Happy Anniversary! Paul laughed a little hoarsely as he toasted himself with his last bottle of beer. Tonight was the anniversary of his life together with Peter, his lover of three years. For three years, they had fought, argued and made up. For three years, they had shared their laughter and their tears.
Peter had arranged for dinner at one of the poshest restaurants in town to celebrate. In anticipation of the dinner, Paul had even traded in his old tux for some new duds. It would be worth every penny, Paul had thought. Quickly finishing his rounds at the hospital, Paul had stopped over at the florist for a bouquet of dozen long-stemmed red roses. He knew that Peter loved them.
Clutching the last red rose in his hand and with one half-empty beer bottle in his other, Paul laughed. He didn't even remember how many bottles he'd drunk. What a fool he had been. During the dinner, he had noticed that Peter wasn't his usual self. He wasn't his usual self, his pleasantries seemed forced, his voice stilted, his eyes refusing to meet Paul's. And just out of the blue, it had popped out like that. Paul should have seen it coming.
Paul, this isn't working out anymore.
Had he been a fool for three years? Was there really something missing in the relationship as Peter had said? Was it true? Were they in a rut? Were they starting to take each other for granted? Was there no love involved? All these questions jumbled up in his brain, fogging up a brain already cloudied by alcohol.
"Fuck you, Peter!" Paul yelled into the night. Several passersby stared at him, wondering at the handsome, well-dressed young man walking and stumbling at the sidewalk, muttering to himself. It didn't take much to know what had happened to him, the look of despair on his fair features, the wilting rose and the bottle spoke for themselves.
Seeing a bench nearby, Paul slumped into it. And the worse thing was that Peter hadn't been seeing someone else. No, Peter had too much integrity to dump him for someone else. Which meant there really was something wrong with their relationship.
He had thought their life together was fine. Sure, he had hoped for more but he had always figured that that was all that he could get. Just a comfortable life with a friend beside him. That the ideal of a love everlasting, a love that encompasses everything and all that crap was just that, an ideal dream. Nothing more. But it seemed that Peter wanted more than what he could give, wanted more than their `marriage' of convenience.
When the first drop of rain landed on him, Paul almost felt like crying. Damn, even Mother Nature was against him today. Before long, the sidewalks were clear of passersby and he was soaked to the bone. His new tux was drenched, his hair hung in wet golden tendrils all over his forehead. A perfect end to a `perfect' day. Without really caring who heard him, Paul gave vent to his feelings, resulting in a string of loud profanities. He yelled and ranted till he thought he would lose his voice.
An apartment light across the street flashed on. "Hey, you there shut the hell up!" An anonymous voice rang out in the night.
For a moment, Paul thought of yelling back but thought better of it. "Shit, I really have to get a grip." Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Paul struggled to stand up. There was no use going on and on about this. Might as well go straight home. He decided to take Scarlett's motto for his own.
Tomorrow is another day.
Tossing the bottle into the trashcan, Paul walked to the kerb, scanning for a cab. There was no way he could drive back in his condition. He hoped that Peter had moved out as he had said. Paul didn't want to be seen in such a mess. Wouldn't the nurses at the hospital stare if they saw the stylish, wonderfully cool and collected Dr. Ramsay in such a state? Probably drunk, definitely wet and looking like something the cat dragged up from the alley. A grin crept up his face.
Hailing a cab, Paul waited as a big yellow taxi slid to a screeching stop in front of him. He winced at the sound. Even the Concorde hadn't been that loud.
The window screened down and Paul peered in. What greeted him was one of the handsomest guys he'd ever seen. Dark brown eyes peered from underneath thick black lashes. Thick sensual lips smiled a welcome. Paul was starting to feel a little woozy and it wasn't all because of the alcohol.
"Hei, get in man, don't just stand there. You're messing up the upholstery." Nick shoved the door open with one hand allowing the hunk to step in. The taxi driver whistled softly in appreciation. In addition to that beautiful body, this man had one hell of a tight ass.
"Sorry." Paul laughed playfully and seated himself, then slammed the door shut.
"Where to, my man?" Nick asked quietly, slowly inching the car off the kerb. Who knows, he might have a chance to sneak a peek at that hot body just yet. and he knew precisely how to do it.
Cursing himself for getting drenched, Paul mumbled out his address.
Nick whistled again. That was a real classy joint. If this guy had been given the boot by his girl, it sure couldn't have been because of money. He looked like he had plenty enough to spare. And for this hunk, a lack of sex appeal could hardly be the reason he was dumped.
"Paul.."
Nick turned to him, one dark brow raised. "Huh?"
A throaty chuckle sounded in the cab. "Me Paul.. and you are.."
So that was his name. Well, Paul, we're gonna get to know each other much better. "Just call me Nick."
Oakland Avenue was quite on the other side of the town and they made a little small talk on the way. It was easy talking to Paul and he found himself warming up to him. Though in his drunken state, Nick doubted that Paul'd even be able to remember what was being said. With just a little prompting, Nick was talking about his job, his aspirations, his dingy, roach-infested little apartment ( which was miles away from Oakland Avenue ). In turn, Nick found out that the blond stud was a surgeon at the hospital and even the reason for his current situation.
The alcohol had had its effect, loosening up Paul's tongue. "Don't know whether I was fooling myself with Peter. I mean everything seemed fine."
Nick peered through the rearview mirrow. "But did you love him?"
The handsome young face paled almost visibly. The doc would be a bad poker player, he couldn't hide his feelings at all and there was guilt written all over his face. "We took care of each other, we understood each other's needs, we had a lot of things in common, we-"
"Hey, man, that wasn't what I asked. Did you love him?" Nick repeated, more forcefully this time. Besides being a taxi driver, he was now becoming Dr. Abby. Nick wondered whether he was being much too pushy.
Paul looked out the window. He was perfectly silent for a few moments and Nick wondered whether he had gone too far. "Hey, Paul, don't get pissed, OK.. I was just curious, that's all.."
"No, I didn't love him." His voice drifted off. "I don't think I ever did."
"I'm sorry, man. I've been through that shit too." Though Nick felt sorry for the guy, he couldn't help feeling elated. Damn, this stud was just ripe for the taking.
"Let's just change the subject, Nick.."
"Sure thing, boss. Anything you say." Nick said in servile accents. That made Paul laugh. It was a great laugh, Nick couldn't help noticing.
Without warning, Paul's hand suddenly shot up to hold Nick's brawny forearm in a tight grip. "Well, Nick, I hope you're a good guy cause I think I'm gonna..." His deep voice slurred off and the next thing Nick knew, Paul slumped down on his seat.
"Shit!" Nick banked heavily on the brakes, bringing the car to a sudden stop. The motion caused Paul to lurch forward in his seat but he showed no signs of awakening.
Nick immediately checked for his pulse. Thank God. His heart was beating strong and true. For a minute there, he thought that Paul might just have gone to meet his Maker right there in his cab. The blond hunk had only passed out unconscious.
"Damn it!" Reaching out, he gripped Paul by the collar and started shaking him. "Wake up.. Paul.." A few slaps delivered to his face didn't help any.
A mouthful of expletives flew. Nick realised that he had two choices. He could either bring this drunken stud back home to his place where he would no doubt fuck Paul, conscious or otherwise, till both of them couldn't stand, or he could do the noble thing and dump Paul back safe and untouched in his own bedroom. His aroused cock voted for the former.
Just as he reached out for the sleeping man, his eye caught a glint of silver. The figure on the cross dangling from the rearview mirror looked at him reproachfully.
Damn. That little crucifix thingy had to go, Nick gritted his teeth. It was turning him into a bloody fucking priest.
Once in the gates, Nick crossed over to the other side. With a gusty sigh and a muttered oath, Nick proceeded to carry him in. This sure had better win him some brownie points in heaven. He must be going totally insane, letting a gorgeous guy go just like that without even a quick grope!
But just as soon as his two arms went around the prone figure, those deep blues snapped wide open. About to explain, Nick started to say something but Paul managed to silence him with a kiss. It was slightly sloppy at first. Fresh awake from his sleep, Paul couldn't quite orientate himself but soon he got the hang of it and boy, this man was a Grade-A kisser. Hot and demanding at times, soft and sweet the next. His lips were moist and full, tasting of brewski and an earlier cup of vintage champagne. Caught up in the kiss, Paul's hard-on which had shown no signs of subsiding started rising up again, presing hard against the denim covering.
To hell with nobility.
Paul reached out to pull Nick roughly, almost violently to him. Their chests pressed close together, the cold moisture spreading to Nick's flannel shirt. Nick could feel the thick, hot meat tenting up in Paul's crotch and that made him smile. It felt huge and Nick hadn't taken his dessert yet.
Making the most of his advantage, Nick started to inch his tongue into the deep recesses of Paul's mouth. Definitely a prelude to another entry, Nick promised himself.
Nick's hand started roaming down Paul's broad back, climbing over each and every hard ridge of muscle. Inevitably they ended on the hard, taut curve of his buttocks. A soft groan escaped from Paul's lips when Nick's fingers traced the deep cleft between his buttocks. Even with the cold, wet material in between, Nick could still feel the welcoming heat within.
Deep blue eyes stared back at him. "Take me. I want you. I want you so fucking bad."
"Damn it man, with an invitation like that, how could any man resist?" Paul grinned, his dark eyes lighting up. "Don't have any complaints about that, Paul."
The front door couldn't open fast enough for them and they were already tearing each other's clothes off long before that.
Nick pawed at wildly Paul's chest while his tongue explored the blond's mouth. In turn, Paul removed his tie, pulled it off and dropped it to the floor. Next he began unbuttoning Nick's shirt, then pulled his T-shirt up over that dark head. In a matter of moments, they were both standing bare-chested in the middle of the foyer surrounded by a growing pile of discarded clothing.
What a great dream. Paul yawned and opened his eyes. What greeted his gaze almost made him scream. He restrained himself, only letting out a horrified squeak.
Beautifully sculpted male pecs, crowned with a dark male nipples, lay tempting just inches away. Paul's gaze drifted down the smooth dark golden skin, down those thick scallops of muscle on his abdomen, down the thin trail of sable hair to where it blossomed into a dark halo at his crotch. Paul gulped. Even limp, it was at least 8", and it looked so beautiful that Paul had to resist an urge to kiss it.
Shaking his head, Paul moved his gaze upwards, up the powerful torso, up the thick column of his neck. A strong, square jaw, thick, sensual lips that just begged to be ravished, a perfect arch of a nose and a pair of dark, chocolate rich eyes that looked back at him with a decided twinkle in them.
"Haven't had enough yet, Paul?"
A soft groan came from Paul. It hadn't been a dream.