by Andrew Grey
“So he has a name,” Fabian mumbled softly under his breath.
“Yes. Somehow it makes him more real. Somewhere, Reiner had parents, a family, maybe brothers and sisters,” Jonathon commented softly. He couldn’t help thinking about the young man. “It’s hard to think that a person can die and there’s nobody there for them.”
“Who died?” Hans asked as they stopped at a street corner.
“The kid who was attacked near the house,” Fabian answered, to Jonathon’s gratitude.
“You mean the Strichjunge,” Hans spat with an unusual amount of venom, and Maria elbowed him in the side. “Ouch,” Hans cried as he rubbed his side.
“Every person deserves to be treated with a certain dignity and respect,” Maria said as she stood just a little taller. The traffic stopped and they were able to cross the street. Jonathon knew he liked her.
“Why? Is it because of what Oma told you?” Fabian asked Hans, stopping on the other side of the street.
Hans nodded slowly. “Oma said you were with a Strichjunge and that’s why you had to leave. She told us that whenever we asked about you while you were gone.” The conversation switched to German, and Jonathon didn’t understand any more of it, but he clearly understood Fabian’s soft tone when he explained the truth, and it took no translator to interpret the relief on Hans’s face and then the deep, brotherly hug that followed. Jonathon walked ahead with Maria as the two brothers cleared the air behind them.
When they reached the house, Hans escorted Maria inside to meet his mother and Oma, while Fabian followed Jonathon to the apartment door and then inside. “I was going to ask if things have been better on the Oma front?”
“For now, at least. The other night I heard her on the phone inviting her priest to dinner.” Fabian shook his head. “Mutti is great and couldn’t be more supportive, but Oma tries her best to make things miserable for everyone. Mutti threatened to move out, and since Oma can’t take care of herself, Mutti said she’d put her in a home. That settled her down, so now she just ignores me.”
“There are worse things,” Jonathon said with a smile.
“Let’s not talk about Oma,” Fabian whispered as he moved closer. “What’s wrong?” he prodded lightly when Jonathon didn’t react.
“Sorry.” Jonathon forced his attention back to the present and the man standing right next to him.
“Don’t be sorry, just tell me what’s got you so preoccupied all of a sudden.”
“I will, but I don’t think you’re gonna like it.” Jonathon was sure that Fabian was going to think he was completely and totally rollicking crazy. But Fabian just cocked his head at him quizzically, and Jonathon could almost see Fabian’s mind going through possibilities. “I want to try to help Johan, er, Reiner.”
“How? He’s already….” Fabian’s eyes widened, and Jonathon knew the minute he caught on. “No!” Fabian backed away.
“Fabian, he was killed, probably by his pimp, and you know the police aren’t going to do anything about it. He was just another street kid. He’s hardly a priority.” God, Jonathon could feel the same helplessness he’d felt when he was on the street. He thought he’d left those feelings behind him long ago, yet here they were again—but this time those feelings weren’t directed at himself, but at the young man whose hand he’d held while the life slipped from his battered body.
Fabian began pacing the kitchen floor. “What is it you think we can do?” Fabian asked, gesturing emphatically. “These men are dangerous, and I don’t want anyone”—Fabian stopped walking, standing right in front of him—“especially you, getting hurt.” The worried, almost pleading look in Fabian’s eyes was almost enough to push the idea from his mind, but Jonathon just couldn’t let it go.
“Those people killed that young man,” Jonathon said slowly, his voice measured, “and they did it just down the street from where you live. I know you think it doesn’t affect you”—he waved his arms toward the door—“I bet no one in the neighborhood thinks it affects them, because it was just a Strichjunge that was killed. You don’t, Hans doesn’t, why should anyone else? But they’re wrong. What happens if Hans happens to be walking down the sidewalk and sees something he shouldn’t?” Jonathon raised his eyebrows expectantly. “I know it’s comfortable to think that it doesn’t affect you and that it’s outside your lives and experience, but it isn’t.” Jonathon couldn’t tell if he was getting through to Fabian or not. Opening the refrigerator, he searched for something to eat, but he found next to nothing and shut the door.
“Maybe you’re right, but what can we do about it?” Fabian asked as though that was the way it was. “Come on, let’s go get something to eat,” Fabian said. He walked toward the door with Jonathon walking just behind him, lost in his own thoughts. Locking the door behind them, they walked around the cars in the courtyard and out through the heavy gate, closing it behind them before heading down the sidewalk toward the restaurant where Jonathon and Fabian had eaten on their first date.
As they turned the corner, Jonathon nudged Fabian’s side lightly, tilting his head toward the other corner, where a young boy stood leaning against the same wall where they’d first seen Reiner. Jonathon saw Fabian look, and the boy lowered his hand, sliding it along his belly, lifting his shirt to display the wares. “Let’s keep going,” Jonathon said slowly, and they walked the rest of the way to the restaurant in silence. Maybe there was nothing he could do, maybe he was just being a fool, but Jonathon knew he had to try, because Reiner’s life was worth something—hell, his own life had been worth something.
At the door to the restaurant, Fabian stopped, and Jonathon found himself looking around. He could just see the corner where the boy stood, still just at the edge of the light. Tearing their eyes away, they went inside. Heinrich greeted them as he had on their previous visit, and they took their seats. “You’re determined to do this?”
“Yes,” Jonathon answered, opening his menu but not really seeing it as he watched Fabian disappear behind his own menu. Looking over the dishes, Jonathon made his selection and set the menu aside, waiting for Fabian.
“Okay.” Fabian set his own menu on top of Jonathon’s. “What do you propose to do?” he asked with a sigh of resignation. “I figure you’ll do this on your own anyway, so I may as well help you.” Fabian muttered other things under his breath, but they were in German anyway.
“We start by watching.”
Fabian squinted at him from across the table. “Is that all?” Jonathon could see Fabian’s body relax slightly.
“To start with.” Jonathon looked toward the door. “Do you think we could sit outside?”
Fabian got someone’s attention and they were moved to one of the umbrella-covered tables on the sidewalk. Jonathon shifted the table slightly, watching the corner. “Is that why you moved out here? So you could watch him?”
Jonathon reached across the table, taking Fabian’s hand. “It’s a nice night, and I’m here with you. I just wanted you to see something.” The server returned and took their drink order. Jonathon kept his attention on Fabian, which was hardly a chore. He could look at this man for the rest of his life, and the realization surprised him a little, but in a warm, happy way. Their drinks arrived, and Jonathon took a sip of the light-colored beer. “Do you know what you’d like?”
Fabian nodded slowly. “You.” The server took their order, and Jonathon felt Fabian’s eyes on him the entire time.
A car drove past the restaurant and slowed down at the corner before continuing on. Jonathon placed his order, doing his best to pronounce the items correctly and earning a smile from Fabian. “Your German is getting better.”
“I’ve been hearing it for almost a month,” Jonathon replied as the same car passed by them again, and this time, Jonathon’s attention wavered.
“What’s got your interest?” Fabian turned, following Jonathon’s gaze.
“That car passed us a few minutes ago. It slowed at the corner before continuing on. Now it’s slow
ing again.” Jonathon narrated the car’s movements in a soft voice.
“But it didn’t stop,” Fabian added.
“Nope, but I bet it’ll be back in a few minutes, and this time it will.” Jonathon lifted his beer glass, watching Fabian over the top as he turned back to him.
“I will take that bet. But if you are wrong, you give up this whole notion.”
“And if I’m right?” Jonathon didn’t have time to say more before the car drove by them again, taillights brightening before pulling up to the curb. “See. Watch. They’re negotiating the price right about now.” Jonathon waited, and he saw a dark figure walk to the passenger door and get inside. “Offer accepted,” Jonathon added knowingly as the car drove away. “That’s the behavior of a customer. What we want is the big guy. He’s probably the one who hurt Reiner.”
“How do you know it was him? What if it was a customer?”
“Too early in the day. Besides, a customer would take him someplace more private, not in the street. No, the boss was sending a message to all his people not to mess with him or underperform.” Jonathon swallowed. “I’ve seen it before.” Jonathon cleared his mind, pushing away the memories as best he could, returning his attention to the exceptional man sitting across from him.
“So what are you looking for?”
Jonathon shrugged. “I’ll know it when I see it.”
“Then can we talk about something else?” Fabian’s eyes widened, and Jonathon nodded, pushing everything away except Fabian for the rest of the meal.
On their walk home past the now-empty corner, Jonathon held Fabian’s hand. “I have to talk to Mutti,” Fabian told him as they approached the house. Jonathon let Fabian’s hand slide from his as he made his way alone to his apartment. Closing the door behind him, he walked in the near dark up the stairs to the bedroom, stripping off his clothes and falling into bed alone, curling up on his side in the bed, wishing Fabian was on the other as he had been so many times recently.
Jonathon stared at the ceiling, wondering if Fabian was trying to get away from him. Not that he could blame him at all. He couldn’t really put into words why he felt so connected to Reiner—he hadn’t even met him other than to stand between the boy and Hans. He knew that he could easily have ended up like Reiner, but that wasn’t quite it either. How could he expect Fabian to understand when he couldn’t understand himself? He just knew he had to do this.
The door opening and closing downstairs made him jump. “Fabian?”
“Shhh, it’s me,” he heard the familiar voice answer, and after some fumbling in the dark, the bed dipped and Fabian joined him under the covers as relief flowed through Jonathon.
“I’m sorry for being such a problem,” Jonathon whispered as Fabian moved closer, holding him in the darkness,
“You’re not.” Fabian tightened his embrace a little further. “I spoke to Mutti, and she said it was a good thing and that you were doing what was right.” Fabian chuckled a little against his ear before nipping it with his lips.
“She said that?” Jonathon asked, and his answer was a kiss, slow and deep, as Fabian rolled on the bed, pulling Jonathon on top. “What else did she say?”
Fabian stilled, and Jonathon felt those deep eyes bore into him. “I asked her advice because you were going to leave. She said she only had my father for a short time before he died and that she wouldn’t give up the time she had with him for anything. She suggested I make the most of the time I have with you.” Fabian’s mouth found his again as arms hugged him tight. “So that’s what I’m going to do.” Fabian kissed him again as they pressed their skin together, sharing warmth as the cool night air caressed them through the open window.
With surprising speed, Fabian rolled them on the bed, kissing Jonathon hard, tongue skimming over his lips. “You were so naughty on the wheel,” Jonathon gasped as Fabian’s mouth slipped away, his tongue circling a nipple.
“You liked that,” Fabian moaned, his lips kissing Jonathon’s skin. “You loved having sex outside, didn’t you?” Fabian licked again, and Jonathon nodded against the pillow. “You loved that we might get caught—it really turned you on,” Fabian teased lightly as he slithered down him, skin slowly skimming over his length. Jonathon gasped as Fabian increased the friction.
“Yes,” Jonathon gasped as Fabian blew hot air over his length, his entire body throbbing with need. “Don’t tease.”
“Not teasing,” Fabian countered. “Just getting you ready.”
“For what?” Jonathon asked, fascinated, as Fabian’s hands glided over his chest.
“A game. You can’t make a sound, and I get to try to make you scream.” Fabian licked his way up Jonathon’s side, and he tried to squirm away, keeping his mouth tightly closed, swallowing the laughter that threatened. “Good. I’ll be right back.” Jonathon watched as Fabian crawled off the bed, hurrying downstairs, returning a few minutes later with a single candle, setting it on the bedside table. “I want to see you,” Fabian whispered as he crawled back onto the bed, straddling Jonathon’s legs.
Jonathon gazed up at Fabian in the flickering light, basking in the silent glow of those eyes. There was no doubt in Jonathon’s mind how Fabian felt about him—it was plain, written on that handsome face with its chiseled jaw and impressive cheekbones. Reaching forward, Jonathon stroked a hand along the cheek, coarse, dark stubble passing under his palm. He wanted to tell Fabian how he was feeling, but he kept quiet, per Fabian’s instructions.
Warm hands stroked along his chest, fingers splaying, and Jonathon arched his back, moving closer to the touch, skin tingling. Damn, the deep, kneading motion of Fabian’s hands sent tingles throughout his body, and Jonathon’s spirit soared as Fabian kept up his slow massage and Jonathon had to keep himself from groaning. Hands slid down his skin to his hips, and Fabian shifted, kneeling on the bed, fingers and thumbs stroking the long muscles of Jonathon’s thighs and calves. Jonathon felt every stroke, every movement, as though the sensations were being written directly on his brain. Hip to toe, every inch of skin was touched, stroked, kneaded, stretched, and loved. Kisses followed those hands, and Jonathon felt his body sink into the mattress as every ounce of stress leached away through those magic, incredible hands.
The deep, soothing breaths they both took seemed to echo off the walls as Jonathon felt a light tap on his hip. Rolling over, he splayed himself on the bed, waiting for Fabian’s hands to return, but he felt nothing, and it took all his willpower not to turn around to see what Fabian was doing. Instead he continued his deep breathing, jumping slightly when he felt fingers against his foot, thumbs deeply massaging the soles of his feet. Nothing in his experience prepared him for the zing that flew up his spine at the unexpected touch. “I know.” Fabian’s voice reached his ears as through a haze, and Jonathon opened his mouth to tell him how good it felt but closed it again, not wanting to do anything that would make Fabian stop.
The backs of his legs got the treatment next, muscles soothed, until Jonathon felt those incredible hands slide over his butt, hands working the muscles, fingers skimming along his cleft, and Jonathon felt himself press back slightly into the touch. With sweeping movements, Fabian moved upward, stroking down his back, over his butt, and along his legs before reversing course and returning, infusing him with desire as hips ground against the bedding. “That was just the beginning,” Fabian said, and Jonathon felt hot breath against his skin. “You’ve made it so far,” Fabian added, and Jonathon felt the hands slip back to his butt, wet heat tracing behind them. When that heat slid to his cleft, Jonathon swallowed the head-throbbing moan that tried to burst from him. “Like that?”
Jonathon nodded, not even trusting himself to breathe, let alone remain quiet. Fabian spread Jonathon’s legs further, lips kissing along the inside of his thighs before sliding to his opening. Raising up on his hands, Jonathon felt his mouth fly open in a silent gasp as Fabian’s tongue speared his opening like wet fire. Hands slipped around his sides, palms stroking his belly, as Fabian s
peared deeper, Jonathon’s neck and head pulsing with every beat of his own heart. He had no idea how long he was going to last, and when Fabian’s hand slid to his balls and under him, stroking along his shaft, he couldn’t stop the backward thrust, grinding Fabian’s face into him.
Somehow, he remained silent, but he knew he couldn’t for much longer, and when fingers wrapped around his shaft, a long, slow moan ripped from his chest, filling the room and floating out the window on the breeze. Then everything stopped, Fabian’s hands melted away, and the spearing heat dissipated. Gasping for air, Jonathon waited, his skin crying out for the contact it was now denied. “Fabian, please,” was all he could manage between heaving breaths.
Rolling over to see what was happening, he felt Fabian’s weight press over him, holding him down, covering him in warm security as their lips found each other, as Fabian’s hips undulated above him, their cocks sliding against one another. Jonathon’s eyes clamped closed as his body kicked into overdrive, completely overwhelmed by the wealth of sensation. Clinging to Fabian, he climaxed in a wave of gasping, mind-splitting, open-mouthed wonder.
His wrung-out body could barely move as Fabian continued his kisses, their sweat-drenched bodies clinging together. Jonathon felt Fabian’s hands slide under him, arms holding them together as small mewls grew to outright groans, as Fabian’s climax throbbed between them.
Fabian’s weight shifted off him once they’d both caught their breath, and a towel, produced seemingly out of nowhere, passed over Jonathon’s oversensitive skin before landing on the floor with a soft thud. With a soft puff, the candle went dark and Fabian resettled next to him, Jonathon holding the younger man tight. “Love you,” Fabian whispered, and Jonathon’s only response was to pull the younger man tighter, feeling like a heel that he couldn’t say the words yet. Fear kept him from expressing what he already knew in his heart. He had to leave—soon—and while he knew it was silly, he felt as though actually saying the words would make the eventual separation harder for both of them. He should have known just how wrong he was.
