Vision Quest (2 page)

Success; it seemed... important somehow. To prove. To satisfy. To be the one to make this pretty man squirm and cry out his name. And the way that Blaze was watching him advance...

"Mmm," Blaze sighed when Arik's hands found Blaze's thighs and began a slow slide towards bared pinnacle.

Hands to tongue and tongue to throat, the sweetest taste that Arik could think of: sex and musk and skin and fluid. But it was the way Blaze was fisting his hair, the way Blaze rolled hips into every swallow and lifted bodily from the bed to meet him that had Arik dry-humping sheets and mattress, his own cock achingly hard and frantic for friction.

"Ah-Ah-fuck!" Blaze hissed through his teeth. "Fuck, yes! Just like that... please, unh..."

Heavenly chorus could not have been more righteous, certainly not more moving. Arik pulled back, using his tongue to spread still more spit onto the well-coated head of Blaze's cock before sliding tip to end in a slow, measured suck. Holding Blaze inside his throat, Arik hummed his own song of congratulations as Blaze gasped a whole new string of curse-inflected designations into the room.

Blaze had to pull his own body away from Arik's mouth. Arik was lost in performance, intent on task, and could have easily kept mouthing flesh until Blaze came. Wouldn't have cared in the least.

"Nah-no-no," Blaze stuttered as he forced himself away. "Fuck me! Need it. Take me there with your cock, okay?"

Latex, lube, pressed to sweaty palms and subsequently spread and rolled on to skin; breath panted harshly against faces, lips seeking lips, and all the while Arik's thoughts told him none of it could be real. Forget what you see, forget what you taste or feel or smell or touch. There's no way this can be happening to you. And yet, there he was, nudging a hard column of needy flesh against the give of skin that led to bliss, while Blaze moaned encouraging sounds that could have been words had Arik's brain the ability to focus on them.

Slow and easy; increasing the pressure that surrounded Arik's dick in a trembling and agonizingly beautiful way, almost, but not quite, as beautiful as Blaze's face. Unfocussed eyes watched moving parts, gripping fingers worked into Arik's shoulders and neck, and every single time Arik dug himself inside, Blaze's cock jumped in tandem with a moan. Blaze's legs tightened around Arik's torso, Blaze's heels digging so hard into Arik's back that he was sure there would be bruises.

"Need," Blaze was mumbling, Arik finally organizing syllable into function. "Want. Need. Please. Fuck!" With a small whine Blaze reached for his own dick, and in a moment of improv, Arik grabbed Blaze's hand and slammed it back down to the mattress.

"No," Arik growled, catching surprised, wide eyes, and shocking even himself. "With my cock, right?"

Arik held both wrists, probably much too tightly by the looks of the reddening fists above them, but Arik didn't relent as he thrust inside Blaze's body, keeping the man's arms still. Blaze didn't fight it; he lay back and turned half-lidded eyes to the ceiling.

Arik just watched him. Watched him mumble, watched him arch, watched him writhe into every move. Blaze's cock looked ready to explode. His body shook. "Unnn..." Blaze sighed and the sound rang in Arik's ears, joined with the growing desire, and like a virus spreading, began to multiply. "Unnn, pleeasse," every syllable stretched into a hotter version of its former self. "Going to..."

That was the phrase that did Arik in. Doubling, tripling, increasing infinitely... and as the sensations rolled from Arik's guts, he finally let go of slim wrist and lowered his attentions.

One finger over another, finalized by thumb, in a slow teasing grab, and the moment Arik's fist closed and squeezed, Blaze cried out. Arik felt every contracting spew of Blaze's cock along the length of his own expulsing shaft.

Legs dropped. Eyelids fell. Heavy breath pulled oxygen into lungs that couldn't quite seem to get enough. Arik lowered himself from wrist to elbow. His back hurt. His heart pounded like it was about to quit on him altogether.

And he'd never felt better in his life.

They lay side-by-side, backs on the mattress and listened to the sounds of the hotel—the ping of the a/c, the clumps of footsteps down the hallway, the drone of the traffic. They rested without speaking and drank in the aftermath of sex.

*~*~*

"I could stay," Arik said, awkwardly dragging fingers through his hair and standing at the doorway of Blaze's room.

Blaze smiled. "Why don't you just tell me your name?"

"Oh!" Arik said, eyes wide. "Jesus! Blaze, I don't... I mean... holy shit! You must think I'm some kind of asshole! Arik, my name is Arik. With an 'A'. I don't know why. My mom... she liked it and there's a story, but..."

"Arik," Blaze parroted. "I like it. Very nice. It suits you."

Arik shook his head and laughed, embarrassed. "Thanks. Blaze your real name?" Blaze nodded, and Arik lifted his hand to tug a red curl at the side of Blaze's neck. "Suits you, too."

"Tell you what," Blaze said, thoughtfully. "If you want to meet me for coffee in the morning, then I'll be in the shop by the lobby around nine. You don't want to, then don't. No worries. No guilt. No regret. Your choice."

"And if I do?"

Blaze smiled. "Then you do."

Hotel hallways always seemed strange to Arik. The lack of outside lighting and the similarity of space seemed labyrinth-like. It was always noon in a hotel hallway. And you were always in the same hall, on the same carpet, looking at the same row of doors.

And for once, it didn't depress him. It occurred to him, yes. He always thought about it, tonight was no different. It just didn't affect him. And that realization made him smile.

It took him a second to dig out the card for his door. He had a moment's panic when he didn't find it right away—visions of the card sitting on Blaze's floor, of the humiliation of knocking on Blaze's door, "I think I might have dropped something..."

He was grinning when he reached for the door handle, card aloft, eyes tired and heavy, and was startled when a charge of static leapt between finger and metal—a visible electric flare.

Fascinating, Arik thought, looking down at his bare feet and noting the cool air-conditioned current in the corridor.

"Infused," his mind whispered, "by flame."

Arik paused for a long minute, staring at his finger and the handle, and then he shook his head and pushed the door open. He needed sleep. It was late. And he had plans for the morning. At least, he was pretty sure he did. He'd see what tomorrow brought.

Yet it was not the bed that called him. Rather, Arik walked to the window and yanked open the heavy drapes. The lights from the street and the hotel illuminated the darkness and cast a radiating glow that seemed to set the night ablaze. He felt... different somehow. Warmer. Brighter. Lit.

"Bed," he told himself with a sigh. He had to shut down his mind before he started thinking like a fool. Besides, the night was moving onward, and the morning wouldn't wait for him. He tossed his weary body to the mattress and rolled to his side, staring at the blaring red numbers of the clock. And he fell asleep thinking of silky red curls, golden eyelashes, and baby-blues.

"That'll be six-fifty," said the curvy, dark-skinned woman behind the hotel coffee shop counter. Blaze smiled, dug out the cash, and slid it to her. Their fingers touched, but there was no spark, no moment of clarity, no vision, and Blaze relaxed. So far, the only target he had was the one he'd acquired last night. Most pleasantly acquired, in fact. It was nice when Blaze's fortune ran to the pleasurable instead of other alternatives. Sometimes Blaze's encounters ended in tears or death or mayhem, not sweat-slick-spent bodies, shy smiles, and bewildered grins.

 "Thanks," Blaze said, picking up the coffees and then carrying them to the condiment counter. He kept glancing toward the elevator doors while he added cream to his drink. He was going to leave the other coffee black, but reconsidered, adding a bit of sugar and stirring until the crystals had dissolved and done their sweetening job.

 Blaze recapped the coffees and carried them to a glass pane near the coffee shop's open entrance. He balanced the cups in one hand, dropped his black duffle on the ground, and rested a hip against a metal beam, waiting. He didn't need a watch or a clock to tell him it was around eight-fifty-five. Blaze knew time like summer knew sunshine. He held the coffee under his nose, as it was still too hot to drink, and he watched the golden doors.

 At five after nine, Arik Beltrán emerged in a tailored suit and shiny shoes. It didn't have the hot and lazy factors that the hoodie and Adidas pants did, but there were all sorts of kind things to say about a man who knew both how to dress down and dress up. The creamy shirt looked good against Arik's dusky skin, and Arik's dark hair wasn't mussed like it had been last night, from sleep and tugging and grasping. Arik had his briefcase, and Blaze realized the man had to be at the hotel for a reason. A conference, maybe, or a business meeting. Blaze chuckled to himself, wondering what Arik would think about Blaze's version of a conference call, and then Arik spotted Blaze, and Arik's entire countenance changed. Worry dissolved into abject wonder, and Blaze's insides warmed. He loved these moments. The, oh-holy-shit-you-are-real moments. When they were sweet, they made life worth living. When they were fearful, they made Blaze wish he had another path.

 Arik approached with a purposeful stride. He was taller than Blaze, but then, most men, at least in this country, were. At five-six, Blaze was on the short side of this age's average. It had advantages, though. Last night when Arik had picked Blaze up and thrown him on the bed, Blaze hadn't minded his height in the least.

 Through the doorway, around the counter, and to the table near where Blaze leaned, Arik came, and Blaze slowly turned to follow the progression. He held out the coffee when Arik was within range, and Blaze smiled again, this one less for show. "Morning," Blaze said.

 "Hi," Arik blurted. He stared at the coffee. "Is this for me?"

 "No, it's for the other man I fucked last night."

 Arik jerked a look at Blaze, checking for seriousness, and Blaze had to laugh. "Black, little sugar. It's yours."

 "Thank you." Arik took the coffee, but set it on the tall table. "Who are you?" he asked, bluntly and like he couldn't quite help himself.

 Blaze didn't answer right away. He noted, instead, the drawn tightness around Arik's dark eyes that spoke of weariness. Blaze could relate. He'd not slept at all, waiting for Arik to pass by his room, and when Arik had left after they'd finished and caught their breaths, Blaze had slept, but it'd been to dream more of Arik. Not restful, the Vision sleep.

 "Sorry," Arik muttered. "That was rude. I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry."

 "I'm Blaze Zaituc," he said.

 "Nice to meet ..." Arik frowned. "Zaituc?"

 "It's Romanian," Blaze said.

 "It's unusual."

 "I'm unusual."

 Arik's lips twitched, and Blaze wanted to kiss them. After the last Vision Quest that had ended so badly, enjoying this one was a gift from the gods. "I can see that," Arik said. He drew closer, and Blaze gazed up at Arik's face, enjoying the scent of aftershave and soap and freshly laundered clothes. "What are you doing here, Blaze?"

 Oh, Blaze liked it when they played the part of seducer and not mere victim of fate. A thrill chased a victory down Blaze's spine. "You, mostly," he quipped.

 Arik enjoyed that answer. He glanced at Blaze's bag. "Checking out so soon?"

 "Only had the room for a night."

 "Passing through?"

 "No." Blaze slid a hand over the back of Arik's where it rested on the tabletop. Blaze squeezed Arik's wrist. "Told you. Here for you."

 Arik's face was more expressive than Blaze bet the man liked. Blaze watched Arik try to sort out if Blaze was flirting, teasing, didn't know when to stop playing the game and start giving real answers, or, possibly worse and possibly better, if Blaze
was
telling Arik the absolute truth, which raised all kinds of questions. Blaze watched Arik decide that reality was impossible, but answers were needed, but he didn't want to anger Blaze, scare Blaze off, or lose Blaze's interest. Blaze would have liked to tell Arik that it'd be quite impossible to shake Blaze off the Quest now that he was on it, but he'd done this dance far too often to take such a misstep so early in their tango.

 "Well, I'm here for a few days," Arik said carefully.

 "Then I'll stay," Blaze said, massaging the bone of Arik's wrist with a soft touch. A spark like a tiny electric shock shot through Blaze's fingers. He saw himself, naked and face down in Arik's bed. He saw Arik approaching. He saw a clock on a nightstand, a man with dirty blond hair, a lit cigarette, and Arik's eyes full of tears. The imagery was gone in a blink, and determination steadied Blaze. He tightened his grip, and, as though on autopilot, Arik flipped a palm to grasp Blaze in return.

 Despite the physical response, Arik was adorably confused, but still trying not to crack the certain and sure façade. "But how will you stay, without a room?"

 Blaze shrugged one shoulder, made a show of reaching for his coffee so he wouldn't stop touching Arik, and took a sip. "If you're busy, I'll find something to do while you're gone. If you want company during the day, you'll have it. And tonight ..." Blaze met Arik's eyes, direct and simple. "I'll be where you'd like me to be."

 Arik swallowed, and suspicion warred with heat in his lovely brown eyes. "Is that so?"

 "I hope it will be," Blaze said, honestly. He caressed Arik one last time and withdrew his touch. "The choice is yours," Blaze said, and that, too, was the truth. Arik could make Blaze's purpose as easy or as difficult as he liked. But Blaze was here for a reason larger than either of them could comprehend, and Blaze had no choice when it came to his life's course.

 So he smiled at Arik, letting the man think, and around them, people went about their lives, oblivious to the pivotal moment in their midst.