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and porn, any item that shows a gay kinky man lived here, and we
split or sell them. But, like I said, you get first pick. So if there are
any toys or tchotchkes you re fond of, grab  em. William would
rather you have them.
Mike took the suitcases to the car as Chris went through the
kitchen. A few tools, the owl-shaped refrigerator magnet made out
of half a walnut shell and an apron that said  spank the cook went
into the bottom of a plastic box he carried. Then, he headed into
the playroom. The bullwhip went into the box, as did Chris s
favorite flogger and the inflatable plug. He added a set of soft cuffs
and a small painting of William in full leather. Then he migrated to
William s bedroom and picked up the silver-framed picture of
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them at his collaring that stood on the nightstand.
Chris buried his face in William s pillow, wishing he could
take it, too, but knowing the scent wouldn t last. It didn t smell
right anyway, all sickness and drugs with only a hint of William.
He did take William s favorite scarf.
 My books and movies are in the three boxes by the big purple
tote, he told Mike, handing over the box.  Leave the tote.
 Got  em, Mike said and carried the box out as if it were a
Faberge egg.
Chris cast about and found it. William s pride and joy, an
actual bit of a Norse grave site he d worked when he was a grad
student. The three carved soapstone beads rested on a bit of black
velvet under archival glass. The certificate of authenticity hung
beside them. All the students had been given three beads from a
broken string as their summer bonus. Any museum in the country
would pay him four figures to have both beads and certificate. He
carried them out and put them on the little Queen Anne telephone
table.
Mike came back, almost bumping into him as he headed out the
door with table and artifacts.   Bout ready? Mike asked.
Chris nodded.  This is the last of it.
Mike took a look and whistled.  He showed me those once.
Yes, I think you should have them.
Chris loaded the things, then came back in. Mike stood in the
middle of the front room. When Chris came in, he opened his
arms. Chris went right into them.
 This is it, Chris.
Chris shook for a moment, but no tears came. He took a deep
breath.  This is it.
Mike kissed him, slow and deep, his easy command making
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Chris s knees quiver and his cock twitch. Chris opened his mouth
to ask the question he d thought of the previous night, but Mike
kissed him again and stopped his words.
 I love you. I m only as far away as your phone. Anytime,
night or day. Call me if you need me and I ll be there.
Chris nodded, clinging to Mike. He knew he held on too long,
but Mike made no move to shove him away or break contact.
Instead, he gave Chris another kiss.
 Do you need me here? He felt Mike glance at the clock
which was up and over his shoulder.
 For a little while? Chris hated imposing and his failure to
contain his emotions felt more acute here in William s world. Mike
stood quietly and held him until it didn t feel like home anymore.
* * *
He d been with Bear a week. Sometimes, it felt as if all he did
was eat and sleep and cry. Mike came every afternoon for an hour
or so. Bear ate dinner and then vanished behind a locked door. He
still hadn t taken off the bear mask he d worn since the night at the
club. Chris couldn t figure that out. He wasn t sure he liked living
with a bear. He wondered what Bear s face looked like, or if he d
ever get to see it. Maybe he didn t want Chris getting too attached
to him.
That night, Bear beckoned him over.  I have something I want
to show you, Chris.
Chris dried the last plate and put it in the cabinet. He looked at
Bear curiously, wondering if now was when he had to pay for all
the comforts.
 The playroom is in the basement. Bear led him the opposite
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direction, and opened the locked door. A big den with a large
fireplace welcomed them. It smelled of wood and leather and
paper. Several big chairs, a wet bar, and even a set of antlers on the
wall completed the rugged room.  This is my space. Come on in.
Chris looked around, checking out the shelves of fine
hardbound books, the bar, and the chessboard. He noticed Bear
went right to the mantle and touched a little carved wooden box.
He joined the big man there.
 Danny, Bear said to the box,  this is Chris. He s staying with
me a while. He just lost his top. We re getting along okay and it s
nice having someone else in the house.
Chris stared at him.  Has every top in town had a sub die on
him? He covered his mouth.  I m sorry, sir, that was rude.
 No, just myself and Ian. Ian s boy died of the Plague. Danny
went in a car accident. He dozed off behind the wheel coming
home from work one morning. Hit a bridge abutment. Bear s
voice went tight.  He never felt a thing. He patted Chris s
shoulder.  You can spend any time you need to in here. He
stroked the box.  I m not sure which would be harder, watching
someone like William go, or the sheer shock of the wreck.
 Both bad, sir.
 Yes, both are bad. Make yourself comfortable. It s quiet
time. Bear picked up a big leather-bound book and a fountain pen.
The scratching of the pen soothed Chris as he made himself
comfortable on the floor near the chair. The quiet pleased him.
William would have liked this room, even as he would have
called it& Chris thought about what William would have called the
very masculine den. Ah,  an architectural paean to virile
masculinity, sounded about right. He smiled and wondered if
William had ever sat in here, drinking whiskey and talking with
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Bear. He must have. William would never have given Chris to him
if he hadn t known Bear very well.
The clock tolled out eight and nine, the last startling Chris
awake where he d been dozing. Bear sat in the big chair, his hands
crossed on his stomach and his head drooping. He was either
meditating or napping. Chris didn t dare take the mask off. It could
be a test to see whether he would. That sort of thing always ended [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]