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luthier_balloonistOriginally posted here
As soon as the front door snicked shut Barir found himself pressed back against it, Kay’s cool lips against his own, warm tongue pressing into his mouth, his fingers tugging at the buttons of Barir’s coat. Barir fumbled his gloves off so that he could do the same to Kay’s coat. They managed to awkwardly divest themselves of their outer clothes in the breaths between kisses.
“My God,” Kay said against Barir’s mouth, rather breathlessly, “I have missed you.”
“I saw you only a a few days ago!”
“And yet, I have missed you still.” Kay leaned his forehead to Barir’s, one hand sliding beneath Barir’s waistcoat to rest at his waist. “I was sitting on that frozen omnibus beside a man who smelled appallingly of onions and all I could think about was the next time I might be able to kiss you. To then have you appear in the street beside me… it’s almost enough to make me believe in prayer.”
Barir was never sure how much he believed in prayer, though he planned to offer one at the earliest opportunity, in case God had seen fit to set his path towards Kay’s at a time when he desperately needed it. He cupped Kay’s face in his hands, brushing his thumb over the angle of his cheekbone. “Take me to bed,” he murmured.
“As you wish,” said Kay, and before Barir could move he had bent his knees, curled his hands around the backs of Barir’s thighs, and lifted him bodily into the air. Barir gave an unmanly yelp, clutching around Kay’s shoulders as he was carried through to the dark bedroom and deposited on Kay’s bed.
“That was rather impressive,” he said faintly, his blood thundering, his trousers suddenly very tight indeed.
“I’m glad you think so.” Kay stood up, and in the darkness Barir thought he saw him grimace. “I’m not sure I could repeat it; you’re heavier than you look.”
“How charming,” said Barir. “Come, give us some light; I want to see you.”
Kay struck a match and lit a candle beside the bed, painting the room in a soft, flickering glow. He seemed even taller suddenly, standing by the bed and looking down at where Barir lay, his gaze pausing very obviously at the bulge in Barir’s trousers. Barir pressed his hand against it, and grinned when Kay licked his lips.
“You should undress,” said Barir firmly. “Then come down here and help me.”
He propped himself up against the pillows, one arm behind his head, and watched as Kay – grumbling a little about the cold – removed his clothing. True to his nature he persisted in carefully draping each item on top of the bureau rather than discarding it on the floor as Barir tended to do, but it did little to dull Barir’s arousal; he pressed the heel of his hand against the front of his trousers with a groan.
“My dear, please do not make me wait while you fold your stockings.”
That gained him a warm, amused look, and Kay dropped said stockings atop the rest of his clothing. He was quite the most beautiful thing Barir had ever seen, shining like ebony in the candlelight, his cockstand as hard and eager as Barir’s own. He climbed onto the bed, kneeling over Barir and leaning down to kiss him, deliberately soft and teasing.
“Come then,” he said, hooking a finger beneath Barir’s tie. “Let’s not dawdle.”
It was as marvelous as ever. The room was chill, but it was difficult to feel cold when they were pressed so close together, a tangle of limbs and open-mouthed kisses, hands touching every inch of skin possible. When Kay finally pushed into Barir – a slow and steady stretch, a perfect ache – it was the first time in hours that Barir’s mind and nerves had felt truly quiet. He clutched at Kay’s back and buried his face against his shoulder to control the cry building in his throat.
Neither lasted long; Barir had been wound too tight to linger over pleasure, and his crisis came all too soon, leaving him shaking and gasping. Kay followed moments later, pressing his own hand to his mouth to muffle his curses.
Afterwards, Barir lay sprawled on his stomach, half dozing, feeling more relaxed than he had done all evening. Kay was stroking a slow path up and down his spine, his hand warm on Barir’s cooling skin. The only sound in the room was their breathing. Finally Barir groaned and rolled over so he was pressed up against Kay’s warm bulk, for he was beginning to feel the winter air much more now that they were no longer so thoroughly entangled.
Kay cursed when Barir pushed his cold feet against his legs, and sat up. Barir protested, trying to pull him back.
“A moment,” Kay said firmly. “We should clean up, and retrieve the blankets.”
“You kicked them onto the floor, if I recall,” said Barir, now even colder without Kay in the bed. He reluctantly pushed himself into a sitting position so that he could watch Kay move about the room; the candlelight flickered beautifully over the long planes of his body. He bent a little over the basin to wash, and Barir let his gaze linger on the shadowed curve of his lower back. Barir thought that he would never tire of the sight.
“Come back,” he said peevishly. Kay threw him a look over his shoulder, but crossed the room in two paces, retrieved the blanket, and flung it over Barir before climbing back into bed himself. He retrieved a cigarette from the table beside his bed and lit it with the candle.
“So,” he said, blowing a stream of smoke into the air and settling back against the pillow “what did Mrs Amador have you doing this evening?”
Kay listened intently to Barir’s account of the meeting with the Dwivedis, his dark eyes fixed on Barir’s face. Every now and again he would put the cigarette to Barir’s mouth to let him take a drag, his fingers brushing unnecessarily against Barir’s lips.
“Well,” he said when Barir was finished, “I’m glad that things seem fairly settled between you and Mrs… Dwivedi, is it now? She seems rather foolish, to me; she had every chance of claiming you and threw it away. And again she was there, with you and this other fellow, and did not realise her error.”
Barir felt a strange, fond amusement. “You would prefer that she had thrown herself into my arms and begged me to marry her after all?” he asked, leaning his weight against Kay’s arm.
Kay’s eyes seemed to darken. “Absolutely not.”
Barir laughed. “Well, then. I have no complaints, and Mr Dwivedi clearly adores her. I just hope that they will be able to make a life here, and that her family won’t cause her trouble. Now tell me: what is this box you were searching for when Amador called on you?”
“That man,” Kay muttered, “cannot keep his mouth shut. I suppose he told you he was considering dragging me off to Bethlem?”
“No, not at all! He seemed a little… concerned, that’s all. Were you pulling up floorboards?”
With a groan Kay slid down the bed, one hand over his eyes, the other holding his cigarette up in the air. Barir stole it before he could set fire to the bedclothes and took a long drag. “Yes, yes. I was looking for a strongbox that used to be hidden there, but it appears to be long gone. I got it into my head that Mr Ashdown’s blasted nephew might be interested in that, and that I might use it to be rid of him. I have little faith that he’ll be put off by a lawyer’s letter.”
“Ah.” Barir considered this. “And you don’t know where Mr Ashdown might have moved it to? His house, perhaps?”
“If it’s there then I’ll never find it. It was sold on, and I can hardly call at the front door. I once made the mistake of standing in the street and looking at the place for a few minutes – reminiscing, I suppose – and the new owner came out to shout that he would call the police if I didn’t make myself scarce.” He smiled rather grimly. “I’ve tried to put the box nonsense out of my head; it was a momentary fixation, nothing more. Come, let’s talk of something else. The Covent Garden concerts start next week. Would you care to come along? Things have started to sound better at recent rehearsals; the flutes have finally begun to keep up, miracle of miracles.”
Barir leaned down to kiss him. “I would be delighted,” he said. “Just name the evening.”
Instead of answering, Kay reached up to curl his fingers around the back of Barir’s head to pull him closer, deepening the kiss from a soft brush to something more urgent. Barir had enough presence of mind to stub out the cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table before he allowed himself to be pulled down on top of Kay.
As soon as the front door snicked shut Barir found himself pressed back against it, Kay’s cool lips against his own, warm tongue pressing into his mouth, his fingers tugging at the buttons of Barir’s coat. Barir fumbled his gloves off so that he could do the same to Kay’s coat. They managed to awkwardly divest themselves of their outer clothes in the breaths between kisses.
“My God,” Kay said against Barir’s mouth, rather breathlessly, “I have missed you.”
“I saw you only a a few days ago!”
“And yet, I have missed you still.” Kay leaned his forehead to Barir’s, one hand sliding beneath Barir’s waistcoat to rest at his waist. “I was sitting on that frozen omnibus beside a man who smelled appallingly of onions and all I could think about was the next time I might be able to kiss you. To then have you appear in the street beside me… it’s almost enough to make me believe in prayer.”
Barir was never sure how much he believed in prayer, though he planned to offer one at the earliest opportunity, in case God had seen fit to set his path towards Kay’s at a time when he desperately needed it. He cupped Kay’s face in his hands, brushing his thumb over the angle of his cheekbone. “Take me to bed,” he murmured.
“As you wish,” said Kay, and before Barir could move he had bent his knees, curled his hands around the backs of Barir’s thighs, and lifted him bodily into the air. Barir gave an unmanly yelp, clutching around Kay’s shoulders as he was carried through to the dark bedroom and deposited on Kay’s bed.
“That was rather impressive,” he said faintly, his blood thundering, his trousers suddenly very tight indeed.
“I’m glad you think so.” Kay stood up, and in the darkness Barir thought he saw him grimace. “I’m not sure I could repeat it; you’re heavier than you look.”
“How charming,” said Barir. “Come, give us some light; I want to see you.”
Kay struck a match and lit a candle beside the bed, painting the room in a soft, flickering glow. He seemed even taller suddenly, standing by the bed and looking down at where Barir lay, his gaze pausing very obviously at the bulge in Barir’s trousers. Barir pressed his hand against it, and grinned when Kay licked his lips.
“You should undress,” said Barir firmly. “Then come down here and help me.”
He propped himself up against the pillows, one arm behind his head, and watched as Kay – grumbling a little about the cold – removed his clothing. True to his nature he persisted in carefully draping each item on top of the bureau rather than discarding it on the floor as Barir tended to do, but it did little to dull Barir’s arousal; he pressed the heel of his hand against the front of his trousers with a groan.
“My dear, please do not make me wait while you fold your stockings.”
That gained him a warm, amused look, and Kay dropped said stockings atop the rest of his clothing. He was quite the most beautiful thing Barir had ever seen, shining like ebony in the candlelight, his cockstand as hard and eager as Barir’s own. He climbed onto the bed, kneeling over Barir and leaning down to kiss him, deliberately soft and teasing.
“Come then,” he said, hooking a finger beneath Barir’s tie. “Let’s not dawdle.”
It was as marvelous as ever. The room was chill, but it was difficult to feel cold when they were pressed so close together, a tangle of limbs and open-mouthed kisses, hands touching every inch of skin possible. When Kay finally pushed into Barir – a slow and steady stretch, a perfect ache – it was the first time in hours that Barir’s mind and nerves had felt truly quiet. He clutched at Kay’s back and buried his face against his shoulder to control the cry building in his throat.
Neither lasted long; Barir had been wound too tight to linger over pleasure, and his crisis came all too soon, leaving him shaking and gasping. Kay followed moments later, pressing his own hand to his mouth to muffle his curses.
Afterwards, Barir lay sprawled on his stomach, half dozing, feeling more relaxed than he had done all evening. Kay was stroking a slow path up and down his spine, his hand warm on Barir’s cooling skin. The only sound in the room was their breathing. Finally Barir groaned and rolled over so he was pressed up against Kay’s warm bulk, for he was beginning to feel the winter air much more now that they were no longer so thoroughly entangled.
Kay cursed when Barir pushed his cold feet against his legs, and sat up. Barir protested, trying to pull him back.
“A moment,” Kay said firmly. “We should clean up, and retrieve the blankets.”
“You kicked them onto the floor, if I recall,” said Barir, now even colder without Kay in the bed. He reluctantly pushed himself into a sitting position so that he could watch Kay move about the room; the candlelight flickered beautifully over the long planes of his body. He bent a little over the basin to wash, and Barir let his gaze linger on the shadowed curve of his lower back. Barir thought that he would never tire of the sight.
“Come back,” he said peevishly. Kay threw him a look over his shoulder, but crossed the room in two paces, retrieved the blanket, and flung it over Barir before climbing back into bed himself. He retrieved a cigarette from the table beside his bed and lit it with the candle.
“So,” he said, blowing a stream of smoke into the air and settling back against the pillow “what did Mrs Amador have you doing this evening?”
Kay listened intently to Barir’s account of the meeting with the Dwivedis, his dark eyes fixed on Barir’s face. Every now and again he would put the cigarette to Barir’s mouth to let him take a drag, his fingers brushing unnecessarily against Barir’s lips.
“Well,” he said when Barir was finished, “I’m glad that things seem fairly settled between you and Mrs… Dwivedi, is it now? She seems rather foolish, to me; she had every chance of claiming you and threw it away. And again she was there, with you and this other fellow, and did not realise her error.”
Barir felt a strange, fond amusement. “You would prefer that she had thrown herself into my arms and begged me to marry her after all?” he asked, leaning his weight against Kay’s arm.
Kay’s eyes seemed to darken. “Absolutely not.”
Barir laughed. “Well, then. I have no complaints, and Mr Dwivedi clearly adores her. I just hope that they will be able to make a life here, and that her family won’t cause her trouble. Now tell me: what is this box you were searching for when Amador called on you?”
“That man,” Kay muttered, “cannot keep his mouth shut. I suppose he told you he was considering dragging me off to Bethlem?”
“No, not at all! He seemed a little… concerned, that’s all. Were you pulling up floorboards?”
With a groan Kay slid down the bed, one hand over his eyes, the other holding his cigarette up in the air. Barir stole it before he could set fire to the bedclothes and took a long drag. “Yes, yes. I was looking for a strongbox that used to be hidden there, but it appears to be long gone. I got it into my head that Mr Ashdown’s blasted nephew might be interested in that, and that I might use it to be rid of him. I have little faith that he’ll be put off by a lawyer’s letter.”
“Ah.” Barir considered this. “And you don’t know where Mr Ashdown might have moved it to? His house, perhaps?”
“If it’s there then I’ll never find it. It was sold on, and I can hardly call at the front door. I once made the mistake of standing in the street and looking at the place for a few minutes – reminiscing, I suppose – and the new owner came out to shout that he would call the police if I didn’t make myself scarce.” He smiled rather grimly. “I’ve tried to put the box nonsense out of my head; it was a momentary fixation, nothing more. Come, let’s talk of something else. The Covent Garden concerts start next week. Would you care to come along? Things have started to sound better at recent rehearsals; the flutes have finally begun to keep up, miracle of miracles.”
Barir leaned down to kiss him. “I would be delighted,” he said. “Just name the evening.”
Instead of answering, Kay reached up to curl his fingers around the back of Barir’s head to pull him closer, deepening the kiss from a soft brush to something more urgent. Barir had enough presence of mind to stub out the cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table before he allowed himself to be pulled down on top of Kay.
