Chapter 18

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Chapter 18: Inevitability

Saturday morning we met Greg and Helena at the Queensway Tube stop, as Helena insisted on showing Ashok Princess Diana's Playground in Kensington Gardens. Ashok was happy to do whatever pleased her, but his eyes lit up too when he saw the wooden pirate ship and tee pees scattered around the playground.

"Daddy?" Helena asked as she tugged on Greg's hand. "Is it okay if Ashok is Peter Pan today? And maybe you and Uncle Rick can just watch us play?"

"Sure it is, Princess," Greg said as he leaned down to give her a kiss.

"I'm not a princess," Helena giggled. "Today I'm Tinkerbell. She's not a princess, she's a fairy!"

"I'm sorry, I forgot," Greg said seriously. "You're right, of course. How about I just call you my fairy Princess?"

Helena giggled again. "No, Daddy. Just call me Tinkerbell. And call Ashok Peter."

"All right," Greg gave in. "Tinkerbell and Peter. You two go on. We'll just sit here and watch. Let us know if you need any lost boys."

"Maybe later," Helena allowed, releasing Greg's hand and reaching for Ashok's. "Come on, let's go."

Ashok followed her into the park eagerly as Greg and I found a nearby bench where we could sit and observe.

"Well, this worked out well. The kids can play while the dads talk," I joked, elbowing him playfully. "I am curious, though. Who plays Peter Pan when Ashok's not here?"

A slight flush crept up Greg's neck. "I do," he admitted. "Viktor usually plays Captain Hook. He does a mean pirate impression - all the kids love him. But in Helena's world Tinkerbell, Peter and the Captain are all great friends."

"Of course they are," I nodded with a smile. "Sorry you've been replaced."

"Quite all right. We come here all the time, so I have ample opportunities to play Peter. Nice to have a break, actually. And Helena adores Ashok. She's been talking about him non-stop all week."

"He loves her too. He said she looks like a doll and reminds him of the siblings he left behind in India. Poor kid, he barely had time to enjoy his childhood, though growing up as poor as he did, I suppose there wasn't much joy to it anyway. He's lucky he got to go to school for as long as he did and that the lady at the school taught him and his friends proper English. The way he tells it, he got lucky in his job, too. Not only did he have food, clothes and a roof over his head, he fell in love and found a partner. All the same, it's too bad he had to stop school when he did. He's really bright, Greg. You should see him in all the museums."

"Do you think he might want to complete his education?" Greg asked.

"I don't know. It sounds like the school he went to was rather inadequate, and he stopped at fourteen. It might take him a while to learn enough to sit for equivalency exams."

"What else does he have to do? He'll be alone or with Vince while you're at work, he might as well study. We could help him. You used to tutor, didn't you?"

"I'm all right with maths and science, what I remember anyway. But the rest . . ." I shrugged, but remained thoughtful. Greg's idea was actually pretty good.

"I can handle literature and Dré's got history," Greg pointed out. "We'd best ask him if this is something he wants before we go too far making plans. But if he's interested, I bet we could do it."

I started to get excited. Ashok had been very disappointed when he learned that he would not be able to get a work permit for months. Studies could help him shift his focus and passing his equivalency exams would help him get a better job when the time came for him to do so.

"It's a good plan, Greg. I think he'll like it too. And if he passes his exams he may be able to get an office job somewhere, instead of having to do manual labor. He's not really built for that, and I'd hate to have him coming home at night sweaty and exhausted and reeking of some work site, or cleaning products or whatever. He smells so good now."

I noticed my mistake as soon as the words were out, but by then it was too late. Just as it was too late to stop the heated flush creeping up my neck.

"Smells good, does he now? Can't say as I've noticed, but now you mention it, I shall have to take a whiff when he and Helena come back. And just how often do you, um, indulge your senses with him?" my best friend teased.

"Don't be daft," I grumbled. "It's hard not to notice what he smells like when his hair is in my face every morning."

Greg's eyes widened and I realized I'd made an even more fatal slip. "He was uncomfortable sleeping in a big bed without his partner, so he asked me to sleep with him. Just sleeping. Nothing else." Even as I explained I felt my face growing hotter, remembering the numerous erections I'd experienced whilst in bed with him the previous week.

"Well, well, well," Greg mused. "What do you know? And how does H. feel about these sleeping arrangements?"

"He doesn't know and I don't plan to tell him. Not that I've had opportunity even if I wanted to," the reminder that H. still hadn't called or texted stung. "Nothing happened, except for a young kid needing some comfort. I'm sure any day now he'll be ready to sleep alone."

Greg looked like he was going to say something, but was interrupted by loud cries of "Daddy, Daddy!" as Helena came running up to us, Ashok right behind her, both their faces covered with brilliant smiles.

"Ashok didn't know the Peter Pan story so I had to explain everything," she exaggerated dramatically, "but once I told him he was a great Peter Pan. And he told me a story too, about an Indian princess. I can't wait to tell you and Daddy. Can I do it when we talk to him tonight?"

"Sure you can, Lene. I can't wait, and I'm sure Daddy will be very happy to hear it too," he reached for her and pulled her into a tight hug, kissing her cheek before pulling her up into his lap. I shifted over on the bench, making room for Ashok between me and Greg. He sat down, hardly taking any room. After a moment's hesitation, he leaned against me. I threw my arm around his shoulder and shifted my head to breathe him in. He was perspiring slightly, which only made his exotic scent headier.

"This is an amazing place. It is like magic. I have never seen anything like it," he said, tilting his head back to look up at me. His chocolate brown eyes shone with excitement and his lips were full and inviting, even before his tongue shot out to moisten them. He was the picture of temptation. It would have been so easy to lower my head a little and press my lips against his, use my tongue to do what his had just done. The way he was gazing at me, I was certain he wouldn't mind. But then Helena squirmed in Greg's lap, diverting his attention and saving me from making a complete ass of myself. I closed my eyes and tried to remember that I had to keep it together. Ashok was my guest, not a plaything. After the loss he'd just suffered, he deserved better than to be seduced by someone who'd already given away his heart and had very little to offer.

"Let's go see the clock, Daddy!" Helena demanded and we were off on our next adventure, as chosen by our 5 year old guide. We took the Tube to Leicester Square and waited for the top of the hour so Helena could show Ashok the clock movement at the Swiss Centre. Then we walked to Trafalgar square, where Helena and Ashok climbed up to the lions and, because she was still too small to get on top of the sculpted beast, the two of them posed for a photo by one of the big cat's paws. As Greg shot the pictures, I couldn't help but remember being there with Jasper, years before. Had I only been stronger back then, strong enough to resist H.'s temptation, Jasper and I might have still been together. I remembered his easy manner and carefree smile and tried to ignore the ache in my heart, once again wondering if letting him go had been the biggest mistake of my life.

Learning from Emmett that Jasper had spoken with Edward only intensified the pain. The last thing I wanted was for him to be in the same position I was in with H., never quite able to break the chain that kept me tethered for brief glimpses of happiness and a whole lot more of miserable loneliness. Emmett said Edward had changed. For Jasper's sake I hoped it was true, though in my experience it was rare for anyone to have the ability to really transform themselves, and from what I'd heard about Edward, the man had a long way to go before he could be the man Jasper deserved.

Of course, I hadn't behaved much better than Edward, had I? In some ways, I'd been even worse. Which was exactly why I had no business having indecent thoughts about the beautiful boy sharing my apartment, and my bed. If I followed through on my urges, I would just be a black mark in his life the same way I'd been in Jasper's.

Thoroughly disgusted with myself, I turned and walked away a few steps, trying to clear my mind so that the others wouldn't notice my sudden dour mood. I should have known it wouldn't be that easy. A few moments later I felt someone come up beside me, and looked over to see Ashok, his face filled with concern.

"This place has made you unhappy," he said. "We should go home."

"No," I shook my head and tried to smile. "It's just some difficult memories. I'll be all right."

"Memories can be very powerful," he commented. "And very painful. Are you sure you don't want to go home? Or maybe you need a hug? Sometimes, when Pankaj was sad, he said my hugs made things better."

"I'm sure your hugs did make things better," I began, intending to refuse his offer, but before I could say any more he was already pressed up against me, his arms snaking around my waist. I had no choice but to return the embrace, wrapping my arms around him and holding his slight, warm body. He'd been partially right. The hug didn't completely take away the guilt, but it did make me feel better. I gave him a squeeze and stepped back, only to find Helena and Greg right beside us.

"I want a hug too," she squealed, and pressed her tiny body against our legs, her arms flung around our thighs. Ashok and I looked at each other, startled, and then started to laugh.

"Come here, little one, let's do this right," I said, picking her up in my arms and pulling her close to my chest. She wrapped her small arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. "Come on, then," I encouraged Ashok. "She wanted to hug both of us."

He seemed confused at first, but then understood and stepped closer to us, wrapping his arms around me as I held Helena. The three of us hugged while she giggled, thoroughly delighted. "That's how we do it when Daddy's here!" She announced happily. "Daddy?" she asked, looking over her shoulder. "When will we see Daddy again? I miss him!"

"I know, Lene," Greg said, holding out his arms for me to hand his daughter over, which I promptly did so he could pull her to him for a hug of his own. "I miss him too. We talked about it this morning, remember? Daddy's been gone two weeks, so he has a week and a half of training to go. But we'll keep talking to him every night, and then we're going to fly out to see him and grandma and your aunt and uncles. I know you're looking forward to that!"

"I am," she nodded enthusiastically. "But I wish we could go sooner," she pouted.

"I know, but the time will go by faster than you think, I promise. Now, let's get some lunch and then you can tell us what you want to do next."

"But I already know! Next we'll go feed the ducks and squirrels in the park, and then . . ."

Greg set his daughter down as she kept jabbering. We walked to a nearby cafe where she had juice, a scone and fruit salad while we had iced coffee and sandwiches. After lunch, we made our way to St. James Park, where Greg was prepared with more victuals for both the ducks and the squirrels. We watched fresh fish being fed to the resident pelicans, and then we walked down Great George street, past Big Ben and over Westminster Bridge to the London Aquarium and the London Eye. Greg had a Merlin pass that took care of entrance fees for Helena, him and me, so I only needed to buy tickets for Ashok. Recalling how much he enjoyed the Champagne on the plane, I upgraded the standard London Eye tickets to champagne flight tickets. With fast track tickets we didn't have to wait long before we were on our panoramic ride, and even though Ashok was the only one of us who had never been on the eye, all four of us had a good time. We pointed out landmarks and had a bird's eye view of our beautiful city on a sunny summer day, the three adults drinking Champagne while Helena sipped from her juice box. Afterwards, we watched the terrapin talk and feed in the aquarium and walked around to view the various sea creatures. Ashok's eyes were as big if not bigger than Helena's, this being his first ever visit to an aquarium anywhere.

"I have seen some of these at the fish market," he commented, "but never like this. It is amazing to see them alive, just on the other side of the glass!"

Towards the end of the aquarium visit, Helena ran out of steam. Greg and I took turns carrying her to Westminster station, where we caught the Tube back home. Remarkably, after napping in our arms and on the train, Greg's daughter was refreshed enough to want to go out to Maggie Jones's for dinner, so we got off at High Street Kensington and made our way to the nearby restaurant. After dinner Greg invited us to his place, explaining that he'd only have to get Helena ready for bed and have their nightly call with Viktor before he could rejoin us. I could tell, however, that after their family call he was eager to have his own adult conversation with his husband, so Ashok and I excused ourselves and headed back home. Because it was such a nice evening, we decided to walk, which would give Ashok an opportunity to get familiar with even more of the area near our flat. I noticed during my week with him that the kid had an incredible sense of direction and a young man's memory, so I made it a point to include walks around the neighborhood as part of our London sightseeing repertoire. Knowing that he wouldn't get lost the minute he stepped away from our street made me feel better about leaving him on his own when I went back to work.

"Rick?" Ashok asked somewhat timidly as we walked. "We have not seen Greg's wife since the day we arrived. Does she live somewhere else?"

"Greg's wife?" Confused, I thought back to the day we landed. "Oh, you mean Luna? She's not Greg's wife," I said with a chuckle.

"Oh, she must be Mr. Viktor's wife and live at his house," Ashok nodded as if this was the final piece to a puzzle he'd been trying to put together.

"Viktor lives with Greg and they have a registered civil partnership, which is like a government marriage. Viktor and Greg are officially each other's partners, husbands," I explained. "Why would you think Viktor and Luna are married?"

"The day we arrived, Greg introduced Helena as his daughter and Luna as her mother," Ashok reminded me. I instantly realized that in the cultures he was familiar with, a woman with a child usually implied marriage.

"Ah, yes. I said I would explain and then I forgot all about it. Well, here's the thing. Luna isn't married and has never been married. But women here have a lot more freedom than they do in Dubai. You know how babies are made, right?" I assumed he did, but wanted to confirm. I had no idea how much his parents had told him before he left home and Pankaj didn't exactly have a reason to teach Ashok about anything other than gay sex.

"I do," Ashok nodded. Thankfully he didn't seem offended by my question. "A man and woman get married and have sex and then his sperm and her egg make a baby. I learned in science class," he offered.

"That's essentially right, except the marriage bit isn't necessary, just the sex, and these days not even that, necessarily. Anyway, that's not relevant here, since sex was involved," I said quickly when I noticed Ashok furrowing his brow in confusion. "I know in the Emirates women would never have sex until they were married, but in England they sometimes, even often, do."

Ashok's eyes widened in surprise.

"But I thought Greg and Mr. Viktor are like us. Why do they have sex with a woman who is not their wife?"

I threw my head back and laughed at the thought of Greg or Viktor having sex with Luna. Ashok looked confused and a little injured.

"I'm sorry, Ashok. It's just the thought of either Viktor or Greg with Luna is so funny, because it would never happen. Neither Greg nor Viktor had sex with Luna. I can say with all confidence that Greg has never had sex with a woman. I'm not as certain about Viktor, but if he had, it would have been a long time ago, long before he met Greg."

"But then how is Helena their daughter?"

"That's a little complicated. I will tell you, but I hope this does not make you see Luna in a different light. I know you haven't spent a lot of time with Luna, but I think you could probably tell she's a bit of a dreamer."

"She seems very nice and kind," Ashok said with a nod.

"She very much is. She is also very intelligent, but not always the most practical. Her head is too much in the clouds sometimes. In any event, a few years back Luna was on holiday and met a man who was also on holiday whom she liked very much. They had sex once, but never exchanged surnames or addresses. When she came back to London she found out she was pregnant but she had no way to get in touch with the father. She wasn't ready to raise a child herself, so she decided to have the baby and give it up for adoption."

I looked to Ashok, who was listening with rapt attention.

"She and Greg were colleagues and good friends, so she told him about her dilemma. She knew she could not keep the baby, but she hated to give it up and not know what happened to it and who was raising it. Greg, who had just started seeing Viktor at that point, went home and told Viktor Luna's story. And Viktor did pretty much what he did last week when he heard your story and decided that we should get you. He decided right then and there that he and Greg should adopt the baby."

"He did?" Ashok looked awestruck.

"Yup. Viktor is like that. He does not spend a lot of time contemplating. He sees a problem, sizes it up, and makes a decision. He said if he and Greg adopted the baby Luna could stay in their lives and see her child grow up."

"What did Greg say?"

I thought for a moment, remembering the long talks Greg and I had on the subject at the time. Even though we could all tell Viktor thought Greg was the dogs' bollocks, Greg wasn't convinced that Viktor wouldn't change his mind and find someone more attractive. "I'm just not in his league," he fretted. "He has all these fans chasing after him all the time, throwing themselves at him. What if he leaves me? It's one thing if I'm alone, but with a baby? What do I know about babies anyway?" I wasn't much good to him back then, since I knew just about as little about babies and never contemplated having kids myself. The only thing I could and did tell him was that Viktor seemed as committed to him as Vince was to Dré, and I didn't see him ever leaving Greg for a fan or anyone else.

"Greg was a little more reluctant," I simplified my answer for Ashok. "You see, Viktor has a younger sister and brother, so he is used to babies and always wanted a family. But of course he knew if he wanted children, he would have to adopt. He had already had time to get used to the idea. Greg, on the other hand, was an only child and never really thought about having kids. For him, that was very scary, especially since he and Viktor had not been together that long."

"But he agreed?"

"Eventually, he agreed. He knew if anything happened between him and Viktor, Luna would still be in his life to help with the baby. So Luna listed Greg as Helena's father on the birth certificate, and later she gave up her parental rights so Viktor could legally adopt Helena. Now Viktor and Greg are Helena's legal parents, but Luna is very much in their lives, though she lives in her own flat. Somehow they all get along and things have gone very smoothly."

"And Helena understands?"

"I doubt she gets the mechanics of it, but she knows her two fathers love her very much, as does her mum. I think Greg and Viktor had their own way of explaining things to her that make sense to a girl her age. In any event, she's a great, happy kid."

"She is very happy. I like her very much. She is like my little sisters."

"She likes you too. Greg says she talks about you all the time. I think she likes the way you're willing to play her games with her. She would very much like a brother or a sister of her own, but that may not be in the cards."

"Will Luna never have more children?"

"Oh, well, I guess I never gave that a thought. I suppose she could still get married and have kids of her own, who would be Helena's siblings. I know she's not seeing anyone right now, though, and it would not surprise me if Luna gave the whole marriage thing a pass. It would have to be a very special man who could love her as she is, without asking her to change."

"I hope that she will find that man," Ashok said sincerely. "I hope you find that man too," he added.

We had turned onto our streets and were only a few houses away from ours, but I stopped abruptly anyway and took a long look at him.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to say something wrong."

"You didn't say anything wrong, Ashok. But I am curious why you said what you did."

"Please, I am sorry. I should not have said anything," Ashok said nervously.

I wanted to press him for an answer, but he seemed so uncomfortable, I decided to let it go. We started walking again and quickly reached the house and then our flat. We didn't broach the subject again as we settled in to watch the telly. As I scrolled through the various channels offering movies and serials, I was amused when Ashok actually ask me to pause on a cooking show. I'd never in my life watched one of these before, but I had to admit it was mildly entertaining, and certainly more useful than some inane comedy. Ashok was glued to the screen, paying such close attention I nearly got up to fetch him a pad and pen so he could take notes. When the show was over and an announcer reminded the audience that recipes were available on the show's web site, Ashok didn't even have a chance to request it before I took out my laptop and pulled up the site. We spent over an hour scrolling from one recipe to the next, until I started to feel hungry despite the full dinner we'd had earlier.

"Do you think I could try cooking one of these?" Ashok asked. "This one seems simple," he said, pointing to a pasta dish.

"We have to go to the supermarket tomorrow anyway, so let's buy the ingredients and give it a go. See anything else you'd like to try?"

He picked out two more recipes, which I printed off together with the conveniently provided shopping lists. In his excitement, Ashok turned to me and gave me one of his spontaneous thank you hugs. I pulled him closer than was really necessary, and he hung on, in no hurry to let go. Holding him felt much too good and I let it go on too long, until we both felt the shift to awkwardness and separated.

"I think you are a very good man," Ashok spoke spontaneously. "I think you are someone who is not selfish. Someone who shares himself and wants to be with someone who feels and does the same. But the man you are with, the one you love, does not share himself with you, not equally to the way you share yourself with him. I think he needs and wants you to change into someone you are not. And I think you should have more. That is what I meant earlier," he explained.

I gaped at him, speechless. It was completely unnerving how this kid, barely a man, was able to size the situation up so completely and accurately in only a week. He was certainly right about H. not sharing himself equally with me, though after everything I did in my life, I wasn't so sure I deserved more.

"You've only known me for a week, and only as someone who helped you out of a bad situation. I'm not as good as you think. I've done plenty of bad things to people in my life, good people who did not deserve the pain I caused them. And even now, I am selfishly encouraging the man I love to cheat on his wife. Those are not actions of a good man. I appreciate that you see the good in me, but that's not all there is," I protested, uncomfortable in the role of a paragon.

He didn't try to contradict me, but there was a stubborn set to his jaw that told me I had not changed his mind. That would have frustrated me, if it wasn't for the fact that I liked seeing him comfortable enough to become more assertive, even if, for now, the assertiveness was still rather passive.

We had a great time at the supermarket on Sunday, searching for the recipe ingredients which included herbs and spices I never bothered to buy before. This time we went to the Sainsbury superstore, which impressed Ashok even more with its size and selection, as I suspected it would. In addition to food and toiletries, we also picked up a few magazines for Ashok to keep him from being bored when I went back to work. We'd arranged for him to spend his days with Vince, but we knew there could be times when Vince had to work himself and Ashok would have to amuse himself. I smiled when I saw that besides the celebrity tabloid I suggested, he selected two home and cooking magazines. There simply was no denying the emerging theme of his interests.

Ashok seemed completely unperturbed by the overcast sky and drizzle we found outside when we were done shopping. He practically floated all the way home, anticipating his first solo cooking effort. During the week I showed him how to prepare some basics, demonstrating the extent of my culinary expertise, but this would be the first time he would take charge of the kitchen and prepare a brand new dish neither of us had cooked before. I offered to help with chopping and whatever else he needed, but indicated that he would be in charge, which made him puff up with pride and excitement. He only deflated when I suggested that I do the laundry while he cooked.

"I wish to learn how to do that too," he complained, continuing in his insistence that he needed to take care of all the house chores to offset the inconvenience of having him stay with me. He absolutely wouldn't hear that it wasn't an inconvenience at all, just the opposite.

"Ashok, I've been doing this by myself for years. It's no trouble, I assure you."

The laundry truly wasn't any trouble, since I had a compact stacking washer and dryer in my unit. Having to do my washing for years in communal facilities, that was one of my top priorities when I searched for a flat and, in addition to location, was one of the main reasons I chose to live where I did. Still, he looked so crestfallen when he thought I wasn't going to teach him how to operate the machines, that I simply couldn't refuse.

"Fine, come on. I'll show you just how easy it is."

I taught him how to do laundry and then helped prepare and measure ingredients while he put the pasta dish together. When it was ready we sat down to an early dinner and thoroughly enjoyed the fruits of his labor.

"I cooked," he said, sounding as though he could barely believe it.

"You most certainly did, and you did it well! This is delicious," I endorsed.

"I cannot wait to try the other recipes. Perhaps tomorrow night you will help me again?"

"I would be happy to, Ashok," I told him, meaning every word.

We washed and put away all the dishes and leftovers, and then it was time for the trial trip to Vince and Dré's, to make sure Ashok would have no trouble navigating the route by himself the following day. Thankfully the trip involved only one Tube line change and then a short walk from the station to the house. We had visited the guys earlier in the week so Ashok already had an idea where he was going, but just in case I printed out a map of the neighborhood near the Pimlico station and highlighted the route. I was probably being overly cautious in making him go through the demonstration, especially judging by how confident he already felt around our neighborhood, but it wasn't as though we had anything better to do and it gave us an excuse to hang out with Dré and Vince.

Ashok had absolutely no problem leading the entire way. I felt a sense of pride as he found the platform he needed to get to by reading the signs, as I taught him, and then as he navigated the neighborhood from memory, not even needing to use the map. We showed up at the front door of the guys' modern block of flats at the appointed hour, and took the small elevator up to the fourth floor after being buzzed in.

Vince and Dré's flat was a direct contrast to mine. Like the entire building, it featured the latest and greatest amenities and finishes. One of the largest flats in the building, it consisted of a very spacious living room and equally spacious kitchen plus three bedrooms, each with an en suite bath. Their enormous windows maximized light and the view. In addition, a large, river-facing balcony ran the length of the apartment and was accessible from both the living room and master bedroom. While the industrial area across the river was not particularly scenic, there was still something exciting about the building standing right on the edge of the Thames, overlooking river traffic on the daily incoming and outgoing tide. And, of course, on a daily basis the boys had a chance to watch the sun setting behind the iconic silhouette of the Battersea Power Station. All in all, the flat was luxurious by any measure, and the boys were lucky that Dré's parents let them live there rent-free instead of in one of the much smaller, single-bedroom flats on the ground floor, that were usually given as part compensation for the building supervisor. One of these small flats would have been an ideal place to settle Ashok, but they were both leased to other tenants and even if they had been free, we likely wouldn't be able to afford Mr. Malfoy's rent. Considering the Malfoy's were already giving up the rent they could have been collecting on their son's flat, and were paying Vince to maintain the building besides, it would have been highly unlikely that they'd agree to let anyone else stay in the building rent-free.

Fortunately, neither Ashok nor I were in any hurry for him to move out and live on his own. In the week we'd lived together, I learned that I liked having him around, and not just because he insisted on taking care of as many chores as he could. He was a sweet and interesting kid, fun to talk to and be around. For the first time in a long time my flat seemed like a home rather than just a place to spend my time in between my interludes with H. I had been worried that Ashok would find my place too confining after having seen the homes of our other friends, or that he would feel bad for having to share a bedroom with me even though the others all had spare rooms that could have been entirely his, but if anything, Ashok felt more comfortable in our close quarters. I soon realized he needed the close physical contact, and not only at night. When I thought about it, it made sense. He'd lost a protector when Pankaj was killed, and he was looking for a substitute. Eventually I knew he'd grow more confident and self-assured, and he would stop needing me to fill that role, but I could be there for him until that was the case.

Dré and Vince were hospitable hosts and we stayed for a while, enjoying drinks on their balcony and watching the famed sunset. I bragged about Ashok's cooking skills and when Dré teased that Ashok should cook for them while he was hanging out with Vince the next day, Ashok eagerly agreed. His excitement at the prospect of cooking for more of his friends was palpable all the way home and even as we climbed into bed. I couldn't stop smiling as he kept talking about it until at last he drifted off.

The next morning Ashok made breakfast while I showered and then showered quickly himself as I was getting dressed so that we could have our coffee and toast together before we left for the day. I had my briefcase hanging over my shoulder and Ashok carried his new satchel filled with the mobile we bought for him during the previous week, the magazines we picked up at Sainsbury's and ingredients for his next dish, which he hoped to try cooking at Vince's while he was cooking their pasta. I dreaded my first day back to work, but Ashok was almost giddy with excitement. He mentioned over and over how handsome I looked in my work clothes and repeatedly promised that he would be waiting at the flat with dinner ready when I came home.

"Don't worry about that," I told him, giving him a brief hug as the train pulled into Victoria, where he needed to get off. "Just ring me when you get to Vince's and have a good day, right? I'll see you later."

"See you later," He said, reluctantly leaving the hug to exit the train. We gave each other a small wave through the windows as my Circle line train continued on its way to Monument, where I would be getting out to walk to my office. As promised, Ashok rang just as I climbed the last flight of stairs from the underground and reached the sidewalk. Relived that he was where he needed to be, I pocketed my mobile and walked for the few minutes it took to reach the building.

As I expected, after two weeks away, work was a madhouse. In a way, I was glad for the distraction. It kept me from worrying about Ashok or from getting angry at the continuous silence from H. By Wednesday I realized that there was no way I could take Thursday afternoon off as I usually did. We had a big project due and my boss mandated all hands on deck, especially mine, since I hadn't been around to help out the previous week. I debated whether or not to say anything to H. After he reneged on his promise to ring, I certainly did not want to be the one to initiate phone contact. On the other hand, if I said nothing and simply failed to show, he would have a legitimate reason to be angry, and I refused to cede the moral high ground. In the end I took a somewhat petulant path of texting him Wednesday night from Molly's, where we all met after work. The code was simple, if seldom used. "I couldn't get tickets to the Arsenal Match." Lacking details, it was not at all suspicious, but it let him know that I would not be able to take time off work.

As I suspected, I sent the text late enough that he had no opportunity to reply until we were both at work the next day.

"What the fuck, Rick? You're having me on, right? That text you sent couldn't possibly have been right."

"I'm afraid it was, H. We're scrambling to finish up a project here, and after the last two weeks I can't take any time off."

"Rick, it's been three bloody weeks!" H. hissed.

"I am well aware," I sniped back. I not only recalled how long it's been since we saw each other at the Grimmauld house, I also remembered how the last time ended. "But you didn't hear me giving you shit when you couldn't make time last week, did you?"

That shut him up for an instant, but only long enough to let him formulate his argument.

"You might remember I made time last week. I arranged for an entire night and the following day. You just couldn't be bothered to meet me or return my calls."

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. "You know damn well why I wasn't returning your calls. And that's rich, coming from a man who claims I can't let things go. Last time I saw you, you said things were going to change, that they were going to get better. Then you walked away saying that you'd ring and this is the first I've heard from you. I only wish I had time to get into this with you properly right now, but as I said, we're scrambling on a project. Goodbye."

"Wait! Things have been busy for me at work too, that's why I didn't ring. But I still should have found the time, I realize that now. What about next Thursday?"

"What about it?" I asked, confused.

"Will you be at the house next week?"

"Of course, if I can," I said without thinking. It had never occurred to me to deliberately miss one of our dates. But when I heard him sigh "Good," I knew he'd considered the possibility.

"I'll see you then," I said, suddenly confused. I heard his "I'll see you," before I ended the call. Even though I should have gone right back to work, I took a few moments to consider what had happened. Although H. started off on the offensive, by the end of the call I'd actually had the upper hand. It would have felt good, if it wasn't for the fact that it meant nothing.

Fortunately, the situation with H. was the only dark spot in my life that week, and I had plenty of other things to keep me distracted, chief among them Ashok and his new found cooking prowess. Monday evening I came home to a delicious dinner of Moroccan chicken and vegetables served over rice. While Jasper prepared simple meals for us on occasion, most of them coming from jars or simmer pouches, this had been the first time anyone other than my mother prepared such an elaborate meal for me from scratch, and I was duly impressed. It was difficult to believe this was one of Ashok's first forays into the kitchen. The kid was a natural, and there was no stopping him.

Tuesday we went to Greg's for dinner. Ashok once again insisted on cooking, this time making a simple sauce with olive oil, garlic, finely chopped broccoli and toasted pine nuts over linguine which we all, including Helena, absolutely loved. Wednesday night Helena had a girls' night with her mum whole all the boys met at Molly's, giving Ashok a night off from cooking, much to his disappointment. He made up for it on Thursday by greeting me with a tomato-based vegetable stew that was served with thick slices of crusty bread. Friday the six of us, Helena included, dined on prawn and wild rice salad, served outdoors on Vince and Dré's rooftop terrace. I was declared a lucky sod for having a new resident chef and I heartily agreed. Ashok positively glowed from all the praise we heaped on him and couldn't stop talking about all the other interesting recipes he found in the magazines that he was eager to try out. Though none of us had ever given quite this much thought to food and cooking, even Dré didn't have the heart to change the subject. It was just too much fun to see our new little friend so excited and carefree.

It wasn't until Ashok and I returned to our flat Friday night and were relaxing on the sofa in front of the telly, that my mind wandered to topics that had been banished throughout the week. We were watching an action film featuring a big Hollywood star and all the cliché car chases and explosions, when he suddenly picked up the obligatory damsel in distress and she, in her effort to demonstrate her gratitude, turned things rather steamy. Normally watching a make-out session between a guy and a girl wouldn't have had much of an effect, but after more than a week of no relief, all the kissing and groping and the lead's dominant masculinity were enough to get my cock stirring. It didn't help that Ashok was sitting right next to me, tucked under my arm and glued to my side, his hand absently stroking my stomach and dangerously close to my growing bulge.

I glanced down to make sure that he didn't notice my arousal, and immediately regretted my curiosity. Ashok was still focused on the screen, but his lips were parted and his breathing had become heavier. One look lower confirmed that he too was not immune to the erotic nature of the movie. The situation was becoming dangerously uncomfortable, and I was searching for a subtle excuse to turn of the movie, when I felt his hand traveling down to rub my now very noticeable erection. I sucked in my breath, momentarily paralyzed, wanting nothing more than to have him continue and go beyond. Then sanity prevailed.

"Ashok," I began, my voice tight. "Please, that's not a good idea."

"Why not?" he asked, looking up at me. "You need relief. You have not been with H. in a long time. I can help you."

"You don't need to help. I can take care of it myself," I choked out.

"But I want to help you. And, maybe you can help me? It is not the same, by yourself. It is better with someone else. Before Pankaj told me he loved me, we sometimes helped each other this way. Just the feel of someone else's hand can make a big difference."

I groaned quietly. He had inadvertently hit the nail on the head. It had been too long since I'd been with H., and I was so tired of wanking. My hand and my cock were so intimately acquainted, their sex life was the equivalent of that between an old married couple: more about habit and necessity than desire. Nevertheless, I was involved. I couldn't just let this boy jerk me off.

"I shouldn't. I'm with H. I love him. I can't be with another man. It wouldn't be fair to any of us, especially you."

"I am not talking about love. I am not even talking about sex. Just two hands doing the same things we would do for ourselves. It would be quick. I can tell you are as ready as I am. Just feeling and watching each other would make it go fast, I think."

He continued to stroke my cock through my jeans as we spoke, and even though I knew I should have stopped him, my hands refused to obey directives from my brain. I sank back into the sofa and closed my eyes, feeling his nimble fingers slip the button of my fly through its hole and tug down my zip. He pulled out my shirt to reach the waistband of my briefs, hesitating a moment before slipping his hand beneath the fabric. I groaned again, louder this time, when I felt his hand wrap around my shaft and move it so it pointed up. His hand was warm and small, the smallest I'd ever had wrapped around my cock, but it was calloused in a way that could not be mistaken for feminine and it felt damn good. So good, in fact, that though reason might have been telling me to make him stop, another force moved my hand to his pants and began undoing his fly and dipping into his bikini briefs. His cock was thinner than mine and not as long, but it was every bit as hard. I wrapped my hand around it with ease and gave an experimental stroke that made him release a heavy sigh. I wanted to continue stroking him, but all the clothes and our position were getting in the way.

"Hold on," I said and I released him and pulled his hand out of my pants. He looked at me, positively crestfallen. "We're not stopping. Let's just both sit back and take off our trousers, okay? We'll be more comfortable and it'll make things easier. And let me get a couple of things."

I stood up as he began to pull down his jeans and underpants. I quickly walked over to the closet in the hallway where I stored spare towels and, hidden in the back, a new bottle of lube. I grabbed a couple of small hand towels and the bottle and returned to the sofa, pulling down my own trousers and briefs before sitting back down.

"I think we'll need these," I said, handing him one of the towels. "And this will help," I continued, pouring some lube into both his hand and mine. He ran his fingers over the lubricant, his brows furrowing momentarily before he understood. I used the time to take a closer look at his cock. He was as dark there as everywhere else, and uncut as I was, though his foreskin was ample enough not to pull all the way off the head even when he was hard. Precum was already weeping out of my slit, but his cock was dry. I'd heard of men who hardly leaked, though I'd never been with one, and I had to admit the lack of viscous proof of his arousal was a little unnerving. Still, erections didn't lie, and his definitely signaled his readiness.

I reached for him at the same time as he did for me. We gripped each other in unison and matched each other stroke for stroke. It had been a while since I'd used my hand on anyone else, but Ashok wasn't complaining and neither was I. His lubed hand was moving expertly up and down my cock, occasionally gently brushing over my exposed, engorged head. I did the same with him, using my thumb to press against his frenulum as I pulled off his foreskin with each downward stroke. We were both breathing heavily and I knew he'd been right - we wouldn't last long. I tightened my grip and increased the pace, twisting my wrist slightly as I moved my hand up and down. He started lifting his hips and making small mewling sounds that went straight to my dick. His hand felt amazing on my cock, but I was determined to hold off and make him come first so that I could watch instead of closing my eyes, the way I usually did when I peaked. I moved faster and heard his gasp as he grew even stiffer in my hand, and then he shuddered and threw his head back, his eyes closed and lips parted as white cream poured from his tip, no less copious for it's lack of force. Seeing him like that and feeling his semen coat and drip from my hand was all it took to push me over the edge. I too closed my eyes and threw my head back as my cum spurted in streams, spraying and staining my shirt. We continued to stroke each other, but slowed our pace until, eventually, we stopped.

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes and turned my head. His eyes were open too, but for once he wasn't looking at me, just staring up at the ceiling with a wide smile on his face. I liked seeing him like this, a picture of satisfaction. I liked even more that I was the one responsible for putting that look on his face. And, in a somewhat troublesome development, I very much wanted to put it there again.