a very big cat. Smiling, Will turned his head for a lazy, sweet kiss. He definitely felt like purring himself, spent and weightless and utterly satisfied.
Will’s eyelids were drooping, his limbs uncooperative. He was barely aware of Francis moving, wiping them down with a piece of cloth, pulling the bedcovers back up. Lips whispered a kiss on his cheek, and he thought he heard Francis say, “Sleep well, Will,” but he couldn’t be sure as he plunged into oblivion.
Sixteen
GRADUALLY, bit by bit, Will woke from a sleep deeper and more satisfying than he’d had in days. His sense of smell woke first, and with it a feeling of comfort and satisfaction as he found himself engulfed in the scents of sex and sleep-warm male body. Next came his conscious mind and the memory of who was responsible for those scents, which made him open his eyes in order to make sure he wasn’t merely waking from a particularly vivid, wistful dream. Unfortunately, this was the moment the rest of his body chose to report back to him, too, and Will couldn’t bite back a groan as sore muscles and a pounding headache canceled out any notion about the previous day’s events having been just his imagination running wild. He also realized that he was alone in the bed, although the other side was still warm.
Sitting up took more effort than it should have, but once he stretched his limbs and un-kinked his spine, the hammering behind his eyes subsided. A glimpse at his cell phone clock told him there was no point in trying to get back to sleep. As he hauled himself upright, he tried to talk himself out of feeling disappointed at waking up alone after the way Francis had wrangled himself into Will’s bed the previous night.
A hot shower eased some of the physical discomfort, but he was still rolling his shoulders and neck against the tension that caused a residual dull throb behind his temples as he stood over the sink, squeezing toothpaste on his toothbrush.
Arching his spine like a cat, he propped his free hand on the rim of the sink as he put the brush into his mouth with the other. He’d barely started working it when Francis’s voice from behind startled him into almost swallowing a mouthful of foam.
“Quite a sight to see first thing in the morning.”
Will coughed, rinsed, and spat before turning. Francis leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, raking his eyes up and down Will’s naked body with a leer. He wore boxer shorts and nothing else. As welcome and enticing as Will in turn found the sight before his eyes, he couldn’t help feeling ambushed. Again. Thus, his answer came sharper than intended.
“Jeez, can’t a man have a little privacy in his own bathroom?”
Immediately, Francis’s face fell as he held up his hands in a gesture of apology. Starting to retreat, he said, “Sorry, Will, I didn’t mean to—”
Huffing a breath, Will grabbed one of Francis’s wrists, pushing him backward and following him out until he could close the bathroom door behind them. Only when they were next to the bed again did he let go. For a moment he stood, gloating at the hunch of Francis’s shoulders, at the way those dark eyes flickered back and forth as Francis sought his face. Then he couldn’t stand it any longer. He let the joy that had been bubbling inside him well to the surface, pulling the other man down for a kiss.
“You little shit,” he heard Francis mutter, slightly muffled as their lips were already close to meeting and the big body relaxed against Will.
“Right back at you,” he mumbled, feeling Francis’s chuckle spill into his mouth.
A long while later Will pulled back, panting and hot-eared again. Breaking the kiss was hard on him, in more than one regard, and from the evidence he felt poking his hip, Francis was just the same. Yet he let Will go, though not out of his reach; his hands still cupped Will’s shoulders, stroking lightly. Will kept them there with a light hold on Francis’s forearms.
“Are we—” he started to ask just at the same time Francis said, “About yesterday—”
Both broke off, grinning at each other. Will jerked his chin at Francis. “You first.”
Francis took a breath. “Last night… waiting for you in your bed was presumptuous of me, I know. But I thought…. I had to make sure….” He paused, took another breath, and tightened his hands on Will’s shoulders. “Will, I’ve made such a fool out of myself. And not only that, I hurt you. I didn’t mean to, believe me. I just…. I’m sorry. I really am,” he ended lamely.
Will cocked his head, studying Francis’s face. Seeing the other man so flustered again gave him an odd feeling somewhere under his breastbone. Something warm, yet unlike the burn of excited joy and arousal he felt only moments before. This was deeper, more solid, more like the steady glow of a banked fire that could carry a man through a cold winter’s night, and it didn’t all come from within himself. A part of it was entirely Francis, the tone of his voice, the look in his eyes.
“You could’ve talked to me,” he said softly, mindful to keep any trace of accusation out of his voice. “Really, Francis, why didn’t you?”
“I was….” There was still that unfamiliar hesitation in Francis’s answer as he apparently tried to put words to his emotions. “I felt…. When I discovered there was something about you that got to me, it scared me. Thinking you’d gone back on me was like… I wanted to rip you a new one, I was so furious. Then again, it was kind of a relief, ’cause now I had reason to be angry at you. That put me back on safe ground
.” He shook his head. “I’m not making a whole lot of sense here, am I?”
Will’s heart did a small flip as Francis’s words started to sink in, understanding still just out of his grasp but almost, almost there.
“Try me, Francis. I’m listening,” he said, as gently as he could.
Francis bit his lower lip. Will watched the small twitch of lips, the short tightening of jaw muscles he’d come to know by now, and the warmth inside him spread until it filled his whole chest. Francis’s walls might be as thick as the Caen Castle’s, but Will knew how to get past them now. He hoped. The hinges might be rusty, but the drawbridge went down a little faster every time Will knocked on it.
“Remember when we talked on the phone, on your first evening here?” Francis said, and Will nodded. How could he forget one of the ugliest moments of his life? He would’ve made a comment along these lines, but he’d promised to hear Francis out, so he kept quiet.
Francis continued, “When I told you I trusted you, I realized it was the truth, and that hit me like a ton of bricks. I don’t trust easily, you know? Actually, pretty much not at all. Job hazard, I guess,” he added with a weak smile. Will merely held his gaze. “I should’ve talked about it to you right away, but I chickened out. Can’t say it was one of my best moments.”
“No shit,” Will couldn’t resist muttering, which brought him another crooked smile from Francis. This time, he returned it.
“Anyhow, not to make an excuse, but I was really up to my neck in work and I just couldn’t deal with that kind of epiphany then. I told myself it would only be a few days, and then I could make it up to you. But when that damn parcel arrived? I literally saw red at the thought that you could’ve betrayed me. The first time I let someone get to me like this, and he goes ahead and tears my heart out.” He wrinkled his nose. “Sorry for the pathos, but that’s how I felt. Why do you think I dropped everything and rushed here on the spot?”
