Drawing Closer (10 page)

"Didn't we go through this last night? He's old enough to know what he's doing."

"He knows
nothing
," Charles said harshly. "Nothing about me, about what I like--" He broke off and shook his head. "Drew, leave it. It's not something I feel comfortable discussing with you.

Nor him, although I suppose I'll have to. He's coming over tonight."

"He is?" Drew sounded interested. "Persistent little devil, isn't he?"

"Very." Charles smiled for the first time in hours.

"If you're just playing hard to get--"

"I'm not," Charles said indignantly. "I'm trying to avoid dragging him into the mess I've made of my life, that's all."

Drew snorted. "You're looking for an excuse. Got too used to being alone. Well, that's fair enough.

You know best, I suppose."

"That was a remarkably quick surrender." Charles eyed him suspiciously.

"I'm a bookseller, not a goddamned agony aunt." Drew drained his mug and stood up. "Right. I'd better go; Margaret frets if I'm away too long."

"No, she doesn't. She says you make the place look untidy."

Drew looked complacent. "True, but she still does. And I miss her." He held out his hand. "Let me know what happens."

Charles got up and walked around to give Drew a swift hug, surprising both of them. "I won't,

but thanks."

"I called in at the gallery this morning." Drew moved toward the door. "Picked up one of

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Lochinvar's daubs."

"His name is Gray."

"He paints well for his age," Drew said grudgingly. "Needs more experience under his belt to be really good, but it's all relative."

"May I see it?" Charles asked impulsively. He hadn't really had a chance to look properly at the paintings the night before.

Drew gave him an incredulous look. "D'you think I took it off the wall and threw it in the back of

my car? It's still hanging and it'll be shipped to me when the exhibition's over."

"Oh, of course." Charles felt foolish. "I should have -- which one?"

Drew pulled a small catalog from his jacket pocket, folded back. "Number 42."

"Why that one?" Charles asked, reading the description which was unaccompanied by a picture.

"The night sky?"

"It's interesting. The composition, the texture…" He gave Charles a quick grin. "You're too much of a Philistine to understand why."

"I'll try and take a look at it," Charles promised, knowing he wouldn't be going near the gallery if there was even a chance of meeting Gray there.

"You should. You might change your mind about his being too young for you." Drew looked

pensive. "He doesn't paint like a man who's scared of experimenting."

"I hardly think that what applies to art is equally true in the bedroom."

"Did he seem like the shy and shrinking type?"

Charles flushed, hit with a sudden, vivid memory of Gray licking his lips and leaving a satiated

smile sticking to them. "No."

"Thought not." Drew gave him a satisfied nod and left.

***

the door at ten and giving Charles a tight smirk by way of greeting.

Charles eyed him in silence and led him into the front room. Rudegar opened an eye from his

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perch along the back of the couch and then went back to sleep.

"Here I am." Gray spread his hands wide. "Now tell me to fuck off."

Charles sighed. "No. Sleep it off, maybe."

"I'm not drunk."

"Pissed off, not pissed?"

"Brit humor. Funny."

"Oh, I'm a funny man, Gray. You've got no idea."

"Then
tell
me." Gray came closer and gave Charles a hard, clumsy kiss. "Tell me," he repeated.

"You asked me over so you must have something to say."

Charles began to say something and then changed his mind. Gray's mouth was
there
, lips parted,

tongue showing as he curled it behind his teeth. Kissing him back was simple; telling him why

Charles couldn't kiss him again was complicated.

No contest.

Gray pulled back, his eyes intent and warily hopeful. "No talking?"

"Later," Charles said, tasting Gray on his lips again and utterly incapable of sending him away. It scared him; every sign of the power Gray had over his will and resolution was a warning he knew

he couldn't afford to ignore, but he couldn't help it.

Didn't want to.

Selfish
.

He ignored the chiding inner voice and dragged Gray closer, roughly, knowing Gray wouldn't care,

his hands already busy stripping Gray of his coat and shirt.

"Are we going to fuck with an audience?" Gray jerked his head at the cat who was watching

them, green eyes unblinking.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Charles said without thinking.

"Yeah?" That got him a speculative glance to match Rudegar's and a shrug. "Fine. I'll take you any way I can get you. You know that."

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It was too close to what Charles would have said once not to leave him wincing and stepping

back.

"What did I say?" Gray looked resigned.

"It's just--" Charles took a deep breath. "You remind me too much of myself, that's all. It's disconcerting."

"I do?" Gray moved closer again, bare-chested, the top button of his jeans popped open, a zipper tug away from being fucked. "So, does fucking me feel like jerking off?"

Charles couldn't help laughing. "Not that close."

"Good, because that's slightly freaky, y'know?"

"I suppose it would be," Charles agreed, the words catching in his throat as he ran his fingers over Gray's smooth, hot skin, feeling the pulse beating at wrist, crook of elbow and throat, feeling the

leap of Gray's heartbeat under his palm as he pinched a hard nipple harder.

"You'd better be planning to fuck me soon," Gray whispered. "You stop again and I'll cry."

"I can't see that happening."

"Would you like to?"

Startled, Charles met his eyes. "I don't want you to be unhappy."

"That wasn't what I asked."

Charles brushed his lips against the tracks tears would take as they spilled over and down Gray's

face. "Yes. I'd like to make you cry."

"I didn't say that, either."

"Yes, you did." Charles bent his head and bit hard at Gray's shoulder. "It's exactly what you meant."

"Won't make me cry like that."

"Mmm?" Charles murmured and did it again.

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Gray woke from what had never been more than a doze and found Charles staring at him. He

waited for a word, or even a change of expression, and got neither. Charles just kept staring, a

frown creasing his forehead, his mouth set.

"Okay, what?"

"You're still here."

"Points for being observant." Gray stretched, feeling an ache in his shoulders and a familiar

tenderness in his ass.

Oh, yeah. Well and truly fucked. God. If he'd been a cat he'd have purred, smug and happy.

"I didn't expect you to be."

"I'm not going anywhere, Charles." Gray felt some of his sleepy contentment flake off, exposing bare, raw uncertainty. Guess it hadn't been enough to get Charles naked after all. "And I didn't

come here just to get fucked, although I'd be lying if I said I didn't hope we would. You promised

me answers."

"No. I said we'd talk." Charles shook his head, his face twisting in a sudden anger. "What makes you think that you've got a right to know all about me? This soon?"

"I don't. I just want to know why you're so--" Gray held out his hand, palm down, and see-

sawed it. "I can't see the problem. You know how I feel about you, and you can't keep your

fucking hands off me, so forgive me for assuming it's mutual. We're both out, so scratch that off

the list of problems, and this town's falling over itself to be liberal, so we're not likely to get

beaten up for holding hands in public--"

"I
know
that," Charles interrupted. "I'm not all that concerned about public opinion." He rubbed at the side of his nose. "Perhaps a little. You're still some years younger than me, but as Drew

was at pains to point out, you're old enough."

"Go, Drew."

"It's still not a good idea. The fact that I was determined
not
to end up in bed with you tonight,
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and still did, only goes to show that when it comes to you, I'm not--"

"What?"

"Not to be trusted," Charles spat out, glaring at him. "Christ, Gray, look in a mirror before you get dressed! Count up the bruises."

"You didn't hurt me." That wasn't quite true but in essence it was; Gray could feel half a dozen places where fingers and teeth and skin on skin had left marks, had left pain, but there wasn't a

single one that he hadn't welcomed, even encouraged. Held down and fucked hard... even now,

wrung out and empty, his cock twitched at the memory of Charles' grip, sure and firm.

"I will."

"You don't know that."

"You'll ask me to." Charles rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. "You'll beg me to, and I will."

"Okay, is it me, or did it suddenly get weird in here?" Gray moved closer to Charles, cupping his face and forcing Charles to turn to look at him. "Listen to me. I'm stronger than you. Want to arm

wrestle and I'll prove it? And I'm not the type to roll over and play dead for--" Charles' face

contorted and Gray bit down on his anger. "God, what did I say
now
? For the love of -- this is why you need to
tell
me. I'm getting all these fucked-up hints and it's scaring me, Charles. Way more than the truth could." He swallowed, licking at dry lips. "Did you -- did you kill someone?"

"What?" The bewilderment on Charles' face was answer enough and Gray sighed, feeling a little

better. He shifted his hand to Charles' shoulder, squeezing it gently and feeling the tension in the

muscles.

"Okay. That's something. Are you going to tell me now?"

"Before you come up with something worse?" Charles sat up, pushing a pillow behind him. The

room was shadowed, lit only by the light from the hallway, filtering in through the half-closed

door, but Gray could see the tiredness on Charles' face. He sat up facing Charles, cross-legged,

close enough that his thigh was pressing against Charles' knee, and waited.

"I told you that you reminded me of how I was, but in many ways you're far more sophisticated

-- five years older, used to living alone, being independent; it makes a difference. I was still getting used to the thrill of living away from home, still very much a wide-eyed student."

"Okay, I'm lost. What are we talking about here?"

Charles' lips tightened. "We're talking about me meeting Alan when I was nineteen. We're talking

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about my first lover, a man twenty years older, rich, bored, spoiled -- captivated by my

adoration and innocence and equally taken with the amusement to be had in removing both."

"He sounds like a son of a bitch, but hey, I could tell you stories myself. We've all had exes from hell."

The look he got was enough to shut him up.

"Alan seduced, depraved and addicted me. After a year I could barely remember my name and if

he'd told me it was Little Lord fucking Fauntleroy I'd have believed him."

"Addicted? You did drugs?" Gray eyed him with surprise. Charles didn't seem the type and Gray

had seen enough people who were to be good at spotting them.

"No. Alan drank -- a lot -- but he had a healthy fear of drugs. I think he'd lost more than one

friend to them although I'm only guessing about that. I was addicted to
him
."

Gray shook his head. "Look, that sounds dramatic, but that's all it is. You can't be addicted to a

person."

He half expected Charles to get angry with him; instead he got an indifferent shrug and an averted

face. "Have it your way. Perhaps you're right. At the time, though, I don't think I'd have been so

easy to convince. When I left him, I--"

"You
left
him?"

Charles turned back to look at him. "Oh, yes. I don't think I'd ever managed to surprise him until

then. He gaped at me and he looked positively foolish. I laughed. I remember laughing. At him.

He was--"

"Why did you go?" Gray was struggling with the need to know all about it and the fear that if he pushed too hard, Charles would stop talking and kick him out.

"Nothing earth-shattering; I just found him with someone else, that's all." Charles brought his hand to his mouth and chewed at the side of his thumb moodily. "Very, very obvious; it'd been

going on for weeks, but I was too blind to notice, so he set it up, let me walk in and catch him--"

"What the hell did you see in someone that fucked-up?"

"Everything I wanted."

Gray winced. "Yeah. Not a lot I can say about that without being rude." He pursed his lips. "So he set up this big reveal for kicks? Why was he so shocked you walked? Anyone would have."

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"It was a test." Charles was fiddling with the edge of the cover, rolling it and releasing it, avoiding Gray's eyes. "To see if I loved him enough to stay no matter what. I'd given him every reason to

suppose I would."

"I'm just not seeing you like that," Gray told him. "Shit, that's just -- it's not love. It's insane."

"Good choice of word." Charles let go of the creased fabric and folded his hands in his lap. "So. I left, had a quiet, private breakdown somewhere far, far away, and then managed to get allowed

back into college. I assume Alan's uncle -- my tutor -- pulled some strings there; I never asked. I

worked myself to the edge of another breakdown but I managed to hold it together enough to get