Smut alert :)
Christian watched the foaming water circle around his feet, lapping across his toes before it sluiced down the plughole with a loud gurgle, and imitated the noise it made. It dawned on him that he hadn't felt any desire to sing during his shower, in fact, that he only seemed to want to when Syed was there to hear him.
'Good thing, really…' He thought. "….The racket would only make my head hurt more."
He pushed open the plastic panel and stepped out. Grabbing a towel from the rail, he wrapped it tightly around his waist. The mirror above the basin reflected nothing, covered with steam, and he gazed blankly at it for a moment.
"Vanished…" With a sigh, he used the side of his hand to wipe the surface clear, and reached for his razor. Seeing it lying neatly next to Carlo's on the bathroom shelf, he left it there, picked up a can of shaving foam and squirted it liberally over the glass, obscuring the image of his own tired, drawn face.
The apartment was quiet and cool, and seemingly deserted. The only sound a low hum from the air conditioning unit, and the muted rush of traffic and tweeting of birds beyond the double glazed windows.
He yawned widely, stretching the muscles in his jaw. What little sleep he had managed had been fitful, filled with dreams of fires, shouting, and ceilings crashing down. He had woken sprawled over the edge of the blow up mattress, sweating under the bright sun and with a palm frond from the plant in a tub beside him tapping irritatingly against his forehead. He glanced at the sofa in passing, vowing to sleep on it at the first oppurtunity and yanked open the fridge door.
"We're out of milk."
"Jeez!" Christian clutched his bare chest in shock, and Beattie, squatting on the floor beside the dishwasher, grinned apologetically.
"Oopsie! Have I given you a heart attack?"
"Yes. And a prolapse. What are you doing lurking down there?"
Beattie jumped up, tugging at the hem of her tiny red denim shorts, so that they almost, but not quite, covered her buttocks and triumphantly waved a gold hoop earring at him.
"Hunting for this. Sas lost it when she was beating you up… Oh no! She's bruised you…" Beattie pressed a scarlet painted nail against Christian's skin, and frowned with concern.
"Where?" Christian struggled to make out the blue mark. "That? I've had worse. Nastier…." He knew exactly the man to kiss it better, and wished he wasn't so very far away.
"She shouldn't have done it. If it's any consolation, she's very contrite this morning. And horrifically hung over."
"I know how she feels. Is she still in bed?" Christian looked cautiously at the closed door to their bedroom, hoping Sas wouldn't be waiting behind it, rage refreshed, about to burst out with a machine gun.
"No, she's dragged her broken carcass to work. She wanted to skive off but I made her go, as punishment. You know Carlo and Benny took her in when she was sleeping on the beach, don't you? Not really an excuse for trying to beat you up…"
Beattie grimaced, moving her lower lip sideways, looking to him for forgiveness by proxy.
"I heard…Another waif and stray, like me. Honestly, it doesn't matter. It was a weird night, and I probably deserved it. I should have told Carlo I'd got back together with my fiancé… Have you seen him today? Is he okay?"
"I think so…" Beattie heaved herself up to sit, cross-legged, on the marble worktop, making Christian smile, picturing her as a pixie in an acorn hat, perched on top of a toadstool. "…What are you grinning at? He's gone out to get some supplies… I wish he'd hurry up, I'm gagging for a coffee!" Beattie leaned over and switched on the kettle. "I'll have a black one… No, Christian, seriously, he's been so much better since you arrived. That might have been because he had hopes, or caring for you might have taken him out of himself, could be both. It's not your fault if you can't love him the way he'd like… Speak of the devil. Hola Carlo!"
"Hola Hermosa! Christian! You're awake. You feel well?"
Beattie jumped down and relieved Carlo of his shopping bags, hunting eagerly through them. Locating the milk, she set about preparing drinks, banging the cupboard doors and clanking mugs together. Christian took advantage of the frenetic activity to study Carlo's demeanour. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned back against the fridge door, eyes following Carlo's every movement, relieved to see him laugh as Beattie struggled with the coffee grinder, noticing how relaxed and fresh he appeared, all signs of his grief hidden away.
"Why so quiet, querido?" Christian endured the vigorous hair rubbing, and slapped Carlo on the arm affectionately in response.
"Hurts my head to speak. I think I'll change that vodka we're selling, think it's made with antifreeze…."
Carlo chuckled and waggled his finger.
"Better in small doses? You want some breakfast?"
The grumbling of Christian's stomach in response, made Carlo laugh again, and Christian allowed himself to believe that, perhaps, everything was going to be all right after all.
"Is there any bacon hiding in those bags?"
"Of course! Sit! Sit! You too Beattie. I'll make you both a horrible English fry up. Then Christian, Beattie will come and help me in the bar, and you can stay here…" Carlo waved away his attempts at protestation. "Use my laptop. Find different vodka, draft me an advert for a new manager for when you want to leave, speak to your gorgeous man…"
"Hello!" Syed surreptitiously wiped the corner of his mouth, and swallowed. "I'm eating my lunch."
Propping a cushion behind his head, Christian made himself more comfortable, his heart filling with joy at the sight of Syed's face on the screen.
"What have you got?"
Syed slid his plate out of view, looking shifty, and declared brightly,
"Salad!"
"And ketchup? You've got some on your chin…"
"Damn it! Sussed… You want one?" Syed waved a chip, leaving a little smear, and he briefly disappeared in a blur of white while he wiped it away with a tissue.
"Can you still see me? I suppose you had a power shake and a super food smoothie at dawn, followed by a quick burst of weight lifting."
Christian stifled a belch.
"Course. Or I could have had a big ol' greasy fry up."
"Greedy. Why are you lying on the sofa with your top off? Not that I'm complaining... Shouldn't you be at work?"
"Carlo gave me the afternoon off. Yay!"
"Oh, right…" Syed turned away, and Christian guessed he had begun to shred the tissue into little strips.
"Sy… What's up?"
Blinking worriedly at the web cam, Syed composed his features and asked blithely,
"Does Carlo have feelings for you?"
"Yes. Yes he does." Christian admitted. "He's been lonely since his partner died. He thought…. It's okay, Sy. He knows I love you…."
"What if… What if you hadn't come home? Do you think…? You and him?"
The soft vulnerability of Syed's lips made Christian ache with longing, and he answered honestly.
"I don't know. Possibly, eventually. It would have been second best for both of us, making do, comfort. A million miles away from how I feel for you. Will always feel. Are you on your own?"
"Yes… I should be going to help… It doesn't matter."
"Will you take me to bed?"
Christian waited patiently, catching glimpses of their flat, bits and pieces flashing into focus as Syed moved the laptop. He saw the familiar pictures on the walls, the washing up left from the night before, a baby's rattle, and finally their bedroom.
"Syed Masood! Haven't you changed the duvet cover since I left?"
Bouncing down onto the mattress, Syed grinned impishly.
"It smells of you."
"Ah, fair enough… I'm going to take off your shirt."
"You're not wearing my shirt… You're not wearing anything."
"I have a towel on…." Christian lifted the laptop, angling it down, and pulled the towel from around his waist. "I don't have a towel on anymore."
"No… No, I can see you don't."
"Your hands are my hands, my mouth, my tongue. Everything you do, imagine it's me. That I'm there in the room with you…"
Mutely, his pupils wide, Syed fumbled with the buttons on his black shirt, struggling out of the sleeves, one of the cuffs snagging on his watch, and Christian's pulse quickened as an overpowering lurch of lust consumed him.
"Jeans… I'm unzipping the fly…"
Syed paused, raising one eyebrow.
"You've forgotten my belt…"
"Ha! I'm a fool…. Faster, I'm ripping them off you… Oh god, commando…."
"I got a bit behind with the washing."
"Fuck, Sy…" Christian arched his back, struggling to pace his need. "Lie down…"
"Where are you going to touch me?"
"Your neck, my tongue is on your neck… and down."
Gasping in a lungful of air, on the edge, Christian watched Syed trail his fingers sensuously over his own body, across his stomach and along the trail of hair to his cock.
"Your hand is my mouth, I'm sucking you; you're deep inside, pushing against my throat…"
Syed's hips bucked, unable to hold on and Christian automatically responded, timing his movements to ensure they came together.
"Christian…"
"I love you Sy, I love you…"
"Oh my darling…"
Spent, Syed slumped backwards, hair tousled against the pillow, and reached out towards the screen.
"...I wish you were here."
"I wish I was too. Soon. I promise. When I've sorted out a new manager, and helped them settle in. A matter of weeks…"
"Weeks?" Syed wailed, gripping the crumpled sheets in frustration. "Agony… Shit!" He sat up quickly, staring away from Christian, across the room. "Someone's at the front door!"
"Ignore them."
"I can't! It might be Amira…" Syed grabbed his jeans and frantically clambered into them. "… She's still got a key."
"Why?" Christian snarled, the information dousing his warm glow as efficiently as well aimed bucket of ice cold water.
"I forgot to get it off her. I'll do it today."
"Maybe she should walk in on this. Finally make her realise."
"Christian! She does realise. A divorce is pretty conclusive."
"SYED. I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!"
Even Christian, miles away, heard the screech bouncing off the satellite towards him, and groaned, dragging the towel over his lap.
"It's your mother." He stated bitterly.
"I'd better see what she wants, it might be about Tam. Speak soon? We must do this again. Love you."
Pressing his face close against the camera, Syed lowered his long eyelashes and blew a kiss. Like an extinguished birthday candle, the screen went dark.
