by Gamers (lit)
“Whatever.” Derek waved his hand. “Enjoy your panel.”
“I mean it, Derek.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“Dude!” Patrick pounded on the door again. “You gotta come on!”
With one last look, a look Derek did not meet, Andy went.
***
The dealers’ room was damn near empty. Everyone had jammed themselves into small rooms to hear the panel discussions or joined an ever-lengthening queue to secure an autograph from the latest incarnation of Hercules.
This suited Derek just fine -- a lack of crowds meant he could prowl the tables at his own pace, scouring them for titles he and Andy didn’t yet have in their collection. They’d been building their library for years now, searching for the rare, the unique, the one of a kind.
There was a likely stack on a table manned by Arthur, another old friend. He’d been selling classic sci-fi and comics for as long as Derek could remember. Certainly as long as he’d been dating Andy -- they’d bought their first books ‘together’ from the old man.
“Some good stuff in there,” Arthur said.
“You got my first-edition Dune laying around anywhere?”
“Not yet,” Arthur laughed. “You’ll be the first one I call when it shows up, don’t worry.”
“Only if all the people who have any money fail to answer the phone,” Derek replied. A small brown volume, gilt-edged, caught his eye. “Is this Norton?”
“Book club.” Arthur sniffed dismissively. “Nice for a reading copy. I think I marked it three dollars? But not for a collection. Not for you.”
Derek put the slim book back on the table. “Good to know.”
Arthur smiled. “No problem. I wouldn’t want one of my favorite customers to make a mistake.”
“Ah, Art. I think I’ve done that already.”
“How’s that?”
“Being here.” Derek shrugged. “Not here at your table,” he hastened to add. “But at the con. And the con before that, and before that, and before that...”
“I get the picture,” Arthur said. “Everyone gets burnt out on the scene every now and then.” He shrugged, mirroring Derek’s resignation. “Even me. Take a break for a while. You’ll come back when you’re ready.”
Derek snorted. “Andy’s not about to miss a con.”
“Nope,” Arthur agreed. “It’s in his blood.”
“He’ll tell you it’s in his wallet,” Derek countered. “We can’t skip DarkCon because it would be ‘bad for his career.’” His voice climbed a half octave to deliver the last few words in a mocking tone.
“Might be some truth in that,” Arthur said, conciliatory. “Lots of big publishers there. He might catch a big break.”
“And what?” Derek asked. “Sell a handful of pathetic tie-in novels? Pitch a column to Game Pro?” Each word was louder than the one before, louder and angrier. “They don’t pay, but he’ll get exposure...” Anger he didn’t even know he was carrying came bubbling up. “Maybe he’ll pull in a whopping thirty grand this year, playing fucking games while I bust my ass taking care of business.”
Arthur’s eyes were wide.
Derek didn’t have much time to focus on the bookseller’s expression. He was too busy whirling around to face his lover, who’d said,
“Well, if that’s how you feel about things, Derek, I guess my choice is clear.”
“Choice?” Derek sputtered. “What choice?”
“You don’t have to worry about it,” Andy spat. “I don’t want to screw up your life up more than I already did.” He turned on his heel, storming out of the dealer’s room.
“Andy!” Derek shouted. “Andy, wait!”
Crowds were pouring out of the panel rooms, half-washed fanboys jostling for position in the Hercules line -- or to spend their money on pizza by the slice and Mountain Dew by the gallon.
They did nothing to slow Andy’s progress -- it was doubtful a wall of solid concrete could have stopped his flight -- and everything possible to impede Derek’s pursuit.
He tried to be polite as possible, but his muttered excuse me, coming throughs were falling on deaf ears. Shouldering his way through the crowd took time, valuable time, and by the time Derek made it through where Andy had been, Andy was gone.
A slowly blinking light indicated the elevator’s progress upward, bearing his lover up and away from him.
Derek stood in front of the other elevator door, tapping his foot and willing the silver doors to open, when Patrick came up and joined him.
“You must be excited!” he said.
“And why’s that?” Derek growled.
“Dude.”
“Don’t say ‘Dude,’” Derek snapped. “Not like it conveys any meaning. If you want me to understand you, you need to use words that mean something.”
Patrick grinned. “’Dude’ means something. ‘Dude’ means everything. Haven’t you ever seen that bit where all they say is ‘Dude’?”
“Not helpful. Not helpful right now, Pat.”
“Man, what’s up your ass?” Patrick managed to look affronted, a relatively rare look for him. “I thought you’d be happy.”
“Why?”
Patrick cocked his head, eyes wide. “You don’t know?”
“Apparently not.”
“Dude,” Patrick said, covering it quickly with a muttered, “Sorry. Solar Star offered Andy the head developer position. They announced it at the author’s panel.”
“Solar Star?” The little company had been a blip on the radar when Andy had started writing professionally. Now they dominated better than half of the RPG market and a larger chunk of the electronic gaming world. “They want Andy?”
“Of course they want Andy,” Patrick said. “He’s at the top of his game! All the boards were going nuts over his work on Scarcraft. You know three legions sprung up based off of his work.”
“No,” Derek said. “I didn’t know that.”
“Dude. Don’t you pay attention?”
The elevator mercifully decided that this was the right time to open, silver doors sliding wide with a hiss and a clunk.
Derek stepped through. “Apparently not enough.” Then, before anyone else could enter the elevator, he leaned forward and pressed the ‘Close Doors’ button.
***
The hallway was thankfully empty. Five years of con-going had taught Derek how rare that was: hallways were all too often pressed into service as impromptu meeting rooms, practice areas for cos-players intent on portraying their mad authentic ninja skills, or as the mating lair of last resort, the romantic rendezvous spot for those without understanding roommates or spouses.
He slid the cardkey into the lock and held his breath. It would be very easy for Andy to flip the security lock, barring him entry and forcing an embarrassing scene.
But the door opened, smoothly, easily.
“Can I come in?” Derek asked.
“I can’t stop you,” Andy said. He was throwing clothes into his bag. “It’s your room.” He looked up long enough to let Derek see the anger in his eyes. “You paid for it, after all.”
“I’m sorry,” Derek said. He stepped inside, letting the heavy door click shut behind him. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“But you did,” Andy replied. He threw up his hands. “It doesn’t matter, really.”
“It does matter.”
“Why? You feel how you feel. It’s my fault, really.”
“How is it your fault?”
“I’m selfish. I’m greedy. I depend too much on you.”
“Jesus, Andy. Do I get any say in this argument, or do you have it all figured out already?”
Andy’s eyes were bright. “Well, have I missed anything?”
“You missed that I love you. That I’m only human and, yeah, I get frustrated sometimes. And I vent.” Derek realized he was shouting and softened his tone. “Venting. That’s what you heard.”
“No.” Andy shook his head. “I know venting, Der
ek. That wasn’t venting. That was you saying to someone else what you’ve been trying to say to me for a long time.”
Derek had no answer to that, but it didn’t matter. There wouldn’t have been enough time to voice his reply before Andy continued speaking.
“It figures, anyway.” A sob, half-choked, broke free and skittered across the room, its damp aftermath clinging to Andy’s next words and rendering them unintelligible. “I finally fucking make it, and I’ve already lost you.”
“You haven’t lost me,” Derek said. He walked into the room and sat down on the bed in front of Andy. “I think the problem is that I lost you.”
“How could you lose me?” Andy said. He spread his arms wide. “I’m right here.”
Derek smiled. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” He reached out for Andy’s hand. “Do you ever think about what it was like, back in the day?”
“It’s been a long time.”
“So long that you don’t remember?” Derek asked. “Back in school? Every Friday night, gaming?”
“You and me and Tall Dan,” Andy replied.
“And Megan and Stewart,” Derek agreed. “Between the four of us, we could handle anything you threw at us.”
“That’s the beauty of old school D & D,” Andy said. “You needed to work together.” He shrugged. “Otherwise, I’d feed you to the kobolds.”
“Very funny.” Derek sighed. “Though I could use Tall Dan’s advice right about now.” He pulled on Andy’s hand, exerting just a little pressure. “He could open his spellbook and tell me what I need to do to hold onto you.”
“Sure,” Andy said, sinking onto the bed next to Derek. “Now you want me, now that I’m going to be famous.”
“I’ve always wanted you.” Derek leaned in until his lips were a fraction of an inch from Andy’s. “And I don’t care one bit if you’re famous or not.”
The kiss was slow and soft, buoyed upward by their years together, familiar and warm and sad.
It was Andy who pulled away, Andy who put his hand on Derek’s chest and said, “Stop. We’ve got to sort this out first, before I make my decision.”
“What decision?”
“If I take the Solar Star gig or not.”
“Why wouldn’t you take it?” Derek asked. “That’s what you wanted: an in-house position with a big company. You couldn’t ask for a bigger company.”
“It doesn’t pay very well.” Andy shrugged. “Maybe thirty grand.” His voice turned bitter. “Not bad for playing fucking games, mind you.”
“Stop,” Derek said. “I was pissed. I’m tired of going to cons, week after week after week, yeah.” He looked around the room. “I’m tired of the mini-fridges and the panel discussions and no hot water, no matter where we go. I’m tired of the planes and the crowds and the fact that I never see you.”
“Jesus, Derek!” Andy said. “I work at home. I’m always home. How can you say you never see me?”
“I see the back of your head.”
“It’s work.” Andy was defensive. “And you’re always gone.”
“I know. I don’t like spending every minute at the office, either, you know.”
“So I’m working all the time and you’re working all the time,” Andy replied.
“What does that leave for us?” Derek asked, softly.
“We have now.” Andy’s voice dropped an octave, suddenly intense.
“You’ve got that memorial dinner for Gary Gygax,” Derek protested. “Won’t you be missed?”
“If I know anything, anything at all, about Gary Gygax,” Andy replied, “it’s that he’d say I’d have to roll a critical failure against intelligence to walk away from you right now.”
Derek closed his eyes and muttered something under his breath.
“Babe?” Andy asked. “What are you doing?”
Derek opened his eyes and smiled. “Wishing for a natural twenty.”
This time, Andy kissed him. This wasn’t the soft, familiar kiss they’d just had a moment ago; this was hungrier, needier.
“I don’t want to lose you,” Andy growled. “You’re mine.” His kisses traveled, descending over soft cheeks to the side of Derek’s neck, where they morphed into small bites, each one possessive.
Derek let his head fall back, exposing more of his neck to Andy’s affections. “That feels good,” he groaned.
“That’s just the beginning.” Andy replied. He tugged on Derek’s t-shirt. “Let’s get you out of these clothes.”
The T-shirt came off, flung to the side of the room and forgotten before it hit the floor. Andy’s hands were everywhere, tweaking flattened nipples, fingers sliding through the chestnut thicket of hair that covered Derek’s chest.
“I need you,” Andy muttered, lips flattening against Derek’s sternum. “Don’t you know that? You’re my muse. My hero.”
Kiss followed kiss, descending the narrow valley subtly created by pectoral muscles, navigating the soft swell of a desk-soft stomach.
“Every ranger? Is you.” His tongue was fire hot, tracing ornate patterns on long-neglected skin. “Every paladin? You. Every white knight, every hero on an impossible quest?”
Derek’s jeans were unbuttoned, the zipper pulled down, event-weary denim eager to slide off narrow hips.
“That’s all you, babe.” Andy slid his hands down Derek’s body, flattening his fingers until they disappeared beneath the waistband of blue-striped briefs. “I can’t do this without you. Without you, there’s no point.”
That was the end of conversation, then, as Derek’s cock disappeared between Andy’s lips.
“Gods, that feels so good.” Derek’s fingers, long and anxious, grabbed at Andy’s hair. His hips came forward, up and off the bed, pushing just a fraction further into his lover’s mouth. “I love when you do that.”
Andy responded with a slow embrace, sliding his lips forward until they were brushing against Derek’s stomach, his chin cradled by the soft-furred surface of Derek’s balls.
“Oh, my God.” It was a whisper that faded to a moan as Andy slowly pulled his head back, stretching the moment out until there was nothing but hot and wet and a high fine sound, too high even for dogs to hear, resonating around them, within them, joining them flesh to flesh, soul to soul. “Oh, God, Andy.”
Andy moved forward again, a repeat performance delivered in slow motion.
“Don’t.” It was half a plea, more than half a prayer. “Or I’m gonna go, baby. Go in your mouth.”
Only then did Andy bring his hands into play, letting them slide from Derek’s exposed thighs to the base of his cock, encircling, embracing. A subtle bit of pumping, augmented with some intense suction, and Derek lost his ability to speak coherently.
He fell back on the bed, arching his hips up into Andy’s mouth, blindly driving toward completion.
“Now!” A gasp, a cry. “Andy!”
***
It took a long minute to recover, a long minute where Andy swallowed the better part of a bottle of Mountain Dew and re-buttoned black jeans around Derek’s hips.
“Wow.” Derek was still flat on his back. “That was pretty intense.”
Andy flopped down next to him and grinned. “As good as it was back in the day?”
“Better.” Derek smiled. “Becoming a big star has done wonders for your technique.”
“I’m not a big star.” Andy shrugged. “I don’t know if I’m going to take the gig, anyway.” He propped himself up on one elbow and looked over at Derek. “Not if it’s going to make things harder for us.”
“I don’t think it’s just you,” Derek replied. “You’re driven, I’m driven, and we’ve been driving in different directions.” He shifted on his side, pushing his head forward just enough to grab a kiss. “But if we can get going in the right direction, the same direction, I think we’ll be fine.”
“Which direction is the right direction?” Andy asked.
“You’re the GM,” Derek said. “Isn’t it on your map
?”
Andy chuckled. “I wish. Not that easy, I’m afraid.”
“Well,” Derek replied, “I don’t think you giving up on your dreams is the right direction.”