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“Has she never seen a gorgeous, battered, gay guy before?”
Syed grinned. “Has she never seen a weedy (no, that's what you said! can't take it back) besotted, messy-haired (you said that too) Pakistani guy before?”
Christian noted the fact that he didn't include 'gay' in the list. “Well I suppose if you live here, surrounded by all this and only have wildlife for company then I guess you're going to be a little sheltered.”
“Good cook, though.”
“She is.” He reached over and ran his fingers lightly over Syed's exposed forearm. “You're okay with the food?”
Syed, practically purring under his touch nodded rather absently. “Yes, it's delicious. Why?”
“Amira said everything was halal – they bought all the groceries – gave her instructions on how to prepare the food...”
Syed laughed, pinched his cheek, eliciting a faux wince from him. “Oh god, sorry. I didn't mean- Oh funny! You're lucky you're still a crock otherwise...”
“Well I may look like a crock, but there are parts of me that are fully functional.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh yeah.” He allowed Syed's hand to slide into his, pulled him closer. “That part of me is very functional.”
“Oh, is it? Well I only have your word for that don't I? Maybe I should examine it for myself.”
“Can you multi-task?”
Syed snorted. “No, you have not spent the last year teaching me exactly how to multi-task – to your exact specifications.”
“Well then. Let's see – hands there; mouth...right here...”
It was the first time they'd kissed properly for what felt like weeks. Ever since the beating they'd been affectionate, but it had been constrained both by the injuries themselves and the way he felt about the bruises on his face. There'd been times when the desire between them had risen up out of nowhere, just the way it always did, always had – no idea why he'd feel that anything had changed in that way – but for reasons of privacy and opportunity neither had felt able to give in to it the way they wanted.
But they had the next two weeks to actually be together in the way they never had before. What would it actually be like to spend all this time with Syed ( not just in bed) without a huge part of him being absent , constantly on the lookout for the sin in what they were doing, the guilt that Christian had come to realise could strike at any time?
From the outset he'd wanted to be domestic with Syed – not a desire he could honestly say had ever been part of his life-plan. He'd sometimes experienced a cold horror at the picture of him as a predatory old queen, still thinking he was attractive, still trying to insert his rod into waters where the fish just would never, ever bite. He'd seen them, seen the emptiness in their eyes, the will to deceive themselves, the inability to accept that they were forever destined to end it alone – no sex, no love, nothing. And he had, naturally, vowed that that would not be his fate, he'd have more dignity, accept the loneliness rather than lose his self-respect that way. And as for paying for it! Never, not ever going to happen.
“Don't want to hurt you,” Syed was whispering into his mouth, eyes closed, hands hovering at his belt.
“Oh he is a man of steel, lover!” He bit Syed's bottom lip. “You can't hurt him!”
Syed didn't smile: breathing, heat, hardness telling the story of his arousal. “Want to suck you. So fucking much. Been thinking about it...”
Christian put a hand on the back of his head and concentrated on kissing the mouth he loved so much, not only intent on arousing him to the breaking point but intent also on conveying his helpless love and desire. “Me too. Been imagining how it's going to feel to get you naked on your back, get you in my mouth...”
“Me first.” Syed pushed him back, eyes dark and intent. “I owe you.”
**
“It's weird isn't it? Here: all this privacy, knowing you could fuck me against that window and no-one would even know, no-one would even see.” He looked into Christian's face, grinning.
Christian groaned. “Not sure two weeks will be long enough for me to get myself ready for that, Sy!”
“Ooh, who's the chicken now?”
“I think I've created a monster.” He turned gingerly on his side, reaching out a hand for Syed's. “Thank you.”
Syed sighed and sliding down in the bed, mirrored his position. “You're welcome,” he said formally, looking into his eyes. When he saw the smile begin he laughed and kissed him, aware that he was ridiculously, absurdly happy... “I don't think we've ever thanked each other for blow jobs before.”
“Well maybe we should get into that habit, Mr. Masood. Course if I started thanking you for blowjobs I'd have to start thanking you for the rest of it too.”
“Hmm.”
“So to save time how about: “Thank you for being in my life? Thank you for being my lover, my best friend, my partner?”
Syed considered, tasting the words then turned to him and with a faux solemn expression simply said: “Ditto.”
Christian's response was expected.
He absolutely fucking hated that film!
**
Walking with him hand-in-hand; feeding him strawberries they'd hand-picked; keeping a vigil for the family of foxes that lived somewhere on the edge of their garden... He really could get used to this. So, so domestic, but different somehow, somewhat exotic for both him and Syed. Syed had never believed he could ever have this – with a man, having it all as he saw it. In a funny way Christian hadn't believed it either if for rather different reasons. He had never truly expected to meet this person, this person for whom all the rules he'd set were voluntarily bent if not actively broken, where his happiness was more important than yours, where just the sight, each morning, of the tousle he called his hair could set you up for the remainder of the day...
These two weeks alone, away from all their problems, away from the weight of society's jaundiced regard had made them both understand just exactly what it was they'd forged between them. And they'd forged it – it had by no means fallen into their laps.
Syed had wanted him enough to choose him, the choosing the most life altering decision he'd ever make in his life.
And Syed made light of it, not considering it worth talking about.
But he knew, knew he'd been chosen, that this person who was everything to him did love him back, loved him in a way that made his head spin whenever he thought on it.
All he'd given Syed was his love. In return Syed had given him his life...
**
“Yeah, I'm driving up. We decided to leave it late, avoid the traffic. No I'm fine driving on the motorway at night. Dad...” He aimed a kick at the mocking Christian. “I've had my licence for- No, that's true, but still...” He rolled his eyes at Christian. “I will be careful. No, he's fine, seems to have made a pretty good recovery. No, I think it's the fresh country air.” He stifled a laugh at Christian's obscene pantomime of what he felt had hastened his recovery. “We are both raring to go and dad, yeah I still want to discuss some things with you.” He listened, gesturing Christian closer, holding his gaze, mouthing. 'I can't ask him about mum, not now.' “Yeah, okay, dad. I will. Promise. See you later.” He replaced the receiver with a relieved sigh and began to smile as Christian caught him round the waist, nuzzled at his neck. “Well mum's still not home. I'll have to talk to him. I do need to see her. I need to hear her side of things. But,” he became businesslike, “That can wait, let's get this place cleaned up.”
Ignoring Christian's snort he wriggled from his embrace and set about cleaning the spotless cottage that had come with its own cleaner-cum-cook. He and Christian were both very tidy, but he needed some time to consider what he'd do about his mother. Cleaning an already spotless home seemed as good a method as any.
**
“And what if Tam objects to sleeping on the sofa?” He was feeling sleepy. It had been a long day and the drive had him nodding off.
Syed, eyes fixed on the road ahead shrugged. “He'll be fine. I'm sure he'd prefer that to me sharing a bed with him.”
“Or me?” He laughed out loud when Syed shot him a look. “Don't worry, one Masood's all this boy can handle.”
“And don't you bloody forget it!” He was clearly trying to maintain a serious expression: the grin seemed to be completely involuntary
Leaning over he kissed the grin. “Well I'll try not to, but I might need a little help staying on track.” He brushed Syed's hair to one side, kissing the exposed ear. “I expect you'll volunteer to help.”
“Oh don't be too sure of yourself. I might set you loose on him – might be interesting to watch how you both deal!”
Christian didn't move away, playing with his ear until Syed protested, voice hoarse and breathy. “Oh sorry, got so used to this...”
They were both silent for a time, Christian staring at the lights of the other cars on the road, Syed concentrating on getting them home in one piece.
Yeah, all the things they'd got used to – all that would change now wouldn't it?
As though reading his thoughts Syed glanced at him and returned his frown with one of his own...
**
“Why can't he sleep on the sofa?” Tamwar was dressed for bed and was reluctant to change horses in midstream, even though the actual process was nowhere near as complicated as that undertaking. Well at least he wasn't asking why he couldn't stay at the flat...
Christian answered before he could. “Well okay, yeah why don't I do that, Sy?” He shrugged. “Tamwar's right; no reason I couldn't sleep on the sofa.”
Well actually. “Well actually there-”
“No, it's okay, you have the bed.” Tamwar made a point of examining Christian's face. “You still look like shit, so-”
“Tam!”
“What? All I'm saying is that he's clearly still not up to par. I'm sure I'd be the one who'd get the blame if he wasn't able to get up from the sofa tomorrow morning so...” He looked really put upon and Syed wanted to apologise to Christian for his brother's rudeness, but found his lover grinning in genuine amusement, and there was something, something between them, like a private joke or something.
He looked from one to the other and sensibly elected to leave it be.
“Okay then, Christian, want to use the bathroom first?”
Taking the hint Christian nodded, said “Sure, I'll take this up as well,” before leaving the room, leaving them alone.
Tam's attention was on the man making his slow way up the stairs.
“Where's dad?”
“Over at some mates'.” His look was challenging; challenging him to what, interrogate him, accuse him of lying?
“He said anything about when mum's coming back?”
Tamwar looked really uncomfortable. “You're joking of course. He hasn't mentioned her since you left!”
Not good. But how to handle this? How much did Tam know anyway? He didn't want to go against his father's wishes and he didn't know if he'd told Tamwar anything at all about the situation, but he was sure that this was something his brother needed to know about! “Tam, you know why mum hasn't come home don't you?”
“I know it's to do with you, but that's about it. I don't know if it's because you two had a row or what-” He didn't know if he'd have the capacity to be as patient as Tam was, aware that his family kept so many secrets from him, but not feeling it was his place to ask to be treated as an adult, as someone with a right to know what the rest of the family knew.
“Well the reason she went away yes, was to do with me. I told her, Tam, told her before the wedding-”
“About you and Christian?”
“Yeah. I told her I loved him, didn't want to go through with the wedding, told her that I was gay, but she persuaded me to.”
“Forced you, you mean. Wow! Explains a lot. Wondered why she used to look at you sometimes like she-” He broke off then, worriedly biting at his lip, as he stared at Syed's face.
“Like she hated and despised me,” he finished for him.
“I- So Amira, she never knew?”
“Not until a month or so ago – when I made that decision to come out to all of you.”
Tam was thoughtful. “I can't believe all this was going on and I didn't know about it.”
“We were wrong – I was wrong - to keep it secret.”
“I'm not actually talking about that, Syed. I mean mum – and dad – keeping all this from me. It makes you feel like a fool, going on as if everything's fine when the truth is your family's falling apart and they don't have the decency to even tell you.”
They both stopped talking as the front door closed, the sound of their dad taking off his coat, coins and keys jingling. “Syed?”
“Here,dad.” He exchanged a look with Tamwar: 'leave it', smiling in greeting as his dad came into the room. Syed was shocked by his appearance but managed to keep that locked behind the smile. “Christian was going to stay the night at his sister's but Tam volunteered his bed – just for the night.”
His dad stilled, looked at Tam, probably in an effort to avoid meeting Syed's eye. “Oh?” he said.
Syed wanted to greet that with a sarcastic rejoinder but hadn't they made the arrangements they had just for this – to respect his father's sensibilites? “I should have put it differently. I meant Tam's giving up his bed to me – my old room – and Christian's in Tam's old room. Force of habit, dad, that's all.”
He could see the relief in every muscle of his body. “Well that's very generous of you, Tam. Thank you. And where's the invalid?”
“Dad.”
“Dad.”
The two younger Masoods looked at each other and grinned.
Their father, amused by this seemed to lose the extra years he'd acquired in the last fortnight as he laughed at them. “Okay, okay – the recovering patient? That better?”
“How about just 'Christian'?”
Syed looked at his brother, and found himself once again wondering …
**
Well he wasn't sure Masood approved of him sleeping under the same roof as Syed – well to be more accurate – both of them sleeping under the same roof as him, but that was okay – he had problems with Syed's sexuality and had never made any bones about that. He wasn't hostile or even particularly awkward with him, treated him pretty much the way he always had, just obviously wouldn't be comfortable with any overt displays of affection or any undue attention drawn to the fact that when he wasn't around Christian was in the habit of fucking his son rigid...
They'd all had a pretty nice couple of hours in front of the tv, everyone relaxed, free to be themselves, no airs or graces, no putting on a show simply because there was someone who wasn't family in their midst.
Didn't know exactly what that meant but he was pretty sure it bode well for the future.
He knew that obviously Sy wasn't going to turn in before he did and he was looking pretty sleepy over there (he and Sy had elected not to sit together – he and Tanwar were sitting together) so with an exaggerated yawn he made retiring for the night noises, said his goodnights and went upstairs to the bathroom.
Syed was pretty canny, so he'd probably give it a few before making his own way upstairs. Not like they were going to do anything, but a private goodnight was on both their agendas that night.
It took longer than expected, Masood coming upstairs some time before he heard Syed's door open and then the distinctive tread of his feet make their way to the bathroom.
He tried to be as patient as possible, but he was dying here, just wanted to see him. Bad enough that they wouldn't be sleeping in each other's arms for the first time in what felt like ages but not to get a chance to hold and kiss him, wish him sweet dreams?
He heard the bathroom light click and waited as he heard the steps come his way...
His hair was damp, as was his skin; his mouth cool and sweet.
How the hell was he supposed to let this go, any of this go?
They had to find a way, a way to be together – in their own place. Not the flat, not even in Walford, somewhere they could call entirely theirs, somewhere they could pick strawberries and feed each other, lick the juice off each other under the warmth of the midday sun and know they were completely free to do so.
It was what they both wanted. He had to find a way to make it happen...
**
“I need to talk to her, dad.”
He was helping his dad prepare the evening meal. Tam was out and Christian had been with Roxy all day, promising he'd be back for the meal. They'd had a few words earlier – nothing major – when Christian had said he'd be staying at the Beales for the next few days and then probably moving back into the flat. He'd sort of understood and sort of hadn't, but then he wanted Christian around him 24/7, hated the thought of him not being under the same roof. He knew he was being both unrealistic and a little selfish. Jane had been just as anxious about Christian, had been a little put out when she learned that they planned to go away for a few weeks to aid his recovery, but had held back, put her own feelings aside for Christian's sake. The least he could do was to allow her some time with her brother.
His dad, busy peeling veg didn't look at him nor answer at once. He wasn't looking as washed out as he had last night – Syed sure that that had been the first time he'd laughed in weeks – but he'd lost weight and had acquired a few telling strands of grey amongst the jet black of his hair. “I know, son, and I think you should. I have to warn you though that the last time I spoke to her she was showing no remorse at all, not even admitting to making that call.” His dad snorted, the peeler held aloft. “Well no, she didn't make it, just got one of her cousins to – spun them a tall tale, made herself seem like the wronged party. You know the drill. But regardless of who actually made the call she was responsible. She knew – better than any of us, Syed – what that man would do to Christian.” His expression was solemn. “I don't honestly believe, Syed, that you can forgive her. You want to, I know you do, but I've heard her, heard how little she regrets what she did. She thinks that since none of us were hurt it's okay. She doesn't care that Amira could have been in serious trouble, shouldered blame that wasn't hers to shoulder or that Christian – our friend – could have been maimed, murdered. I don't know if, in time, she'll wake up and see that she was wrong, that she has done more to tear this family apart than any outsider ever could, but Syed, son, I think that seeing her now will hurt you, might wreck any chance you might have to mend this – in time. I know how much he means to you – do you honestly mean to tell me that you could bear to hear her deny her part in it, not actually say she's sorry for what she did? Where would you go from there? You want her to admit it, explain why, but she won't, can't.”
Syed had been watching his father's hands as they peeled and sliced, cut and diced, fascinated as he'd always been by the way his father did this – wholly different from the way his mum did. “She really won't admit she made that call?”
“Like I said, she didn't make it so she's got herself well covered. She admitted it to me, of course, though not in so many words.” He met Syed's eyes. “She won't admit it to you, I know that.”
“She really hates him that much?”
“She blames him for me finding out about her forcing you to go through with the wedding. I mean she really blames him for that. I knew it at the time she went away.” They both knew, but weren't going to say that her departure had not been voluntary. “But it never occurred to me that she'd allow herself to get to the point where she'd be able to do something so...wrong... so contrary to everything we believe. As a family, Syed, contrary to everything we've tried to bring you - all of you - up to believe. And that she has been so underhanded... It's just not her way, Syed. At least that's what I always believed.”
He knew his dad didn't mean it, didn't mean it at all, but none of this was doing anything to assuage his guilt. Had his mother started being underhanded prior to discovering that her son was gay and in love with another man?
All of this, all of it could be set firmly at his door.
His father knew him well, was probably expert at reading his expression for he sighed and shook his head. “Don't blame yourself. You didn't make her choose to be dishonest and underhanded about this. It wasn't about her and you – it was about all of us – a matter that should have been handled by all of us, but she chose to leave me out of it, keep something this important from me, her husband, the man she shares her life with! She seems too often to forget that she didn't create you by herself! She calls you our son, but I sometimes think that she doesn't really believe that.” He looked at his son. “What's that the Christians call it, Immaculate Conception?”
Syed wasn't sure until he saw the twitch at his father's lips and allowed himself to give in to the amusement. Couldn't actually believe they were laughing, but his life was completely surreal these days so shouldn't really be that surprised. “I don't feel like I can walk on water.”
His dad chuckled. “You sure? There were times she almost had me believing you could.”
“Nah, not me. Christian can though.”
His father looked at him then shook his head. “Well one thing I know for sure – love makes you stupid, whether you're gay or straight.”
Well couldn't exactly argue with that now, could he...
**
“I said yes, what the hell – you want me to change my mind or something?”
“But it's a lot of money. Potentially, a hell of a lot of money.”
“Yeah.” She took the cushion and pressed it for a minute against his face, clearly exasperated. “And I won't invest until I've done – well, had my business manager do due diligence.”
“And who's your business manager?”
“Ronnie – she's got a good head on her shoulders and she's good with staff – she'll hire the right people.”
He still wasn't sure. He hadn't meant to ask her to invest. Actually he hadn't actually asked her to had he? All he'd said was that there was a place in the country he and Sy would really love to buy or rent if that was more feasible and she'd asked load of questions about it, about their future plans and it had all come spilling out; how they were planning to go into business together; how he believed in Sy, but was worried about getting the seed money for their initial property investment... And she'd just piped up and offered to buy the cottage and rent it to them, then put up the money for their first project so long as it was worth her while.
He couldn't believe it! The cottage they'd fallen in love with might someday be theirs? Rent at first, she'd said, then she'd sell it to them at a reduced price! A gift in reality, not an investment, but he knew her, knew she'd hate him to clock that and actually talk about it. So he concentrated instead on talking about the business – how they'd buy run-down properties and develop, Christian himself doing much of the renovation work. He already had the skills and what he didn't have he'd acquire. She listened to him, not carried away on the wave of his enthusiasm, asking him hard questions about his abilities, Syed's abilities and experience, and then made her decision: find the property, get everything legal, make yourselves a proper company with a name and all the rest of it – do it officially, properly, business plan, the lot and she'd invest.
He couldn't believe it.
This morning he'd been happy, content, optimistic for the future, but now?
Wait until he told Sy!
**
“Tam, you busy?”
“Yeah.”
“Good,” he said ignoring him, “Because I want to talk to you.”
“I'm not actually 3 years old anymore, you know. Why do I get the feeling that everyone thinks I'm still little Tambo, who's never actually busy doing his own thing, but can always be relied on to be at the beck and call of the entire family?”
Syed regarded him in silence until Tamwar rolled his eyes and turned from the computer screen. “Finished?”
“Apparently.”
“Good. I want to talk to you about a couple of things. First off : Christian-”
“Yes, I like him. Next!”
“Tam, don't be cheeky.”
“What? How's that being cheeky? I know you want to know, that it's the burning question of the moment, that it causes you sleepless nights-”
“Well now you are being cheeky!”
“I like him, Syed. You don't need to keep bloody asking or giving me those looks. Oh like I'm blind or stupid! Every time he and I are in the same room together you get this look, like you're constipated or something, as though you're waiting for me to make some homophobic remark-”
“Don't be ridiculous. I don't-”
“Well that's how it comes across. I'm not homophobic, I like him and anyway he's your,” The air quotes were unnecessarily florid. “Partner so even if all of the former weren't true that trumps all of them anyway.”
Syed frowned, not quite able to digest that one. “Tam...”
“So can we move on now?”
His brother looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him so taking pity Syed moved on. “I don't think mum's coming back for now.” He examined his brother's face, completely at sea when it came to this, no idea at all how Tam felt about it all. He knew that Tamwar was still pretty tied to their mother's apron strings, but he'd been guilty of underestimating him before now...
Tamwar's sigh was resigned. “I'm going to go up and see her soon.” And that seemed to be all he was prepared to say on that subject. Syed wanted to post-mortem, dig up and dissect the corpse of the entire affair, but maybe Tam had the right idea – maybe it was time to leave it in peace for now, let it die a death. Because his father had been right, knew him well – he had wanted his mother to admit her part in the incident, admit that she'd been mistaken and misguided in all the actions she'd elected to take subsequent to that fateful January day. But his father was far more pragmatic where their mother was concerned. He knew her, knew how stubborn and unbending she could be, knew that the day Syed wished for was a long way in the future – if it came at all – knew also that she would only hurt him just when he was starting to heal. He was actually more concerned with protecting Syed than forgiving his wife, which was amazing to him. He had never expected his dad to ever put him first, but ever since he'd seen him that day with Christian that is exactly what he'd elected to do!
“Okay, Tam.” He put a hand on his brother's arm, hoping that that alone would be able to convey all the things he didn't feel able to say.
His brother's exaggerated eye-roll let him know he'd achieved what he set out to.
**
“Christian. I-”
“Get your gladrags on, I'm taking you out on the town!”
“What? No, not in the mood-”
“I'll get you there.”
And that's where the bastard left it, knowing exactly what that would do to him. Damn him for knowing how to, damn him for being so easy. “How glad do these rags need to be?”
“Happy, but not ecstatic.”
He was barely holding back the laughter. They were crazy – he didn't even realise they had their own private language until they'd been talking – flirting - and he'd caught Tam and their dad looking at each other, Tam's expression clearly saying that they both had a screw loose, his dad's expression a more refined 'I agree'. “And where will these rags be displaying their unbounded joy?”
“Wine bar.”
“Not dancing rags then?”
“Well if you don't lose the metaphor in the next two seconds they will be and we all know how much you love dancing – in public – Sy!”
He gave him the figurative finger. “How long do these rags have to get themselves in the party mood?”
“Hour?”
“Asking or telling?”
“Asking?”
“When do you ever ask?” His tone laden with innuendo.
“You want me to ask? Noted. Now get your arse in gear. Darling.”
He gave him the finger for real this time, longing to see him, the flirting so much the better for seeing the expression in his eyes. “You'd better get me in the mood. Darling,” he threatened before ringing off with a satisfied smirk.
It only occurred to him as he was getting the glad rags ready that this would be the first time they'd been out in public together.
**
Syed was wearing a suit. This was the first time Christian had seen it and he was stunned into speechlessness for a moment. “What are you wearing?”
Syed, following his gaze, looked down at himself. “A suit?”
“Suits you.”
Coming forward Syed fiddled with his collar – an excuse, of course, but who was complaining? “Well that is the idea. Hardly any point otherwise. And the rags, are they happy enough for you?”
“Well,” He looked, made sure there were no random Masoods lurking in the hallway before putting both hands on his waist and pulling him into a kiss. He smelled absolutely fucking wonderful. Damn! They needed a bed! Their own damn bed, in their own damn house! “You make me want to do things your daddy would not approve of,” he confessed, kissing the smooth, warm skin of Syed's neck.
“Well that is the idea,” he said softly against his ear.
Hearing a sound they broke the embrace, Syed blushing as his father poked his head around the door. “Hi Christian. Won't tell you not to keep him out too late, but er... Enjoy yourselves!” He ducked back into the room, leaving Syed and Christian staring at each other trying desperately to stifle the sniggers.
“Right then,” Christian said, taking him by the hand, “Bus or taxi?”
“Bus now, taxi later.”
“Done.”
The journey was an exercise in keeping his hands strictly to himself. He knew Syed wasn't exactly out and proud: every time he saw a Pakistani face he tensed up. Long way to go, obviously, but only to be expected, wasn't going to push him. He trusted Syed to do what he wanted to do when he was ready to do it. His faith in him had already been well rewarded hadn't it?
“Is it a gay wine bar?” Syed sounded and looked as though this had only just occurred to him.
“Nope. That a problem?” he teased, mock wincing at Syed's pinch, then bending down to whisper in his ear, “Disappointed you won't be able to have your wicked way with me – in public?”
When Syed blushed to the roots of his hair Christian took pity on him, slipping his hand into the warm one held loosely on Syed's thigh. “Tell you what,” he promised, voice still low. “You can do that later – sneak me into your room, like we're teenagers or something.”
Syed said nothing, but his expression spoke volumes.
**
“This is nice.” At Christian's raised eyebrow he elaborated. “This, being out with you like this. It's nice.”
“We aim to please.” Waggle of the brows, followed by a wink.
“And you do. All the time.” He lowered his voice, but kept his gaze firmly on Christian's face. “Has it ever been like that for you, the sex I mean. I know you've had a lot more experience...”
“No, it never has. Never had the whole package before have I? Good technique, but no fireworks. Love, but the sex was so-so. I'd been in love before, Sy, but nothing like this. I hesitate to even call it that, but I thought it was at the time and I'm not going to disrespect who I was then or the guys I felt that way about, so yeah I've loved before, but nothing like this.”
Sy looked down at the tabletop. “It's sort of scary the way I feel about you. Really is.”
Christian took his hand. “It scares me too, but we can do it can't we? I'm old enough and you're certainly ugly enough...” He laughed, ducked Syed's playful cuff, then kissed him on the cheek. “But I tell you what let's get to the real reason I brought you here.”
“Oh god no, not a proposal of marriage!” He wondered if he was, when it came to it, only half joking, but Christian wouldn't. Would he?
“In your dreams, big boy! Nope something much, much better!”
Syed looked at him expectantly.
**
He had never in his wildest dreams imagined that he'd ever find himself standing in Albert Square, at his own front door, snogging the face off anyone, let alone his lover – his male lover. What the hell had happened to him? Was it something in the Walford air?
“Chris, Christian.” He was trying desperately to catch his breath, reassemble his remaining brain cells. It had just been meant to be a hug, just a quick hug, followed by maybe a kiss on the cheek before they each went their separate ways, but the desire had been too strong, the verbal foreplay that had been going on all evening too intense to simply find satisfaction in a hug. Christian had started on his neck – kissing him there in that knowing way, hands not roaming, just resting on his hips, but he hadn't been silent: moaning his pleasure in it, telling Syed how good he smelled, how good it felt to kiss him, how much it aroused him...
And all his good intentions had gone flying out the window. He'd been the aggressive one, pushing Christian against his own front door, kissing and kissing, hands all over his arse; squeezing, pulling, holding him hard against his groin, rubbing against him...
He'd had to pull away or he wasn't sure he'd not take him right there on the front doorstep!
“Better go.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, still holding him, still raining kisses on his neck, his collarbone – lower.
“Christian.” His voice didn't sound like it belonged to him. He cleared his throat tried again. “Goodnight.”
His tone must have got through this time for Christian raised his head, pulled back a little. Their eyes met and held.
Soon, his promised.
So Christian nodded, kissed him hard on the mouth and walked away...
**
Roxy Mitchell was a bit of a bitch, but her sister was worse. They had put him through an interrogation the Spanish Inquisition would have gladly adopted as part of their 'Special Procedures' for particularly recalcitrant heretics. They'd quizzed him on his background, his business plans, tried to trick him into displaying imperfect knowledge, but in the end had satisfied themselves that he was worth investing in. Because that's what it was – they weren't investing in property they were investing in his ability to turn a profit. So of course they had to be sure.
He was fairly satisfied that Christian hadn't had to go through a similar ordeal although he wasn't sure Ronnie wouldn't have tried.
Well seems that they were in business! A few hoops to jump through and then they'd be set.
And that cottage – cottage. No, dream home was more like it! Roxy had been required to jump through an entire circus of hoops to get her name on the deeds. Turned out that the lady who they'd assumed was merely the cleaner-cum-cook actually owned the property and had been adamant that it wasn't for sale. The cottage had been in her family for generations and no, she wasn't interested in money – Roxy had offered her a sum way above market value - until by chance she'd got wind of his and Christian's involvement, and changed her mind!
He didn't' know the ins and outs – neither did Christian (he got the distinct impression that Roxy was one who'd always keep certain cards close to her chest) - but knew that had they had the money to buy she'd have sold it to them no problem, she had instead been happy to rent it to them at a nominal rate and had requested they come down to see her as soon as they were ready.
So they had a home! A home they'd be able to buy fairly soon by the sounds of it and a landlady who was discreet, kind and clearly gay-friendly!
They also had a business, a business they'd have to work their arses to see succeed, but neither he nor Christian were afraid of hard work. They could do it and so long as the Mitchells understood that they were investors only, not partners, silent or otherwise, well everything would be fine, just fine.
**
“Well son, this is it.”
“Come on, dad, it isn't. We're only down the road and a lot of the business will be done in and around London.” He'd known his dad wasn't happy about them moving away, but he hadn't understood till now how unhappy he really was.
“You know that it's not because I don't want you to make a success of yourself, Syed. I'm proud of you, truly I am, but just when we were really getting to know each other again, son... It's been a long time since we were this close. And that's as much my fault – more, really, because I stopped trying, allowed your mum to be the one you'd turn to, allowed you to think that my love for you was less than hers. It isn't – I just express it differently.”
His dad looked so bereft, so lonely that he wanted to put both arms around him, tell him he'd stay, but that wasn't something he could do – stay. Putting his arms around him? Why the hell not? He, in keeping with the rest of the Masood men, was not particularly physically demonstrative. But then Christian had happened and cut through all the formality, the shyness, got him so used to being hugged and hugging back that doing that now with the father he could never remember touching let alone hugging was nothing.
He loved this man, always had and when the hell would he find the courage to actually tell him so?
“I love you, dad. I will really, really miss you and I promise we will not stay away, not lose touch. You accepted him, accepted me when you didn't have to, went against everything you believed for me, to make me happy. I promise to be the son you have always wanted. I promise to make you proud. I can't give you grandchildren, dad, but I will leave something behind that will bring pride to the Masood name. This I promise.”
His dad gave him a formal, rather stylised kiss on the forehead. “Son, you already make me proud, you already are the son I have always wanted. The only thing that I ask from you is to go, make a life, be happy. It's all any parent ever wants for their child. You had the courage to fight for happiness, Syed, and don't ever think I don't know how hard it was. I do and that's why I'm so proud. Now, go and say goodbye to your brother.”
**
They'd taken turns driving, Christian volunteering to get them out of the city when he saw how upset he was.
They hadn't spoken and Christian had left him to cry, occasionally resting a sympathetic hand on his thigh, planting a loving kiss in his hair.
God he loved him so much.
He had been so sure that they shouldn't accept Amira's gift, sure he'd hate the place, but Christian had promised that he'd make him happy there and, well, look at them now! He hadn't even recalled that the gift of the dream cottage had been her father's way of making amends for trying to murder Christian. He still had no idea if it had just been a lesson or something worse than that, but none of it mattered now. He could hold onto the past or let it fly free, then turn and face his future.
“Let me drive.” And he'd laughed out loud when Christian leaned in and kissed him, one eye on the road. “Idiot!”
“Yeah you need to let me rest up, darlin'.” He had stopped the car at the roadside and was unclasping his seatbelt. “Got to preserve all my stamina for tonight.”
Sliding over into the now vacant seat he sought Christian's eyes as he made his way to the passenger side. “Who says you're doing the fucking? I think you'll find that I'm on top tonight.”
Christian slid into the seat and smiled at him. “Okay,” he said with a knowing smirk.
**
And of course he hadn't been on top that night. Not Christian's doing: he gave every impression of wanting to be fucked. No it's just that when he got hot in that particular way that only Christian seemed able to inspire he preferred to be fucked. And well, Christian knew this.
They'd eaten first - a light supper, too excited to be in their home to bother about culinary matters - then they'd bathed together, still relaxed, talking about the future, bathing each other...
They'd gone to bed, neither of them particularly aroused, happy to accept that they were both preoccupied, too excited by the fact of being there, actually being there to want to quench the desire that had been a constant companion for weeks now.
They'd drifted into sleep, lying in each other's arms.
As he drifted he'd felt himself smiling and smiling, not even sharing it with Christian because it was stupid to feel so much for so little reason – in bed with the man he loved. Everyone felt this – it wasn't supposed to make you want to burst open with joy...
He'd woken up to find Christian's gaze caressing him, the smile in his eyes reaching his mouth a moment later. “Do you have any idea, any idea at all how fucking beautiful you are?”
He reached up to touch his mouth. “As beautiful as the reflection in your eyes.”
“That's deep. Come here.” And he had, he'd come to him and allowed it, allowed Christian to reflect back to him the beauty he saw...
They hadn't fucked for months, Christian's injuries ruling out such activities, but in any case fucking wasn't what they enjoyed doing most – sucking for both of them was the thing they most enjoyed, the fucking saved up for those times, those special times when they needed that, needed that particular pleasure.
Christian had the technique to keep him on the edge of coming for hours – or so it seemed to him – and had taught him how to do the same. Most people saw blowjobs as a simple thing – most women he was sure had no idea how much men liked getting and giving them in return. He loved sucking Christian, could do it for hours and enjoy every second. He wasn't even sure why he loved it so much. The control? Perhaps. The fact that it was actually a pleasure in itself – having a cock in his mouth pure pleasure? He couldn't say. All he knew was that it was an activity of which he did not tire.
Christian had played him like a finely tuned violin – his fingers and tongue the bow that played sweetly across his strings – got him to a fine pitch, then let him go.
“Still want to be on top?” Christian had asked as he sat astride him, fingers teasing his sensitised, tongue wet nipples.
He hadn't answered in words. Just stared up at him, knowing the power he had over this man, ruthlessly exercising it.
Christian hadn't smiled, hadn't said a word, just kept their eyes locked as he changed position – his and Syed's - reached for the lubricant and carefully, sensuously prepared him...
Fucking was always going to be special – it felt so good, wonderful to be that close to him – but the kissing when he was deep inside was what really got him there, his lover's tongue mimicking the rhythm of the cock inside him.
He loved the feel of the muscles under him, in him, around him. That had been the hardest part of being with Amira – the softness, the curves of her body, the way she couldn't match him stroke for stroke the way he was used to. He could 'hurt' Christian and it wouldn't be hurt, just loving, just fucking.
He hadn't understood how much that mattered to him until he'd seen the difference that came when your lover was a woman, unable to even understand what it was that turned you on, really got to you – not the mechanics, but the things that made you get there in the first place.
Women wanted to be clean shaven, hated hair... He loved it – loved the feel of Christian's body hair against him, acknowledged that it made him wild when it touched him in a particular way whenever he was ready to blow.
He loved the strength in him, the way he could pick him up and set him on his cock and fuck him without breaking a sweat, without requiring him to do anything but sit there, throw back his head and enjoy it,
And that's what he ended up doing: riding him, taking his turn at the wheel because passivity was no part of it for either of them; kissing him the way he liked – deep and dirty; playing with himself the way he knew drove him crazy; maintaining eye contact at all times because that was where it was, where the love lived and showed itself – body parts one thing; looking at each other, into each other where the love was truly made...
Afterwards they lay side by side and stroked each other's faces, not speaking – nothing left to say – until they drifted once again into sleep.