Over the Precipice - 1. Over the Precipice

It started as a normal, everyday sort of Friday. Alex put his lunch in the break-room refrigerator, grabbed a cup of coffee from the machine, and chatted with his coworkers as they settled into their cubicles.

It was Friday and the atmosphere was lively, especially on Alex's team. He was part of the Credit Department, handling queries regarding their customers' online accounts or disputes regarding their bills. Carly's birthday was Sunday and the secret surrounding their team's little get-together that afternoon had become general knowledge. Everyone was looking forward to getting off the phones early for some cake and mini celebration.

Being a member of the Sunshine Squad, a group chartered by leadership to organize events fostering good morale, Alex knew that his fellow conspirator Dallas would be rather annoyed at the secret's escape. He leaned over the partition separating their desks, and stared at an empty chair.

Dallas was the most up-beat and optimistic person Alex knew. Nothing ever got him down; he was always smiling and pleasant, and if he had a fault it was that he drank Coke and not Pepsi, and that he took his job far too seriously. In fact, Dallas was never on time; he was obsessively early. In all the time he'd been working there, Alex could only recall one time that Dallas was late. He was as regular as clockwork and never missed a day of work.

So Alex stared at the space where his charming as sin coworker should be for a long moment to get over his surprise and swallow his disappointment in not being able to tease the man. He glanced down the row to their supervisor, Alysha. She wasn't there, either, but that was hardly a surprise.

Alex quickly got lost in the hierarchy of the Montgomery Department Store Call Center, but he did know that his direct supervisor (whatever his title may be) was Charles. He sat with the rest of the higher-ups on the far side of the floor. Along the inner and outer wall were the real big-wigs, with actual offices, and in the middle was cubicle-land.

Having been there long enough to have worked in all of the departments, Alex was still just a regular employee, what they called an agent, and he was happy with that. Dallas was a senior agent. He made slightly more money and received agent transfers. In short, he got the irate customers or the calls gone wrong. He also sometimes helped coach or mentor new employees, but the actual training was left up to Alysha, the next level up.

She took calls that the seniors couldn't handle, trained new personnel, handled special cases directed by leadership, and generally did all the same stuff that regular and senior agents did. Time off requests and things of that nature went to Charles. Beyond those three, the management trail got hopelessly convoluted.

The floor chimed and Alex gave Dallas' empty chair a last look before sitting down and logging in to his phone and computer. He slipped his headset over his ears and prepared for his first call of the day.

In a lull a little while later, Alex heard the soft drawl of Dallas' voice from next-door and smiled to himself. Everyone liked talking to Dallas. His voice was a light baritone with a hint of his Aussie accent, and he was so polite and courteous that people just naturally relaxed. Rarely did Dallas fail to talk down a customer. Sometimes Alex would sit at his desk during his breaks and just listen.

He could tell when a customer was giving Dallas a hard time by the subtle variation in his tone, and the way he would sometimes tap his foot against the plastic wheels of his chair. When he had stayed up too late the night before, Dallas drank a Coke with the instant oatmeal he fixed every morning before their shift started.

No matter what he was personally thinking, whenever you talked to him, Dallas looked you straight in the eye and he smiled. That smile always chased away the demons of reality for Alex and he couldn't help gushing over the man like a hormonal teenager. He wasn't alone, though. Half the women on the floor watched Dallas with giant puppy-dog eyes, too.

While not movie star handsome, Dallas was still good looking. He had sandy-brown hair and blue eyes, average height and build, and he always dressed in worn jeans and a series of about 8 different polo-style shirts: two blue, one red, two green, one red and white, one black, one brown, and one a strange shade of yellow that Alex wished to burn.

Alex had caught him sketching once at the cafe down the street during lunch, so he knew that Dallas was an artist of some kind, but the man rarely spoke about himself. He had pictures of family and one of those bamboo plants in his cubicle, but otherwise, he was all work. He never came to social functions outside of work, either, though not for lack of trying.

That Dallas was oblivious to all the looks only made it worse for Alex. He had no ammunition to make himself stop drooling. Cupping his chin in his hand, he smiled dreamily, eyes unfocused. He bet that Dallas had an awesome bedroom voice ....

Suddenly, Dallas' brown curls popped up over the walls of his cubicle as he stood, and everyone in the area turned to look up at him. Standing signaled to the supervisors that an agent needed assistance on a call, without anyone having to say anything or put the customer on hold.

Alysha was on her way over immediately, but Dallas didn't look at her. He didn't look at anyone. He ripped off his headset and walked off the floor. There was silence as the headset clattered against Dallas' desk and keyboard.

Then Alysha lunged for the headset and Alex's chair smacked into the side of his cubicle as he rushed after Dallas.

"Dallas?" he called as he burst into the hallway. "Dallas?" He looked right, looked left, and then ran to the emergency exit, pulling open the door to the stairwell.

There stood Dallas, hands clenched around the railing, looking down seven flights of stairs. He didn't look up as Alex propped the door open and approached.

"Dallas?" said Alex uncertainly. "Hey." He stopped beside him, but didn't touch him.

"Cards."

"What?" Alex wasn't sure if he'd heard that correctly.

"Cards!" shouted Dallas, making Alex jump. Reaching into his pocket, Dallas pulled out a folded-up piece of paper and thrust it at Alex. "He gave me his god damned cards!"

"Er ..." Having flinched back from the sudden move, Alex grabbed the paper being shaken in front of his face. It was a letter, and read so often that the creases were worn and shiny. No, not a letter, he amended as he scanned the document. It was a will, and a section had been circled in red pen.

"Baseball cards?" he asked, staring at Dallas' back again as the other man leaned over the railing, for all the world looking like he was considering whether or not to jump.

"Got it yesterday," murmured Dallas. "The box." He and his mother-in-law had never gotten along, and he'd been suspicious to see her handwriting on the label, but this ... this was a new low. Another ache lanced through his chest and he squeezed the painted railing to ride it out.

"No one told me." To find out like this?

Alex looked up at a gasp that sounded like a sob, catching the sparkle of the beautiful gold band on Dallas' left hand as he hid his face in the palm, shoulders shaking as he fought tears. Alex swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth. He'd noticed the ring first thing upon meeting Dallas, but had never had the courage to ask about it. It was his curse, falling for unavailable men.

To distract himself, he looked down at the piece of paper again. The dead guy, a Craig by name, had the same last name as Dallas. The paper crinkled in Alex's hand, but he tried to quell the suspicion that zipped through him.

"Him?" he questioned in a whisper.

Closing his eyes, Dallas' head bowed and a shiver jumped from one shoulder to the other. "My husband," he whispered back.

Husband! Alex closed his mouth and looked down at the paper again, but he didn't see the words. "You -- You're gay?" Not the most intelligent thing to say, but it was the only thing that came to mind.

He wasn't unavailable; he was available! The hope that surged through Alex made him want to cackle with glee, but he couldn't, not in sight of Dallas' anguish. Was it wrong to be happy over someone else's misfortune? Alex was certain it was, but that didn't change how he felt, only added guilt to the mix.

Dallas turned his head, hand falling away as he lifted the corner of his lip and eyebrow in the ghost of a smile. "You must be the only one who doesn't know."

"I -- I thought you were just nice."

"Hm." He looked down at his knuckles, gripping the railing again. His throat ached with the screams he couldn't voice, and his eyes burned with tears. He gasped again, torturing himself with his and Craig's last parting. He hadn't cried then, still too much in shock, but he'd cried many times after receiving the postcard. The postcard that had broken the last of his dreams.

"He was supposed to come home." The strength went out of his knees and Dallas sank to the floor, leaning his head on his arms against the lower rail. The metal felt icy against his boiling flesh.

Alex dropped beside Dallas, hesitantly reaching out to touch his arm. "I'm sorry," he offered, thoroughly confused from his own conflicting emotions.

There were no tears, just hard gasps in the echoing quiet. The body he touched was as rigid as a board, except for the rough shivers that seemed likely to rip him apart.

"What in the --" Alysha had followed them and she halted self-consciously, diatribe dying. "World?" she finished in a whisper, staring wide-eyed at Alex's equally incredulous expression.

"He just learned that his husband's dead," Alex explained, and didn't that just sound even more surreal?

Alysha gasped, glance darting to Dallas. "Oh my God." She'd known he was married, but ... "Husband?"

Wondering if he'd looked and sounded as stupid, Alex tried to ignore the tingling in his hand -- I'm touching him! I'm touching him! -- and leaned forward to try and look him in the face, but Dallas had his eyes closed.

"Dallas," he said. "You really shouldn't be here." You should really leave before I molest you ....

"That's right," Alysha added, seemingly regaining her senses. "Do you have anywhere to go? Family? Friends?"

Dallas shook his head mutely. His family was back home in Australia. Craig had been all he needed.

"Well, you shouldn't be alone," said Alysha firmly. Sharp, knowing eyes turned to Alex. He was the only gay man in the department. And he had a car.

She looked at him and Alex looked back at her. She made up her mind. "Go with him, Alex. Take him home. I'll talk to Charles. Just wait here a minute."

"Uh." He didn't get a word out before she was gone. "Um, Dallas? You okay with that? I mean, I --" He halted his stumbling words as Dallas nodded.

In the silence that followed, he glanced around, anxiously trying to think of something to say. Spying the letter, he picked up the papers and reassembled them. There didn't seem to be any pages missing; all were torn on the same corner where the envelope had caught. He turned the whole thing around in his hand. What kind of person sends just a will in a letter, without any explanation?

The from corner was smudged and ripped, but he made out the first part. Belinda Vand. Vand? Vanderhoff? That was the same last name!

"My mother-in-law," said Dallas quietly.

Alex looked up to see him watching in the same kind of morbid fascination that a person has who watches accidents on the expressway or collisions during Nascar races.

"Nothing else?" he asked, still not quite believing that there wouldn't be something else. Like, a card or condolences?

Dallas shook his head and looked away. "I emailed --" the name came out barely loud enough to be considered a whisper -- "Craig's brother. We kind of -- we weren't close, but." He shrugged. The family had welcomed him warmly, until they'd learned that he wasn't going away like all Craig's other lovers. Then they'd made their distaste quite plain. Craig's brother Bill was the only one that had not shunned all contact.

"He told me," he continued, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. "He d-died. Two months ago --"

"Two months!" Alex stared at his friend, horrified. And confused. Had he known all this time and said nothing? How could he just pretend that everything was okay?

"In Italy," Dallas went on, not even hearing the outburst so wrapped up was he in his pain and grief.

"Ita --" he started to echo, but Alysha's return cut him off.

She handed two company messenger bags to Alex, glancing from him to Dallas helplessly, and then back again. "Just, you know, let us know, okay?"

Dallas roused from his fugue to lift his head and stare at her with a quizzical expression. "Let you know what?"

"When you'll be back, of course. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes. I'm fine. I --"

"Like hell you are!" Alex exclaimed. He fought down the impulse to knock some sense in the man. "You're going home, and if I have to babysit you to get you to stay there, then I will!"

For a moment Dallas looked like he was about to object, quite vehemently, but then his whole body slumped in defeat. "Fine."

Alex blinked. Then he pressed his lips together determinedly and grabbed Dallas by the arm. "All right, then. Up. We're going." Standing, he slung the bags over his shoulder and strode out of the stairwell and down the hall to the elevator. All the way down and across the block to the parking structure Dallas followed like a mindless robot. He slouched in the passenger seat and remained silent as Alex pulled out into the morning traffic.

He sighed as he stared at the lines of cars crawling down the street. He forced some cheer into his voice to ask, "So. Which way? Dallas?" He poked the man's shoulder. "Hey. Which way?"

"Doesn't matter."

Alex took a deep breath and reminded himself that the guy in his passenger seat had just lost someone he loved. Even if he was being an insufferable ass, Alex couldn't bite his head off.

"Fine," he said. "If you won't tell me how to get to your place, then we'll go to mine." There was no rely, so he shrugged and faced forward resolutely. "So be it."

In fact, he thought as he made a turn, it was Friday and he, at least, didn't need to be back until Monday, and he could probably convince them to give him a few more days, even on short notice. They had time.

He took the on ramp for the I-90 and turned the car North by West. He drove for perhaps a half-hour when he looked over to check on Dallas and found him asleep, drooling slightly against the window. It looked both incredibly uncomfortable and sweet at the same time. Alex tried not to think about having to clean that window later.

A few minutes later they finally broke through traffic and they covered the last half of the trip in about the same amount of time as the first, though they covered something like three times as many miles. If there was no such thing as traffic, the whole trip should take no more than forty-five minutes, tops, but as it were ....

Two-plus hours after leaving work, Alex pulled in the drive to his step-father's sister's historical BnB. One of his step-cousins came to the front porch as Alex shut off the car and opened the door.

"Hey, Paul."

"Alex!" He grinned and trotted down the porch steps to give his 'baby' cousin a hug. "Oh!" He spied the shadow of someone else in the car and smirked. "Why, Alex, you sly thing! What have we here?"

"Paul." He caught his cousin's arm and shook his head.

The older man's teasing smile faltered. "What's up?"

"Just, be nice, okay? This is Dallas -- be nice, Paul."

"Dallas? As in the Dallas? The guy you're always babbling about? I thought he was married. And straight?"

"Married, yes. Well, sort of."

"Sort of?" He frowned, glancing from Alex to the car.

"His husband just died."

Paul straightened, turning his back on the car to look sternly up at the taller man. "Now, Alex."

"Don't give me that look," he interrupted. "I know, okay? I know. But what else could I do? He didn't want to go home!"

"Relax, kiddo." He cast another worried look at the car. "I just know how much you like him."

"I know. I just ...." He looked at his cousin and just shrugged.

Clapping him on the shoulder in mute support, Paul walked around to the other side of the car and tapped on the glass. He grinned up at Alex. "Heavy sleeper."

"He drools, too."

Paul made a face at his cousin. "Didn't need to know that, thanks." He knocked harder against the window. This one got a response. They stepped back as the door opened and Dallas stepped out, looking around and blinking as he tried to look like he knew where the hell he was.

"Hi." He held out his hand. "Paul Walters. Welcome to the North Bridge Inn. Ever been to Concord before?"

"Concord?" Dallas looked around at the antiquated place and all the greenery. His gaze settled on Alex and his eyes narrowed. "Why are we in Concord?" Belatedly, he grasped Paul's hand in a firm shake. "Dallas Vanderhoff. Who are you again?"

"Cousins!" said Paul cheerfully, snagging Alex around the shoulders and pulling him close. "You can't tell?"

Dallas stared at them blankly. Alex was tall and skinny; Paul short and plump. Alex had the striking features of someone biracial, and Paul was pure white boy, blonde and blue-eyed.

Paul laughed and gave his taller cousin a noogie before shoving him away. "Come on inside and Mom'll get you lunch." With a wave, he disappeared into the house.

Dallas frowned. "Why are we in Concord, Alex?"

He side-stepped a little. "Because you wouldn't tell me where you lived, and we have the whole weekend, and ... and it seemed like a good idea at the time?"

Looking back at the car, Dallas pursed his lips. He'd never gotten an American license; he'd never needed to. Cars were a hazard in town and an insanity with the availability of public transportation. Any time they'd needed to go anywhere, Craig would drive, anyway. Dallas was sure he could figure it out, but he didn't want to drive for the first time on unfamiliar roads with all the traffic the Boston area was known for.

"Are you hungry?" asked Alex timidly.

Dallas glanced back at him a moment. He could hire a taxi or get on a bus, but he didn't have the money to spare, and, really, could it be that unpleasant? He'd been to Lexington before and enjoyed the time. He closed his eyes against a stabbing pain in his chest. Craig. They'd gone together on their third anniversary, and that's when he'd proposed.

"He said that the law was changing," said Dallas, eyes lifting to stare at the house without seeing it. He didn't realize he spoke out loud. "He said he wanted me with him always." His hands curled up into fists, remembering discussing with his then-boyfriend what would happen when his student visa expired.

"How long were you married?" asked Alex softly.

"Five years." His voice broke on the admission, feeling the weight of his failure hard and cold again in his chest. Dated for three, and lived together for almost that entire time. What had changed? Dallas still couldn't place it, only coming home one day to Craig telling him he no longer loved him and that he was leaving.

"I'm sorry."

Dallas blinked as he came back to himself, turning sad eyes on Alex and forcing a smile and shrug. "It's okay." He started to the house, following Paul's lead, but Alex's hand on his arm stopped him.

"He was your husband. It's 'okay' to grieve."

"I have!" Dallas snapped, jerking his arm away. "Two years, can you understand that?" he hissed, glaring at the pain the memories invoked. The D-word hanging over the silence of the too-large apartment.

His hands clenched again, but this time there was fabric betwixt fingers and palms. Dallas' gasping breath sucked in a soft, dark cologne that swirled up into his brain and something broke. He shuddered from deep down inside, eyes closing as fire exploded behind his eyes and in his throat. Arms came around his back, a hand cradled his head against a broad chest, and Dallas sobbed.

He hadn't cried since the night that he'd realized Craig really wasn't coming back. The tears ripped in and out again, leaving nothing untouched in their wake. By the time they ran their course he was weak and shivery in the late July morning with the trees shushing softly around them in the light breeze, the sunlight chasing away the shadows and coolness to make way for the heat of the afternoon.

He became aware of fingers in his hair, combing through his curls. The body he clung to was toned but still plushy in places, and warm, and strong, and it felt heavenly just to be held again. He brought a hand up to knuckle his eyes, and the hand on his head stilled. Dallas almost whimpered, clinging to Alex as he felt the younger man trying to pull back slightly, as if to look at him.

The hands returned to his back and head, and Dallas sighed. He was suddenly so tired and all he wanted was a few more minutes to pretend. He hurt, deep down inside in ways he couldn't express, ways different from the heave in his lungs or itchy burn in his eyes or throat.

Alex heard him whimper and his arms tightened, holding Dallas closer while he trembled and sagged against him. He could stand there all day if he needed to, which probably wasn't a good idea considering what he wanted to do, and he reminded himself that it wasn't personal. He'd just been in the right place at the right time to be the one that Dallas wrapped about.

They were friends. Well, work-friends, at least, and Alex might be infatuated with Dallas, but Dallas had never returned that affection. He was still in love with his husband, and wasn't it a damned shame that his conscience would prohibit taking advantage of the situation?

In truth, however, Alex wanted more. He wanted to be as loved as deeply as Dallas' grief. He'd always wanted that, from the moment his parents split up. Alex wanted the fairy tale, and so he held on, heart aching in sympathetic sorrow until Dallas pulled away.

He stood there, shoulders slumped as if to pull his head down inside like a turtle. He wiped his face and ran a hand through the unruly curls and then gave Alex a weak smile.

"I think I'd just like to lie down," he said gruffly.

"Sure." Alex didn't touch him, but beckoned and moved away as if the last few minutes had never happened. This early the inn was all but deserted, with no guests due until that evening, so they had their pick of rooms.

With Paul's approval, and his aunt's nod and concerned eyes following them, Alex led Dallas to a room on the top floor in the back. It was small, but private, and got a good cross-breeze from the open windows. This was Alex's favorite room, decorated with deep greens and dark walnut furniture. Old photographs hung in antique frames, but they didn't overwhelm the original wood siding. Instead, they just seemed like a part of the room, a room that drew a person in with the stereotypical charm of the past.

Dallas sat down on the bed, hand plucking at the bedspread with its leafy-green pattern reminiscent of fair-ground's quilt.

"I'll be downstairs if you need me," said Alex uncertainly, hovering half-way in the room.

"Okay."

"Dallas."

He looked up, but his gaze slid immediately away, embarrassed.

"If you need anything ...."

Dallas nodded and Alex sighed, backing from the room to lean his back up on the closed door. He opened his eyes to see his aunt standing in the hallway, with her arms crossed and frowning.

He winced as she said, "Boy, you've some explaining to do."

The next two days passed swiftly at times and impossibly slowly at times. Alex sat with Dallas on the porch sipping lemonade and occasionally talking during the long days. In the morning and early evening they explored the town, Alex showing Dallas all his old haunts and talking about growing up in the little town of Bedford, only a short distance away.

For the most part they were quiet, and when they did talk, they talked of nothing of consequence. In the evenings, they sat down to eat with the rest of the lodgers and then enjoyed another walk in the twilight. This was when Dallas talked. Alex kept his mouth closed and just listened as Dallas spoke about meeting his husband, about dating, their wedding, his in-laws, and, finally, the separation.

Standing in the grassy square next to the giant cannon, Dallas stared up at the stars just becoming visible over the trees and lights. "I got a postcard on my birthday. He went to the family's house in Southern Italy. He told me to quit moping and face reality."

Bastard! thought Alex.

"I." Lifting his hand, he stared at the ring, twisting the band around his finger like he was wont to do. Clenching his fist, he held it to his chest. The ring, some photographs and trinkets that meant too much to get rid of, and the baseball cards were all he had left.

"He'd paid the rent to the end of the year, but I'd been forced to move," he continued, throat tightening with remembered misery. He'd gotten rid of almost everything because he couldn't afford the fancy place on his own and the apartments he could afford were only a fraction of the size. It had been the most depressing day of his life and it was later in a fit of anger that he'd shredded the postcard of sunny Italy. He'd regretted it and taped it back together, but it would never be the same. Nothing ever would.

"It hurt," he whimpered, lowering his head and closing his eyes. "God, it hurt so bad, but I thought, I still thought there was a chance. I sent him an email and told him where I was. I called his phone and left a voice mail. I even wrote a letter." Never mailed it, because he didn't know the address, but he'd written it.

"And now he's never coming back," said Alex so softly he almost thought it more than said it.

"I didn't even get to go to the funeral!" Dallas blurted, looking up with eyes dark in the shadows but still glistening with moisture. "I didn't know. I didn't, d-didn't know. No one told me. Why didn't they tell me? I never got to see him again! I just, I just wanted to ...!"

His hands reached out and found Alex, the man having moved closer for just that reason. He tucked Dallas under his chin where he fit so perfectly, holding him as he cried. He'd read the will, flabbergasted by the money and objects listed, understanding some of the things Dallas didn't seem to about his husband. He was from money, and Dallas was not. He didn't understand the acceptance that could come from his sexuality but the scorn that arose from his financial status. Alex understood that all too well.

He'd also decided that Dallas hadn't read the will himself, or he'd know that it had been specified that Craig didn't want his husband at the funeral. He'd also asked for a closed casket and cremation, so there was nowhere for Dallas to even go to mourn, since Craig's mother had the urn.

How could Dallas have pretended that everything was okay? Alex had never been able to bury his feelings like that, had never understood people who did. He'd even believed that if you couldn't express your feelings, then they must not be so deep, but he couldn't deny the desperate, lonely anguish that Dallas only allowed him to see. In moments like this, Alex could almost feel Dallas' emotions as a physical presence.

The initial 'he's holding me!' light-headed glee turned inward and reminded Alex of all the things he wanted. He wanted to be loved like that, the way that Dallas loved Craig. He wanted more. Knowing how deeply the man could love made Alex want that love for himself. He craved it.

They walked back to the inn together, side by side but not touching. At the door to his room, Dallas turned back.

"Thank you," he said, bashful eyes looking up into the pool of shadow hiding Alex's face.

Alex's hand clutched him by the back of the neck and he leaned down for a whisper of lips on skin in his usual, good-night kiss, but Dallas turned his face up at the last minute. Alex's surprised squeak made him smile and he reached up to snag his cheeks before he could draw away.

Their second kiss was also brief and Alex stared in open-mouthed astonishment as the door closed just inches from his nose. He touched the old wood with his palm, touching his lips with trembling fingers. He groaned softly and it was a long time before he could sleep.

Sunday they joined the family and some of the guests for church, staying in town for a late breakfast and wandering around doing touristy things like taking tours of some of the historical places. They were hot and tired by the time they returned to the inn.

"I wish I had my camera," said Dallas with a sigh as he flopped down in one of the fake-straw chairs on the porch. "Thanks!" He accepted the cold glass of lemonade with an appreciative smile.

The smile made Alex fumble his own glass, startled and warmed by more than the weather at the first smile he'd seen in ... come to think of it, he wondered if it was the first true smile he'd ever seen.

Dallas smiled from head to toes, briefly chasing away the sorrow that darkened his eyes. He let the condensation drip onto his face, unconsciously sensual.

Blushing, Alex tore his eyes away, ducking his cousin's smirk and moving to sit on the steps where he couldn't stare at Dallas like the love-sick fool he often felt like.

They returned to the porch after dinner, sipping at hard cider and not saying much. There was only one other couple in the inn as the weekend came to a close.

"Going to work in the morning?" Alex finally asked.

Dallas snorted softly. "Don't know. Am I?"

"I'll take you back tonight, if you want." Gentle laughter met his ears and washed away his pique. Alex turned his head, but only saw the outline of a body in the dark. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing."

Alex frowned and they sat in silence for several more minutes. He heard the smack of a glass on the table but didn't look up, so started with surprise when strong fingers plucked the drink from his hand.

"What?" he managed, and then there was a body in his lap and lips pressing insistently against his mouth. Alex moaned, strung so tight most of the weekend that he was instantly hard, rocking into Dallas with enthusiasm that rewarded him with another chuckle.

The teasing, light kiss turned wet and deep as Alex opened his mouth, sucking on the tongue that flicked against his own. His hands found Dallas' waist and pulled them tightly together as he moaned again.

A light flared into existence and they jerked apart, Alex swearing creatively under his breath about meddlesome aunts. He rose to give her a piece of his mind, but Dallas caught his wrist.

"Let's just go upstairs."

Alex's mouth went dry. "A-Are you sure?" A nod was his answer, but he still hesitated.

"Coming?" asked Dallas, turning away. He didn't look back, half hoping and half dreading that Alex would follow. His heart beat unsteadily and the stairs seemed twice as high as before. His hand shook on the doorknob, but when he turned around, Alex was shifting foot to foot behind him, face taut with nerves.

Dallas had to smile. "Come on in."

He didn't bother with lights. Dallas went straight for the bed and sat down, disguising shaky legs by bending over to remove his shoes and socks. He pulled his shirt off, but there he stopped, hands bunching in the borrowed fabric.

Fingers along his jaw turned his face as Alex sat beside him, his dark eyes wide with indecipherable emotions. "Have you ever been with anyone else?" he asked seriously. "Anyone other than your husband?"

Dallas shook his head, swallowing.

Alex's lips pressed together for a moment as he frowned. "I don't want to do this if it's just a -- a one-time thing. I like you, Dallas. I like you a lot, and I don't know if I can go back to just being a friend. Are you sure?"

"Yes." He blushed under the scrutiny.

"Okay." Alex took a deep breath. "Then what do you want? Do you want to top? Or do you want to bottom?" His brows drew together as his words only succeeded in making Dallas look even more uncomfortable. "Do you want sex?"

"I." Looking away, Dallas shivered and his arms came up over his chest to hug himself. He wanted to not be alone. He wanted to know someone cared, and he knew Alex did. His body felt so good next to his and although this felt like a betrayal, his husband was dead. Had been gone from his life for two years and three months, eleven days, fourteen hours and -- he glanced at his watch -- thirty-five minutes.

"Dallas?" He reached out and touched a pale shoulder, skin that jumped away from the contact as the man hissed in startlement. The eyes that met Alex's were wide like a frightened animal.

He drew back with a gentle smile. "It's okay. Some other time, maybe."

"No." Dallas' hand snapped out to stop Alex from leaving. "Stay." He licked his lips. "Please."

Alex paused. He knew what his mind thought he ought to do, and he knew what he wanted to do, and Dallas' whispered words undid what better sense he had. This was a dream come true, and he'd ached to do more each time they'd touched. The nightly kisses were a promise to himself of someday, maybe having more, a little torture to reward himself for being good during the day.

This wasn't right. Dallas was lonely and hurting and not in his right mind. He'd regret this and Alex didn't want to be a regret, or he'd have gotten him roaringly drunk and sexed him up the very first night.

This was bad. This was very bad, but Alex's hand came up anyway, his fingers trailing lightly over Dallas' arm to make him shiver. Alex shifted closer, hands wrapping around bare shoulders as he kissed the exposed neck with feather-light touches of his lips.

Arms came up between them, hands pressing against Alex's chest through his shirt. He stopped and looked up, disappointment a bitter taste in his mouth at the rejection he saw.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asked. He knew the answer, but he couldn't resist torturing himself with the possibility of more. In the next minute, he wished that he could read Dallas' expressions better, because although he looked like he wanted to push him away, Dallas said, "Yes."

His conscience screamed at him, but his body and heart conspired against his mind. He turned them and leaned Dallas against the mattress to explore his skin with touch and kiss.

Dallas let his body fall limp, clutching at the bedspread and closing his eyes. He could do this; he wanted to do this, didn't he? Of course he did. His heart twisted in knots but he held the tears back. He was free, free of expectation, of fruitless wishing, free to move on. Hadn't that been what Craig had wanted? He liked Alex, Alex liked him, so what was wrong?

He tossed an arm over his face, but Alex still heard the murmur, the plea for someone else. Granted that he wasn't wildly promiscuous like the news always seemed to paint the gay scene, but Alex had gotten around, especially in college, though he'd never before had a lover call out someone else's name.

Kissing over skin pulled too-tightly over prominent ribs, Alex considered. Sex seemed to be what Dallas wanted, just not with him, and that was an unwelcome truth, but Alex was not quite unselfish enough to back off. He wanted Dallas, had wanted him almost since meeting him, and the truth was he was willing to take him any way he could. If that meant being someone else, then he could do that. He was pretty sure, anyway.

"Yeah, that's it," he said encouragingly. He closed his eyes with pleasure as Dallas groaned and the sound was just as deep and rumbling as Alex had dreamed it would be. He didn't look up, knowing that Dallas had his eyes closed, but two could play that game.

He kissed with more confidence, nipping occasionally because he learned that a hint of teeth caused Dallas to make those grunting-groaning noises that sounded like sex. He sucked a spot on one hip while he unfastened Dallas' jeans. They came free and there was nothing beneath. Shirts and pants Dallas had borrowed with gratitude, but he'd been too embarrassed to accept the underwear Paul had offered. They were almost of a size, Dallas and Paul, but Paul's pants hung loosely on Dallas, bunched up beneath the belt.

Pulling them off, Alex kissed the hollow between dick and balls, rewarded with another wanting, moaned name. He caught Dallas' wrist before he could grasp his hair and pressed his hand to the bed. Alex didn't want Dallas touching him and breaking whatever dream he imagined was happening.

He made a protesting growl that almost made Alex come right then, however, and the hand smacked with more force than he'd intended against the mattress.

"Oh, come on. Oh!" groaned Dallas. He tried again to the same result and whined again. "Stop teasing me, then!" God, he was such a tease!

Alex nibbled again just for the heck of it before opening his mouth to suck in the tip. Saliva dripped down and he used a hand to spread the moisture around, sliding his hand up in down as he bobbed his head. The sounds Dallas made were music to his ears, spurring him on to greater efforts.

He pulled off to lick and rub the wet head against his face and cheek, sucked his balls inside his mouth and toyed with the soft skin between sack and ass hole. Dallas arched off the bed under his attentions, reaching for him again, and again Alex pushed his hands away. He bit the tender skin inside a thigh when Dallas tried to protest, pulling an aggrieved groan from the man's throat, another sound that made Alex's cock swell and pulse uncomfortably from within his shorts.

It only took a couple more long pulls and hearty sucks before Dallas's back bowed, arms flying above his hands to grip the bedspread and growl as he came. In the faint light coming through the curtains, it was beautiful and otherworldly and Alex drank it in.

Leaving him to come down from the high, Alex raced to the bathroom and rifled through the basket of toiletries on the sink. There was lotion there but it wasn't quite slick enough, and it smelled terrible. Darting for the hall, Alex ran for the supply closet on their floor. He flung open the door and grabbed for the bottles of lotions and creams.

Why oh why hadn't he thought of this sooner? Because, he reminded himself, he'd been trying not to think about it!

"Here."

"Wah!" Alex jumped half out of his skin, smacking his elbow against the cabinet and cursing. "Jesus, Paul!"

His cousin grinned unrepentantly and tossed him a small bottle that he only caught out of self-defense. "Try to keep the noise down, would you?"

Heart racing madly, Alex squinted at the bottle while he snarled something appropriate at his nosy cousin. He had the lid off in an instant, mind blanking on why Paul would give him lube, but not willing to think about it.

He dashed back to the room, shirt off and pants gone almost before he could get the door shut. For good measure, he also spun the lock. He had the usual condom in his wallet, pulling it on and whimpering at what the cold latex promised.

Dallas murmured sleepily when Alex crawled up behind him. He woke completely when a leg slid between his and a slick finger trailed down his crack to push at his sphincter.

"Oh!" he said, then, "Oh!" louder as the finger pressed inside. He bore down on the intrusion, gritting his teeth against the discomfort. He squeezed his eyes closed and willed himself to relax further. He could feel Alex's impatience beating against his leg and while he didn't feel comfortable telling him to stop, he didn't really want to continue, either. If it was just over quickly, it'd be all right.

Alex kissed and nibbled any skin he could reach on Dallas' back and shoulders, half-driven to distraction by the twitches and moans the other man made. He went to fast, knew he did for someone who hadn't been taken, by his own admission, in over two years, but if Alex didn't get in there soon he was going to be embarrassed.

Twisting onto his side with the stronger pain and uncomfortable fullness that came with having a cock up his ass, Dallas bit his lip against a wordless cry. He clung to the bedspread, trembling as his body adjusted. Alex's hand fluttered against his hips and Dallas could feel him groan into his neck. He knew what it felt like to be so close to the edge and he pushed back hard, despite the pain.

Just do it, he thought. Do it and get out of me, please, God, just get out of me.

Alex cooed into Dallas' ear, and he caught his breath on a sob, unable to stop the tears that came to his eyes when the man finally started to move. He hid his face in a pillow, and knew that he was successful as Alex continued.

And it felt good. It shouldn't. He told himself it shouldn't, but it did. He started to harden again, but punished himself by refusing to touch it. He wanted to be drunk, to have an excuse, any excuse, but he had none. He'd asked for this, wanted it, but he just wanted it over now.

Alex dragged his cheek between bony shoulder blades, holding tight to Dallas' hips as he thrust in and out quickly, rushing towards the edge he'd been hovering by ever since Dallas had kissed him.

"Oh, God, Dallas, ngh!" he groaned. When he could breathe again, he lazily nibbled on the back of the neck his nose pressed against. Dallas shivered and Alex recalled enough of his manners to check on his partner's needs, but Dallas batted his hand away making Alex frown.

"You okay?"

"Fine."

"Hm." Alex didn't think he'd be 'fine' in Dallas' place, but he didn't want to argue. He wanted to believe that everything was 'fine,' too.

They wiggled apart and Alex cleaned up while Dallas climbed into the shower. Then it was his turn, and Dallas was a warm lump between the sheets when he joined him.

"Mm," he murmured and in seconds was asleep.

Dallas stared up at the ceiling, biting his finger as his eyes filled with tears. He was sore inside and empty, and not just from the sex. Rolling onto his side, he buried his face in a pillow and sobbed. He was slowly forgetting things, but in that moment Alex's soft snores translated into something his body remembered down to his bones. It was worse than learning to sleep alone. Finally just giving up, he dressed and took a blanket down to the porch to sit and wait for dawn.

The early morning activity in the inn woke him and Dallas went back up to his room to tell Alex he wanted to go home. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at his sleeping face. Dallas left him there and went back downstairs.

"Morning, sweetie," Alex's aunt called from the kitchen.

Dallas moved slowly in her direction, thought about sitting on one of the stools, but just leaned against the bar instead. He dropped his head on his arms, looking up at the light squeeze on his hand.

"It'll be okay, honey. Trust me."

Biting his lip at the tears behind his eyes and the lump in his throat, Dallas tried a smile, but his face felt frozen. He wanted to believe, had been trying for such a long time, but he was tired. So very, very tired.

She squeezed his hand again before moving away, to return with a peeler and a handful of scrubbed potatoes. Laughing at his baffled expression, she just patted his cheek and left him to it.