Destiny Drops In

Destiny Drops In By TC Blue

Another night at the Dew Drop Inn, and while most of the guys who frequented the place had long since gotten over the chuckle at the stupid bloody name, Raj—Roger, in real life, meaning life away from the bar—still found it a hoot, even after nearly three years of coming to the place. That was saying something, what with the way his sense of humor generally ran out pretty quickly. Of course, he might feel differently if he didn’t have a… feeling about the place. Besides, how often was it that a guy found a bar built from an old—really old— house, right there in the heart of a town almost large enough to count as a city? Well, if he’d still been in his native England, Raj was pretty sure it would have been far more common. Here in the one-time Colonies, though? He figured it wasn’t exactly the norm. Not from what little he’d seen, anyway. It also wasn’t the best bar in the world, but there was a certain charm to the place that kept him coming back. And it wasn’t just because they never looked too closely at the date of birth on his ID. “Oh, bloody hell!” he groaned, missing his shot on the eight ball in the corner pocket. Then he chuckled at the leave he’d managed. “Good luck, wanker,” he winked at Greg. He’d been eighteen the first time he’d walked through the front door of the Dew Drop, but he’d been with Nathaniel, the owner’s son, and Nate had been twenty-two. They were still friends, though Nathaniel had moved away after college. The guy was doing really well in New York these days, and Raj was happy for him. They hadn’t been quite right together, anyway, not even then. Now, they’d have been an even worse match, what with Nate being so gung-ho with the restaurant management and Raj being sort of at loose ends. He’d been a gas jockey, a waiter, and a retail clerk. A dog groomer, house painter, lawn-mowing master, and short order cook. Hell, he’d had more odd jobs than he could keep track of since his dad had uprooted them both and brought them to the United States. He managed to keep body and soul together well enough, and Dad was always willing to help out if Raj came up short, but he almost never made that sort of phone call. Only twice since he’d been eighteen, in fact, which was something Raj was— justifiably, he thought—proud of. Raj would be paying Dad back for those two occasions when he turned twenty-one in a few months, but still. It was good to know for sure that he could manage for himself.

He wasn’t sure of exactly what he wanted to do with his life, but he’d known for ages—or a good four years, anyway—that he was waiting. He was waiting for something specific, something that would stab him deep to the heart and leave him with no doubt about his purpose. His future. Something that appeared before him and screamed to his innermost self ‘this is what it’s all about; this is your destiny’. So, yes. He’d been waiting for years. Long enough to know that just because someone tweaked his ‘want’-meter, it didn’t necessarily mean anything. He’d wanted many a time, and with his slender, toned body and the fine, nearly aristocratic features he’d gotten from his mum, he’d never had a problem with turning ‘I want’ into ‘I have’. His almost six feet of height, when combined with blue eyes and soft, dark blond waves and all the rest had always gotten him whomever he approached. But it had never been quite… right. Good, yes. Fun, absolutely. But never… it. The Real. So Raj was used to the status quo. He was used to waiting. He was always ready for perfection to just… He took his shot, sinking the eight ball in the side pocket, just like he’d called it, and when he looked up to claim his beer from Greg, he… wasn’t as ready as he’d thought. Kind of wasn’t ready at all, in point of fact. He wasn’t ready to see the guy by the bar in the corner. Wasn’t ready to feel his heart leaping like a frog with a firecracker jammed up its ass and awareness of what, exactly, the device would do. He definitely wasn’t ready for fate—destiny, kismet, whatever—to slam him so hard and fast that he was suddenly breathing like he’d just run a marathon without even training first. But there it was, he told himself, hands holding tightly to the pool table—not billiards, because that was something entirely different, regardless of the American assumption that they were the same bloody thing. There it was. The man across the way, standing there in jeans and a t-shirt, while holding a leather jacket and motorcycle helmet… was his.

Oh, the man didn’t know it yet, but Raj knew. It was instinctive. Unavoidable, in fact. And trying to fight it would just be… stupid. Not to mention disrespectful to whichever deity had finally decided to show him his future. “Table’s yours, mate,” he announced, forcing his voice to be something more than a murmur. He ignored Greg’s surprised questions, and even tossed a fiver on the felt. “Have a drink on me.” He was too focused on the black-haired man whose face he hadn’t even seen yet. Too committed already. *** Andrew was lost. Not just in the sense of he didn’t know where he was, either, because that was true, too. He’d only moved to Maine a few weeks earlier, and while he’d known he wasn’t entirely familiar with the geography, he’d had no idea that going for a night ride on his Harley would get him so turned around. He’d been cruising slowly past the closed shops and such, hoping to find something open, and he’d been more than thrilled when he’d stumbled across the little house with the so-quaint, so-unlikely name. Hell, he’d been chuckling when he parked his bike out front, angling it between a truly huge pickup truck and an incredibly tiny Toyota. Then he’d gone inside and found out what lost really was. He blamed it on that ass. Not a donkey or anything, but an actual ass. A man’s ass. One that was obviously attached to a body, though he hadn’t noticed whether that body was good or bad. He’d walked through the door and seen that the bar was lit well enough that nobody was going to trip if they weren’t exceptionally drunk. He’d noticed that the music wasn’t so loud that people couldn’t talk… and then he’d realized that ‘people’ meant men because wasn’t a single female he could see in the place, aside from the bartender. All of that had become irrelevant a moment later, though, because he’d heard a voice groaning ‘bloody hell’.

Andrew had always been a slut for accents, and he knew it, so he wasn’t even surprised when the words had him turning to look. He was also an enormous hound for a nice ass, and in this case, ‘nice’ didn’t even begin to cover it. That ass was round and firm, bent over the edge of the pool table. Even through the thickness of denim, Andrew could see the toned muscles flexing. He felt those flexes in his cock, somehow, and only the sudden worry that he might get thrown out of the bar before he found out where he was -- and watched that stellar ass for a while longer -- kept him from rubbing his hand up and down over his own zipper. “Hey,” he managed when he finally reached the bar, “what do you have in bottles?” He stopped the woman about three beers in. “Yeah. Heineken. Thanks. And if you could tell me where I am and how to get back to Lancaster Heights…?” He wasn’t expecting the hand that touched his back. Especially because it actually touched his back, the warm digits somehow finding their way around the jacket he held and under cotton to stroke skin. “Be happy to direct you, mate,” the owner of the fingers murmured right into his ear. “Can’t say I’m all that familiar with Lancaster bloody Heights, but I’d be willing to give it my best shot, yeah?” God… Andrew was harder than he’d been in months. Just from the way that voice spoke in his ear. Just from the knowledge that it most likely belonged to the gorgeous ass he’d been perving on. And maybe he hadn’t actually been perving, Andrew realized, because… no women, aside from the bartender. Then he looked around, finally, and noticed that there were couples dancing. Male couples. There was one male-female couple who looked to be in their sixties out on the dance floor. As that was far older than Andrew’s own thirty-four, he wasn’t going to do anything other than cheer them on for being open-minded enough to go to what was clearly a gay bar for their date. So, okay. Two women. The one dancing and the bartender. Good for them. Not that he cared, considering. “Is that all?” Andrew murmured, “What if you get me lost again? Or… more lost?” The man touching him chuckled, and Andrew nearly came from the sound alone.

“Guess I’ll have to find you and take you home, yeah?” the guy said, his voice so promising, so suggestive, that Andrew couldn’t help the small shudder that rippled its way through his body. “Maybe you should come with me. Just to save you the hunting and finding portion of that scenario.” God. This really wasn’t the sort of thing he did. He didn’t go out cruising. Didn’t go looking for hook ups. He didn’t seek guys out, at all. Hadn’t since he’d been twenty-three and had met James at his cousin’s wedding. They’d had a long, perfect romance, and an even longer—though less than perfect, he’d eventually learned—relationship. But it really had been perfect, on Andrew’s end, right up until the night James had come home and announced that after eight years, he was through. Bored. Had met… not just someone, but several someones. That stunning blow had left him broken and distrustful in a lot of ways, but he wasn’t really thinking about that at the moment. He should have been, and he knew it, but he wasn’t. The hand on his back twitched just a little, then that accented voice spilled out again. “We’ll have to ride slow unless you’ve another helmet…” the guy said, and Andrew cursed himself for not buying a second. “Fuck. That’s illegal.” And hot-ass man just laughed. “Only if we get caught.” *** They didn’t get caught, though Andrew was chalking that up to the severe lack of cops between the bar and his place. Otherwise, he was fairly sure they would have been pulled over. For the shaky way he was riding, if nothing else. It wasn’t as though he could help it, unfortunately, because the guy was pressed up tight against his spine, and damned if he couldn’t tell pretty-ass English-guy was hard. Throbbing, even. Of course, so was he. And he got just a little bit more so each time the guy pressed harder against him. At the rate those arms were tightening around his body, Andrew

figured he’d give up attempting to breathe pretty soon. It would be wasted effort, after all. They’d managed to find Lancaster Heights, somehow, and Andrew sighed with relief as he finally turned on to his street. Good. He was home. More to the point, he was home and he had a… well, not a date, exactly, because he hadn’t even bought the guy a beer. He still didn’t know his name. So, a hook up, Andrew figured, was the best way to describe it. “Nice place,” the guy said, his voice seeming loud in the sudden silence as Andrew turned off the bike. “Um, yeah,” he agreed, reason suddenly screaming in his brain. He didn’t know this guy even a little bit, but he’d brought him back to his house? What if hot-ass was an axe murderer or something? Jesus, Andrew thought, what if he woke up chained to the toilet or something, with all his worldly possessions already fenced? “Look, uh… who are you?” *** God help him, but Raj thought he could actually hear the wheels just spinning in the man’s head and he didn’t like the sound of it one bit. He’d been waiting far too long for this night; he’d be damned if he was going to let anything ruin it. Even his destiny’s own fears. “Roger Ashburn,” he answered quickly, one hand releasing a fistful of t-shirt. “You can call me Raj. And before you get any more worried, everyone at the Dew Drop knows who I am and where I live.” He grinned, then shrugged in the borrowed leather jacket. “Actually, if either of us should be concerned, it’s me. Nobody would have a clue as to what happened to me if I were to simply… disappear, um… Bloody hell. Don’t know your name either, do I?” For whatever reason, the man Raj was wrapped around found that funny, because the guy was suddenly laughing so hard, Raj slung a leg behind him, clearing the rear fender with ease. Just a precaution in case the bike ended up clattering to the drive in the midst of all that amusement. “Sorry, mate,” he added, “but it’s true, yeah? Not that names are the first thing on my mind at the moment, of course, but I figure it couldn’t hurt to know what I should be screaming, once we get inside.”

He was already pulling the leather jacket from his body, but Raj would be damned if he was going to stop there. Not when there actually seemed a chance that this man -this perfectly adorable man who Raj somehow knew was his -- might change his mind, might decide to take Raj back to the bloody be damned bar without even giving the connection between them a shot. He tossed the heavy jacket to the guy, then let his hands move to his own shirt, slipping one button through its hole and following with the next. His eyes locked on the man’s, that gaze that had seemed hazel at the Dew Drop looking darker, deeper in the small glow of the streetlight across the way. He swallowed hard when the man licked his lips, then barely controlled a shiver at the weight of those eyes on his slowly revealed flesh. “You’re not even a little bit shy, are you?” the guy muttered, and Raj chuckled. “Should I be?” he answered, stepping forward the six or so inches that had been separating them since Raj had gotten off the bike. “Want you. Know you want me, too. Doesn’t seem to be any need for ‘shy’ in that equation, right?” He grinned at the way the man was blinking, all of a sudden. “Kind of figure we’re at the point in our… negotiations… that I should give you an idea of what I’m bringing to the table, yeah?” His wink got an answering laugh for just a moment, but then the guy sobered completely, his expression more serious than Raj liked. “What?” he murmured, because he really wanted to know. So he could avoid saying or doing whatever it was again. “Did I miss some sort of signal or something?” the man blurted, and damned if Raj knew what he was talking about. Fortunately -- and amusingly -- the guy went on. “Because you’re talking about negotiating and I… well, I don’t really pick people up and I definitely don’t pay for it, so if that’s what’s going on here, I can just take you back to that bar and we’ll just forget this ever…” God, Raj thought he hadn’t laughed so hard in… well, months, probably. The thought that this man -- his man, really -- thought Raj could be a hustler was kind of… well, a little bit insulting, but also charming, in a way. And didn’t it mean that his destiny thought he was hot enough to making a living at fucking? He managed to stop laughing, eventually. And almost started again at the sheepish look on the man’s face. He was damned tired of thinking of him as ‘the guy’, though. “So. In case you missed it, I’m not a bloody whore. I just think you’re stunning. Would rather like to know what to call you, though.” Raj smirked and slipped his open shirt from his shoulders. “And for the record, I assumed we were negotiating just how far you’re willing to go with a bloke you’ve only just met. I usually have certain limits, but I’m entirely willing to set them aside, here…?” Yeah, that little lilt, asking without demanding seemed to be working.

The guy cleared his throat, and then finally, an answer. “Andrew,” the man said, still looking a little bit embarrassed over his mistaken conclusion of a few moments earlier, “and I’m sorry about the… hustler thing. I just… guys like you usually don’t even give me the time of day, but you’re so… well, you. But I’m glad you did and since we’re here and all, we could maybe go inside…?” Yeah, that was more like it, Raj thought with a certain sense of inevitability of which he had actually become quite fond. He doubted guys didn’t notice Andrew. The man was bloody well gorgeous. It was more likely that Andrew didn’t notice them noticing, and that was fine with Raj. More than fine. It meant he was special, after all. He let one hand move slowly down his own body, grazing a nipple, then riding each barely-visible, muscle-cloaked rib before moving that same hand across the few inches of empty air to rest on Andrew’s wrist. “Like that, I would,” he murmured. “Sure to like it better when I’ve got you naked and driving hard into me, though, so I’m thinking inside? Not only a good idea, Andrew, but much less likely to get us arrested than doing it right here over your bike.” “Jesus,” he heard Andrew mutter under his breath and Raj grinned. “Not exactly, mate, but chances are, I’ll start answering to it before morning, what with how many times you’ll be shouting it out.” *** “Oh… oh, God. You… you’re tight, Raj…” and that was an understatement, what with the way the guy’s body was holding his fingers in a vise-grip. “Jesus…” He still couldn’t believe that he’d somehow managed to pick the guy up. In less than five minutes, and without even trying. He wasn’t complaining, of course, because how could he when the young, hung and blisteringly hot man was right there, in Andrew’s bed, that tight little hole wrapped firmly around two probing fingers? Hell, he’d been on the wagon, so to speak, for more than three years. That Raj had somehow fallen into his lap; into his bed? Well, that was definitely not something to complain about. To thank God for, yes… but Andrew figured he was already doing that enough. The Man Upstairs, if he even existed, already knew he was grateful. “Yeah,” Raj groaned, that long, lean body just writhing against the soft cotton sheets. “Been a while, mate. Bloody hell, it’s going to feel good when it’s your cock up

inside me, making me shake. Likely to come just from feeling you jam that sodding monster deep.” Oh, fuck. The guy definitely had a mouth on him, using that wanton tone to make those simple words into a call that ran directly from Andrew’s ears to his already tight, hard balls. “Oh… fuck. Soon, Raj. It’s gonna have to be soon.” As soon as he got another finger—or two—into the guy’s gel-slicked heat, anyway, because as much as he wanted in, there was no way he was willing to hurt this fucking beautiful young man who for some reason wanted him. “Yeah… yeah, Andrew. Soon would be good…” Then Raj yelped and Andrew chuckled, fingers playing again over the spot that had caused the sound. “Bloody…” No, ‘bloody’ was exactly what Andrew was trying to avoid, he thought with a small, internal grin. He did like the way Raj threw the word around, though. He liked the low, deep moan the guy released when Andrew’s third finger teased its way inside even more, though. Hell, he could hardly wait to feel that tiny hole stretched around his cock—monster, as Raj called it, though Andrew figured the guy was either being flattering or hadn’t actually seen that many penises. Eight inches or so wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, granted, but it also wasn’t an unusually large size, as far as he knew. James had been ten, for fuck’s sake, and one of their friends, Jonas, had been the proud owner of a cock that measured just under thirteen. Now, that had been a monster, and Andrew had never been able to look at Jonas' much smaller lover without wondering how the guy managed to walk, much less without being bowlegged. But that had been a different time. A different life. And this was… well, this was now. For the first time since the split, Andrew realized, ‘now’ was actually where he wanted to be. And if this ‘now’ was a time and place in which he had four fingers pushing in and out of Raj’s body, making the guy beg and moan for more? Well, that was even better than any remembered ‘then’ could ever be. His hand stilled, fingers pushing every so slightly apart while he found the string of thankfully unexpired condoms on the bed and pulled one off using free hand and teeth, a small chuckle building in his throat while Raj rocked, trying to pull his digits deeper. A quick nip had the packet open, and Andrew was amazed that he still remembered how to do this one handed, but the latex rolled on, easy as anything, and then…

God, he could barely breathe, but that was fine. Maybe he’d die of pure lack of oxygen, but as long as it happened after he was deep inside Raj’s writhing form, he figured he’d go happy. “Come on… come on, Andrew, give me it,” he heard Raj muttering, and that pleading tone just about did him in. He’d never had anyone sound so hopelessly wanton, so shamelessly needy. Not ever. Not even James, who he wasn’t thinking about any more. “Yeah,” he answered, his own voice shaking, breaking as he pulled his fingers slowly from Raj’s still-tight hole and replacing them with his covered tip. “Yeah, Raj… Jesus, this is gonna be quick…” And then he was pressing forward, pushing firmly but lightly, the thick head of his cock getting closer and closer to inside with each small shift. “Gonna fill you up, Raj. Stretch you so good. Gonna make sure you feel me for days…” Jesus, he hoped so, anyway, because there was no doubt whatsoever that he would be feeling Raj on his cock -- wrapped tight and hot and silken around him -- for years, probably. Hell, this one night would likely fuel his fantasies for decades, and that was all the more reason to make it as close to perfect as Andrew possibly could. “Bloody…! Christ, you’re wide!” And God, that was a good look on Raj. Eyes round and glassy and nearly drugged-looking, mouth open and gasping as Andrew’s tip finally -- finally -- breached that tightly muscled little ring. “And you’re… Jesus! So fucking… God! Tight, Raj. Tight!” Because the guy was even more so, now. So tight, in fact, that Andrew stilled, just that first two inches or so clenched by Raj’s body. His arms were shaking with the effort of holding still, but Andrew didn’t mind that. Not when he was looking down into that amazing face and seeing every emotion, every single frisson of sensation there, like Raj was a book written in a language Andrew actually knew. Like they were on the same page, or something. It was a first for him, he noticed with a sense of wonder he’d never experienced before. Then again, this was a night of firsts. First time he’d been lost in Maine. First time he’d picked up a guy since… or possibly been picked up; he wasn’t sure, and honestly didn’t care which it was. Just that it was the first time in… God, years.

First time he’d felt such an immediate reaction, though he’d been ignoring that until just this moment, for whatever reason. First time he’d disregarded what he’d been sure was a broken heart and given in to pure desire… And the first time he’d realized that maybe—possibly—what he’d had with James had been habit, rather than the overwhelming and unmatchable perfection he’d been remembering it as. That it had taken only this one moment of having his cock a couple inches inside someone else kind of made it a given, really, and Andrew wondered if that might be why he’d been so determined -- until that night and Raj -- to remain on his own, with only his hand and bad porn for release. Then Raj relaxed around him and Andrew found himself sliding deep, and he wasn’t thinking or wondering any more, at all. Aside from “Oh, God. Yeah. Jesus, baby. Fuck, you feel good!”. *** “You feel… even better, love,” Raj managed to groan, his entire body shivering with accomplishment at having achieved what had seemed an impossible task. Still, he’d done it. He’d taken Andrew into his body, where no one had ever been before, and it was… stellar. Sublime. Almost frighteningly moving, really. He’d expected to feel some pain, and he definitely had, but even now, with Andrew’s balls resting heavy, full, tight against his ass, Raj had never known such a sense of pleasure and completion. As though he was one half of a whole and had only just discovered how much he’d missed the absent part. ‘Destiny,’ he told himself. ‘This is what destiny feels like, and that old gypsy woman was right when she told me to wait. Mum was wrong. Best ten pounds I ever spent.’ It had been his birthday money from old Uncle Talbot, who’d been so old, ten pounds had been like a hundred to him, and Mum had carried on for ages about him wasting the old bloke’s dosh. Uncle had appreciated it, though, when Raj had told him, and that was what mattered. He’d still have to ring Mum, one of these days, and let her know how very wrong she’d been. At the moment, though… His legs rose higher, one wrapping around Andrew’s ribs while the other settled over a hip, and it was only then that Raj felt the small, constant shudders racing through the man’s body. “Can… bloody hell, love. Move for me, yeah? Can’t do it myself with you all… Fuck! Yeah, like that!”

Because apparently that was all the man had been waiting for. Raj moaned, loud and long, while Andrew pulled back so slowly he thought it should be a crime. Then that strong, solid body was pressing forward again and Andrew’s thick shaft was rubbing along what had to be his prostate, and God help him, but he whimpered. He would have blushed, any other time, but right then Raj couldn’t manage to care that the sound he’d made was so desperate. And Andrew seemed to like it, because the man was repeating the motion each and every time he shifted. His own body was in a state of shock, almost, the previously unknown sensations just pushing and pulling him towards an explosion he’d never known from that side, and Raj wondered for just a moment whether the guys he’d been with before -- even Nathan -- had possibly felt anything like the sense of rightness when Raj had been inside them that he felt now, from being impaled on Andrew’s cock. He doubted it, honestly, because if they had, they would have fought harder to keep him. “God… Andrew! I…” He didn’t know what he’d been planning to say, truthfully, because it disappeared in the stunning, earth-shattering thrusts Andrew was suddenly treating him to, and dear Lord, the man had been going easy on him before, because now… Well, now Raj couldn’t do anything but rock and heave and arch into the fast, deep, piston-like motions, his mouth open and sounds coming out, but they didn’t sound like words, and that was fine. That was good. That was… right, in some way that didn’t make rational sense to him, but was absolutely perfect in the moment. “J-jesus,” he heard, and even though he saw Andrew’s mouth moving, he could barely wrap his mind around the fact that the guy was capable of words. “Jesus… baby… God, gonna… fuck, Raj, coming… coming, baby… fuck, I’m… ccome for me… baby, c-come…” ‘God, coming, too; couldn’t stop if you begged me to…’ ran through his mind, though what Raj heard coming from his own lips sounded more like “unnnnghhhh… unnnghhhh… fffff… unnnngh…” He felt his hole spreading wider still as Andrew’s thick shaft swelled just a bit further, and when the man pressed even harder, deeper, his spine arching beneath Raj’s heels, Raj screamed and shook, body convulsing as he spilled shot after shot of viscous seed over his own stomach, all the while chanting ‘Andrew, Andrew, Andrew, yes’ in his mind. He could feel Andrew’s cock, shoved deep and spasming within him, even through the shocks and shudders pulsing through his own body. For the first time in his life,

Raj hated latex, wanted to feel Andrew’s spunk filling every part of him, body and soul, to be absorbed, retained, made a permanent part of him. He counted himself lucky that the entirely overwhelming orgasm had made him fully mute, because he had a feeling he would have said as much. Likewise, he had a feeling that Andrew wasn’t ready to hear it. It didn’t matter, though. Not when he was feeling so entirely boneless and sated. So… loved, even with that not actually being likely, so soon. Even so, he held on when Andrew would have pulled away, his arms wrapping tightly around the man’s back, even as his legs finally released their tight grip. “Bloody hell,” he finally managed, still breathing hard. “Never felt anything like that, love.” And maybe Andrew was more ready than he’d thought, Raj realized with a sense of wonder, because the man pulled his head from the crook of Raj’s neck and gave him a smile that was so… warm. So stunned and stunning, Raj couldn’t help smiling back. Then there were lips on his and Andrew’s hot, wet tongue was sliding between his lips, and God help him, but Raj was getting hard again, even while Andrew’s spent cock finally slipped from his hole. “Might be because there’s never been anything like that, baby,” Andrew said, those hazel eyes shining brighter than anything Raj had ever seen. “God, I can hardly wait to feel you in me, Raj. I think… fuck, I need that, okay?” Raj couldn’t help the smile spreading across his face, and he didn’t even try. “I’ll always do my best to give you what you need, love. Bloody well anything, yeah?” “So tell me you don’t have anywhere you need to be tomorrow,” the man answered after kissing him again. “Because I…” Andrew blushed, and damn. It was beyond adorable. “I don’t know exactly what’s happening here, but… I like it. A lot, okay? And I think we should see if it’s… real.” It was more than Raj had actually hoped to have, this first time, but he’d never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, count its teeth, and then send it packing. And Andrew… well, he was both gift and horse, considering that cock of his. The thought made him chuckle, but he shook his head when Andrew looked curious. Eventually, though, Raj couldn’t help himself. Even if it meant he might scare the man a bit. If he did and Andrew tried to end things, he’d just have to do as he’d promised earlier. Hunt him down and take him home. “It’s real, love. The really Real real. You ready to handle that?”

He stared expectantly up into Andrew’s eyes, hoping he knew what the man would say, even while steeling himself for the other possibility. *** God. Just… God. Whatever he’d been expecting, Andrew was entirely sure that it hadn’t been… Or had it? He’d sort of known there was something special going on between him and Raj. He couldn’t deny that. There had been something there from the very beginning. There had to have been or he never would have flirted, such as it was. And he definitely never would have brought the guy home with him. Hell, if there hadn’t been something there—something real—and it had all been just… horniness and Raj’s accent, he could have stopped at any one of the six or so motels they’d passed on the way. Some part of him had known, obviously, and had kept him from even thinking such a thing. He was glad, too. Raj deserved so much more than a by-the-hour room and a bed made up with sticky sheets. The fact that he’d clearly recognized that without even being aware of it was sort of telling, Andrew figured, and while he was willing to admit—to himself, at least—that he was possibly over James, he wasn’t entirely sure of what Raj meant by… “The ‘really real real’?” And yeah, he knew he sounded freaked out, but he kind of was. He didn’t know for sure what it meant, but he sort of suspected, and… yeah. Freaked. He’d just met the guy, after all. Also kind of not freaked; mostly because whatever was happening between him and the guy he was already wanting again, though this time inside him, it felt… good. Scary, but good. Right, even, in a way that was… soothing, God help him. “The whole ball of bloody wax,” Raj answered, sounding just a little bit nervous. “The sodding fairy-tale, yeah? Y’see, there was this old gypsy woman when I was kid, and…” Andrew was listening. Of course he was. He couldn’t help it. He loved Raj’s voice. The cadence, the way he chose his words.

Loved the occasional slip into an accent more suited to Masterpiece Theatre than anything else. Hell, he even loved the way a word he didn’t know and had to guess the meaning of by context showed up every now and again. Even with all that, though… “I don’t love you,” Andrew said slowly, his hands buried deep in Raj’s longish dark blond locks, holding the guy’s head still while he met those sky-blue eyes. “I’m sorry, Raj. I love certain things about you, but… I don’t love you. How could I? We’ve barely even met, outside of sex.” He expected anger. Or maybe even hatred… or pain, at being rejected so thoroughly. He didn’t get any of those things, though. Instead, Raj pulled him in, those soft pink lips finding his own and playing there for a while before the guy’s slick tongue pushed inside. Then Raj ate at his mouth until Andrew was actually panting, and he couldn’t think, much less think of why he was surprised. “No,” Raj murmured against his lips. “You don’t love me. But you will.” And regardless of everything he and Raj didn’t know about each other -- all the things he was sure they’d discover, in time -- Andrew knew he didn’t want to lose this feeling. The feeling that said Raj was right. Even though the guy was young, he was wiser than Andrew had ever been. And he was right. Completely. “Yeah,” Andrew said after a moment. “I will.” It was the easiest admission he had ever made. It was made easier, still, by the light in Raj’s eyes when he heard it. And since he was admitting things, Andrew didn’t really have any problem with speaking what he knew to be the rest of the absolute truth. “It’ll be soon.” Raj nodded, a smile Andrew knew he would never tire of lighting up his face. “Good.”

Destiny Drops In Copyright © 2008 by TC Blue All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680 Printed in the United States of America. Torquere Press, Inc.: Sips electronic edition / August 2008 Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680