12. The Hanged Man
Title: Raise Hell
Author: SaintLi
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Robber/Driver (Eli/Gabe)
Wordcount (this chapter): 7,508
Fandom: Mint Royale
12. The Hanged Man
"The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?"
--Jeremiah 17:9
"I find pieces of myself everywhere, and I cut myself handling them."
--Jeanette Winterson, Lighthousekeeping
My heart did not stop pounding its frantic staccato until Gabe pulled into an underground car park. Even then, I had not settled--my nerves frayed and my breathing harsh. I felt Gabe give my arm a comforting squeeze before killing the engine and climbing out of the car. I took a few deep breaths before following him out into the dark, cool garage. Taking a look around, it struck me how out of place his beat up old Ford looked next to the many newer, sleeker models surrounding it--sports cars, foreign cars, cars that cost more than my entire year's salary.
Gabe popped the boot open and started pulling our suitcases of clothes out, passing a few over to me. His face was placid and unreadable as he set the cases of money at his feet and shut the boot. Cases in hand, I watched him make his way across the garage to the doors of a lift a few feet away.
"Where are we?" I finally asked.
"Hackney." I watched as he pressed a button with his elbow.
"More specific?" I hung back until the doors to the lift opened. Gabe shot me an annoyed look when I lagged behind.
"Shoreditch," he answered.
"Uhm...bit more specific?"
"S'my flat, innit?"
"Oh." I shuffled my feet awkwardly. Admittedly, I had wondered quite a few times about Gabe's place of residence, but the fact I never thought I'd get the chance to see it didn't strike me until that moment. When he told Kat he and I were just 'feeling our relationship out', it honestly felt like a confirmation that he was nowhere near as serious about me as I was him. Part of me figured that, once most of this business blew over, he'd want to part ways and I'd be left with nothing but memories of hotel rooms and waking up to find him sitting in my kitchen, smoking my cigarettes. So during quiet moments, I had taken to imagining what his home might look like--bright colours and velvet or leather furniture--something wholly impractical. I pictured cramped spaces; perhaps he lived over a storefront, a restaurant.
Stepping out of the lift, it was immediately apparent that almost nothing was as I imagined it. There were, indeed, bright colours and ridiculous fabrics as far as the eye could see, but they were dotting long white walls and pristine white wood paneled floors. From the door, it was a clear shot to the kitchen where stainless steel appliances gleamed when he flicked on the lights. It was spacious. It was new, modern. It was obviously expensive.
I saw him clock the openly shocked expression on my face, and he shrugged, dropping the cases of money into an armchair by the door. I stood, stunned, and watched him peel off his jacket, depositing it neatly on the coatrack. His boots came off next, and he slotted them away neatly onto a low shelf against the wall. "I don't do shoes in the house," he told me. "They fuck up the floors."
I didn't set the suitcases down so much as they just sort of fell from my grasp. I felt as though I were on autopilot as I, too, peeled off my coat and hung it on the rack, took my trainers off and placed them on that same shelf. I didn't know what to think, or say, or do, so I just stood there and watched him sashay across the long, open room--past the long, leather sofa sat before a large flat screen TV, past the shabby-chic dining set, past the gleaming cooking island--and into the kitchen.
"I think I've still got some beer," he called out, voice seeming to echo off the walls as he pulled the fridge open. "You want one, mate?"
"I...you live here?" I asked, finally taking a few steps forward. There was a door to my right, and taking a few more steps to pass it, I could see the wall off the living area curved back, presumably leading down a hallway. Gabe stood frozen at the breakfast nook, holding two brown bottles of beer.
"Yeah. I live here." His tone was slow and slightly patronizing, but his stance was uncertain and pigeon-toed.
"I...what do you do?"
"What do I do?" he repeated, the skin between his brows puckering.
"What do you do for a living? What's your job?" I could hear it in my voice, something edging on anger. I felt as though I'd been slapped hard in the face. Something about this just seemed wrong, like some big joke at my expense, like he was toying with me.
"Well, nothing now, probably. I've been away from work for so long helping you that I'm pretty sure my boss won't have me back." He was going from slightly confused and self-conscious to angry very, very rapidly.
"Okay," I conceded. "What were you doing before you started helping me?" I watched his face shift as he glared at me, shuffling his stance to stand straighter, squaring his shoulders. He looked ready for a fight.
"Bartending."
"Bartending!" I laughed--a maniacal noise I had absolutely no control over. Doubled over laughing, my body started to sink until I found myself sitting on the end of the low shelf in the foyer. I couldn't stop, watching as his face hardened into a scowl, his tongue flicked against the point of his canine. For some reason, this made me laugh harder. Looking back, I was probably exhausted--both physically and emotionally over-tired from running around, from not knowing what would happen next. It was all nearly too much, this rigamarole. At the time, though, it felt like I was finally--blissfully--losing what was left of my mind. He had put the beers down on the table by the time I'd wiped the tears from my eyes--his arms crossed over his chest.
"You done laughin'?"
"I think," I wheezed, grasping my knees and taking a few deep, steadying breaths, "Bartending! Of course. How else would you be able to afford a place like this. Bartending." My anger fizzled out into a dull burn through the centre of my chest, not unlike the heat of swallowing straight alcohol.
"You wanna know or not?" he asked finally, voice low and nearly defeated. I didn't look up at him. I couldn't. Instead, I stared down at the pristine floor between my feet and rubbed at my suddenly pounding head.
"Sure."
"My parents bought me it." I nearly laughed again, only this time scornfully, until I looked up at the edge in his voice. His own gaze was averted, staring off to the side, down what I assumed was a hallway, his cheeks red. He looked, for the first time since I'd met him, embarrassed. The laugh died in my throat, coming out as a huffed breath.
The thought suddenly occurred to me, and I spoke it aloud: "You could have given me the money, right?" He shuffled from foot to foot, pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth. After a long moment, he nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"Only you said you didn't want any handouts, remember?" His tone was defensive, but he still wouldn't meet my eyes.
"Yeah," I nodded, letting out a long exhalation. "I remember."
A moment's heavy pause lapsed. He still wasn't meeting my gaze--still stood pigeon toed, gnawing on his thumbnail as he stared down the hallway. My body lifted itself up of its own accord, and I felt myself drawn deeper into the flat until we were only millimetres apart.
"I, uhm...I'm sorry, Gabe. I didn't mean to..." The words left me in a hush, stirring the hair at the crown of his ducked head. I watched him shrug, slide his thumbnail from his mouth and drop his hand to his side. A few quiet seconds passed between us before he reached out and pulled me to him by my belt loops.
"Just...trust me a little more, yeah?" he breathed against my collar. "Got ya this far, ain’t I?"
"You have," I sighed, pulling him closer, my arms wrapped tight around his waist. We stood there for a few moments, holding each other in silence.
"C'mon," Gabe said finally, pulling back. He grasped me gently by the wrist, tugging me away from the kitchen. "I got sumfink for ya."
*****************
He led me to what I later found was the guest bedroom, squeezing my hand as he flicked on the light. He threw me a sly smirk over his shoulder, and I watched as he crossed over to the room's only window--a pane of glass that stretched almost from floor to ceiling. He beckoned me over to him with a jerk of his head as he pulled the curtains back. With the lights on, it was impossible to see anything but his reflection thrown against the window. Blurred through my tired eyes, his face wasn't much more than a pale smudge on the darkened glass.
I felt him grasp the waistband of my jeans, pulling me closer to him, peering up at me with a contrite look on his face. "I wanna try somethin', yeah?"
The most I could muster in response was a small shrug, too exhausted by everything--the running, the stress, the stupid bit of contention between Gabe and I in the kitchen just moments before--to do more than blink down at him through bleary eyes. His face brightened, a look of relief washing over him as he stood on his toes to kiss the corner of my mouth, a whispered 'genius' hanging between us as he pulled back. He fixed me with a heavy gaze for a long moment before lurching back up onto his toes, kissing me again--deeper this time, more heated. I abandoned myself to it, allowing him in, his tongue flicking against the back of my teeth, mine curling against his.
I could feel my cock lazily beginning to swell as his hands stroked over my chest, my back, peeling my shirt away. This, I thought, is exactly what I needed at that moment--to allow myself to get lost in him for a while, to revel in this proximity until everything else became inconsequential. It wasn't until I watched as he trailed biting kisses down my chest that I realized we were still standing in front of the window, the light from the ceiling illuminating his ever-widening grin.
Quickly, he spun me towards the glass. My hands shot out, bracing myself against either side of the window, my own bewildered face reflected back at me. I watched in the darkened glass as his hands traced over my chest and stomach, fingers dancing over my zip. The top of his head appeared suddenly over my shoulder, meeting my reflected gaze.
"Can you feel it?" he asked, slipping his hand into my now opened jeans, fisting me gently. "Strangers on the street, in the building across the alley. Their eyes on you. Hmm?" Excitement spiked along my spine even as shame started to swirl in my belly. I could feel it, was the thing. It felt as though a sea of people had gathered to watch us in the darkness beyond. I was torn between wanting to run screaming from the room, and wanting to stand my ground and let everyone see, though the instinct to run was slightly stronger. "They're gonna watch you come for me," he breathed into my ear as he pulled me free. I brought my hands down quickly, covering myself.
"I, uhm, I don't know about this, Gabriel."
"Eli, trust me, yeah?" He nuzzled behind my ear, kissing me gently. "It'll be fine--I promise. I know what you need, and I know how to keep you safe."
I'm almost ashamed to admit, but that's all it took. I removed my hands, placing them back on either side of the window as I swallowed the lump in my throat. He pushed my jeans and pants down where they pooled at my ankles, and kicked my legs apart as far as they could go. I felt his hands running down my back, palms caressing my sides as he reached around to toy with my nipples. His breath grazed my shoulder as he told me to stay where I was--his footsteps retreating, echoing down the hall.
I caught my own gaze in the window's reflection and silently cursed myself. My father's words flooded my mind--"A fool and a fornicator, both". Oh if he only knew; I'd allowed myself to be led around by the cock into armed robbery and murder. On the run from the police. Constantly distracted by brilliant blue eyes, a wicked tongue and clever hands. Opening myself up to a man I know nothing about who can read me like a book. And who now has me naked and hard before a picture window where anyone could see us, call the cops, have us arrested on indecency charges. Which could trigger a series of events that could land us both in jail for a very, very long time.
I jumped when I felt Gabe's hand on my shoulder, snapping me violently out of my reverie. Hearing the sound of a bottle being uncapped behind me, I bent forward without being told and was rewarded with a series of kisses across my back. His slick fingers traced my crease, fingertips teasing my hole until a quiet plea escaped my lips. With a soft chuckle, he roughly pushed a finger into me, the burn of it forcing a strangled cry from my mouth. His tongue circled the vertebrae at the top of my spine as I let out a huff of breath, rocking my hips to meet his lengthening strokes. He took his time, keeping me in front of the window for as long as possible before breaching me with a second finger. The desire to come mingled with my growing shame, swirling in my belly, pooling at the base of my spine.
"Please, Gabe," I choked out, closing my eyes to my reflection--to the judgement of the invisible audience below us.
The only response I received was a small tutting noise vibrating against my shoulder as his fingertips pressed hard against that spot deep inside me. I pressed my forehead to the cool windowpane as I pushed my hips back, and was met with a hard slap to my arse.
"Straighten up, yeah?" His voice was heavy, strained.
I did as I was told, standing up a bit straighter as he continued to stroke his fingers over my prostate, flexing his wrist. My forehead wrinkled against the cold glass beneath it, my hand leaving the wall to grasp my aching erection. Gabe bit my shoulder hard, his tongue stroking over the skin caught between his crooked teeth before sucking at it. A sob rattled in my chest and broke in my throat before tumbling out of my mouth. Tears prickled behind my eyelids, stinging me. I made another, softer plea--so close to the edge my body was trembling as I struggled to stay upright.
"You can come any time you want, Eli," Gabe whispered against my saliva slicked skin. He waited until I'd begun stroking myself in earnest before adding, "Show out for the people, yeah? Let them see you come undone."
I came with a shudder and a strangled moan, falling to my knees as he pulled free of me. I opened my eyes--my watery gaze falling upon my release, trailing slowly down the windowpane. Gabe's fingers gripped my hair firmly, moving my face towards the glass as he instructed me to 'clean up my mess'. I wondered, somewhere in the back of my mind, why I was going along with this as my tongue streaked saliva and semen over the glass til it was clear. As Gabe turned my head towards his lap, I realized that I was somehow enjoying these proceedings. Another jolt of shame struck me at my core.
I watched through tired eyes as Gabe pulled himself free, his other hand still gripping the hair at the back of my head. I opened my mouth when the head of his cock bumped the corner of it, but he pulled back from me. He repeated this process several times until I pleaded for him to let me suck him off--his shaft slipping between my lips, filling my mouth with his familiar taste. I sucked, my cheeks hollowing, and was grateful of the fist in my hair holding me still as he began to thrust--too exhausted to move on my own. I spluttered when he came, his release trickling down my throat, and coughed outright once he pulled out. I collapsed against the floor, realizing only after I'd stopped coughing that I was crying, openly weeping with my face pressed against his expensive wood floor.
I wept for everything I'd lost--what was left of my father's respect, my mother, the man I thought I was before I met Gabe, the man I had tried to be, any sense of normalcy, my relationship with Jen. I wept for the situation I found myself in, how absolutely hopeless the whole thing felt. I wept until dry heaves made my stomach clench and my throat constrict.
And through it all, Gabe was there--folding my too-large frame into his arms, rocking me as best he could, carding his fingers gently through my hair. "You're alright, darlin'," he assured in a whisper. "I've gotcha. You're alright. That's it--let it out. Just let it go, there ya are, darlin'." I'd calmed considerably before he whispered, "Look, Eli," grasping my chin to lift my head toward the window.
I opened my eyes, blinking in confusion. Sometime between letting me fall to the floor and scooping me into his arms, he'd managed to turn out the lights--the darkness surrounding us allowing me to see out the window for the first time. My gaze was met by nothing more than the plain brick wall of the building opposite us, much closer than I'd anticipated. I leaned forward and could see that the narrow alleyway below us was so crowded with discarded items--old bits of furniture, rusted out machines--it'd be impossible for anything larger than a stray cat to navigate. My head fell back against Gabe's shoulder, a weak laugh of relief escaping me as the last of the tension drained from my limbs. The full weight of my body collapsed against Gabe's wiry frame, and we fell gracelessly back onto the floor.
He tangled our legs together, kicking my jeans and pants off my legs the rest of the way, freeing my ankles. Spent, my body felt too heavy to lift, but my soul felt weightless, clean and full of light. I let my head fall to the side, nuzzling at his throat until I could feel the steady beat of his pulse under my nose.
"Thank you," I breathed, barely more than a whisper.
"S'alright." I smiled at the warmth of his tone, lips stretching against his neck. "You needed it, mate."
***************
"It's been three days. Do you think--" Eli cuts himself off, wringing his hands in his lap. He's perched himself on top of the toilet lid and is watching the careful, steady movement of Gabe pulling his razor across his skin, shearing away the stubble. His left side is completely smooth. It strikes Eli suddenly how young and effeminate Gabe looks without the stubble, and he has to hold in a nervous chuckle.
"Do I think what, mate?" Gabe mumbles, rinsing his razor out in the basin, splashing water to and fro.
"Nothing. I'm just needlessly worrying. Not that I don't have any right to worry--not that I shouldn't be worried, what with everything that's going on. It's just--" It's Gabe who cuts him off this time with a shaving-foamy kiss. "Do you think she's decided yet?" he asks, the second their lips part. Gave gives him a weary grin, turning once more to resume his ablutions.
"I think it's a big decision, and she's trying her best, yeah? S'not really something you can just decide over breakfast. It ain't like going skating or to the park, mate. S'raising a tiny human being with someone you--" Gabe flicks his eyes towards Eli in the mirror, looking conflicted for a moment before continuing his thought, "Someone you might not recognize anymore."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. S'just..."-he brings the razor down again, splash! splash!-"It was prolly a shock, is all. Thinking for--what? four years?--that you're straight as an arrow and then come to find out you've been letting me bugger you senseless practically since we met." He gives a little shrug, the rasp of razor against stubble sounding almost too loud in the small, echo-y space. "I mean, if she didn't know that about you...I dunno. Why do we bother talkin’, huh? I told you when we met I'm no good at it."
"I haven't told her," Eli mutters, head hanging.
"What?"
"I haven't told her about you. I mean...she knows about you. In a roundabout way. She just...you know...doesn't know you're a man."
"You told her I'm a woman?! So, what? If I ever wanna be seen with you, I gotta wear a dress now? Coz lemme tell ya, mate--I'm fairly fuckin' certain I wouldn't make for a pretty bird."
"No, no. I didn't tell her you're a man. But I didn't correct her when she assumed you're a woman." He looks up hesitantly, hearing a disbelieving laugh above him, to see Gabe hastily rubbing his face dry with a towel. He pulls the stopper from the basin's drain with more force than necessary.
"Unbelievable. Un-be-fucking-lievable. I just...God damn it, Eli!" He laughs again, a bitter, scornful sound. "I just...fuck! You really are somethin', you know that? I gotta constantly reassure you I'm still interested in ya, I'm real fuckin' careful with ya all the time, I gotta make sure your...your stupid fuckin' sense of masculinity is still intact, gotta try to calm your fears about some higher being hatin' ya for lovin' me--and what do I get in return, huh? You can't even tell your ex I have a dick. This, this is just...fuckin' great, Eli. You're really somethin', you know that?"
He pushes past Eli, making a hasty retreat from the room. Eli feels the urge to follow him, the confined tiled space suddenly too hot--and then he realizes the heat is an internal thing, as opposed to an external force. He's burning up, and while he can't figure out if the rise in temperature is due to anger or shame, he's certain he needs to remove his jumper before it either cooks or strangles him to death. He bumps clumsily into the commode, attempting to both divest himself of his scratchy knitted prison and follow Gabe down the narrow hall. He attempts to ditch his jumper on the floor--knowing full well he'll be yelled at for it--and the cuff catches on his wrist. He wrenches his hand from the fabric's grasp and turns, colliding into Gabriel, who is suddenly standing next to him looking both sullen and slightly amused.
"I need a cigarette," he informs, his tone haughty. Eli grabs him by the wrist, registering Gabe's glance at the abandoned jumper on his pristine floor as he turns, pulling the smaller man towards the bedroom. "Look, Eli," Gabe sighs, still allowing himself to be towed along, "I'm too angry for angry sex right now, okay? Just--where'd you leave the fags, hmm?"
The bedroom, naturally, is the coldest room in the flat, and the rush of air that hits him makes Eli wish he hadn't preemptively ditched his layers. He lets go of Gabe's wrist, barely registering the angry red braclet his fingers left behind, and snatches his mobile up off the bedside table, holding it up in front of Gabe's face.
"S'a phone, mate," Gabe says slowly, as if trying to explain something to a child. He watches with a cocked eyebrow, the tip of his tongue wedged into the corner of his mouth, as Eli presses buttons on the phone. He holds it up once more, thumb poised on the call button, the name Jen on the screen, underscored by her mobile number. Gabe's eyes widen a fraction, but he remains silent, the absence of noise almost challenging.
Eli presses the button, holds the phone up to his ear. A few steps away, Gabe shifts his weight, cocking a hip, crosses his arms over his skinny, bare chest.
"Eli? Hello?"
Eli belatedly realizes he's been paying attention to nothing but the configuration of Gabriel's limbs, and it takes him a moment to refocus on his objective. He clears his throat.
"Hi, Jen. Sorry. I uhm...I just think there's something important I need to tell you. No. I know there's something important I need to tell you. And I, uhm..." He sinks down, sitting at the foot of the bed, suddenly reticent, the wind leaving his sails a bit. Gabe's trying to avert his eyes and failing--he keeps cutting his gaze back to Eli and biting hard at his lip. Eli clears his throat, softer this time, and tries again. "I didn't mean to keep this from you, but with everything else that's been going on...there didn't seem to be a proper time to tell you this, or any correct way. But I didn't want to go on keeping this from you, either. So...that's why I'm calling."
Near silence on the other end of the line. He can tell she's steeling herself for what's to come. "Alright," she finally concedes. "What is it?"
"I'm not seeing another woman." The truth, but still too close to a lie to be permissible. "That is to say--I am seeing someone. Currently."
The silence is more confused now than anything; or perhaps it’s a hesitancy to put the pieces together herself, as though somehow she'd be responsible for the picture they would reveal--like bringing an obscene jigsaw puzzle to a church function.
"What are you saying, Eli?" He can tell by the tone of her voice that it's already there, inhabiting the shadowy space in back of her mind, just waiting for his word before they come rushing out into the light.
"A man, Jennifer," he says softly, almost apologetically. "I'm dating a man."
For a long moment, there is nothing on the other end of the line, and then, suddenly, a light wash of air. "Oh."
"Yeah."
They sit in silence for a while, the three of them, Eli and Jen and Gabe, under the weight of what's just happened, attempting not to be up-ended by the sudden shifts in perspective: the way Jen may now view Eli, how Eli might view himself, even how Gabe might view Jen, depending on her reaction to this news. Gabe shuffles forward suddenly, the sound too loud amid the surrounding silence, and sinks down, squeezing into the gap between Eli's knees. He wraps his arm part-way round Eli's hips, grasping at his waistband, his fingers brushing the skin of his lower back, and rests his head on Eli's thigh.
"Oh," Jen repeats.
"Yeah," Eli echoes.
"Well, um...th-thank you for telling me?" It's clear to him by her tone that she has no idea what to do with this information.
"Yep. Right." His response is stilted, awkward. He waits for her to say goodbye before hanging up, tossing his phone off to the side and flopping onto his back. "Well," he sighs, "That's done, then."
Gabe crawls up his body, his weight comforting as he rests his forehead against Eli's collarbone, pulling at his shirt collar to expose more skin--pressing kisses into his chest. "M'proud of you, Eli," he says softly.
Eli smiles, wrapping his arms around Gabe's bony frame. "You need to eat more--have you lost weight?"
"Shh," Gabe urges gently, turning his head towards the window. Eli can feel an enthusiastic grin spreading against his skin. "It's snowing again," he says, adding with a wistful sigh, "I think I would have really loved the snow."
It isn't the first utterly confusing thing Gabe has said or done since they've been staying in his flat. Their first morning here together, Gabe completely freaked out over Eli leaving his things all over the floor, ranting about how he can't have the flat a mess and exhibiting symptoms of a mild panic attack--symptoms Eli knows quite well. Eli had rushed to pick his things up off the floor and just stood there holding them until Gabe had calmed enough to inform him he could put his things anywhere he liked in the master bedroom--the only room in the house apparently allowed to be in disarray, Gabe's various articles of clothing, bits of jewelry, magazines and DVDs strewn about haphazardly on every available surface. Eli had tried to subtly question him about it later that afternoon, but Gabe artfully dodged each inquiry. A similar situation arose yesterday, in which Eli turned the heating down by just a few degrees and was met with the same alarmingly dramatic reaction from Gabe--ranting about how he can't stand to be cold and generally flying into a blind panic.
So Eli stays silent, opting instead to simply trace up and down Gabe's spine with his fingertips.
"I like to watch the snowflakes hit the window, though," Gabe says finally, after a long stretch of silence. "Makes driving in this weather pretty dangerous."
"You mean to tell me I've been in mortal danger this whole time I've let you drive me around?" Eli snorts out a chuckle as Gabe slaps his bicep and receives a pinch to the side in retaliation. Eli's phone buzzes next to his hip, the screen reading 'Michael'. He groans, bringing a hand up to rub at his face. "Guess who?"
"Don't answer it," Gabe says flatly, still watching the snow fall outside the window.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, fuck 'im. He don't know you're here."
"You think?" The question is moot, though, as Michael's hung up by the time Eli finishes asking it. They lay there in companionable silence for a long moment before Eli says, "I love it, you driving me around in the snow. At night, especially. When it flies past, it looks like stars whizzing by. I've thought that since I was a kid, actually. I always used to watch the windscreen between my parent's heads on snowy-night drives because of that. I figured that must be what astronauts see we they look out the window of a rocket."
"Did you wanna be an astronaut when you was a kid?" Gabe asks quietly, pulling at one of Eli's errant curls.
"Nope."
This, of course, earns a barking laugh from Gabe--Eli silently marveling at how Gabe works his jaw with each big laugh, as though trying to bite hunks of sound in half to share.
*******
Eli wakes later that night to Gabe's breath stirring the curls behind his ear. He pushes his body back into Gabe's, smiling to himself when he feels Gabe's hold tighten round his waist. It's mid-week, the traffic light outside the window, the night's near-quiet allowing him to hear the change in Gabe's breathing.
"I know you're awake," Eli mumbles. He feels Gabe's lips spread in a smile against his nape.
"So?" Gabe challenges, pressing light kisses into his neck. Eli shrugs, wriggling further into his embrace. It's technically the third time he's woken up from a dead sleep, the earlier events of the day rushing back to him, Gabe's words echoing in his mind over and over--"...some higher power hatin' ya for lovin' me...lovin' me...". He turns until he's facing Gabe, presses their foreheads together.
"What are you doing awake?" Eli asks, palm rubbing up and down the length of the arm thrown round his hips. It's Gabe's turn to shrug, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to Eli's mouth in lieu of an answer. Eli sighs into it, surprises himself into momentary stasis when his tongue sweeps over Gabe's bottom lip before he decides to jump in boots and all and suck the younger man's lip between his teeth, biting gently. Gabe shivers, laughs breathlessly, and kisses him back hungrily, his grip on Eli's hip tightening, possessive.
"...for lovin' me...for lovin' me..."
Eli pushes at Gabe's shoulders until he's laying on his back. He was planning on grinding into him the way he had their first night at Eli's flat, yet he somehow finds himself straddling Gabe's hips. He can feel Gabe's cock between his cheeks and he shudders, rocking his hips experimentally, coaxing a moan from him. Gabe reaches over to grab the lube off the nightstand and it suddenly occurs to Eli where this could possibly be heading. The thought makes him nervous, but not enough to roll onto his back and wave the proverbial white flag. He takes the bottle from Gabe's hand and uncaps it, spreading the cool gel over the smaller man's fingers with his own trembling digits.
"I uhm..." He clears his throat, tries again. “I've never done this before."
"We don't have to, Eli," Gabe breathes, stroking a soft palm up and down the outside of Eli's thigh. "But if I was gonna kick you outta bed for being kinda awkward, I'd have done it ages ago." He smirks up at him.
The corner of Eli's mouth quirks up and he swallows back his trepidation. Slowly, he raises his hips, guiding Gabe's slick fingers between his thighs until they're stroking gently between his arse cheeks, searching. Eli crawls up Gabe's body a bit, making the reach easier. His eyes close and his head falls forward as Gabe starts pumping the first finger in and out in earnest. He can feel Gabe staring up at him and his body flushes hotter as he pushes back against the thrusting digit.
"M-more, please," he manages, feeling Gabe's free hand stroking at his thigh. Gabe's room, usually so cool, suddenly feels like a sauna--Eli can feel a thin film of sweat beginning to form around his hairline as two fingers breach him slowly. He can sense Gabe's gaze heavy upon his face, and suddenly feels just as he had in front of the window, so exposed. He arches into Gabe's wriggling fingers with a low whine, his brows knitting together. Gabe shushes him, his hand still stroking his thigh soothingly as he continues to carefully open Eli up.
"I know you ain't done this before," Gabe says softly, "So we're gonna take this slow, yeah? S'gonna feel different than it usually does."
"Different, how?"
"Deeper," Gabe breathes, crooking his fingers.
"Christ," Eli curses under his breath, gripping the headboard. He wills himself to relax, to be patient, until he feels a third finger being eased into him. He takes a deep breath and releases it through his nose before asking in a low, quiet voice, "How, uhm...how do I do this, exactly?" His eyes snap open at the sudden feel of Gabe's fist closing around his dick, stroking him to fullness.
"Well," Gabe begins, cocking his head to one side, "you could, y'know, like, bounce. Or rock your hips. Or both. Just do what feels good, yeah?"
"Bounce?!"
"You ain't gonna crush me, Eli," Gabe chuckles, flexing his fingers, mumbling under his breath, "Christ, you're always so tight."
"I don't know if you've noticed," Eli forces out, brow furrowed deep as Gabe continues to stretch him, "but I'm a bit high-strung."
Gabe laughs, a breathy chuckle escaping his saliva slicked lips, before suddenly turning serious. "I should have taken things slower with you."
"It's possible to go slower than this?" Eli asks, pushing his hips into Gabe's still hand.
"Never mind," Gabe sighs, pulling his fingers free. He grips Eli's hips, attempting to push him back into a workable position. "Have at it."
"And I'm supposed to bounce?"
"Let's just concentrate on getting my cock inside ya, yeah?" Grasping his wrist, Gabe encourages Eli to wrap his hand around the base of his shaft, to line him up. "Take it slow," he instructs, stroking his hands soothingly over the outside of Eli's thighs, his hips.
Eli takes a deep breath, braces his free hand against the mattress next to Gabe's hip, and begins to sink down slowly, until the head of Gabe's cock breaches the tight ring of muscle. He pauses for a moment, a nervous sound--not quite a laugh, not quite anything else, either--escapes his lips. "This already feels weird." He forces the words out in a hushed tone.
"We can stop if you--"
"No, no. I want to." He begins moving again, sinking more of his weight down into Gabe's lap. "I just...don't know what I'm doing."
His confession hangs disregarded in the quiet of the bedroom as he moves--small hums and grunts filling the empty spaces between the two of them as Eli continues his slow descent until finally, thankfully, his arse is brushing the tops of Gabe's thighs. He stares at the pale expanse of lower stomach beneath him, his own hands at either side, fingers splayed against the sheets. It really does feel deeper with his weight anchoring him to Gabe's hips, and he feels so full it's almost enough to steal the breath from him. Gabe's hands are grasping his hips now, thumbs stroking the hollow dip of bones as he stares up at Eli through half-lidded eyes.
"So," Eli breathes, voice a bit shaky. "Do I start bouncing now, or--"
"Damn it, Eli, forget the bouncing," Gabe huffs and pulls at Eli's hips, jerking him forward a bit, forcing a grunt from the larger man, "Just rock your hips, yeah? Or you can kinda...move them in a circle. Just, whatever feels good to ya, alright?"
"Alright," Eli agrees, rocking his hips experimentally. It feels strange, in a pleasurable way, and the sensation makes him want to laugh. He tries leaning forward a bit, which feels even stranger, and this time, he does laugh, a sound as sporadic as the pattern of raindrops against pavement. He watches Gabe's face split into a warm grin beneath him as he continues to grind, hands slipping against sheets until the angle has changed and Gabe isn't as deep as he was before, allowing him to plant his feet flat against the mattress and thrust up into him, and suddenly things become less funny. Eli's eyes fall closed, a soft moan rumbling through his ribcage as they move together, Gabe's grip still firm on his hips.
"Yeah?"
"God, yes."
"Genius."
And it is, the position affording Eli more control than being on his back and completely at Gabe's mercy. It's not enough control to frighten him--not with Gabe's hands clutching his hips, steering him towards the right pace, his voice drifting up to him in breathy direction intermixed with praise. The feel of it is intoxicating, and within a matter of minutes Eli is practically delirious--movements no longer timid, mind too far gone to be calculated--moved purely by desire and instinct as he writhes atop Gabe's lap, one hand braced against the mattress, the other on the headboard. Somewhere in a still-functioning corner of his mind, Gabe's words from earlier keep echoing back to him on a loop--'for lovin' me...loving me...'
"Eli?" Gabe gasps breathlessly beneath him, fingers stroking his thighs. Eli grunts in response, continuing his movements, brow furrowed deep, concentrating only on that spot inside him as the head of Gabe's cock strokes over it again and again. "You're bouncing."
He knows Gabe has said something important--his tone provocative, tinged with amusement even in its breathlessness--but it's impossible to latch onto what's been said with his release so tantalizingly close. There's a bead of sweat clinging to the hair of his eyebrow, threatening to fall and potentially blind him at any moment, but that seems awfully unimportant as well. All he can do is tip his head back as the previously fluid movement of his hips start to stutter erratically. His thighs ache, he's drenched in sweat, and he can feel his erection bobbing embarrassingly with his every movement, but none of that matters as his release crashes violently into him like a meteor screaming through the heavens.
He rides it out, hips continuing to rock even as Gabe's fingertips dig into him uncomfortably--even as he feels the hot slap of Gabe's release deep inside of him. Eli watches Gabe come down from the high as they ride it out together--the way his face goes from grimace-creased to slack-jawed and smooth as he sags back, boneless against the mattress. His eyelids drag themselves apart slowly as Eli's hips cease their motion, and his eyes dance with mirth. "The fuck was that all about," he laughs joyfully, fingers still clutching for Eli's hips even as he slides off his lap, thighs marathon-runner sore.
Eli reaches for the tissues on the nightstand and sets about cleaning himself up. Gabe's fingers close around his wrist as he reaches out to tidy him up. "Eli?" he asks softly, thumb stroking over his knuckles, "S'matter?"
"I love you." He didn't mean to say it out loud--wasn't even aware he'd been thinking it--but the words come rushing out of his mouth all the same. Eli groans at the look of naked surprise on Gabe's face and hides his own in the pillow.
"Don't be stupid," Gabe chuckles finally, bringing the covers up over them both, "You're...infatuated, is all."
"If you say so," Eli mumbles, allowing Gabe to cling to his back like a limpet. "But I'm pretty sure I do."
"Do what?"
"Love you! What d'you..." looking at Gabe over his shoulder, he trails off at the smug look on his face, "Oh, you...arsehole." Eli pulls the pillow up over his head as Gabe cackles, jostling Eli with his knees and elbows as his body contorts with laughter.
"Aw, Eli," Gabe gasps out, calming a bit as he pries the pillow off Eli's head. "I'm just messin' with ya--It's just nice to hear, is all."
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Eli grumbles, snatching his pillow away from Gabe and jamming it back under his head. "'It's just nice to hear is all'. I bet it is."
"It is!" Gabe cries, his voice rising in pitch.
"I bet it is," Eli repeats, voice tense. He shrugs Gabe off his back and rolls over to stare at the ceiling.
"Oh," Gabe says, finally catching on. "Eli..."
"No, it's fine. I don't want you to say anything you don't mean." It's the truth, but Eli ultimately can't hide the hurt in his voice. Gabe sighs heavily, sitting up and swinging a leg over Eli's lap, pinning him beneath his compact frame. He leans down, pressing small, soft kisses to Eli's mouth until he relents and kisses back. Eli moans softly--Gabe sucking on his bottom lip before pulling back and breaking the kiss.
"I just..." Gabe fixes his eyes on Eli's, his demeanor as serious now as when he was orchestrating their robbery plans. "The last serious relationship I was in, it took me six months before I said 'I love you' for the first time, yeah? I just...that's not something I rush into." He shrugs, stroking his hands soothingly over Eli's chest.
"This one of your 'I'm not good with words' things?" The amount of petulance in Eli's voice makes him cringe, and he reaches out to stroke Gabe's thighs in silent apology.
"Kinda, yeah," Gabe shrugs, continuing to trace maddening little patterns against Eli's chest, stroking with flattened palms, "Words get fucked up all the time. S'just easier, for me to...I dunno, use action to get my point across. Y'know?"
Eli, in fact, doesn't know, having always been too afraid of failing to do or say much of anything when it really counts. Blurting 'I love you' a few moments ago was the first real emotional risk he'd taken in a long time--barring the fight with his father. He was expecting the payout to be more rewarding with this, though. He starts wondering just exactly which of Gabe's actions are most evident of his affections, when he's suddenly distracted by a scraping near his right nipple. He glances down, thinking maybe Gabe is scratching him with his fingernails and notices for the first time--Gabe's still wearing his wedding ring, the eternity band's various settings scratching softly at his skin.
"Yeah," Eli says finally. "I think I do."
Author: SaintLi
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Robber/Driver (Eli/Gabe)
Wordcount (this chapter): 7,508
Fandom: Mint Royale
12. The Hanged Man
"The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?"
--Jeremiah 17:9
"I find pieces of myself everywhere, and I cut myself handling them."
--Jeanette Winterson, Lighthousekeeping
My heart did not stop pounding its frantic staccato until Gabe pulled into an underground car park. Even then, I had not settled--my nerves frayed and my breathing harsh. I felt Gabe give my arm a comforting squeeze before killing the engine and climbing out of the car. I took a few deep breaths before following him out into the dark, cool garage. Taking a look around, it struck me how out of place his beat up old Ford looked next to the many newer, sleeker models surrounding it--sports cars, foreign cars, cars that cost more than my entire year's salary.
Gabe popped the boot open and started pulling our suitcases of clothes out, passing a few over to me. His face was placid and unreadable as he set the cases of money at his feet and shut the boot. Cases in hand, I watched him make his way across the garage to the doors of a lift a few feet away.
"Where are we?" I finally asked.
"Hackney." I watched as he pressed a button with his elbow.
"More specific?" I hung back until the doors to the lift opened. Gabe shot me an annoyed look when I lagged behind.
"Shoreditch," he answered.
"Uhm...bit more specific?"
"S'my flat, innit?"
"Oh." I shuffled my feet awkwardly. Admittedly, I had wondered quite a few times about Gabe's place of residence, but the fact I never thought I'd get the chance to see it didn't strike me until that moment. When he told Kat he and I were just 'feeling our relationship out', it honestly felt like a confirmation that he was nowhere near as serious about me as I was him. Part of me figured that, once most of this business blew over, he'd want to part ways and I'd be left with nothing but memories of hotel rooms and waking up to find him sitting in my kitchen, smoking my cigarettes. So during quiet moments, I had taken to imagining what his home might look like--bright colours and velvet or leather furniture--something wholly impractical. I pictured cramped spaces; perhaps he lived over a storefront, a restaurant.
Stepping out of the lift, it was immediately apparent that almost nothing was as I imagined it. There were, indeed, bright colours and ridiculous fabrics as far as the eye could see, but they were dotting long white walls and pristine white wood paneled floors. From the door, it was a clear shot to the kitchen where stainless steel appliances gleamed when he flicked on the lights. It was spacious. It was new, modern. It was obviously expensive.
I saw him clock the openly shocked expression on my face, and he shrugged, dropping the cases of money into an armchair by the door. I stood, stunned, and watched him peel off his jacket, depositing it neatly on the coatrack. His boots came off next, and he slotted them away neatly onto a low shelf against the wall. "I don't do shoes in the house," he told me. "They fuck up the floors."
I didn't set the suitcases down so much as they just sort of fell from my grasp. I felt as though I were on autopilot as I, too, peeled off my coat and hung it on the rack, took my trainers off and placed them on that same shelf. I didn't know what to think, or say, or do, so I just stood there and watched him sashay across the long, open room--past the long, leather sofa sat before a large flat screen TV, past the shabby-chic dining set, past the gleaming cooking island--and into the kitchen.
"I think I've still got some beer," he called out, voice seeming to echo off the walls as he pulled the fridge open. "You want one, mate?"
"I...you live here?" I asked, finally taking a few steps forward. There was a door to my right, and taking a few more steps to pass it, I could see the wall off the living area curved back, presumably leading down a hallway. Gabe stood frozen at the breakfast nook, holding two brown bottles of beer.
"Yeah. I live here." His tone was slow and slightly patronizing, but his stance was uncertain and pigeon-toed.
"I...what do you do?"
"What do I do?" he repeated, the skin between his brows puckering.
"What do you do for a living? What's your job?" I could hear it in my voice, something edging on anger. I felt as though I'd been slapped hard in the face. Something about this just seemed wrong, like some big joke at my expense, like he was toying with me.
"Well, nothing now, probably. I've been away from work for so long helping you that I'm pretty sure my boss won't have me back." He was going from slightly confused and self-conscious to angry very, very rapidly.
"Okay," I conceded. "What were you doing before you started helping me?" I watched his face shift as he glared at me, shuffling his stance to stand straighter, squaring his shoulders. He looked ready for a fight.
"Bartending."
"Bartending!" I laughed--a maniacal noise I had absolutely no control over. Doubled over laughing, my body started to sink until I found myself sitting on the end of the low shelf in the foyer. I couldn't stop, watching as his face hardened into a scowl, his tongue flicked against the point of his canine. For some reason, this made me laugh harder. Looking back, I was probably exhausted--both physically and emotionally over-tired from running around, from not knowing what would happen next. It was all nearly too much, this rigamarole. At the time, though, it felt like I was finally--blissfully--losing what was left of my mind. He had put the beers down on the table by the time I'd wiped the tears from my eyes--his arms crossed over his chest.
"You done laughin'?"
"I think," I wheezed, grasping my knees and taking a few deep, steadying breaths, "Bartending! Of course. How else would you be able to afford a place like this. Bartending." My anger fizzled out into a dull burn through the centre of my chest, not unlike the heat of swallowing straight alcohol.
"You wanna know or not?" he asked finally, voice low and nearly defeated. I didn't look up at him. I couldn't. Instead, I stared down at the pristine floor between my feet and rubbed at my suddenly pounding head.
"Sure."
"My parents bought me it." I nearly laughed again, only this time scornfully, until I looked up at the edge in his voice. His own gaze was averted, staring off to the side, down what I assumed was a hallway, his cheeks red. He looked, for the first time since I'd met him, embarrassed. The laugh died in my throat, coming out as a huffed breath.
The thought suddenly occurred to me, and I spoke it aloud: "You could have given me the money, right?" He shuffled from foot to foot, pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth. After a long moment, he nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"Only you said you didn't want any handouts, remember?" His tone was defensive, but he still wouldn't meet my eyes.
"Yeah," I nodded, letting out a long exhalation. "I remember."
A moment's heavy pause lapsed. He still wasn't meeting my gaze--still stood pigeon toed, gnawing on his thumbnail as he stared down the hallway. My body lifted itself up of its own accord, and I felt myself drawn deeper into the flat until we were only millimetres apart.
"I, uhm...I'm sorry, Gabe. I didn't mean to..." The words left me in a hush, stirring the hair at the crown of his ducked head. I watched him shrug, slide his thumbnail from his mouth and drop his hand to his side. A few quiet seconds passed between us before he reached out and pulled me to him by my belt loops.
"Just...trust me a little more, yeah?" he breathed against my collar. "Got ya this far, ain’t I?"
"You have," I sighed, pulling him closer, my arms wrapped tight around his waist. We stood there for a few moments, holding each other in silence.
"C'mon," Gabe said finally, pulling back. He grasped me gently by the wrist, tugging me away from the kitchen. "I got sumfink for ya."
*****************
He led me to what I later found was the guest bedroom, squeezing my hand as he flicked on the light. He threw me a sly smirk over his shoulder, and I watched as he crossed over to the room's only window--a pane of glass that stretched almost from floor to ceiling. He beckoned me over to him with a jerk of his head as he pulled the curtains back. With the lights on, it was impossible to see anything but his reflection thrown against the window. Blurred through my tired eyes, his face wasn't much more than a pale smudge on the darkened glass.
I felt him grasp the waistband of my jeans, pulling me closer to him, peering up at me with a contrite look on his face. "I wanna try somethin', yeah?"
The most I could muster in response was a small shrug, too exhausted by everything--the running, the stress, the stupid bit of contention between Gabe and I in the kitchen just moments before--to do more than blink down at him through bleary eyes. His face brightened, a look of relief washing over him as he stood on his toes to kiss the corner of my mouth, a whispered 'genius' hanging between us as he pulled back. He fixed me with a heavy gaze for a long moment before lurching back up onto his toes, kissing me again--deeper this time, more heated. I abandoned myself to it, allowing him in, his tongue flicking against the back of my teeth, mine curling against his.
I could feel my cock lazily beginning to swell as his hands stroked over my chest, my back, peeling my shirt away. This, I thought, is exactly what I needed at that moment--to allow myself to get lost in him for a while, to revel in this proximity until everything else became inconsequential. It wasn't until I watched as he trailed biting kisses down my chest that I realized we were still standing in front of the window, the light from the ceiling illuminating his ever-widening grin.
Quickly, he spun me towards the glass. My hands shot out, bracing myself against either side of the window, my own bewildered face reflected back at me. I watched in the darkened glass as his hands traced over my chest and stomach, fingers dancing over my zip. The top of his head appeared suddenly over my shoulder, meeting my reflected gaze.
"Can you feel it?" he asked, slipping his hand into my now opened jeans, fisting me gently. "Strangers on the street, in the building across the alley. Their eyes on you. Hmm?" Excitement spiked along my spine even as shame started to swirl in my belly. I could feel it, was the thing. It felt as though a sea of people had gathered to watch us in the darkness beyond. I was torn between wanting to run screaming from the room, and wanting to stand my ground and let everyone see, though the instinct to run was slightly stronger. "They're gonna watch you come for me," he breathed into my ear as he pulled me free. I brought my hands down quickly, covering myself.
"I, uhm, I don't know about this, Gabriel."
"Eli, trust me, yeah?" He nuzzled behind my ear, kissing me gently. "It'll be fine--I promise. I know what you need, and I know how to keep you safe."
I'm almost ashamed to admit, but that's all it took. I removed my hands, placing them back on either side of the window as I swallowed the lump in my throat. He pushed my jeans and pants down where they pooled at my ankles, and kicked my legs apart as far as they could go. I felt his hands running down my back, palms caressing my sides as he reached around to toy with my nipples. His breath grazed my shoulder as he told me to stay where I was--his footsteps retreating, echoing down the hall.
I caught my own gaze in the window's reflection and silently cursed myself. My father's words flooded my mind--"A fool and a fornicator, both". Oh if he only knew; I'd allowed myself to be led around by the cock into armed robbery and murder. On the run from the police. Constantly distracted by brilliant blue eyes, a wicked tongue and clever hands. Opening myself up to a man I know nothing about who can read me like a book. And who now has me naked and hard before a picture window where anyone could see us, call the cops, have us arrested on indecency charges. Which could trigger a series of events that could land us both in jail for a very, very long time.
I jumped when I felt Gabe's hand on my shoulder, snapping me violently out of my reverie. Hearing the sound of a bottle being uncapped behind me, I bent forward without being told and was rewarded with a series of kisses across my back. His slick fingers traced my crease, fingertips teasing my hole until a quiet plea escaped my lips. With a soft chuckle, he roughly pushed a finger into me, the burn of it forcing a strangled cry from my mouth. His tongue circled the vertebrae at the top of my spine as I let out a huff of breath, rocking my hips to meet his lengthening strokes. He took his time, keeping me in front of the window for as long as possible before breaching me with a second finger. The desire to come mingled with my growing shame, swirling in my belly, pooling at the base of my spine.
"Please, Gabe," I choked out, closing my eyes to my reflection--to the judgement of the invisible audience below us.
The only response I received was a small tutting noise vibrating against my shoulder as his fingertips pressed hard against that spot deep inside me. I pressed my forehead to the cool windowpane as I pushed my hips back, and was met with a hard slap to my arse.
"Straighten up, yeah?" His voice was heavy, strained.
I did as I was told, standing up a bit straighter as he continued to stroke his fingers over my prostate, flexing his wrist. My forehead wrinkled against the cold glass beneath it, my hand leaving the wall to grasp my aching erection. Gabe bit my shoulder hard, his tongue stroking over the skin caught between his crooked teeth before sucking at it. A sob rattled in my chest and broke in my throat before tumbling out of my mouth. Tears prickled behind my eyelids, stinging me. I made another, softer plea--so close to the edge my body was trembling as I struggled to stay upright.
"You can come any time you want, Eli," Gabe whispered against my saliva slicked skin. He waited until I'd begun stroking myself in earnest before adding, "Show out for the people, yeah? Let them see you come undone."
I came with a shudder and a strangled moan, falling to my knees as he pulled free of me. I opened my eyes--my watery gaze falling upon my release, trailing slowly down the windowpane. Gabe's fingers gripped my hair firmly, moving my face towards the glass as he instructed me to 'clean up my mess'. I wondered, somewhere in the back of my mind, why I was going along with this as my tongue streaked saliva and semen over the glass til it was clear. As Gabe turned my head towards his lap, I realized that I was somehow enjoying these proceedings. Another jolt of shame struck me at my core.
I watched through tired eyes as Gabe pulled himself free, his other hand still gripping the hair at the back of my head. I opened my mouth when the head of his cock bumped the corner of it, but he pulled back from me. He repeated this process several times until I pleaded for him to let me suck him off--his shaft slipping between my lips, filling my mouth with his familiar taste. I sucked, my cheeks hollowing, and was grateful of the fist in my hair holding me still as he began to thrust--too exhausted to move on my own. I spluttered when he came, his release trickling down my throat, and coughed outright once he pulled out. I collapsed against the floor, realizing only after I'd stopped coughing that I was crying, openly weeping with my face pressed against his expensive wood floor.
I wept for everything I'd lost--what was left of my father's respect, my mother, the man I thought I was before I met Gabe, the man I had tried to be, any sense of normalcy, my relationship with Jen. I wept for the situation I found myself in, how absolutely hopeless the whole thing felt. I wept until dry heaves made my stomach clench and my throat constrict.
And through it all, Gabe was there--folding my too-large frame into his arms, rocking me as best he could, carding his fingers gently through my hair. "You're alright, darlin'," he assured in a whisper. "I've gotcha. You're alright. That's it--let it out. Just let it go, there ya are, darlin'." I'd calmed considerably before he whispered, "Look, Eli," grasping my chin to lift my head toward the window.
I opened my eyes, blinking in confusion. Sometime between letting me fall to the floor and scooping me into his arms, he'd managed to turn out the lights--the darkness surrounding us allowing me to see out the window for the first time. My gaze was met by nothing more than the plain brick wall of the building opposite us, much closer than I'd anticipated. I leaned forward and could see that the narrow alleyway below us was so crowded with discarded items--old bits of furniture, rusted out machines--it'd be impossible for anything larger than a stray cat to navigate. My head fell back against Gabe's shoulder, a weak laugh of relief escaping me as the last of the tension drained from my limbs. The full weight of my body collapsed against Gabe's wiry frame, and we fell gracelessly back onto the floor.
He tangled our legs together, kicking my jeans and pants off my legs the rest of the way, freeing my ankles. Spent, my body felt too heavy to lift, but my soul felt weightless, clean and full of light. I let my head fall to the side, nuzzling at his throat until I could feel the steady beat of his pulse under my nose.
"Thank you," I breathed, barely more than a whisper.
"S'alright." I smiled at the warmth of his tone, lips stretching against his neck. "You needed it, mate."
***************
"It's been three days. Do you think--" Eli cuts himself off, wringing his hands in his lap. He's perched himself on top of the toilet lid and is watching the careful, steady movement of Gabe pulling his razor across his skin, shearing away the stubble. His left side is completely smooth. It strikes Eli suddenly how young and effeminate Gabe looks without the stubble, and he has to hold in a nervous chuckle.
"Do I think what, mate?" Gabe mumbles, rinsing his razor out in the basin, splashing water to and fro.
"Nothing. I'm just needlessly worrying. Not that I don't have any right to worry--not that I shouldn't be worried, what with everything that's going on. It's just--" It's Gabe who cuts him off this time with a shaving-foamy kiss. "Do you think she's decided yet?" he asks, the second their lips part. Gave gives him a weary grin, turning once more to resume his ablutions.
"I think it's a big decision, and she's trying her best, yeah? S'not really something you can just decide over breakfast. It ain't like going skating or to the park, mate. S'raising a tiny human being with someone you--" Gabe flicks his eyes towards Eli in the mirror, looking conflicted for a moment before continuing his thought, "Someone you might not recognize anymore."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. S'just..."-he brings the razor down again, splash! splash!-"It was prolly a shock, is all. Thinking for--what? four years?--that you're straight as an arrow and then come to find out you've been letting me bugger you senseless practically since we met." He gives a little shrug, the rasp of razor against stubble sounding almost too loud in the small, echo-y space. "I mean, if she didn't know that about you...I dunno. Why do we bother talkin’, huh? I told you when we met I'm no good at it."
"I haven't told her," Eli mutters, head hanging.
"What?"
"I haven't told her about you. I mean...she knows about you. In a roundabout way. She just...you know...doesn't know you're a man."
"You told her I'm a woman?! So, what? If I ever wanna be seen with you, I gotta wear a dress now? Coz lemme tell ya, mate--I'm fairly fuckin' certain I wouldn't make for a pretty bird."
"No, no. I didn't tell her you're a man. But I didn't correct her when she assumed you're a woman." He looks up hesitantly, hearing a disbelieving laugh above him, to see Gabe hastily rubbing his face dry with a towel. He pulls the stopper from the basin's drain with more force than necessary.
"Unbelievable. Un-be-fucking-lievable. I just...God damn it, Eli!" He laughs again, a bitter, scornful sound. "I just...fuck! You really are somethin', you know that? I gotta constantly reassure you I'm still interested in ya, I'm real fuckin' careful with ya all the time, I gotta make sure your...your stupid fuckin' sense of masculinity is still intact, gotta try to calm your fears about some higher being hatin' ya for lovin' me--and what do I get in return, huh? You can't even tell your ex I have a dick. This, this is just...fuckin' great, Eli. You're really somethin', you know that?"
He pushes past Eli, making a hasty retreat from the room. Eli feels the urge to follow him, the confined tiled space suddenly too hot--and then he realizes the heat is an internal thing, as opposed to an external force. He's burning up, and while he can't figure out if the rise in temperature is due to anger or shame, he's certain he needs to remove his jumper before it either cooks or strangles him to death. He bumps clumsily into the commode, attempting to both divest himself of his scratchy knitted prison and follow Gabe down the narrow hall. He attempts to ditch his jumper on the floor--knowing full well he'll be yelled at for it--and the cuff catches on his wrist. He wrenches his hand from the fabric's grasp and turns, colliding into Gabriel, who is suddenly standing next to him looking both sullen and slightly amused.
"I need a cigarette," he informs, his tone haughty. Eli grabs him by the wrist, registering Gabe's glance at the abandoned jumper on his pristine floor as he turns, pulling the smaller man towards the bedroom. "Look, Eli," Gabe sighs, still allowing himself to be towed along, "I'm too angry for angry sex right now, okay? Just--where'd you leave the fags, hmm?"
The bedroom, naturally, is the coldest room in the flat, and the rush of air that hits him makes Eli wish he hadn't preemptively ditched his layers. He lets go of Gabe's wrist, barely registering the angry red braclet his fingers left behind, and snatches his mobile up off the bedside table, holding it up in front of Gabe's face.
"S'a phone, mate," Gabe says slowly, as if trying to explain something to a child. He watches with a cocked eyebrow, the tip of his tongue wedged into the corner of his mouth, as Eli presses buttons on the phone. He holds it up once more, thumb poised on the call button, the name Jen on the screen, underscored by her mobile number. Gabe's eyes widen a fraction, but he remains silent, the absence of noise almost challenging.
Eli presses the button, holds the phone up to his ear. A few steps away, Gabe shifts his weight, cocking a hip, crosses his arms over his skinny, bare chest.
"Eli? Hello?"
Eli belatedly realizes he's been paying attention to nothing but the configuration of Gabriel's limbs, and it takes him a moment to refocus on his objective. He clears his throat.
"Hi, Jen. Sorry. I uhm...I just think there's something important I need to tell you. No. I know there's something important I need to tell you. And I, uhm..." He sinks down, sitting at the foot of the bed, suddenly reticent, the wind leaving his sails a bit. Gabe's trying to avert his eyes and failing--he keeps cutting his gaze back to Eli and biting hard at his lip. Eli clears his throat, softer this time, and tries again. "I didn't mean to keep this from you, but with everything else that's been going on...there didn't seem to be a proper time to tell you this, or any correct way. But I didn't want to go on keeping this from you, either. So...that's why I'm calling."
Near silence on the other end of the line. He can tell she's steeling herself for what's to come. "Alright," she finally concedes. "What is it?"
"I'm not seeing another woman." The truth, but still too close to a lie to be permissible. "That is to say--I am seeing someone. Currently."
The silence is more confused now than anything; or perhaps it’s a hesitancy to put the pieces together herself, as though somehow she'd be responsible for the picture they would reveal--like bringing an obscene jigsaw puzzle to a church function.
"What are you saying, Eli?" He can tell by the tone of her voice that it's already there, inhabiting the shadowy space in back of her mind, just waiting for his word before they come rushing out into the light.
"A man, Jennifer," he says softly, almost apologetically. "I'm dating a man."
For a long moment, there is nothing on the other end of the line, and then, suddenly, a light wash of air. "Oh."
"Yeah."
They sit in silence for a while, the three of them, Eli and Jen and Gabe, under the weight of what's just happened, attempting not to be up-ended by the sudden shifts in perspective: the way Jen may now view Eli, how Eli might view himself, even how Gabe might view Jen, depending on her reaction to this news. Gabe shuffles forward suddenly, the sound too loud amid the surrounding silence, and sinks down, squeezing into the gap between Eli's knees. He wraps his arm part-way round Eli's hips, grasping at his waistband, his fingers brushing the skin of his lower back, and rests his head on Eli's thigh.
"Oh," Jen repeats.
"Yeah," Eli echoes.
"Well, um...th-thank you for telling me?" It's clear to him by her tone that she has no idea what to do with this information.
"Yep. Right." His response is stilted, awkward. He waits for her to say goodbye before hanging up, tossing his phone off to the side and flopping onto his back. "Well," he sighs, "That's done, then."
Gabe crawls up his body, his weight comforting as he rests his forehead against Eli's collarbone, pulling at his shirt collar to expose more skin--pressing kisses into his chest. "M'proud of you, Eli," he says softly.
Eli smiles, wrapping his arms around Gabe's bony frame. "You need to eat more--have you lost weight?"
"Shh," Gabe urges gently, turning his head towards the window. Eli can feel an enthusiastic grin spreading against his skin. "It's snowing again," he says, adding with a wistful sigh, "I think I would have really loved the snow."
It isn't the first utterly confusing thing Gabe has said or done since they've been staying in his flat. Their first morning here together, Gabe completely freaked out over Eli leaving his things all over the floor, ranting about how he can't have the flat a mess and exhibiting symptoms of a mild panic attack--symptoms Eli knows quite well. Eli had rushed to pick his things up off the floor and just stood there holding them until Gabe had calmed enough to inform him he could put his things anywhere he liked in the master bedroom--the only room in the house apparently allowed to be in disarray, Gabe's various articles of clothing, bits of jewelry, magazines and DVDs strewn about haphazardly on every available surface. Eli had tried to subtly question him about it later that afternoon, but Gabe artfully dodged each inquiry. A similar situation arose yesterday, in which Eli turned the heating down by just a few degrees and was met with the same alarmingly dramatic reaction from Gabe--ranting about how he can't stand to be cold and generally flying into a blind panic.
So Eli stays silent, opting instead to simply trace up and down Gabe's spine with his fingertips.
"I like to watch the snowflakes hit the window, though," Gabe says finally, after a long stretch of silence. "Makes driving in this weather pretty dangerous."
"You mean to tell me I've been in mortal danger this whole time I've let you drive me around?" Eli snorts out a chuckle as Gabe slaps his bicep and receives a pinch to the side in retaliation. Eli's phone buzzes next to his hip, the screen reading 'Michael'. He groans, bringing a hand up to rub at his face. "Guess who?"
"Don't answer it," Gabe says flatly, still watching the snow fall outside the window.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, fuck 'im. He don't know you're here."
"You think?" The question is moot, though, as Michael's hung up by the time Eli finishes asking it. They lay there in companionable silence for a long moment before Eli says, "I love it, you driving me around in the snow. At night, especially. When it flies past, it looks like stars whizzing by. I've thought that since I was a kid, actually. I always used to watch the windscreen between my parent's heads on snowy-night drives because of that. I figured that must be what astronauts see we they look out the window of a rocket."
"Did you wanna be an astronaut when you was a kid?" Gabe asks quietly, pulling at one of Eli's errant curls.
"Nope."
This, of course, earns a barking laugh from Gabe--Eli silently marveling at how Gabe works his jaw with each big laugh, as though trying to bite hunks of sound in half to share.
*******
Eli wakes later that night to Gabe's breath stirring the curls behind his ear. He pushes his body back into Gabe's, smiling to himself when he feels Gabe's hold tighten round his waist. It's mid-week, the traffic light outside the window, the night's near-quiet allowing him to hear the change in Gabe's breathing.
"I know you're awake," Eli mumbles. He feels Gabe's lips spread in a smile against his nape.
"So?" Gabe challenges, pressing light kisses into his neck. Eli shrugs, wriggling further into his embrace. It's technically the third time he's woken up from a dead sleep, the earlier events of the day rushing back to him, Gabe's words echoing in his mind over and over--"...some higher power hatin' ya for lovin' me...lovin' me...". He turns until he's facing Gabe, presses their foreheads together.
"What are you doing awake?" Eli asks, palm rubbing up and down the length of the arm thrown round his hips. It's Gabe's turn to shrug, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to Eli's mouth in lieu of an answer. Eli sighs into it, surprises himself into momentary stasis when his tongue sweeps over Gabe's bottom lip before he decides to jump in boots and all and suck the younger man's lip between his teeth, biting gently. Gabe shivers, laughs breathlessly, and kisses him back hungrily, his grip on Eli's hip tightening, possessive.
"...for lovin' me...for lovin' me..."
Eli pushes at Gabe's shoulders until he's laying on his back. He was planning on grinding into him the way he had their first night at Eli's flat, yet he somehow finds himself straddling Gabe's hips. He can feel Gabe's cock between his cheeks and he shudders, rocking his hips experimentally, coaxing a moan from him. Gabe reaches over to grab the lube off the nightstand and it suddenly occurs to Eli where this could possibly be heading. The thought makes him nervous, but not enough to roll onto his back and wave the proverbial white flag. He takes the bottle from Gabe's hand and uncaps it, spreading the cool gel over the smaller man's fingers with his own trembling digits.
"I uhm..." He clears his throat, tries again. “I've never done this before."
"We don't have to, Eli," Gabe breathes, stroking a soft palm up and down the outside of Eli's thigh. "But if I was gonna kick you outta bed for being kinda awkward, I'd have done it ages ago." He smirks up at him.
The corner of Eli's mouth quirks up and he swallows back his trepidation. Slowly, he raises his hips, guiding Gabe's slick fingers between his thighs until they're stroking gently between his arse cheeks, searching. Eli crawls up Gabe's body a bit, making the reach easier. His eyes close and his head falls forward as Gabe starts pumping the first finger in and out in earnest. He can feel Gabe staring up at him and his body flushes hotter as he pushes back against the thrusting digit.
"M-more, please," he manages, feeling Gabe's free hand stroking at his thigh. Gabe's room, usually so cool, suddenly feels like a sauna--Eli can feel a thin film of sweat beginning to form around his hairline as two fingers breach him slowly. He can sense Gabe's gaze heavy upon his face, and suddenly feels just as he had in front of the window, so exposed. He arches into Gabe's wriggling fingers with a low whine, his brows knitting together. Gabe shushes him, his hand still stroking his thigh soothingly as he continues to carefully open Eli up.
"I know you ain't done this before," Gabe says softly, "So we're gonna take this slow, yeah? S'gonna feel different than it usually does."
"Different, how?"
"Deeper," Gabe breathes, crooking his fingers.
"Christ," Eli curses under his breath, gripping the headboard. He wills himself to relax, to be patient, until he feels a third finger being eased into him. He takes a deep breath and releases it through his nose before asking in a low, quiet voice, "How, uhm...how do I do this, exactly?" His eyes snap open at the sudden feel of Gabe's fist closing around his dick, stroking him to fullness.
"Well," Gabe begins, cocking his head to one side, "you could, y'know, like, bounce. Or rock your hips. Or both. Just do what feels good, yeah?"
"Bounce?!"
"You ain't gonna crush me, Eli," Gabe chuckles, flexing his fingers, mumbling under his breath, "Christ, you're always so tight."
"I don't know if you've noticed," Eli forces out, brow furrowed deep as Gabe continues to stretch him, "but I'm a bit high-strung."
Gabe laughs, a breathy chuckle escaping his saliva slicked lips, before suddenly turning serious. "I should have taken things slower with you."
"It's possible to go slower than this?" Eli asks, pushing his hips into Gabe's still hand.
"Never mind," Gabe sighs, pulling his fingers free. He grips Eli's hips, attempting to push him back into a workable position. "Have at it."
"And I'm supposed to bounce?"
"Let's just concentrate on getting my cock inside ya, yeah?" Grasping his wrist, Gabe encourages Eli to wrap his hand around the base of his shaft, to line him up. "Take it slow," he instructs, stroking his hands soothingly over the outside of Eli's thighs, his hips.
Eli takes a deep breath, braces his free hand against the mattress next to Gabe's hip, and begins to sink down slowly, until the head of Gabe's cock breaches the tight ring of muscle. He pauses for a moment, a nervous sound--not quite a laugh, not quite anything else, either--escapes his lips. "This already feels weird." He forces the words out in a hushed tone.
"We can stop if you--"
"No, no. I want to." He begins moving again, sinking more of his weight down into Gabe's lap. "I just...don't know what I'm doing."
His confession hangs disregarded in the quiet of the bedroom as he moves--small hums and grunts filling the empty spaces between the two of them as Eli continues his slow descent until finally, thankfully, his arse is brushing the tops of Gabe's thighs. He stares at the pale expanse of lower stomach beneath him, his own hands at either side, fingers splayed against the sheets. It really does feel deeper with his weight anchoring him to Gabe's hips, and he feels so full it's almost enough to steal the breath from him. Gabe's hands are grasping his hips now, thumbs stroking the hollow dip of bones as he stares up at Eli through half-lidded eyes.
"So," Eli breathes, voice a bit shaky. "Do I start bouncing now, or--"
"Damn it, Eli, forget the bouncing," Gabe huffs and pulls at Eli's hips, jerking him forward a bit, forcing a grunt from the larger man, "Just rock your hips, yeah? Or you can kinda...move them in a circle. Just, whatever feels good to ya, alright?"
"Alright," Eli agrees, rocking his hips experimentally. It feels strange, in a pleasurable way, and the sensation makes him want to laugh. He tries leaning forward a bit, which feels even stranger, and this time, he does laugh, a sound as sporadic as the pattern of raindrops against pavement. He watches Gabe's face split into a warm grin beneath him as he continues to grind, hands slipping against sheets until the angle has changed and Gabe isn't as deep as he was before, allowing him to plant his feet flat against the mattress and thrust up into him, and suddenly things become less funny. Eli's eyes fall closed, a soft moan rumbling through his ribcage as they move together, Gabe's grip still firm on his hips.
"Yeah?"
"God, yes."
"Genius."
And it is, the position affording Eli more control than being on his back and completely at Gabe's mercy. It's not enough control to frighten him--not with Gabe's hands clutching his hips, steering him towards the right pace, his voice drifting up to him in breathy direction intermixed with praise. The feel of it is intoxicating, and within a matter of minutes Eli is practically delirious--movements no longer timid, mind too far gone to be calculated--moved purely by desire and instinct as he writhes atop Gabe's lap, one hand braced against the mattress, the other on the headboard. Somewhere in a still-functioning corner of his mind, Gabe's words from earlier keep echoing back to him on a loop--'for lovin' me...loving me...'
"Eli?" Gabe gasps breathlessly beneath him, fingers stroking his thighs. Eli grunts in response, continuing his movements, brow furrowed deep, concentrating only on that spot inside him as the head of Gabe's cock strokes over it again and again. "You're bouncing."
He knows Gabe has said something important--his tone provocative, tinged with amusement even in its breathlessness--but it's impossible to latch onto what's been said with his release so tantalizingly close. There's a bead of sweat clinging to the hair of his eyebrow, threatening to fall and potentially blind him at any moment, but that seems awfully unimportant as well. All he can do is tip his head back as the previously fluid movement of his hips start to stutter erratically. His thighs ache, he's drenched in sweat, and he can feel his erection bobbing embarrassingly with his every movement, but none of that matters as his release crashes violently into him like a meteor screaming through the heavens.
He rides it out, hips continuing to rock even as Gabe's fingertips dig into him uncomfortably--even as he feels the hot slap of Gabe's release deep inside of him. Eli watches Gabe come down from the high as they ride it out together--the way his face goes from grimace-creased to slack-jawed and smooth as he sags back, boneless against the mattress. His eyelids drag themselves apart slowly as Eli's hips cease their motion, and his eyes dance with mirth. "The fuck was that all about," he laughs joyfully, fingers still clutching for Eli's hips even as he slides off his lap, thighs marathon-runner sore.
Eli reaches for the tissues on the nightstand and sets about cleaning himself up. Gabe's fingers close around his wrist as he reaches out to tidy him up. "Eli?" he asks softly, thumb stroking over his knuckles, "S'matter?"
"I love you." He didn't mean to say it out loud--wasn't even aware he'd been thinking it--but the words come rushing out of his mouth all the same. Eli groans at the look of naked surprise on Gabe's face and hides his own in the pillow.
"Don't be stupid," Gabe chuckles finally, bringing the covers up over them both, "You're...infatuated, is all."
"If you say so," Eli mumbles, allowing Gabe to cling to his back like a limpet. "But I'm pretty sure I do."
"Do what?"
"Love you! What d'you..." looking at Gabe over his shoulder, he trails off at the smug look on his face, "Oh, you...arsehole." Eli pulls the pillow up over his head as Gabe cackles, jostling Eli with his knees and elbows as his body contorts with laughter.
"Aw, Eli," Gabe gasps out, calming a bit as he pries the pillow off Eli's head. "I'm just messin' with ya--It's just nice to hear, is all."
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Eli grumbles, snatching his pillow away from Gabe and jamming it back under his head. "'It's just nice to hear is all'. I bet it is."
"It is!" Gabe cries, his voice rising in pitch.
"I bet it is," Eli repeats, voice tense. He shrugs Gabe off his back and rolls over to stare at the ceiling.
"Oh," Gabe says, finally catching on. "Eli..."
"No, it's fine. I don't want you to say anything you don't mean." It's the truth, but Eli ultimately can't hide the hurt in his voice. Gabe sighs heavily, sitting up and swinging a leg over Eli's lap, pinning him beneath his compact frame. He leans down, pressing small, soft kisses to Eli's mouth until he relents and kisses back. Eli moans softly--Gabe sucking on his bottom lip before pulling back and breaking the kiss.
"I just..." Gabe fixes his eyes on Eli's, his demeanor as serious now as when he was orchestrating their robbery plans. "The last serious relationship I was in, it took me six months before I said 'I love you' for the first time, yeah? I just...that's not something I rush into." He shrugs, stroking his hands soothingly over Eli's chest.
"This one of your 'I'm not good with words' things?" The amount of petulance in Eli's voice makes him cringe, and he reaches out to stroke Gabe's thighs in silent apology.
"Kinda, yeah," Gabe shrugs, continuing to trace maddening little patterns against Eli's chest, stroking with flattened palms, "Words get fucked up all the time. S'just easier, for me to...I dunno, use action to get my point across. Y'know?"
Eli, in fact, doesn't know, having always been too afraid of failing to do or say much of anything when it really counts. Blurting 'I love you' a few moments ago was the first real emotional risk he'd taken in a long time--barring the fight with his father. He was expecting the payout to be more rewarding with this, though. He starts wondering just exactly which of Gabe's actions are most evident of his affections, when he's suddenly distracted by a scraping near his right nipple. He glances down, thinking maybe Gabe is scratching him with his fingernails and notices for the first time--Gabe's still wearing his wedding ring, the eternity band's various settings scratching softly at his skin.
"Yeah," Eli says finally. "I think I do."