M'lyn (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
mlyn.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
13thwarrior2009-01-28 07:00 am
mlyn.livejournal.com) wrote in 13thwarrior2009-01-28 07:00 am
Entry tags:
FIC: Evening (3/7 | The 13th Warrior AU)
Evening
Chapter 3/7
Chapter rated R (language and themes)
Notes: For your amusement, our cast of characters (with more to come):
Ronild
Magnus
Edgar
Heath
*****
August hit Oslo like a marauding hoard of Vikings. Over the course of a week, the temperature climbed from the high teens into the thirties, with high humidity. It made people surly and life uncomfortable. Despite air conditioning, there were far too many places in the city where there was no respite from the heat.
Herger wondered if there was some great cosmic joke at his expense as he walked into the interview room at the Immigration department on the sixth of August. The building was too old for air conditioning and everyone was walking around with the shine of sweat on their faces. Inside the cramped, windowless room, a floor fan sluggishly waved its head back and forth, moving the hot air around.
Herger took the seat closest to the fan and pulled his phone out of his pocket, ostensibly to be more comfortable, but truly as a show of dominance. The phone was a prop, something for others to focus on. Herger could pick it up at any time and look occupied with work, with something outside of what was happening in the room. It was a subtle but effective way of disarming the people around him, and he'd used it many times before with success.
But he soon found that the Immigration people were not so easily intimidated.
They wanted to know everything about Ahmed, and how Herger was connected to him. Herger was guarded and answered their questions as vaguely as possible. It wasn't hard, because he didn't have all the answers about Ahmed's life. And he tried to give as good as he got, asking them questions in return, trying to find out why they were so suspicious of Ahmed.
It seemed that the war in Iraq and general instability in the Middle East had the government on edge. They were concerned when Iraqi citizens came tromping into Norway and planned to stay, and Herger's addition to Ahmed's visa hadn't helped. The authorities wondered what role Herger had in Ahmed's immigration.
Ahmed wouldn't be deported, but they had their eyes on him, and Herger too.
As for his role in things, Herger gave them as little explanation as he could. He wanted to declare that Ahmed was effectively a refugee, that the only reason Herger had helped him was his attraction to Ahmed, that chasing after a gay journalist for suspicion of terrorist links was the stupidest waste of resources he'd ever seen.
He said none of that, only watching them with a steady, straightforward gaze and even breathing. He had an excellent poker face.
As the small committee began to wrap up the interview, he put one more question to them.
"What should Ahmed do—or either of us—to secure his citizenship?"
They hedged a bit, and gave him some weak answers, like holding a job for seven years or having a legal address for three years. Then one of the suits smirked and said, "or he could get married."
Herger nodded casually. The meeting was over.
He took the tram back to the pier. As he was walking down the pier to his building, he noticed a shimmer of color. Not a rainbow; an aura. He swore and quickened his pace. He didn't have long.
Once inside the elevator he couldn't see anything out of his right eye. The pain was growing, a constant maddening ache behind his eye socket. He pressed the heel of his hand hard against his eyebrow, as if pressure would help; it didn't, of course, but it gave him something else to focus on. And he pulled his phone out, using the phone's voice recognition feature to place a call to Ronild. In a few curt words he told him about the migraine. Ronild didn't ask questions and confirmed that he would cancel Herger's appointments for the next day, then ended the call without fuss.
He turned off the ringer and braced a hand on the wall as the elevator slowed suddenly. His stomach lurched, but he took a deep breath through his teeth. The door dinged and opened but he couldn't move, not yet. Another breath. A third. He finally got his feet moving as the doors started to slide closed again.
The sound of the door closing behind him was like a gong being struck in his head. He choked back a whimper and shuffled through the apartment by muscle memory, shoving the heel of his hand into his eye socket again. In the bathroom he fumbled with a pill bottle and glass of water, then stood over the sink retching for a moment before he could manage to swallow the dose of drugs. Then it was back into his bedroom, where he kicked off his shoes and threw off his jacket, curling into a fetal position on top of the covers.
Herger buried his face into the pillow, as though he could hide from the pain if only he could burrow deep enough. He instinctively wanted to roll over, to gain a more comfortable position, but he couldn't find the energy. He lay as still as possible, trying not to think, trying to relax, for the drugs to take the edge off, and for sleep to descend quickly. Instead his brain spun with vivid images, random and weird and beyond his control. It was almost as bad as the pain, the frightening lack of control over the hallucinations.
Something touched his fingers. He clasped at it. Not it. Another set of fingers.
"What is it?" Ahmed whispered.
Herger tried to speak and a whimper snuck out, embarrassing him. He cleared his throat and said, "Headache." He was surprised he could even speak. He kept his eyes closed. The visions had gone but he still couldn't open his eyes.
"Can I get you anything?"
Herger tried to shake his head. Bad idea. His swollen brain banged around inside his skull. He mashed his palm against his forehead again, groaning.
"Shh. All right. Shh now." Ahmed's hand moved to his back, then up to his neck, fingers rubbing. It felt good. He tried to make a sound to tell Ahmed.
The fingers were in his hair now. Tingles spread out from Ahmed's fingertips, rushing over his head in waves that went down his back and chest. It was almost erotic. Herger sighed and his body relaxed. The pain seemed to ease, if only slightly, and his mind quieted.
He woke with a start and realized he'd been drooling. Lifting his head an inch, he wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. It was dark in the room, but he could see enough light from elsewhere in the apartment to know it was still daylight outside.
"You're awake." Ahmed was behind him, close. On the bed with him.
Herger pushed himself upright and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His headache was gone; in its place was a sense of fuzziness from the dregs of the medication. But he could still function. "Ja," he said, still wiping his mouth. He cleared his throat and looked over his shoulder.
Ahmed was sitting up. He was fully clothed and lying on top of the covers, too. Looking toward him, Herger noticed his clock. It was a little after nine p.m., four hours after he'd left the Immigration office. Not a bad turnaround for a migraine like that one had been.
"Feeling better?"
Herger nodded. "I took some medicine before you found me." He swung halfway around to face Ahmed, twitching at his shirt; it clung to his body with sweat. "Have you been lying here the whole time?"
Ahmed lifted a shoulder. "A couple hours." He looked apprehensive.
"I—" He didn't know what to say. He combed his fingers through his hair and realized that was sweaty too. Making a face, he started unbuttoning his shirt to change into some lighter clothes. "I'm sorry if I alarmed you."
"It's—" Ahmed seemed ready to say 'it's okay' but changed his mind. "Thank you."
Meaning Herger had alarmed him. Ahmed wouldn't dismiss that fact. Herger accepted the response, appreciating Ahmed's honesty.
"I get those sometimes. That one was bad."
"What brings them on?"
Herger lifted a shoulder and stripped off his shirt, tossing it into his hamper. "Stress. It always is."
Something clicked for Ahmed. He nodded sharply. "You had the meeting today." His face drew taut. "How did it go?"
"It was irritating. Legally, you and I have nothing to worry about, other than the government hassling us. But there are things you could do to strengthen your position with the Immigration office."
"Yes, they've told me."
Herger paused in pulling off his socks. "What do you mean?"
"I had my meeting yesterday."
As Herger processed this, he could feel irritation washing over him. Then he deliberately quashed the emotion. Ahmed had a right to his own decisions, including when to hold a meeting, even when it affected them both. And he was feeling a little fragile after the headache, and didn't have an argument in him.
"I didn't want you to worry," Ahmed went on.
Herger looked down, unsure of what was in his face at that moment. He unzipped his pants and stepped out of them, then pulled some gym shorts and a t-shirt out of his dresser.
"Are you going to say anything?"
He was still processing what Ahmed had told him. "Thanks for thinking of me, but I wish I'd been able to give you some support."
Ahmed got up. Herger noticed that his feet were bare, and that struck him as particularly intimate. He swallowed and tried to keep his thoughts on track. "I wish you had told me about this."
Then it got a whole lot more intimate. Ahmed dimmed the lights to near gloom, walked right up to Herger, and pulled him into a kiss.
Herger dropped the shorts and put his arms around Ahmed's waist, delighted in the feel of his heat. After so long of burying his face in his pillow for comfort, it felt like a miracle to just hold him.
Ahmed wasn't so interested in the small details. He kissed fiercely, holding Herger's head, lips working at Herger's mouth, tongue flicking inside. Herger opened his mouth and let him in, moaning softly at the feel of Ahmed's tongue penetrating, desperately seeking.
He was wearing only his boxers, but Ahmed was fully clothed. Herger pulled Ahmed's shirt out of his waistband while the kissing continued, and felt a thrill when Ahmed didn't stop him. When he started working on Ahmed's belt and trousers, he began backing up, directing them to the bed.
Ahmed broke the kiss again and leaned back to look over Herger's shoulder at the bed, then back at Herger. "Stop thinking."
"What do you mean?"
"You're trying to take control of the situation. Stop it."
A laugh snuck out of Herger's throat. They were trying to get each other into bed and Ahmed was scolding him. "Yes sir," he said, very serious. He dropped his hands from Ahmed's waistband. "Whatever you say."
"That's more like it."
Ahmed looked and sounded incredibly satisfied, a smirk on his face. Herger laughed again, delighted by Ahmed's banter, and in the midst of it Ahmed pushed him off-balance. He toppled backward onto the bed, and pushed himself up onto his hands with a pleased grin.
"You should get some good rest," Ahmed told him. He walked backward toward the door, buckling his belt.
Herger's grin faded. What the hell? "All right," he said. Ahmed nodded and smiled, then left the room.
Herger flopped back onto the bed, pushing his fists into his eye sockets. He couldn't think of a good reason for Ahmed to suddenly stop and leave. Two steps forward, one back.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, he got up and went into the bathroom to wash up.
When Herger awoke to his alarm, he felt the awful sticky heat of summer weighing down his covers. The air conditioning wasn't working. He cursed, throwing off the down comforter, the duvet damp and clinging with his own sweat.
He trudged into the bathroom and took a cold shower, trimmed his beard and brushed his teeth, then headed into the kitchen wearing his robe and slippers.
Ahmed was sitting outside on the balcony, a cup at his elbow and an empty plate on the table before him. He was studying a copy of Aftenposten, but from the frown on his face, he wasn't getting much out of it.
Herger found that his French press was half full of coffee, and there was a box from a nearby bakery sitting on the counter. He poked inside and found a Danish.
Ahmed looked up and folded the paper as Herger came out to join him. It was barely six-thirty, but the sun was already up and the air was hardly cool at all.
"Did you go out?" Herger asked as he took the other chair with his coffee and plate.
"Yes, just to pick up the paper and these." Ahmed gestured at the food.
"You must have been up with the sun." Herger squinted at the harbor and sipped his coffee.
"It's nice to be out before the heat builds back up." Ahmed turned pages.
"Ja. What a day for the air conditioning to go out. I need to call someone." Herger drank some more coffee. He was trying to decide if he should ask Ahmed how he felt about the night before.
"What does 'også' mean?"
Herger looked over. Ahmed was studying the paper again.
"It means 'also.'"
"Ah." Ahmed nodded to himself.
Herger leaned over and pushed down the edge of the paper so that Ahmed would look up. "Hey. What is going on with you?"
"Nothing." Ahmed shifted, recrossing his legs. He was wearing a pair of summer trousers that looked a lot like ones that Herger owned. The ivory linen looked fantastic with his skin. "I was just up."
"Okay." Herger sat back. "As long as you weren't up because of me." He sipped his coffee.
Ahmed put down the paper. "What?"
"Maybe you were thinking about what almost happened last night."
Ahmed made a scoffing sound, but when Herger looked over, there was a smile creeping across his face. Herger laughed.
Ahmed scowled suddenly. "You're insufferable."
"All right, I'm sorry. It's not all about me, I know. So everything is okay?" He cut into his Danish, loaded with creamy cheese and peach slices.
"If you want to know the truth—" Ahmed crossed his arms. Herger thought looked adorable. "The truth is, I don't know what I'm doing."
Understandable. That would explain why Ahmed had stopped before things had really gotten started. Herger put his fork down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Nobody ever knows what they're getting into with someone new."
"Yes, but—"
"Ahmed, I'm telling you. I want this. I want you. It's that easy."
Ahmed looked at him steadily for a few seconds, then unfolded his arms and put his hands on his knees. "It's not easy where I come from."
Herger blew out a breath and leaned back in his chair. "Is this is a Muslim thing, or an Iraqi thing?"
"Sorry?"
"Your culture or your religion? Or maybe both."
"It—not my religion." Ahmed was squeezing his knees subconsciously, talking with effort. "I stopped being Muslim a number of years ago. I accepted my desires, and listened to how we are taught that God loves all of His creations, so I could not understand why there was such hatred toward homosexuals. I refused to believe I was evil for my natural feelings. So, I rejected all of the religious teachings. I respect it, but I do not believe in Islam. It does not believe in me.
"And when I left my…boyfriend…and his house, my mother suspected that we had not been just friends. I told them everything. They didn't take it well. They didn't wish me dead or expel me from the family, but…I got tired of listening to my mother crying herself to sleep. And after that is when the threatening letters started, so I decided to leave. I had to spare my family shame, but also keep them from the cultural pressure to have me turned in to the police. And in Iraq these days, it is not the police you have to worry about, but the death squads. They do not have any authority, except for their violent will to see homosexuals killed."
Herger ran a hand through his hair. He turned and looked out over the view, squinting with the sun hitting the side of his face. He hardly knew what to say to a story like that. Every time Ahmed talked about his past, it reminded him that Ahmed had been through much more than Herger would ever experience in his lifetime. "I don't know what to say. I'm sorry."
Ahmed relaxed his hands and put them back on the arms of his chair, sitting more easily. "That is why I left. I have made my peace with it. I still write my mother, and she wrote me back while I was in England. But it is better if we live apart."
"Both my parents are dead," Herger said. "I am an only child. My friends never minded that I am gay, but in school, I felt like I had no one to talk to. I wish you had had the same opportunities I have had, the same support, with the ability to meet people who are like-minded, and be open and out."
Without saying anything, Ahmed got up and leaned over Herger's chair. Herger tilted his head up and met Ahmed's kiss. Ahmed's lips were hot and wet, and slid over his with perfect pressure. Herger opened to him and Ahmed's tongue drove inside, licking and exploring. For someone with limited experience, Ahmed knew how to kiss like a pro.
Herger pressed up and ran his fingers into Ahmed's hair, massaging his scalp. He felt Ahmed catch his breath, and he grinned to himself before diving back into the kiss. When they finally let each other go, Herger's head was spinning. "Wow."
A smile broke over Ahmed's face. "Call me a late bloomer. You are my support."
Herger wanted to laugh with relief and happiness. "What changed?"
Ahmed's smiled cooled with thoughtfulness. He braced his hands on the arms of Herger's chair. "Last night—seeing you with your headache. It made me realize that we are each vulnerable, in our own ways."
Herger nodded.
"What are you doing today?" Changing the subject, Ahmed didn't straighten, still leaning over his chair. Herger liked feeling caged in by him.
"Ronild canceled my meetings. I called him yesterday about the migraine. I usually take the next day off when I get one."
"The only way to get you to take time away from your work is debilitating pain." Ahmed nodded to himself. "I should have known."
"Hey!" Herger reached around Ahmed and picked up his coffee. "I would be in the office right now, since I'm feeling fine. Instead I'm here with you." A small smile deepened the corners of Ahmed's mouth. Herger felt a warm glow at having brought that out, that little unconscious expression of pure pleasure. "Now, what should I do with you before you have to go to work?"
When Ahmed's gaze slid down his body, Herger laughed delightedly.
Despite their best intentions to enjoy the morning together, Herger's phone rang as they were finishing breakfast. It wasn't something that could wait; some drug addicts had vandalized a few store windows over night, and Ronild had known that Herger would want to know about it before repairs commenced. Herger ended the call and looked at Ahmed apologetically.
"I have to go in."
Ahmed looked exasperated. "Don't you ever get a break?"
Herger snorted. "You're not the first to ask that. I'm just going in for a moment. I have some other ideas for today. Why don't you come with me, and I'll walk you to work after?"
Ahmed nodded. "Sure."
Herger got dressed and they took the elevator downstairs to the office. Ronild had some digital photos ready to look at on his monitor, appearing collected and at ease. Herger marveled at his composure, especially with the stifling hot air in the office.
He reviewed the damage and the estimate for repair by the maintenance staff, and approved the proposal. "And the air conditioning?" he asked as he signed off on the work order.
"They're working on it." Ronild spoke in English out of deference to Ahmed.
"Might as well stay outside where there's a breeze, at least." Herger tucked his pen back into his pocket. "I won't be available for the rest of the day."
Ronild nodded, looking unfazed, although this was highly unusual behavior for Herger. "Any other emergencies will just have to wait until you are feeling better." Not the slightest hint of a smile touched his face.
"You got it." Grinning, Herger smacked the button for the elevator. "Let's get out of here, Ahmed."
As they rode the car down, Ahmed tilted his head and rolled his eyes over to Herger. "Why did Ronild call you? He had everything under control."
Herger watched the numbers tick down. "He knows I like to be aware of what's going on."
"But you had called in sick."
The elevator dinged and they got out. Herger pulled out his sunglasses and slipped them on as they moved into the mid-morning crowd of shoppers. "I don't like being in the dark, even if I'm not at work."
"This hardly—"
"The success of Aker Brygge depends on me knowing every detail." Herger turned off the pier and headed uptown, Ahmed keeping stride with him. "If a shipment is delayed, if a customer slips on a wet floor, if the wrong glass is installed in a storefront, that reflects on me."
"But that won't happen. You're all too good at your jobs, from everything you've told me."
"I know. But my boss and I built this company from the ground up, and it didn't always run this smoothly. You think I work too much now?" Ahmed nodded. "I used to work seventy, eighty hours a week. I don't mean to sound like a martyr, but I've given everything to get where I am today. It meant perseverance and sacrifice. So, I can't just let it go and relax." He smiled gently. "But I am trying."
Ahmed was quiet for a couple blocks. The conversation shifted to the weather and Ahmed's workload at the paper, and it kept them occupied until they reached the Aftenposten offices. Ahmed nodded at him as they departed, and smiled when Herger grinned at him, but Herger thought he looked distracted.
Like many die-hard shoppers, Herger was more interested in the hunt than the acquisition. After dropping Ahmed off at work, he'd continued on to the high-end shops downtown. He looked at Rolex watches for half an hour without buying one. At Aldo he tried on six pairs of shoes and left with the first pair he'd slipped into. And the casual weekend t-shirts…he spent an hour combing through racks, then shook his head and departed H&M with only a three-pack of boxers that cost fifty kroner on sale.
He had lunch, then picked up a gift for Ahmed at a bookstore. By then the appeal of shopping had worn off, and he headed back home to unload his bags.
He ended up in his office, and sat down at his computer to check his email. When he heard the front door open later, he realized he'd gotten sucked in and been sitting there for a couple of hours.
"Hei hei," Ahmed called.
Herger grinned at the use of Norsk. He put his computer to sleep and went out to the living room.
"Hei," he replied, crossing the room and linking his arms around Ahmed's waist, kissing him warmly. "Hvordan går det?"
"It felt like this day would never end." Ahmed cupped his face with both hands and returned the kiss, drawing it out. When he finally pulled away, Herger raised an eyebrow. "That was what I wanted to do all day," Ahmed explained.
"Oh, really?" Herger lowered his voice. Ahmed grinned automatically, making a surge of want and affection shoot through Herger's body.
"I couldn't stop thinking about what we almost did last night. In a good way," Ahmed finished hastily. "I wish we had. Done it."
"It's funny you bring that up…" Herger slipped away and went to the pile of purchases he'd left in the living room. "I got you a present." He tossed the book gently and put his hands in his pockets, standing back while Ahmed pulled it out of the bag.
Ahmed's eyes bugged slightly. "' Anal Sex for Couples: A Guaranteed Guide for Painless Pleasure,'" he read aloud from the cover.
Herger grinned. "Read it before you make any plans, all right?"
"What do you mean?" Ahmed turned the book over and looked at the back, already engrossed.
"Just that you should be informed before you make any decisions." Ahmed glanced up at him, an eyebrow lifting, and Herger added, "It would make me more comfortable."
"I thank you—" Ahmed lifted the book, "and I will read this, but there's no need to worry. I know what I want."
"Who's worried?" Herger grinned again, then headed into the kitchen. "What do you want to eat?"
"I don't care." Ahmed was following him, but had his head down in the introduction.
Herger pulled out a wok and all the fresh vegetables he had. He was about to ask Ahmed if he wanted to assist, but when he looked over again, Ahmed had seated himself on a barstool and disappeared into the pages. Herger smiled to himself and pulled the chopping board over.
Ahmed came up for air a few minutes later, and guiltily closed the book. "Would you like some help?"
Herger smiled to himself and pointed his knife at a bag of bean sprouts. "Wash those."
They ate outside on the balcony, taking advantage of the balmy air. Herger had resigned himself to the heat and sweating through it, thinking of it as a giant outdoor/indoor sauna, so he was making a habit of keeping activity to a minimum and drinking lots of water.
Ahmed brought the book outside with him, surprising Herger somewhat—Ahmed had seemed so cavalier about not needing it, but had become engrossed so quickly. Not that he minded Ahmed's distraction. The fact that Ahmed was interested in the topic was reassuring. It was especially gratifying that Herger had chosen so well in giving him a book. He felt some pride in choosing a gift that Ahmed would enjoy, with his sharp, analytical mind.
And he probably had never seen a text addressing gay sex, Herger realized suddenly. This was probably like receiving a Rosetta Stone that needed no translation. Herger shifted in his seat, feeling a pang of sympathy.
Ahmed's eyes widened as he turned a page. Herger murmured a questioning sound, and Ahmed looked up.
"There are pictures," Ahmed said quietly, as if afraid someone would hear.
"Oh, are there?" Herger grinned to show Ahmed he was gently teasing. He teased because he didn't know what else to say, and sympathy wouldn't go over well.
Then he scooted his chair around to Ahmed's side of the table, and smiled when Ahmed shifted the book so he could see.
After eating, Herger cleared the dishes and started straightening the kitchen, but Ahmed put the book down and pushed up his sleeves. "Let me. You cooked."
Herger got himself a beer while Ahmed washed up, loading the dishwasher and hand-washing the other things that couldn't fit. For a while he watched Ahmed work, admiring the rear view, then gave into his curiosity. "So, you've decided you're ready?"
Ahmed glanced over his shoulder but kept his hands submerged in the sudsy water. "What do you mean?" He flicked his glanced down Herger's body, standing relaxed and inviting against the kitchen island, and figured it out. "Ready for sex," he concluded in a lower voice.
"Ja." Herger reminded himself to stay in control. That voice would undo him. "What changed?"
Ahmed lifted the clean wok out of the dishwater and looked around for a towel. Herger got one out of a drawer and held out his hands with the towel over them, offering to dry it. Ahmed answered, "The trust, that we talked about. But I've always known what I wanted, physically."
Herger dried efficiently, not looking at his hands, but at Ahmed. "How do you know what you want? You come from a place where homosexuals are condemned to death."
Ahmed took the wok out of Herger's hands and put it away into a low cabinet, giving Herger a split-second chance to admire the way his pants pulled over his ass as he bent. Then Ahmed straightened and leaned back against the counter. "I struggled with my desires for many years, while I was a teenager. Finally, university allowed me a glimpse at Western thought. I knew a few people who passed around texts on homosexuality, just between us. It affirmed the way I felt—that love is innocent and good, and God cannot possibly condemn it. Otherwise He wouldn't be God."
Herger nodded and walked into the living room, knowing that Ahmed would follow. They sat on opposite ends of the sofa, turned toward each other. "So you stopped believing at that time?"
"Believing in God, yes. I started believing in myself. And I started writing my own thoughts, from the perspective of a man who lived in a Muslim culture but no longer believed in the Koran." Ahmed reached out, resting his hand on the back of the sofa and brushing Herger's shoulder. "I do want to be with you. You confided in me. Your fears. It meant a lot to hear that."
Herger smiled and shook his head. "It was nothing."
"But it was. And I'm sorry if I didn't make it clear before, but I have wanted you. I know I don't express it well. I haven't really had the experience."
Herger knew about expressing feelings. He moved closer on the sofa, bracing his arm against the back, and leaned in. Ahmed lifted a hand and drew him into a kiss, soft and gentle, but so perfect that Herger had to catch his breath. He leaned his forehead against Ahmed's and sighed.
"I want this," Ahmed whispered. Herger leaned back a few centimeters, watching him speak.
"Oh yes?" Herger prompted.
Ahmed smiled. "Arabs have fantasies too. At least, I do."
Herger raised an eyebrow. "Tell me."
Ahmed cleared his throat and looked down, his lashes lying against his cheeks. "I've thought about you…ah…"
"Your favorite fantasy," Herger prompted.
"You've just come out of the shower." Ahmed leaned his head back on the sofa, still not looking at Herger. Undoubtedly it was easier for him to say this without looking at him. "We've been at the gym. I catch you in the bedroom, and you drop your towel and walk over to me."
Herger carefully put his hand on Ahmed's thigh. Ahmed moved his legs slightly wider, welcoming the touch. Herger bit back a groan and asked, "And then?"
"You start taking my clothes off, and I help you. When we are both undressed, you climb into the bed without me, and I follow and pull the covers over us."
How chaste, Herger thought.
"Underneath the covers I put my hands on your chest and kiss down your belly." Ahmed's voice had reached a register Herger had never heard before, a low vibratory thrum that Herger could feel in his cock. He shifted slightly to give himself room, his cock filling.
"I take your sex in my mouth, and bring you to climax, with your hands in my hair."
Herger moved his hand up a little higher on Ahmed's thigh. The skin was hot underneath the trousers. "And then?" His voice sounded strained.
Ahmed opened his eyes. "That's as far as I get. I imagine you would do something to me."
"Oh yeah," Herger muttered. He leaned in and kissed Ahmed firmly, seeking, and there, Ahmed's tongue met his and the kiss deepened. The images were still whirling in Herger's mind, changing and evolving, Herger under the covers sucking Ahmed off, Ahmed's lean brown legs wrapped around his waist as Herger pressed into him, the hot tight clamp of his body around Herger's cock as his head pressed back into the pillow jaw working on a gasp oh god stop.
They were both breathing heavily when Herger pulled away. He stood, giving himself distance before he did anything else. "Finish the book," he said hoarsely.
Ahmed's gaze moved from his face to his crotch. Herger realized he was fully tenting his trousers, but made no move to hide himself.
"I will," Ahmed said. He got up and went to the kitchen, picking up the book from where he'd left it at the bar. Herger noticed a defined bulge in his pants as well. "Will you be going into work tomorrow?" he asked, coming back to the living room.
Herger winced. "Yes. Early, to catch up."
"Then you will need your sleep."
Aided by the fastest masturbation session he'd had in years, Herger thought. He nodded.
"But tomorrow is Friday. Surely you can afford to take the weekend off?"
"Ja," Herger said, thinking that he'd take a leave of absence if he could get Ahmed alone near a bed. Then he paused with a flash of inspiration. "We could go away. There's a company-owned hytte near Lake Mjøsa. I could see if it's free."
"A…"
"Hytte." Herger pronounced it carefully, knowing that it sounded like he was swallowing and trying to say "hoot-ah" at the same time. "A cabin. …Well, a chalet, not really a cabin. Would you like to go?"
"If it would mean separating you from Ronild…absolutely."
"Keeping me away from Ronild? I can't make any guarantees." Ahmed laughed, making Herger grin. "I'll call him about the hytte. But we still have hours of daylight left. How about going out? Enjoy the evening, maybe have some gelato." It would keep him from obsessing over what Ahmed was finding in that book. "You like gelato?"
"I don't know."
"You don't…" Herger blinked. "You haven't had gelato?"
Ahmed shook his head.
Herger pointed at Ahmed's book. "Leave that. Come with me."
Herger took him through downtown to the big multi-level mall outside the train station. In the ground floor food court, there was a little kiosk with a crowd around it. It wasn't Herger's usual kind of place, and Ahmed kept giving him disbelieving looks, but Herger calmly got into line and ordered for them. He got chocolate, being the hedonist he was, and Ahmed wanted cloudberry, that uniquely Norwegian fruit, in the traditional combination with whipped cream.
As he paid, he asked the teller, "Is Edgar or Heath around?"
The teenage girl nodded, staring nervously at Herger at the mention of Edgar and Heath. "In the back. You want me to get them?"
Herger said yes. As the girl went through a pair of swinging doors, Herger collected the cups of gelato as they were deposited on the counter by the other employee working the tubs. He handed one to Ahmed just as the kitchen doors swung open.
Edgar came out, and his look of bewilderment changed quickly to pleasure, and he came around the counter with a grin. "Herger. Hvordan går det?"
"Good, good," Herger answered in English. He grasped Edgar's offered hand and shook it warmly, then gestured to Ahmed. "This is a friend of mine. Ahmed, Edgar."
Edgar greeted him just as the door flapped again and Heath exited. There was another exclamation and round of introductions and handshakes.
"What brings you out here?" Edgar asked.
"I was in the mood for something sweet, and Ahmed has never had gelato. So of course we had to come here."
Heath grinned. "Of course. You want to find someplace to sit and eat that?"
There was an atrium level in the mall, with plenty of skylights and seating. They opted for that and headed upstairs, weaving around shoppers.
"You own the gelato stand?" Ahmed asked Heath as they took a seat at a bistro table.
"Ja, with Edgar. We were in business school with Herger, that's how we all know each other." Heath leaned back and folded his hands over his stomach, crossing his legs at the ankle. He wasn't a tall man, about Herger's height, but had a vibrant energy about him. And with his curly red hair and coastal accent, he stood out from the other people in Oslo. His ancestors were probably Scottish Celts, from the look of him.
Edgar was his opposite in most every respect. Taller, darker, and quieter, he had a calming but still commanding presence. Together they were the energy and the brains of the business, Herger knew. He watched them talk to Ahmed, pleased at how easily the conversation flowed. They were good with people, which is how their gelato stand had expanded to a chain that covered all the urban areas in southern Norway. It had been good luck to find them at work; he knew they liked keeping their hands in the daily aspects of the business, but they weren't always in the office, so to speak. Perhaps it was a good omen, too.
"So, what do you think?" Heath asked Ahmed.
Herger realized Ahmed hadn't taken even a lick of gelato. With the attention on him, Ahmed dipped his spoon into the cup and brought it to his mouth.
His eyelids fluttered and he made a quiet moan. Herger shifted with a jolt of arousal, watching Ahmed lick the spoon for every last bit.
"It's wonderful." Ahmed took another scoop. "Flavorful, creamy, smooth—"
Herger cut in before he embarrassed himself by crawling across the table and into Ahmed's lap. "Ahmed's a word smith," he said to Edgar and Heath with a smile.
"Seems so," Heath laughed.
"Where are you working?" Edgar asked Ahmed.
"Aftenposten. Herger got me the job."
"I did not!" Herger sat up straight and pushed his empty cup away. 'You got the job on your own. I just introduced you to Magnus. That's networking, that doesn't count."
"Magnus? Magnus Svinø?" Heath asked. "Ja, Herger didn't help you there. Magnus…"
"Is a ruthless asshole?" Edgar offered a tight smile.
"Makes up his own mind," Heath finished with a laugh. "But take the credit where it is due," he added to Ahmed.
Ahmed didn't look at Herger, but relaxed slightly. Herger smiled to himself.
"How do you know him?" Ahmed asked Edgar and Heath.
"We advertise in the paper," Edgar answered. "But we've also met him casually. Oslo's a small town, especially at his level."
"Where are you from?" Heath asked Ahmed. After Ahmed told him, he then asked, "Do you miss it?"
Ahmed glanced at Herger, then sighed and nodded. "In some ways. It is a very different culture, and familiarity is comforting. But as a homosexual, I am also an outcast. I would prefer to live where I can speak my mind freely."
"Hence journalism," Edgar said. Ahmed nodded.
Herger's phone chirped. He pulled it out of his trouser pocket as Heath laughed, "Speaking of work…"
It was Ronild, calling back about the hytte. The other three continued chatting while Herger confirmed the reservation. When he hung up, he noticed Edgar looking at his watch.
"We'd better let you get back to work." He stacked the empty gelato cups and spoons. Edgar and Heath rose, Edgar nodding. Herger realized it was quite late and the mall would be closing soon, so naturally they would want to leave.
"It was a pleasure to meet you," Edgar said to Ahmed. "I'll look for your work online."
"Here's our card. Free gelato whenever you want." Heath handed a small rectangle of paper to Ahmed.
"Thank you." Herger could practically hear Ahmed salivating, and grinned as Ahmed shook the other men's hands. "I hope to see you again soon."
As Herger and Ahmed left the mall, Ahmed touched his hand lightly to Herger's back, and a thrill went up Herger's spine. Ahmed leaned closer and spoke next to Herger's ear, his voice low and relaxed. "Thank you for this."
It was almost ten p.m. by the time they started walking across the city, but the sun was still visible in the sky. Dusky light washed through the streets, which were almost totally empty. Oslo had a nightlife, but it was pretty well hidden.
Herger was feeling a bit reckless, drunk on the night and Ahmed's company. The light was perfect, the breeze off the water stirred the hot air, they were alone, and they had a fifteen-minute walk ahead of them.
Then he felt something touch his hand, and realized Ahmed was threading their fingers together. He grasped Ahmed's hand and gave it one squeeze of recognition, then relaxed. He tried to appear innocent.
Then Ahmed paused and turned to him, saying, "Is this okay?" He looked to his right and left, checking the street. It was empty.
"Nobody cares," Herger said. But he made his hand go limp, letting Ahmed pull away if he wanted.
"Good." Ahmed tightened his fingers again, and they continued walking.
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[I'm rather behind with reading your story, I'm afraid, but I had to comment on the picture :-) I agreed with someone else's comment on chapter 1 -- it's so interesting to read all the detail about Norway.]
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