H is for Hotel

"We were supposed to have two rooms," insisted Timmy. "We specifically requested-"

"It says here one room, king size, no smoking."

"And you're quite sure of that? Who booked the reservation?"

"We have it down under Dunbar. He requested champagne on ice, and-"

"E-excuse me." Timmy practically flailed his arm atop the hotel lobby counter, startling the man attending to him. "You said king size, do you mean to indicate our room has one bed?"

"Ah, yes, sir."

"Wonderful...just fantastic, please excuse me, won't you?" And he turned swiftly, ready to pounce at the first sign of him.

"Your keys?"

He turned back for the keys, voice unable to hold back frustration. "Thank you so much. I apologize if there's blood in the morning, I'll pay for any damages."

Timmy patted the sofa in hopes of a convertible; nothing. He sat down. He stretched out, attempting comfort.

Terrible, it was terrible.

"I said I was sorry, what more do you want from me?"

"I never should have allowed you to book the hotel, why am I having you do my job for me?"

"Yeah, good question, what am I even paying you for?" Russell pulled a bottle of liquor from a bucket, examining the label. "Not bad. Hey, you wanna wet your whistle, take the edge off? You're tense, man."

"I'm tense because we have a presentation at seven in the morning, and I'm now forced to spend the evening beside you in bed as you get drunk on hotel champagne and order pay-per-view pornography. Precisely my idea of a good time, thank you very much."

"It's my presentation, anyway, why do you always get like this, huh?"

"Your presentations are my presentations, I've been working the last six weeks on that proposal. The least you could do is show a bit of gratitude."

"I offered you champagne!"

Timmy had no further response; Russell found his sudden silence off-putting and confusing as he abandoned his alcohol, walking the length of the room. He positioned himself finally on the opposite side from Timmy, in a small chair.

And the room fell silent. Too silent. Every time Russell opened his mouth to speak, he closed it again.

Man, he really sucked at this.

Whatever...this was.

When at last Timmy took to his feet, he retrieved several items from his suitcase. Russell tried resisting, but watched carefully as the man collected several items and finally made his way towards the bathroom.

And he found words, then. "It's good."

Timmy froze, turning back. "What?"

"Uh, the proposal. It's good. You...did a good job."

Timmy offered a soft smile...genuine, Russell believed, but no more words as he vanished into the bathroom.

And Russell sank down in his chair, hands to his face, heart catching speed.

They had both taken time to shower and had now positioned themselves on either side of the bed. Russell quite comfortably, Timmy pressed as near to the edge as possible, attempting to read.

"I'm not gonna bite," said Russell finally, noting how far away Timmy was.

Timmy gave Russell a curious look.

"Unless you're into that, man."

The sneer that graced Timmy's face was a bit disappointing.

"Dude, I'm kidding! What's your problem, haven't you ever been in bed with a guy, before?"

"You pose the most ridiculous questions, sometimes."

"So, only me? Loyalty, that's a good quality in a man."

Timmy's sigh was one of exacerbation. He felt it necessary to abandon his book to the side-table. "Honestly, this is uncomfortable enough without you cracking jokes."

"Whatever. So how about that pay-per-view?"

"Absolutely not."

They'd both fallen asleep some time ago. And, as one would imagine, sleep leads to dreams. One man's mind had drifted quite naturally to a reasonable continuation of their current situation.

So maybe it was a dream, but in here, nobody had fallen asleep. How could they? There were more important tasks at hand.

"You've wanted this for a long time, haven't you?"

Timmy pushed himself up on one arm, facing Russell...his answer came not in the form of words, but in held breath and piercing eyes.

"Yeah, Tim, I watch you. Watching me. You think you play it cool, huh, a big secret?"

At last Timmy took a breath, looking away. "I should have known better than to try and hide it, sir."

"You know what would really turn me on?"

Timmy gazed up sheepishly.

"Call me Russell...I wanna hear my name come outta those gorgeous lips."

Timmy bit a lip, appearing quite coy. And then: "Yes, of course. Russell."

"Nng. Yes. Tell me what you want...say it like you mean it..."

"I...wish to make love. Russell."

Russell waved Timmy across the bed, and found him a moment later crawling on hands and knees towards him, very much like a cat. If only he had meowed...

No meowing. Only lips on lips, deep and hungry. Russell flipped Timmy to his back in a natural movement, a flow of energy surging between them like electricity.

Quite literal, as lightning bolts shot through the room now, illuminating them both in the center of the bed, a visual representation of sparks ignited. (They were, after all, still in a dream.)

"We'll make love now," said Russell. "And you'll enjoy it. Because you've wanted me from the first day you laid eyes on me."

"Yes," said Timmy, nearly crying.

"What is it you love so much about me?"

"Everything."

"Be, uh...be a little more specific."

"Your eyes, so mesmerizing...your flowing hair, the envy of lesser men...your body, so toned, so refined..."

"Oh yeah, keep going."

"Your way with words."

"I do speak very well."

"The way you love me..."

"That one." And Russell embraced Timmy very deeply, arms wrapping all about him.

Magically, their clothes were gone. And magically, their bodies were united.

Russell was deep inside of Timmy; Timmy's eyes were closed, head thrown back in ecstasy.

They fit together perfectly, as if their bodies had been pristinely carved by some divinity in preparation for this act.

"You feel amazing," declared Russell, movements smooth and steady. "I never knew it could feel like this..." He touched Timmy's face; Timmy leaned in, embracing the fingers curled against his cheek.

"I always knew, Russell," Timmy spoke in near-whisper. "When you truly love somebody..." He gasped as Russell thrust within him deeper, growing ever closer to release. His fingertips dove deep against the curve of Russell's back, nearly piercing flesh. "It feels like heaven is on fire."

Russell's breath grew very heavy. The storm returned, lightning flashing all around in the still of the room.

And two men arched upon the bed in the throes of release, in the center of a storm, primal screams of bliss echoing throughout the night in perfect harmony.

The rain came to wash them clean. It soaked through skin, and bed, and world.

"This place is a mess," said Russell with a smile, hair tumbling down slick with rain. "The hotel's gonna charge us a fortune."

Timmy smiled back up, placing a hand to either side of Russell's face. "You can afford it. Besides, this is all a dream."

Russell laughed. He nearly cried. "I know this is a dream, but can I...can I just hold you for awhile? Can we just stay like this?"

Timmy's arms fell to Russell's back, wrapping tight, drawing him very close. "You know how to make this real, Russell."

"I can't. I can't do it."

"Then just stay here now. I won't leave you." Timmy placed a soft kiss to the side of Russell's neck. "He won't leave you, either."

There were two men dreaming this evening.

Slowly, two heads turned so as to look at one another...did it appear as though they were suddenly laying a great deal closer than they had been, before?

Yes. Mere inches apart.

"You look warm..." Russell winked in an exaggerated manner. "You should probably take off all those clothes."

Shockingly, Timmy began to do as instructed. He sat upon his knees, and began undressing in a flurry.

"Oh, damn." Russell's eyes grew very large, taking in as much newly exposed skin as he possibly could before standing straight up in bed. "Okay, so we're doing this? Yeah? Let's do this."

However, it appeared Timmy had another idea. Stripped of clothing, finding his companion merely topless, he pulled Russell back to bed in a brazen attacking of his body, crawling atop him, desiring it seemed to feel every inch of him.

"No way. Oh, my god, no way you're like this."

Timmy no longer allowed Russell words, too busy kissing him with a depth and sincerity the likes of which Russell had never been kissed before. And yet...

Timmy sat back now, smacking Russell straight across the face.

The impact of the slap shook the room, creating sound waves all around the men. When at last the noise had settled, Timmy gripped Russell firmly by the hair, pulling his head upward, leaning in very close to his ear.

"I wish to kill you," he said. "But I also wish to have sex with you. You see my dilemma."

"S-sex first," begged Russell.

"You're the worst person I've ever known, and yet I can't foresee a future without you in it! How do we resolve this?"

"We...we fuck and get it over with?!"

The men looked at one another for an extended period of time, Russell's hair still clenched firmly in Timmy's fist.

At last Timmy relented: "Yes, I suppose you have a point."

"Of course I do!"

Timmy released Russell's head to collapse back upon the bed.

And out shot the ropes. There whipped one from the sky at lightning speed, snapping about Russell's left wrist and securing his hand to the bed. He stared, wide-eyed. "What the hell..."

A moment later he found his right hand in much the same predicament. He looked first to broken ceiling and the ropes dangling from a darkened nowhere, tugging at his arms to no avail.

He looked to Timmy for answers. Timmy placed a finger against his mouth, leaning in and voicing a simple, "Shhhh..."

As Timmy crawled off of Russell, the remainder of the lower man's clothing was pulled from his body by invisible hands in one fell swoop...certainly not by Timmy, for he sat quite comfortably, cross-legged, observing all that was happening.

And Russell voiced more curiosity than objection. "Tim, what...what's happening?"

"I believe I've been granted a bit of assistance."

"I mean, I'm into it, I guess, but, uh-"

"How long have you wanted me, Russell?"

Russell's head fell back. He said nothing.

"You've just placed us in this bed together, you want me to believe this was all an accident? You act as if I shouldn't know, do you think I'm stupid? I'm not stupid. Timmy isn't stupid. We both know that Timmy is highly intelligent. What's more, Timmy should know better than to think he doesn't want you back. Why, just look at the scenario he's concocted. We're about to copulate, for heaven's sake." Timmy paused, appearing suddenly quite bewildered.

"What's up?" spoke Russell, quite casually despite his present state, tugging at a roped arm. "We doin' this, or what?"

Timmy took a deep breath, looked to Russell, and gave a firm nod. "Yes." A moment later he was between Russell's legs, paying very close attention to his erection. He made little fuss of this, as though he had performed the act a million times. Mouth full of a man's penis, nothing to write home about.

But Russell was begging. "Just take me. I need it, I need you. I love you, Timmy."

Timmy abandoned his current mission in favor of glaring at Russell...then hiking his legs up in a particularly rough manner. But rather than carrying on, he took to speaking with himself.

"He's just said he loves you, Timmy. This is your dream, what do you make of this?" To himself, he replied: "Well, you must believe it, why else would you have him say it?" Then, in response: "This dream really isn't going according to plan, you know we really should just-"

"Hey, Tim?"

He looked down to Russell. "Yes...so sorry." And he plunged all at once full force into Russell, wasting no time now in the carnal act at hand.

Dream time moves at a rather strange pace, it would seem. Perhaps Timmy had driven into Russell for several seconds, perhaps hours. The room was full of colors now, many colors, watercolors dripping from the air, a work of art painted somehow by an act of unfiltered lust.

And the only sounds coming from the men were soft, satisfied breaths, until at last Timmy lunged forth one final time, exploding in a sea of color, brighter now, as if from every pore. Russell watched him with great intent, voicing a soft, stunned, "Wow..."

All the colors faded. Russell's binds let loose, winding slowly, discretely up and away. And Timmy crumpled to the bed. A moment later, Russell grabbed him, pulling him up next to him, laying him down. He pulled the covers atop him, stroking his face gently.

"Why are you like this...?" asked Timmy softly.

"Your dream," said Russell. "Y'know...one of these days you're gonna have to tell him."

Timmy did not speak.

"I mean, tell awake you first, right? That you love me? That guy seems pretty mixed up about the situation. Then tell me. Well, real me. Just so long as we're all on the same page." Russell planted a soft kiss on Timmy's cheek before turning in bed, settling in for the night. "Love you, baby."

And Timmy stared into the darkness. Falling. Lost.

Two men had awoken in the middle of the night. They laid back to back, far apart, perhaps each aware the other was also stirring; breathing shallow breaths, daring not move for fear of uttering a word, of sparking late-night conversation.

The dreams were faint recollections. But enough. Just enough. Legs pressed firm together now, holding secrets, daring not reveal how bodies should betray brains' orders.

One thought flooded both men now in the dark of the room: 'Why does this keep happening?'

They both implored the dreams to end.

"Why should I have to wear a tie, anyway?"

"Sir...we've discussed this, a necktie is more professional than bearing a bit of chest and chain, now finish up. You've twenty minutes."

Russell's hands began to fumble as he watched his reflection in the mirror; he knew how to tie the stupid tie, he wore them once in awhile, but for some reason his nerves were particularly frayed. Upon the third trip down the rabbit hole, he let out a guttural growl of frustration.

Timmy looked to Russell, brow furrowing, chewing a lip in contemplation. And he joined Russell in front of the mirror. "No, it's not...not that way, you need to...let me do it."

Timmy observed Russell's reflection a moment before pushing before him, facing him, grasping the mess he'd created. "It's really not that complicated..."

"I'm just...nerves."

"Yes, well..." Timmy's hands made a quick job of releasing the tangles in Russell's tie.

Russell flinched at Timmy's touch. A slight touch upon slight skin. But enough. Just enough.

Timmy made a faster job yet of completing the task of actually tying the thing. And then...

"Ow, dude..."

"Sorry." He'd pulled just a bit...too...tight. He loosened the knot, then went the extra effort of straightening Russell's collar, and took a slight step back in examination. "You look fine."

"Thanks, I guess."

Eyes met then in a silent exchange of information; of what, neither man was sure. But suddenly, the air felt very thick. And finally, Russell's mouth spoke faster than his brain could think.

"I want you..."

"...What?"

Fast, brain, think fast. "...To call a cab, we've gotta be there in what, twenty? Gonna be late, wasting time on ties and stuff. Like it matters what I wear, nobody can resist this face, huh?"

Timmy nodded. "Yes, sir..." But as his feet set in motion, he could not help but look back to Russell, whose eyes diverted now to his own reflection in the mirror.

And so Russell's eyes shifted in the mirror to Timmy's figure, walking slowly out of frame.

He'd pushed him away; and so, he'd left.

Nothing ever changed.