by Andrew Grey
“I take it he knows about you?”
Fabian laughed. “Most people know I like men.”
“Everyone except Oma?” Jonathon was sure she knew—or suspected.
Fabian’s laugh faded away. “Oma knows. She’s just stuck in the past and will not accept it.”
A server brought a bottle of wine, showing it to Fabian and him, and after getting approval, he popped the cork and gave Fabian a taste before pouring for both of them. Once he’d left, Fabian lifted his glass, and they toasted silently, clinking glasses before tasting the wine. “A while ago, when I was living in the apartment, Oma came in, she said to clean, but she was just being… nosey?” Fabian questioned the use of the term, and Jonathon nodded and smiled. “She found me in the living room with my boyfriend.”
“That must have been a shock for her.” It would be for almost anybody.
“She screamed at him and started calling him nasty things and he left, really fast. That is why Hans hates the Strichjunge so much. Oma called Phillipe that in front of him, and Hans took it literally.” Fabian took another drink of his wine. “After that, she told me no more men or I have to leave. So I left.”
That explained Hans’s hostility—he blamed them for the loss of his brother. “Is that why she keeps watching you?” Fabian looked surprised, and Jonathon explained, “Jeana told me before you came that she kept looking for you all the time.”
“Yes, she tells me all the time that I need a wife to get married. She will listen to nothing else. That was why she watched when we left tonight. The bad thing is that she owns the house, so I may have to leave again soon,” Fabian said with a touch of sadness.
The thought of Fabian leaving sent a rush through Jonathon, and he had to stop and make himself think. He’d only known Fabian for a few days, but the idea of him leaving made him anxious.
“Do not worry, I will not leave soon. If I find a job, then I can get my own apartment, away from Oma.” He grinned.
“What kind of job do you do?”
“For work, I draw buildings for architects.” He pronounced the “ch,” and Jonathon thought it was adorable and smiled without correcting him. “I want to design my own buildings someday, but for now I have to pay my dues, I think you’d say.”
The server stopped by their table, and Fabian ordered starters as Jonathon scanned over the menu before putting it down again. “I’ll trust you to order for me,” Jonathon said, grateful that Fabian’s attention seemed to be shifting from Oma.
Fabian nodded and looked over his menu and then set it down. Reaching across the table, Fabian took his hand, thumbs slipping over his skin. Jonathon looked into beautiful eyes, big and dark, waiting for Fabian to say something, but he didn’t, at least not with his lips. But his eyes deepened, the gentle touch became more urgent as ripples of energy passed between them. Jonathon had never known such intimacy and intensity from so simple a gesture. The server returned, setting down a plate in front of each of them, then leaving again, and Fabian didn’t look away, not for a second. Jonathon knew if he had, the spell would have broken, but Fabian’s gaze on him felt like a magnet, and he couldn’t turn away from it. He needed it the way a flower needs the rain after a week of summer heat.
Slowly, Fabian’s hands slipped away, and everything around him came back into focus. The conversations from other tables reached his ears, and the movement of waiters caught his attention again, if only briefly. Looking down, he saw a dish with small depressions, each filled with butter, smelling of garlic and herbs. “Are these escargot?” He’d half expected Fabian to order oysters.
Fabian nodded and used a tiny fork to spear one, and Jonathon did the same, the morsel sensually sliding down his throat, flavor bursting onto his tongue. Taking a sip of wine, he speared another, eating slowly, savoring every bite as well as the company. The first course was followed by their entrees of duck in a sauce that smelled like heaven and tasted even better. They talked very little, which was a surprise to Jonathon, but whenever he looked up, he saw Fabian looking at him, fork still, his meal ignored.
“What are we seeing this evening?” Fabian asked, breaking a long, gaze-filled silence.
“La Bohême. I saw it once, years ago.” Jonathon chuckled at the memory. “It made me cry, if I remember.”
“See,” Fabian smiled triumphantly. “I said you had a gentle heart, and I was right.” The server cleared their plates and inquired about dessert, but they declined, and Jonathon assumed Fabian told him to bring the check right away, because he hurried away and returned, placing the leather folder on the table. Fabian reached for it, but Jonathon was quicker, pulling out a card and placing it in the folder.
“This evening is mine, Fabian.” The server took it and returned so Jonathon could sign the slip. After saying good night to Fabian’s friend, they walked through the lamplit streets toward the opera house. This time, Fabian’s hand found his, the night and the shadows acting as disguise.
JONATHON wiped his eyes as the curtain fell on the last act of the opera. The heroine had died, just like he had known she would, but it didn’t seem to help his emotions much. The curtain rose again and the audience also rose to their feet, thunderous applause filling the ornate auditorium from the gilded ornamentation and crystal chandeliers to the royal box above their heads. Then, after the performers had taken their bows and Jonathon’s hands ached from applauding so long and hard, the heavily decorated curtain, itself a work of art, closed for the last time. Sitting back down, Jonathon waited for the crowd to thin. “I always wanted to see a performance here.” He purposely left out any reference to Greg. On their way from the restaurant, he realized how much he’d been comparing Fabian and everything they did to what he and Greg had done. And that wasn’t fair. Fabian was his own person and deserved to be seen as such. Jonathon knew how he’d feel if he were constantly compared to someone else.
“Was it worth the wait?” Fabian asked, nudging his shoulder.
Jonathon grinned widely as he nudged Fabian back. “It was so worth it.” Standing up, he took a final look around the spectacular building before walking toward the exit.
“I thought we’d get a bite of dessert before we head back,” Fabian said from behind him.
“Are places still open?” He automatically checked his watch. “It’s quite late.”
“Of course, if you know where to look,” Fabian answered with a wink, and they stepped out into the crisp evening air. The brightly lit opera house faded in the distance as they crossed the street, walking back toward home. To Jonathon’s confusion, they didn’t stop anywhere and arrived at the gate a while later, but Fabian led them to his door and waited until he opened it.
Turning on the light, he saw a pastry box sitting on the counter. “What did you do?”
“I asked Jeana to bring something back for us.”
“You sneak,” Jonathon snipped lightly before picking up the box. “What would you like to drink? I have a dessert wine, if you’re up for it.”
“Of course.” Fabian stepped closer, and Jonathon couldn’t stop the kiss, with his hands full—not that he wanted to anyway. “I’ll meet you upstairs.” Fabian took the pastry box, carrying it up the stairs. Jonathon got the wine and opened it, carrying the bottle and two glasses upstairs as well.
“So, what did you have Jeana get?” Jonathon poured the wine, setting the glasses on the table before sitting next to Fabian on the sofa, watching as he opened the box, the scent filling the room.
“I had her pick up finger pastries,” Fabian answered as he lifted out a small éclair, bringing it to Jonathon’s lips. Opening his mouth, Jonathon took the pastry, chewing on the luscious pâte à choux, cream, and chocolate concoction. “Good?” Fabian asked, and Jonathon nodded, lifting out another, holding it to Fabian’s mouth. He sucked in the pastry along with giving Jonathon’s fingers a lick with his tongue. Instead of picking up another pastry, Fabian swallowed, leaning close, kissing Jonathon gently, lips exploring, tongue lightly tracing the edge of his mou
th, before backing away again. It got to be a game as they fed each other and kissed, each tasting the dessert on the other’s skin.
A box of pastries and half a bottle of wine later, Jonathon was being kissed within an inch of his life, pressed back against the cushions. He felt Fabian shift, guiding him onto his back, and a hand slid beneath his shirt, warm fingers gliding over his skin.
“Fabian, I can’t,” Jonathon said against Fabian’s lips, his mind overcoming the sensations his body seemed to crave.
Fabian stopped, lifting his head, eyes imploring. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” Jonathon sat back up, his hand touching Fabian’s arm. “It’s just too soon.”
“I understand.” Fabian moved away, body rigid.
“No, I don’t think you do. I was with Greg for a long time, and only with him. You haven’t done anything wrong,” Jonathon added hastily, as he wondered what in the hell he was doing. Here was a young, handsome man, obviously ready to take him to bed, and he was putting on the brakes. “I can’t have sex and not have it mean something. I’ve made love for a very long time, and I want that again.”
“Oh.” Fabian brightened, turning back to him with a smile on his face. “Then I just have to let you fall in love with me.”
“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Jonathon quipped, but he quickly found himself back where he was before, lips kissing, a hard body pressing him into the cushions, a warm hand caressing his stomach, fingers lightly tweaking a nipple, and Jonathon moaned softly, returning the kiss, holding Fabian tight.
Then Fabian stopped, gentling the kiss, weight lifting off him, hands slipping away from his skin. “I have an appointment for a job in the morning, but in the afternoon, can I take you someplace special?”
Jonathon nodded absently, and then his brain kicked in. “Umm, I’m supposed to go to Schönbrunn with Jeana and Inge.” He hated to say no, but he’d already promised, and he couldn’t disappoint her.
“Perfect.” Fabian leaned close, giving him another kiss before moving just out of kissing range. “That’s just what I had in mind. Would you like some company of your own?”
“I’d like that,” Jonathon responded, getting to his feet, straightening his clothes before leaning in for another kiss. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Fabian leaned in one last time, kissing him until he could barely think. “That will give you something special to remember when you’re in your bed tonight.” Fabian winked and walked to the stairs. “Schlaf gut.” With another quick smile, Fabian descended. Jonathon heard the door close, and he walked up the stairs to the bedroom. Slipping out of his clothes, he placed them carefully in the wardrobe before cleaning up and sliding between the sheets. He could still feel Fabian’s kiss as he fell asleep.
Chapter 6
JONATHON woke late and lay in bed, thinking of Fabian and what his hands felt like when they touched his skin. Getting up before he took himself in hand, he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt before walking down to the kitchen and making a pot of coffee. Standing around and waiting, he opened the refrigerator, reminding himself that he really needed to do some shopping. The aroma of fine coffee filled the kitchen, and Jonathon closed the door, inhaling deeply. When the pot was finally finished, he poured a large mug and climbed back to the living room, settling on the sofa and turning on the television.
There wasn’t much on in English, but it really didn’t seem to matter. Jonathon was only using it for the noise anyway. Hearing a soft rap at his door, he set the mug aside and walked downstairs to answer it.
He’d expected to see Jeana standing on his doorstep—what he didn’t expect was Fabian and Hans’s grandmother. Oma was carrying a small dish in her hands like a gift, but when she looked up at him, Jonathon shivered, her expression as cold as any he’d ever seen, made even more so by her tight bun and severe black dress. “Guten Morgen,” he said in his best German. “Can I help you?” he asked, not quite sure what else to say.
She extended her hands, smiling slightly, offering the dish before motioning inside. Jonathon stepped back, taking the offered dish and letting her come inside. He offered her a cup of coffee and she seemed to accept, so Jonathon poured one for each of them, setting them on the small table. “I come,” she said, each word accentuated, her accent extremely heavy, “to ask Fabian.”
Jonathon cocked his head to the side, unsure what she really wanted to say.
“Fabian good boy,” she said, and Jonathon nodded because it seemed like the thing to do. “Fabian need make babies.” She seemed emphatic about the last part. “I go now.” She stood up, giving Jonathon a no-nonsense look before walking toward the door. “Hans and Fabian good boys,” she said as she opened the door, walking outside and closing it behind her. Jonathon remained seated in the chair, staring at the door, wondering what in the hell had just happened.
Finally getting up, he poured her untouched coffee in the sink, rinsing the cup before picking up his own. He had just reached the stairs when he heard another knock and the door opened. “Morning, Dad.”
He turned around. “Morning, Jeana.” She began opening the cupboard doors until she found the cups, pouring some coffee before following him upstairs.
“So, how’d it go last night?” She didn’t even let him sit down before the questioning began. “Did you have a good time?”
“Yes, I did. We had a very nice dinner, and the opera was… special.” He couldn’t keep the color from rising in his face. “Thank you for leaving the nibbles, by the way.”
“My pleasure.” She grinned over her cup. “So, let’s cut to the chase—did you get some last night?”
“Jeana, I thought we agreed that some things were off-limits.” Jonathon set down his cup, trying to stare her down.
“Not going to work. I’m not a third-grader, and I don’t need details because that’s just creepy”—she smiled for a second—“but did you get any?”
“You have a one-track mind. And no, I didn’t get any. He tried”—Jonathon covered his embarrassment behind his cup—“but that’s not what I want.”
“Did you at least—”
Jonathon cut her off by raising his hand. “I’m not going to talk about this anymore. Unless you’re prepared to answer my questions about you and Inge, and I very seriously doubt that you are.” He finished his coffee, setting the empty cup next to the cold one from earlier. “So, are we still on for Schönbrunn today? Fabian said he had an appointment this morning but said if we went this afternoon, he’d go with us. It seems he has something sort of special planned.”
“Sure. If he gets home in time, we can go for lunch first.” Jeana finished her coffee, setting the cup next to his. “Was Oma here earlier? I saw her coming back, muttering something in German about you not understanding anything.”
“Yeah.” Jonathon settled back in his chair. “I think she was warning me off her grandchildren. It seems they are both good boys and that Fabian needs to make babies. That fits with what Fabian told me last night.” Jonathon had no intention of relating the information to her that Fabian had shared. “I need to finish getting dressed so I can be ready to go when Fabian gets back.” He checked his watch, realizing it was later than he thought. “You can stay here if you’d like, I’m not kicking you out or anything.”
“No.” she stood up. “I need to see what Inge’s up to.” She gave him a hug that he returned warmly. “I’m glad you had a good time, and I’m happy he likes you.” She released him and turned, walking down the stairs. “Oh, and you might want to wash the chocolate out of the sofa cushions. It seems you two had some fun with the desserts.” She winked and hurried away before he could scowl at her.
Jonathon got his clothes together, carrying them to the bathroom. After a shower, he dressed and made sure he looked his best before moving to the small balcony to take in some sunshine. Grabbing his book, he settled in the chair and began to read.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Jonathon jumped when he heard
Fabian’s voice. Looking up, he saw brown eyes and then a pair of sensual lips brushed over his. “Jeana let me in.”
Jonathon set down his book, pulling Fabian down for another kiss until he remembered where they were and pulled away. “Sorry, but we can be seen from the street. It doesn’t bother me, but you might not want the neighbors talking.”
Fabian chuckled softly. “Good point. Are you ready to go? The ladies are waiting for us by the gate.” Jonathon got up, following Fabian inside, and closed the door before getting his wallet, keys, and other essentials.
They met Inge and Jeana by the gate and began walking toward the subway. “Do you want to get lunch there, or eat first?” Fabian asked, and they all agreed that they weren’t really hungry, so they decided to wait, and walked directly to the subway station for the ride to what used to be the edge of the city.
“This was the summer palace for the emperor or empress and their family. The Hofburg is the city palace,” Fabian explained once they were on the train. “The grounds are beautiful and quite extensive, but they used to be even larger. What’s there today is only a small percentage of the hunting forest that used to surround Schönbrunn.”
“Is it still used today?” Jeana asked. “Does anyone still live there?”
Fabian smiled. “No one lives there now. Parts of the building are used for government offices, but they aren’t the royal parts. There’s no empire any longer, but the bureaucratic portions of the building are still used for government departments.” The train stopped, and they got off, walking toward a large, cold, yellow building. “This is the government part of the palace,” Fabian said as he led them into a large courtyard surrounded by parts of the building, with huge gates crested and decorated in gold. “We need to get our tickets for the tour, and then we can walk through the gardens.” They stood in line and got tickets. They had an hour, so Fabian led them to one of the cafés, and they ate a light lunch.
At the correct time, they lined up and were escorted into the building and taken through eye-popping rooms with frescoed ceilings, gilded and decorated plaster, and a ballroom that looked almost the size of a football field, with huge crystal chandeliers hanging from a hand-painted ceiling. Stunning was the only word that came to mind as Jonathon craned his neck to see all the ceiling at once. “Absolutely stunning.” At the end of the tour, the guide left them outside in the gardens, and Jonathon found himself looking all around at the manicured grounds with sculptures and fountains.
