Nymphaea

Stephen (23 at the beginning of this story) cannot get rid of his feelings for the older Ayve, who is no ordinary human. He is closed up, hides everything about himself and tries again and again to make Stephen realise that he is the wrong man. But Stephen can't help it. The deep affection for Ayve remains and the secrets that he keeps make him all the more alluring. If Stephen only knew what story awaits him...
(about 158.000 words)


(I regard this as my first draft... things are not perfect, I have huge plans on what to change but people already seem to enjoy it. A second volume is planned and I have found a qualified beta-reader now who will slowly but determinedly iron out my mistakes.)



Since this is in the slash section now: the first true slash scene is in chapter 6. But I did not write this story solely to sate your slash needs - be so kind and read the rest too, will you?



Please review!

(Reviews help me to improve, motivate me and inspire me sometimes!)




Preface: Lonely thoughts



Stephen stepped out of the shower. He grabbed the towel and dried his face. His girlfriend, Julie, was still asleep in the bed of their hotel room. In fact, they had just been about to end their relationship when she had realised she was pregnant. They had agreed to give it another try. That was the least he could do, wasn’t it? In the end, he had no other plans. He didn’t love her, but she was a nice young woman and he had liked to be around her. They had spent two years with a lot of laughs as well as serious conversations. Julie was intelligent and understood his thoughts.



Despite all this, Stephen couldn’t get him out of his mind. Four years had passed since he had last seen him. Stephen was not fooling himself. He was never going to see him again. Yet, he was hardly able to breathe whenever he thought of him. Four years. It seemed like a lifetime… or more like a second. Undoubtedly, a second it was to Ayve, just as Stephen must have been of absolutely no importance to him.



Not that Stephen had any idea how old Ayve was… where he had been born… what he had experienced in life… or where he was now.




Stephen had been fifteen when his father had introduced the idea of hiring some sort of bodyguard for his safety to him. He had laughed at this. However, his father would not drop the idea. After all, he was a successful politician and executive and had been threatened several times by opponent ‘interest groups’. Now that Stephen was starting a career himself – he had been standing on the threshold of becoming one of the youngest professional snooker players ever – his father had a mind to protect his only son. Stephen had objected at first, reasoning he could not walk around in public with a bodyguard at his heels all the time. This time, it had been his father’s turn to smile. Indeed, he could not. The plan had been different, though. His father had had secret political connections to an organisation of ‘special’ people who could guard a person without drawing any attention to them. This organisation had existed for centuries, Stephen had been told. They did not accept any payment, nor did they accept orders. They were not bound to any contract but had proven their loyalty in the past. Most importantly, they had agreed to send somebody to protect Stephen.



This had not quite answered the question, how they were going to protect him without being noticed, but Stephen was fifteen and to be honest, he was not really on friendly terms with his father, so he had chosen to wait and see instead of rousing his father’s temper by asking more questions.



Finally, a week later, they had been sitting outside, on the terrace, waiting for the man appointed to the job. Having established a manner of ignoring his father’s presence, Stephen had quite enjoyed himself sitting in the warm sun; a soft breeze in his blond hair, the fragrance of a late breakfast’s coffee in the air. In fact, it had been a rare thing to spend time with his father. Their home was a large country house in the south of Scotland, and, due to business obligations, his father had hardly ever managed to get home. Stephen had been pretty much living by himself the last years and had enjoyed it if the truth were told. It had been noteworthy that his father had made it this time. After all, had he not made a few uneasy, nervous moves when his housekeeper had announced the arrival of a guest? Well, Stephen knew now why that had been.



From the first glance on, Stephen had been struck by the appearance of this man. Stephen had had a few moments to take in this picture of him when he had walked through the garden, approaching them. Tall he had been for sure. And he just hadn’t seemed to fit in at all. A tall, slender figure completely dressed in black, walking through the sunlit chaos of forms and colours that nature had created, a few rays of light dancing on his shiny black hair. He had taken off his sunglasses as he’d come closer, not that this had made him look any more familiar. When he had reached the table, his ice cold grey eyes had taken in Stephen for a moment. His face had been as controlled then as it had been in the years after. Nothing could be told from it. No, it was not empty, there was a strength emanating from it that was frightening. Impressive. Adorable. Then he had turned to Stephen’s father who had raised himself from his seat meanwhile and shaken his hand.



His voice as he had introduced himself… Stephen had later made quite a game out of trying to make Ayve talk just to hear his dark, determined voice.



He supposed that was what had made such a strong impression on him; Ayve had had an air of knowing exactly what he wanted. No wavering. Completely different from Stephen’s father who was moody to such a degree that it was impossible to meet his demands. After suffering through it for years, Stephen knew it for what it was. His father was weak and totally dissatisfied with his life, yet too much a coward to change things. Stephen despised him.



Ayve had been different. He had been someone Stephen could look up to. You couldn’t say Stephen actually had befriended him. Ayve had hardly spoken a word and if he had then that was surely not for private conversation. But he had accompanied Stephen wherever he had had tournaments, exhibitions or other appointments, they had spent nearly all day with each other and it had felt good somehow to have him around.



It was painful to remember this. Stephen glanced with hurting eyes into the man-sized mirror in front of him. He was not the perfect modelling-type. But he didn’t look that bad, did he? There had been moments between them… moments in which Ayve’s mask had seemed to slip for a second or two and Stephen had glimpsed desire in his eyes… or had his mind played tricks on him? Had he been fooling himself? Had Ayve only been acting politely by not pushing him away in the nights when Stephen had sneaked into Ayve’s arms? Hadn’t Ayve’s breath grown heavier when Stephen had kissed his neck, licked his ear, before Ayve had told him to stop (though in his old, cool manner)?



He had been nineteen then, age couldn’t have been a problem, right? Moreover, Ayve had known about his feelings. Stephen might have done his best to hide them: hide the wet dreams he had, hide that he masturbated fantasizing about Ayve under the shower. Nevertheless, Stephen had come to the point where he could no longer bear being with Ayve all the time without knowing how Ayve thought of him. Was it presumptuous to hope Ayve had feelings for him? That someone as old and experienced would care about him? It had not mattered anyhow. Ayve had simply told Stephen to restrain himself; that he was not here to pleasure him. Not in a mean way, no. But clinically – and that had hurt just as much. What had he expected?



Three months later Ayve had gone. Even though he had tolerated Stephen’s attempts to get closer to him. Even though he had lain wide-awake in the dark when Stephen had sneaked into his room, his heart beating in a wild rhythm, fearing to be discovered, to be sent away. Stephen had been paralysed when he had stared right into these fascinating light grey eyes. Minutes had seemed to go by while he had stood there, holding the gaze. Ayve hadn’t even blinked. Then slowly, his heart pounding in his chest as if it was about to burst, Stephen had taken the last steps towards the bed, had sat down and had finally dared to lay himself onto the edge of the bed. A few nights later, he had found enough courage to snuggle up to Ayve. Ayve hadn’t moved an inch. They hadn’t spoken a word. It had simply happened, this getting closer to each other. Sharing warmth. Something they both didn’t seem to know.



Then, Ayve had been gone.




Ayve…




Why?




***





Part I


Chapter 1: Surprise, surprise



Stephen was on a small exhibition tour through Europe. Exhibitions were events where he showed off his snooker skills to amuse the public. After all, having won his second title as World Champion in the spring, the fans demanded to see him. He wasn’t exactly the person to enjoy being in the spotlight but… yes, it was fun. This week, he had played in Germany, and he used the chance to visit the Saxon capital, Dresden. That had been Julie’s idea, since her grandmother was German. They had invited her brother, too. Together they had spent a nice day climbing churches, wandering along the river, and sitting in street cafés. When her brother suggested visiting the quarter on the other side of the river, the so-called “Neustadt”, as they had been told there were a few nice bars and restaurants in the evening, Julie told them to go alone. She was tired and planned to treat herself and the baby inside to a nice bubble bath.



Ron, her brother, was soon engaged in conversation with a few Americans in the first bar they hit. After an hour, Stephen decided to go back to the hotel alone. He had to get back to Albertplace, where the trams stopped, that much he knew. But, standing a few corners away from the bar, he suddenly wasn’t quite as sure as he had been five minutes ago of how to get there. This so-called new part of the town was in fact older than the old part had been this morning (it had probably suffered less destruction in the last WW), and the alleys were much narrower and ramified therefore. It took him a little while until he reached the place with the help of a few people who showed him the way. Thank god (or whomever) that Snooker wasn’t that popular in Germany and he wasn’t recognised. Stephen sat down near one of the big fountains and searched for coins to buy a ticket for the tram. This was a pretty nice part of the town with these fountains, a lot of green (Dresden seemed to be closer to nature than other cities anyway) and cosy street lighting.



Suddenly, three young men, not looking particularly likeable, stepped up to him. He had no idea what they were saying, but that they didn’t like him either was plain. He got up to show them that he was not at all impressed by their behaviour (a blunt lie; he tried to find somebody nearby who might help him but the only people around took no notice or at least pretended not to), then they started to get rough. Just when Stephen decided to try knocking one down and run, , a calm male voice sounded behind him. He couldn’t hear it properly, but he was relieved immediately, when those guys ceased holding him in their grip. Stephen thought the next thing they’d do would be to let loose on his helper or at least to make a few last remarks, but they simply went away.



Stephen rearranged his clothes and turned around to thank his rescuer. He froze. Behind the bench he had just been sitting on he stood - unchanged, unmoved, as if there had not been four years since their last encounter. He still wore a black coat, hands in its pockets, his long black hair strictly bound back, yet did not have the old determined look upon his face. It seemed softer, didn’t it?



Stephen couldn’t think of what to say. Four years was a long time to fantasise about somebody. To be standing opposite that somebody now… seemed more unrealistic than all these thoughts. His body trembled; his mind was blank. Stay! was all he could think.



“You shouldn’t have sent your guard away,” Ayve said finally. He was obviously referring to his successor. Stephen had told him to leave immediately when he had arrived, unable to accept anybody in Ayve’s place (the other one had differed from Ayve a lot, had seemed much more casual, more outgoing, but how did that help Stephen?). He had no idea how Ayve knew about this, but he had long since ceased to wonder about the fact that Ayve knew everything. He did. Maybe he had heard of it through his agency. Or, he had read Stephen’s mind. Stephen assumed he had that power. At least, Ayve was not mortal. That much he knew. Ayve looked like he was thirty or something along that line, but Stephen had been told he was much older. Not by Ayve, he had asked a hundred questions concerning his nature, his life without Ayve answering a single one. His father had given him that piece of information when he had pressed him to explain, how one man without a weapon was supposed to keep him safe. Indeed, this knowledge had at least made him feel perfectly secured.



Now, Ayve was turning to leave again.



“Don’t,” Stephen tried to hold him back with a croaky voice. “Please. Don’t just go like this…”



Ayve turned after a few steps, his face blank.



Stephen approached him. What should he do? He stopped less then an arm’s length away from Ayve. There was nothing to loose, right? Just go for it. You were never the hesitant type - don’t start now.



He took Ayve’s hand into his. Soft, without any will of its own. What was he waiting for? What was that look upon Ayve’s face? No, better - there was a look upon his face! Not just a mask. Yes, that’s what it was, that was what had distracted Stephen, Ayve didn’t seem to hide this time!



“Can’t we go somewhere?” Stephen asked him.



“And then?” Ayve replied softly.



Come on you both know what this is about. You’re both grown up men. This is a once in your lifetime chance – go for it! Stephen lifted his other hand and touched Ayve’s face while he was watched intently. Such soft skin! Those lips!



He obliterated the last gap between them. Yes, he had been right - there it was, that look in Ayve’s eyes that told Stephen he wanted him.



Stephen put his arm around Ayve’s shoulders – with the other now holding his hand tightly and feeling the grip being returned! – drew himself up to Ayve’s face, and touched Ayve’s lips with his. So soft. He felt Ayve’s breath.



Ayve was reluctant. He took a last deep look into Stephen’s eyes before he seemed to make up his mind. Then he put his left arm around Stephen’s back, drew him closer to himself and kissed him demandingly.



Yes, of course, the thought of his girlfriend had crossed Stephen’s mind for a second. Still, whatever doubts he might have had were gone in an instant. Goodness – he wasn’t able to think at all right now. He probably would have fallen over if Ayve, this indescribably fascinating being, hadn’t held him tightly. He’d never felt this way before. His body was heated, floating… out of control. Let this never end!



This warmth in Ayve’s body, the soft and yet strong embrace, the touch of Ayve’s skin, of Ayve’s lips, of Ayve’s tongue…



*



They rented a room in a small guesthouse. Ayve spoke German perfectly. Did he live here somewhere? Ayve only gave him a faint smile in answer to that question and Stephen was too overwhelmed to find himself in this situation to think logically or else he might have wondered why Ayve had appeared right at that moment and concluded that he had to be living here in Dresden. And, seeing things from that angle, why did they have to rent a room? Why not stay in Ayve’s place? But again, those thoughts did not cross Stephen’s mind – yet.



On the short way to the guesthouse, Stephen had hardly noticed the city around them. Now, standing in this tiny room - he still stood close to the door, Ayve near the window, looking outside, just taking off his coat - Stephen became aware of what was going on for the first time. There he was in a strange city, in a strange room, with a man that – let’s be honest – was a complete mystery to him and yet - Stephen felt so familiar with and attracted to him.



Ayve turned to look at him. He threw the heavy coat onto a nearby armchair and sighed. He slowly crossed the room and stopped directly in front of Stephen. His hand – carrying the big silver-white ring shaped like a water lily that had always caught Stephen’s attention, as it did not seem to match the rest of Ayve’s appearance - ran through Stephen’s thick blond hair, which had earned him quite a few nicknames, while Ayve’s eyes were scanning Stephen’s face.



“I have no idea what I’m doing here with you,” he whispered.



“Neither have I,” Stephen replied smiling. He laid his hands on Ayve’s chest and immediately saw a fire blaze in his eyes. They got rid of Stephen’s jacket before Ayve pushed him back, lifted him up so that his face now was above Ayve’s and his back was leaning against the door and held him in a tight grip, hands on his bottom, Stephen’s legs closing around Ayve’s hips. Stephen was irritated to be pushed into this rather female pose for a second and yet – he enjoyed it.



They kissed slowly, breathing in every second of it, every particle of their skin moaning for more. So close, so intimate… Stephen had never experienced this with any of his female acquaintances. To feel Ayve’s strong shoulders and his slim but muscular arms through his shirt gave Stephen the opportunity to let himself fall. He felt comforted, safe.



He didn’t worry about what was going to come. No, he had no experience in homosexual sex, but he was not naïve. Fantasizing about it for years had quite prepared him for all eventualities. He wanted more. Let’s face it, there was a strong desire coming from that certain male part of his body.



Now was the time.



He unbuttoned Ayve’s shirt and pushed it open to be able to touch his naked chest, that soft, pale skin of his. He could see Ayve’s muscles do their work under his heavy breath. This unmistakeably was a male body. But, not a single hair could be seen. Neither on the chest nor on his arms nor were most men had this line of hair from their navel downwards…



Ayve carried him the few steps to the bed and laid him down. Now, it was Stephen’s top being removed. Ayve bent over him, eyeing Stephen’s torso. He put his fingertips right above that place where Stephen’s sex was screaming to be taken care of and slowly followed the middle line of Stephen’s chest until he reached that curve of Stephen’s throat that gave him his male voice. Ayve kissed him softly on this spot, just to return slowly to where he had started from, taking the same course with his lips this time. He arrived below Stephen’s navel, kissed that hairy line down there, and let his tongue stroke it gently. Stephen was paralysed; his mind swam being only aware of how close Ayve was to his…



Ayve looked at him. “Do you want that?” he whispered seductively.



Was there any blood left in Stephen’s body that was not concentrated in his head or sex? He doubted it. He felt so hot. He did not dare to answer. He wouldn’t have been able to form a single word.



Still, Ayve understood.



Slowly he opened the button on Stephen’s jeans and unzipped it carefully. He freed Stephen’s body from the pants. His shorts weren’t fit to hide how Stephen felt now. Ayve laid himself beside Stephen and looked into his eyes, meanwhile touching the insides of Stephen’s thighs. He kissed him once more. Stephen could hardly bear this.



Moving downward again, Ayve tore the shorts off. Stephen reached for a hold. So warm…! So soft… It felt strange and yet excitingly well to be treated like this by a man.



Ayve gave him a hand.



*



It was six o’clock in the morning, Ayve slipped in his coat. He looked down on that young mortal he had spent the night with. There was nothing to be regretted. They had not gone any farther than he had planed to go. There had been a moment when he had feared desire would overwhelm him. This night had been more passionate than he had imagined it could be. He hadn’t thought it would be so easy to make him feel that way again. Maybe it had happened because he knew that boy, a faint feeling of familiarity that had allowed him to go that far. Or, possibly, he had let a liking for that young man build up the whole evening and it had culminated in this…



Ayve had watched the young Scotsman ever since he had entered the bar out of a lack of anything else to engage him. He did not have a particular interest in the blond, nevertheless Ayve had found him very likeable. He had established an amount of maturity and self-confidence that suited him. Yet, he had kept a very boyish manner; the round face with his soft features and bright eyes had looked adorably innocent, and his hair shimmering golden in the damp light had only intensified this impression.



Ayve didn’t think this alone would have held his attention for more than a few moments. What had attracted him to the boy was a small detail - boy he had called him in spite of his 23 years of age because he still had a delicate, child-like body - with slim arms and long, thin fingers - that had still been tanned from the summer sun that had vanished quite suddenly a few weeks ago, giving way to an early, cold autumn. The silver ring and bracelet he had worn on his left hand and right wrist had only underlined this fragility, this beauty in such a way that Ayve would have thought young Stephen had grown into a narcissist, had he not dressed in such simple clothing. Who would not expect success to rise to the head of such a young human? No, Ayve had seen plainly that goldilocks knew about modesty (don’t pay heed to this, Ayve liked to give strange names, mostly to devaluate somebody – Stephen had straight hair).



When the conversation young Stephen had had with the people at his table had developed into a direction Stephen hadn’t liked and he had thought of leaving, Ayve had given him the final nudge out of the door, so to speak. He had silently told Stephen’s heart: yes, you should do that. Not that he had had any plan. He had not even had the clear intention of showing himself to Stephen. He had wanted to see the young boy walking the streets in the light of sundown, that was it - simple and kitschy.



Truth be told, Ayve had felt a little lonely. He had taken this little job of protecting the son of a second-class politician on to give him something to do. To be surrounded by people. However, he had not cared to ask for another task after that incident with this young one trying to penetrate his intimacy. Apart from that, he was used to being alone. Even before this existence he had been an outsider. He had never fooled himself about that.



Nevertheless, he had had a mind to follow this young Brit with his golden hair, lopsided smile and strong Scottish dialect. To watch him from afar and see what it led him to.



To let him get close, finally, had been an impulsive decision. In the end, there was no risk. He had nothing to lose. This was a single human being - entirely unimportant, alone. Ayve was not bound to anything. He could do whatever he wanted. He could enjoy the night and disappear afterwards.



That was what he was doing now. He touched Stephen’s sensual lips one last time not sure whether he liked his affection for this young man, calling it a temporary weakness. He made sure Blondie didn’t wake up. He sent him an extra sweet dream, a parting gift one might say. His hand couldn’t help but touch him once more – chest, belly, sex, thighs – he allowed his lips to kiss him, his tongue to join the pleasure… and then, he pulled himself together, covered Stephen up, and left the room. He gave orders for a breakfast to be served, paid the bill, and stepped out into a cold morning.



Ayve took a deep breath. The cool wind cleared his mind. Slowly he made his way towards the Elbe. One last walk along the river, one last glance at this beautiful town before he left, earlier than he had intended. Indeed, it bothered him to be forced to leave – but he would return some time later. Time was no problem.



*



Stephen dived out of a pleasant dream. What was it about? Sunny – the distant sound of water – the buzzing of insects… but that couldn’t be it. That was only the setting for something sweeter… What was it? It was gone.



He grew aware of muted sounds. Dishes being placed on a table. The scent of coffee rose to his nostrils.



Ayve… Right. That had happened the former evening.



Stephen tentatively opened his eyes. A chambermaid just finished serving breakfast. Stephen urgently checked whether he was properly covered. He lay naked in bed after all. The woman apologized in broken English and explained that she had been instructed to have breakfast ready when he awoke.



Stephen looked around. Of course… Ayve’s clothes were gone. How dared he expect anything else. Suddenly, the whole last night felt more like a dream than like something that had taken place in reality. His heart sank. He asked whether there had been a message left for him, a last glimpse of hope.



No there was none.



Stephen turned around and buried himself under the coverlet. He ebbed between disappointment and rage. He trembled. Had he been foolish? Did he feel used?



With a few deep breaths, Stephen gained control over his feelings. He would not cry. He would not spend the rest of the day mourning. He shoved the blanket away and got up. Of course, the chambermaid had already left the room. Nonetheless, he was quick to find his clothing. Stephen felt uneasy running around naked. It reminded him too much of the intimacy shared last night.



He sat down and helped himself to a cup of coffee. German coffee was supposed to be of a higher quality, not that he had a mind for such things now.



What had this been about? He felt like a toy. Ayve had not even profited from this. Stephen had been pleasured in a way that exceeded his wildest dreams, but there had been no intercourse. They hadn’t really done it. Ayve had not gained any satisfaction out of this whatsoever. Why had he gone? Why hadn’t he at least stayed to get his share before breakfast or something like that? Stephen was puzzled.



Yet, it had been Ayve’s decision. No matter how disappointed Stephen was about his disappearance, there was no reason to be ashamed for what had happened. Yes, he would enjoy that memory of their encounter. He relaxed and took a bite off his roll.



So, what was he going to do now? Shit – Julie! He had to find a good excuse for staying away all night without any message that had nothing to do with having the best sex in his life. A faint smile flew over his face before the worry took hold of him again.



What time was it? Not yet seven o’clock. She might still be asleep. Maybe he could leave a message now, would that do any good? He couldn’t try and seat himself in the breakfast hall of their hotel and pretend he had come back some time in the night and had gone down to breakfast when Julie was still asleep. That was too risky. Besides, he was not the cheating type. He couldn’t lie. Not like that. He could pretend nothing had happened, but to make her believe he hadn’t even been absent – no, he wouldn’t manage that.



Stephen went to the small reception and asked the lady to call his hotel. When he told the receptionist on the other end of the wire to deliver the message that Stephen had had a few drinks too many last night after meeting an old friend and hadn’t felt able to make it to the hotel, he was told that message had already been delivered the previous evening. At about the time he and Ayve had received the keys to their room.



So, Ayve had known about Julie and had probably known that she was pregnant. Was that the reason why he had gone? Why had he spent the night with Stephen then?



What was more, how could Stephen return to Julie now and pretend everything was fine? He longed for Ayve, and nobody else.




***



proofread by Indigo