by Feliz Faber
“You look dead on your feet, mon ami. What did you drive here, that shoebox of yours? Never mind, just give me the keys.”
He walked briskly ahead of Will, braving the labyrinthine corridors with obvious familiarity. Trudging behind him, Will couldn’t help a vaguely uneasy feeling. Something about Louis’s coolheaded calm set Will’s teeth on edge; the other shoe was bound to drop sometime soon, and he dreaded to get into its way. Then again, he’d have trouble finding his way out of the hospital on his own in the first place, and it was true he was in no state to drive right now. So, going with the flow it was, at least for now.
He tried again once they were in the car and Louis was about to turn the ignition key. “Francis told you about Nic, didn’t he? Listen, if there’s anything….”
The engine shrieked and died, and Louis cursed. He paused, dropped his head, and tried again, successfully this time. When he turned to Will, his voice was soft, almost gentle. “Don’t, Will. Please. It’s…. I don’t want to talk about that right now, do you understand?”
Not really, no. But it wasn’t as if Will could force him. “Sure. I’m here, okay?”
It was dark in the car. Only because he’d come to know him so well could Will infer Louis’s crooked smile from the tone of his voice. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Will spent most of the ride back to La Thillaye in a half doze and was glad for the respite. By the time they pulled into the stable yard, even the pain in his arm had settled down to a distant hum, nothing more. He had one foot outside the car already when he realized that Louis hadn’t moved, still had his hands on the steering wheel.
“Louis? Are you okay?” Sitting back, Will reached out a tentative hand.
Louis flinched under the light touch. “Ah, yes. Go ahead. I’ll be with you in a minute. I’m fine.”
A little bit of light fell through a small window next to the back door; in its shine, Will could make out Louis’s expression. “No, you’re not.”
With a snarl, Louis jerked around. “So what? I learned today that the one person I ever trusted, the one I trusted with my life, lied to me for years, and now I don’t know how to face him. What do you want me to do, dance with glee? Leave me alone, Will. It’s none of your business anyway.” He turned away, reaching for his door handle.
“None of my…,” Will gasped, and then he’d had it. He jumped out and was already at the driver’s side door before Louis was halfway out of his seat. Grabbing a fistful of windbreaker, Will dragged Louis to his feet, pulled him out, and slammed the car door shut behind him.
“None of my business? I’ve been shouted at, beaten up, interrogated by the police, all because of you, and it’s none of my business?” Louis clamped his hand around Will’s wrist in an iron grip. It hurt, but Will didn’t let go. “You selfish, stubborn ass,” he shouted, “what do you think this was for the rest of us, a walk in the park? You know damn well that Nic is half-crazed with guilt over something he could’ve done fuck-all to change!” He gesticulated with his free arm, his left, heedless of the brace. “In there, the man I love is worried sick about the man you claim to love, and both are worried sick about you! If that’s the best you can come up with, I say fuck off and go nurse your hurt feelings elsewhere! What are you, twelve?”
He had to stop to catch his breath. As he glared down at Louis, he was fully prepared for an outburst to match his own, braced himself for a fight. But none came. Instead, Louis let go of Will’s wrist and fell back against the car, his head dropping back. It took Will a moment to realize that Louis was laughing. No sound came out of his open mouth, but he laughed so hard he shook with it.
Will took a step back, arms dangling. “What?” he demanded, feeling rather sheepish as he stood there watching Louis lose his mind, or so it seemed.
At long last, Louis straightened and shook his head. Taking a deep breath, he met Will’s gaze. In the dim light from the window, Will could see tears glittering at the corners of his eyes. “Love, yes? Is that so? Be careful when you go there, then, you could get more than you’ve bargained for.” His voice was rougher than ever, and not a trace of amusement in it.
“I’m aware,” Will retorted, still gruff.
Louis shook his head again, wiping at his eyes. “Yes, you are, aren’t you? Ah fuck, what a mess.” He put his hand to Will’s shoulder, traced his right arm down to the wrist, circled it gently. “Come, my friend, let’s go join our loved ones.”
As peace offerings went, this wasn’t the worst Will had ever heard. Not the best, either, but it’d have to do. Will found he didn’t much feel like arguing anymore; it had been a bit much today, and all he wanted now was some quiet and rest. He turned his hand so he could grab Louis’s forearm, gave it a brief squeeze. “Let’s go.”
AS SOON as they were through the door, Mme. Kim threw herself into Louis’s arms. He stroked her narrow back, her shaking shoulders, and hushed her as she sobbed to him. After a while, she stepped back and with a watery smile went to collect her book. Clutching it to her chest, she nodded a silent goodbye at Will and left.
FRANCIS met them at the door as they entered the sitting room, immediately reaching out for Will. Louis barely spared him a glance before he brushed past and headed into the room.
Nic sat on the sofa, staring into a mug he was clutching in both hands. He still looked pale and worn but considerably better than before. His head jerked up when Louis and Will entered. By the time Nic had put his mug away, Louis had already rounded the coffee table, knelt down in front of him and was clutching him tightly around the waist. With a hoarse little cry, Nic struggled to get up, pushing at Louis’s shoulders. But Louis held fast, and after a while, Nic collapsed, bowing down until his forehead rested on Louis’s back. This was the last Will saw of them on that evening. In mutual silent understanding, he and Francis left through the still-open door, leaving the others to themselves.
“GOD, what a day.” Francis sighed, dropping next to Will on the bench in the kitchen. “Thank God it’s over.” He’d steered Will there and, without asking, filled two bowls with still-hot soup from a pot on the stove.
Will could only grunt in response. He’d only noticed how hungry he was when he started eating and was now too busy stuffing his face to talk.
Taking up his spoon, Francis sighed again. “I’d never thought those two still kept secrets from each other.” He ate a few spoonfuls of soup. “After almost twenty years together… makes one wonder, doesn’t it?”
The soup was thick and creamy, made from some kind of vegetables. It filled Will up good; where he’d been tired before, he felt now almost drunk with exhaustion. “’M sure there’s a lesson in there somewhere, but I’m too sleepy to figure it out,” he slurred.
With a small laugh, Francis put his spoon down and stood to help Will up. “Poor baby. Come, I’ll take you to bed.”
Will was already half-asleep as he brushed his teeth; he didn’t protest this time when Francis helped him undress. The moment his head touched the pillow, he was out like a light.
Twenty-One
THE ground was damp and warm. Sun-warmed, soft soil molded to his body as he writhed, burrowing his shoulders deeper. He sighed in contentment, arching up against the hard body on top of him. His eyes were closed against the glare of the midday sun, but he didn’t need to see the man’s face to know it was Francis. He knew the taste of this skin, the curves and lines of this back under his fingers, the way his hand fit around this cock. But suddenly his arms were pinned down at his sides, and a heavy weight pressed down on them. Blinking open his eyes in shock and surprise, he stared into a grotesquely contorted face that was Francis’s and at the same time not; it had Collins’s eyes, glaring at him with madness. The cane lifted, its silver knob came down, down, inevitable. It filled his vision and he knew he had to duck, roll aside—something, anything—but he was stuck in the mud, and the old man sat on his chest; he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe—
Will shot up, a yell stuck in his throat, only to find hims
elf actually restrained and held down by a heavy body. He thrashed and kicked wildly, felt the weight lift, and then came a crash and a muttered curse and the night lamp clicked on.
Sitting up in bed, Will blinked in the sudden brightness. Francis came up behind the bed, rubbing his head. “Ow, damn. Are you awake now?”
“Wha… what happened?” Heart still racing in the aftermath of the dream, Will watched Francis crawl back onto the mattress.
When Francis reached out, Will recoiled instinctively, and Francis sat back on his heels. They stared at each other for a moment, Will wide-eyed, Francis thoughtful. Gradually, Will felt the tension ease up a little. “Were we…. Did we…. It was a dream, wasn’t it?” he asked haltingly.
“Eh.” Francis raised an eyebrow. “I should hope so, given that you just kicked me out of the bed.” He cocked his head. “What is it, Will? Are you okay?”
“Oh shit.” Will fell back with a groan. “Sorry, yes, I’m fine.” The mattress bounced with Francis settling down. Will turned to face him. “It’s just, we were at it, and it was so good, and suddenly you looked like Collins, and the cane—”
“Shhh.” This time when Francis reached out for him, Will didn’t recoil. He nuzzled into the hand that cupped his cheek, covered it with his own hand to keep it there. He hadn’t had the time or presence of mind to dwell on his run in with Louis earlier, but now, with the disturbing dream still fresh in his memory, it all came back to him. Especially what he’d blurted out in the heat of the moment.
It had been the bane of his youth to mistake lust for love. He had his heart broken more than once due to that weakness. He thought he’d learned his lesson, and still he’d fallen head over heels for Francis right from the start, no two ways about it. This went deeper than any of his other crushes, and if he hadn’t known that by now, the dream would’ve told him as much.
As if he needed the reminder. Love was a sword that could cut both ways, and both Francis and he had hurt each other already. But Will had been happy enough to dismiss their misunderstandings as labor pains of a lasting relationship. Now, though? Thinking of what had happened to Louis and Nic—after all the time those two had been together—scared him to the bones.
Francis’s fingers played with the curls behind Will’s ears. He hadn’t had his hair cut since their first night together; Francis liked it better long and a bit messy like it was now. Will had done so many things over the last few weeks with Francis on his mind. The thought was unsettling, but it grounded him, too. Here and now, his life, his man. Whatever became of Louis and Nic, he and Francis had their own way to go. Their own future to plan.
Thinking of the future brought Will’s mind to more mundane things, like the job he’d been sent here to do. He rolled to his back, pillowing his head on his good arm.
“You know what? I’ve got no damn clue what I’m going to write about all this.”
Francis heaved a breath; Will continued to stare at the ceiling even as he heard the sheets rustle and could feel Francis move closer. “Is this you asking me for advice now? ’Cause I’ll take good care not to go there. Your instincts already proved better than mine once.”
Will turned his head, and Francis smiled and pulled him in for a kiss. “You’ll figure it out, mon cher, I’m sure of that.” He traced his lips along Will’s jaw and neck in little sucking nips.
Will tilted his head back with a contented hum. Oh yeah, he had made up his mind; Francis was right. Actually, he’d mostly drawn up his article already, in his head at least, and he wasn’t going to change it. Only the ending remained to be seen. Perhaps. He hoped not.
He hummed again as he turned fully back to Francis. “If Trevor ever gets wind of this thing with Collins, there’ll be hell to pay. I might end up in need of a good lawyer then.”
Francis looked up from where he was nibbling at Will’s collarbone. “You think? Guess I have that covered.” He kissed a trail up Will’s throat back to his lips. “In the meantime, think you could come up with another use for a lawyer?”
“You bet,” Will breathed into Francis’s mouth.
But when Francis made to roll them over, Will stopped him with a hand against his chest. He didn’t really know why, but he couldn’t bear the thought of a weight on top of him now, even fully awake and knowing it was Francis. Yet he wasn’t sure what to say. So he said nothing, only held Francis’s bewildered gaze.
Francis’s face softened, and he shook his head. “Mais yeah, sweetheart, I understand. But I really, really want you right now. Turn over?”
It was actually so much easier, so much better to lie on his stomach, hide his face in his arms and give himself over to Francis. To his hands, big and not soft as you’d expect from one in his line of work but callused from hours spent on rowing machines and lifting weights. Strong hands that now traced the ridges and grooves of Will’s back, delved deftly into tense muscles on occasion, finding and smoothing out the knots there until Will was groaning with pleasure and aching to be touched in a deeper, more intimate way. He arched up in a silent plea, begged with words when Francis’s hands still wouldn’t move to where he wanted them, needed them to be.
“Getting there, mon cher, be patient,” Francis whispered. Will could hear the arousal on his husky voice, and he pushed his ass into those hands as they finally, finally cupped it.
“Fuck patient, Francis, fuck me already….” He broke off on a groan as Francis’s thumbs parted him. Warm breath brushed over that most intimate place of Will’s body, and for a moment he tensed with the thought of Francis wanting to rim him. But all he felt was one soft, moist touch there, and then Francis’s thumbs were pressing into him, working him open until he thought he’d go insane with need.
“On your knees,” Francis ordered. Will knelt up, held out his hand for Francis to squirt lube onto his fingers. He got distracted by watching Francis put the condom on, a condom Will had bought from the vending machine in the bathroom at Chez Jules, and where had this thought come from now? Here and now, this was the man he’d wanted then, the man he was with right now. Nothing and no one else mattered, not before, not after.
Will heard a chuckle. “Prepare yourself, sweetheart, why don’t you.” The words brought him back to earth with a jolt. He blushed as he reached behind himself. His injured arm couldn’t hold him up. Will leaned on his left shoulder, face pressed sideways into the pillow as he fumbled with his right hand, the longing and lust on Francis’s face making up for the embarrassment of the awkward position.
“Just a moment, Will, I’ve got you….” Francis was there, supporting his hips, pushed Will’s hand away. Discomfort, stretching as Francis entered him. Will’s body fought the intrusion despite the preparation.
He dug his fingers into the sheets, hissing against the pain. “Hurts, so good, don’t stop….” But Francis stilled, and Will pushed back against him, tried to force him deeper, “Fuck! Move already!”
“Ah, Will.” It came out on a moan as Francis thrust forward. Fullness, completion, pleasure took Will’s breath away; he panted with it. Francis, fully inside him, pulled out and pushed in again. Will met him stroke for stroke, grunting in frustration. It was all there was, but it wasn’t enough, not by far. Fuck me so hard I stop thinking, make me forget about Collins and Trevor and Louis and Nic, make me forget my own name. Fuck me so hard that all I remember is you. He couldn’t say it, didn’t find the words. He could only writhe and buck as Francis fucked him good and fast, carried away on Will’s frenzy or caught up in the same desperation, who’s to say.
“Dear God, Will,” Francis moaned. It was almost a sob. “Come up here, come, I need you, I need more from you….” He pulled Will up with one arm around the waist, one across the chest and forced Will’s knees wide apart from behind. On Francis’s lap, his back in a taut arc, and barely balancing his weight on the tips of his toes, Will was impaled impossibly deep and he cried out with the harsh pain and the unbearable joy of it. The world fell apart. Finally, eventually the world fell
apart around Will, his only anchor the man whose arms kept him together, and he came with his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth wide open in a soundless cry. Francis kept fucking into Will’s body until he, too, found his release a few moments later. He dropped sideways, taking Will with him.
Will nestled deeper into the cradle of Francis’s arms, refusing to let him move away, reluctant to lose the feeling of being joined with him. A little more, a little bit longer before they inevitably had to part. He didn’t want to lose this yet, this peace, his body, mind and soul at rest for once.
They didn’t actually go back to sleep for the rest of the night. After taking turns in the bath, they huddled together under the covers again. Occasionally they’d kiss or caress, murmuring softly to each other. But mostly they just dozed in each other’s arms, comfortable in their closeness.
Twenty-Two
THE sky was still black as the deepest night when Will saw Francis off the next morning. They’d be taking different flights home, which meant Francis had to leave hours ahead of Will.
“Call me once you’re there,” Francis said, locking Will in his arms for a last time.
Will buried his face in the crook of Francis’s neck. If he inhaled deeply enough, he could still catch a hint of Francis’s unique scent under a layer of soap and cologne. “My flight won’t land until early Monday morning,” he warned, unable to keep the wistful tone out of his voice.
Pulling back, Francis smiled at him. “Don’t care. Call me anyway, I’ll pick you up.” He bent down for a brief kiss. “Not ready to let you go yet.”
“Me neither.” Reluctantly, Will stepped back to let Francis get into the car.
Then he was gone, and Will was left standing in the silent stable yard, feeling oddly forlorn.
The feeling persisted once Will was back in his room, staring at the ruffled bedclothes. Going back to sleep seemed pointless now, so he went about packing his suitcase instead. That kept him busy for a scant half hour. Thinking he could just as well get some writing done, he sat down at his desk, but found he couldn’t concentrate. Eventually, he gave up and went down into the kitchen again in search of coffee.
