by A. Nybo
Well, that certainly hadn’t gone the way he’d have preferred for their first sexual interaction—or any subsequent interaction, for that matter.
Knowing Henri would probably feel awkward, Birch determined to give him a few more minutes to collect himself in private before forcing the issue. Finally, he went and knocked on Henri’s door. He leaned his shoulder on the doorframe and crossed his arms, prepared to outwait him if Henri tried to ignore him. So prepared was he that he started when the door flew open.
Birch studied him for a moment, but Henri remained silent. “We need to talk. You can either invite me in, or we can talk out here.”
Stepping back, Henri opened the door wider.
Clothes hung from every place conceivable, and not wanting to make him any more uncomfortable than necessary, Birch decided to sit on the chair instead of the bed. He moved the T-shirt that hung over the seat on top of the jeans hanging over the back before sitting down. At the other side of the room, Henri stood looking out the window.
“What just happened out there, Henri?”
“I think I just raped your hand.”
Birch couldn’t help but smile at Henri’s claim. “I’m not sure there is such a thing, but regardless, it was consensual.”
“That’s something, I suppose.”
“So? What happened?”
“A dam just broke.”
“That’s obvious, but it doesn’t explain anything.”
Henri shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I….” He folded his arms and then raised fingers to pinch his lips. His hand moved up to cradle his forehead before he lowered it. “I don’t know how to explain it, really. Something happened a few years ago, and afterwards I was… I needed…. God, this is so fucking personal.”
Birch attempted to make it easier for Henri to explain. “Were you sexually assaulted?”
Without an ounce of surprise, Henri shook his head. “No.” He laughed bitterly. “Not in any way that I could interpret as sexual.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
Henri shrugged a shoulder. “A guy took a video of me that was in no way sexual as far as I was concerned, but he got off on it anyway.”
“Was it Russell?”
Henri nodded.
The light shining onto Henri through the window cast muscle and vein in light and shadow. The natural copper and gold highlights in his hair gleamed, and the light occasionally caught a prickle of stubble, making it look like he had gold sparkles on his lower face.
Unable to resist, Birch rose, went to him, and held out a hand. Since he’d just had an orgasm in the hallway, Birch was reasonably sure Henri wouldn’t misinterpret the request as sexual.
WITH A tentativeness borne of inner turmoil, Henri laid his hand in Birch’s. The way Birch rubbed his thumb over the back of his hand brought to mind the day in the park that he’d taken the photo of the man rubbing his companion’s hand. Mere weeks had passed since that day when he’d held no hope of the touch he’d so longed for. And here he was, with this sensuous man running graceful fingers over his.
Meeting Birch’s dark regard, Henri burst into a grin of sheer delight, only to be met by an answering smile that lit him within.
“Are you okay if I stand behind you?” Birch’s voice was soft and low.
Henri nodded but couldn’t really relax.
Birch moved in close behind him and began running his fingers over Henri’s wrists, his hands, and his forearms. He traced veins, circled wrist bones, and gently squeezed fingertips. Moving up his arms, Birch outlined muscle, kneaded biceps and triceps. His touch was firm and filled with such confidence and kindness that Henri felt tension sloughing from him. He imagined it splattering on the floor at his feet in little green-brown blobs.
“Come here.” Birch led him to sit on the bed before sliding in behind him, a leg to either side.
Henri hadn’t experienced this level of comfort being so close to anyone in… well, it seemed a different life. It was a different life. Life after Russell. The thought caused another smile to blossom on Henri’s lips. Life after Russell—he’d wondered if there would ever be one. With Birch near, it seemed there just might.
Birch collected Henri’s hair and put it over his right shoulder. “Are you okay with me lifting the back of your shirt?”
Henri hesitated.
“It’s all right to say no. Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
“It’s okay.”
“What’s okay?”
Henri grinned. “If you lift the back of my shirt.”
Warm hands smoothed over his skin, the calluses on Birch’s palms causing a pleasantly scratchy sensation. The sound of skin brushing against skin eased him into a peaceful state, as though a lullaby were whispering through his veins.
Hands glided beneath his T-shirt and kneaded his side above his waist, then were back pressing thumbs to either side of his spine. The more relaxed he became, the farther back he leaned. Hearing Birch’s exhale by his ear, he realized he had leaned right back onto Birch, who moved between rubbing the hand Henri was resting on his stomach, and his chest beneath his T-shirt.
Henri twisted his face to Birch, who met his gaze as they drew together. Their lips met with a gentle firmness as they kissed. The heat of Birch’s skin intensified the slightest scent of grass to tease Henri’s nostrils, and the sparse stubble around Birch’s lips prickled against sensitive skin.
Their tongues met in a sensuous dance, and the pressure of the kiss began to deepen when Birch drew back and smiled. He tapped Henri on the shoulder. “Come on, let me up.”
“What? Where are you going?” Henri moved forward.
Birch’s smile broadened to a grin as he rose from the bed. “Anywhere but here. I don’t think either of us are ready for more just yet.”
Seeing Birch adjust his jeans, Henri grinned and flopped backwards on the bed. He hugged the pillow. “Well, if you ever feel like doing that again, you know where I live.”
“Can you write down the directions? It’s a long way from the room next door. I might get lost.”
Henri’s eyes sank shut. He was so fabulously relaxed. “I would, but I can’t see.”
Birch patted Henri’s leg. “Why don’t you get some sleep?”
“Mm.” He heard the door open and then click closed after Birch. He drifted off wondering how far things might have gone if Birch hadn’t stopped where he did.
WAKING WITH a start, Birch sat up and listened. A crashing sound followed by a loud snap caused him to leap from bed and open the door a crack.
“Henri! Stop!” Jason’s voice came from the direction of the great room.
Birch raced down the hall but stopped abruptly when he saw the devastation. The TV lay screen up on the floor, the empty bookcase had been pulled over and lay partially on top of the TV, the coffee table was upside down, and a lamp had been pulled apart, the pieces scattered amongst the other debris.
“Henri!” Jason had his arms wrapped around Henri’s upper body, clamping his arms to his sides so he couldn’t strike out. Henri thrashed about, and Jason stumbled trying to maintain his balance.
A hand to Birch’s shoulder caused him to crash into the wall as Nate jumped past. By the time Birch regained his balance, Nate had joined the struggle, trying to subdue Henri, who twisted and contorted relentlessly.
Still holding fast, Jason tried to move Henri frontwards against a wall, but Henri lifted bare feet up to push back. Jason swung him to the right so his feet couldn’t gain purchase. Nate grabbed Henri’s legs despite his continued attempts to kick.
“Would you just fucking settle!” Nate said as he was jerked backwards and forwards by Henri’s captive legs.
They manoeuvred him against the wall before Nate lowered Henri’s legs. Jason was already crushing his top half face-first to the wall. When Henri’s feet touched the ground, Jason pressed his chest hard against Henri’s back. Henri tried to kick out, but with his front against the wal
l, he couldn’t gain leverage.
“Stop, Henri,” growled Jason.
Strands of hair hanging over his face puffed out with Henri’s every laboured breath. His nostrils flared and his face was red with exertion. His struggles began to slow but didn’t cease completely.
“What the hell are you doing, Henri?” grunted Jason.
Henri’s eyes landed on Birch, so full of hatred Birch blanched inwardly. “Who the fuck are you?” Henri raged. “He sent you, didn’t he?”
“Stop!” Jason pushed him to the wall harder.
Birch could do nothing but watch.
“He followed me! He was in the park.”
“What park?” Jason asked. “What are you talking about?”
In that moment Henri jolted and slipped free of Jason. Jason grappled to get a hold on him, but it was Nate who pulled Henri back from within inches of striking Birch.
Henri elbowed him, causing Nate to grunt in pain, but he didn’t release the arm he had around Henri’s neck. He tucked Henri in against his side. “I don’t want to hurt you, Henri,” Nate growled between gritted teeth, “but I will if you hit me again.”
Puffing, Jason bent to look Henri in the eye. “You need to stop so we can talk about this. If Birch was following you, don’t you think he’d be running by now? But he’s not.” Jason looked up at him and then back to Henri. “He’s just standing there looking… well, horrified. Nate and I are here, and we’re not going to let Birch get away with anything. We’ll crucify the fucker ourselves if it turns out he is in cahoots with Russell in any way. Okay?”
That threat in itself would have been enough to cause Birch to run if he’d had anything to do with Russell.
Henri nodded as best he could with a muscle-bound arm around his neck.
“Now, can Nate let you go so we can sort this like rational people?”
“Yes.”
Nate released him abruptly and stepped away as if he expected Henri to turn on him. Instead, Henri started towards Birch, who tried not to show his concern, but instead of attacking him, Henri purposely shouldered him on the way past, knocking Birch sideways.
“Where are you going?” demanded Jason.
“To get my computer.”
“If you’re not back in two seconds flat, I’m going to come and drag your arse out here.”
“Jesus,” mumbled Nate as he lifted his shirt and examined his ribs. “He’s a fucking wildcat.”
“You okay?” Jason asked.
“Yeah.” He pressed fingers to his ribs. “I think it’s going to be a hell of a bruise.”
“Take it out of his hide.” Jason smiled.
“Yeah, right. Maybe once he’s calmed down. It’s one thing having some fucker trying to knock you out. It’s another when they go crazy like that. There’s just no focus.”
Jason headed into the hall but was soon reversing out.
“Back your scary self the fuck up,” spat Henri as he emerged from the hall after Jason. With his computer under his arm, Henri continued into the kitchen where he set it on the counter and plugged it in.
Birch had to hand it to him. He’d be as intimidated as hell to have Jason bearing down on him, but then he guessed Henri was far more familiar with him than Birch was.
The three of them crowded around and watched Henri flick through several drop-down menus before he found what he was looking for.
Birch looked at the photograph that popped up on the screen. “That’s me!” It showed him walking along a pathway, trees in the background. “Why were you taking pictures of me?” He looked along the line of smaller photographs at the bottom of the screen, and although he couldn’t see his face, the background was the same and so were the clothes. “They’re all me! What the fuck?”
He stood back from Henri, silently demanding an explanation. It was disconcerting knowing someone had been taking photos of him without him being aware of it.
“What were you doing? Following me?” accused Henri.
“Me? You’re the one doing the stalking thing. Why have you got so many pictures of me? Why have you got any pictures of me?”
“What were you doing there?”
“Wait! Stop!” There was a moment’s silence. Jason sighed. “If you two are just going to continue asking questions no one is going to answer, we’re not going to get anywhere.” Jason turned to Birch. “What were you doing in the park?”
“Walking. Obviously!” He noted Jason’s frustrated expression and sighed. “I cut through the park going to see someone about a horse.”
“Are you saying you used the toilets in the park?” Jason clarified.
“What? No! I went to see a woman named Jeanie Margolis about a horse.”
Nate and Jason looked at each other and tried to smother their grins.
“What is so funny?” Birch saw nothing amusing about the situation.
“Sorry,” said Jason. “It’s just that ‘seeing someone about a dog or a horse’ is a common saying in Australia when going to use the toilet.” Jason cleared his throat. “Right, so if we were to contact this Jeanie Margolis, would she confirm you’d been to see her?”
“Yes. I’ll just get my phone.”
“Not an issue. We can get her number.”
“It’s a silent number.”
Jason raised an eyebrow. “Like I said, we can get it.” He turned to Henri. “Why were you taking pictures of Birch, why have you got so many of them, and why have you destroyed the fucking lounge room?”
Henri ignored Jason. “Why were you in the café?” he demanded of Birch.
“I was already there when you came in. Remember? You can’t follow someone if you’re there first.”
“Just answer the questions, Henri,” said Jason. “Pictures? Lounge room?”
“I always take numerous pictures of a subject. Most photographers do. If he was following me, then what was his purpose for ingratiating himself if not to plant cameras or bugs or something for Russell?”
“So you tore the lounge room apart looking for cameras?”
Henri’s nostrils flared, and his eyes sparked explosives again. “It’s not like they’re easily fucking seen, Jason!”
Birch stepped back. Henri was losing it, and he didn’t want to be within hitting distance.
“Hey, it was just a question. Is that what you were doing?”
“Yes!”
Birch adopted a voice far calmer than he felt. “Why were you taking pictures of me in the first place?”
Henri moved from one foot to the other, put his hand to the back of his neck, and rubbed it. “Because I li….” The way he turned his head and let his mumble trail away made what he said incomprehensible.
Birch’s head spun with the speed at which Henri’s demeanour changed. He’d gone from explosive anger to mumbling within seconds.
“What?” asked Jason.
“Because I liked the way he walked!” Henri yelled.
Henri’s reddening cheeks were the best indicator he was telling the truth. Despite Henri’s lounge-room madness, a swell of pleasure filled Birch’s chest upon hearing Henri liked the way he walked. But Jesus, the guy’s moods were unpredictable and volatile.
“Why are you just bringing these to us now?” asked Jason.
Henri turned blazing eyes on him. “I only just uploaded them.”
“Photos don’t pick up movement,” argued Birch in an even tone.
“No, they don’t, but they can pick up something the naked eye might miss.”
“Such as?”
Henri didn’t answer, and they stared at each other.
Jason broke the silence that had drawn way out into awkward territory. “Are we done here? Because if we are, there is a room in there that needs to be put back together.”
“So that’s it? You’re just going to believe him?” demanded Henri.
“No. But as it’s the wee hours of the morning, I’m not going to ring Jeanie Margolis. If she’s as cranky as you are when you wake up, she’ll de
ny any knowledge of him, even if he was her housemate. Wouldn’t she?”
Jason and Henri stood staring at each other.
“Wouldn’t she, Henri?” said Jason.
“Yes,” mumbled Henri.
Birch tried to breach the gap between them with a grin. “You actually did that?”
Henri didn’t respond.
“Yes, he did,” said Jason. “Now, let’s get this room tidied, and Nate or I will watch Birch until we can confirm what he says is true. And we will try again to get a sweeper in to ensure the house is bug- and camera-free. Okay?”
Despite a dislike of being under constant watch, Birch decided for everyone’s sake to go with the flow. So he was compliant when Nate asked if he would mind sleeping in the lounge so he could watch a movie as well as keep an eye on him.
Once Birch was certain the others had returned to bed, he reached over from his position on the couch and tapped Nate on the leg. Nate picked up the remote and paused the DVD he was watching before raising his eyebrows in question.
“Why would Henri think there were cameras or bugs in here?”
The internal debate was clear on Nate’s face. “Russell stalked him,” he said finally.
“By planting cameras and bugs in his house?”
Nate nodded. “If you want to know more, you need to speak with Henri. But just know that if you go there, you might get more than you bargained for.” He gave it some thought and then shrugged. “Or nothing at all.”
JASON HAD gone into Henri’s bedroom just after 8.00 a.m., and it was almost 8.30 when they emerged. They entered the kitchen together, but Henri didn’t sit. “Can I speak to you once you’ve finished your breakfast?” he asked Birch. His mood seemed somewhat subdued.
Birch nodded, and after the last few mouthfuls of cereal, he rinsed his bowl. “Here? Or somewhere else?”
“Can we?” Henri held a hand out towards the passage.
