by Willa Okati
“That I did.” No matter how warm it might be, the floor grew harder by the second without Josef there to make him forget. Zach sat, crossing his legs tailor-style, unselfconsciously pushing the blanket off his lap. Josef’s gaze darkened, a flicker of hunger rippling through his satiated calm.
“You were saying something about my being romantic?” Josef prompted, amused, and as Zach saw now, as much in need of reassurance as he himself was. They were both human. It’d taken too long to realize that.
Zach knew exactly what Josef was hinting at, but hell, he hadn’t felt this good in a long, long time -- over a year -- and he wanted to spin it out as long as he could. Even if he had no plans to cut himself off from the supply again, each moment was worth savoring. “I was, but now I’m not sure. Watching me sleep is the stuff of hearts and flowers, sure, but watching me sleep on the floor sounds like masochism.”
What he’d said registered with him moments after the word tripped off his tongue. The atmosphere grew stiff and awkward, Josef looking away and down at his bare toes. Zach bit his lip, thought hard, and finally went with the simple truth. “Probably says a lot about me that I was comfortable down there, and I slept soundly with your eye on me. Until you brought coffee into the room. “
Over Josef’s surprised laughter, the sound widening Zach’s grin to the point of hurting his cheeks, he protested, “Hey! Coffee changes everything.”
“I won’t forget that.” Josef set his cup aside. Zach followed his movement to see a small, immaculately dressed room service cart by the chair with silver covered dishes atop spotless white linen. “Don’t worry. I met the waiter at the door. I wouldn’t have let him come in to look at you.” He held out his hand, silently asking Zach to take it.
Zach rolled to his knees and rose to his feet. He padded silently and barefoot across the plush carpet to Josef and took his hand, standing above him for a minute. Impulsively, he bent to kiss Josef’s forehead. “Because?”
Josef looked tempted to frown. “Do you want me to say it?”
Zach took a deep breath to steady himself and, using Josef for leverage, lowered himself to his knees and pressed his head to Josef’s leg. “I think I do.”
He waited for a long, breathless pause and exhaled, going slack with relief, when Josef carded his hair, stroking his head. “Because you’re mine.”
“Same as you’re mine.” Zach hooked his arm around Josef’s calf and rubbed his chin on Josef’s knee. “Same, but different.”
“Not so different.”
“How so?”
“Zach? Look at me.” Josef angled Zach’s head, but Zach went willingly. God, but it was so good to just let it happen. Easy, right, the way it should be. People would talk -- people always talked -- they’d laugh at him, they’d call him less of a man -- and fuck them. This was what made him happy. They could deal.
“What?” he asked, propping his chin on Josef’s leg.
“Why did we never do this?” Josef asked, winding a sleep-disheveled strand of Zach’s hair around his forefinger. “Take moments of peace, I mean.”
Zach gave that due thought, but in the end he shrugged. “I think we didn’t know what we were doing. Me, I’m still playing it by ear, but I don’t give a damn if it’s by any kind of book. It’s us.”
Josef bent to kiss him on the top of his head, then tipped his chin up to kiss him properly. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Come and eat with me. Sit at my feet, if you will, and let me feed you.”
The shudder of pleasure titillating Zach’s head and heart was almost as good as sex. Almost. Nothing was as good as sex. He bowed in agreement and rose to perch at Josef’s feet.
Josef retrieved the coffee, still hot, almost untouched, and sweetened exactly the way they both liked it, and passed it to Zach.
Zach kissed Josef’s hand when he took the cup, coffee and man and affection better than the finest spices.
* * * * *
Coffee finished and breakfast no more than a few crumbs of toast left among their cleaned plates, Zach curled up to rest on Josef’s chest, safely confined within the cradle of Josef’s legs. Josef’s heartbeat thudded calmly and peacefully underneath his ear. He wished he could purr.
Josef stroked his hair idly. “Content?”
“Mmm,” Zach replied, halfway asleep again. “Better than.”
“If I could erase the past year --” Josef started.
“I wouldn’t,” Zach broke in. He could sense Josef’s surprise, and, truth be told, he hadn’t thought of that until now, but he could taste the truth in his answer. He craned his neck to look up at Josef. “I doubt we’d still be together. We didn’t have a damn clue what we were doing or why or how we needed it, you know?”
Josef relaxed, his abruptly gathered tension melting away. “True. I am not a professional dominant, nor am I a learned one. I only saw that in you which needed a strong hand, and discovered in me the wish to be the one who provided that for you.”
“It was hot as hell for both of us, you mean,” Zach said, head-butting Josef’s ribs with no more force than a lazy cat who wanted more petting.
“And then some,” Josef agreed. “Do you like this better?”
Zach snorted. “Like you even need to ask.”
“Good. So do I. Zach…” He stroked Zach’s hair, brushing his thumb over Zach’s cheekbone. “There is much I have to learn. As do you. Are we starting fresh?”
“I think we are. Is that okay?”
“Better than.” Josef shifted forward, bumping Zach out of his cozy spot. “Come here.”
He could roll with that. Though it was clumsy, their legs tangling together, Zach found his way upright to straddle Josef’s lap, the chair more than wide enough for both to fit comfortably. “Face-to-face,” he said, his field of vision narrowed to blue eyes returning his regard. “Eye to eye.”
Josef kissed him, on the tip of his nose. “Do something for me.”
“Does it involve moving?”
“I’m afraid so.” Josef’s affection made the proposition agreeable. “It’s early, too early for spirits, but I’d like for you to mix me a drink.”
“What now?”
“You heard me.” Josef tickled his ribs, slowing to a thoughtful sweep over his side. “An occasion like this deserves a toast. It’s five o’ clock somewhere, yes?”
“Sometimes I think you’re crazier than I am.” Zach kissed him, no more than a tantalizing brush of lips. “I’m good with that.” He sat up straighter, frowning. “Trouble is, I’m naked and fresh out of booze.”
Josef jounced Zach on his lap, enticing him with the promise of more to come. “Accommodations such as these do come with perks. You’ll find a fully stocked bar in the oh-so-discreet walnut cabinet where a television should be.”
“Mixers and shakers? Mind if I get off?”
“Soon,” Josef said, the erotic promise in the word making Zach shiver with anticipation. “For now, you may stand.”
Zach leaned back on his haunches, thoughtfully considering Josef. “One thing first.”
Josef’s eyebrow rose. He indulged Zach by asking, “What would that be?”
“I don’t think I’m ready for a collar. Might not ever be. But this…” Zach ran his finger beneath the skin-warmed length of the necklace Josef wore. Nothing special, just an accessory, same as his wristwatch and the glasses he wore. “I’d wear this for you, if you’d let me have it.”
The casual tolerance had dropped away from Josef like a shed cloak. He sat up straighter. “Yes. Don’t make the offer unless you mean it. I won’t give you this and wake tomorrow to find you’ve disappeared. I couldn’t live through that again.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Zach lifted the necklace over Josef’s head, Josef bending his neck to allow it. It was too large for him, falling over his neck to rest above the dent between his collarbones, and almost too hot…but exactly as it should be. He released a shuddering breath and opened his eyes, shut to savor the moment, to see Josef star
ing at him with a hunger that almost -- almost -- wouldn’t be denied.
“Yeah?” Zach asked in a whisper, tracing the spot where Josef had worn the simple chain.
“Yes.” Josef caught Zach’s hand and kissed it. Zach thought he could get used to this. “The drink. A toast. And then back to bed.”
“Decadent.”
“And you love it.”
Zach steeled himself to say the words, but they slipped out easily. “Love you.”
Josef’s balance shifted. He caught himself with a hand on the overstuffed arm of the chair. “Thank you.”
Content, Zach slipped off Josef’s lap and, still naked and completely satisfied with that, padded toward the cabinet that did, in fact, prove to be a minibar almost as well stocked as a few of the businesses where he’d worked in his time. The difference here being that all of it was high-end, high quality, and better still, had a discreetly recessed refrigerator that held fresh juices and citrus fruits.
Josef watched with the sleepy curiosity and contented air of a tame lion. “What will you make for me?”
“Wait and see,” Zach said, already uncapping, uncorking, and searching for a wineglass. Everything came as easily to hand as it did when he was in his element among a swarming crowd -- and would again, with the warmth of the gold necklace reminding him that his biggest fan would be among them, watching with blue, blue eyes.
Red wine, vintage. Not too old or fine to mix, but redolent with the smells of sun and grapes ripened to bursting with sweet juice. Sugar, white as snow. Brandy, a rich cognac that brought old libraries and leather to mind. Soda water. The zest of a lemon.
Josef followed his every move curiously. “I’d thought a mimosa or a tequila sunrise, but you surprise me. What have you made?”
Zach balanced the goblet between both palms and carried to Josef. Wanting to, he knelt and offered him the glass, as light-headed and tingly as if he’d been drinking champagne. Maybe it wouldn’t last. Maybe it would. He’d do his damnedest to not let this get away from him again. “It’s called a Good Fortune. Good luck. Fits the season and the reason. What do you think?”
Josef took the glass and raised it to him. “I think you’re a clever man, when you let yourself be.”
“All you can do is try.”
“Oftentimes, trying is enough, or at least a place to start.” Zach knew what he meant by that. They’d find their way together. Second chances were worth their weight in aged brandy and gold. “To us,” he said, simply, all that needed to be spoken and heard.
Josef offered Zach the first sip, the rim of the glass smooth against Zach’s lips. “To us,” Zach said, and drank.
Nothing had ever tasted sweeter.
THE END
Willa Okati
I can most often be found muttering to myself over a keyboard, plugged into my iPod, and breaking between paragraphs to play air drums. I’m teaching myself to play the pennywhistle and mixing up the summer’s batches of henna. I have forty-plus separate tattoos and yearn for a full body suit of ink. I tend to walk around in a haze of story ideas, dreaming of tales yet to be told, and I drink an alarming amount of coffee for someone generally perceived to be mellow.