Staircases, here and in a stifling Mayfair mansion two yearsbefore.Sasha caressed Laurie’s back, helping him settle on thesubtly coloured carpet.Different worlds had made them, and they’dforged a fragile link in the servant’s stairwell of the Mayfairhouse.Maybe that was why they found themselves here so often, theattraction of that connecting space.He stroked Laurie’s ribs, abit too close to surface after this long theatre run, and heavingwith an anxiety none of his clowning could disguise.“I’d like tokill that bloody Bertram,” Sasha told him softly.“Next time choosesomeone nice, if you’re going to bury yourself in thepart.”
“Maybe I will.Mercutio is nice.”
“Sure you don’t want to look?”
“Oh, no.No.”Laurie folded his arms on the fifth step up andrested his brow on them.That signal of surrender, the beautifulbowed head, finished off Sasha’s chances of control.He took thelube from Laurie’s sweat-damped fingers, slipped jeans and briefsdown around his thighs.God, the sight of him—neat arse mademuscular by all the hours of extra work he did, the stagecraftfencing classes, stunt training, unarmed combat.And that fineskin, rich and delicate as silk...Sasha kissed and bit him lightlyuntil Laurie spread his thighs and made a sound of torturedimpatience.Straightening up, Sasha called on the last of hismanners—the last trace of the civilised man who’d beensystematically killed off between the theatre and home—to slickhimself thoroughly with lube.Then he pressed the head of his cockto Laurie’s entrance, waited till the ring of muscle twitched forhim and gave, and pushed in deep.
Lauriegroaned and jerked his head up.He clutched at the edge of thestair.No warning, none of Sash’s usual sweet care, circling withhis fingers, opening him.His flesh cramped in protest but therewas no pain—only invasion, the overwhelming feel of being filled tobursting and then a bit more.Terrifying.Just exactly what hisbody needed.Ah, God, body and soul—Bertram fled at last, banishedby fiery sword.
He wascoming.Way too soon, trying hopelessly to scrabble back from thebrink.He grunted explosively in protest, but Sasha rescuedhim—thrust into him just right, keeping him high until he couldcatch up with himself and feel his orgasm as more than just a wildexpulsion from his balls.Pleasure seared up his spine.He gave ayell that bounced off the corniced ceiling and came back to collidewith Sasha’s.Sasha leaned over him, arms tight round Laurie’swaist, fusing them together for the convulsion of sharedclimax.
They hitthe staircase in a tangle.Sasha withdrew clumsily, gasping anapology.But Laurie scrambled blindly into his arms, past caring.“Sweetheart,” Sasha whispered when he had the breath for it,kissing the crown of Laurie’s head.He held him tight, rocking him.“Sorry.Bit of a flash-fuck there.”
Lauriechoked and shuddered with laughter.“We needed each other.I...Ineeded you.”
What thehell was that trace of uncertainty in his voice?Sasha dragged himclose.“In what possible universe do you imagine you could everneed me more than I need you?My beautiful boy...Are you allright?”
“Yeah.Came so hard I think I pulled something.”
“Oh, God.Nothing we’ll be needing again tonight, Ihope.”
“You’ll be bloody lucky.Help me upstairs before I die ofstarvation and sex.”
Sashadid as he was bidden, half-lifting Laurie to his feet and bundlinghim up the stairs, one hand firmly propped against his arse.He wasalmost sorry to leave the liminal world of the hallway, even thoughit was to enter the glowingly handsome living space he and Lauriehad put together between them.Sasha still had trouble believing hebelonged here.Some part of him was more at easeoutside.
He hadalmost died of sex himself.His flesh was reverberant with echoes,and he was less steady on his feet than Laurie, though better athiding it.Were he and Laurie at their best when they met inpassion in the space between street and home—between the two worldsthat had once divided them?He shivered.Pushing the thought fromhis mind, he followed Laurie inside.
***
Lauriesat and watched his lover stretched out on the rack of his dreams.They had started in the small hours, and Laurie, by prioragreement, had got out of bed and taken up position in a chair onthe far side of the room.
Heleaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.He pressed hisfingers to his lips.That way he stood a better chance of keepingquiet when Sasha’s next low wail of anguish filled the air.Betterstill if he didn’t look.He tried closing his eyes, but that was nogood—his imagination promptly filled the gap with worse than whatwas there.He turned his attention to the bedroom walls.Not muchto distract him there, though.He and Sash had been so overwhelmedby the high ceiling and elegant Regency panelling that the postersand newspaper cuttings they’d cheerfully plastered over their roomin their previous flat had remained in a box beneath the bed.Ofcourse Laurie knew what a wealthy man’s bedroom might look like—andthey were pretty well off now; by Sasha’s standards absolutelyloaded—and he could have chosen paintings, mirrors, signs of theirnew standing.But that was all they would have been.Symbols, ameaningless surface layer he’d learned from –
“Mira kumpania!Mira kumpania...pahome, sanpahome!”
Help them!My friends, they’re cold.Frozen.Laurie hadn’t learned much Romani but the vocab ofSasha’s nightmares was concise.By now Laurie couldunderstandcontainership, andcold, anddying.He clamped his hands to thearms of the chair.In their wide bed—one thing he and Sasha hadbeen able to choose with unhesitating pleasure, grinning at theshowroom assistant and testing the springs—Sasha struggled overonto his front to silence a howl.
Laurie got up.He knew the words forno, too, andplease.Sasha swiped one pillow offthe bed and seized the other.Lean muscles stood up in cords acrosshis shoulders.He was naked to the waist, his velvety cap of blackhair damping into spikes.Please.No.No!
Deliberately Laurie unclenched his fists and sat down again.He would obey his orders, even though a copper taste was fillinghis mouth and his stomach was shifting uneasily around his niceThai meal, shared cold but ravenously straight out of the boxes ontheir kitchen table.He trusted Sasha’s doctor.Don’t disturb him, Laurence.His subconscious has to dealwith it.Let him dream it out.
That was fine for Dr Matthews, who didn’t have to be herelistening.Still, Laurie trusted her—had to, having no ideas of hisown on how to deal with this.You mustn’ttouch him.Definitely don’t wake him up.
Sashawoke himself with a raw yell.He shoved upright in the bed andtwisted round, arms flailing empty air.“Laurie!”
Laurieleapt up so hard he knocked the chair over behind him.He shotacross the room—too big, too bloody vacant—and scrambled onto thebed.He wasn’t good at languages and attempts at Romani soundedawkward on his tongue but he gave back Sasha’s oldest endearment tohim, hauling the sweat-soaked body into his arms.“Ves’tacha!I’mhere, I’m here.”
“Oh, Laurie...What the fuck...”
“You were dreaming again.Talk to me about it.Please.”
“No!I mean...I can’t.I don’t remember.”
That was a lie.Laurie, who knew all his sounds of truth, feltit like a cold blade pressing between them.Clutching himbruisingly tight, he let it go.The doctor had said that if Sashawould talk, put the nightmares outside of himself into words, thatwould be half the battle.But Laurie was starting to fear they hadonly just started this war.For a year they’d lived peacefully,crushed together in Laurie’s dreadful bedsit overlooking theBirchwood railway lines.Something to do with moving here hadtriggered the bad dreams.They’d been an occasional trouble atfirst, then had begun to invade Sasha’s sleep almost every night,worsening until Laurie had sidestepped their ineffectual GP andtaken Sash to one of the doctors his mother saw.Dr Matthews hadbeen gentle with poor disoriented Marielle, and was sensible andkind with Sasha too.Remember he’s been arefugee.You can’t change his past.Just give him a safe placenow.
Well,Laurie had.He fought against baffled rage.What did he have to do,to look after his lover and his home?He’d worked because he adoredhis career but also because each new role meant a better, saferworld for Sash.For Clara too, when she was with them.He sat onthe bed, watching the restless wash of leaf-shadow on the barewall.A summer wind was blowing in the city streets tonight.Thesound of it blended with Sasha’s ragged breathing.He was becominglimp and heavy in Laurie’s arms, dropping back into sleep with hissecrets and stories untold.
Laurieeased him down onto the mattress.He stretched out beside him andlay wide-eyed.Sasha even smelled different after these horrificdreams, a tang of fear overlaying the warm, contented musk thatwrapped them both round after sex.They’d gone for it again aftertheir shared meal and a bath, putting Sinbad aside in favour of aslow, sweet fuck...
