Queermance Anthology, Volume 2

by Queermance Anthology- Volume 2 [MM-FF] (retail) (epub)

  ‘Hey!’ I hear a voice yell from a few metres away, but I can’t see the person because these arseholes are in the way. All I know is it isn’t Jon. Getting closer, the voice, which I recognise as female now, and foreign, says, ‘Give her back the helmet.’

  ‘And who are you supposed to be?’ Davo asks, turning around to look at her. ‘And don’t tell me you think you can be Captain America. You’re worse than this chick, ‘cause not only are you a girl, you’re the wrong fucking colour.’

  I still can’t see who my attempted-saviour is until she pushes in between both of these dickheads, steals my helmet back, and places it comfortably on my head. It’s Zara. Zara! I have no idea what she’s doing here, because the last I’d heard from her, she said she was busy applying to universities in the US, and was saving up to move there to study. Then I remember my reply.

  You should come study in Sydney instead. Come early enough and join me at Supanova.

  I was joking, though. I didn’t think she’d actually come. It was just wishful thinking.

  ‘I’m your worst nightmare,’ Zara replies to Davo, then leans up to kiss me on my lips, leaving those guys stunned. When she breaks away from me, she turns around and looks between Davo and the blond. Raising her fists at them, and looking as menacing as she can, she asks, ‘Any questions?’

  The douchebags back away and leave us on our own.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I ask.

  ‘I missed you,’ Zara replies, taking my hands in hers.

  ‘But you were saving up to move to America.’

  Zara shrugs with her head tilted to the left. ‘I could have done that. But you wouldn’t have been there.’

  I pull her in close and kiss her again. When we part, I see Jon standing behind her, smiling a goofy grin at us.

  ‘You found her!’ Jon says, and I’m confused.

  Zara turns around and hugs Jon. ‘Thank you for flying me here,’ she says as she pulls away.

  Suddenly it makes more sense. They conspired together to surprise me.

  I instantly pull them both into a group hug. ‘I love you both.’

  When we loosen our arms, Zara takes my hand again, looks me straight in the eye, and says, ‘And I love your costume.’

  SHATTERED LIVES

  E E Montgomery

  Paul stopped at the first sound of the yelling. It was louder than the usual children screaming or parents calling instructions to disappearing teenagers. West End was a buzz-filled inner city suburb but Paul’s apartment, a couple of blocks away from the main street, felt quiet and isolated. The small shopping centre at the end of his street only held a Woolworths, a coffee shop, a Thai take-away and an Indian restaurant. Apart from the occasional drunk on Saturday night, they didn’t get this kind of thing here. He turned back and wove between couples and groups, toward the men making the noise.

  ‘Don’t tell me I’m overreacting!’ the man’s voice was filled with anger and pain.

  ‘It’s not a big deal.’

  So, two men. This one’s not so angry.

  ‘You sticking your dick in other people is a big deal to me!’

  Great. Just what families need to hear. Shut up, idiot, before you get thrown out.

  ‘I wasn’t sticking my dick anywhere. And for God’s sake, keep your voice down. There are kids around.’

  At least one of them has some sense, even if it is the cheating bastard.

  ‘That didn’t matter to you when you had your tongue shoved down his throat two minutes ago. You seemed prepared to give everyone a free show. Even me - your boyfriend.’

  Great, are there three of them there, then? Paul sped up, pushing people aside. Stay out of it. He had to get these guys out of here before someone called security.

  ‘Boyfriend? Warren? I’m your boyfriend.’ The third voice sounded young and bewildered.

  It’s not your job to save the world. Not anymore. Paul peered through the now milling crowd as he moved, catching flashing glimpses of black jeans, a green shirt, blond hair, as he made his way toward the confrontation.

  Walk away.

  He kept going.

  ‘It wasn’t what you’re thinking. Why the hell won’t you listen to me? You’ve tried and judged me without listening to my side?’

  ‘Why does he think you’re his boyfriend?’ The innocence in that voice made Paul wince.

  ‘Perhaps because I live with him.’ There was an infinitesimal pause. ‘Don’t you slink away from me, you bastard. And what do you mean your side? What the fuck other side could there be? Did you at least wear a condom?’

  ‘Of course I did!’

  There was a shocked gasp.

  ‘No, you don’t understand. Nothing happened.’

  ‘Nothing happened?’ the third voice asked. ‘Warren, what-?’

  ‘Will you shut up for a minute?’

  Paul could see them now. A tall, slim blond man wearing a green shirt had his hand up, palm out toward a short stocky man who looked still in his teens. The blond glared at a skinny red-haired man in a black T-shirt. ‘Stop lying to me, Warren. Enough happened that you had to wear a condom.’

  ‘Xavier, just come home with me. We’ll talk this out.’

  ‘Home? You really live with him?’

  They both ignored the younger man.

  ‘That’s what you said the last time. I’m not going to do this again.’

  ‘Last time?’ The young man pressed both hands against his mouth. Tears welled in his eyes and he backed away. Neither of the arguing men noticed when he turned and fled.

  ‘So you’re just going to throw away everything we have? Just like that?’

  ‘Don’t you dare put this on me, you bastard. I’m not the one cheating.’

  ‘We never said we-‘

  ‘Bullshit. We were living together. How much more exclusive can you get?’

  ‘Were? Xavier, don’t-‘

  ‘I’m done. You can pack up your things and get out.’ The green-shirted man, Xavier, turned away but the tall red-head grabbed his arm. Paul stepped forward, directly between them so the red-head had no option but to let go.

  ‘There you are,’ said Paul as he reached for Xavier’s arm. He pulled him closer, out of the way of the crowd of shoppers and away from the man he was arguing with. ‘You’re going to be late for the game and the other guys are looking forward to meeting you.’

  ‘Xavier!’ The hysterical scream made Xavier jump, loosening Paul’s hold on him. ‘You hypocrite.’

  Paul turned to face the red-haired man and smiled. Warren stopped in his tracks. Paul grinned as the colour drained from the young man’s face. ‘It’s a work social thing. A football game against the fourth floor.’ Paul had no idea what he was talking about or if any of it would fit with Xavier’s circumstances, but he’d started on the farce now and had to keep going.

  Hurt flooded Warren’s face. ‘You’re going to this and you didn’t invite me?’

  Xavier tugged his arm away from Paul and stood straighter as he faced Warren. ‘I would have mentioned it but you were too busy screwing everyone else to notice.’ Paul’s grin widened. Xavier’s quick.

  ‘Xavier.’ The plea was pitiable.

  ‘Fool me once, Warren,’ Xavier quoted then turned and walked away.

  ‘Xavier!’

  Paul stepped in front of Warren. ‘You know, if I had someone like that -‘ he ignored the pain of loss that shot through him - ‘I’d make damn sure I never did anything to hurt him.’

  Warren’s mouth opened and closed silently while tears welled and dribbled down his cheeks. Paul thought he’d finally got with the program.

  Pity it was too late.

  Paul followed Xavier out of the shopping centre, figuring he should maintain the fiction just in case Warren was watching. A few steps outside the doors, Xavier stopped, wrapped his arms around himself and hunched his shoulders.

  ‘You know,’ Paul said as he drew beside Xavier, ‘you really should come to the game with me.’ No
t that there was any game other than the one playing on the television at the pub. And Paul wouldn’t be playing even if there was one on somewhere. He wasn’t cleared, medically, for contact sports yet. Hell, he wasn’t even cleared for jogging yet.

  Xavier started, then loosened his arms before turning to Paul. ‘There really is a game? I thought you made that up to help me. Thank you, by the way.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ Paul grinned. ‘So how about that game?’

  ‘I don’t really follow football. I can’t play.’

  Paul shrugged. ‘So don’t play. You can watch me do my manly thing and get my arse handed to me in the tackles.’

  For the first time a spark of something other than anger or pain lit Xavier’s eyes. ‘You want me to watch your arse?’

  Paul laughed. When he wasn’t being cheated on, Xavier had a sense of humour. ‘Come on then.’ He pointed to the pub on the corner. ‘You can learn all about Australia’s favourite game.’ He swung his arm around Xavier’s shoulder without thought but dropped it to his side when Xavier stepped out of the embrace.

  ‘I know all about Australia’s favourite game,’ said Xavier. ‘I played cricket until I was seventeen.’

  Paul lay silent and still in the dim room as he identified his surroundings. Brisbane. Home. Not the desert. No war. Movement behind brought him to instant alert. The man behind him moved again, the sound of his wakening breath relaxing Paul. Not a threat. He relaxed his vigilance and moved toward the edge of the bed.

  An arm slid around his waist and a face nuzzled between his shoulder blades. ‘Morning.’ Xavier’s voice was sleepy thick. ‘Are you going to make your famous Belgian waffles for breakfast?’

  The silence thickened until Xavier’s breathing eased back into sleep. He probably hadn’t realised what he said.

  Like he hadn’t realised he called out Warren’s name when Paul had his dick buried in his arse. Paul slid out of bed and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. For one blinding moment in the night he’d been completely connected to another human being. The slow rot of his life had halted, and for that instant, he felt alive. It didn’t matter if Xavier thought Paul was someone else, even if it did carve the lonely hollow inside him deeper. Paul had had his chance to be the special person in someone’s life and the desert had taken Tristan away.

  Paul looked around his bleak existence. Nothing had changed. His mate Cord was wrong. Fucking someone else didn’t make anything better, especially not when the one he fucked was pining for someone else, just like Paul was. He pulled last night’s jeans on then padded to the kitchen to make coffee.

  Five minutes later, Xavier stumbled in, his hair flat on one side and in marshmallow peaks on the other. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles like a little kid and barely managed to cover his yawn before he was finished. Last night’s jeans hung low on his hips.

  ‘Morning,’ he said at the tail end of his yawn. ‘You didn’t have to make coffee, but I really appreciate it.’ His bright hazel eyes glimmered under the glowing tawny gold of his mussed hair. Paul found himself smiling at him.

  He smiled so winsomely that Paul didn’t have the heart to tell him he hadn’t made the coffee for him. He handed his cup over then turned to make himself another. ‘There’s milk in the fridge if you want it.’

  ‘Do you have any honey?’ asked Xavier as he opened the fridge. ‘I know it sounds strange but I really like honey in my coffee.’

  Paul opened the pantry and took out a squeeze bottle of honey.

  ‘Wow, a squeeze bottle. I used to use these when I was a kid but I haven’t seen them in ages.’ Xavier grinned as he picked up the bottle and swirled nearly a third of the honey into his coffee. He blushed when he noticed Paul watching. ‘Sorry. A bit of a sweet tooth.’

  There wasn’t a spare inch on the man. His shoulders were wide for his build and his stomach flat, showing just a hint of definition. ‘It doesn’t show,’ said Paul, his voice suddenly thick. He watched Xavier closely, dazzled at the colour and sound he brought into Paul’s day. His life had been a dark, soundless sponge for a long time - since Tristan - he leaned back against the kitchen counter and held his mug under his nose. As he breathed in the bitter black of the coffee, the real world, his little apartment swam back into focus and the noise and dust of the explosion faded. He jumped when Xavier leaned against him and gently took his mug.

  ‘I was thinking I should go. You know, it was just a one-time thing, but with the way you’re looking at me���’ he ran his hands down Paul’s sides and squeezed what he could reach of his arse, ‘I think we have time for another round.’ Xavier tugged and Paul lifted away from the counter and bumped into him.

  The shock of Xavier’s hard cock pressing against Paul brought him firmly back into the present. Paul left his colourless past behind and dove into the kaleidoscope that Xavier promised him.

  An hour later, Xavier left, a smile on his face and Paul’s number in his contact list. Paul watched him trot down the stairs, and wondered why he’d agreed to another date. He knew he was in no position to offer anyone anything, and Xavier had only just broken up with his boyfriend. He shoved his feet into joggers, locked up and walked to the hospital. He’d rented his flat because of its proximity to the hospital but it was still a brisk thirty minutes before he arrived on Cord’s floor. He made sure he enjoyed the walk every day. Some days he stopped at the Bass Espresso cafe on Boundary Street and brought Cord a coffee, but he didn’t have time this morning.

  ‘You’re running late today,’ said the nurse at the station. ‘He’s been wondering if something happened.’

  Paul nodded and continued towards Cord’s room. Of course Cord would imagine the worst. Since they’d lost everyone else - Paul refused to think Alex’s and Tristan’s names - there was just the two of them left. He slipped into Cord’s room and took his usual seat. Cord stared out the window. When he hadn’t responded after five minutes, Paul moved into his line of sight. ‘I met someone. He gave me a blowjob in the kitchen this morning. That’s why I was late. I didn’t get you a coffee either.’

  Cord focused on Paul. ‘Bastard.’

  Paul shrugged. ‘What can I say? At the time, getting laid seemed more important than spoon-feeding you your mushy cereal.’

  Cord huffed a laugh, never able to stay angry at Paul for long. He swallowed heavily. ‘I thought you’d been hit by a bus or something.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ A twinge in Paul’s stomach reminded him he used to be more considerate. ‘Mai didn’t come?’ Cord’s girlfriend had been at the hospital every day to begin with, but lately, she’d been arriving late, making excuses not to come back.

  ‘She rang.’ Cord kicked the sheet away with his one remaining leg. ‘She still thinks Alex and I were fucking.’

  Paul snorted. Alexia was his childhood friend. They’d enlisted together, trained together, been posted together. She and Cord had fought like cats and dogs the first two years they were on the team, then they’d settled into the kind of almost telepathic ease only the best team-mates achieve. They’d adored each other and probably would have got together at their next leave if��� if Alex had lived. ‘You were a hell of a lot more than fucking.’

  ‘Wish we had.’ Cord’s voice broke and he stared at the ceiling. But Cord had been with Mai, and neither he nor Alex would take it further.

  ‘Yeah. Me too.’

  After a few minutes, Cord cleared his throat. ‘So tell me about the blowjob. It must have been spectacular for you to blow me off.’

  Paul laughed. ‘I offered to blow you six years ago, remember. You refused, even when I told you it was a one and only offer.’

  Cord smiled at the ceiling. ‘Still don’t want to feel whiskers on my dick.’

  ‘Your loss, my friend. Your loss.’ Paul shifted uncomfortably in his seat but, really, why hold back. ‘I met him at the shopping centre, breaking up with his cheating boyfriend.’

  ‘And of course your hero-complex kicked in and you ha
d to save him.’

  ‘I don’t think I’m a hero. The bastard was denying everything - except that he used a condom. His bit on the side was standing right there, lips still puffy from the bastard kissing him in public.’

  ‘Prick.’ Cord shifted on the bed, grimacing as he tried to use his half-leg to help him move.

  Paul braced himself to help, but didn’t move, knowing Cord wanted to do for himself. ‘Yeah. So we got talking, went for a few drinks, then ended up at my place.’ He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the edge of the bed, and whispered, ‘He’s an animal in bed. Shit. You know what I mean. You’ve had women who tear at your clothes and swallow your dick before you even have time to realise you’re - .’

  ‘Yeah, thanks for that,’ interrupted Cord. ‘Bastard.’ He pulled the sheet back up to his waist.

  His job done, Paul leaned back in his seat and grinned. ‘Any time, my friend. You know it’s my mission in life to provide you with fodder for your fantasies.’

  ‘So, you gonna see him again?’

  Paul couldn’t tell Cord that Xavier brought colour to the world, that he felt less lonely when Xavier was there. The jitters he’d lived with since Alex and Tristan had died didn’t seem so bad when Xavier slept quietly beside him. Cord would laugh him out one side of the hospital and round to the other. He’d have to bluff his way through it. ‘Well, who wouldn’t with a night like that as an introduction? My right hand is getting all soft and girly from all the lotion I’ve been using, you know.’

  Cord glared at Paul until he looked away. ‘It’s just���’ Paul began, then stopped and swallowed heavily. ‘I keep expecting Tristan to be there, Cord. I have to do something to make myself realise he’s gone.’ After a few minutes silence, when the thickness in Paul’s throat had time to dissipate. ‘And Xavier has only just broken up with his boyfriend. I’m the transitional guy. See? No harm, no foul.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re getting some. I hope you’re right about nobody getting hurt.’

  What did that mean? Did Cord think Xavier would get hurt? Or Paul? Paul didn’t ask.