Varian Krylov (35 page)

and watched Khalid come nearer, nearer, watched his eyes, bright and lively as twin candle flames, lock on him, watched that infuriating, irresistible ironic smile lift the corner of that delicious mouth as he leaned forward and lifted an issue of Brick from the coffee table and settled into the armchair.

Galen forced his eyes back onto the meaningless pattern of black on white, and waited. But Khalid's molasses voice stayed silent. No order. No taunt.

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It was too much. Sitting there. Feeling the minutes they had alone together slipping by, with Khalid calmly reading that fucking literary rag.

Fine. He'd get it started.

Tossing his script aside, Galen sauntered as nonchalantly as he could back to the bathroom, stripped out of his clothes, and wrapped a towel around his waist.

Feigned indifference intact, he walked past Khalid, pretended not to notice those two flames flicker over him, stepped into the kitchen, and poured a glass of water. Drank.

Waited. Drank.

Nothing.

So Galen slipped through the slider, dropped his towel, knowing Khalid could see his bare ass through the window, and sank into the roiling heat of the jacuzzi. Just the anticipation had his cock hard, eager, and under the water he ran his fingers over his erection, wondering if he'd feel Khalid's touch, feel his hot, wet mouth tonight. Maybe, depending on which way things went, how hard they fought, he'd turn the tables in the middle of things, or after, and get Khalid down under him and fuck him.

He could stroke himself off in a minute or two, thinking of that. But he didn't want to stroke himself off. He wanted Khalid.

“Would you mind my company?”

Godfuck, the man was quiet as a Ninja.

“Course not.” Galen kept up the game.

“You are wearing nothing, I would guess.”

“No.”

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Galen laughed, secretly, to himself, that Khalid could still make him nervous, make him blush. Pretending to gaze out over the cityscape, from the corner of his eye Galen watched Khalid strip off his clothes, and as he stepped, naked and already half hard, into the hot tub. Now that Khalid's nakedness was hidden under the turbulent water, Galen let himself meet the other's eyes. Khalid's gaze was steady, fixed on him, that ironic grin mocking him. Galen's hard-on pulsed, demanding a touch, a kiss.

But Khalid just sat there, gazing at him. Taunting him. Because, of course, they both knew what was coming.

What Galen really wanted was to be tied. Tied, he could really let go. Give up to Khalid's caresses, his kiss, his embrace. It had been so long. Out here it would be a struggle and a fuck. Unless he had the gun. But he'd stripped—

Khalid rose. Galen's heart thumped and his cock surged. Now. Finally.

Water streamed down Khalid's subtly sculpted arms, down his lithe torso. Fuck, Galen wanted to kiss those dark nipples, hear Khalid's throaty sigh, feel his body writhe under his mouth. Galen could hardly hold still, wait. Just at the frothing surface of the water he could see Khalid's hip bones, and just inside, the beginning of that sculpted V

aiming down, and the dark line of hair starting just under his navel and leading down, into the water, to his thatch of black hair.

“Galen.”

Khalid's gaze like two flickering flames was fixed on him.

“Are you hard, already?” Khalid asked, then waited for a long moment. “When you do not speak, I always know the answer is 'yes.' I am hard, too, Galen. I have been waiting for almost two weeks to touch you. To taste you. To fuck you.”

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Khalid was close, as close as he could come without touching, standing there, looking down on Galen where he sat. Galen didn't care anymore that he was breathing hard, that Khalid could probably tell.

“I know that you have been waiting, too. All the days you were in New York. And tonight, since Vanka left, you have been waiting for me to come and take you.” Khalid's rich voice poured the usual taunts over Galen, making his body hotter, his need harder.

“But tonight, Galen, I will not, even though my want is so much.”

Khalid watched Galen struggle to understand.

“Tonight, Galen, I will offer myself to you, only. If you push me away from you, tonight I will go.”

Something broke. Inside. As Khalid moved nearer, as his calf brushed against Galen's calf down in the hot, seething water, as Khalid planted a knee on the cement seat, against Galen's hip, and straddled his thighs, Galen was paralyzed. Too afraid, too unsure to move.

Their eyes locked, Khalid moved in close. His thighs slid over Galen's thighs, their stiff cocks nestled together, pressing against each other's bellies. God, what was he doing? Khalid's graceful fingers brushed over Galen's forearms, glided up, over his triceps, his shoulders, caressed his neck, cupped his face. Fear pierced Galen's gut as Khalid gave him a soft smile he couldn't read—god, he couldn't read it—and brought their lips together.

Frozen there in the heat of the water, cradled in Khalid's urgent warmth, Galen surrendered to that kiss, those soft lips, that ardent tongue. Fuck, he was hungry for that 334

kiss, opened to it, sought it, his whole body rising into it. And he wanted to put his arms around Khalid, pull him close, hold him. But his gut warned him.

Gently, for once, Galen curved his hands over Khalid's shoulders and broke off their kiss. With everything in him he tried to read those luminous eyes. But, past the want, he didn't know.

“Please, Khalid,” he whispered.

“Please what, Galen?”

“Please. I can't, like this.”

“No?” There was hurt under that quiet calm.

“No,” Galen answered, his throat tight, but not letting himself break down.

Khalid slipped away, taking himself from Galen little by little, leaving his face, his chest, his belly, his cock, his thighs untouched.

“Do not be so hurt, Galen. You could not, tonight. But I will ask you again, another time.”

Why? Why was he doing this?

At first Galen stayed there, alone in the jacuzzi, because he knew Khalid wouldn't come back, and he was afraid he was going to cry. But he didn't. He was just shivering, weirdly cold, and he thought the steaming water would warm him. But it didn't.

* * * *

“Good morning, Vanka.” He gave her his serene smile and a soft kiss.

“You didn't come to bed last night,” she said quietly.

“I was writing until very late. I fell asleep on the couch in the study.”

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“Khalid . . .”

“You would like to know what happened last night, with me and Galen, while you were out.” Khalid gave her a warmer smile and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I went to him. I told him that I would not force him, if he did not give himself willingly. He could not, and so I left him alone.”

Khalid said it all in his serene way, and Vanka had the funny idea that the pull through her chest, the tightness in her throat, was her taking on the pain Khalid wouldn't let himself feel. But of course he felt it.

“Please, Vanka, do not be so sad,” he soothed, stroking her hair. “He could not, last night. But, perhaps another time, not too long from now.”

“He does love you, Khalid.”

“Yes.”

“And I love you.” She kissed his lips, kissed his cheek. Pulled him to her. They held each other, quietly nuzzling and stroking and kissing temples and cheeks and necks and shoulders.

* * * *

Khalid noticed him, and their embrace dissolved.

“Good morning, Galen.” Fuck if he didn't sound the same as always. Not embarrassed, not angry, not cruel.

“Morning,” Galen tried to hold the big feeling back, keep it out of his voice. He smiled, nurturing the happiness that was part of what he was feeling. Vanka looked so 336

well, and so joyfully at ease in Khalid's arms. And she was giving him something he needed so much.

“Galen?” Vanka asked him later, when Khalid had gone for his run.

“Hmmm?”

“Can't you give yourself to Khalid? The way you do with me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Galen gave her a sad smile, kissed her crown, and sighed heavily.

“He so needs to be loved,” Vanka said softly, gently stroking Galen's thickly muscled arm. He seemed big to her now, compared with Khalid. “He's so quiet, so stoic all the time. But he needs love. He needs tenderness.”

“You're giving him those things, aren't you?” Galen asked, his voice soft, his smile tender.

Her face went hot. It didn't matter that they'd all promised, when they'd decided to live together, that they'd be with each other when and how they wanted, that no one owed anything to anyone.

“Yes.”

She waited for some recrimination, for some hurt or anger to flare up in his his dark eyes. But Galen's tender smile only got a little bigger.

“But Galen, that's not good enough. Do you have any idea how much Khalid loves you?”

“Yes.”

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“How can you look at him, knowing him the way you do, how can you lie beside him every night and not take him in your arms? Not kiss him? Not be a lover with him?”

“There's enough bullshit in my life. I won't lie to you. But I don't know how to explain it.”

“You don't want to lie to me, but you're too scared to just fucking admit that you love him?”

“To you? I have admitted it. I've told you exactly that, more than once.” Galen's voice had turned shuddery and his eyes had gone bright and wet. “I love him. I'm in love with him. I love fucking him. And I guess I'd do pretty much anything, to keep him with me.”

“Except love him. I mean, tell him. Show him. Be with him like a lover. What the hell, Galen? Are you that fucking homophobic?”

Galen laughed, tears running down his face. “No, Vanka. I'm not. I know that's what Khalid thinks. What he lets himself believe. I figured that was what he'd told you.

“I admit it was hard for me, in the beginning. The first time we were together, and for a while after that, I really couldn't. I needed him to . . . to do what he did. Force me.

But after a while, it was that I liked how we played. I liked being overpowered. Tied down. All the ways he came up with to coerce me. It felt so real, because it had started out that way. And it still excites me, our game. But for a long time now, fuck, even when we were still in Paris, I've wished we could be together without the games, too.”

“Then why?”

“Because,” Galen's composure ruptured, his voice shattered, “I'm afraid.”

“Of what?”

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“I'm afraid . . .”

Galen looked so scared, so hurt. Vanka put her arms around him, kissed his wet cheek, took his hand.

“It sounds insane. I know. But I'm afraid he'll leave me.”

It was like words no longer made sense to her.

“What?”

“I don't think he'd stay. If I admit to him how much I love him, how much I need him.”

“Galen,”Vanka said, her voice soft, now, “What are you talking about?”

Galen drew a deep, shuddery breath and wiped his face on his sleeve.

“Khalid needs to suffer. It's a penance.”

Something inside Vanka went cold. Still and heavy.

“Galen. You've read his novels.”

“He needs me, like this. He needs this love, his love for me, to be a martyrdom.”

“Because of what happened to his family,” she breathed to herself. “But it's not penance.”

“What, then?”

“Have you ever known a cutter?”

“A cutter?”

“Someone who hurts themselves on purpose. It's a distraction from other pain.

Scarier pain.”

“How much of his history do you know, Vanka?”

“Some.”

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“Do you know about Michele?”

“His john in Paris.”

“You know about the video?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what he did, after?”

“No.”

“After Khalid found out about the tape, when his mom stopped speaking to him, when he realized they'd never leave Tipaza, he went back on the street. He cultivated this reputation, made himself the boy the sickest sadists would look for.

“After a while, I think, the physical pain wasn't enough. Since he's been off the street, every reasonably good relationship he's had, he's sabotaged. He's never stayed with anyone who was good to him and really loved him.”

Vanka felt sad. Wounded. For weeks, hardly realizing it, she'd been angry with Galen. She'd blamed him. Thought him cold, hard. A coward. She touched Galen's arm.

Let him see her tears.

“All this time. You've been holding back to keep him with you.”

“It's been hard. Keeping up the game-playing all these years. But in a strange way, it works. But last night . . .”

Galen was starting to break down again.

“I'm just so scared he's laying a kind of trap. I don't mean on purpose. Not consciously.

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“If I love him back, he'll walk away, just to punish himself. Hurt himself. And then, a month or five years from now, when missing me doesn't hurt enough anymore, he'll find himself another Michele to love.

“Or, I don't know. Maybe not. But it's what I'm afraid of. What scares me even more than the thought of losing him.”

Something in her look, her expectant posture, her seeking eyes, told Galen something was up.

“Where's Khalid?”

“Out.” Vanka's voice was tight. “I asked him to leave us alone for a few hours.”

Her green eyes lit up by the radiance pouring through the window, her lips curved in a shy smile. That wanting look, that nervous smile made him hard with need, and tender with concerned affection all at once. For weeks he'd been dreaming this moment.

Really touching her again. Losing himself to her again. Wrapping her up in the warmth and safety of his love as she bared herself, gave herself.

Bleached in the slanting rays of sunlight, Vanka was ethereal, skin pale beyond reality, platinum hair aflame. When he stepped toward her, Vanka sank back into the shadowy corner, and she looked real, human again. His next step drove her back against the wall.

But there was that warm, nervous smile again. She let him touch her face. Let him finger the fine, first growth of her hair, touch the smooth, soft skin of her neck. Let him kiss the silky soft crown of her head, still warm from the sun, kiss her brow, her cheek, her ear. His chest thumped, and she let him kiss her upper lip. His hands, curved 341