by Willa Okati
One of the men’s hands flew to his mouth. The other took his partner by the shoulders and ushered him away, muttering words of comfort and indignation. Christian slumped. Okay, so maybe he needed to work on his approach.
Ewan ambled back over, a brat carefully cradled in each hand. He passed one over to Christian, unadorned with any toppings, in a plain white bun. His own was a towering mountain of toppings. He bit in gleefully, using a napkin to dab off what he spilled. Chewing and swallowing, wiping his mouth, he nodded eagerly. “’S good! C’mon, Christian, have a bite. They’re the real deal.”
Christian lifted the bratwurst to his mouth. Ever so slowly, he slid his mouth over the end of the long cylinder, then sucked on it, tasting meat juices and warm bread. Then he withdrew and bit down lightly on the tip.
Ewan was staring at him. “Hey, you, uh, you’re supposed to eat the thing, not ...”
Christian rolled his eyes. God, subtlety and the classics were lost on some people. Cross, he took a decent bite of the wurst, but almost moaned when he tasted the hearty flesh and the soft yeastiness of the roll. He hadn’t eaten all day, and the simple meal tasted like a banquet to him.
“There’s a soda in my pocket,” Ewan said, twisting so that Christian could see the can bulging. “I couldn’t carry two, so I figured we could share, yeah? You like Pepsi? I’ll drink about anything that bubbles, man. I can’t get enough of the stuff. Great invention, just great. Still not tired of it after all these years.” He paused. “I mean, months. I mean ... aw, hell, just eat up. Don’t mind me.” Ewan’s grin was impish, daring Christian to laugh at him.
Christian managed a chuckle to please the customer, and took another bite, trying not to show how hungry he was. “So,” he said after he’d swallowed. “Where do you live, anyway?”
* * * * *
“You live here?” Christian stared up at the tattered old sign that declared Fun For The Whole Family! “A carnival?”
“Abandoned carnival,” Ewan corrected, grabbing the low security bar and vaulting over. From the other side, he offered Christian a hand. “And, nah, I don’t live here. ’S just a shortcut, yeah?”
“Mmm,” Christian said, allowing himself to be helped over the rusted yellow bars. “So you’re a bad boy, aren’t you? Do you spray-paint walls, too?”
“Do I what now?” Ewan gave Christian an odd look from behind his glasses. “Me, vandalize? Hell, nah. I wouldn’t do that. It’s illegal, right?” He fidgeted. “Okay, so maybe once or twice. But only where no one cares about stuff anymore.”
“I like bad boys,” Christian purred. He tucked his arm into Ewan’s, who seemed comfortable enough now that they were out of the main strip. “Lead me to it.”
“You serious?” Ewan turned to face Christian. “So maybe I shoulda asked this earlier, but you sure about comin’ home with me? I mean, I know I’m not much ta look at. There’s lots of guys who coulda showed you a better time than a hot dog and a soda.”
Not in Amour Magique. They didn’t want anything to do with me in there. And I’m doing what I have to. Some of that money you’re carrying is going home with me, and I can have a hamburger tomorrow, as well as chip in for rent.
Christian shook his head. His hair, once so carefully styled, was coming down around his cheeks in soft waves. He’d gotten it mussed on the dance floor, and a walk through windy streets hadn’t helped. But he knew the disheveled look only made him look a little more androgynous, pretty like one of the manga comic boys. He gave Ewan’s arm a squeeze. “I want to be with you,” he answered honestly enough. Ewan was the only one at the moment who could give him what he wanted. “Lead the way.”
“Okay, yeah. If you’re sure.”
“I am so very sure.” Christian looked up at Ewan through his long lashes. “I couldn’t be any more sure.”
Never go to their homes! Mikey -- Michelle -- shouted in Christian’s mind again. Christian shook the voice off like an annoying fly and began to walk by Ewan’s side through the emptiness of the abandoned carnival.
At least he thought it was abandoned. Everything was covered with chipped paint and red ochre rust. Signs creaked in the wind, and cardboard clowns with goofy faces declared that you had to be so many feet high before you could go on such-and-such ride.
He thought he’d heard about this place. Just outside the city limits. Yeah, yeah, it had been in a current events class. The Charleston council wanted to tear it down, but they couldn’t find the owner, who seemed to have vanished into thin air -- or probably to Switzerland. Who knew? Legally, it still belonged to the man, so they couldn’t do a thing except put up fences festooned with KEEP OUT signs.
He laughed to himself. So he couldn’t dance the night away. This was kind of an adventure, right? Something he wouldn’t have done in any of his personae, whether as Sunshine or the Brotherhood’s version of Christian, or even his true self. It felt right, sneaking into a place where no one should have gone, to do his dirty work.
Christian figured he’d be seeing a lot of those kinds of places from then on.
“Here, it’s over here. C’mon.” Ewan yanked at Christian’s arm. He was grinning broadly, pleased as a little kid. The puppy had followed him all the way home. He could keep it and play with it. “It’s kinda like a shortcut inside a shortcut. This way.”
Christian glanced up curiously to see a tilted wooden sign declaring TUNNEL OF LOVE in painted red letters that were wearing off. He held back a hysterical giggle. Of course. It fit so well. “You want to take a joy ride?” he asked, holding Ewan as close as he could.
“Well, you do kinda have to ride a little bit,” Ewan allowed. “For one, it’s fun, even if it does sorta smell in there. The water’s old, right? What’s left of it. But this is how we get to where I live.”
A frown crossed Christian’s face. How on earth did you get to where someone lived through an old Tunnel of Love? Wait a second. Did I just go off with a homeless guy who squats in here?
He pulled back a little, but Ewan was tugging him onward. “Come on, just a quick ride,” he begged. “Promise it won’t hurt you. You’ll have fun.”
Christian wavered between flight and the urge to get his hands on some of that money ... and pride, or what tattered shreds of it he had left. If he ran away now, he’d never make the job full time. “No need to pull,” he said coyly. “I’m coming.”
So maybe he’s a squatter. Homeless. Not indigent, though. Maybe he found a bankroll somewhere on the property. Doesn’t matter. He’s pretty nice, and I think I could take him in a fight if it came down to wrestling each other. Kind of cute, too, once you get to know him.
No, this won’t be so bad. Not too bad at all.
Christian slinked alongside Ewan as the man pushed open the gate for them. He did wrinkle his nose at the smell of stale water tainted by salt, making it brackish, but soldiered on. He’d never been put off by a bad odor before. Ewan caressed his hand -- well, more like patted it -- in approval. “Yeah, see? ’S not so bad. Once you get used to the smell, you don’t notice a thing.”
He untangled himself and went to stand by the water’s edge. Christian noticed, with a shiver, how the little boats kept going around and around. Creepy. Or maybe it was like a Lazy River, with an artificial current from jets of water. No, that couldn’t be. All the power was out.
Yeah, definitely creep-worthy. Ewan didn’t seem fazed, though, ambling over to the water’s edge and frowning down at the boats floating idly past. He seemed to be checking them out, possibly for garbage or debris. “Hang on just a minute,” he called. “Doesn’t make a big difference which one I choose but I do want something good and seaworthy, yeah? Some of these won’t hold both our weight.”
“Are you calling me fat?” Christian asked, half teasing. He felt at his stomach with one hand. No, no blubber there. Surely Ewan wouldn’t ...
“You? Nah, no way. You’re trim as a sailboat.”
At first, Christian was so focused he didn’t get the joke. Ewan grinn
ed at him as if he expected him to understand the humor, though, so he smiled back, throwing in a soft laugh. The sound carried eerily across the water, making Christian shiver.
“Oh, hey, are you cold? Damn, I shoulda thought of that. I’m sorry, man. See, that’s why I wear these.” Ewan plucked at his sweatshirt. “And you’ve just got that skimpy thing. But, hey, don’t worry, I’ve got others downstairs. You can borrow one.”
You want me putting on clothes? And what do you mean, downstairs? This was sounding less and less appealing to Christian, but he held his ground. He didn’t back down from a challenge.
“Here we go!” Ewan announced, rubbing his hands together. “Good old thirty-three. I know this one’s sound. C’mon, Christian, shake a leg, huh?” Ewan jumped into the small boat and held it anchored against the pavement. “Trust me. This one’s big enough to hold us both.”
Christian felt a tremor of nerves run through him. Resolutely, he shoved it down and started walking toward Ewan as if he were on the runway, hands in his pockets and hips thrust out. He could see Ewan swallow, and watched the man’s gaze run over the length of his body.
At least he’s on the right track. God, if he were actually taking me home to show me real etchings, I think I might scream.
When he reached the water’s edge, Christian accepted Ewan’s hand down into the boat. It rocked and tipped alarmingly, almost causing him to lose his balance -- but then Ewan was there, guiding him down into his seat. “Easy does it, there ya go.” Ewan lowered Christian into a seat that must once have been padded, but was now a mess of torn plastic and fluffs of matted cotton. “I know it ain’t exactly a Rolls, but it gets us where we wanna go, yeah?”
Ewan’s eyes sparkled behind his glasses. Christian put a hand on the man’s leg, stroking up and down the inseam. “Can’t get there fast enough for me.”
“Whoo.” Ewan gulped. “You don’t take things slow, do ya?”
“You saw where I work.”
“Yeah, but I figured ... ah, well, nah, doesn’t matter what I thought, does it?” Ewan reached over to the opposite side of the boat and gave the concrete landing a shove. “Sit back and enjoy the ride, huh?” Almost hesitantly, he covered Christian’s hand with his own. “You really sure about this?”
“Positive.”
“Okay, then.” Ewan took a deep breath. “I am a lucky man, you know that? Me. You picked me. Right, let’s ride. Onward and upward and all of that shit. Anchors aweigh!”
The boat began to glide forward on the spooky current. Another craft jostled it from behind, sending the hairs on the back of Christian’s neck upright. He had the oddest feeling that if he turned around, he’d see ghosts sitting behind them, making out.
He didn’t realize he was shaking until Ewan threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. “You don’t mind, do ya? I mean, you gotta be freezing. And I’m not the warmest guy, I know, but all the same it has to be better than nothin’.”
Christian shook his head and snuggled into Ewan’s side. He stroked a little harder at the inside of Ewan’s thigh, laughing inside when he saw the man jump a little, and watched a bulge begin to rise underneath his zipper. Right on target. Oh, baby. If I can make you react just with a touch, wait until I get you naked. Or me naked. Whichever way you want it, I’m yours.
For the night.
He really wasn’t looking forward to the ride back out, though, probably alone, with Ewan sleeping it off wherever they were going. Hookers couldn’t afford an afterglow, but he’d have the money to keep him warm instead of an old sweatshirt.
“Here we go.” Ewan pointed to an approaching covered tunnel. “It’s the ‘Tunnel of Love,’ get it?”
Christian recognized a cue when he heard one. He readied himself as the dark channel drew closer, and when the blackness closed over them, reached out on instinct and found Ewan’s lips with his own. Ewan made a noise of surprise but, then, thank God, his arms went around Christian to hold him tight. He still tasted of stone dust, overlaid by the breath mint he’d dug out of one pocket after his meal, with just a hint of spicy chili. Mmm, flavorful. It actually wasn’t all that bad.
I wonder how I taste?
Flavor. Piquancy. Bouquet.
No. No, no, no. I can’t go using words anymore. They aren’t any good now. I used to need shields so I could pretend nothing was real. But my eyes are open. I know what I’m doing, and I’m going to make this work.
Christian ran his tongue along Ewan’s lips, hoping that the man would take the initiative. With a groan, Ewan did, darting his own tongue between Christian’s lips. Christian sighed in appreciation. When he put his mind to it, Ewan was a pretty good kisser, one who knew how to make the most out of an embrace. His tongue stroked along Christian’s, the tip prodding, then flattening out.
Mmm, mmm, good. The other flavors faded, and all Christian could taste was stone. Which was beyond weird. How could a guy taste like rocks? He mentally shrugged his shoulders and carried on kissing Ewan, making sure the man got the most for his buck.
“Hey, hold on a second.” Ewan broke off. Christian let out a little fake whimper, to show his “disappointment” at the loss of contact. “Damn, you’re good. Almost made me miss our stop.”
Our stop?
Christian could feel Ewan fumbling along the concrete, then a muffled grunt of satisfaction. Something rattled in Ewan’s hand, then a beam of white shot from a flashlight, making Christian wince and cringe back. “Oh, hey, sorry. It is kinda bright after bein’ in the dark. But you’ll get used to it.” Ewan hesitated. “You aren’t mad, are ya?”
Christian settled himself in his seat, resisting the urge to reach up and tuck his hair behind his ears like a frightened girl rearranging herself. “What would I be mad about?” he asked silkily.
“Well, that kiss, for one thing. I mean, you coulda just been bein’ friendly ... ah, never mind.” Ewan shone his flashlight around. In the broad bright sweeps, Christian could see that he’d gone mottled again. “Yeah, I was right. That little bump when you scrape over the concrete gives it away every time. Just about home. Hang on to your side of the walkway, okay? I’m gonna get out, and hold this thing steady while you follow me.”
Ewan laid the flashlight down, illuminating the Tunnel of Love. Unable to stop, way too curious, Christian looked behind himself. For a sick second, he thought he did see a dozen shadows in the fleet of boats behind him -- men and women, incorporeal shadows, making out. Ghosts of lovers past. He blinked, and they were gone.
“Oh, yeah. Don’t mind them.” Ewan rubbed at the back of his neck. “They kinda come with the territory, but they won’t hurt ya. My hand ta God.”
Oh, shit, they were real. Christian couldn’t help a full-body shudder. Out. He had to get out of that boat right away. Fuck, what if they’d been sitting in two ghosts?
He scrambled out after Ewan, taking the man’s hand and huddling close. Ewan pulled him tight, protectively. “Oh, hey, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya, honest.”
“I’m not afraid,” Christian lied. The hell I’m not. First off, all the weirdness with Liam, the circle of fauns, and now ghosts? This has been one hell of a night, and I have a feeling I’ve only just begun to experience the true nature of weird. “I promise. Now, you were saying something about home?” He finger-walked his hand up Ewan’s chest, teasing around where he figured one nipple to be.
Ewan nodded, his mottling darkening. “Right here,” he said, picking up the flashlight and shining it on a service door. “Down these steps, and we’ll be home.”
Yep. The weird just keeps on coming.
For a brief second, something sparkled in the light. Something blue. Christian snapped his head up and stared sharply, but there was nothing hanging over the rusted old door.
He had his suspicions, though. Keep out of this, Liam, he thought crossly. I’m a big boy. I know what I’m doing.
Even if you don’t think so, I can take care of myself. See?
Christian
slid a hand into Ewan’s jeans pocket. He smiled, sweet as sugar pie. “I can’t wait,” he murmured. “Let’s go home.”
Chapter Six
“Home” proved to be down a flight of rusted stairs, definitely meant for people working on the Tunnel of Love. Christian resolutely refused to look anywhere except where he was putting his foot next, for fear of seeing the ghosts of workmen past climbing up and down.
At the bottom, Ewan turned and grinned at him, beckoning with one hand. “C’mon! We’re almost there, yeah?”
Christian kept a tight hold on the handrail. “Oh, yeah.”
“Hey, you’re not scared of heights, are ya?” Ewan looked abashed. “Aw, shit, Christian, I’m sorry. If I’d have known --”
“No,” Christian snapped. “I’m fine.” Quickly, he smoothed down the ruffled feathers of his temper. “You said it’s just down here?” Odd. From what he could see, there was only another service door, probably one that would lead back out into the park itself.
Never go to their homes!
Shut up, Mikey, Christian ordered his inner boss.
“Right. I gotta warn you, it’s not exactly a picket fence kinda thing.” Ewan rubbed the back of his neck. “Still, it’s pretty cozy. We’ll get you a sweatshirt, something warmer than what you have on. Maybe a blanket. I could heat up some soup, too.”
Christian took the last few steps. He walked up to Ewan, rolling his hips, and twined his arms around the man’s neck. Looking up into the wide brown eyes, he purred, “There’s only one thing I want.”
“Oh? What is -- oh, jeez. Man, you’re hot off the trigger, aren’t ya?” Ewan put a hand on Christian as if to push him back, but instead, his touch lingered. Christian took advantage and reached up to brush his lips across Ewan’s, keeping the contact light and tempting. He flickered his tongue along Ewan’s bottom lip, not really allowing him access. Just giving him a taste.
Ewan made a low noise and pulled Christian closer. When he embraced Christian in turn it was a whole different thing -- kissing and being kissed -- taking the low road, down and dirty as a guy like Ewan could get. He swept his tongue through Christian’s mouth in broad, tickling strokes that startled Christian. This guy knew exactly how to turn him on, and he hadn’t even needed to show him by example.