Unexpected Liaisons - 2. It Might Be A Date

Zupan hadn’t called up Bay’s little twink friend with any actual plan in mind, so when Zander had suggested a drink that evening, Zupan had mentally shrugged and gone with it. He’d gone for a ‘roll’, hit his top speed against the headwind and come home to deal with emails and some scheduling stuff for the team, had a shower and dressed in jeans since it was cold, and a loose fitting red t-shirt with a black hoodie over the top. After that it had just been a case of rolling down to the bar that Zander had picked.

Having spent the last seven years in a wheelchair, Zupan knew pretty much all the bars and clubs that were accommodating, often with a little hassle. He’d been told that hiding from the world might seem like an easy option when he’d first come out of rehab, but Issac had shown up with his false leg and the words tattooed on his side, and Zoltan had still been beating himself up over what had happened. Zupan had known then that there was no way he was going to be staying indoors feeling sorry for himself. One of them had to get out there and start enjoying life. They’d all been about to turn twenty two, and Issac and his twin were living like ghosts. So Zupan, wheelchair bound and still learning to dress himself, had forced them back out, which had worked way better once Issac had thrown out that tool Mason, and life had slowly evolved into a new version of normal.

Pretty-boy Zander had chosen a trendy wine bar twinned with a basement club which was at least on ground level and had a sloping entrance up onto the little terrace. Zupan wheeled himself in and knocked the doors out of the way with his knees and chair. It didn’t hurt much. It had been a kick in the nuts to find that he still had sensation in his legs, if not any actual control at all, but the doctors had smiled and reminded him that those were probably near enough the same nerves that had left him fully functioning between the thighs. The bar was just over half full, a mix of students and trend-setters, and people just coming out from work. Zupan glanced around but didn’t immediately spot the blond skinny boy, so rolled himself up the bar.

Bars. Who the hell had designed them to be so tall? Zupan had long gotten over this problem with attitude rather than height, and announced his presence to the barman as he rolled up.

“Corona and lime please bud!”

The barman glanced up, scanned the bar and frowned.

“Short I might be, but if you don’t look own I’ll take your head off just the same.”

“Oh,” the barman peered over the edge, “Sorry. I didn’t-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zupan cut him off, “That Corona coming anytime bud?” Zupan rapped his knuckles against the side of the bar in an offhand sort of manner and stared at his hand. Open… close. After years he knew that there was no way his grip was ever going to be better. It had taken months just to be able to grasp a cup, only to have water spill all over him. Bottles were better, but when the Corona was placed on the bar Zupan coughed and gestured to the barman. “You’re gonna have to push the lime down for me there mate.” Zupan pressed his first finger and thumb together as hard as he could, “Gonna have some trouble with that.”

“I’ll get it for you,” Zander was leaning past him and grabbed the bottle before the barman could take it back, pushed down the lime and handed it to Zupan, “White wine for me please. Large.”

“Hey,” Zupan grabbed the bottle, made sure he had it, and took a swig before jamming it between his knees, “Thanks.”

Zander sucked lime juice from his finger, one thin digit between lips that were full and pink, and Zupan felt his cock stir at the sight when Zander smiled at him, taking his wine in the sort of fluid motion that Zupan hadn’t been able to manage for years.

“You wanna grab a table?”

“Sure.”

Zander half turned away from him, then grinned over his shoulder.

“At least we won’t have to fight for more than on chair.”

Oh the boy could play too. Zupan decided that this was gonna be fun.

They talked about a range of things, from the murderball practice Bay had dragged Zander and his friend Billy too, to the fight when they’d first met. Zupan asked the boy about his job, assistant manager in a retail fashion outlet, which he liked, but which he wanted to move in a more creative direction, and they chatted about music (of which they had little in common), sports (about which Zander claimed to know nothing) and fashion (about which Zupan was adamant no longer applied to him.

“Clothes have to be easy to get on and off. That’s about it.”

“Colour doesn’t matter?” Zander rolled his half empty glass in his fingers, playing with the stem. He moved a lot when he spoke, big expressive gestures and complicated finger motions when he described things. Zupan hadn’t looked away in a while, which was unusual for him, and has liked the quick flash of skin he’d seen between skinny jeans and fitted ribbed jumper as Zander had poured himself into his chair. The boy moved like some kind of skinny waif, elegant and soft, but hard edged under his coiffed hair. Zupan wanted to run his fingers through the sculpted fringe and hated it when it obscured Zander’s lovely blue eyes.

“Not within reason,” Zupan answered. He’d thought of Zander as lovely, and every time the boy’s lips touched, or a hint of his pink tongue showed, Zupan had to think of white snow.

And then it happened. As a quad, chatting up girls always went one way when they were interested. Usually took between twenty minutes and half an hour, but then they would always ask, or skirt around asking, whether or not everything below the belt was all still good to go. But Zander was a guy, and his question was less direct, but his tone could not be mistaken. The twink placed his elbows on the table, leant forwards and trapped Zupan’s eyes with his own. His light tenor voice dropped an octave as he asked:

“So just how quick can you take your clothes off Zupan?”

For the first time in a long time, Zupan didn’t know what to say.

Zander insisted on getting the next round of drinks in as Zupan had ended up paying for the first one, and Zupan forced himself not the watch the boy as he walked away, swinging his hips. Glanced around the bar, the athlete wondered what on earth he was doing here. People were looking at him in that sideways manner which he knew meant they wanted to stare, and he could feel the mixture of confusion and soft disapproval. Even in a happy tolerant city, there were still those who thought that people like him, should be at home. Or at least somewhere with other people like himself. Hanging out in bars full of normal able-bodied people was apparently still some kind of weird taboo. Zupan made a mental note to bring the whole team drinking here soon, give everyone something to really talk about.

Zander was talking in his animated way to the barman, and Zupan wondered what on the earth he was doing. Bay had been less than keen to share his friend, and Zupan was confused himself about why he had wanted to meet up with Zander anyways. The boy was smart and interesting, but regardless of how was buying the drinks, this had all the hallmarks of the proper date. A date, with a guy. It wasn’t like he’d never had guys want him before. He’d been Issac’s wingman for too many nights for that. But he’d never been tempted, never second guessed himself, never wanted to call any of those numbers scrawled on beermats and bits of paper.

And now Zander came walking towards him with a drink in each hand and a sexy little smile that made the big guy feel hot and uncomfortable in the best way. Zupan handed him his drink, line already pushed down, then reached out and touched at his square trimmed circle-beard. Zupan forgot to breathe.

“Your hair is really soft.” Zander slid into the seat next to him, not across from him, and the set of his body language had certainly changed. This was a date. “Lucky me though, I don’t even have to shave every day.” Zander touched his own super-smooth face and Zupan felt his cock stir again, more so than before, “I like your ink by the way.”

Zupan was glad to have something normal to talk about and for a while, he distracted himself with the tales of his tattoos, from the heavy spiky Celtic knot work that wrapped in a thick band around one shin and calf, to the one he’d gotten for the last Olympics, past the dragon that covered most of his back, the phoenix that wrapped over the shoulder where the muscle was missing. He mentioned the tyre tread, but Zander didn’t push for details, and Zupan was pleased about that. Zander wanted to have tattoos but;

“I have no idea what I’d get, and I don’t want to regret it later. Also, I think I’d wimp out. Too painful.”

“Not nearly as bad as…” Zupan stopped himself, “Never mind.” He drained the dregs of his beer, “We should do this again sometime.”

“Yeah,” Zander was smiling in a soft way that Zupan decided very quickly he liked, “We should. Real soon.”

Zander didn’t try and help him as they left the bar, didn’t offer to assist with his jacket or the door, and Zupan counting up the things about the guy he liked. Animated, considerate, fully aware of his situation but allowing him independence. Some girls just loved to try and mother him. Direct, jokey, game for a laugh.

He’s a guy. Zupan shook himself down mentally. Maybe that didn’t matter.

“I’m going this way,” Zander jerked his thumb over his shoulder, the opposite way to Zupan’s own flat.

“See you soon?”

“Yes.” No hesitation there.

Zupan turned his wheels when Zander called his name. He turned.

Swift, soft: a bend and then a kiss, hands resting lightly on his thighs. Zander’s kiss was sweet and tangy like the wine. He somehow tasted pink, like candy floss and strawberries, even though Zupan knew that wasn’t possible. The press of lips, slightly parted but not invading. The big rugby player froze.

Zander leant back and up with a sweet little smile and a blush like a rose.

“Thanks for a lovely evening Zu.”

Zupan had sat on the pavement staring after him until some well-meaning idiot had doted and asked him if he was ‘alright dear, do you need a hand with your chair’ and Zupan had snapped and growled. Then he’d rolled straight to Issac and Bay’s place.