by Andrew Grey
“Mutti let me use the car; it’ll be faster and more convenient than the subway,” Fabian explained as he led the way toward the gumball machine Hans had used to pick him up at the airport.
“If this is your mother’s car, whose car is that?”
“Opa’s. He died a few years ago, and Oma uses it sometimes. Mostly it sits.” Fabian opened the overhead door before getting behind the wheel, while Jonathon got into the passenger seat.
“I hope you drive better than Hans,” Jonathon teased as Fabian started the engine, backing out of the courtyard; Jonathon got out, closing the door as the rain picked up. After he had hurried back inside the car, Fabian pulled away. “Good God,” Jonathon exclaimed as Fabian barreled through a traffic signal. “You drive just like your brother.” Holding onto anything available, he thought about praying as Fabian whipped through traffic, laying on the horn if anyone or anything got in their way. Finally, after seeing his life pass in front of his eyes—twice—they pulled into the hospital, parking in the parking structure before walking in the main entrance.
A severe-looking woman sat behind a desk, and Fabian walked up to her. Jonathon couldn’t understand a word, but her body language was undeniable. Fabian could ask, cajole, even beg, but she was going to be about as helpful as a porcupine in a condom factory. Turning away, Fabian walked back toward him. “She would tell me nothing. We can try the emergency entrance. He must have come through there, and maybe they can help us.”
“I guess.” Jonathon followed him through the corridors, following what he hoped were the right signs. “I shouldn’t have sent you on this wild goose chase.”
“What does that mean?”
“Sorry, it means we’re looking for something we won’t ever find,” Jonathon explained as a set of doors opened in front of them and they stepped into a waiting room. Once again, Fabian walked up to the desk and began speaking to the woman sitting behind it. This time, at least, he didn’t seem to run into a wall of resistance. Once again, Jonathon couldn’t understand a word, but after a while, he saw Fabian point toward him before turning back to the woman. He saw her beginning to type, and then she began talking to Fabian rather animatedly, pointing toward a set of doors. Fabian thanked her—that part Jonathon understood—and then walked back over to where he waited.
“She said that they were hoping someone would call about him. She was on duty when he was brought in. They don’t know his name, but she gave me directions to his floor.”
“So he’s alive?” Jonathon felt relieved.
“Yes. She said that he’s”—Fabian thought a minute—“in critical condition,” he proceeded slowly. “Got that from your television shows… and he’s not doing well.”
Fabian led them through the corridors to the elevator, and they rose, then stepped out into a world of dim lights and blinking machines and monitors. Fabian approached the desk and spoke to a woman whom Jonathon assumed was a nurse. She looked in her records and pointed toward one of the rooms.
“She said that only family can see him. I told her you were the one who saved his life, and she said she’d take us back to see him,” Fabian explained, and Jonathon felt relief wash through him. At least he would get to see that he was being taken care of.
The nurse approached, and Jonathon thanked her in his best German. She smiled at him. “You are welcome,” she replied before leading them down the corridor. “He hasn’t woken up at all,” she explained in superior English, “and we aren’t sure he ever will.” She pulled back a curtain, and Jonathon saw the small figure lying on the bed, tubes connected and instruments blinking.
Jonathon stared at the form on the bed. The boy’s lip was swollen, and one eye was black and blue. He could only imagine what the rest of him looked like.
“Jonathon, it’s okay,” Fabian said.
“No, it’s not.” Jonathon swallowed hard. “This is someone’s little boy. He may have been what you call a Strichjunge, a rent boy, but he was someone’s son, and somewhere, someplace, someone loved him.” Stepping forward, Jonathon walked to the bed, taking the small, almost feminine hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to help you.” Jonathon turned to the nurse. “Is there any chance you’ll find out who he is?”
“We took blood, and the police are trying to identify him,” she answered. “I have to return to my duties. Stay as long as you like. Having visitors might help him.” She walked away, and Jonathon looked down at the perfect stranger with whom he had so much in common. He didn’t know much about him, and yet he felt as though he knew everything—at least everything that was important.
Letting go of the young man’s hand, Jonathon turned back to Fabian. “We can go.” Turning to leave, Jonathon took a last look before following Fabian back to the desk. “Ma’am, would you call me if he wakes up?”
“I’ll add it to his chart.”
He gave her his mobile number and thanked her before following Fabian out of the hospital and back to the car. “Thank you.” Jonathon got in the car when Fabian unlocked the door. “I know you thought this a fool’s errand, but I needed to see him.”
Fabian got in the car and leaned close to him. “I know you did, and I think I understand now. He was you, wasn’t he? In a lot of ways, he is what you once were.”
“Yes, exactly.” Jonathon sighed softly, and he felt Fabian’s hand glide around the back of his neck, tugging him gently into a kiss that went on and on.
“I was wrong, you don’t have a gentle heart—you have a gentle soul.” Fabian settled back into his seat. “Let’s go home.” Jonathon nodded his answer, and Fabian exited the parking garage, driving surprisingly sedately back to the house, parking the car in the courtyard and closing the door.
Jonathon got out of the car and walked around to his door, unlocking the apartment. Leaving the door open, he walked to the cupboard and took out the bottle of brandy, pouring two glasses, handing one to Fabian, who had followed him inside. Jonathon downed his glass and watched as Fabian did the same. Then he stepped forward, tugging Fabian into a hard, almost biting kiss. Without breaking the kiss, Jonathon tugged at the hem of Fabian’s shirt, only letting the kiss slip away so he could pull it over Fabian’s head. Then he was kissing him again, hands roaming over deep, rich, warm skin, thick chest hair sliding between his fingers.
Breathing hard, Jonathon tugged on Fabian’s lower lip with his teeth until it popped back. Then, taking Fabian’s hand, he led him up both flights of stairs to the bedroom.
“Is this what you want, Jonathon?” Fabian’s question was answered when Jonathon tugged off his own shirt before pressing Fabian back onto the bed. Climbing on top of him, Jonathon kissed him hard. He felt Fabian’s hands stroke down his back, holding tight as lips and tongues explored.
Jonathon let his own hands wander, sliding over hot skin, chest hair rough on his palms, Fabian grunting softly when he tugged at a nipple. He knew what he wanted, and he desperately wanted Fabian. Releasing the man’s mouth, Jonathon ducked his head, sucking a tight, nubby nipple between his lips, running his teeth lightly over the skin. Fabian groaned loudly, arching his back as Jonathon ran his fingers up Fabian’s throat and around his chin, slipping two fingers into his greedy mouth, where Fabian sucked hard.
Switching to the other bud, Jonathon bit down, listening to Fabian’s moans and deep groans before lifting his head, looking Fabian in the eye. “You like that?”
“Yes. I like you, and I will take what you are willing to give,” Fabian answered, his voice deep, eyes darkening rapidly. “I usually like things slow and gentle, but I can take hard and rough. I won’t break.”
Jonathon stopped. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t like.”
Fabian cut off further words with a driving kiss that sent electricity running through Jonathon’s brain. Grabbing Fabian’s hands, Jonathon held them tight, extending their arms over Fabian’s head, kissing him hard, teeth nipping slightly. Holding Fabian’s wrists with one hand, Jonathon shifted on the bed, kneeling next
to Fabian, devouring his rich skin with his eyes. This was one of the hottest men he’d ever laid eyes on, and Jonathon could barely believe he was in his bed. But beyond that, he had feelings for this man. What they were, he wasn’t sure yet, because he refused to let himself define them. He just wasn’t ready to go that far yet.
Using his free hand, he caressed Fabian’s chest, tweaking each nipple slightly as his hand passed over each hard bud, with Fabian squirming and arching into the touch, making the most thrilling, moany groans deep in his throat, so rumbly that Jonathon could feel them through his palms. Leaning forward, Jonathon sucked on a nipple, tugging lightly as he ran his hand down Fabian’s quivering stomach, following the trail lower. Deft fingers opened Fabian’s belt, unfastening the pants before parting the fabric and skimming the burgeoning erection straining through thin fabric. “Johnny,” Fabian gasped as he pushed the fabric aside, arching his back off the mattress as Jonathon grasped him. “Bitte, Johnny, bitte,” was all he understood as a steady stream of pleading German flowed out of Fabian.
“You look so beautiful, all stretched out for me,” Jonathon cooed as he stroked lightly, the German becoming more frantic, Fabian’s hips doing their best to push off the mattress. “I know what you want, and you’ll get it, I promise, but not right now,” Jonathon whispered as he ran his tongue along Fabian’s side, the smooth skin rich and warm, Fabian squirming to get away while at the same time Jonathon could feel his need to get closer.
Tightening his grip slightly, Jonathon kissed his way down Fabian’s stomach before releasing Fabian’s length, replacing his hand with his lips, letting his hand slip away from Fabian’s wrists. Kissing his way down the throbbing cock as the stream of German increased. Fingers carded through his hair, hips pumping, cock sliding against his lips. Fabian’s moans became more frantic, and Jonathon pulled back, bringing their lips together in a bruising kiss that left them both panting.
Jonathon suddenly found himself tugged onto his back, pressed against the mattress as Fabian went wild, kissing hard, their bodies undulating together as Fabian kicked his legs, and Jonathon heard a thud as Fabian’s pants hit the floor.
Fingers worked open his belt, and a hand thrust his pants down before Fabian jumped off the bed, tugging the pants ferociously off his legs. “Want you naked, Johnny,” Fabian growled richly before kissing him again, their bodies melding together, cocks sliding, chests mashing together, their mouths pleading silently with one another.
“Fuck, Fabian,” Jonathon gasped as his mind took flight, skin hypersensitive to every touch, every movement as he felt Fabian’s hands slip beneath him, palms cupping his butt, fingers gripping as Fabian’s cries reached a fever pitch. Eyes clamped shut, body rigidly throbbing, Jonathon felt Fabian’s searing release on his skin, and with a gasp, Fabian collapsed on top of him, breathing like a marathoner against his neck.
“You nearly killed me,” Fabian gasped between breaths, and Jonathon felt light kisses on his shoulder. “I make you happy as soon as I can breathe.”
Jonathon could wait, and he stroked Fabian’s skin, immensely pleased that he could give the younger man such rapturous pleasure. Rolling them over, he pressed Fabian into the mattress, kissing and stroking until he felt Fabian’s legs around his waist. “Want you, Johnny,” Fabian breathed into his ear, and Jonathon stroked his hands down strong thighs, teasing them along his cleft before ghosting the very tips over Fabian’s opening.
“I need to get some things,” Jonathon whispered, and after a soft kiss, he lifted himself off Fabian and hurried to the bathroom. The steps had never passed under his feet so fast, and in what felt like the blink of an eye, he was back, taking in every inch of warm skin.
Tossing the bottle of lube on the bed, he set the rest of the supplies on the nightstand before climbing back on the bed, kissing Fabian again. “How do you like it?”
Fabian’s legs wrapped back around his waist and his arms slipped around his neck—Jonathon had his answer. Finding the bottle, he slicked his fingers, teasing and swirling them around Fabian’s opening before slowly pressing one inside. Tight heat gripped him, and he sank his finger deeper, wondering how long it had been for Fabian. Somehow, he’d assumed that Fabian could have anyone he wanted and probably had, but his body told him a very different story, especially when he curled his finger and the surprised gasp he received told him that Fabian wasn’t as experienced as he’d assumed. Easily finding the magic spot, Jonathon smiled against Fabian’s lips as the German moans began again.
Carefully adding a second finger, he used those incredible sounds to gauge Fabian’s reaction. When the sounds tapered off, he shifted tactics, and when they picked up, he repeated what he was doing, and when he went operatic soprano, he knew he’d hit the jackpot. Sliding his fingers away, he reached to the nightstand for the condom, watching Fabian’s eyes as he prepared himself. “Is this okay?”
Fabian nodded, and Jonathon pressed forward as slowly as his body would let him. He saw Fabian’s eyes widen and heard him gasp, and only when he felt Fabian push against him did he move again. “Please, Johnny, don’t stop.”
“Don’t want to hurt you,” he responded as he nipped Fabian’s neck. “Would never want to hurt you,” he added as his hips met Fabian’s butt, and he held still, the wet heat around him gripping tight, and he wondered if this was Fabian’s first time. Silently chiding himself for not asking, he got lost in his self-recrimination until Fabian grabbed his butt, pressing them closer together.
Slowly, Jonathon began to move, withdrawing and then pressing back inside. A loud gasp melded into a deep, rich groan. “Don’t stop, Johnny.”
He had no intention of stopping as he locked his eyes onto Fabian’s, feeling their bodies move together as his own desire built and he found himself moaning deeply. “Fuck, Fabian!” His head throbbed and he felt his heart open as those deep-brown eyes looked back at him, pleading with him, imploring him.
Stroking along Fabian’s length, Jonathon gasped as Fabian grabbed the headboard, body stretched out, Fabian’s pleasure in his hands. The trust he was being given drove him higher, and Jonathon gasped as his mind and body reacted at the same time, surging forward to claim this wonderful man.
“Johnny, gonna….” The rest of Fabian’s thought came out in a garble of German and English, but Jonathon didn’t have to understand the words to know how Fabian felt—he could barely form a coherent thought as his passion overrode everything, and as his climax built, he felt Fabian reach the precipice along with him. With dual cries that carried out of the open windows, they plummeted together.
Barely able to breathe, head spinning, Jonathon tried his best not to just flop on top of Fabian, so he stayed where he was, breathing heavily, looking down at the thoroughly debauched younger man. Slowly, their bodies separated, both of them wincing at the loss. Fabian reached for his hand, taking it and tugging him forward, and Jonathon rested next to the younger man, each holding the other in a way Jonathon hadn’t thought he’d ever be held again. And the kisses, soft and warm, gentle and kind… dare he think, loving? It was almost too much for Jonathon to hope for, but that was how they felt, and that was what remained at the forefront of Jonathon’s mind as his eyes closed and he drifted off into dreams now filled with waltzes.
Chapter 7
JONATHON woke to an empty bed, not that there was anything unusual in that. He’d awakened to an empty bed for years now, but somehow he still checked, just like he had the afternoon he and Fabian….
Jonathon stopped the thought in its tracks. He and Fabian had, hell, he didn’t know what to call it—fucked, he guessed. At the time he’d thought they might be making love, but boy, had he been wrong, and that became readily apparent when he’d woken from his short nap to an empty bed and an empty apartment. What was worse, Fabian hadn’t returned at all that day and hadn’t for almost a week. The following day, Saturday, he’d said good-bye to Jeana, not letting on about his disappointment, seeing her to the train and waving good-bye. He
kept wondering what could be wrong and had even worried. He resolved to give him the day—after all, they weren’t joined at the hip, and Fabian did have a life of his own—but on Sunday he saw Fabian leaving the house, hurrying down the sidewalk. He knew Fabian saw him too, but he didn’t even wave or acknowledge him in any way, and that really hurt. He’d wallowed in that hurt until Tuesday, when it morphed into anger. He spent two days going over what he could have done wrong, and he determined that the wallowing would, somehow, end.
By Thursday when he woke, he’d given up and figured Fabian had gotten what he wanted and had moved on. What could he do? He’d made a fool of himself over a handsome younger guy, and that was that. Getting out of bed, Jonathon pulled on sweatpants and walked to the kitchen to make coffee. Once the pot was ready, he poured a cup and made his way to the balcony, grabbing the book he was reading, reminding himself to make another stop at the bookstore. The stack of books he’d already read was growing by the day. Sitting in his chair, he opened the book and disappeared into the action-adventure story.
The ringing phone pulled him out of the story, and he picked it up, checking the number on the display. Not recognizing it, he almost let it go to voice mail. “Hello?” he said tentatively, expecting a wrong number.
“Herr Pfister?” a woman’s voice said, pronouncing the P ever so slightly. “I’m Greta Nobelkopf, we met at Vienna General Hospital a few days ago.”
“You’re the nurse who helped us, I remember you.” Jonathon thought of the boy in the hospital bed. “Is he awake?”
“I’m sorry.” He could hear the sadness in her voice. “The doctors have determined that he will never wake and have authorized that we turn off all machines. You were the only one who visited him.” He heard her swallow. “I could be fired for this,” her voice softened to a whisper, “but I called because no one should die alone.”
