by Rowan Shaw
"Don't come back to me when he dumps you. I won't take you back, no matter how good of a fuck you are."
I could always trust him to reduce me to the level of a sex toy.
I yanked my wrist away. "Don't you get it? When I'm with him, he brings me back to life. When I was with you, I wanted to die. When you left, I thought I was depressed because you were gone. But then I realized it was because I had to get over the trauma you forced upon me. I wasn't well even when you were there. You've been nothing but poison to me. You told me no one would want someone with my baggage. Well, Florian does! He accepts me as I am, deaf and all. So leave me alone! I'm not kidding this time, Cyrille. I don't need you."
I grabbed my umbrella, put on my jacket, and walked out, feeling better than I had in a while. Granted, Florian and I were on pause, and Florian didn't seem willing to see me right now, but that didn't change how I felt about Cyrille. I was done with him. A weight lifted off my shoulders as I stepped under the pouring rain. I didn't bother opening my umbrella. The cold drops felt good on my face, pouring in my hair, drenching me.
I walked all the way back to my building. By the time I reached the neighborhood, I was soaking wet. I turned the corner of the street and froze in my tracks. Florian was waiting outside in the rain. He was as wet as I was, if not more.
When he saw me, he flashed a broad smile. In spite of everything, his beaming grin shone, pushing all my clouds away. He ran to me as if he meant to pull me into his arms, but he stopped when he caught up to me. He hesitated, so I grabbed his waist and crushed him against my chest. He cupped my cheeks and pressed his forehead against mine. He didn't need to talk. The sorrow and regret in his deep blue eyes were all the words I needed.
Florian leaned into me tentatively and dropped a kiss on my lips. When I didn't push him away, his kiss grew, his tongue seeking mine in endless strokes. His mouth was warm against the cold drops as he kissed me desperately. I clutched the front of his jacket, unwilling to let go.
"I am so sorry," he signed when he pulled back. "I am such a jerk and an idiot. And I am so sorry."
I gave a tiny smile and jerked my chin toward the building. "Let's go inside. We might catch death out here in the rain."
Chapter 49
FLORIAN
Enzo's apartment hadn't changed since the last time I'd been here, except for one small detail: a framed picture of us resting on the table next to his couch. It wasn't a recent picture of us, either. It was us back when we were teenagers. We were in his room, laughing because most of our attempts were out of frame. It was the first time he'd invited me to his parents' house, the first time I'd spent the night there, the first time he'd asked me if I wanted to move past first base.
"Let me get us some towels," he signed when he caught me smiling at the memory. He left and returned quickly with white towels as well as two shirts. "I doubt it'll fit you. You're larger than me. But you need to get dry."
My pants were soaked as well, but I didn't want to make him uncomfortable by stripping down to my briefs. I watched as he took off his jacket, then his sweater and undershirt. I had promised myself not to go there. Not yet at least. If only my body could stop craving him so damn much.
Enzo sure wasn't making things easy for me either. He was looking back at me, running his eyes all over my body when I undressed, staring in a way that made my dick twitch under his hungry gaze.
"You're so beautiful," he signed with a tiny smile. If only he knew how fucking gorgeous he was too. I should have told him that, but I wanted to fix things first. Flirting wasn't the best idea right now. Not when all I could think about was burying myself deep inside him.
I slid into his t-shirt that was a bit too tight around my chest.
"Patrick told me you were seeing Cyrille," I signed, then finished drying my hair.
"I saw him today, yes." He must have caught on to my cringe because he added quickly, "It's not what you think. I went to ask him to leave me alone."
I shot him a side glance, dropping the towel on his coffee table. "You did?"
Enzo nodded and raised his index finger. "Give me a minute."
He disappeared out the door. When he came back, he was toying with the processor on the shell of his ear. "Are you still trying to figure things out?" he asked.
I shook my head and signed, "No, I've figured it out."
"You can talk, you know. I can hear you."
"You didn't have to do that."
"I know. That's exactly why I did." He sat on the couch, then patted the spot next to him. I hesitated before joining him and grabbing his hand. "I want to be with you. If you'll have me," he said.
I ran my fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face, then traced the long, beautiful scar carved into his left cheek and leaned forward to pepper kisses all over it. He had no idea how stunning that scar was, how it told of his strength and his humanity. I loved him so much for it. Something I'd never told him.
"I want you and no one else," I mouthed, looking him in the eyes. "I'm sorry I screwed things up between us. How can I make it up to you?"
He licked his bottom lip. "Don't leave me again, for starters. And don't be so scared all the time. I'm not going to hide and live like a hermit just because I'm queer."
I nodded at that, even though thinking about him out there wandering the world twisted my guts with fear. It was an irrational reaction I had and couldn't control. I knew that. It was my problem to work on, not his.
"The world is never safe for anyone. You just need to accept that I can't remain cooped up here just because you're scared of losing me. I know what happened to your business was terrible, but I believe in you. You can make it and rise above."
I wasn't so sure about that, but I nodded anyway. "Anything else I need to do?"
"Yes. Make love to me."
I arched a brow. "Now?"
"Yes, now."
"Here?"
"Yes, here."
"On the couch?"
"Yes, on the couch." Enzo's dark brown eyes shone wickedly. "Think about that next time you go to another couple's house. There is one hundred percent chance they had sex on the couch."
"Are you sure about your statistics?"
"I don't know, but I'm sticking to my belief. I want to be one of those couples. I want a couch where I had sex too."
I laughed against him and pulled him into a kiss. He welcomed my tongue in his mouth and tugged at my shirt while pulling me on top of him as he lay down.
I took him missionary style on the couch first, then standing against his dining room table before penetrating him in a spoon on his bed. My last orgasm exploded inside me like fireworks, nearly blinding me. Enzo let out a shout as he shook in my arms, reaching his peak. I brushed kisses over the soft skin of his shoulders, hoping to stay like this all night, but then I made the mistake of looking at the clock.
"Shit!"
I pulled out of him slowly and yanked the rubber off.
"What's wrong?"
"It's six already. I'm supposed to meet someone at the LGBT Center in an hour. I need to shower. I reek of sex."
"You're welcome," he laughed.
I shook my head at him. He was in a mood alright.
"Wanna shower with me?"
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," he signed.
"Why not?"
He sent me a pointed look. "Why do you think?"
I ran my tongue over my mouth and gave him a peck on the lips. "No fooling around in the shower. I'll blow you out of your mind when I'm back from the Center. How about that?"
Chapter 50
ENZO
Florian seemed elated about the fundraiser when we went to the Center together. I could tell he was concerned about bringing more exposure to himself, but at this point, it could only be good for him. I was upset to hear his business was still doing poorly.
The goal of the fundraiser was to trigger enough outrage among our allies that they would want to help. It wasn't just about Florian. I
t was about our entire community and all the times we'd been discriminated against, all the times we took slurs without a word, and all the times we were attacked, our lives left in ruins. It didn't matter that there were laws against prejudice; it was still too easy to discriminate against us. It was time to expose the truth.
I was exhausted from spending the night with him. How he had the energy to go to work this morning after a night of rough sex, I wasn't sure. I was cramping all over, and I knew he had to feel the same. I hadn't gone easy on him.
I stretched my arms in a yawn, about to slip on a clean t-shirt when my phone lit up.
Florian: I forgot to ask you if you wanted to join me on a trip.
Me: A trip? Where?
Florian: Paris. Raphaël invited me.
My stomach clenched. I hadn't seen Raphaël in years. I wasn't sure how I'd feel watching him interact with Florian. A hint of jealousy poked at me. I was being ridiculous, obviously. I knew that. But I couldn't control the unease. I wasn't going to let that deter me, though.
Me: When?
Florian: Next week.
Me: It's a bit late to buy train tickets. They get so expensive when you don't plan ahead.
Florian: I won't go if you're not going. It's something I want to share with you. I'm reluctant to take the time off 'cause of everything going on here.
Great! Now it was on me to make sure Florian took some vacation and had a good time. It only took me a second to respond.
Me: Sure, I'll go. Tell me when you want to buy the tickets. We'll go together.
Florian: I already took care of that. I did it before I asked you. I bought them online while you were sleeping.
I stared at the screen. Why was he only asking me now, then?
Florian: If you'd said no, I would have returned the tickets.
Me: How much was it? I can write you a check.
Florian: Nope. My treat.
I couldn't accept that. He had enough trouble financing his business as it was. But I knew he'd be vexed if I refused or insisted to pay.
Me: I don't know.
Florian: Take it as that one birthday present I've owed you since you turned eighteen.
I laughed. I couldn't believe he still remembered how mad I was that he'd forgotten my birthday all those years ago.
Me: It's not my birthday.
Florian: Doesn't matter. Now you can't be mad at me anymore. We can finally move on.
I shook my head when someone knocked on my door. I dropped the phone on the couch and went to open it, finding Patrick standing in the hallway.
"Why are you giggling to yourself?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
"I'm not giggling. I never giggle."
"Oh please, you do too. And you snort as well." He pushed past me without an invitation and headed straight to my living room. "So what's going on?"
He sat in my armchair while I grabbed my phone and texted Florian back.
Me: Fine, I'll go with you.
I was beaming. "I'm going to Paris."
Patrick scrunched his face at me. "Why?"
Well, he sure was in a foul mood today. Whatever made him so cranky?
"It's called going on a vacation. You should try it. You look like you haven't slept in days."
He sighed dramatically. "That would be because I put myself in a situation, and I don't know how to get out of it."
"What situation?"
"Can't give you the details." He flicked his hand around vaguely. "Let's just say I fucked the wrong guy, and now I'm screwed."
"What do you mean?" I hated it when he used cryptic talk. He always did that when— "Nooooo!" I exclaimed.
"What?"
"You had sex with a client?" I shouted, my eyes bulging.
Patrick's lack of response confirmed my suspicions.
"Isn't that against the rules?"
He scratched the back of his head. "It's complicated. I don't wanna talk about it. So why are you going to Paris all of a sudden? And why didn't you tell me? I would have come with you. I need out of this dump!"
"Florian invited me." I raised my chin. "And I know you went to see him behind my back. That would be good enough reason for me to kick you out, but you did me a favor, so I'm willing to let it slide."
"Well, well, well. I sure hope he gave you good head after being such a jackass."
I rolled my eyes.
"No need to be sassy," he laughed. "I can tell you got laid last night, mon lapin. You have that glow about you."
"Stop being so corny." I tried to hide a grin and failed.
"So why are you guys going to Paris? Is fucking in Paris better than fucking in Nancy? Is it some kind of honeymoon? You two tied the knot behind my back?"
I shook my head. "I can always count on you to bring up sex in every conversation."
He truly was impossible.
"Life is all about sex, mon poussin. You should know that by now. And discussing sex is part of my job, too."
"Well, you're not at work, and I'm not your client."
"So why Paris? Is he gonna propose?"
"Gay men have to go to Paris to propose now?" I asked, making fun of him. When he looked at me pointedly, I replied, "Raphaël invited him to visit."
Patrick stopped moving and stared at me. "Raphaël as in threesome Raphaël? That Raphaël?"
I groaned. I truly regretted telling him about that.
He huffed and leaned back on the couch. "Well, that should be an interesting trip."
Chapter 51
FLORIAN
I had to acknowledge that taking a week off would do me some good. Things couldn't get any worse anyway. My services were at an all-times low. I had planned everything in advance for my trip. Héloïse and Johan would take the few tours already organized for this week, and when I came back—if they were still willing to work for me—I would try and rebuild everything or start anew. The fundraiser wasn't for another month; my business had time to rot and burn by then.
I took one last look at my office, with the planner wide open on the desk and everything stashed neatly just the way I liked it, when the phone rang, startling me. I was reluctant to answer, but if I could add a customer to a tour, I would. In two steps, I reached the receiver and picked it up.
"You've reached—"
"Florian, is that you?"
My heart skipped a beat. The female voice on the other side of the line froze me to my core. I hadn't heard that high-pitched tone in years, but it still haunted my nightmares to this day.
"Florian?"
"Maman, is that you?"
I hoped I was mistaken. For the first time since my parents kicked me out, I truly hoped they hadn't tracked me down. Thinking of them rejecting me again was too painful; I preferred to cut that umbilical cord once and for all. I didn't need to hear how wrong and twisted I was again.
"Is this a good time to talk?" she asked.
No, it really wasn't.
I was surprised she even bothered asking. Her time always prevailed over mine, even when I was a kid.
"Yes," I replied reluctantly, then put her on speakerphone so I could finish getting ready to leave while she said whatever she had to say.
"Your father and I saw you on the news. We wanted to make sure you were okay."
"Really? After all these years?" The words snapped out of my mouth before I could stop them.
My mother sighed. "We waited for you. All those years. We were hoping you'd change your mind and come back to us."
Oh, so me ending up on the streets was my own choice now?
"Can you tell me why you're calling, exactly?"
"Your father is running for mayor of the village, and—"
"Congratulations!" I answered sarcastically. Like I gave a fuck!
My parents and their politics... Everything revolved around the constant gossip spreading around their tiny village. After all, wasn't that the reason why they had kicked me out? Because it was too shameful to be an object of discussion among our neighbo
rs?
"He hasn't won yet," she cut me off. "And now, we're not even sure he'll win."
"Okay, how does that concern me?" I didn't have time for this. Enzo was about to pick me up any minute now. The last thing I wanted was him involved in a phone call with my estranged mother.
"Many people in the village are talking about you. They've been asking where you've been all those years. It's been hard to keep a straight front. Originally, we said you were at school far away, but over the years, people started wondering why they never saw you come home anymore."
I didn't see how that was any of my concern.
"Look, maman, I don't really have t—"
"Your speech on TV might cost your dad the election. I wanted to make sure you didn't have any more surprises like that up your sleeves."
I leaned over my desk, my fists balled on top of its hard wood. So that was why she was calling? To let me know I was still a disappointment. As if I wasn't aware of that already.
"What happened to me was pretty bad, maman. I'm sorry if it's affecting your life, but I'm sure even you can understand my situation is worse than Dad's right now."
I heard a noise outside my door, but I was too frustrated to process everything at once or pay attention.
"Your dad told you all those years ago, mon chéri. This is the life meant for queers. You should know that by now. I just wish your choices wouldn't interfere with our lives anymore."
I clenched my jaw hard and banged my fist against my desk, losing control.
"My choices?" I raised my voice. "And what choices are those, maman? To get kicked out at eighteen? To go so hungry I felt faint and wasn't sure I was going to survive? To live in fear every single day, not knowing if someone out there might attack me, rape me, or murder me? I got sick. Did you know that? When my friend found me, I was sick with pneumonia. What d'you think would have happened to me if I'd stayed out there in the cold with fucking pneumonia, huh? Did you ever wonder where I was all those years? Did you ever wonder if I was still alive?"
I couldn't stop yelling. I was so frustrated, so angry, so tired of her berating me. She hadn't talked to me in years, and this was what she was calling for? Her petty problems I didn't give a shit about?