A Two Way Street


Stretched out on the sofa, Richard lying against him in his arms, Jeremy couldn't shake the thought that he might be stealing a small slice of someone else's heaven.

"How's the leg?"

"Painful when the drugs wear off."

It was two weeks since the accident. Two weeks since the real danger of some of the things they did had been brought home to them, knocking them back to earth for a while with a jolt.

Jeremy had invited Richard round because he had the house to himself for a couple of days. Because deep down, in places he dare not dig around in too deeply, he'd been missing the firm feel of having this man in his arms.

It wasn't something he'd ever admit to, not to Richard, not to James and definitely not to himself. He was addicted to speed and torque, the roar of a powerful engine; never loud enough, never violent or sexy enough.

Richard couldn't be an addiction. No matter how oddly calming and contenting his presence was.

His own words to James kept crawling around the edges of his consciousness. Don't fall in love with him.

"Why are you here?" he asked quietly, eventually, stroking his thumb over the curve of Richard's hip.

The round head titled back, rich chocolate eyes gazing upside down at him. "You invited me."

"Ha, ha."

Richard smiled and snuggled back into the dip of his shoulder. "Because it's exciting, it's a thrill; me, you and James. I've never had anything like this before. I mean, it's unexpected but it's good, you know? It's really good."

Jeremy nodded, dipping his chin, his mouth into Richard's hair, aware that this, in some subtle way, was a change in the dynamic between them.

"A word of warning? Be careful with James."

Tipping his head back for a second time, Richard slid his mouth under Jeremy's, stealing a kiss. "Why?"

"He's more... emotionally involved than you are."

"Than I am?" Jeremy nodded once. "What about you?"

He smiled. "I love you, Richard, you know that."

There was a long, heavy silence, a weight that was almost visible. "I don't want to hurt either of you."

"Don't be stupid. You know me better than that."

"Do I?" Richard's hand caught Jeremy's on his hip, rubbed the fingers slowly, making a point before letting go. "I thought I knew James too."

"You do. You don't just don't see it because James hasn't shown you."

The smooth forehead wrinkled. "Have you and him…?"

"No. No, not without you. But remember when you were in hospital and I said James and I spent the night drinking whiskey?" Richard nodded with a soft sigh. "I'm just saying be careful."

Jeremy felt him shift under his hands, and dropped one of his feet to the carpet to allow him to sit up - which he did very gingerly - without having to move too far across the sofa. "Maybe we need to stop this."

The temptation to reach out and touch was too irresistible. "Do you want to?" Jeremy followed the lightly stubbled line of Richard's neck with his fingertips, from jaw to collarbone.

"No." The gap between them remained - a foot at most - bridged by Jeremy's arm, his hand curved around Richard's throat. "This has always been a possibility, hasn't it? You and me?"

"Yes." Jeremy said it with absolute commitment. "For years. Since I first laid eyes on you. Don't ask me why and don't ask me where this poetic side of me has suddenly come from!" Richard laughed. "You want to know when it really clicked for me?"

"What? Me?" He seemed to consider it. "Yes."

"One morning. One random, sunny Wednesday morning. I got to Dunsfold and you two were standing in the car park drooling over the Aston Martin Vanquish. James was wearing that bloody awful red stripy jumper, you were in that black jeans, white shirt and black leather jacket combo and the way you were smiling… you looked like all your Christmas' had come at once. Then I realised you always looked like that. You have this boundless energy when it comes to cars and all day I was thinking about it, about how it must feel to be the focus of all that."

He could see in the darkening of his eyes that Richard was touched. But getting him to admit it wouldn't be that easy. "I've actually been thinking if the two of you were cars, what you'd be."

Perplexed, Jeremy shook his head, closed the distance and kissed him. Richard returned it, tilting his head and sucking on Jeremy's tongue.

"Perhaps we should we call James," he suggested, fingers carding through Richard's soft hair.

"No, not tonight. Just you and me."

"He'll find out."

"I'll tell him. And I'll talk to him. But not tonight." He put his hand flat on Jeremy's chest, sliding his fingers through the gaps between the buttons to touch his skin.

Jeremy caught his breath as one venturing fingertip found his left nipple. "Out of interest, which cars do you think we'd be?"

"You'd be a Zonda. James is more of a Bentley. Or a Ferrari. Less exciting, more class."

"Cheeky little sod."

"Not so much of the little, or I'm leaving."

Jeremy glanced down to watch narrow fingers flick open the buttons on the blue shirt. He was pushed gently back into the corner of the sofa and couldn't help his low groan when tight lips and sharp teeth fastened over that hard bud.

"Richard… You are a Formula One car. Absolutely fucking incredible."