Spokes (8 page)

Control didn't last--Christopher guided the wild thrusts safely, flicking madly against Luca's cock and finally swallowing
hard to match his gasps. Luca stayed long moments after his final spasms before he slithered backward out of Christopher's grasp, falling as much
as lying down into the crook of his arm. Christopher killed the light with his free hand. They didn't need to see for the last kisses of the
night.

Luca awoke once in the night, half sitting with a yelp of surprise.

"It's okay, you're with me--Christopher." He didn't want to turn on the light: he'd
never get back to sleep, but it wasn't necessary.

"Chris--" Luca calmed down, running a hand over Christopher's face and chest. "--topher.
Ah." He wrapped himself against Christopher's back, and sighed again into his dreams.

Chapter 7

The phone chirped from Christopher's pocket--
please let it be Luca
. Last night ended too soon--every night ended too
soon, it seemed, but in the best way, in a tangle of arms and legs and the sweet exhaustion after sex. No encore this morning, but the insistent nibbling
on his ear when Luca tried to rouse him enough to say goodbye was a good memory. For all that Luca still jumped at shadows, he'd never sneaked
out while Christopher slept.

No, Luca woke him each morning, and if he brushed kisses across Christopher's eyes to send him back to slumber for another hour, it was only
after a few minutes of conversation--
Where do you need to be today?

Work, writing, riding, none of those answers were as important as "With you." Which didn't mean he could drop bicycle
components all over the store in his rush to hear Luca's voice.

And Luca inquired every morning:
We see each other again tonight?
Unless he said, "We ride today, get up," or once,
"We ride out Highway 93 tomorrow, okay? Busy tonight, but meet me at market on Broadway and Baseline, 7:30." Funny how he never
questioned that Christopher would be where he wanted while wearing spandex and a jersey, but always hesitated over the two of them doing anything in street
clothes. Or without any clothing at all.

This morning Luca had offered Christopher a choice of Thai or Nepali--he seemed to be trying to eat his way through every eclectic dining
possibility in Boulder, which would take months and cover the whole world. But always with the question mark--
We see each other again tonight?

Yes, hell yes--did he even have to ask? Christopher shoved a set of handlebars into his armpit, freeing a hand to fumble the phone out of his
pocket.

"
Ciao,
Christopher, hey." Luca's voice crossed the miles to caress his ear. And then thump him upside the head.
"Change of plans for tonight, sorry."

"What--?"
I don'
t want to see you, you
'
re too big a risk for me, I can
'
t take chance...."
Every terrifying reason he had yet to hear rattled through his head. What the hell could
have happened between this morning's "I see you about eight, we get
ceviche
at Aji, okay?" and now?

"Big meeting at last minute. Very important, this man comes from New York just to see me."

Nearly dropping the phone, Christopher juggled three wheels and the handlebars to the mechanic's bench. Ignoring the mechanic's double
take at the noise, he pelted out the back door in search of a quiet spot to hear the rest of this bombshell where no one could see his face. Who would be
coming to see Luca that Christopher could actually compete with?

"Um, sounds important."
Sounds like pulling my heart out and stomping it.
He huddled out of the brisk wind behind the dumpster.

"Very." And Luca sounded so happy about it. Damn it. "One of team's sponsors, source of much money. Maybe source of
more."

Oh. A sponsor. Well. Christopher sagged against the green bin. Guess if you have the company name written across your chest you talk to the representative.
"Then it's good news?"

"Possibly. Could be very, very good news, depends on what we say to each other tonight. I talk with manager and sponsor, maybe until late,
certainly past dinner."

Managers and sponsors had to be accommodated, yeah. Christopher pushed his panic back into its "Break heart when needed" box.
"I'll miss you, but if you need to be there, I understand."

"Thank you, Christopher. Ah, I may be very full of energy after talks. Need to go for ride to work off energy." Oh man,
Luca's voice dropped a good octave. "A ride ending at your place. Okay?"

Bring on the energy if it made Luca growl like that. "Sure." His own voice suddenly had a burr in it.

"Or I might be sad." If Luca's pause was to add unseen theatrics, Christopher wouldn't be the least surprised.
"I might need shoulder to cry on."

"I'll dry your eyes," Christopher promised. He'd kiss every tear away and keep on going. "Do you really
think you'll be sad?"

"Have big towel ready. But probably we use it for shower in morning." Luca's laughter returned, tinged with hope and excitement, and not
sounding too different from his anticipation of travel, races, or getting Christopher's clothes off.

"Okay. I'll see you later tonight." Luca wasn't blowing him off, anything but that. No, he was bringing Christopher
his triumph, or his unlikely sorrow, whichever needed to be wallowed in with a lover's help.

"I tell you about it when I get there," Luca promised. "See you at home."

Home? Luca's words filled him with a warmth the cold wind couldn't touch.

***

At 10:07 Christopher leaped off the futon to answer the fusillade of knocks at the door. Luca tumbled in, wind-whipped and grinning, throwing down his pack
and nearly dropping his bike in his rush to pounce on Christopher. Two could play the eager game--Christopher's genuine stumble under
Luca's hurtling weight became four extra steps and a collapse on the futon. Pinned under his squirming lover, he gave as good as he got, with
probing tongue and thrusting hips.

"You don't seem to be crying," Christopher observed about five minutes later. They'd frotted themselves into climax
almost as fast as Luca had come on their first night. Not a bad thing really, some joy in each other and then talk. And then round two would come, more
slowly, more thoughtfully, and a lot longer.

"No crying, none at all." Luca seemed content to stay on top, his weight on his elbows and their noses in brushing distance. His curls
fell down over their faces, making a private twilight for Christopher to gaze up into Luca's eyes. The sun-crinkles around them creased into
delight now. "I make up for no dinner tonight with a week of dinners in France. Or Italy. Or Belgium, or wherever rest days are and you can
come."

"Whoa! Italy?" Christopher rolled them over to their sides and sat halfway upright. "What? When?" His jaw could
barely come up enough to form the words.

Oh shit. Too much--Luca shrank in a way that should have been history a week ago. "If you want to come."

"Oh, yeah, sure, but, I'm just surprised." He reached to Luca's jaw, cupping the classic features and stroking with
his thumb. The tension leaked away; Luca leaned into the caress. "I know you have to go soon. I just didn't know you wanted me to come
along on your turf. I didn't think I could--" He had to override Luca's sputtering, no matter what he'd
said about secrecy before. "I don't have a lot of money, Luca."

"Oh." Luca's smile put happy creases around his mouth. "Money is little problem. If tonight works out, no problem.
Not a done deal yet, I can't say details until all names are on contract, but already we talk about photographers and locations and
magazines."

"That's great!" Christopher leaned down to place his congratulations lip to lip. Who were Antano-Clark's sponsors,
and what had they been advertising, or not advertising yet? He sifted through the
CycloWorld
ads in his head, discarding every product as unrelated.
Who could think of gears or helmets while getting kissed by the sexiest guy to ever straddle a bike?

And Luca wanted Christopher to come to Europe.... And he was right here, right now, and wearing too many clothes. Christopher pulled away again,
just long enough to fix that little problem.

***

"Up, up, Christopher. We ride this morning." The smell of coffee made any further
Z
s impossible, and strong fingers working into
Christopher's shoulders made them undesirable. Which was not the same as wanting to get out of bed.

"Huh?" Peeling his eyes open and his mind from the fuzz of sleep, it did occur to him that Luca had ridden his racing bike last night,
not the mountain bike. He rolled over to find Luca in leggings and a jersey, not yet zipped over the undershirt. "Okay, give me a
minute." He dragged into the bathroom to finish his wakening.

"'ere're 'e 'oing'?" Christopher asked around a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Where did you go yesterday?" Luca asked.

"Up to Ward. Took me about an hour and a half." All the way this time, with chance-met companions to draft on and switch off with, not
the combined might of a pro team to drag him up the mountain. They'd maintained a tempo Christopher felt comfortable with, leaving him pleasantly
well-worked, if without the joys of Luca's company or the dubious delights of Rolf's. With his new pedaling skills, he'd led
enough of the way at a pace that gained some backslaps and attaboys around the water urn at the general store.

"Then let's go out to Lyons and back. About thirty miles. Not too hilly." Luca rinsed his coffee cup and left it upside down
in the drainer.

Christopher paused half-in, half-out of his jersey. "Better check your metric conversions; that's closer to forty-five miles."

"Not if we skip Lee Hill. Pretty road but we don't need to ride it."

Lee Hill had thirteen hundred feet of vertical with that ten percent grade at the top. Skipping it after his climb yesterday sounded pretty good,
except--"Won't you be bored?"

"No, Christopher." Luca came over to run the zipper closed over Christopher's chest, pressing the tab down and reaching up
for a kiss at the same time. "I won't be bored."

"I didn't mean because you'll have my ass to look at." He caught Luca's upper arms, holding him close for
a stern look that melted in the heat of that bright smile.

"Your ass is very not-boring, but the ride is fine. I climbed all day yesterday." Luca pressed in, chest to chest.
"Let's go, okay? I have another meeting with New York guy today, I want to ride first."

"Okay." Christopher let go. He wouldn't dispute Luca's choice of route--he could get to Lyons and back
even after the effort of yesterday, but something was off. "If that's where you want to go."

"That route is good practice for a time trial."

When he put it that way, of course, any question disappeared. All television coverage of cycling included a dozen discussions from the commentators
regarding how big stage races were won or lost on time trials.

Christopher couldn't say it wasn't a pretty ride, with the foothills rising to his left, coated in their-green-black pines and junipers
with their evergreen smell that mixed with the nearby sage. The occasional house poked through the trees, whiffing of money. The topography of the road had
just enough roll to it to require the intermittent shift of gear, and he could bask in Luca's assessment.

"Getting better power now! Not mashing!" came from behind, just before the turnoff to Lefthand Canyon Drive.
"Good!"

Oh yeah. Christopher only had to think about his pedaling every two minutes now, instead of every twelve seconds, and his gear choices had gone another
notch higher. Maybe they should turn left--he wouldn't mind doing the Ward run again. He stuck his arm out to signal.

"Straight to Lyons, Christopher!"

"But I'm feeling pretty good!"

"Looking good, too, but I want to stop and see something by town."

Poor guy; he probably never got to stop and look at anything. Christopher dropped his arm. "Okay!"

Luca buzzed around him to take the brunt of the wind. Christopher didn't think he was quite through leading, but time trials meant the riders
raced alone against the clock, and if they caught up with another rider, or worse, were overtaken, they still couldn't draft. Luca would want the
front for endurance training.

They passed the turn, crested a slight rise, and dropped into the gentle valley, fast enough that Christopher hoped not to encounter any loose rocks.

Thirty-nine miles an hour maximum, declared the bicycling computer when Christopher dared to look. They had a gentle uphill again, and the brush at the
side of the road was no longer rushing by in a blur. "Whoot!"

The scenery was truly fine along this stretch of road--Luca all bent over his handlebars, his ass flexing just out of touching range. And the red
rock among the juniper and sage looked nice too.

Just when Christopher was ready for a water break, Luca pulled into the parking lot for a fieldstone quarry, one of several they'd passed. Their
tires crunched against the broken stone paving the lot. Large sheets of red and buff sandstone stood propped against pallets of thin-cut slabs, the dark
shapes of primeval creatures writhing in fossilized seabeds.

Christopher tilted his head back to squirt water down his throat, one eye on the skeletal figures, the other on Luca. He, too, slaked his thirst, but no
sooner had he racked his bottle than he knelt beside a slab where dozens of ancient fishes had come to rest. Luca ran his fingertips over the skeletons,
tracing ribs and backbones.

"Strange, to dry the ocean and lift it so near the sky." He grinned up at Christopher, the strength of his wonder enough to pull
Christopher down to his haunches to admire the school of fish. "Like the Alps, with many clams on the peaks."

"This one's different." Christopher picked out the form of something much toothier on the same slab. "A
predator."

"Chasing dinner into the sand." Luca spun stories for each of the slabs, though his view of the life and death of some lacy fan-thing
was probably more exciting than the creature had been aware of at the time.