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smackenzie"Take me home with you," he said. "I'm all yours."
Aurelian seemed to find that funny, which just made Sam grin. He felt like he'd never be able to get that expression off his face, like tomorrow morning he'd wake up and he'd still be grinning like a doofus. He'd go in to work and they'd think he'd gotten laid.
Oh good god, he might get laid. He wasn't actually sure how he felt about that.
"Are you going to get in the car, or just stand there grinning at me?" Aurelian asked. "It's unlocked."
"Oh," Sam said, abruptly coming back to himself. In addition to grinning like an idiot he seemed to have spent an inordinate amount of time zoning out. What could he say, Aurelian was a little distracting. "Sorry. I was just thinking."
"Oh? What about?"
"You."
"Oh." Now Aurelian smiled too, a pleased smile that somehow managed to look shy. Damn, Sam thought, he can't be nervous too, can he? It'll be a miracle if anything happens.
"The door's still locked."
"You're right. Silly of me. Sometimes I forget." Aurelian opened the driver side door, slid in and across, and unlocked Sam's door. Sam got in the car.
"Damn, it's cold in here. Turn on the heat."
"I think you have to turn the ignition first, and let the car warm up."
"You're teasing me again."
"Why yes, I am." But Aurelian was grinning, and his voice was light, and Sam didn't mind. He was used to it, anyway, from the record store and Scott and Teddy and his cousin and his Uncle Kenny. And since they teased him out of affection (usually), he assumed Aurelian was doing it out of the same impulse. It made him all warm and tingly. It made some parts of him tingly, anyway.
Fortunately Aurelian didn't seem to need directions back to his house, which was a good thing since Sam didn't want to be responsible for getting them lost again. Bad enough Aurelian's hand kept drifting off the stick shift to rest on his knee or his thigh. Sam turned the radio on and twirled the dial until he found the jazz station, and Peggy Lee's sultry voice poured out of the Volvo's little speakers in smooth, dark waves.
Sun lights up the daytime, moon lights up the night
I light up when you call my name, and you know I'm gonna treat you right
You give me fever... when you kiss me, fever when you hold me tight
Fever... in the morning, fever all through the night.
Sam felt himself blushing at the karmic appropriateness of the song. He looked over at Aurelian, who looked over at him, and they smiled at each other, identical knowing smiles.
Everybody's got the fever, that is something you all know
Fever isn't such a new thing, fever started long ago.
Romeo loved Juliet, Juliet she felt the same
When he put his arms around her, he said "Julie baby you're my flame"
Thou givest fever, when we kisseth, fever with thy flaming youth
Fever - I'm afire, fever yea I burn forsooth.
"'Forsooth,'" Sam repeated. "Yea, verily, thou dost give me the fever. My dad loved her."
"Who is this singing?"
"Peggy Lee! Dude, you don't know Peggy Lee?" Sacrilege! Sam would have to educate this guy on the finer points of jazz vocalists.
"Not personally, no." (God, he was cute, Sam thought, grinning like that.) "I know this song, but I never knew who sang it."
"Peggy Lee. Now you know. Oh man, am I ever gonna have to play you some of my records.... If I'd known how ignorant - uneducated - you were about jazz singers I would've told you to come by the store sooner, so I could play you stuff. Jeez."
"I'm open to being educated."
"You know, like, Cassandra Wilson? She's more contemporary."
"No."
"Oh boy. Ella Fitzgerald? Billie Holiday? Sarah Vaughan? Lena Horne? My mom likes Lena."
"She's an opera singer."
"Lena Horne? Yeah, but she started out singing jazz. She started at the Cotton Club, I know you've heard of that. It was a movie, too."
"I've been to the Cotton Club. It's in New York, in Harlem."
"Yeah. You've really been there?" Sam's mouth fell open. Aurelian wasn't as musically ignorant as he'd thought. "Seriously? When? Who'd you see?"
"It was... a long time ago."
"Dude, you're my age. More or less. How long ago could it have been? How'd you get in? I thought it was this super-exclusive place. Gangsters used to go there!"
"I know. It feels like a long time. Tell me who this is now on the radio." Aurelian's hand left the stick shift to point to the radio, and then dropped to Sam's thigh for a bit. Sam tried not to shift around in his seat. He was really trying not to fidget, and trying even harder not to think about... well... trying hard not to think about getting hard.
(It was hard. Everything was hard, or at least getting that way.)
The two of them listened to the radio long enough for Sam to figure out who was singing now. The station was probably in the middle of a special on female vocalists. Not that he minded - some of them did have beautiful voices and used them like just another instrument, which he liked. He didn't normally like jazz singers, but he would readily admit that there were some women he could listen to all night.
"This is Cassandra Wilson," he said. "A little more modern than Peggy or Ella or Lady Day. That's Billie Holiday," he added, hoping he didn't sound too pedantic. But sometimes you ran that risk, asking him about jazz, or admitting you didn't know anything about it.
"I knew that," Aurelian said playfully. "I had a friend once who adored Ella Fitzgerald. If you came to the house and he learned you hadn't heard her sing, he wouldn't let you leave until he'd played enough of her albums to give you at least a basic education in her repertoire. He was a little mad that way."
"So you're not totally ignorant," Sam conceded. "Albums?"
"Yes, albums. Vinyl. I imagine he has them all on CD now, or at least as many as have come out."
There was something weird about that sentence, combined with the sentences that preceded it, but Sam couldn't put his finger on exactly what. Maybe it was hearing someone his age (more or less) refer to "albums." Vinyl. No one owned vinyl any more, unless they were like him and had inherited it, or they collected old and obscure music that wasn't out on CD, or they DJ'ed with turntables. Every so often they'd get kids at Play It Again who were looking for some 12" single or some dance track or something they could slap on a turntable and mix for the beat at a party or local club or somewhere. Every so often the store actually had what they wanted, which always gave Sam a kick. He loved being able to help people fulfill their musical needs.
Which right now seemed to be finding some good jazz for Aurelian to listen to. Maybe some more modern stuff.... He only hoped the guy didn't turn out to be a fan of Kenny G.
(Bruce had an especially bad week the previous October and had ceremonially taken all the Kenny G CDs out of the store, put them in a metal trash can in the alley in back, and set them on fire. He was just lucky no one called the cops.)
They occupied themselves the rest of the way back to Aurelian's house by talking about music in general and jazz in particular, partly because it was something Sam knew a lot about and loved to discuss, and partly because Aurelian seemed to like listening to him talk. Sam still hoped he wasn't being pedantic, but Aurelian didn't seem to mind.
By the time they got to the house, Sam was relaxed enough for it to have slipped his mind he was on a date (a date!) with a guy (a guy!) whose place they were driving back to so they could make out on the couch. At the very least, make out on the couch. Sam wasn't any more sure how he felt about all the stuff that came after kissing, but he wasn't freaking out either, and that had to be a good thing.
Aurelian lived in a brownstone in one of the nice old parts of the city. He pointed to his house as they drove by, and then he turned the corner, swung into an alley, and drove down that until they reached his garage. It was a very small garage, just wide enough and long enough for a car not much bigger than the Volvo. It had an automatic door opener, for which Sam at least was grateful, and when Aurelian pulled in and hit the button to close the door behind him, Sam was surprised to see the garage was completely empty, except for a door at the opposite end which he imagined opened into the back yard.
He unbuckled his seat belt and reached for the handle to open his door, but Aurelian stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"Wait," he said, smiling secretively.
"What for?" Sam asked. Was someone going to come out and open his door? Aurelian hadn't made any move to get out of the car himself.
"Just wait." He pushed the other button on the automatic door opener and Sam heard something grinding, like very large gears, and then the floor shook a little (and he shook a little with it) and started to drop.
"Holy fuck," he said. "What the hell...?"
The floor took them down into what had to be the cellar, at least it was definitely below street level. Lights on the wall flickered on - "Motion sensitive," Aurelian explained - as they drove off the platform into what Sam now realized was an underground garage. The walls and floor were concrete, and as they pulled up next to another old car, this one dark green, the platform they'd just left cranked back up to fill the hole it had left in the ceiling.
"Holy secret lairs, Batman," Sam said, impressed now. "Are we under your house?"
"Under the back yard, yes," Aurelian told him, popping his door open and untangling himself and his coat from the seat belt. "The man who lived here before me was a bit of a conspiracy theorist and doomsayer. He hollowed this out originally as a bomb shelter, and later installed the moving garage floor as a secret hideaway for his cars. He was a bit paranoid about someone breaking into the garage and taking his car." He shrugged and got out. Sam blinked out the window and then followed.
The other car was a Jaguar, forest green and very shiny and just as new-looking as the Volvo. Sam knew enough about Jaguars to realize this was probably an antique, although he'd learned somewhere in his travels that for cars, they could qualify for "antique" after twenty years. Both Aurelian's cars were older than he was. They were older than Aurelian was.
"That one is a 1979 XJS," Aurelian said, noticing Sam noticing his car.
Ok, so it wasn't older than they were, and just barely qualified as an antique car. But it was still old. It looked like someone loved it.
"You really love your cars, don't you."
"I do. How can you tell?"
"They're so shiny and they look so new and well-cared-for. And the Volvo sounds like it's been driven, and you drive it like you do it all the time. Some people just buy these old cars and have them and don't drive them. It's like a trophy or something, you have people over and show off your car. I always thought that was kind of stupid, you know? I mean, you have something this beautiful, you take it out and show it off. They're meant to be driven, not... put on pedestals. What?" Aurelian was giving him that Look again. Sam felt himself blushing. He really had to get some kind of control over that.
Aurelian reached out and stroked his cheek, fingertips lingering over Sam's mouth. He grinned under the questing fingers and was about to reach out himself when Aurelian said "Come inside, let me show you the rest of the house. This is probably the most mechanically interesting and secret-lair-like, however."
"I think this is pretty damn cool, actually. It's probably cool enough to make up for the boringness of the rest of it."
"Perhaps."
There was a door at the end of the underground garage, which led into the cellar proper. It was dark but Aurelian either knew the way by heart or had very good night vision, because he led Sam through it with no trouble. They went up the stairs and through the door at the top and found themselves in the hallway of the house.
"Welcome to my humble home," Aurelian said, ushering Sam through the door.
"Humble" was not the word Sam would have chosen. The front hall - the foyer, properly - was wide and two stories tall, with light from the streetlamps outside filtering through a round window high above the front door. The front door looked heavy and oak, with a shiny brass knob (was everything this man owned shiny? Sam wondered), and on one side of the foyer was an archway into the dining room, and across from it was an archway into the music room.
Aurelian took Sam's coat and hung it in a coat closet by the door, then led him through the dining room, which was dominated by a long, heavy (and of course shiny) oak table, down the middle of which was a burgundy velvet runner with tassels on either end hanging off the edges of the table. Sam looked up - chandelier. Of course. Then they went into the kitchen, which was big and shiny in the way show kitchens were, but modern and equipped with nice appliances.
"Don't you cook?" Sam asked. "This is the cleanest kitchen I've ever seen in a guy's house."
"I don't cook a lot," Aurelian admitted. "The garden is out there, but unfortunately you can't see much of it at night time. Through here is the den" - they passed through that, where Sam noticed a big-screen TV and a very comfy-looking couch - "and this is the music room, and there is my piano."
He had a grand piano. Sam was impressed. He wandered over to it, sat on the bench, and ran his hands up and down the keys. He could play piano a little - his mom made him take lessons, although he only did it for a year, and then when he was in college he had to take it as part of his major - and now he hit some keys experimentally and then launched into a fast (if fairly sloppy) rendition of "Chopsticks," which was the only thing he could ever remember.
Aurelian sat down next to him, making him have to move down a little, and played the other part. They ran through it a few times, playing faster and faster each time, almost like they were in competition to speed the song up. After a while they were playing too fast to make out the melody and were both laughing too hard to hit the right keys anyway.
"Oh man," Sam gasped, "that's great. I bet you never do that."
"I don't." Aurelian turned on the piano bench until he was facing Sam, and this time it was Sam who lifted his hand and laid it against Aurelian's cheek. Aurelian turned his head slightly, nuzzling into Sam's palm.
"Aurelian...." he whispered.
"Yes. What?"
"I'm gonna kiss you and we're gonna fall off the piano bench."
"So?"
"Just thought I'd mention."
"Do you want to move?"
"No. I wanna kiss you."
"What are you waiting for?"
"I don't know."
They could sit like that all night, facing each other on the piano bench, or they could move. Someone had to do something.
Aurelian stood up, held out his hand. "Come join me in the other room. I have etchings to show you."
"I don't get to see the rest of the house?" Sam teased. He stood up too.
"Do you want to?"
"Not right now. There's just too much talking here, you know? Come on, or I'm gonna... well... just, come on." He went back to the den, taking charge in someone else's house, and hoped Aurelian was behind him.
He was. He practically fell on the couch and pulled Sam down next to him, grabbed his face, and kissed him deeply, seriously, and every single thought in Sam's head fled his brain and rushed south.
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Aurelian seemed to find that funny, which just made Sam grin. He felt like he'd never be able to get that expression off his face, like tomorrow morning he'd wake up and he'd still be grinning like a doofus. He'd go in to work and they'd think he'd gotten laid.
Oh good god, he might get laid. He wasn't actually sure how he felt about that.
"Are you going to get in the car, or just stand there grinning at me?" Aurelian asked. "It's unlocked."
"Oh," Sam said, abruptly coming back to himself. In addition to grinning like an idiot he seemed to have spent an inordinate amount of time zoning out. What could he say, Aurelian was a little distracting. "Sorry. I was just thinking."
"Oh? What about?"
"You."
"Oh." Now Aurelian smiled too, a pleased smile that somehow managed to look shy. Damn, Sam thought, he can't be nervous too, can he? It'll be a miracle if anything happens.
"The door's still locked."
"You're right. Silly of me. Sometimes I forget." Aurelian opened the driver side door, slid in and across, and unlocked Sam's door. Sam got in the car.
"Damn, it's cold in here. Turn on the heat."
"I think you have to turn the ignition first, and let the car warm up."
"You're teasing me again."
"Why yes, I am." But Aurelian was grinning, and his voice was light, and Sam didn't mind. He was used to it, anyway, from the record store and Scott and Teddy and his cousin and his Uncle Kenny. And since they teased him out of affection (usually), he assumed Aurelian was doing it out of the same impulse. It made him all warm and tingly. It made some parts of him tingly, anyway.
Fortunately Aurelian didn't seem to need directions back to his house, which was a good thing since Sam didn't want to be responsible for getting them lost again. Bad enough Aurelian's hand kept drifting off the stick shift to rest on his knee or his thigh. Sam turned the radio on and twirled the dial until he found the jazz station, and Peggy Lee's sultry voice poured out of the Volvo's little speakers in smooth, dark waves.
Sun lights up the daytime, moon lights up the night
I light up when you call my name, and you know I'm gonna treat you right
You give me fever... when you kiss me, fever when you hold me tight
Fever... in the morning, fever all through the night.
Sam felt himself blushing at the karmic appropriateness of the song. He looked over at Aurelian, who looked over at him, and they smiled at each other, identical knowing smiles.
Everybody's got the fever, that is something you all know
Fever isn't such a new thing, fever started long ago.
Romeo loved Juliet, Juliet she felt the same
When he put his arms around her, he said "Julie baby you're my flame"
Thou givest fever, when we kisseth, fever with thy flaming youth
Fever - I'm afire, fever yea I burn forsooth.
"'Forsooth,'" Sam repeated. "Yea, verily, thou dost give me the fever. My dad loved her."
"Who is this singing?"
"Peggy Lee! Dude, you don't know Peggy Lee?" Sacrilege! Sam would have to educate this guy on the finer points of jazz vocalists.
"Not personally, no." (God, he was cute, Sam thought, grinning like that.) "I know this song, but I never knew who sang it."
"Peggy Lee. Now you know. Oh man, am I ever gonna have to play you some of my records.... If I'd known how ignorant - uneducated - you were about jazz singers I would've told you to come by the store sooner, so I could play you stuff. Jeez."
"I'm open to being educated."
"You know, like, Cassandra Wilson? She's more contemporary."
"No."
"Oh boy. Ella Fitzgerald? Billie Holiday? Sarah Vaughan? Lena Horne? My mom likes Lena."
"She's an opera singer."
"Lena Horne? Yeah, but she started out singing jazz. She started at the Cotton Club, I know you've heard of that. It was a movie, too."
"I've been to the Cotton Club. It's in New York, in Harlem."
"Yeah. You've really been there?" Sam's mouth fell open. Aurelian wasn't as musically ignorant as he'd thought. "Seriously? When? Who'd you see?"
"It was... a long time ago."
"Dude, you're my age. More or less. How long ago could it have been? How'd you get in? I thought it was this super-exclusive place. Gangsters used to go there!"
"I know. It feels like a long time. Tell me who this is now on the radio." Aurelian's hand left the stick shift to point to the radio, and then dropped to Sam's thigh for a bit. Sam tried not to shift around in his seat. He was really trying not to fidget, and trying even harder not to think about... well... trying hard not to think about getting hard.
(It was hard. Everything was hard, or at least getting that way.)
The two of them listened to the radio long enough for Sam to figure out who was singing now. The station was probably in the middle of a special on female vocalists. Not that he minded - some of them did have beautiful voices and used them like just another instrument, which he liked. He didn't normally like jazz singers, but he would readily admit that there were some women he could listen to all night.
"This is Cassandra Wilson," he said. "A little more modern than Peggy or Ella or Lady Day. That's Billie Holiday," he added, hoping he didn't sound too pedantic. But sometimes you ran that risk, asking him about jazz, or admitting you didn't know anything about it.
"I knew that," Aurelian said playfully. "I had a friend once who adored Ella Fitzgerald. If you came to the house and he learned you hadn't heard her sing, he wouldn't let you leave until he'd played enough of her albums to give you at least a basic education in her repertoire. He was a little mad that way."
"So you're not totally ignorant," Sam conceded. "Albums?"
"Yes, albums. Vinyl. I imagine he has them all on CD now, or at least as many as have come out."
There was something weird about that sentence, combined with the sentences that preceded it, but Sam couldn't put his finger on exactly what. Maybe it was hearing someone his age (more or less) refer to "albums." Vinyl. No one owned vinyl any more, unless they were like him and had inherited it, or they collected old and obscure music that wasn't out on CD, or they DJ'ed with turntables. Every so often they'd get kids at Play It Again who were looking for some 12" single or some dance track or something they could slap on a turntable and mix for the beat at a party or local club or somewhere. Every so often the store actually had what they wanted, which always gave Sam a kick. He loved being able to help people fulfill their musical needs.
Which right now seemed to be finding some good jazz for Aurelian to listen to. Maybe some more modern stuff.... He only hoped the guy didn't turn out to be a fan of Kenny G.
(Bruce had an especially bad week the previous October and had ceremonially taken all the Kenny G CDs out of the store, put them in a metal trash can in the alley in back, and set them on fire. He was just lucky no one called the cops.)
They occupied themselves the rest of the way back to Aurelian's house by talking about music in general and jazz in particular, partly because it was something Sam knew a lot about and loved to discuss, and partly because Aurelian seemed to like listening to him talk. Sam still hoped he wasn't being pedantic, but Aurelian didn't seem to mind.
By the time they got to the house, Sam was relaxed enough for it to have slipped his mind he was on a date (a date!) with a guy (a guy!) whose place they were driving back to so they could make out on the couch. At the very least, make out on the couch. Sam wasn't any more sure how he felt about all the stuff that came after kissing, but he wasn't freaking out either, and that had to be a good thing.
Aurelian lived in a brownstone in one of the nice old parts of the city. He pointed to his house as they drove by, and then he turned the corner, swung into an alley, and drove down that until they reached his garage. It was a very small garage, just wide enough and long enough for a car not much bigger than the Volvo. It had an automatic door opener, for which Sam at least was grateful, and when Aurelian pulled in and hit the button to close the door behind him, Sam was surprised to see the garage was completely empty, except for a door at the opposite end which he imagined opened into the back yard.
He unbuckled his seat belt and reached for the handle to open his door, but Aurelian stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"Wait," he said, smiling secretively.
"What for?" Sam asked. Was someone going to come out and open his door? Aurelian hadn't made any move to get out of the car himself.
"Just wait." He pushed the other button on the automatic door opener and Sam heard something grinding, like very large gears, and then the floor shook a little (and he shook a little with it) and started to drop.
"Holy fuck," he said. "What the hell...?"
The floor took them down into what had to be the cellar, at least it was definitely below street level. Lights on the wall flickered on - "Motion sensitive," Aurelian explained - as they drove off the platform into what Sam now realized was an underground garage. The walls and floor were concrete, and as they pulled up next to another old car, this one dark green, the platform they'd just left cranked back up to fill the hole it had left in the ceiling.
"Holy secret lairs, Batman," Sam said, impressed now. "Are we under your house?"
"Under the back yard, yes," Aurelian told him, popping his door open and untangling himself and his coat from the seat belt. "The man who lived here before me was a bit of a conspiracy theorist and doomsayer. He hollowed this out originally as a bomb shelter, and later installed the moving garage floor as a secret hideaway for his cars. He was a bit paranoid about someone breaking into the garage and taking his car." He shrugged and got out. Sam blinked out the window and then followed.
The other car was a Jaguar, forest green and very shiny and just as new-looking as the Volvo. Sam knew enough about Jaguars to realize this was probably an antique, although he'd learned somewhere in his travels that for cars, they could qualify for "antique" after twenty years. Both Aurelian's cars were older than he was. They were older than Aurelian was.
"That one is a 1979 XJS," Aurelian said, noticing Sam noticing his car.
Ok, so it wasn't older than they were, and just barely qualified as an antique car. But it was still old. It looked like someone loved it.
"You really love your cars, don't you."
"I do. How can you tell?"
"They're so shiny and they look so new and well-cared-for. And the Volvo sounds like it's been driven, and you drive it like you do it all the time. Some people just buy these old cars and have them and don't drive them. It's like a trophy or something, you have people over and show off your car. I always thought that was kind of stupid, you know? I mean, you have something this beautiful, you take it out and show it off. They're meant to be driven, not... put on pedestals. What?" Aurelian was giving him that Look again. Sam felt himself blushing. He really had to get some kind of control over that.
Aurelian reached out and stroked his cheek, fingertips lingering over Sam's mouth. He grinned under the questing fingers and was about to reach out himself when Aurelian said "Come inside, let me show you the rest of the house. This is probably the most mechanically interesting and secret-lair-like, however."
"I think this is pretty damn cool, actually. It's probably cool enough to make up for the boringness of the rest of it."
"Perhaps."
There was a door at the end of the underground garage, which led into the cellar proper. It was dark but Aurelian either knew the way by heart or had very good night vision, because he led Sam through it with no trouble. They went up the stairs and through the door at the top and found themselves in the hallway of the house.
"Welcome to my humble home," Aurelian said, ushering Sam through the door.
"Humble" was not the word Sam would have chosen. The front hall - the foyer, properly - was wide and two stories tall, with light from the streetlamps outside filtering through a round window high above the front door. The front door looked heavy and oak, with a shiny brass knob (was everything this man owned shiny? Sam wondered), and on one side of the foyer was an archway into the dining room, and across from it was an archway into the music room.
Aurelian took Sam's coat and hung it in a coat closet by the door, then led him through the dining room, which was dominated by a long, heavy (and of course shiny) oak table, down the middle of which was a burgundy velvet runner with tassels on either end hanging off the edges of the table. Sam looked up - chandelier. Of course. Then they went into the kitchen, which was big and shiny in the way show kitchens were, but modern and equipped with nice appliances.
"Don't you cook?" Sam asked. "This is the cleanest kitchen I've ever seen in a guy's house."
"I don't cook a lot," Aurelian admitted. "The garden is out there, but unfortunately you can't see much of it at night time. Through here is the den" - they passed through that, where Sam noticed a big-screen TV and a very comfy-looking couch - "and this is the music room, and there is my piano."
He had a grand piano. Sam was impressed. He wandered over to it, sat on the bench, and ran his hands up and down the keys. He could play piano a little - his mom made him take lessons, although he only did it for a year, and then when he was in college he had to take it as part of his major - and now he hit some keys experimentally and then launched into a fast (if fairly sloppy) rendition of "Chopsticks," which was the only thing he could ever remember.
Aurelian sat down next to him, making him have to move down a little, and played the other part. They ran through it a few times, playing faster and faster each time, almost like they were in competition to speed the song up. After a while they were playing too fast to make out the melody and were both laughing too hard to hit the right keys anyway.
"Oh man," Sam gasped, "that's great. I bet you never do that."
"I don't." Aurelian turned on the piano bench until he was facing Sam, and this time it was Sam who lifted his hand and laid it against Aurelian's cheek. Aurelian turned his head slightly, nuzzling into Sam's palm.
"Aurelian...." he whispered.
"Yes. What?"
"I'm gonna kiss you and we're gonna fall off the piano bench."
"So?"
"Just thought I'd mention."
"Do you want to move?"
"No. I wanna kiss you."
"What are you waiting for?"
"I don't know."
They could sit like that all night, facing each other on the piano bench, or they could move. Someone had to do something.
Aurelian stood up, held out his hand. "Come join me in the other room. I have etchings to show you."
"I don't get to see the rest of the house?" Sam teased. He stood up too.
"Do you want to?"
"Not right now. There's just too much talking here, you know? Come on, or I'm gonna... well... just, come on." He went back to the den, taking charge in someone else's house, and hoped Aurelian was behind him.
He was. He practically fell on the couch and pulled Sam down next to him, grabbed his face, and kissed him deeply, seriously, and every single thought in Sam's head fled his brain and rushed south.
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total words: 29,349
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2002-11-15 05:51 am (UTC)You do not even want to know where my imagination went with this one.
I love Aurelian. He is so real. I hate vampires that are stuffy and righteous. He's human.
Hugs to Sam - just because he's Sam.