SNOWBOUND
(part 2)




"This is what you call a 'lodge', then, is it Stuart?" Vince marveled as they entered the impressive lobby of what he could only assume was a new addition to the small town. The front doors had seemed austere, but what they opened to was nothing short of grand. Invitingly elegant sofas and chairs, with throw cushions set to match the slate floor tiling, were arranged around a room subtly decorated with glass-top, wrought-iron tables and a wealth of greenery and foliage that reached from floor to ceiling.

"Not too shabby, wot?" Stuart was pleased with Vince's reaction; his earlier mood dissolving at the site of that golden smile. He'd found the place online, but knew you could never quite be sure until you saw a place for yourself.

Vince gaped openly at his surroundings. "Never would have expected something so posh out here in the middle of nowhere," he grinned.

"It's not exactly posh Vince - you're just easy," he answered, then mumbled "most of the time"

"Sorry?" Vince wondered at that last comment. Did Stuart find him difficult to be around after all these months on the road? Was he meaning to send him off now that he'd grown bored with him? 'Shit - should've just let him have his fun… played his little game out there in the Jeep. What would it've cost me? Other than the humiliation of having to wander into a hotel lobby trying desperately to hide a raging hard-on while Stuart strutted about completely unaffected - nothing, really. It's only pride, Vince. Not like you haven't swallowed it many a time before,' he silently chastised.

Ignoring Vince, Stuart sauntered over to the reception desk, making sure to let his natural gait rivet his confused friend's attention. Nobody moved like Stuart Alan Jones. Many tried to imitate his panther-like grace, but none managed to perfect the animalistic sensuality that came to him so instinctively. His hips rolled naturally and of their own accord - nothing was ever calculated or premeditated about his movements. He was simply blessed with a walk that invited sex - much to Vincent Tyler's chagrin.

Vince had spent 16 years following that walk. And with each passing year, he felt more and more compelled to follow. He watched Stuart casually lean against the counter and switch into outrageous-flirt mode, despite the fact that the lobby receptionist was clearly straight ("just details, Vince" Stuart would always say.) 'The man really could charm the pants off of just about anyone,' thought Vince. 'Wouldn't be a complete shock to see the unsuspecting desk clerk bin a wife and kids for a carnal walk on the wild side with our Mr. Jones, ad exec-at-large.'

There was little that Ray, the straight-but-wavering desk clerk, could do to hide the crimson blush on his face as he handed over the room key to Stuart. "Enjoy your stay Mr. Jones," he managed.

"Oh I'm sure I will… Ray," Stuart offered a lascivious wink, then sashayed off toward the bank of elevators where Vince stood with their luggage.

'Christ,' thought Vince. 'The man spends nine hours behind the wheel of a car and not only does he still manage to stay polished and look dazzling, but now he's converting a small-town straight boy. I spend nine hours in the passenger seat and I'm hard pressed to outshine the homeless bloke I slipped a tenner to last week in Toronto.'

"C'mon Vince, let's check out our new home," Stuart grinned cheerfully with a lecherous waggle of his eyebrows. "Ray says there's a Jacuzzi - how 'bout it?"

Vince chuckled and shook his head. 'Once a flirt, always a flirt,' he thought. 'Wouldn't be surprised if Stuart were completely unaware of his effect on people. It's like he's on autopilot,' thought Vince. 'Small wonder he has no worries when it comes to pulling a different bloke every night of the week.'

A bright chime announced the arrival of the elevator and the two were welcomed by a cheerful redhead whose job, it appeared, was simply to accompany hotel guests from one floor to another.

"Welcome to Chateau Nova," she smiled, quickly giving her attentions over to Stuart. "My name's Heather and if there's anything I can do for you during your stay, feel free to ask."

"Hello Heather," Stuart offered his hand, which she happily shook - and was, not surprisingly, reticent to let go. "Actually…now that you mention it, there is something I could use some help with…some advice, really. If you wouldn't mind."

"Sure!" Heather was wiggling and preening, showing about as much restraint as a puppy greeting its new owner after a long day.

'This can only end badly,' thought Vince as he braced himself and waited for Stuart to continue.

"Well," Stuart furthered, his voice now seductively lowered - head cocked slightly to one side, and a wicked grin plastered across his face. "I've been trying to convince Vince here that he needs shaggin'. He's always after turning me down. I'm beginnin' to think it's personal, like. What d'ya think I should do?"

"Stuart!" Vince hissed, a blush creeping quickly across his face.

"Ummm…." Heather stammered, not sure how to respond, but doing her best to maintain composure. "Well…umm…I'm sure it's nothing…uhh…personal, sir."

"Yeah," he drawled, licking his lips and slowly eyeing Vince from head to toe, "you're probably right about that." Stuart didn't skip a beat. "But I still think he needs it. A good shaftin', that is. Don't you think?"

If Heather - and Vince, truth be told - could have clicked together their heels and transported themselves anywhere other than the Chateau Nova elevator, they'd have chosen this instant to make it so. Stuart simply giggled like a naughty schoolboy, delighting in the discomfort he'd caused.

The chime of the elevator was a most welcome interruption as the trio landed at the top floor.

"Take your time, Heather. Give it some thought - we can chat later," Stuart was unrelenting, the twinkle in his eyes bordering on devilish.

"Sorry 'bout that" Vince whispered to the blushing girl as he nudged Stuart out into the hallway.


*****

"That was quite the performance, that." Vince glowered at Stuart.

The impish Irishman ignored the scolding tone as he busied himself with the lock to their room.

"That's why you love me, Vince" he grinned, planting a sloppy kiss on Vince's cheek and throwing open the door.

"Never can stay mad at you, y'twat," Vince grumbled under his breath, a bright smile replacing his previous scowl. 'The man could most likely burn down my house, leave me on the street and all he'd have to do is flash that pretty little crooked smile to make me forgive him. I must be mad,' thought Vince.

"So? What d'you think?" Stuart stood in the middle of the room waiting for Vince to take in his surroundings.

Vince put their bags down and stepped to the middle of the room, taking in the ornate, mahogany four-poster bed with its brocade and velvet drapery - a perfect match to the loveseat and sofa that were carefully arranged to the left of a beautiful stone fireplace.

"God, Stuart - it's brilliant!" Vince beamed. His eyes flittered about the room with the unabashed enthusiasm of a child.

Though such feelings could never be read from his face, Stuart's heart filled at Vince's reaction. Sidling up behind his life-long friend he gracefully wrapped his arms about Vince's waist and buried his face in the hollow of his neck.

"I was hoping you'd think so," he murmured, allowing a playful breath to gently caress Vince's ear. "I was beginning to think you didn't like me anymore," he teased.

"Stuart, really," Vince answered, "It's brilliant. You're brilliant. This whole trip's been brilliant." He allowed himself the luxury of running his fingers across Stuart's deliciously toned forearms.

"Mmmm I'm glad," Stuart breathed. 'This is home,' he thought, as he nuzzled at Vince's throat, drawing in his heady scent. 'This feeling. This man. My Vince.' Always the libertine, Stuart let his tongue dart out and trace the bottom of Vince's earlobe. Stuart Alan Jones didn't believe in denying himself pleasure and he wasn't about to start now. Running his hands across Vince's chest, he took the tantalizing flesh into his mouth and pressed his hips against the other man's firm behind.

'Oh. My. God.' Vince panicked. 'He's hard! Stuart Alan Jones is grinding against MY arse and he's hard.'

It wasn't as though this were a new torment for Vince to endure. Stuart had done more than his fair share of bumping and grinding up against his best friend - a raging hard on happily on display. Only, in the past, it had been done in a drunken fit of dancing - most often surrounded by a sea of onlookers and writhing bodies. Which was why Vince, in his usual self-deprecating manner, assumed Stuart's condition was simply a result of one or more of the intoxicants he'd ingested or one or more of the pretty boys who were never far from his side.

But there were no intoxicants, no writhing dancers and no queue of pretty boys in this hotel room - only Stuart and Vince.

"Stuart," Vince hesitated. "What're you doing?" There was a brief catch in his voice as he tried to steady his breathing.

"Tasting you, Vince." He let one hand travel up under Vince's shirt, tracing a pattern around his navel, as the other gripped the unsteady man's hip. Stuart could feel his cock, already solid, nestled firmly against Vince's tight arse. He continued to rock his hips as he lazily licked his way into the hollow of Vince's collarbone. A sweetly torturous heat radiated to his every nerve ending and an unfamiliar tightness took hold in his chest.

"Mmm…god, Vince. You taste like a wee bit 'o heaven."

Stuart's voice had an intoxicating effect on Vince's senses at the best of times, but the contact his mouth and hands made against his sensitive flesh had his head swimming like nothing Mickey Blake could ever have cooked up.

Common sense told Vince he should call a halt to this now while there was still a chance he could save face once Stuart had decided he'd had his fun and walked away from this chapter of 'torment the sad bastard.' Many nights he'd watched Stuart's game of teasing some lust-drugged admirer to the brink of insanity, only to swan off at the last minute, leaving the poor sod panting and desperate. Truth be told, Vince Tyler had been that poor sod more times than he cared to remember. Of course, Stuart could leave him a frustrated mess on a regular basis without even trying.

Reason screamed at Vince to stop his wanton friend, but his will was slowly dissolving on the tip of Stuart's tongue as it worked its way back across Vince's throat.

"Stuart. Please," Vince gasped.

"Please what, Vince?" Stuart's hands crawled up Vince's torso, teasing his tightened nipples, and continued to grind against him.

"Please don't, Stuart," he managed, his breathing now ragged and desperate. "Please," he whimpered.

Stuart froze - the pleading tone of Vince's voice significantly cooling his ardour. Taking a quick step back, he ran a shaky hand through his thick, glossy curls and stared at the floor. Stuart stood silently as he gained control of his breathing.

"Stuart?" Vince struggled with his rapid heartbeat.

Unable to meet Vince's eyes, Stuart stood stoic and continued to stare at the floor as he nibbled at the cuticle on his pinky finger.

"Stuart?" Vince tried again to break through the ominous veil shrouding Stuart's mood. Confusion was quickly killing the overwhelming lust that had frightened him only seconds earlier.

"C'mon Stuart," he forced an uneasy laugh. "Let's get cleaned up and check out that local cuisine. Caribou curry - sounds good!" He clasped his hands together in mock glee - his desperation to lift Stuart out of this sudden funk becoming something palpable. He felt an ache in the pit of his stomach as his fear, that he'd done some permanent damage to their friendship, grew with each passing second.

"Yeah. Could eat." Stuart finally lifted his eyes to meet Vince's. But there was something within those brilliant Irish eyes never before seen by anyone. Gone was the usual cockiness. The glint of an impending insult or scathing comment was nowhere to be seen. He cleared his throat and blinked quickly, the diamond-like sparkle of a tear evident only momentarily as he turned away from Vince.

"I'll shower first and find a spot while you clean up, yeah?" he spoke over his shoulder as he disappeared into the other room.

"Oh. My. God." Vince stood stiffly and stared at the closed bathroom door.


tbc