by Willa Okati
“Nope? Eh, no worries. You’ll find something you like.” Billy winked and went back to hammering, whistling something that Quentin vaguely recognized from his younger days as Pink Floyd. He hovered for a minute, watching…staring at the play of muscles in Billy’s arms…the way he moved, so confident and sure of himself…his strong legs, braced so that he could do his work…
Oh, God, I’ve got to get out of here.
“Excuse me. I need some fresh air,” Quentin fumbled. “I’ll just go and—”
“Yeah. It is getting kinda foggy, huh? I’ll open a window after I’m done. This place is gonna feel just like home, Superman.”
“Please don’t call me that.”
“Okay, Clark.”
“That either.” Quentin felt his thin layer of composure evaporating. He headed for the door. “Don’t mind me, I’ll just…I’ll be outside.”
“Your call, man.” Billy hammered on, putting the nails back into his mouth. He lipped them just the way he would a cigarette, his mobile lips cradling the iron as if he were sucking on a…his mouth full of…
Quentin fled for the great outdoors.
He had enough sense to stop on the porch, although he did put a hand to his head to steady himself. Fastidious, not wanting to disarrange his clothing, he sat on the edge of the porch. Folding his hands between his knees, he took in a deep breath of clean air and waited for his head to clear.
Footsteps were his first clue that someone was approaching. “Quentin, hey!” a familiar drawl exclaimed. Andy. “They actually had some semi-fresh strawberries in the caf this morning, and some decent company. The professors are always relaxed right before a new semester. I stayed for a few cups of coffee.” Andy kept talking until he was standing next to Quentin. The man touched him on one shoulder. “Hey, you okay? You look kind of pale.”
Quentin struggled for equilibrium. “I’m fine,” he said with one of his carefully practiced smiles. “Billy’s a bit of a chain-smoker, and I’m not used to the fumes. I needed a minute to clear my head, that’s all.”
“Billy, yeah.” Andy stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at the housing. He tilted his head to the side and listened to the sounds of a hammer banging nails into a wall. “I warned you, but I guess words don’t measure up to the reality. Think you two can get along without killing each other?”
“That remains to be seen.” Quentin froze. One could not reveal too much about oneself, not until they were sure of the other conversationalist’s goals. “I mean, I’m sure we’ll be just fine after some adjustment.”
“Quentin, man. Move over.” Andy nudged him. “There’s room up here for two. Come on, let me have a seat.”
Quentin moved as he was directed, although the steps weren’t that big and when Andy sat down, they were hip-to-hip and shoulder-to-shoulder.
Andy sniffed at Quentin’s shirt. Sniffed! Far too up close and personal. “Whoo, yeah. Billy must be hell with the smokes. That all that’s bothering you? ‘Cause you might be able to play the brave little soldier, but you don’t fool me. What’s on your mind?”
Quentin flashed on images of Billy and the way he’d looked both playing around and working hard alongside the movers. The kind of man he’d…have had a crush on, back in the bad old days. Weak, weak, weak. The pill tasted bitter going down.
But he wasn’t like that anymore. He wasn’t.
“Honestly, I’m fine.” He nodded to emphasize his point. “Don’t worry about me.” Please, don’t ask any awkward questions.
“If you say so, friend.” Andy sat for a minute in companionable silence before speaking again. “Billy’s pretty wild, although I’m guessing you figured that out already. If he weren’t a complete and total genius, even Ten Hawks might have thought twice about hiring him.”
“He does seem a little out of the ordinary,” Quentin ventured cautiously.
Andy hooted. “That’s putting it mildly. Billy’s a rebel with a clue, a cause and a mission. But the students love him. You know he’s won three or four teaching awards? He’ll probably put them on your mantelpiece.”
Quentin thought back to his one printed nomination for an award. The jealousy uncurled, beginning to burn his insides. “Really.”
“Yeah.” Andy kicked the step with the toe of his sneaker. “Don’t worry. You’ll win a dozen of your own. Ten Hawks couldn’t stop talking about his two fantastic additions to the department.”
Quentin brightened a little at the bit of news, but remained cautious. It wouldn’t do to look too eager to curry favor. “You know him well?”
“Can’t help but know Ten Hawks. He gets involved with everyone. I think he likes me more than the others, though. See, I help him with the books from time to time, when neither he nor his secretary can figure things out. The man’s an administrative genius, but not so good with the numbers. Don’t tell him I told you that, though.”
Quentin felt stung. He’d learned his lessons about secrecy and privacy. Gossip, too, come to that. Failing again. “I’d never say such a thing.”
“Didn’t figure you would. But hey, about Billy. From what I hear, the thing is just to take him as he is, and then you’ll get along just fine.” Andy stood, stretching. “I’ve got to get to my office on the main campus. No rest for the wicked, right? All the professors are together in one building, so we shouldn’t be far from each other. Just knock on my door if you want to have lunch or something.”
Quentin rarely ate lunch. He never had time to. The habit had peeled away pounds he couldn’t afford to lose, leaving him slimmer than he’d have liked, especially considering his slight stature. He tugged at one short lock of hair and fiddled with his collar, stalling for time. “If I’m there, I’ll come and get you,” he said, the best he could do without the chance to prepare an otherwise adequate answer.
“Good deal. Okay, see you then. I’m blowing this popsicle stand.” Andy walked down the steps onto the path and headed away. Quentin watched him go with an unsettled feeling. Ten Hawks and Andy were close. Andy had sat so snugly against Quentin. The feel of another man pressed against him had…
No.
“Hey, Q-man,” Billy shouted from inside. “You mind lending a hand? This recliner of yours is damn heavy.”
His chair. Quentin scrambled up from the steps and hurried back in the front door. The door to his and Billy’s apartment stood ajar, smoke curling through it. As he pushed that door open, he saw Billy sprawled indolently in Quentin’s beloved chair. The ashtray sat on his lap and he was crushing out a cigarette. “The second set of moving guys will be coming in with my stuff any minute. I figure we need to push this thing over so there’ll be room for my couch.”
“I could take the recliner into my room,” Quentin offered hopefully.
“Nah. I can tell you’ve loved this thing hard.” Billy patted one of the worn arms. “Gotta have a good place to sit while you’re unwinding, right? I like to spread my papers out on the floor. That couch is great for it. Lots of room. So we need to get you an open space.”
“I’d planned on doing my work in my bedroom.”
Billy raised an eyebrow. “You’re shitting me. Those desks are too little for anything like what we’ll need. I don’t know about you, but the classes I’ll be teaching are required for undergraduates. That’s a hell of a lot of midterms. Nah. You need to be in here, where there’s room.” He grinned charmingly. “I won’t even smoke while you’re grading. Deal?”
Quentin was at a loss for words. He felt himself curl up inside, trying to hide from the blunt force of Billy’s personality.
But there was also indignation. Who did Billy think he was to run roughshod over Quentin’s preferences?
He would have spoken up, words drawn from his lessons, but Billy had already moved on. “And what about company?” Billy waggled his tongue. “You need room to woo a hot honey.” He licked his lips. Quentin had a brief flash in which he wondered what it would be like to feel that tongue probing inside his mouth, twining aro
und his own.
Don’t. Quentin shook his head to clear it. “That won’t be necessary. I have a girlfriend. Nearly a fiancée. We’re almost engaged. I’ll be saving what I can to buy her a ring.”
“Taken, huh? That’s a shame. Lots of gorgeous guys and girls down in the town. This is a pretty artsy place, fancy-free, and from what I’ve heard the whole bunch just love to have a good time.” Billy tossed his hair, the magenta streaks flying in a dazzling pattern before they settled back into place. “But nah, you don’t look like someone who’d go bar-hopping.” He winked. “We’ll have to work on that.”
“I’d rather we didn’t,” Quentin said firmly, regaining the inner strength he’d been taught. “Please. I came up here for a quiet, ordinary teaching position. I’m not interested in making friends or winning over my students. I just want to be left alone so I can do my job.”
“So you’re saying you don’t need anyone to keep you warm at night?”
“I can call my—Melissa—anytime I want to.”
“Long-distance relationships leave a cold bed, man.”
“It’s good enough for us. Why can’t you just leave it alone?” Quentin rubbed his temple. “Why do you have to be so… Please, Dr. Jennings.”
“Billy.”
“Dr. Jennings,” Quentin insisted. “We’re roommates, nothing more. I’ll ask you to respect that. I don’t want to be your friend, or your confidante, or anything else. We share a space because that’s the assignment the college made. Other than that, let’s just try to stay out of each other’s way. Agreed?”
“Damn, there go all my plans to get you drunk and naked.” Billy stood up casually and stretched like a lazy lion. “You want to keep this on a business level, fine. But hey, don’t go cramping my style. I’ll live by your rules if you’ll let me be myself.”
Quentin wanted to protest, but didn’t see how he could. Fair was fair, after all. “Very well,” he said after a moment’s pause. As much as he’d have preferred a quiet, nonsmoking roommate, he had to deal with the cards he’d been given. If Billy left him alone, he’d be all right.
He had to be.
“Life will place many obstacles in your path,” Quentin remembered Father Andrew saying as he tugged on his beard. “Your challenge is to avoid them or push them out of harm’s reach. Then, you’ll be able to function as a normal, cleanly motivated individual. You’ll see.”
Quentin took comfort in and clung to the words.
Outside, a second truck pulled up in the drive. Billy glanced out the window and grinned broadly. “My turn for the big stuff. You might want to hang out in the kitchen, Quentin. Gotta let the deliveryman do his work.”
“Of course.” Being polite was permitted—nay, encouraged—to demonstrate how one was overcoming their challenges. “I’ll just have a snack.”
Billy hooted. “Got the munchies? That's cool. By the way, I had to move some of your food and shit so I could fit my own supplies in. Hope you don’t mind.” Without waiting for an answer, he bounded for the door and pulled it open. “Hey, big mover-type guy! Bring that in this way, my man.”
Quentin beat a hasty retreat into the kitchen. Once there, he leaned on the folding table they would eat from, and took a few deep, calming breaths. He concentrated hard until the sound of Billy’s chattering and the movers’ responses faded into a background hum.
Closing his eyes, he relaxed a little. The temptation to think about Billy faded once he was away from the man. This wasn’t a hopeless situation, then, was it? He could do anything he set his mind to, couldn’t he?
And he was hungry. Opening a cabinet, the one where he’d left his cereal, he reached for the box of Grape-Nuts—and stopped. There were a bunch of bananas and a liter of pop sitting in the way. A box of microwave popcorn and a bag of nacho chips. One lonely can of peas. His personal supply of food had been pushed all the way to the back.
Billy!
His temper fraying around the edges, Quentin stormed back out of the kitchen. “Billy, this won’t work. You said you moved a few things around. And you don’t put fruit in a cupboard, for heaven’s sake. What on earth were you thinking of?” He stopped in his tracks. “Oh.”
Billy and the moving man, a strong-bodied Mexican with long hair and a roughly handsome face, were wrapped around each other. Arms and legs had been tangled together. Billy’s hand was twined in the mover’s hair as he held the man close to kiss him.
Quentin felt his mouth go dry and his unreliable cock begin to fill. Oh…God. The sight of the two standing there, completely oblivious to everything around them, made him feel too warm and somehow exposed. They were so at ease with themselves and not minding a bit about anyone else seeing what they were doing.
Billy broke the kiss off first, trailing his hand down to rub the mover’s back. “Great service,” he cracked. “And you even do it with a smile.”
The man replied in Spanish. Billy rattled off a long string of syllables without blinking.
Then, as if he’d known Quentin was watching, Billy turned with a saucy swing of his hips and waved. “This is Enrique. He’s going to help me get things arranged. Don’t mind us. At least I’m being quiet, right?” He sparkled with good-natured mischief. “Oh, by the way, you might have noticed. I’m gay. Pink sparkles and tutu and mixed drinks and everything. But hey, it won’t be a problem, right?”
Quentin found himself completely without anything to say. The Center had warned him to stay away from temptation, but with Billy he’d be faced by it nearly twenty-four seven. And watching the two men, his cock almost sat up and begged for the show to go on.
Father Andrew, guide me. He was in deep, deep trouble, wasn’t he?
Chapter Three
“Mmm.” Billy’s laugh was like a lion’s purr—low, rumbling—but at the same time sexually appealing as a siren’s call. “You ready for this?”
“After watching you all day? Si, I’m ready.” Enrique had a deeper voice, almost a baritone. He’d been singing earlier, some soft tune in Spanish, barely audible during the clatter of clunks and clanks coming from two men moving around in a space designed for one.
Both men seemed to be in the best of moods, something Quentin could not claim for himself. He’d shut the door to his bedroom and opened the window, hoping the combination would block out some of the noise, but no luck. His room and Billy’s were side by side, and it appeared that the walls were thin. Very, very thin.
What fun. He’d be treated to a live show. His brain argued against the idea, but his cock approved. It rose up full and thick inside his pants, creating a tent against the zipper. Just like a dog that wanted to play. Quentin resisted the urge to thump himself, as he knew how badly that would hurt, and tried to remain calm.
He wasn’t a prude. God knew he’d overheard people having sex before. A certain episode in his undergraduate years came to mind, when he’d woken after a restless dream to hear his roommate busily fucking away on the top bunk, while he lay in the lower one. Neither the boy nor his girlfriend had been the least bit shy about making noise.
Back then, it had been acutely embarrassing. Now, it was disturbingly exciting. Perhaps because it had been so long since he’d partaken of any pleasure with Melissa.
Quentin sighed. He ran his hand over his face, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, and tried to get on with his evening just as if the other room were quiet. Undressing for bed came first. He’d made the narrow mattress up with his best set of clean sheets and blanket, and a plumped pillow beckoned invitingly. Sliding between those comforting coverings would be heaven.
Slowly, Quentin unzipped his trousers. He had some difficulty easing the fastening down over his erection, but then again, he’d had plenty of practice in the past. Long past, thank God. He managed the feat without flinching, even though Billy and Enrique chose that moment to begin loudly kissing, murmuring endearments in both English and Spanish.
“Diablo, you are…”
“Just like that. You know the way.”
“You taste like the cigarette, but you are sweet, yes?”
“Try me again and see what you think.”
Quentin kept trying to ignore the pair as he toed off his shoes, slid the pants from his legs, then removed his socks. Everything that was dirty went neatly into a hamper with only one burst side, arranged so that the hole faced a wall. The loose, thin sweatshirt he’d changed into for moving things needed a wash, so after he pulled it over his head and had it off, that went into the hamper too.
Standing there nearly naked, Quentin felt as exposed as if he’d just walked into a classroom undressed. Billy and Enrique’s running commentary, along with sounds that brought back vivid pictures and memories, didn’t help. It was like living in a whorehouse and listening to someone else ply their trade.
The mere fact that Billy had chosen to spend the night with this moving man boggled Quentin’s mind. As far as he knew, the two had only met earlier that day. What kind of people were they to go and have sex in such an appalling hurry? They couldn't have met more than a day or so previous when Enrique first loaded his truck. True, Enrique was a handsome man, and Quentin couldn’t imagine anyone saying no to Billy, but still…
Quentin looked down at his cock, insistently pressing against the front of his boxers, and sighed. Normally he’d skin out of the shorts too and put on a pair of pajamas, preferably something Melissa had bought him or guided his choice on. Somehow, though, he didn’t want to stand there vulnerably while he took the time to open a drawer, so with a slight wince of distaste he went to the bed with his boxers on and slipped beneath the covers.
For a moment, the pleasure of being between cool, pale blue sheets and light gray blanket, with the puffy pillow cradling his head, took Quentin away. Away from a sticky Indian summer at Sweetwater and off to a safe place, where he didn’t have to think about the bad old days or face their present-day reminders. He exhaled a long breath and got comfortable, finding the mattress to be much softer than it looked. It could cradle a man and give him some peace of mind before he slept.
