Chapter 17

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Chapter 17: Whipsaw

The next day it was pretty obvious that neither of us had had a good night. I wasn't surprised Ashok hadn't slept well, given that it was his first night in a strange, new country, so I didn't question him about it. Instead, I scrambled some eggs and made toast to fortify us for Ashok's first day out on the town. Despite both of us being a little tired, we had an excellent time. Shopping was obviously a top priority, because the boy owned hardly any clothes. However, I made sure we didn't spend the entire day in fitting rooms. Dré helped me out by offering to give us a privately guided tour of the British Museum. I was a little worried that the museum might be too much for his first day, but Ashok loved it, staring agape at all the treasures amassed in one massive building. To his credit, Dré was very much in his element, pointing out cultural gems hidden in plain sight that were surely missed by most tourists.

My phone buzzed towards the end of the tour. I grimaced when the display told me it was H. I was tempted to keep ignoring him, but I knew how persistent he could be and I didn't relish having to either keep my mobile turned off to avoid him or, worse, changing my number. Much as I hated to admit it, talking to him one last time made more sense, and since Ashok was in good hands with Dré, I decided this was a better time to do it than most. I made my excuses and ignored Dré's knowing, dirty look as I quickly walked to find a room mostly empty of museum patrons and quietly answered the call.

"I do wish you would stop ringing. I think we've said all there was to say last week, don't you?"

"What? No! Ced," he sounded genuinely surprised, as though he took part in a completely different conversation and hadn't a clue what I was referring to.

"You told me, in so many words, that you didn't want to have anything to do with me and, given what's been happening between us lately, I agree that's probably for the best. We both know where the other stands and it's time to go our separate ways. No need to make this more difficult than it already is. Goodbye."

I should have hung up, but as usual, I couldn't ignore his plea for me to stay on.

"Ced, please, hear me out!"

"Why should I?" I challenged.

"Because we love each other. Because it's no good when we're apart, for either of us, and you know it. Because..."

"We're apart as much as we are because of the life you choose to lead, and it's no good when we're together, either. I won't stay your doormat anymore. I won't continue with a relationship where I get so little back."

"I'll do better. I'll find more time," he cajoled. "I've already started, haven't I? I was at Grimmauld last night, hoping you'd show up, and I'm off work today. I hoped we'd be able to spend the whole day together too. I knew I was taking a chance on your return, but I'd hoped... In any case, I'll schedule overnights like this for us more often, as often as I can. When are you back in London?"

I sighed. I refused to hide behind a lie, but I knew he would not take the truth well.

"I've been back since yesterday morning," I admitted.

"What?" he was incredulous. "You've been back that long and you didn't let me know or come by, even though you knew I'd be at Grimmauld? I rang you last night."

"I know. I ignored it and erased your message. Like I said, there's nothing left to say."

"Ced, don't you see? You're being rash, not thinking clearly. We need to talk, face to face."

"I see no need for that. It's over, H. If you look at it objectively, this will make your life a lot easier. You'll have that much more time with your boys. They're getting older and they'll need their father more than ever. It makes sense."

"You're wrong, Ced. You couldn't be more wrong," he insisted.

"So you keep telling me, H. And I've finally started to understand. I am wrong, wrong for you. Just as you are wrong for me. It's time for you to leave me alone. Goodbye and please, stop ringing."

He protested again, but this time I did ignore him. When my mobile buzzed a few seconds later, I turned it to silent mode. I felt hollow, but I did what had to be done. Now Ashok and I would both be mourning the loss of our partners, giving us yet another thing in common, and perhaps that wasn't a bad thing. It would be good for us to understand what the other was going through.

I rejoined Dré and Ashok, trying to keep the pain off my face. Dré gave me a sharp look and opened his mouth to speak, but a quick shake of my head, together with a pointed glance in Ashok's direction, made him reconsider. We went up and had lunch at the Court Restaurant, Dré somehow managing to bite his tongue for the length of the meal, though I knew him well enough to tell it would cost me dearly some time in the future.

After the museum we took the Tube to Oxford Circus and, over Ashok's protests, began shopping. We started at Topman where, in part to make Ashok feel better and in part because I couldn't resist, we both found new jeans, shirts and knits. The very cute, flirty and gay male staff certainly made it easy to keep shopping, as did Ashok's compliments, but I didn't mind. It had been a while since I splurged on myself and new sexy clothes always made me feel better. In addition to the casual wear, we also picked up a suit jacket, trousers, shirt and formal shoes for Ashok, just in case he needed more formal attire. After Topman we went to Bershka, where we found more things for Ashok, including a pair of stonewall nautical ankle boots that would work for all seasons except winter. We bought him new socks and trainers, belts, hats and a shoulder bag, as well as a new waterproof jacket, before moving on to Marks and Spencer and H&M. By the time we were done, we were both loaded down with bags from multiple shops and aware that we needed to drop everything off at my flat before we could go out again.

When all our purchases were put away, we went back, this time for a little sightseeing. We took the Tube to Westminster station and walked around the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey, and then walked through Saint James park to Buckingham Palace. Not unexpectedly, Ashok was highly excited and impressed at all the landmarks, but I took it as a good sign that he also wasn't afraid to talk and ask questions. He was a sweet and easygoing kid, and he made what might otherwise have been a boring task for a Londoner like me fun and interesting. Eventually our feet grew weary from the walking we'd done all day, and we jumped at a chance to have a drink and a sit down meal at the Horse and Groom. Ashok had his first taste of fish and chips and a few sips of my beer, which he actually managed to swallow without wrinkling his nose. We found, however, that he much preferred the cider I ordered for him on a whim. I had a hunch that would become his pub beverage of choice.

After dinner, we took the Piccadilly line from Hyde Park Corner to Gloucester Road and retraced our path back to my flat.

"Did you enjoy London today, Ashok?"

"Oh, yes. Very much so. London is amazing. At times I felt..." he paused in concentration, searching for the right word. "Dizzy," he finally said. "Too much," he tried to explain.

"Overwhelmed?"

"Exactly," he said with relief. "London is overwhelming, but in a good way," he hastened to assure. "You showed me so much!"

"I've hardly scratched the surface. I assure you, there is much more to see. But what did you like the best so far?"

"It is so hard to choose," his brows drew together as he thought about his answer. "I enjoyed the museum. Dré was most kind to give us a personal tour. It was amazing to see so many treasures from all over the world. But I think..." he hesitated.

"What?" I prompted, when it looked like he was too scared to complete his thought.

"I think I enjoyed shopping with you the best," he said and quickly lowered his eyes to the sidewalk. "No one has ever done that for me before, taken me to buy so many things just for me. No one has ever helped me choose, or told me what things looked good on me. It made me feel special, important."

I laughed.

"Just to be clear, Nasir sent us the money to pay for the clothes. He insisted on covering your expenses when we told him of our plan to get you out of the Emirates. But that doesn't change the fact that you are special, and important, and it was my pleasure to help you find the styles that suited you best. You are quite a looker, you know. You should wear things to show it off."

"I do not want to show off," he protested. "I just want to look like you and your friends. I want to fit in."

"Well, then, my young friend," I said as I threw my arm over his shoulder, "your wish is granted. You fit in just fine."

Ashok raised his arm slowly, tentatively placing it around my waist and looking up as if waiting for permission. When I smiled down at him he gave me a full, beautiful smile in return. We turned off into the neighborhood and continued on to the flat, practically joined at the hip, talking and laughing easily.

"Rick?" The sharp tone of the question and the familiar voice brought me up short and instantly wiped the smile off my face. I took my arm off Ashok's shoulder and stood up straighter. Ashok, following my lead, let the arm that was around my waist fall to his side.

"What are you doing here, H.?" I asked dumbly.

"I'm waiting for you, obviously. We need to talk. Who's this?" His tone, demanding instead of inquiring, instantly put me on guard.

"This is my houseguest, Ashok. Ashok, this is my..." I tried to figure out the best way to introduce him, knowing he'd want to keep his identity as secret as possible, "my school friend, H."

"Hello," Ashok said tentatively, with a small smile, undoubtedly sensing the thick tension between me and the man standing opposite us. H. did not respond and Ashok's smile faded. My anger grew at seeing H.'s rudeness and hostility. It was one thing for him to treat me like shit, it was another to extend that attitude to the boy.

"I told you earlier, H., we have nothing to talk about. I'm sorry you wasted your time waiting. It's late, so you'd best go home. I'm sure your family misses you."

H. winced at my coldness, and he might have paled a little as well, though it was hard to tell in the dim glow of the street light. The hostile expression was replaced by one of pained surprise.

"Let's go up, Ashok," I said and went up the stairs, taking out my keys and attempting to sidestep H. to unlock the entryway door.

"Rick, please," H. grabbed my upper arm. "I've been waiting here for you for hours. You know what that means for me."

Unable to look directly at him, I stared at the hand encircling my arm as I considered his statement. Other than that evening years ago at Albert Hall, he had never left his family for an unscheduled evening with me before, never met me anywhere other than his secret house, never waited for me. This was a huge concession for him, and even though a part of me still resisted, another part wanted to hear what he had to say.

"Come on up with us if you want, then," I said grudgingly. I shook off his hand and reached for the door again, unlocking and opening it so we could all go in and up to my flat. I unlocked and opened that door as well, hanging my keys on the hook by the door and waiting for Ashok and H. to come in before closing and bolting the door behind them. I watched warily as H. looked around the flat.

"Have a seat," I said to both of them, noticing that Ashok was trying to figure out what to do with himself.

"Rick?" he asked quietly.

"Yes?"

"It has been a long day and I am feeling tired. Please do not think me rude to you and your guest, but would you mind if I went to sleep?"

He may have been tired, but I knew that wasn't the reason he wanted to excuse himself. He clearly recognized the situation for what it was and wanted to give me and H. some privacy.

"Yes, of course, Ashok. It's fine. Go on to bed," I said. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Rick." I sensed he wanted to hug me, but restrained himself because of H. Not wanting to antagonize and torture H. further, I refrained from touching him as well. "It was nice to meet you, H.," Ashok offered.

"Likewise," H. said, his voice just barely colored with warmth.

Ashok turned and headed for the bedroom, disappearing behind the closing door with one last glance back. H. stared at the door with outrage before turning to me.

"This is a one bedroom flat!" he exclaimed in a hissed whisper. I merely nodded.

"And he's sleeping in there? With you?" There was incredulity in his voice, but also something else, something I seldom heard, a hint of uncertainty and fear.

"If you'd told me you just wanted to interrogate me, I would have saved you the trip up," I said wearily. "I'm in no mood, H. and I don't owe you any explanations. You'd best go home." I unbolted the door and opened it, stepping aside so he could pass me on his way out.

"Hold on," he said, his fear more prominent now. "I didn't mean... Fuck, this is all wrong. Not at all what I intended. I wanted to talk to you. I didn't realize you'd have someone here."

"I told you about him when we spoke last week," I reminded him.

"I know, but I thought you were just trying to get under my skin. I didn't realize you actually intended... Does what we have mean so little to you that you could just...?"

"Don't," I hissed. "Whatever it is you were going to say, don't. And don't you ever presume to tell me how I feel about us and what we have and don't have, not after everything I've sacrificed for tiny snippets of your time, while you've given up nothing for me. You haven't earned that right. Get out, H. Go home to your perfect little straight upper crust family and stop wasting both of our time."

He stood in front of me and I knew him well enough to realize he was clearly torn. I was running out of patience, but short of shoving him out and slamming the door behind him, there was little I could do. I had to wait for him to leave before I could give in to the growing heartache. I hadn't been prepared for this, and while I knew I was doing the right thing, it didn't stop the stabbing pain inside.

"Rick, I love you. The hours I have with you are the only things that keep me sane. I thought you felt the same way. After everything we've been through, how can you just send me away?"

I stared at him, wide eyed. This was the most heartfelt declaration he'd made outside of bed since we graduated from uni, and yet I had no idea how to respond.

"What did you want to talk about?" I finally asked dully. There was a voice inside me screaming that this was a mistake, that opening the door to him like this again was just an invitation for him to slam it in my face, but after what he'd said already I had to hear him out.

His eyes darted past me to the closed door of the bedroom.

"Ced, can we go somewhere? I'd really rather do this in private," I resented his use of the intimate name, but I understood why he didn't want to talk in the apartment.

"All right. Just let me tell Ashok."

Without waiting for his response I went to the bedroom and knocked. When Ashok replied I opened the door a crack and let him know that I would be going out for a little while, but that I would be back soon. I asked him if he'd be okay in the apartment by himself and received an affirmative answer. I bade him goodnight again and closed the door. Grabbing the key off the hook, I led H. out of the flat, locking the door behind me.

"Where to, then?" I asked when we exited the building. He pointed his chin to the communal park and we walked to the gate, which I promptly unlocked to let us in. We sat on one of the benches and for a while all was silent.

"How did you manage to get out of the house tonight?" I finally asked, since it didn't seem like he'd ever start talking.

"I was supposed to be seeing a client out of town. I told Ginny the meeting ran late. She handed me my arse on a platter. Apparently the boys were beastly all day and she was looking forward to some down time this evening while I took over. I don't know what she has to complain about - we have a nanny during the day to deal with the children for a reason. All the same, I'm sure I'll be paying for this all week," he sighed, burying his face in his hands. A week ago I would have felt sorry for him, tried to soothe him, told him how much I appreciated his sacrifice. Now I was just numb. Ginny didn't deserve this any more than I did. She should have been able to count on her husband being home to help her with the kids instead of running off for clandestine meetings with his gay lover. No matter which way I looked at it, H. was the selfish wanker.

"Ced, I felt so bloody awful about what happened when we spoke the other day. Things at work are difficult right now and they're even worse at home. The only release I have, the only time I'm happy, is when I'm with you. I was just as angry and disappointed as you were that I had to cancel the night of our anniversary, but then hearing you tear into me over that, too... I just snapped. And then, when I'd arranged to spend another night with you, you just bloody left the country to pick up some stranger, and wanted to set him up in my house, the only place that's reserved for the two of us...," his voice rose with outrage as he spoke.

"H.," I growled in warning. I was willing to hear him out, but I could tell he was revving up to his usual rant and I didn't want to listen to that.

He glanced at me, his intense green eyes flashing behind his black-rimmed glasses. "I really needed you and you weren't there, and in my disappointment everything that I said turned out wrong. I realized it as soon as you hung up. I rang you back to apologize. I texted too, but you never picked up or texted back."

"I turned off my phone," I replied flatly.

"But you've turned it on since then. I mean, we spoke today," he pointed out.

"I erased all your texts and messages without looking or listening," I explained. "Truly, H., I just didn't want to hear it."

"Oh," he was speechless. He looked down at the ground. "You didn't hear or see any of them?" he asked quietly, looking back up at me as if to see if I was telling the truth. I shook my head in denial. "So, then, you don't know how sorry I was, how sorry I am?"

"I'm here now. You can tell me in person."

He swallowed. I could see how difficult this was for him, but I wasn't inclined to make it any easier. "I am sorry, for everything. I was just so shocked when you said you wanted this boy to live with you, that you wanted to shag him. Have you?" he asked quietly and I could tell he was afraid of the answer. I shook my head in disgust.

"After all these years, do you really not know me at all? What kind of man do you think I am? I told you the kid's partner was murdered and he's in mourning. Add to that moving thousands of miles to a place he doesn't know, where he's totally dependent on me and the other guys. Do you really think I'd take advantage of someone like that?"

"But he's sleeping in your bedroom," he defended, "and you'd said..."

"He's sleeping in my bedroom and I'm sleeping on the sofa," I informed him. "And I sure as fuck hope you haven't meant all the things you've said to me over the years, including the last time. If you have, then we really have nothing to talk about."

"No," he protested, "of course not. So, you two haven't?" he asked again. I shook my head. Suddenly he reached for me, pulling my head towards him and kissing me, hard, his lips grinding into mine, his tongue pressing, demanding entry. I was caught off guard. He'd never before kissed me out in the open. Granted, we were under cover of darkness and foliage in a deserted park, but it was still more affection in public than he had ever shown me. I hesitated only a moment before I yielded to him entirely, allowing him to ravage my lips and mouth, his tongue probing the depths. All I could do was moan my own desire for more as I welcomed his domination. It took so little for him to stake his claim on me. A single kiss and all I wanted was to be his, wrapped up in his arms, forever.

But this wasn't a fairy tale, and forever lasted all of a few minutes before he broke the kiss as abruptly as he'd started it, both of us panting with need for more, both of us knowing the need would go unsatisfied. In a desperate effort to hold on to him longer I pressed myself against him, inhaling deeply to fill my senses with his scent. Only this time the familiar scent was diluted, tainted by something new and different. I pulled away and looked at him quizzically.

"Did you change your aftershave or something?"

He looked at me blankly for a moment before recognition dawned in his emerald eyes. "Yeah, Ginny got it for me. One of her friends' husband uses it or something and she likes it. Not your cuppa?"

I sniffed again and wrinkled my nose. "Doesn't seem right. I suppose I'll get used to it."

"No," he said firmly. "I don't like it much either. I'll stop using it. Ginny can go to hell."

I smiled, pleased that he was willing to defy his wife for me. In the grand scheme of things it was a fairly insignificant gesture, but after years of coming in second it felt good to be victorious for once. It was a step in the right direction.

"And the boy can stay at the house," he added. I frowned and shook my head.

"No, I don't think that would work anymore. He really shouldn't be alone and your house is too inconvenient for any of us to stay there with him. I should have thought of that before I even asked you," I looked over at him but he was looking away. "Besides, we've settled him in at my place and we wouldn't want to uproot him again."

"But you can't just continue living with him," he protested. "He's not even sofa surfing, for fuck's sake, he's taken your bed." I imagined his outrage was driven by his concern for me. Finding it sweet, I reached over to take his hand.

"This arrangement is very temporary, just until he gets acclimatized."

"Still, it's hardly fair to saddle you with him, you having the smallest flat and all," I could tell there was more to his line of thought than he was saying, residual jealousy bubbling to the surface in tone, if not in words. I had to admit I rather liked it. It was good for him to know how it felt having his lover go home to someone else every night, even if the situation between Ashok and me was nothing like that between him and Ginny. An experience like this could prove invaluable in helping him see how hard some aspects of our relationship had been for me and why things between us had to change.

"It's fine. I don't mind and neither does he. At least at my flat he doesn't have to feel the gooseberry and watch happy couples living together while trying to get over his own loss. And they don't have to worry about him cramping their style. And it's not like at my place he'll be interrupting or interfering with anything. This is the best thing for everyone."

For a moment it looked as though he intended to argue, but then he closed his mouth without making a sound. I breathed a small sigh of relief. A car door slammed nearby and we both tensed.

"I need to get back," he said quietly, regretfully. I nodded, knowing his departure was inevitable, but hating it anyway. "I've missed you, Ced. It was so hard being without you last week. I've been a wreck. I need to be with you, inside you, to make love to you, but after last night and tonight, I'm afraid I won't be able to get away until next week. We'll have to wait. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry!" The last apology was so heartfelt I just wanted to pull him into my arms and soothe away his obvious pain.

"Not even for an hour, middle of the day? I'm on holiday all this week. I could meet you any time," I offered, desperate not to have to wait nearly two weeks to feel his body against mine.

"You know it takes too long to get to the house from work. By the time I'd get there we'd maybe have 10 minutes before I had to leave. And work really is a bugger right now. I'm sorry," he said again. I sensed there was no point in pleading. Our reunion would just have to wait. At least there would be a reunion, I told myself, which was more than I anticipated this morning. And at least we'd talked and he'd apologized and it seemed like he understood what he did and was making an effort to change. If so, it would have made all the rowing lately worth it. If I could have just a little more of him, if he could be just a touch sweeter and more caring...

"I love you, Ced," he whispered, placing a hand on my cheek.

"I love you too, Al," I reached out and traced the scar on his forehead with my thumb. For once, he didn't swat my hand away, but almost leaned into my touch.

"I have to go," he said, this time decisively, and I knew our interlude was over. We rose. I grabbed his hand one more time and squeezed it tightly. Muttering a quiet curse he pulled me into his arms for one last brief but passionate kiss, before he released me, heading for the park gate. "I'll ring you," he said, before swinging it open and walking off at a fast clip towards Gloucester Road, where he would undoubtedly catch a taxi home. The gate to the park locked automatically behind me so I had nothing to do but watch his departing form, wishing he could have stayed with me instead of going home to Ginny.

Head bowed, I walked back to the house and up to my flat. As quietly as I could, I walked in and locked the door behind me. I pulled out and made up the sleeper before heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed. I stared at myself in the mirror for a moment, trying to figure out what I was doing. Just a few hours earlier I'd resigned myself to living my life without him, resolved to try to find happiness elsewhere. Now I was almost right back where I started, only perhaps a bit ahead. Still second in his life, but maybe not as marginalized as I had been in the past? Would it be good enough? I knew only time would tell.

Back in the living room, I turned off the light and stripped my clothes off in the dark, slipping naked between the sheets. I lay there, thinking, unable to sleep, when I heard the sound of the bedroom door opening and the padding of bare feet on my hardwood floors.

"Rick?" his voice was so soft it would not have woken me had I been asleep.

"Yes, Ashok? You need something?" I answered, nearly as softly, so as not to startle him.

"I wanted to make sure you were all right," he said tentatively. "Earlier you seemed agitated." He moved closer and sat down on the edge of the mattress. "Was that him? Was that the man you told me about on the plane?"

"Yeah, that was him," I admitted.

"He seemed angry with me. Is there something wrong?"

"It's nothing for you to worry about," I assured him, sitting up. "He was mistaken about something, but we worked it out. You're fine. Everything is fine."

"I do not want to cause you trouble."

"Really, Ashok, there's no trouble. You're exactly where you should be, except that you should be sleeping. Why are you up? Were you waiting for me?"

"I could not sleep," he explained. "It is too hard to sleep alone in the big bed. In our room, Pankaj and I pushed our beds together to sleep, but after he was gone I pushed them apart. Sleeping in a big bed by myself is too lonely. I keep remembering."

"I'm so sorry," I said, rubbing his upper arm in sympathy. "I know what it's like to spend nights missing the man you love, missing his arms around you. For what it's worth, you will get used to it, eventually."

"I know you are right, but for now..." he paused and the room filled with silence. It was so quiet I could hear us breathing, and the ticks of my watch. Earlier I thought we could commiserate over our mutual losses, but after my conversation with H. it turned out I hadn't lost him after all. I had no idea why that made me feel guilty instead of happy.

"Do you think...?" he finally spoke. "I mean, would it be too much to ask...?"

"What is it, Ashok? What do you need?"

"Could I maybe sleep in this room tonight?" he asked. "I could sleep on the floor. I do not mind."

"You are not going to sleep on the floor!" I was outraged that he would even suggest such a thing, then felt bad for my outburst when he seemed to shrink away from me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it the way it sounded. It's just, guests don't sleep on the floor."

I took a deep breath. I had just finished assuring H. that there was nothing between me and my guest. I could only imagine how he'd feel about the two of us sleeping together, even if it was merely for the boy's comfort and not sexual. And here I was, starkers, without a good and subtle way to get re-dressed. "I would ask you to sleep with me, but I sleep in the nude. I don't have any clothes on under here," I stammered.

"I do not mind this," he said innocently, completely misunderstanding my meaning. "I also prefer not to wear anything at night. Pankaj and I never did."

"Okay, but sometimes when two men sleep together in the nude, even when they're not in love, things happen to them. Physically, I mean."

"Do you mean you might want to have sex?" he asked.

"No!" I protested with vehemence. "I just meant one or both men may get aroused. Not that anything is done about it, but still, it might be better not to put ourselves in a situation where we might become uncomfortable."

"You mean we may get hard? There's no harm in getting hard. It is natural," Ashok reasoned. "It would not make me uncomfortable, but I understand if this is asking too much."

I thought about his request again. The kid needed some comfort and reassurance, and there was no good reason not to provide it. H. would be sleeping next to someone else tonight, so why shouldn't I? My arrangement would be far more innocent than his, and he would never have to know.

"It's not asking too much, Ashok," I told him and peeled back the sheet. "Get in. Might as well see if this helps us sleep."

Before I could stop him, Ashok pulled off his boxers and slipped onto the sleeper beside me. He curled onto his side with his back to me. Remembering what he had told me about the way he and his lover slept together, I turned on my side and spooned up behind him, throwing my arm over his slight frame. With his warm body pressed comfortably against mine, I quickly fell asleep.

As I predicted, I woke up with my expected morning glory nestled in the crevice between the small, round cheeks of Ashok's bum. My arm was still wrapped around him, cradled in both his hands next to his face. Ashok's steady breathing told me that he was sound asleep. Not wanting to wake him, all I could do was lay there beside him, willing my erection to go away. Of course, the more I thought about it, the harder I became. It didn't help that Ashok's skin was soft and warm, that his body conformed to mine perfectly, or that he smelled absolutely fantastic - spicy, but not with the curry scent I most often associated with people from India. Not that I minded curry, but his scent was much less familiar and more exotic. I chalked it up to his living in the Emirates for nearly six years. I found myself hoping that it wouldn't change now that he was in the UK, home of the best Indian food outside of India. An instant later I was horrified by this thought, wondering why the hell I should care one way or another what the kid smelled like. As he shifted in his sleep, inadvertently grinding his arse against my hard post and sighing contentedly, I once again began to question the wisdom of us sleeping together. It was innocent enough for him, but with these inappropriate thoughts entering my mind, could I still claim the same thing?

I didn't have too much of a chance to dwell on the question, because just then Ashok started awake. He gasped and released my hand as if it was on fire and started to roll away from me, clearly terrified.

"It's okay, Ashok," I quickly reassured. "It's me, Rick. You're in London. Remember? You had trouble sleeping and you asked if you could join me last night? You're safe as houses. There's no danger."

He stilled, then slowly turned to look at me over his shoulder, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw my face. "I was dreaming that I was with Pankaj," he explained, "but when I woke up the hand I was holding was not his. I was afraid someone had found out about Pankaj and me, and that they would kill me too."

"Fortunately you're in England and you have nothing to fear," I said as soothingly as possible, as I used the hand he released to gently brush his hair off his forehead and out of his eyes. "You're safe here with me. I won't let anything bad happen to you."

Thankfully, his fearful response drove any thoughts of sex from my mind and out of my dick, so that by the time he turned to face me I had nothing to be embarrassed about.

"I am sorry to be so much trouble," he apologized, looking up at me with his big brown eyes. He really had beautiful eyes, so large and deep it would be easy to get lost in them, to stare into those molten pools of chocolate and be unable to look away, exactly as was happening to me right now. "Thank you for letting me sleep here."

It was only him continuing to talk that snapped me out of my trance. I tore my eyes away from his only to focus on the rest of his face, which, in truth, was equally mesmerizing. He had absolutely beautiful features, delicate and almost feminine, with lips fuller and paler than would normally be found on someone from his background, a classic straight nose that looked particularly alluring in profile, a perfectly sized chin with the barest hint of a cleft, and contoured cheeks that belonged on a model. His features were accentuated by a light shadow of facial hair along his chin and jawline and above his upper lip, which I knew he would shave during his morning toilet, and which I had half a mind to tell him to leave, since it made him look just a bit more mature.

"Rick, is everything okay?" His question was like a bucket of water and I shook my head as if to rid myself of the imaginary droplets and clear my mind.

"Everything's fine, Ashok. I just drifted off a little. Sorry. I must still be jet lagged." I laughed nervously, while berating myself inside my head. What the hell was I doing? I had no business having these kinds of thoughts about this boy, especially as he lay not more than half a foot away from me and we were both completely nude. Thoughts like that were a recipe for disaster. Nothing good could come of them. This was a sweet kid, nearly 10 years my junior, who'd just lost his partner to a brutal, violent death and had been uprooted from the only home he'd known since he was 14 years old to a completely foreign country where he knew no one. The last thing he needed was for his host, the man he trusted, to start having lascivious thoughts about him or, God forbid, to act on them. I needed to get the situation back on track, and fast. "The best cure for jet lag is just to get back to a normal routine, so why don't we do just that. Time to get up and see more of London. What would you like to do today?"

"Anything you choose is fine with me. You know what's best."

I wanted to groan out loud, but that would give away too much of my state of mind. Instead, I told him to take the bathroom first and closed my eyes as he got out of bed, though even with them closed I could still picture the small, firm mounds of his arse. I flipped over to hide my returning erection, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. Just last night I had been in a park across the street with the man I loved, agreeing to give us another chance, and here I was sporting a boner for my barely adult house guest. I had to start exercising some self-control very quickly, or else this living situation would become unacceptable, and I absolutely refused to uproot Ashok and make him feel as though he'd done something wrong, where the fault clearly lay with me.

As I thought more about it, I convinced myself that my reaction was merely the result of prolonged abstinence. It had been over a week since I'd last been with H. and between sharing the room with Greg in the Emirates and sharing the flat with Ashok, I hadn't had as many opportunities to beat the bishop as I obviously needed. Under the circumstances, even a saint wouldn't be able to prevent the body from doing what it was naturally designed to do when presented with another attractive specimen. It was biology. It had nothing to do with Ashok himself. The best remedy was an old fashioned session with my palm, which I promptly utilized as soon as I was in the shower, obtaining a small measure of relief.

Over the next four days Ashok and I explored London. I tried to strike a balance between tourist attractions and areas of town he should be familiar with as a native Londoner. I made sure he understood the Tube as well as the bus system, showed him shops and restaurants in my neighborhood, introduced him to Molly's, and even took him dancing at one of the Soho clubs. Ashok had been completely out of his element at the club, and while he was fascinated by all the dancing boys, he was too shy to join me on the dance floor despite my extensive efforts to persuade him. I could hardly even admit to myself how disappointing that had been, because I refused to acknowledge how much I wanted to feel his body closely pressed against mine as we moved sensuously to the pulsating beat of the music.

Throughout the week I scrupulously ignored the physical and emotional reactions I was having to my new flat mate. Per his request, we continued to sleep together, though after the second night I realized the stupidity of doing so on the pull out and we moved to my bed. It was all very much innocent for him, but despite my daily shower wanks, I still woke up hard every morning with far-from-pure thoughts about the young, hot flesh pressed against my hardness, especially when he moved against me after I was awake and he was still asleep. It was getting to the point where I feared I might come from that contact alone, and there just wouldn't be any way to give a reasonable explanation for something like that.

To make matters worse, my reactions to him weren't limited to morning wood. Each day as we wandered around the city I found myself stealing glances at his body as he walked in front of me, or staring at his awe-filled face as he admired this or that monument, or watching how his tongue would periodically sneak out to moisten his lower lip as he spoke, or how he'd absently push his fringe out of his eyes, or how he'd turn to me, his face bright with a beautiful smile, when he saw something fascinating or funny. In many ways, touring London with Ashok reminded me of doing the same with Jasper, years earlier. Jasper, of course, had been much more confident and self-assured, but the two shared that infectious excitement and sense of wonder that made it impossible to feel anything but good around them. Because of his youth and natural shyness, Ashok seemed almost child-like at times, but mixed in with the desire to amuse, surprise and protect him were feelings that were not ones I'd ever felt for any child. They were definitely the feelings of a man responding to another man. And since I was already in love with and committed to H., and had little to offer this boy, who wanted nothing of that nature from me anyway, those feelings were very, very wrong.

Of course, it might have been easier to think less about Ashok if H. had made any effort to contact me. He had promised to ring, but even though I made sure I always had my mobile on and within easy reach, there were no calls, texts, or e-mails. The optimism that I'd allowed myself to feel after our park rendezvous diminished, replaced with a newfound sadness and bitterness. Many times I was tempted to contact him but I held back, perversely wanting to see just how long he would go without any attempt to contact me. As jealous as he'd been over Ashok, I expected him to call frequently, if for no other reason than to remind me that he was my man so I wouldn't be tempted by the fine young boy staying with me. But it seemed I'd been fairly convincing in my denials. So much so, that H. clearly felt he had nothing to worry about. Only in this we'd both miscalculated, and as the silence stretched between me and H., my feelings for Ashok were only intensifying.

It wasn't just a sexual attraction, to be sure. As I got to know him better I discovered that he was funny, sensitive, intelligent and so eager to learn. He was still young enough to absorb information like a sponge, and he couldn't seem to get enough. Everything fascinated him, especially food and cooking. He watched with intense interest and helped a little as I prepared some basic meals for us at home, and he examined our restaurant experiences with almost scientific precision. Nothing escaped his notice, from the menu, to the food flavor and presentation, and even the service. Somehow he got it in his head that he should get a job in a restaurant to help offset his expenses. I reminded him that he couldn't work without a permit, and reassured him that his expenses were minimal, and covered by Nasir besides, but I could see he wasn't satisfied. Only when Dré explained that it would be too difficult for his father to arrange anything beyond a visitor visa extension during the pre-election period, did Ashok finally give up the idea of finding a job, saying he didn't want to do anything to cause trouble for the man who helped him get entry into the country. Many of us felt like an abuse of power scandal in Lucius Malfoy's party would actually have been quite welcome, but in this case Ashok could have ended up a collateral casualty, and none of us were willing to risk that.

With Viktor still in Austria, Greg spent most evenings at home with Helena. Ashok and I had dinner with the two of them a couple of times during the week and made plans to spend Saturday with them as well. Greg and I joked that we were arranging a play date for the kids, because when Ashok was with Helena he seemed even younger than his mere 20 years. He didn't mind at all being introduced to all of Helena's dolls and stuffed animals, or taking imaginary tea using miniature china and silverware.

"He is just the sweetest kid," Greg remarked Wednesday night, when Helena dragged the all too willing Ashok to her kid-size table and dug a hat and feather boa out of her dress-up trunk for Ashok to wear to tea. He was all smiles as she put the hat and boa on him and agreed that he looked very pretty when she brought him a mirror. "I can't wait for Viktor to meet him. He's going to love him. Anyone that indulges Helena like that is gold in Viktor's eyes."

"I really do hope Viktor likes him. That would be a good thing."

Greg gave me a puzzled look.

"Ashok really wants to be included in our group, and so far Dré had been behaving, but you know the git can be a challenge. I'm just not sure Ashok will be able to handle Dré by himself when Dré gets like that. Lord knows, sometimes even I have a hard time when he turns that razor sharp tongue on me, and I can fight back. Ashok won't be able to do that. But Viktor has a way of deflecting Dré, so if he likes Ashok, maybe he'll do that for him like he does for you. That's all."

"And why can't you do that for him?"

"There may be times when I'm not around."

Greg looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"He was waiting for us when we got home Monday night," I admitted. There was no need to explain who I was talking about. "He apologized for everything and he was very sweet. We went to my park and he even kissed me out in the open. He'd never kissed me like that before."

Greg's eyebrow did not move "Out in the open?"

"All right," I sighed. "It was dark and there was no one around, but for him that was a huge step, as was waiting for me for hours at my door on a Monday night. I think I made it clear to him that things have to change." I tried to sound confident, but after two days of no contact, my certainty had already started to fade and I knew I wasn't very convincing. Greg looked away.

"I'm glad you said something," he said, but I could tell he was disappointed in me and that he didn't believe anything would change at all.

"Did he meet Ashok?" Greg asked and I nodded my response. "What did he say about the kid living with you?"

"He wasn't happy about it," I hedged, not wanting to reveal the true extent of H.'s anger, "but he accepted it after I explained."

"Hmmm," Greg's reaction was guarded. "So he doesn't mind that you have a very attractive young gay boy staying with you in your one bedroom flat?"

"I told him there was nothing inappropriate going on and he trusts me," I defended.

Greg nodded. "Yeah, I suppose that's a good thing. Trust. And it's not like he has anything to complain about, sleeping next to Ginny every night for all these years and slipping her his length at least enough times to get her preggers twice," he muttered the last part, but I heard it and winced. I was surprised. It was the kind of statement I would have expected from Dré, not from my best friend. I looked down at the floor and wondered if that's what I had to look forward to now that he'd finally lost his inhibitions and spilled everything he was feeling about H.

"I'm sorry," he said, as if reading my thoughts. "I guess I just thought, hoped, that you were done with him, ready to move on. I mean, that was what you'd said back in Dubai. Still, I shouldn't have said what I said. Forgive me?"

"Of course. That's what I do, isn't it? Just forgive the shit people say and do to me?" I said bitterly as I looked up at him. "Guess I'm just a piece of urinal cake. Piss on me and flush and I'm as fresh as new."

"Come on, Rick," he grabbed my arm. "You know I'm really sorry. You're right, though. I'll keep quiet from now on," he said. The way I always had in the past hung unspoken in the air between us.

"Rick?" I looked up to see Ashok glancing in our direction, frowning with concern. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, Ashok," I reassured him. Then, when his frown remained, I added, "Greg and I are just talking. Nothing to worry about."

I smiled at Ashok until his frown eased and he gave me a tentative smile in return. I then turned my smile to Greg, who was looking at me curiously.

"What? He's a sensitive kid," I said. I had no idea why I sounded so defensive. Greg looked to Ashok, who was still watching us carefully, then back to me and nodded.

"Right, I can see that he is," Greg nodded, smirking. "He's particularly sensitive to you. It's rather sweet, actually, how protective he is of his protector."

"You've an overactive imagination," I said dismissively.

"Maybe I do and maybe I don't. I know this much, though. Both of you are in need of close friends and comfort right now, and it makes me happy to see you bonding like you are."

I didn't respond and he let the matter drop. We moved on to different subject until it was time for Helena to go to bed and for Ashok and me to go home. Ashok was very quiet on the ride and walk home, and when we reached the flat he sat down at the bistro table and stared out the window at the dimly illuminated street and park. I didn't want him to feel as though he couldn't have a moment to himself to think and reflect, so I busied myself in the bathroom and bedroom. When I checked on him a half hour later, however, and found him much the same, I grew concerned. I walked up and put my hands on his shoulders, squeezing lightly.

"Everything all right? You seem a little sad," I asked gently.

"Everything is fine," he tried to force a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Ashok, you don't have to say everything's fine if it isn't. You can talk to me about anything, especially if something is bothering you. Now come on, what is it?" I pulled over the other chair and sat down so we were face to face. "Are you feeling homesick? Is that it? Do you regret moving here?"

"No!" he shook his head in protest. "I love it here. Everything is so exciting and you and everyone have been so nice." Even as he spoke, his face clouded.

"Those don't sound like bad things, and yet they seem to make you unhappy," I pointed out, confused.

"It is just that everything here is so wonderful, and I wish Pankaj could be here to experience it all too," he said sadly.

"I'm sure you miss him very much," I tried to express my sympathy, though in truth I found myself somewhat jealous of the man who occupied Ashok's mind.

Ashok looked out the window again and seemed to grow even sadder. "Sometimes I miss him very much. It makes me so sad that I will never see him again, and that I didn't even have a chance to say goodbye. But sometimes I get so happy, being here with you, that I forget to miss him. And when I remember, I feel like a horrible person."

"Did you forget to miss him tonight while we were having dinner and you were playing with Helena?" I probed and he nodded, keeping his eyes downcast. I reached for his hands and held them, moving my thumbs slowly over the tops.

"Ashok, moving on with your life and allowing yourself to be happy does not make you a horrible person. You are here and Pankaj is not, but that is not your fault and you cannot go through the rest of your life feeling guilty about something you could not control. I know you feel like you are not being fair to Pankaj when you are not thinking of him, but if you thought of him all the time then you would not be thinking about the people you are with, like Helena, and that wouldn't be fair to her, would it?"

Slowly, he shook his head from side to side.

"I would never, ever tell you to forget Pankaj. He was very special, the first love of your life, and you probably could not forget him entirely if you tried. But there are other people in your life now, other friends who care about you, and it's only natural that you give them some of your attention. I know Pankaj would not begrudge that. He would probably encourage it."

"He would be relieved that I am not alone," Ashok admitted. "And you are right, he would tell me that I should pay attention to all of you who have been so kind to me. You are very wise, just as he was." He looked at me with such admiration, I began to feel uncomfortable and undeserving.

"It's easier to give advice to others than to have the kind of perspective necessary to understand one's own problems. Believe me, when it comes to my life, I'm not wise at all. Ask Greg or any of the guys. But I am glad that what I said helped you."

I reached over and pulled him into a hug, liking the way he clung to me.

"You have welcomed me into your home and made my life better, Rick," he said quietly, while still in my embrace. "I hope I can repay you and make your life better too."

"You already have, Ashok. Having you here has already made my life better." I told him, equally quietly, meaning every word. If I couldn't share my everyday life with my lover, at least I now had someone who both needed me and seemed to enjoy my company. Someone who was not just a flat mate, but a live-in friend. It was, perhaps, as ideal of an arrangement as I could ever hope to find. And all I had to do to keep it was to make sure I held my romantic and sexual feelings towards Ashok in check.