Drawing Closer (9 page)

"In the shower?" Charles asked.

"What? We didn't..." Gray watched Charles' mouth curl up in a smile. "Oh. Yeah. We can do that."

Charles pushed the covers away and stood up, flexing his shoulders and wincing. "Your bed--"

"Yeah, it sucks," Gray said, taking in the sight of Charles, naked in the sunlight. "Big, but the springs are shot. God, I want you."

That got him a startled look, as if Charles wasn't used to hearing that, or maybe wasn't used to

people being direct with him. Well, he'd have to get used to it. Gray had never gotten the hang of

being reticent about his feelings. It'd gotten him into trouble from time to time, but usually it

worked out okay.

Like now.

"Help yourself." Charles shrugged, a small smile curving his lips. "I'm right here."

"Yeah, you are." Gray slipped his arms around Charles and felt an ache of need start to build. He
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got one kiss and then the phone rang. "Oh, God."

Charles stepped back, giving their half-hard cocks a rueful grin. "I'll see you in there?" he asked, already moving away.

"Yeah, sure..." Gray located his pants, in a crumpled heap on the floor, and took out his phone.

"What?"

"Darling..." Alise gave a startled, not entirely pleased, laugh and then purred at him. "Darling, where
did
you get to last night?"

Gray registered the purr and the 'darling' and realized, with a shock of pleasure, that the

exhibition must have gone well.

"I had to -- there was someone--"

"Never mind." Alise dismissed his stuttered explanation airily. "Without you there, it was much easier, actually. You have no idea of how to present yourself. We'll have to work on that."

"Hey," Gray protested, hearing the sound of the shower begin. Charles. Wet. Naked. Soapy.

"Alise, I've got to go..."

"Yes." There was an edge to her voice. "You have to come here. Now." The cream slopped over again. "Such a success, my sweet. So much to discuss."

"Yeah? That's great, but not right now, okay? Later."

"Gray, you didn't do well enough to be allowed to have a temperament," Alise said. "An hour. Or I'll come and get you myself."

Gray glared at the phone and then tossed it onto the bed, starting to smile as the news sank in.

For Alise to be that pleasant...

He slid into the shower cubicle a minute later, wrapping his arms around Charles and giving him a

hug. "That was Alise."

Charles raised water-darkened eyebrows. "A rival? Do I tear out my hair?"

Gray grinned. "The woman who owns the gallery. And, no. No rivals. Just you."

"Glad to hear it." Charles frowned. "Was she annoyed? You did leave her high and dry."

"She's pissed, I can tell." Gray reached for the shower gel and squeezed out a dollop. He began to smooth it over Charles' chest and shoulders. "But I think I'm forgiven because I sold a lot."

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Charles looked genuinely delighted. "You did? Gray, that's wonderful--"

"Yeah. It is. And she wants me down at the gallery in an hour." He nipped at Charles' lip. "Not so wonderful."

"I still get fucked up against the shower wall and given coffee?"

"Think we can manage that."

"Then I fail to see a problem."

"And I fail to see you up against the wall."

Charles stared at him and then turned his back, bracing his hands flat against the white tiles and

spreading his legs. The water coursed down his lower back, trickling over his ass and down his

legs.

Gray pushed wet hair back off his face and opened the shower door wide enough to grab at the

opened condom and bottle of lube he'd left on the side of the bath. Turning down the water so

that it was less of an assault and more of a gentle shower, because he really didn't want the water

to go cold on them halfway through, he got ready.

Nerves hit him with his slicked-up fingers rubbing over damp, hot skin, about to press inward.

God, this was Charles. He was about to fuck
Charles
. He leaned forward, kissing and biting at

Charles' shoulder, trying to get to a taste of him, his scent, through the smell of soap and water.

"Charles--"

He could hear the panic in his voice, and Charles must have heard it, too, because he reached

back, captured Gray's free hand and pulled it around to his cock, hard and full.

Knowing Charles wanted him that much made it simple.

Easing into him carefully, feeling Charles' body welcome and fight him at one and the same time,

so that he had to
push
, harder than he wanted to, more than he'd expected, gave him too much to

think about to enjoy it.

Then Charles' head jerked up and his hands flexed and clawed at the tiled wall. "Gray --
fuck
me."

Had he sounded like that to Charles the night before? That desperate, that hungry? Gray

shuddered and slid one hand up to Charles' chest, seeking out the racing thump of his heartbeat,

feeling the pulse of blood echoed a spilt second later around his cock. He felt joined, connected,

part of Charles.

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Then Charles pushed back, impatient and needy, taking what he wanted and getting every inch of

Gray's cock inside him.

"Oh, you..." Gray muttered. "You..." His hand raked down, drawing a guttural cry of surprise from Charles as Gray's nails dug into skin, and he grabbed hold of Charles' cock.

Hard, heated skin to touch, smooth tightness to fuck -- Gray leaned over and bit down on

Charles' neck, just where it met his shoulder, sucking and mouthing at the skin as his hand

squeezed and his hips rocked gently, slowly.

"My way," he whispered, knowing Charles could hear him. "We do this my way."

Charles cried out, a soft, keening sound that went straight to Gray's balls, tightening them,

making them ache. Oh, he liked hearing Charles sound like that...

He wasn't sure how much longer he could do slow, though.

The soaked, tropical air inside the cubicle was making him feel dizzy, each gasped breath coating

his mouth with water. Charles was still, his body trembling, as if it was costing him not to move.

Gray let his hand slacken a little around Charles' cock. "Fuck my hand," he said, wanting to see what Charles would do.

Exactly what he'd told him to.

Shifting forward, Gray closed his eyes as Charles, keeping to the exact speed Gray had been

using, tilted his hips forward and back, his breath ragged as Gray's hand and cock gave him what

he needed.

"Oh, God, you feel good." If he was supposed to hold it together, he was going to fail, because this was just too much. "Charles--"

He stopped playing whatever game had begun when he wasn't looking, and took hold of Charles'

hips, slamming into him over and over, letting Charles arch his back and spread his legs until each

thrust was easy and smooth.

Perfect angle, perfect view. Even now, with his body shivering and screaming for release, Gray

could appreciate the strength and elegance of Charles' back, accentuated by a wholly unexpected

tattoo on one shoulder blade; a small circle, the border a twisted, intricate rope design, the center

blank. Gray could have covered it with the ball of his thumb.

"Can... move now... Charles..." he gritted out, half the words lost because his mind was sparking and shorting out.

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Skin. Hot, hot skin. Sounds. Gasping, pleading moans, coming from both of them...

"Oh, God, oh,
yes
--"

This was better; both of them finding a rhythm within a few strokes, a frantic, fast rhythm that

Gray couldn't sustain for long.

He came hard and silently, his mouth open on a moan that couldn't force its way out of his body,

wracked in a climax intense enough to have him forgetting how to do anything but push forward,

needing to be as deep inside Charles as possible.

When he'd recovered enough to remember how to breathe, he eased out, peeling the condom off

and letting it drop with a messy splat to the floor of the shower.

"That was--"

"Gray--"

Charles turned, his eyes wild, his lip swollen and bleeding where he'd bitten it.

"Finish this, or tell me I can."

"You didn't come?" Gray blurted out, feeling a stab of hurt and shame, because he'd thought

Charles had -- they had -- together-- fuck, why
hadn't
he?

Incomprehension followed by exasperation passed over Charles' face. Gray wasn't sure which

way it was directed. "Never mind." Charles' hand dropped down and he jerked himself off as

Gray watched, coming too fast for Gray to have time to formulate a way to say, 'Need a hand

with that?' which didn't sound like a joke.

Charles leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, and then shook his head and moved Gray out of

the way so that he could stand under the cooling spray and rinse off.

The water cut off, leaving an awkward silence broken by the creak of the door as Charles pushed

it open and stepped out, grabbing a towel and holding it for Gray to take before picking up

another.

Gray spared a moment to be fervently glad that he'd spent the day before doing housework as a

way of distracting himself from his nerves. Sometimes his towels went a long time between

washes.

"Are you -- what the hell was that all about?" he asked when Charles had finished drying himself and had dropped a neatly folded towel over the rack with an air of finality.

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Charles didn't look at him. "Me realizing that I'm capable of acting stupidly even at my advanced

age. I'm sorry, Gray. Believe me, I am."

"Nothing to be sorry for." Gray felt unease stirring. If this was the build up to a break-up -- if they'd even been together for long enough for that to be an option -- then he didn't want to hear

it. "And as explanations go, that sucked. Do it again, with less beating yourself over the head and more, you know, words."

That got him a smile. "Mind if I get dressed first? And don't you have to be leaving?"

Gray edged between Charles and the door. "Yeah, but until I know you're not planning on

ditching me, I'm staying right here."

"Gray," Charles said patiently. "We don't have time for this now."

"Promise me!" Gray heard his voice crack and took a deep breath. "Sorry. Fuck, you must think I'm some kind of -- I just -- Charles, I just got you, and you're backing away."

"For your own good."

"The hell it is." Gray glared at him, grateful for the anger that was elbowing his panic and loss out of the way. "I get to decide that, not you."

"You're going to be late. Gray, I don't know you that well and I'm not ready to discuss certain

subjects with you--"

"You know me well enough to fuck me!"

Charles' lips twisted in a cynical smile. "Gray, I could have done that without knowing your

name.
Have
done in the past, more often than I care to recall."

"You owe me more of an explanation than this."

"I owe you nothing."

"Give it to me anyway."

Something flickered in Charles' eyes; resignation, maybe. Gray waited, barely breathing, his body

tense. God, what the hell had he done wrong?

"Tonight. Come and see me. I'll try and make you see why this was a mistake. Now, for God's

sake, get out of the way." Charles pushed past him, not meeting his eyes, and by the time Gray

had dressed, Charles had murmured a terse goodbye and left.

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Gray watched him walk away, unashamedly staring down from the window, taking comfort in

the slump of Charles' shoulders. So he wasn't happy about all this. Good. That gave Gray

something to work with.

Then he caught sight of the clock and groaned. He was going to be so fucking late--

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Charles gave Drew an unwelcoming look. "Why are you here?"

"And good morning to you, too," Drew said cheerfully, pushing past Charles and heading for the kitchen. "As you're fully dressed, I assume Lochinvar isn't here?"

"No, he isn't, and I'm not really in the mood for a blow-by-blow account--"

"Charles, please." Drew shuddered. "Keep it clean; I'm an innocent flower. Just thought I'd see how you were before I went home."

"I'm fine," Charles snapped.

"Oh, clearly," Drew said dryly. "Overflowing with happiness. Coffee? Please?"

Giving in, as Drew had already sat down and didn't look as if he planned on moving, Charles

topped up his own mug and poured one for Drew. He pushed the mug over, waiting for the

wince, as it was considerably stronger than Drew was used to.

"God, Charles, your stomach must hate you."

"It does what I want it to." Charles sat down at the kitchen table across from Drew.

"Your stomach? Or the coffee? Never mind." Drew arched his eyebrows expectantly. "Go on;

you know you want to."

"Do I look like a sixteen-year-old girl?"

"When you left me last night, there were similarities, yes. So what happened?"

"Nothing. We fucked -- don't even think about looking shocked -- and that's it. Over. Satisfied?"

"No good?"

"Very good," Charles said evenly. "We had an excellent time."

"Don't make me beat it out of you."

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"Why do you care?"

Drew shrugged his wide, powerful shoulders. "I don't. Not enough to keep pressing you for much

longer, anyway. I'm just a little sad that your champagne went flat so soon. I haven't seen you

look that happy in years."

Charles closed his eyes. Happy. Right.

"Drew -- he's so bloody young." He heard the resignation in his voice and opened his eyes to see pity and impatience cross Drew's face.