The Leech & The Whore [3]
LJ just deleted my poooost. So, in short. I am now on over 25,000 words (halfway there) and have written three sections since this one. Shall keep staggering them though. Thanks for all your time so far. <3
The bar was a club in disguise. While looking like any one of a hundred classy bars, all glass and chrome and fancy mood lighting, it was different in a few ways that made its real purpose apparent within minutes of entering. The windows, for a start. There were none. Instead, the walls were dark and covered in modern art or strangely shaped lights, all of which were bright. With the whole establishment being sunken to basement level, they needed all of the light they could get.
Another difference was the guest list. It was the same every night, not really a guest list at all but a directory or clientele. If someone enquired they’d be given a phone number to call if they wanted to enquire. Most didn’t, having only been looking for somewhere nice to have lunch. The ones who did were always the richest.
The most obvious difference was the staff. Usually at these places, the staff would be wearing identical suits of formal wear, their individuality smothered so as to provide an experience where the rich could pretend they weren’t better than anyone but were just destined to enjoy a life of luxury being served by featureless clones who had no other purpose but to do their bidding with a smile. At this place, the staff was as individual as they come. There was no dress code but a colour code instead to ensure that the staff did not clash with the decor. Waiters and bar staff alike were encouraged to dress to the best of their ability, even if this meant not wearing very much at all. Especially if it meant not wearing very much at all. The cooks were not permitted to leave the kitchen and so their clothes were of no interest to anyone.
The colour code was white, red, black and silver. Phoenix would have been in trouble if they had chosen blue instead of red.
He wove between the low tables, not carrying a tray or collecting glasses despite being on the list of waiters. Not many customers were eating, it being too late for fashionable lunch and too early for fashionable dinner. It was always the right time for fashionable drinking however and a lot of the people perched on the white upholstered seats or reclining on the black leather sofas had glasses nearby. Phoenix scouted for one he could take. His throat was sore already and he needed a rest, even if it was only as long as the time it took to clean one glass.
“Phoenix, darling!”
The screech cut through his brain and he winced for a split-second before turning around with a five-star smile. The woman approaching him was as striking as always, dressed in a strip of red material she would have called a dress. Her long black hair seemed to stick to her skin it had been straightened so violently.
Watching it for a hint of other shades, Phoenix was disappointed to see there was none. At least, he should have been disappointed.
“Good afternoon, Diana,” he said in his professional tone, one only slightly more cultured than the one he employed in any normal bar after hours. He had to make sure he enunciated perfectly here, ever since he had been declared the favourite of the customers from the most prodigious families.
“I didn’t see you yesterday,” Diana said, approaching him on matchstick heels and swaying slightly. “Were you not at work?”
“No, I was here all day,” he assured her. “I can’t afford to take a day off.”
She trilled with laughter, not considering for a second that this might be true. “I’m sure you are lying my darling, I didn’t see you once.”
Shrugging in a way calculated to make him look foolish, not her, Phoenix shook his head. “I suppose I was just very busy, Diana.”
“How many times have I told you?” she asked, mincing forwards and raising her hand to push one long fingernail against his neck. “You should always come and say hello to me. You don’t want me to be sad, do you?”
“Never,” he murmured, as he knew she wanted, and took the hand to kiss her fingertips gently. Appeased for now, she wobbled away back to her table where the companion she had hired for the night, one of the new crowd, was waiting. As she left, Phoenix breathed a sigh of relief. It was lucky Diana was just short of the money he was worth. He was a patient man but he doubted he could last more than a few hours in her presence without snapping, which would cost him his job.
What was the price for him now? Too high, most likely, since he knew he was cheating the good looking definitely-humans that worked there out of bonuses. The worst thing was that no matter how much higher customers were charged for his company, his own wages were only marginally higher than the rest, minus tips.
He wondered if he’d earn more working the streets.
Hopefully, though, it wouldn’t come down to that. When he’d first moved to the city, some shady guy he’d spilled his drunken little heart to in a back-end pub had told him that there were two career paths an incubus could walk. One led down the entertainment path; actor, singer, dancer, stripper, something that would put him in front of the public and force them to lust after him while he could sit comfortably far away and revel in the energy. While having the looks and the ego, Phoenix didn’t have the motivation for such a job. He didn’t want to be famous or known anymore than necessary. The other road then, the man had said, was the one you couldn’t avoid thinking about. If Phoenix started selling his body, he’d be able to rake in big time although, of course, would not be immune to the risks everyone in such a position faces.
He’d thought about it. He really had. That was why he was so glad he had found an alternative.
The underground club was a godsend. It was looking for good looking people to entertain their guests, not through performances but by looking good, being polite and providing conversation. Light touches and kisses came naturally with the job but it was a far cry from selling himself entirely. The bosses were strict about that sort of thing, not wanting to let the merchandise get spoilt. So, Phoenix vaguely waited tables, fixed drinks and pandered to the egos of the lonely upper classes. Occasionally, he’d be hired out as an escort to social and public functions but this never went any further than waist-holding unless he wanted it to; he had a strict work curfew of one in the morning.
All in all, it could be a lot worse. He earned enough money to keep the nice apartment and feed himself with just enough spare for drinks when he was out on his nightly conquests. Sometimes it was every other day, now. While at work, a low level of desire was sent his way at all times and this could occasionally keep him going through the night. It was a perfect job, really.
As long as he could avoid Diana. As gracious as he was, he was human after all, at least where it counted.
“Nicely done, kiddo.”
Phoenix had been wandering past the bar and glanced around to see the barman watching him with tired blue eyes. He was tall and handsome in a worn sort of way which was why the bosses now confined him to behind the bar. From this position, he watched over the younger employees like a mostly apathetic uncle.
“Cheers, Andre,” he said with a wink. “You could have warned me she was about.”
Andre shrugged and spread his large hands wide. “She was asking after you every ten minutes yesterday.”
“Brilliant.”
“And she thinks she’ll be getting more money soon. Some sick uncle or something. An inheritance deal.”
“I’ll be praying for him to pull through,” Phoenix replied before slapping a hand companionably on the glass-topped bar and turning away. “Have a good shift.”
He managed to spend a blissful half hour without being approached, collecting glasses and plates at his own pace. He glanced at the large stylistic clock that hung above the bar. It was almost four in the afternoon and would be getting dark outside soon. An image flashed through his mind, Blake sprawled out on his sheets as he
had been that morning. He knew his bed would be empty when he got back but it was a nice image, nonetheless.
It had been a long time since he’d been the one to leave first.
There was only an hour left of today’s shift. He wasn’t sure whether that was something to be happy about or not. This evening would be depressingly mundane. Leave work, go home, casual-up his outfit, find a new bar, pick someone up, take them home. The usual. When looking back on the night before, it seemed almost boring.
Usually, he was careful with the people he selected. This didn’t mean that he wasn’t passionate or even rough when the situation seemed right but it did mean that he never felt able to truly let himself go, be true to his nature. He wasn’t sure how it would feel, both for him and his partner. He didn’t want to hurt or scare someone unintentionally.
But last night, with Blake’s teeth embedded firmly in his shoulder, he’d felt more natural than he had for years, since he’d stopped frequenting the sorts of clubs that would never show up in a directory or dare to keep a guest list. It had been good rather than just necessary.
Hoping he hadn’t ruined his sex-life forever, Phoenix put the last empty glass behind the bar and got back to work. A large group had just arrived, all familiar faces, all having met here. He had no idea what they did for work, although some of the men looked like lawyer material. Perhaps the girls were their secretaries. This was the wrong place to bring them if the men were trying to impress.
“Welcome,” Phoenix said warmly, slinking his way over to the group who were milling at the foot of the stairs.
“It’s good to see you again. Would you like your usual area?”
“You remember us?” a small brunette asked shyly, batting her large fake eyelashes. A man standing beside her eyed Phoenix with a mixture of distaste and curiosity as he answered.
“How could I forget, sweetheart? This way please, everyone.”
The group was seated and comfortable in less than a minute and a troupe of men and women were being herded over from all corners of the club to keep them company. It was always the same group, Phoenix noted. The women they asked for were older and a little outrageous, as far from secretary-chic as could be. The men tended to be young and good at acting nervous, the polar opposite of a successful lawyer. It was a strange spectacle to watch and Phoenix loitered nearby, having received a thrill from the brunette at the entrance and naturally waiting for another.
“She hasn’t ordered anyone yet,” Andre murmured from behind him. Phoenix laughed.
“How do you know what I’m thinking?”
“You’re the biggest flirt in the whole damn club, kid.” Andre tapped his nose and began wandering along the bar to serve a hopeful looking woman. “It’s not rocket science.”
The brunette never ordered, in the end and karma made sure to punish Phoenix for overconfidence. As the clock hand began its final sweep upwards to five, he felt a light touch on his arm.
“What are you doing, staring into space?” Diana asked, her whisky breath hot on his cheek. “I thought you promised to keep me company.”
“I apologise,” he said vaguely, tearing his eyes away from the brunette. Diana’s makeup was slowly spreading across the rest of her face. He didn’t tell her. “Have you had a good afternoon?”
“Not really,” she mumbled, the lipstick smeared on her chin suggesting otherwise.
“Well, I hope your evening ends up being a good one, sweetheart.”
“It won’t,” she said instantly, digging her nails into his bare skin. From behind the bar, Andre sniggered. “But I think yours will, my love. You’ve seemed awfully distant today. All the girls are saying so. Even Andre agreed.”
Phoenix could hear the silver-haired barman edging away from the conversation, whistling to himself. Giving Diana a truly bemused smile, Phoenix tilted his head a little. As predicted, her eyes followed his hair as he spoke.
“Oh, really? I haven’t meant to be. How can I make it up to you?”
The question was followed by a hand to her cheek. She stepped away for the first time since they had met and Phoenix’s expression became all surprise, the mask slipping.
“You can tell me which table girl you’ve started seeing, that’s how,” Diana said, words sharp. “I can tell, you know. Woman’s intuition.”
“I’m not seeing anyone,” he said, finding it hard not to laugh as he imagined what Blake’s reaction to this conversation would be.
Not thinking for a moment that Phoenix would lie to her, Diana’s face screwed up in thought for a moment but she rallied quickly.
“But you saw someone, didn’t you? Last night? You’ve been practically glowing.”
A smile sliding into place, Phoenix leant back against the bar.
“Maybe.”
“So? What is she like?”
Which meant what do I have to contend with? Phoenix knew the drill. He’d never been involved romantically, not for a while before starting this job, but people had occasionally got it into their heads that he was taken. Inexplicably, his popularity went up during those times as women tried to prove themselves better than the mystery-girlfriend. Refusing to tell Diana anything would only irritate them. Phoenix knew better than to refuse them their fun; after all, tips were always welcome.
“American,” he said, fighting the urge to grin. “Black hair. Bitchy as hell.”
“She doesn’t sound very nice to me,” Diana said instantly, missing how hypocritical this was. “How old is she?”
“I don’t know,” Phoenix said with a shrug. “About my age, I guess.”
Being a good ten years older than him by anyone’s guess, Diana bristled at this news. She sighed, glancing at the clock, and then handed Phoenix a two pound coin.
“Your shift is almost over, darling,” she said. “You’ll get a better tip when you tell me more about this American girl.”
“Sure thing,” he said, turning away with a wink and in a better mood than he had been for hours. “See you tomorrow, Diana.”
“Make sure to play nice tonight, Phoenix.”
As he slipped behind the bar, heading for the door to the staff lounge, Andre stopped him with a raised eyebrow.
“If you were with an American girl last night then I’m Britney Spears,” the barman said. “You were seeing someone but I know when you’re lying.”
“Oh yeah?” Phoenix said quietly, smirking. “How so?”
“You’re dressed differently today,” the barman pointed out in a casual voice. “And you’re swaggering a lot more than normal. I’ll bet you a tenner that it was a guy you spent last night with, kiddo.”
Phoenix grinned and carried on walking, clapping Andre on the shoulder as he passed.
“I can’t spare the money, Andre. See you tomorrow.”
Once in the staff lounge, Phoenix crossed to one of the many mirrors which were a vital part of the room and looked himself over. Maybe he was dressed differently to usual, he couldn’t really tell. His outfit was less frilly than his usual work attire, at the very least. He’d slung on a deep crimson shirt over faded grey jeans that morning, finishing the outfit with some heavy boots and no accessories at all. It was perhaps a little too casual, no wonder the brunette hadn’t asked after him.
He flung on his winter jacket and let himself out using the employee stairs, hoping that he hadn’t managed to kill his work-appeal as well as his sex life. It wasn’t as if he could blame Blake for it.
He’d helped himself to toast. After half an hour of sitting around resisting the urge to tidy up, he’d helped himself to a bag of crisps too.
Blake had woken at half past four and he was glad no one had been there to witness it. Having a half-hour lie in was fine but having a half-hour lie in in Phoenix’s bed was another matter entirely. The first few moments upon waking had been blissful and warm until he realised just where he was, remembered just what he’d done and had to scramble out of bed quickly to soothe his complaining pride.
His shift didn’t start until six and since he wasn’t that far away from the pub he was forced to hang around for a while. The apartment seemed very large now that he was alone and he found himself flicking on every light as he waited. The bastard deserved the electricity bill.
He hated to admit it now, but he felt unnervingly calm. Usually, he’d be antsy upon waking up and it would be a struggle not to drink before his shift. Not that alcohol helped much, his metabolism meaning that it took bottles before he began feeling anything. He was a fan of the placebo effect. Tonight, he didn’t seem to need it. He told himself it was because it had been a few days since he’d managed to leech off of anyone but some treacherous part of his mind told him it was more than that, that their conversation had done wonders for him. He hoped it wasn’t the case because, either way, he didn’t want to see the redhead again.
Half-five. He leapt off of the kitchen counter he had chosen as a perch - the sofa seeming inappropriate now - and headed towards the door. It almost hit him in the face as it swung open and he jumped backwards with a yell.
“Oh. Hey.”
“Damn.”
“I thought you’d be gone by now.”
“No such luck.”
Phoenix started stepping through the door and Blake could tell he was about to say something along the lines
of his argument last night.
“Right, I gotta go,” Blake said quickly, before Phoenix could begin. “If I don’t get back, they’ll toss my stuff. If they haven’t already.”
He had got one foot out of the door by the time Phoenix decided to stop him after all. He didn’t touch him this time, though, instead calling out.
“Toss your stuff? Why? Where are you staying?”
“A hostel.”
“Huh? Have you not been living in London for long?”
“Only three fuckin’ years, thank you very much.”
“Oh. That’s longer than me.” Phoenix frowned in confusion and turned as Blake swept past him and into the stairwell. “Why are you living in a hostel?”
Blake waved a hand in dismissal and continued on his way, soon disappearing from sight. He hadn’t said goodbye and so Phoenix didn’t call after him. He could think of no logical reason to. He had never been very logical but maybe this was a good time to start.
Once Blake had gone, he locked the door behind the leech and headed inside. He should have been going out to find someone with which to spend the night but couldn’t find the motivation. A night in front of the television, like a normal person, sounded attractive at that moment. Once he felt sufficiently human, he’d start thinking about everything Blake had told him. For the last few years, Phoenix had tried to convince himself his mother had been lying about his father and that he was just an arrogant asshole who liked to believe he was an incubus in order to excuse his tendencies towards whoring himself around. It didn’t seem like that was possible anymore.
Half an hour later, he had switched his work outfit for a plain white t shirt and normal jeans and was settled on the sofa with a glass of red wine. Somehow, picturing himself like this felt incredibly lonely. Now he knew that at least part of him was a monster, he’d let another one walk away.
“...and another twenty quid for the bloody jukebox since I had to look around for hours before I found someone willing to fix the bastard thing.”
“Great.”
Blake stared into his distressingly empty glass, running one finger around the rim. It didn’t make a sound, the pub being too cheap to afford decent glass let alone crystal.
At that moment, he could think of nothing that could make the night worse. He’d woken up in some idiot redhead’s bed, bumped into said idiot before he could run away, felt weird and then had to start work. Work that night had consisted mostly of ignoring the whispers and glances of the usual patrons who had witnessed the start of the previous night’s fiasco, being glared at by Terry who had left a calculator in sight and feeling disgusting because he hadn’t had a change of clothes. Now the bar was shut and he was still shaking with rage from tonight’s encounter with Mr Moseby who had refused to leave until ‘William says he’s sorry for not buying me that drink he promised six years ago, the old cad.’ Terry’s methodical listing of the items he had destroyed the night before had been almost bearable after that, although the conclusion that this made his night’s wages nil was still painful.
“Who even was that guy, B?” Terry was asking, putting the calculator away at last. “Some friend of yours?”
Blake shrugged. “Never seen him in my life before last night.” It wasn’t a lie, at least.
“Right. Go on, get out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Sure.”
The walk back to his lodgings was cold and Blake watched his breath puffing out before him in the frigid air. The distance to this week’s hostel was longer than usual and he started wishing he’d chosen somewhere a little more expensive if only to have it closer. But at least he could get back, drink enough to incapacitate a small elephant and pass out. That’d make the whole damn day seem like a bad dream and he could get on with what not many people would call a life.
That was the plan, anyway. When he arrived to find his meagre possessions gathering ice on the doorstep, he discovered that the evening could get worse after all.
“Fuck it,” he hissed, picking up one of the bags and sending small icicles falling to the floor.
It was too late to find somewhere else, the places didn’t like him keeping such odd hours as it was. He could sleep on the streets, it wasn’t very dangerous for him until the sun started rising. If he looked hard enough, he’d surely be able to find an abandoned house with boarded up windows, this being London after all, but the cold didn’t make this prospect even slightly attractive.
He started walking without thinking. There didn’t seem to be much else he could do.
The knock on the door arrived in the middle of the first interesting program that had been on all night. It was actually early morning by now and Phoenix still couldn’t sleep. He should have gone out earlier like usual. It was always easier to sleep when he had someone to steal the duvet from. He’d already accustomed himself to the fact that he wouldn’t make his shift in the morning and that at some point in the near future he’d have to do something to appease Diana or risk losing his job. He hoped he wouldn’t have to do anything worse than fabricate a few compliments and hold her hand; she’d be impossible to get rid of if it had to go much further.
He dragged himself up, knocking over the empty wine glass in the process and wandered towards the door. The lights were still on, he realised. He couldn’t remember turning them on which confused him a little but he put it out of his mind. It’d come to him at some point. There were more pressing matters like...what?
Another knock came at the door and he shook his head at his own ineptitude. It only took two attempts to open the door although it took three to work out who it was that was knocking.
“What’re you doing here?”
Standing on the doorstep, feet hidden by a pile of bags and jackets, Blake looked as if he was from another world. The inside of the apartment was warm and bright, everything cast in shades of red and orange. Thanks to the wine, Phoenix’s appearance was tousled but more casual than he would have chosen in company. In contrast, the hallway Blake was standing in was dark and grey, some of the overhead lights having broken, and the leech himself was pale and damp from the gathering fog. The ice had mostly melted from his possessions but this only meant they were now soaking wet. He blinked once, water droplets clinging to his eyelashes, and shrugged.
“They tossed my stuff,” he said, too cold to force emotion into his voice.
“S’what’s that?” Phoenix mumbled, gesturing a little wildly towards the bags.
“They tossed it outside rather than away. Have you been drinking?”
The question came out of nowhere but Phoenix found a reply waiting on his lips, as if he had silently been working up his excuses.
“Yeah. I was drinking yesterday too. Why?”
“You weren’t drunk yesterday.”
A shrug. “I had dinner yesterday.”
Blake shook his head slowly, having not expected to find the redhead in such a state. He had been expecting teasing, questioning and eventual refusal, sure there would already be someone else on Phoenix’s sofa. He found himself in that strange position of making the decisions in someone else’s house.
“You want some food?”
After a long hesitation, Phoenix nodded. “I guess.”
“If I bring you some, could I stay here tonight?”
Even now, Phoenix managed a smirk.
“Couldn’ keep away, huh?”
“It’s not that. I’ve got nowhere else to go.”
Stepping back inside, Phoenix gestured over his shoulder. Blake kicked his heavier bags over the threshold and then carried the rest to the kitchen, slightly worried about how easy it was to find. Once they had been shoved into a corner, he went back for the heavy ones, dragging them down the hall and leaving a trail of water on the carpet. Luckily, Phoenix had gone back to collapse on the sofa and couldn’t see. Wandering into the living room, Blake fought off the intoxicating heat that washed over him now he was inside.
“Chinese good?” he asked.
Apparently finding it difficult to decide whether he should be looking at the television or Blake, Phoenix swivelled his head a few times before answering.
“Can you afford that?”
“Sure.” Blake shrugged, thinking of his voided paycheque. “Anything you want especially?”
“Surprise me.”
Shutting the door behind him on the way out, Blake fought to dispel the feeling that was creeping over him, one that suggested his life was turning into a badly written soap opera. It was a punishment he would have to deal with in return for somewhere to sleep though so he ignored it for now and plunged back into the winter night. As he walked, the first flakes of snow began to fall.
The warmth in the apartment was heavenly. The floor was littered with empty food containers and plastic bags along with a few runaway prawn crackers but it was clear they weren’t going to be cleaned up any time soon. When he had stepped back through the door, covered in snow and almost blue with the cold, Blake wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. More unwelcome advances, perhaps. Teasing, certainly. More questions were also a clear possibility. And yet, other than a gentle hand brushing the snow out of his hair that had been nothing of the sort. It was strange but without the pressure of having to deny the redhead every other sentence, Phoenix was good company.
They sat side by side on the sofa, flicking through the television channels and talking about whatever seemed appropriate. Once he had eaten, Phoenix began to gradually sober up and Blake had been tense in preparation for the moment the man came to his senses and either tried to jump him or throw him out. This didn’t happen either. Instead, he had started rambling about his childhood and Blake had listened, surprised to find himself interested. Phoenix had five siblings it seemed, only one of which liked him. He was from Hertfordshire, which Blake had heard of, thanks very much you asshole, and never really intended to go back. He’d left when he was sixteen and had been moving from city to city until two years ago. After far too long, Blake managed to work out that this made him twenty-two.
“I can’t believe an idiot like you is older than me,” he mumbled unhappily.
Phoenix smiled and twisted on the sofa until his head was resting against the backrest with his face almost touching Blake’s shoulder.
“Why? How old are you?”
“Twenty-one,” the leech replied with a shrug. “Give or take.”
“Give or take?”
“I don’t know when my birthday is. But I do know that I’m a Pisces so I was born during February or March sometime.”
“How can you not know? Are you an orphan or something?”
Phoenix’s eyes were far too curious for Blake’s liking, the crimson orbs dark in the dim light. For a split second, the leech thought about answering but mentally kicked himself instantly. He had come to England to forget all of that madness. There was no way he was ever going to speak of it again.
“Nah. It’s just complicated. Don’t push it okay? If you do, I swear I’ll-“
“I won’t.”
Blake knew he should have been surprised by this instant response but something about Phoenix was different, tonight. It felt as if he was sitting and chatting to an old friend, if he had had any that wouldn’t attack him upon sight. They had been talking for hours now and he kept forgetting that he was here out of necessity and not choice. He was being trusting. The very idea sent shivers down his spine.
He glanced at Phoenix, sprawled beside him. The redhead was watching him, expression free of guile and almost free of alcohol. Blake reached out and jabbed a finger into Phoenix’s side.
“Hey. That freaky incubus-aura shit you were pulling yesterday. You’re not doing it right now, are you?”
“It’s not like I do it consciously,” Phoenix said, tone a little defensive. “Although I can. I guess I’m not though. Why? Would you like me to?”
“Like hell,” Blake snapped, making sure he glued his eyes back to the television screen where credits had begun rolling. “I was just wondering. When you’re not trying to get into my pants, you’re...”
“Handsome?” Phoenix supplied with a grin. “Charming?”
“Not a complete bastard,” Blake decided at last. “That’s all, okay? Take it or leave it.”
Laughing, Phoenix pulled himself back into an upright position and grabbed the remote control. He held it out towards Blake.
“You have a few hours before sun up, right?”
“Yup.”
“I’m not going to work tomorrow.”
“Why? And why are you telling me?”
“Because I don’t want to. And because I was going to say that we have time to watch a movie or something if you like.”
“Do you know anything about movies?”
“What?” Phoenix blinked, bemused. “I guess not. I just watch them. Why?”
With a determined gleam in his amber eyes, Blake took the remote and turned to the television.
“Let me choose.”
They watched a movie the night after too, one with twice as many car chases and explosions as the night before. Phoenix watched with amusement as Blake yelled at each event, finding some enjoyment in the cheap action films that Phoenix couldn’t fathom. He’d suggested they watch a late night horror film on Film4 and had been rewarded by a slap upside the head and a stream of insults. He learnt not to make the mistake again.
The night after that they managed not to watch television at all but stayed up drinking, having one of those discussions which starts with the price of a bottle of wine and ends up with the decline of the music industry. Phoenix hadn’t had one of those since he had been sixteen and Blake had never had one in his life. They fell asleep on the sofa that night and Phoenix slept right through work the next day, making sure to yell at Blake when he emerged at five in the afternoon.
After that, it became difficult for them to remember what happened on each night. A sort of routine set in that involved wine, action movies, Chinese takeout and continual grumbling over paycheques decreasing in size. An essential part of the routine was that Blake never thanked Phoenix for letting him stay while Phoenix never mentioned that Blake’s bags were still in the kitchen. Somehow, that would break through the unusual but comfortable fog that had enveloped them. This continual denial of the facts went on for two weeks before a problem arose.
The problem was that, although they may have changed their opinions of one another, their actual personalities remained the same. By the tenth night, both were starting to feel jumpy around one another and it was only a perfectly innocent incident that alerted them to the cause.
Emerging from the bathroom after a scalding shower to fight off the cold, Blake wandered shirtless into the kitchen in search of something to wear. All of his clothes, while now dry, were crumpled and slightly musty but asking to wash them would be admitting they were there in the first place. Phoenix was standing at the microwave, watching a mug of hot chocolate bubble away to itself.
“It’s fucking cold,” Blake complained, bending down to unzip one of the bags and rifling through it. “Beats me why anyone lives in this country.”
“You had a choice,” Phoenix pointed out. “Deal with it.”
The electric wailing of the microwave meant that the hot chocolate was hot enough to burn his tongue. Leaving it to stand for now, Phoenix turned around as Blake stood up, having not found a shirt even mildly acceptable to wear. Neither made comment on this and Blake had been planning on retrieving his previous one from the other room. It would have been simple if he hadn’t only recently woken up and was still fighting away drowsiness.
As he headed towards the door, he yawned and stretched his arms high above his head. He held the posture for a few moments, shutting his eyes and wondering why he didn’t stretch more often when it felt so good.
Something changed. His skin felt hot suddenly, as if he had stepped back into the shower. With his arms still above his head, he opened his eyes to see Phoenix watching fixing him with a piercing gaze. The redhead’s eyes were dark.
“Uh, Phoenix?” Blake asked, voice sounding terribly loud in this new atmosphere, the one that seemed to crackle when he finally lowered his arms back to his sides. The redhead remained silent and the shirt in the other room seemed suddenly very far away. Not daring to break eye contact, Blake took an experimental step backwards, in the direction of the door. Phoenix took a step forward in answer.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Blake snapped, feeling anger, hot and sharp, coursing through his nerves.
For the first time he realised that it had been ten days since he started staying here and that meant it had been ten days since he had last got seriously drunk or hit someone or yelled at someone or-
“Don’t back away.” Phoenix’s voice was low, sliding through the air like a knife through honey. Watching him with wide eyes, Blake wondered if his hair had always been quite that red, his skin quite that smooth. He was still in his work outfit, which exposed too much chest by far, but where it had seemed flashy earlier it now seemed natural, as if it was a second skin.
Blake held his breath, hating the inexorable way his eyes slid Phoenix’s eyes to the line of his jaw, down to his shoulder. He bit his lip and tried to look away.
“Don’t look so worried,” Phoenix continued, slinking forwards like a tiger and not smiling.
Blake’s sharp upper teeth cut into his lip and it began to bleed, the copper liquid spilling against his tongue giving him the final push.
“Fuck,” he whispered and went to turn, to run, to flee because this was not how he had wanted the evening to go and, damnit, why wasn’t he allowed to pretend things weren’t normal like he had been?
Strong hands grabbed at his shoulders before he could move and he was slammed back into the floor, Phoenix landing heavily on top of him. Even through his clothes, the redhead’s skin was burning. Using all of his strength this time, Blake pushed back but his left hand slipped on the material of Phoenix’s shirt and met skin, sending his senses back into a past he hadn’t wanted to remember. He cried out as he was slammed back into the floor, the tiles cold and sharp against his bare skin, nothing like the fingers now grazing over his chest, leaving burning electric lines in their wake.
“Don’t,” he managed, not wanting to physically move again lest he lost control. “For god’s sake, let me-“
“Shut up.”
Phoenix stopped answering Blake’s demands then, because he was too busy dragging his lips and tongue down the leech’s neck, sinking teeth into his collar bone and not once trying to engage him in a kiss. Blake lay motionless underneath the redhead, frozen, knowing that moving would only make things worse for him. He needed to stay in control, he needed to-
Phoenix pushed himself back up and caught Blake’s lower lip between his teeth, making a soft noise that a director would have paid good money for. The tiny incision in his skin was still bleeding and this new abuse did nothing but spread the blood between them. Not realising what he was doing, Phoenix broke the contact and wove a hand into the leech’s hair and dragged his head to the side. He stretched upwards to lick a slow line over the shell of Blake’s ear, pressing his own shoulder against Blake’s lips. An involuntary shudder ripped through Blake’s frame. Misreading this, Phoenix began whispering in his ear, words and phrases that would be too vulgar for his usual character and which would have made Blake furious if he hadn’t been slowly parting his lips. It took the unmistakeable sensation of teeth pressing lightly against his skin to stop the incubus from talking.
“Do it,” he murmured after a long, breathless moment. Blake squeezed his eyes shut, poised but unmoving.
Breath coming in shallow gasps, Phoenix used the hand in Blake’s hair to guide the leech’s lips to his neck, the soft skin pulsing with the drumming of his heart. Blake whimpered, not hearing himself over the rushing in his ears.
“Please,” Phoenix whispered. “I want you to do it.”
Shaking all over, Blake increased the pressure until he could feel the skin was reaching breaking point. It would be so easy to just give in, to just obey like a mindless animal. Through the flashes of red that flickered under his eyelids, Blake could see the past week as if he had been an outsider. Conversations that contained nothing to be ashamed of. Touches that meant nothing more complicated than a gesture of friendship. The life he had always mocked but secretly, desperately, yearned for. Whatever Phoenix wanted from this, whatever fantasy was playing out in his head, it wasn’t worth this. Not this.
Blake leant back, carefully letting go and closing his mouth as soon as he was able. He could feel Phoenix’s confusion without needing to look.
“Why?” the redhead asked, some echo of his usual voice becoming apparent.
“Because I don’t want to.”
“But you need to.” A kiss placed gently against Blake’s neck, calculated in its tenderness. “I know you do. There hasn’t been time for you to go out and fe-“
“Don’t fucking say it.”
“Okay, I won’t But I’m right. You haven’t had time and neither have I.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. C’mon, Blake, you’ve got nothing to lose. You need this. I need this.”
“No, we-“
“I thought we’d got over this already. We’re friends, right? Friends help each other-“
“Not like this.”
“Not that you know of.”
Blake pushed upwards with all his strength, finding the outlet at last. Phoenix was sent sprawling backwards, head hitting the kitchen counter with a crack. Blake was on his feet in an instant, eyes blazing silver with bloodlust.
“You’re right, you asshole, I don’t bullshit you got me used to. I never had that. I know fuck all about friends. Hell, I’m not even sure I know what ‘friends with benefits’ really means.”
Phoenix’s eyes were open now, the animal desire in them muted as he watched Blake speak. It was as though he’d never set eyes upon the leech before or never heard an honest word from him. This was different. Raw emotions laced each syllable.
“And you know what?” he continued. “For a moment there, I thought it could work. I mean, karma owes me one by now. I fought until I couldn’t stand for the chance to live like a normal city-kid. I turned my back on everything. I stopped doing what they told me and I did what I had to do instead. I ki-“
He stopped, mouth wide and blood running down his chin in a dark line. Phoenix could fill the missing word and could tell Blake didn’t want him to. He remained silent.
“Fuck this,” Blake spat, turning on his heel and practically running towards the door.
Phoenix could have stopped him. Instead, he waited on the floor until the door had slammed. He cleaned himself up and lingered for only a moment in front of the mirror before leaving too. The snow was falling heavily outside now, the streets covered in a thick grey slush that clung to his boots. He hadn’t grabbed a jacket but that was okay since he felt as if he had a fever. A couple passing by, clinging to each other as if they would fall if walking alone, watched him with loud amusement as he stood still, casting his eyes from side to side.
“Shit,” he muttered, the word sounding foreign on his tongue. He didn’t swear often but would forgive himself this time, or would have had he noticed. It shouldn’t have been this hard to spot someone walking shirtless through the night. His head started hurting as he looked, feeling panic rising in his chest. He was a moment away from calling out when he spotted Blake, hurrying through the snow in an almost casual manner, evidently forgetting he wasn’t dressed to be out. Hurrying after him, Phoenix realised the leech was barefooted as well as shirtless.
Phoenix slipped as he started running, stumbling inelegantly as he regained his balance. Blake vanished around the corner of the block and Phoenix redoubled his efforts, even though the guy had made it painfully clear he couldn’t run at super speed or anything else that ridiculous. He felt stupid as he rounded the corner to find Blake leaning against a wall as he had been in the alleyway, forehead against the dirty bricks.
“Blake.”
Phoenix wasn’t sure what else he could say. He didn’t have to, as the leech did it for him.
“When did it all get so fucking serious?” he asked, voice weak. Phoenix took a step closer, mind ringing with clarity now, and shrugged.
“It’s your fault you know,” Blake continued. “If you hadn’t broken the damn jukebox, I wouldn’t have had to come back and stay.”
“Come back inside, babe,” Phoenix said in a soft voice, the endearment going unnoticed by them both. “You’re going to fuck your feet up. And it doesn’t matter if you heal fast or not because it’s going to hurt like hell.”
“And?”
“And I don’t want to see that. So come on.”
“It won’t solve anything though, will it? You can pretend all you like but we’re both monsters and it’s just going to get worse.”
Laughing softly, Phoenix took another step forward and raised a hand, letting it hover over Blake’s shoulder.
“Why do you finally start acting sensible at a time like this?” he asked. “We’ll think of something, okay?”
Blake was shivering now, his body heat draining away along with his anger. His arms began to shake where he was supporting himself against the wall and he opened his eyes as if he had been sleeping for a long time.
“What, though?” he asked.
“Persistent sod. I don’t know. We could both go out, go do whatever the hell we would have done before and then come back like any other night. How about that?”
“I’ve got work,” Blake said in a hollow voice, having forgotten. “I guess I could talk some girl into...”
“Yeah. I have a few people I could call. And then we could just get on with everything like normal.”
It sounded like a bad plan, even to himself. It would work in theory but something about the set of Blake’s shoulders told him this was more complicated than he wanted to think.
“It’s not going to work.” Blake pushed himself away from the wall. “Is it?”
“I don’t know. No harm in trying.”
Blake didn’t resist as Phoenix draped his jacket over his shoulders. Against all common sense, they began walking back the way they had come.
“I think it’s time you did something about those clothes.”
“I guess so.”
The bar was a club in disguise. While looking like any one of a hundred classy bars, all glass and chrome and fancy mood lighting, it was different in a few ways that made its real purpose apparent within minutes of entering. The windows, for a start. There were none. Instead, the walls were dark and covered in modern art or strangely shaped lights, all of which were bright. With the whole establishment being sunken to basement level, they needed all of the light they could get.
Another difference was the guest list. It was the same every night, not really a guest list at all but a directory or clientele. If someone enquired they’d be given a phone number to call if they wanted to enquire. Most didn’t, having only been looking for somewhere nice to have lunch. The ones who did were always the richest.
The most obvious difference was the staff. Usually at these places, the staff would be wearing identical suits of formal wear, their individuality smothered so as to provide an experience where the rich could pretend they weren’t better than anyone but were just destined to enjoy a life of luxury being served by featureless clones who had no other purpose but to do their bidding with a smile. At this place, the staff was as individual as they come. There was no dress code but a colour code instead to ensure that the staff did not clash with the decor. Waiters and bar staff alike were encouraged to dress to the best of their ability, even if this meant not wearing very much at all. Especially if it meant not wearing very much at all. The cooks were not permitted to leave the kitchen and so their clothes were of no interest to anyone.
The colour code was white, red, black and silver. Phoenix would have been in trouble if they had chosen blue instead of red.
He wove between the low tables, not carrying a tray or collecting glasses despite being on the list of waiters. Not many customers were eating, it being too late for fashionable lunch and too early for fashionable dinner. It was always the right time for fashionable drinking however and a lot of the people perched on the white upholstered seats or reclining on the black leather sofas had glasses nearby. Phoenix scouted for one he could take. His throat was sore already and he needed a rest, even if it was only as long as the time it took to clean one glass.
“Phoenix, darling!”
The screech cut through his brain and he winced for a split-second before turning around with a five-star smile. The woman approaching him was as striking as always, dressed in a strip of red material she would have called a dress. Her long black hair seemed to stick to her skin it had been straightened so violently.
Watching it for a hint of other shades, Phoenix was disappointed to see there was none. At least, he should have been disappointed.
“Good afternoon, Diana,” he said in his professional tone, one only slightly more cultured than the one he employed in any normal bar after hours. He had to make sure he enunciated perfectly here, ever since he had been declared the favourite of the customers from the most prodigious families.
“I didn’t see you yesterday,” Diana said, approaching him on matchstick heels and swaying slightly. “Were you not at work?”
“No, I was here all day,” he assured her. “I can’t afford to take a day off.”
She trilled with laughter, not considering for a second that this might be true. “I’m sure you are lying my darling, I didn’t see you once.”
Shrugging in a way calculated to make him look foolish, not her, Phoenix shook his head. “I suppose I was just very busy, Diana.”
“How many times have I told you?” she asked, mincing forwards and raising her hand to push one long fingernail against his neck. “You should always come and say hello to me. You don’t want me to be sad, do you?”
“Never,” he murmured, as he knew she wanted, and took the hand to kiss her fingertips gently. Appeased for now, she wobbled away back to her table where the companion she had hired for the night, one of the new crowd, was waiting. As she left, Phoenix breathed a sigh of relief. It was lucky Diana was just short of the money he was worth. He was a patient man but he doubted he could last more than a few hours in her presence without snapping, which would cost him his job.
What was the price for him now? Too high, most likely, since he knew he was cheating the good looking definitely-humans that worked there out of bonuses. The worst thing was that no matter how much higher customers were charged for his company, his own wages were only marginally higher than the rest, minus tips.
He wondered if he’d earn more working the streets.
Hopefully, though, it wouldn’t come down to that. When he’d first moved to the city, some shady guy he’d spilled his drunken little heart to in a back-end pub had told him that there were two career paths an incubus could walk. One led down the entertainment path; actor, singer, dancer, stripper, something that would put him in front of the public and force them to lust after him while he could sit comfortably far away and revel in the energy. While having the looks and the ego, Phoenix didn’t have the motivation for such a job. He didn’t want to be famous or known anymore than necessary. The other road then, the man had said, was the one you couldn’t avoid thinking about. If Phoenix started selling his body, he’d be able to rake in big time although, of course, would not be immune to the risks everyone in such a position faces.
He’d thought about it. He really had. That was why he was so glad he had found an alternative.
The underground club was a godsend. It was looking for good looking people to entertain their guests, not through performances but by looking good, being polite and providing conversation. Light touches and kisses came naturally with the job but it was a far cry from selling himself entirely. The bosses were strict about that sort of thing, not wanting to let the merchandise get spoilt. So, Phoenix vaguely waited tables, fixed drinks and pandered to the egos of the lonely upper classes. Occasionally, he’d be hired out as an escort to social and public functions but this never went any further than waist-holding unless he wanted it to; he had a strict work curfew of one in the morning.
All in all, it could be a lot worse. He earned enough money to keep the nice apartment and feed himself with just enough spare for drinks when he was out on his nightly conquests. Sometimes it was every other day, now. While at work, a low level of desire was sent his way at all times and this could occasionally keep him going through the night. It was a perfect job, really.
As long as he could avoid Diana. As gracious as he was, he was human after all, at least where it counted.
“Nicely done, kiddo.”
Phoenix had been wandering past the bar and glanced around to see the barman watching him with tired blue eyes. He was tall and handsome in a worn sort of way which was why the bosses now confined him to behind the bar. From this position, he watched over the younger employees like a mostly apathetic uncle.
“Cheers, Andre,” he said with a wink. “You could have warned me she was about.”
Andre shrugged and spread his large hands wide. “She was asking after you every ten minutes yesterday.”
“Brilliant.”
“And she thinks she’ll be getting more money soon. Some sick uncle or something. An inheritance deal.”
“I’ll be praying for him to pull through,” Phoenix replied before slapping a hand companionably on the glass-topped bar and turning away. “Have a good shift.”
He managed to spend a blissful half hour without being approached, collecting glasses and plates at his own pace. He glanced at the large stylistic clock that hung above the bar. It was almost four in the afternoon and would be getting dark outside soon. An image flashed through his mind, Blake sprawled out on his sheets as he
had been that morning. He knew his bed would be empty when he got back but it was a nice image, nonetheless.
It had been a long time since he’d been the one to leave first.
There was only an hour left of today’s shift. He wasn’t sure whether that was something to be happy about or not. This evening would be depressingly mundane. Leave work, go home, casual-up his outfit, find a new bar, pick someone up, take them home. The usual. When looking back on the night before, it seemed almost boring.
Usually, he was careful with the people he selected. This didn’t mean that he wasn’t passionate or even rough when the situation seemed right but it did mean that he never felt able to truly let himself go, be true to his nature. He wasn’t sure how it would feel, both for him and his partner. He didn’t want to hurt or scare someone unintentionally.
But last night, with Blake’s teeth embedded firmly in his shoulder, he’d felt more natural than he had for years, since he’d stopped frequenting the sorts of clubs that would never show up in a directory or dare to keep a guest list. It had been good rather than just necessary.
Hoping he hadn’t ruined his sex-life forever, Phoenix put the last empty glass behind the bar and got back to work. A large group had just arrived, all familiar faces, all having met here. He had no idea what they did for work, although some of the men looked like lawyer material. Perhaps the girls were their secretaries. This was the wrong place to bring them if the men were trying to impress.
“Welcome,” Phoenix said warmly, slinking his way over to the group who were milling at the foot of the stairs.
“It’s good to see you again. Would you like your usual area?”
“You remember us?” a small brunette asked shyly, batting her large fake eyelashes. A man standing beside her eyed Phoenix with a mixture of distaste and curiosity as he answered.
“How could I forget, sweetheart? This way please, everyone.”
The group was seated and comfortable in less than a minute and a troupe of men and women were being herded over from all corners of the club to keep them company. It was always the same group, Phoenix noted. The women they asked for were older and a little outrageous, as far from secretary-chic as could be. The men tended to be young and good at acting nervous, the polar opposite of a successful lawyer. It was a strange spectacle to watch and Phoenix loitered nearby, having received a thrill from the brunette at the entrance and naturally waiting for another.
“She hasn’t ordered anyone yet,” Andre murmured from behind him. Phoenix laughed.
“How do you know what I’m thinking?”
“You’re the biggest flirt in the whole damn club, kid.” Andre tapped his nose and began wandering along the bar to serve a hopeful looking woman. “It’s not rocket science.”
The brunette never ordered, in the end and karma made sure to punish Phoenix for overconfidence. As the clock hand began its final sweep upwards to five, he felt a light touch on his arm.
“What are you doing, staring into space?” Diana asked, her whisky breath hot on his cheek. “I thought you promised to keep me company.”
“I apologise,” he said vaguely, tearing his eyes away from the brunette. Diana’s makeup was slowly spreading across the rest of her face. He didn’t tell her. “Have you had a good afternoon?”
“Not really,” she mumbled, the lipstick smeared on her chin suggesting otherwise.
“Well, I hope your evening ends up being a good one, sweetheart.”
“It won’t,” she said instantly, digging her nails into his bare skin. From behind the bar, Andre sniggered. “But I think yours will, my love. You’ve seemed awfully distant today. All the girls are saying so. Even Andre agreed.”
Phoenix could hear the silver-haired barman edging away from the conversation, whistling to himself. Giving Diana a truly bemused smile, Phoenix tilted his head a little. As predicted, her eyes followed his hair as he spoke.
“Oh, really? I haven’t meant to be. How can I make it up to you?”
The question was followed by a hand to her cheek. She stepped away for the first time since they had met and Phoenix’s expression became all surprise, the mask slipping.
“You can tell me which table girl you’ve started seeing, that’s how,” Diana said, words sharp. “I can tell, you know. Woman’s intuition.”
“I’m not seeing anyone,” he said, finding it hard not to laugh as he imagined what Blake’s reaction to this conversation would be.
Not thinking for a moment that Phoenix would lie to her, Diana’s face screwed up in thought for a moment but she rallied quickly.
“But you saw someone, didn’t you? Last night? You’ve been practically glowing.”
A smile sliding into place, Phoenix leant back against the bar.
“Maybe.”
“So? What is she like?”
Which meant what do I have to contend with? Phoenix knew the drill. He’d never been involved romantically, not for a while before starting this job, but people had occasionally got it into their heads that he was taken. Inexplicably, his popularity went up during those times as women tried to prove themselves better than the mystery-girlfriend. Refusing to tell Diana anything would only irritate them. Phoenix knew better than to refuse them their fun; after all, tips were always welcome.
“American,” he said, fighting the urge to grin. “Black hair. Bitchy as hell.”
“She doesn’t sound very nice to me,” Diana said instantly, missing how hypocritical this was. “How old is she?”
“I don’t know,” Phoenix said with a shrug. “About my age, I guess.”
Being a good ten years older than him by anyone’s guess, Diana bristled at this news. She sighed, glancing at the clock, and then handed Phoenix a two pound coin.
“Your shift is almost over, darling,” she said. “You’ll get a better tip when you tell me more about this American girl.”
“Sure thing,” he said, turning away with a wink and in a better mood than he had been for hours. “See you tomorrow, Diana.”
“Make sure to play nice tonight, Phoenix.”
As he slipped behind the bar, heading for the door to the staff lounge, Andre stopped him with a raised eyebrow.
“If you were with an American girl last night then I’m Britney Spears,” the barman said. “You were seeing someone but I know when you’re lying.”
“Oh yeah?” Phoenix said quietly, smirking. “How so?”
“You’re dressed differently today,” the barman pointed out in a casual voice. “And you’re swaggering a lot more than normal. I’ll bet you a tenner that it was a guy you spent last night with, kiddo.”
Phoenix grinned and carried on walking, clapping Andre on the shoulder as he passed.
“I can’t spare the money, Andre. See you tomorrow.”
Once in the staff lounge, Phoenix crossed to one of the many mirrors which were a vital part of the room and looked himself over. Maybe he was dressed differently to usual, he couldn’t really tell. His outfit was less frilly than his usual work attire, at the very least. He’d slung on a deep crimson shirt over faded grey jeans that morning, finishing the outfit with some heavy boots and no accessories at all. It was perhaps a little too casual, no wonder the brunette hadn’t asked after him.
He flung on his winter jacket and let himself out using the employee stairs, hoping that he hadn’t managed to kill his work-appeal as well as his sex life. It wasn’t as if he could blame Blake for it.
He’d helped himself to toast. After half an hour of sitting around resisting the urge to tidy up, he’d helped himself to a bag of crisps too.
Blake had woken at half past four and he was glad no one had been there to witness it. Having a half-hour lie in was fine but having a half-hour lie in in Phoenix’s bed was another matter entirely. The first few moments upon waking had been blissful and warm until he realised just where he was, remembered just what he’d done and had to scramble out of bed quickly to soothe his complaining pride.
His shift didn’t start until six and since he wasn’t that far away from the pub he was forced to hang around for a while. The apartment seemed very large now that he was alone and he found himself flicking on every light as he waited. The bastard deserved the electricity bill.
He hated to admit it now, but he felt unnervingly calm. Usually, he’d be antsy upon waking up and it would be a struggle not to drink before his shift. Not that alcohol helped much, his metabolism meaning that it took bottles before he began feeling anything. He was a fan of the placebo effect. Tonight, he didn’t seem to need it. He told himself it was because it had been a few days since he’d managed to leech off of anyone but some treacherous part of his mind told him it was more than that, that their conversation had done wonders for him. He hoped it wasn’t the case because, either way, he didn’t want to see the redhead again.
Half-five. He leapt off of the kitchen counter he had chosen as a perch - the sofa seeming inappropriate now - and headed towards the door. It almost hit him in the face as it swung open and he jumped backwards with a yell.
“Oh. Hey.”
“Damn.”
“I thought you’d be gone by now.”
“No such luck.”
Phoenix started stepping through the door and Blake could tell he was about to say something along the lines
of his argument last night.
“Right, I gotta go,” Blake said quickly, before Phoenix could begin. “If I don’t get back, they’ll toss my stuff. If they haven’t already.”
He had got one foot out of the door by the time Phoenix decided to stop him after all. He didn’t touch him this time, though, instead calling out.
“Toss your stuff? Why? Where are you staying?”
“A hostel.”
“Huh? Have you not been living in London for long?”
“Only three fuckin’ years, thank you very much.”
“Oh. That’s longer than me.” Phoenix frowned in confusion and turned as Blake swept past him and into the stairwell. “Why are you living in a hostel?”
Blake waved a hand in dismissal and continued on his way, soon disappearing from sight. He hadn’t said goodbye and so Phoenix didn’t call after him. He could think of no logical reason to. He had never been very logical but maybe this was a good time to start.
Once Blake had gone, he locked the door behind the leech and headed inside. He should have been going out to find someone with which to spend the night but couldn’t find the motivation. A night in front of the television, like a normal person, sounded attractive at that moment. Once he felt sufficiently human, he’d start thinking about everything Blake had told him. For the last few years, Phoenix had tried to convince himself his mother had been lying about his father and that he was just an arrogant asshole who liked to believe he was an incubus in order to excuse his tendencies towards whoring himself around. It didn’t seem like that was possible anymore.
Half an hour later, he had switched his work outfit for a plain white t shirt and normal jeans and was settled on the sofa with a glass of red wine. Somehow, picturing himself like this felt incredibly lonely. Now he knew that at least part of him was a monster, he’d let another one walk away.
“...and another twenty quid for the bloody jukebox since I had to look around for hours before I found someone willing to fix the bastard thing.”
“Great.”
Blake stared into his distressingly empty glass, running one finger around the rim. It didn’t make a sound, the pub being too cheap to afford decent glass let alone crystal.
At that moment, he could think of nothing that could make the night worse. He’d woken up in some idiot redhead’s bed, bumped into said idiot before he could run away, felt weird and then had to start work. Work that night had consisted mostly of ignoring the whispers and glances of the usual patrons who had witnessed the start of the previous night’s fiasco, being glared at by Terry who had left a calculator in sight and feeling disgusting because he hadn’t had a change of clothes. Now the bar was shut and he was still shaking with rage from tonight’s encounter with Mr Moseby who had refused to leave until ‘William says he’s sorry for not buying me that drink he promised six years ago, the old cad.’ Terry’s methodical listing of the items he had destroyed the night before had been almost bearable after that, although the conclusion that this made his night’s wages nil was still painful.
“Who even was that guy, B?” Terry was asking, putting the calculator away at last. “Some friend of yours?”
Blake shrugged. “Never seen him in my life before last night.” It wasn’t a lie, at least.
“Right. Go on, get out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Sure.”
The walk back to his lodgings was cold and Blake watched his breath puffing out before him in the frigid air. The distance to this week’s hostel was longer than usual and he started wishing he’d chosen somewhere a little more expensive if only to have it closer. But at least he could get back, drink enough to incapacitate a small elephant and pass out. That’d make the whole damn day seem like a bad dream and he could get on with what not many people would call a life.
That was the plan, anyway. When he arrived to find his meagre possessions gathering ice on the doorstep, he discovered that the evening could get worse after all.
“Fuck it,” he hissed, picking up one of the bags and sending small icicles falling to the floor.
It was too late to find somewhere else, the places didn’t like him keeping such odd hours as it was. He could sleep on the streets, it wasn’t very dangerous for him until the sun started rising. If he looked hard enough, he’d surely be able to find an abandoned house with boarded up windows, this being London after all, but the cold didn’t make this prospect even slightly attractive.
He started walking without thinking. There didn’t seem to be much else he could do.
The knock on the door arrived in the middle of the first interesting program that had been on all night. It was actually early morning by now and Phoenix still couldn’t sleep. He should have gone out earlier like usual. It was always easier to sleep when he had someone to steal the duvet from. He’d already accustomed himself to the fact that he wouldn’t make his shift in the morning and that at some point in the near future he’d have to do something to appease Diana or risk losing his job. He hoped he wouldn’t have to do anything worse than fabricate a few compliments and hold her hand; she’d be impossible to get rid of if it had to go much further.
He dragged himself up, knocking over the empty wine glass in the process and wandered towards the door. The lights were still on, he realised. He couldn’t remember turning them on which confused him a little but he put it out of his mind. It’d come to him at some point. There were more pressing matters like...what?
Another knock came at the door and he shook his head at his own ineptitude. It only took two attempts to open the door although it took three to work out who it was that was knocking.
“What’re you doing here?”
Standing on the doorstep, feet hidden by a pile of bags and jackets, Blake looked as if he was from another world. The inside of the apartment was warm and bright, everything cast in shades of red and orange. Thanks to the wine, Phoenix’s appearance was tousled but more casual than he would have chosen in company. In contrast, the hallway Blake was standing in was dark and grey, some of the overhead lights having broken, and the leech himself was pale and damp from the gathering fog. The ice had mostly melted from his possessions but this only meant they were now soaking wet. He blinked once, water droplets clinging to his eyelashes, and shrugged.
“They tossed my stuff,” he said, too cold to force emotion into his voice.
“S’what’s that?” Phoenix mumbled, gesturing a little wildly towards the bags.
“They tossed it outside rather than away. Have you been drinking?”
The question came out of nowhere but Phoenix found a reply waiting on his lips, as if he had silently been working up his excuses.
“Yeah. I was drinking yesterday too. Why?”
“You weren’t drunk yesterday.”
A shrug. “I had dinner yesterday.”
Blake shook his head slowly, having not expected to find the redhead in such a state. He had been expecting teasing, questioning and eventual refusal, sure there would already be someone else on Phoenix’s sofa. He found himself in that strange position of making the decisions in someone else’s house.
“You want some food?”
After a long hesitation, Phoenix nodded. “I guess.”
“If I bring you some, could I stay here tonight?”
Even now, Phoenix managed a smirk.
“Couldn’ keep away, huh?”
“It’s not that. I’ve got nowhere else to go.”
Stepping back inside, Phoenix gestured over his shoulder. Blake kicked his heavier bags over the threshold and then carried the rest to the kitchen, slightly worried about how easy it was to find. Once they had been shoved into a corner, he went back for the heavy ones, dragging them down the hall and leaving a trail of water on the carpet. Luckily, Phoenix had gone back to collapse on the sofa and couldn’t see. Wandering into the living room, Blake fought off the intoxicating heat that washed over him now he was inside.
“Chinese good?” he asked.
Apparently finding it difficult to decide whether he should be looking at the television or Blake, Phoenix swivelled his head a few times before answering.
“Can you afford that?”
“Sure.” Blake shrugged, thinking of his voided paycheque. “Anything you want especially?”
“Surprise me.”
Shutting the door behind him on the way out, Blake fought to dispel the feeling that was creeping over him, one that suggested his life was turning into a badly written soap opera. It was a punishment he would have to deal with in return for somewhere to sleep though so he ignored it for now and plunged back into the winter night. As he walked, the first flakes of snow began to fall.
The warmth in the apartment was heavenly. The floor was littered with empty food containers and plastic bags along with a few runaway prawn crackers but it was clear they weren’t going to be cleaned up any time soon. When he had stepped back through the door, covered in snow and almost blue with the cold, Blake wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. More unwelcome advances, perhaps. Teasing, certainly. More questions were also a clear possibility. And yet, other than a gentle hand brushing the snow out of his hair that had been nothing of the sort. It was strange but without the pressure of having to deny the redhead every other sentence, Phoenix was good company.
They sat side by side on the sofa, flicking through the television channels and talking about whatever seemed appropriate. Once he had eaten, Phoenix began to gradually sober up and Blake had been tense in preparation for the moment the man came to his senses and either tried to jump him or throw him out. This didn’t happen either. Instead, he had started rambling about his childhood and Blake had listened, surprised to find himself interested. Phoenix had five siblings it seemed, only one of which liked him. He was from Hertfordshire, which Blake had heard of, thanks very much you asshole, and never really intended to go back. He’d left when he was sixteen and had been moving from city to city until two years ago. After far too long, Blake managed to work out that this made him twenty-two.
“I can’t believe an idiot like you is older than me,” he mumbled unhappily.
Phoenix smiled and twisted on the sofa until his head was resting against the backrest with his face almost touching Blake’s shoulder.
“Why? How old are you?”
“Twenty-one,” the leech replied with a shrug. “Give or take.”
“Give or take?”
“I don’t know when my birthday is. But I do know that I’m a Pisces so I was born during February or March sometime.”
“How can you not know? Are you an orphan or something?”
Phoenix’s eyes were far too curious for Blake’s liking, the crimson orbs dark in the dim light. For a split second, the leech thought about answering but mentally kicked himself instantly. He had come to England to forget all of that madness. There was no way he was ever going to speak of it again.
“Nah. It’s just complicated. Don’t push it okay? If you do, I swear I’ll-“
“I won’t.”
Blake knew he should have been surprised by this instant response but something about Phoenix was different, tonight. It felt as if he was sitting and chatting to an old friend, if he had had any that wouldn’t attack him upon sight. They had been talking for hours now and he kept forgetting that he was here out of necessity and not choice. He was being trusting. The very idea sent shivers down his spine.
He glanced at Phoenix, sprawled beside him. The redhead was watching him, expression free of guile and almost free of alcohol. Blake reached out and jabbed a finger into Phoenix’s side.
“Hey. That freaky incubus-aura shit you were pulling yesterday. You’re not doing it right now, are you?”
“It’s not like I do it consciously,” Phoenix said, tone a little defensive. “Although I can. I guess I’m not though. Why? Would you like me to?”
“Like hell,” Blake snapped, making sure he glued his eyes back to the television screen where credits had begun rolling. “I was just wondering. When you’re not trying to get into my pants, you’re...”
“Handsome?” Phoenix supplied with a grin. “Charming?”
“Not a complete bastard,” Blake decided at last. “That’s all, okay? Take it or leave it.”
Laughing, Phoenix pulled himself back into an upright position and grabbed the remote control. He held it out towards Blake.
“You have a few hours before sun up, right?”
“Yup.”
“I’m not going to work tomorrow.”
“Why? And why are you telling me?”
“Because I don’t want to. And because I was going to say that we have time to watch a movie or something if you like.”
“Do you know anything about movies?”
“What?” Phoenix blinked, bemused. “I guess not. I just watch them. Why?”
With a determined gleam in his amber eyes, Blake took the remote and turned to the television.
“Let me choose.”
They watched a movie the night after too, one with twice as many car chases and explosions as the night before. Phoenix watched with amusement as Blake yelled at each event, finding some enjoyment in the cheap action films that Phoenix couldn’t fathom. He’d suggested they watch a late night horror film on Film4 and had been rewarded by a slap upside the head and a stream of insults. He learnt not to make the mistake again.
The night after that they managed not to watch television at all but stayed up drinking, having one of those discussions which starts with the price of a bottle of wine and ends up with the decline of the music industry. Phoenix hadn’t had one of those since he had been sixteen and Blake had never had one in his life. They fell asleep on the sofa that night and Phoenix slept right through work the next day, making sure to yell at Blake when he emerged at five in the afternoon.
After that, it became difficult for them to remember what happened on each night. A sort of routine set in that involved wine, action movies, Chinese takeout and continual grumbling over paycheques decreasing in size. An essential part of the routine was that Blake never thanked Phoenix for letting him stay while Phoenix never mentioned that Blake’s bags were still in the kitchen. Somehow, that would break through the unusual but comfortable fog that had enveloped them. This continual denial of the facts went on for two weeks before a problem arose.
The problem was that, although they may have changed their opinions of one another, their actual personalities remained the same. By the tenth night, both were starting to feel jumpy around one another and it was only a perfectly innocent incident that alerted them to the cause.
Emerging from the bathroom after a scalding shower to fight off the cold, Blake wandered shirtless into the kitchen in search of something to wear. All of his clothes, while now dry, were crumpled and slightly musty but asking to wash them would be admitting they were there in the first place. Phoenix was standing at the microwave, watching a mug of hot chocolate bubble away to itself.
“It’s fucking cold,” Blake complained, bending down to unzip one of the bags and rifling through it. “Beats me why anyone lives in this country.”
“You had a choice,” Phoenix pointed out. “Deal with it.”
The electric wailing of the microwave meant that the hot chocolate was hot enough to burn his tongue. Leaving it to stand for now, Phoenix turned around as Blake stood up, having not found a shirt even mildly acceptable to wear. Neither made comment on this and Blake had been planning on retrieving his previous one from the other room. It would have been simple if he hadn’t only recently woken up and was still fighting away drowsiness.
As he headed towards the door, he yawned and stretched his arms high above his head. He held the posture for a few moments, shutting his eyes and wondering why he didn’t stretch more often when it felt so good.
Something changed. His skin felt hot suddenly, as if he had stepped back into the shower. With his arms still above his head, he opened his eyes to see Phoenix watching fixing him with a piercing gaze. The redhead’s eyes were dark.
“Uh, Phoenix?” Blake asked, voice sounding terribly loud in this new atmosphere, the one that seemed to crackle when he finally lowered his arms back to his sides. The redhead remained silent and the shirt in the other room seemed suddenly very far away. Not daring to break eye contact, Blake took an experimental step backwards, in the direction of the door. Phoenix took a step forward in answer.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Blake snapped, feeling anger, hot and sharp, coursing through his nerves.
For the first time he realised that it had been ten days since he started staying here and that meant it had been ten days since he had last got seriously drunk or hit someone or yelled at someone or-
“Don’t back away.” Phoenix’s voice was low, sliding through the air like a knife through honey. Watching him with wide eyes, Blake wondered if his hair had always been quite that red, his skin quite that smooth. He was still in his work outfit, which exposed too much chest by far, but where it had seemed flashy earlier it now seemed natural, as if it was a second skin.
Blake held his breath, hating the inexorable way his eyes slid Phoenix’s eyes to the line of his jaw, down to his shoulder. He bit his lip and tried to look away.
“Don’t look so worried,” Phoenix continued, slinking forwards like a tiger and not smiling.
Blake’s sharp upper teeth cut into his lip and it began to bleed, the copper liquid spilling against his tongue giving him the final push.
“Fuck,” he whispered and went to turn, to run, to flee because this was not how he had wanted the evening to go and, damnit, why wasn’t he allowed to pretend things weren’t normal like he had been?
Strong hands grabbed at his shoulders before he could move and he was slammed back into the floor, Phoenix landing heavily on top of him. Even through his clothes, the redhead’s skin was burning. Using all of his strength this time, Blake pushed back but his left hand slipped on the material of Phoenix’s shirt and met skin, sending his senses back into a past he hadn’t wanted to remember. He cried out as he was slammed back into the floor, the tiles cold and sharp against his bare skin, nothing like the fingers now grazing over his chest, leaving burning electric lines in their wake.
“Don’t,” he managed, not wanting to physically move again lest he lost control. “For god’s sake, let me-“
“Shut up.”
Phoenix stopped answering Blake’s demands then, because he was too busy dragging his lips and tongue down the leech’s neck, sinking teeth into his collar bone and not once trying to engage him in a kiss. Blake lay motionless underneath the redhead, frozen, knowing that moving would only make things worse for him. He needed to stay in control, he needed to-
Phoenix pushed himself back up and caught Blake’s lower lip between his teeth, making a soft noise that a director would have paid good money for. The tiny incision in his skin was still bleeding and this new abuse did nothing but spread the blood between them. Not realising what he was doing, Phoenix broke the contact and wove a hand into the leech’s hair and dragged his head to the side. He stretched upwards to lick a slow line over the shell of Blake’s ear, pressing his own shoulder against Blake’s lips. An involuntary shudder ripped through Blake’s frame. Misreading this, Phoenix began whispering in his ear, words and phrases that would be too vulgar for his usual character and which would have made Blake furious if he hadn’t been slowly parting his lips. It took the unmistakeable sensation of teeth pressing lightly against his skin to stop the incubus from talking.
“Do it,” he murmured after a long, breathless moment. Blake squeezed his eyes shut, poised but unmoving.
Breath coming in shallow gasps, Phoenix used the hand in Blake’s hair to guide the leech’s lips to his neck, the soft skin pulsing with the drumming of his heart. Blake whimpered, not hearing himself over the rushing in his ears.
“Please,” Phoenix whispered. “I want you to do it.”
Shaking all over, Blake increased the pressure until he could feel the skin was reaching breaking point. It would be so easy to just give in, to just obey like a mindless animal. Through the flashes of red that flickered under his eyelids, Blake could see the past week as if he had been an outsider. Conversations that contained nothing to be ashamed of. Touches that meant nothing more complicated than a gesture of friendship. The life he had always mocked but secretly, desperately, yearned for. Whatever Phoenix wanted from this, whatever fantasy was playing out in his head, it wasn’t worth this. Not this.
Blake leant back, carefully letting go and closing his mouth as soon as he was able. He could feel Phoenix’s confusion without needing to look.
“Why?” the redhead asked, some echo of his usual voice becoming apparent.
“Because I don’t want to.”
“But you need to.” A kiss placed gently against Blake’s neck, calculated in its tenderness. “I know you do. There hasn’t been time for you to go out and fe-“
“Don’t fucking say it.”
“Okay, I won’t But I’m right. You haven’t had time and neither have I.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. C’mon, Blake, you’ve got nothing to lose. You need this. I need this.”
“No, we-“
“I thought we’d got over this already. We’re friends, right? Friends help each other-“
“Not like this.”
“Not that you know of.”
Blake pushed upwards with all his strength, finding the outlet at last. Phoenix was sent sprawling backwards, head hitting the kitchen counter with a crack. Blake was on his feet in an instant, eyes blazing silver with bloodlust.
“You’re right, you asshole, I don’t bullshit you got me used to. I never had that. I know fuck all about friends. Hell, I’m not even sure I know what ‘friends with benefits’ really means.”
Phoenix’s eyes were open now, the animal desire in them muted as he watched Blake speak. It was as though he’d never set eyes upon the leech before or never heard an honest word from him. This was different. Raw emotions laced each syllable.
“And you know what?” he continued. “For a moment there, I thought it could work. I mean, karma owes me one by now. I fought until I couldn’t stand for the chance to live like a normal city-kid. I turned my back on everything. I stopped doing what they told me and I did what I had to do instead. I ki-“
He stopped, mouth wide and blood running down his chin in a dark line. Phoenix could fill the missing word and could tell Blake didn’t want him to. He remained silent.
“Fuck this,” Blake spat, turning on his heel and practically running towards the door.
Phoenix could have stopped him. Instead, he waited on the floor until the door had slammed. He cleaned himself up and lingered for only a moment in front of the mirror before leaving too. The snow was falling heavily outside now, the streets covered in a thick grey slush that clung to his boots. He hadn’t grabbed a jacket but that was okay since he felt as if he had a fever. A couple passing by, clinging to each other as if they would fall if walking alone, watched him with loud amusement as he stood still, casting his eyes from side to side.
“Shit,” he muttered, the word sounding foreign on his tongue. He didn’t swear often but would forgive himself this time, or would have had he noticed. It shouldn’t have been this hard to spot someone walking shirtless through the night. His head started hurting as he looked, feeling panic rising in his chest. He was a moment away from calling out when he spotted Blake, hurrying through the snow in an almost casual manner, evidently forgetting he wasn’t dressed to be out. Hurrying after him, Phoenix realised the leech was barefooted as well as shirtless.
Phoenix slipped as he started running, stumbling inelegantly as he regained his balance. Blake vanished around the corner of the block and Phoenix redoubled his efforts, even though the guy had made it painfully clear he couldn’t run at super speed or anything else that ridiculous. He felt stupid as he rounded the corner to find Blake leaning against a wall as he had been in the alleyway, forehead against the dirty bricks.
“Blake.”
Phoenix wasn’t sure what else he could say. He didn’t have to, as the leech did it for him.
“When did it all get so fucking serious?” he asked, voice weak. Phoenix took a step closer, mind ringing with clarity now, and shrugged.
“It’s your fault you know,” Blake continued. “If you hadn’t broken the damn jukebox, I wouldn’t have had to come back and stay.”
“Come back inside, babe,” Phoenix said in a soft voice, the endearment going unnoticed by them both. “You’re going to fuck your feet up. And it doesn’t matter if you heal fast or not because it’s going to hurt like hell.”
“And?”
“And I don’t want to see that. So come on.”
“It won’t solve anything though, will it? You can pretend all you like but we’re both monsters and it’s just going to get worse.”
Laughing softly, Phoenix took another step forward and raised a hand, letting it hover over Blake’s shoulder.
“Why do you finally start acting sensible at a time like this?” he asked. “We’ll think of something, okay?”
Blake was shivering now, his body heat draining away along with his anger. His arms began to shake where he was supporting himself against the wall and he opened his eyes as if he had been sleeping for a long time.
“What, though?” he asked.
“Persistent sod. I don’t know. We could both go out, go do whatever the hell we would have done before and then come back like any other night. How about that?”
“I’ve got work,” Blake said in a hollow voice, having forgotten. “I guess I could talk some girl into...”
“Yeah. I have a few people I could call. And then we could just get on with everything like normal.”
It sounded like a bad plan, even to himself. It would work in theory but something about the set of Blake’s shoulders told him this was more complicated than he wanted to think.
“It’s not going to work.” Blake pushed himself away from the wall. “Is it?”
“I don’t know. No harm in trying.”
Blake didn’t resist as Phoenix draped his jacket over his shoulders. Against all common sense, they began walking back the way they had come.
“I think it’s time you did something about those clothes.”
“I guess so.”