++chapter four++

It was odd, sleeping with someone else. If one was a polite person, one would try and remain motionless for fear of waking up the sleeping partner. Neither Duke nor Nash was especially polite. The older man moved restlessly in the circle of Duke's arms, unwittingly kicking and hitting him. Duke was otherwise unaware of the blows; he reacted only by tightening his grasp until Nash was forced to remain still. They remained in that position for an hour or so, uninterrupted.

Duke awoke first, blinking blearily at the man almost on top of him before closing his eyes once again. However, sleep refused to take him for a second time. Nash chattered softly, still locked in a deep slumber, bringing Duke's attention back to him. The blonde man's face was relaxed, not poised in a perpetually amused expression--it lent him a more approachable air. With his hair falling across his face, Nash actually looked quite young. Not old enough to be married in any case.

Married. Not only had he just had sex with a man; Nash was a married man. He had a wife somewhere--probably a jealous one. Wherever this mystery woman was, Duke hoped she stayed a mystery. Any woman crazy enough to marry this man was not one to trifle with. The younger man's mind filled with images of bloodthirsty banshees and wild, savage women.

Nash struggled a little more in Duke's arms, making sounds that were vaguely like speech, but too garbled to make sense of. The red-haired man regarded him warily, not quite sure what to make of him now that he was no longer dying to touch him. He was... Duke searched for a word to adequately describe Nash. Not handsome, but...he was pretty--like a woman, but different.

He rolled his eyes at himself. That made a lot of sense. What was it about Nash that made him so damn dumb? It wasn't as though Nash was especially remarkable. To be perfectly honest, the man's scars were what jumped out at him when he first saw him naked. At first it had been in admiration, but now that he was closer he realized the pale bands snaking around Nash's ribs were far too clean and neat to have been battle wounds.

Duke moved his arm to take a closer look at them. There they were, pale skin pulled taut over bone--one for each rib, starting just below the pectoral muscle on either side. They looked like gills on a fish, they were so perfectly matched. What the hell could cause something like that? It had to have been something deliberate.

Slowly, he traced the lines--each easily as wide as his finger--wondering at them. No sooner than he touched him, Nash opened his eyes. Obviously confused upon waking up, the older man made no move until his surroundings seemed to come to him all at once, and he was up and out of Duke's arms before the other could react.

Nash pinned him with a disdainful look from across the room. "What are you still doing here?" He asked, his tone scathing.

"What the hell is your problem?" Duke inwardly flinched at Nash's tone of voice, but pretended it didn't bother him. Why should it? This was just as much a meaningless screw for him as it was for Nash, obviously. He'd come here with the intention of ridding Nash from his conscious, so why was the older man's harshness affecting him at all?

"I believe we've both served our purpose here. Isn't it time for you to leave? I'm sure I hear your woman calling." Nash turned away and pretended to find clothes to wear, dismissing Duke entirely.

The younger man stared blankly at Nash's back before rolling out of the man's bed and collecting his clothing. He was surprised to find that he was sore, but once he thought about it, he figured it made sense. Shrugging and pulling his shirt over his head, he resisted the urge to apologize and ask Nash if he couldn't stay just a little bit longer. Instead, he taunted him, as he was wont to do.

"I don't know what kind of bug crawled up your ass..."

Nash laughed. "My ass? My dear fellow, you're not the one that should be accusing me of such things... After all..." He trailed off, leaving the rest of the statement up to Duke's imagination--not that it was hard to pick up on what Nash was implying.

Duke scowled; he hated to be mocked. "Shut up. You're not that good. I've had better barmaids," he muttered, stepping into his pants. "More hospitable than you, too."

"Who said I had to be hospitable? You're the one that came crying to be, begging for me to fuck you."

"I wasn't begging--"

"You were begging." Nash interrupted, looking generally amused.

"I wasn--"

"You were. Anyway, it's a moot point, because I know that if I wanted to, I could make you beg again." The older man crossed his arms over his chest and smirked, seemingly unaware of the fact that he wore no pants.

"I don't beg for anyone. Ever. Especially not for pompous pipsqueaks that don't know a dangerous man when they see one." Duke glared at Nash, ready to jump across the bed and strangle the man if he said one more thing to the contrary.

"Dangerous, hah! You're more like a kitty cat than a mercenary captain. Do you want me to rub behind your ears?" Nash pulled on his pants. "Anyway, I'm sure that you have barmaids to toss, so I'll stop wasting your time." He leaned against the wall, nonchalantly waiting for Duke to leave. The younger man glared daggers at him from across the room; the obvious dismissal stung, but he could come up with no adequate response to Nash's jibes. He felt like an idiot.

Slinking past the older man, Duke left Nash's room vaguely wondering when it was that he lost the position of dominance--if indeed, he'd ever held it at all. The other man had cleverly turned the situation in his favor, and now Duke felt like, although he hadn't been in control, he certainly was responsible for what happened.

All of this proved one thing to Duke, and he knew it with strong conviction. Nash was evil.

He wandered the halls of Budehuc aimlessly, at a loss as to what to do. He'd been wrong to assume that simply having sex with Nash would automatically solve his problems. Now he was even more confused than before--and angry and upset and almost a little degraded.

Duke was used to his relationships being just sex, so why was this particular one bugging him? Perhaps because his partner had thrown him out just as casually as Duke did his own. Tables turn, as they say, and men are bastards. If this was how Elaine felt all the time, then maybe some apologies were in order.

The red-haired man paused briefly and shook his head. He didn't feel that bad, and at least having sex with Nash was fulfilling--though it almost would have been better if it hadn't been. At least that way he wouldn't have to feel guilty for enjoying it.

He was sure that there was an easy way to blame Nash for all of this. Duke just needed to think of how. Falling back against the cold stone wall, he sighed. What was the goddamn point? He was beaten; he gave in; Nash won. He was the idiot. Duke got what he'd thought he wanted, and only that. It was his own stupid fault that he'd been expecting just a little bit more.

Whatever. Nash wanted it to be just a meaningless screw, and that's exactly what it would be. After all, that's what he'd wanted, too. He had Nash out of his system, and now he could function.

Duke would keep telling himself that, even if it was a lie. He was already working on stuffing this incident in the back of his mind, never to be thought of again. It was better this way, he told himself. He wasn't gay--and even if he was, he wouldn't want anything to do with a man like Nash. Who knows where he'd been? He obviously wasn't picky about who he went to bed with.

He nodded firmly. That's right. It was just the same as waking up with some grotesque thing he picked up at a bar, too drunk to realize that it wasn't a good idea. He'd lived through that, and he could live this down just as easily.

It didn't mean anything, and that meant that his feelings weren't really hurt and that he didn't really feel cheap. Emotions were only involved if the encounter was significant, which this was not. Duke didn't even have to get over it, because there was nothing to get over. In the course of things, this hadn't even happened.

Duke felt better, having justified his actions. He pushed himself off of the wall, and continued down the hall. Once he took a bath and got Nash's smell off of him, he'd be able to wipe this event completely from his conscious, guilt and blame free. It was as easy as closing his eyes and falling forward.

++

"So did you hear?" The woman turned to Elaine with a mischievous smirk on her face. "They say that your Duke was seen coming out of that Mr. Clovis's room. And you know what they say about him."

The bustle of the tavern around the women made their voices especially hard to distinguish. Elaine had to lean forward to catch what the other woman said. For once it was actually something interesting--it pertained to her, after all.

"Oh? What do they say about him?" She set her mug of beer down on the bar and turned, arching her manicured brows questioningly. Maybe this would explain why the man had been so morose for the past few days. Duke had barely said a word to her since he kicked her out.

"You mean you don't know?" The other woman's grin widened with wicked pleasure--it was rare that she ever spread a rumor that Elaine hadn't heard before, and gossiping was her favorite pastime. "They say he takes men to his bed, as well as women. Is your Duke that way, too?"

Elaine had the presence to look horrified. "Of course not! Duke would never do something like that!"

The woman raised her eyebrow in response. "Are you sure? Because, you know, I heard he looked rather rumpled. And angry, too." She emphasized her point by pointing with her beer, accidentally sloshing some on the finished countertop. Elaine backed away slightly, not wanting to get any of the alcohol on her.

"Maybe he beat him up. Duke did seem kinda angry at him, a few days back." Elaine took a sip of her beer, contemplating. "I suppose the easiest way to find out, though, is to ask one of them." And since Duke would lie to her if it really had happened, it seemed she would have to talk to Nash, instead.

"Are you really going to go ask him? What if it really happened!? You'll come back and tell me right away, won't you?!" The other woman practically bounced off her bar stool. Elaine pinned her with a disdainful look, thinking herself much more dignified.

"I might, it really depends." She wouldn't, but the woman didn't have to know that. Slipping off the stool and away from the bar, the busty woman left the tavern in search of answers. Had Duke switched sides on her? He wasn't exactly enthusiastic in bed anymore, but any passion between them had died out years ago. Neither Duke nor Elaine was faithful, however, he never slept with someone from a completely different gender before. The woman was--as she saw it--understandably upset.

Finding Nash's room wasn't as hard as she thought it would be. A few of the maids gave her knowing looks when she asked for directions, but she brushed them off with a scowl. Like she'd bed with someone like Nash. Elaine snorted. He was far too skinny for her tastes--and almost prettier than she was. She imagined he would bat those long eyelashes of his and she might just have to punch him. ...It annoyed her when men were delicate.

With a firm knock to his door, Elaine prepared herself to be horrified by whatever Nash had to tell her. When she heard a smothered voice telling her "it's open," she stepped inside, almost surprised to find the man hunched over his desk, immersed in paperwork.

For a long moment, Nash didn't look up or speak, simply leaving Elaine to her own devices. Finally, he signed the document he was working on with a flourish, and turned to look at whomever had arrived. Elaine obviously wasn't who he was expecting, and Nash made no effort to hide this fact from her.

Nash grinned easily upon recognizing her, guessing at her reason for coming to his room. "I'm sorry, miss. I'm afraid I don't have the time to play with you. Perhaps some other time."

Elaine rolled her eyes. "Stuff it, you arrogant bastard. I'm here to ask you something." The woman placed her hands on her hips and glared at Nash. Any other man would be terrified, but the older man simply stood, leaning back against his desk.

"If the question is 'will you have sex with me' then I'm afraid the answer is 'no.'" The faint lines at the corners of Nash's eyes became more apparent as he regarded Elaine with mirth. "I don't know where you've been, exactly."

Elaine forcibly restrained herself from marching across the room and showing Nash exactly where her fist had been. She somehow managed to grit out her question, but not before taking a shot at Nash, first. "I could say the same to you. Did you have sex with Duke or not?"

"Duke? What does he look like again?" Nash was teasing; he had to be--the merry light in his eyes gave him away. Elaine, however, was less than amused. She stamped her foot and marched right up to the older man.

"Stop screwing around! Did you, or did you not?"

"Is it any business of yours if I did?" Nash seemed to regard her disdainfully for a brief second, before turning back to his desk. "Maybe you should ask him, if you're so damned concerned." He plunged back into his paperwork, dismissing Elaine just as he had Duke, earlier. The Harmonian ignored her despite the fact that she was a dangerous woman, and Elaine didn't take kindly to being underestimated. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she pulled the man back to face her.

"I'm asking you." Elaine stood above Nash, giving her what she felt was an advantage. She intended to make use of it, as she moved closer to the man, trying to intimidate him with her presence. From what she saw, it didn't work.

"Kindly remove your hand, if you would, before I'm forced to do something quite rash." Nash smiled pleasantly, but it didn't reach his eyes. Everything about his body screamed at Elaine, telling her that he really wasn't joking, but she paid no attention.

"I'll remove it when you answer the goddamn question!" Her nails dug into the flesh on Nash's collarbone, making him wince before knocking her hand away roughly.

"Go sink your claws into someone else, you whore. I would suggest Duke, but I think you've ruined him for women everywhere." Nash paused to laugh harshly. "Certainly seemed to like being on the receiving end, in any case."

Honestly, Nash was expecting to be hit--was waiting for it, even. However, he wasn't expecting Elaine to actually be strong. Her fist smashed against his cheek with a force that was truly impressive. He actually had to fight to remain upright in the chair, and not shame himself further by sprawling out on the floor. By the time Nash recovered enough to turn back to Elaine, she was already stomping through the door. She was done with the conversation, he guessed.

Bloody hell, that hurt. Nash touched his fingers to his right cheekbone gingerly, hissing as the flesh felt numb at first before exploding with pain. It throbbed, letting him know that it wasn't just a little tap that would go away quickly. Likely it would swell and, knowing his complexion, bruise a horrible amount. He'd look like a battered wife in a few hours.

Someone needed to talk to Duke about keeping his bitch on a leash. Nash brought a mirror from inside his desk, examining the blow. A short leash, he silently amended. She'd definitely had some power behind that one. Perhaps he shouldn't have made her so angry.

And perhaps she shouldn't have stuck her nose where it didn't belong, and certainly wasn't wanted. It was his own business whom he slept with, regardless if that person was involved in a relationship or not. Nash thought it was so rude when people tried to drag him into their marital problems--like it was his fault they were unfaithful.

So making up stories about being married to get fickle spouses to trust him didn't help matters, but that was missing the point entirely. If they hadn't already been inclined to cheat, a little lie certainly wouldn't sway them one way or another. Besides, it made him seem more trustworthy, and he always could use a little more help with that.

His face throbbed incessantly, quickly scattering any stray thoughts Nash had in his head. He wanted an answer for his pain--preferably one that he couldn't personally provide. And since he didn't know where Elaine's room was to pay the woman back, he'd just have to ask Duke. Hell, she was probably in there bragging about what she'd done anyway. That would be fun; he could tear her up verbally in front of an audience.

It was a pity, sometimes, that Nash refused to hit women--or anyone weaker than him, for that matter. Of course, he'd found ways to compensate for it through the years that were just as effective. Nash grinned to himself.

The Harmonian moved purposely though the halls of Budehuc, although the pain in his face begged him just to go lay down with some ice. By the time he got to Duke's room Nash felt his cheekbone swelling. Damn, damn, damn.

Nash didn't bother knocking, a fierce scowl prepared especially for the people whom no doubt resided within. So sure, was he, that he was being mocked just on the other side of the door, that he was actually taken aback when he was met with a dark room. Duke lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling blankly until Nash interrupted him. Both men stared, not quite sure how to react to each other.

Nash spoke first. "Sorry. I thought Elaine would be--"

"What the hell happened to your face?" Duke sat up, regarding the older man oddly.

Peeved at being interrupted, Nash frowned at Duke. He wasn't quite angry, but he also didn't like being prodded for answers he wasn't ready to give. "Your woman didn't like hearing that I'd slept with you, apparently. You should tell her that if she doesn't want to hear the answer, she shouldn't ask the question."

"Elaine did that?" Duke swung his legs over the side of the bed, looking like he might approach. "What did you say to her?"

From the looks Duke was giving him, Nash concluded that it must look like something hard, huge, and heavy had slammed into his face. No, this wasn't right. He wanted Duke to think he was beautiful--he shouldn't be seeing him like this. To rectify this situation, Nash turned in the door way, ready to just drop it for now and go back to sleep. The sight of the younger man lying motionless on the bed--obviously brooding--filled Nash with a sense of weariness.

"Nothing. Forget about it."

"Hey, are you sure you're alright?" The red-haired actually did get up this time, putting a hand out to grasp the other's shoulder, but stopping just before he made contact. He was still angry at Nash for being a bastard, but even he couldn't ignore a pathetic sight like the one that Nash presented. The bruise was ...bad... to say the least.

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you. Sorry to disturb you." Nash sighed and turned, a little confused by the man's concern. He hadn't exactly done anything to earn it, after all, because he didn't like people hanging around.

Duke shifted uncomfortably, wishing he could just scream at Nash and have done with it. But he was having trouble reclaiming any of the anger he'd harbored for the man in the past week, now that they were face to face. "It's no trouble." He stared at the Harmonian, wishing he could say more, but he was never really good with words.

Nash returned the other man's stare openly, wondering why he couldn't just turn away. "I should probably just go," he said, though he made no move to leave.

Duke nodded in response, holding onto the door as if waiting for Nash to leave so he could close it. "You can come in if you want." The younger man snapped his mouth closed--not intending to have said anything at all, certainly not to invite Nash in. The blonde looked just as surprised.

"I shouldn't," said Nash. He stepped inside anyway.

The younger man didn't move away to give him room to enter, so for a brief moment they were almost touching; Duke could feel Nash's breath on his cheek. The bruise on Nash's face seemed to have darkened just with this short exchange, and Duke imagined he could see it throbbing from here. He wondered, once again, what the older man had done to warrant Elaine's displeasure. Then he remembered that Nash was an asshole, and had probably just been himself.

Still... Duke couldn't help but feel bad for him. The man was built like a bird: fine-boned and easily crushed. Those long eyelashes and that hair certainly did nothing to improve this image. Nash looked like one good smack would send him flying--perhaps it had. Duke was glad that he had controlled his temper enough not to hit him before. God knew he didn't need that guilt on top of everything else he had piled on top of him by this man.

If Duke had hit him, he wouldn't be conscious. Nash's pretty face would barely be recognizable. Unlike Elaine, Duke didn't hit people out of spite. He hit them out of anger and fury. Luckily for Nash, he'd felt just shamed enough that he hadn't flown over the bed and killed him. At this point, though, anything was possible. Duke wondered what Nash's next move was.

The red-haired man watched as Nash settled against the wall, making no move one way or another. He didn't even meet Duke's gaze. He seemed almost...humbled.

But surely that wasn't true. That didn't match the image of Nash that Duke had in his mind at all. Why, from the look of him, Nash was about to start spouting apologies any minute. If he did, would Duke accept them? What would happen after that? Would Nash ask to stay?

Duke didn't have to worry about any of these questions, because Nash didn't apologize. He remained silent, staring at the floor under his feet. He seemed to be waiting for Duke to break the silence, only the other man was unwilling to do so. They both simply stared.

"What is it you're waiting for me to say?" Nash finally asked, shifting a little uncomfortably on his feet.

"'I'm sorry,' would be nice. But then I am hopelessly idealistic, aren't I?" Duke enjoyed this. For once, he felt like he held the power between them. It was a heady sensation.

Nash winced, expecting this. He wasn't quite sure what was worse, the fact that he had gotten himself trapped in this situation, or that he felt like he actually did need to apologize. Duke was no different from any other man he'd taken to his bed, so why the hell was he here? Why did he care if Duke was angry with him?

Nash raised his hands up, shrugging hugely. "Alright, I'm sorry," he said, and he truly did mean it, even if his lavish body language suggested otherwise.

Duke raised a brow skeptically. "That's the best I'm going to get, isn't it?" When Nash finally met his gaze with a humorous glint in his eyes, Duke couldn't help but smile.

"Your woman has convinced me that perhaps you are not the best person to screw around with," the older man explained, touching long fingers to the edge of the bruise on his face.

"I'm not. You're lucky it was her and not me," Duke replied, echoing his previous thoughts. "What did you say to her?"

Nash shook his head. "Only the truth. That you liked it and that she's a whore. Short temper, that one has." He grinned sharply, pretending that anyone else would not have reacted in the same way.

Duke was surprised to find himself laughing. "That's only not true because she would never make anyone pay for it."

Lifting his eyebrows fractionally, Nash replied, "Is that right? Trouble in paradise?" He said this as though he hadn't been spying on them earlier, which was an admirable feat indeed.

"If it was paradise, do you think I would have let you fuck me?" Duke closed his eyes momentarily, still hating the way that sounded rolling off his tongue.

"I don't know about that. I am pretty tempting, hm?" Nash laughed and then cringed, the movement disturbing his aching face. Duke just rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, you're stunning right now. You look like someone's battered wife."

Nash glared at the younger man, but didn't respond. They lapsed into silence once again.

Duke--never having been able to stand a little uncomfortable silence--broke it. "Arguing with you is dumb. Why don't you sit down or something? You're bugging me."

"Well, I would, but the only place I see is the bed, and quite frankly, the idea of sitting on your bed frightens me." The idea of sitting anywhere in this mess frightened him. Who knew what he would be sitting on? Nash shuddered at the thought.

"The sheets are clean, if that's what you're implying." It seemed Nash wasn't the only man present who had the gall to be offended. Duke crossed his arms over his chest and sat on the bed, as if to prove to Nash that it was, indeed, safe.

The older man joined him after only a short hesitation, taking a seat gingerly. He looked over the expanse of the bed disdainfully, before composing himself. "Well. It seems I haven't been eaten quite yet. You are a man of your word, Duke."

"I am. What now?" The red-haired man regarded Nash carefully, but he quickly came to conclusion that Nash was impossible to second guess. He gave up, and simply waited to see what his next move was.

"We have several options, I think. The most reasonable of these, in my opinion, is simply starting over again," he paused here to sigh, thinking to himself about what a dolt he was being. The truth of the matter was that he honestly liked Duke, and they'd gotten off on the wrong foot. If the man was willing, he'd like him to like him too. "I'm Nash Latkje. I'm thirty-seven and single."