Follow Him Home (Alternate Worlds Book 1)

by P. W. Davies

  “How did you do that?” Peter shook his head, setting down his fork and folding his hands atop the table. “It was dark. You couldn’t have seen me that well.”

  “Am I wrong?”

  “No, but that’s beside the point.” Peter chuckled, taking up his drink this time. “Something about the two of them playing together… it sounded gorgeous.”

  “Have you ever tried to play?”

  “The violin?” He chuckled and drank down another healthy swallow of his beer. “No, no. Usually speaking, when people saw me in school, they thought about the basketball team, not the band. I never attempted to play anything.”

  “I know how to. For what it’s worth.” His smile turned conspiratorial. “Not as well as the piano, but well enough to get you started.”

  “You’d teach me?”

  Victor winked, letting that suffice as his answer. As Peter admired him, he continued eating his food, refusing to say anything else, as if he had already placed the key in front of Peter, deigning to wait until the other man picked it up. Peter finished the rest of his drink, his eyes lingering on the handsome man in front of him. His heart felt light, his head swimming in ways that had nothing to do with the alcohol he’d just consumed.

  Another door. Another challenge. It would’ve been confusing if it all didn’t feel so right. The point of no return raced up on him again and he swore at himself; at his lack of self-restraint. At his need to continue forward like he was reading a book and speeding to get to the next chapter. “Teach me, then,” Peter said. “We can work out what times I come by for lessons.”

  “Excellent,” Victor replied. He nodded toward Peter’s plate. “Finish eating and we can catch an hour or two of dancing. Unless you had other ideas.”

  Peter felt a shiver run through him. Compelled to stand and lean over the table, Peter shifted to the side, avoiding their food, and bent to close the gap of distance between their lips.

  “Take me out first,” he said, “Then I’ll show you what other ideas I had.”

  Victor froze into place, as if moving would cause Peter to reconsider. As their mouths motioned closer, his eyes drifted shut, and as they kissed, he allowed himself to sink into the embrace. Peter felt a rush of nerves run through him, the experience heady and carrying with him even after they’d finished eating and paid for their check. It lifted them both through a brief walk in the Philadelphia streets, rain misting over them and forming a light sheen on their coats.

  Victor led them into a club, nodding at the bouncer in the front and receiving admission despite the line still standing in queue. As Peter laughed, Victor held the door open for them. “I’m never going to get over the fact that you and Christian have that sort of power,” Peter said.

  “May we always use it for evil,” Victor countered with a smirk. He drifted closer to Peter once they had entered the establishment, but with one kiss, Peter had already set the tenor for the rest of the night. From there, Victor responded accordingly.

  They ordered drinks and quickly polished them off. Dressed far more elegantly than the remainder of the crowd, they stuck out, though soon for reasons other than their attire. They removed their suit jackets – checking them with their coats – and as they stepped out onto the dance floor, their bodies drifted closer as if magnetically drawn. Both became instantly swept up in the rhythm of the music.

  “I don’t normally care for this kind of music,” he said, “But the experience itself…” Victor drifted off, his words lost as Peter pressed them both together. Whatever inhibitions Victor had, it seemed he surrendered them, the two of them sinking further in the tension building between them, apt to fan the flames. Their lips brushed without touching. Their hands explored without crossing into the realm of indecent, and although the night had worn on into the early morning, Peter had never felt more awake before in his life. He followed Victor outside once last call was issued. And when they made it to the car, he settled into the passenger side, but failed to buckle his seatbelt. Victor slipped into his seat and turned to him as if following a similar compulsion.

  This time, the kiss they indulged took no prisoners. Their lips became tangled, Peter gripping onto Victor’s tie and yanking him closer while Victor gripped hold of the lapels of Peter’s coat. The longer they kissed, the more they danced closer to the fire, Peter running his other palm up and down Victor’s chest and fighting the urge to tug loose the buttons of his shirt. Victor wrapped his fingers around the shaft of Peter’s cock as much as he could through the obstruction of fabric.

  “We’re going to end up screwing in the car if we’re not careful,” Peter breathed while Victor’s lips traversed down his neck.

  Victor chuckled against his skin. “It wouldn’t be the first time,” he said.

  “No, but this… I want this with you… somewhere better. Somewhere else.”

  Victor lifted his head to look Peter in the eyes. Through the haze of lust evident in his gaze, it still looked like he had read the implication between the lines. ‘This matters,’ communicated clearly, and though his grip on Peter slackened, the heat between them failed to wane. Far from it; Victor nodded and pressed his lips against Peter’s again, making sure to seal their mouths for several moments before pulling away. “Back to my place, then?” he asked.

  Peter nodded. “Yes,” he breathed. “Your place. Please.”

  Reciprocating the nod, Victor adjusted the way he sat, reaching for his seat belt and pulling it over his lap. Once they both had secured themselves into place, he started the car, and though the two failed to exchange a word throughout the duration of the short ride back to Rittenhouse, Victor’s hand continued to roam and Peter allowed his fingers to dance across Victor as well. Passing looks from one to the other, they parked and wandered into the high-rise, making only casual note of the security guard seated behind the desk.

  Once the doors to the elevator shut, Peter encroached upon Victor’s personal space, like the dam holding back his self-restraint had finally burst.

  Victor ran his hands along Peter’s sides while they kissed again. As Peter pressed the shorter man against himself, Victor let one of his palms cup Peter’s backside and by the time the doors opened again, neither man had any composure left to assemble. Fumbling with keys and tripping into the condo, Victor blindly kicked the door shut behind them, already reaching for the tie he had meticulously tied for Peter, undoing the knot. Peter started on the buttons of Victor’s vest and as coats dropped to the ground, a trail of clothing began to form from the front door, down the corridor to Victor’s bedroom. Peter made a passing note of Christian’s room and managed, “Should we expect company?” while coming up for air.

  “No,” Victor said. “Not that he would mind either way.”

  “Probably ask to join.”

  Nipping Peter’s bottom lip, Victor smirked. “Is it selfish of me to say I want you to myself first?”

  “No. God no.” Peter sealed their mouths again while Victor reached for the knob of his bedroom door. Twisting it almost made the two men topple into the room. Darkness shrouded them at first, until the soft glow of a lamp shone in response to Victor reaching for the switch. If Peter had been paying attention to anything other than Victor, the size and scope of the room they entered would have been impressive. Daunting, even. But his focus remained on the man steadily disrobing him.

  Instead of noticing the dormant, remote-controlled fireplace or the subdued mixture of black and grays, he fell onto the bed when pushed, wearing only his pants with everything else – from shirt to shoes – part of the trail of clothing. Victor crawled on top of him, stepping up from the rug at the foot of the bed, lain over top of polished, hardwood floors in a rich, brown color which matched his eyes. He had been reduced to his underwear, with his shirt hanging open and exposing that sinew Peter remembered seeing his first morning in the condo. Now, without the need to hold himself back, Peter wanted to trace every inch of him with his tongue.

  Victor retained control o
f the moment, however. Throwing off his shirt, he bent to nip at Peter’s neck, causing Peter to jerk and moan when some of the bites he inflicted bordered on painful. “Yes,” Peter said, hands resting on Victor’s back, arms encircling him and fingernails digging in. Victor grunted and bit down harder in response. When Peter cried out, Victor chuckled, licking the marks he had inflicted before reaching for Peter’s belt.

  Peter dipped his hands down, his fingers teasing at the waistband of Victor’s underwear. As he heard his zipper being freed, and gradually felt the air hitting his exposed cock, he pushed the final piece of fabric down past Victor’s backside, kicking his pants free when Victor lifted to expose himself completely. Without any reservation, Peter immediately took hold of Victor’s shaft, pumping the erect length up and down, as if the other man needed to be worked into as much of a frenzy as he had him.

  “Do you prefer one position over the other?” Victor asked, lifting to look Peter in the eyes. The act of thinking looked like it was taking a toll on him, his gaze warning that he would be taking matters into his own hands soon if not given a response.

  Opening his mouth to answer, Peter stopped himself from spitting out his normal response. When given the choice, he often favored being on top – being the one penetrating instead of the one penetrated. The way Victor regarded him, however, left him feeling bold and exposed; offered up to something which had the potential to be so much more. “In me,” he muttered. “I want to feel you in me.”

  The way Victor’s eyes darkened told Peter all he needed to know about how well received the request had been. He received a kiss, almost as a silent thank you, and little more than a few moments later, slick fingers pushed their way inside of his opening.

  “You are so responsive,” Victor said, almost a whisper, while working his digits further inside the other man. Peter breathed in sharply, the feel of Victor’s body pressing against his hard cock only making him yearn for something – anything – to push him closer to release. When Victor pulled his fingers out from inside Peter, his shaft replaced them. Slowly, he entered Peter, tender as a lover at first, then demanding with the final inch of his length.

  Peter tensed before relaxing again. His eyes wide and searching, they met Victor’s as the other man gathered him close, holding onto him as tightly as Peter clung onto him. As Victor retreated, Peter pressed his heels into his ass, coaxing him in again and rocking his body in response to the rhythm being established. Victor measured his breaths, holding back his release as long as possible. With each thrust inward, he filled the other man and as he changed the angle in which he pressed into Peter, the other man gasped. His eyes rolled back, lips issuing a chant repeatedly.

  “Yes,” Peter coaxed. “Yes, please. God, yes, Victor,” until the coils tightened; until the blinding waves of pleasure built to such a head, nothing could stop them. With the first spasm, he grunted, and as each pulse ran through him, he tightened his hold, eyes focused on the ceiling while seeing nothing at all. When Victor came, he clenched his eyes shut, relishing the sensations overwhelming him while savoring the noises the other man produced. It took endless moments for either of them to climb back down into reality. Even then, Peter could not fight against the aftermath.

  He felt exposed, still. Vulnerable, even. As Victor started a long, luxurious kiss, Peter responded to it with a sigh of contentment, kissing him back and freeing a hand to touch the side of Victor’s face. Victor motioned to pull away and Peter dug his heels in again. “Not yet,” he said. “Stay there for a moment. I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

  Victor hummed, indulging a much quicker kiss. “I have a better idea,” he said. Slipping out from inside Peter, he rolled onto his side, coaxing Peter on top of him. As Peter situated himself over the other man, Victor smirked. “Give me a moment,” he said, “And we can test your stamina.”

  “Challenge accepted.” Peter laughed and, as if magnetically drawn, kissed the other man again. Within another half-hour, he found himself slipping inside of Victor and though this climax was not as blindingly brilliant as the one which had preceded it, it still left him overwhelmed with a sense of warmth, covering him like a blanket. Both men laid together, limbs entangled, and eyes set on each other once the aftershocks had waned and given in to tranquility.

  “Your assessment of the evening, then?” Victor asked, combing his fingers through Peter’s hair.

  He laughed. “Brilliant,” he said. “Utterly brilliant. Not to presume too much, but it goes without saying that I hope we do that again.”

  “Maybe not that, exactly, but I’d be disappointed if you didn’t allow me to take you out again.”

  “You said something about violin lessons.”

  “And you said something about other opportunities to dress you up. Though I might pull you into the coat closet next time you dare to dress like that.”

  Peter chuckled, tracing lazy patterns on Victor’s skin, he curled up closer to the other man. “Next time,” he said, “I’ll let you.”

  While they both gradually gave into the throes of sleep, neither man moved until much later in the morning. The condo contained no sign of Christian, which unnerved Peter more than it did Victor, but otherwise, their day began with lazy, pleasant undertones. Peter sat on one of the bar stools in the kitchen, watching Victor cook while listening to Victor tell the story of an ex-girlfriend who had taught him what he knew about food. While Peter sipped coffee, he beamed at Victor, and when the other man sat beside him, he playfully fed Victor pieces of his bacon. Food became replaced by more kisses, and while the electronic fireplace in the living room provided warmth, and the sound system played Tchaikovsky, they sprawled out on the couch, becoming more focused on each other than anything else.

  Out in the living room, on the carpet, they had sex once more.

  No, Peter thought. On the carpet, they made love.

  His heart felt full and heavy at the same time. His thoughts were distracted, consumed by Victor for the moment with Christian occasionally reminding him what a lucky devil he’d become. He noticed the time sometime after the shower they took and laughed with Victor as he quickly gathered his clothing. “Shit, I need to be at work in an hour,” he said. “You’re a bad influence.”

  “And how is this my fault?” Victor asked. “You know when you need to be at work.”

  “Shh.” Peter surged to make up the distance between them, capturing Victor’s lips in a kiss and unapologetically letting it linger. Once they parted, Victor exhaled a breath rife with tension and Peter chuckled, brushing his thumb across the other man’s cheek. “Keep being a bad influence. Maybe I’ll sneak in tomorrow morning for breakfast.”

  Victor smirked, neither encouraging, nor discouraging, the suggestion. Fetching his keys, he made the offer to drive Peter to work, swinging first by his apartment so he could collect his work clothing. Peter slid into work five minutes late and saluted Chloe on his way to the locker room. “Sorry, late,” he said. “Was stuck across town and had to get a ride back to my apartment.”

  She smiled knowingly, looking up from her work station. “Hurry up and I won’t hold it against you, lover boy,” Chloe said and while the response garnered a chuckle, Peter continued making his way to the other room. Something about the day felt rife with possibility, whether busy or slow, and as Peter dressed, he hummed the music which had been playing after breakfast, pausing to recall everything from the sounds Victor made, to the taste of his skin and the way it felt to be with him. Already yearning for another excuse to be in his presence, Peter allowed himself to be distracted, wandering into the emergency room with his mind only partially apt to engage in work.

  He studied the board and took note of their current patients. Passing by the bays filled with patients, he froze while walking past one, something about the man seated on the cot catching his attention. For his part, the patient ignored him, until Peter called out Chloe’s name to ask about him. The question he had in mind froze the moment the man turned his head
and looked at Peter, however.

  While it didn’t look like he recognized Peter, the same couldn’t be said for the young doctor. Swiftly walking for his friend, Peter lightly touched Chloe’s arm and led her back in the direction from which she had been headed. “Peter?” she asked, though he refused to answer her obvious concern, pleading with his eyes for her to be quiet until they were out of earshot. Even then, he lowered his voice to a whisper when they stopped at the other side of the Emergency Room.

  “When did he get here?” he asked, nodding in the direction of the patient.

  Chloe glanced at him, then frowned, pacing closer with Peter to the communal white board. As she studied it, she frowned in thought. “Early this morning,” she said. “About nine o’clock or so. We’re holding him because the police are coming to get him once we have him cleared for transport. What makes you ask?”

  “No reason.” Peter stared at the name – Mark Talbot – committing it to memory, while wondering if that might be a pseudonym. “What brought him in?”

  “Multiple stab wounds, though they were superficial, at best.” Chloe patted Peter on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. They’ll be coming for him within the next hour or two.”

  “Yeah. Thanks, Chloe.” While it had been stated with the intention of dismissing her, Peter had already shifted toward ignoring her. Whether she said anything else before departing, Peter didn’t hear her, and as squinted at the board, he found himself lost in a memory. Vaguely, he recalled being at the bar with Christian, and glancing at the group that had prompted him and Peter to leave. One of them, the person who’d called out Christian’s name resembled the man taking up a bed in the emergency room.

  Christian hadn’t returned to the condo the night before.