The Plot Bunny (8 page)

"He has you now," Simon shot back.

"It's not enough," Dury replied sadly. "He'll never be happy without you."

Simon didn't want to hear anything else. "Look, that's touching and all, but it's none of your business. Please get out, before I throw you out."

Wordlessly, Dury obeyed, leaving Simon staring into space, feeling empty and abandoned.

* * * *

The next day, Simon returned from his job with renewed sense of purpose. As a famous sculptor, he'd gotten a job with an advertising firm easily enough. The head of the business was a big fan of Simon's work and had been thrilled when Simon expressed his interest in a career there. It worked out, since Simon could still design things, without being directly involved with sculpture.

Today, they'd received an important task and Simon considered ideas of how to best express the desires of the client. He sat down on his couch and reread the file, considering each option. The perfume company was looking for a new approach, something that would combine classical with groundbreaking. That made sense since ads for such products always looked and felt the same.

"You could say it, you know, that all perfume ads are the same," a familiar voice whispered in his ear.

Simon fell off the couch in his haste to get away. The day before, he'd figured that Dury must have sneaked in while Susie was leaving. How the hell did the other man get in now? "What the hell?"

Dury gave him an amused look and jumped on the couch. He picked up the file Simon had dropped and started scanning through its contents. He snapped the folder shut and arched a brow at Simon. "So this is what you do at your day job?" he asked.

Simon could feel the censure in Dury's voice and bristled. "That's right. It's interesting and hot and I'm good at it. Why? What do you do?"

"I told you already," Dury replied. "I help people."

"Like you're helping Luc with his book," Simon said, trying to understand what Dury meant.

Dury nodded. "In case you're wondering, he's doing well. He wrote all day yesterday, but thankfully, he agreed to a break once I was back."

Simon felt his blood freeze in his veins at the implication of the words. "You… you live with him?"

"Of course," Dury replied. "How else could I help him with the writing?"

Simon couldn't believe his ears. He'd waited for Luc to ask him to move in together. He'd been convinced Luc would eventually do it, since they were right for each other in every way. But Luc hadn't, and he'd taken in this strange young man instead.

Dury abandoned the couch and knelt next to Simon on the floor. "I'm sorry. I know it hurts. But I'm not your replacement. You have to know that."

Simon angrily pushed Dury away. "Are you trying to mock me? Do you want to boast with having Luc now? I get it. You won, I lost. Leave me alone."

"This isn't about winners or losers, Simon," Dury said sadly. "It's about lovers. Why don't you understand that?"

Simon took a deep breath and reached for the cell phone in his pocket. "I'm about a second away from dialing 911. Don't try my patience. Get out."

For a second, Dury didn't do anything. "I'll go," he finally said, "but before that, I want you to answer me one question."

Simon rubbed his forehead, clutching his phone like a lifeline. "Go on. Ask already."

"Why aren't you sculpting anymore?" Dury said, and his green gaze speared through Simon's heart.

Simon froze. Susie had asked him the question many times, but this felt somehow different. Dury seemed to know exactly why Simon had given up, why his hands trembled whenever he picked up a chisel, why he couldn't hold his hammer steady and the safety goggles blocked his entire world.

"Fuck you," he growled at Dury. "Leave me the hell alone."

"Okay," Dury replied with a small smile. "I'm leaving you a small gift before I go."

He unzipped his small knapsack and removed a bunch of papers from it. "There. What Luc wrote yesterday," he explained.

Simon nearly choked on his anger and surprise. "You're kidding me. You're stealing Luc's work and giving it to me just like that?"

Dury snorted. "As if you'd ever use Luc's material or do something to betray his trust."

"But you have. You've lied to him, haven't you?"

For a second, Dury faltered. "Yes," he finally answered. "I have. But it's for the best. In time, you will see that too."

With that, Dury picked up his knapsack and walked away. Only when Simon heard the elevator go down did he realize the peculiarity of the entire situation. Why had he never taken notice of Dury's approach before? How did Dury enter the building without making the alarm Simon set screech? So many questions, so few answers.

Finally, Simon picked up the unfinished manuscript, wondering if he could find an answer there. Dury just didn't seem like a common person, and Simon almost fainted when he realized he felt a stirring inside him, the incipient desire to sculpt returning once again.

The last model Simon had used was Luc. After that, no one seemed right, but Simon hadn't needed it either. And then, they'd broken up, and his talent simply abandoned him. To think that the presence of this young man could revitalize it… It felt like both an impossibility and a betrayal.

In the end, Simon pushed the yearning down and focused on the written words. There was no title, and the passages didn't have alignment or anything like that. It was obviously a very rough draft, but as Simon read on, he understood why.

Each and every word seemed to hold a wealth of emotion. Every twist of the phrase made Simon's heart thunder. When the characters spoke, they reminded him of Luc's voice, his laughter when they were in a playful mood, his groans and cries as they made love. Through the written words, he felt connected to Luc once more. He read on greedily, like an addict getting his fix, until he ran out of pages. Then he went over the text again, and he imagined himself there, the wizard helping the prince out in his fight. He saw their shared memories in every line.

"That's amazing," the prince said. "As expected from the master of all alchemists."

The wizard gave a disgusted huff. "Don't mock me. I don't appreciate it, not even from the prince."

"I'm not," the prince said softly. "You've got a gift."

"And here I thought you were just trying to use me," the wizard shot back.

* *

The Past

Simon analyzed the sculpture with a critical eye, then stole another look at the model. If he wanted to be honest, he was being slower and even more obsessed than ever. He knew it was only partially because of his perfectionism. In truth, he didn't want to finish it. He didn't want to stop seeing Luc.

"Well?" Luc asked, his lips barely moving.

"It's ready," Simon declared. He couldn't keep clinging on to this pretext forever. He'd just have to hope Luc would come back even without the sculpture.

"Thank God," Luc said. He abandoned the book on the couch and stretched, obviously uncomfortable from standing in the same position for so long. Simon's mouth watered as he watched the play of muscles, the way the motion made Luc's hard cock bounce. He didn't know why, but Luc was always erect during their sculpting sessions. Naturally, this led to very pleasant evenings for Simon.

Still naked, he made his way to Simon and swept his eyes over the sculpture. "Wow, that's amazing. As expected from the master of all sculptors."

Simon snorted. "Don't mock me."

"I'm not," Luc said with a smile. "You've got a gift."

Simon felt himself flush. "And here I thought you appreciated me for my other abilities," he flirted.

"I appreciate everything you are," Luc purred. He gripped Simon's hand, and together, they caressed the curve of the sculpture's back. "And this is the evidence."

"You're such a narcissist," Simon said.

"Am I?" Luc asked, sounding thoughtful. "I think there's a little piece of me, and a little piece of you in here. What can be more beautiful than that?"

Simon didn't reply. After all, what could he say? Perhaps Luc didn't even realize the implications of that statement. They'd made no promises to each other, not even to stay monogamous. Sure, Simon couldn't possibly bring himself to see other people, but Luc might want to, sometime in the future. To ask for love seemed too much, too soon.

"Come on," he offered. "Let's go to bed."

They cleaned up quickly, opting for swift separate showers. The day had been taxing and Simon wasn't up to acrobatics in the bathroom. However, the bed looked very inviting. They collapsed on the soft mattress together, their hands lingering on naked skin, gently caressing.

Simon's body burned with silent arousal, but he didn't push it. He allowed it to sweep through him and took everything slowly. Luc's hard cock rubbed against his own, the feel of it both exciting and familiar. For some reason, even if they'd been sleeping together for quite a while now, every night seemed to bring a new experience. Every day meant a precious added memory, and Simon felt himself fall more and more for Lucas Black.

"Luc," Simon whispered for no real reason.

Luc smiled at him, and then, his lips met Simon's in a languorous, seductive kiss. Simon pushed closer to Luc, aching to be one with the other man. They moved together without urgency, simply reveling in each other's proximity, in the slow heat. Their tongues entangled in a dance of passion, and Simon heard himself moan in desire. Need began to rise inside him, the ever present longing to feel Luc inside of him.

He realized Luc was reaching over to the nightstand, and he felt excitement swell through him. Luc shifted them on the bed, and Simon ended up on all fours, with Luc looming above him. Eagerly, he spread his legs, exposing his hole to his lover's gaze. Luc groaned, and Simon heard him drop the lube on the bed.

"Fuck, babe… you're just so…"

To know that he could drive a writer speechless was an amazing turn-on. He grinned and wiggled his ass a bit. "Come on, Luc. Take what you want."

Nodding wordlessly, Luc picked up the tube once again. A few seconds later, cool liquid slipped down Simon's crack, making him gasp. Luc shushed him and a slender finger invaded Simon's body with excruciating care. "More," Simon begged. Regular sex had his body greedy, and he could take Luc more easily than during the first few times.

Luc gave him what he wanted, adding two more fingers in his hole. This time, Simon did feel a bit of discomfort, but Luc stretched him gently, scissoring his fingers, loosening up Simon's passage. Soon, he had Simon thrusting back against the digits, aching for a more powerful penetration.

Luc seemed to make a decision. He pushed his fingers deeper, and Simon gasped as he felt them pop in past the knuckles, all the way to the base. Luc waited until Simon got used to it, moving them around gently. "Do you want more, babe?" Luc asked.

Simon shuddered at the promise in Luc's voice. Did he dare? Yes, he dared. "Please… Do it, Luc."

Luc poured more lube over Simon's hole and then, ever so slowly, inserted the fourth finger. It went in carefully, and Simon focused on relaxing, on trusting Luc and taking what his lover offered. After all, the girth of the four fingers wasn't too different from Luc's cock. Okay, maybe that wasn't exactly true, but Simon could encourage himself.

"Tell me if you want to stop," Luc said, his tone gentle but husky. "At any moment, just say my full name and I stop."

Simon nodded. "It's okay. Go on." He almost didn't recognize his own voice. How could he sound so breathless, so lost?

More lube trickled over Simon's anus, and Simon distantly thought they'd have to buy another bottle after this. Luc seemed to be using it in excess. But then again, in the circumstances, more was better than less.

Luc pumped his fingers inside Simon's passage, taking his time, whispering soft words, telling Simon how hot he looked, how well he was doing. With each passing moment, Simon's body grew hotter and hotter, the knowledge of what they were doing as arousing as the sensation rushing through him. Luc's touch remained gentle, but sped up a bit. As his fingers rubbed against Simon's prostate, Simon thought he'd died and gone to heaven.

"Ready for the last one?" Luc purred.

Simon nodded, although he had no idea if he was ready. They'd never played like this before, and Simon had never actually felt the need. And yet, tonight it seemed like this was what he wanted, to be completely and utterly possessed by Luc, to surrender his entire self to the other man. Perhaps it was fear, the knowledge that Luc might leave him after tonight, or maybe just the fact that he trusted Luc with his body, his heart, his very soul. All the exhaustion of the day vanished, leaving just desire behind. He wanted to feel Luc inside him, to have his lover hold him and take him.

As the thumb went in, Simon's eyes filled with tears, half of pain, half of emotion. He felt full, stretched more than humanly possible. Of course, his reason told him that wasn't true. The human body could adapt to many circumstances, sexual or otherwise. Simon knew this well, and he understood the limits and abilities of his own body better than most. After all, how could he be a sculptor if he couldn't grasp the details of what he wanted to depict? But acknowledging things mentally and feeling them were different matters entirely.

Luc stopped, obviously sensing Simon's discomfort. "Do you want to try something else?" he whispered. "It's okay."

Simon kind of wanted to say yes. He didn't think he could go through with this. Fisting was often risky, and Simon didn't have the experience to take it now. But he suspected that if he didn't do it now, he'd never have the courage to try it again. A part of him ached to see how it would feel, just this once.

"Go slow," he somehow managed to mutter.

Luc almost seemed reluctant to continue, but in the end, he gave Simon what he wanted. Inch by excruciating inch, Luc's hand went in. Simon fought to relax, knowing how important it would be in these circumstances. Pain and pleasure came together, sending sizzling shots of electricity over Simon's body. He became distantly aware of crying out, of saying something to Luc, and he could only hope it wasn't the safe word. God help him, but he didn't want it to stop.