I had enough money in my jeans to pay for a taxi. Which turned out to be a good thing, because once the immediate threat of facing Steve was removed, Bruno was in absolutely no shape to walk anywhere. Mind you, we didn't stick around to wait for the taxi because I didn't trust Steve not to come back unexpectedly. So we managed to make our way to the corner where I figured we'd be safe enough if we could blend with the locals.

Bruno kept leaning up against me, and I wasn't sure if he was feeling woozy or he was trying to come on to me. Despite the fact that he'd kissed me twice now and I'd even responded the second time, I wasn't sure what any of it really meant.

We snagged a taxi without running into Steve, and Bruno piled in after me, practically landing in my lap. "Hi," he said, smiling up at me.

I think I smiled back, but suddenly he frowned. "What? You're having second thoughts already?" he snapped.

"About what?"

"Jesus. You're a piece of work," he muttered. With a bounce, he slid over to the opposite passenger side and stared out the window.

"I'm taking you home with me. What more do you want?" I cried, immediately getting loud. To my eternal downfall, I don't think, I react, and while that kind of emotion might be desirable in a lover, it never seemed to come out the right way.

"Nothing. Not a damned thing."

We rode in tense silence till we reached my flat. It wasn't much, but it was a hell of a lot better than where Bruno had been living. Plus it had one more advantage. No Steve.

By the time I paid the driver, Bruno was standing impatiently at the door of the flat, glaring at me with those beautiful but tragic eyes. "Awww...don't look at me like that."

"Can you open the door? I have to pee," he said sullenly.

"I'm getting to it, I'm getting to it."

"Well, hurry up or I'll pee right here."

"That's too charming for words," I grumbled. "This might not be the fucking Plaza, but we do have some standards."

"Then I'm surprised you'd even lower yourself to give me a place to stay."

I got the fucking door open finally and almost fell over the threshold. I jammed the key into my pocket and kept right on going. Bruno followed me at a distance. I knew he was there; I could feel him behind me, and part of me, the part that was frustrated beyond belief, wanted to grab him and nail him to the nearest mattress, even though I'd never even fucking been with a man before.

The other part of me was dealing with feelings that I wasn't even sure I wanted to have. I liked kissing him. Okay, more than liked. I had six years on him, but I didn't know how to handle how he made me feel. I was at his fucking mercy, and I didn't know what to do about it.

I wanted to hold him and protect him, and I wasn't sure where that was coming from. He wasn't a girl and neither was I. I didn't know anything about being gay, but I figured that two guys pretty much got right to it when they fancied each other. Only thing is, I didn't feel like that.

He made me feel all soft and funny inside, and that wasn't a comfortable thing for a guy to admit. It made me feel even more out of control than I usually did. Hell, I'll say it. There was only one fucking reason I was hiding in my own kitchen, pretending I didn't even know Bruno was there.

I was falling in love with him.

Shite. The moment I thought it, something in my brain clicked and I sat down hard. Right on the floor.

Bruno hovered in the doorway. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing." Everything.

"Why are you sitting on the floor?" He appeared more puzzled than angry, and I decided to try to answer that.

"It seemed like the thing to do at the time," I joked, albeit weakly.

"Would you like some help getting up?"

"Not really. I thought I'd stay here. Maybe even have dinner here." The thought of his hands on me made me ache. I didn't know what to do, but I bet he knew. Oh, God. I was in hell, and I'd put myself there.

"The bathroom's over there." I pointed to the small room off the kitchen.

He looked at me blankly.

"You said you had to pee, remember?"

"Oh. That. I lied."

I groaned. "You make a habit of that?"

"What?"

"Lying."

"Would you believe me if I told you?"

"Good point."

"Now why don't you get off the floor and show me my room?" he asked.

I groaned again and mumbled something incoherent.

"What'd you say?"

"I said, I don't bloody have another bedroom.""

"You got me here under false pretenses?" he exclaimed.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, you sound like an outraged virgin! Get a grip, Bruno!" I picked that moment to try standing up, and even though he was clearly pissed at me, he reached out to steady me.

"I suppose there's only one bed, too."

I shook off his arm. "As a matter of fact, yeah, but don't worry, your virtue is safe with me. You can have the bloody bed all to yourself. I'll take the couch."

He glared at me like he'd like to tell me to go fuck myself, and to be honest, I don't know why he didn't. I would've.

"I couldn't put you out of your bed," he said too politely, his straight white teeth meeting sharply as if he could barely resist grinding them together.

"Oh, go ahead, Bruno. It's not like I expect to sleep much anyway." I didn't mean to say that, I swear. But suddenly my mouth felt like it didn't belong to me.

To his credit, Bruno didn't take advantage. I wanted him to. But he chose that moment to be noble.

I didn't expect that.

Then again, you know what they say. No one can take advantage of you unless you give them permission. Well, bloody hell.

"The bedroom's through there," I said hoarsely, pointing again.

Bruno shook his head. "You'll have to show me."

"Fuck, no," I blurted out, my mouth refusing to obey me. I didn't want to be alone with him, much less in the fucking bedroom. I mean, bedroom. There wasn't going to be any fucking. Not in my bedroom. Oh, fuck.

"You have to."

"Why?" I gasped. He was coming closer.

"Cause I said so." His mouth was temptation itself, and I would've told him that if I'd thought it would do me any good.

"You're just a fucking kid. Who put you in charge?"

"You did."

Cocky little son of a bitch. "Why are you doing this?" I asked, helpless to resist the pull of those eyes and those lips.

"You know."

He backed me up against the wall of my own fucking kitchen and kissed me, and Jesus, his mouth tasted sweet. Better than strawberries. I inhaled his scent, and I swear it made an instant connection between my head and my dick.

"Don't," I said feebly.

He palmed my groin and I sighed. "You want to."

"Maybe I do, but that doesn't make it right."

"Who cares if it's right?"

"I do. I don't want to be just one more guy you fucked, Bruno."

"What are you saying?" He removed his hand, and I groaned.

"I think you know."

End