18
CHRIS
Earlier, Chris had placed candles strategically around the room. He lit them and turned on some background music. "I haven't done this in a very long time."
"What? Eaten dinner? Or lit candles."
Smiling, Chris shook his head. "No, silly. Brought a man home for dinner when I barely know him. You know how it is. It's usually one extreme or the other. Going out on dates for weeks, or, you know." Without looking at Frank, Chris moved toward the door. "Come on and help me in the kitchen."
He felt a hand on his arm and stopped short of leaving the room.
"Or what?" Frank asked.
"Or an instant gratification hook up, of course." Turning to face Frank, Chris didn't want to spell it out. "I just don't want you to think I'm that kind of man. Or that I think of you as that kind of man."
They were once again standing close, and Chris longed to move forward into a kiss. His skin burned with the heat, where Frank held it.
"If I was single, I think I'd know what you're talking about, but I've been in a relationship for ten years. It's been a long time since I was dating or doing the casual sex thing."
"So you do the casual sex thing? You don't have religious objections or something?"
Frank chuckled. "I'm not religious, and I've no objections to casual sex. I just can't remember what that's like."
And even though his voice sounded casual, the hand not holding Chris's bicep ran fingers around Chris's jaw.
"If this is a second date for us then I think we've gone past the opportunity for a casual hookup. I mean, three dates before sex is waiting for it, isn't it?" Chris hoped the comment sounded light and playful. Not as desperate and hopeful as he felt at the moment.
Standing so close.
Their mouths came together in a kiss that was somehow so gentle, so sensual, and so hot all at the same time.
His kiss, his touch, his voice.
His very essence was unlike any man who had ever kissed Chris before.
Time stopped.
Temperature rose. Among other things.
And then the kiss ended, naturally. It wasn't a let's-go-to-bed kiss. It was a kiss for the sake of kissing. Satisfying in its own right. Sufficient for now and leaving a hint of more to come.
Each man stood breathing and looking at the other.
"The kitchen," Frank prompted.
"The kitchen," Chris repeated, turned, and led the way.
As soon as he'd entered his home, Chris had flicked the stove on to warm the pie that he'd left within, along with the mild vegetable tagine that he'd forgotten about. As the food could not have completely cooled kept inside the oven and earthen cookware, it wouldn't take long to reheat.
Within a quarter of an hour, they were ready to sit and eat, after an organised relay taking food and drink and condiments to the dining table in the lounge.
Chris sat down opposite Frank. "This looks delicious, even if I say it myself."
"Looks and smells delicious. What exactly is it? I was expecting salad."
"I didn't deliberately mislead you. I had a moment of absent mindedness. I think it's the effect you have on me." Chris winked at Frank's amused expression. "There is salad in the fridge, so it wasn't a total lie. Anyway, this is steak and mushroom pie with a very British version of a vegetable tagine."
"Isn't that what I'd call a casserole?"
Chris chuckled. "You might, smartarse. Tagine is the word we use for special guests when sitting at the special guest table. Casserole is for eating in the kitchen."
"And of course, a casserole is winter warming food, whereas tagine is suitable as an all-season dish." A crooked grin played on Frank's lips, and Chris found it hard to look away.
"Comfort food. My speciality. Have I told you, I like you?"
Frank put down his cutlery and placed his hand on his chin. The thinker pose. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure if you have."
"I'm sorry, is this too fast?" Chris bit his lip. "You told me you're not long out of your last relationship."
Frank slowly and deliberately piled food onto his fork and ate it, delaying his response. Chris tried not to show he was watching very carefully, reading the body language.
"I feel like I should say, no, it's okay, I'm over it. But I'd be lying. And lying to you doesn't feel right."
"I'm practically a stranger. You can tell me anything."
"That's probably why I want to be honest with you. You know how it's easier to tell all to a total stranger sometimes."
"You can bare your soul to me, but I hope I'm not still a total stranger. Just practically a stranger; that's not the same thing at all."
Frank put down his cutlery and picked up his glass. "You can't just forget ten years, just like that. I thought we'd be together forever. And she's still calling me. I don't know what to make of that."
There was no justification for the pang of jealousy that shot through Chris when he heard these words. The answer wasn't what he wanted to hear, but it was honest. But worse, the woman was still contacting Frank; perhaps she regretted their split. "What's that all about?"
"I've no idea, to be honest, but it's not as if we've left stuff at each other's homes or anything. She can't be calling to pick up her things."
"So how recent was it?"
"Two weeks."
Chris sucked in a breath. "Wow, that's pretty soon." Too early to be moving on into a new relationship. Relationship? They'd known each other just three days, so why was he even thinking of a relationship with this carpenter that he barely knew?
"But you know. We just saw each other because it was routine. It wasn't exactly healthy. She'd piss all over some of the things that were important to me." Frank put down his cutlery to pick up his glass. "I don't mean in a vindictive, watersports way." He flashed one of his sweet crooked grins. "I mean she wasn't shy in letting me know her opinions. Even if it involved insulting my taste. You know, she thought my woodworking hobby was a waste of time. She thought I should be more ambitious at work. As if the number of men under me was important to her."
Chris sprayed his drink across the table as laughter poured forth. "I'm sorry," he said, rocking in his seat, and grabbing at the napkin to blot his mess. "Don't make comments about the number of men under you and expect no response."
"Hell no, I meant at work. Under me at work." Frank laughed too. His face flushed, no doubt at the thought of men under him in another way. "She wouldn’t want to imagine anything like that. She is bi, but didn't want to think about or hear about any attraction I've got toward men. That was just one of many little ways in which she seemed to think her views were more important than mine."
Frank sighed. "It sounds awful. Or I sound awful, talking about her like that. You know, there were good things and bad things about the relationship. On balance, I now think perhaps the bad things were greater than I recognized at the time. What about you, have you been single for a long time?" Frank asked. "I presume you are single?"
"Honestly, for far too long. There have been suitors, but it's been a few years since I've had a serious relationship."
"Why is that?" Frank asked. "Are you a confirmed bachelor?"
"You know that's olden days code for a gay man?"
"No. I didn't, but it makes sense. I figure you must be single by choice as you seem to have everything going for you. I imagine you're fighting men off."
Flattered, Chris shrugged and grinned.
"Unless there's something I don't know yet, something I can't see about you that would put men off."
Inwardly, Chris flinched. He popped a fork full of food in his mouth and then picked up the bottle opener to open another beer, even though they both had half full glasses. His guest was oblivious to the elephant in the room, and Chris wasn't about to raise the subject.