Assassin Lover Scene 2

In a few hours, there would be a party. A retirement party, held for a guard that had worked for the Langleys for decades. Apparently, he was even friends with Amelia's deceased husband, the late "Duke John Langley III of Milhurst". Ray had seen pictures of him before, but it was hard to believe anyone could make friends with, let alone marry, a man as imposing as he was. The Duke, that is. Cecil the guard was the opposite of imposing. Tiny and frail, with big, wet eyes and a slow, shambling walk. How he managed to stay a guard, and the head guard on top of it, with a face that practically screamed "I'm completely harmless", Ray would never know. It didn't really matter to him, anyway. All he cared about was the party. All of the staff, as well as their families, would be there to say their goodbyes. This included the other security guards, leaving the estate without its typical, poorly scheduled security rotation. There could be no better time to disappear.

Ray needed to make a presence at the party before he could slip out, but it wouldn't need to be for long. He was known to be socially anxious, so if he dipped out a little early, that would only be natural. It was all there, and he couldn't make a better opportunity if he tried, so why did it feel like everything was going horribly wrong? Ray's leg jittered as he sat on the bed, making this rapid thumping noise that echoed maddeningly in his room. He had been trying everything he could to quiet the words in his head. Sentences that invaded every thought he had.

'Are you really going to do this?'

'You're going to look so stupid when this falls through.'

'You ruined your life, and nothing will change.'

'You can never change.'

He got up, went into his way-too-big closet, and kneeled down in front of the high end safe he had bought in secret. It blended in well enough as to not draw attention, but there was a cold aura emanating from within. The contents had quietly haunted him ever since he brought it home, slowly filling his mind with paranoia. It was a monster in his closet, and yet it was a constant reminder of how close he was to paradise. He punched in the code, each button harder to press than the last, turned the handle, and pulled out a shock-proof briefcase. He laid it on the ground, worked its combination locks, and carefully lifted the lid. And there they were. The contraband he smuggled in from America, hopefully still in pristine condition. 5 pieces, that was all he had. 5 attempts at love, at a life he actually wanted to live. That is, if he could get him to agree. Looking at them felt like staring into his own grave, but he was in too deep to shy away now. He had to pick one to be the first, but which? He didn't really know anything about them. His friend tried to explain, but he was never the best communicator.

Ray ran his hand over all 5 pieces in delusional hope that one would jump up and volunteer. This whole endeavor had taken years off his life. His blood always felt cold now, and his muscles were sore from constant tension. Between the stress and his painting, he slept maybe 2 or 3 hours a day without schedule. By this point, he had developed a severe case of narcolepsy. For the past few days, after he almost fell asleep while painting, he had confined himself to his room. More so than usual, that is. He wanted to reach out for help, but he was all alone in this. He had to solve his own problems and suffer in silence. No one would be there to hold his hand, not until this was over. He settled on one of the five pieces; the largest. Best to get it out of the way first. The party wasn't for a few more hours, so the contraband would have to wait a while longer for freedom, but now he had one less decision to worry about.

When he got up, Ray noticed his heart was beating harder, and the sudden rush of blood made him light headed. He took a deep breath, but that only made his fingertips buzz. He needed to relax. A swim might've helped, but he just couldn't bring himself to leave his room. There was an obvious answer, one only he knew about, except it always left him feeling a little disappointed in himself. Then again, it wasn't worse than anything he'd done already. He walked to his window, opened it wide, and reached under the chair next to it, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a cheap gas station lighter. Even though it had been over a month since he bought it, the pack was only half empty. He didn't really get the appeal, because all it did was make his tongue feel weird and dry. There was only one thing he liked about the habit; it brought back the memory of him. The memory of that night. Of the bed, and the couch, and the morning after. He took one in his mouth and lit it, cupping the flame against the breeze, and watched the smoke trail up into the air.

**********************

It's happened again. I'm tired, but I can't sleep. There's a weight in my chest holding me down, keeping me awake. I need to do something. So I get up, slip into my clothes, and go for a smoke. I close my ancient, heavy wooden door and walk down the narrow steps that lead out to the street. Keqing Wu is sitting on the metal bench outside of the shop. Her face is hidden in shadow, but I couldn't mistake that lavender stripe in her dark hair. It's the dead of night, why is she here?

"Good evening, Keqing," I say.

"Hello, Chad," she replies, staring into the road.

I take a seat next to her, and notice that she is better dressed than usual. As she lifts her head, I see that she's wearing more makeup than usual, too. She really is very pretty, even in the dim glow of the streetlamps, but tonight she had done everything she could to accentuate her best features. No, wait. There's something off. Tiny mistakes, things you would only miss if you were in a hurry. I don't know why I noticed those mistakes, but there was a new picture being painted.

"Are we waiting for someone?" I ask.

"Why else would I be here?" Her tone is somewhat clipped, but then she sighs and sags a little, "I'm waiting for my Uber to Anna's house."

"Are you visiting Anna, or her brother?"

Keqing wraps her arms around herself and says nothing. Anna has been her friend since primary school, but recently she has been more interested in Anna's brother. It's the kind of drama I never cared for, but the Wus are the closest thing I had to family, and it's hard not to care about family.

She lets her arms relax as she tells me, "Anna's visiting family in the countryside. Her parents are with her, too."

"But not her brother?" I ask.

Keqing shakes her head, "His boss wouldn't give him the time off. He's home alone."

It makes me sad to see her like this. They've been hiding their relationship from their families, but secrets have weight to them. I know that weight all too well, and you can only carry so much.

I take out a cigarette as we talk, "Did he call you over?"

Keqing closes her eyes, "No, I asked to come. I had a row with my parents again. I told them I was spending the night at Anna's."

I light the cigarette and shrug, "Not a lie, technically."

Keqing laughs, "Yeah, I guess it's not," then she holds out two fingers, expecting a cigarette from me, "And what about you? You don't normally smoke this late."

"And you would know," I say, passing her the lighter.

She shrugs, "I never hear you come down the stairs at night."

Good. In truth, I've done a lot of work at night, but she doesn't need to know that.

"No reason. Just felt like having a smoke is all."

"Liar," she says with a big grin, "It's that man, isn't it? You can't stop thinking about him."

I lean forward, resting my arms on my knees, "Does it matter?"

"It does!" Keqing says defensively, "It's love, no matter how much you pretend it isn't."

"It's sex. It was good and I hadn't had any in a while, that's all. Besides, even if it was love, what could I possibly give him?"

"Good sex, apparently," She scoffs as she takes another drag, "I wouldn't know what else. You never told us about him."

I hadn't, had I? I lean back, trying to think how best to describe him.

"He's rich," I say.

"Is he? That's a surprise".

"Oi, what's that supposed to mean?"

She giggles. I guess she has a point. I don't exactly live in excess, but I was wearing that suit when we met. Did he think I always dressed like that?

"How do you know he's rich?" Keqing asks.

"You should've seen the suite he was staying in. Everything was high class. The bed, especially. The softest sheets I've ever felt."

"Of course you remember the bed. So, what did he look like?"

"Oh, well... he's a bit younger than me."

"Yeah? How young?"

"I, uh, couldn't say, really. Maybe a couple years or so," I tell her as I rub my neck.

That was a lie, of course, but if she knew the truth I wouldn't hear the end of it.

"He's fit. He looks like... a swimmer, I suppose. I might be biased, though. I saw him swim; he's very good."

Keqing tilts her head and asks, "And that's all you remember? A rich, young swimmer?"

Of course not. I remember everything. From the profile I was given, I knew more about him than his own family likely did. That was just data, though. Height, weight, diet, those sorts of things. There was more to him than that. A lot more.

I remember his softness, his warmth. I remember how his chestnut hair felt like coarse fur. I remember how his eyes would grow wide whenever his heart beat fast. I remember the tremble in his pink lips whenever we kissed. Every time I close my eyes, I see him. I see him laying naked on the bed. I see him stare into my eyes. I see him asleep in my arms. But I also see him at the other end of my gun, begging for his life. Is that why I'm awake? I don't want to see him?

"He... I don't remember much else, truth be told..."

Keqing pouts, "Chad, stop it. Just admit how you feel."

"And then? I can't call him. I don't know where he lives or where to find him. He's gone, end of story. There's nothing I can do about it."

"Have you tried?" Keqing asks.

I don't answer. I'm silent. So is she. The conversation is over. A car arrives, and she waves goodbye as she climbs inside. I wave back, then watch the car drive away. It's getting cold.

I go inside, take off my clothes, and climb into bed. For some time I just lay there, considering everything I've ever done and why, of all things, I can't seem to overcome this. I still can't sleep. I sit up, and in the light coming through my window, I see my couch. Something comes over me. A feeling, or an instinct. It wouldn't hurt to try. I grab my blanket and a pillow and lay down. It's small, but for a moment I feel a memory pass through my body, and suddenly I'm tired. I let my eyes close, and fall asleep.

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEEEEEEP*

My mobile. That's my mobile. I open my eyes. It's morning, and I'm not tired. I slept well. Was it because of the couch? I get up, walk to my table, and pick up my mobile. A message? I don't know the number, but I know what it is. It's the same thing, the only thing, I ever get a message for. A new job. A new target.

**********************

The party was in full swing. Well, as full swing as retirement parties could get. An old movie on the tv, and wine and cake on the table. Cakes, actually, and not cheap ones. It was strange; Ray spent so many years inside the manor, and yet there were so many faces he didn't recognize. Were they all staff, or...? It didn't matter. Whoever they were, they would be another witness to his alibi, and that was good enough for him.

Ray weaved through the crowd, looking for his dad. He was soap boxing his global unity rhetoric to a group of reluctant listeners. There were a lot of pained smiles in the group, but who could blame them? What were they going to do about global affairs? Dust off the guillotines? Ray didn't spend too much time there, just swinging in to distract his father and give the hostages time to escape. He said goodbye and searched for his next target. There was a DJ set up in the next room, and Ray found Duchess Ameila dancing with a number of other guests. When she noticed Ray, she broke away and came over to talk.

"Hello Ramone," She said, out of breath, "Enjoying the party?"

"Yeah I... Yeah. It's fun," he replied.

Amelia's face soured, "Ramone, have you been drinking?"

"Well just the wine and-"

"Don't lie to me, please. I can smell the liquor on your breath."

Ray sighed. He drank all through the first hour of the party, but even then it wasn't enough to calm him down.

Amelia took Ray's hand in both of hers, "Your father doesn't want you to drink alone anymore, and I agree. You're an adult and I am not your mother, I know, but he's still your father and he doesn't want to see you hurt yourself."

Ray pulled his hand free and stepped back, "I, uh... I was about to go lay down, actually." Amelia frowned, but Ray quickly added, "I was only drinking in the kitchen, I swear. There's nothing in my room."

Well, there was something, but it wasn't alcohol. Ray hadn't lied when he said he'd only been drinking in the kitchen. He needed some time away from it just to collect his thoughts and feel sane for a short while. After an attempt to get Ray to stay for a dance, Amelia let him go. Ray tried not to look like he was in a hurry, but his confidence, or residual intoxication, was beginning to wear off.

It felt like a blur, moving through the large, empty halls and up the stairs. Then he found himself in his closet, looking down at the open case. Suddenly, nothing made sense. It was getting harder to breathe and his heart wouldn't slow down. He started to panic, like he was seconds away from death again. He closed the case and stashed it away, unable to even look at it anymore. His stomach was in knots and his head was light. He opened the window to breathe in fresh air, and then he thought of him. He thought about that night they spent together, and how perfect it was. Everything he had done was just to have another night with him; to feel that perfect moment again. That was worth more than anything.

Ray walked quickly down the stairs and into the foyer, heading for the doors at a clip. He decided against changing his clothes; his designer suit and tie should be enough to impress him. He was almost to the door, but a voice made him stop.

"Ray?"

Ray turned on his heel with a forced smile and said cheerily, "Hi, Beatrice. What has you up at such a late hour?"

If anyone could act more suspicious, they deserved an academy award.

"Ray, it's only half past 6. I wouldn't exactly call that late," Beatrice replied, "And I've been at the party? The one that's been going on for the past four hours? Does any of this ring a bell?"

"Oh, yeah, right," Ray said, still smiling, "I... I must've forgot."

"You were here an hour ago, then you left, and now you're pretending that you were never here at all," Beatrice said, stepping closer, "Ray, is something wrong?"

"No!" He replied, maybe a little too quickly, "No, I was, uh... just stepping out for some air."

"Well... before you go, I want to say something to you," Beatrice's tone changed to something more sad, almost regretful, "Ramone, about that man, I just wanted to say that I'm very sorry he turned you away, but that was bound to happen. It's not your fault, it's just how those types of people are. You don't get to a position of power by having lots of love in your heart. You get there because you're driven, focused, and selfish. You care about yourself, and everyone else comes second. He was never going to love you; it isn't in his nature. And even if he did, then what? You'll follow him around to every conference he goes to in hopes he'll be in the mood? Do you really want to live as another man's dirty secret? It hurts, but it was for the best. You may not see that now, but you will in time, yeah?"

Ray was silent, the fake smile gone from his face.

"I get it, Beatrice. I should let him go," Ray said in a voice far too cold to be his own, "I'm going to get some air. I'll see you later."

Outside, Ray went to the tarp half-buried in the shade of a tree. He pulled it out and unwrapped the electric bicycle he had hidden a few days prior. It took him a second to figure out how it worked, but soon he was moving in total silence. He had a lot to think about as he pedaled up the road that ran along Kingfisher lake. He didn't want to think about anything, though. The road rose as it followed along the ridge around the lake, and as his speed dropped further and further, time began to slow. He could feel the nagging, doubtful thoughts pressing in on him, each trying to worm its way into his mind. He summoned his strength and picked up his speed, determined to outrun them.

Sooner than expected, he reached the shrouded dirt road that led into the grounds around the lake. He hopped the fence, leaving his bike behind, and walked until he was at the clearing on the edge of the cliff overlooking the lake. The glassy water reflected the setting sun's bright hues and wind blew the tiniest of waves across its surface. It was peaceful. If he died here, at least he'd die with a nice view. It wouldn't be long now until-

"Hello, Ramone."

**********************

"Hello, Chad," he says in reply, his back turned to me.

I tighten my grip on my pistol, still aiming for the back of his head, "I hoped to never see you again, but I suppose you can't always get what you want."

"But if you try some times?"

"£30,000 is a bit more than last time."

"What was it last time?"

"10,000."

"Huh. I guess I should feel insulted."

"This one came from someone else, but I'm sure you know who."

He gives a quiet chuckle before he takes out his mobile and taps the screen twice. There's a ping on mine a moment later.

"Figured as much," I say.

With two quiet clicks, my gun is uncocked and the safety is back on. I tuck it back into my waistband behind me, covering it with my shirt. He turns to speak, and his voice is just as soft as I remember.

"It was the only way to get you here," he says.

"A call wouldn't work, seeing as you have my name and number?"

"Would you have come otherwise?"

"... no."

"That's why, then."

A pause settles. It feels like we have nothing else to say to each other, yet I know that's not the truth. Did he really spend all that money just to see me again?

He turns to face the lake again, and just as I'm about to leave, he says, "You know, a lot of people die hiking in America."

"Same as in Europe, I would think," I reply, turning back around.

"Yeah, I know. Difference is we don't have castles and villages all over the place to find when you get lost."

"It's not likely here, either. We don't exactly build on every spot of land we see."

"Well you guys are famous for colonizing. America, Australia, India, Africa. There's a pattern."

"My mother was Congolese, so I don't count myself among the guilty."

"Are you from Africa?"

"Finish your story."

Another moment passes before he continues, "Woods are easy to get lost in, and in North America, there's a lot of animals that'll kill at the drop of a hat. Cougars, bobcats, grizzly bears, moose."

"Moose?"

He shrugs, "Yeah. They're a lot more dangerous than people give them credit for," then his arms rise to hold himself, and suddenly his words are ever so slightly choked, "If you die in the woods, you're usually eaten before anyone can find you..."

My blood turns to ice as I ask, "Why are you telling me all this?"

I see this throat move as he swallows hard, "I decided that it wouldn't be so bad to die in the woods. I'd prefer it over being killed on the streets or-"

"Enough!" I try not to yell, but I can't bear another word, "I won't kill you. You can't pay me to help in your suicide."

"I want... I want to give you a chance, Chad. I know your name now. I have your identity. You're not a ghost anymore. If you don't want that, well..." He gestures behind me, "I bought that bike brand new two days ago. No one knows about it, and they don't know I'm here. They all think I'm sleeping in my room or drinking in the kitchen. It's a very light model. The bike, I mean. With your strength, you could probably throw it pretty far into the lake. And as for me... This cliffside is pretty inaccessible. There's a lot of undergrowth, so if you just push me over-"

"Stop it!" This time I couldn't hold back, and the words reverberate through the empty air unbroken until I speak again, "I already told you I'm not going to kill you. I don't care that you know my name. I don't care if you know where I live or where to find me. Do what you like. Threaten me, torture me, burn my house down. I won't kill you, Ramone."

He smiles, and there's obvious relief in it.

"I feel a little overdressed now," he says with a nervous laugh.

I can't help but feel relief at the sound, but my mood doesn't lighten. If only he had let that night go. Now, he's a new problem in my life, and one I have no idea how to handle.

"Or I'm underdressed," I respond.

"Don't sell yourself short. You make that t-shirt look good."

"Thanks. Might I ask the occasion?"

With a deep breath, he says, "A date."

Everything falls away when I hear that. For a second, I feel my knees start to give, and I have to fight against the shock.

"I- I beg your pardon?"

He begins to walk towards me. It's slow, but I can't stop myself from putting one foot behind me. As he walks, he reaches under his suit in the back. Is he hiding something?

"I... I have a proposal for you," he tells me, staring deep into my eyes.

Is he... is he reaching for a ring? Is he really about to propose to me? After one night together? Wait, no. It's far too big. Far, far too big. Is that...? I recognize it. How could I not? In my worst nightmares, I'm gripping it tightly. He holds it out in both hands, and I take it without a word.

When I don't speak, he begins to say, "It's a-"

"The lower receiver to a Mark 2 SA80 British service rifle," I finish for him.

I know it by heart. It was my rifle, once, all those years ago. I thought I'd never be holding one again. I'm not sure I want to.

"I think this is when I should tell you it's, uh, how did he say it? It's converted to 22 caliber, or something like that," he explains.

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, well, I don't really know that much about rifles, but when I explained it to my buddy-"

"You told someone about me already?"

"No! I promised I didn't! It's just, well, he helped me smuggle it into the country so-"

"You did what?!"

"It's not- Well, it is, but- It's a long story. Look, my buddy explained that nato rounds, I think that's what they're called, those are hard to get in most countries, but pretty much every country will sell you.22s."

"Can't exactly pick those up at the shops," I say, silently trying to calm myself.

He mutters under his breath, "Well you can in America..."

I turn the receiver over in my hands. It's slightly off. There's a few differences, but nothing significant. If only he had the rest.

"I have the rest," he tells me, "And I'll give them to you, but..."

"But we have to go on a date."

"Five, actually. That's my proposal. We go on five dates, and each date I give you another part. You can quit whenever you want and you can say no to whatever I ask, but you have to go on all 5 dates to get them."

"Heh. A little much, don't you think? Did the thought ever occur to you that someone who kills for money might take you to dinner for some, too?"

"It did, but I don't think you're someone to kill just for the money."

I say nothing, still staring down at my memory. As I do, however, I see his hand reach out and touch mine. I look up, and see his soft eyes look lovingly at me.

"There's one more thing, Chad," he says, his voice turning to something gentle, yet deadly serious, "If I can get you to tell me you love me, you have to give up being an assassin, and we get rid of the gun all together."

I close my eyes and feel my muscles tighten then relax.

"So, it's a game, then," I say.

"I... I'm sorry. It's just that, well, I want to be with you, but... I couldn't follow you down that road. I want to know that you care about love, and that you'd be willing to settle down with me. I'm sorry if that's too forward, but I want you to know the truth. I don't want to follow you around in secret and pretend you and I don't exist. I want to have a relationship with you. I wanna go on dates and buy a dog and stupid shit like that. I want us to be together, and I don't want to hide it."

That's... that's too bad. If he had asked for something less attached... I don't have the luxury of settling down. Not anymore. But this game... if I get a rifle, my rifle, out of a couple dinners... It shouldn't be too hard.

**********************

"Alright, I accept," was his answer.

Did he... Oh my God. He really said it. It worked. It all worked! Ray had to fight to keep from squealing or jumping or doing something else that would make him look stupid. He felt like all the gravity in the world just disappeared, and the only thing tethering him to the ground was his desire to stay in this moment. He had no clue what to do next, and that was ok. So long as it was with him, he'd be happy.

"So..." Chad prompted, "Is this our date, or...?"

Ray shook himself back to reality. What were they going to do? He knew he thought of that beforehand. What was it again...?

"Yes," Ray said, then quickly corrected, "No. I mean, this is where the date begins, but it's not- just come with me."

Chad chuckled and followed Ray down the dirt road, slowly snaking along the cliff face until it flattened out to the shore around the lake.

"So, uh... this is it," Ray said with a twinge of embarrassment, "I thought, well, a walk on the beach, maybe? But then the whole 'you can kill me here' part wouldn't really work, because it wouldn't be secluded enough to-"

"It's lovely, Ramone," Chad said with a gentle smile.

When he held his hand out, Ray was hit with a wave of confusion and a little bit of fear. Did he want something? Did Ray forget something important? He tried to think of what he could've missed, only to come up with a million answers.

"Ramone?" Chad asked.

"Ye- Yeah?"

"Your hand?"

Ray looked down at his hand. Nothing seemed off about it. Maybe a little shaky, but that wasn't unusual in a situation like this, right? Before he could ask what was wrong, Chad reached out, grabbed it, and held it firmly in his. Ray's eyes went wide as he watched Chad interlock his fingers, completely in awe of the sight.

"I... I..." Ray struggled to find the words, yet they seemed so plainly obvious; I love you, and I never want to let you go again.

"We're on a date. You hold hands on a date," Chad said to the still entranced Ray, "It's practically required when a couple goes on a stroll. Especially when the view is this gorgeous. Ray? Oh, come off it, Ramone. We're just holding hands. It's not exactly the most intimate thing we've ever done."

Yet somehow it was. It was their first real moment as a couple. Or a "couple". Whatever it was, Ray would take it.

He was the one to lead Chad along the rocky beach at first, but he kept getting lost in fantasy and nearly walked into the lake multiple times. Luckily, Chad was there to pull him back to safety. After Ray stepped on a loose stone and twisted his ankle, Chad decided they should just sit and enjoy the setting sun for a while. They would have to leave soon, it would be too dark to get back safely in less than an hour. Still, there was enough time to skip stones.

Ray was never good at skipping stones, but with a little coaching, he managed to get a few good hops in. Chad was an old pro in comparison. He could find the flattest stones and make them fly along the water until they were almost out of sight. It takes a lot of time to get that good. How old was he, anyways? He looked maybe 10 years older, probably close to 40. It's funny; Ray never considered himself attracted to older men, but there was something about him. He was more... mature, maybe? Seasoned? Refined? It was hard to find a good word for it, but he just had that steady aspect to him. He made Ray feel secure, like he would catch him if he ever fell.

"Does it still hurt?"

Ray blinked at Chad's outstretched hand, not really understanding what he said until his senses came back.

"Yeah, yes. Wait, I meant no. I, uh, I think I'm good."

Chad helped him up, and once he was on his feet, Ray found himself staring deep into those hauntingly beautiful eyes. The final light of the day glinted off of them in a shimmer, making the sight all the more breathtaking. A heavenly moment, one where Ray felt all his work had actually made a change in his life, passed before Chad spoke again.

"We should be leaving. It's getting dark."

"Yeah, I... I guess we should..."

"Ramone?"

"Yes?"

"I just thought that, if you wanted to, maybe we could, uh, watch a film together? In my flat?"

"You want to... Yes! Yes, I'd love to!"

"And you're sure you don't need to go home first?"

"No, not really. No one knows I'm not in bed, like I said, so I'm good to stay out for a couple more hours."

"Well, if you're sure, then."

"I'm sure."

**********************

I shoulda cleaned up a bit. My dirty laundry is scattered around my bed, and my ash tray is out and half full. How was I to know he would be my guest? Or that I would have a guest at all? I don't think anyone else but the Wus have ever come to visit.

"Sorry about the mess," I tell him,"I wasn't expecting company."

He smiles and say, "No, no. It's ok, really."

He walks in, turning his head this way and that, trying to take in the scenery. Dirty wallpaper, stained carpet, grimy window. Not exactly a sunset. I try to pile my clothes in the corner and I take the ashtray with me to the kitchen.

"Cuppa?" I ask, already pulling two mugs down after stashing my pistol behind the pots and pans.

"No, thank you."

I put the kettle on, grab the tea bags, put the-, wait. Did he say no?

"Did you say no?"

He laughs, "I'm not really into tea".

I let my hands fall onto the counter, "How long have you lived here?"

"Almost half my life."

"And you don't drink tea?"

He laughs again,"It's just flavored water, really."

I feel... almost offended at that.

"So what would you like to drink? Beer?"

"Just water, please. I've been drinking a lot lately."

"So you'll drink water, but not tea?"

He laughs even more, "Ok, ok. I'll have some damn tea. You have chamomile?"

10 minutes later and we're on the couch, mugs in hand, watching a film I dug out from my collection of DVDs. He was impressed I still had them, but I don't see the point in paying a subscription for movies I already own. A View to a Kill. My favorite Bond film.

"Who that?" He asks.

"The one playing James Bond?"

"Yeah."

"Roger Moore. He might not be the best Bond, but he's a brilliant actor."

"Oh, right. He played Bond, too. Sorry, I only ever watched Skyfall."

"Seriously? Not even Casino Royale?"

"No. I didn't really watch a lot of movies growing up."

"Oh... Well, uh, if you're not enjoying this, we could-"

"It's fine, really. It's a good movie. It's weird to see Christopher Walken so young, though."

I smile and lay back. Everything had happened so fast. I never wanted to see him again, but I regret ever thinking that, now. These dates might be a good thing for me. Help me to get over him. Or it might make things worse. 5 dates. Well, 4 dates now. All I needed to do was not say "I love you" to him. Easy enough, given that's the truth. The truth...

"You're ankle," I say, "You're not putting weight on it."

"Oh, yeah. It still hurts a little."

"You should keep it off the ground. You can lie down if you want."

"There's not a whole lot of space on this couch to lay down on."

".... You could rest your head on my lap. You should have enough room then."

That was bold, Chad. Really bold. Somehow, you're managing to muck up the easiest date in the world.

He gives me a look, not a smile or a glare, just a look, then his eyes fall to my lap as he says, "Yeah. Yeah, ok."

He draws in his knees then stretches them to the side. He starts to tilt, moving slowly so as to not fall, and comes to rest on my thighs. He's warm, and the weight feels... it doesn't quite make sense, but it feels like it's supposed to be there. I want to hold his hand, stroke his hair, but I'm not sure if he would like that. I was a bit forceful when I took his hand at the lake; I don't want him to feel overwhelmed. What he told me at the cliff... I'm scared that he might not be entirely stable. Maybe it'd be best if I ask him to stay the night. I'm not sure how he'll react to being alone after such a- wait. Why am I fussing over him? He's a grown man who can take care of himself. And if he is mentally unstable, then I should keep him as far away as possible. But I guess it's too late for that now.

I hadn't noticed at first, but he has his hand on my knee, and he started to rub and squeeze every so often. It feels nice. Without thinking, I let out a low, relaxed sigh.

He stops with a meek, "Sorry."

"No, it's alright. It's, well, to tell the truth, it felt good."

"Did it?"

"I've been a bit sore lately, so I appreciate the massage," I say as I smile down at him, and he looks up at me with a soft stare.

"... Are all your muscles sore?" He asks.

My eyes go wide. He wasn't- no, he wouldn't...

Hesitantly, I reply, "Not... not all of them. Just a few; mostly my legs."

"I wouldn't mind giving you a massage, but... would it be okay if it was... full body?"

"You want-... a full-... I... don't think that's, well, necessary..."

He sighs, "I- I know it sounds creepy, but I just... I want to make you feel good. It feels like the least I can do. I'm not a masseuse or anything, but if it's just, like, the simple kind of massage, I'm sure I could manage it."

No. I couldn't possibly ask-... but he wants to, for my sake. I'm being an idiot. I should just say yes, take the free massage, and stop overthinking this.

"If that's what you would like...," I manage to say, though the words make my heart unsteady.

He stands up, takes my hand, and leads me to my own bed, giving me just enough time to turn down the telly. I'm worried about the smell, and try to remember when I last washed my sheets, but he suggests taking off the blanket and laying out a towel. I rummage around until I find a beach towel big enough for me to fit on. We stand on opposite sides for an awkward moment, both silently waiting for the other to move. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, then lets it out.

First, he slips out of his jacket, then his shirt comes off, exposing the lean, fit body underneath. Somehow, he's even more stunning than I remember. His body is like a model's; smooth skin with a trail of body hair tapering from his pectorals down his abs, past his navel, and following his perfectly defined Adonis V into his trousers. I knew what was underneath, he kept it shaved and smooth as well, but the trail made the thought of seeing it again all that more alluring. I'm completely transfixed by it, until he climbs on my bed, kneeling and looking expectant. There's something so erotic about his submissiveness in that pose, but it feels wrong just to think of him in that way. It takes me a moment to start undressing. So many thoughts are passing through my head. I want to give in to my primal lust, jump on him, tear off his clothes, and take him. I want to hear him moan louder than our night together in the castle. But I can't. There's an unending list of things I want to do to him, but the last thing I want is to hurt him.

I pull off my shirt and throw it on the pile. I look at him and see he's blushing. It's too adorable not to smile, but I manage to suppress a laugh. My smile fades as I consider what to do next. Would this be enough? He said full body, but did he really mean it? I look at him again, and his eyes are practically glimmering with desire. I reach down, unbutton my trousers, and let them fall to the floor. I see his breathing getting faster as I pull off my socks and reach for my pants. His excitement is infectious, and I have to distract my mind to keep it down. Football matches, cold tea, bad traffic. I stick my thumbs in my waistband and push down until I feel them fall away. His eyes are wide and his lips are wet. He's like an animal. I suppose I wasn't the only one fighting my primal urges.

"How would you... how would you like to do this?" I ask, still feeling awkward and now more restless than before.

He blinks a few times and shakes his head, "Just, uh, just lay on your, uh, stomach, please."

"Alright," I say, somewhat thankful I get to cover myself up again.

As I'm lying down, I can't help but tense. Where would he start? What was he planning to do? He was nondescript when he said he wanted to massage me. When he touches my feet, I flinch, half from surprise and half from natural reaction. Thankfully, I was able to stop myself from kicking his hand away. He presses his thumb into the arches and makes slow circles. Christ, that feels good. I can feel my whole body relax for the first time in months. After some time, he moves on. Now he massages my calves. He doesn't really seem to know how, but he does his best. He comes to my thighs, and his touch excites me again. Football, tea, traffic. My whole body tingles, making distracting myself nearly impossible. After a while, I feel his fingers trail along my spine and to my neck. He straddles my back to more easily rub my shoulders. It's the best part so far, and I feel myself melt as I unconsciously sigh. He keeps going, loosening the ancient knots in my muscles. Then he stops, and I feel him get off me. Was he finished? Maybe I could convince him to rub my shoulders for a bit longer.

"Can you, uh, flip over for me, please?" He asks, "I want to do your sides and, uh, chest."

"Oh, right. Full body," I say as I reposition myself.

When I do, I see him above me, looking shaken. Is he nervous? Should I say something?

"You're doing a really good job, Ramone," I tell him, but that only seems to make him more red.

I lay my head back and close my eyes. I feel his hands touch my chest and begin to press and roll. It makes my legs feel shaky, and once again I'm forced to recite my mantra. Football, tea, traffic. Football, tea, traffic. It's not working. Football, tea, traffic. Football, tea, traffic. I try again and again, but nothing is keeping me from rising as he slowly moves his hands lower and lower. Football, tea, traffic. Football, tea, traffic. Football, tea-.

"OI!" I shout as I bolt upright.

I lean forward to see Ray holding up his hands and apologizing profusely.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He says over and over.

"Did you... did you lick my stomach just now?"

I reach down, and I feel a spot of wet saliva near my navel.

"I'm sorry! I just- I let my intrusive thoughts win. I mean, it was right there, and I wanted to so badly and-"

I hold up my hand, "It's... it's alright. I just... wasn't expecting it."

"We can stop if-"

"No, no. If that's where you want the night to go, then all I ask is... I want to kiss you first."

My tongue buzzes uncontrollably as the words leave my mouth. Still looking embarrassed, he crawls closer, leans in, and our lips meet. It's perfect. There's no better way to describe the feeling. I lay my head back, and he follows, our lips still locked in bliss. I don't bother with the mantra anymore; it's too late now. I'm fully erect, and it feels so good. He reaches down and begins to stroke my throbbing cock. His hand is soft and warm. The speed is almost unbearably slow, but the torture is a sort of pleasure of it own.

He draws away, and I watch him move around me. He lifts my legs, resting them on his shoulders, and leans in again. He runs his tongue from between my legs all the up to the tip of my shaft. The sensation sends a high voltage shock through my entire body that leaves me weak. He doesn't stop, licking and sucking until my groin is slick and damp. Then he wraps his lips over the head and tongues it. My toes curl and my fingers clench. The pure ecstasy is making my body tense with the anticipation of release. His head bobs down, reaching all the way to the base and pausing there before coming back up to repeat. I can feel his throat squeeze around it every time he goes down. It's too much to fight against. After countless moans, my hand reacts on its own. It forces his head all the way down and holds him there as I finish down his throat. My mind turns off to fully enjoy this feeling of unloading my pent-up seed, until I eventually realize what I am doing and let go. He comes up gasping, wiping semen from the corner of his mouth.

"Oh my God. I'm- I'm so sorry Ray, I don't know what I was thinking," I say as I help him out from between my legs.

"It's ok," He replies with a smile, "It was kinda hot, actually. Just do me a favor and eat more pineapple, ok?"

I tilt my head. What did any of this have to do with pineapple?

He looks down at it again,"You're still hard."

"I- I am, and you weren't able to finish, were you?"

"Do you... want to keep going?"

He reaches out to brush his hand against my stomach. I can barely contain the urge to- wait. Why am I holding back? I don't have to anymore. I pull him onto the bed, catching him off guard. With little pause, I pull off his pants to see he is also hard and twitching. How could he not be? The smell of sex turns the very air around us into an aphrodisiac. The merging of heat and pleasure makes my head burn and my mouth water.

"In- in my pants," Ray says, pointing towards the discarded trousers.

I feel the pockets until I touch something solid and cylindrical. I pull it out, and in my hand is a tiny bottle shaped and decorated like a bullet.

He says, nervously, "I thought it would be, you know, fitting? But in, like, a funny, ironic way?"

Ray looks flustered and his cheeks turn rosie. It's so cute when they do that.

I don't say anything, I'm done with words. I lift his legs and rest them on my shoulders before sliding two lubed fingers in between. I feel along his silky skin until I find the hole. He tenses for a moment in reaction to the coolness of the lube, but relaxes again. Carefully, slowly, I slide my fingers inside. It's warm and squishy and tight. When I find his sensitive spot, he squirms. I make gentle motions, at first simply to loosen him, but I get distracted playing with his g-spot and watching him stifle his moans. He's so damn adorable; so soft and sensitive. When I can't hold back any longer, I lean in and forcefully slide inside. He lets out a little squeak of a whimper.

Some sadistic part of me forces me to say,"Tell me you want it."

"I need it," he moans, "I need you to fuck me. I need your cock to fuck me."

I feel a fire roar inside me, driving me to thrust my hips. I can't control myself. I'm fucking him harder and faster than I had before. Than I ever have with anybody else. He feels so good; better than I remember. I pull him off the bed, now carrying him on my arms. With my legs, hips, and arms, I bounce him along my hungry rod with more and more force. Gravity pushes him straight down to the base, pushing me deep inside. The deeper I go, the more his body seems to want to pull me in. He's so greedy, squeezed my penis as it pushes its way through.

He wraps his legs around me and screams,"OH! OH FUCK! HARDER! FUCK ME HARDER!"

Suddenly, I remember I have neighbors. I can't put a hand over his mouth, so I use my lips instead. The raging fire inside me becomes an all consuming inferno as soon as they touch. I feel something warm and sticky spray onto my chest, and I have barely enough time to turn and fall onto my bed before my legs give out as I finish inside him. I pump more cum out than I thought was still possible for someone my age, and it takes some time before the kiss ends and he rolls onto his side, exhausted. There is a different kind of pleasure, now. A feeling of pure happiness fill my chest when I turn my head and see him laying next to me, and I suddenly realize that this game will be far harder than I could have imagined.

**********************

The world seemed lighter the next morning. It felt like 100 years had passed since that long period of stress and planning, all just to see Chad again. He just wished they put the bedding back on before the passed out. Ray rolled over to see his lover, his dark chest rising and falling with every breath, and smiled. He snored when he slept on his back, and it was pretty loud, but nobody's perfect. It wouldn't even matter if he wore him out like last-... oh no. No no no no no no no! Ray looked for anything to tell the time. On the nightstand, a digital alarm clock, the time was...

"9! It's 9?!" he shouted.

Chad groaned and stirred at the noise, and Ray quickly slapped his hands over his mouth. Chad began to snore again, and Ray let out a sigh of relief.

He didn't have time to waste. He had to get back home before they started searching his room. A wave of regret and sadness hit him when he realized he'd have to leave. There was something about this flat that felt so inviting; something that made it feel like a home and not an exhibit. For one, it smelled, mostly like cigarettes, but there was a layer of must in there, too. It didn't really matter what it smelled like, it was the fact that it smelled at all that was so comforting. In the manor, the maids used some kind of expensive deodorizer that kept everything smelling like, well, like nothing. He secretly hoped that some of the smell would get into his clothes so he could take it home. Chad's flat was messy, but that felt more natural than his constantly spotless bedroom. Having your belongings constantly cleaned for you took away the feeling of autonomy and privacy, but this place, with all its disorder, felt like a nest. Like a home built piece by piece to make something you wanted to return to. Most importantly, he was here. Their time, for now, was up, but if nothing else happened, Ray could die happy.

If nothing else happened... Shit! He got sidetracked again! He got off the bed as softly as he could, then started to search for his clothes. His shirt was about where he remembered it, but his jacket? And his socks and underwear? It was too dim to see anything, but turning on a light would wake Chad up. He found his pants but- dammit! It was already half-past! Pants, shirt, shoes. At least he wouldn't be arrested. He ordered a ride share and rushed out the door, pants unzipped and shoes untied. He turned the corner to the narrow flight of stairs and barely managed to avoid a high-speed collision with a young woman.

He quickly said "Sorry! Sorry!" before picking up speed again and bursting out onto the sidewalk in front of the tiny bodega.