Soul Music: Love Encountered - 4. Care and Attention

“What now?” Tony was still breathing quite heavily, after fighting his way successfully through a Mozart opera aria.

“Err … whatever you'd like?” Geoff had enjoyed the Mozart – it was surprisingly playable, and even he recognised it. He wasn't sure which opera though … Cosi fan Tutte? “I thought that went well – certainly better than last time.”

Tony laughed. “Yeah, well – that's probably not saying much. We are working better as a team, though.” He smiled at Geoff who half-shrugged. “Oh, come on now, you really worked with me through that Mozart. It made it so much better.”

Geoff blushed, as he usually did when anyone praised him. “Well, I did play more right notes this time.”

“Yes, indeed. I think I only heard you say 'sorry' a couple of times. Pity I couldn't stop singing to apologise every time I messed up.”

Both men snorted at the image that conjured up.

Tony was flicking his way through a pile of sheet music, trying to make his mind up. He stopped again, for a moment. “Not that either of us is in any danger of being summoned to the Wigmore Hall for a recital. As if …” Tony sniggered.

Geoff rolled his eyes.

“Anyway, who cares? We're enjoying it.” The two men exchanged smiles. “Hmm … how about some Warlock? That would be a good contrast.”

Geoff reached out and took his piano score from Tony. “Not a composer I've come across. Heard of him, but that's about it.”

“No?” Tony shrugged. “Not that surprising. Unless you're a singer, he doesn't really register much. Apart from the Capriol Suite, of course. Some songs are quasi-Elizabethan, with a twist sometimes, and others are quite weird, unsettling.”

“If you call yourself Warlock instead of Heseltine, it kind of suggests weirdness.” Geoff lifted an eyebrow – he'd been reading the brief biography at the front of the score.

“Yep. And an active interest in the occult.”

Geoff looked slightly startled.

Tony opened up his score. “Right, let's try Sleep first, then The Fox.”

They managed to get through Sleep without any mishaps, both enjoying the composer's simplicity of line. It was one of Tony's favourite songs – deceptively easy to sing, but very rewarding. Geoff had to disappear off to the toilet before they got to The Fox. Tony smiled to himself while he waited. The session so far had been really great. Geoff had an innate sense of musicianship. Once he'd settled down, it was clear Geoff was both playing and listening – he knew when the ends of phrases were coming up, and each time, he paused momentarily to allow Tony to breathe. The sign of a good accompanist, showing consideration for the other musician. But, then, he suspected that was Geoff all over.

The Fox was a very different song. Geoff came back, settled himself on the piano stool again, and stared apprehensively at the piano part. He couldn't help making a face. “God, this looks awkward.”

He half-turned round on the piano stool. “Have you done this with a pianist before?”

“Err … No, don't think so. Well, not recently, anyway.”

Geoff turned back round. Tony heard him muttering to himself as he tried out a few phrases on the piano, counting his way through the rhythms. “One and two and one two three …”

Tony broke into his concentration. “This is Warlock at his weird, slightly sinister best.”

Geoff's eyes widened. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, while talking silently to himself. Count, and listen. Don't panic.

They started OK, but soon became separated. Starting again from the top, they came adrift at a different spot.

Geoff growled to himself. Fuck, it was difficult to keep together. “Sorry, I think it's me. My ability to count's completely evaporated.”

Tony smiled sympathetically. “Never mind – we both struggling a bit. Let's try from bar ten, instead of going right back to the beginning.”

This time, it hung together longer, wrong notes notwithstanding, and Tony was enjoying the spiky, Brittenesque writing when Geoff suddenly stopped playing.

“Sorry, I've miscounted yet again. Why can't I bloody play this? It's not that sodding difficult.” Geoff stared at his music, his eyes filling. There they were, enjoying a good session together, and he had to fuck it up. Again.

“Hey, what's the matter? We were doing fine.”

The sound of Tony's reassuring voice made Geoff turn round on the piano stool. He couldn't meet Tony's gaze, instead looking off to one side, blinking to clear his eyes.

“You should hear me attempting some of the Britten Serenade – Peter Pears would turn in his grave. But I enjoy the trying.” Tony's comment made Geoff smile a little. “Don't worry. Just because it's defeating you this time round, doesn't mean the next time'll be the same. Often, a fresh look, and you sail through it, no problem. OK?”

As he intended, Tony's question at the end made Geoff look at him properly.

Tony moved closer, and opened his arms in invitation. “A hug?”

Geoff hesitated for a moment – hugs were something he wasn't used to – then he accepted. Why not? He stood up, and let himself be embraced. Tony concentrated on making the hug comforting and supportive, nothing else. He hoped his penis had got the message, though – the warm, solid mass of Geoff's body was threatening to turn him on like nobody's business. Fortunately, the way Geoff's beard was tickling his neck, kept his mind on other matters. Tony found Geoff quite passive to start with, accepting his embrace, but not reaching out himself.

Geoff wasn't used to be held like that – even as a child, his parents hadn't demonstrated their affection in any physical way. It was unfamiliar, but nice, very nice. He let himself relax against Tony's leaner, more muscled torso. It was strange how confidence and strength seemed to seep from Tony's body into his. He could get used to that – his anxieties were melting away, though they'd be back, soon enough. Geoff then employed his arms, so he too was playing a more active role, and wrapped them round Tony's back. With two active participants, the hug became more full-on, and Geoff was conscious of stirrings. He wasn't ready to go further, not yet.

Tony was rather glad when Geoff made the first move to draw away. There'd been a danger of it taking on a much more sexual aspect, and, although he would've welcomed it in some ways, he knew that Geoff would be easily scared off. Plenty of time to take things at a steady pace. He'd just have to make sure every part of his anatomy was prepared to play along. As Geoff sat back down at the piano again, Tony smiled to himself in wry amusement at his predicament. A pleasant one, but somewhat frustrating, nevertheless.

An hour or so later, both men were seated at Tony's kitchen table, wolfing down a chicken and leek risotto.

Geoff paused briefly, in between forkfuls. “This is so good, you know. It's really hitting the spot. My tummy thanks you.”

Tony snorted – Geoff's stomach had earlier announced its need for food in its usual, inimitable style. Geoff blushed slightly, and smiled back. “I can't help it if I get hungry.”

Tony grinned. “Indeed, you can't.” His last forkful consumed, Tony leant back in his seat. “Risottos are so quick, easy to prepare, and moreish, I find. You can use a whole variety of things to go with the rice.” He was surprised to see no answering expression of shared experience on Geoff's face. Instead, more a sense of information being gathered and stored away. Tony couldn't quite believe it. Risottos were so easy …

He raised an eyebrow. “D'you do much cooking?”

Geoff grimaced. “Not your sort of cooking. I mean, I can do a good fry-up, scrambled eggs, sausages and mash, that sort of thing. I only do them at weekends, or when I'm not at work. During the week, I either order in, or rely on convenience food, ready meals, pizzas …” His voice trailed off as his usual sense of inferiority grew. “It's never been something worth learning about – I mean, there only being me to cook for.”

Geoff's pink glow was started by a vision of him and Tony preparing something in his kitchen, the pair of them kissing, touching as they did so. Wouldn't that be wonderful? He blushed more intensely. Furious with himself, Geoff scotched that idea immediately. It was far too early to be making plans, or assumptions, for that matter. Geoff kept his gaze firmly fixed on his plate as he was eating his seconds – it was safer that way.

From the other side of the table, Tony watched on in amusement. He loved seeing a blush slowly cover Geoff's face. His beard somehow made it even more sweet – a fully grown man, colouring like a shy teenager. Tony paused for a moment. In some ways, he suspected Geoff was indeed like a teenager. Their budding relationship hadn't got to the stage of talking about their previous lovelives, but Tony thought it likely Geoff wouldn't have much to contribute. That saddened him – to his eyes, Geoff was someone special. And the thought that Geoff had never cooked for a group of friends. His companion did have friends – Tony'd discovered that much – but it was presumably Geoff's crippling lack of self-confidence that stopped him from trying.

Tony thought of a meal he'd prepared not that long ago. The main course was something he'd never done before, and he hadn't had any opportunity to give it a dry run. Predictably, it had gone wrong. He paraded the disaster in front of his friends, and they all howled with laughter, followed immediately by commiserations. Then, they'd ordered something else in, and the meal continued, full of laughter and conversation. It wasn't something he wanted to happen, but neither was it an unmitigated disaster.

“Geoff, my question wasn't a criticism.” Geoff looked up from his now empty plate. “I love having people to cook for.” Shy smile from opposite. “When I'm on my own, I have a number of staples, old favourites, which I trot out in succession. Like a risotto. I only have the urge to experiment if there's someone else to share it with. Friends … or now, … you.”

All of a sudden, their eyes locked across the table, asking questions, seeking answers. The atmosphere between the two men was charged with hope, anticipation, and wondering.

It lasted until Tony broke the silence. He thought a retreat back to the everyday would be wise – contrary to his instructions, his cock was starting to make its presence known. That frisson again – just like when he'd first met Geoff. A good omen.

“So, what are you planning for Christmas?” Tony chuckled. “Or, rather, what have you planned – it's less than ten days away. God, seems like it was only October a few weeks ago.”

A closed, studiously neutral expression appeared on Geoff's face. “I usually spend it with my mother – there's only the two of us now. She doesn't like coming to mine for some reason, so I spend the day over there.”

Tony wasn't sure how to decode what he'd heard, other than Geoff obviously wasn't overjoyed by the prospect. Hmm … something else to talk about at some point in the future.

He responded by describing his own Christmas. “I usually visit friends up North. I don't often get to see them, so Christmas is a good excuse. We all have a hand in providing the food and drink.” Geoff frowned slightly. “Oh, it usually works fine. Except for one year when we ended up with no turkey. That wasn't so good. Still, we had all the trimmings, so we ate those, and the veg, with some of the breakfast bacon.” Tony smiled, and shook his head. It hadn't been on his watch, thank goodness. The good wine had made it seem a little less surreal.

Across the table, Geoff sighed. “It sounds fun. We have Christmas lunch at the local pub. It's OK …” His voice trailed off wistfully. Then Tony saw Geoff's lips thin. “Dad used to cook all the festive food – turkey, ham, mince pies, cakes, everything. Mother's never been much of a cook. Anyway, the first Christmas after Dad had gone, I decided to try cooking Christmas lunch. Just for the two of us. It was a disaster …” Geoff breathed in deeply. “The turkey roast wasn't anything like cooked when I got it out of the oven – I must've read the instructions wrong – and the veg was soggy and overcooked.”

Tony couldn't stop himself from interrupting. “Surely, it was easy enough to put the turkey back in for a while, and cook another batch of veg?”

“Hnh … You'd have thought so, wouldn't you? Mother took the meat, and threw it away. Health hazard, or some such, so we sat and ate the veg. It wasn't a waste throwing away the turkey, but it was when it came to the veg? Where's the logic in that? Have you tried eating a plateful of overcooked Brussel sprouts and carrots? Revolting. To cap it all, because I'd been concentrating so much on the main course, I'd forgotten to heat up the Christmas pudding. As I said, complete disaster. Never again, and every year I get fucking reminded of it.”

Geoff looked so despondent. Tony's heart bled for him. Lacking in self-confidence already, for Geoff to be reminded of it every Christmas, was bordering on cruel. Tony wondered if Geoff's mum thought she was making a joke out of it. People did, and were often oblivious to the effect on the other person. Geoff probably should've made his feelings known the first time his mum mentioned it, but, of course, he hadn't.

“The pub does exactly the same bloody menu every year. I can practically recite it – it's not as if it's long.” Geoff's coda to his tale of woe made Tony's mind up for him. He'd been thinking about since they started talking about food and cooking.

“Look, why don't you come back tomorrow, and I'll show you some simple biscuits which can be made Christmassy? It'll be something you can take as a present when you visit. Be special for both of you. Come to think of it, I've still got to make my crackers. There's always too many.”

Geoff's smile of gratitude made Tony's day. Then it faded. “I feel I should be inviting you to my place, not taking yours for granted.”

Tony sighed inwardly. Geoff's insecurities were never far from the surface. “Who's counting? I'm not. Ask me over to your house when you're ready. 'til then, I'm very happy to have you here.”

“Perhaps in the New Year …” Geoff was still sounding uncertain, and his worried look was back.

Tony got up, ostensibly to clear the table, but he changed his mind when he saw Geoff's face.

“Somebody looks like another hug would come in useful …”

Geoff saw Tony's inviting smile, and didn't waste any time in getting up too. “Oh yes, please.”

It was a repeat of the hug from before, except Geoff was an active participant from the start. Geoff couldn't believe it – why had he missed out on hugs for so long?

Tony waited until he felt Geoff relax against him. Then, after a moment or two, he disengaged. His cock definitely had a mind of its own …

“As I said, there's no rush. Now, what kind of film do you fancy watching?”