|Suitable for All|
This is Fantasy Boys XXX flash fiction entry for the 25th Drabble Cascade. This week there's a competition to win $25 Amazon Voucher too!
So, 'time' - this got me thinking about how we humans mark time, we are, pretty well obsessed with it, with dates, with times, and the years passing is important to us.
Gordon let his hands rest in the washing up bowl, his clouded gaze and concentration on view out of the kitchen window, the large shed at the bottom of their garden. Benedict was in there, he knew it, he’d see him go in half an hour ago, but he couldn’t feel him, and that made Gordon uncomfortable.
They’d met when he had been 21 and Benedict had been 23. No-one had thought they’d work out, it had been easy for their talents to read that. Everyone had decided that two telepaths, especially an artist and a writer, would never be able to stand being in such close proximity for more than a few weeks. When was that, nearly nineteen years ago? Gordon would have smiled at that thought, but he couldn’t shake his worry as he thought of his sculptor partner working away without him inside his head. Of course, they’d blocked each other from time to time before, they’d had rows, but being blocked for three days straight was rocking all of Gordon’s foundations.
It had been such a stupid argument as well! Ever since Benedict had started a new commission six weeks ago, he’d been blocking Gordon for hours at a time. It was so unusual and so uncomfortable that Gordon had finally raised it at breakfast three mornings ago and Benedict had tried to be flippant about it. Gordon had not been feeling jovial and he’d shouted. Then Benedict had shouted and made noises about artistic independence and Gordon had finally projected all his worry at his partner. That had been it, Benedict had shut down and hadn’t even spoken to him since.
Gordon had been walking round in a subdued daze, not being able to write, or even think clearly as his concern kept coming back round to the silence in his mind. Benedict was part of him, had been for so long that his absence left a cold hole in Gordon’s thoughts. It was not to be borne.
Shaking off his hands, Gordon stepped back from the sink, and wiping them on his trousers, he headed to the back door. He didn’t care what it took, he would beg if he had to, but he couldn’t stand being alone any more. He crossed the lawn in half a dozen long strides, but as he reached the barn-style door of Benedict’s workshop, the not knowing got to him and Gordon slowed down. He had to gather all his courage to reach for the door, and as he did so, he reached out with his mind as well.
[Beni, please?] he checked tentatively, fear of rejection making his stomach churn.
Nothing, just a wall of silence and Gordon’s finger’s faltered on the door handle. He couldn’t face it and, feeling sick, he turned away.
[Shit, shit, shit!] suddenly daggered through his head, bringing Gordon up short in confusion. [You always make me mess things up!]
If they had been spoken out loud, the words could have been taken as accusatory, but the rush of emotion that came with them into Gordon’s brain took his breath away for very different reasons, and as arms came urgently round him from behind, he sunk into a hold that so full of love that his knees went weak. There was an avalanche of guilt and worry and just a spice of anger as well and he couldn’t help himself, he laughed his relief.
[You stupid bastard,] Benedict chastised mightily, but was busy kissing Gordon’s neck gently at the same time. [You’re a day early, but why did I expect anything less?]
“Day?” Gordon asked, at a complete loss as to what his partner was talking about.
Benedict laughed and, releasing Gordon, grabbed his hand instead and pulled him towards the workshop.
“I should have known you’d forget,” his lover spoke this time, keeping some of his thoughts away from Gordon again as he dragged inside.
Still confused, but no longer unsure, Gordon came to a halt where he knew, from the gentle push from his partner’s mind, that Benedict wanted him. He stood just inside the door and reluctantly let go of Benedict’s hand as the other man carried on walking. Benedict stepped into the sunshine from the skylights, the small bald patch on the back of his head shining in the beams. He stopped next to a cloth-covered something on his main workbench and turned, smiling at Gordon, his green eyes twinkling. A quick flick of Benedict’s hand took Gordon by surprise and then the cloth was gone, revealing a shape in bronze that immediately drew in Gordon’s attention. The form was abstract, undulating curls folding in over each other, never finishing, just caressing one on another, over and over again: the message in the bronze was clear to Gordon and he felt his body begin to heat up with the same passion that was in the sculpture.
[Glad you like it, Lover,] Benedict told him, smile and thoughts deepening to echo the desires in his art.
Gordon threw Benedict a wide grin - oh yes, he liked it!
His partner held out one arm and instantly, Gordon was by his side, one hand slipping down round Benedict’s waist and the other reaching out to run his fingers over the undulating lines of the bronze.
[I was just finishing it for the surprise party I had organised for tomorrow,] Benedict told him, palm rubbing over his bum, [but you can have it now. Happy Birthday, Darling.]
Gordon gasped - in preparing the draft of his latest book and then the argument, he had completely forgotten he was turning forty. Benedict laughed again. Gordon, however, turned in his lover’s hold and stared into those bright green eyes, offering everything to him in a rush of surprise, joy and love. Benedict straightened a little, smile still ghosting his lips, but something far deeper behind his eyes. He shared it a moment later, a warm, gentle love tinged with the first stirrings of desire.
[Well, keeping that secret was worth it,] he told Gordon, although a flicker of disquiet instantly followed and he admitted, [almost.]
“Thank you,” Gordon whispered before he bent across and captured his lover’s lips, [but, never, ever do that again.]
Relief, love and passion mixed in his chest, making a very potent cocktail and he wrapped Benedict in all of it, tightening the physical embrace as he did so.
[Oh, I don’t know, I quite like you like this,] Benedict teased, his desires seeping into Gordon’s mind.
He then gave an undignified squeak and tensed for a second as Gordon grabbed handfuls of arse and squeezed, hard, but very quickly he melted deliciously against Gordon once more. Wondering if they could emulate the passionate tangles of the sculpture, Gordon smiled through the caress and pushed Benedict backwards towards the first handy bracing position they could find.