Golden Man

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of
age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

An Excerpt From: GOLDEN MAN

Copyright © CLAIRE THOMPSON, 2006.

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing,
Inc.

 "Hey,
stranger, mind if I join you?" Johnny's heart thrilled to the smooth, sexy
voice, the slightest trace of a Puerto Rican accent evident in his rich
tone. He looked up at his handsome Latino lover, unable to stop the wide
grin that spread over his face.

They'd
spent the last two nights apart, the longest they'd been separated since
they'd come back together after that ill-fated night in November when Eric
had pushed Johnny too far too fast in a public scene. This time it wasn't a
falling out however. They'd both agreed to spend some time alone to think
over their big decision. "So did you miss me?" Eric asked lightly.

"I
counted the seconds," Johnny responded, just as lightly. The waiter
returned with his beer and two menus. Eric ordered a martini and they began
to read the menus, putting off the moment a while longer.

Once
they had placed their orders and were sipping their drinks, Eric finally
said, "Okay. So we've had a couple of days. How are you feeling now? Do you
still want to go through with this?"

"You
make it sound like a prison sentence. Would it really be so horrible to
have me living with you? I haven't changed my mind. I still think it's a
good idea. So I guess I should be the one asking you, Dr. Méndez. Do
you want to 'go through with this'?

Eric glanced
up at Johnny, his expression inscrutable. He let out a deep breath and said
softly, "I do. I want you more fully in my life."

"But?"
Johnny said just as softly. He'd learned a thing or two about drawing
information from a reluctant subject from watching Eric in action, using
his psychological skills to tease an answer from someone, usually from
Johnny himself.

Eric
grinned. "Hey, cut it out. That's my line." They both laughed, the tension easing
a little. Johnny continued to look at him, waiting. Eric was always telling
him patience was a virtue every sub had to cultivate so now he
waited--patiently. Eric took a drink of his martini and ate the green olive
from its toothpick. "Here's the thing. I'm..." he paused. Johnny waited.

"Okay.
The thing is I'm afraid."

"Of
what?"

"You
know, the same old thing. That you'll grow tired of me and hit the road.
That a sexier, more dominant, more whatever guy will come along and sweep
you off your feet." He paused, looking down into his drink. Quietly he
said, "I betrayed you, Johnny. I don't know if we can ever move past that."

"Eric,
I've moved past it. You're the one hanging on to it, picking at it like a
scab, not letting it heal. I admit, I still have stuff to deal with
regarding my family but that isn't about you." He paused, forming his
thoughts. "What is it you said to me once? You said love that
expects perfection, with no past and no mistakes, is only hunger."

Eric smiled a little as Johnny continued. "Are we going
to demand perfection of each other? Do you demand perfection when you give
me some new submissive task to perform? When you press my sensual envelope,
as you call it?" As Eric shook his head, Johnny continued. "I don't want
perfection from you either, Eric. I just want you! I'm not just hungry for
you, I love you."

Eric
didn't reply. Johnny persisted. "Tell me this. How does me keeping my own
place across town make the chance of our breaking up less likely? I'm never
there. I hate being there. It reminds me of--" He broke off, not wanting to
discuss his family right then, not wanting to dwell on his father, who'd
told his brothers all about the "perverted filthy pictures" he found of his
"faggot bastard son" in Johnny's apartment the night his parents had let
themselves in to retrieve his mother's casserole dish.

When
his brother Billy had called him the first time, Johnny hadn't picked up.
Guilt had made him connect eventually, but he hadn't been willing to talk
about anything real. To his credit, Billy hadn't completely shut him out.
He'd said he was confused by what was going on and had wanted to hear
Johnny's side of things. "I know how twisted Dad can get, Johnny. Your
staying away isn't helping matters. Hank and Dad think it just proves whatever
they say is true."

"Hank
and Dad can go fuck themselves," Johnny had retorted. In the silence that
followed he added, "Listen. I'm okay, Billy. Really. Just give me some time
here. Some space." The days had turned to weeks and then months. He knew he
needed to reconnect but he hadn't yet found the courage.

He
tried again, focusing on the issue at hand. "Eric, if I want to leave you,
I will leave you. If you want to leave me, you will leave me. Where we keep
our clothing and our pots and pans doesn't affect that surely." He paused,
trying to see past Eric's dark, beautiful eyes to his soul. "Would we
really want it any other way?"

Eric
shook his head. "No. You're right. I know you are. I don't know what's
going on in my head really. You're the young one, the inexperienced boy,
yet here I am, acting the fool while you spout wisdom at me." He grinned at
last, a big, open grin that made Johnny's heart flip-flop with affection.
"Yes, yes, I want you to live with me! I want to wake up every day next to
you and know your stuff is mixed in with mine in the drawer, your
toothbrush next to mine, your shoes and ties--"

"My
ties?" Johnny laughed. He owned maybe one tie, though he didn't know
offhand where it might be, probably crumpled into the pocket of his one
formal suit, used for family weddings and funerals, to which he'd probably
never be invited again...

"You
know what I mean." Eric laughed. "Your stuff, my stuff, our stuff. It's a
step. To let go of your apartment is symbolically important. It's saying
we're taking that next step, you and me, in our relationship."

"And
don't you want that, Eric?" Johnny asked, unconsciously holding his breath.

"More
than anything," Eric answered, his dark eyes shining with tenderness.