Nymphaea

Chapter 18: And I will let you down, I will make you hurt

In the evening, Paul had returned from his tournament (he had dropped out in the round of the last sixteen) and they sat together at the dinner table.

After she had been told off for lamenting about the disappearance of Stephen’s luxuriance of hair, Anne turned to –well, yet another man with a certain luxuriance of hair.

“So, who is this ‘Ayve’? Where do you know him from?”

Paul and Stephen stared at each other for a moment. Stephen chewed his spaghetti unhurriedly. Finally he swallowed.

“Well, he worked for me at the beginning of my snooker career…” He hastily loaded another fork full of food into his mouth.

“Really? You never told me that,” Paul remarked.

Stephen shrugged. “There isn’t much to tell. I don’t suppose you have spent hours conversing with him in the hospital – he’s not exactly the talkative guy…”

Paul grinned. “No, indeed not.”

“See? So there was not much to gain from him back then. I suppose he didn’t take me seriously - I was only a teenager.”

“And how did you grow friends then?” Anne was curious to know.

“Well, we ran into each other accidentally a few times later and talked a bit then… he was actually the one who sparked my interest in art,” Stephen was quick to add, hoping that might lead to a change in the topic.

“Oh, really? How?” A delicious mouthful of beer…

“I saw some of his drawings and asked him if he could teach me a bit. I’ve always liked drawing but was busy with snooker, so… We went to museums together then and he gave me the tip that I might prefer painting…”

“Wow, so it’s him I have to thank for the art in here?!” Anne had quite made a sport out of snatching Stephen’s paintings and hanging them up. Stephen had ineffectively sought an ally in Paul to stop her. Paul had confessed being an aficionado of his art himself.

The children asked to be allowed to leave the table as their favourite telecast was soon to be aired. They were given leave.

“So, he lives in the area, too? And you went to see the local museums? But why haven’t we met him before?” Anne just didn’t have a sense for leaving the topic.

“No, he doesn’t live here. He travels a lot. We met in other places, stayed in a hotel for a weekend or so and explored the city. But that’s been years ago, after I’d split up with Julie.”

“Oh, I see… Enjoying the life as single again…” Stephen wondered that she hadn’t put a nasty tone into that as that meant he had left Julie alone with Lissy. Then again: she knew how much he’d always cared for his daughter, why should she make such side remarks?

But that was not his main thought. He shared another look with Paul. Having made up his mind about certain things in the previous weeks probably meant he should engage himself in plain-talking here as well.

“No, not quite,” he answered therefore.

“Pardon?” Anne asked perplexed. She didn’t understand what he was answering here in the first place. That had been a rhetorical remark; she hadn’t asked anything…

Stephen put his cutlery down, folded his hands and looked straight at her. “I wasn’t single then – I had an affair with him,” he explained.

Well if that wasn’t a surprised face on that woman that had tried for years to set him up with one of her female friends. The puzzled look she threw into the direction of her husband didn’t help her either. He sat there mildly amused; apparently this was no news to him.

“Wow, well that’s… a surprise,” she stammered. “You could have told me earlier…”

“Sorry,” Stephen replied, “it didn’t seem of importance to me. I hadn’t seen him for several years – not after Julie’s death – until we met again in July.”

“Oh, I see…” Anne’s mind was working hard. “But Lissy… -she seemed to know him…”

“Yes… She was with me when I met him…” Anne nodded as sign of understanding.

“But you are not…” homosexual? “I mean… you went out with women…”

Stephen smiled. “No, I suppose I’m bisexual. Or whatever people call it. But I won’t deny that he still attracts me…”

*

They had arranged to meet in East Lothian for a nice game of golf. Stephen had played golf regularly with fellow snooker players during his career and had had quite a remarkable handicap then but in the last years he had hardly managed to step onto the green.

Now he was going to meet up with Paul and another old friend from snooker to relax a bit after their tournament stress and his stay in the hospital. The area was quite famous for its golf courses. Many of them opened up to a wide view of the Firth of Forth.

They started the afternoon with a nice cup of tea and a bit of chatting (Stephen could simply lean back there as Paul displayed his skills as solo entertainer, occasionally helped out with a funny remark by their friend Will) and proceeded then on the greens. The sun put in quite some effort that day: it was hot.

But in the early evening a wind came up that soon intensified. They finally gave up and made their way back to their cars.

Will suggested ending their day with a mug of beer in a nearby pub he visited regularly. Stephen declined. He murmured something about another appointment and when his friends pointed out that they had planed to spend the evening together from the start, he just shrugged with an apologetic smile, climbing into his racy car.

Of course he did not have another appointment. But there was something else on his mind. With the wind that slowly turned into a storm, something else had crept up. He started the engine and slowly drove along the coast line to give the impression of heading to his meeting. But in truth he was trying to spot something. Someone.

The feeling intensified. He felt himself drawing closer.

And then he thought he saw a small figure far away standing on the tip of a tongue of land that reached far into the sea. He stopped his car and went down to the beach.

The wind tore at his clothes as he climbed the rocky tongue. The sky was a bloody red, the sun had already disappeared. The waves were crashing onto the rocks and a mile or two away in the sea a flat rock was washed over by the foam. No bird risked a flight.

Stephen carefully trod on the dark stones until he was surrounded by water. Still maybe a hundred feet away, the dark figure sat motionless, the storm playing with its long hair, the sea licking its body.

Stephen had problems to withstand the blasts. After another dozen feet or two he resolved to crawling, taking his shoes off on the way. It cost him some effort not to falter. The air was still warm but the splashes of water that landed on his skin were cool. He really did not wish to test his strength against the power of the sea.

Twenty feet away from his destination he stopped and sat down, a little sheltered by a rock. He watched him. Leaned back, arms stretched out on the rocks to his side he sat there. Some of the waves seemed to swallow him.

“Could I drown in there?” Stephen asked, bent down to Ayve’s ear to be heard over the waves when he had finally extinguished the last bit of space between them.

“I told you already: that’s up to you,” Ayve answered dreamily, his eyes closed.

The view that Stephen savoured was quite to his taste: as he sat on the rock that Ayve rested against, he looked straight down on the soaked body of the slender man. He wore black, as usual, but his shirt was open to welcome the sea.

“So I could just decide to end my existence?”

“I doubt that you could. You are not ready to die. Or else you’d have done that already,” Ayve answered, in a bored voice that was hardly audible over the roar of the surf.

“But I am right, am I not? I can feel you. At least sometimes…” Stephen backed off as yet another wave crashed down on Ayve. A silly reflex: he was soaked anyway. Then he bent down again in hope of receiving an answer.

“Stephen, what do you want this time? I thought we had agreed that there is no mutual future for us…”

Stephen crept down to him. He sat beside Ayve and stroked Ayve’s cheek. He looked so frail… so melancholic.

“I have changed my mind,” Stephen whispered into his ear. His hand glided over Ayve’s smooth, cool skin down to his chest. Stephen could feel Ayve’s heartbeat. “I am not going to leave you alone…”

Ayve smirked. “Stephen, you’re a dreamer. I told you I was not the right man.”

But Stephen laughed back, now even closer to Ayve, one leg on Ayve’s lap, his upper body bent over the dark man that still had not cared to open his eyes.

“You’re lonely, Ayve. You need someone,” he stated. And then Stephen whispered into his ear: “You long for me don’t you? Stop fighting yourself, stop pushing me away; give in to this feeling…!” His hand caressed Ayve’s chest, his cheek rested on Ayve’s. The waves licked on their legs, even flooded them up to their bellies.

“I don’t think you’re tough enough to survive in my world, Stephen. It’s cold, it’s dark, it’s hard to breathe in it… you’ll only get hurt…” Ayve retorted. “Go home to your child, she needs you…”

Stephen seized Ayve by the arms and dragged him into an upright position. That forced his eyes open.

“Don’t you think I have realized that your world is no playground by now?” He forced his shirt open to show the small scar on his neck. “I have learned what pain is. Thank you. Don’t you think I deserve compensation for that?” Of course Stephen did not intend to blame Ayve. But he felt he had to beat Ayve at these little mind games to get through to him.

Ayve smiled sarcastically. “And you think more pain is just what you want?”

“Stop talking nonsense! This is about finding a way together out of your loneliness…” Stephen hissed.

Ayve’s smile remained. He got up. “Come,” he stretched his hand out for Stephen. “I’ll show you what my life feels like, especially with a male human in my bed…”

Stephen reluctantly took his hand and let Ayve pull him up. He was dragged into a tight embrace.

And then they fell.

With a loud splash they broke through the wild dancing surface of the sea. Stephen struggled against Ayve, tried to free himself, but he was held in a tight grip. He felt Ayve’s tongue graze his skin as they sank deeper, the dim light that was still in the sky soon vanishing completely. Stephen still fought him but the taller man would not let go of him. He felt caged, trapped, hemmed in.

Had the water been lukewarm on the surface then it turned soon ice cold. It pressed on his lungs, made his whole body constrict.

Stephen could see nothing. He was caught in darkness, water all around him, keeping him from breathing, keeping him from moving as lightly as he was used to. And the man above him who wouldn’t let him go. He was all over his body.

Stephen grew dizzy.

Then suddenly he felt them move up. Exactly when Stephen felt he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from breathing water, they broke through the surface. A second later he felt rock under him. Stephen panted and turned to his side to be able to breathe properly. He saw Ayve walk back to the beach, wordless.

The wind had exhaled abruptly. It took Stephen a few minutes until he had recovered. The sea lay peaceful to his feet.

When he reached the foot of the tongue of land, he saw Ayve sit in the sand a few feet away. He had got rid of the soaked shirt. It had been carelessly thrown aside.

Stephen did not know what to think or feel about what just had happened. Nobody could live in such a state of mind… right??? All he felt when he looked down on Ayve was numbness, mingled with a lacing of… desperation? He wouldn’t leave him like that.

He freed himself of his wet clothing (except for his pants) as he approached that clew of white skin and black hair crouching in the sand. He sat down beside Ayve.

“I don’t intend to hem you in, Ayve. Have I provided you with that feeling?” he asked.

“It’s not about what you intend to do. I told you… I am disgusted by the physical presence of other people – especially humans – sometimes.” Ayve’s eyes drifted to the horizon. The sky had been dyed dark blue.

“But you want me. You enjoyed what we experienced together. You even followed me, didn’t you? Why can’t we find a middle course? I never dreamed about moving in with you and playing happy family… I just need to feel you every once in a while… and talk to you…”

Ayve shook his head in yet another cynical smile. “Even if we could bypass my little indisposition – there is so much you don’t know about me… I am no story teller. I have neither the mind nor the lack of pride for that. But the way things go at the moment, I won’t be able to keep everything covered up. And you might find some information disturbing, or even offensive. I really don’t need anyone to give me strange looks. I’ve had enough of them,” he added in a small voice.

Stephen would have loved to take Ayve’s hand now. But something kept him from grasping it. “Ayve…,” he had to ask that now, although it seemed inappropriate. “I only need to know one thing. Nothing more. Answer me this one question truthfully and I swear I will never judge you by your past.” Stephen inhaled deeply once more, then put the question forward: “Have you ever killed a person?”

He was well aware that this was a harsh question and pretty much the reason for their last row. He risked everything with it. But Ayve had been right back then: he couldn’t run blindly into this.

Ayve peered into his eyes, evaluating him, it seemed. Then the slightest of movements: he shook his head. “All these suspicions were unjustified?” Stephen asked in a whisper, trying not to arouse Ayve’s temper with this second question. “Yes.” Barely audible.

Stephen leaned forward, cupped his left hand around Ayve’s cheek and rested his head on Ayve’s. “Come with me tonight. Let me give you a home.” He seized Ayve’s wrist as he got up. He looked down on Ayve and reached out for his second hand. “Please.”

Ayve did not give him his second hand but he raised himself and freed his trousers from the sand that stuck to it. Stephen picked up Ayve’s shirt and hoped Ayve would follow him to his car. He did.

On their way back to Edinburgh, Ayve sat silently, his body leaning against the car door.

“May I ask why you were there, sitting on the beach?” Stephen enquired.

“Just enjoying the quiet before the storm,” was the drowsy reply. It could hardly refer to the weather.

“What do you mean?”

–“You’ll see. I’m sure it’s on the news tomorrow.”

*

It was close to midnight when they reached Stephen’s home and got out of the car. Ayve trod behind Stephen into the entrance area where they got rid of their shoes. Then they went up the stairs.

“D’you want a pizza, too? I’m rather hungry.”

Ayve nodded.

They went through the living room into the kitchen.

Ayve flung himself into one of the cane chairs whereas Stephen took two pizzas out of the freezer and switched on the oven. He went to his bedroom and came back with a pair of brand new panties he had just bought the other day.

“Come, get rid of those wet trousers, I’ll put them in the washing machine,” he suggested, handing Ayve the underwear in turn. He figured that despite their difference in height they still had the same size in that region.

For a second Ayve seemed reluctant to undress under his eyes but then he did as proposed, his hair half veiling the view. So –Ayve in underwear. For the fist time. Stephen could get used to that.

He went into the bathroom and set the washing machine in motion, providing himself with some nice fresh and warm clothes afterwards. Handing Ayve his bathrobe when he came back, Stephen suggested opening a bottle of whine. He perceived no objection.

They ate in silence. Stephen watched Ayve. It almost seemed as if his thoughts were directed elsewhere. He hardly paid Stephen a glance.

“What’s going on?” Stephen asked into the blue.

Ayve looked at him properly for the first time since they sat together. “You’ll see.”

Stephen smirked but let the matter be. He was too glad to have Ayve here with him to risk a quarrel.

When they had finished, Stephen forced himself to put a question forth he would rather not have asked: “Do you want to sleep in my bed or shall I prepare the couch for you?” After all: they had shared no intimacy so far. Stephen didn’t exactly know why Ayve was here – if he had given in to Stephen’s arguments or merely took advantage of his hospitality. He had agreed to nothing but to spend the night in Stephen’s home.

Stephen had asked whilst placing the plates in the dishwasher, the back turned to Ayve. He felt the taller man come up behind him. For a split second he hoped that Ayve would embrace him, just hold him. But he only felt Ayve’s hand touching the back of his head, running his fingers over the carpet of short hair the hairdresser had left. When Ayve’s fingertips slid over the sensitive skin behind Stephen’s ears and down the nape of his neck, the sensation send light shivers through his body.

Ayve took his hand and dragged him out of the kitchen, pressing the light switch on the way, to his bed. Despite the late hour, Stephen’s heart beat faster. They lay down together in the dark and Ayve pulled the cover over them. He stroked Stephen’s cheek once more, pressing his forehead against Stephen’s and then he lay still.

Their heads were the only parts of their bodies touching. Stephen took Ayve’s hand which rested limp in his but he dared not go farther. If Ayve had wanted to proceed, he’d have initialised it.

*

In the night Stephen awoke finding himself confronted both with the urgent desire to visit the toilet as well as a certain arousal that probably originated in a dream that he’d had but could scarcely remember.

Ayve was lying at the far end of the bed, close to the wall, with his back to Stephen.

Stephen got up, opened the French window to let the fresh night air into the stuffy room and went to the bathroom then. He used his stay to put the washed clothes into the dryer and got rid of the clothes he still wore on the way.

When he returned, Ayve had changed position. He crouched in the far corner of the bed, pressed against the wall. He didn’t make any sound and yet Stephen sensed that something was wrong. He silently climbed onto the bed and crawled on all fours up to him.

Ayve was fast asleep. But his breathing was unusual for a sleeping person and his hands were tightened around his knees. They were actually shaking slightly. Stephen could not make out his face.

He touched Ayve’s shoulder and shook him slightly. Ayve woke with a start. Sensing Stephen close to him, he shoved him away. Before Stephen was able to say anything, Ayve had risen and walked over the bed out of the room. Of course he followed him.

He heard the other French window that led from the living room to the balcony (it could be entered from both rooms) being opened and found Ayve standing in the frame, breathing deeply in and out. “What’s up?” Stephen asked, approaching him. Ayve motioned for Stephen not to come any closer. Stephen withdrew to the armchair in the opposite corner of the room. He would have loved to hold Ayve now but Ayve was miles away. Stephen understood that he would have to invest much energy to finally really get to him. And it would be worth every single struggle.

Ayve stepped outside and disappeared to the side of the balcony that Stephen could not see.

Stephen waited a while. A light breeze went through the leaves of the trees outside. The distant sound of a passing car came in through the open window. The DVD-player said it was half past four.

Finally Stephen went into the kitchen, filled two glasses with the whine they had left over three hours ago and crossed the living room to join Ayve on the balcony. He stopped at some distance, handing Ayve his glass. He took it with his right hand. In his left he held a cigarette. His upper body was bent over the balustrade, lower arms resting on it. He looked away down into the garden whereas Stephen watched him intently.

“Bad dream?” he asked in a hushed voice.

Ayve answered with a low sound that was (probably) meant to be an affirmation.

“And you wouldn’t want to talk about it, would you?” Stephen asked on cautiously.

Ayve’s face was pulled into something that resembled a smile only that the grimace was dropped after two seconds. Ayve straightened up and turned to lean his back on the balustrade, seemingly leisurely. “No. Surely not.” His eyes met Stephen’s for a split second before he took a sip of his whine.

Stephen knew that arguing would be pointless. “Can I at least touch you now?”

Ayve looked at him and massaged his face.

Then he put his glass down and stepped up to Stephen. “Come here,” he whispered and caught him in an embrace, placing a kiss on Stephen’s forehead.

*

When they woke up the next morning, their limbs tangled, music came from the living room. Stephen moaned sleepily. Right, it was Saturday. And on Saturday Lissy usually got up first and had this habit of playing music whilst she prepared the breakfast for the two of them. Saturday was their day, the day without the McCourts.

Stephen mumbled something about telling her to switch it off and tried to remove his body from the snarl of limbs but Ayve – who half covered him – held him back.

“You needn’t tell her off for me, I’m fine with that,” he murmured, eyes closed, still half in slumber.

“Hm,” Stephen replied, “but it’s better if I send her off to the bakery anyway… I mean… I don’t want her to get the wrong impression…” The bakery was just around the block. The girl had to cross no streets or anything and she loved to be given theses little liberties or tasks. Anne tended to be a little overprotective, she would never allow something like that, but Stephen sensed that it pushed his princess’ self-esteem and autonomy. And fortunately he was the one who had the final word in the matter.

He climbed yawning out of the bed and slipped through a crack in the door, closing it behind him. He still didn’t know what Ayve’s stay overnight meant in the long run and he had no intention of confusing Melissa with other men coming half-naked out of his bedroom unnecessarily. He gave her five pounds (didn’t have any coins at hand) and sent her to the bakery, providing her with the information that they would have a guest for breakfast.

After seeing her off, Stephen returned to his bedroom to find Ayve lying on his back, his chest exposed to the cold morning air that was coming in through the still open window. He couldn’t resist the temptation and crawled onto the bed, kissed the soft skin that was covered in goose bumps and licked and sucked the hardened nipples. He was relieved to find Ayve smiling drowsily. Stephen let his lips glide over Ayve’s mouth and felt it come to life. Soft touches, than the tips of their tongues meeting, licking.

“Let’s go and take a shower before we end up doing something that might truly unsettle your better half when she comes back,” Ayve suggested.

They grinned.

They made their way to the bathroom, undressed kissing, locking the door behind them, and stepped under the shower. They stood in a soft embrace, muffled by the warm water flows, kissing softly, Stephen’s arms around Ayve’s neck, Ayve’s hands sliding over Stephen’s back, exploring the curves of his behind. Their penises touched.

Ayve caressed Stephen’s neck and grazed his chest down to his navel lightly with his fingernails. Stephen felt himself tremble under Ayve’s touch. He didn’t quite understand how he managed to think at all but suddenly the idea occurred to him that this might be the right moment to *moan* pose a certain question.

“Ayve?” he panted.

“Does that mean I have convinced you to stay with me?”

Ayve’s hands wandered along his back again. “Let’s say the part in me that wants you and the part in me that says it’s not good to give in to this feeling have agreed that the second one will lean back and watch this for a while…”

He started licking Stephen’s ear whilst his hands drove Stephen insane as they moved over his butt.

“So…,” he gasped, “so we’re on probation?”

–“If you like to call it that.”

Stephen didn’t want to give anything names. He seized Ayve’s wrist and guided his hand to his penis. He couldn’t bare this another second.

Stephen let himself fall back to lean on the wall but backed off immediately from the cold tiles. Ayve turned off the water and dragged him out of the shower onto the bathmat. Kissing heatedly and stroking each other, it did not take long for them to climax.

“Ayve,” Stephen whispered into his ear as they rested in each other’s arms for a while, there on the bathroom floor. It was all he could say to express the peace, the perfect satisfaction and the anxiety that flooded him once more. That always ran through his body when they were this close. He sometimes wondered whether this would go on forever or if there would come the moment when all of Ayve’s secrets were disclosed. Would his feelings for him lose intensity then? He didn’t want them to. And yet Stephen wanted to hold on to Ayve. No, he didn’t dream of caging him. It was as he had told Ayve the previous evening: he had never dreamt of sharing the routine of a daily life with him. But he needed to know that he would see him again in the foreseeable future. Stephen needed to know that Ayve cared for him.

*

Lissy was glad to see Ayve. She came back from the bakery with a huge bag of pastries (or at least that’s what it looked like in her small arms) just when Ayve exited the bathroom, dressed in his clothes that came fresh out of the dryer. Stephen was still shaving. They set the table together meanwhile. It was decided that Lissy could comb Ayve’s hair once it had dried.

They ate breakfast in the living room as the kitchen’s table had not enough space for three people.

Since Ayve seemed in a good mood, Stephen sought to wrench some answers from him. “Could I ask you a few things?” he put his purpose plain.

Ayve smiled at him knowingly and said in between chewing: “You can try…”

“I was wondering: back then, when you kind of ‘worked for me’… I mean, you’ve explained already what this organization is about… that it’s something like occupational therapy, something that gives some sense to people if they lack a task in their lives. And that they need a task, a sense, to hold on to life… something like that…”

Ayve nodded.

“But why did you do it? And how did you manage to keep up with your other tasks? I mean, we were together nearly twenty-four-seven…”

Ayve took a sip of his coffee before he answered, casually preparing the second half of his roll, bent over the low couch table. “There is not that much to do, Stephen. I thought Seya had told you already that what we call ‘leadership’ is not as much bound to any tasks or privileges as it is in the human world. I have to take part in certain ‘rites’, as you would probably call it, but apart from that I don’t have much to do with them… my main aim is to protect them. I…”

He frowned slightly.

“I don’t really feel that I belong to them. I protect them because my father would have wanted me to and because they are the only…” -he lacked words. “I don’t know… because they remind me of the life I could have had… because we have a mutual fate… because they are the only link to my past… or maybe because I need a task, something that connects me to life…”

He put the knife down and took his cup again.

“But you’ve heard Seya: I – as a person - don’t belong to them.”

That startled Stephen. He seized Ayve’s hand. It didn’t matter now what impression they left on Melissa. He could see that Ayve would have liked to tell a different tale. That he would have loved to belong. Of course he remembered that Seya had not said that Ayve was not liked, he had merely said that Ayve was a very closed-up person but it was not Stephen’s task to correct Ayve’s view. What did he know?

“So you sought a second task, something that would consume more time, maybe distract you?” he suggested in answering to his own question.

Ayve leaned back. “Something like that, yes.” He smiled weakly.

Stephen pulled him towards himself. Ayve leaned against his shoulder, burying his face on Stephen’s neck. Stephen stroked Ayve’s cheek gently, aware of the curious stare that came from a certain lady sitting on the armchair. But this was too important. Ayve resting sadly in his arms, yielding to him, letting Stephen participate in one of his most private feelings. Suddenly all the loneliness Stephen had always sensed in Ayve had a name, a source. And what was more: Stephen had an idea now that Ayve truly looked for more in their relationship than sex.

After a few moments Ayve sat up again to continue breakfasting. “How long will you stay here now?”

Stephen wanted to know. He didn’t want to part any time soon. “Do you have a weekend for…,” he gazed over to Melissa, “for us?” That would give them at least one more night, maybe two.

Ayve threw a side glance at him. He nodded. “I think so.”

Lissy beamed. “So you will come with us to the castle?” Stephen had promised her to visit the Edinburgh Military Tattoo – a music festival – that took place in front of Edinburgh castle every August.

Ayve shot him an anxious glance. There were thousands of people visiting the festival…

Stephen managed to convince Lissy that they could visit the military tattoo next year. The prospect of going to the City Art Centre instead lightened her spirits. Unusual as that might seem for a child, she took delight in looking at paintings. She would come up with the strangest interpretations that made her daddy laugh.

*

They spent the morning in the Art Centre and went out for a late lunch then. Stephen did not initiate any more serious talking although there were burning questions on his mind now that it seemed likely that Ayve would give proper answers. He wanted this to be a positive experience for Lissy. She got along fine with Ayve and he wanted to take advantage of that, deepen her fondness of him.

Even though Melissa had become a half-orphan at an age that should leave her untouched by the event, it had certainly affected her. Stephen was worried about that sometimes. The arrangement of a mutual home with the McCourts had been set up with the intent of providing her with a proper family – a female role-model and children her age included. This was meant to give her safety, give her the feeling of having many people she could rely on. And yet she clung to Stephen. She had hardly had any friends outside the house before she had started school. Stephen wasn’t sure whether she clung to him because he was her only parent and that doubled her bond to him or whether she had sensed his loneliness in the past. Perhaps both reasons had had an impact.

The outcome at least was that Melissa was a little too serious, too thoughtful. She hardly ever disobeyed, had skipped the recalcitrant phase many toddlers went through and had striven for autonomy sooner than expected (probably to be able to be of help for her daddy). Apart from those interests that suited her age, she had also always shown a great liking for everything that Stephen spent time on. He hadn’t tried to tell her off. That would only have made things worse. But he endeavoured to turn her attention to other things as well; things that would enrich her life, widen her horizon, make it her life rather than a copy of his.

And as Melissa had a soft spot for listening very attentively to adults’ conversations, Stephen considered it wiser not to go too much into detail in her presence. Ayve’s past surely was no fairytale (unless you took into consideration that fairytales usually had a dark side as well but the difference here was that this story would be real).

Stephen reckoned that Lissy’s uncommonly ‘mature’ behaviour was the reason why Ayve responded quite positively to her. Stephen hadn’t hoped for that. He had expected Ayve to ignore her. But instead he gave her leave to twiddle his hair or sit on his lap and patiently answered all her questions (and he was skilled at giving answers fit for a child’s mind without simplifying matters too much; Stephen could see how his daughter appreciated his honest replies).

*

In the afternoon, Lissy went over to a neighbour. She had befriended a girl in school and went to see her regularly, something that Stephen watched with relief. He had feared she might have problems finding friends being such a serious girl but she had blossomed in her first school year.

Lissy having gone to her friend left Stephen and Ayve on their own of course. Stephen talked Ayve into going back to bed, having a few cold drinks (it was hot outside and as Stephen’s apartment was in the upper storey they weren’t spared by the heat there) and talking a bit. The suggestion of the latter never went without a little frown from Ayve but he accepted Stephen’s thirst for information.

They took off their clammy shirts and Stephen indulged in feeling Ayve for a while before he cared to speak.

*

Ayve lay on the bed, leaning against the pillows, and watched Stephen approaching him with their drinks. It was the first time he gave his mind leave to take him in with full awareness since they had seen each other at that official meeting where Ayve had confined himself to admiring how damn good this man looked in a suit. Ayve was talented at keeping himself from musing too much.

Stephen had changed. There had been a few lines added to his face – framing his mouth and imprinted in his forehead – and there were dark shades around his eyes that spoke volumes about his past years. His new hairstyle added to this impression. It did make him look more serious, just has he had intended. He still wore his hair with a side parting but being shortened like that had taken the golden gleam out of it and reduced it to an ash blond colour.

The young man had lost a bit of his drive. He was more conscious of what he did. That open, bold smile he had carried in his youth had vanished. Most people would feel sorry for him, would bemoan the loss of the young, carefree Stephen. But Ayve didn’t. He watched Stephen put the drinks down on the floor (no bedside table at hand) with his somewhat changed motion sequences (they seemed more controlled, reduced to the necessary rather than effusive as they were in his youth) and climb onto the bed to crawl up to him. Stephen fixed his eyes that always had had a bit of sadness or melancholy in them on him and moved his body over Ayve’s. Ayve loved this determination, this longing that emanated from him. He took his face between his hands and welcomed his soft lips, his kiss that revealed the need in the matured man.

*

They lay together on the bed, turned towards each other after treating each other to half an hour of caressing. Stephen twiddled a strand of Ayve’s hair.

“Have you had many lovers before me?” he asked him.

Ayve’s voice was low and even as he spoke: “Lovers? –No. A handful of short affairs over the years, but nothing with a meaning.”

“Except for your fiancé,” Stephen annotated.

Ayve shook his head. “No. Apart from the fact that there is no such thing as an engagement in our community I was never her lover. I was meant to father her child and I liked her, yes, but we never got that far.”

Stephen felt the urge to apologize for touching the topic but Ayve didn’t seem to mind so he decided to leave the matter alone.

“Where they always with males, your affairs?”

Ayve knitted his brows. “No, I had one female. But that was… a little complicated… I take to the sensitive, delicate type of women - which left me in a difficult situation. You know my tendency to push people away with a sarcastic remark or something the like when they get to close… -but I couldn’t do that with her as I was constantly feeling the need to protect her… I backed out of it as soon as I could… It was stupid starting it anyway. I could never satisfy a woman’s expectations… I’m too much of a loner.”

It felt strange to hear Ayve speak about his taste in women.

“I don’t know, you’ve shown some promising qualities… chocolates, soft love-making, your love for art… your whole personality seems perfect to work as magnet for women…” Stephen grinned, although his insides squirmed slightly at the thought.

“Well… I can go if you want to get rid of me,” Ayve joked half heartedly back.

But neither of the men – out of different reasons –really considered this branch of their conversation a laughing matter.

“But you were never… I mean: what that investigator once told me – that you liked violent sex – that was a trick, right?”

Ayve smirked. “I don’t find pleasure in the pain of others, no.”

Stephen was shaking a bit of excitement because he was digging so deep in Ayve’s intimacy. His body was hot with embarrassment. But Ayve accepted his inquisitiveness patiently.

Speaking of sexuality… another thought came back to Stephen. “But they were all humans, the people you got physical with?” he beat a bit around the bush.

Ayve made a sound that seemed to be an affirmation, though Stephen was not entirely sure.

He did not like to have to voice this question but it had caught his attention in the interviews with Ayve’s kinsman. “Seya said your kind wasn’t able to have sex with humans…,” he broke off as Ayve smirked and lowered his gaze.

He nodded. “Could we put that question aside for a while? I’m sure it’ll be answered in time but I really don’t feel like telling that tale now.” He looked at Stephen placidly. Stephen gave in. Ayve kissed him on his lips seductively.

Stephen waited a few moments, resting in Ayve’s arms, bathing in this comfort, until his embarrassment had ebbed away. He would change the topic for the moment to keep Ayve relaxed.

“Do you think I can continue my life this way long enough to raise Lissy?”

“What do you mean by ‘continue long enough’? Do you mean will you live that long or do you just fear to be exposed as…,” Ayve rolled his eyes in annoyance over the lack of a proper term, “someone with certain bewildering abilities?” That was a very directly posed reply.

Stephen dropped his head. He had meant the latter, but now that Ayve voiced it… “Both, I guess,” he said with a dry voice and a sudden jolt in his stomach as the thought entered his mind that he could drop dead any time. There was no certainty for anything, or so he thought.

“Hey,” Ayve breathed and seized Stephen’s chin to lift his head again. He looked deep into Stephen’s eyes. “There is no reason to fear death… or exposure. You’d know when your time has come to leave. That would be the moment when you don’t fear to die. And it would be preceded by months of depression, of losing your interest in all the things that surround you. As long as you care about your daughter’s well-being and pester me with your questions, I think you are miles away from dying. Did I make that clear?” He smiled and Stephen returned the smile, though weakly.

“You were always in potential danger of dying, Stephen. No less than you are now. Actually, you are farther away from it. You just have to get used to this new ‘mode’ of life. That is comprehensible.” Ayve covered Stephen’s face with light kisses. ‘Goodness, how could this man be so cool in one moment and so sensitive in the next?’ Stephen thought.

“And as for your other concern,” Ayve went on after a few moments, “I cannot tell you how long you will be able to work for the Secret Service. But that was never a secure position, was it? They’ve always kept an eye more on you than on other employees. There’s a lot that can happen. Nothing I could not prevent, though. And their discovery of you being ‘especially gifted’ is the most unlikely of all events. You have not officially died and as you know, there is no physical proof, no change in the body of those who have the skill of extending their lives.”

“What would be more likely to happen?” Stephen asked clueless.

“That they decide that you are too closely involved with us. You are getting along with Seya very well and they still don’t know what exactly happened between us in the past, what kind of relation we had… they might decide that you are biased.”

“But they couldn’t find out about us, I mean about that we are seeing each other now, could they?”

Ayve shook his head.

“But they could interrogate Paul or Anne…,” a bewildering thought occurred to Stephen. “Do you ‘control’ their minds, too?” He stared at Ayve.

“No,” Ayve answered calmly. “They don’t have a mind reader at hand, so there is no reason to shield their thoughts.”

Stephen felt relieved. But then he remembered what justification Ayve had given him back in Shanghai. “But you said you were shielding my thoughts from others as well… people who would love to get at you…”

Ayve nodded. “Doesn’t play such a huge role anymore. I mean, things have changed: you are not as vulnerable as you used to be anymore. And I have… let’s say I have engaged in a bit of diplomacy.” He left it at that.

Stephen sat up on the bedside to reach down for his drink. After taking a few cool sips, he raised his voice again with his back turned towards Ayve.

“This… ‘someone’ you spoke of in the hospital… the one that killed me…”

“Let’s not call it killing you: you are alive. Let’s say he attacked you,” Ayve interrupted him.

That sounded a little less frightening, although Stephen wasn’t sure whether he thought this formulation carried the truth.

He reformed his sentence. “You said this man did not want you to share bed with a human… why?”

“He despises them,” Ayve answered in a whisper.

Stephen turned around to face him. “But why?”

Ayve looked into his eyes for a moment. “For the same reasons that I don’t trust them.”

“But what does that have to do with me?” Stephen enquired, bearing in mind the attack on Ayve’s tribe.

“You are human, that suffices,” Ayve replied matter-of-factly.

I really thought you were different. –That sentence shot into Stephen’s mind. He felt as if suddenly a curtain appeared between them out of thin air. It filled him with anxiety. Stephen put his drink down and crawled back to Ayve, bending down to kiss him. He dreaded Ayve’s stare on him. Desperately in need to melt their distance, he pushed deep into Ayve’s mouth. To his relief Ayve responded.

*

Stephen awoke some time later. He must have dozed off. The clock said it was half past seven in the evening. Lissy should have returned home by now… He slipped into a t-shirt and entered the living room. Yes, luckily, there she was, laying the table for breakfast. The TV was playing one of her children’s DVDs.

The door to the kitchen stood half ajar and a tasty smell came out of that direction. Stephen crossed the room, smiling at Lissy. He found Ayve standing leisurely in front of the hearth and watching a pancake tan. Stephen took the tall, slender man in. His sharp profile with those high cheek bones and soft lips, his slender neck and the bit of chest that was revealed by his shirt, the straight shoulders, that long back of his that ended in his small but well shaped bottom and the way his hips swayed slightly to the right. Ayve threw a questioning side glance at him.

Stephen stepped out of the door frame and closed the door behind him. He approached Ayve from behind, embracing him, resting his loins softly against Ayve’s behind. Stephen regretted that he was not taller. He was a fraction too short to lick Ayve’s face as he longed to do. His hands kneaded Ayve’s chest. It pushed the shirt up so that Stephen could feel the warm skin of his lover. His lover… He moved his body slightly. That sent more heat to his special place. His hand instinctively glided lower, over Ayve’s navel, towards his waistband…

“Lower…,” Ayve’s voice sounded seductively. “Come on, lower… do it and I’ll take you right here in the kitchen under the surprised eyes of your little sweetheart…” He turned the pancake around with a thud.

Stephen withdrew reluctantly, falling back into one of the cane chairs. Ayve smirked as he turned around. Stephen returned his gaze indulgently. He was enjoying the looks Ayve gave him afterwards, the way he eyed him up in turn, although that did not really help him to cool down.

They ate with Lissy doing most of the conversational part, the males too lost in each other’s eyes.

Stephen put Lissy to bed and read her a story. When he finally entered his own bedroom, he found Ayve undressed already, his lower body covered by a thin blanket, his eyes closed. Stephen undressed as well.

He slipped under the blanket and enjoyed the friction of their skins. The twenty or thirty minutes alone with Lissy had cooled him down but he could feel that Ayve’s body still remembered his touch. They kissed sensuously.

Stephen felt Ayve’s hand move down. It bypassed his quite expecting penis and started a very pleasant exploration of his testicles instead. It seemed to go on forever: those soft fingertips on his delicate skin and those lips and Ayve’s tongue moving over his neck. Stephen shivered slightly, at the same time feeling Ayve’s sex harden under him as he mechanically started to move his hips in lust.

When Ayve had finally entered him, Stephen was completely oblivious of everything around him. He was totally exposed to this feeling… there was no will in him left, no self-control. He was Ayve’s. Ayve could have done anything. He was at his mercy. All Stephen could do was move in the rhythm Ayve dictated and moan every time Ayve pushed into him. He was bathed in sweat and his genitals ached to be touched, to be allowed to let go.

Ayve shifted slightly and when he started moving again, Stephen experienced the strangest of sensations. For a moment, he thought he needed to pee but then the feeling turned into something that felt as if Ayve was stimulating his genitals – only he didn’t. On and on the tall man moved inside him, grazing that spot in Stephen that gave him the greatest pleasures imaginable. Tears of passion ran down Stephen’s face as he groaned uncontrollably.

Finally, Ayve leaned forward to push even deeper into him and enveloped Stephen’s arousal, moving his hand over it. A few last, harder pushes and a wave of heat flushed his body that climaxed wetly. He collapsed underneath his lover, still trembling.

Ayve rested a few moments inside him, absentmindedly moving his hand over Stephen’s hair. Stephen couldn’t get enough of his touch. Then Ayve slowly pulled out, lay down beside him and drew the blanket over them.

*

When Stephen awoke the next morning, he found the bed beside him empty. He pulled a bathrobe over his still dirty body and left his room. The bathroom was empty, too. A note was lying on the couch table.

I have a few things to attend to. I’ll contact you soon.
Ayve.

*

He knocked at the door again. Ayve did this so often lately that he felt silly. As if he needed to knock. Ridiculous politeness.

When the door was opened, he stepped in without much ado. “Can I use your shower?” Sharp eyes mustered him with a trace of disgust. “Please do so. But clean it afterwards,” a rough voice replied. Ayve paid him a snide smirk.

After a few minutes, he stepped out of the steamy shower and was welcomed with a soft towel. He rubbed himself dry and slipped into a fresh pair of trousers.

“So, what’s he going to do now?”

***