––––––––
Xavier
So Laila was right.
The whole way to the gym, all Xavier could think was, Laila was right. Guy had gone to the bathroom to purge. The young man who’d sat opposite him all through dinner last night, warily watching him eat, was a man with an eating disorder.
He was also man who’d finger-fucked him.
Xavier almost choked on his own saliva. He was inside me, and I liked it. Guy had slipped a finger up his ass, and it had sent a red hot arrow of pleasure through his body. Such a violent invasion, such wrongness, and yet it hadn’t been any more painful than a rough kiss.
I almost bottomed.
Swallowing drily, Xavier stepped off the bus. When he entered the gym building, it was almost empty. Through the Panopticon window, he saw the machines sitting there, asleep. Everyone was at home eating dinner. Family, dates, that sort of thing. The sharing of meals over candlelight, minus the vomiting. His hand tightened on his gym bag.
“Hey! Hey, Xavier?”
He stopped with one foot through the door to the locker room. Turning, he saw Paul. waving at him from a café table. Having a protein shake, by the looks of it.
Fuck.
“Hi,” Xavier sighed, just loud enough to be heard.
“Would you come here for a bit?”
He didn’t want to. He just wanted to go work off some frustration – but they were sort of friends, after all, and he didn’t want to be rude. Turning, he walked to Paul’s table and sat down. Paul leaned over it with a curious expression on his face. “Do you have a boyfriend, Xavier?”
Cold sweat broke out all over his body. He felt like he was going to throw up. “Who told you that?”
Paul sniggered. “I didn’t have to be told. I saw you at a restaurant.”
Xavier was still holding onto his gym bag. The strap was digging into his palm. It hurt, but he couldn’t seem to let it go.
“I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if you found someone, but... getting married? That’s a bit steep. When were you going to tell me?”
“Married? I’m not getting married.”
Paul smirked. “So he rejected you? Thought he could do better, did he?”
Xavier scrabbled through his mind for anything that might have looked like a proposal. Had he gazed too deeply into Guy’s eyes? Had he grasped his hand? Had he–
Oh.
Pulse quickening, he remembered kneeling by Guy’s chair. Why had he kneeled, for God’s sake? How stupid could he get? “It wasn’t–”
“... what it looked like?” Paul grinned wider and leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “I should hope not. You’re hot, Xavier. You don’t have to settle for someone like that.” He peered at him, laughter in his eyes. And then suddenly, it spilled over into his voice. “Aw, come on. Don’t look so freaked out, I’m just pulling your leg. I know the type you go for, and that ain’t it. So who is he? A relative?”
Xavier’s eyes grew unfocused. Paul was giving him a way out. He didn’t have to admit to anything. But even as he thought it, Guy’s big eyes surfaced in his mind – that unique mixture of petulance and vulnerability – and he just couldn’t. “Actually, he...” Xavier briefly closed his eyes. “I’m trying to... I mean, we are sort of boyfriends.”
Paul paused on an in-breath. “Sort of?”
“I’m trying to get him to... like me.”
Paul laughed. “Since when do you have to try?”
Xavier’s head swirled. He had no idea why he’d said it.
Paul hesitated. “You mean... like like you?”
Xavier’s mouth twitched.
“Just to be clear, this is the same person you were at that restaurant with?”
Xavier’s face was flaming. “Yes.”
Paul slumped against the backrest. “Well, damn. There goes another one.”
Xavier glared at him, challenging him to laugh, but he looked completely serious now. Twirling his mug of nutrient goo round and round, he said, “So he must have a pretty amazing personality, huh?”
Despite himself, Xavier laughed. “He’s a right brat.”
Paul looked unconvinced. “I just... I mean, how’s the sex?”
“Feel free to ask.”
“Wow. None of my business, huh? This is interesting.”
“He’s amazing.”
There was a stunned pause. Xavier hadn’t said the sex was amazing – he’d said Guy was. His heart was in free-fall behind his ribs.
“I see.” Paul fingered his mug. “Is that why you...? Actually, forget it.”
“No, no, go ahead. You can’t wrap your head around it? It’s impossible to find someone like him attractive?” There was a movement in Xavier, as though something was shifting places – as though his brain was creating new connections and breaking the old ones, discarding synapses he no longer needed. Meeting Paul’s puzzled gaze head on, he said, “I think I’m actually interested in him.”
For a long time, neither of them said anything.
Then he added, randomly, “He used to do judo.”
Paul laughed. “Well, in that case.”
Xavier chuckled thinly. He did mean it as a kind of excuse. As though the yellow belt Guy didn’t think he deserved gave him a ticket to Xavier’s circle of friends – because God forbid they accept anyone who didn’t dedicate his life to working out.
“So there’s some go in him, at least?” Paul smiled. “He can throw you down and have his way with you?”
Blood rushed to Xavier’s face. Seeing it, Paul let slip a delighted cackle. “No...? Xa-vier,” he sing-songed. “Well, now you’ve truly made my day. Anything is possible. Actually, I should go buy a lottery ticket. The universe has gone tits up.”
Xavier wanted to laugh too, but he couldn’t. “There’s just one thing...”
“Yeah?”
“It’s just that he’s–”
Fuck. That was a secret. He couldn’t tell anyone. Especially not someone like Paul. What was he thinking?
But he had to tell someone. Had to get it out of his system. And after all, it was on Guy’s blog. Not exactly the most private space.
Xavier agonized for a moment. Then he veered slightly off path. “Well, he has this sister. With... an eating disorder.”
Something happened to Paul’s face – something Xavier had never seen before. Something caved, even as a wall went up. “Ah.”
“And, you know, as a dietician... I feel like I should help. He worries about her, and–”
“Don’t. I mean...” Paul’s voice sounded strangely hollow. “There’s nothing you can do. I mean, there is, but... It doesn’t have anything to do with food, you know? Of course you know. As you said, you’re a dietician. But... the only thing you can do is to be there. I know there are all these programs for anorexics and binge eaters, where they learn to eat properly and talk about body image and all that, and I’m sure it helps some people. But for others...” He looked at Xavier, hitting him in his weakest. “Most of them just need to know that they’re okay, you know? That there’s something... secure in their lives. A port in the storm.” He chuckled a little, embarrassed. “But what do I know? I’m just a gym freak.”
They sat in silence for a while. Maybe Xavier should say something, but there was nothing left to say. In the absence of words, he felt closer to Paul than he ever had. He’d been inside him, of course, but that was just the game. What they’d stumbled into now was, miraculously, a piece of reality.
And Xavier realized that for all his wide acquaintance, he didn’t have many friends. For all his prodigious fucking, he’d never had a lover.
“Well, I’d better...”
“Yeah.”
Xavier picked up his bag. “Thanks. For...”
Paul’s smile looked sad. “Just remember, you can’t help anyone by giving them your truth.”
Escaping into the locker room, he changed into his tank top and track suit. The clothes had once been carefully selected to attract the right sort of attention, but now he wished he’d brought an old t-shirt instead. He didn’t want their slavering admiration. They could all go to hell.
Taking his water bottle, he went into the gym. A few men gave him a cursory glance, but they soon looked away again. Because his face was too forbidding? Or because they thought he was a superficial wanker?
“Hi.”
Xavier jumped. When he turned, Guy was standing right there, beside him, by the exercise bikes. Like a mirage in the middle of the gym. “Hi...” His heart started hammering. Guy – here? Was he dreaming?
Guy glanced around the gym, as though he was expecting someone to ask for his papers. “I mean, you kept badgering me. So here I am.”
His way of saying ‘sorry for being an impossible twat’? “I’m... glad.” It came out strangled, but at least he said it. “How did you know...?”
“You always come here when you’re mad, don’t you?”
Xavier hesitated. So it really was an apology. Not an explicit one, but still. Guy was here. Maybe he realized how jagged he’d been at the restaurant. Maybe he finally understood what it was Xavier wanted from him.
Even if he wasn’t quite sure himself.
“So...” Guy turned to the dumbbells.
“Wait, Guy...” Xavier laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t begin with those. You’ll hurt yourself.”
Guy dropped the weights and gave him a cross look.
“I’m just trying to help,” Xavier hastened to say. “If you start lifting weights without warming up, it’ll do more harm than good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And I don’t want you to pull a muscle or–”
“Because then I won’t be able to work out again for weeks, and your whip-Guy-into-shape project will have failed?”
Xavier fell quiet. That’s what Guy thought this was about? Or was he just trying to pick a fight, to punish Xavier for persuading him to come here? That was a bit mean. Xavier hadn’t forced him. He’d come here of his own free will. Xavier was tempted to let him pull that muscle and hobble out of here with his tail between his legs, but before he could say something to that effect, there was a snigger behind him. Guy stiffened just the tiniest bit, and Xavier glanced over his shoulder. He recognized a couple of distant acquaintances who were looking in his direction.
“Hi?”
Their eyes drifted briefly towards him, and he realized that Guy was the one they’d been looking at. One of them smiled archly. Then his gaze slipped back to Guy. “Hi,” he said in a weird tone. Against his will, Xavier glanced at Guy. At awkward, embarrassed Guy who was trying to adjust the saddle on a bike without tripping over his shoelaces. He looked like he’d done the first time he’d come to Xavier’s office: grey, washed out, geeky.
Unfuckable.
And Xavier just knew that the guys over there were laughing at him. They were like Xavier, all sculpted chests and grey sweatpants that hung just so from their hips. They’d been coming here for years, and it showed. And now they were pissing on Guy to mark their territory. One of them sauntered over, and Xavier squared his shoulders, ready to bear the taunts. But the man cleverly circled Xavier and instead jostled Guy so that he stumbled into the bike.
“Hey!” Xavier barked, and Greypants turned lazy eyes on him.
“What? If he can’t stand the heat, he shouldn’t play with fire.”
“Fire? This is a gym.”
Greypants didn’t reply, just raised a contemptuous eyebrow as he walked over to the dumbbells Guy had left behind. He demonstratively weighed them in his hand and chuckled to himself before grabbing hold of the biggest ones he could find. Turning to Xavier again, he shot him a look that could only be interpreted as inviting. What? He’d never flirted with Xavier before. Xavier might have been up for it at one time, but now the only thing he could feel was disgust. He looked at Guy, and his chest swelled painfully. He looked so small. So defeated. “Come on, let’s–”
“No.” Guy’s shoulders slumped like the wings of a wounded bird. “I can’t.”
“Sure you can,” Xavier said, because that’s what you did when someone said they wanted to give up but they really just wanted you to encourage them. “Don’t mind them, they’re assholes.”
“No, Xavier, I can’t. I can’t be this person. Not even for you.”
“For me? You’re not doing this for me, Guy. You’re doing it for you.”
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong.” His eyes looked stormy, more grey than blue. “I’ve tried, believe me. For two years, I’ve tried. I know myself. I can’t change!”
“But you’ll feel so much better about yourself once–”
“I know all that! How many times do I have to tell you? I know everything, because I’m living it. I’ve read all the websites, all the books, all the nutrient tables. It doesn’t help. I am who I am, and I can’t pretend anymore.”
You can’t fool me. I’ve read your blog.
Guy picked up his water bottle. “You know what your problem is, Xavier? You don’t think you want to change me, but you do. You don’t want me the way I am, and that’s fine. You can find someone else, someone like you. Sporty, health-conscious. But it’s not me.”
Irritation pooled beneath Xavier’s ribs. “No? You think about health all the time, Guy. You’re obsessed with it. And anyway, that’s not what I mean. You don’t have to do things for me, or for anyone... Just do it for yourself.”
Guy groaned. “Can’t you hear yourself? You’re still urging me to do what you want, at the same time that you’re telling me it’s for my own good. That I should do it because I want it. But it’s you who wants it, Xavier!”
Fuck, but he was right. Xavier was giving Guy his truth, just like Paul had warned him not to. But it was only because his truth was, well... true.
“Look, Xavier... I just want a little sex now and then, not bloody psychotherapy.”
Xavier’s heart twisted in his chest. He should quip something about how Guy was singing a different tune now than when they first met, but he couldn’t find it in himself to joke. “You’re leaving?” he asked, and his voice was too weak. “You haven’t even got started.”
Guy gave him a surprised look. “Don’t pretend like you care. You’ll soon find a new charity case. Someone who actually wants it.”
Fear closed Xavier’s throat. Guy was leaving for real?
“Please stay.” It was an effort to move his lips.
Guy crossed his arms, and almost dropped his water bottle in the process. Saving it at the last moment, he bit out an embarrassed, “Why?”
“Because...” Xavier gulped for air. The truth was in there, but how could he say it?
Guy spread his hands. “See? You can’t think of a single reason. So why bother?” Turning abruptly, he made for the door, and Xavier was left standing by the bikes, tense and indecisive.
Well? his inner Laila snapped. Why aren’t you going after him?
Springing to life, he hurried to catch the door just before it slammed shut. Guy looked over his shoulder and sighed. Xavier half expected him to start running, but he just walked towards the locker room, hands balling into fists at his sides. Xavier had exactly five seconds to stop him.
But what could he say? Everything he tried came out wrong. If they’d been somewhere a little more private, he might have been able to bribe him with sex. Not that sex in semi-public spaces had seemed to be a problem for Guy so far, but he probably wouldn’t let Xavier suck him off right here in the corridor.
But it gave Xavier an idea. Guy wanted to be on top? So let him be on top.
“Why don’t you show me?”
Guy stopped so suddenly that Xavier almost ran into him. “What?”
Xavier forced a smile. Easy does it. “Show me some moves. You know... judo throws and stuff.”
For a moment, Guy looked stricken. Then he snorted. “‘Judo throws and stuff’?”
“Yeah.” Let him laugh, if that’s what it takes. “Didn’t you say you used to do judo? So teach me some moves.”
Guy looked up at the ceiling. “You’re insane.”
“Why? You’re here, I’m here. You haven’t done any actual exercise yet – you haven’t even broken a sweat. You don’t want your trip to have been for nothing, do you? I know for a fact that there’s a dojo behind that door.” He jerked his head at it, and Guy followed his gaze – reluctantly, Xavier could see it, but also... a tiny bit eagerly?
“I don’t remember any ‘moves’,” he mumbled.
“Maybe you’ll remember when you’re in a kimono.”
“Too bad I didn’t bring it, then.”
Was there a sliver of regret in there? Maybe it was just wishful thinking. “So if I can get you a kimono, you’ll go in there with me?”
Guy watched him warily. Wondering what to believe, no doubt. He couldn’t know that Xavier had connections here – that he used to teach classes to eke out his student loan, and that if he went to the reception, Maria would give him the keys to anything.
Guy crossed his arms. “Okay. You fix the clothes, and I’ll throw you on the floor.”
Xavier grinned. So Guy wasn’t above being goaded. Xavier should have been a psychologist.
It took him less than five minutes to get the keys, and Guy didn’t even grumble about it. Stepping through the door, he was more focused on the room. Xavier watched his face as he ventured into the dusk. Behind his glasses, his eyes looked big, young and vulnerable. Open, somehow. Like the eyes of someone who’d been trying to find his way out of a labyrinth, and who could suddenly hear a younger version of himself on the other side of the wall.
Xavier reached for the light switch, but Guy stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Please don’t.”
Just two words, but they pierced Xavier to the soul. “You want the darkness?” he asked softly.
Guy’s face was in shadow. It was hard to see what he was thinking. “It’s not completely dark.”
Xavier held his breath. It’s not completely dark. In this empty, twilit room, it sounded like poetry. Like a prayer.
“Besides, we’re going to wear white.”
The spell was broken, and Xavier let out the breath he’d been holding. Locking the door, he walked over to the lockers and took out a kimono for them each – a small one for Guy, and a larger one for himself. There were only white belts to borrow, so they looked like they were on the same level. Knowing Guy and his fabulous self-esteem, he probably thought they were anyway.
As though to confirm it, Guy turned to look at Xavier. “It was all a sham, you know. The judo. I know I made it sound like... you know. But it was just a laugh. I mean, I got a yellow belt, but I’d only trained for four months, and no one gets their yellow belt in such a short time. Especially not someone like me. They were trying to be nice, because they knew I’d never do any matches. And they knew I was going home, so I wouldn’t shame the club or anything.”
“That didn’t change the feeling, though.” Xavier almost winced, thinking he’d let slip that he knew more than he let on.
But Guy didn’t guess that Xavier was thinking about the scene where Philippe had handed over the yellow belt and Guy had been over the moon. He just stepped onto the dojo and started walking backwards across it, holding Xavier with his gaze. Xavier followed, helplessly drawn, and his feet sank into the rubbery mat. It felt almost like walking on sand, only tighter and softer at the same time. Maybe this was what it had felt like for Guy, that first time. This feeling of imbalance, of uncertainty. And then, in the middle of all those judging eyes, a kind face. Someone who understood that he was feeling naked and vulnerable, that he didn’t know his arse from his elbow. Who was there to help him.
Xavier wished he could erase it. He wished he could lobotomize Guy and fill the empty spaces in his brain with new images, with kindness and celebration and love. He wished he could take him home.
Guy stopped and looked around. “I don’t know what to do,” he said sheepishly.
“Well, then we’ll get nowhere.”
Guy fidgeted. His brief bravado had left him, and all that remained was his usual shyness. “Okay, well, ippon then, I guess.” He planted his feet in the dojo and raised his hands towards Xavier. “You stand like this, and then you grab hold of your opponent’s kimono.”
Xavier curled his fingers around Guy’s collar, and Guy winced. “No. This is all wrong. I can’t throw you, because you don’t know how to fall.”
Xavier remembered the long hours Guy had spent learning to make the chutes en avant, and conceded the point. “So maybe I can throw you?” he suggested. “If you remember how to fall.”
Their eyes met. Guy’s lips parted, on the verge of speaking. “I remember,” he finally mumbled. Then he went on, “Okay. What you want to do is this...”
He proceeded to show Xavier how to jut out his hip and pull Guy up onto it. It was difficult and counterintuitive, and Xavier probably looked ridiculous as he tried to follow the strange instructions, but he didn’t care. Nobody saw them, and if he needed to be ridiculous to put Guy at ease, he would suffer it gladly. Guy helped him by lifting his feet in the air so that he was balancing on Xavier’s back, his lower body hovering in the void, their faces close together. Xavier paused, just to savour that strange weightlessness. Guy was unmoored. Completely in Xavier’s control. If he yanked him the wrong way, Guy would fall and break his neck.
And yet he trusted him?
Moving slowly, carefully, Xavier tipped Guy over, and he made an elegant arc through the air. A bang echoed through the room, and they stayed like that for a moment: Guy on his back, leaning a little on his shoulder, one hand raised – and Xavier over him, still holding on to his kimono.
Then Guy pulled at Xavier’s collar, and Xavier let himself fall to his knees beside him. “Maybe we should do some restraining techniques as well,” Guy said softly, and the sound of it buzzed through Xavier like a swarm of summer bees.
“And how do we–”
He got no further before Guy lunged, knocking him onto his back. He hit the mat and almost banged his head, but before he’d even caught his breath, Guy’s arm came around his neck and the other one slipped between his legs. In no time at all, Xavier was locked in a beetle-like position, helpless to do anything. He knew for a fact that he was stronger than Guy, but he still couldn’t wrench free.
“Come on then, push me off,” Guy purred against his chest.
Xavier raised an eyebrow at the ceiling. “What do you want me to say? That you win? Okay, you win.”
He could feel Guy grin and relax, but his hold on Xavier didn’t let up. His warm arm remained lying against Xavier’s crotch, restraining him, and the atmosphere subtly shifted from competitive to seductive. A moment of panic passed before Xavier reminded himself that the door was locked. But still – this was a dojo. No place for sex, surely?
At last, Guy let go of his legs, but before Xavier could get up, Guy grabbed his hands and rolled on top of him, crotch to crotch, holding Xavier’s arms above his head while he kissed all the way from his ear to his collarbone. It sent shockwaves of pure want down Xavier’s body. They crashed onto the shores of his groin, and he was mortified to feel himself rise. Guy noticed it, of course, and that soft little smirk appeared again, the one he only wore when he was convinced that he had something to give.
With a start, Xavier turned the thought over in his mind. It glittered like a gem he didn’t know the name for, but it was unmistakable: Guy didn’t think he had anything to offer. That’s why he constantly defaulted to seduction. That’s why he didn’t even try to be pleasant the rest of the time.
Working a hand between them, Guy cupped Xavier’s cotton-cocooned erection, making him gasp. His smile was damp against Xavier’s throat as he pulled at the strings of Xavier’s trousers. “See? You don’t stand a chance,” came the muffled taunt.
“The dojo is sacred, you know,” Xavier whispered, and Guy snickered against his skin.
“So is sex, according to some.”
Jesus. The door might be locked, but Xavier was still afraid someone would come in and find them. Someone who worked here.
“What?” Guy murmured close to his ear, just as he gripped Xavier’s cock. “You’re afraid to be seen with me? You’re ashamed?”
Oh, trust him to take it the wrong way. Harnessing every bit of his strength, Xavier rolled over and crawled on top of Guy. “You think you’re going to control everything?” He dipped his head for a kiss, and Guy’s lips parted to receive him, but then he drew back. “Have you never heard of ‘passive aggressive’?” Guy was watching his mouth as he spoke, longing for it, waiting for an opening. Xavier grinned wider, a feeling of power surging through him. Leaning down, he whispered in Guy’s ear, “Maybe I can make you do what I want without you even realizing it?”
Guy tried to attack with his mouth, but Xavier held him down and kept his kiss just out of reach. Guy made a cute sound of frustration, and Xavier laughed at him. “Who’s helpless now? Now what am I going to do to you...?” He trailed a hand inside Guy’s kimono, a light touch that made him close his eyes and breathe in shallow little starts. The fabric rustled when Xavier pushed it aside. He leaned down again to lick at Guy’s mouth, and Guy’s teeth captured his lips. Startled, Xavier grew still. Guy wasn’t actually biting him, but if he moved, it would hurt.
A quiet chuckle told him their roles had once again been reversed. Releasing his lips, Guy threw his arms around Xavier’s waist and flipped him onto his back again. He landed between Xavier’s legs, right on top of his throbbing cock, and Xavier groaned. The back of his head pushed into the dojo as his fist closed on Guy’s trousers and tried to pull them down. “God,” he sighed, and Guy smiled down at him.
“I can live with that epithet.” He kissed Xavier long and deep, doing things with his tongue that sent a tingling echo down to Xavier’s very toes. “Now, what should I do to you?” Guy murmured, and Xavier’s whole being was a neon sign that said ANYTHING YOU FUCKING WANT. He didn’t care that they were in a judo hall, or that at any moment, someone could walk through that door and ask for the keys back.
Licking his fingers, Guy reached down between them and grabbed them both. At once, time froze. They must both be holding their breaths, because it was completely quiet, except for two hearts beating in frantic unison. When Guy looked down at him, his pupils were bottomless chasms.
And then he started to move. His hand was barely big enough to manage it all. Their cocks slipped and slid against each other, but he squeezed them tight, kept them in place as he stroked, and God almighty, Xavier had never felt anything so intimate. Fuck penetration. They were touching soul to soul.
When he spilled, it was hot and endless.
––––––––
Guy
Xavier looked very pleased when he finally gathered his strength to sit up. “Well, that was a first. At least for me.”
Guy tried to give him his trademark dark look, but instead his lips were pulled apart in a helpless grin. “For me too, I’ll have you know.” I’ve only ever fucked outside of judo houses.
Xavier chuckled. “Not in the mood for any more exercise, then?”
“Look, I think we’d better...” Guy gestured at the dojo, which was smeared with white.
“Fuck the dojo.”
“We almost did.” He got to his knees and wiped the mat with his sleeve, but that only made it worse. Mustn’t soil the dojo, he heard Bruno’s voice echo in his mind, and he couldn’t stop a giggle.
And suddenly that smear of white on the rubber mat was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. He started laughing. Full on, braying laughter that echoed through the judo hall like the screams of a deranged hyena. Xavier’s eyes widened, and Guy almost thought he was going to run out of there, just to save himself from embarrassment. But then he too started laughing, as though Guy was dragging him down a slippery slope, and there was nothing either of them could do to save the other.
When their hilarity finally died down, Xavier wiped his eyes and let out a final chuckle. “You’re a handful, you know that?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Oh,” Xavier said with a mock knock on the head. “How could I forget? You know everything.”
Guy made a soft scoff. He knew he was being reprimanded. But then Xavier reached out and cradled his cheek – gently, so gently, and Guy leaned into the touch like a cat. Was he crazy, trying to fuck this up?
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
For what?
For everything.
Their eyes met, and for a little while, they were wrapped in something warm and fluffy. It was so close to what Guy dreamed of that his heart slammed shut with a terrified bang. Averting his eyes, he made one last effort to wipe the dojo clean with his unsullied sleeve. As he worked, a film of moisture clouded his eyes. It was strange: it had never really sunk in that Philippe and him... that had been nothing. Just a juvenile crush, derailing into a one night stand. They’d never been together. Philippe probably didn’t even remember him.
Xavier watched him for a while, looking pensive. When he finally spoke again, his voice had changed. “So I’ve been thinking...” He paused to swallow, and Guy stiffened. Fuck. He wasn’t such a fool that he couldn’t detect a change of tone. “The restaurant was a bust, and maybe it was a mistake to go there, but... D’you want to come to my place for dinner instead?”
“No,” Guy replied too quickly.
Xavier was taken aback. “I mean... not tonight. But sometime. Perhaps... on my birthday?” He caught Guy’s eyes. “Would you like to celebrate my birthday with me, Guy? Laila will be there, but no one else.”
Christ. He even guessed at that? He could just take one look at Guy and know that he’d be too scared to come if Xavier had a whole bunch of chemically enhanced beefcakes there?
“It’s on the fifteenth.”
Guy laughed nervously. “Well, in that case.”
“Is that a yes?”
Guy breathed in to steel himself, and then looked up. Xavier was watching him, smiling and oblivious, auburn hair all tousled and delectable, puppy dog eyes all filled with hope. Leaning forward, he tugged at a lock of Guy’s hair. “Yes?”
The silence stretched like a yawning chasm between them. Then Guy mumbled, “I... don’t know.”
Xavier’s smile faltered. “It’s not that big of a decision, you know.”
Guy forced a chuckle. “No?”
“No. It’ll just be a simple dinner at my apartment. Nothing to worry about.”
And snap, there went whatever kept Guy’s heart in place. Xavier would never get it. Guy didn’t even want him to. But as long as he carried his beast with him, he could never be with anyone, not even happy-go-lucky Xavier. He’d even said it: if you want to be with me, you have to eat. And it was the one thing Guy couldn’t do.
But he didn’t have the heart to reject him – not now, when they’d just spilled so hotly in each other’s embrace. He would have to do it later. He would find a way to let Xavier down gently, and then he could go back to his old life, none the worse for wear.
“Maybe. I’ll have to check my calendar,” he said, and even though Xavier didn’t look like he bought it, he didn’t say anything. Without speaking, they left the judo hall and went to the locker room to shower and change. Last chance to look your fill, Guy thought, and it brought a lump to his throat. He turned his face into the hot spray to hide his burning grief, and there, behind the spatter of water drops, he could already hear the beast, smacking his lips.
No. Please, no. Not tonight. He didn’t have the energy to hang over the toilet seat with his tongue halfway down the bowl. He just wanted to go to bed, read some Fleurs du Mal and drift off.
But of course, that was never what happened. He was cursed to wander the bathroom circuit for all eternity, because of one single mistake he’d made two years ago. One moment of weakness, of crying to the gods that anything is better than this.
Well, at least he’d learned one thing: be careful what you wish for.