Date: Sat, 21 Mar 2015 12:32:24 +0000 (UTC)
From: Gaia Farnese <snoringsoftly@yahoo.com>
Subject: Sleep Well, William - part II

A/N: I would be nowhere if I didn't have van Wissem's music to guide
me. Enjoy the read.

Then donate to Nifty because both of us need it.

~

"I don't really think I want this," I tell him.

"Are you certain?"

~

The uncomfortable feeling grows by the time I return to my group of
friends. Helen attaches herself to me immediately and kisses me despite my
reluctance to kiss back. I briefly wonder if he thinks I'm doing it on
purpose: kissing somebody else just to piss him off.

Kalla eyes me suspiciously but I don't want to tell her about what
happened. I don't want to talk about it because whenever I think about
William, I have to physically restrain myself from turning around and
checking if he's got somebody else up there instead of me.

His soft spoken words echo in my mind. It might have been more logical to
stay there with him, fall prey to his charm, sell my soul to the devil so
to say. Or, as I'm quick to remind myself, it would have been utter madness
to stay there with him. I belong here, with my peers.

It isn't much later when Helen pulls me close again, whispering a "Can we
go now?" against my lips. ~Out of the frying pan into the fire.~ I think
darkly. From that point of view it only seems a choice of which way to
go. She looks at me steadily, the question evident in her eyes, and I
wonder if he would take me back. Then I wonder just ~why~ I seem ready to
spend the night with a shady character instead of my girlfriend, a person
who is familiar - a person that I trust.

Feeling like I'm standing in the middle of a crossroad, I avoid her eyes in
favour of looking to the side. I can't look a person in the eye and think
productively in the same time. And that's how I spot him descending the
stairs – a dark figure, long hair let loose to flow behind him.

It appears that he's leaving. The nondescript guy follows a few steps
behind him but William is alone, he hasn't got a substitute for me. Perhaps
he's headed to another gig. He could try his luck again.

Our whole conversation fleets through my mind before I stumble upon a
single, heavy thought: ~He told you. It's you he wants.~

But he's dangerous, a voice whines in my head. He could hurt me. He also
makes my heart beat faster. He is manipulative, but he makes adrenaline
rush through my veins. It's pure instinct, purer nonsense. And I like
him. I like it that he wants me. I want him too. I want him to want me.

~I want him too.~

All at once I realise how little time I have left to do what I ~have to~. I
grab Helen by the shoulders and face her. "I can't do it. I'm sorry. Not
tonight."

She turns her face away the moment the words get out of my mouth. It's a
face lined with disappointment and I find it shocking that I don't care
very much. Then I feel awful because I'm about to go to someone else for
the very same thing I'm denying her. But there isn't time for all of that
now; I can deal with it later.

I check the staircase again, finding that William has stopped to chat with
a pair clad in black. I swallow and look back to Helen to find that she's
moved away and headed towards the toilets. Her friends are glaring daggers
at me but I'm not about to start caring now. My eyes find Kalla next and it
seems that I don't have to explain anything to her. She glances at William,
then looks back at me. I approach her and she hands me my stuff: a phone
and a wallet.

"Hand me my jacket, please."

She does. "If I don't ring you by five, tomorrow afternoon, call the
police."

~I can't believe I'm doing this.~

"Be careful," she repeats, then focuses her attention back on the boy
sitting next to her. I know better than to believe her act but I let it
slide. We have to keep appearances.

William seems to have finished his conversation just as I head in his
direction. It's difficult to push between clumps of people and I panic when
I'm halfway through because he steps on the ground and I have no idea which
exit he's going to use. I rush among people, spilling drinks, stepping on
toes and pushing away sweaty bodies. I find that he is headed for a small
door behind the DJ stand and that the crowd is quite dense there. Several
meters divide us when his procurer steps forward and guides him to the
door.

What if I don't reach him in time? What if they don't let me pass after
he's gone through? There is a dark-skinned man standing close to the door
and he doesn't look friendly. Maybe this is one of those exists built
specifically for people like William, whatever he might be.

~What if he refuses me?~

A meter and half behind him I notice the bouncer eye me funnily. I
literally run after William and touch his wrist to get his attention just a
second before he's through the door. He turns slowly, surprise flickering
on his face, and takes in my disheveled appearance.

"You coming?"

I look back but I can't see my friends anymore. "Yes. Yes."

I pass through and he follows me onto the street below. There is a black
Mercedes waiting and, as there doesn't seem to be anyone else on the street
except for us, I head for it. I get into the car and William follows, but
before that I clearly hear him say: "Goodbye, Martin. Thank you."

He closes the door and looks at me, eyes grey and so very alive. "Hilton,"
he tells the driver.

I don't say anything.

~

The drive to Hilton is quiet, too quiet perhaps, but he doesn't seem
inclined to talk and I don't want to say anything in front of the driver.
William doesn't even look my way, choosing instead to stare through the
window. I mostly stare at his hair, squashed against the seat by his body,
a few locks straining toward me. It's a glorious hair, reaching down to his
thighs. Its shine speaks volumes about the way he treats it. I want to
touch it so bad. The whole ordeal is embarrassing, especially now that I
ran after him. Why did I run after him? I'm out of my mind, that's why.

I keep mentally berating myself and scowling hard at the seat in front of
me until I notice him watching me out of the corner of his eye. I try to
imitate him on some instinctual level, making my face go blank.

"Relax," he whispers in return. "You're so tense I can feel it rolling off
in waves towards me," he continues, making me feel mortified; the first of
many times.

I struggle to find something to say thus I end up blundering.

"What if there's no room available at the Hilton?"

Well, isn't that brilliant? I want to smack my head on the
window. Repeatedly.  His eyes widen, narrow, then he smiles the smile of a
content cat. "Don't you worry," he tells me softly.

I close my eyes and turn away from him, trying desperately (and failing) to
think of something other than: What a moron, Iszaya. Good going.

A couple of minutes later the car parks in front of the hotel - a huge and
luxurious building that seems to stretch on to the sky. I grab my jacket,
get out of the car and linger in the shadows, unsure of what I am supposed
to do now. Do we simply stroll in and demand a room? Do I wait here until
William motions me to follow?

He starts toward the doors. The driver signals me to follow him so I do,
slowly at first, then matching his strides. When he approaches the
reception I stay back and hide my face.

Feeling like I have been hurled in the middle of a soap opera, I stare at
the elegant interior, mentally comparing the decoration to some photos I've
seen in my mom's magazines.

When I hear "Come," I follow obediently, not quite daring to glance toward
the receptionist.  We get inside the lift and William presses number
eight. I look at our reflections in the mirror, unable to understand what
it is that he finds fuckable about me. I'm pale, thin, and copper-haired.

It's then that I notice we're both dressed in black exclusively, reminding
me of the couple that William stopped to chat with back in The Valley. I
chuckle at the thought and it grabs his attention. He runs a thumb against
my cheek.

It's the first time he's touched me; I look down, suddenly realising how
tall he is.

"Are you going to be in trouble?" I ask his shoes.

"Not unless you decide."

I make a face up at him and explain myself: "No, I meant the receptionist
saw us and..."

"Don't worry."

This time his thumb runs over my lips and chin, making me feel a tad bit
ridiculous. I don't know what to do – it seems kinda silly to touch him
back now. Fortunately, the lift stops and the doors open. We stop in front
of a door numbered 67 and, right before I walk in, I experience the same
feeling as when I first stepped on the staircase back in the club.  ~What
am I going to do now?~

The room is spacious and rich, mainly because of the wood and earthy
tones. It's not what I expected – it's not sleek, flashy and reeking of
class. It makes me wonder if he asked for a room with such an ambient after
our brief conversation in the car - it certainly looks comfortable for
sex. The bed dominates the room in an unobtrusive way. Across the door
there is a curtained window, a small brown leather sofa in front of
it. There is also a chair and a low coffee table. On my left, across from
the bed, there are shelves hosting accessories and a TV, then a door. On my
right there is a small kitchenette, complete with a safe, mini-fridge and a
tea set.

I walk to the centre of the room to take everything in. It's an obsession
that I have from my youth – carefully taking in the dιcor. I wonder
if William brings all his boys in this room, to fuck them in beds that
reflect the romanticism of the 19th century. At first I don't realise I
voiced it out, but then he chuckles and I realise my slip.

"Maybe," he says, starting to pour himself a glass of red wine. I think
about asking him for one too but my nerves are restless and I'm not sure
what could happen if I have more alcohol. When he turns to look at me, a
glass held firmly in his hand, I feel as if the world has stopped. I have
absolutely no idea about what to do now. I don't know what's required of
me. I don't know what I want to do. Well. I want to flee the room, but
that's not exactly an option. In all that panic my eyes land upon the
door. Temporary escape route, then, I conclude, heading to the bathroom.

I drop my jacket on the shelf closest to me without looking. "I'm going to
take a shower," I tell him and disappear through the door.

~

My time in the bathroom helps me get rid of the panic and confusion
overwhelming me. I throw my clothes down to the ground, then think better
and slowly fold them up. There are black and white towels on the shelves
and two robes – one black, one purple. I grab the black one and place it
close, within arm reach, once I enter the shower. I shower methodically,
feeling a bit uneasy despite the warm atmosphere of the room. I don't want
to think about the things that will happen once I leave this sanctuary, but
I also don't want to block it out, just in case it results in something
extra embarrassing later on.

I shiver when I reach down between my buttocks; I'm not sure just how far
he's going to take things so it's better to wash up anyway.  It strikes me
as I soap and rinse myself that I don't have to go through with everything
he wants. I came to spend what remains of the night with him, yes, but I
didn't specify that I'll allow him to fuck me.  To sodding hell with acting
as expected.

This isn't about William only, I reach a conclusion; it's also about me –
what I want to experience and learn. I need to put some limits in place
because I've no idea how else I'm going to deal with it. I haven't even
thought about being with a man before... well, not so explicitly. He is
going to ~have~ to respect me. He's not going to force me to do anything
against my will, I trust him that much. I trust myself a bit less, which is
rather disquieting, but I know that I can manage a night without hurting
myself terribly. Mind made up, I dry and put on the robe. Although I have
this feeling that, if you ask William, it's not going to stay on me much
longer. Without further thought, I step out of the steamy bath only to find
him lounging on the bed, sipping wine and casually observing me. ~Damn
sexy.~

I would be lying if I said I'm not attracted to him. It has to be part of
why I decided to come here with him after all. "So..." I start shakily. I
need to ground myself.

"Which rules stand?"

~

The buzz of my phone brings me back to the present moment, breaking my
reverie none too gently. I locate it on the nightstand. The number is not
familiar but I pick up anyway. After what I did last night, answering a
ring from unfamiliar number seems like nothing.

"Hullo?"

"Are you still there?"

"William?! Where the hell did you get my number?"

"I have my resources. It appears I'll finish an hour earlier than I
thought. I know that you're bored, but please try to make it one more
hour. If you need something feel free to ring the staff. I know you want
some tea." The loon sounds so business-like. I wonder what exactly he
called for - it's not like he thinks I will run away while he's gone. I
wouldn't; I won't.

"I don't want any tea." I respond grumpily. Truth is, I could use a cup.

"Suit yourself. I'll wait for you in front of the hotel at twelve-thirty."

"Yeah, right. I hope I can make it." This room is awfully boring without
you, I don't say.

"I hope so too." Despite the fact that we both know I will.

"See you."

Click.

I look at the time and belatedly realise that I have an hour to kill. I
might not want tea but I desperately need to do something so that I stop
thinking about last night. I consider ringing my mother to tell her about
the hotel interior, but then I would have to explain just what I am doing
in a hotel room at half past eleven in the morning. Oh, if she only knew.

At that thought I figure it's probably for the best if I ring Kalla and
tell her that I might be late. Who knows what will happen once I get in his
flat. Well. He probably won't kill me, but I might be subjected to his
manipulative ways.

After she is assured that I am alright and my virginity is quasi-intact,
she tells me to fuck off and let her sleep. I do, because Kalla can be
pretty frightening if she hasn't had enough sleep. I know that from
countless mornings at school. Next, I consider texting Helen, to apologize
or just... ask her something, to get the conversation going. But then she'd
want to meet up and I'd have some things to explain, like those love bites
on me, and I really think I should avoid that. Minutes later I am glad that
my logic is intact because that's bound to go down less than pleasantly.

I could go people-watching in the lobby, of course, but that means I'd be
noticed too, and I want to avoid that. With these turbulent thoughts in my
mind, I flip back on the bed and stare at the ceiling.

In the end I choose to stay in the room. I feel drowsy so I activate the
alarm on my phone, then lie back and close my eyes. It's unfortunate that,
despite my exhaustion, I keep thinking about last night.

~

"So..." I start shakily. I need to ground myself.

"Which rules stand?"

~

The dim lighting and earthy tones do little to conceal the predatory
glimmer in his eyes. His answer was ~maybe~ which only makes me wonder if
the other boys felt as scared as I do now.

He takes a sip of the wine in his hand, eyes unnervingly focused on
me. It's this very body he must desperately want naked; I can do this, I
encourage myself silently.

He's taken off his coat, shoes and socks. The first few buttons of his
shirt are undone, revealing a mesmerizing pair of collar-bones. The grey of
it makes his eyes stand out all the more and they are so intense, ~so~
intense on me.

"Which indeed?"

It shouldn't surprise me that he posed a question instead of giving me a
clear answer, not after so many. I sigh as he rises from the bed, and back
up towards the bathroom door as he leaves his glass on the table. I guess
he is speaking about the discretion rule, given his serious tone.

"I'm not telling anyone. I don't even know what to tell. I don't know you
and I doubt William is your real name at all..."

"It is."

"Even if it is, that's all I know... so it's not like I'm going to talk
about this... whatever..."

He eyes me even more seriously this time. I wonder if sex arrangements
truly require that much eye contact. Then I'm frustrated because my mind
seems to be either full of bullshit or empty.

"What do you want to do?" he asks me as he approaches. What does he mean
what do I want to do? I haven't thought about this because... I suppose
because I expected him to pounce on me and do whatever he wanted to do.  He
starts playing with my hair while I struggle to answer.

"I don't know. I don't think I want to... you know... fuck."

"Why not?" he asks softly.

"I don't feel comfortable enough." I say and swat his hand away.

"And if I help you relax?" You'd think honey was rolling off his tongue.

"I don't think so. No."

He looks as if he's about to roll his eyes. "No." I say one more time, for
emphasis.

"Well then, as I don't get much in this bargain, I reckon it'd be fair to
let me decide about what you ~are~ going to do next." I'm certain I look as
alarmed as I feel by the time he finishes the sentence. "And it doesn't
involve any form of penetration... yet." He adds, none too quickly.

I smile my slightly bitter smile again. Trust him to get the best while
we're dancing to my tune.

"Is that all right with you, Iszaya?" asked, as if we don't know it's
already decided. I wouldn't give in under other circumstances, but I don't
want to outdo myself by being even more obstinate. "Hmm?" he pokes and
suddenly he's too close.

I look up to him, breath forgotten somewhere in the past few seconds, and
nod. He touches his lips to my cheek and grabs the knot of my robe, making
short work of untying it. Before I can shrug it off he has already let it
fall down. I question his motives again as he traces my collar-bones with
the tips of his fingers. Reaching for his hair, I play with a lock while he
inspects me.

He can probably sense my discomfort with being inspected like that because
he moves closer and touches my back, giving it a caress of reassurement. I
briefly imagine him touching my cock, but his dancing fingertips, all over
my shoulders and chest, distract me.

"I want you to go sit on the bed," he murmurs. We turn in the same moment –
me going for the bed, he for the chair. He moves it and sits down, staring
at me with the same focus as before.

"Spread your legs."

I flush as I feel a large, invisible paw grab low in my stomach, my cock
stirring awake. It's so embarrassing, I open my mouth to protest but he's
quicker, again. "Your terms," he reminds me.

I don't know what it is about his voice that my cock finds so
fascinating. At least my legs are bent just at a right angle to cover
it. Then "I know you're hard," he says conversationally.

"What do you want me to do?" I ask, even though I already know.

"Touch yourself..." I inhale sharply, "for me." Exhale.

A blink later I have my legs spread for him. I lie back and stare up at the
ceiling resolutely, and only after I have focused on my breathing for a few
seconds, I reach down to touch my thighs. Here goes nothing, I think, then
I start imagining fingers ~(his?)~ exploring my body boldly. When I grab
myself I hear a hiss: "Slowly."

Various scenarios flicker through my mind as I slowly tug on my cock, but
most are too brief to properly get me into it. "Why are you so tense even
now?" I hear him ask from somewhere above me. I stop in my tracks and raise
my head to find him carefully placing his glass on the ground. He
approaches the bed and, before I know it, he's lounging next to me, eyes
taking in all of my body.

William eyes my right nipple and then latches onto it. My reaction is to
arch my back – I never knew my nipples were so sensitive! Maybe it's
just him, all eroticism and experience.

He doesn't lick it long, just enough to make the hairs on the small of my
back stand up. It feels even better when he kisses up a trail to my
clavicle, only to come back to blow hot air over it. His distraction proves
successful when I realise that he's been touching me gently all along. A
whine builds up in my throat; a throat that he is licking, and biting, so
much that I pray there would be no marks tomorrow. He moves to kiss my
mouth but I turn my head, causing him to eye me funnily. Ashamed, I close
my eyes to his intense intrusion and offer him my throat.

It seems that he has different plans though. He kisses the corner of my
mouth, the sweetest kiss I've ever received, but he stops fondling me. My
hips snap up immediately but he's denying me friction, just like I denied
him a kiss. I realise this just as he tickles my belly, one of those
mysterious little smiles brightening his face. It feels so nice, being with
William like this. Free to enjoy myself but share the pleasure too. I know
what he's trying to teach me now.

~It has to be nice for the both of us.~

He doesn't move to kiss me again but he keeps touching me – my thighs,
my balls, my belly – his hand never rests. I find it amazing that it
seems so easy to let go when I'm like this, in his arms, enveloped by his
experience and tact. I find it's no longer something I fear and
refuse. Though I still don't know what to think about the fact that he's
mostly dressed when I am this naked. It's so damn difficult to focus on
that when all I can think about is the grabby paw in my groin and its
sensual, spiral move every single time he touches me.

My legs tremble with the effort not to embarrass myself and I think that he
can feel it. He smiles against my ribs, then kisses one and looks me in the
eye as he rises to tower over me.

"Are you going to let me kiss you now?" he asks from above and, even though
I want to say ~no~ just to spite him, I find myself pushing and pulling
until his face is mere inches from mine and I have no choice but to breathe
him in, let him in. His lips are dry and soft, and he kisses me testily
until I open my mouth and he goes for it. Even the tilt of his face turns
erotic.

I don't remember much of what happens afterward, not until I find myself
coming all over my stomach, body trying to press to his and needy arms
holding him close. Drowsy already, I kiss the point where neck meets jaw as
he swallows, then close my eyes, hoping I won't fall asleep.

~

I must have dozed off because the next time I open my eyes he is not on top
of me, pressed uncomfortably face down into my shoulder, but sitting a foot
away from me, shirt discarded.

The sun hasn't come up yet but the sky is brightening, making everything in
the room feel more bared. I pretend I'm not interested in him and his glass
of wine, but inside, I feel very curious about everything William. Probably
because there is so little time left for me to explore him.

I wonder if he slept at all. Maybe he couldn't trust me enough to fall
asleep with me in the bed.

Or maybe you left him hard and wanting after he got you off, a voice sounds
in my head.

I end up turning my back to him and after a while the bed shifts and I
watch him from the corner of my eye as he goes to set down his glass. He
grabs my phone and returns to the bed. "It buzzed twice," he tells me as he
gives it to me and continues to the kitchenette. One is a missed call from
Marie, another a text. I text her back, letting her know that I'm out with
a friend and sleeping over at his place, asking her to please tell my aunt
that I'm sleeping over at her's if she calls. Just as I finish typing I
notice him lounge behind me to glance over my shoulder.

Probably checking my reliability, I conclude, darker than I feel. I hand
him back my phone and it's then that I notice he's taken off his trousers
too. He now spoons me in nothing but briefs. I hope that we can go to sleep
and forget this whole awkward ordeal but he seems to have other ideas: he
kisses my neck, finding a spot to bite. I close my eyes and push back
against him, meeting solid chest and, funny thing, I start having other
ideas too, especially when I feel the outline of his cock against the small
of my back.

"Are you marking territory?" I ask him in a quiet voice. He chuckles and
kisses me in response.

"You should see yourself."

The next time I rub myself against him, I feel him reach to pull down his
pants, successfully motivating me to bury my face in his neck. I can't hear
him laugh but I feel the vibrations of his chest as he pulls me even
closer. I'm hard myself. So hard (for him).

"I thought you weren't shy," he whispers in my ear, laughter tracing every
syllable. More than a little provoked, I move my head and look down to find
his cock hardening too, a shiny piercing on its head reflecting tiny rays
of light. ~Fascinating.~

I later learn it's called Prince Albert.

My thoughts embarrass me far more than watching him get hard watching me
get hard. Before registering it, I'm running a finger down his length,
playing with a curious little ring I find at the base. Just as I start
wondering if he has any more genital piercings, he takes my hand and takes
it below his balls, where I feel another small ring. What an interesting
choice. I tug the piercings lightly and receive heated kisses in
return. Happy with the discovery of William's erogenous zones, I allow him
to press me back into the mattress. He feels so large when he is on the top
of me and, instead of scaring me, the thought makes me even more excited to
be in his arms.

He pulls away at one point, giving me one of those long looks that I'm
supposed to decipher on my own. Then he smirks and starts sliding down my
body. I get the idea when he kisses my navel; I reach for a pillow.

At first he appears expectant, but then he sees me pressing it over my face
and laughs against my thigh. I moan when he first licks, whisper "William,
no," when he first sucks, and groan rather loudly when he takes my cock
into his mouth.

"Uh, William, I'm...  c-come here," I blabber and kiss him quite happily
when he obliges me, throwing the pillow away. I think it turns him on,
because he makes a sound and presses his hips into mine, rubbing our cocks
until I explode against him. He smiles, lips tracing mine, as his fingers
trace through the mess I made. ~Pervert. ~

In the warm fuzziness than follows my orgasm, I barely register him moving
away to lounge by my side once again. I'm ready to doze off again,
hopefully for longer this time, but then I remember his erection. When I
start to move he stops me by planting a wet kiss against my cheek. What
does he mean by that? Is he about to sacrifice his own pleasure for me
again?

Had I known just what it meant to spend the night with William, on my own
terms, I'd have agreed the moment my eyes landed on him.

At this point I feel so pleased and lightheaded that I somehow manage to
turn and tell him that we aren't finished. He looks sleepy, and anxious, so
I take pity and reach down to touch him.

It's wet and solid it looks rather mesmerizing when his eyes widen in
surprise, then close, and he smiles lazily. I stroke him slowly, fervently
hoping that it's the way he likes it best. Evidently, he does: he pushes me
backward and slides on top of me again, spreading my legs around him. I
keep stroking him and playing with him – tug down extremely slowly, pull
on a piercing, run my fingers up to the head then tug down again. I feel
daring and, armed with the knowledge that he likes to bite, scratch the
shaft once, ending up amazed at the way his mouth opens in a silent moan. A
moment later he asks me to do it again. I do, toes curling at the way his
expression morphs into one of pure bliss. You'd think he'd look like
everyone else in the midst of sex – ruffled, face scrunched up and hips
furiously pumping, but no, William has to be different. Otherwise the
balance of the universe would be damaged beyond repair.

He sits back and pulls me to him. I pinch the piercing down below his cock,
then touch his balls. He looks rather expectant so, in a bout of
inspiration, I scratch his thighs, causing his cock to leak
wonderfully. Not knowing how to express my happiness with what's going on
any other way, I kiss and bite, hands changing in favour of touching
him. Suddenly, there is too much of him and I need to touch and taste all
of it.

When I hold his cock with both my hands he gives me a long kiss and pushes
me back, but not before I leave long scratch lines on his chest. I think he
might have trembled, but it's not enough because I just have to make him
lose control somehow.

"Pull on it," he whispers when he notices my hesitation to touch his
largest piercing. I don't want to hurt him but it looks like he likes kinky
stuff like that. I pull and press it until he's out of breath and all I can
see is that funny look in his eyes. On my way to properly grab him in my
hand again I scratch again and that's when he comes. As I hurry to stroke
him, I learn that not all faces get scrunched up and ugly in orgasm.

"Thank you," he tells me once he's regained the capability of speech. I
blush fiercely but, before I can tense up or move away, he's next to me and
he's cuddling me to sleep.

~

This is madness; I can't even begin to doze off with William on my mind
like that. The alarm rings to rouse me, but it' not like I've managed to
sleep a blink. I turn it off feeling quite irritated. Regardless, it's time
for me to go and wait for William to pick me up.

Shoulders tense and head in clouds, I descend to the foyer, all the while
trying to blend in with the interior. The less attention I receive, the
better. I linger in front of the elevator for a bit, going in circles until
I notice the receptionist look at me shrewdly. It's only then that I brave
it and go to wait outside, feeling more than slightly embarrassed at the
prospect of being picked up.

I spend the rest of the wait nervously biting my thumb and looking right
and left, mind alternatively cursing William and myself, for his acuteness,
and my naοvetι.

The black Mercedes then stops close by, and William beckons me inside. "All
right?" he asks once I'm in, all concern and manners.

"I can't believe you tricked me into agreeing to all of this," I end up
blurting out the first thing on my mind, as usual. He doesn't say anything
for a very long time, prompting me to glance at him. He's looking right at
me, and he catches my eye.

 "Do you mind it that much?" he asks, even though I don't think he needs me
to answer that.

Williams tracks the movements of my restless hands as if they hold the
answer to the meaning of life. I don't know where to put them because my
thoughts are such a jumble and I need to express it somehow, lest I go mad
with all the questions and half-shouted answers in my head. All of a sudden
I realise: it's easy to be flirtatious and coy when you are certain that
nothing will come out of it, but it's quite different when two feel bold
enough to play the game.

"What are you thinking about?" I hear him ask. I glance sideways again,
trying to decipher his almost stony expression. And to think he expresses
interest with that face. He chuckles at my consideration, quietly and
elegantly, his facial muscles barely moving. How does he do it?

"I know what you're trying to do."

"So what? How do you know anyway?" I snap at him.

"It's more or less instinctual," he starts, "trying to read somebody. The
body language speaks plenty for any of us."

"So you're reading my body language and that's how you know things?" I
stare at him in awe.

"Yes, that's how I know things," he answers, the tiniest of smirks curving
his mouth.

"Am I ~that~ obvious?"

"It's rather entertaining," he murmurs, eyes and thumb focused on a sore
patch of my neck. Even though I refuse to flush at his action, he probably
knows what it feels like.

"What were you thinking about?"

"I don't remember. You distracted me."

"Hmm... I don't think that you're aware that you just touched your neck
just now," he smirks openly this time. "That can be a sign of lying."

I swallow as his finger touches another bruise, wondering just how many
times he noticed me touching my neck in the past twelve hours. "It's fine;
you don't have to tell me," he tells me.

I count his touches, and when they stop I move closer to him so that he can
continue. I think about the way he made those bruises, the feeling of his
teeth and mouth on me, and the beautiful sensation of getting lost in
passion.  "Why do you worry so much?" He murmurs as he caresses my cheek. I
close my eyes against the overwhelming feelings and think about his worth.

I'm pulled out of my reverie when the car stops and I feel the shift. We're
in a suburban area where all the buildings resemble one another. I exit the
car to follow William to building number 11 – a tall, brick building,
overflowing with flowers and various other flora.

I speculate about William being friends with some of the neighbours, and
then shake my head at the frivolous thought. My mind takes the weirdest
routes sometimes.

The entrance to the building is dimly lit, the hallways white enough to
create a safe atmosphere. While we wait for the lift he gazes at me, eyes
wary and lips in a thin line. It helps me realise just how much he's
risking by bringing me here, to his home.

Once the doors of the lift have closed and hidden us, I lean in and pull
him down for a kiss. He relaxes into it and I feel better immediately. The
kiss is short and I think it leaves both of us wanting more, which no doubt
we'll be having once we enter his flat. It's a good thanks, I think.

I feel him smile against my lips.

~

The door to William's apartment is heavy and well-warded. There are three
keyholes, a curious blinking light above it, and a camera. When he unlocks
it I see another door. The small hallway that follows opens up to a
surprisingly bright living room. It's conjoined with a kitchen. I'm not
sure what I expected to see once I entered his living place, but it's
different. It does a good job of reminding me of last night and my stumble
into William's booth. Everything is done in contrasts – the colours
varying between cold tones like yale blue and grey, indifferent blacks and
whites and warm, rich creamy tones. It's a surprisingly good blend,
considering all the colours.

He's a man of style, this William.

There is a large TV in the room, but there are also numerous shelves on his
wall unit, full of books and journals. I could have guessed him to be an
avid reader; I recognize those just fine.

The living space looks inviting but not quite cozy. There's something
formal, elegant in it, and that, I believe, matches the personality he's
shown me so far. Subtle, haute, rather minimalistic.

He gestures for me to step in and I do, eyes exploring the room for the
details that tell tales about the person who lives in it. There aren't many
useless items in the room; everything seems to be there because of a
certain function and I can't help but admire the practicality.

There is a large painting behind the sofa, displaying the opening of a sky,
a lot of geometric figures and windy weather. As I regard it, trying to
figure it out, William stands behind me, touching my shoulder to remind me
of his presence. "That's Zdislav Beksinski. I admire his work," he tells
me, lips ruffling my hair.

Giving up on the painting, for now, I turn to look at him.

"What do you think about this place?" he's quick to ask.

"Well... I expected something bigger. It's small, but it gives off your
vibe just fine," I tell him seriously. "It's very haughty," I say. "Like
you."

He eyes me for a few moments, then leans down to kiss me, another smile
playing near the corner of his mouth. I like it that I make him smile a
lot.

I come back from my William cloud when his hands start moving restlessly
against the small of my back, understanding that it could easily get a bit
too much, a bit too quickly. But William is always a step or two ahead,
thus he doesn't need long to sense my discomfort.

"How gross of me," he says all of a sudden, and separates from me to move
to the kitchen. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

I nod, watching his back as he turns to grab two mugs.

"Earl, Lady or Maharaja Oolong?" he offers as he opens a cabinet, looking
very smart in his own kitchen of all places. I figure it's pointless to
keep staring at him as he makes tea so I turn to explore the rest of his
flat. "Lady," I answer absentmindedly.

On my left there are two doors. I head for the one right in front of me and
find it slightly open. Upon further inspection I discover that it leads to
William's bedroom, one of the most unique rooms I've ever seen. I'm
immediately taken with the central garden window illuminating the grand bed
tucked in the corner. Instead of a classic headboard, it's framed by floor
to ceiling of squares in brown. What's most curiuos about the room is the
full-wall mirror opposite the bed.

~What an exhibitionist.~

William is talking on the phone when I take a notice of the white
carpets. I go back to the hallway to take off my shoes, noticing that he's
done the same.

Like a moth to flame, I am soon drawn back to his bedroom, but this time I
notice nothing other than the great window. The view isn't magical or
anything, but I lose myself nonetheless, tracing the dance of rays upon the
curtains; thinking about William and his kisses.

~William and his passion.~

The air changes when he arrives behind me. His arms encircle my waist and
he drops a kiss on my shoulder. I swallow anxiously, wondering if the time
has come, if he will now ask me to – "There are bubbles under your skin,
William. Am I one of them?"

I hear myself as if I'm miles away. The answer is quick and intense: his
kiss is nothing like despair, yet vigorous enough to rouse me from my
tranquility. I feel it like a spiral of smoke, the arousal curling low in
my stomach.

I'm pushed towards the bed, on the bed, then his hands are all over my
bum. Apparently it's a good thing to bite him because he mashes our groins
together.

"Stop stalling," he murmurs after a while, voice at contrast with his eyes.

"Tea."

He looks confused for a second and I'm torn between wanting to laugh and to
comfort him.

"What about the tea?" I prompt, earning myself an eye-roll worthy of a
trophy. I'm about to start lecturing him on the importance of serving your
guests tea when I feel his tongue on my lip. It's not going to work, this
distraction method, and that is worrisome, but it's so damn difficult to
distract him, to ~want~ to distract him when he rocks against me like
that. There is no escape from William's single-mindedness when it comes to
sex – once I get shifty he grabs my cock over my trousers and rubs me
while watching my face like the pervert he is.

I'm so near to spilling myself in my pants when he stops fondling me and
gets away from me.

Oh, smashing. He's off to get my stupid tea. The bed is now a symbol of my
shame and youthful idiocy so I move back to perch on the window.

I hear him when he returns but I opt to avoid his gaze. He sets the
steaming cup next to me, all the while smiling that small, satisfied smile
I've come to learn better. Though he's anything but satisfied, if his hard
cock is any indication. He's situated himself between my legs neatly when I
feel it rub against me, rekindling a fire I thought lost under the
pressure.

Sometime later, when he stops kissing me to ask if I want to take things to
bed, I dare look at the stupid tea, measuring our arousal against my
insecurities. "Is the tea really that important?" he asks, a new
incredulous tone in his voice.

 I grab his cock instead of the cup so I suppose that's an answer enough,
but he wouldn't be William if he doesn't make it worthwhile for his
sadistic amusement.

"Why don't you just give yourself over to me? Why don't you let me take
care of you?"

Am I allowing him to take care of me by letting me strip like this?

"Why don't you just relax and let me show you some things that we both
could enjoy?"

"Such sweet words, William." Brave, coming from someone who's standing
naked in front of him, for him, in the middle of yet another bedroom. ~His
bedroom.~

"And what about you?" he shoots back.

What about me?

"What about me?"

"Playing coy, provoking, leading me on, only to leave me cold?"

"Seduction is not the same as manipulation," I say in self-defense,
belatedly realising just what it is that I'm saying. Not that it makes any
sense, but that's what I get for playing a game like this with him. His
whole demeanour changes and it's a repeat of the heat I heard in his voice
last night in the booth. "Well then, don't we both have the same goal in
mind...?" he says more than asks this time, thumb going in circles over my
hip.

I weight down my options. It's only sex, isn't it? He knows a lot about it
and he probably knows a lot about boys new to sex too. I can trust him to
show me everything I need to know. It's then that I make the decision to
reach out and let him in. It's not that it's too late and I'm already
standing naked at the foot of his bed. ~He'll have me then.~

~End of part two~