The Birthday Present - 1. The Story

SUNDAY, MARCH 11, 2007 - 5:15 PM

Victor is wearing a suit for the first time. It was just fitted to him a few hours ago and feels surprisingly comfortable, but whenever he glances at his own reflection in the car mirror, it doesn't feel like his own. He starts to feel self-conscious. The maroon tie that cost forty-five dollars looked good in the store, but now it seems too bright, and the suit is probably worth more than the man wearing it.

His only source of comfort is the heavy black camera hanging around his neck, covering almost half his tie. He feels calmer, safer, behind it.

"I know you look great, but please stop checking yourself out and drive."

If he looks great, Sasha looks even better, effortlessly sporting his light gray suit as if he wears it to sleep.

"I'm nervous, Sasha."

"You're sexy."

"I can drop you off and come pick you up later. Just give me a call."

Sasha sighs, rubbing Victor's shoulder as the light turns green. "It's going to be fine, but if it really bothers you that much..."

 

5:30 PM

They sign in downstairs in the lobby. Alexander Brodsky pulls out an invitation card to Michael Gottlieb's private dinner party, explaining how Peter Brodsky and his wife RSVPed a month ago, but are still, unfortunately, stuck in Vancouver at the moment, and wishes for their sons to take their place for the evening. The security guard eyes Victor suspiciously, as if looking for any resemblence between the two men.

"Son and son-in-law," Sasha adds hastily, flashing a dimpled smile.

Victor's heart does a little tumble in his chest.

"I hope you mean your sister's husband," says the guard, in a poor attempt at a joke. "Use the elevators on the right. Enjoy the evening."

The apartment takes up two entire floors, connected by an imposing glass staircase. Victor didn't even know apartments like this could exist. It looks big enough to be a mansion. Michael Gottlieb is a handsome man in his sixties, with thick graying hair and a bushy beard. He and his wife stand at the door, shaking each guest's hand as they pass. He positively beams when Sasha and Victor approach.

"Alex Brodsky," he says softly in his erudite manner. "My, my, you're all grown up! And you brought a photographer? Good camera! Almost bought the same one myself."

"My fiance, Victor," says Sasha, without blinking. "I'm guessing you got my parents' message. It's unfortunate they couldn't make it today."

"Very unfortunate," Mr. Gottlieb agrees. "Pleasure to meet you, Victor."

Victor offers his hand, but Mr. Gottlieb has already turned his attention to the next guest, so Victor shakes his wife's hand instead.

"You've grown so handsome," she says to Sasha, petting his cheek. "How's your mother?"

 

5:40 PM

Victor is secretly horrified to see that there are servants in the house (apartment, technically), holding colorful drinks and little hors d'oeuvres in china plates trimmed with gold. Not only that, but a live violin-cello duo plays in the corner.

He and Sasha are the only two in the room not over forty years old. When Sasha opens his mouth, a stream of endless words flow out so naturally and freely that everyone turns their attention to him. Their faces say, Who is this? and they're postures say, Let me find out. They greet him with enthusiasm.

On the other hand, Victor has come to realize that if he keeps his camera in his hands at all times, people will mistake him for a professional photographer and generally ignore his presence. He grips the camera tightly and makes the mistake of falling a step back.

About ten feet away, Sasha begins talking to an old couple about his field of work. He glances around for Victor and frowns when their eyes meet, then goes back to talking without introducing hisfiance, who now feels like a lost child with only a toy for comfort.

 

5:55 PM

He gets some artsy-looking photos of random objects in the room, like the sixty pound crystal chandelier on the ceiling in the shape of a snowflake, or the miniature grand piano in the display case, zooming in and out, in and out, like a dream sequence from Alice in Wonderland.

But mostly, he just takes pictures of Sasha.

Occasionally, someone will ask Victor a few questions about himself, he'll smile and nod and ask them the same questions as his voice grows meeker and quieter with each word, and the conversation is doomed to die a slow and painful death.

 

6:15 PM

Still playing with his camera. And counting every painful little minute.

 

6:30 PM

The servants bring out platters of food and lay them out on a two long table in the corridor. Victor and Sasha fill their plates and bring them to the dining room, where there are three large tables already set up for all the guests. The food is delectable and there are plenty of leftovers. Victor goes back out in the hall to take a picture of each platter so he can recreate them in his own kitchen later.

When he sits down again, Sasha starts to grope him under the table while carrying on a serious conversation about the recent effects of the Chinese yuan on American markets with several balding lawyers. He stops abruptly when Victor actually gets an erection, but continues to talk.

Victor is silent the whole time. He looks politely at everyone and hears every little word they say, yet no one pays any attention to him. Not that he cares.

He will never be able to get rid of that slight tingle of arousal whenever he sees an asparagus shoot.

 

8:00 PM

The room is full of old people dancing to waltz music. Sasha is playing some old Jewish card game with a crowd of old men on the couch, swirling the wine in his glass as he waits his turn. They slap his back and shake his shoulders like he's their own son. Your father isn't half as fun, they'd say.

 

8:10 PM

There is an incredibly good-looking man about Victor's age hanging around in the room, talking to various people. Whenever Victor looks at him, he seems to be looking back. Victor is sure that he wasn't there before. He is at least an inch taller, dressed in a black suit that is so black, the outlines are barely visible.

Victor tries to ignore him. He takes another picture of Sasha. This time, Sasha is holding up his glass and laughing. It looks just like a still from a movie.

When he lowers the camera, the man is still standing in front of him, holding a drink that's hot pink.

"You're a photographer?"

"No," answers Victor sheepishly. "This is a new camera."

"You look like you know what you're doing."

"Oh, well... thank you, I guess," says Victor, averting his intense gaze. "I'm still learning to use it."

"Can I see what you've got on there?"

"Um..."

The man shrugs. "Whatever, I understand. Do you dance?" He holds out a hand. The slow waltz continues ruthlessly in the background, or at least Victor thinks it's a waltz.

Did this man just ask him to dance? In the middle of all these old conservative people? "I-I've never danced before."

"You're gay, right?"

"I, uh..."

"It's okay, I saw you with your man earlier. I'm gay too. Hard to fit in here, isn't it?" He grins, as if they share some kind of special bond. "You still in school?"

Victor relaxes a bit. "Nah, are you?"

"I graduated from law school a year ago."

Victor nods and smiles. The man speaks with such ease that Victor can barely respond in time.

"So where'd you get your degree?"

"Uh..." Victor never got his degree. "Baruch College." It never occurs to him that the man meant to ask what he did his nonexistent graduate study on.

"Oh, public school. Cool. Saves money. I went to Harvard and even my dad thinks the tuition is ridiculous nowadays."

Victor wants to tell him that public school actually cost a lot, but decides that's not appropriate. The man's smile hasn't changed.

"What did you study at Baruch?"

"History."

The man laughs, not unkindly. "You find a job yet?" He doesn't wait for Victor to answer. "You know, I was an art history major for a while, but I finally decided to go pre-law. I mean, you study so hard for years this topic that fascinates you until you know it by heart, only to find that there's no job for it on the market. Then you end up becoming a professor, teaching the same people who will teach the next batch of people. You feel that way?"

It's obvious he's expecting Victor to agree enthusiastically with this. Victor has no idea how to answer. History was simply his best subject back in school. For a long time, he wanted to become a middle school teacher, the one that all the kids loved and respected because he loved and respected them. That's probably what he'd be doing now, if September 11th never happened.

"I'm a firefighter," he says.

 

8:25 PM

At this moment, Sasha appears, taking Victor by the shoulder. "There you are. Come with me. I want to introduce you--Oh, who's this?"

Victor doesn't get a chance to answer.

"Hi, Alex."

Sasha frowns, then recognition flickers in his eyes. "Oh, hey--"

"Kevin."

"Kevin. Wow, it's nice to see you again. What brings you here?"

Victor wants to hide. He's had nightmares about this, of bumping into one of Sasha's previous partners. As likely as it sounded, he couldn't have imagined it actually happening, at least until now. That was how he subconsciously assumed this guy was a one-night-stand and not an old classmate or coworker--Sasha never forgets anyone's name.

"It's my dad's party." Kevin lifts his drink to his lips and finishes it with a toss of his head as a servant came by with a tray, setting the glass down.

"You're Michael Gottlieb's son?"

"Yes, I am. And if I remember correctly, you're a doctor. What are you doing here?"

"Our dads were friends back in law school, but he couldn't make it today."

"What a pleasant coincidence."

"Yeah, definitely."

"So you must be out of residency by now, huh?"

"I managed, somehow," says Sasha, in the manner of young educated people nowadays, as if he barely scraped by. "You met Victor, my fiance?"

At this, Kevin's eyes widen, but he remains composed. "No--I mean, yes, I wasn't aware. Congratulations! When's the wedding?"

Victor is not sure exactly how or when it happened, but the conversation quickly changed from weddings to the recent controversy surrounding stem cell research and whether or not a bill that would provide federal funding for this important project would pass this time around. If someone did a study, they would find that Sasha and Kevin have a combined IQ of 292, where Sasha and Victor would have a measly 233, a 20% decrease. That's even more significant if you take into account distribution values. Victor quietly falls back into Sasha's shadow.

 

8:30 PM

The background music has gradually gone from slow to fast over the last fifteen minutes, and Victor is on the verge of tears, at least emotionally speaking. The scandalous latin music doesn't seem appropriate at all for the atmosphere--in fact, hardly anyone is dancing anymore. They have gone back to sipping their wine over small talk. The musicians sense this, but it's too late to stop the song. They can only play faster.

Kevin pauses in his sentence, glancing at the open floor space in the middle of the room, then back at Sasha. "May I have this dance?"

Sasha hesitates and looks at Victor, who shrugs. "I really don't think--"

"I know you can dance, Alex," says Kevin, winking at Victor for approval.

Victor tries to smile. He has seen Sasha dance before, if moving around awkwardly and half-drunk in each other's arms to oldies music on the radio constitutes dancing, but somehow he doesn't think that's what Kevin means. "Go ahead," he urges gently, wishing he could disappear. Not so that he won't have see Sasha dance with another man, but so Sasha could forget that he's watching.

Sasha gives him a look that says, You sure? but he is already headed for the stage. Kevin helps him--teases him--out of his suit jacket, then takes off his own to reveal his tightly-fitted black shirt and the muscles that were almost visible underneath, tossing the jackets smartly over an empty chair. Victor realizes the show has already begun. A hush settles over their audience nearby and the musicians grow bolder.

Kevin spins twice, lifting his arm gracefully over his head and snapping it back down. Sasha walks toward him with a swagger that wasn't there before, takes him by the hand, and they start to dance. There was a murmur as more heads turned, some polite laughter, a cheer from a liberal old geezer.

Victor lifts his camera and begins to take pictures. Looking at the scene through a lens gives him a strange sense of comfort. After a minute, he suddenly feels the need to pass out. He checks his wrist for a pulse and doesn't find one, but somehow remains standing as he watches his fiance's gutsy and, in his opinion, rather erotic display of talent. The prim old lady across the room agrees, her eyes bugging out of their sockets.

The drums stop and the guitarist has a solo. Sasha pauses mid-twirl, gyrating his hips in a way that makes Victor's mouth water. The beat returns and he takes the lead again.

Amidst the whispers and cheers and applause, Victor hears the delicate sound of glass shattering and sees Michael Gottlieb himself, his hand still holding an invisible glass. He has stopped speaking to the man next to him and is now watching his only son cha-cha-ing with Alex Brodsky for all his influential friends to see. His handsome face is stern and blank, like a statue. Finally, he shows some sign of life, stroking his tie as he made his way over to the two unaware young men.

The music dwindles and Mr. Gottlieb clears his throat. Sasha notices him first, stepping away with a courteous bow. Victor snaps a picture of this.

"My goodness," says Mr. Gottlieb, startling Kevin with a clap on the shoulder. "What a pair of jokers. Thank you for that fantastic performance."

Kevin takes his father's hand from his shoulder and gives it a good shake. "Hi, Dad."

Laughter breaks out in the room. There's a bead of sweat on Mr. Gottlieb's brow that goes unnoticed.

"Bravo, bravo! Encore!" someone shouts. It's the same old geezer who cheered earlier.

Mr. Gottlieb smiles at everyone around him, including Victor. "No, I think that's quite enough." More laughter. He whispers something to Kevin and leads him out of the room by the shoulders, but not before giving Sasha the fakest smile Victor has ever seen. "No doubt your father would be proud, Alex."

Sasha doesn't smile back.

Father and son leave the room and the party resumes. The musicians have taken up a slow jazz piece.

Victor fingers the buttons on his camera. "I didn't know you could dance."

"Yeah, I did some competitive ballroom in college."

"You looked really good," says Victor, for the lack of a better adjective. "I took some pictures of you."

"Thanks, I'll look at them later."

Victor ignores the stares, gripping Sasha's arms until he looks up and smiles.

"Hey, son!" The card-playing old men are calling him. "You done dancing yet? We were in the middle of something here!"

 

9:15 PM

When Kevin approaches Victor the second time that night, he is obviously stoned, falling into the empty spot next to Victor on the couch. They sit in silence for a while as Victor flips through his pictures.

"He's an incredible lover," Kevin finally says.

Victor nods.

"Does he let you fuck him?"

Victor doesn't respond, carefully setting the camera down on his lap.

"He let me, five years ago," says Kevin, pausing dramatically. "It was the summer after my college graduation and I went into a gay bar with some friends and met him. We danced and clicked instantly. He was so loud and wild that I didn't believe him when he told me he was a doctor. He said he usually tops because most people want to be fucked, or look like they need it, but with me it was different. He told me he secretly likes to feel vulnerable. I still remember those little noises he made, the way his fingers curled around my wrist when he came. It was beautiful. I left him my number but he never called."

"I'm sorry," says Victor. He thinks he should be jealous of the man who was able to give Sasha that kind of pleasure, but he feels nothing but shame and pity.

"Oh, shut up, you lucky undeserving bastard. I wonder what he saw in you."

Victor twists the ring around on his finger, reminding himself that Kevin is indeed very drunk.

"A fireman with a history degree from Baruch. You probably think Baruch is like Harvard. I bet you can't even read. That's right, I don't care if you're a fireman. You think you're so much better than the rest of us, don't you? Why aren't you saying anything? Beat me up, throw me across the room, or something. Or is all that muscle just for show?"

"I don't want to start a fight."

"Yeah, yeah, you honorable little moron. Your man is such a whore and he knows it. He never had sex with the same man twice. Said so himself."

"You don't know anything about him. He's very loving and faithful. We're engaged." He is aware of how defensive and childish he sounds.

"Really now? You're probably just a sex toy that he keeps around when he's too busy or tired to go out. Doesn't take much commitment to keep a sex toy tucked away in your drawer."

 

9:40 PM

Victor feels slightly sick. He has just left the room when he sees Sasha going back in.

"Sasha. Where were you?"

"I had a little talk with Gottlieb. He wanted a free medical consultation. For some reason, he still can't find a suitable doctor." Sasha gives a crooked smile. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"I guess."

"Were you jealous when I danced with Kevin?"

"No. Maybe a little."

Suddenly, Sasha surprises him with a tight hug in the middle of the hall. It lasts for almost a minute. Victor closes his eyes, resting his chin in the crook of Sasha's neck. Sasha kisses his cheek, licks his jaw, nibbles his ear, and is soon back in the living room, leaving Victor in the hall with nothing but half an erection and--

He notices his camera is missing. Did Kevin take it?

He peeks inside the living room. Kevin seems to be asleep on the couch. His hands are empty and there is no sign of the camera anywhere. The TV room is also next to them, but Victor hasn't been in there before. Someone must have taken the camera, but who? They can all afford to buy one themselves, unless... they were after the pictures. An images flashes in his mind: Sasha sprawled in their bed, his head cocked to one side, those lusty eyes beckoning to the viewer.

Mr. Gottlieb walks past him, humming and fixing his shirt cuff. He heads straight for the living room without even a glance at Victor.

Victor frowns, peering down the hall from where Gottlieb came. The glass staircase was just around the corner, near the apartment entrance. He looks to see if anyone is following him before darting past the two bathrooms and up the stairs.

The apartment is even bigger than he imagined. There are a total of nine doors upstairs. He tries every door desperately. Six of them are locked, two of them are more bathrooms. The last one is the biggest room Victor has ever seen. There has to be at least thirty shelves of books inside and five large wooden tables with elaborate lion head carvings on each edge. There is an open door in the corner and Victor slips in.

It's a small modest office, with one wall covered in certificates and awards Michael Gottlieb had received in the past, another with a large peeling portrait of an old man. There are some papers on the table, but nothing else. Victor leaves the office feeling sad and empty, sitting down in one of the chairs next to one of the lion heads and burying his face in his hands.

And that was how he ended up alone, in the reading room of a millionaire's apartment, during the last few hours of his twenty-fifth birthday.

 

12 HOURS AGO

"Happy birthday."

The deep baritone voice vibrated gently in his ear, shaking him out of his half-asleep state, then just as quickly easing him back in. He wanted to hold onto it as long as possible, but it was fading.

"What?" Victor reached up and grasped the edge of the end table, hoisting himself into the upright position. He felt as if he had too much to drink the night before, although he couldn't have had more than two glasses of wine. That was when he noticed the beautiful naked man resting against him, his soft hair tickling Victor's neck. The warm sunlight glinted through the coffee-colored shades, scattering little crystals of golden light on his back and shoulders. He and Victor must have been stuck together for quite some time, the sweat from where their bodies touched making them both shiver as the man shifted into a different position. The comforter had been tugged around all night and was now twisted, not uncomfortably, across Victor's crotch.

That wasn't the only thing between his legs. He could feel Sasha growing hard again, and he blushed as he noticed the wetness was still there. Last night's events were all coming back to him. Of the fifteen times Victor ever had sex, three of them took place within a two hour period, the final time on the newly-carpeted floor in a tangle of bedsheets, his legs held over his head by a pair of very assertive hands. Before then, he could not have imagined they were even physically capable of doing any of that.

"Well, isn't today your birthday?"

Victor kissed Sasha's temple, hardly able to contain the pure bliss bubbling inside him, reaching under Sasha's arms and pulling him closer. "Mm, maybe. How'd you find out?"

"Quite illegally, through the hospital. You must remember that I missed it last year. Wasn't going to let it pass this time."

This beautiful intelligent older doctor, the same one who had kept him sane during what could have easily been the worst week of his life, had illegally gone through his old medical files to find his date of birth, just to surprise him. What more could he ask for on his birthday?

They shared another kiss that made Victor ache inside. He could still taste the wine that lingered in Sasha's breath, and beneath that, something smooth and tantalizing that was Sasha's own. Their tongues lazily slid against each other, reminding Victor of the first time they had ever kissed so intimately, under the kitchen counter of Sasha's previous home. The last two months had been the best months of Victor's life. He finally lost his long-overdue virginity to the man he loved, moved into a gorgeous well-lit apartment in a nice neighborhood, and if that wasn't enough, he wasengaged, at least unofficially. Sasha had even begun to contact various adoption agencies. They were going to be fathers. Victor had gotten into the habit of fingering the ring with his thumb every once in a while, just to check if it was really there.

He broke the kiss with some reluctance, as usual, feeling relieved that Sasha loved him enough to not pull away first, and also feeling guilty for that relief. "Was I drunk?" he asked quietly, frowning as he surveyed the messy pile of sheets on the floor.

"No, but I think I was. I finished the bottle after you stopped." Somehow, miraculously, Sasha didn't look even half as hungover as Victor felt.

"Oh, God, the whole thing? You said you wouldn't have drunken sex anymore."

"Making love to you doesn't count. Besides, you seemed like you were enjoying it."

"It was getting kind of kinky, actually," said Victor. One corner of his mouth twitched in an unintentional smirk. "Any more weird fantasies I don't already know about?"

"Plenty. You're starting to talk like me, by the way."

"It's only natural."

"There you go again. And to think you were once so shy, I had to coax every little word out of you."

Victor laughed and clutched Sasha's thinner frame to his own broad chest, rocking him back and forth. "God, I love you so much."

"You love God? Or you love me?"

"Both."

"You're crushing me."

"Oh, sorry." He loosened his hold, still smiling.

"I kind of like getting crushed by you."

Hearing no response, Sasha cupped Victor's face in his warm inviting hands, turning so that they were both lying on one side, facing each other. One leg curled around Victor's hip while the other nestled between his thighs. Their faces were so close that Victor could stick his tongue out and lick Sasha's nose, which he did.

Sasha's eyes widened in surprise. "Did you just--"

"Shh... shhh..." Victor held a finger between their lips, partly to hide his silly grin. When Sasha was quiet, he slowly drew a line down Sasha's chin, his neck, his chest, his slightly protruding belly button, ending at the place whose name still made him blush like a schoolboy. He ran his hand against the fuzzy hairs that spiraled and curled in a soft orderly way around Sasha's torso and down his buttocks, feeling strangely possessive. With every detail he encountered on Sasha's body, he would wonder how many of Sasha's previous lovers had also noticed. Perhaps they had found them endearing too. Or perhaps, Victor would hope, not without shame, that they forgot these details as quickly as they saw them, having grown bored with too much variety.

Sasha's breathing became heavier and he closed his eyes. The hand that was combing through Victor's perpetually thick and scruffy hair had slowed to an idle caress.

"Sasha? Are you asleep?"

"Yes."

"We should probably take a shower and get dressed."

"Why?" whispered Sasha hotly, pressing his lips to the invisible stubble on Victor's chin and tracing little spirals on his shoulder with a pinky. "I like your soiled birthday suit better."

Victor swallowed with some difficulty. "Aren't we meeting your parents later?"

Sasha drew a breath and hit his forehead against Victor's collarbone three times, not very gently. "I'm sorry, I didn't tell you. Nearly all the flights in Vancouver have been cancelled because of snow, although I suspect there are other reasons too. You won't be seeing them today."

Victor briefly recalled the anticipation, the dread, and everything he had done to prepare for this one fateful meeting. He wasn't sure if he felt disappointed or relieved.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I didn't want to ruin the mood last night. That reminds me, I also have a dinner party to attend."

"Tonight?"

"Yeah, my dad's old colleague invited him and my mom to dinner. Filthy rich lawyer. At one point, he made money suing good honest doctors for malpractice. He made it even bigger in investment and real estate after he moved to New York. The last time I saw him in person, I was six years old. I still remember how he wiped his hand on a fancy silk handkerchief after I bit him for calling me a 'silly little creature.'"

"You bit him?"

Sasha shrugged. "All doctors dream of killing a malpractice lawyer at some point. I just started pursuing that dream earlier than most."

"Why are you going then?"

"My parents were supposed to head over after we had lunch with them, but they called yesterday to say they can't make it. They want me to take their place, which is rather inconsiderate of them, knowing I would have spent the evening with you instead. It's unfortunate they keep pushing back their meeting with you. They'd probably like you, at least more than they like me."

"Oh."

"I know, it's your birthday."

"No, that's not what I was--"

"Yes, it was. And I had taken a vacation day just so I could take you out with my parents, which you had secretly internalized as a little birthday present for yourself. My vacation, meeting myparents, is your present. Why can't you be annoying and conceited for once and tell me that it's your birthday today? Why can't you just admit that you're disappointed with this heartless world and this is so much less than what you deserve?"

"I... didn't understand that. Sorry."

"Stop apologizing, for God's sake. I'm sorry, Victor. And now I'm going to try to make up for all this and present you with something that will make my love for you seem shallow and cheap." As he said this, Sasha rolled off Victor's chest and reached under the bed, pulling out a large gold box.

"You got me something?" said Victor. His voice cracked and it felt as if the rest of him were on the verge of collapsing too, in a good way.

"Sure. Open it."

"You didn't have to." But nothing could have masked the sheer look of guilty pleasure on Victor's face. He hadn't received a present since his sister's untimely death exactly five and a half years ago. His fingers trembled as he worked to untape the wrapping paper that left a sheen of glittery dust everywhere, done by a pair of skilled and steady hands that were obviously not accustomed to wrapping things. There was too much tape, each neatly strewn down the paper edges, of which there were also too many. Sasha must have used at least three layers of paper.

It was a digital camera. At least that's what was illustrated on the box.

"It's beautiful."

"You haven't opened the box yet."

Victor pulled out the flap of the box and there was another layer of hard foam inside, which he drew out slowly.

"Well? What do you think?"

"I can't use this, Sasha. I don't even know how to hold one of these."

"Remember when you took all those snapshots at my grandmother's place with her camera? She thinks you have talent, and I agree. Besides, you're handy. You'll learn quickly."

"'I-I don't know what to say. Thank you."

"Take it out," said Sasha, stroking Victor's forehead and laying a kiss there. "It should work. I already charged the battery yesterday morning."

Victor kissed him again on the mouth before taking the camera into his hands, getting the feel for it. Sasha reached around his back to help him attach the lens, sucking lightly on the top of Victor's ear as he did so, their naked torsos melding together. The camera had just the right weight and fit perfectly in the curve of Victor's palm.

"This ring here zooms in and out, and that one in the front is for focusing. Here, look through the viewfinder."

Victor looked through the little opening and saw the blurry handle of their closet door. He pressed the little button below his index finger and snapped a picture of it. Then he adjusted the zoom and focus rings until he got an almost complete view of the room. There wasn't much, at least not yet, except for the squarish mahogany dresser they shared and the new ivory carpet.

He swerved the camera around so that it focused on Sasha's face.

"You want pictures of me?" asked Sasha, pretending to fix his hair. There was a faint click. "You took it?"

Victor nodded. "How do I see it?"

Sasha turned on the display for him. The image of him looked back at them, casual and unsuspecting with one hand in his hair. Victor's face grew very hot as he realized Sasha was still completely naked.

"Get back on the bed," he said, tugging Sasha's arm.

Sasha got on his knees and crawled up into the bed. A series of clicks sounded as Victor electronically recorded this.

"Did you just take ten pictures of my butt?"

Victor grinned. "Maybe."

Sasha stretched out on the bed, snuggling into one of the pillows. "You could technically blackmail me now, you know."

"You'd have to show me your face," said Victor, taking a full-length picture of Sasha's body.

Sasha turned and faced him. "Okay, take it."

"Open your legs a bit more," Victor murmured, blushing at the boldness of his own words.

"Like this?" asked Sasha. His dimples deepened as he spread his legs so that Victor got a full view of everything there.

"Perfect," said Victor with a wink, masking his desire with feigned, almost comical professionalism. He raised the camera to his eye and snapped the picture.

He knew there was nothing he could do to faze the man before him. Surprise, occasionally, when Victor gathered enough courage to do something embarrassingly out of character. But faze, no. Sasha had seen and done it all. This both comforted and bothered Victor.

"Now stop smiling."

"What, you want a sultry look? Or mid-orgasm? I could do that."

He did both. Victor clicked away. When the photosession ended, they somehow found themselves back on the floor, in the same spot as when they began. They must have kissed for hours afterwards, because when Victor woke up after midday, his lips had gone numb.

"Come with me tonight," he heard Sasha murmur.

"How? Who would I be?"

"What do you mean? You're Victor, my fiance. Unless you'd rather be my young male escort."

"I don't think I want to go."

Sasha sat up. "Why? Because it means publically admitting you're gay?"

"I just... won't fit in."

"Come on, do it to keep me company."

"Sasha..."

"I bet you look stunning in a suit."

"I don't have a suit. I've never even worn one before."

"We'll get you one. Right now"

"No, I don't think I will... I can't."

"Bring your camera."

 

10:00 PM

"Victor?"

Victor looks up. It's Sasha, dangling the camera in front of him.

"You've been looking for this?"

"Oh, you found it. Thank God."

"No, I stole it from you when we were standing in the hall." Sasha loops the strap back around Victor's neck. "You've been taking quite a few pictures of me. Either the camera loves me, or this is a sign of unhealthy attachment."

Victor laughs, weak with relief.

"Nice place," says Sasha, sitting in the chair beside Victor.

"Yeah."

He fingers the edge of the table. "These lions are creepy though."

"Nah, I like them."

Their hands find each other over the table. Sasha rubs little circles in Victor's palm with his thumb.

"There's karaoke in the TV room. Everyone's there."

Victor shakes his head. "I don't want to go back."

"Come on, they have chocolate cake. We can leave right afterwards."

"No."

"Victor..."

"Were you talking to Kevin just now?"

"Does that bother you?"

"He's still in love with you."

Sasha frowns. "No, he's just drunk. It was one night."

"Why didn't you call him again after you slept with him?"

"What? Why would I?"

"He's good-looking and smart. He went to Harvard."

"What else did he tell you?" says Sasha, narrowing his eyes.

"Nothing. He wanted to know where I went to school and what I studied. That's all--Where are you going?"

"To find him and punch his face in, that arrogant little prick."

"No--"

It's his fight, his decision whether or not to punch the guy's face in. He doesn't need Sasha to patronize him, especially not now. He grabs Sasha's arms and pins them to his back with one hand, while securing him around the waist with the other arm. Sasha struggles against him, but Victor is too strong for him. "Let me go, you idiot! Can't you see he's just messing with you? I should have punched him ten minutes ago, before I--"

Victor kisses him. Hard. He grabs Sasha's jaw, forces his mouth open, and shoves his tongue in. Sasha kisses back with equal fervor until Victor tears away.

"Jesus." Sasha looks down. He's blushing. The bulky camera between them is jabbing into his stomach, but he doesn't notice. He has barely caught his breath when Victor grabs him around the waist and lifts him onto the table, right over one of the lion heads.

The front of his shirttail gets caught on Victor's camera and comes out of his waistband. Before Victor even realizes what he's doing, he has yanked out the rest of Sasha's shirt and unbuttoned it all the way, from the bottom up. He fastens Sasha's legs around his hips, riding the friction of the fabric between them as he leans in for another kiss.

Sasha gasps, picking up the pace, but before he could get into a rhythm, Victor has stepped back again, working on removing Sasha's belt and his own.

"Oh, shit, Victor. What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" Victor growls, unzipping his fly.

He lifts Sasha's legs over his shoulders without bothering to remove his pants completely. Then he raises two fingers to his mouth, crudely smothering them in his saliva.

"Look at me, Victor. Look at me."

Victor fixes his eyes on Sasha's face in a silent challenge, then pushes his fingers into Sasha's tight opening.

Sasha exhales, pushing them in even deeper. The skin inside him is silky and delicate and very hot. Victor curls his fingers, as Sasha had done to him, never breaking eye contact. Sasha's nose flares for a second, but his expression remains inpenetrable.

Victor looks down, at Sasha's throbbing erection next to his own and his fingers buried inside him. He rubs the same spot over and over until Sasha groans softly, a small tremor coursing through his entire body. That is all Victor needs to hear.

He draws his fingers out, spits into his hand, and rubs it over his penis before pushing it in all the way with one swift thrust, Sasha's heat and the sensual hiss that escapes his lips sending waves of pleasure between Victor's legs and up his spine. So this was how it felt. He would have came immediately if it weren't for the intense concentration required of his deliciously vulgar movements.

Sasha's usually steely gray eyes are now hazy. He pushes the camera between them to one side, his hands shaking violently as he tries to loosen the maroon tie that he had so easily knotted earlier. Victor's thrusting seems to have clouded over his mind. Finally, he manages to pull the damn thing over Victor's head and toss it aside before setting off to work on the shirt buttons, panting with frustration.

In a single moment, Victor feels all his bottled-up rage melt away at the sight of Sasha's temporary clumsiness. "Stop, stop..." he murmurs, stroking the tender area behind Sasha's knees with his thumbs. He pulls out, helping Sasha out of his pants and undoing his own shirt buttons while Sasha watches him like a wounded puppy. "Did I hurt you?"

"Get inside me."

Victor kisses him, draws him closer to the edge of the table, and gladly complies, not forgetting to cover Sasha's privates with the flaps of their coats, in case a poor unsuspecting stranger walks in on them. His mouth finds one of Sasha's nipples and he sucks on it softly as Sasha flails around, unable to reciprocate or cry out. Then he reaches between them and grasps the shaft of Sasha's penis.

This is apparently too much and Sasha tears the hand away, reminding Victor that he is not powerless, squeezing so hard that Victor has to flex his fingers to make sure they were still intact. He buries his hand in Victor's hair and kisses the top of his head, using it to muffle his cry as he comes the first time. Victor struggles out of his grip just in time to see Sasha's delirious face flushed with arousal, the arch of his back, a sprinkle of semen falling across his chest.

He pauses, taking in the magnificent sight before him.

Sasha tugs his shirt weakly. "Keep going," he pleads, rocking back and forth. "I'm not done yet."

This time, he doesn't object when Victor takes hold of him again and strokes him firmly. They come together, and in the fever of their orgasm, Victor feels for a moment that he is stroking himself, that he and Sasha are one. He thrusts until every last drop is buried inside Sasha, his Sasha, before sliding out and releasing his grip.

They kiss, sharing the same breath for as long as they can, before Sasha pulls back first.

"Victor, we're in Michael Gottlieb's reading room. Do you realize?"

"Yes."

"And your poor camera is still tied to you. I'm surprised it survived."

Victor laughs softly, removing the camera and setting it down. He peels Sasha sweaty hand from his face and places it over his heart. "Feel that."

"It's called afterglow," Sasha whispers, kissing Victor's neck, which is still red from the camera strap. "What inspired you to do such a crazy thing?"

"Today's my birthday, remember?"

"Happy birthday."

"We should probably get out of here."

"Easy for you to say. I'm a mess."

"I'll sneak you out the window," says Victor, completely serious.

Sasha covers his laughter with one hand. Victor has never seen him so red before. "No, Victor, I have to go back, at least for a while. Then we can go home. Do you have a napkin or tissue?"

"Why?"

"This." Sasha points to his bare chest, which is covered in his own pearly semen. There are a few flecks on his shirt and tie too, which he brushes off carelessly with the back of his hand.

"I could... lick it off for you." Victor leans forward.

"Oh, God, you don't have to--"

Victor reaches around Sasha's chest and pulls him close, catching a drop between his lips. It's still warm. The taste is surprisingly familiar, like the taste of Sasha's skin, but there is something about the way Sasha refused that excites him, like it was too intimate a favor to request.

Sasha is suddenly very still, his breathing shallow.

Victor kisses his way down and swallows all of it, but not before savoring the creamy texture against his lips and tongue. Then he lovingly fastens each button of Sasha's shirt, draws his pants over his legs and tucks in his shirt, even buckling the belt for him. That's when he realizes, with a mixture of horror and triumph, that Sasha's face is wet with tears.

"Y-You okay?"

Sasha nods, cupping his mouth, but the tears just keep coming.

Victor kisses them away as they appear. "Okay, now you're scaring me. Don't cry."

Sasha smiles at this, drying his face on Victor's shirt. "You know, the whole time I danced with Kevin, I was thinking about the time we swayed around in your little studio to that awful music and how you had no idea what you were doing. That was heaven."

"Oh." Victor swallows the lump in his throat.

Sasha sighs contentedly, closing his eyes. "There, I'm done. I needed that."

"I thought so," says Victor, kissing his nose.

"Stop talking like me. You sound ridiculous."

"Then you must sound ridiculous too."

"I love you, Victor."

"Now you sound like me."

"I want to adopt a child with you and watch him grow up."

Victor laughs. "Yes, we've already decided to."

"I want two of them. A boy and a girl."

"Okay."

"You think we'd make good fathers?"

"I do."

 

10:53 PM

Victor is not aware of this, but exactly twenty-five years ago, he was born and immediately hooked to an oxygen machine in the neonatal intensive care unit at the Mount Sinai Medical Center, where his fiance now works as a doctor of emergency medicine. He was three and a half pounds. Now, he's a hundred eighty-two.

He quietly locks the door behind them and kisses Sasha on the mouth. They are home.