by Andrew Grey
“Gotta get you ready,” Fabian soothed, a hand stroking over his scraped skin.
Waiting, praying for something to happen, Jonathon heard no sound except their breathing, felt no movement on the bed. Then a small snap as something opened. A finger, hot and slick, drew small circles on his skin, re-igniting the desire. A fingertip pressed inside, making small circles of heat within.
“Fabian.”
“Shhh, just taking my time,” Fabian cooed, and Jonathon felt the cursing begin in his head.
“I’m not made of glass, damn it!” Jonathon growled, and Fabian simply chuckled.
“You are to me.” The finger went deeper, and Jonathon sighed softly. “To me, you are fragile and worth taking care with.”
Jonathon’s head throbbed and his body jerked as Fabian found the bundle of nerves, sending shocks of pleasure through him again and again. As one finger was joined by another, Jonathon felt the stretch and slight burn that quickly dissipated, morphing into something incredible. “How do you want me?’ Jonathon asked as the thick, filling fingers began a slow retreat. When Fabian didn’t answer, Jonathon rolled onto his back and waited, listening to the small, familiar preparatory sounds.
“Just like this,” Fabian answered softly as he set Jonathon’s ankles on his shoulder, his thickness pressing against Jonathon’s opening. Breathing deep, Jonathon waited before feeling Fabian press forward, his body opening as Fabian slowly filled him. “Won’t hurt you,” Fabian reassured him as he pressed further, sliding deeper.
After what seemed like hours of agonizing slowness, Jonathon felt Fabian’s hips against him. They were joined, and he waited, feeling Fabian throbbing inside him. Hands stroked along his skin, fingers wrapping around his length, stroking him back to full hardness. Jonathon strained to see through the darkness, but only Fabian’s silhouette became visible no matter how he strained his eyes. So, giving up, he lay back against the pillows as Fabian began to move. Long, slow, full movements followed, each and every one felt from head to toe. Gasps and cries filled the room, startling him when Jonathon realized they were his. It had been a long time. For too long, he’d denied a part of himself, holding it back, but with every movement, every stroke, every filling thrust, Fabian broke down his last remaining walls. Jonathon knew it would hurt when he had to leave in a few days, but as his release built, he realized the hurt he’d experience was nothing when weighed against the joy Fabian had brought. “So close,” Jonathon cried, letting everything else go but him and Fabian.
“I know,” Fabian moaned softly. The pressure on his shaft increased, Fabian’s fingers tightening, the soft, slapping sound of skin on skin increasing as the bed rocked with their movements. God, this man played him like a fiddle, and Jonathon squirmed under his touches, needing more while at the same time afraid of a sensory overload.
Jonathon thought his head might explode as his climax rushed upon him like a freight train, carrying him away as he clamped his eyes closed, riding the orgasmic high for all it was worth, his spirit taking flight.
It took a while, but slowly, he came back to himself, panting hard. Fabian waited, motionless, and Jonathon expected him to move again, but instead he pulled out slowly. Jonathon heard his lover’s panting, realizing he’d still been zoned out when Fabian came. The bed jiggled, and Jonathon heard footsteps padding across the floor and down the stairs. The one thing about this apartment was that it needed a second bathroom. Listening, he heard Fabian return, and after a quick cleanup of both of them, Fabian rejoined him on the bed, where they held each other tight, exchanging kisses.
Jonathon felt his eyelids droop, his body aching for sleep, but he pushed it away, at least for now. Squirming away, he rolled over and turned on the small light before fishing around in the drawer. “I got you something,” Jonathon said as his hand brushed against the small box he was looking for. “I was going to give it to you later, but I want you to have it now.” Jonathon turned back to Fabian and handed him the box. “I wanted to get you something to remember me by, and when I was wandering around, I found a coin shop. He had all kinds of things, but I found something that reminded me of you.”
Jonathon watched as Fabian opened the box, peering inside. “It’s a Roman coin. I bought two and had them mounted by a jeweler for each of us. That way when I see mine, I’ll think of you, knowing you have the only other one like it.”
Fabian held up the chain, the coin in its mount twisting, glinting in the low light.
“Look at the back of the mount,” Jonathon instructed.
“It’s the Austrian eagle,” Fabian breathed.
“Yes, I also had the year added.” Jonathon swallowed and watched as Fabian burst into a smile.
“Thank you, Johnny. I’ll treasure it always.” Fabian set his gift back in the box, placing it on the table before pulling Jonathon into a deep embrace. “It’s very special, just like the man who gave it to me.” Jonathon heard the hitch in Fabian’s voice and turned off the light, knowing they were both very close to tears. Holding Fabian tight, he relished the feel of being held, knowing that in a few days he’d have to leave. Jonathon knew tonight was the beginning of the good-bye process, and over the next few days, they’d do a number of things for the last time. He also knew that, each time, it would get harder and harder. Rolling over, spooning himself to Fabian’s back, he held his younger lover tight and reluctantly let sleep take him.
Chapter 10
FIRST class or not, Jonathon got off the plane tired and wrung out. Walking down the jet bridge, he found his hand traveling to his throat, feeling the coin that rested in its mount next to his skin. When he’d left the apartment to go to the airport, Fabian had waited for him near the car, and to Jonathon’s surprise, the rest of his family was there as well, even Oma. Hanna had hugged him tight, asking him to please come back. Hans had stood tall, shaking his hand like an adult, telling him he’d e-mail and had already friended him on Facebook. “Maria said to tell you good-bye and thank you,” the young man had added before swallowing and turning away.
Oma had taken both of his hands, smiling at him. “You a good boy,” she’d said, squeezing his hands before releasing them and following Hans back into the house. Hanna said one last good-bye before leaving him and Fabian alone.
“We should go or you will be late,” Fabian said softly, emotions warring behind his eyes. Jonathon nodded and got his bags, placing them in the back. Fabian closed the hatchback, and Jonathon slid into the passenger seat of the gumball machine. They rode in near silence, Fabian driving intently, Jonathon sitting numbly, trying not to feel or think about anything.
At the terminal, they unloaded his bags onto the curb and stood, looking at one another. Most everything had already been said the night before. Finally, Jonathon pulled Fabian into a hug, holding the man tight, fingers threading through the hair on the back of Fabian’s head, not wanting to let him go. “Fabian, I….” Jonathon faltered as he tried to talk around the huge lump in his throat. There were suddenly so many things he wanted to say, but they all seemed clichés, and it seemed ridiculous to say them now that he was leaving.
“I know,” was Fabian’s only response as he kissed him, hard, for just a second and then backed away, wiping his eyes once before walking around the car and opening the door. Fabian raised his hand in a final good-bye before climbing into the car and shutting the door. Jonathon watched as the car pulled away and waited for its taillights to get lost in traffic before picking up his suitcase to enter the terminal.
Now, reaching the end of the jet bridge, he passed through the doorway and entered the flow of traffic heading toward baggage claim, his carry-on bag already heavy on his shoulder. He’d tried to nap on the plane, but it hadn’t worked, and he’d spent much of the flight either reading or watching movies that he barely paid attention to. His mind refused to settle on anything except Fabian, and that was the one thing he didn’t want to think about.
Taking the escalator down, he found himself standing in the passp
ort line. Waiting, he looked around and watched people until it was his turn. The agent looked at his papers, checked his picture, and scanned the passport before handing it back to him and moving on to the next person. Moving to baggage claim, he waited again, pulling his bag off the carousel and walking to the customs line, where they sent him to another table. “Great,” he muttered under his breath as he stepped to the counter, handing the agent his paperwork.
A woman in a blue uniform looked over his paperwork, asking a few questions before pulling on a pair of gloves and opening his suitcase. She checked things carefully before repacking and closing the suitcase. “Thank you,” she said again, and Jonathon picked up his things and walked through, riding the elevator upstairs and finally making his way outside. Instantly, the scent of the city assailed him as he waited in line for a taxi that would take him home.
The taxi pulled up to the house, and Jonathon heaved himself off the seat. Getting out, he paid the driver and carried his luggage toward the door. Everything looked the same—the garden service had done a nice job keeping things clean and neat. Opening the door, he set down his bags and stepped to the patio doors, throwing them open, letting in fresh air and the sound of the ocean below. Standing by the rail, he inhaled deeply, glad to be home.
His phone ringing pulled him out of his thoughts, and he fished it out of his pocket, recognizing the number. “Fabian.” He couldn’t help smiling. “I just made it home.” Some of the sadness drifted away.
“Was everything okay?”
“Yes.” He wanted to say more, tell Fabian he missed him and had thought of him the entire trip home, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. There was nothing either of them could do about it, and there wasn’t any use in making Fabian miserable. Besides, what if he didn’t feel the same way? Jonathon didn’t think he could take that right now. No, it was best to leave things as they were and let the trip become a fond memory. “Everything’s fine.” The ocean breeze caressed his face as he talked, as if reassuring him that he’d made the right decision.
“I called because we had a visit from the police this evening. They were looking for you.” Fabian’s voice sounded ominous.
“What did they want with me?”
“They caught the man who killed Reiner,” Fabian answered. “It seemed your watching and the call to the police with the plate number was a help. They didn’t say much more, but I wanted to let you know.” Fabian became quiet for a few seconds.
“Thank you for telling me.” Jonathon didn’t know what else to say. “I need to get unpacked, and it must be late there.” God, he sounded so stiff. How could he have spent weeks with the man, slept with the man, and yet have nothing to tell him over the phone?
“It is,” Fabian said.
“Schlaf gut,” Jonathon said, remembering his German.
“Good night,” Fabian said. “Du fehlst mir,” he added quickly before hanging up.
Jonathon stared at the silent phone for a second wondering just what Fabian had said, but the words really didn’t register. Putting the phone back in his pocket, he sighed, thinking of what he had to do, and figured he may as well get to it. Not yet ready to tackle the mountain of mail on the dining room table—Marty had seen to everything important anyway—Jonathon picked up his suitcases and walked to the bedroom.
It looked the same as it always had; in fact, it looked identical to how it had when Greg was alive, and Jonathon felt stifled, realizing just how alone he still was. Flopping the suitcase on the bed, he opened his drawers and began the process of unpacking, throwing all the dirty clothes in the hamper. At least it gave him something to do for all of half an hour. Putting the suitcase away, he’d just started the laundry when the doorbell rang.
“Marty!” Jonathon called as he opened the door, hugging the man tightly before inviting him inside.
“Here’s your key,” his friend said, laying it on the table by the door. “How was Vienna?”
“Wonderful,” Jonathon answered, remembering Fabian and smiling. Marty looked at him, a little bewildered, but said nothing. “Thank you for taking care of things.”
“It was no trouble, you know that,” Marty said, still looking at him strangely. “You look different, more peaceful. I think being away did you some good.” Marty looked back toward the door. “I really can’t stay, we’re on our way out, but I saw you were home and wanted to drop in.” Marty walked toward the door, his hand on the knob. “Let’s go to dinner later in the week. I can’t wait to hear about your adventure.”
“Great. I’ll call you in a few days, once I’m settled.” Jonathon watched as Marty waved before closing the door, and Jonathon saw him walk in front of the windows as he headed back to his car.
Sitting at the table, Jonathon began sorting the mail. It wasn’t long before he’d pulled the trash can to the table, sorting the better part of it right into the garbage. Gradually, the quiet surrounded him, broken only by the sound of the washing machine and the motor on the refrigerator cycling on and off. Finishing with the mail, he walked into the kitchen and dug out a delivery menu. After placing a call for Chinese, he wandered into the bathroom to clean up.
As he started the water for his shower, the phone rang again, and he almost let it go to voice mail before relenting and answering.
“Dad!”
Jonathon smiled. “Jeana, how are you? Where are you?”
“I’m fine, and I’m in Vienna. We must have just missed you.”
“Oh,” was all he could think to say. He wanted to ask her about Fabian but restrained himself. Any questions would only give her license to interfere, and things were better off as they were.
“We’re here just overnight, and tomorrow I’m going to Paris to catch a flight to New York. So I’ll see you in a couple days.” She sounded so excited, and Jonathon felt it too. “I’ll be home for a few weeks, and then I need to come back for classes.”
“You could just stay.” It really wasn’t necessary for her to come all the way back for just a few weeks.
“No. I need some time at home before classes start.”
“Are things okay with Inge?” Jonathon asked, hoping she wasn’t coming home to nurse a breakup.
“They’re great. I just wanted to spend some time with you, okay?”
“Yes.” Jonathon could already feel himself looking forward to it. He’d only been home a few hours, and already the walls were closing in. “I’m going in to school tomorrow. I need to get my classroom ready. And I was thinking I’d add some lessons on Europe for Social Studies this year.” He needed something to do, and he actually felt a touch of anticipation.
“Sounds great, Dad. I’ll see you in a few days.” Jonathon heard her yawn and said good-bye before hanging up. The doorbell rang almost immediately. Pulling on some pants, he hurried to the door. After paying the delivery girl, he ate his dinner standing at the breakfast bar.
Stomach full, Jonathon returned to the bathroom and took his shower before pulling down the covers and climbing into bed. Lying beneath the cool sheets, he stared at the ceiling, completely exhausted but not able to sleep. Turning on his side, he found himself staring at the clock. He thought of Greg and their years together, those memories a warm glow that brought a smile to his face. As he continued lying in bed, he thought of Fabian, and the ache that had remained on the periphery all day came racing to the front. He missed him terribly. Yes, he was home, but it felt just as lifeless as it had when he had left. The apartment in Vienna, small as it was, had never felt lifeless, not for a second. Listening, Jonathon heard the sound of the ocean through his window, waves breaking regular and steady, but not a voice. No cars, no people passing on the sidewalk, no sounds of life. Even when he’d been alone in the apartment, he hadn’t felt alone. There was always life just outside the door waiting to pull him along with it. Finally, after lying awake for hours, Jonathon fell into a fitful sleep.
JONATHON pulled into the driveway and pressed the button to raise the garage door, smiling to himself. H
e’d spent much of the last two days getting his room ready for his students, and he was really pleased with his progress. He’d shown some of his pictures to the principal, who had loved the idea of doing a series of lessons on Europe and had even agreed to share some of his pictures and experiences. The kids would start in a week, and he’d already planned to go to the lake for Labor Day weekend. It could be his last chance before winter, and he really wanted—no, needed—the time to think. Pulling into the garage, he stopped the car and saw the door to the house open, and Jeana walking into the garage. By the time he’d closed his car door, she had him in a brutal hug that had never felt better.
“I was wondering when you were going to get home.” She released him and stepped back. “You’ve been working like crazy, haven’t you?” she asked as she walked back toward the open door, pushing the button to close the overhead door. “I bet you’ve already got your classroom ready.”
“Nearly.” Jonathon chuckled, following her inside. “Where’s your car?”
“I sold it before I left. There wasn’t any use keeping it, since I was going to be gone for almost a year.” She walked into the kitchen, and Jonathon smelled something wonderful. “I was hoping to use Dad’s car when I was home.”
Jonathon opened the drawer near the sink, pulling out a set of keys. “I can do one better.” He handed her the keys. “It’s yours now. Your father babied that car, and I’ve driven it a little to keep it running, but I don’t need two.” Jonathon smiled at her unabashed surprise. “He’d want you to have it.”
“You’re giving me his Mercedes?” she asked in what sounded like total disbelief.
“Yes. It’s time I moved on. I also asked Marty to arrange to have the Lake George house transferred to you and your brothers. That’s what your dad would have wanted. It was his grandparents’, and it should stay in the family.” Jonathon watched as she worked at the stove. “I’ll let you decide how you want to tell them.”
