Chapter Fourteen: 'Role Assignement'

'I don't know about you,' Jonathan said softly into the silence that had fallen. 'But a cup of tea, nice though it is, just isn't quite doing it for me at the moment.'

'Nor me. There's some vodka.' Gethin got to his feet and went to the cupboard in the kitchen where he kept the booze. 'And one of those bottles of odd stuff you always end up with, sort of purple colour... and half a bottle of sherry... lager, in the fridge.'

'You're short of nothing you've got, are you?'

Jonathan's amused voice came from just behind him; Gethin turned to see his guest leaning against the doorframe, smiling that assured, closed-lipped smile.

'Ah, well, I learned from the best,' Gethin said back. 'Aunty Dilys' cocktail cabinet was a thing of glory and a joy to behold.'

Jonathan laughed, pushing himself away from the door frame to cross the kitchen and lean against the window ledge, closer to Gethin.

'You okay, Gethin? Really?' Jonathan shook his head in disbelief as Gethin shrugged, and continued on. 'Because, if I'd thought coming over with my things would throw you like this...'

'Don't be daft. Course, more worried about how much else you're going to bring tomorrow.'

'Tomorrow...?' Puzzlement creasing the handsome face, the head tipping curiously.

'Well, you can hardly go back for the rest of your gear tonight,' Gethin said. 'It's getting late.'

'Not really.'

'It is when I have to be at work for half eight, up an hour before. Or would be, by the time you got the rest of it packed, got back here again.'

'Are you...? No, obviously you're not throwing me out, you're suggesting I stay?'

'Not that you have to, or anything.'

'I will admit, it seems like a waste of money to get a taxi home, and the tube at this hour... hit and miss, really, and it's a bit of a walk the other end...'

'Settled, then. You can go in the morning, time for another trip before the mother gets there... what happened, anyway? Full story?'

Jonathan sighed, looking down as he gathered his thoughts.

'The night Luke was arrested, his keys were in his coat, in the cupboard they called my dressing room... so I ended up with both sets, good thing, too, or his mummy could have waltzed in while I was out... like I say, a note under the door saying she'd been trying through the afternoon to catch me, Luke's giving up the flat and she wants his stuff, the lawyer-relative will sort the lease and everything, and I panicked. Okay, I had a drink or two after rehearsals, which probably didn't help me take the news well, and I just couldn't think of what else to do or who else would help me... and I already knew you to be kind...'

'And that I had a spare room.'

'No, I only thought of that later. Anyway, it's going to be awkward enough without having to explain my clothing choices, it's none of Luke's Mummy's business but you can just tell she's going to be all, 'have you been corrupting my sweet little child...?' as soon as she gets the chance, and while I might just pull off Flat Mate, Honest, no way would I get away with it if...'

'...if she clocked the shoes and dresses. No, I see.'

'And I have the feeling they're going to want me out in short order no matter what, never mind the two weeks' rent already paid ...'

'You'll be homeless, then?'

'You know, when you said, bring the rest of my stuff, I wondered if you'd guessed... but we don't really know each other well enough for you to read my mind, and while I know I am undeniably charismatic...' he grinned to show he was joking, 'I know it's a bit much to ask. Especially when you've just been treated to a display of the choicest items in my wardrobe... Anyway, there's my old room at my mother's. I can doss down there for a couple of weeks until I get sorted, if...'

He broke off.

'You know, that bottle of purple stuff is starting to look really interesting...'

'Want to try some?'

It turned out to be nothing worse than a bottle of home-made wine, a gift from Peter, the colour mostly coming from a strange tint to the glass, and not nearly as unpleasant as it could have been. After two glasses, Gethin was feeling much less uptight about the invasion of his flat by so many garments not his own, and wriggled and pushed himself comfortable on the sofa, dragging Jonathan's arm down from the backrest across his shoulders, causing his guest to smile.

'If you weren't so bloody tall, I'd be cuddling you, of course,' Gethin said.

'Of course,' Jonathan grinned. 'You know what they say, don't you?'

'What, particularly?'

'Everyone's the same height lying down.'

'Do they, do they really say that?'

Gethin extricated himself from under Jonathan's arm; it hadn't been as comfortable in reality as it had in his imagination, and knelt on the sofa facing his guest to look into his face, waiting for an answer.

Jonathan nodded.

'They do indeed. It sounds right. Makes sense.'

'Or it's just a really clever chat-up line.'

Not that Jonathan needed really clever chat up lines; all he had to do was just sit there, with that smile, and those eyes, and even the air around him seemed to sparkle and fizz with anticipation.

Irresistible.

And, unable to resist, Gethin leaned forward and placed a small, swift kiss on Jonathan's delicious lips, just there-and-not-there, moving in for another, now that Jonathan had been warned, pulling those broad shoulders towards him, not falling down into Jonathan's arms like some melting starlet but holding him close, an arm around his back, other hand sliding through the messy, gorgeous hair, mouths connecting, Gethin leading the kiss, savouring the sensation of breaching that wonderful mouth with his tongue, reading the response as Jonathan eagerly leaned in to him, aware of the wakefulness of his body, lust rising with desire until everything was the kiss, the connection, the hands and mouths, the sensual exploration until Jonathan slid his hand inside Gethin's shirt and began to track down towards his waistband.

It was too much; panic flared, dousing the nascent passion, and suddenly Gethin had to extricate himself...

Pretending he hadn't noticed the questing hand, he ended the kiss with as much delicacy as possible and disengaged, getting up from the sofa to swallow hard, try not to look at the sudden extreme tightness of Jonathan's jeans, the puzzlement in his eyes and, really, Gethin himself was at a loss to know why he'd pulled away...

And he could see the question forming in Jonathan's mind, so he pre-empted it with a grin.

'And I thought the man said that they said you should always leave them wanting more,' he said. 'You know where the bathroom is? Time I turned in, early start tomorrow.'

'It's Saturday tomorrow!'

'Busy days, Saturdays, in the shop. If you need anything, you know where I am. I'll let you get clear of the bathroom first, then.'

'Oh, it's like that, is it?' Jonathan asked, and even though he was an actor, it was obvious he was trying not to mind.

'It's late, that's all. Goodnight kiss, should I have said first?'

Gethin almost stumbled up the stairs and into his bedroom. He shut the door firmly, then shook his head and turned the handle to leave it ajar. Didn't want to shut Jonathan out, not really, not at all, thinking about it…

So what had that been about, downstairs? He wanted... Oh, how he'd wanted... and he'd been the one to start it, pulling Jonathan's arm round his shoulders, with the kiss, but Jonathan's exploring hand had been too soon, too real, and, yes he wanted him, but he wanted more than a quick fling, only Jonathan seemed to come with baggage.

A lot of baggage.

Quite literally.

He heard slow, tired feet on the stairs and felt guilty, and lonely, and almost ashamed of himself.

But it was late.

Work tomorrow.

He listened for the shoot of the bolt from the bathroom door before undressing and finding pyjama bottoms to put on, getting into bed to wait for the exaggerated sound of the guest room door closing before he ventured out to wash his face and clean his teeth.

'You're an idiot,' he told his reflection. 'Walking away from him like that. You know he's fragile, what have you done to him?'

And what could they have been doing together, but for that moment's panic?

Idiot.

Still cursing himself, he went back into his bedroom, stopped with a start as he saw his bed was no longer empty.

'Jonathan?' he said, embarrassed that his voice rose to a squeak as he ended the word.

'Hope you don't mind,' Jonathan said, snuggling down under the quilt. 'But the bed through there is covered with accessories...'

'What? Of course it is, with your bloody accessories!'

'And I've a six foot frame to fit onto a five foot bed... it's all right, isn't it?'

This last was said with a hopeful, inviting lift to the rich voice... at least Jonathan didn't seem to have been too traumatised by Gethin's earlier retreat.

'That's my side of the bed!' he protested, the only thing he could think of.

'Ah, that explains why it was so nice and warm when I got in. Like I said once before, you're just the perfect host!'

'And I can't sleep unless on my left so you'll have shove up, if you're staying.'

'Oh, well, with a gracious invitation like that, how can I refuse?' Jonathan smiled and moved across the bed about half the required distance, patted the bedding invitingly. 'Come on, get in, you'll freeze out there; your nipples are already spiked up like little diamonds... Or is that not from the cold? You know, to go by the other evidence, it's not…'

Gethin felt his face flush and he sat down hastily on the edge of the bed, his back to Jonathan.

'I'm not sure we know each other well enough for you to be talking about my nipples,' he muttered.

'Well, get in, snuggle up, and let's get to know each other a bit better.'

Jonathan lifted the covers, enfolded Gethin in them, and pulled him close. A moment's resistance, and Gethin sighed and allowed himself to stretch out in the bed, lying against the length of Jonathan's body.

'Anyway, how much do I need to know about you before I can talk about your nipples? I know where you live, what you do, I know you're a wonderful host and will drink practically anything, even in a purple bottle. And,' Jonathan finished, almost triumphantly, 'I know your shoe size. 8 ½. Are you're going to lose those pyjama bottoms any time soon? Can I help?'

'I can manage, thank you.'

'Something else I know about you,' Jonathan said, shifting back a little further to accommodate Gethin, and turning onto his side so he could drape a languid, easy arm across Gethin's waist. 'You consider a blowjob to be cheating. And probably anything more than one kiss for comfort and sympathy. Good morals, there.'

'Thank you.'

'Although, I did want to clarify…' Jonathan wriggled himself comfortable, curling around Gethin's still somewhat-stiff back. 'Is it the same if you're offering a blowjob? Because I was. Offering, not asking for, that is. In the bath, that day. After you'd been so lovely to me, so nice. Would that be cheating?'

'Yes, it would. Even if you didn't think you were getting much out of it, it still would be.'

So difficult not to relax back, and, really, what would the harm be? Jonathan was a warm, comfortable presence, and his hand drifting just to play with the waist of Gethin's pyjamas wasn't intrusive, or over-eager; it was gentle and nice, friendly almost.

'Of course, it's a moot point now,' Jonathan went on, bringing his face closer to Gethin's neck so that his breath was a soft warmth behind his ear. 'I've finished with Luke, you never were with Ivan… we're both free agents…'

'No, you're not! We're not, I mean…' Gethin turned in his arms, rolling over on top of Jonathan in his haste to protest. 'You and me, we're going on a bloody date tomorrow night; we're not free agents, so don't you be offering blowjobs to anyone else. Anyone, I mean. All right?'

Jonathan inhaled and as he breathed out, hooked his thumbs into the sides of Gethin's pyjamas.

'Hope they're not fuzzy lined. Nothing worse than a mouthful of fluff when you're expecting something a little more substantial,' he said as he slid the offending sleepwear down, away… 'Ah, that's better, that's nice… isn't that nice?'

And, yes, it was nice, to lie naked on Jonathan, naked also, and as hard, also, beneath him, and to allow and accept the slow waltz of his hands, to stop talking and protesting and pretending, to kiss him and kiss him as if he was starved of affection, as if only this man would sate him, to feel the rise and response of Jonathan's body, to hear the soft, needy noises and to just stop controlling everything for one wonderful, glorious, gorgeous hour… and then not to have to get up and get dressed and call a taxi or get the early bus, nothing furtive, he wouldn't let there be anything furtive about him and Jonathan, wonderful, fragile, beautiful Jonathan Blake…

'We're going to have to sort out our role assignment a bit,' Jonathan said softly, cuddling Gethin against him, them having discovered that, no, people were not all the same height lying down.

Gethin lifted his head from where he'd nestled against Jonathan's neck.

'What d'you mean?' he said, sleepy, content, replete.

'Well, in most couples, there's one that goes to sleep straight away after, thinking, God, that was good, or something… and the other lies awake thinking, he's lovely did that really just happen, God, he's gorgeous, how do I stop this from going wrong, will he still fancy me in daylight?... so I think one of us ought be asleep now.'

Gethin smiled.

'Go to sleep, Jonathan.'

'Oh, and is that, go to sleep because you're the one who's going to stay awake, or, stop being the insomniac, it's all right, and go to sleep?'

'It's all right. Go to sleep. Or do you want me to read you a story?'

'Oh, that sounds fun.' Jonathan pulled Gethin closer to him. 'What do you suggest? "Fun With Dick and Jane"?'

'Hmm. If you're not careful, it's going to be "Single-handed Cruising", so, goodnight kiss, and goodnight and sweet dreams. I'll stay awake for both of us.'