by Talya Andor
"I…" Claire started, stopped, and summoned up something resembling a smile. "Please don't rush it, all right? That's all I wanted to ask. Don't go too far, too fast, before you do something you can't take back."
Soren started to say something, caught himself, and decided that it wasn't really necessary to divulge intimate details. After all, he doubted that either of his sisters had done so. Both of them had been dating clear on from their early teens and Soren was pretty sure they'd both done…stuff. At least what he'd done with Lucas, maybe more. He didn't want to think about his sisters that way. "All right, Mom."
"That means no moving in with him!"
"Mom! Anyway, Lucas answered that one for me at dinner. There's already four people in his apartment." He neglected to mention the fact that Lucas had suggested he begin using one of his drawers for clothing and sundry items. That too fell in the territory of 'Mom doesn't need to know.'
Claire sighed. "And I'm sorry if I gave you a hard time when Lucas came over," she said, fiddling with her wedding band again. "Anyhow, what I mostly came in to talk about today was the career materials you said you picked up a while back."
"Ahh…" Soren twitched with reflexive guilt. "I, uh, I've been meaning to look at those. I just…I haven't had time yet, you know? Not for an extended look-through. It doesn't really make a lot of sense to me."
"Soren." His mother smoothed down her skirt with both hands and gave him a direct look. "You're running out of time, you know. Soon they'll ask you to register for the next semester—"
"Isn't it already too late? I mean, you want me to have a useful major. All right. We had this discussion last year. I think English is fine, but…well, anyway, there's only three semesters left until I graduate. If I change tracks completely, I'd need another year entirely to finish school. And I don't want that." He had reason not to want that, now.
Claire looked at him for a moment. "You have a point. Why don't we set aside some time to go over those materials together? Or you could ask your father if…if you feel like I'm pressuring you too much. If it comes to that, Soren, we might be able to work another semester, even two, if you choose something that doesn't have enough overlapping classes to make up a four-year degree."
Soren thought of Lucas, still a sophomore, and smiled very slightly. He wouldn't mind at all if he had to take another year of college with Lucas. "All right. I'll talk it over with Dad and see what he says."
"Thank you." Claire gathered herself. "I'd better get going. Cassie and I are going to have lunch before parent-teacher conferences this afternoon."
"Hope they go well," Soren replied. He was glad his mother felt better, at least, but they hadn't dealt with the issue, only looked at it sideways and shelved it for later.
When his mother had gone, closing the door behind her, Soren recalled Sloane's rant that morning about getting an internship. Mostly, that they paid peanuts but looked good on a resume.
He wondered if there were any good internships for English majors. It was worth giving the career materials another look.
Just as Soren's hand moved for the mouse of his computer, the phone pealed out loud in the quiet room and he started. It was so silent in the now-empty house it was easy to believe he was the only person in the world.
"Hey, I wondered if you'd still be home."
Lucas's voice was welcome warmth in his ear, wrapping him in comfort. In the background, Soren could hear the muted hiss and din of the coffee shop. "Mmm, I'm still in my sweats," Soren said, stretching luxuriously.
"Unfair, I got up at a quarter till five."
"And you closed last night too." Soren stretched, wriggling the kinks out of his legs. He'd have to quit being lazy soon and get ready to walk to campus. "Am I going to see you today?"
"You're off work. The evening is ours, lover. I'm done with class by one."
"I'll be over when I'm finished, then," Soren said, pleased with that answer. "About four-thirty or so?"
"Want me to pick you up? You could bring some things for your drawer."
"That," Soren said, "sounds just about right."
There was a pause for a moment on the other end of the line, a living silence with Lucas breathing in his ear and the close-by liquid shhhhh of someone steaming a pitcher of milk at the shop.
Soren smiled dreamily, stretched again, and said, "I want to get my mouth on you again."
A stuttered laugh was followed by a somewhat shocked exclamation of, "Soren!"
"What?" Soren grinned. "Don't you want me to? "
"Oh my god. Is this my sweet, reserved Soren? Did I dial the right number?"
"Yes, and Soren wants to suck your cock," Soren said, lifting a brow as he slouched in his chair, one hand absently rubbing at his belly.
"You can't just say something like that. I'm in public. You're going to make it hard for me—"
"Mm, I hope so." Soren slipped the tips of his fingers into his waistband and left them there, resting on the taut skin of his lower belly.
Lucas laughed again. "Wait until I get my hands on you. Payback time. You want to do it a long time? I'll make sure we go hours."
"The gauntlet has been thrown," Soren said, grinning. He inhaled, rubbed at his belly, and regretfully promised himself the desire would keep until later.
They said their goodbyes and hung up.
He thought of his mother with a twinge. Don't go too far, too fast, before you do something you can't take back.
In the end, though, he could love and respect her, but it was his decision.
*~*~*
Shoving the door closed behind him with his heel, Lucas gave Alec a jaunty wave as he groped around in his outer backpack pouch for the cell phone that had to be there somewhere. He'd had one long but easy class after work and now he was done for the day, lacking only Soren in his life and some time alone with him to make his afternoon complete. Soren had promised there would be both, so…
"You're in a pretty good mood," Alec said from a sprawled-out stance on the main couch, his thumb on the remote as he flipped channels without stopping.
Lucas gave him a satisfied smirk. "I am, as a matter of fact." He located his cell phone with a grunt of satisfaction and thumbed it on. Two calls missed. Call log… His smug expression faded. "That is, I was."
"Huh?" Alec looked up from the television. "What, did your dad call, or something?"
"I wish it was 'or something.'" Lucas checked his phone's bars and drifted further into the apartment, letting the cell phone guide him like a dowsing rod to the place that gave the best reception. It had been a couple of hours and his phone had been on silent, as usual. Lucas knew that his father's calls were best returned with all due promptness, unless he was too drunk to talk.
His father's office line picked up after a few rings. "Jonathan Daye."
"It's Lucas, I'm returning your call," Lucas said without preamble.
"Ah, yes, Lucas. So glad you could finally return my call."
Lucas gritted his teeth and refrained from pointing out it had only been a few hours and they were required to turn off cell phones during class. He'd been down that route before. He couldn't prove his father had been needling him, and it wasn't worth the waste of breath. "I was at work, then class."
"And how is work going?"
Lucas contemplated a slew of responses, settling on none. He and his father never talked about what they really wanted to say. "Fine."
"School?"
"Same as ever."
"So. I'm going to be in Portland soon. Not this weekend, but the next. Expect to have dinner with me."
During the pause, Lucas's pulse thudded brief and hectic through his temples. No. No way, too soon. "I'll pencil you in," he said, wondering if his father would get it—that he was written in with something that could be erased.
Another pause followed. The line was still, lacking even the static of breathing. "Good. See you then. I have a busy afternoon; I'll call with more details later."
Click.
<
br /> Lucas stood for a moment with the hollow tone in his ear, then hung up his cell phone when it began to ring back from the empty line. He'd never get it. That was the way things were.
*~*~*
The afternoon passed in slow-time, revolving past like the hands of a clock stuck in molasses until at last Soren arrived at three-thirty, stuffing a notebook and pen in his bag with two thirds of the day behind him. Lucas met him outside the lecture hall, drew him close without touching him, held him in the sway of his eyes for a long moment before inviting him to follow. Soren was breathless.
Lucas wore a hooded red sweater that day, hood down, pale hair falling around his face in windblown disarray. It made his hazel eyes look reddish brown, picking up color from the sweater, maybe. He reached for Soren's extra duffel with a smile.
Soren knew he was in love, looking at him, but it was too soon to say.
"Sloane wants to do something soon," Soren told him, trailing in Lucas's wake after having surrendered the duffel he had been hauling around through his classes. He felt as if he were embarking on some unexpected delightful trip, packed and ready on the moment's notice. "I think if I don't, she'll accuse you of kidnapping me."
"Nonsense, she got to see you at work yesterday."
"That is not quality time."
"True," Lucas said, halting by the side of his Lexus, unlocking both doors with two turns of his key. He hoisted the duffel into the back with a flick of his wrist. "That's why you're mine this afternoon."
Soren slid into the passenger seat, sure that he had no complaints. Pieces of his life revolved around him in disarray, but this was the one perfect center that he'd been searching for. Here, with Lucas, everything was still and cohesive. He thought it meant something that he was no longer afraid of things he couldn't even articulate.
Lisa and Brandon were camped out on the couch as Soren and Lucas pushed through the door, breathless from crisp air and closeness.
"You are moving in!" Lisa exclaimed, giving Lucas a thumb's up. "What did you do, dope him up? No way could he have fallen for you in full possession of his faculties."
"Never mind this person," Lucas said, threading his fingers in Soren's once they had removed their shoes. "I must be behind on my friendship payments again, if she's spreading such terrible lies."
On the way to the back hallway, Jack spun away from one of the computer consoles, giving Soren an evil eye as he noted the duffel and their joined hands. "Jesus, he's not really moving in, is he?"
Lucas turned his head to reply. "The arrangements of my personal life aren't any of your business, Jack-ass."
When Lucas's back was turned, Soren made the mistake of glancing at Jack. He grimaced in their general direction and flipped them off before whipping the chair in a quick half-circle facing the other direction.
"He really is a Jack-ass," Soren said.
Lucas snorted. "There's a reason it's his nickname." The duffel slid from his arm to rest beside the dresser.
Soren's eyes followed. He noticed again the glossy-dark finish of the hardwood, the simple elegant lines of the heavy piece of furniture. Everything in Lucas's room was fine and expensive, even his casual equipment—big television, laptop, rack of DVDs. Now Soren was going to stash away a few of his better clothes and his duplicate necessities in one of those drawers with the raw new smell of wood within, jumbling his things in this self-contained place. The reality of it made him swallow.
"Hey," Lucas said, catching at his hand again. "Come here."
Soren moved comfortably into Lucas's arms and rested his head on Lucas's narrow shoulder. Being a few inches shorter than Lucas's tall, lanky frame made them a perfect fit even while standing.
"You got a look on your face, just now," Lucas told him, passing a hand over Soren's hair and down his back, taking hold of the tie that bound Soren's hair and tugging it loose. "I don't know what it meant."
Soren wasn't sure how to voice his feelings. He inhaled Lucas's clean, soapy scent. "Looking at your dresser, it seemed strange that I'd be putting my things in this room. To stay for a while." He was awkward again. This was new.
"Too fast?" Lucas murmured, and he moved them in a slow dance, lips skimming over the curve of Soren's jaw, the shape of his mouth, spreading butterfly kisses over his cheekbones as he went.
When Lucas put it in that fashion, any answer Soren had to give was dissolved in his fascination with Lucas's mouth, and the hands that migrated to his lower back. "No," he replied, and kissed him in turn.
"Hey," Lucas said, pressing another kiss to his jaw. He took Soren's face in his hands and drew back, inviting eyes giving Soren his undivided attention.
"Hey," Soren said right back, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of Lucas's dark blue cargos and drawing him closer.
Lucas's lips and hands were urgent, his body agile against him. They shifted together, tangled up in a pleasure so keen it ached, and Soren swapped hands for feet as they angled together to satisfy the urge at the same time. Lucas wrapped a hand around him as he took Soren's cock between his lips. Soren drew on Lucas with eager hands and set about proving to Lucas the measure of what he'd learned.
When they moved, they moved together.
"That was so quick," Soren said afterward, breath-deprived and easing his way back into Lucas's embrace.
Lucas's lips pressed against his temple. "You complaining?"
"I'm a twenty-year old male. My body tells me just about every other minute how much it likes what we do, and how much more often I should do it."
Lucas laughed, his hand still idly stroking Soren's thigh. "At least that time, I know you weren't loud," he said, licking a line from Soren's ear down his neck.
"Augh!" Soren was now painfully aware that his blood supply was available for other things. Like blushing. "No, you smug bastard, I think my mouth and attention were occupied at the time."
He could feel Lucas's smile against his skin.
"Feel better?" Lucas asked, nuzzling him again, hand moving idly to caress Soren's naked hip.
"I didn't even realize I was tense." Soren looked around for something to make himself decent: underwear, pants, a fold of bedspread, and gave it up for a lost cause. He was naked in Lucas's arms, and it was okay. Lucas was certainly looking at him as though he couldn't get enough. "That was amazing."
"You're welcome," Lucas said with a beatific expression.
Soren shoved at his arm, grinning. "I shouldn't even say anything. You're confident enough in your own abilities." He regarded the naked length of Lucas for a moment, torn between cuddling down beside him and putting away his things. Lucas arched a brow at him as though daring him to move.
"We could go again."
Soren snickered. "Not yet, we can't."
"Are you saying I'm useless to you until then?"
"Nice to look at," Soren said. He pursed his lips. "You're the one who said useless." Laughing as Lucas made a disconsolate noise, he vaulted off the bed and moved for his duffel, scooping up his jeans and wriggling into his underwear along the way. It would take all of two minutes to unpack. Maybe that was why he'd been a little apprehensive.
"To make you come?" Lucas sat up, raking his disordered hair away from his face with both hands. He was grinning. "Hell, yeah. You're pretty good too, you know. Of course, with such a brilliant instructor—"
"Thanks for your generosity. Which drawer is mine?" He looked up the imposing length of the walnut-stained dresser. There were two columns of wide drawers, four rows, for a total of eight.
"The top right one." Lucas grabbed his own boxers and wriggled into them, grinning at Soren when their eyes met.
There were clothes, a few changes of underwear, and a spare work outfit. It didn't take long to unpack, but once he was finished, Soren felt odd again. His things were here to stay, at least for as long as they both wanted this.
He left his toiletries on top of the dresser, wondering if he was supposed to claim a corner of the bathroom as well. If he did tha
t, Jack would probably drop his toothbrush in the toilet.
Exploring the fringes of the room, Soren knelt beside the bookcase he hadn't really noticed before, wedged in between the dresser and the wall. So far, the focus of Lucas's room had been the bed.
The bookcase was different from the rest of Lucas's matched furniture, a faded wood varnish that was a lighter, honey-colored wood, peeling on one end, rickety on the other. Soren ran his fingers down the spines, many of them broken-backed from multiple readings. His index finger lingered over the last, dusty-blue jacket of a hardcover.
"You're a romantic," Soren said, amused, gratified to see his suspicions borne out.
"Huh?" Lucas lifted himself onto his elbows to peer over the edge of the bed.
Soren slipped the hardcover copy of Jim Grimsley's Comfort and Joy from the shelf, holding it up where he could see the cover, the solid trench-coated back of a dark-haired man walking into soft focus.
"Oh. That." Lucas sank back into the cradle of his folded arms. "I believe in love. And I believe it isn't always easy. People have to give each other a lot of chances, you know?"
The four-poster bed creaked behind Soren as he slid the book back into its place. The shuff of clothing being donned followed not long after. Behind him, Lucas's bare feet thudded on the floor. They sat side by side, shoulders touching, as Soren ran over the titles with a critical eye. Some of them he recognized, gay fiction books he'd ferreted out for himself during a careful comb-through of library or bookstore. Others were classics that he had to remind himself not to be surprised to find on Lucas's shelf.
Lucas snared him with an arm around his waist and they leaned together.
"What do you want to do after you finish school?" Soren asked. Those books reminded him of the things about Lucas that he didn't know, online or in person.
Lucas rested his head on Soren's shoulder. "I don't know yet. At first I thought I should be a computer major, but after they started outsourcing and pay started dropping with the market glut, turned out to be a good thing I didn't, I guess."
"Ah." This was probably the level of awareness Soren's mother would appreciate.
