Follow Every Rainbow 4: Kisses In Bookstores
The joy stayed with him when he woke up the next morning, dancing in his heart like the sunshine danced on his face. The joy stayed as he took care of the few business matters that needed his attention. The joy stayed as he prepared to go find Olivier, and spun his soul, prismlike, into a thousand rainbows dancing, as he walked toward the bookstore that belonged to Olivier.
"Christian!" Olivier's face was radiant in the beam of sunlight as Christian walked inside the little store. No one else was there, and it was nearly one o' clock in the afternoon. "I'm going to shut the store down for the rest of the day. Were you able to find out where Harold Zidler lives now?"
"That was easy, actually," Christian said, leaning against one of the bookshelves and watching Olivier with a keen pleasure in his eyes. "He still lives in the Moulin Rouge, deep in the private quarters, and he keeps to himself. But I know he'll see us, for my sake if nothing else."
"Good!" Olivier said, setting down an armful of books and slipping over to Christian. He laid a tentative hand on Christian's shoulder, but when Christian did not pull away, leaned in and kissed him, quickly, on the mouth. Christian straightened up, put his arms around Olivier, and deepened the kiss for a long moment.
"I thought you said you'd never been in love," Christian said once they had broken, flushed and panting, for air.
Olivier laughed. "That was yesterday, Christian. It no longer holds true."
"Ah, you didn't know me then," Christian teased.
"It is beyond my understanding to see how someone *could* know you and not fall in love with you." Olivier leaned in, brushing Christian's cheek with his lips for just an instant. "You are irresistible," he whispered in Christian's ear.
Christian drew in a quick breath. "Oh, this is so different," he said, looking at Olivier with tenderness in his glance. "You make me want to sing, but not the same songs."
Olivier trailed a hand down Christian's arm, quietly listening. "I loved her," Christian went on, "but I was also in awe of her at the same time. But you!" He shook his head. "You stormed into my heart and left me breathless...!" He stopped talking and their lips met, long and deep and slow, filled with wonder and joy.
Their bodies were slowly wrapping themselves around each other, Olivier's hands sneaking up underneath Christian's clothes, Christian's fingers skimming the waistband of Olivier's trousers and diving under to float along the tender skin there. They could feel each other, hard and hot, pulses pounding the same incadescent rhythm.
Kissing. Sweet kissing. Quick kissing. Long slow kissing. Every embrace brought them nearer to ripping each other's clothes off right there, in the middle of the afternoon in a sunny bookstore, where anyone could walk in.
Finally, Christian moved his head a little too far, and a shelf of books came crashing down. Startled, they instantly sprang apart and knelt to pick up the fallen books. Their hands kept meeting, entwining, parting reluctantly.
"We should go," Christian breathed. "We need to see Zidler. You have to know the truth of who you are."
Olivier laughed. "Oh, Christian, yes. We should. But we *will* continue this tonight."
"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Christian said.
"Let's go, then." Olivier grabbed Christian's hand, pulling him up off the floor. "The sooner we go, the sooner we'll be back, right?"
"Right!" Christian said, and followed him out the door.
The joy stayed with him when he woke up the next morning, dancing in his heart like the sunshine danced on his face. The joy stayed as he took care of the few business matters that needed his attention. The joy stayed as he prepared to go find Olivier, and spun his soul, prismlike, into a thousand rainbows dancing, as he walked toward the bookstore that belonged to Olivier.
"Christian!" Olivier's face was radiant in the beam of sunlight as Christian walked inside the little store. No one else was there, and it was nearly one o' clock in the afternoon. "I'm going to shut the store down for the rest of the day. Were you able to find out where Harold Zidler lives now?"
"That was easy, actually," Christian said, leaning against one of the bookshelves and watching Olivier with a keen pleasure in his eyes. "He still lives in the Moulin Rouge, deep in the private quarters, and he keeps to himself. But I know he'll see us, for my sake if nothing else."
"Good!" Olivier said, setting down an armful of books and slipping over to Christian. He laid a tentative hand on Christian's shoulder, but when Christian did not pull away, leaned in and kissed him, quickly, on the mouth. Christian straightened up, put his arms around Olivier, and deepened the kiss for a long moment.
"I thought you said you'd never been in love," Christian said once they had broken, flushed and panting, for air.
Olivier laughed. "That was yesterday, Christian. It no longer holds true."
"Ah, you didn't know me then," Christian teased.
"It is beyond my understanding to see how someone *could* know you and not fall in love with you." Olivier leaned in, brushing Christian's cheek with his lips for just an instant. "You are irresistible," he whispered in Christian's ear.
Christian drew in a quick breath. "Oh, this is so different," he said, looking at Olivier with tenderness in his glance. "You make me want to sing, but not the same songs."
Olivier trailed a hand down Christian's arm, quietly listening. "I loved her," Christian went on, "but I was also in awe of her at the same time. But you!" He shook his head. "You stormed into my heart and left me breathless...!" He stopped talking and their lips met, long and deep and slow, filled with wonder and joy.
Their bodies were slowly wrapping themselves around each other, Olivier's hands sneaking up underneath Christian's clothes, Christian's fingers skimming the waistband of Olivier's trousers and diving under to float along the tender skin there. They could feel each other, hard and hot, pulses pounding the same incadescent rhythm.
Kissing. Sweet kissing. Quick kissing. Long slow kissing. Every embrace brought them nearer to ripping each other's clothes off right there, in the middle of the afternoon in a sunny bookstore, where anyone could walk in.
Finally, Christian moved his head a little too far, and a shelf of books came crashing down. Startled, they instantly sprang apart and knelt to pick up the fallen books. Their hands kept meeting, entwining, parting reluctantly.
"We should go," Christian breathed. "We need to see Zidler. You have to know the truth of who you are."
Olivier laughed. "Oh, Christian, yes. We should. But we *will* continue this tonight."
"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Christian said.
"Let's go, then." Olivier grabbed Christian's hand, pulling him up off the floor. "The sooner we go, the sooner we'll be back, right?"
"Right!" Christian said, and followed him out the door.