by P. W. Davies
Christian lifted a hand, his thumb grazing Peter’s cheek. “You ask too many questions. I’ll tell you when you should worry, love.”
“They let you get arrested.”
“I let myself get arrested. Last ditch effort to try and stay out of this asshole’s reach so I could think. But you all bloody well cocked that up.”
“‘Cocked that up’?” Peter laughed. “Stop thinking you can cute yourself out of trouble.”
“It’s worked thus far for me. I have no reason to believe it won’t in the future.” He arched a brow at Peter. “Provided there is one.”
Peter acknowledged the weight of Christian’s statement and took in like a deep breath. Leaning close, he allowed a kiss to serve as his response, parting their lips when Victor returned, equipped with the means to begin treating Christian. Peter assumed the role of doctor again, though an occasional smile fixed itself on Christian’s expression when he wasn’t belabored by pain. Neither of them spoke, but neither needed to. The silence in the space between them had said enough.
It took a half hour for a group of men, dressed like police officers, to enter the condo and begin their work. Peter continued to sew the wound shut after having fished out the bullet, and as one ‘officer’ crouched beside him, Peter glanced at the other man. The haggard face of Roland remained pointed toward Christian, heedless of the attention his presence had garnered from Peter. “You know, you’re almost not worth the money you make me,” Roland said with a sigh. Peter diligently resumed sewing while Christian and Roland spoke. “I can’t guarantee you didn’t invite hell here with this.”
“They were the ones who showed up here,” Christian countered. “Was I to let them take hostages?”
“No, I guess not, but this one here’s gonna get himself hurt anyway, showing up places where he shouldn’t be.”
Christian looked at Peter. Peter’s eyes raised to engage Christian and as they did, Christian grinned. “Be gentle on him,” Christian said. “He’s getting the lay of the land.”
Peter mirrored the expression and remained mute, cleaning the wound off again once he was satisfied with the result of his stitching. While Christian held a towel against his side, Peter kissed his forehead again, saying, “I’ll be right back. I need to wash my hands,” and garnering a nod from his lover in return. Roland continued to speak with Christian and the others he had brought executed the process of eliminating evidence like a well-oiled machine. Peter reached the kitchen sink and as he did, he felt as though he might sleep for a week once he settled into bed.
“I’m having a difficult time centering myself.” Peter glanced toward the other side of the kitchen when Victor spoke and waited for him to walk closer before turning on the tap water. “You and I are the only normal people in this room right now,” he said.
The nervous laugh Peter issued felt involuntary. He reached for the soap and poured a large amount into his palm. “Somehow, I think our willingness to accept what just happened here tonight makes us anything but normal,” Peter said. “Though I’ll probably try to convince myself I’m normal tomorrow.”
Victor chuckled, the space between him and Peter disappearing by another few steps while Peter scrubbed his hands. Peter looked up at him and as he did, he saw a sober form of delight dancing in the other man’s eyes. “Does that mean you intend to stay with us?” he asked. “Or have you had enough of the madness?”
Peter pursed his lips and stole a glance at the condo again. He saw the furniture being moved and rugs being rolled up; the plastic bags being shifted closer to the front door while a man with a toolbox walked over to Christian and opened it, pulling out several bandages. “Our boyfriend is a hitman,” he said, and as he looked back at Victor, he smiled sheepishly. “Maybe after a few drinks and a couple of sleepless nights, we’ll come to terms with that together.”
While Victor breathed another light laugh, he moved closer to Peter and as he lifted onto his toes, the other man bent enough at the waist for their lips to meet. The kiss soft and sweet, it lingered for several seconds and even when they parted, only inches separated them.
“Is it too presumptive for me to say I’m falling in love with you, Peter?” Victor asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Only if it’s not too presumptive for me to say I’m falling in love with you, too.”
“Christian might take a bit to come around to it, but…”
“I know.” Peter kissed Victor again, this time in a much deeper and more passionate manner. Slowly pulling away again, Peter touched noses with the shorter man and straightened to a full stand again. “I’ll stay here for a few days,” he said. “I remember this guy as a patient. I think we’re both going to have to sit on him to keep him in bed.”
Victor chuckled lightly. Together, they enjoyed their brief respite from the madness and once the men had finished cleaning Victor’s condo, Peter cleaned himself up and checked on Christian, grateful that Victor had gotten him to settle in their bedroom. “I’ll be back,” he said, leaning over to kiss Christian’s forehead. “I’m going to get something from my apartment.”
“Would you like a ride?” Victor asked, glancing up at Peter from the bed where he sat.
“Nah,” Peter said, smirking. “I’ll take the time to catch my breath.”
Both Victor and Christian acknowledged the statement in their own way, Victor taking the opportunity to stand and touch Peter’s lips with his while Christian lay in bed, fighting off the obvious urge to rest. “Get some sleep,” Peter said in parting, and while Christian grunted against the suggestion, his eyelids already looked poised to shut again. Peter left the condo, dumbfounded and curious at the lack of disturbances from the neighbors, as if something had descended on the building and whisked away any sign of what had just happened. “Yeah, this is still going to take a lot of getting used to,” Peter muttered. He knew it in his bones, though. He wanted to get used to it.
It marked his actions while he packed an overnight bag; while he filled it both with a change of clothes and another outfit for work. He didn’t know how he’d walk the line between his life and the bizarre one Christian lived, but he knew now that he wanted to. Passing the kitchen table, he caught sight of where he’d left the unanswered job offers, a mischievous grin curling the corner of his mouth.
The letters found their way into the trash can before he left again.
Nineteen
The waves rolling in from the ocean formed a rhythmic pulse which bordered on hypnotic. As Peter relaxed in his chair, he watched each crash of water against the sand, reflecting upon a variety of thoughts, like erosion and change and the strange sensation of happiness overwhelming him. It might not have come in a normal, gift-wrapped package, but he had found it anyway.
Pulling out his phone, he sent a quick response to a text Robin had sent him. No sooner had he hit send, however, than a hand plucked his phone out of his grip, its owner sitting on the towel laid out beside Peter. “None of this,” Christian said. “We’re on vacation.”
Peter laughed. “Just sending a quick message to a friend,” he said. “That’s all.”
“A likely story.” Christian winked, in defiance of his skepticism. As he slid the phone into the bag they’d packed, Peter glanced first at him, then toward the water where Christian’s gaze seemed to stray. There, Victor emerged from beneath the water, swimming toward the shore with sunlight glistening on his skin. Christian sighed in admiration. “Part of me thinks he knows how gorgeous he is,” Christian added, as if knowing they both had become fixated on the same sight, “and part of me wonders if he truly does.”
“I think a healthy mixture of both,” Peter said. “The two of you never seem lacking in confidence.”
“He said as though that wasn’t one of the things that turned him on the most about us.”
“Shush.” Peter glanced at Christian and grinned. “You’re not supposed to know that.”
“Flattery, my dear doctor, will get you everywhere.”
Christian lifted from the towel, slinking toward Peter’s chair and rising to his feet like a cat leaping onto a countertop. Before Peter knew it, he found the other man straddling him, his hands settling on Peter’s bare chest and rubbing up toward his neck. Peter stole a quick glance at the healing scar from the makeshift stitches he’d sewn into his boyfriend’s body, still reliving that night and the ones which followed it even after several weeks had passed. While making peace with everything had a long journey ahead of them, nothing could ruin his mood. Not with Christian demanding his attention again, a pleading look greeting Peter when he lifted his gaze.
“A long time before you ever need to worry about that again,” Christian said, leaning forward until his forehead touched Peter’s. “A very long time. I promise.”
Peter nodded, shutting his eyes and kissing Christian when the other man pressed his lips against his. Their union grew in intensity almost immediately, prompted by Christian, but Peter allowed himself to get pulled under, not caring to exercise caution any longer. He was where he wanted to be; where he needed to be, he corrected. He had asserted that to Christian throughout the other man’s recovery. And repeated it to him again through his kiss.
Fingertips danced across his rib cage, interrupting the kiss. As Peter broke away to laugh, he stared, delighted, at Christian, watching the devious smirk curl the corners of his lips as he plunged in again with his fingers. Peter wriggled and tried to tickle Christian back and as they both toppled off the chair, they rolled partly onto the towel and partly onto the sand. Howls of uproarious laughter rose from their entangled bodies, until drips of water rained down on them from above.
Both men parted and rolled onto their backs, looking away from the sun enough to see Victor’s silhouette. He smirked and crouched beside them, lifting Christian to a seated position when the other man reached for his hand. “You know, you’re both behaving like children,” he said, though a playful form of appreciation resonated in the way he spoke.
“Like complete children,” Christian said. “You should be ashamed of us.”
“I am,” Victor began, a statement which morphed into a yelp of surprise when Peter pulled him down beside him. Sand adhered to Victor’s damp skin, smearing onto the other two men as they attacked Victor in unison, attempting for whatever ticklish portions of Victor they could reach and meeting with both peels of delight and attempts at resistance. The trio reached a truce with an agreement to join Victor for a swim and after washing off the caked-on muck in the saltwater, they retreated to the bedroom to shower.
Neither Peter, nor Christian or Victor, dressed, however, once they were finished.
Peter rested on the bed first, reclining back while Victor and Christian approached each other in a kiss. Their naked bodies pressed together as the union of their mouths turned hungry and probing, and while their hands slid over skin, Peter drank in the sight. His own palm settled on his stomach and the more he watched, the more desire rippled through him, pushing him past self-erected barriers. Don’t touch, not yet, he thought. Wait… just wait for it. When Victor took hold of Christian’s cock, however, he couldn’t resist the urge any longer. He reached for his own hardening length and gave it a tug.
“Oh God, yes,” Peter said, sucking in a breath, his jaw clenching as his fingers continued sliding up and down his shaft.
Victor hummed with approval, becoming more emphatic. While Christian quivered in his grip, he shifted his lips, whispering loud enough for Peter to hear as well. “Suck his cock,” he said. “I want to watch him come while I come inside of you.” Christian nodded and after Victor indulged a few additional strokes, he released his hold on Christian’s shaft.
When Christian turned his focus onto Peter, the look in his eyes turned predatory.
Peter felt his skin flush, his knees almost buckling when Christian turned to crawl onto the bed. Leaving Victor behind, he trained his focus completely onto the buffet laid out before him and took Peter in with relish. Peter relaxed against his elbows, his eyes rolling back, and while Christian’s tongue slid up his cock, he forced his eyes open again, regarding Victor’s movements through the haze of lust. Victor had taken out the lube, and after squirting some into his palm, he set it aside again and smirked at Peter. Holding up two fingers for Peter to see first, he then lowered them toward Christian’s ass.
Christian moaned around Peter’s cock when Victor’s fingers entered him. That alone almost made Peter orgasm. He held on, though, cautioning himself against succumbing. Almost every ounce of his focus centered around staving off the inevitable, but as Victor’s fingers took on a rhythm, Christian soon matched it. Opening his eyes, Christian looked up at Peter while withdrawing, freeing one hand from bracing himself and using it to hold the base of Peter’s cock. “Not yet, love,” he said, his voice strained.
“Don’t let me come,” Peter said, nodding as if the statement needed added emphasis.
Victor withdrew his fingers. His palm slid across his hard length and, after positioning himself behind Christian, he slowly pushed himself inside him. Obscene noises lilted from the other man’s lips, reaching crescendo once Victor entered Christian more fully. His hips snapped and his own eyes rolled back in absolute surrender to that moment. It took mere seconds for him to withdraw again. To Peter, though, it felt like an eternity.
Christian’s lips wrapped around his cock again while Victor slowly fucked Christian. For a brief period, the men nearly synchronized their movements, but the harmony only lasted for so long, with so much self-restraint being exerted by each one. Christian trembled and whimpered and with the next shove of Victor’s cock inside of him, Christian moaned again. “Please,” Peter said, not knowing what he was begging for beyond the sheer need to release. His muscles had pulled taunt. His stomach twisted and the amount of pressure which had gathered in his groin became almost unbearable.
They toppled like dominoes.
First Peter, who yelled toward the ceiling when Christian released his hold on him. Christian took in as much as he could, but come dripped along his chin and onto Peter when Victor stepped up the tempo of his movements. Riding the haze and pulses of completion, Peter saw when Victor spilled over and beheld, mesmerized when Victor reached for Christian’s cock again. It took only a few additional strokes for Christian to spill over. And when he did, euphoria painted itself all over his expression.
They fell into bed together, Victor and Christian assuming a place on either side of Peter. Groans of satisfaction preceded actual words, and though Peter murmured, “I am starving,” Victor only chuckled and promised they would call for room service.
“Maybe after a nap,” Victor said.
“A nap sounds perfect,” Christian said, his voice half-drunk from fatigue.
Peter chuckled and kissed Victor’s hair when he settled on top of Peter’s shoulder. Christian nuzzled close but looked up at Peter when he felt the other man’s eyes on him, the smile on his face relaxing and turning warm the longer they regarded each other.
“I love you,” Christian said.
What happiness Peter had already felt eclipsed in comparison to the amount of elation that filled him in that moment. Meeting Christian in a kiss, he continued to smile even after his lover had settled against him again, his hand reaching over Peter’s stomach to interweave his fingers with Victor’s. Peter shut his eyes, stroking both their backs while floating on a pocket of bliss.
“I love you, too,” Peter said.
“I love both of you,” he added before he fell asleep.
Epilogue
Two strangers converged on the city within three days of each other, bringing an ominous air to Philadelphia with their arrival. While their journeys were marked by opposing points of origin, their purposes for arriving couldn’t have been more different. Both, however, held the same high-rise in Rittenhouse within their sights.
The first visitor stepped from the plane, pausing outside the gate to adjust his backpack. As he lowered his su
nglasses to read the location signs, he found the direction for the baggage claim area and hummed a tune on his way to the escalators. He hadn’t announced his arrival to anyone, and while it wouldn’t have been the first time he showed up without warning, a part of him had already prepared for being scolded. His skin still tanned from the desert sun, he ran a hand through nearly-black hair and bided his time texting everyone but his would-be host.
‘Still tending bar in Fishtown, sexy?’ read one. Pocketing the phone, the young man shifted his sunglasses on top of his head to follow the progress of suitcases while they tumbled onto the carousel. When the familiar black, Samsonite suitcase made its circuit toward where he stood, he removed it from the conveyor and, after extending the handle, wheeled it toward the airport exit. His phone chimed while he surveyed the passing taxi cabs.
‘In town annoying your brother?’
Smirking, he tapped out the response.
‘Yeah, he just doesn’t know it yet.’
Looking up, he whistled at a double-parked yellow car and hurried toward it before anyone else could. Once the suitcase and his backpack had been secured within the trunk, he sat in the backseat and rattled off the Rittenhouse address before settling in for the ride. A text-based discussion, centered around how long he’d be in town and when he’d be available filled the time as they muscled through traffic. An hour later, the taxi pulled up to the familiar building and, after paying his fare, the visitor entered.
His focus remained on the walls surrounding him and the bank of elevators in front of him until the man seated behind the desk rose to engage him. “It’s just me, Kyle,” the visitor said, pulling his suitcase behind him. “I’m in town for a few days.”
“Your brother know that yet?” Kyle asked, in a half-standing position.
“Well, he’s gonna find out soon.” The visitor winked and continued toward the elevators, stepping inside when the doors parted and allowed him passage. Whistling throughout his ascent, he paused when the car shuddered to a stop and the doors opened again. A spring marked his stroll to the door of one condo and after pressing the buzzer, he waited, patiently, for the person he expected to answer.