Sunday. 3/19/17.
Teas’n Tomes.
None of the people that had been invited along to Stars End to watch the big race showed up. Or at least the place was so crowded that they didn’t see them. So, when Trick rocketed past the finish line to claim first place as his own, and Ed leapt from his seat to crow joyously at the screen, Goshen could not help but drag the boy away to draw more lickerish noises from his mouth.
They ****ed in a bathroom stall; Goshen’s fingers hooked steadfast over the top of the metal door for leverage and Ed’s arms and legs wrapped tightly around his neck and hips respectively. This time they were fire. Melting against and into one another. Soft flames rising to sharp tines of brilliance, resplendent, dancing tongues of elan fire rippling up and up until they reached their zenith.
To cool off, they hopped the rail from Stars End to Old Market. An hour’s worth of roaming the streets, passing a joint or two back and forth, brought them to the Teas’n Tomes shop. Mutual thirst lured them inside.
Goshen caught the door with a slender hand to push it open. The bell chimed and he looked up at it.
Ed brushed up against him with a goofy smile, turning as he passed by and went inside. Goshen’s eyes slid away from the little bell hanging above the door to watch the younger male drift away from him.
"Thaaaaaank you!" he chirped.
Goshen let the door fall shut of its own weight and trailed after the boy.
On his way to the counter, Ed waved cheerily at a woman seated on the floor by the couches and said, "Hello!"
When Ed greeted the unfamiliar girl, he followed suit. "Hello." His echo deliciously low.
The woman stared at them over the rim of her mug, then lowered it when she was finished. "Hi. Yous goin' to v'want to sits on couch?"
Instead of bellying up to the counter, Ed leaned his backside to it and pressed the heels of his hands down on the edge. He lifted his shoulders in a slightly exaggerated shrug, looked at Goshen, and shook his head when he looked back at the girl. "I don't think so."
Goshen looked from Ed to the girl and judged her beauty in silence. Her hair was loosely done up in a crown of braids with wisps escaping here and there. She had what looked like charcoal or paint smudged on her shirt, hands, and face. A satin smile spread like spilled ink across his face. “Don’t move. There are plenty of other places we can sit.”
Ed smiled joyously and then turned to address the shop girl, ordering himself a peppermint cocoa. Goshen leaned into the counter, pressing his hands to the edge in much the same manner as Ed. Their skin scraped together for all of a second before Goshen snatched his fingers away, lifting them to point through the glass at a sugar cookie that was calling his name. He ordered that and a cup of lemonade.
Ed added a chocolate eclair to his order and dropped a few bills on the counter that paid for them both. He picked up his mug and pastry, then scooted out of the way, drawn to where the girl was sitting just because she was all by herself. "Hi!" Again.
The girl nodded. "Hi." The smile she offered was brief, a closed lipped flash and gone.
"Another friend of yours?" Goshen drew up alongside Ed, falling easily into step with the other boy. Ed knew a lot of people, it seemed to him.
With a giggly laugh, the younger boy shook his head. "No, I don't know her.” He turned back to the girl with a charming smile, waved, and said, "Hi. I'm Ed. This is Goshen. Would you rather we leave you alone?"
"Senka." She pointed to herself with a blue pencil. "No, Senka don' mind company. Come, sits."
"Senka," Ed repeated with a sweet smile. "That's a pretty name."
"I's v'welcomed,” she said for the compliment.
Ed scooted around to sit in a chair across from her, setting his eclair on the coffee table and keeping his mug so he could stir the whipped cream into his cocoa. "Where are you from? If you don't mind my asking."
"Senka is no' Russian!" Sternly. "I's from Sokovia, nobody know dis place." For some reason, she frowned.
Ed had a blank look preceding the blink that followed. His lips twitched in an effort not to break into a giggle fit. He managed to dim it down to a breathy snort of amusement. "Well. Consider me nobody, because I'm sorry to say I've never heard of it either. Still, Senka, it's nice to meet you."
"Is nice to be meet."
"Are you an artist?" Goshen asked. To some it might sound like he was asking the obvious, but he didn't like to assume. For all he knew she could be scribbling witchcraft onto the page of her notebook; he'd seen that before. He cast himself onto a wingback chair, long limbs spilling over the arm of the seat opposite the one he put to his back.
Senka looked down to the work in progress on the page. "Da. V'well, I's pretending to be v'one, sinking of becomin'."
Due to the way his body was bowed, Goshen showed off rather a large amount of skin around his middle exposing the jut of a hip bone and the evocative definition of his v-line. He didn't seem to care. The sugar cookie and Senka's answer were more interesting. "How do you become one?"
She set the pencil down while considering his question. "V'well, I's don' know. It v'was never about bein' artist for Senka. She draw to v'remember sings. Now, I's can draw for many reason. I's have friend who sinks dat Senka should not v'wait at table b'ot should put art in gallery."
Out of the corner of his eye, Goshen caught Ed stealing a glance at him, but then the boy was startled by the bell over the door when it chimed. The boy twitched and straightened up, twisting to look back at the door. His brows raised in surprise, but he was quick to recover and give a cheery wave to the girl who’d come inside.
"Hi, Spence!"
"Why do you care what your friend thinks?" Goshen asked, blunt as ever. His eyes darted toward Spencer when Ed drew attention to her by calling out her name. He raised his cookie to her, slowly, in greeting, but resumed speaking with Senka. "They're not you. You should do what you want."
"Oh no no. Dis not like bossy, dis like, mmm Senka don' sink she got potential to do more den v'waitin at table and he say she do and gallery may be option."
Spencer tipped her chin up to the small group with a quick smile as she approached. "Hey."
"Hello." Low, dulcet greeting for Spencer when she came their way. Goshen smiled at her, but did not sit up.
Though Spencer joined them, she remained standing, giving the impression she wouldn't be there for long. The smile she gave Goshen, at best, was mostly friendly.
Ed turned back to face the coffee table and Senka. "Potential aside, would you like to see your art hanging in a gallery?"
Senka flashed a thin, quick smile at Spencer and then looked at Ed. "Da. It v'would be like dream to do dis. To go from v'what v'was to bein' artist v'wanted for gallery. Amazin."
"Then I say give it a shot." Ed gave an easy shrug. "Spencer, this is Senka. We just met her. You remember Goshen, right? Senka, this is Spencer." He motioned as he named them all.
Senka waved a hand and then nodded to Ed.
"You'll never know unless you try," Goshen said to Senka. "Sometimes the best things happen when you stop being scared of what might be and decide to let go."
Ed smiled and leaned forward to set his mug on the coffee table, trading it out for the eclair. He rested his elbows on his knees so that when he stuffed his face any crumbs would fall to the floor. He took the first glorious bite with a happy sigh.
"Hey Ed." Spencer’s eyes traveled from Senka to Ed, waiting until she had his attention before continuing. "Did you talk to Trick tonight yet?"
Ed had a mouthful of eclair when he looked over at Spencer, brows raised. While chewing, he shook his head, no. Before speaking, he swept some cream and chocolate off the corner of his mouth with his thumb and licked that off. "No, I--" He cleared his throat with a glance aside at Goshen, tipping his head at him and correcting himself. "We just came over from Stars End where we watched his race on the big screens." He picked up his mug of cocoa, took a drink, and then asked, "Why, did you talk to him?"
Spencer’s expression started with a frown, then an immediate raise of both brows. She followed Ed's glance to Goshen, just a blink for Senka, then the frown was back and she was staring at Ed. "No. I figured he'd call you first before he even fell out of that pod thing."
"Podracer," Ed corrected lightly with a giggle and a shake of his head. "Nah. I think he would've liked to, but crew and press and screaming fans crowded in. I don't expect he'll get a chance to call me until..." He dug around in his pants pockets, found his messenger device, checked the time -- stole a glance aside... Checked the time again! "Um... I don't know."
"Really?" Spencer sounded doubtful of his uncertainty. "He always lets you know what time."
"Yous cut like crystal." Senka told Goshen as she picked her pencil back up and looked down to her drawing and began to shade.
Distracted from Spencer and Ed, Goshen turned to stare at the dark haired woman. "I what?" He blinked at her uncomprehendingly.
"Da, da." She nodded her head while continuing to shade. Then, pausing, she looked back up. "De lines of yous body. Yous cut like, mmm--like crystal, like glass? It v'would be good to draw." She motioned to his stomach with her pencil. "I'see."
Ed sputtered a giggle and miraculously managed to keep from spilling cocoa everywhere. There was a glint of mischievous teasing in the toothy smile he turned on Goshen.
Genuine surprise splashed across Goshen’s seraphic features. He looked down the length of his chest, noticing for the first time that his shirt had risen up to display pale skin. "Oh." And in that instant, his smile went sly. He tugged the sides of his leather jacket open even further so Senka (and anyone else) could get a better look at him.
Senka frowned at Ed, appearing confused. Looking back at Goshen, she gave an approving nod. "See. Is nice."
"Thank you," he told Senka.
Spencer shifted aside to stare at him. Her lip curled. "What? You want a dollar or something?"
Goshen settled the whole weight of his gaze on Spencer. "Are you attempting to insinuate with your question that I am a stripper? Or a whore?"
Senka went quiet and looked down. She closed her sketchbook silently and put both it and her pencils away.
"I just asked you if you wanted a dollar for the peep show." Spencer repeated.
"If you prefer to speak of gratitude with cash instead of words, then by all means." Goshen’s smile for her was just as compelling as his body.
Spencer narrowed her eyes. "I'm not grateful at all for the display."
Ed sputtered another giggle at their back-and-forth before interjecting with his response to Spencer’s earlier statement. "Well the last time he called me it was four am and he was drunk out of his mind, so I don't know. He wasn't exactly clear headed enough to arrange a next time with me. He passed out in the middle of, um, conversation." He blushed.
Spencer held up a hand to Ed, paint stained fingers spread to halt any further explanation. "Ew." She looked back at Ed, shaking her hand once before letting it fall to her side. "When he calls you, before you converse, can you tell him that I'll get him a new pillow before he comes back?"
"It v'was nice to meet yous." Senka stood abruptly and slung her bag across her body.
Ed looked a little victoriously smug just then, but he straightened up with a startled blink. "Wait what? What happened to his pillow?" And, to Senka he said, "Oh. Are you leaving?" He blinked at her.
"Da, I'm to meet friend."
"Oh. Well all right." Ed smiled and waved. "Enjoy! It was nice meeting you too."
"It was nice to meet you, Senka." Goshen replied calmly.
Once Senka was gone, Ed sneaked another peek in Goshen’s direction. He had to shake his head to quit staring. Back to Spencer! "Pillow?"
"Lucifer--" Spencer paused, squinting at Ed before looking up like she was choosing her words carefully, or at least tried to make it seem so. "--Lucifer destroyed it."
Spencer's and Ed's conversation did not interest him, or involve him, so Goshen worked at devouring the cookie in his hands. He'd long since finished the lemonade. They talked around him for another minute or so, but he didn’t pay any attention until it appeared as though Spencer was leaving.
"See ya," she was saying to Ed while backing away toward the door. Then, losing the smile, she glared at Goshen where he lounged. She stared at him for a few seconds before turning around completely.
Unconcerned, Goshen smiled after Spencer. "Goodnight."
"Night!" Ed echoed.
One tiny part of their conversation had cemented itself in Goshen’s memory. Ed had mentioned having to work in the morning. Goshen latched onto that once Spencer was gone.
"Where do you work?" he asked suddenly. Goshen sat up, brushing any latent crumbs from his shirt and lap. Spencer would have been pleased to see that his clothing once again covered all the skin it should, were she still there. "I don't think I asked you that yet."
Ed’s laugh was a little giggly. "The Department of Sanitation."
"Sanitation," he repeated slowly, mentally grasping for understanding.
Ed eyed his half eaten eclair, then shoved nearly all of it in his mouth in one huge bite. "Mhmgh."
Goshen watched Ed, staring at him intently now. "I'm starting to think you want me to seduce you."
Ed made a choked little noise before ducking his head to knuckle the smear of cream off the corner of his lip and slip it into his mouth. He took a drink of cocoa, and then explained, "I'm a garbageman."
Goshen put his empty cup on the edge of the coffee table before him, then smoothed both hands through his hair. "And why are you a garbageman?"
"It pays good money. It's steady work. And I can often find all kinds of neat junk sitting on the curb that people just throw away. Mostly because of that last reason. Otherwise it's kind of boring." His smile was slightly mischievous. He looked sideways at Goshen, and then slowly pushed the last bite of eclair into his mouth.
Goshen chuckled lightly as he stood up. "A treasure hunter. That's what you are." Stepping around the coffee table, he moved to stand next to Ed's seat and bent down to whisper in the boy's ear. When he’d finished, he smirked, and strolled away toward the door.
Some bit of that last bite caught in Ed’s throat and made him choke, or maybe it was what had been whispered to him. Ed blushed and hastily washed it down with the last gulp of cocoa from his mug, which he left behind. Then he stood up and followed Goshen out the door.
( Severely modified and edited from the Teas'n Tomes log dated 3/19. )
When the Cat's Away
Moderators: Mallory, Eri Maeda, Patrick
Re: When the Cat's Away
Monday. 3/20/17.
Old Temple West.
For the first time, Goshen was not already gone when he woke up, and that was only because Ed's alarm went off at five o'clock in the morning to ensure he had enough time to get to work. Breakfast consisted of a bowl of Lucky Charms lacking marshmallows; he had yet to buy a new box since Wednesday. Goshen politely declined his offer to join him, got himself dressed, and skipped out even before Ed did that morning.
Work was dull. Despite the fact that Howard had turned out to be an unexpected Ally, he and the older man had absolutely nothing in common to talk about. Though his wife had suddenly become an avid podracing fan since Trick got famous, that was absolutely the last thing Ed wanted to talk about that day. It was hard enough thinking about how far away Trick was. Every time he started, he also immediately thought about his sins, and that only made matters worse.
By the end of the day his thoughts had spiraled back to the very brief conversation he'd had with Spencer at the Teas'n Tomes the night before. She had asked him to tell Trick, next time they spoke, that Lucifer had destroyed his pillow and that she'd get him a new one. Why that was at all vital to tell him about ASAP, Ed had no idea. What seemed more urgent, in his opinion, was getting the girl a replacement for the charger she'd lost so that she could communicate with him herself. Why did he have to play messenger?
Instead of heading immediately home after work, Ed detoured to the nearest junkyard to dig around for a while. Salvaging was one of his favorite things to do. It allowed him to gather all kinds of random parts that could be Frankensteined into something useful. Inventing was an almost manic hobby of his, and he hardly ever spent enough time indulging himself.
The only thing of any worth he acquired that afternoon from the junkyard was an old slider cell phone with a QWERTY keyboard. It occurred to him that Spencer wasn't on the same phantom network as he and Trick and Mallory were, and he endeavored to remedy that problem sooner than tell his boyfriend about the pillow incident. In fact, by that point he had completely forgotten about the pillow.
He found a charger at a local thrift shop for both the phone and the tablet. When his pockets were lined with new trinkets and tools, he went back home, dumped his loot, and ordered some Chinese. Thankfully there was a local place that delivered.
Instead of finding a delivery person at his door when he opened it, Ed found the ever desirable presence of Goshen lying in wait. The older boy held a plastic bag brimming with take out containers in one hand and two pairs of chopsticks in the other.
"I persuaded him to give me a second set of chopsticks so we could share." There was that patented silken smile, so luxurious and rich. Ed felt all of his insides squirm with anticipation.
The most surprising discovery of this moment, to Ed, was that Goshen had pretty much admitted he actually ate food. Up until this point, he might have suspected the older boy was truthfully a robot in disguise after all. He didn't think the marshmallows from the Lucky Charms box and sugar cookies counted, and he couldn't at all recall seeing him eat anything else before. And while it was right on the tip of his tongue to blurt out something along those lines, he managed to rein it in with a clearing of his throat and a shuffling step back to allow him inside.
"Share. Yes. We can do that." He smiled, perhaps a little awkwardly, since a second ago he'd been gaping in surprise, and turned aside to make more room for Goshen's passing.
"Like I'd have given you a choice," Goshen said as he breezed into the room. Ed had a hard time telling whether the older male was teasing or not. He watched him carry the food to the little folding table and only after unpacking everything did he turn to say, more seriously this time, "You don't mind, do you? Are you busy?"
Ed smiled, relieved, and shook his head as he closed the door. "I don't mind. I hope you like lo mein, though There's chicken and vegetable, and pepper steak. I usually get enough for leftovers, but company's better." As he moved into the living area and over to the table, he added, "My only plans were to eat, watch a dumb movie while eating, and maybe work on a new project until Trick calls." He paused, considering the possibility of: "If he calls."
"You were going to eat out of the boxes, weren't you." Goshen accused. He looked askance at Ed, but soon his amber eyes crinkled at their edges as a smile effaced his teasingly skeptical expression.
"I'm not sure if I should answer that." Ed's eyes widened and his brows lifted. The answer was, in fact, yes, but he didn't want Goshen to think he was entirely uncivilized, for some reason. Lifting the first finger of both his hands, he slowly tilted them to point at the sink. "Leeeeeeeeeet me just wash a couple plates." He scooted sideways to do just that.
Goshen chuckled, hot on his heels to take up room in the kitchen as well. He leaned a hip against the counter beside the sink, one hand resting against the ledge in a reverse grip and the other curled around the back of his own neck. Since coming inside, he'd shed his red leather jacket and now stood provocatively before Ed in dark clothing that seemed to hug his every curve. The arms of his three quarter length sleeves were bunched up to the elbows.
"Hello," he greeted belatedly, offering a winning smile as a diversion from his apparent slip in etiquette.
Both Ed's subdued little giggle and sideways glance had a nervous quality about them. He had a hard time figuring Goshen out. The older boy was extremely, irresistibly attractive. There was no doubt about that, and he seemed to know that about himself. It took a considerable amount of willpower, Ed had to admit to himself, not to turn and press himself eagerly up against all that body on display. He may have gripped the washcloth a little too tightly while he scrubbed a pair of plates clean.
"Hi." Ed knew he was blushing. He could feel the heat in his cheeks. His shoulder angel pinched his ear and gave it a tug to force his concentration back on the dishes. He looked at them instead of Goshen, rinsed them, and dried them with a plain white towel. All the towels in his apartment were white and looked suspiciously like the sort found in hotel bathrooms. He handed one of the plates, once dry, to Goshen, and kept the other for himself, holding it almost like a protective shield.
"Did you find Freaks yet?" Goshen asked while purposely brushing past him. His shield had been useless, good-for-nothing. Hovering near the table, the older male looked back at him from over his shoulder questioningly. "Or are we watching something else?"
"N-no." Mentally stomping down on his skipping heart, Ed cleared his throat, gave himself a little shake, and tried again. "No, I haven't found Freaks yet. It's not exactly the easiest film to find."
"That's a shame," Goshen lamented, turning back around to face the table.
Detaching himself from the counter, Ed stepped over to join him at the table. "What kind of movies do you like?" he asked, eyeing him sideways with curiosity. His collection wasn't exactly immense, yet, but maybe he had something else Goshen might be interested in.
The boy's responding laugh was deep, and a little lofty. "I don't have a TV. By choice." The second part he added on after the briefest pause, and he glanced up from the open container of vegetable lo mein. "But I like Dramas. Any kind. Anything that portrays... realistic conflict. I lean toward more serious tones. They're... informative," he hedged.
Ed had picked up one paper-wrapped pair of chopsticks and brought it up toward his mouth, intent on biting the end off and slipping them out of their packaging, but he paused with them just shy of his lips to study Goshen quietly for a moment and absorb what he said. Though it was true that the older boy was impossibly, sexually appealing, that wasn't what Ed was looking at in that moment. He was looking deeper.
"I could see that about you," he decided. Ed smiled softly, not the least bit teasing. Though when he looked away, he joked, "So I guess an action adventure about a space alien who crash lands on earth and befriends a young boy is out of the question?"
"I'm not an alien," Goshen replied evenly, dumping more than half the carton onto his plate.
Ed laughed and gave him a playful shove of shoulder to shoulder. Goshen smirked, swaying gracefully back toward him to return the playful shove. Ed was smiling as he piled an equal measure of just about everything onto his own plate.
"I'm serious, though. We checked. I am human, believe it or not." Goshen swiped his pair of chopsticks from the table and wandered over to the couch to sit down without adding anything else to his plate, seemingly content with only a pile of vegetable lo mein.
Sticking his chopsticks into his own heap of food, Ed opened the fridge to grab a couple cans of grape soda. He stacked one atop the other, carefully balanced, and carried them over to the couch to join Goshen. As he set his plate and the drinks down on the floor, he added coffee table, or something to his mental list of things to acquire.
"I believe you," he told the older boy with a smile. "You smell human." With a wink, he tapped the side of his nose.
Goshen's eyes widened, alight with interest. "What other kinds of things can you smell about a person?"
"Oooooh. You know." With an expressive shrug, Ed turned aside and knelt down in front of his box of DVDs to dig around. "Usual, basic, emotional things like fear and, um..." His brain short-circuited on a translation there for a moment. Intent to mate was the immediate thought, but that whole biological process made him uncomfortable because of reasons.
"Arousal?" Goshen asked shamelessly.
Ed cleared his throat and exaggerated the up and down nod of his head. "Yes," he said. "That." His eyes refocused, and when he spotted the case for E.T., he grabbed it. After switching a few discs around and turning the television on, he backed up, carefully stepping over his food and soda, and flopped onto the couch next to Goshen.
"I can also smell when a person is sick," he added. "Especially that." Bending forward, Ed picked up his plate, and then he leaned back to set it on his lap. He was glad that Goshen didn't mind eating on the sofa instead of at a formal dining table.
"That would come in handy. I have to be in physical contact with a person to be able to sense that." Pausing to take a bite, Goshen chewed thoroughly and swallowed before continuing. "If I could smell those things, I wouldn't have to try to figure out body language. Social cues often elude me."
Suddenly, a lot about Goshen made much more sense. Ed's lips formed a twisted little smile, somewhat amused, as he dug the remote out of the couch cushions. A few clicks of a button sped them through the previews to the main menu, and he pressed play. Once that was accomplished, he lightly tossed the remote carelessly aside.
"It's not foolproof. I'm not always paying attention, or don't consciously link up a smell with a thought." He spared the video game cabinet an accusatory glance. Had he been actively acknowledging his improved olfactory senses at the time, he likely would have realized sooner that Goshen wanted to...
Intent to mate. Aka: arousal. Now that he was thinking about it, he was aware. The scent rolled over from one end of the couch to another. Ed's eyes widened slightly and he lifted his plate of food off his lap. Maybe if he held it closer to his nose and concentrated on eating, he could pretend he didn't know. He focused on the TV and the movie that was starting. Drawing up his legs, he tucked his feet up on the couch with him and balanced his plate on his knees while he ate.
But Goshen didn't make any attempt to seduce him at all while they ate. He was his usual hypnotic, beguiling self, of course, and when they were finished with their food, Goshen wound up with his arm draped around Ed's shoulders, but he never made a move.
For that, Ed was grateful. After a time, he even relaxed and nestled in against the older boy's side. This was nice. It wasn't snuggling on the couch with Patrick nice, nor was it quite like the heap of bodies he'd often get tangled in with his cousins. Not romantic, nor entirely familial. This was something else in between, pleasant in its own way, and he liked it.
Not long after the movie ended, his tablet alert went off to inform him he had an incoming call from Trick. He shared a smile with Goshen and quietly waved bye to him as he dove for the bed. The older boy let himself out without a word.
( Co-written with Goshen. )
Old Temple West.
For the first time, Goshen was not already gone when he woke up, and that was only because Ed's alarm went off at five o'clock in the morning to ensure he had enough time to get to work. Breakfast consisted of a bowl of Lucky Charms lacking marshmallows; he had yet to buy a new box since Wednesday. Goshen politely declined his offer to join him, got himself dressed, and skipped out even before Ed did that morning.
Work was dull. Despite the fact that Howard had turned out to be an unexpected Ally, he and the older man had absolutely nothing in common to talk about. Though his wife had suddenly become an avid podracing fan since Trick got famous, that was absolutely the last thing Ed wanted to talk about that day. It was hard enough thinking about how far away Trick was. Every time he started, he also immediately thought about his sins, and that only made matters worse.
By the end of the day his thoughts had spiraled back to the very brief conversation he'd had with Spencer at the Teas'n Tomes the night before. She had asked him to tell Trick, next time they spoke, that Lucifer had destroyed his pillow and that she'd get him a new one. Why that was at all vital to tell him about ASAP, Ed had no idea. What seemed more urgent, in his opinion, was getting the girl a replacement for the charger she'd lost so that she could communicate with him herself. Why did he have to play messenger?
Instead of heading immediately home after work, Ed detoured to the nearest junkyard to dig around for a while. Salvaging was one of his favorite things to do. It allowed him to gather all kinds of random parts that could be Frankensteined into something useful. Inventing was an almost manic hobby of his, and he hardly ever spent enough time indulging himself.
The only thing of any worth he acquired that afternoon from the junkyard was an old slider cell phone with a QWERTY keyboard. It occurred to him that Spencer wasn't on the same phantom network as he and Trick and Mallory were, and he endeavored to remedy that problem sooner than tell his boyfriend about the pillow incident. In fact, by that point he had completely forgotten about the pillow.
He found a charger at a local thrift shop for both the phone and the tablet. When his pockets were lined with new trinkets and tools, he went back home, dumped his loot, and ordered some Chinese. Thankfully there was a local place that delivered.
Instead of finding a delivery person at his door when he opened it, Ed found the ever desirable presence of Goshen lying in wait. The older boy held a plastic bag brimming with take out containers in one hand and two pairs of chopsticks in the other.
"I persuaded him to give me a second set of chopsticks so we could share." There was that patented silken smile, so luxurious and rich. Ed felt all of his insides squirm with anticipation.
The most surprising discovery of this moment, to Ed, was that Goshen had pretty much admitted he actually ate food. Up until this point, he might have suspected the older boy was truthfully a robot in disguise after all. He didn't think the marshmallows from the Lucky Charms box and sugar cookies counted, and he couldn't at all recall seeing him eat anything else before. And while it was right on the tip of his tongue to blurt out something along those lines, he managed to rein it in with a clearing of his throat and a shuffling step back to allow him inside.
"Share. Yes. We can do that." He smiled, perhaps a little awkwardly, since a second ago he'd been gaping in surprise, and turned aside to make more room for Goshen's passing.
"Like I'd have given you a choice," Goshen said as he breezed into the room. Ed had a hard time telling whether the older male was teasing or not. He watched him carry the food to the little folding table and only after unpacking everything did he turn to say, more seriously this time, "You don't mind, do you? Are you busy?"
Ed smiled, relieved, and shook his head as he closed the door. "I don't mind. I hope you like lo mein, though There's chicken and vegetable, and pepper steak. I usually get enough for leftovers, but company's better." As he moved into the living area and over to the table, he added, "My only plans were to eat, watch a dumb movie while eating, and maybe work on a new project until Trick calls." He paused, considering the possibility of: "If he calls."
"You were going to eat out of the boxes, weren't you." Goshen accused. He looked askance at Ed, but soon his amber eyes crinkled at their edges as a smile effaced his teasingly skeptical expression.
"I'm not sure if I should answer that." Ed's eyes widened and his brows lifted. The answer was, in fact, yes, but he didn't want Goshen to think he was entirely uncivilized, for some reason. Lifting the first finger of both his hands, he slowly tilted them to point at the sink. "Leeeeeeeeeet me just wash a couple plates." He scooted sideways to do just that.
Goshen chuckled, hot on his heels to take up room in the kitchen as well. He leaned a hip against the counter beside the sink, one hand resting against the ledge in a reverse grip and the other curled around the back of his own neck. Since coming inside, he'd shed his red leather jacket and now stood provocatively before Ed in dark clothing that seemed to hug his every curve. The arms of his three quarter length sleeves were bunched up to the elbows.
"Hello," he greeted belatedly, offering a winning smile as a diversion from his apparent slip in etiquette.
Both Ed's subdued little giggle and sideways glance had a nervous quality about them. He had a hard time figuring Goshen out. The older boy was extremely, irresistibly attractive. There was no doubt about that, and he seemed to know that about himself. It took a considerable amount of willpower, Ed had to admit to himself, not to turn and press himself eagerly up against all that body on display. He may have gripped the washcloth a little too tightly while he scrubbed a pair of plates clean.
"Hi." Ed knew he was blushing. He could feel the heat in his cheeks. His shoulder angel pinched his ear and gave it a tug to force his concentration back on the dishes. He looked at them instead of Goshen, rinsed them, and dried them with a plain white towel. All the towels in his apartment were white and looked suspiciously like the sort found in hotel bathrooms. He handed one of the plates, once dry, to Goshen, and kept the other for himself, holding it almost like a protective shield.
"Did you find Freaks yet?" Goshen asked while purposely brushing past him. His shield had been useless, good-for-nothing. Hovering near the table, the older male looked back at him from over his shoulder questioningly. "Or are we watching something else?"
"N-no." Mentally stomping down on his skipping heart, Ed cleared his throat, gave himself a little shake, and tried again. "No, I haven't found Freaks yet. It's not exactly the easiest film to find."
"That's a shame," Goshen lamented, turning back around to face the table.
Detaching himself from the counter, Ed stepped over to join him at the table. "What kind of movies do you like?" he asked, eyeing him sideways with curiosity. His collection wasn't exactly immense, yet, but maybe he had something else Goshen might be interested in.
The boy's responding laugh was deep, and a little lofty. "I don't have a TV. By choice." The second part he added on after the briefest pause, and he glanced up from the open container of vegetable lo mein. "But I like Dramas. Any kind. Anything that portrays... realistic conflict. I lean toward more serious tones. They're... informative," he hedged.
Ed had picked up one paper-wrapped pair of chopsticks and brought it up toward his mouth, intent on biting the end off and slipping them out of their packaging, but he paused with them just shy of his lips to study Goshen quietly for a moment and absorb what he said. Though it was true that the older boy was impossibly, sexually appealing, that wasn't what Ed was looking at in that moment. He was looking deeper.
"I could see that about you," he decided. Ed smiled softly, not the least bit teasing. Though when he looked away, he joked, "So I guess an action adventure about a space alien who crash lands on earth and befriends a young boy is out of the question?"
"I'm not an alien," Goshen replied evenly, dumping more than half the carton onto his plate.
Ed laughed and gave him a playful shove of shoulder to shoulder. Goshen smirked, swaying gracefully back toward him to return the playful shove. Ed was smiling as he piled an equal measure of just about everything onto his own plate.
"I'm serious, though. We checked. I am human, believe it or not." Goshen swiped his pair of chopsticks from the table and wandered over to the couch to sit down without adding anything else to his plate, seemingly content with only a pile of vegetable lo mein.
Sticking his chopsticks into his own heap of food, Ed opened the fridge to grab a couple cans of grape soda. He stacked one atop the other, carefully balanced, and carried them over to the couch to join Goshen. As he set his plate and the drinks down on the floor, he added coffee table, or something to his mental list of things to acquire.
"I believe you," he told the older boy with a smile. "You smell human." With a wink, he tapped the side of his nose.
Goshen's eyes widened, alight with interest. "What other kinds of things can you smell about a person?"
"Oooooh. You know." With an expressive shrug, Ed turned aside and knelt down in front of his box of DVDs to dig around. "Usual, basic, emotional things like fear and, um..." His brain short-circuited on a translation there for a moment. Intent to mate was the immediate thought, but that whole biological process made him uncomfortable because of reasons.
"Arousal?" Goshen asked shamelessly.
Ed cleared his throat and exaggerated the up and down nod of his head. "Yes," he said. "That." His eyes refocused, and when he spotted the case for E.T., he grabbed it. After switching a few discs around and turning the television on, he backed up, carefully stepping over his food and soda, and flopped onto the couch next to Goshen.
"I can also smell when a person is sick," he added. "Especially that." Bending forward, Ed picked up his plate, and then he leaned back to set it on his lap. He was glad that Goshen didn't mind eating on the sofa instead of at a formal dining table.
"That would come in handy. I have to be in physical contact with a person to be able to sense that." Pausing to take a bite, Goshen chewed thoroughly and swallowed before continuing. "If I could smell those things, I wouldn't have to try to figure out body language. Social cues often elude me."
Suddenly, a lot about Goshen made much more sense. Ed's lips formed a twisted little smile, somewhat amused, as he dug the remote out of the couch cushions. A few clicks of a button sped them through the previews to the main menu, and he pressed play. Once that was accomplished, he lightly tossed the remote carelessly aside.
"It's not foolproof. I'm not always paying attention, or don't consciously link up a smell with a thought." He spared the video game cabinet an accusatory glance. Had he been actively acknowledging his improved olfactory senses at the time, he likely would have realized sooner that Goshen wanted to...
Intent to mate. Aka: arousal. Now that he was thinking about it, he was aware. The scent rolled over from one end of the couch to another. Ed's eyes widened slightly and he lifted his plate of food off his lap. Maybe if he held it closer to his nose and concentrated on eating, he could pretend he didn't know. He focused on the TV and the movie that was starting. Drawing up his legs, he tucked his feet up on the couch with him and balanced his plate on his knees while he ate.
But Goshen didn't make any attempt to seduce him at all while they ate. He was his usual hypnotic, beguiling self, of course, and when they were finished with their food, Goshen wound up with his arm draped around Ed's shoulders, but he never made a move.
For that, Ed was grateful. After a time, he even relaxed and nestled in against the older boy's side. This was nice. It wasn't snuggling on the couch with Patrick nice, nor was it quite like the heap of bodies he'd often get tangled in with his cousins. Not romantic, nor entirely familial. This was something else in between, pleasant in its own way, and he liked it.
Not long after the movie ended, his tablet alert went off to inform him he had an incoming call from Trick. He shared a smile with Goshen and quietly waved bye to him as he dove for the bed. The older boy let himself out without a word.
( Co-written with Goshen. )
Re: When the Cat's Away
Tuesday. 3/21/17.
Around Town.
When the door opened, Goshen's hand was still raised, hovering mid-air and poised to knock. The sleeve of the leather motorcycle jacket he wore had slipped down far enough to show off an expensive-looking, shiny watch with a large face. It was pitch black outside, but apparently that hadn't stopped him from donning a pair of sunglasses -- black to match his jacket, jeans, and boots.
"I've come to rescue you." Goshen dropped his hand and flashed an enticing smile meant to lure Ed away from whatever it was he was doing.
It worked. At the sight of him, Ed instantly forgot the scattered cell phone parts he'd left behind on the tray table he used as a desk beside his bed. Having not planned on going out, he was considerably under dressed in comparison, wearing only a pair of ratty old jeans and a white t-shirt with idk google it printed in black on the chest. He had on a pair of colorful socks, as well, but all his socks were.
"Um." The sudden switch on of Ed's libido stole his words away. He was starting to suspect Goshen was an incubus in disguise. A very, very tempting devil decked out in delicious leather. His mouth might have been hanging open. His pupils certainly dilated.
"Um is right," said Goshen. He peered down the length of Ed's body. A slender finger tugged the glasses down his nose so he could saddle the other boy with the full weight of his gaze. But before he could criticize his choice in clothing, he noted Ed's open mouth. The speculative expression planed out into superior satisfaction. "If you leave your mouth open like that much longer, I'll be compelled to fill it."
Ed shut his mouth immediately, gulping quietly as he forced himself to look away. He turned aside to look at anything, anything at all, other than Goshen. He could see the toilet from where he was standing. He supposed that was sufficiently unattractive, but it did very little to stifle the raging flood of desire that was sweeping through his body and mind. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, fidgeting. What was it Goshen had said?
"R-rescue me?" he asked, for the sake of clarification. He figured that meant they were leaving. "Should I change?" He stole a glance aside, his gaze landing briefly below the waist, and hastily looked the other way again. He stepped back into his apartment so he could look over at the foot locker across the room, then eyed the coat he had tossed over the back of his desk chair. With a little more space between himself and Goshen, he felt safe looking back at him, questioningly.
"That depends on where we end up." Goshen sank into a lean against the door frame, not inviting himself inside for once. Yet. "I wasn't sure if you were tethered to the wall by that tablet of yours." He gestured in the direction of the bed where he'd last seen the tablet Ed used to talk to Trick. Whether or not it was still there was inconsequential. "If you're still waiting for him to call you, I can go find something else to do tonight."
An unexpected surge of anger washed through him, pulling his brows together with a frown. Ed turned his back on the other boy and scratched his head. "I'm not tethered to it," he muttered bitterly, rising to the bait. Just to prove it to him, he crossed the room to snatch his military jacket up off the chair and threw it on. He jammed his hands in and out of his coat pockets to make sure his keys, cigarettes, and lighter were all on hand and then stepped into his boots because they were the easiest footwear to don in haste.
"I can't be out too late," he grumbled as he brushed by Goshen and out the door. "I do have to work tomorrow." He strode up the stairs, lighting a cigarette, and left it to the other boy to close the door to his apartment for him. Never mind locking it. Anyone who wanted to get in knew how anyway.
An amused chuckle of pure delight bubbled out of Goshen as Ed swept past him. Who knew it was so easy to rile the boy up? He closed the door and climbed the steps unhurriedly, in absolutely no rush whatsoever to catch up to Ed. Outside, he pushed the sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose and then tucked his hands away in his pockets.
"We'd better hurry, then. New Haven's a bit of a hike from here."
"What's in New Haven?" Ed asked the obvious. He was waiting on the curb, scuffing his feet impatiently. He looked up and down the street for any signs of vehicular life that were begging to be stolen, but his street was pretty barren. He made a mental note to, again, look into getting himself a car of some sort.
"My house," Goshen replied smoothly.
Ed looked sharply back at the other boy, suddenly, and raised his brows. He was definitely curious and definitely interested and definitely felt like maybe he should have changed clothes. He stuck to his dignity, however, and did not dart back inside to remedy that.
Goshen's eyebrows raised, too, visible over the frames of the sunglasses. "Don't give me that look! You're the one who didn't change."
Sniffing indignantly, Ed said, "You said it depends. You should've said yes. Too late now." He uprooted himself from the sidewalk and swayed into step to start the long walk north.
"I should push your buttons more often," Goshen mused.
Ed's only response to that was, "Hmph." He kept on walking, and smoking his cigarette.
"Tell me something." Long legs made it easy for Goshen to catch up to Ed without having to hurry. He fell into step beside the boy, matching the length of his stride so they could walk together. "Are you going to introduce me to your boyfriend when he comes home? Or will our friendship be another bullet point on our list of secrets?"
"Do you want to meet him?" Ed looked sideways at Goshen, eyes a little wide and brows again high. If not for the calming chemicals of his cigarette, he felt he might have started hyperventilating in a panic at the thought. Would they be able to keep their secret if they met? Ed still wasn't sure how well he was concealing his guilt, but Spencer hadn't threatened to neuter him and Mallory hadn't hexed him, to the best of his knowledge, so he figured things were going all right so far.
The alignment of Goshen's mouth was more wry than neutral after hearing Ed's answer. "No, I don't have to. I was simply curious."
"You've met Mal and you've met Spencer," Ed mused. "It'd be weird if I didn't introduce you to him." Suspicious, even, but Goshen interrupted him before he could add that much.
"You'd be surprised." He exhaled an amused breath through his nose, glancing aside at Ed's face. "Most people chicken out."
"What do you mean by that?" Ed's brows crashed together again as he looked sideways at the other boy.
Goshen didn't have an answer ready and waiting on the tip of his tongue for once. He slowly tore his gaze away from Ed's face to stare ahead in the direction they were moving. "Guilt, I've found, is incredibly corrosive. It's easier to keep a secret from someone when you don't have to watch that secret look them in the eye."
Ed's boots scuffed on gravel and pavement as he came to an abrupt stop. He was frowning severely. His cigarette had reached its end. Instead of lighting a fresh one from its embers, he flicked the butt into the nearest sewer grate. Goshen walked a few more steps before also drawing to a stop, but he didn't turn around. The fact that the other boy didn't turn to look at him aggravated him even more. Ed tucked his fists into his armpits, arms crossed tight over his chest, until he started talking, at which point he was gesticulating wildly.
'So what do you want me to do? Pretend I don't know you? That's dumb. People have already seen me with you. People who Trick calls family. You don't think they won't think it strangely suspicious that all of a sudden I'm acting like you don't exist? Plus, I did tell Trick I was taking you to the arcade. I'm pretty sure I mentioned you by name. What happens if we happen to be in the same place at the same time, and I'm pretending not to know you, and someone says your name across the room, he hears it and is all like, 'Oh hey, baby, isn't that the guy you stole the matchbook off of?'" Ed was a clever rat. He thought these sorts of things through.
The older boy didn't move at all or make a sound while Ed rattled off his well thought out argument until he made mention of the matchbook. Goshen pulled his hands out of his pockets. In the left he grasped a new matchbook and in the right was cradled the antique cigarette case. He turned partially toward Ed, but took his time in lighting up a joint and didn't answer until after he'd taken a nice, long drag to fill his lungs with smoke.
"I never said you should pretend not to know me."
"You said I should keep you secret. That's basically the same thing. 'Oh hi, Goshen.'" Ed waved at him and then turned to regard an imaginary body beside himself, which he voiced in an offset tone that was supposed to be Trick's. "'Who's that, baby? A friend of yours? Why don't you introduce us?'" And then in his own voice, he leaned back, touching his fingers to his chest with a playful batting of his lashes. "'Oh I can't do that, honey. He doesn't want to meet you.'" He looked back at Goshen with a frown. "Do you hear how that sounds?"
Goshen stared at Ed through the haze of smoke that all but clung to him. It helped to mask the indecision that flickered through the cracks in his stoic expression. "Well you sound like you have it all figured out. Nothing to worry about, then."
Ed gave a good sardonic laugh that was borderline hysterical and threw up his hands. "I don't!" His arms flapped back down swiftly and his hands slapped against his thighs. "I don't have anything figured out." Shaking his head, he turned aside and scrubbed at his eye. He was hoping to hide the fact that he was tearing up by pretending his eye was just itchy, but his voice quavered. "I've got a boyfriend I love very, very much who's very far away right now, and I miss him so much, and if he finds out what I did..." He hiccuped on a near sob.
"Stop. Just--stop." Goshen frowned, the grim countenance ill-fitting and out of place on ambrosial features. On the one hand, he wanted to turn his back on Ed to block out the sight and sound of his tears and on the other, a hand he found weighted more heavily than the first, he found he wanted to do whatever he could to stop the tidal wave of emotion currently wrecking the boy in front of him. He swallowed audibly after finishing the last dregs of the joint, tossing what little was left into a puddle by his boot.
"I can make this really easy." Goshen smiled at Ed encouragingly. "Go home. Talk to your boyfriend. You only have to miss him for a few days longer. As I said before, I can keep a secret. No one will ever hear about it from me."
Hugging himself where he stood, Ed sniffled and nodded. He was looking down at the street. He rubbed a finger under his nose and kicked a pebble. It did sound easy. All he had to do was turn around and walk the other way, head back to Old Temple.
When Ed did not indicate that he was going to do as he was told, Goshen prompted him again. "If you hurry up, you probably won't even miss his call."
Ed looked up with his big wet eyes and pouty face and asked, "Will you come back?" An echo from a week ago exactly. Since he didn't know yet where Goshen lived, he couldn't go knocking on his door when he wanted to hang out.
Goshen's smile twisted into something sharp, acerbic. How had he managed to do this to himself, he wondered. A conversation he'd started because he didn't want to lose an almost-friend was ending with him making that choice himself. Still holding the matchbook in one hand, Goshen fiddled with that for a moment while staring down at it. What options were left to him now that he'd backed himself into such a corner?
"Are you sure you even want me to?" He took a step toward Ed while pocketing the matchbook. "Because... I like you, and I do what I want, when I want. I'll keep fucking you if you let me."
"Is that all I am to you?" Ed did not back away, but he had the look of a wounded animal about him. Not for the first time he was wondering if Goshen was only using him for sex. "Is that all you want from me? What if I don't let you anymore?" Not that he felt he had the willpower to resist Goshen if he made his moves, like he did, but he could pretend he was strong in the moment.
As though he were a predator finding weakness in his prey, Goshen leapt upon the words to call Ed's bluff. He made his move, like he did, and closed the distance between them. "Won't let me?" he questioned, deep voice so low it was almost a whisper. A fine-boned hand curled around the back of Ed's neck. The other grabbed up a fistful of the boy's jacket at his chest. "You're practically screaming for it." The fingers at his neck flexed as a reminder that his own body gave him away.
And it did. Ed's breath caught with a gasp. His hands found their way to Goshen's hips all on their own, automatically. His heart thundered with the quickening of his pulse. His finely crafted facade of resistance crumbled to so much dust. He trembled with desire. He hungered for what this boy could do to him, like the worst kind of addiction of all.
Goshen thought about kissing him. His eyes dipped down to the boy's wanting mouth more than once, but ultimately resolved to let him go, doing so with a little push that would ensure Ed's letting him go, too. The boy's hands brushed over his coat as he was forced into a step back, hastily grabbed the lapels of his own jacket to tug them securely across his chest with the tiniest mewl of protest. The rejection made him shiver too, like being doused in icy cold water.
"Your avidity is intoxicating." Goshen's tone was well-nigh disgusted, though whether it was directed at Ed or himself was unclear. "But that isn't all I want from you."
That answer made Ed smile cautiously. An ounce of relief dropped down on his aching heart. The thought of possibly losing a new friend had hurt him deeply. Knowing that Goshen, at least, could control himself was somewhat soothing. He rocked back a step closer and slipped his arms around the other boy's midsection to hug him tightly, face turned away and ear to his shoulder. Goshen stiffened minutely, careful to avoid skin-to-skin contact. Ed held the embrace for a five count, and then backed out of it.
"I hate goodbyes," Ed muttered with a pout. He'd slipped his cigarette pack out of his pocket and turned it end over end between his fingers. "This feels like a goodbye." He looked down sadly, chewing on his lip.
The sunglasses hid the fact that Goshen's smile did not reach his eyes. "This was fun, wasn't it?"
Ed's laugh was breathy, mirthless, and short. "Yeah," he whispered, nodding. His head was still bobbing when he slipped a cigarette from the pack and stuck it between his lips. As he tucked the pack back into his coat, he turned to walk away, back to Old Temple. He didn't light his cigarette until he was a block away. He only cried a little bit on his way home.
And it wasn't until he'd gotten there, safe inside, that he slipped Goshen's shiny brass cigarette case out of his pocket and admired it with a sinful smile.
( Co-written with Goshen. )
Around Town.
When the door opened, Goshen's hand was still raised, hovering mid-air and poised to knock. The sleeve of the leather motorcycle jacket he wore had slipped down far enough to show off an expensive-looking, shiny watch with a large face. It was pitch black outside, but apparently that hadn't stopped him from donning a pair of sunglasses -- black to match his jacket, jeans, and boots.
"I've come to rescue you." Goshen dropped his hand and flashed an enticing smile meant to lure Ed away from whatever it was he was doing.
It worked. At the sight of him, Ed instantly forgot the scattered cell phone parts he'd left behind on the tray table he used as a desk beside his bed. Having not planned on going out, he was considerably under dressed in comparison, wearing only a pair of ratty old jeans and a white t-shirt with idk google it printed in black on the chest. He had on a pair of colorful socks, as well, but all his socks were.
"Um." The sudden switch on of Ed's libido stole his words away. He was starting to suspect Goshen was an incubus in disguise. A very, very tempting devil decked out in delicious leather. His mouth might have been hanging open. His pupils certainly dilated.
"Um is right," said Goshen. He peered down the length of Ed's body. A slender finger tugged the glasses down his nose so he could saddle the other boy with the full weight of his gaze. But before he could criticize his choice in clothing, he noted Ed's open mouth. The speculative expression planed out into superior satisfaction. "If you leave your mouth open like that much longer, I'll be compelled to fill it."
Ed shut his mouth immediately, gulping quietly as he forced himself to look away. He turned aside to look at anything, anything at all, other than Goshen. He could see the toilet from where he was standing. He supposed that was sufficiently unattractive, but it did very little to stifle the raging flood of desire that was sweeping through his body and mind. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, fidgeting. What was it Goshen had said?
"R-rescue me?" he asked, for the sake of clarification. He figured that meant they were leaving. "Should I change?" He stole a glance aside, his gaze landing briefly below the waist, and hastily looked the other way again. He stepped back into his apartment so he could look over at the foot locker across the room, then eyed the coat he had tossed over the back of his desk chair. With a little more space between himself and Goshen, he felt safe looking back at him, questioningly.
"That depends on where we end up." Goshen sank into a lean against the door frame, not inviting himself inside for once. Yet. "I wasn't sure if you were tethered to the wall by that tablet of yours." He gestured in the direction of the bed where he'd last seen the tablet Ed used to talk to Trick. Whether or not it was still there was inconsequential. "If you're still waiting for him to call you, I can go find something else to do tonight."
An unexpected surge of anger washed through him, pulling his brows together with a frown. Ed turned his back on the other boy and scratched his head. "I'm not tethered to it," he muttered bitterly, rising to the bait. Just to prove it to him, he crossed the room to snatch his military jacket up off the chair and threw it on. He jammed his hands in and out of his coat pockets to make sure his keys, cigarettes, and lighter were all on hand and then stepped into his boots because they were the easiest footwear to don in haste.
"I can't be out too late," he grumbled as he brushed by Goshen and out the door. "I do have to work tomorrow." He strode up the stairs, lighting a cigarette, and left it to the other boy to close the door to his apartment for him. Never mind locking it. Anyone who wanted to get in knew how anyway.
An amused chuckle of pure delight bubbled out of Goshen as Ed swept past him. Who knew it was so easy to rile the boy up? He closed the door and climbed the steps unhurriedly, in absolutely no rush whatsoever to catch up to Ed. Outside, he pushed the sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose and then tucked his hands away in his pockets.
"We'd better hurry, then. New Haven's a bit of a hike from here."
"What's in New Haven?" Ed asked the obvious. He was waiting on the curb, scuffing his feet impatiently. He looked up and down the street for any signs of vehicular life that were begging to be stolen, but his street was pretty barren. He made a mental note to, again, look into getting himself a car of some sort.
"My house," Goshen replied smoothly.
Ed looked sharply back at the other boy, suddenly, and raised his brows. He was definitely curious and definitely interested and definitely felt like maybe he should have changed clothes. He stuck to his dignity, however, and did not dart back inside to remedy that.
Goshen's eyebrows raised, too, visible over the frames of the sunglasses. "Don't give me that look! You're the one who didn't change."
Sniffing indignantly, Ed said, "You said it depends. You should've said yes. Too late now." He uprooted himself from the sidewalk and swayed into step to start the long walk north.
"I should push your buttons more often," Goshen mused.
Ed's only response to that was, "Hmph." He kept on walking, and smoking his cigarette.
"Tell me something." Long legs made it easy for Goshen to catch up to Ed without having to hurry. He fell into step beside the boy, matching the length of his stride so they could walk together. "Are you going to introduce me to your boyfriend when he comes home? Or will our friendship be another bullet point on our list of secrets?"
"Do you want to meet him?" Ed looked sideways at Goshen, eyes a little wide and brows again high. If not for the calming chemicals of his cigarette, he felt he might have started hyperventilating in a panic at the thought. Would they be able to keep their secret if they met? Ed still wasn't sure how well he was concealing his guilt, but Spencer hadn't threatened to neuter him and Mallory hadn't hexed him, to the best of his knowledge, so he figured things were going all right so far.
The alignment of Goshen's mouth was more wry than neutral after hearing Ed's answer. "No, I don't have to. I was simply curious."
"You've met Mal and you've met Spencer," Ed mused. "It'd be weird if I didn't introduce you to him." Suspicious, even, but Goshen interrupted him before he could add that much.
"You'd be surprised." He exhaled an amused breath through his nose, glancing aside at Ed's face. "Most people chicken out."
"What do you mean by that?" Ed's brows crashed together again as he looked sideways at the other boy.
Goshen didn't have an answer ready and waiting on the tip of his tongue for once. He slowly tore his gaze away from Ed's face to stare ahead in the direction they were moving. "Guilt, I've found, is incredibly corrosive. It's easier to keep a secret from someone when you don't have to watch that secret look them in the eye."
Ed's boots scuffed on gravel and pavement as he came to an abrupt stop. He was frowning severely. His cigarette had reached its end. Instead of lighting a fresh one from its embers, he flicked the butt into the nearest sewer grate. Goshen walked a few more steps before also drawing to a stop, but he didn't turn around. The fact that the other boy didn't turn to look at him aggravated him even more. Ed tucked his fists into his armpits, arms crossed tight over his chest, until he started talking, at which point he was gesticulating wildly.
'So what do you want me to do? Pretend I don't know you? That's dumb. People have already seen me with you. People who Trick calls family. You don't think they won't think it strangely suspicious that all of a sudden I'm acting like you don't exist? Plus, I did tell Trick I was taking you to the arcade. I'm pretty sure I mentioned you by name. What happens if we happen to be in the same place at the same time, and I'm pretending not to know you, and someone says your name across the room, he hears it and is all like, 'Oh hey, baby, isn't that the guy you stole the matchbook off of?'" Ed was a clever rat. He thought these sorts of things through.
The older boy didn't move at all or make a sound while Ed rattled off his well thought out argument until he made mention of the matchbook. Goshen pulled his hands out of his pockets. In the left he grasped a new matchbook and in the right was cradled the antique cigarette case. He turned partially toward Ed, but took his time in lighting up a joint and didn't answer until after he'd taken a nice, long drag to fill his lungs with smoke.
"I never said you should pretend not to know me."
"You said I should keep you secret. That's basically the same thing. 'Oh hi, Goshen.'" Ed waved at him and then turned to regard an imaginary body beside himself, which he voiced in an offset tone that was supposed to be Trick's. "'Who's that, baby? A friend of yours? Why don't you introduce us?'" And then in his own voice, he leaned back, touching his fingers to his chest with a playful batting of his lashes. "'Oh I can't do that, honey. He doesn't want to meet you.'" He looked back at Goshen with a frown. "Do you hear how that sounds?"
Goshen stared at Ed through the haze of smoke that all but clung to him. It helped to mask the indecision that flickered through the cracks in his stoic expression. "Well you sound like you have it all figured out. Nothing to worry about, then."
Ed gave a good sardonic laugh that was borderline hysterical and threw up his hands. "I don't!" His arms flapped back down swiftly and his hands slapped against his thighs. "I don't have anything figured out." Shaking his head, he turned aside and scrubbed at his eye. He was hoping to hide the fact that he was tearing up by pretending his eye was just itchy, but his voice quavered. "I've got a boyfriend I love very, very much who's very far away right now, and I miss him so much, and if he finds out what I did..." He hiccuped on a near sob.
"Stop. Just--stop." Goshen frowned, the grim countenance ill-fitting and out of place on ambrosial features. On the one hand, he wanted to turn his back on Ed to block out the sight and sound of his tears and on the other, a hand he found weighted more heavily than the first, he found he wanted to do whatever he could to stop the tidal wave of emotion currently wrecking the boy in front of him. He swallowed audibly after finishing the last dregs of the joint, tossing what little was left into a puddle by his boot.
"I can make this really easy." Goshen smiled at Ed encouragingly. "Go home. Talk to your boyfriend. You only have to miss him for a few days longer. As I said before, I can keep a secret. No one will ever hear about it from me."
Hugging himself where he stood, Ed sniffled and nodded. He was looking down at the street. He rubbed a finger under his nose and kicked a pebble. It did sound easy. All he had to do was turn around and walk the other way, head back to Old Temple.
When Ed did not indicate that he was going to do as he was told, Goshen prompted him again. "If you hurry up, you probably won't even miss his call."
Ed looked up with his big wet eyes and pouty face and asked, "Will you come back?" An echo from a week ago exactly. Since he didn't know yet where Goshen lived, he couldn't go knocking on his door when he wanted to hang out.
Goshen's smile twisted into something sharp, acerbic. How had he managed to do this to himself, he wondered. A conversation he'd started because he didn't want to lose an almost-friend was ending with him making that choice himself. Still holding the matchbook in one hand, Goshen fiddled with that for a moment while staring down at it. What options were left to him now that he'd backed himself into such a corner?
"Are you sure you even want me to?" He took a step toward Ed while pocketing the matchbook. "Because... I like you, and I do what I want, when I want. I'll keep fucking you if you let me."
"Is that all I am to you?" Ed did not back away, but he had the look of a wounded animal about him. Not for the first time he was wondering if Goshen was only using him for sex. "Is that all you want from me? What if I don't let you anymore?" Not that he felt he had the willpower to resist Goshen if he made his moves, like he did, but he could pretend he was strong in the moment.
As though he were a predator finding weakness in his prey, Goshen leapt upon the words to call Ed's bluff. He made his move, like he did, and closed the distance between them. "Won't let me?" he questioned, deep voice so low it was almost a whisper. A fine-boned hand curled around the back of Ed's neck. The other grabbed up a fistful of the boy's jacket at his chest. "You're practically screaming for it." The fingers at his neck flexed as a reminder that his own body gave him away.
And it did. Ed's breath caught with a gasp. His hands found their way to Goshen's hips all on their own, automatically. His heart thundered with the quickening of his pulse. His finely crafted facade of resistance crumbled to so much dust. He trembled with desire. He hungered for what this boy could do to him, like the worst kind of addiction of all.
Goshen thought about kissing him. His eyes dipped down to the boy's wanting mouth more than once, but ultimately resolved to let him go, doing so with a little push that would ensure Ed's letting him go, too. The boy's hands brushed over his coat as he was forced into a step back, hastily grabbed the lapels of his own jacket to tug them securely across his chest with the tiniest mewl of protest. The rejection made him shiver too, like being doused in icy cold water.
"Your avidity is intoxicating." Goshen's tone was well-nigh disgusted, though whether it was directed at Ed or himself was unclear. "But that isn't all I want from you."
That answer made Ed smile cautiously. An ounce of relief dropped down on his aching heart. The thought of possibly losing a new friend had hurt him deeply. Knowing that Goshen, at least, could control himself was somewhat soothing. He rocked back a step closer and slipped his arms around the other boy's midsection to hug him tightly, face turned away and ear to his shoulder. Goshen stiffened minutely, careful to avoid skin-to-skin contact. Ed held the embrace for a five count, and then backed out of it.
"I hate goodbyes," Ed muttered with a pout. He'd slipped his cigarette pack out of his pocket and turned it end over end between his fingers. "This feels like a goodbye." He looked down sadly, chewing on his lip.
The sunglasses hid the fact that Goshen's smile did not reach his eyes. "This was fun, wasn't it?"
Ed's laugh was breathy, mirthless, and short. "Yeah," he whispered, nodding. His head was still bobbing when he slipped a cigarette from the pack and stuck it between his lips. As he tucked the pack back into his coat, he turned to walk away, back to Old Temple. He didn't light his cigarette until he was a block away. He only cried a little bit on his way home.
And it wasn't until he'd gotten there, safe inside, that he slipped Goshen's shiny brass cigarette case out of his pocket and admired it with a sinful smile.
( Co-written with Goshen. )
Re: When the Cat's Away
Wednesday. 3/22/17.
Red Dragon Inn.
The very last thing Ed had wanted to do was stay home alone. Immediately after work, and after changing his clothes, he swung by Wayside to spend a little time playing games with Haley. Anything to keep his mind off what had felt strangely like a break up the night before. He thought maybe immersing himself in Trick's world again might make him feel better, but it only made him miss the other boy more. By dinnertime he left and didn't return, insisting Haley do her homework and get to bed on time for school in the morning.
His attire consisted mostly of blacks and grays, a reflection of his dour mood. His nails were painted pink, though, so he wasn't in a total funk. Just enough of one to have him aimlessly roaming the city with a lit cigarette pressed between his lips. In his hands were a small eyeglass screwdriver and a cracked open old cell phone. He was tampering with the device as he ascended the porch stairs of the Inn, but took a break to regard his surroundings as he opened the door and stepped inside.
Presently, there was a woman with green hair who looked as if she had been spilled into a booth, a blonde man about his own height, and a dark haired woman decked in black leather. He didn't recognize any of them, and that gave him pause. He leaned back out the door to reread the sign and make sure he had got the right place. Then he rocked back inside with a shrug to himself and turned up a smile. He waved with the hand he was holding the little screwdriver in. "Hi!" he called, as cheerful and all-encompassing as ever.
The blonde man had blue eyes, he noticed, when they flicked up to regard him quickly, but the glance was fleeting. The man turned his attention back on the woman in leather and resumed whatever conversation Ed had inadvertently interrupted by simply existing. The girl with the green hair, in the booth, was another matter entirely. He didn't recognize her at all, but she mustered up a smile for him anyway, and started talking to him with bizarre familiarity.
"Hey. I'm Mal's friend, Larkin. But I'm not feeling well now so I gotta go rest."
Inwardly, Ed was wracking his brain frantically to try to figure out when it was this girl might have possibly seen him, when and where. How did she know who he was, that he knew Mallory? Had they met before and he didn't remember? It was the weirdest circumstance!
Ed rambled nervously. "Oh. Okay. Hello, Mal's friend Larkin. Nice to meet you. Um. Bye?" That was the quickest meet'n greet he'd ever participated in. He definitely took a little longer to study the girl, but only above the shoulders. He wasn't much interested in the rest of her. "I'm... Ed," he added as a distracted afterthought, even though he got the sense she already knew that. How? He had no idea.
"Yeah I've ... been to your place," said the girl, which immediately amped up his paranoia. "Mal's been helping me with a project. Like... dead boyfriend thing, blah blah blah, you know how it goes." She waved off any further explanation that might have existed.
"Uh...." Ed's brows shot up as he stared at the girl. "My place?" He was fairly certain he would have known had she been at his place! This was alarming news. His eyes widened significantly. He actually did not know how it goes. The mention of dead boyfriends had him immediately worrying for Trick, which caused him to pale.
"Your place. Like... you all share it, right? Mal, and you two boys. Wait -- you are that guy, right? Or am I really **** up right now?" Even for possibly being out of her mind on drugs, it was alarming that somehow this girl had even recognized him at all. He certainly had no recollection of ever encountering her until this moment.
"Oh! Hahaha! Um. No." He shook his head, one finger lifted, and smiled now that he saw where the confusion was. "I'm Ed, Trick's boyfriend. He's the one who lives there. Not me. The other guy who lives there is Rob." Helpfully.
"Ooohhhh...." That did make more sense. "Gotcha. It was hard to tell what the **** was going on over there. I wasn't sure if it was a commune or a group love situation, but whatever. Mal's awesome, so you should feel good about living with her if you ever move in with the boyfriend. And Rob. Whoever the F that is."
Well she did a fine job of making his cheeks pink. "No, it's just... Just a bunch of friends who share a house together is all." He didn't think that was weird. What he did think was weird was the immediate assumptive jump to 'group love.' His eyes were still slightly wide. "Rob is Haley's brother. You know. The little girl who lives there too?" He slipped the cracked open cell phone in one pocket of his coat and the tiny screwdriver into one pocket of his black skinny jeans.
"Right." She didn't seem to know who Haley was. She seemed too confused to dig into the topic anymore. That, coupled with the fact that she was struggling to twist open her bottle of water, suggested it was time for her to go. "I swear I'm not a weirdo. I took too many of -- whatever. Anyway. NOT a weirdo."
Meanwhile, the blonde man had slipped out the back door after some other girl had made her way inside. Ed's lips twisted into an amused smile shortly before he giggled. "Okay." He gave an easy shrug as he scooted around to get himself behind the bar. By this time, he had finished his cigarette, having smoked between sentences, and now removed it from between his lips to crush out in an ashtray.
"Right." The green-haired girl nodded, content with that herself, before she shuffled back for the staircase. Along the way, she grabbed the bowl of nuts -- accidentally knocking it over at first. But she grabbed the now-half-full bowl and took it on her way up the stairs. Miraculously, and thanks to the bannister, she made it up and out of sight safely.
"Bye! Um. Rest well!" He thought she'd said something about needing rest, and as she was heading upstairs he assumed. Ed waved until he didn't see her anymore.
An elegant, patrician young man swept in through the front door, then, stealing almost all his attention. Goshen was wrapped snugly in a stylish, light gray double breasted trench coat, with a black and gray striped scarf tied about his neck. Dark slacks and dark shoes completed the ensemble. He was a little startled to see Goshen and probably stared longer than was proper. Why did he have to be so stylish?
The girl who had come in was at the bar, dressed in a pair of worn and not excessively weathered blue jeans, hiking boots, and a red and grey flannel long sleeved shirt. She had been smoothing out some sheets of paper she'd brought in with her. Or at least, she smoothed them out long enough to uncrumple them and then fold them up to a more reasonable size, such as one that would fit in a back pocket. Finally, she managed to spot the self service sign, but her shoulders sagged a little as she muttered a disgruntled note.
What had he come behind the bar for? Oh right soda. Ed shook himself out of a stupor and quickly turned about to rummage through the cooler, also probably longer than was necessary. He was doing a terrible job at hiding. The floral-patterned bomber jacket probably gave him right away. When he realized this, he finally picked a strawberry Fanta, stood up, and turned around. He eyed the girl with the papers, wondering if she was going to recruit him to play the part of bartender this evening, or if he could safely make a break for it.
Goshen's attention was on him, he noticed, and the girl at the bar. Despite recent events, his smile was as provocative as ever, on display for each of them to see.
Though the girl did look at Ed, she was clear to never meet his eyes and never stared long enough to imply a silent request. She seemed more concerned with pocketing her slips of paper and scanning the decor behind the bar. That is until she turned a look over her shoulder to the door and as a result at Goshen.
Slender fingers worked the buttons on his jacket, unhurried, taking his time in hanging his jacket on a peg by the door. Beneath the jacket he wore a crisp, white, long sleeve button-up. Goshen's gaze settled on the girl in particular, if only because she was looking his way. "Hello." His low, dulcet voice carried through the room, warm and inviting.
Ed gave the girl an encouraging smile before scooting sideways to get out from behind the counter himself. His gaze darted around a bit to take in the sights, but it always strayed back to Goshen. He waved a quiet, cautious hello to him before parking his butt on a chair at the first table he came across.
After a beat or two she remembered to try to smile, the expression seemed to come more naturally when she turned towards Ed. "Hi," she responded finally, probably to both of them.
He was not laughing at her expense, but the delayed reaction did make Ed giggle. "Hi." He gave Penny a little wave, too. His smile was nothing but friendly.
"Hello, Ed." Goshen greeted the boy as he crossed the room. Along the way, he worked at rolling his sleeves up past his elbows. "I take it no one's working tonight and we're to fend for ourselves."
"Hi, Goshen." His smile softened and he looked down, almost shyly. After picking a crumb off the table, he set down his soda can and cracked it open. When he looked back up, he nodded. "I think someone comes in later, but yeah."
"Is there even a cook on the clock?" asked the girl, reading the sign on the door that read KITCHEN.
"Um. I don't know." Ed folded one leg under his butt, boosting himself a little higher to see around the room. "I've seen people come out of there with loads of food sometimes, but I don't know if they're, like, officially employed or what."
Goshen wasted no time in placing himself behind the bar. He shook his head minutely in response to the girl, but gestured toward Ed to indicate him answering. "I can't cook," he said. "At all, I'm afraid. But I'll get you a drink while I'm back here if you'd like." Long legs carried him to the ice box where he proceeded to dig up an orange Fanta.
Ed couldn't help but smile at Goshen's drink choice, and the fact that he was offering to get the girl a drink as well. After eyeing his own can of strawberry Fanta, and taking the first slurping sip, he said, "I'm Ed, by the way." He introduced himself with a little wave.
The girl's nose wrinkled, her face scrunching up as she eyed the kitchen door. Her expression was in the process of smoothing over when she looked back at Goshen, but as he reached into the cooler she was already stepping away from the bar and shaking her head. "Thanks, but I'll just keep walking for a restaurant or food stand or something." She pressed a thumb square on her chest as she began to walk backwards toward the door. "Penny," she said in response to Ed's introduction.
Goshen's perfectly groomed eyebrows rose as he stared after Penny. "Suit yourself." He carried his drink with him over to where Ed was seated.
When she provided her name in turn, Ed smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Penny." Even though she was leaving. "Good luck in your search for sustenance!" He giggled and waved her goodbye.
Her smile returned, easier this time for both Ed and Goshen, until she turned an about face and stepped out the front door.
Goshen's amber eyes flickered in direction of the hearth. Some pieces of overheard conversation made his expression turn briefly sour, but then Penny was leaving and his attention shifted back to the woman's retreating form.
Ed twitched, a minor startled jump in his seat when he realized that Goshen had made his way closer. He recovered quickly with a somewhat bashful smile up at him, his gaze darting away before it could meet the young man's eyes, and quietly said, "Hi."
One of his hands lay against the back of the chair next to Ed. "Mind if I sit with you?" he asked, looking down at Ed's face, much more interested in him than anything else in the room.
Ed twitched again and looked up, brows high with surprise. Goshen's ever so charming voice caught and held his attention. He smiled and nodded stupidly, but then quickly shook his head. "No I don't mind. Yes, sit. Please." He turned over a hand to indicate the chair Goshen had already pretty much chosen.
Goshen smiled in response, as brilliant and bright as ever. As if the night before had never happened. But no amount of wishful thinking could undo what was done. That was why instead of pulling out the chair that was right next to Ed, Goshen took the one beside that. "How are you?"
Ed felt an ounce of disappointment that Goshen had chosen a different chair. He looked down at the soda can on the table in front of him, shrugged, and started plucking the tab. "Bored, mostly." He smiled crookedly and looked up through his lashes at the young man seated now across from him. "Well, I was. You?"
Once seated, Goshen crossed his legs, ankle to knee, and curled a hand over an ink black sock to lock it in place. With the other hand, he toyed with the can of soda by rubbing his thumb through the moisture it sweat, up and down its cylindrical body. Instead of answering, he asked another question. "Why are you bored? Or, rather, why were you?"
Pulling his foot out from underneath himself, Ed dropped it to the floor and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "My apartment's been depressingly empty for most of the week. It's so quiet -- except for Gauntlet." The twist of his lips was a sign he was trying to suppress the devious little smile that wanted to surface.
He looked away in time to spot Lirssa coming in, struggled with the automatic urge to wave, which he finally gave into and lifted his hand. Then he looked back at the middle of the table between himself and Goshen, getting back on topic and saying, "I can't stand it. I thought I'd stay in and work on Spencer's phone." He tugged the cracked open case with its exposed internal parts from his coat pocket and put it on the table. "I took it with me instead. Tinkered with it while I walked around, and here I am."
Lirssa's arrival drew a nod from Goshen. He was still looking in her direction by the time Ed finished his explanation. When his gaze returned to where they sat, it only touched on the pile of cell phone guts for a moment before lifting to consider the boy's face. "Not too much longer now. Though I'd suggest maybe making another friend or two before he goes away again. So you're not bored like this next time."
Ed hissed a breathy sort of giggle that bled into the word, "Yeah." His smile was toothy when he looked up and across the table at Goshen. The longer he studied the young man's face, the more his expression evened out into something more neutral, until it became something slightly sad. He looked down, drawing a deep breath in and letting it out, like a sigh. He was fiddling with the inside-out cell phone, he realized, and since he didn't plan on working on it right now that he had company, he slipped it back in his coat pocket.
"I usually have Tabitha. I'd even settle for my annoying cousins right about now. I don't know where they all went." He scratched his cheek and glanced at the door. "Mal and Spencer work all the time like me. I don't know if we're much hanging out friends yet either, in any case." He looked back at Goshen.
"Who's Tabitha?" Another question slid right off Goshen's tongue, rapid-fire. A distraction for Ed as much as it was to sate his own curiosity.
"Oh! Tabitha." He lit up at the mention of her. "She's my..." But he trailed off when he met Goshen's eyes. For the first time he fumbled with how to explain. The fact that Goshen knew what he was made things different. But he looked around, to see who might be listening, who might know otherwise. He'd brought her here before, and when he saw Mist coming inside he found his conclusive answer. Looking back at Goshen he said, "...rat. Friend." Slowly.
Goshen held Ed's gaze unwaveringly, his eyes burning brightly in their alacrity. His smile was alight with understanding by the time Ed finished. He gave a short, brisk nod that indicated Ed need say no more.
Ed then abruptly lifted his hand and waved, looking at the blond elf to say, "Hi, Mist!"
"Hello, Ed, hello Goshen," Mist offered with a touch of a smile and dip of his head. He settled at the bar. "Tabitha is lovely." He would have stolen her if he could, Ed knew. His attention turned on Lirssa, then, and he ordered himself a drink.
Then Thorn entered through the back alley door, barefoot and wearing that outfit she'd been wearing on the commercial Ed had seen. Though he smiled brightly at Mist's compliment toward Tabitha, when he realized what Thorn was wearing, his cheeks pinked. Then he waved at the corseted mad hatter bunny. "Hi, Thorn!" His eyes went a little wide and he looked away.
"Hello, Mist." Goshen smiled at the man. There was a nod for Thorn, too, since Ed had greeted her. "Hello." Finally, a slender finger bent at the knuckle, catching the tab of the soda can with a short, rounded nail. The can hissed as it was opened.
The hiss of Goshen's soda can being cracked open reminded him of his own strawberry Fanta. Ed lifted that for a drink. It took Goshen a moment, but he finally recognized who it was that was stuffed into the ostentatious rabbit costume. "Oh, that's the woman from the other night." Goshen's gaze lifted to Ed's face. He blinked, confused as to why the boy was blushing.
There was a sudden puff of lavender smoke over by the hearth that distracted him. Ed looked back at Goshen with a startled blink. "What other night?" His days and nights were blending together, or he was still daydreaming about tuxedo printed speedos.
"The night you fed her cigarettes and candy."
"Oh!" Ed giggled and nodded. "That's right. I did." He stole a glance Thorn's way and smiled. "She seems in a much better mood tonight." The mere mention of cigarettes had him fishing one out of his coat pocket now.
"Much better," Goshen agreed. His eyes stole toward the woman again, admiring the long plait down her back more than anything else. He took a moment to ogle Mist's hair again, then tipped his head back toward Ed just in time to watch the boy fish up a cigarette. That reminded him. "Speaking of cigarettes... you wouldn't by any chance happen to know what happened to my cigarette case, would you?"
Tucking the cigarette between his lips, Ed smiled pure mischief. There was a devious glint in his eye, and he giggled when he lit the cigarette. Before answering, he took a nice deep inhale of cancerous smoke, and exhaled across the table. It was too late to play innocent and lie about it, but he was definitely going to be cute. "Funny you should ask. I found it in my pocket when I got home. However, do you think, did it get there?"
"What?" Goshen gasped, his tone affecting absolute disbelief. "Why, I can't even fathom." And though his expression managed to maintain a certain amount of believability, his eyes glittered with suppressed mirth.
Restrained though it was, Ed could see it, and it was enough to make him giggle openly. Laughter was good. Laughter was what he needed to relax a whole heck of a lot in his chair. He wasn't playing footsie, but he scooted his shoe forward to bump the toe against Goshen's shoe, a playful kick. "One of your joints may have mysteriously vanished too," he told him with a crooked smile.
"I haven't cut my hair in a long while," he heard Mist muse aloud. Taking a handful of the soft blonde, the elf absently tossed it over his shoulder.
"Don't you dare cut your hair, Mist!" He had to pipe in. The very idea was horrifying!
"Oh, I only cut it if I have to, last time, half was cut off." Mist laughed softly, golden eyes widening morosely for a moment.
"That would be a shame," Goshen murmured aside to Mist. He rather liked the man's hair, though he'd never said as much until now. Then he sighed, playful disbelief melting into a tolerant expression of acquiescence in response to hearing Ed had filched one of his joints and smoked it. About his cigarette case, he asked, "Do you have it with you now? Or are you holding it hostage?"
"Goodness me. Hostage?" Ed giggled when he looked back at Goshen. "I hadn't thought of that. But I guess since I don't have it on me that must be the case. I left it at home. Which... I should probably be getting back there."
Ignoring the boy's intent to leave, Goshen saddled Ed with a speculative gaze and said, "You'd look great with long hair. Not everyone can pull it off without looking like a bitch." Frank as ever.
Ed coughed and raised his brows. "Me with long hair?" He blushed as much for the fact that Goshen had just used a filthy word as for being told he should grow his hair out.
Goshen sobered for all of half a second, a neat and barely there slip of his face. The silken, luxuriant smile was back in place almost immediately. He rose up from his chair, leaving the untouched (but open) can of soda on the table. A rich laugh rolled up from his lungs and out of his mouth. "Yes. You. Give your boyfriend something to hang onto." Goshen winked down at him before turning abruptly and heading for the door to collect his jacket. Apparently he was leaving.
The color in Ed's cheeks changed from pink to red, and his eyes went wide as saucers. Goshen had left him floundering, staring agape as he walked away from the table. The places his imagination went were unmentionable. After a moment, he tore his gaze away and sent it darting around the room. People were talking about spa treatments and hair removal, and he wasn't much interested.
Grabbing his own soda can, Ed jumped abruptly up off his seat, and then stopped to push in his chair. He fetched his messenger from his coat pocket to double check the time. Sure enough, he was right and he did have to go too. He wasn't just following Goshen out the door. "Night, everybody!" He waved to the crowd before heading on out himself.
Goshen watched Ed scoot out the door with a smile. He was still in the process of putting on his jacket and scarf, buttoning everything just so. That was the last Ed saw of him that night.
( Severely modified and edited from the Red Dragon Inn log dated 3/19. )
Red Dragon Inn.
The very last thing Ed had wanted to do was stay home alone. Immediately after work, and after changing his clothes, he swung by Wayside to spend a little time playing games with Haley. Anything to keep his mind off what had felt strangely like a break up the night before. He thought maybe immersing himself in Trick's world again might make him feel better, but it only made him miss the other boy more. By dinnertime he left and didn't return, insisting Haley do her homework and get to bed on time for school in the morning.
His attire consisted mostly of blacks and grays, a reflection of his dour mood. His nails were painted pink, though, so he wasn't in a total funk. Just enough of one to have him aimlessly roaming the city with a lit cigarette pressed between his lips. In his hands were a small eyeglass screwdriver and a cracked open old cell phone. He was tampering with the device as he ascended the porch stairs of the Inn, but took a break to regard his surroundings as he opened the door and stepped inside.
Presently, there was a woman with green hair who looked as if she had been spilled into a booth, a blonde man about his own height, and a dark haired woman decked in black leather. He didn't recognize any of them, and that gave him pause. He leaned back out the door to reread the sign and make sure he had got the right place. Then he rocked back inside with a shrug to himself and turned up a smile. He waved with the hand he was holding the little screwdriver in. "Hi!" he called, as cheerful and all-encompassing as ever.
The blonde man had blue eyes, he noticed, when they flicked up to regard him quickly, but the glance was fleeting. The man turned his attention back on the woman in leather and resumed whatever conversation Ed had inadvertently interrupted by simply existing. The girl with the green hair, in the booth, was another matter entirely. He didn't recognize her at all, but she mustered up a smile for him anyway, and started talking to him with bizarre familiarity.
"Hey. I'm Mal's friend, Larkin. But I'm not feeling well now so I gotta go rest."
Inwardly, Ed was wracking his brain frantically to try to figure out when it was this girl might have possibly seen him, when and where. How did she know who he was, that he knew Mallory? Had they met before and he didn't remember? It was the weirdest circumstance!
Ed rambled nervously. "Oh. Okay. Hello, Mal's friend Larkin. Nice to meet you. Um. Bye?" That was the quickest meet'n greet he'd ever participated in. He definitely took a little longer to study the girl, but only above the shoulders. He wasn't much interested in the rest of her. "I'm... Ed," he added as a distracted afterthought, even though he got the sense she already knew that. How? He had no idea.
"Yeah I've ... been to your place," said the girl, which immediately amped up his paranoia. "Mal's been helping me with a project. Like... dead boyfriend thing, blah blah blah, you know how it goes." She waved off any further explanation that might have existed.
"Uh...." Ed's brows shot up as he stared at the girl. "My place?" He was fairly certain he would have known had she been at his place! This was alarming news. His eyes widened significantly. He actually did not know how it goes. The mention of dead boyfriends had him immediately worrying for Trick, which caused him to pale.
"Your place. Like... you all share it, right? Mal, and you two boys. Wait -- you are that guy, right? Or am I really **** up right now?" Even for possibly being out of her mind on drugs, it was alarming that somehow this girl had even recognized him at all. He certainly had no recollection of ever encountering her until this moment.
"Oh! Hahaha! Um. No." He shook his head, one finger lifted, and smiled now that he saw where the confusion was. "I'm Ed, Trick's boyfriend. He's the one who lives there. Not me. The other guy who lives there is Rob." Helpfully.
"Ooohhhh...." That did make more sense. "Gotcha. It was hard to tell what the **** was going on over there. I wasn't sure if it was a commune or a group love situation, but whatever. Mal's awesome, so you should feel good about living with her if you ever move in with the boyfriend. And Rob. Whoever the F that is."
Well she did a fine job of making his cheeks pink. "No, it's just... Just a bunch of friends who share a house together is all." He didn't think that was weird. What he did think was weird was the immediate assumptive jump to 'group love.' His eyes were still slightly wide. "Rob is Haley's brother. You know. The little girl who lives there too?" He slipped the cracked open cell phone in one pocket of his coat and the tiny screwdriver into one pocket of his black skinny jeans.
"Right." She didn't seem to know who Haley was. She seemed too confused to dig into the topic anymore. That, coupled with the fact that she was struggling to twist open her bottle of water, suggested it was time for her to go. "I swear I'm not a weirdo. I took too many of -- whatever. Anyway. NOT a weirdo."
Meanwhile, the blonde man had slipped out the back door after some other girl had made her way inside. Ed's lips twisted into an amused smile shortly before he giggled. "Okay." He gave an easy shrug as he scooted around to get himself behind the bar. By this time, he had finished his cigarette, having smoked between sentences, and now removed it from between his lips to crush out in an ashtray.
"Right." The green-haired girl nodded, content with that herself, before she shuffled back for the staircase. Along the way, she grabbed the bowl of nuts -- accidentally knocking it over at first. But she grabbed the now-half-full bowl and took it on her way up the stairs. Miraculously, and thanks to the bannister, she made it up and out of sight safely.
"Bye! Um. Rest well!" He thought she'd said something about needing rest, and as she was heading upstairs he assumed. Ed waved until he didn't see her anymore.
An elegant, patrician young man swept in through the front door, then, stealing almost all his attention. Goshen was wrapped snugly in a stylish, light gray double breasted trench coat, with a black and gray striped scarf tied about his neck. Dark slacks and dark shoes completed the ensemble. He was a little startled to see Goshen and probably stared longer than was proper. Why did he have to be so stylish?
The girl who had come in was at the bar, dressed in a pair of worn and not excessively weathered blue jeans, hiking boots, and a red and grey flannel long sleeved shirt. She had been smoothing out some sheets of paper she'd brought in with her. Or at least, she smoothed them out long enough to uncrumple them and then fold them up to a more reasonable size, such as one that would fit in a back pocket. Finally, she managed to spot the self service sign, but her shoulders sagged a little as she muttered a disgruntled note.
What had he come behind the bar for? Oh right soda. Ed shook himself out of a stupor and quickly turned about to rummage through the cooler, also probably longer than was necessary. He was doing a terrible job at hiding. The floral-patterned bomber jacket probably gave him right away. When he realized this, he finally picked a strawberry Fanta, stood up, and turned around. He eyed the girl with the papers, wondering if she was going to recruit him to play the part of bartender this evening, or if he could safely make a break for it.
Goshen's attention was on him, he noticed, and the girl at the bar. Despite recent events, his smile was as provocative as ever, on display for each of them to see.
Though the girl did look at Ed, she was clear to never meet his eyes and never stared long enough to imply a silent request. She seemed more concerned with pocketing her slips of paper and scanning the decor behind the bar. That is until she turned a look over her shoulder to the door and as a result at Goshen.
Slender fingers worked the buttons on his jacket, unhurried, taking his time in hanging his jacket on a peg by the door. Beneath the jacket he wore a crisp, white, long sleeve button-up. Goshen's gaze settled on the girl in particular, if only because she was looking his way. "Hello." His low, dulcet voice carried through the room, warm and inviting.
Ed gave the girl an encouraging smile before scooting sideways to get out from behind the counter himself. His gaze darted around a bit to take in the sights, but it always strayed back to Goshen. He waved a quiet, cautious hello to him before parking his butt on a chair at the first table he came across.
After a beat or two she remembered to try to smile, the expression seemed to come more naturally when she turned towards Ed. "Hi," she responded finally, probably to both of them.
He was not laughing at her expense, but the delayed reaction did make Ed giggle. "Hi." He gave Penny a little wave, too. His smile was nothing but friendly.
"Hello, Ed." Goshen greeted the boy as he crossed the room. Along the way, he worked at rolling his sleeves up past his elbows. "I take it no one's working tonight and we're to fend for ourselves."
"Hi, Goshen." His smile softened and he looked down, almost shyly. After picking a crumb off the table, he set down his soda can and cracked it open. When he looked back up, he nodded. "I think someone comes in later, but yeah."
"Is there even a cook on the clock?" asked the girl, reading the sign on the door that read KITCHEN.
"Um. I don't know." Ed folded one leg under his butt, boosting himself a little higher to see around the room. "I've seen people come out of there with loads of food sometimes, but I don't know if they're, like, officially employed or what."
Goshen wasted no time in placing himself behind the bar. He shook his head minutely in response to the girl, but gestured toward Ed to indicate him answering. "I can't cook," he said. "At all, I'm afraid. But I'll get you a drink while I'm back here if you'd like." Long legs carried him to the ice box where he proceeded to dig up an orange Fanta.
Ed couldn't help but smile at Goshen's drink choice, and the fact that he was offering to get the girl a drink as well. After eyeing his own can of strawberry Fanta, and taking the first slurping sip, he said, "I'm Ed, by the way." He introduced himself with a little wave.
The girl's nose wrinkled, her face scrunching up as she eyed the kitchen door. Her expression was in the process of smoothing over when she looked back at Goshen, but as he reached into the cooler she was already stepping away from the bar and shaking her head. "Thanks, but I'll just keep walking for a restaurant or food stand or something." She pressed a thumb square on her chest as she began to walk backwards toward the door. "Penny," she said in response to Ed's introduction.
Goshen's perfectly groomed eyebrows rose as he stared after Penny. "Suit yourself." He carried his drink with him over to where Ed was seated.
When she provided her name in turn, Ed smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Penny." Even though she was leaving. "Good luck in your search for sustenance!" He giggled and waved her goodbye.
Her smile returned, easier this time for both Ed and Goshen, until she turned an about face and stepped out the front door.
Goshen's amber eyes flickered in direction of the hearth. Some pieces of overheard conversation made his expression turn briefly sour, but then Penny was leaving and his attention shifted back to the woman's retreating form.
Ed twitched, a minor startled jump in his seat when he realized that Goshen had made his way closer. He recovered quickly with a somewhat bashful smile up at him, his gaze darting away before it could meet the young man's eyes, and quietly said, "Hi."
One of his hands lay against the back of the chair next to Ed. "Mind if I sit with you?" he asked, looking down at Ed's face, much more interested in him than anything else in the room.
Ed twitched again and looked up, brows high with surprise. Goshen's ever so charming voice caught and held his attention. He smiled and nodded stupidly, but then quickly shook his head. "No I don't mind. Yes, sit. Please." He turned over a hand to indicate the chair Goshen had already pretty much chosen.
Goshen smiled in response, as brilliant and bright as ever. As if the night before had never happened. But no amount of wishful thinking could undo what was done. That was why instead of pulling out the chair that was right next to Ed, Goshen took the one beside that. "How are you?"
Ed felt an ounce of disappointment that Goshen had chosen a different chair. He looked down at the soda can on the table in front of him, shrugged, and started plucking the tab. "Bored, mostly." He smiled crookedly and looked up through his lashes at the young man seated now across from him. "Well, I was. You?"
Once seated, Goshen crossed his legs, ankle to knee, and curled a hand over an ink black sock to lock it in place. With the other hand, he toyed with the can of soda by rubbing his thumb through the moisture it sweat, up and down its cylindrical body. Instead of answering, he asked another question. "Why are you bored? Or, rather, why were you?"
Pulling his foot out from underneath himself, Ed dropped it to the floor and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "My apartment's been depressingly empty for most of the week. It's so quiet -- except for Gauntlet." The twist of his lips was a sign he was trying to suppress the devious little smile that wanted to surface.
He looked away in time to spot Lirssa coming in, struggled with the automatic urge to wave, which he finally gave into and lifted his hand. Then he looked back at the middle of the table between himself and Goshen, getting back on topic and saying, "I can't stand it. I thought I'd stay in and work on Spencer's phone." He tugged the cracked open case with its exposed internal parts from his coat pocket and put it on the table. "I took it with me instead. Tinkered with it while I walked around, and here I am."
Lirssa's arrival drew a nod from Goshen. He was still looking in her direction by the time Ed finished his explanation. When his gaze returned to where they sat, it only touched on the pile of cell phone guts for a moment before lifting to consider the boy's face. "Not too much longer now. Though I'd suggest maybe making another friend or two before he goes away again. So you're not bored like this next time."
Ed hissed a breathy sort of giggle that bled into the word, "Yeah." His smile was toothy when he looked up and across the table at Goshen. The longer he studied the young man's face, the more his expression evened out into something more neutral, until it became something slightly sad. He looked down, drawing a deep breath in and letting it out, like a sigh. He was fiddling with the inside-out cell phone, he realized, and since he didn't plan on working on it right now that he had company, he slipped it back in his coat pocket.
"I usually have Tabitha. I'd even settle for my annoying cousins right about now. I don't know where they all went." He scratched his cheek and glanced at the door. "Mal and Spencer work all the time like me. I don't know if we're much hanging out friends yet either, in any case." He looked back at Goshen.
"Who's Tabitha?" Another question slid right off Goshen's tongue, rapid-fire. A distraction for Ed as much as it was to sate his own curiosity.
"Oh! Tabitha." He lit up at the mention of her. "She's my..." But he trailed off when he met Goshen's eyes. For the first time he fumbled with how to explain. The fact that Goshen knew what he was made things different. But he looked around, to see who might be listening, who might know otherwise. He'd brought her here before, and when he saw Mist coming inside he found his conclusive answer. Looking back at Goshen he said, "...rat. Friend." Slowly.
Goshen held Ed's gaze unwaveringly, his eyes burning brightly in their alacrity. His smile was alight with understanding by the time Ed finished. He gave a short, brisk nod that indicated Ed need say no more.
Ed then abruptly lifted his hand and waved, looking at the blond elf to say, "Hi, Mist!"
"Hello, Ed, hello Goshen," Mist offered with a touch of a smile and dip of his head. He settled at the bar. "Tabitha is lovely." He would have stolen her if he could, Ed knew. His attention turned on Lirssa, then, and he ordered himself a drink.
Then Thorn entered through the back alley door, barefoot and wearing that outfit she'd been wearing on the commercial Ed had seen. Though he smiled brightly at Mist's compliment toward Tabitha, when he realized what Thorn was wearing, his cheeks pinked. Then he waved at the corseted mad hatter bunny. "Hi, Thorn!" His eyes went a little wide and he looked away.
"Hello, Mist." Goshen smiled at the man. There was a nod for Thorn, too, since Ed had greeted her. "Hello." Finally, a slender finger bent at the knuckle, catching the tab of the soda can with a short, rounded nail. The can hissed as it was opened.
The hiss of Goshen's soda can being cracked open reminded him of his own strawberry Fanta. Ed lifted that for a drink. It took Goshen a moment, but he finally recognized who it was that was stuffed into the ostentatious rabbit costume. "Oh, that's the woman from the other night." Goshen's gaze lifted to Ed's face. He blinked, confused as to why the boy was blushing.
There was a sudden puff of lavender smoke over by the hearth that distracted him. Ed looked back at Goshen with a startled blink. "What other night?" His days and nights were blending together, or he was still daydreaming about tuxedo printed speedos.
"The night you fed her cigarettes and candy."
"Oh!" Ed giggled and nodded. "That's right. I did." He stole a glance Thorn's way and smiled. "She seems in a much better mood tonight." The mere mention of cigarettes had him fishing one out of his coat pocket now.
"Much better," Goshen agreed. His eyes stole toward the woman again, admiring the long plait down her back more than anything else. He took a moment to ogle Mist's hair again, then tipped his head back toward Ed just in time to watch the boy fish up a cigarette. That reminded him. "Speaking of cigarettes... you wouldn't by any chance happen to know what happened to my cigarette case, would you?"
Tucking the cigarette between his lips, Ed smiled pure mischief. There was a devious glint in his eye, and he giggled when he lit the cigarette. Before answering, he took a nice deep inhale of cancerous smoke, and exhaled across the table. It was too late to play innocent and lie about it, but he was definitely going to be cute. "Funny you should ask. I found it in my pocket when I got home. However, do you think, did it get there?"
"What?" Goshen gasped, his tone affecting absolute disbelief. "Why, I can't even fathom." And though his expression managed to maintain a certain amount of believability, his eyes glittered with suppressed mirth.
Restrained though it was, Ed could see it, and it was enough to make him giggle openly. Laughter was good. Laughter was what he needed to relax a whole heck of a lot in his chair. He wasn't playing footsie, but he scooted his shoe forward to bump the toe against Goshen's shoe, a playful kick. "One of your joints may have mysteriously vanished too," he told him with a crooked smile.
"I haven't cut my hair in a long while," he heard Mist muse aloud. Taking a handful of the soft blonde, the elf absently tossed it over his shoulder.
"Don't you dare cut your hair, Mist!" He had to pipe in. The very idea was horrifying!
"Oh, I only cut it if I have to, last time, half was cut off." Mist laughed softly, golden eyes widening morosely for a moment.
"That would be a shame," Goshen murmured aside to Mist. He rather liked the man's hair, though he'd never said as much until now. Then he sighed, playful disbelief melting into a tolerant expression of acquiescence in response to hearing Ed had filched one of his joints and smoked it. About his cigarette case, he asked, "Do you have it with you now? Or are you holding it hostage?"
"Goodness me. Hostage?" Ed giggled when he looked back at Goshen. "I hadn't thought of that. But I guess since I don't have it on me that must be the case. I left it at home. Which... I should probably be getting back there."
Ignoring the boy's intent to leave, Goshen saddled Ed with a speculative gaze and said, "You'd look great with long hair. Not everyone can pull it off without looking like a bitch." Frank as ever.
Ed coughed and raised his brows. "Me with long hair?" He blushed as much for the fact that Goshen had just used a filthy word as for being told he should grow his hair out.
Goshen sobered for all of half a second, a neat and barely there slip of his face. The silken, luxuriant smile was back in place almost immediately. He rose up from his chair, leaving the untouched (but open) can of soda on the table. A rich laugh rolled up from his lungs and out of his mouth. "Yes. You. Give your boyfriend something to hang onto." Goshen winked down at him before turning abruptly and heading for the door to collect his jacket. Apparently he was leaving.
The color in Ed's cheeks changed from pink to red, and his eyes went wide as saucers. Goshen had left him floundering, staring agape as he walked away from the table. The places his imagination went were unmentionable. After a moment, he tore his gaze away and sent it darting around the room. People were talking about spa treatments and hair removal, and he wasn't much interested.
Grabbing his own soda can, Ed jumped abruptly up off his seat, and then stopped to push in his chair. He fetched his messenger from his coat pocket to double check the time. Sure enough, he was right and he did have to go too. He wasn't just following Goshen out the door. "Night, everybody!" He waved to the crowd before heading on out himself.
Goshen watched Ed scoot out the door with a smile. He was still in the process of putting on his jacket and scarf, buttoning everything just so. That was the last Ed saw of him that night.
( Severely modified and edited from the Red Dragon Inn log dated 3/19. )
Re: When the Cat's Away
Thursday. 3/23/17.
New Haven.
After work, Ed stopped for a pack of cigarettes. While he was waiting in line to check out, he noticed the tabloid. Trick's beautiful face was printed on the cover in three different frames. In each of them he was in the company of a girl that Ed did not know. And in one of them -- he picked up the tabloid for a closer look -- they were kissing.
The sight of it felt like a knife being punched into his chest, and twisted. He could feel the blade scraping against his ribs. A furious fire ignited as the point punctured his heart. His shoulder devil bounced around his head, gleefully tossing extra combustibles atop the flames. A rage was building inside of him.
"Excuse me, sir. Sir!" Ed walked out of the convenient store without his cigarettes and without paying for the tabloid. He kept staring at the images with an aching disbelief. This couldn't be right. Trick wouldn't do this to him. But why not? said his shoulder devil. You did it to him.
You have no right to feel so upset about this, Edgar St. James, said his shoulder angel, chiding him. Maybe he didn't have a right, but that didn't stop him from feeling it. In doing so he only hated himself even more. The rage boiled over. He crumpled the tabloid in his elongating fingers and jammed it into a coat pocket. The store clerk finally burst out the door, and he bolted.
---
There wasn't a single soul alive -- except for one, and she was clear across on the other side of town -- who would have recognized the hulking, bipedal hybrid rat-man beast that wound up sniffing and snuffling its way through the alleys of New Haven late that afternoon. Though his black and white markings were distinctive, no one who did see him batted an eye about it. This was Rhy'din. Stranger, more fearsome things lurked in every other corner.
Finding the scent it wanted, the creature circled a tall, victorian greystone apartment building, nose to the ground to double and triple check its discovery. Then, instead of taking the door, it climbed the fire escape seven stories to the top of the building. The roof door might have been locked, but with long claws and a knowledge of locking mechanisms, it was easy to bypass. A hairpin someone had conveniently discarded helped tremendously. The beast followed its nose down the stairs, into a hall, and scratched gently at a very specific door.
---
Ed shuddered as the layers of his other self were shed from his skin. His brain felt foggy, like his entire trek here had been done in a haze. His skin was still hot and feverish, making the cool air feel colder. After knocking more directly on the apartment door, he shivered and hugged himself. Had he been crying? His eyes felt puffy. He rubbed at one of them, sniffling while he waited with his shoulder pressed to the door frame.
The door opened to reveal the willowy frame of Goshen. Ed saw for the first time an expression of stunned incredulity on his face. He recovered quickly, fashioning a mesmerizing smile into place. This was also the first time Ed had seen him wearing anything other than expensive, perfectly tailored clothing. He was currently dressed in a pair of black cotton yoga capris and a long, flimsy gray cardigan that left his chest on display.
Goshen's bare feet took a step backward on the hardwood floor and he extended his arm to push the door open the rest of the way. In the time it had taken Ed to get here, his angel devil had multiplied itself a hundred fold. The sight of the young man filled him with a maddening desire, and a whole bunch of wicked voices were whispering encouragingly at him. He wasted no time pushing off the door frame and pressed himself into Goshen's bubble. He reached for his face and, for once, made the first move. As he pressed his mouth hungrily against the other boy's, he pulled one hand down his exposed chest and sighed an eager hum of noise.
The older boy didn't ask him questions. He didn't reject his advance. Quite the opposite, in fact; he pulled him further inside and closed the door. Ed wriggled and squirmed his arms out of the sleeves of his coat, letting it drop to the floor. Expert hands roamed his back as they indulged themselves in a lengthy, electrifying kiss. Goshen's fingers soon wound themselves into his hair, and Ed moaned with delight when the older boy tightened his grip and pulled.
An agonizing mixture of emotions had brought him to this point, but ultimately all of it culminated into an inescapable arousal. The darker, more lustful nature of his other self had taken control; intent to breed. He pulled both his hands down Goshen's chest and stomach. Sweeping them across the other boy's hips, he grabbed him by the waist and pulled to grind his contained erection against him. He moaned desperately, and dared enough to tease Goshen's lower lip with a light bite and tug. Every fiber of his being begged take me.
Goshen didn't tarry by the door. His apartment was a small studio with everything but the bathroom sharing one open space. Ed caught only glimpses of it as they stumbled through the room, enveloped in each other's senseless, searing flames of passion. His subconscious gathered the pieces and set them aside to put together as a whole picture at a later time, but this is what he saw.
The majority of the walls -- excepting the one that Goshen shared with his neighbor -- were made of real brick that boasted tall, double-hung windows, square-paned and dressed with white, gauzy drapes. It was sparsely furnished: a white futon against one wall, a queen size bed sporting a pillowy, white duvet up against another, and beside it a black, leather chaise lounge chair, all facing the apartment-sized kitchen with its black marble counters.
Goshen led him through the room in the direction of the bed while shedding his cardigan. It fell to the floor in a heap to be forgotten, trampled over before Ed stepped out of his boots. The older boy finally broke the kiss, and together they panted wildly to catch their breath. Goshen helped Ed out of his shirt, discarding it immediately. For one long, agonizing moment, the young man paused to admire what he'd uncovered.
Ed realized in that moment that none of their previous trysts had involved full removal of clothing. His pulse quickened with a renewed and amplified level of excitement. Given those few seconds, he took the opportunity to let his hungry gaze roam over Goshen's bare torso. His fever hot fingers slid over his skin as well, barely halting when they landed against the waistband of the young man's yoga capris. He tugged at them lightly, struggling to lift his eyes back up.
When he locked gazes with Goshen again, it felt like grease had been tossed on his desires, causing a flashfire. His fingers pushed in between skin and waistband along the other boy's hips. He kissed him lightly on the mouth, then the chin, then the throat. Ed slowly worked his way down onto his knees...
---
Hours later, they collapsed together in a panting, sweaty, naked heap of limbs atop the rumpled sheets of Goshen's bed. Ed's skin tingled and he felt altogether numb from the never ending cascade of orgasmic bliss he had endured. He was exhausted, thoroughly. With the darkness of full night enveloping them, he soon fell fast asleep.
His dreams were not kind to him. They were a tumble of violent and accusatory scenes, one after another. He caught glimpses of Trick, laughing joyously and mockingly while tangled in the limbs of a woman, in the heat of passion, undoubtedly enjoying every bit of her. Another scene involved himself laughing, tauntingly and wickedly as Trick looked on while Goshen had his way with him. And then in yet another dream, Goshen was the villain, grinding them both under his heel.
A bizarre combination of evil delight and self-loathing startled him awake in the middle of the night. His cheeks were wet with tears. His hand felt heavy when he stirred and touched his fingers to his face. He shook with silent sobs, biting down hard on his lip to keep himself from outright wailing. Goshen was fast asleep behind him. He could feel the older boy's hot breath against the back of his neck, slow and even. His arm was tucked over Ed's ribs, keeping him tucked securely close.
What made Ed hate himself the most was that he liked this. He liked lying completely, shamelessly nude with Goshen behind him. The apartment was warm enough not to even really need the duvet or any other blanket at all. Their bodies kept each other warm under the loose drape of the sheet across their legs. He liked the smell of this young man on his skin, the expertise of his love-making. He liked how it had felt like a justifiable vengeance to surrender himself to Goshen's whims, to give into his own outrageous desires. He had let the carnal animal inside of him take control, and he had liked it immensely.
What he couldn't decide was whether submitting to his lustful nature was a punishment for himself or for Patrick. He knew he would never tell the other boy about this. He knew what the sting of betrayal felt like now, and he loved Trick too much to want to harm him this way. Yet here he was, basking in the evidence of his own transgressions. He hiccuped another muted sob and turned his face to the pillow. He cried himself to sleep for a little longer.
Before sunrise, he started awake out of habit. His twitch triggered Goshen into a sluggish roll aside. The slide of the older boy's arm across his skin made him shiver with a longing he couldn't at all control. The smaller, more animal part of his brain begged him to roll over and rouse Goshen from his slumber. His shoulder angel had come back to life again by then and encouraged him to sneak out of the bed. He found his messenger in his pants, checked the time, and dressed as hastily and quiety as possible. There was no time to go home and change.
Ed opened the door at a snail's pace, terrified that the hinges would squeak and wake the other boy. To his immense relief, Goshen didn't even stir. His jacket snagged on the latch. He jerked it free and held his breath to make doubly sure that didn't wake Goshen either. Then he shut the door and tiptoed down the hall. He took the stairs down the regular way this time. The fact that the tabloid was no longer jammed in his coat pocket never even occurred to him.
On the way to work, he finally got a new pack of cigarettes. Howard gave him a suspicious looking over regarding, he assumed, the rumpled state of his clothes, the same ones he'd been wearing the day before. The older man asked nothing directly, however, much to Ed's relief.
( Co-written with Goshen. )
New Haven.
After work, Ed stopped for a pack of cigarettes. While he was waiting in line to check out, he noticed the tabloid. Trick's beautiful face was printed on the cover in three different frames. In each of them he was in the company of a girl that Ed did not know. And in one of them -- he picked up the tabloid for a closer look -- they were kissing.
The sight of it felt like a knife being punched into his chest, and twisted. He could feel the blade scraping against his ribs. A furious fire ignited as the point punctured his heart. His shoulder devil bounced around his head, gleefully tossing extra combustibles atop the flames. A rage was building inside of him.
"Excuse me, sir. Sir!" Ed walked out of the convenient store without his cigarettes and without paying for the tabloid. He kept staring at the images with an aching disbelief. This couldn't be right. Trick wouldn't do this to him. But why not? said his shoulder devil. You did it to him.
You have no right to feel so upset about this, Edgar St. James, said his shoulder angel, chiding him. Maybe he didn't have a right, but that didn't stop him from feeling it. In doing so he only hated himself even more. The rage boiled over. He crumpled the tabloid in his elongating fingers and jammed it into a coat pocket. The store clerk finally burst out the door, and he bolted.
---
There wasn't a single soul alive -- except for one, and she was clear across on the other side of town -- who would have recognized the hulking, bipedal hybrid rat-man beast that wound up sniffing and snuffling its way through the alleys of New Haven late that afternoon. Though his black and white markings were distinctive, no one who did see him batted an eye about it. This was Rhy'din. Stranger, more fearsome things lurked in every other corner.
Finding the scent it wanted, the creature circled a tall, victorian greystone apartment building, nose to the ground to double and triple check its discovery. Then, instead of taking the door, it climbed the fire escape seven stories to the top of the building. The roof door might have been locked, but with long claws and a knowledge of locking mechanisms, it was easy to bypass. A hairpin someone had conveniently discarded helped tremendously. The beast followed its nose down the stairs, into a hall, and scratched gently at a very specific door.
---
Ed shuddered as the layers of his other self were shed from his skin. His brain felt foggy, like his entire trek here had been done in a haze. His skin was still hot and feverish, making the cool air feel colder. After knocking more directly on the apartment door, he shivered and hugged himself. Had he been crying? His eyes felt puffy. He rubbed at one of them, sniffling while he waited with his shoulder pressed to the door frame.
The door opened to reveal the willowy frame of Goshen. Ed saw for the first time an expression of stunned incredulity on his face. He recovered quickly, fashioning a mesmerizing smile into place. This was also the first time Ed had seen him wearing anything other than expensive, perfectly tailored clothing. He was currently dressed in a pair of black cotton yoga capris and a long, flimsy gray cardigan that left his chest on display.
Goshen's bare feet took a step backward on the hardwood floor and he extended his arm to push the door open the rest of the way. In the time it had taken Ed to get here, his angel devil had multiplied itself a hundred fold. The sight of the young man filled him with a maddening desire, and a whole bunch of wicked voices were whispering encouragingly at him. He wasted no time pushing off the door frame and pressed himself into Goshen's bubble. He reached for his face and, for once, made the first move. As he pressed his mouth hungrily against the other boy's, he pulled one hand down his exposed chest and sighed an eager hum of noise.
The older boy didn't ask him questions. He didn't reject his advance. Quite the opposite, in fact; he pulled him further inside and closed the door. Ed wriggled and squirmed his arms out of the sleeves of his coat, letting it drop to the floor. Expert hands roamed his back as they indulged themselves in a lengthy, electrifying kiss. Goshen's fingers soon wound themselves into his hair, and Ed moaned with delight when the older boy tightened his grip and pulled.
An agonizing mixture of emotions had brought him to this point, but ultimately all of it culminated into an inescapable arousal. The darker, more lustful nature of his other self had taken control; intent to breed. He pulled both his hands down Goshen's chest and stomach. Sweeping them across the other boy's hips, he grabbed him by the waist and pulled to grind his contained erection against him. He moaned desperately, and dared enough to tease Goshen's lower lip with a light bite and tug. Every fiber of his being begged take me.
Goshen didn't tarry by the door. His apartment was a small studio with everything but the bathroom sharing one open space. Ed caught only glimpses of it as they stumbled through the room, enveloped in each other's senseless, searing flames of passion. His subconscious gathered the pieces and set them aside to put together as a whole picture at a later time, but this is what he saw.
The majority of the walls -- excepting the one that Goshen shared with his neighbor -- were made of real brick that boasted tall, double-hung windows, square-paned and dressed with white, gauzy drapes. It was sparsely furnished: a white futon against one wall, a queen size bed sporting a pillowy, white duvet up against another, and beside it a black, leather chaise lounge chair, all facing the apartment-sized kitchen with its black marble counters.
Goshen led him through the room in the direction of the bed while shedding his cardigan. It fell to the floor in a heap to be forgotten, trampled over before Ed stepped out of his boots. The older boy finally broke the kiss, and together they panted wildly to catch their breath. Goshen helped Ed out of his shirt, discarding it immediately. For one long, agonizing moment, the young man paused to admire what he'd uncovered.
Ed realized in that moment that none of their previous trysts had involved full removal of clothing. His pulse quickened with a renewed and amplified level of excitement. Given those few seconds, he took the opportunity to let his hungry gaze roam over Goshen's bare torso. His fever hot fingers slid over his skin as well, barely halting when they landed against the waistband of the young man's yoga capris. He tugged at them lightly, struggling to lift his eyes back up.
When he locked gazes with Goshen again, it felt like grease had been tossed on his desires, causing a flashfire. His fingers pushed in between skin and waistband along the other boy's hips. He kissed him lightly on the mouth, then the chin, then the throat. Ed slowly worked his way down onto his knees...
---
Hours later, they collapsed together in a panting, sweaty, naked heap of limbs atop the rumpled sheets of Goshen's bed. Ed's skin tingled and he felt altogether numb from the never ending cascade of orgasmic bliss he had endured. He was exhausted, thoroughly. With the darkness of full night enveloping them, he soon fell fast asleep.
His dreams were not kind to him. They were a tumble of violent and accusatory scenes, one after another. He caught glimpses of Trick, laughing joyously and mockingly while tangled in the limbs of a woman, in the heat of passion, undoubtedly enjoying every bit of her. Another scene involved himself laughing, tauntingly and wickedly as Trick looked on while Goshen had his way with him. And then in yet another dream, Goshen was the villain, grinding them both under his heel.
A bizarre combination of evil delight and self-loathing startled him awake in the middle of the night. His cheeks were wet with tears. His hand felt heavy when he stirred and touched his fingers to his face. He shook with silent sobs, biting down hard on his lip to keep himself from outright wailing. Goshen was fast asleep behind him. He could feel the older boy's hot breath against the back of his neck, slow and even. His arm was tucked over Ed's ribs, keeping him tucked securely close.
What made Ed hate himself the most was that he liked this. He liked lying completely, shamelessly nude with Goshen behind him. The apartment was warm enough not to even really need the duvet or any other blanket at all. Their bodies kept each other warm under the loose drape of the sheet across their legs. He liked the smell of this young man on his skin, the expertise of his love-making. He liked how it had felt like a justifiable vengeance to surrender himself to Goshen's whims, to give into his own outrageous desires. He had let the carnal animal inside of him take control, and he had liked it immensely.
What he couldn't decide was whether submitting to his lustful nature was a punishment for himself or for Patrick. He knew he would never tell the other boy about this. He knew what the sting of betrayal felt like now, and he loved Trick too much to want to harm him this way. Yet here he was, basking in the evidence of his own transgressions. He hiccuped another muted sob and turned his face to the pillow. He cried himself to sleep for a little longer.
Before sunrise, he started awake out of habit. His twitch triggered Goshen into a sluggish roll aside. The slide of the older boy's arm across his skin made him shiver with a longing he couldn't at all control. The smaller, more animal part of his brain begged him to roll over and rouse Goshen from his slumber. His shoulder angel had come back to life again by then and encouraged him to sneak out of the bed. He found his messenger in his pants, checked the time, and dressed as hastily and quiety as possible. There was no time to go home and change.
Ed opened the door at a snail's pace, terrified that the hinges would squeak and wake the other boy. To his immense relief, Goshen didn't even stir. His jacket snagged on the latch. He jerked it free and held his breath to make doubly sure that didn't wake Goshen either. Then he shut the door and tiptoed down the hall. He took the stairs down the regular way this time. The fact that the tabloid was no longer jammed in his coat pocket never even occurred to him.
On the way to work, he finally got a new pack of cigarettes. Howard gave him a suspicious looking over regarding, he assumed, the rumpled state of his clothes, the same ones he'd been wearing the day before. The older man asked nothing directly, however, much to Ed's relief.
( Co-written with Goshen. )
Re: When the Cat's Away
Friday. 3/24/17
Old Temple West.
After work, Ed had gone straight home. He had not waited around for the showers to be clear, and to spare the people on the train of his stink he had walked the entire way. When he got home, he was equal parts relieved and depressed to find the building empty. There were no traces of his cousins or even the landlord anywhere. He stripped out of his clothes, kicked them into the corner of the closet, his growing physical pile of guilt, and took a shower.
The door buzzed before he was even through rinsing his hair. If he was a swearing sort, he would have dropped an f-bomb or two in that moment. Instead, he heaved an exasperated sigh and stumbled out of the bathroom, dripping wet, to slap the intercom and ask, "Who's it?" His brain was still fuzzy from the relaxing heat of his shower, else he probably would have guessed accurately without having to be told. The only other person who ever showed up unannounced on his doorstep was offworld and, now, had a key.
The person on the other end of the comm did not speak their name; instead, they said: "You sound stressed." It was Goshen's voice, of course. Deep and evocative as ever. "Let me in."
Ed's heart fluttered wildly in his chest at that commanding tone. This was another one of those moments where he might have dropped a swear word, and this one beginning with sh. Instead he stammered, "Just a--" And realized he needed to press the button again, hastily retried, "Just a minute." He slipped back into the bathroom to swipe a hotel towel off the stack on the back of the toilet.
Sliding back out of the bathroom, he pressed the button to buzz Goshen in, made sure his door was unlocked, and dove for the other corner of the room to throw on some clothes that didn't stink. In seconds, he was a ridiculous mismatch of pink and green, sweater and pajama pants. He was bouncing into a pair of argyle socks at the end of his bed when Goshen came walking through the door. His hair was still wet, and slightly sudsy.
Goshen came to a dead stop just a few feet into the room. The door fell shut behind him, punctuating the exaggerated arch of his perfectly manicured eyebrow when his gaze landed on Ed. He was, as usual, well-dressed, which only emphasized the ridiculousness of the other boy's eclecticity. He looked as though he meant to comment on it, but stopped before the words left his mouth. Goshen closed his eyes, shut his mouth and shook his head, mentally restarting his brain on the right track.
"I'll have you know that I don't often let on when something... confuses me. It's a vulnerability I don't care to broadcast. But I'm having difficulty understanding what's going on." From out of the depths of a jacket pocket, Goshen produced a wrinkled copy of a magazine -- the one that had sent Ed into his tizzy the day before. "I found this," he said, holding it out for the other boy to take. "You must have dropped it."
Not even a hello! Ed thought it was pointless to point out that he'd been in the shower; that was obvious. He started to sit on the edge of the bed, thought better of it, jumped back upright and shuffled a step or two closer to the sofa. As soon as Goshen produced the tabloid, he instantly averted his gaze to look anywhere else in the room. Except the Gauntlet cabinet; he couldn't look at that either. "Sorry," he said, sort of under his breath as he eyed the TV. He vaguely gestured in the general direction of where sometimes a trash bag was hung on the lip of a drawer in the kitchenette and said, "You can just throw that away."
When Ed did not take the magazine from him, Goshen brought it back in for personal inspection. He turned it around to read the cover, or rather -- to look at the damning pictures on display. "This is your boyfriend, correct? Patrick." Goshen swiped his thumb across the name written along the bottom of the page.
Turning aside presented his back to Goshen, but Ed was nodding. He took the next step closer to the couch and sank sideways onto the chaise section. The back of the couch was low enough that it made a comfortable pillow for the side of his head. He set his cheek on the edge and tucked his arms around himself, drew up his legs, curled on his side.
"And you're upset." It may have sounded like Goshen was stating the obvious, but despite the lack of proper inflection, it was a question -- he was in terrible need of clarification.
"I know I don't have any right to be," Ed mumbled sadly. Despite the lack of inflection, he knew it was a question, and Goshen's having asked stirred up those feelings he'd been trying so hard all day to keep a tight lid on. He kept his back turned on the older boy, huddled into himself in the corner of the couch. Gauntlet was right in his face now, but he'd let his gaze go out of focus and wasn't seeing it at all. Tears were welling again in the corners of his eyes.
"But why?" Stepping around the foot of the chaise, Goshen moved to take a seat without asking on the far end of the couch, facing Ed. "Why doesn't it simply alleviate you of the guilt you've been feeling?"
"It doesn't work like that? I don't know." Ed couldn't explain the why of what he was feeling. He only knew that he felt: a suffocating mixture of hurt and guilt, shame and anger. Above it all he still loved Patrick very much, and yet deep down there was still Goshen. There was something about him he couldn't shake. He wanted him. Maybe not right this second, though. He was too tired for lust.
Utterly perplexed, Goshen rolled the tabloid into a tight tube and held it closed in his fist. He was silent for a time, trying to puzzle out how else it could work on his own since Ed's answers were less than helpful. Eventually his gaze drifted away from Ed, around the room at anything and nothing in particular, attempting to shuffle his thoughts into a neat stack that could be easily sorted. But that was proving difficult.
Confusion did not suit him. He appeared lost; susceptible to influence instead of sporting the commanding presence he usually wore like a second skin. Goshen stroked the paper tube thoughtlessly, frowning at some spot across the room like it had offended him. "What are you going to do?"
Ed shrugged, like any petulant child in his position was likely to do. He hadn't been able to look directly at Goshen at all, even though he'd sat down right in front of him. "I don't know. I don't know what I can do. I thought about maybe pretending I hadn't seen it at all. I missed his call last night because I--" He blushed. Well, of course, Goshen knew what he'd been doing last night. "I don't even know what to tell him held me up this time." He didn't have any eyewitnesses to confirm an innocent story, this time.
"I've never had a boyfriend or a girlfriend before. I guess I've never seen the point in having one," Goshen admitted softly. "People do what they want regardless of the 'rules.' I don't understand the purpose. All it's doing is upsetting you. Why--why do put yourself through that?"
"Because I love him." Ed's brows pulled together and he pressed a hand over his heart, squeezing the fabric of his sweater under his fingers. There was a real ache there, a swelling warmth that strained against his ribcage. Sore from the imaginary stab wounds he'd suffered from yesterday's discovery, and all the little bites taken out of it every time he'd given in to Goshen and betrayed Trick's trust. "And I'm weak. God, I'm pathetic." He turned over, embarrassed at himself for "swearing" in his own way as much as anything. This put his back to Goshen again and allowed him to see the fuzzy outline of his bed instead of the demanding, flashing blur of the video game cabinet just beyond the other boy.
After another minute of silence, Goshen stood. He left the tabloid on the couch. Curled in on itself as it was, it rolled across the cushion until it came to a stop up against the back of the couch. The older boy smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt, then strode across the room to the door.
"I don't think you're pathetic," was all Goshen said before opening the door and stepping out into the hall. The door clicked shut gently behind him, leaving Ed to sulk in silence. When he was sure he was good and alone, Ed burrowed down to press his face into the cushions of the couch and let them soak up his tears while he cried.
( Co-written with Goshen. )
Old Temple West.
After work, Ed had gone straight home. He had not waited around for the showers to be clear, and to spare the people on the train of his stink he had walked the entire way. When he got home, he was equal parts relieved and depressed to find the building empty. There were no traces of his cousins or even the landlord anywhere. He stripped out of his clothes, kicked them into the corner of the closet, his growing physical pile of guilt, and took a shower.
The door buzzed before he was even through rinsing his hair. If he was a swearing sort, he would have dropped an f-bomb or two in that moment. Instead, he heaved an exasperated sigh and stumbled out of the bathroom, dripping wet, to slap the intercom and ask, "Who's it?" His brain was still fuzzy from the relaxing heat of his shower, else he probably would have guessed accurately without having to be told. The only other person who ever showed up unannounced on his doorstep was offworld and, now, had a key.
The person on the other end of the comm did not speak their name; instead, they said: "You sound stressed." It was Goshen's voice, of course. Deep and evocative as ever. "Let me in."
Ed's heart fluttered wildly in his chest at that commanding tone. This was another one of those moments where he might have dropped a swear word, and this one beginning with sh. Instead he stammered, "Just a--" And realized he needed to press the button again, hastily retried, "Just a minute." He slipped back into the bathroom to swipe a hotel towel off the stack on the back of the toilet.
Sliding back out of the bathroom, he pressed the button to buzz Goshen in, made sure his door was unlocked, and dove for the other corner of the room to throw on some clothes that didn't stink. In seconds, he was a ridiculous mismatch of pink and green, sweater and pajama pants. He was bouncing into a pair of argyle socks at the end of his bed when Goshen came walking through the door. His hair was still wet, and slightly sudsy.
Goshen came to a dead stop just a few feet into the room. The door fell shut behind him, punctuating the exaggerated arch of his perfectly manicured eyebrow when his gaze landed on Ed. He was, as usual, well-dressed, which only emphasized the ridiculousness of the other boy's eclecticity. He looked as though he meant to comment on it, but stopped before the words left his mouth. Goshen closed his eyes, shut his mouth and shook his head, mentally restarting his brain on the right track.
"I'll have you know that I don't often let on when something... confuses me. It's a vulnerability I don't care to broadcast. But I'm having difficulty understanding what's going on." From out of the depths of a jacket pocket, Goshen produced a wrinkled copy of a magazine -- the one that had sent Ed into his tizzy the day before. "I found this," he said, holding it out for the other boy to take. "You must have dropped it."
Not even a hello! Ed thought it was pointless to point out that he'd been in the shower; that was obvious. He started to sit on the edge of the bed, thought better of it, jumped back upright and shuffled a step or two closer to the sofa. As soon as Goshen produced the tabloid, he instantly averted his gaze to look anywhere else in the room. Except the Gauntlet cabinet; he couldn't look at that either. "Sorry," he said, sort of under his breath as he eyed the TV. He vaguely gestured in the general direction of where sometimes a trash bag was hung on the lip of a drawer in the kitchenette and said, "You can just throw that away."
When Ed did not take the magazine from him, Goshen brought it back in for personal inspection. He turned it around to read the cover, or rather -- to look at the damning pictures on display. "This is your boyfriend, correct? Patrick." Goshen swiped his thumb across the name written along the bottom of the page.
Turning aside presented his back to Goshen, but Ed was nodding. He took the next step closer to the couch and sank sideways onto the chaise section. The back of the couch was low enough that it made a comfortable pillow for the side of his head. He set his cheek on the edge and tucked his arms around himself, drew up his legs, curled on his side.
"And you're upset." It may have sounded like Goshen was stating the obvious, but despite the lack of proper inflection, it was a question -- he was in terrible need of clarification.
"I know I don't have any right to be," Ed mumbled sadly. Despite the lack of inflection, he knew it was a question, and Goshen's having asked stirred up those feelings he'd been trying so hard all day to keep a tight lid on. He kept his back turned on the older boy, huddled into himself in the corner of the couch. Gauntlet was right in his face now, but he'd let his gaze go out of focus and wasn't seeing it at all. Tears were welling again in the corners of his eyes.
"But why?" Stepping around the foot of the chaise, Goshen moved to take a seat without asking on the far end of the couch, facing Ed. "Why doesn't it simply alleviate you of the guilt you've been feeling?"
"It doesn't work like that? I don't know." Ed couldn't explain the why of what he was feeling. He only knew that he felt: a suffocating mixture of hurt and guilt, shame and anger. Above it all he still loved Patrick very much, and yet deep down there was still Goshen. There was something about him he couldn't shake. He wanted him. Maybe not right this second, though. He was too tired for lust.
Utterly perplexed, Goshen rolled the tabloid into a tight tube and held it closed in his fist. He was silent for a time, trying to puzzle out how else it could work on his own since Ed's answers were less than helpful. Eventually his gaze drifted away from Ed, around the room at anything and nothing in particular, attempting to shuffle his thoughts into a neat stack that could be easily sorted. But that was proving difficult.
Confusion did not suit him. He appeared lost; susceptible to influence instead of sporting the commanding presence he usually wore like a second skin. Goshen stroked the paper tube thoughtlessly, frowning at some spot across the room like it had offended him. "What are you going to do?"
Ed shrugged, like any petulant child in his position was likely to do. He hadn't been able to look directly at Goshen at all, even though he'd sat down right in front of him. "I don't know. I don't know what I can do. I thought about maybe pretending I hadn't seen it at all. I missed his call last night because I--" He blushed. Well, of course, Goshen knew what he'd been doing last night. "I don't even know what to tell him held me up this time." He didn't have any eyewitnesses to confirm an innocent story, this time.
"I've never had a boyfriend or a girlfriend before. I guess I've never seen the point in having one," Goshen admitted softly. "People do what they want regardless of the 'rules.' I don't understand the purpose. All it's doing is upsetting you. Why--why do put yourself through that?"
"Because I love him." Ed's brows pulled together and he pressed a hand over his heart, squeezing the fabric of his sweater under his fingers. There was a real ache there, a swelling warmth that strained against his ribcage. Sore from the imaginary stab wounds he'd suffered from yesterday's discovery, and all the little bites taken out of it every time he'd given in to Goshen and betrayed Trick's trust. "And I'm weak. God, I'm pathetic." He turned over, embarrassed at himself for "swearing" in his own way as much as anything. This put his back to Goshen again and allowed him to see the fuzzy outline of his bed instead of the demanding, flashing blur of the video game cabinet just beyond the other boy.
After another minute of silence, Goshen stood. He left the tabloid on the couch. Curled in on itself as it was, it rolled across the cushion until it came to a stop up against the back of the couch. The older boy smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt, then strode across the room to the door.
"I don't think you're pathetic," was all Goshen said before opening the door and stepping out into the hall. The door clicked shut gently behind him, leaving Ed to sulk in silence. When he was sure he was good and alone, Ed burrowed down to press his face into the cushions of the couch and let them soak up his tears while he cried.
( Co-written with Goshen. )
Re: When the Cat's Away
Friday. 3/24/17.
Old Temple West.
Ed woke with a start when the opening jingle of Shape of You began echoing through his apartment. He sat up quickly and had a look around. The place was dark except for the technicolor glow of the video game cabinet in the corner. The beast had stopped demanding he feed it coins after he'd tampered with it, but now it insisted he PRESS START to play. He imagined telling it to jump off a cliff while he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, got up from the sofa, and stumbled over to the bed.
He pulled the sheets back as he climbed onto the mattress and unburied the tablet from underneath a heap of pillows. The glow of the device itself was set to illuminate him when he accepted the call. He yawned mightily, only managing to half smother it as the camera focused on him. His hair had long dried, but it was a ruffled mess. That didn't stop him from smiling sleepily at the face of the boy on the other end of the video call. No matter what had happened, Trick's presence, even digitally and thousands of miles away, brought him the purest joy.
"Hi. I was asleep." Ed figured it was probably a statement of the obvious, after the words had already escaped his mouth. Ah well. "What time is it?" he asked. And then he saw the display on the corner of the screen that told him and said, "Oh. Never mind. Hi."
"Hey." Patrick's face filled the screen, his expression a mixture of rapture and relief. "I miss you so fucking much. This weekend needs to fly by so I can touch your face instead of a screen." That didn't stop him from appearing to do all that distance would allow, though the camera didn't exactly show it.
"I miss you too." Ed's smile alone could have illuminated the little alcove that he called his bedroom. "I miss you so much. I'm dying for you to touch me again." He pulled his fingers down the side of the screen, his skin tingling with longing, and the smile turned into a pout.
"I'm going to touch you all night," Trick promised while lowering his voice. A shy smile took root, colored here and there with wicked intent. "It'll be the best anniversary yet. I'll be damned if I let getting sick keep me from being with you. We're spending the night together no matter what."
Ed's pout was short-lived, turning back into a sinful smile immediately after that promise was made. Still drowsy and netted in dream film, his imagination took off with some delightfully naughty imagery. For a change, he didn't even blush at the thoughts he was entertaining.
"What time will you get here?" Ed asked. This was crucial. Did he have to plan one day off from work or two? He was definitely taking the time off one way or another. No question about it.
"Umm." The younger boy pursed his lips, eyebrows crashing together as he fell deep into thought. Then the video jostled, blurring his face from view and then settling off center on a ceiling fan. Trick could be heard rummaging around in the background, then: "Got it!" The camera jostled around again before refocusing on Trick's face. He was reading from a slip of paper in his hands. "It says we get in around 6 pm. I'll have the rest of that night off and the day after, too. So make sure you request Tuesday off at work." The slip of paper disappeared from view as Patrick grasped the tablet with both hands once more. "No ifs, ands, or buts."
Ed wrinkled his nose, disappointed with the limited amount of time they'd have on the actual day of their anniversary. But Trick would be home! That was the important part. No more of these long distance video calls and not being able to touch or kiss or... other things. He smiled slyly and gave a breathy laugh. "I already planned to." He waved his hand in front of the screen as if brushing the absurdity of there being any ifs, ands, or buts away like an annoying bug.
"Good. I might have held you hostage if you didn't. Kidnapped you. Locked you up in my room."
"Hmmm. Now you're tempting me to forget to put in that request, mister." Ed's smile twisted into a decidedly wicked and playful shape.
Patrick's eyebrows lifted, surprised and also a little impressed. Ed giggled at his expression. "Are fuzzy handcuffs too kinky?" A wilder gigglefit erupted from Edgar, whose cheeks had pinked a little. Oh, Trick was blushing now, too, no doubt about it. It wasn't as though he'd never entertained ideas like it before, but talking about it out loud and with Ed was thrilling.
"No? N-no," Ed sputtered. He'd brought a hand up to cover his mouth with his fingertips. There was no way it was doing any good hiding his toothy grin or furious blush, but he tried. "But you have to get them in pink." He couldn't believe he was encouraging this! Maybe he was just testing Trick's limits.
"Fuzzy pink handcuffs?" The boy practically guffawed.
"Yes, pink! If you're going to lock me up, I have to at least look pretty in them." He was barely containing his own amusement here. A snort turned into another giggle.
Trick snickered, looking aside with consideration. "I wonder if I could find a place around here that sells that kind of stuff." His eyes snapped back to the screen, playful. "I'd probably die of embarrassment if someone caught me."
"Wait and order them online, then." Seriously. Oh my God. Had he actually said that seriously? Ed averted his gaze from the screen a moment and smothered his mouth a little more with his hand.
"Do you really want me to?" It was Patrick's turn to be serious. Maybe even a little eager. Was that what that was?
"Yes?" Ed looked back at the screen, a little wide-eyed. Trick was biting his lip. "No? I don't know!" The older boy threw up his hands. They came down to slap against his thighs; he was still wearing pajama pants so it wasn't a loud crack. The tablet jostled a little, taking him out of the shot. He righted it and nestled back into his pillows more comfortably. "Maybe." The idea did have appeal, but he felt awkward confessing it.
"They could be fun," Trick admitted. He sounded more curious than devious now.
"They could be," Ed agreed cautiously.
"And how will we know what we like unless we try it?"
Ed averted his gaze again with a thinly twisted smile that was almost shy. He considered a patch of empty space along his wall, off camera. As he scratched the ear that couldn't be seen on screen, he nodded a couple of times, head tilted.
"We don't have to go crazy or anything," Patrick said, misreading the shift in behavior from Ed as reluctance. The last thing he ever wanted to do was push his boyfriend to do anything he wasn't ready for. Trick smiled at him encouragingly, an expression so full of love and adoration that were he in a cartoon, he'd have hearts for eyes.
"You know what I think I'd like?" Ed mused, going on as if he hadn't even heard Patrick's reassurances. He was still stuck on the concept of trying new things that the younger boy had put back into his head. They had agreed to experiment together. That reminder was equal parts heart warming and a self-inflicted knife wound, but when he tipped his head back to look again at the screen, he showed only a doting smile. He didn't give Trick the chance to guess, really, before providing him with an answer. "Silks."
"Silks?"
"Yeah, silks. Y'know. Instead of handcuffs."
"Ohh," Patrick said, mouth forming an "o" during the long and drawn out sound of realization. "That's... that's kinda hot," he admitted. Not just the silks, though. The fact that they were having this conversation was rather erotic. Time and distance from one another seemed to have jump started their sex life. He was not complaining.
The sinfulness bled back into Ed's smile, forming devilish little hooks at the corners of his lips. There may have even been a merrily devious twinkle in his eyes.
"Agh," Trick complained, pulling a face. "You're doing that thing -- that smile. Stop it. I'm not there to take advantage of it."
"It must be hard," Ed teased. He couldn't help himself. The other boy laughed quietly. A wicked and likewise quiet little laugh spilled out of Edgar too. He lifted a hand to cover his mouth with a couple of fingers, which did very little really to hide his devilish smile, but helped stop him from saying what he was thinking. He shut his eyes to get a better look at his naughty daydreams for a moment.
"Yes, it is." A cryptic reply with a double meaning. "You know what's harder?" Ed's eyes opened and his brow raised, an expression that asked what? "Not getting to say goodnight to you. Looking at pictures of you just doesn't cut it." Trick pouted for a moment, but his smile resurfaced a second or two later.
The smile fled and a pout took it's place. Ed's eyes turned downcast, apologetic. "I'm sorry I've missed some of your calls," he said sadly.
"I can't expect you to put your life on hold just to be waiting by the phone when I call. I just miss you is all." Trick shrugged because there was really nothing he could do about it. This was his life now. He was just happy Ed was willing to suffer along with him.
Ugh! Why did Trick have to be so understanding? Relief hit him like an arrow through the chest. Moisture stung the corners of his eyes, and he was forced to turn his head to try to hide the tear that leaked out of one of them. He took in a shaking breath and thumbed it away.
"I got to talk to Mallory yesterday at least." Trick said.
Ed leaned out of frame for a moment. There was nothing deliberately provocative about it, and his bed clothes this evening agreed. He rummaged for a cigarette and makeshift ashtray. The former was pressed between his lips when he tipped back into view. He cleared his throat, and before lighting it, prompted Trick to elaborate by saying, "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah." He rolled his eyes, lifting a hand to scratch his forehead. "That's actually why I sent so many messages." Five was a lot when he was busy with work! "But seeing as how I didn't get a scathing response from you, I assume you haven't seen it. Thank God." That last bit muttered under his breath. "She said that I made it onto my very first tabloid cover. I don't know, I haven't seen it. Supposedly it's a picture of me kissing Caroline. I'm not sure how they managed it, since I've obviously never kissed her before. So if you do see it, don't freak out. It's fake, whatever it is."
This was it. This was the moment Ed realized that it was going to be very easy to lie to his boyfriend. As he listened to Patrick present his case, his brows lifted. He stared at the screen with wide-eyed disbelief through a haze of cigarette smoke. He had lit it and removed it from between his lips, but sat frozen solid, a captive audience. The tobacco continued to burn without his assistance and left him sitting in a thin carcinogenic cloud.
For a moment, he took his eyes off the screen. They tilted up to look over the device and beyond it, suddenly reminded of Goshen bringing the damning evidence back before him. He thought he spotted the wrinkled magazine on the floor, but it was dark and he'd only be able to tell for certain if he got up to check. But he remembered very clearly telling his seductive demon that he was hoping to pretend that he'd never even seen the tabloid in the first place. And though he very well couldn't tell Patrick the real reason why he hadn't sent him any scathing messages of his own, there was an ounce of truth he could tell him.
"I didn't even listen to any of your messages yet," Ed confessed, looking back at the screen. "Sorry. I..." Why hadn't he, though? "Um." His shoulder devil whispered helpfully in his ear, and he stunned himself at coming up with something so believable on the spot. "I accidentally left the tablet unplugged. Battery drained. I plugged it in this morning before I went to work. Fell asleep when I got home." But more importantly! And his brows crashed together with suspicion. "Who's Caroline?"
"Oh. That's okay. It's better than being mad at me." Ed lied so smoothly that Patrick never suspected a thing. If anything, he was hyper-concentrated on making sure Ed believed him now and wasn't actually mad after all. That lengthy silence after his explanation, coupled with the glance away... Trick's heart throbbed painfully in his chest. "She's Jesse's daughter. Both of his kids came on the trip with us."
Photoshop, whispered a voice in Ed's ear. That had to be it. No other explanation, because obviously Trick had never kissed this girl, even though the picture was very convincing. Top notch job, random paparazzi jerkwad, wherever you were. Ash spilled off the end of his cigarette and scattered across his pant leg, snapping him out of his quietly outraged daze. He brushed the mess off, looking down, and now that he was reminded of his cigarette, he took a drag.
It might have been hard to tell with the lighting from the screen, but quite a bit of the color had drained from Trick's face. Ed was being much too quiet. His stomach began to ache as it twisted itself into knots. "I didn't kiss her," he repeated firmly.
"Of course you didn't." Ed looked back up with a soft smile. Did he believe Patrick? He wasn't entirely sure he did, but he had already set himself on this course to pretend he hadn't seen the tabloid, so he was sticking to his guns. It might hurt, and sting, but he was determined to bury it deep down, along with his own dirty secret.
Ed's verbal confirmation settled the worry that had risen up in him. Patrick's sigh of relief was silent, but evident. "I wouldn't do that to you." A promise meant to comfort his boyfriend. Little did he know that they aided the twist of a self-inflicted knife wound only Edgar could feel. "Besides. As if Jesse wouldn't have already killed me if it was real." This amused Patrick to the point of laughter. Now that he was sure Ed believed him, they could laugh at what a joke the whole situation was. Right?
Okay, okay. So that visual did do the trick of making Ed burst into another gigglefit. There was only the slightest hint of hysteria behind it, like he had possibly been on the brink of outraged tears. He scrubbed a knuckle against the corner of his eye. They could have just as well been tears of laughter than anything else, he reasoned.
"Baby," Patrick crooned, unable to help himself. He leaned closer to the screen, touching his fingers to the pixels that made up Ed's face. His smile was sad now, agonized at the distance between them. "I'll be home soon. All we've got left is this weekend and then we'll be together. And we're not spending this long apart again. I promise." Never mind that wasn't likely a promise he could actually keep; he meant it in that moment.
He rather liked it when Patrick called him baby. Ed sighed and smiled like a dope at the sound. "I miss you so much. One more weekend is too long." He whimpered and pouted, leaning in close to the screen himself. "I love you, Patrick." He said it with so much feeling, pushed out all his longing into that sentence, and it helped soothe the ache in his heart, the little festering wound of his own secret betrayal. It didn't eradicate it entirely, but he felt a strange weight lifted. Maybe he could believe Trick hadn't kissed that girl after all. Besides, what was a kiss compared to what he had done himself?
"I love you, too, Eddie." Trick's voice matched the older boy's in longing and desire. Honest to God, Patrick thought about kissing the damn screen in that moment. That was how much he craved to place his lips on his boyfriend.
God. He loved it when the other boy called him Eddie, too. His smile grew to a blinding intensity that entirely contradicted the tears leaking out of his eyes. He was just so happy to hear those words that he started to quietly cry. He dropped the remains of his cigarette in the empty soda can he used for an ashtray and then smeared a knuckle under his eyes, one after the other, to try to stop the flow.
Watching Ed cry broke Trick's heart. "Shhh, no. Please don't cry, babe," he pleaded.
"I'm sorry," Ed whispered emotionally, sniffling. "I'm just.. I'm so happy. I miss you. I love you so much." It was quite a tangle he was feeling.
Happy tears were a hundred times better than sad tears, but Trick still didn't care for it; he didn't like to be incapable of wiping them away. "I miss you too. Don't cry. This'll be over soon. We should go to bed -- tomorrow we'll be one day closer to seeing each other. Sunday is my race. And Monday I get to wrap you up in a hug just a few hours after you get off work. We can do this."
"I'll be waiting at the spaceport." Ed nodded determinedly. He could easily make it to Stars End from work and spend a couple hours pacing around anxiously waiting for Trick's transport to arrive. He touched his fingers to the face on his screen, too, wishing he could reach through and actually touch the boy's face. "I'll be there. And I'll watch you win your next race like you did your last one." Full confidence in his adoring smile.
"I'll blow another kiss to you when I win." Trick's voice was full of confidence, too. "I love you. I hope we can talk again tomorrow night, too. This was nice. Sweet dreams, babe."
"Sweet dreams." One day Ed was going to have a cute pet name for Trick, too, he could feel it. Today was not that day. He only smiled. "Love you too." And tapped the screen to end the call before he never did.
( Co-written with Trick. )
Old Temple West.
Ed woke with a start when the opening jingle of Shape of You began echoing through his apartment. He sat up quickly and had a look around. The place was dark except for the technicolor glow of the video game cabinet in the corner. The beast had stopped demanding he feed it coins after he'd tampered with it, but now it insisted he PRESS START to play. He imagined telling it to jump off a cliff while he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, got up from the sofa, and stumbled over to the bed.
He pulled the sheets back as he climbed onto the mattress and unburied the tablet from underneath a heap of pillows. The glow of the device itself was set to illuminate him when he accepted the call. He yawned mightily, only managing to half smother it as the camera focused on him. His hair had long dried, but it was a ruffled mess. That didn't stop him from smiling sleepily at the face of the boy on the other end of the video call. No matter what had happened, Trick's presence, even digitally and thousands of miles away, brought him the purest joy.
"Hi. I was asleep." Ed figured it was probably a statement of the obvious, after the words had already escaped his mouth. Ah well. "What time is it?" he asked. And then he saw the display on the corner of the screen that told him and said, "Oh. Never mind. Hi."
"Hey." Patrick's face filled the screen, his expression a mixture of rapture and relief. "I miss you so fucking much. This weekend needs to fly by so I can touch your face instead of a screen." That didn't stop him from appearing to do all that distance would allow, though the camera didn't exactly show it.
"I miss you too." Ed's smile alone could have illuminated the little alcove that he called his bedroom. "I miss you so much. I'm dying for you to touch me again." He pulled his fingers down the side of the screen, his skin tingling with longing, and the smile turned into a pout.
"I'm going to touch you all night," Trick promised while lowering his voice. A shy smile took root, colored here and there with wicked intent. "It'll be the best anniversary yet. I'll be damned if I let getting sick keep me from being with you. We're spending the night together no matter what."
Ed's pout was short-lived, turning back into a sinful smile immediately after that promise was made. Still drowsy and netted in dream film, his imagination took off with some delightfully naughty imagery. For a change, he didn't even blush at the thoughts he was entertaining.
"What time will you get here?" Ed asked. This was crucial. Did he have to plan one day off from work or two? He was definitely taking the time off one way or another. No question about it.
"Umm." The younger boy pursed his lips, eyebrows crashing together as he fell deep into thought. Then the video jostled, blurring his face from view and then settling off center on a ceiling fan. Trick could be heard rummaging around in the background, then: "Got it!" The camera jostled around again before refocusing on Trick's face. He was reading from a slip of paper in his hands. "It says we get in around 6 pm. I'll have the rest of that night off and the day after, too. So make sure you request Tuesday off at work." The slip of paper disappeared from view as Patrick grasped the tablet with both hands once more. "No ifs, ands, or buts."
Ed wrinkled his nose, disappointed with the limited amount of time they'd have on the actual day of their anniversary. But Trick would be home! That was the important part. No more of these long distance video calls and not being able to touch or kiss or... other things. He smiled slyly and gave a breathy laugh. "I already planned to." He waved his hand in front of the screen as if brushing the absurdity of there being any ifs, ands, or buts away like an annoying bug.
"Good. I might have held you hostage if you didn't. Kidnapped you. Locked you up in my room."
"Hmmm. Now you're tempting me to forget to put in that request, mister." Ed's smile twisted into a decidedly wicked and playful shape.
Patrick's eyebrows lifted, surprised and also a little impressed. Ed giggled at his expression. "Are fuzzy handcuffs too kinky?" A wilder gigglefit erupted from Edgar, whose cheeks had pinked a little. Oh, Trick was blushing now, too, no doubt about it. It wasn't as though he'd never entertained ideas like it before, but talking about it out loud and with Ed was thrilling.
"No? N-no," Ed sputtered. He'd brought a hand up to cover his mouth with his fingertips. There was no way it was doing any good hiding his toothy grin or furious blush, but he tried. "But you have to get them in pink." He couldn't believe he was encouraging this! Maybe he was just testing Trick's limits.
"Fuzzy pink handcuffs?" The boy practically guffawed.
"Yes, pink! If you're going to lock me up, I have to at least look pretty in them." He was barely containing his own amusement here. A snort turned into another giggle.
Trick snickered, looking aside with consideration. "I wonder if I could find a place around here that sells that kind of stuff." His eyes snapped back to the screen, playful. "I'd probably die of embarrassment if someone caught me."
"Wait and order them online, then." Seriously. Oh my God. Had he actually said that seriously? Ed averted his gaze from the screen a moment and smothered his mouth a little more with his hand.
"Do you really want me to?" It was Patrick's turn to be serious. Maybe even a little eager. Was that what that was?
"Yes?" Ed looked back at the screen, a little wide-eyed. Trick was biting his lip. "No? I don't know!" The older boy threw up his hands. They came down to slap against his thighs; he was still wearing pajama pants so it wasn't a loud crack. The tablet jostled a little, taking him out of the shot. He righted it and nestled back into his pillows more comfortably. "Maybe." The idea did have appeal, but he felt awkward confessing it.
"They could be fun," Trick admitted. He sounded more curious than devious now.
"They could be," Ed agreed cautiously.
"And how will we know what we like unless we try it?"
Ed averted his gaze again with a thinly twisted smile that was almost shy. He considered a patch of empty space along his wall, off camera. As he scratched the ear that couldn't be seen on screen, he nodded a couple of times, head tilted.
"We don't have to go crazy or anything," Patrick said, misreading the shift in behavior from Ed as reluctance. The last thing he ever wanted to do was push his boyfriend to do anything he wasn't ready for. Trick smiled at him encouragingly, an expression so full of love and adoration that were he in a cartoon, he'd have hearts for eyes.
"You know what I think I'd like?" Ed mused, going on as if he hadn't even heard Patrick's reassurances. He was still stuck on the concept of trying new things that the younger boy had put back into his head. They had agreed to experiment together. That reminder was equal parts heart warming and a self-inflicted knife wound, but when he tipped his head back to look again at the screen, he showed only a doting smile. He didn't give Trick the chance to guess, really, before providing him with an answer. "Silks."
"Silks?"
"Yeah, silks. Y'know. Instead of handcuffs."
"Ohh," Patrick said, mouth forming an "o" during the long and drawn out sound of realization. "That's... that's kinda hot," he admitted. Not just the silks, though. The fact that they were having this conversation was rather erotic. Time and distance from one another seemed to have jump started their sex life. He was not complaining.
The sinfulness bled back into Ed's smile, forming devilish little hooks at the corners of his lips. There may have even been a merrily devious twinkle in his eyes.
"Agh," Trick complained, pulling a face. "You're doing that thing -- that smile. Stop it. I'm not there to take advantage of it."
"It must be hard," Ed teased. He couldn't help himself. The other boy laughed quietly. A wicked and likewise quiet little laugh spilled out of Edgar too. He lifted a hand to cover his mouth with a couple of fingers, which did very little really to hide his devilish smile, but helped stop him from saying what he was thinking. He shut his eyes to get a better look at his naughty daydreams for a moment.
"Yes, it is." A cryptic reply with a double meaning. "You know what's harder?" Ed's eyes opened and his brow raised, an expression that asked what? "Not getting to say goodnight to you. Looking at pictures of you just doesn't cut it." Trick pouted for a moment, but his smile resurfaced a second or two later.
The smile fled and a pout took it's place. Ed's eyes turned downcast, apologetic. "I'm sorry I've missed some of your calls," he said sadly.
"I can't expect you to put your life on hold just to be waiting by the phone when I call. I just miss you is all." Trick shrugged because there was really nothing he could do about it. This was his life now. He was just happy Ed was willing to suffer along with him.
Ugh! Why did Trick have to be so understanding? Relief hit him like an arrow through the chest. Moisture stung the corners of his eyes, and he was forced to turn his head to try to hide the tear that leaked out of one of them. He took in a shaking breath and thumbed it away.
"I got to talk to Mallory yesterday at least." Trick said.
Ed leaned out of frame for a moment. There was nothing deliberately provocative about it, and his bed clothes this evening agreed. He rummaged for a cigarette and makeshift ashtray. The former was pressed between his lips when he tipped back into view. He cleared his throat, and before lighting it, prompted Trick to elaborate by saying, "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah." He rolled his eyes, lifting a hand to scratch his forehead. "That's actually why I sent so many messages." Five was a lot when he was busy with work! "But seeing as how I didn't get a scathing response from you, I assume you haven't seen it. Thank God." That last bit muttered under his breath. "She said that I made it onto my very first tabloid cover. I don't know, I haven't seen it. Supposedly it's a picture of me kissing Caroline. I'm not sure how they managed it, since I've obviously never kissed her before. So if you do see it, don't freak out. It's fake, whatever it is."
This was it. This was the moment Ed realized that it was going to be very easy to lie to his boyfriend. As he listened to Patrick present his case, his brows lifted. He stared at the screen with wide-eyed disbelief through a haze of cigarette smoke. He had lit it and removed it from between his lips, but sat frozen solid, a captive audience. The tobacco continued to burn without his assistance and left him sitting in a thin carcinogenic cloud.
For a moment, he took his eyes off the screen. They tilted up to look over the device and beyond it, suddenly reminded of Goshen bringing the damning evidence back before him. He thought he spotted the wrinkled magazine on the floor, but it was dark and he'd only be able to tell for certain if he got up to check. But he remembered very clearly telling his seductive demon that he was hoping to pretend that he'd never even seen the tabloid in the first place. And though he very well couldn't tell Patrick the real reason why he hadn't sent him any scathing messages of his own, there was an ounce of truth he could tell him.
"I didn't even listen to any of your messages yet," Ed confessed, looking back at the screen. "Sorry. I..." Why hadn't he, though? "Um." His shoulder devil whispered helpfully in his ear, and he stunned himself at coming up with something so believable on the spot. "I accidentally left the tablet unplugged. Battery drained. I plugged it in this morning before I went to work. Fell asleep when I got home." But more importantly! And his brows crashed together with suspicion. "Who's Caroline?"
"Oh. That's okay. It's better than being mad at me." Ed lied so smoothly that Patrick never suspected a thing. If anything, he was hyper-concentrated on making sure Ed believed him now and wasn't actually mad after all. That lengthy silence after his explanation, coupled with the glance away... Trick's heart throbbed painfully in his chest. "She's Jesse's daughter. Both of his kids came on the trip with us."
Photoshop, whispered a voice in Ed's ear. That had to be it. No other explanation, because obviously Trick had never kissed this girl, even though the picture was very convincing. Top notch job, random paparazzi jerkwad, wherever you were. Ash spilled off the end of his cigarette and scattered across his pant leg, snapping him out of his quietly outraged daze. He brushed the mess off, looking down, and now that he was reminded of his cigarette, he took a drag.
It might have been hard to tell with the lighting from the screen, but quite a bit of the color had drained from Trick's face. Ed was being much too quiet. His stomach began to ache as it twisted itself into knots. "I didn't kiss her," he repeated firmly.
"Of course you didn't." Ed looked back up with a soft smile. Did he believe Patrick? He wasn't entirely sure he did, but he had already set himself on this course to pretend he hadn't seen the tabloid, so he was sticking to his guns. It might hurt, and sting, but he was determined to bury it deep down, along with his own dirty secret.
Ed's verbal confirmation settled the worry that had risen up in him. Patrick's sigh of relief was silent, but evident. "I wouldn't do that to you." A promise meant to comfort his boyfriend. Little did he know that they aided the twist of a self-inflicted knife wound only Edgar could feel. "Besides. As if Jesse wouldn't have already killed me if it was real." This amused Patrick to the point of laughter. Now that he was sure Ed believed him, they could laugh at what a joke the whole situation was. Right?
Okay, okay. So that visual did do the trick of making Ed burst into another gigglefit. There was only the slightest hint of hysteria behind it, like he had possibly been on the brink of outraged tears. He scrubbed a knuckle against the corner of his eye. They could have just as well been tears of laughter than anything else, he reasoned.
"Baby," Patrick crooned, unable to help himself. He leaned closer to the screen, touching his fingers to the pixels that made up Ed's face. His smile was sad now, agonized at the distance between them. "I'll be home soon. All we've got left is this weekend and then we'll be together. And we're not spending this long apart again. I promise." Never mind that wasn't likely a promise he could actually keep; he meant it in that moment.
He rather liked it when Patrick called him baby. Ed sighed and smiled like a dope at the sound. "I miss you so much. One more weekend is too long." He whimpered and pouted, leaning in close to the screen himself. "I love you, Patrick." He said it with so much feeling, pushed out all his longing into that sentence, and it helped soothe the ache in his heart, the little festering wound of his own secret betrayal. It didn't eradicate it entirely, but he felt a strange weight lifted. Maybe he could believe Trick hadn't kissed that girl after all. Besides, what was a kiss compared to what he had done himself?
"I love you, too, Eddie." Trick's voice matched the older boy's in longing and desire. Honest to God, Patrick thought about kissing the damn screen in that moment. That was how much he craved to place his lips on his boyfriend.
God. He loved it when the other boy called him Eddie, too. His smile grew to a blinding intensity that entirely contradicted the tears leaking out of his eyes. He was just so happy to hear those words that he started to quietly cry. He dropped the remains of his cigarette in the empty soda can he used for an ashtray and then smeared a knuckle under his eyes, one after the other, to try to stop the flow.
Watching Ed cry broke Trick's heart. "Shhh, no. Please don't cry, babe," he pleaded.
"I'm sorry," Ed whispered emotionally, sniffling. "I'm just.. I'm so happy. I miss you. I love you so much." It was quite a tangle he was feeling.
Happy tears were a hundred times better than sad tears, but Trick still didn't care for it; he didn't like to be incapable of wiping them away. "I miss you too. Don't cry. This'll be over soon. We should go to bed -- tomorrow we'll be one day closer to seeing each other. Sunday is my race. And Monday I get to wrap you up in a hug just a few hours after you get off work. We can do this."
"I'll be waiting at the spaceport." Ed nodded determinedly. He could easily make it to Stars End from work and spend a couple hours pacing around anxiously waiting for Trick's transport to arrive. He touched his fingers to the face on his screen, too, wishing he could reach through and actually touch the boy's face. "I'll be there. And I'll watch you win your next race like you did your last one." Full confidence in his adoring smile.
"I'll blow another kiss to you when I win." Trick's voice was full of confidence, too. "I love you. I hope we can talk again tomorrow night, too. This was nice. Sweet dreams, babe."
"Sweet dreams." One day Ed was going to have a cute pet name for Trick, too, he could feel it. Today was not that day. He only smiled. "Love you too." And tapped the screen to end the call before he never did.
( Co-written with Trick. )
Re: When the Cat's Away
Sunday. 4/2/17.
Stars End Bar.
Spring was finally here! Ed had spent the better part of his morning raiding thrift shops across the city to accumulate a collection of shorts for himself. Expanding his wardrobe included a need for more storage space; there were now a few slim rolling containers under his bed that suited his purposes nicely. He had even gathered some clothes hangers for the closet, to hang up his nicer shirts. The second half of his day had been spent redecorating before he changed clothes and ventured out.
It was the first time as long as a week that he found himself alone. He had done well to keep himself busy, but now he was seated at a table near the Tri-D Screen at the spacer bar, idly watching all the announcer banter before the big race, all by himself. In one hand was a lit cigarette, which he was smoking from periodically. An ashtray in front of him was piled high with extinguished filters, at least half of which were likely his own. A half empty mug of unicorn hot chocolate was near at hand too.
He was dressed in one of his newly acquired articles of clothing, a pair of burgundy jersey shorts that paired well with the black, sleeveless basketball jersey. The back of the shirt read the name RICHIE and the number 1. He had found a pair of ankle socks of similar dark red color to wear with his black canvas shoes. And he had painted his nails the darkest color red in his collection.
The fact that he was here, instead of where Trick was at the moment, put him in a slightly depressive mood. It didn't help that all the commentators wanted to talk about was "young superstar" Trick Richie's budding romance with the daughter of his co-racer. He sat with the knuckles of his free hand tucked against his neck, slumped over the table, and tried not to listen much until he heard anything about the race actually starting.
"They keep bringing her up. Caroline," Goshen commented from somewhere off to Ed's right. He'd appeared like magic, seemingly out of thin air. Really, it was as simple as his seeing Ed from across the room and walking over to his table. He stood at ease, much like a soldier, with his feet apart and both hands gathered behind him at the small of his back. They nearly matched, he and Ed. Goshen was wearing a dark red, zippered leather jacket over a gray tee. Black jeans, black doc martens. Every copper highlighted hair swept up into perfection. Amber eyes were glued to one of the screens. "Is that why you look miserable?"
So engrossed in his own daydreams was he that Goshen took him quite by surprise. Ed sprung out of his gloomy slouch with a startled squeak. He dropped his cigarette and bumped his mug of colorful cocoa into a wobble that almost ended disastrously. He managed to catch it and set it firmly back on its base before the drink spilled everywhere, though. It really had felt like Goshen had appeared by magic, because he hadn't seen him coming. He plucked up his cigarette before it could leave too bad of a burn mark in the table, heart pounding, and fixed his gaze on the far too attractive boy beside him.
"Goshen." It came as a gasp. "Hi. Hi, no. I mean not--" He cut his attention over to the big screens and sighed. "Maybe a little bit. It's not true, though. He says it's not true. I took a closer look at the picture of them kissing on the magazine, and it does look faked. The media's latched onto it, though." He flapped a hand angrily at the screen, scowled, and took an angry hit of smoke.
"Hello." The greeting was colored with amusement, though he'd yet to take his eyes off the screen. "I figured you'd be with him. I haven't seen you at all in over a week."
There was a hint of shyness in his crooked little smile, and he averted his gaze. Ed brushed some ashes off the table. "I would be, but they're not expecting to be back until later tomorrow afternoon, and I have to work tomorrow." He looked back up and aside slowly, coyly, and asked, "Did you miss me?"
Goshen's head tipped away from screen. He fixed a speculative gaze on the boy, lingering on his face before dipping lower to look him over. "We're friends. Aren't we? Should I not... miss you?" He didn't give Ed time to answer before he tore his eyes away, turning them back to the coverage of the pre-race commotion. "I'll admit to not knowing why I do, though."
While he was being examined, Ed extinguished his cigarette. As Goshen looked away, he brought his hand back to the side of his face and only managed to half conceal a wide smile. The giggle was hardly smothered at all. A small part of his brain told him he should be offended at that last comment, but...
"Sometimes you remind me of a robot," he mused aloud, gently teasing. Switching which hand was to his face, he leaned the other way so he could better look at the young man looming beside him, and he took his time to look Goshen over too. "Yes, we're friends, and I've missed you too. Because you're fun and I like you." Ed knew why, see? But he quickly changed subject by asking, "Would you like to sit with me?"
Goshen answered by spreading his hands, bringing them around to pull out the chair next to Ed and taking a seat. Crossing his legs, ankle to knee, Goshen wrapped slender fingers over his shin to hold it in place. "I don't mean to be robotic." There. His luxurious smile spread slowly like melting wax. "How have you been?"
It was so much easier now to ignore the background noise of the sports commentators. When Goshen smiled, Ed smiled. He enjoyed the vision seated beside him more than he should, but his mood had improved a hundredfold and there was no way he was going to let it be ruined now. He turned to lean against the table, facing the handsome devil a little more directly. His legs were crossed too, back of knee over top of knee. He bent up his left arm, which was resting on the table, and tucked his right hand into the crook of his elbow while the fingers of his left hand fiddled with his own hair.
"There's nothing wrong with it." Being a robot, he meant. But he decided not to dwell on that and instead answered Goshen's question. "I've been well. Better. I'm sorry I was such a lump last time you saw me. How are you?"
"Nothing interesting has happened today," Goshen answered. It wasn't the type of answer Ed was looking for, but there it was. He reached up to pull a pair of sunglasses from off the top of his head, careful not to disturb his perfectly styled hair. He used his thigh to help fold the arms of the eyewear, then set them down on the table in front of himself. "Until I happened upon you. I wasn't sure I should disturb you, but your face was lacking a smile and I simply couldn't help myself."
Twisting a short lock of hair just above his ear, Ed's smile broadened and he looked bashfully down at the sunglasses Goshen had just set on the table. He might have even been blushing. Not only had Goshen indirectly called him interesting, but implied he wanted to see him smile. That was so sweet. His shoulder angel popped up, though, to tell him to tone it down, and he glanced somewhat guiltily aside. The sports commentators were going on now about something else entirely, but the race had yet to start.
He dropped his arm and snagged his mug to pull it closer, stealing a quick glance around the rest of the bar. When he looked again at Goshen, he said, "I'm glad you disturbed me. This place is dreadfully dull." He rolled his eyes, a playful smile twisting into place. "So nothing interesting happened today. What about yesterday?"
Goshen paid close attention to every minute shift and change in Ed's expression. Body language often spoke volumes, but he was still learning how to decipher the varying codices of Human Behavior. "Yesterday was very interesting. I met a man, and together we explored a section of the catacombs beneath the city. I took him in an ossuary." A sultry, devilish smile took hold. "I've never done that before."
Well. Oh my. Ed's brows shot up and a shocked little "oh" got caught on his lips, drawn in through a sharp but quiet breath. He brought a hand up to cover his mouth with a few fingers, doing little to hide the awkward smile. Some of the nervous giggle escaped him too, and of course he was blushing. The picture being painted in his brain was terribly naughty. He struggled with what to say in response to that, turning his head to look at his hands while he fussed with his cocoa.
"An--" He squeaked, cleared his throat, tried again. "Os-ossuary?" He wasn't entirely sure what that was, and though he could venture a guess, he wasn't sure he wanted to know either.
He found Ed's modesty charming. Aside from his obvious beauty, that was a large part of Ed's appeal. He liked to fluster this boy, perhaps in part because he'd never experienced it for himself. Goshen learned through observation. That, and it was just highly attractive. "Yes. An Ossuary." He let go his leg and placed his foot on the floor beside its twin, then leaned forward, knees to elbows. They weren't any closer than friends ought to have been, but now their faces were in close proximity. "A room full of bones. There must have been thousands. The acoustics were sensational."
Goshen's description, though short, was incredibly vivid. The blush in Ed's cheeks got brighter; he could feel the heat of it and ducked his head while worrying at his lower lip with his teeth. He bent his right arm up in an attempt to conceal how flustered he was getting, as much as to subconsciously create some kind of barrier between himself and Goshen. The clarity of his imagination and the other boy's proximity were doing things to him.
"I--" He stammered hushly. "I can imagine." He tugged a little at the hair above his right ear and stole timid sideways glances at Goshen. Flashes of memory regarding bathrooms hit him, too, and he couldn't help but look covertly across the room toward the hall where the restrooms were here, remembering.
When Ed ducked his head, Goshen smiled triumphantly and sat up straight once more. Though the boy was doing his best to be covert, Goshen was fully aware that Ed kept stealing glances at him. Flattered, he raised his chin and squared his shoulders, emphasizing the various lines on display to optimize his appeal. "Earlier in the week I bought a set of drums. My neighbors are displeased."
Laughter spilled out of Ed's mouth in a breathy rush. The change in topic was so abrupt, from sensual to humorous, that he must have sounded like a dork. Goshen had all of his attention now. The sports commentary was a distant echo that didn't interest him quite so well. Shame on him. He lowered his arm to rest on the table, fingers inches from sunglasses and eager to swipe them. But his gaze roamed avidly over what he could see of Goshen's body, lingering mostly on his face, primarily the eyes and the mouth. "What compelled you to get a drumset? Are you any good?"
"No," he replied immediately. A light chuckle shook his frame before he sank back into a comfortable lean with his elbows to his knees. "I don't know a thing about them. I just like the way they sound." Goshen's attention drifted momentarily, eyeing the faces of those seated around them. "I needed something to do. Something to occupy my time that wasn't simply me waiting around for interesting things to happen. Margot suggested an instrument. Somehow I don't think this is what she had in mind."
Goshen's chuckle and confession brightened his smile, and seeing him relax allowed Ed to relax too. The first sign of his tension easing was the way he blindly hooked his fingers over the earpiece of the young man's sunglasses and tugged them across the table. He leaned back into his own chair, pulling them into his lap. Never once did he look at them, but he examined the feel of them with his fingers, as if trying to see them the way blind people do. "Who's Margot?" Of course he asked.
Goshen's attention was drawn to the sound of his sunglasses being dragged across the table, but much like Ed, he did not lower his gaze to look at them. "The woman who took me in as a child." Instead, he reached over to pluck them out of the other boy's hands and clipped them into the collar of his own tee instead. "If you keep taking my things, I'll see it as an invitation to come over and retrieve them."
Busted! Ed's brows lifted, as if he was quite surprised at what his own hands had just done. And then he giggled, lifting those hands to touch his fingertips together and tent them in front of his mouth. Lowering them, pressed together like a prayer, he said, "Sorry." Though by the curve of his wicked smile, he wasn't at all actually apologetic. He chewed on his lower lip, looking down, and lowered his hands to his lap, where he fidgeted and examined his nails by feel.
There was a moment of struggle where he wanted to tell Goshen he was welcome to come over at any time, but then he remembered that Trick was usually with him and there was no telling how decent either of them would be, if even at his apartment at all. He looked up with a revelation, saying, "You should get a phone. If you don't have one. Do you have one?"
"I don't. Do I need one?"
"You do." Ed smiled slyly. "At least one I can text you on. Mine only has texting." His attention, then, was drawn to the big screens. The race was starting.
Goshen smiled and stood up. He put the sunglasses on his face where they belonged. "I'll think about it." His head tilted up to study the screens blasting their coverage of the race, lingering there until the podracers shot forward across the starting line. "Enjoy the race." He kept his hands to himself. A miracle. "Goodbye, Ed."
"Bye, Goshen," he said distractedly. Before he knew it, the other boy was gone, so he set his attention on the race where it belonged.
( Co-written with Goshen. )
Stars End Bar.
Spring was finally here! Ed had spent the better part of his morning raiding thrift shops across the city to accumulate a collection of shorts for himself. Expanding his wardrobe included a need for more storage space; there were now a few slim rolling containers under his bed that suited his purposes nicely. He had even gathered some clothes hangers for the closet, to hang up his nicer shirts. The second half of his day had been spent redecorating before he changed clothes and ventured out.
It was the first time as long as a week that he found himself alone. He had done well to keep himself busy, but now he was seated at a table near the Tri-D Screen at the spacer bar, idly watching all the announcer banter before the big race, all by himself. In one hand was a lit cigarette, which he was smoking from periodically. An ashtray in front of him was piled high with extinguished filters, at least half of which were likely his own. A half empty mug of unicorn hot chocolate was near at hand too.
He was dressed in one of his newly acquired articles of clothing, a pair of burgundy jersey shorts that paired well with the black, sleeveless basketball jersey. The back of the shirt read the name RICHIE and the number 1. He had found a pair of ankle socks of similar dark red color to wear with his black canvas shoes. And he had painted his nails the darkest color red in his collection.
The fact that he was here, instead of where Trick was at the moment, put him in a slightly depressive mood. It didn't help that all the commentators wanted to talk about was "young superstar" Trick Richie's budding romance with the daughter of his co-racer. He sat with the knuckles of his free hand tucked against his neck, slumped over the table, and tried not to listen much until he heard anything about the race actually starting.
"They keep bringing her up. Caroline," Goshen commented from somewhere off to Ed's right. He'd appeared like magic, seemingly out of thin air. Really, it was as simple as his seeing Ed from across the room and walking over to his table. He stood at ease, much like a soldier, with his feet apart and both hands gathered behind him at the small of his back. They nearly matched, he and Ed. Goshen was wearing a dark red, zippered leather jacket over a gray tee. Black jeans, black doc martens. Every copper highlighted hair swept up into perfection. Amber eyes were glued to one of the screens. "Is that why you look miserable?"
So engrossed in his own daydreams was he that Goshen took him quite by surprise. Ed sprung out of his gloomy slouch with a startled squeak. He dropped his cigarette and bumped his mug of colorful cocoa into a wobble that almost ended disastrously. He managed to catch it and set it firmly back on its base before the drink spilled everywhere, though. It really had felt like Goshen had appeared by magic, because he hadn't seen him coming. He plucked up his cigarette before it could leave too bad of a burn mark in the table, heart pounding, and fixed his gaze on the far too attractive boy beside him.
"Goshen." It came as a gasp. "Hi. Hi, no. I mean not--" He cut his attention over to the big screens and sighed. "Maybe a little bit. It's not true, though. He says it's not true. I took a closer look at the picture of them kissing on the magazine, and it does look faked. The media's latched onto it, though." He flapped a hand angrily at the screen, scowled, and took an angry hit of smoke.
"Hello." The greeting was colored with amusement, though he'd yet to take his eyes off the screen. "I figured you'd be with him. I haven't seen you at all in over a week."
There was a hint of shyness in his crooked little smile, and he averted his gaze. Ed brushed some ashes off the table. "I would be, but they're not expecting to be back until later tomorrow afternoon, and I have to work tomorrow." He looked back up and aside slowly, coyly, and asked, "Did you miss me?"
Goshen's head tipped away from screen. He fixed a speculative gaze on the boy, lingering on his face before dipping lower to look him over. "We're friends. Aren't we? Should I not... miss you?" He didn't give Ed time to answer before he tore his eyes away, turning them back to the coverage of the pre-race commotion. "I'll admit to not knowing why I do, though."
While he was being examined, Ed extinguished his cigarette. As Goshen looked away, he brought his hand back to the side of his face and only managed to half conceal a wide smile. The giggle was hardly smothered at all. A small part of his brain told him he should be offended at that last comment, but...
"Sometimes you remind me of a robot," he mused aloud, gently teasing. Switching which hand was to his face, he leaned the other way so he could better look at the young man looming beside him, and he took his time to look Goshen over too. "Yes, we're friends, and I've missed you too. Because you're fun and I like you." Ed knew why, see? But he quickly changed subject by asking, "Would you like to sit with me?"
Goshen answered by spreading his hands, bringing them around to pull out the chair next to Ed and taking a seat. Crossing his legs, ankle to knee, Goshen wrapped slender fingers over his shin to hold it in place. "I don't mean to be robotic." There. His luxurious smile spread slowly like melting wax. "How have you been?"
It was so much easier now to ignore the background noise of the sports commentators. When Goshen smiled, Ed smiled. He enjoyed the vision seated beside him more than he should, but his mood had improved a hundredfold and there was no way he was going to let it be ruined now. He turned to lean against the table, facing the handsome devil a little more directly. His legs were crossed too, back of knee over top of knee. He bent up his left arm, which was resting on the table, and tucked his right hand into the crook of his elbow while the fingers of his left hand fiddled with his own hair.
"There's nothing wrong with it." Being a robot, he meant. But he decided not to dwell on that and instead answered Goshen's question. "I've been well. Better. I'm sorry I was such a lump last time you saw me. How are you?"
"Nothing interesting has happened today," Goshen answered. It wasn't the type of answer Ed was looking for, but there it was. He reached up to pull a pair of sunglasses from off the top of his head, careful not to disturb his perfectly styled hair. He used his thigh to help fold the arms of the eyewear, then set them down on the table in front of himself. "Until I happened upon you. I wasn't sure I should disturb you, but your face was lacking a smile and I simply couldn't help myself."
Twisting a short lock of hair just above his ear, Ed's smile broadened and he looked bashfully down at the sunglasses Goshen had just set on the table. He might have even been blushing. Not only had Goshen indirectly called him interesting, but implied he wanted to see him smile. That was so sweet. His shoulder angel popped up, though, to tell him to tone it down, and he glanced somewhat guiltily aside. The sports commentators were going on now about something else entirely, but the race had yet to start.
He dropped his arm and snagged his mug to pull it closer, stealing a quick glance around the rest of the bar. When he looked again at Goshen, he said, "I'm glad you disturbed me. This place is dreadfully dull." He rolled his eyes, a playful smile twisting into place. "So nothing interesting happened today. What about yesterday?"
Goshen paid close attention to every minute shift and change in Ed's expression. Body language often spoke volumes, but he was still learning how to decipher the varying codices of Human Behavior. "Yesterday was very interesting. I met a man, and together we explored a section of the catacombs beneath the city. I took him in an ossuary." A sultry, devilish smile took hold. "I've never done that before."
Well. Oh my. Ed's brows shot up and a shocked little "oh" got caught on his lips, drawn in through a sharp but quiet breath. He brought a hand up to cover his mouth with a few fingers, doing little to hide the awkward smile. Some of the nervous giggle escaped him too, and of course he was blushing. The picture being painted in his brain was terribly naughty. He struggled with what to say in response to that, turning his head to look at his hands while he fussed with his cocoa.
"An--" He squeaked, cleared his throat, tried again. "Os-ossuary?" He wasn't entirely sure what that was, and though he could venture a guess, he wasn't sure he wanted to know either.
He found Ed's modesty charming. Aside from his obvious beauty, that was a large part of Ed's appeal. He liked to fluster this boy, perhaps in part because he'd never experienced it for himself. Goshen learned through observation. That, and it was just highly attractive. "Yes. An Ossuary." He let go his leg and placed his foot on the floor beside its twin, then leaned forward, knees to elbows. They weren't any closer than friends ought to have been, but now their faces were in close proximity. "A room full of bones. There must have been thousands. The acoustics were sensational."
Goshen's description, though short, was incredibly vivid. The blush in Ed's cheeks got brighter; he could feel the heat of it and ducked his head while worrying at his lower lip with his teeth. He bent his right arm up in an attempt to conceal how flustered he was getting, as much as to subconsciously create some kind of barrier between himself and Goshen. The clarity of his imagination and the other boy's proximity were doing things to him.
"I--" He stammered hushly. "I can imagine." He tugged a little at the hair above his right ear and stole timid sideways glances at Goshen. Flashes of memory regarding bathrooms hit him, too, and he couldn't help but look covertly across the room toward the hall where the restrooms were here, remembering.
When Ed ducked his head, Goshen smiled triumphantly and sat up straight once more. Though the boy was doing his best to be covert, Goshen was fully aware that Ed kept stealing glances at him. Flattered, he raised his chin and squared his shoulders, emphasizing the various lines on display to optimize his appeal. "Earlier in the week I bought a set of drums. My neighbors are displeased."
Laughter spilled out of Ed's mouth in a breathy rush. The change in topic was so abrupt, from sensual to humorous, that he must have sounded like a dork. Goshen had all of his attention now. The sports commentary was a distant echo that didn't interest him quite so well. Shame on him. He lowered his arm to rest on the table, fingers inches from sunglasses and eager to swipe them. But his gaze roamed avidly over what he could see of Goshen's body, lingering mostly on his face, primarily the eyes and the mouth. "What compelled you to get a drumset? Are you any good?"
"No," he replied immediately. A light chuckle shook his frame before he sank back into a comfortable lean with his elbows to his knees. "I don't know a thing about them. I just like the way they sound." Goshen's attention drifted momentarily, eyeing the faces of those seated around them. "I needed something to do. Something to occupy my time that wasn't simply me waiting around for interesting things to happen. Margot suggested an instrument. Somehow I don't think this is what she had in mind."
Goshen's chuckle and confession brightened his smile, and seeing him relax allowed Ed to relax too. The first sign of his tension easing was the way he blindly hooked his fingers over the earpiece of the young man's sunglasses and tugged them across the table. He leaned back into his own chair, pulling them into his lap. Never once did he look at them, but he examined the feel of them with his fingers, as if trying to see them the way blind people do. "Who's Margot?" Of course he asked.
Goshen's attention was drawn to the sound of his sunglasses being dragged across the table, but much like Ed, he did not lower his gaze to look at them. "The woman who took me in as a child." Instead, he reached over to pluck them out of the other boy's hands and clipped them into the collar of his own tee instead. "If you keep taking my things, I'll see it as an invitation to come over and retrieve them."
Busted! Ed's brows lifted, as if he was quite surprised at what his own hands had just done. And then he giggled, lifting those hands to touch his fingertips together and tent them in front of his mouth. Lowering them, pressed together like a prayer, he said, "Sorry." Though by the curve of his wicked smile, he wasn't at all actually apologetic. He chewed on his lower lip, looking down, and lowered his hands to his lap, where he fidgeted and examined his nails by feel.
There was a moment of struggle where he wanted to tell Goshen he was welcome to come over at any time, but then he remembered that Trick was usually with him and there was no telling how decent either of them would be, if even at his apartment at all. He looked up with a revelation, saying, "You should get a phone. If you don't have one. Do you have one?"
"I don't. Do I need one?"
"You do." Ed smiled slyly. "At least one I can text you on. Mine only has texting." His attention, then, was drawn to the big screens. The race was starting.
Goshen smiled and stood up. He put the sunglasses on his face where they belonged. "I'll think about it." His head tilted up to study the screens blasting their coverage of the race, lingering there until the podracers shot forward across the starting line. "Enjoy the race." He kept his hands to himself. A miracle. "Goodbye, Ed."
"Bye, Goshen," he said distractedly. Before he knew it, the other boy was gone, so he set his attention on the race where it belonged.
( Co-written with Goshen. )
Re: When the Cat's Away
Sunday. 4/2/17.
Old Temple West.
By the time the race had concluded, the temperature outside had dropped at least ten degrees. Ed decided immediately to head home. At the very least, he needed to change into something warm, maybe scrounge up some dinner. He lit a cigarette as soon as he got off the train and smoked it while he ran. The faster he got indoors, in where it was warm, the better. Fortunately he was immune to lung disease and had no trouble keeping his breath.
"I'm home!" he announced when he flung open his apartment door and bounced inside. "Trick won second place this time!" He shut the door, waited. Nobody answered him. With an exasperated huff, and a dramatic sag of his shoulders, he slouched into the living room. "Where has everybody been lately? Geeze Louise."
At least his stomach had something to say to him. He doused the filter of his cigarette under the faucet and dumped it in an empty soda can. They were starting to pile up, those soda cans. With nothing better to do, he decided to tidy up a bit. It was a simple matter of grabbing an empty trash bag, circling the apartment, and chucking anything that looked like garbage into the bag. When that task was complete, he hung the bag on the lip of a kitchen drawer, and then made himself a sandwich.
The door buzzer went off by the time he had finished his sandwich, nothing more complex than cheese slices slapped between two pieces of bread. He was starting to get used to that sound these days, but it still made him twitch in surprise. There was only one person who knew where he lived who still pressed the buzzer to be let in, so he hopped over to the panel to press the button on his end that would let him in the building, then hopped over to the door of his apartment to open that too.
"Hello," said Goshen as he stepped through the doorway. There were only a couple minor differences in his attire from earlier in the day when they'd run into each other at the sports bar in Stars End. A black and white drawstring bag hanging from one shoulder and a pair of black, plastic rimmed eyeglasses in place of the sunglasses Ed had tried to steal.
"Wow," Ed said instead of hello. Though he realized he was stupidly ogling a moment later, shook his head to snap his mouth shut, and said, "I mean... Hi. Come in. Er. You're already in. Yes! Hi!" He rolled his eyes at himself, behind the door, which he leaned into to shut once Goshen had passed completely through. He was still wearing the exact same outfit he'd had on at the bar.
Unsure what exactly had the other boy looking at him like that, Goshen glanced quickly down the front of himself. He smoothed a hand over his jacket and shirt, then adjusted the small bag on his shoulder. He looked back up, smiling.
"I have something for you." Goshen helped himself to a seat, perching on the arm of the couch. For a brief moment, he looked down at his hands which he'd clasped in his lap, then up at Ed's face again, smoothing both palms down the length of his thighs.
"You do?" Ed's brows raised in surprise, of course. There was also a certain level of giddiness to the shocked request for confirmation. He liked presents!
"Yes. I do." Nodding, Goshen shrugged the bag from his shoulder and settled it against his lap. He took his time in loosening the straps, methodical as ever.
At this moment, Ed was extremely grateful for the foresight he'd had to clean the place up. He cast a thankful glance over to the little bobblehead figurine atop his refrigerator, clasped his hands together, and said a silent prayer to City Momma in thanks for the motivation. Then he looked back and crept over to where Goshen was seated on the armrest. Ed plopped down on a cushion close by, watching him reveal his big gift, outwardly patient but dying inside with anticipation.
Ed had done some redecorating since last Goshen had been here. The bathroom door was still wedged into the closet nook, which lacked doors itself, but there were hangers on the rod in there now. Some of them even had shirts hanging on them. There was also a length of string tied to the ceiling, from which were hanging a pair of sheer white curtains that better separated his bedroom space from his living room space. Under the bed were some plastic rolling totes full of things that looked suspiciously like more clothes, and possibly a blanket.
From the depths of the little bag, Goshen withdrew a DVD copy of Freaks and held it out to Ed. He said nothing, watching the other boy intently while awaiting his reaction.
Ed had just sat down, but as soon as his mind registered what his eyes were seeing, he leapt up off the couch with an excited gasp and snatched the DVD right out of Goshen's hands. Goshen's face split into a wide grin. "Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh oh my gosh! Oh my gosh you found it!" After an elated squeal and a running in place tippy-toe dance of delight, he lunged at Goshen to throw his arms around him and hug him tight. He nearly knocked him off the couch in the process, but such was the price of his glee.
Goshen was slight of frame, but there was more to him than most people knew. Ed was a force of nature, hitting him like a reckless tornado in his excitement, but he was not bowled over. He planted a foot on the polished concrete floor and rose smoothly into a standing position instead of ending up on the floor. His arms wound around Ed's body tightly, thrilled with the joyous reaction to the gift. "You're welcome," he murmured softly, briefly touching his cheek to Ed's.
Ed mouthed a repetition of that phrase, nearly breathing the words because he didn't immediately understand. He cooed some wordless noise of pleasure and turned his head so that the touch of cheeks became more of a nuzzle. Then it dawned at him and he leaned back, but not out of Goshen's arms. He rested one hand on the older boy's shoulder and brought the DVD around to his chest to look at it, then looked Goshen in the eyes.
"This is mine? You're giving it to me?" He had to be 100% sure.
"If you want it from me, yes," Goshen answered. That was slick.
"Of course I want it from you!" Ed nearly shrieked like a schoolgirl who had just met her idol. He pulled the DVD away from Goshen's chest to tuck and press it tight against his own.
One of Goshen's eyebrows ticked up toward his hairline and a sly, bewitching smile took root.
Realizing then the double meanings they were throwing around, Ed's cheeks burned hot and bright. Goshen snickered and let him go. Ed swayed and kept his hand on Goshen's shoulder, though. Embarrassment had come at him in a dizzying rush. Instead of smothering him with a thousand exuberant thank yous, as had been his initial instinct, he only whispered one.
"Thank you." It was sincere, but a lot more sober. He took back his hand, now sure he could stand on his own and not faint straight away, and tucked that arm back to hug the DVD case to his chest. He smiled like a dope but looked shyly down and away.
"You're welcome," Goshen repeated. Then he retook his seat and pulled the drawstring bag back into his lap. "Why do you want me to have a phone?" Goshen excelled at abrupt subject changes, always bouncing from one thought to the next. He showed patience in everything except his thirst for knowledge and understanding.
"So I can text you, to let you know I'm home. Or you can text me to ask so you don't walk all the way out here some time and press my buzzer for however long and I never answer because I'm not here, or something." Ed turned aside with an amused twist of a smile. He circled back, giving Goshen some space again, and sat down on the sofa.
Goshen paused his rummaging about through the contents of the bag to peer at Ed. "Does this mean you wouldn't rather I leave you alone?"
"I hate being alone." Ed knew that wasn't exactly what Goshen was asking. The way his eyes briefly shimmered with mirth when he looked up suggested as much. But he thought about Goshen's apartment, and sadly had to wonder, "Don't you?"
Their eyes locked together for the span of a few heartbeats. Though Goshen's expression gave little away, he wasn't armed with a snappy, smooth comeback. Fleetingly reflective, the older boy blinked at Ed through the chunky frames of unnecessary, hipster glasses. "No," he admitted cautiously after a time. "I don't like it, either." Goshen pressed his lips together and resumed pawing through the bag in his lap until he found what he was looking for.
A sleek, shiny, seemingly brand new touch screen phone lay cradled in the palm of his hand, held out on display for Ed to inspect.
Ed's eyes never lit up quite so intensely bright as they did when he was presented with technology. Though the DVD copy of Freaks was probably the best gift he had ever been given, aside from gaining a boyfriend, it got set neatly aside in favor of scooting over closer to Goshen so he could swipe the phone out of the palm of his hand. He turned it over, end over end over side over end, and inspected it thoroughly, as if it were some great cubic puzzle.
"Hm, hm. Touch screen. State of the art. Difficult to modify." Ed mumbled to himself like a mad scientist given a new toy to experiment on, really.
Goshen leaned closer and lowered his voice. "If there's anyone who can make it work, it's you."
The brilliance of Ed's smile in that moment could have warmed a thousand Earths for a thousand years. He tilted his head up to show Goshen how super pleased he was with that vote of confidence, though there was also a distance to his gaze. He was deep down in his head, cranking the Engineer's gears. Still, he had enough presence of mind to press a kiss on Goshen's cheek when he stood.
Ed walked around the couch and through the sheer curtain barrier into his bedroom space, taking the phone with him. He dug his own messenger device out of a pocket of his shorts along the way. When he reached his tray table desk in the corner, he pulled out his chair, sat down, and immediately set to work disassembling the electronics. All the tools he needed for the job were in the shoebox right in front of him. He slid on a pair of safety glasses and plugged in the soldering iron too.
Goshen followed Ed into the newly partitioned bedroom space after removing his jacket. He'd left it lying across the arm of the couch. Rather than grab the second folding chair so he could sit beside Ed at his little tray table, he helped himself to the bed and made himself comfortable by stretching out to lie flat on his back, legs crossed at the ankles. Hopefully Ed didn't mind that he was still wearing his shoes.
"How often does your boyfriend have to leave like this?" Goshen's eyes were trained on the ceiling. He folded his hands behind his head, which was propped up on a pillow.
When it came to tampering and tinkering with technological devices, Ed showed remarkable focus. Not even the deliciously seductive body sprawled out next to him could distract him from what he'd set his mind to do just now. His skill was an obsession. His hands deftly juggled out the tools he needed: tiny screwdrivers, tweezers, needle nose pliers, a paper clip, a spare SD card, random wires and circuitry, and more. Some things got removed and other things added in. He had even figured out at some point how to hook other electronics up to the tablet Trick had gifted him and used that to reprogram devices such as this.
"Hmm. He has a race every Sunday. Most of them are too far away for me to go watch in person. The season runs until some time in May." Plink. He dropped some presumably unnecessary part in the shoebox amid a bunch of other questionable bits. "Sometimes he has these big PR events he has to go to during the week, though, too."
"I see." Goshen closed his eyes, listening to the way Ed worked diligently at the task set out before him. His confidence in the younger male had not been just a line. He fully believed in Ed's tinkering capabilities. After several minutes of silence between them, he said, "You don't have to be alone when he's busy."
An unexpected current of exhilaration ran through his body upon hearing that, and that's when Ed messed up. The soldering iron slipped and nicked his fingertip. He hissed, mumbled an ow, and stuck his finger in his mouth in an effort to soothe the burn. This gave him the minute to think that he needed. Not about what to do with the phone. That almost came to him naturally, perhaps even divinely.
No, what he really needed to think about was how long he was going to keep Goshen a secret, even as a friend. The last time the subject had come up, they'd argued, pretty much broken up even though they'd never been technically together in the first place. Oooh, this was such a messed up situation to be in! But at least, with a phone, it would be a better organized mess. He pulled his finger from his mouth, but before he could go back to work, Goshen turned over on the bed to look at him.
"Did you hurt yourself?" he asked.
"No, I... I mean yes." Ed turned his hand to show Goshen the tiny red welt on his fingertip and smiled sheepishly. "It's fine. Not even bleeding. Probably fade away before morning." He shrugged nonchalantly and reapplied the soldering iron to the device, just a touch, and then tucked it back into its base.
"Give me your hand," Goshen insisted. He held out his own for Ed's, waiting patiently for the other boy to obey.
Ed hesitated for a moment, feeling his pulse jump start at the command. Looking aside at Goshen's extended hand, he fiddled briefly with the tools on his table, and then turned his left hand over into the older boy's custody. Conveniently that was the side closest to the bed, the wall was on his right side.
Just as any other time Goshen used his abilities on Ed, there was nothing at all to give away that he was hard at work manipulating cells. Except, perhaps, the sudden cessation of stinging pain when he was finished. Goshen tenderly smoothed his thumb over Ed's fingertips. Proof that he was capable of being more than rough and demanding; he could be gentle, too.
"You didn't have to," Ed whispered, a little breathlessly. He found himself stuck in awe at the unexpected gentleness from the other boy. His skin tingled for other reasons. The project before him was steadily being forgotten.
He shrugged lightly. "Why wait until tomorrow when I can fix it tonight?" Goshen smiled, sweeping his thumb back across Ed's fingers in the opposite direction. He released the other boy to finish his task, but remained propped up on his side to better watch him at work.
The loss of physical contact was like a spell being broken. Ed blinked a couple of times, but then smiled sweetly. "Thank you," he said softly, averting his gaze, once more rather bashfully. He brought his hand back, only to tuck it against the palm of his other. He examined his own fingers as if he didn't quite recognize them for the little miracle that had been performed, still feeling the phantom brush of Goshen's thumb across his skin.
"You like when I touch you, don't you." It was somehow both accusatory and a question all at once.
Ed blushed and nodded guiltily, confirming. He tucked his hand back against his chest, cradled defensively under the other one. Words gathered as a lump in his throat that he swallowed while gazing down at the collection of parts and mostly reassembled hardware. There was only a little bit left to do. Uncaging his hand, he leaned over to slide the tablet out from under his pillow and connected the phone to it with a specialized adapter he'd likely invented himself.
Among other things, he edited the contacts to include his own, and fooled the phone into thinking it was connected to some network or another so that it would work. This only took a matter of minutes. When he was finished, he disconnected everything, slipped the tablet back under his pillow, put the phone itself completely back together again, and handed it to Goshen, holding it in his upturned palm much like how the older boy had presented it to him.
Without a word, Goshen took the device from out of Ed's outstretched hand. His gaze lingered on the boy's face for a few beats longer, then dropped down to study the phone in his hand. He sat up, swinging his legs over the side so that his feet touched the floor, and began to type up a message. Luckily, Goshen knew how to use this type of phone, even if he'd never owned one himself before. Technically, he didn't own this one, either, but Goshen operated in a world where possession is 9/10ths of the law. It was one of the few things that made sense to him.
He stood up after pressing "Send." The tablet hidden beneath the pillow chirped an alert to signal it had received a message. Goshen leaned down to press a grateful kiss on Ed's cheek when the boy glanced at it distractedly.
"It just says thank you," he admitted upon straightening up.
"You're welcome," Ed said softly, almost timidly. The kiss to his cheek made him smile, but he turned his head to politely look away so that he wasn't staring right at Goshen's crotch when the other boy stood. That brought a bit of color back into his cheeks. Despite that, he felt a little thrill at doing something deserving of thanks.
He pulled off his safety glasses, folded them, and tucked them in the box. Then he pulled the plug on the soldering iron to make sure it would cool down. As he stood, he emptied his pockets of the rest of their contents: pack of cigarettes, Zippo, keys. He set all those things down on the tray table.
Meanwhile, Goshen had ducked through the gauzy curtain and moved back over to the couch to collect his jacket. He dropped the cell phone into his bag and cinched it closed. Ed turned to watch him through the sheer curtain, setting a cigarette between his lips out of habit and preparing to light it.
"Are you leaving?" the younger boy asked, sounding disappointed.
Goshen kept his back to Ed for another ten seconds before turning slowly to face him. "What do you want me to do?" He drew in a deep breath and took a step toward him. "You're... my friend?" It came out sounding like a question. "But I think I just hurt you by being around. I keep telling myself that if I was really your friend, I'd leave you alone. I'm trying to be your friend."
That was something. Ed's face contorted through a variety of expressions, from a wounded confusion with the knit of his brows to a fond mischievousness with the sudden twist into place of a soft smile. He was looking down thoughtfully while his brain tumbled the bingo cage of possible responses. He took his time about it, lighting the cigarette and taking a long drag off it in his pause. As he exhaled, he stepped forward and swept aside the curtain to move back out into the living space of his apartment.
"Friends," he said decidedly, moving past Goshen and around to the sink, "stick around. They hang out. Do things." He waved his hand flippantly, dismissing the immediate sexual implications that jumped to mind. Then he pulled open a drawer, rummaged around through a pile of old lady jewelry, and retrieved Goshen's brass cigarette case from its depths. He held it up, turning around with a lofty smile as he presented it, and strode back over to thump the case lightly against Goshen's chest.
"They also don't steal from each other," Ed went on to say. Upon further reflection, eyes turned up and then down to look Goshen in the eye with a playful smile, he added, "I owe you some joints, though. I smoked them all. Sorry."
Friends. Goshen lifted a hand to take back his cigarette case. He opened it to confirm that it was indeed empty, then snapped it shut again. "Don't worry about it. I can refill it myself." There was some of that robotic behavior Ed had mentioned earlier in the day. Outwardly, he presented a calm, collected demeanor. Inwardly there was a war raging between what he wanted and what he should do, and that in and of itself was something of a quandary. He'd never agonized over anything before. It was almost too much to handle.
This close, Ed couldn't help but study Goshen's face intently, his eyes and his mouth in particular. It took a considerable amount of self-control to make himself back up a step, and then another; he turned just in time to ash his cigarette out in the sink. "Did you at least want to watch the movie with me?" he asked, as innocently as he could muster. "I mean... You went through all that trouble to find it for me." He turned to show Goshen his utterly charmed smile. "You should watch it. I'd like you to, but only if you want." And yes he absolutely had the ulterior motive of getting Goshen to snuggle with him while they watched it, but that was besides the point.
Goshen nodded a handful of times, slowly, before answering verbally. "I'd like that." He turned to set his coat back down.
"Great!" Ed was beyond pleased and it showed. He took one more long drag off his cigarette and then extinguished what remained in the faucet. The soggy filter got tossed in the garbage bag he'd hung off the drawer.
The older boy moved to get the lights, plunging the room swiftly into darkness, with the exception of the always on 8-bit glow of the video game cabinet. Ed giggled, because his hand was on the fridge door and when he opened it more light spilled into the room again. "Did you want a soda?" he asked. There was a box of grape Fanta in there. "Something to eat maybe? I've only got like... bread and cereal. Half a carton of milk..."
"A soda is fine," Goshen interjected before Ed decided to list every single thing he had in the apartment, few though those things may be.
He would have, too. Smiling brightly, he snatched two cans of grape soda out of the box and then dove for the couch. He let the weighted fridge door shut itself, allowing some light for a little longer. Ed sprawled and stretched across the sofa and the floor, flicking on the TV and powering up the DVD player. There was mostly darkness again for a moment, and then a static glow, which was helpful in getting everything set up to play. He untangled himself and got up on the couch to sit more properly once that was all situated, offering one of the cans (possibly now shaken) to Goshen.
"Remind me again why this one is your favorite?" Goshen took the soda from Ed and sat down beside him. It seemed all too easy for him to settle into place pressed up against Ed's side. He even stretched an arm out along the back of the couch behind him.
"Well, for a couple of reasons." Ed was beyond overjoyed at how neatly Goshen tucked in beside him, and he nestled into the other boy's side with just as much ease. "Not least of which is the year it was made." Whatever the significance of that year was, personally, to Ed, he did not say. Instead, as the opening credits rolled up, he launched into a historical dissertation that bordered on the fanatical concerning how the movie was ahead of its time, too shocking for audiences, removed from circulation and forbidden.
As the older boy listened, he pinned the soda can between his legs to hold it in place and used his free hand to crack it open. The agitated carbonation, when released from the confines of its prison, sprayed itself all over his pants. Despite Goshen's attempt to seal his palm over the opening, both his shirt and Ed's ended up in the fallout. Ed's speech was put on pause when he broke into a gigglefit.
Ed got up and pulled off his shirt. He used it to sop up the spray that had landed on his arms and face, then offered it to Goshen so he could do the same. "I probably have a shirt that'll fit you. I don't know about pants. Maybe Jameson left something." He estimated that Goshen was about the same size as the drifter with a very quick, darting, bashful glance at the older boy's pants. Of course his eyes caught and lingered half a second too long on Goshen's lap. He started to step away to dig through his footlocker, but the older boy caught him by the wrist and hauled him down onto the lap Ed had just been looking at a moment ago.
An unmistakable, burning, consuming fire crackled in Goshen's eyes as they roamed over Ed's torso. He swept his free hand up along Ed's spine and locked it at the back of his neck. Ed's breath caught and his heart pounded furiously, feeling himself swept up instantly in the blaze of desire as it spread from Goshen to him. He could not, and did not want to, break eye contact for the life of him. As if the suggestion had been telepathically transmitted from Goshen to him, Ed found his hands working against him to help relieve the older boy of his soda soaked shirt as well.
Then Goshen kissed him, fiercely and hungrily. Ed moaned, melting against him. The rest of the movie served as background noise and mood lighting for a lengthy romp right there on the couch. Ed slept well that night. And in the morning, Goshen was gone.
( Co-written with Goshen. )
Old Temple West.
By the time the race had concluded, the temperature outside had dropped at least ten degrees. Ed decided immediately to head home. At the very least, he needed to change into something warm, maybe scrounge up some dinner. He lit a cigarette as soon as he got off the train and smoked it while he ran. The faster he got indoors, in where it was warm, the better. Fortunately he was immune to lung disease and had no trouble keeping his breath.
"I'm home!" he announced when he flung open his apartment door and bounced inside. "Trick won second place this time!" He shut the door, waited. Nobody answered him. With an exasperated huff, and a dramatic sag of his shoulders, he slouched into the living room. "Where has everybody been lately? Geeze Louise."
At least his stomach had something to say to him. He doused the filter of his cigarette under the faucet and dumped it in an empty soda can. They were starting to pile up, those soda cans. With nothing better to do, he decided to tidy up a bit. It was a simple matter of grabbing an empty trash bag, circling the apartment, and chucking anything that looked like garbage into the bag. When that task was complete, he hung the bag on the lip of a kitchen drawer, and then made himself a sandwich.
The door buzzer went off by the time he had finished his sandwich, nothing more complex than cheese slices slapped between two pieces of bread. He was starting to get used to that sound these days, but it still made him twitch in surprise. There was only one person who knew where he lived who still pressed the buzzer to be let in, so he hopped over to the panel to press the button on his end that would let him in the building, then hopped over to the door of his apartment to open that too.
"Hello," said Goshen as he stepped through the doorway. There were only a couple minor differences in his attire from earlier in the day when they'd run into each other at the sports bar in Stars End. A black and white drawstring bag hanging from one shoulder and a pair of black, plastic rimmed eyeglasses in place of the sunglasses Ed had tried to steal.
"Wow," Ed said instead of hello. Though he realized he was stupidly ogling a moment later, shook his head to snap his mouth shut, and said, "I mean... Hi. Come in. Er. You're already in. Yes! Hi!" He rolled his eyes at himself, behind the door, which he leaned into to shut once Goshen had passed completely through. He was still wearing the exact same outfit he'd had on at the bar.
Unsure what exactly had the other boy looking at him like that, Goshen glanced quickly down the front of himself. He smoothed a hand over his jacket and shirt, then adjusted the small bag on his shoulder. He looked back up, smiling.
"I have something for you." Goshen helped himself to a seat, perching on the arm of the couch. For a brief moment, he looked down at his hands which he'd clasped in his lap, then up at Ed's face again, smoothing both palms down the length of his thighs.
"You do?" Ed's brows raised in surprise, of course. There was also a certain level of giddiness to the shocked request for confirmation. He liked presents!
"Yes. I do." Nodding, Goshen shrugged the bag from his shoulder and settled it against his lap. He took his time in loosening the straps, methodical as ever.
At this moment, Ed was extremely grateful for the foresight he'd had to clean the place up. He cast a thankful glance over to the little bobblehead figurine atop his refrigerator, clasped his hands together, and said a silent prayer to City Momma in thanks for the motivation. Then he looked back and crept over to where Goshen was seated on the armrest. Ed plopped down on a cushion close by, watching him reveal his big gift, outwardly patient but dying inside with anticipation.
Ed had done some redecorating since last Goshen had been here. The bathroom door was still wedged into the closet nook, which lacked doors itself, but there were hangers on the rod in there now. Some of them even had shirts hanging on them. There was also a length of string tied to the ceiling, from which were hanging a pair of sheer white curtains that better separated his bedroom space from his living room space. Under the bed were some plastic rolling totes full of things that looked suspiciously like more clothes, and possibly a blanket.
From the depths of the little bag, Goshen withdrew a DVD copy of Freaks and held it out to Ed. He said nothing, watching the other boy intently while awaiting his reaction.
Ed had just sat down, but as soon as his mind registered what his eyes were seeing, he leapt up off the couch with an excited gasp and snatched the DVD right out of Goshen's hands. Goshen's face split into a wide grin. "Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh oh my gosh! Oh my gosh you found it!" After an elated squeal and a running in place tippy-toe dance of delight, he lunged at Goshen to throw his arms around him and hug him tight. He nearly knocked him off the couch in the process, but such was the price of his glee.
Goshen was slight of frame, but there was more to him than most people knew. Ed was a force of nature, hitting him like a reckless tornado in his excitement, but he was not bowled over. He planted a foot on the polished concrete floor and rose smoothly into a standing position instead of ending up on the floor. His arms wound around Ed's body tightly, thrilled with the joyous reaction to the gift. "You're welcome," he murmured softly, briefly touching his cheek to Ed's.
Ed mouthed a repetition of that phrase, nearly breathing the words because he didn't immediately understand. He cooed some wordless noise of pleasure and turned his head so that the touch of cheeks became more of a nuzzle. Then it dawned at him and he leaned back, but not out of Goshen's arms. He rested one hand on the older boy's shoulder and brought the DVD around to his chest to look at it, then looked Goshen in the eyes.
"This is mine? You're giving it to me?" He had to be 100% sure.
"If you want it from me, yes," Goshen answered. That was slick.
"Of course I want it from you!" Ed nearly shrieked like a schoolgirl who had just met her idol. He pulled the DVD away from Goshen's chest to tuck and press it tight against his own.
One of Goshen's eyebrows ticked up toward his hairline and a sly, bewitching smile took root.
Realizing then the double meanings they were throwing around, Ed's cheeks burned hot and bright. Goshen snickered and let him go. Ed swayed and kept his hand on Goshen's shoulder, though. Embarrassment had come at him in a dizzying rush. Instead of smothering him with a thousand exuberant thank yous, as had been his initial instinct, he only whispered one.
"Thank you." It was sincere, but a lot more sober. He took back his hand, now sure he could stand on his own and not faint straight away, and tucked that arm back to hug the DVD case to his chest. He smiled like a dope but looked shyly down and away.
"You're welcome," Goshen repeated. Then he retook his seat and pulled the drawstring bag back into his lap. "Why do you want me to have a phone?" Goshen excelled at abrupt subject changes, always bouncing from one thought to the next. He showed patience in everything except his thirst for knowledge and understanding.
"So I can text you, to let you know I'm home. Or you can text me to ask so you don't walk all the way out here some time and press my buzzer for however long and I never answer because I'm not here, or something." Ed turned aside with an amused twist of a smile. He circled back, giving Goshen some space again, and sat down on the sofa.
Goshen paused his rummaging about through the contents of the bag to peer at Ed. "Does this mean you wouldn't rather I leave you alone?"
"I hate being alone." Ed knew that wasn't exactly what Goshen was asking. The way his eyes briefly shimmered with mirth when he looked up suggested as much. But he thought about Goshen's apartment, and sadly had to wonder, "Don't you?"
Their eyes locked together for the span of a few heartbeats. Though Goshen's expression gave little away, he wasn't armed with a snappy, smooth comeback. Fleetingly reflective, the older boy blinked at Ed through the chunky frames of unnecessary, hipster glasses. "No," he admitted cautiously after a time. "I don't like it, either." Goshen pressed his lips together and resumed pawing through the bag in his lap until he found what he was looking for.
A sleek, shiny, seemingly brand new touch screen phone lay cradled in the palm of his hand, held out on display for Ed to inspect.
Ed's eyes never lit up quite so intensely bright as they did when he was presented with technology. Though the DVD copy of Freaks was probably the best gift he had ever been given, aside from gaining a boyfriend, it got set neatly aside in favor of scooting over closer to Goshen so he could swipe the phone out of the palm of his hand. He turned it over, end over end over side over end, and inspected it thoroughly, as if it were some great cubic puzzle.
"Hm, hm. Touch screen. State of the art. Difficult to modify." Ed mumbled to himself like a mad scientist given a new toy to experiment on, really.
Goshen leaned closer and lowered his voice. "If there's anyone who can make it work, it's you."
The brilliance of Ed's smile in that moment could have warmed a thousand Earths for a thousand years. He tilted his head up to show Goshen how super pleased he was with that vote of confidence, though there was also a distance to his gaze. He was deep down in his head, cranking the Engineer's gears. Still, he had enough presence of mind to press a kiss on Goshen's cheek when he stood.
Ed walked around the couch and through the sheer curtain barrier into his bedroom space, taking the phone with him. He dug his own messenger device out of a pocket of his shorts along the way. When he reached his tray table desk in the corner, he pulled out his chair, sat down, and immediately set to work disassembling the electronics. All the tools he needed for the job were in the shoebox right in front of him. He slid on a pair of safety glasses and plugged in the soldering iron too.
Goshen followed Ed into the newly partitioned bedroom space after removing his jacket. He'd left it lying across the arm of the couch. Rather than grab the second folding chair so he could sit beside Ed at his little tray table, he helped himself to the bed and made himself comfortable by stretching out to lie flat on his back, legs crossed at the ankles. Hopefully Ed didn't mind that he was still wearing his shoes.
"How often does your boyfriend have to leave like this?" Goshen's eyes were trained on the ceiling. He folded his hands behind his head, which was propped up on a pillow.
When it came to tampering and tinkering with technological devices, Ed showed remarkable focus. Not even the deliciously seductive body sprawled out next to him could distract him from what he'd set his mind to do just now. His skill was an obsession. His hands deftly juggled out the tools he needed: tiny screwdrivers, tweezers, needle nose pliers, a paper clip, a spare SD card, random wires and circuitry, and more. Some things got removed and other things added in. He had even figured out at some point how to hook other electronics up to the tablet Trick had gifted him and used that to reprogram devices such as this.
"Hmm. He has a race every Sunday. Most of them are too far away for me to go watch in person. The season runs until some time in May." Plink. He dropped some presumably unnecessary part in the shoebox amid a bunch of other questionable bits. "Sometimes he has these big PR events he has to go to during the week, though, too."
"I see." Goshen closed his eyes, listening to the way Ed worked diligently at the task set out before him. His confidence in the younger male had not been just a line. He fully believed in Ed's tinkering capabilities. After several minutes of silence between them, he said, "You don't have to be alone when he's busy."
An unexpected current of exhilaration ran through his body upon hearing that, and that's when Ed messed up. The soldering iron slipped and nicked his fingertip. He hissed, mumbled an ow, and stuck his finger in his mouth in an effort to soothe the burn. This gave him the minute to think that he needed. Not about what to do with the phone. That almost came to him naturally, perhaps even divinely.
No, what he really needed to think about was how long he was going to keep Goshen a secret, even as a friend. The last time the subject had come up, they'd argued, pretty much broken up even though they'd never been technically together in the first place. Oooh, this was such a messed up situation to be in! But at least, with a phone, it would be a better organized mess. He pulled his finger from his mouth, but before he could go back to work, Goshen turned over on the bed to look at him.
"Did you hurt yourself?" he asked.
"No, I... I mean yes." Ed turned his hand to show Goshen the tiny red welt on his fingertip and smiled sheepishly. "It's fine. Not even bleeding. Probably fade away before morning." He shrugged nonchalantly and reapplied the soldering iron to the device, just a touch, and then tucked it back into its base.
"Give me your hand," Goshen insisted. He held out his own for Ed's, waiting patiently for the other boy to obey.
Ed hesitated for a moment, feeling his pulse jump start at the command. Looking aside at Goshen's extended hand, he fiddled briefly with the tools on his table, and then turned his left hand over into the older boy's custody. Conveniently that was the side closest to the bed, the wall was on his right side.
Just as any other time Goshen used his abilities on Ed, there was nothing at all to give away that he was hard at work manipulating cells. Except, perhaps, the sudden cessation of stinging pain when he was finished. Goshen tenderly smoothed his thumb over Ed's fingertips. Proof that he was capable of being more than rough and demanding; he could be gentle, too.
"You didn't have to," Ed whispered, a little breathlessly. He found himself stuck in awe at the unexpected gentleness from the other boy. His skin tingled for other reasons. The project before him was steadily being forgotten.
He shrugged lightly. "Why wait until tomorrow when I can fix it tonight?" Goshen smiled, sweeping his thumb back across Ed's fingers in the opposite direction. He released the other boy to finish his task, but remained propped up on his side to better watch him at work.
The loss of physical contact was like a spell being broken. Ed blinked a couple of times, but then smiled sweetly. "Thank you," he said softly, averting his gaze, once more rather bashfully. He brought his hand back, only to tuck it against the palm of his other. He examined his own fingers as if he didn't quite recognize them for the little miracle that had been performed, still feeling the phantom brush of Goshen's thumb across his skin.
"You like when I touch you, don't you." It was somehow both accusatory and a question all at once.
Ed blushed and nodded guiltily, confirming. He tucked his hand back against his chest, cradled defensively under the other one. Words gathered as a lump in his throat that he swallowed while gazing down at the collection of parts and mostly reassembled hardware. There was only a little bit left to do. Uncaging his hand, he leaned over to slide the tablet out from under his pillow and connected the phone to it with a specialized adapter he'd likely invented himself.
Among other things, he edited the contacts to include his own, and fooled the phone into thinking it was connected to some network or another so that it would work. This only took a matter of minutes. When he was finished, he disconnected everything, slipped the tablet back under his pillow, put the phone itself completely back together again, and handed it to Goshen, holding it in his upturned palm much like how the older boy had presented it to him.
Without a word, Goshen took the device from out of Ed's outstretched hand. His gaze lingered on the boy's face for a few beats longer, then dropped down to study the phone in his hand. He sat up, swinging his legs over the side so that his feet touched the floor, and began to type up a message. Luckily, Goshen knew how to use this type of phone, even if he'd never owned one himself before. Technically, he didn't own this one, either, but Goshen operated in a world where possession is 9/10ths of the law. It was one of the few things that made sense to him.
He stood up after pressing "Send." The tablet hidden beneath the pillow chirped an alert to signal it had received a message. Goshen leaned down to press a grateful kiss on Ed's cheek when the boy glanced at it distractedly.
"It just says thank you," he admitted upon straightening up.
"You're welcome," Ed said softly, almost timidly. The kiss to his cheek made him smile, but he turned his head to politely look away so that he wasn't staring right at Goshen's crotch when the other boy stood. That brought a bit of color back into his cheeks. Despite that, he felt a little thrill at doing something deserving of thanks.
He pulled off his safety glasses, folded them, and tucked them in the box. Then he pulled the plug on the soldering iron to make sure it would cool down. As he stood, he emptied his pockets of the rest of their contents: pack of cigarettes, Zippo, keys. He set all those things down on the tray table.
Meanwhile, Goshen had ducked through the gauzy curtain and moved back over to the couch to collect his jacket. He dropped the cell phone into his bag and cinched it closed. Ed turned to watch him through the sheer curtain, setting a cigarette between his lips out of habit and preparing to light it.
"Are you leaving?" the younger boy asked, sounding disappointed.
Goshen kept his back to Ed for another ten seconds before turning slowly to face him. "What do you want me to do?" He drew in a deep breath and took a step toward him. "You're... my friend?" It came out sounding like a question. "But I think I just hurt you by being around. I keep telling myself that if I was really your friend, I'd leave you alone. I'm trying to be your friend."
That was something. Ed's face contorted through a variety of expressions, from a wounded confusion with the knit of his brows to a fond mischievousness with the sudden twist into place of a soft smile. He was looking down thoughtfully while his brain tumbled the bingo cage of possible responses. He took his time about it, lighting the cigarette and taking a long drag off it in his pause. As he exhaled, he stepped forward and swept aside the curtain to move back out into the living space of his apartment.
"Friends," he said decidedly, moving past Goshen and around to the sink, "stick around. They hang out. Do things." He waved his hand flippantly, dismissing the immediate sexual implications that jumped to mind. Then he pulled open a drawer, rummaged around through a pile of old lady jewelry, and retrieved Goshen's brass cigarette case from its depths. He held it up, turning around with a lofty smile as he presented it, and strode back over to thump the case lightly against Goshen's chest.
"They also don't steal from each other," Ed went on to say. Upon further reflection, eyes turned up and then down to look Goshen in the eye with a playful smile, he added, "I owe you some joints, though. I smoked them all. Sorry."
Friends. Goshen lifted a hand to take back his cigarette case. He opened it to confirm that it was indeed empty, then snapped it shut again. "Don't worry about it. I can refill it myself." There was some of that robotic behavior Ed had mentioned earlier in the day. Outwardly, he presented a calm, collected demeanor. Inwardly there was a war raging between what he wanted and what he should do, and that in and of itself was something of a quandary. He'd never agonized over anything before. It was almost too much to handle.
This close, Ed couldn't help but study Goshen's face intently, his eyes and his mouth in particular. It took a considerable amount of self-control to make himself back up a step, and then another; he turned just in time to ash his cigarette out in the sink. "Did you at least want to watch the movie with me?" he asked, as innocently as he could muster. "I mean... You went through all that trouble to find it for me." He turned to show Goshen his utterly charmed smile. "You should watch it. I'd like you to, but only if you want." And yes he absolutely had the ulterior motive of getting Goshen to snuggle with him while they watched it, but that was besides the point.
Goshen nodded a handful of times, slowly, before answering verbally. "I'd like that." He turned to set his coat back down.
"Great!" Ed was beyond pleased and it showed. He took one more long drag off his cigarette and then extinguished what remained in the faucet. The soggy filter got tossed in the garbage bag he'd hung off the drawer.
The older boy moved to get the lights, plunging the room swiftly into darkness, with the exception of the always on 8-bit glow of the video game cabinet. Ed giggled, because his hand was on the fridge door and when he opened it more light spilled into the room again. "Did you want a soda?" he asked. There was a box of grape Fanta in there. "Something to eat maybe? I've only got like... bread and cereal. Half a carton of milk..."
"A soda is fine," Goshen interjected before Ed decided to list every single thing he had in the apartment, few though those things may be.
He would have, too. Smiling brightly, he snatched two cans of grape soda out of the box and then dove for the couch. He let the weighted fridge door shut itself, allowing some light for a little longer. Ed sprawled and stretched across the sofa and the floor, flicking on the TV and powering up the DVD player. There was mostly darkness again for a moment, and then a static glow, which was helpful in getting everything set up to play. He untangled himself and got up on the couch to sit more properly once that was all situated, offering one of the cans (possibly now shaken) to Goshen.
"Remind me again why this one is your favorite?" Goshen took the soda from Ed and sat down beside him. It seemed all too easy for him to settle into place pressed up against Ed's side. He even stretched an arm out along the back of the couch behind him.
"Well, for a couple of reasons." Ed was beyond overjoyed at how neatly Goshen tucked in beside him, and he nestled into the other boy's side with just as much ease. "Not least of which is the year it was made." Whatever the significance of that year was, personally, to Ed, he did not say. Instead, as the opening credits rolled up, he launched into a historical dissertation that bordered on the fanatical concerning how the movie was ahead of its time, too shocking for audiences, removed from circulation and forbidden.
As the older boy listened, he pinned the soda can between his legs to hold it in place and used his free hand to crack it open. The agitated carbonation, when released from the confines of its prison, sprayed itself all over his pants. Despite Goshen's attempt to seal his palm over the opening, both his shirt and Ed's ended up in the fallout. Ed's speech was put on pause when he broke into a gigglefit.
Ed got up and pulled off his shirt. He used it to sop up the spray that had landed on his arms and face, then offered it to Goshen so he could do the same. "I probably have a shirt that'll fit you. I don't know about pants. Maybe Jameson left something." He estimated that Goshen was about the same size as the drifter with a very quick, darting, bashful glance at the older boy's pants. Of course his eyes caught and lingered half a second too long on Goshen's lap. He started to step away to dig through his footlocker, but the older boy caught him by the wrist and hauled him down onto the lap Ed had just been looking at a moment ago.
An unmistakable, burning, consuming fire crackled in Goshen's eyes as they roamed over Ed's torso. He swept his free hand up along Ed's spine and locked it at the back of his neck. Ed's breath caught and his heart pounded furiously, feeling himself swept up instantly in the blaze of desire as it spread from Goshen to him. He could not, and did not want to, break eye contact for the life of him. As if the suggestion had been telepathically transmitted from Goshen to him, Ed found his hands working against him to help relieve the older boy of his soda soaked shirt as well.
Then Goshen kissed him, fiercely and hungrily. Ed moaned, melting against him. The rest of the movie served as background noise and mood lighting for a lengthy romp right there on the couch. Ed slept well that night. And in the morning, Goshen was gone.
( Co-written with Goshen. )
Re: When the Cat's Away
Sunday. 4/9/17.
New Haven.
Text to Ed: It’s Sunday again.
Text to Goshen: It is! And I’m all alone again too.
Text to Ed: Let’s remedy that, shall we?
Text to Goshen: Yes! Should I meet you somewhere or what?
He’d given Ed directions to a cozy restaurant on the outskirts of New Haven called Rossi’s about three blocks away from his apartment. It was an affluent neighborhood, modeled after some posh inner Earth city or another with a Starbuck’s on every corner. A little pocket of modern convenience amidst the rest of the city’s hodge podge collection of dusty, Old World charm.
Ed was late, no doubt having spent a considerable amount of time agonizing over what to wear. He’d been instructed to dress nicely, and Goshen was pleased to see that the boy had done so. A stylish pair of shorts, charcoal to go with the black and white floral print of his short sleeve button up. He watched him hungrily, mouth watering; Ed, fidgeting and darting nervous glances every which way, led by the hostess, the two of them spearing through the heart of the restaurant to where he was waiting at a large, U-shaped booth. It was like she was bringing him his meal rather than a dinner companion.
“Don’t you look nice,” Goshen commented. He was unable to keep the slight tone of surprise out of his voice, but he left little room for Ed’s feathers to ruffle. “It’s going to be impossible to pay attention to my meal.” He smiled luxuriously, a wicked distraction if there ever was one.
Ed sent another furtive glance around the room. He thought he was hiding the tiny smile that had surfaced in the wake of the compliment, but he was wrong. Goshen’s dastardly smile grew. He slid further into the booth, toward the middle, and stretched his arms out in either direction across the plush seat back. It was a silent invitation for Edgar to have a seat, evidenced by the expectant expression on his face.
Finally sitting down, Ed rubbed his arm in a subconscious effort to soothe obviously frayed nerves. He scooted around until he was situated with one of Goshen’s arms right behind him, and then he murmured, “Thank you.”
Leaning closer, Goshen tipped his head so that his lips tickled the other boy’s ear. “My pleasure.” With a certain amount of smug satisfaction, he noted that the silky reply caused goosebumps to erupt on Ed’s arms. He leaned away to give him some space, taking his arm out from behind the boy to reach for one of the waiting menus left by the hostess who had since made herself scarce.
“Order anything you want,” he instructed. “I’m paying.”
There was a slight tremble in Ed’s hands that ceased when he took up a menu in a grip tight enough to make his knuckles white. It took him a minute to tear his paranoid attention off the room at large to actually look at what was available. The more he studied his options, the higher he lifted the menu until his face was well hidden from view and he whispered aside, cheeks pink and eyes wide with embarrassment.
“I don’t know what half this stuff is.” That was an understatement. Goshen felt it was probably more than half.
“Ah.” He set his own menu down and angled himself to better look at Ed’s. He’d been here enough times to have tried just about everything that was served. Their arms brushed together as he pointed with a finger, explaining quietly the options and offering his own suggestions as to what he thought Ed might enjoy. It pleased him to no end that every incidental graze of their skin together made the other boy’s heartbeat spike.
“Why are you so nervous?” Goshen asked once Ed had decided on his order. Ed was still hemorrhaging nervous energy, so he stroked the boy’s bare knee under the guise of trying to stem the flow. Mostly, he just wanted to see how fast he could get his heart to pound.
“This feels like a date.” That panicked reply came out in a quiet rush. Ed lowered the menu marginally, just enough to allow him to peer over the top and again dart a few glances around. The interior of the restaurant was dimly lit, and their little corner was so secluded, but Goshen guessed he couldn’t help his paranoia about the possibility of recognition. “What if somebody sees us?”
Without turning his head, Goshen scanned the tables nearest them. No one but the incoming waitress was even remotely interested in their little corner booth. “Sees us doing what?” As he asked the question, somehow managing to sound angelically innocent and devilishly sinful all at once, he slid a few inches away and his hand a few inches higher on Ed’s thigh.
The boy’s posture stiffened and he hissed Goshen’s name in a chiding undertone, but he had little time to answer the question. The waitress was upon them and Ed was forced to lower his menu to place an order. He did nothing to draw attention to the placement of Goshen’s hand, nor alter it. Ed smiled politely to the waitress and made his requests based solely on Goshen’s recommendations.
An assortment of appetizers were in their future. Those didn’t appeal to Goshen nearly as much as the rigidly postured boy beside him.
He couldn’t explain it, though. The ability to elucidate the exact thing taking place inside him was just beyond his reach. It was more than just sexual attraction; there was a pull. A drive. A desire to be near this boy. But it was a thing he could not name. It wasn’t Love. He was pretty sure he knew what that felt like after all the time spent with Margot and her husband, Fox. In fact, he didn’t think it was romantic at all. It also wasn’t the sort of comfortable familiarity he felt around his other regular sexual partners.
He’d never had a friend before, unless you counted Fox and Margot, which Goshen did not. He did not yearn to be around them like he did with Ed. Margot liked to throw around phrases like kindred spirit and true friend but the concept escaped him. It was one thing to be told a thing’s definition, to read or study it in a book. It was wholly another to experience it for oneself. How could he ever be sure of what he was feeling when he didn’t have the words to explain himself and no other experience from which to draw assurance and succor for himself?
Ed was reluctant to surrender the menu, because, Goshen mused to himself, it had suited him as a shield to hide behind. When the waitress departed to fetch their drinks, the boy began to fidget with the silverware and napkin at his place setting. Goshen could feel his pulse racing in the vein of his thigh.
“Well done,” he complimented when their drinks were delivered and they were alone once more. The curve of his mouth twitched with neatly masked amusement. Goshen reached with his off hand for his glass of water and took a tiny sip. “No one’s going to suspect a thing if you can keep a straight face like that the whole time.”
“The whole time?” Suspicion was laced throughout Ed’s tone. He tipped his head to look sideways at Goshen. Then out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the television by the bar. Though they couldn’t hear it from here, it was clear that the podraces were being broadcast.
Just then, Goshen stroked his fingers along Ed’s inner thigh, just below the hem of his shorts. The boy gasped, a quick intake of breath arrested and held as he pulled his lower lip between his teeth. He watched Ed clutch tight the napkin in one hand and with the other the handle of his fork. He kept his hands fisted there on the edge of the table. Below the table, however, Ed spread his knees apart.
A slow, dangerous smile spread across Goshen’s face as his hand inched up, up, up.
--
They had shared a meal with one another, but neither was fully satisfied until later. Much later. When they both lay there on the bed in Goshen’s apartment, hot and flushed. The sheets a disheveled mess all around them. Breathless. Spent.
The waxing moons were heavy in the cloudless sky, their brilliant light streaming in through the white, gauzy film draped over the windows, illuminating the whole apartment. There was no need for artificial light. Goshen stared up at the nearly full heavenly bodies as he and Ed passed a joint back and forth.
It was quiet. The musky scent of intercourse clung to the sheets. He was drowsy from the effects of sensational sex and the heady properties of marijuana. Ed rolled from his back onto his side, tossing a bare leg over both of his as he cuddled up against him. Goshen closed his eyes, focusing on the soft sounds of Ed’s breathing. In. Out.
For a while, Goshen followed along with the boy’s biological responses. First, Ed’s muscles relaxed. Then his body temperature dropped; it would have been an insignificant, unnoticable amount to anyone else, but Goshen could feel it the moment it happened. His levels of melatonin were climbing. The messy, irregular electrical impulses of his brain settled into a more steady, rhythmic pattern, which told him that Ed’s eyes were now closed. Before long, the alpha waves of relaxed wakefulness transitioned into the slower theta waves of light sleep.
Goshen understood this. Biology was so very cut and dry; it was comforting. It was the psychology side of things that overwhelmed him. For some reason, Edgar Smith overwhelmed him. And though he found the situation as a whole quite vexing -- unable to name this thing that was happening -- he couldn’t help but place himself in the position to be vexed, over and over. Maybe, he thought, there was something wrong with him.
By then he’d finished the joint. Goshen’s faint lean to mash what was left into the ashtray on his nightstand jarred Ed back into the land of the lucid. The boy pawed at Goshen’s chest, drawing in a deep breath through his nose. Goshen dusted his fingertips across his back.
“I don’t want to wait another week to see you again,” he said.
This woke up Ed considerably. Goshen felt the weighted shackles of looming slumber slough away. Ed’s eyes opened and he tipped his head to look up at his face. The boy’s skin warmed under his fingertips, a sudden spike of pleasure. It was easy to guess that Ed enjoyed being wanted. Goshen watched him struggle to calculate where in his busy week with his boyfriend he could fit the possibility of another rendezvous.
“I… I don’t know if I can.” Ed looked down, disappointed, and watched how his own fingers traced along Goshen’s chest, sighing. “I want to. I’ll try.”
Like Ed, he enjoyed being wanted. Plenty of people wanted Goshen. Being wanted by this boy was somehow different. He smiled, tipping his head to look out the window above the headboard. “It doesn’t have to be long.”
He could feel Ed’s eyelashes feather against his chest. The boy was nodding and shutting his eyes. A flex of his arm and fingers, some tension in his spine, brought him that much closer, something like a hug. “I’ll think of something,” he whispered sleepily.
“I’m sure you will,” Goshen murmured softly. They didn’t say anything more after that. He watched the moons and listened to the way Ed’s body slipped back into sweet slumber.
(Co-written with Ed.)
New Haven.
Text to Ed: It’s Sunday again.
Text to Goshen: It is! And I’m all alone again too.
Text to Ed: Let’s remedy that, shall we?
Text to Goshen: Yes! Should I meet you somewhere or what?
He’d given Ed directions to a cozy restaurant on the outskirts of New Haven called Rossi’s about three blocks away from his apartment. It was an affluent neighborhood, modeled after some posh inner Earth city or another with a Starbuck’s on every corner. A little pocket of modern convenience amidst the rest of the city’s hodge podge collection of dusty, Old World charm.
Ed was late, no doubt having spent a considerable amount of time agonizing over what to wear. He’d been instructed to dress nicely, and Goshen was pleased to see that the boy had done so. A stylish pair of shorts, charcoal to go with the black and white floral print of his short sleeve button up. He watched him hungrily, mouth watering; Ed, fidgeting and darting nervous glances every which way, led by the hostess, the two of them spearing through the heart of the restaurant to where he was waiting at a large, U-shaped booth. It was like she was bringing him his meal rather than a dinner companion.
“Don’t you look nice,” Goshen commented. He was unable to keep the slight tone of surprise out of his voice, but he left little room for Ed’s feathers to ruffle. “It’s going to be impossible to pay attention to my meal.” He smiled luxuriously, a wicked distraction if there ever was one.
Ed sent another furtive glance around the room. He thought he was hiding the tiny smile that had surfaced in the wake of the compliment, but he was wrong. Goshen’s dastardly smile grew. He slid further into the booth, toward the middle, and stretched his arms out in either direction across the plush seat back. It was a silent invitation for Edgar to have a seat, evidenced by the expectant expression on his face.
Finally sitting down, Ed rubbed his arm in a subconscious effort to soothe obviously frayed nerves. He scooted around until he was situated with one of Goshen’s arms right behind him, and then he murmured, “Thank you.”
Leaning closer, Goshen tipped his head so that his lips tickled the other boy’s ear. “My pleasure.” With a certain amount of smug satisfaction, he noted that the silky reply caused goosebumps to erupt on Ed’s arms. He leaned away to give him some space, taking his arm out from behind the boy to reach for one of the waiting menus left by the hostess who had since made herself scarce.
“Order anything you want,” he instructed. “I’m paying.”
There was a slight tremble in Ed’s hands that ceased when he took up a menu in a grip tight enough to make his knuckles white. It took him a minute to tear his paranoid attention off the room at large to actually look at what was available. The more he studied his options, the higher he lifted the menu until his face was well hidden from view and he whispered aside, cheeks pink and eyes wide with embarrassment.
“I don’t know what half this stuff is.” That was an understatement. Goshen felt it was probably more than half.
“Ah.” He set his own menu down and angled himself to better look at Ed’s. He’d been here enough times to have tried just about everything that was served. Their arms brushed together as he pointed with a finger, explaining quietly the options and offering his own suggestions as to what he thought Ed might enjoy. It pleased him to no end that every incidental graze of their skin together made the other boy’s heartbeat spike.
“Why are you so nervous?” Goshen asked once Ed had decided on his order. Ed was still hemorrhaging nervous energy, so he stroked the boy’s bare knee under the guise of trying to stem the flow. Mostly, he just wanted to see how fast he could get his heart to pound.
“This feels like a date.” That panicked reply came out in a quiet rush. Ed lowered the menu marginally, just enough to allow him to peer over the top and again dart a few glances around. The interior of the restaurant was dimly lit, and their little corner was so secluded, but Goshen guessed he couldn’t help his paranoia about the possibility of recognition. “What if somebody sees us?”
Without turning his head, Goshen scanned the tables nearest them. No one but the incoming waitress was even remotely interested in their little corner booth. “Sees us doing what?” As he asked the question, somehow managing to sound angelically innocent and devilishly sinful all at once, he slid a few inches away and his hand a few inches higher on Ed’s thigh.
The boy’s posture stiffened and he hissed Goshen’s name in a chiding undertone, but he had little time to answer the question. The waitress was upon them and Ed was forced to lower his menu to place an order. He did nothing to draw attention to the placement of Goshen’s hand, nor alter it. Ed smiled politely to the waitress and made his requests based solely on Goshen’s recommendations.
An assortment of appetizers were in their future. Those didn’t appeal to Goshen nearly as much as the rigidly postured boy beside him.
He couldn’t explain it, though. The ability to elucidate the exact thing taking place inside him was just beyond his reach. It was more than just sexual attraction; there was a pull. A drive. A desire to be near this boy. But it was a thing he could not name. It wasn’t Love. He was pretty sure he knew what that felt like after all the time spent with Margot and her husband, Fox. In fact, he didn’t think it was romantic at all. It also wasn’t the sort of comfortable familiarity he felt around his other regular sexual partners.
He’d never had a friend before, unless you counted Fox and Margot, which Goshen did not. He did not yearn to be around them like he did with Ed. Margot liked to throw around phrases like kindred spirit and true friend but the concept escaped him. It was one thing to be told a thing’s definition, to read or study it in a book. It was wholly another to experience it for oneself. How could he ever be sure of what he was feeling when he didn’t have the words to explain himself and no other experience from which to draw assurance and succor for himself?
Ed was reluctant to surrender the menu, because, Goshen mused to himself, it had suited him as a shield to hide behind. When the waitress departed to fetch their drinks, the boy began to fidget with the silverware and napkin at his place setting. Goshen could feel his pulse racing in the vein of his thigh.
“Well done,” he complimented when their drinks were delivered and they were alone once more. The curve of his mouth twitched with neatly masked amusement. Goshen reached with his off hand for his glass of water and took a tiny sip. “No one’s going to suspect a thing if you can keep a straight face like that the whole time.”
“The whole time?” Suspicion was laced throughout Ed’s tone. He tipped his head to look sideways at Goshen. Then out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the television by the bar. Though they couldn’t hear it from here, it was clear that the podraces were being broadcast.
Just then, Goshen stroked his fingers along Ed’s inner thigh, just below the hem of his shorts. The boy gasped, a quick intake of breath arrested and held as he pulled his lower lip between his teeth. He watched Ed clutch tight the napkin in one hand and with the other the handle of his fork. He kept his hands fisted there on the edge of the table. Below the table, however, Ed spread his knees apart.
A slow, dangerous smile spread across Goshen’s face as his hand inched up, up, up.
--
They had shared a meal with one another, but neither was fully satisfied until later. Much later. When they both lay there on the bed in Goshen’s apartment, hot and flushed. The sheets a disheveled mess all around them. Breathless. Spent.
The waxing moons were heavy in the cloudless sky, their brilliant light streaming in through the white, gauzy film draped over the windows, illuminating the whole apartment. There was no need for artificial light. Goshen stared up at the nearly full heavenly bodies as he and Ed passed a joint back and forth.
It was quiet. The musky scent of intercourse clung to the sheets. He was drowsy from the effects of sensational sex and the heady properties of marijuana. Ed rolled from his back onto his side, tossing a bare leg over both of his as he cuddled up against him. Goshen closed his eyes, focusing on the soft sounds of Ed’s breathing. In. Out.
For a while, Goshen followed along with the boy’s biological responses. First, Ed’s muscles relaxed. Then his body temperature dropped; it would have been an insignificant, unnoticable amount to anyone else, but Goshen could feel it the moment it happened. His levels of melatonin were climbing. The messy, irregular electrical impulses of his brain settled into a more steady, rhythmic pattern, which told him that Ed’s eyes were now closed. Before long, the alpha waves of relaxed wakefulness transitioned into the slower theta waves of light sleep.
Goshen understood this. Biology was so very cut and dry; it was comforting. It was the psychology side of things that overwhelmed him. For some reason, Edgar Smith overwhelmed him. And though he found the situation as a whole quite vexing -- unable to name this thing that was happening -- he couldn’t help but place himself in the position to be vexed, over and over. Maybe, he thought, there was something wrong with him.
By then he’d finished the joint. Goshen’s faint lean to mash what was left into the ashtray on his nightstand jarred Ed back into the land of the lucid. The boy pawed at Goshen’s chest, drawing in a deep breath through his nose. Goshen dusted his fingertips across his back.
“I don’t want to wait another week to see you again,” he said.
This woke up Ed considerably. Goshen felt the weighted shackles of looming slumber slough away. Ed’s eyes opened and he tipped his head to look up at his face. The boy’s skin warmed under his fingertips, a sudden spike of pleasure. It was easy to guess that Ed enjoyed being wanted. Goshen watched him struggle to calculate where in his busy week with his boyfriend he could fit the possibility of another rendezvous.
“I… I don’t know if I can.” Ed looked down, disappointed, and watched how his own fingers traced along Goshen’s chest, sighing. “I want to. I’ll try.”
Like Ed, he enjoyed being wanted. Plenty of people wanted Goshen. Being wanted by this boy was somehow different. He smiled, tipping his head to look out the window above the headboard. “It doesn’t have to be long.”
He could feel Ed’s eyelashes feather against his chest. The boy was nodding and shutting his eyes. A flex of his arm and fingers, some tension in his spine, brought him that much closer, something like a hug. “I’ll think of something,” he whispered sleepily.
“I’m sure you will,” Goshen murmured softly. They didn’t say anything more after that. He watched the moons and listened to the way Ed’s body slipped back into sweet slumber.
(Co-written with Ed.)
Re: When the Cat's Away
4/11/17
Text to Goshen: Trick bought me a new phone! It's a fancy one like yours, but more official and, I guess, legal.
Text to Ed: Does this mean I can now send you pictures as well?
Text to Goshen: It does in fact mean you can send me pictures as well! Mr. Robot. And I can send pictures too!
Text to Ed: [image]
Next day
Text to Goshen: Will you be home when I get off work today, and would it be all right if I swing by? It'll be after 3, fyi.
Text to Ed: Found a minute to yourself, have you? I'll be there. See you then.
Text to Trick: Running an errand after work. Going to be late meeting up with you. Pick a place for dinner and I'll meet you there? My treat this time! Love you!
-
Text to Goshen: Trick bought me a new phone! It's a fancy one like yours, but more official and, I guess, legal.
Text to Ed: Does this mean I can now send you pictures as well?
Text to Goshen: It does in fact mean you can send me pictures as well! Mr. Robot. And I can send pictures too!
Text to Ed: [image]
Next day
Text to Goshen: Will you be home when I get off work today, and would it be all right if I swing by? It'll be after 3, fyi.
Text to Ed: Found a minute to yourself, have you? I'll be there. See you then.
Text to Trick: Running an errand after work. Going to be late meeting up with you. Pick a place for dinner and I'll meet you there? My treat this time! Love you!
-
Re: When the Cat's Away
Wednesday. 4/12/17
New Haven.
It was another occasion in which Ed had used the showers at work. Though he had been wholly unprepared to make any sort of impression, so he was wearing nothing special. His jeans had some small holes growing in the knees and his t-shirt was white with a black print picture of a clip art camera. A cute caption under the picture read Oh snap. The weather outside was warm, but he still wore his military jacket and the faux-fur lined boots. He kept reminding himself he needed more summery work boots but had yet to get around to shopping for some.
Today, Ed was in a much less stressed sort of mood, so instead of climbing the fire escape in his monster skin, he actually pressed the buzzer like a normal person to request to be let in. Goshen's apartment was on the sixth floor. If there was an elevator, Ed didn't see it. Besides, he kind of liked the exercise of climbing all those stairs. It gave him time to really think about what he was doing, a chance to chicken out, turn around, and run away. He was surprised to find his knuckles knocking on Goshen's door. The trek upward had gone quicker than expected.
There was no look of surprise on Goshen's face when he opened the door this time. No, his expression was one of supreme satisfaction at the sight of Ed standing in his doorway. The older boy's regal charm was in full effect as he stepped aside, inviting him in with a princely sweep of the hand. Yet his attire was anything but. Compared to his usual apparel, the dark slacks and shoes lined up, but his choice of a dark blue tee with the Superman logo emblazoned across the chest was downright incongruous. Paired with the thick-framed glasses that were perched on the bridge of his nose, he was more Clark Kent than dashing superhero.
"Hello, Ed. How are you?"
"Hi." There was a slightly dazed quality to that quiet response. Ed's eyes were busy looking the older boy over from head to toe, and right back up. Goshen's choice of attire appealed to his inner nerd, and he suspected the young man had planned it that way. He looked away, sliding inside via a sideways shuffle that kept him facing Goshen, fidgeted with his fingernails -- which today were painted blue -- and chewed on his lower lip. He'd been asked a question. He should answer it. He smiled stupidly and looked up. "I'm good. Good. I like your shirt." He had to say it. "How are you?"
Goshen pawed at the front of his shirt, fingers fanning out as they smoothed across the logo printed over his chest. "I'm good, too." Then he looked down at his shirt and grinned. "I usually wear it under a button down." His smile softened into a smirk when he looked back up at Ed. "One of these days I'll find an opportunity to tear my shirt open and put it on display."
That mental imagery did a very fine job of putting a blush on Ed's cheeks. He giggled and averted his gaze again. There was a reason he'd come here today besides the fact that Goshen had told him he didn't want to wait until the weekend to see him again. The longer he looked at the older boy, the easier it was to forget that other reason. So he turned his back on Goshen and shuffled further into his apartment, taking a closer look around. Goshen closed the door.
"Um." Ed's hands found their way into his coat pockets. He felt his cigarettes, his Zippo, and his shiny new phone. He took that last item out of his pocket and smiled softly to himself, but the expression faded as he fiddled with it some more. He turned around to look at Goshen with a puzzled knit to his brows. "Why'd you send me that picture last night?" It had been bothering him all day.
"I..." He trailed off, tilting his head to look at Ed from a bit of an angle. Then he gave a mild shrug, eyebrows lifting in a careless oh well expression, and he shook his head. "I thought you'd recognize it."
"I did." Ed looked down at the phone in his hands, still confused, but now also blushing a little more. He chewed on his bottom lip, ran his thumb over the black screen. "Were you ... with someone else?"
Goshen watched him like a hawk. But rather than swoop in for the kill, he circled at a distance, moving around the edge of the room to pass between the brick wall and the brand new set of drums, angling for the white futon that he used for a couch. "I was. Why?"
Ed turned aside with a shake of his head and stole a look across the room at Goshen's bed. Memories of the sinful things they'd done together in that bed resurfaced, but now his imagination was mixing in scenarios of someone else being in that bed, and he found himself uncomfortable with that idea. Of course he knew that Goshen slept with other people; the older boy shamelessly talked about his trysts. Ed never thought that included wining and dining, though. He realized that was the part that bothered him. Maybe he'd thought he was special, but how to say that and not feel ashamed? He shouldn't feel jealous. He shouldn't feel anything at all. He had a boyfriend for crying out loud!
Looking back at Goshen, he forced himself to smile, put on a brave face, pretend to the best of his ability that he wasn't bothered by it at all. "It looked like a lot of food," he said stupidly. "In the picture." Ed couldn't maintain eye contact for very long. He looked back down at the phone in his hands.
Goshen's smile stretched wider. He sat down at one end of the futon. "Lauren is an indecisive creature with eyes bigger than her stomach."
Ed's brows lifted very high, and his gaze followed slowly. "Lauren?" he repeated. That wasn't surprise, exactly, he was feeling. He knew from observation and conversations in public weeks ago that Goshen liked women and men indiscriminately, but having a name made it more real and that made him uncomfortable too.
The older boy stretched an arm out along the back of the futon. It made the empty space beside him rather inviting. "My dinner date. Yes." Goshen looked across the room at him expectantly. "Are you going to sit down?"
Date. That word sank in and festered into worms that wriggled all through Ed's body, making him squirm where he stood. His gaze darted around the room as if in search of any kind of possible escape, but his legs worked against him and carried him over to the futon. He turned and sat down slowly, stiffly, on the very edge next to Goshen.
"I told Trick I'd meet him for dinner." Ed felt it pertinent to mention that, however quietly. His eyes remained downcast, fixed on the bright green phone he now held clutched tight in his lap.
Goshen's smile waned, fraction by fraction, until his expression was one of careful neutrality. His breathing was soft and steady. Without moving, he took a moment to study Ed's body language. "If you don't want to be here, there's nothing stopping you from leaving."
Out of the corner of his eye, Ed could see how the young man's smile faded. Beautiful Adonis losing his luster. He tipped his head to angle a considering look on the door. His body language was certainly guarded, shoulders up and knees together, but in contrast to that he found himself removing his coat and scooting back on the futon to tuck himself against Goshen's side, with the outstretched arm behind him sliding forward to drape itself around his shoulders. He pulled his feet out of his boots and tucked his legs up on the other side, leaned so that he could rest his head on Goshen's shoulder.
"I don't want to leave," he said quietly. "Not yet. I just... I didn't know what to tell him. I said I had an errand to run." Ed lifted his phone a little, still clutching it between the fingers and thumbs of both his hands, to indicate how exactly he meant he'd "said" anything. "And I didn't know... I don't know how to do this." How to cheat. There needed to be a manual. "You said you didn't want to wait 'til Sunday again." And he didn't want to disappoint Goshen either. What was wrong with him?
Chuckling silently, Goshen nosed the boy's dark, soft curls. "You do know how to do it. You've been doing it." He tipped his head further still to press a lingering kiss on his forehead. "For weeks," he added in a whisper. The slender fingers of Goshen's free hand reached over to slide the bright green phone out of Ed's vice grip. "He doesn't exist when you're with me."
Easy for you to say, Ed was thinking. Though he noticed his hands surrendered the phone way too easily. And when he tipped his chin up to give Goshen a speculative look, met his hypnotic amber eyes, he realized the older boy was right. Their lips were so close and he found his gaze dipping to look at Goshen's. "I can't stay long," he whispered.
After setting the phone aside, Goshen reached back over to hook his fingers around Ed's further leg and tugged. He urged the boy to straddle his lap, but did not kiss him yet. "I have something for you." Goshen's hands settled on his hips, flexing his fingers in a brief but tight squeeze of restraint. His own hips moved beneath Ed in his new perch. "When you told me you'd been nominated for May Queen, I couldn't help myself." Though it was quite the feat, he tore his eyes away from Ed's wanting mouth to glance in the direction of his bed. "But it's all the way over there." Not that it was actually all that far.
Goshen had a present for him!? That was a magic word. Ed perked right up like a puppy being asked if he wanted a treat. Brows high and posture straight -- which was a feat considering the way Goshen's hips were moving beneath him -- he tore his gaze reluctantly off of the older boy's mouth and turned his head to look eagerly at the bed. It did cross his mind to wonder if the gift was an actual physical object or if Goshen was speaking in code.
While Ed was peering distractedly in the opposite direction, Goshen found he could not resist the temptation of the boy's unattended throat. He sat forward to press his lips to flawless skin, but he pushed at the boy's hips to indicate he should get up.
Ed resisted only for half a minute. That kiss sent an electrified current down his spine that made him quiver and bite his lip. He pulled his hands down over Goshen's chest and pushed against the Superman logo somewhat reluctantly, but did slide back off the older boy's lap and stood. Once on his feet, there was no more restraining his excitement. He looked ready to break from the starting gate, but glanced back at Goshen for permission to bolt. He had no idea where, specifically, this mystery present was, only somewhere in the vicinity of the bed, and he was fully prepared to leap at it.
In contrast, Goshen's rise from the futon was calm and collected. One of his patented luxurious smiles had taken root. It distracted Ed, albeit briefly, as the older boy drifted away from him in the direction of the bed. When Goshen knelt down to reach under the edge of the bed frame, Ed bounced over to his side eagerly.
"I liked seeing you in pink. So when I saw this, I knew it would be perfect." From under the bed, Goshen pulled a shallow, black trunk about the size of a large suitcase. Without looking, practiced fingers deftly worked the clasps that opened the lid. After plucking a little bag from right off the top of the trunk's contents, he dropped the lid back down and nudged the trunk out of his way with a foot while standing back up. His smile grew sly upon offering the bag to Ed.
Though immensely curious about the contents of that slim black case, the bag being presented to him was even more enticing. Ed locked eyes with Goshen for an agonizingly long minute, his heart thundering with excitement; he liked presents! The need to blink was the trigger that rocketed him into motion. He snatched the bag with a delighted squeal and turned aside as if he had to hide the rest of his reaction while prying the bag open. He stuck his hand in, felt around, and pulled out a marvelously pink velvet choker necklace that froze him in place with ecstatic awe.
"Oh my gosh, Goshen, this is beautiful," he whispered reverently. The necklace pooled in the palm of his hand. There was an extra strip of thin gold chain attached, from which dangled a little pearl. He imagined the gemstone nestling in the hollow of his throat, and knew Goshen was right. This was perfect. He dropped the bag so he could run his fingers over the velvet, smiling enormously with pleasure. "This is..." He didn't know what else to say, but it really still boggled his mind that this boy bought him presents. "This is for me?"
Stepping closer, Goshen plucked the necklace out of Ed's hands and proceeded to fasten it around the boy's neck. "Yes," he said hushedly. He'd tipped his head around nice and close, lips brushing up against the shell of his ear. Ed's eyelids fluttered closed and he shivered, lifting a hand to touch his fingertips to the jewel as it nestled right where he imagined. "I won't be able to be there. Maybe if you wore this, I'd be able to exist there in a small way."
"Goshen..." Ed sighed his name, trembling from the odd mixture of emotions that surged through him. Among them was a swell of joy that battled a contradictory sensation of shame. The brush of the older boy's fingers against his neck as he fastened the choker in place, his lips so close to his ear and warm breath spilling across it as he spoke, all made him tingle with desire as well. He didn't need to look in a mirror to know how well the necklace fit him, though he would later just to admire himself for sure. In the moment he was more moved to turn to face Goshen, open his eyes to look at him, and tell him, though still in a whisper, "I love it. Thank you."
The older boy smiled triumphantly. Perhaps tauntingly, he fit his hand over the velvety ribbon around Ed's throat, gripping with his fingertips. He smoothed his thumb over the necklace, admiring just how well it seemed to suit Ed. Then, abruptly, he pushed him down onto the bed and climbed on top of him, making the boy gasp. Goshen caught both of Ed's wrists when he raised his hands reflexively in defense. He pushed those down into the plush duvet, too.
For a moment, Goshen straddled Ed's hips and smiled wickedly down at him, basking in the visual before him, gently grinding himself against the other boy and making him whimper. After an agonizingly long minute of teasing, he leaned over to look directly into Ed's eyes, nose to nose, and said, "I don't buy gifts for Lauren."
"N-no?" Ed's pulse was beating wildly, having grown fists that hammered against his ribcage. He could hear his heart thundering in his ears. Dazed by this sudden turnabout, he didn't even think to struggle. There was no mistaking his arousal, with his pupils blown wide and the strain in his pants. And now Goshen's confession revived that feeling special he'd discarded not too long ago. He swallowed, the choker adding a new, restricting sensation that he found he didn't dislike. Goshen's eyes were right there, impossible to look away from.
"No," Goshen confirmed, shaking his head faintly. The very tips of their noses brushed together. It seemed that contact was all the catalyst needed to make him dive in and press a hot, needy kiss against Ed's lips. Goshen tightened his grip around Ed's wrists. He rocked his hips more firmly up against the other boy's, too, grinding and squeezing their caged erections together. A soft moan wound up lost in his mouth.
---
"Do you want help taking the necklace off before you go?"
"Oh." Ed lifted his hand to touch his fingers to the velvet band of the choker. Honestly, he had forgotten he was wearing it! So he was doubly thankful for Goshen's thoughtfulness. There was almost a level of adoration in the way he looked back at him to smile. Though he lowered his gaze, a bit coy when he said, "Yes, please. Thank you."
The older boy's slender fingers gripped his shoulder, directing him into a half turn so he could get at the little clasp. There was no denying Goshen was taking his time, purposely feathering the tips of his fingers against the back of his neck to get a rise out of him. When he was finished, he dangled the velvet necklace out in front of Ed's face like bait and leaned his face over the boy's shoulder. He smiled, squeezing the opposite shoulder with his other hand, and said, "This was fun, wasn't it?"
Ed was almost programmed at this point. Every time. A breathy, dorky giggle spilled out of his mouth. He ducked his chin, nodding faintly in the process. A wide, amused and toothy smile stuck in place as he lifted his hand to cup it under the dangling necklace. Goshen let it spill into his palm. Ed closed his fingers over it, and they brushed over the older boy's fingers in the process. He turned, almost abruptly, to slide his arms around Goshen's torso so that he could hug him while nuzzling his cheek with his own. This cute affectionate gesture was becoming a regular parting habit. Ed preferred it over saying goodbye.
After Goshen let him go, he turned and crossed over to the futon where he'd left his coat and phone. He spilled the necklace into a pocket of his jacket before putting that article back on. Collecting his cell phone, he slipped that into a pocket too. When he got to the door, he stopped to look back. He shared one last lingering smile with Goshen and then let himself out.
( Co-written with Goshen. )
New Haven.
It was another occasion in which Ed had used the showers at work. Though he had been wholly unprepared to make any sort of impression, so he was wearing nothing special. His jeans had some small holes growing in the knees and his t-shirt was white with a black print picture of a clip art camera. A cute caption under the picture read Oh snap. The weather outside was warm, but he still wore his military jacket and the faux-fur lined boots. He kept reminding himself he needed more summery work boots but had yet to get around to shopping for some.
Today, Ed was in a much less stressed sort of mood, so instead of climbing the fire escape in his monster skin, he actually pressed the buzzer like a normal person to request to be let in. Goshen's apartment was on the sixth floor. If there was an elevator, Ed didn't see it. Besides, he kind of liked the exercise of climbing all those stairs. It gave him time to really think about what he was doing, a chance to chicken out, turn around, and run away. He was surprised to find his knuckles knocking on Goshen's door. The trek upward had gone quicker than expected.
There was no look of surprise on Goshen's face when he opened the door this time. No, his expression was one of supreme satisfaction at the sight of Ed standing in his doorway. The older boy's regal charm was in full effect as he stepped aside, inviting him in with a princely sweep of the hand. Yet his attire was anything but. Compared to his usual apparel, the dark slacks and shoes lined up, but his choice of a dark blue tee with the Superman logo emblazoned across the chest was downright incongruous. Paired with the thick-framed glasses that were perched on the bridge of his nose, he was more Clark Kent than dashing superhero.
"Hello, Ed. How are you?"
"Hi." There was a slightly dazed quality to that quiet response. Ed's eyes were busy looking the older boy over from head to toe, and right back up. Goshen's choice of attire appealed to his inner nerd, and he suspected the young man had planned it that way. He looked away, sliding inside via a sideways shuffle that kept him facing Goshen, fidgeted with his fingernails -- which today were painted blue -- and chewed on his lower lip. He'd been asked a question. He should answer it. He smiled stupidly and looked up. "I'm good. Good. I like your shirt." He had to say it. "How are you?"
Goshen pawed at the front of his shirt, fingers fanning out as they smoothed across the logo printed over his chest. "I'm good, too." Then he looked down at his shirt and grinned. "I usually wear it under a button down." His smile softened into a smirk when he looked back up at Ed. "One of these days I'll find an opportunity to tear my shirt open and put it on display."
That mental imagery did a very fine job of putting a blush on Ed's cheeks. He giggled and averted his gaze again. There was a reason he'd come here today besides the fact that Goshen had told him he didn't want to wait until the weekend to see him again. The longer he looked at the older boy, the easier it was to forget that other reason. So he turned his back on Goshen and shuffled further into his apartment, taking a closer look around. Goshen closed the door.
"Um." Ed's hands found their way into his coat pockets. He felt his cigarettes, his Zippo, and his shiny new phone. He took that last item out of his pocket and smiled softly to himself, but the expression faded as he fiddled with it some more. He turned around to look at Goshen with a puzzled knit to his brows. "Why'd you send me that picture last night?" It had been bothering him all day.
"I..." He trailed off, tilting his head to look at Ed from a bit of an angle. Then he gave a mild shrug, eyebrows lifting in a careless oh well expression, and he shook his head. "I thought you'd recognize it."
"I did." Ed looked down at the phone in his hands, still confused, but now also blushing a little more. He chewed on his bottom lip, ran his thumb over the black screen. "Were you ... with someone else?"
Goshen watched him like a hawk. But rather than swoop in for the kill, he circled at a distance, moving around the edge of the room to pass between the brick wall and the brand new set of drums, angling for the white futon that he used for a couch. "I was. Why?"
Ed turned aside with a shake of his head and stole a look across the room at Goshen's bed. Memories of the sinful things they'd done together in that bed resurfaced, but now his imagination was mixing in scenarios of someone else being in that bed, and he found himself uncomfortable with that idea. Of course he knew that Goshen slept with other people; the older boy shamelessly talked about his trysts. Ed never thought that included wining and dining, though. He realized that was the part that bothered him. Maybe he'd thought he was special, but how to say that and not feel ashamed? He shouldn't feel jealous. He shouldn't feel anything at all. He had a boyfriend for crying out loud!
Looking back at Goshen, he forced himself to smile, put on a brave face, pretend to the best of his ability that he wasn't bothered by it at all. "It looked like a lot of food," he said stupidly. "In the picture." Ed couldn't maintain eye contact for very long. He looked back down at the phone in his hands.
Goshen's smile stretched wider. He sat down at one end of the futon. "Lauren is an indecisive creature with eyes bigger than her stomach."
Ed's brows lifted very high, and his gaze followed slowly. "Lauren?" he repeated. That wasn't surprise, exactly, he was feeling. He knew from observation and conversations in public weeks ago that Goshen liked women and men indiscriminately, but having a name made it more real and that made him uncomfortable too.
The older boy stretched an arm out along the back of the futon. It made the empty space beside him rather inviting. "My dinner date. Yes." Goshen looked across the room at him expectantly. "Are you going to sit down?"
Date. That word sank in and festered into worms that wriggled all through Ed's body, making him squirm where he stood. His gaze darted around the room as if in search of any kind of possible escape, but his legs worked against him and carried him over to the futon. He turned and sat down slowly, stiffly, on the very edge next to Goshen.
"I told Trick I'd meet him for dinner." Ed felt it pertinent to mention that, however quietly. His eyes remained downcast, fixed on the bright green phone he now held clutched tight in his lap.
Goshen's smile waned, fraction by fraction, until his expression was one of careful neutrality. His breathing was soft and steady. Without moving, he took a moment to study Ed's body language. "If you don't want to be here, there's nothing stopping you from leaving."
Out of the corner of his eye, Ed could see how the young man's smile faded. Beautiful Adonis losing his luster. He tipped his head to angle a considering look on the door. His body language was certainly guarded, shoulders up and knees together, but in contrast to that he found himself removing his coat and scooting back on the futon to tuck himself against Goshen's side, with the outstretched arm behind him sliding forward to drape itself around his shoulders. He pulled his feet out of his boots and tucked his legs up on the other side, leaned so that he could rest his head on Goshen's shoulder.
"I don't want to leave," he said quietly. "Not yet. I just... I didn't know what to tell him. I said I had an errand to run." Ed lifted his phone a little, still clutching it between the fingers and thumbs of both his hands, to indicate how exactly he meant he'd "said" anything. "And I didn't know... I don't know how to do this." How to cheat. There needed to be a manual. "You said you didn't want to wait 'til Sunday again." And he didn't want to disappoint Goshen either. What was wrong with him?
Chuckling silently, Goshen nosed the boy's dark, soft curls. "You do know how to do it. You've been doing it." He tipped his head further still to press a lingering kiss on his forehead. "For weeks," he added in a whisper. The slender fingers of Goshen's free hand reached over to slide the bright green phone out of Ed's vice grip. "He doesn't exist when you're with me."
Easy for you to say, Ed was thinking. Though he noticed his hands surrendered the phone way too easily. And when he tipped his chin up to give Goshen a speculative look, met his hypnotic amber eyes, he realized the older boy was right. Their lips were so close and he found his gaze dipping to look at Goshen's. "I can't stay long," he whispered.
After setting the phone aside, Goshen reached back over to hook his fingers around Ed's further leg and tugged. He urged the boy to straddle his lap, but did not kiss him yet. "I have something for you." Goshen's hands settled on his hips, flexing his fingers in a brief but tight squeeze of restraint. His own hips moved beneath Ed in his new perch. "When you told me you'd been nominated for May Queen, I couldn't help myself." Though it was quite the feat, he tore his eyes away from Ed's wanting mouth to glance in the direction of his bed. "But it's all the way over there." Not that it was actually all that far.
Goshen had a present for him!? That was a magic word. Ed perked right up like a puppy being asked if he wanted a treat. Brows high and posture straight -- which was a feat considering the way Goshen's hips were moving beneath him -- he tore his gaze reluctantly off of the older boy's mouth and turned his head to look eagerly at the bed. It did cross his mind to wonder if the gift was an actual physical object or if Goshen was speaking in code.
While Ed was peering distractedly in the opposite direction, Goshen found he could not resist the temptation of the boy's unattended throat. He sat forward to press his lips to flawless skin, but he pushed at the boy's hips to indicate he should get up.
Ed resisted only for half a minute. That kiss sent an electrified current down his spine that made him quiver and bite his lip. He pulled his hands down over Goshen's chest and pushed against the Superman logo somewhat reluctantly, but did slide back off the older boy's lap and stood. Once on his feet, there was no more restraining his excitement. He looked ready to break from the starting gate, but glanced back at Goshen for permission to bolt. He had no idea where, specifically, this mystery present was, only somewhere in the vicinity of the bed, and he was fully prepared to leap at it.
In contrast, Goshen's rise from the futon was calm and collected. One of his patented luxurious smiles had taken root. It distracted Ed, albeit briefly, as the older boy drifted away from him in the direction of the bed. When Goshen knelt down to reach under the edge of the bed frame, Ed bounced over to his side eagerly.
"I liked seeing you in pink. So when I saw this, I knew it would be perfect." From under the bed, Goshen pulled a shallow, black trunk about the size of a large suitcase. Without looking, practiced fingers deftly worked the clasps that opened the lid. After plucking a little bag from right off the top of the trunk's contents, he dropped the lid back down and nudged the trunk out of his way with a foot while standing back up. His smile grew sly upon offering the bag to Ed.
Though immensely curious about the contents of that slim black case, the bag being presented to him was even more enticing. Ed locked eyes with Goshen for an agonizingly long minute, his heart thundering with excitement; he liked presents! The need to blink was the trigger that rocketed him into motion. He snatched the bag with a delighted squeal and turned aside as if he had to hide the rest of his reaction while prying the bag open. He stuck his hand in, felt around, and pulled out a marvelously pink velvet choker necklace that froze him in place with ecstatic awe.
"Oh my gosh, Goshen, this is beautiful," he whispered reverently. The necklace pooled in the palm of his hand. There was an extra strip of thin gold chain attached, from which dangled a little pearl. He imagined the gemstone nestling in the hollow of his throat, and knew Goshen was right. This was perfect. He dropped the bag so he could run his fingers over the velvet, smiling enormously with pleasure. "This is..." He didn't know what else to say, but it really still boggled his mind that this boy bought him presents. "This is for me?"
Stepping closer, Goshen plucked the necklace out of Ed's hands and proceeded to fasten it around the boy's neck. "Yes," he said hushedly. He'd tipped his head around nice and close, lips brushing up against the shell of his ear. Ed's eyelids fluttered closed and he shivered, lifting a hand to touch his fingertips to the jewel as it nestled right where he imagined. "I won't be able to be there. Maybe if you wore this, I'd be able to exist there in a small way."
"Goshen..." Ed sighed his name, trembling from the odd mixture of emotions that surged through him. Among them was a swell of joy that battled a contradictory sensation of shame. The brush of the older boy's fingers against his neck as he fastened the choker in place, his lips so close to his ear and warm breath spilling across it as he spoke, all made him tingle with desire as well. He didn't need to look in a mirror to know how well the necklace fit him, though he would later just to admire himself for sure. In the moment he was more moved to turn to face Goshen, open his eyes to look at him, and tell him, though still in a whisper, "I love it. Thank you."
The older boy smiled triumphantly. Perhaps tauntingly, he fit his hand over the velvety ribbon around Ed's throat, gripping with his fingertips. He smoothed his thumb over the necklace, admiring just how well it seemed to suit Ed. Then, abruptly, he pushed him down onto the bed and climbed on top of him, making the boy gasp. Goshen caught both of Ed's wrists when he raised his hands reflexively in defense. He pushed those down into the plush duvet, too.
For a moment, Goshen straddled Ed's hips and smiled wickedly down at him, basking in the visual before him, gently grinding himself against the other boy and making him whimper. After an agonizingly long minute of teasing, he leaned over to look directly into Ed's eyes, nose to nose, and said, "I don't buy gifts for Lauren."
"N-no?" Ed's pulse was beating wildly, having grown fists that hammered against his ribcage. He could hear his heart thundering in his ears. Dazed by this sudden turnabout, he didn't even think to struggle. There was no mistaking his arousal, with his pupils blown wide and the strain in his pants. And now Goshen's confession revived that feeling special he'd discarded not too long ago. He swallowed, the choker adding a new, restricting sensation that he found he didn't dislike. Goshen's eyes were right there, impossible to look away from.
"No," Goshen confirmed, shaking his head faintly. The very tips of their noses brushed together. It seemed that contact was all the catalyst needed to make him dive in and press a hot, needy kiss against Ed's lips. Goshen tightened his grip around Ed's wrists. He rocked his hips more firmly up against the other boy's, too, grinding and squeezing their caged erections together. A soft moan wound up lost in his mouth.
---
"Do you want help taking the necklace off before you go?"
"Oh." Ed lifted his hand to touch his fingers to the velvet band of the choker. Honestly, he had forgotten he was wearing it! So he was doubly thankful for Goshen's thoughtfulness. There was almost a level of adoration in the way he looked back at him to smile. Though he lowered his gaze, a bit coy when he said, "Yes, please. Thank you."
The older boy's slender fingers gripped his shoulder, directing him into a half turn so he could get at the little clasp. There was no denying Goshen was taking his time, purposely feathering the tips of his fingers against the back of his neck to get a rise out of him. When he was finished, he dangled the velvet necklace out in front of Ed's face like bait and leaned his face over the boy's shoulder. He smiled, squeezing the opposite shoulder with his other hand, and said, "This was fun, wasn't it?"
Ed was almost programmed at this point. Every time. A breathy, dorky giggle spilled out of his mouth. He ducked his chin, nodding faintly in the process. A wide, amused and toothy smile stuck in place as he lifted his hand to cup it under the dangling necklace. Goshen let it spill into his palm. Ed closed his fingers over it, and they brushed over the older boy's fingers in the process. He turned, almost abruptly, to slide his arms around Goshen's torso so that he could hug him while nuzzling his cheek with his own. This cute affectionate gesture was becoming a regular parting habit. Ed preferred it over saying goodbye.
After Goshen let him go, he turned and crossed over to the futon where he'd left his coat and phone. He spilled the necklace into a pocket of his jacket before putting that article back on. Collecting his cell phone, he slipped that into a pocket too. When he got to the door, he stopped to look back. He shared one last lingering smile with Goshen and then let himself out.
( Co-written with Goshen. )
Re: When the Cat's Away
It went on like that for weeks, meeting here and there, and it surprised him how easy it was getting to make up lies to keep Trick in the dark.
Saturday 4/15/17
Text to Ed: Margot tells me tomorrow is a religious holiday for some. I recall you attending church.
Text to Ed: Am I about to be cock blocked by a candy-centric, egg-laying rabbit?
Text to Goshen: Um. No. I hadn't actually planned on going to services tomorrow. Candy sounds nice, though. Will you bring me some?
Text to Ed: I'll bring you something. Now you can wonder all night what that something may be.
And on Sunday the 16th, Goshen did bring him candy. Mint flavored body paint to be precise.
On Wednesday the 19th, Ed secretly took a sick day from work. The previous week had felt rushed, and he wanted an opportunity to spend more time with Goshen again, to get to know him better. He got more than he bargained for after uncovering the contents of the mysterious suitcase that Goshen kept under his bed.
Saturday 4/22/17
Text to Ed: [explicit image]
Text to Ed: Are we watching the race tomorrow or doing something else?
Text to Goshen: I would like to watch the race, but that doesn't mean we can't do something else too.
Text to Goshen: I guess I could listen to a radio broadcast instead?
Text to Goshen: Did you have something in mind?
Text to Ed: [explicit image]
Text to Goshen: OMG, Goshen. Anything ELSE?
Goshen never replied again that night, and the next day he was on his best behavior. They went to a petting zoo. Ed giggled merrily at the sight of the usually so serious older boy holding an armload of ducklings and looking utterly lost. They had lunch and caught the race at some random sports bar. They talked more, and Ed asked him to stay the night.
Wednesday 4/26/17
Text to Goshen: We're the same size shoe, right? May I borrow your boots?
Text to Ed: For what, may I ask?
Text to Goshen: I want to put together an outfit for mine and Trick's anniversary tomorrow and I think your boots would be perfect for what I've got in mind. May I pretty please?
Text to Ed: You may, but you should let me help you.
Text to Ed: Help you dress yourself, I mean. After work today. Say yes.
Text to Goshen: Yes.
Text to Goshen: Shall I come by your place or meet you somewhere?
Text to Ed: My place. I'll be waiting for you.
Text to Goshen: Okay! Be there in an hour and a half-ish.
Text to Trick: Got another errand to run after work. You can't come with me because it's for tomorrow.
Text to Trick: LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE YOOOOOOOOOOU!!!
And so on Wednesday they went shopping. Thursday, Patrick was not disappointed with the results. Friday, after Trick dropped him off and returned to work, still buzzing and alone, he called Goshen to babble excitedly at him on the phone about his newly acquired Knighthood.
Saturday was Beltane, and he hadn't at all expected Goshen to be there, especially since he had told Ed he wouldn't be able to attend.
Saturday 4/15/17
Text to Ed: Margot tells me tomorrow is a religious holiday for some. I recall you attending church.
Text to Ed: Am I about to be cock blocked by a candy-centric, egg-laying rabbit?
Text to Goshen: Um. No. I hadn't actually planned on going to services tomorrow. Candy sounds nice, though. Will you bring me some?
Text to Ed: I'll bring you something. Now you can wonder all night what that something may be.
And on Sunday the 16th, Goshen did bring him candy. Mint flavored body paint to be precise.
On Wednesday the 19th, Ed secretly took a sick day from work. The previous week had felt rushed, and he wanted an opportunity to spend more time with Goshen again, to get to know him better. He got more than he bargained for after uncovering the contents of the mysterious suitcase that Goshen kept under his bed.
Saturday 4/22/17
Text to Ed: [explicit image]
Text to Ed: Are we watching the race tomorrow or doing something else?
Text to Goshen: I would like to watch the race, but that doesn't mean we can't do something else too.
Text to Goshen: I guess I could listen to a radio broadcast instead?
Text to Goshen: Did you have something in mind?
Text to Ed: [explicit image]
Text to Goshen: OMG, Goshen. Anything ELSE?
Goshen never replied again that night, and the next day he was on his best behavior. They went to a petting zoo. Ed giggled merrily at the sight of the usually so serious older boy holding an armload of ducklings and looking utterly lost. They had lunch and caught the race at some random sports bar. They talked more, and Ed asked him to stay the night.
Wednesday 4/26/17
Text to Goshen: We're the same size shoe, right? May I borrow your boots?
Text to Ed: For what, may I ask?
Text to Goshen: I want to put together an outfit for mine and Trick's anniversary tomorrow and I think your boots would be perfect for what I've got in mind. May I pretty please?
Text to Ed: You may, but you should let me help you.
Text to Ed: Help you dress yourself, I mean. After work today. Say yes.
Text to Goshen: Yes.
Text to Goshen: Shall I come by your place or meet you somewhere?
Text to Ed: My place. I'll be waiting for you.
Text to Goshen: Okay! Be there in an hour and a half-ish.
Text to Trick: Got another errand to run after work. You can't come with me because it's for tomorrow.
Text to Trick: LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE YOOOOOOOOOOU!!!
And so on Wednesday they went shopping. Thursday, Patrick was not disappointed with the results. Friday, after Trick dropped him off and returned to work, still buzzing and alone, he called Goshen to babble excitedly at him on the phone about his newly acquired Knighthood.
Saturday was Beltane, and he hadn't at all expected Goshen to be there, especially since he had told Ed he wouldn't be able to attend.
![[image]](http://carlosmeliablog.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/08/Photo-Aug-09-8-39-56-PM.jpg){kind=link}
Re: When the Cat's Away
Saturday. 4/29/17.
Fires of Beltane.
Patrick's dancing had all but ceased without Ed to keep him to task. As the weariness of nighttime settled in, he realized just how thirsty he was. Looking around for his boyfriend, who was supposed to be bringing refreshments, Trick caught sight of that pretty pink skirt of his just as it vanished down one of the many paths that led into the woods.
A devilish smile curled across the teenager's face. He darted a look aside to Spencer, then toward Mallory. Neither were paying him much attention. He disappeared quietly, intent on chasing his boyfriend into the woods for this game of Hide And Seek.
There was just something about tonight -- or maybe it was the place -- that excited him. The primeval overtone of the celebration affected him in ways he hadn’t expected. There was magic in the air and he was in the pursuit of pleasure. All around him, Patrick was enticed toward immoderate self-indulgence, self-gratification.
The dazzling reflection of firelight on the gems suspended from the branches above snatched his attention every so often, drawing it here and over there, toward this path and that one. Each led the way toward a different cozy lichen tent. The soft, erotic sounds of hedonistic satisfaction coming from them turned his cheeks the same shade of red as the glass candle holders nestled in the trees overhead.
Patrick startled at the sudden appearance of a red painted nymph at his side. Her attenuated figure was naked, a fact on which he couldn’t help but fixate. She took his hand, and he wondered at the way her laughter sounded like the bells of the church across the street from Wayside Manor. Just like that, she’d cast her spell. He let her lead him further into the forest, hypnotized by her sinuous body as it swayed to the sound of the drumbeats.
They passed one tent and then another, but there was a sound that came from the third hut they encountered that managed to break through the nymph’s heady enchantment. Trick tugged her to a stop, tearing his gaze away from her to stare in the direction of the tent. He couldn’t see inside, but the noise was familiar. Rather, the voice making the noise was familiar. Intimately so.
The nymph tugged harder, but Patrick dug his heels into the dirt and shook his hand free of hers. He could hear his boyfriend in that tent, didn’t she know? But when he looked back in her direction to tell her this, he found she was already gone. Ignoring the bizarre disappearance, he got closer. The frantic, wet sounds of sex became more apparent.
But Trick was loyal and trusting to a fault. A burning, righteous anger welled up inside him as dauntless chivalry propelled him forward. He was reaching for the tent flap, a thunderous rebuke rising inside his chest, intent on rescuing the boy he loved so much from whatever fiend had forced himself upon him.
“Oh, Goshen.” A familiar voice moaning some other man’s name. “Harder! Please.”
Patrick froze, hand raised and inches from the tent flap, suddenly numb with disbelief as he heard Goshen respond -- not in words, but with action. His stomach clenched tightly, then heaved uncomfortably as the slick sounds of skin slapping skin grew louder with applied force. Ed’s indecent moans grew louder, too. Trick’s vision swam as tears filled his eyes. His mouth opened, but there was no sound. His feet had grown roots which trapped him in place. He could do nothing but stand there and listen to the illicit sounds of what was clearly an impassioned secret come to light.
Minutes of agonizingly vivid, graphic torture passed. A stranger’s gratified grunting mingled with sounds of climax he knew too well. He listened to them panting together, the rustle of clothes being rearranged. An elastic snap preceded lewd commentary from a deep, seductive voice.
“Good thing you’re wearing white under here.”
“Ugh, but they’re soaked now.”
“No. Don’t take them off.”
“I can’t leave them on. He’ll feel them!”
“I said leave them. You’re already wearing one pearl from me around your neck. Now you can wear several strands of them.” Goshen’s laugh was a wicked thing. “It’s not like you haven’t done it before.”
There was a lengthy pause, a silence filled with heavy, frantic breathing. Ed did not protest. Patrick recognized his compliant whimper, the sound of kissing.
He heard Goshen say, “Good boy.”
Trick squeezed his eyes shut. Hot, fat tears rolled silently down burning cheeks. He hated what he was hearing, he hated that he was crying, and he hated that he could not stop either from happening.
“We should… I need to… to get back to the party. Before he comes looking. I was supposed to be getting drinks.”
The tent flap opened. Ed stepped out and stopped short, nearly colliding immediately, to his obvious surprise, with Trick’s statuesque and furious form.
“Patrick.” A shocked gasp. Ed froze, clutching his mint green sweater defensively. His dark eyes were wide with guilty horror.
There was no obvious sign, no immediately visible trace of the transgressions that Patrick had so recently overheard. Ed’s headband was only slightly askew. The sweaty mess of his hair looked no different than it had in the clearing while they had danced. The tulle pink skirt did a fine job of hiding what the conversation had painted a too clear picture of in Trick’s outraged imagination.
“What the ****?” Staccatoed notes of incredulity rang throughout his tone. Patrick’s steely gaze moved from Ed’s guilt to the deceptively innocent, smooth expression of the beautiful, taller boy who stepped out of the tent to stand behind him. The painful realization that this was not just some sick joke was beginning to settle in. Trick could feel himself begin to tremble with a rage he hadn’t thought himself capable of before now.
Sensing the fury, Ed stepped forward to try to gently quell it, lifting one hand in a staying gesture. “Patrick,” he said softly, his voice faintly quavering.
“Don’t you ****ing touch me!” he snapped, knocking Ed’s hand away from him. Withdrawing his hand, Ed tucked it against his chest and took a wounded step back. Patrick’s burning, hateful gaze returned to the seemingly unconcerned Elysian creature behind him.
He lunged at Goshen. “You ****ing--”
But before he could wring the other boy’s neck like he wanted, Patrick was met with searing, white-hot pain that exploded behind his eyes. He was certain Goshen had not moved, yet somehow the forest floor was now kissing his cheek. Trick blindly gathered sticks and leaves to himself as he writhed on the ground in agony that was too pressing to even allow for him to breathe or cry out.
“Patrick!?” Ed’s alarmed outcry seemed smothered somehow, swallowed by the surrounding forest. There was the sound of feet shuffling in the underbrush. He could practically feel the weight of the body looming over him. “What’s going on? Patrick are you all right?”
Ed reached for him, but Trick shoved him away.
“So violent,” Goshen commented dispassionately, utterly unfazed.
“Are you doing this?” Ed turned to Goshen, aghast, his voice rising frantically. “Stop it! Stop it right now!”
Patrick gasped when the pain receded, rigid muscles slackening all at once. From the ground, he could see Ed, supplicate, clutching the older boy’s arm. Goshen turned to look at Ed. With a grunt, Trick pushed himself up and took advantage of the distraction to make his move.
Everything happened so fast. One. He felt himself collide with the taller boy’s body, knocking him to the ground. Two. He scrabbled for purchase, fingers closing around the front of Goshen’s shirt. Ed screamed. He cocked an arm back. Three. Insidious fury drove his fist into Goshen’s face. Four. He hit Goshen a second time. The older boy finally raised his hands to push him away. Five. Trick’s fist collided for the third and final time with Goshen’s face as the reprisal of blinding pain made him crumple into a heap. The moss and dirt beneath him muffled his involuntary yelp.
Trick felt Goshen roll away, but he was too busy trying to remember how to inhale to worry about chasing him down. There were hands on him, touching him lightly, investigating. He heard Ed’s panicked voice asking, hastily, “What happened? What did you do? Trick, are you okay?”
“He assaulted me,” Goshen replied coolly from a few feet away.
“Did you hurt him?” Ed twisted back around as Trick struggled to sit up, reaching out to help by grabbing the arm he didn’t seem to be favoring. “Baby?”
The use of the pet name was the final straw. Patrick’s wrath found a new victim in Ed as he lashed out without thinking in the form of a resounding slap across the face. “I am not your baby,” Trick stressed. “I’m not your anything anymore.”
The strike sent Ed sprawling. Reflexively, he brought a hand up over the fresh red mark Trick had left on his cheek. He stared agape at the younger boy, grievously stunned, and his eyes welling with tears. Silent.
A combination of anger, pain, hurt, and embarrassment brought unwanted tears to Trick’s eyes. He cradled one arm to his chest, instinct telling him that there was something intrinsically wrong with it now but the rush of adrenaline helped block most of the pain from immediate thought.
Trick inched closer to Ed where he lay sprawled in the dirt. He viciously tore the velvet choker from his neck and flung it as far away from them both as he possibly could. The ribbon and chain with its teardrop pearl disappeared into the underbrush. Ed shrank away from him with a whimper, gaze shamefully averted.
“Why?” Patrick demanded, voice quavering. He could feel the rivers of tears that poured down his cheeks, a torrent of pain he didn’t have a hope of stopping. It killed him to cry in front of Ed as much as it killed him to know he hadn’t been enough for the boy. He choked on a rising sob while struggling to his feet.
Ed did not answer him. Still holding his cheek, the older boy only cowered lower to the ground. He made, at most, a very quiet mewling noise of dismay. He stared blankly at the base of the tent, leaves and forest debris at his level.
“Of course,” Patrick replied, gasping a mirthless laugh. The sound it made was hollow, empty, dead. “I’m not worth your honesty even now.” Now that he was upright, his arm throbbed painfully. Even the light breeze on his skin made him want to throw up… or maybe that was from knowing his boyfriend was a cheater. He couldn’t tell. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Goshen standing serenely off to the side. There was so much more he wanted to say to the both of them, but this was too much to bear any longer.
“I hate you,” Trick sobbed acrimoniously. His vision remained blurred with tears. It felt like there was a hole in his chest where his heart used to be; he was bleeding out quickly. He fired a couple more angry shots across the bow before the weight of reality crushed his ability to do anything more than cry. “I hate you and I never want to see your ****ing face again.”
The lash of his words made Ed flinch, ground him deeper into the dirt. The tiniest, shortest pule slipped past his tightly pressed lips. Tears rolled freely down his cheeks, especially when he shut his eyes, but still the older boy said nothing.
Patrick turned and stalked tearfully away. Nobody stopped him.
The End.
(A wonderful, collaborative effort.)
Fires of Beltane.
Patrick's dancing had all but ceased without Ed to keep him to task. As the weariness of nighttime settled in, he realized just how thirsty he was. Looking around for his boyfriend, who was supposed to be bringing refreshments, Trick caught sight of that pretty pink skirt of his just as it vanished down one of the many paths that led into the woods.
A devilish smile curled across the teenager's face. He darted a look aside to Spencer, then toward Mallory. Neither were paying him much attention. He disappeared quietly, intent on chasing his boyfriend into the woods for this game of Hide And Seek.
There was just something about tonight -- or maybe it was the place -- that excited him. The primeval overtone of the celebration affected him in ways he hadn’t expected. There was magic in the air and he was in the pursuit of pleasure. All around him, Patrick was enticed toward immoderate self-indulgence, self-gratification.
The dazzling reflection of firelight on the gems suspended from the branches above snatched his attention every so often, drawing it here and over there, toward this path and that one. Each led the way toward a different cozy lichen tent. The soft, erotic sounds of hedonistic satisfaction coming from them turned his cheeks the same shade of red as the glass candle holders nestled in the trees overhead.
Patrick startled at the sudden appearance of a red painted nymph at his side. Her attenuated figure was naked, a fact on which he couldn’t help but fixate. She took his hand, and he wondered at the way her laughter sounded like the bells of the church across the street from Wayside Manor. Just like that, she’d cast her spell. He let her lead him further into the forest, hypnotized by her sinuous body as it swayed to the sound of the drumbeats.
They passed one tent and then another, but there was a sound that came from the third hut they encountered that managed to break through the nymph’s heady enchantment. Trick tugged her to a stop, tearing his gaze away from her to stare in the direction of the tent. He couldn’t see inside, but the noise was familiar. Rather, the voice making the noise was familiar. Intimately so.
The nymph tugged harder, but Patrick dug his heels into the dirt and shook his hand free of hers. He could hear his boyfriend in that tent, didn’t she know? But when he looked back in her direction to tell her this, he found she was already gone. Ignoring the bizarre disappearance, he got closer. The frantic, wet sounds of sex became more apparent.
But Trick was loyal and trusting to a fault. A burning, righteous anger welled up inside him as dauntless chivalry propelled him forward. He was reaching for the tent flap, a thunderous rebuke rising inside his chest, intent on rescuing the boy he loved so much from whatever fiend had forced himself upon him.
“Oh, Goshen.” A familiar voice moaning some other man’s name. “Harder! Please.”
Patrick froze, hand raised and inches from the tent flap, suddenly numb with disbelief as he heard Goshen respond -- not in words, but with action. His stomach clenched tightly, then heaved uncomfortably as the slick sounds of skin slapping skin grew louder with applied force. Ed’s indecent moans grew louder, too. Trick’s vision swam as tears filled his eyes. His mouth opened, but there was no sound. His feet had grown roots which trapped him in place. He could do nothing but stand there and listen to the illicit sounds of what was clearly an impassioned secret come to light.
Minutes of agonizingly vivid, graphic torture passed. A stranger’s gratified grunting mingled with sounds of climax he knew too well. He listened to them panting together, the rustle of clothes being rearranged. An elastic snap preceded lewd commentary from a deep, seductive voice.
“Good thing you’re wearing white under here.”
“Ugh, but they’re soaked now.”
“No. Don’t take them off.”
“I can’t leave them on. He’ll feel them!”
“I said leave them. You’re already wearing one pearl from me around your neck. Now you can wear several strands of them.” Goshen’s laugh was a wicked thing. “It’s not like you haven’t done it before.”
There was a lengthy pause, a silence filled with heavy, frantic breathing. Ed did not protest. Patrick recognized his compliant whimper, the sound of kissing.
He heard Goshen say, “Good boy.”
Trick squeezed his eyes shut. Hot, fat tears rolled silently down burning cheeks. He hated what he was hearing, he hated that he was crying, and he hated that he could not stop either from happening.
“We should… I need to… to get back to the party. Before he comes looking. I was supposed to be getting drinks.”
The tent flap opened. Ed stepped out and stopped short, nearly colliding immediately, to his obvious surprise, with Trick’s statuesque and furious form.
“Patrick.” A shocked gasp. Ed froze, clutching his mint green sweater defensively. His dark eyes were wide with guilty horror.
There was no obvious sign, no immediately visible trace of the transgressions that Patrick had so recently overheard. Ed’s headband was only slightly askew. The sweaty mess of his hair looked no different than it had in the clearing while they had danced. The tulle pink skirt did a fine job of hiding what the conversation had painted a too clear picture of in Trick’s outraged imagination.
“What the ****?” Staccatoed notes of incredulity rang throughout his tone. Patrick’s steely gaze moved from Ed’s guilt to the deceptively innocent, smooth expression of the beautiful, taller boy who stepped out of the tent to stand behind him. The painful realization that this was not just some sick joke was beginning to settle in. Trick could feel himself begin to tremble with a rage he hadn’t thought himself capable of before now.
Sensing the fury, Ed stepped forward to try to gently quell it, lifting one hand in a staying gesture. “Patrick,” he said softly, his voice faintly quavering.
“Don’t you ****ing touch me!” he snapped, knocking Ed’s hand away from him. Withdrawing his hand, Ed tucked it against his chest and took a wounded step back. Patrick’s burning, hateful gaze returned to the seemingly unconcerned Elysian creature behind him.
He lunged at Goshen. “You ****ing--”
But before he could wring the other boy’s neck like he wanted, Patrick was met with searing, white-hot pain that exploded behind his eyes. He was certain Goshen had not moved, yet somehow the forest floor was now kissing his cheek. Trick blindly gathered sticks and leaves to himself as he writhed on the ground in agony that was too pressing to even allow for him to breathe or cry out.
“Patrick!?” Ed’s alarmed outcry seemed smothered somehow, swallowed by the surrounding forest. There was the sound of feet shuffling in the underbrush. He could practically feel the weight of the body looming over him. “What’s going on? Patrick are you all right?”
Ed reached for him, but Trick shoved him away.
“So violent,” Goshen commented dispassionately, utterly unfazed.
“Are you doing this?” Ed turned to Goshen, aghast, his voice rising frantically. “Stop it! Stop it right now!”
Patrick gasped when the pain receded, rigid muscles slackening all at once. From the ground, he could see Ed, supplicate, clutching the older boy’s arm. Goshen turned to look at Ed. With a grunt, Trick pushed himself up and took advantage of the distraction to make his move.
Everything happened so fast. One. He felt himself collide with the taller boy’s body, knocking him to the ground. Two. He scrabbled for purchase, fingers closing around the front of Goshen’s shirt. Ed screamed. He cocked an arm back. Three. Insidious fury drove his fist into Goshen’s face. Four. He hit Goshen a second time. The older boy finally raised his hands to push him away. Five. Trick’s fist collided for the third and final time with Goshen’s face as the reprisal of blinding pain made him crumple into a heap. The moss and dirt beneath him muffled his involuntary yelp.
Trick felt Goshen roll away, but he was too busy trying to remember how to inhale to worry about chasing him down. There were hands on him, touching him lightly, investigating. He heard Ed’s panicked voice asking, hastily, “What happened? What did you do? Trick, are you okay?”
“He assaulted me,” Goshen replied coolly from a few feet away.
“Did you hurt him?” Ed twisted back around as Trick struggled to sit up, reaching out to help by grabbing the arm he didn’t seem to be favoring. “Baby?”
The use of the pet name was the final straw. Patrick’s wrath found a new victim in Ed as he lashed out without thinking in the form of a resounding slap across the face. “I am not your baby,” Trick stressed. “I’m not your anything anymore.”
The strike sent Ed sprawling. Reflexively, he brought a hand up over the fresh red mark Trick had left on his cheek. He stared agape at the younger boy, grievously stunned, and his eyes welling with tears. Silent.
A combination of anger, pain, hurt, and embarrassment brought unwanted tears to Trick’s eyes. He cradled one arm to his chest, instinct telling him that there was something intrinsically wrong with it now but the rush of adrenaline helped block most of the pain from immediate thought.
Trick inched closer to Ed where he lay sprawled in the dirt. He viciously tore the velvet choker from his neck and flung it as far away from them both as he possibly could. The ribbon and chain with its teardrop pearl disappeared into the underbrush. Ed shrank away from him with a whimper, gaze shamefully averted.
“Why?” Patrick demanded, voice quavering. He could feel the rivers of tears that poured down his cheeks, a torrent of pain he didn’t have a hope of stopping. It killed him to cry in front of Ed as much as it killed him to know he hadn’t been enough for the boy. He choked on a rising sob while struggling to his feet.
Ed did not answer him. Still holding his cheek, the older boy only cowered lower to the ground. He made, at most, a very quiet mewling noise of dismay. He stared blankly at the base of the tent, leaves and forest debris at his level.
“Of course,” Patrick replied, gasping a mirthless laugh. The sound it made was hollow, empty, dead. “I’m not worth your honesty even now.” Now that he was upright, his arm throbbed painfully. Even the light breeze on his skin made him want to throw up… or maybe that was from knowing his boyfriend was a cheater. He couldn’t tell. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Goshen standing serenely off to the side. There was so much more he wanted to say to the both of them, but this was too much to bear any longer.
“I hate you,” Trick sobbed acrimoniously. His vision remained blurred with tears. It felt like there was a hole in his chest where his heart used to be; he was bleeding out quickly. He fired a couple more angry shots across the bow before the weight of reality crushed his ability to do anything more than cry. “I hate you and I never want to see your ****ing face again.”
The lash of his words made Ed flinch, ground him deeper into the dirt. The tiniest, shortest pule slipped past his tightly pressed lips. Tears rolled freely down his cheeks, especially when he shut his eyes, but still the older boy said nothing.
Patrick turned and stalked tearfully away. Nobody stopped him.
The End.
(A wonderful, collaborative effort.)
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