“What were you doing this afternoon? When you found me?” Andy dragged the wine glass against his lower lip and looked away from Leonidas, turning his attention to the window. He reached out and rubbed one of the leaves of the Devil’s Ivy that had tangled its way from the window planter and into his room.
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.
“So, luck then?” Andy arched a brow.
“You could call it that.” Leonidas sipped his wine. “What about you?”
“I’m staying down the way from where we met.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Isn’t it?” Andy smirked. “But like you, just wandering I suppose.”
“But you stay in a hotel?”
“I didn’t know how long I was going to be here for. How did you find this place?” Andy dropped the leaf and curled his fingers around the stem of the wine glass.
“I was looking for an art studio when I met Alain. He had an art studio.”
Andy chuckled softly. “That easy?”
“He also had this place.” Leonidas gestured around the apartment.
“And here you are.”
“Hereyouare.” Leonidas tipped the rest of the contents of his glass down his throat, then set the glass on the floor and crawled closer until their faces were inches apart.
“I don’t…” Andy’s voice was soft and trailed off before he finished his thought.
“Don’t what?” Leonidas pressed.
“It’s silly.” Andy looked back toward the window, and Leonidas leaned closer, running his nose up the soft curve of Andy’s jaw. He didn’t know what it was about this American, but he was intoxicating.
“Couldn’t be.”
“I don’t know what…” Andy gasped when Leonidas nipped his earlobe. “Don’t know what it is about you.”
“It’s mutual,” he whispered.
Andy moaned, or maybe whimpered; either way, it sounded like liquid sex against Leonidas’s ears.
“Andrew,” he said quietly, his lips rubbing against Andy’s ear as he spoke, “I want to take you downstairs.”
Andy made a nervous sound in his throat. “That’s not what I expected you to say.”
“Mmmn,” he agreed. “I want to take you downstairs and make something beautiful with you. And then I want to see your dick again in the light where we aren’t threatened with jail time.”
“When we aren’t what?” Andy scampered out from beneath him, his honey eyes wide and worried.
Leonidas offered up a small grin.
“Getting caught like we were in the alley,” he paused and licked his lips, remembering the tight grip of Andy’s hand and the thrill of sharing such an indecent act with a stranger, “it’s a mandatory year in jail.”
“A year?” Andy shouted.
Leonidas crawled back toward him, kissing him down to an inside voice.
“Unless it’s for art,” he murmured. “And you,agapi mou, are a work of fucking art.”
