Disclaimer:
This story contains homosexual themes. If you are offended by such topics or not of legal age to read such stories, please do not read on. The names of characters and their engagements are fictitious. Any resemblances to real life are completely coincidental.The author asserts all legal and moral rights to this work and it may not be copied or transmitted in any way except in its entirety along with this disclaimer.
Copyright (c) Anne 2008. All rights reserved.
You Don't Say: Chapter 3
This is all I need Andrew thought to himself. `Just this. I'm not looking for more,' he mused.
"Who's Michael?" The body beside Andrew spoke, breaking his train of thought.
"What?" Andrew made it into a question to be polite. He had stopped being surprised by what he called these guys a while ago.
"You kept calling me Michael."
Andrew, who had been staring at the ceiling whilst trying to get his breathing back to normal, turned his head to the side. The man lying beside him was just right: gorgeous and sweaty. The lighting in Andrew's bedroom was perfect, highlighting and accentuating the muscles on the guy's back, down the spine, to a perfect set of buttocks that were almost perfect. Andrew almost reached over and stroked them. He almost asked this one to spend the night.
"Are you sure?" Andrew asked, trying to politely avert his head when a hand attempted to move his hair from his eyes. He needed to open a window.
"You said it five times." The body was starting to get up.
"You could have said something."
"I didn't want to break your concentration. If my being Michael makes you fuck like that, then I'm Michael."
Andrew noted the devilish grin that spread across the guy's face as he spoke. `Well at least he's honest,' Andrew thought to himself running a hand through his hair and getting out of bed. The guy did look like Michael.
"You said that out loud. I must be good imitation of him from the way you look at me."
"Pray tell, how do I look at you ?" Andrew wasn't really concentrating, focusing more on getting his briefs on and thinking of a way to get this one to leave. To say that the answer he received threw him off guard would be an understatement.
"Like I'm the one thing you always wanted and the one thing you're afraid of losing."
"There's a look for that? Hmm." Andrew spoke with his back to the guy, trying to sound casual. He wasn't the one who fell apart after sex.
"Yup. My parents look at each other like that all the time. Ah yes parents, you know the people who name you, speaking of which my name's Rodney." The stranger emphasized that last past as he heaved his body from the bed.
"Rodney? Really, your parents would do that? Do they not love you?" God he looks even better standing up Andrew thought.
"Hey!"
Andrew was too slow to stop the pillow that hit his head. As he was now dressed he figured he could probably do some work.
"Would you like to use the shower?"
"Nah, better get going."
"Alright." Andrew said, picking up a few notes from his briefcase before going into the study. Then he felt Rodney tugging on his elbow and turning him around from his desk. Is it possible for a man to look that good in clothes? Andrew asked himself.
Then he remembered that it was and had to stop the frown that creased his face.
"Look..." Rodney started to speak. Andrew however, didn't get to hear the rest of the sentence because his mouth was soon involved an amazing kiss. The notes he'd been clutching fell to the floor, as a swift and agile tongue entered his mouth. Hands moved through his hair and Andrew was almost willing to sleep with this one again, almost because the kiss was almost out of this world.
Whoever got to kiss Rodney for the rest of their lives was a lucky bastard, Andrew mused, as he sighed into the kiss. Then it was over and Andrew's lips were abandoned.
"I just had to do that, since we're not going to do this again." Rodney said almost apologetically.
"We could you know." Although Andrew didn't believe it, he just felt compelled to say something. Then he began to pick his notes from the floor, hearing Rodney's footsteps get further away as he reached the doorway to his bedroom.
"Andrew, this is the twenty-first century the least you can do is remember a guy's name during copulation. Or just call out `God,' it's common courtesy. Goodnight." Rodney grinned in an attempt to show that there were no hard feelings.
"Night." A few seconds later Andrew heard the front door open and shut.
Although he had liked this one, Rodney knew he didn't stand a chance against what Andrew really wanted. He swiftly made his way out of the house, hoping that whoever had ruined Andrew like they had knew how fortunate they were. `When that luck's mine there is no way I'm letting it go,' Rodney thought as he drove away.
Of course Andrew being Andrew didn't start remembering the guy's names. Even when he did, he'd call out that same name, shattering any possibility of sex in the future, with whatever man he was in. He had just needed someone to take it out on, preferably a male someone, with specific features.
After Michael's departure Andrew had spent the first month not eating, ignoring friends, although he did find that his work was going extremely well. He had never gotten as much done when he wasn't depressed.
It wasn't that he didn't enjoy what he did, but copyright law wasn't a rollercoaster ride. Yet, recently he was the first one into the building and kept finding reasons to be the last person to leave.
The second month after Michael's departure the hurt he was feeling gave way to anticipation. Andrew became energized; some might say "psyched," at what he couldn't quite decipher. In the third month and still no Michael, Andrew realized that he had spent the previous four weeks hoping Michael would return.
Understandably Andrew spent that third month away from Michael pissed off. Thus, along with his suits and subtle cologne Andrew found himself wearing himself wearing a scowl on his face. His colleagues communicated with him via any non-verbal, non-confrontational formats whenever possible. Soon even his mother did the same.
His anger was slightly abated by his workouts and was almost completely gone by the fifth month. Its recession may have been aided by the fact that during the fourth month Andrew had gone through men like a hot, horny and depressed knife through butter.
Nothing for five months, maybe it was fate Andrew thought. Sitting in his office, he watched the sunset and thought about the previous night. Only fate would bring Michael back in the fifth month. Only fate would allow Michael to walk into his bedroom and find him with another man in his bed.
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