Identity Check

Chapter 15

Not in this case. Perhaps his memory hadn't been able to hold the fullness of the pleasure Simon could give him. As if it didn't have a high enough resolution. The memory was an echo, a compressed file. The difference between listening to an MP3 and being in a concert hall.

Now, as he straddled Simon, riding him, like in the memory Simon had evoked yesterday, the memory and the reality became one. Simon was propped up on pillows, arms spread out across them, eyes closed, lips moving in some silent mantra. He moved only slowly beneath Patrick, relishing the experience. He could go on like this for a long time, letting Patrick do most of the work, moving up and down, grateful that his dancing had made his legs stronger than before. All of his muscles in fact and he put them to good use now. Simon let out a quivering moan.

"Is it still like fucking an angel?"

Simon opened his eyes when Patrick spoke. "Fallen angel," he gasped. "Angel that learnt some really dirty tricks."

"Touch me," Patrick said, and Simon hesitated a second, then reached for Patrick's cock. He didn't appear to like Patrick ordering him around. Well tough luck. Patrick knew what he wanted now and had the confidence to ask for it. He wasn't who he had been six months ago. Simon would have to get used to that.

Would he?

Patrick shouldn't see Simon again after tonight, but how could he not, when it felt this good? He looked down at Simon, at the big hands caressing him. Stained with oil paint and ink there was no mistaking Simon's hands. And they were bringing Patrick close, so close... No. Not yet, didn't want this to be over yet. Their first fuck in months, as good as ever, better than he recalled. He was not ready for it to end yet.

"Change position," he ordered, and Simon gave a quick growl of frustration, but a moment later he was grinning, as Patrick lay on his back, Simon between his legs, back inside him. Back on top, his favourite spot.

"No, not the hand," Patrick said, as Simon reached for him again, fearing that would still bring him off too soon.

"Still on a hair trigger?" Instead he used his hands to support himself and brought his body low enough to let Patrick's cock rub against him. "I suppose I was too, when I was eighteen."

"I'm nearly nineteen," Patrick said, the words coming in gasps.

"Well, happy birthday. Put your legs around my waist."

Patrick did at once, ankles locked over Simon's back and the new angle made him cry out sharply.

"Harder," he gasped, suddenly not caring about prolonging it, greedy for his orgasm. "Harder! Harder!"

"Patience," Simon said, voice soft, very much his old self, slow and sensual. Though Patrick was now eager and ready to come, Simon slowed him down and controlled him, until he was too far gone himself to put it off any longer. His thrusts grew frantic, groans escaping him. Patrick clung to his arms, his palms slipping, sweaty, but clinging on for dear life, so close, so close...

The world dissolved into whiteness.

*

He had to leave before five, Patrick decided. After five, you'd stayed the night. Before five, then you hadn't and that made a difference. And did he really think that would make a difference to David?

David wasn't going to find out.

Simon urged him not to go, but didn't have the strength left to do anything about it. He could only lie and watch while Patrick dried off and dressed after taking a shower.

"Give me a call later," Simon said, as Patrick put on his jacket, pulling his hair out from under the collar.

"Serve you right if I don't."

Simon grinned. "You will." Damn his arrogance. Damn him for being right. "See you tonight?"

"No. I'm going out with Phil."

"Who?"

"A friend."

"Well blow him off," Simon said. "Metaphorically speaking."

"Oh, shut up. Look, Simon..." He stopped, the first twinge of conscience started to trouble him. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "I have some things to think about. I don't know what happens now. I just... I have to think about it." He glanced at his watch. Ten to five. Better get out of here. "Speak to you later."

"Okay. Come here."

A kiss goodbye. He bent over and his hair trailed on Simon's chest as they kissed.

"You were amazing, angel," Simon said.

He expected Patrick to say it back, Patrick knew that. In the past he would have. His memories of the gushing praise he used to heap on Simon in bed made him blush now. No wonder the guy had a big ego.

"Goodnight," Patrick said.

He left, careful not to let the door slam, knew the other guests would be sleeping. It still felt like night, though looking out of a window he saw the dim glow of inevitable dawn on the horizon.

In reception he had to pass the desk where the night clerk sat and two other staff members stood behind the desk, drinking coffee. Three men. Patrick caught a look from them, a look he didn't like. Contemptuous. Screw them. No time to say anything about it though. Must be out by five and the clock over reception showed 04:59. So he put his head down, ignoring them and pushed open the door. As it closed behind him, he heard someone speak, loud enough to overhear, deliberately or accidentally.

"Bet he was expensive."

He gasped at the words as the door closed behind him, leaving him cold and alone on the dark street.

I am not a whore.

He wanted to march back in there and tell them that. He couldn't of course. What would he say anyway? I don't get paid; I take it up the arse for free. Like that was better. His righteous indignation would be laughed at. Crazy poof throwing a tantrum.

Resisting the urge to find a brick and introduce it sharply to one of the hotel's windows, Patrick strode off down the street. The Metro would start running soon. Maybe he could find some place to get a very strong cup of coffee before then.

Coffee wasn't going to fix this, but it might at least wake him up enough to start figuring out what would.

Ten minutes later he'd found an all night burger van that sold him a Styrofoam mug of nasty coffee and a bacon sandwich and sat down with them on a cold metal bench near the Metro station. The shutters were still rolled down over the station entrance.

What the hell had he done? Was he so weak that he couldn't keep his promise to David for more than a couple of weeks? But Simon... he had this... power. Well, what now? Did he tell David what had happened? God, no, he couldn't do that! David would break up with him for sure. Which would serve him damn well right.

Of course if David broke up with him, that left him free to be with Simon. But did he want to be with Simon? He'd let Patrick down once before. Wouldn't he just do so again? But it was Simon. Being with him felt so good. Did that mean Patrick loved him though? Really loved him? Or just that he loved the sex? No, he couldn't believe that. He'd fallen in love with Simon long before they had sex. But he had started to question why.

You can't go back, they said. Yes, the sex had been just as good, but the man... Had Simon always been so shallow? Why hadn't Patrick noticed that?

He sighed and put his head down down into his hands. God, he needed some sleep. Couldn't think this through with his head full of cotton wool. He'd have fallen asleep right there on the chilly bench, but the racket of the station shutter going up interrupted his near doze.

Somehow he managed to stay awake until he got home, stripped off and fell into bed.

Some bastard doing DIY in their backyard woke him about eleven. A screaming drill made him dream someone was boring into his skull, until he woke with a groan.

"Oh shut the fuck up," he moaned. He wasn't hung over, had probably sweated out the alcohol he'd drunk earlier while out with Phil. But lack of sleep left him fuzzy headed. As the drill howled on, he covered his head with the pillow and considered going and sleeping in Nick's room, at the front of the house, so maybe he wouldn't be able to hear it so much. He'd have to put some pyjamas on first.

Oh, forget it! He sat up and decided to go downstairs, make a big pot of coffee, curl up on the sofa and feel sorry for himself. That sounded like the best plan for the day.

Plan. Dammit, he was supposed to be hanging out with Phil this afternoon. If it was a nice day they were going to go and hang out at the coast and finish off with a seaside pub crawl. The sunlight coming in through the curtains and the fact that drill boy was happily working outside told Patrick the day was nice enough for that.

He rummaged for his phone in the heap of clothes by the bed. Phil had left a text an hour or so ago, after a couple of missed calls.

Still up for the beach?

Patrick called him and Phil answered quickly.

"You been busy this morning, then?" Phil asked.

"Sleeping in," Patrick admitted. "Paying off some sleep debt. I'm still in bed."

"Hang on..." Phil went silent a moment. "Okay, I'm back. Just had to get a good mental picture going."

"Knock it off," Patrick said, chuckling.

"So, do you want to come over for lunch, or meet down the coast and get some food there?"

"Not sure." Patrick almost wanted to cancel, still wanting more sleep. But he'd promised Phil he'd spend this time with him. And it's what he needed himself - fresh air and a good friend to talk to. Maybe he could even talk to Phil about this. He'd understand, he'd have advice, wouldn't he? "Phil, can I ring you back. I need a shower and to get myself together. There's some git drilling something outside and I can't think straight."

"Okay. You do sound a bit dodgy. If you're not up to going out, that's okay. We could just hang out if you like."

"Would that be okay with you?"

"Of course. Still two more days of the weekend. You want me to come over there? I'll bring beer. If it stays sunny we can sunbathe in the garden. You've got a couple of sun loungers haven't you?"

"Unless Colin's put them on eBay, yes. Okay, get here for one o'clock and I'll have some lunch ready for you."

"You are a prince among men."

"Oh, last night I was the king. I've been demoted." Yeah, dethroned. Knocked right off his pedestal. Not to a prince, more like a knave. "See you later, Phil."

He ended the call and tossed the phone down on the bed, then put his head in his hands and groaned. But then got up and headed for the shower. He would talk to Phil. Phil will know the right thing to do. Patrick would know it was right just because it was Phil saying it. He had the moral compass Patrick feared he lacked.

If Nick had been here, would he have talked to him instead? Could he really talk to Nick about this? As supportive as he was, wouldn't he be grossed out by having to talk about a gay relationship? Of course, he was straight and the straight guys didn't like talking about relationships at all, did they?

Well, Nick wasn't here, but Phil would be soon. Patrick stepped into the warm water of the shower. Better get ready for him.

*

Phil showed up for one o'clock with beer as promised and snacks. Patrick made a real effort with lunch, roasting a couple of big chicken breasts and serving them with fresh vegetables and potatoes and gravy.

"I was expecting sandwiches," Phil said, sitting down at the kitchen table with him. "You didn't have to go to this trouble."

Patrick waved away the protest. He'd bet Phil had cooked more meals like this than he'd had cooked for him. He deserved to have someone take care of him for a change.

After lunch, they washed up, and then set up camp in the garden, on two sun loungers, with a radio, the cans of beer in a cooler, snacks and sweets in reach, and in Patrick's case, a baseball cap protecting his face. He wore a long sleeved shirt too, making Phil scoff at him, as he rubbed sun screen on his own exposed arms and face. They settled on the sun loungers, the radio tuned to a football match commentary.

At some point, Patrick thought, glancing across at Phil, at some point he'd have to talk to Phil, about his situation. He was in no rush though, preferring their usual banter and playful flirting, not ready to change that to more serious discussion. Of course there was no rush anyway. Phil would stay for the evening too, maybe even overnight, in Nick or Colin's room and they could talk in the morning.

Just putting it off, he realised, chiding himself. Why would Phil stay anyway? He didn't bring an overnight bag, he doesn't have fresh clothes. Patrick would have to bite the bullet eventually.

On the other hand, should he talk to Phil about it? It wasn't Phil's problem and he had enough problems of his own. Patrick had planned this weekend to help Phil relax, to give him a respite from his burdens, not add to them.

Damn, he thought, looking at Phil again, what was I thinking? Phil basked in the sun, a smile on his face, and Patrick saw that the tension he usually carried was gone. Strange, he'd barely noticed that being there, until it was gone.

That decided him. To start asking Phil's advice now, to expect him to straighten out the mess Patrick had got himself into - that wasn't fair. He's offer support of course, but he wasn't Patrick's confessor. Unfair to treat him that way.

He lay back with a sigh, relieved too now. Phil turned to look at him and they smiled contented smiles at each other, before Patrick laid his head back and closed his eyes. No, nothing was going to spoil this weekend. He'd solve his own problems. For now, enjoy the sun, the footy, the beer, the snacks and especially the company. Put the rest to the back of his mind and try not even to think about -

"Patrick... ah, hi."

Simon.

*

"So, is that the boyfriend then?" Simon asked as Patrick led him into the living room, Phil staying outside in the garden.

"What? No! Didn't the fact he didn't punch you in the face tell you that?"

Simon shrugged. "Well that, plus you're way out of his league."

"On the other hand, me punching you in the face remains an option. What are you doing here?"

"Why do you think I'm here, Pat? I didn't come to Newcastle for the Brown Ale you know."

"Look, what happened last night... It was a mistake."

"I can't say I noticed many mistakes. Maybe some things you need more practice at." He gave another wicked grin. "So, get rid of skinny out there and we'll get some more practice."

"Insulting my friends is not the fastest route into my bed."

"Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sure he's a sweetheart. But Pat, come on, I'm only here for a couple more days. Don't you want to make the most of that?"

"No! Simon, I can't keep seeing you, don't you understand that? I'm involved with someone else and I'm not going to leave him for you."

"I never asked you to." He looked mildly horrified at the idea.

"Oh, of course not, you don't want a relationship. You just want a quick shag."

"What do you mean quick?" He smirked. "I'm never quick"

Patrick snorted. "That's true. No wonder I'm so tired today."

"Tired? I'm impressed you can walk."

Patrick had to look down to hide his grin, not wanting to give Simon the idea that he was succeeding at working his magic. But Simon didn't let him get away with it. He came over and lifted Patrick's chin, before Patrick batted his hand away.

"I saw that smile."

"I'm not smiling."

"I can make you smile from now till Tuesday if you give me the chance." He kissed Patrick, surprisingly gently. The first few kisses they'd shared had been like this, gentle so as not to scare Patrick away. Inviting a response, but not insisting on it.

They received a response then and now. Patrick's cheeks flushed, his whole body grew hot and before he knew it, his hands were in Simon's hair, pulling him closer, his kiss becoming passionate and demanding. The memories of last night had replaced the faded ones of months ago and he responded as much to those memories as to the kiss.

"Oh, God, Simon," he whispered when he pulled away. "How do you do this to me?"

"Chemistry," Simon said. "Can't fight science."

"This is... a mess. We can't do this."

"All I want is this weekend. One long weekend for us and then, if you tell me to, I won't even call you again."

"Well, you have already proven you're good at not calling."

"Just the weekend." He nuzzled into Patrick's neck. "Is that too much to ask?"

Was it? After that, he'd send Simon away and never tell David about it, and that's all it would ever be. One weekend to get Simon out of his system forever. Simon's lips, his hands, pulling Patrick closer now, bodies pressed close. Patrick's mind started to drift into a haze of desire.

"Oh hell, sorry."

Phil's voice came from the doorway and Patrick broke away from Simon and saw Phil turning away, back into the hallway.

"Damn. Hang on, Simon." He hurried out to the hallway to find Phil near the door, looking embarrassed and putting his jacket on.

"You don't have to go," Patrick said.

"Pretty sure I do, Pat. It's okay." He gave a smile, a totally false one. "The male code and all that. Sex takes priority. And, well, I guess you have a lot of unfinished business with this guy."

"I... I shouldn't... I'm supposed to be faithful to David. Please, Phil, if you stay..."

"And be what? Chaperone? Gooseberry? Sorry, Patrick. That doesn't sound like fun for me." He put his hand on the door, stopped and looked back. "If you know you shouldn't do it, then you have to find out if you're strong enough to resist him. You have to decide that for yourself, not just because there's an obstacle in the way." He opened the door. "Thanks for lunch."

"I'll... I'll call you later."

"Yeah, course you will. Bye now."

The door slammed behind him.

*

Phil didn't call but he did send a text message an hour after he left. He'd decided to go and join his mother and aunt in Whitby for the rest of the weekend. Patrick didn't read the message until some hours later, since at the time it came through he was occupied.

When he did read it, after Simon had nodded off for a while, he groaned and wondered how much Phil despised him now. Slut. Bad friend. As soon as Simon shows up, the plans to give Phil a relaxing weekend go out the window. Friendship forgotten. What kind of person did that make him?

The only comfort he took in all this was that he trusted Phil to keep this secret. He wouldn't tell David. He'd probably say that was for Patrick to decide to do or not.

Not would be Patrick's favourite option.

Only this weekend, Patrick thought, lying down, pressed close to Simon. Nothing beyond that. He swore it.

Just the weekend.