Follow Him Home (Alternate Worlds Book 1)

by P. W. Davies

  “Your boyfriend is a hitman, Peter,” he muttered. “Don’t forget that.”

  Twelve

  The question lingered in Peter’s throat hours later, while Christian walked inside of his apartment, a look of bemusement dancing in the other man’s eyes with his cell phone gripped firmly in hand. Holding it up, he strode past Peter and lingered in place, waiting patiently for Peter to shut the door. “This sounded urgent,” Christian said. “Is everything alright?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I just… wanted to see you,” Peter said. Shutting the door as Christian pocketed his phone, he smiled to chase away the flight of nerves that had taken up residence in his stomach. “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you to be so punctual.”

  “Well, I knew you might be going to sleep soon.” Christian strode casually into the apartment, hands burrowing in his pockets while he stopped to admire the interior. “I debated between seeing you off to bed and waking you up and decided on the latter instead.”

  “Well then, let me make us some coffee. So that I don’t pass out on you.”

  Christian grinned and followed him closer to the kitchen, pulling out a chair at the table while Peter continued to the coffeemaker. As he focused on extracting a filter from the cabinet, he thought about the late-night text message he’d sent when he couldn’t settle the internal debate, appearing engrossed in the act of making coffee to prepare himself for broaching the topic of their patient. “Just curious,” he began, “but I noticed you didn’t come back to your place at all the night before.”

  “That isn’t uncommon,” Christian said with a laugh. “Victor told me he made note of the fact that I come and go a lot.”

  “I know, but…” Peter glanced over his shoulder at Christian. “It felt odd being there without you.”

  For as much as the comment deflected his true intentions, it contained enough honesty that Christian’s expression softened. His eyes on Peter, he stared at him until Peter lowered the bag of coffee he’d opened, abandoning the effort and walking over to where Christian sat. Pulling another chair closer to the other man, Peter lowered into it and offered his hand when Christian motioned for it. “Are you concerned, love?” Christian asked, his thumb rubbing the back of Peter’s palm.

  Peter sighed. “A little,” he said. Slowly, a weight of relief he didn’t know was there lifted from his shoulders, inspiring him to take stock of it. “I only just got mixed up with you and here I am, going out with your boyfriend. I’ll admit, earlier, something jarred me, but maybe it’s because I got too focused on Victor for a moment. You could say it brought my attention back to you.”

  “I’ll try to decide if that’s a good thing or not.” The way Christian weighed him made Peter hold his breath, the careful moment of evaluation enough to sober them both. “Are you afraid that I might be jealous of the two of you?”

  “Maybe.” Peter groaned. Interlocking his fingers with Christian’s, he cupped his other hand over the union. “I might have slept with him last night. And by might have, I mean about three times. Once right before I had to leave for work.”

  “That bastard.” The playful way Christian said it made Peter laugh and even though Christian let go of him, he surprised Peter by standing and sitting on the other man’s lap. His legs straddled Peter, arms looping around his neck with their chests touching. Peter settled his palms on the small of Christian’s back. “My last count only had us at twice. Now, I am jealous.”

  “You’re mean.” Peter touched noses with the other man. As much as a small part of his mind warned he should still ask about the patient, he resolved himself to getting around to that in a minute. “For the record, you’re the one who keeps curling up and falling asleep. Even if I think it’s adorable.”

  “Oh, please. Heaven forbid I be adorable.” When he kissed Peter, he made slow, sultry motions, barely brushing against the other man’s lips. Breathing a soft chuckle, he stopped them from kissing any deeper. “I take it this means you liked him.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “I thought you might. We’ve never shared a lover before, though I’ve been curious what it might be like. You gave me that impression, you know. Right from the start.”

  Peter sank into a longer, much more luxurious kiss. Slowly, his palms slid over the back of Christian’s shirt. When their mouths parted, their noses caressed again, Peter’s eyes remaining shut. “Should I accuse you of having ulterior motives?” he asked.

  “Me? Ulterior motives? Perish the thought,” Christian said. He chuckled and as he pulled away, Peter looked at him again, matching the humor in his lover’s expression. “Yes, I was interested in you for myself, but something about you made me think of Victor, too. I see I wasn’t completely wrong in assuming that.”

  “No. Though I’m mad that you see through me that easily.” Peter raised an eyebrow. “So, you not coming home last night?”

  “Was to give you both space. Yes, I’ll admit it.” His fingers played with the collar of Peter’s scrubs, tracing the hemline while a devious look danced in his eyes. “You were nervous it might be something else. Was this what you thought about earlier?”

  “Sort of. Though I don’t really want to put a damper on the current mood.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yeah, I have a good-looking guy sitting on my lap. And I’m suddenly wondering if this is how Victor feels sometimes when it’s just the two of you.”

  Christian looked through his lashes at Peter, something about the innocence of his expression making a tingle shoot the length of Peter’s spine. ‘I’m getting caught up again,’ he thought while leaning in to kiss Christian again. This time, the tenor of their lips bore intent, and regardless of the hour, Peter didn’t want to even think about sleeping yet. ‘What if he stabbed that man? I’m letting myself kiss a guy who might stab people.’ Still, Peter let Christian pull his shirt over his head. He helped Christian with his coat and shirt and before he could stop himself, he found himself hefting Christian into his arms and depositing him on top of the table.

  The sudden weight tested the stability of the table, but despite a wobble, it held up to the onslaught. Christian kicked off his shoes while Peter unbuttoned his pants and after stripping Christian bare, he groaned at the sight in front of him. “You stay here,” Peter said before racing up to his loft.

  When he returned to find the other man stroking himself, Peter took over for Christian and replaced his hand with his mouth. The table continued to hold, even when Peter shoved his lube-coated fingers inside Christian. Even when his cock plunged inside the other man for the first time and each subsequent time after that. Christian rested his heels on Peter’s shoulders and arched his back and as he came, he chanted Peter’s name like a mantra. The stars behind Peter’s eyelids had barely had a chance to fade when Christian looked up at Peter, his eyes still filled with need.

  “Take me into the shower and I promise I’ll make you do that again,” he said.

  Peter shivered with aftershocks, but nodded and withdrew from his lover. With careful steps, they wandered to the bathroom, their lips engaged, and after stepping under the spray, Christian washed Peter off and rinsed him thoroughly. When he lowered onto his knees, Peter almost told him ‘this was my first fantasy of you.’ The confession danced on his tongue, birthed as a moan instead when Christian wrapped his lips around Peter’s cock and took him in with tantalizing slowness.

  This time, when he came, Peter was the one calling out Christian’s name.

  His knees felt weak when he emerged from the shower, and while he was content to wrap a towel around his waist, Christian padded back into the apartment naked and unabashed. He took his time collecting his clothing and even then, only slipped on his jeans at first. “Does that make you feel better now?” Christian asked. “I mean, concerning you and Victor. I’d like to think you feeling better in other ways is obvious.”

  The devious curl of Christian’s lips made Peter laugh. He walked to the abandoned coffee effort with the inte
ntion of finishing it. “Well, yes, that part’s obvious,” Peter said. Nerves took flight within him again, but he swallowed them down and nodded to himself as he scooped out coffee into the filter. “No, I mean, I wasn’t too worried, but at the same time… We had this patient at work?”

  “Oh?” Peter heard papers being shuffled, recalling that most of his mismanaged mail had toppled onto the floor while he and Christian fucked. The sound of Christian’s voice became partially muffled and as he poured water into the coffeemaker, Peter imagined Christian collecting papers underneath the table. “What kind of patient?” Christian asked.

  “He’d been stabbed, but that wasn’t the important part, believe it or not.” Switching on the machine, Peter left it to brew and turned to face Christian. The other man lifted from the floor and placed the mail on the table. As he sorted through it, Peter sighed. “He looked like the guy that had been in the bar the other night. The one that we left to avoid.”

  Christian paused and appeared to be reading the content of one letter. A pensive frown tugged at the corners of his mouth and just as Peter considered speaking again, he cleared his throat. “So, somebody managed to get their hands on him. Good.” Christian set the mail on the table, deciding against thumbing through it any further. As he looked up at Peter, he managed a smile, but even Peter could tell it was strained. “Did it remind you of last week?”

  “I guess.” Peter scratched the back of his neck. “I wondered… I wasn’t sure if you…” He trailed off.

  Raising an eyebrow, Christian sobered and took a deep breath when he read the rest of Peter’s inquiry in the silence. “You wanted to know if I had put him in the hospital?”

  “Maybe. I mean, yes. I didn’t know.” Peter groaned. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I know you told me what you do, but still –”

  “Yes, it’s one thing to understand it clinically. Another to see it right in front of you.” Christian stood. Walking up to Peter, he touched the other man’s shoulders and peered up at him, their chests touching. “This is what made you imagine if this was how Victor felt?”

  Peter nodded. Christian did as well and lifted to kiss Peter on the cheek before pulling away again. “I’m sure it is,” he said. When he passed his shirt, he collected it from the ground and put it on before gathering his socks, shoes, and coat. He placed them on the table when he sat. “You’re going to have to learn how to understand it the same way he did,” he said, slipping his socks on each foot.

  “Understand what?” Peter asked, frowning as he watched Christian finish dressing.

  “This is my life. Being in it means accepting that.” He fell silent in favor of putting on his shoes, and once that was done, Christian stood to thread his arms through the sleeves of his coat. While the mood had become heavy between them, with Christian refusing to engage eye contact, the impassive way he glanced toward Peter made Peter’s stomach twist. “You should get some sleep, love,” Christian said. “I will leave you to it.”

  “Christian…” Peter followed him to the entryway. The other man didn’t pause until they both stood in front of the unopened door. “It’s not that I don’t accept it, it’s that –”

  “You don’t. But I’m content giving you time for that.”

  Peter wasn’t sure if he should trust the words, and remained equally confused when Christian kissed him before opening the door. The capricious hitman already had a foot outside when he finally met Peter’s gaze. “Just so you know, though,” Christian said, “the answer is no. I didn’t stab that man.”

  With that, he finished leaving.

  Staring at the door, Peter sighed. “Shit,” he muttered. His hands lifted to comb through the still-wet locks of his hair, arms falling to his sides afterward and heaviness following him into the kitchen. With an aggravated swipe at the switch, he shut off the coffeemaker and ignored his collection of discarded clothing in favor of padding toward the loft. It took another hour before fatigue mounted enough to pull him under. Even then, restful sleep eluded him and his alarm blared too soon for his body’s taste.

  He knew he couldn’t leave things lingering between him and Christian like that. At the same time, while tossing out the old coffee and making himself a fresh pot, Peter settled a hand over the waistband of a fresh pair of scrubs, eyes focused on the filling carafe. “I know he said he expects this’ll take me some time, but still…” Shaking his head, he sighed. ‘He looked so dejected,’ he finished in his mind. Pouring a cup of coffee, he took it back to the table and felt uneasy while imagining what they had done on that surface only hours earlier. His eyes focused on the mail Christian had gathered.

  Morose, Peter lifted the letter Christian had been reading and reread it himself.

  It took a moment for the tumblers to fall into place, epiphany striking when he got to the paragraph requesting he schedule a job interview. The letterhead belonged to a hospital in Rochester, New York and as Peter put himself in Christian’s shoes, he felt his stomach sink. “Oh shit,” Peter said. “He thinks I’m leaving. That’s why he ran away like the place was on fire.”

  He swore while digging out his phone and hurriedly tapped out a text message to Christian. ‘Hey there,’ it read. ‘I’m sorry if I offended you. Can we get coffee on my break tonight?’ Making it to work on time required a mad dash to the subway and when the first rush of patients subsided, he frowned when a glance at his phone revealed no response. His messages remained silent all throughout his shift and as it wound to a close, the silence finally unnerved him enough to do something else about it. Peter loaded the message screen. Tapping another one, he directed it elsewhere.

  ‘If you’re awake,’ he said, ‘would you be interested in breakfast?’

  This time, he received a response within moments.

  ‘Absolutely,’ Victor said. ‘Come over.’

  Thirteen

  “You told him that you’d seen somebody from that bar of his in the emergency room?” Victor asked while sipping his tea. He studied Peter, watching as the other man ate while presiding over the empty plate that had contained his breakfast. Slowly lowering the mug from his mouth, Victor raised an eyebrow. “And you think that might be why he ignored your messages?”

  “Not just that,” Peter said. “Though I got the impression he was a little hurt when I asked him if he was the one who stabbed him.” Breaking a piece of toast in half, he took a bite of it and mused over what to say next. His eyes shifted from the counter back to Victor when he finished chewing. “He was also glancing through my mail. I think he saw something there that might have him confused.”

  “What did he see?”

  “A job offer.” Peter frowned. Setting the toast back down onto his plate, he brushed the crumbs from his hands and turned to face Victor. “I’d started applying places now that I’m almost finished with my residency. Granted, I have a standing offer with Temple, but it was an effort to see if I could get better pay, and until recently, I didn’t have any incentive to stay.”

  Victor remained quiet, though the way his expression evened made Peter feel another knot form in his stomach. “The letter was from a hospital in Rochester,” Peter continued. “I think Christian thinks I’m actually moving away.”

  “You aren’t then?” Victor asked.

  “No.” Peter sighed, his answer ringing in his ears with a hint of dishonesty. “I mean, I don’t think I am,” he clarified. “Like I said, I didn’t have any incentive to stay before… you know...” He trailed off and as he did, he met Victor’s gaze. When he reached for one of Victor’s hands, the other man set his cup on the counter and touched palms with Peter. “I’m not going to New York,” he said, interlacing their fingers. “And I’ve been putting off making any decisions regarding work longer than I’ve known you both.”

  “Christian might find your indecision troubling, though,” Victor offered, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

  “Yeah. I can imagine.”

  “Try not to worry about it too muc
h.” His smile broadened, taking on warmer undertones. “It isn’t unusual for Christian to need a few days to process things. He’ll come around to talking about what has him concerned when he’s ready to.”

  Peter nodded. He attempted a smile to mirror Victor’s. “I find it kind of funny the whole discussion started with him assuring me he wasn’t jealous of us. Something tells me I could’ve been better at reassuring him, too.”

  “You thought he might be jealous?” When Peter shrugged, Victor laughed, leaning forward to place a quick kiss on Peter’s lips. He released his hold on Peter’s hand and, after standing, collected his mug and empty plate. “No, he knew I intended to take you out and predicted that you’d enjoy yourself at the symphony. Specifically, though, he made sure to recommend I do that one thing we did on the living room floor. Something about the reaction not disappointing.”

  A blush rose across Peter’s cheeks. “I wondered if maybe you were just that good.”

  Victor smirked. “Are you trying to tell me that I’m not?”

  Peter perked a brow. “Maybe I’m trying to get you to do that again.”

  “And what if I deny you?” The expression on his face defied the threat. Placing his dishes inside the sink, he approached Peter and hummed as he leaned near where Peter sat, his arms folding across his bare chest. Slowly, he sobered. “You care about him, right?”

  “Yes,” Peter said, sighing with the admission. “I do. Starting to care about you both, to be honest.”

  While this looked like it pleased Victor, he pursued his thoughts without giving the statement any further recognition. “Has he told you yet how we met?” he asked. When Peter shook his head, Victor nodded, pressing forward. “I found him at a bar. Not the kind of place you’d expect to find me, but I’d been going through a phase at the time.” When he focused more intently on Peter, he raised an eyebrow. “I bought a motorcycle.”

  Peter blurted a chuckle, recovering quickly. Victor smirked in exchange and breathed a light laugh, his gaze shifting away. “Christian,” he continued, “had been standing outside, smoking a cigarette, and was waiting for someone. We started to flirt and, apparently, I interested him enough that he abandoned what he’d been doing in favor of going to a much more reputable place for drinks.”