Favors and Escapades

[Gregor (DELETED 8093)]

This thread is an ongoing journey spanning an exploration of years between the two involved characters. It will be multichaptered and may cover several adventures and all sorts of shenanigans.

The Road Trip: Part 1

2012

Gregor von der Marck:

The Bentley pulled in front of the glittering skyscraper. The building had been used to host a massive party for the students in Gregor’s class. Strictly black tie affair, the whole thing had been put together with nearly a million dollar budget. Ice sculpture? A chilled crystal statue in the shape of the girl throwing the party had been the very essence of decadence. There had been soft music playing, and bodies shifting along; they didn’t so much dance as move from one group to another. The band was live. A ten piece orchestra that created the intimate feel of chamber music. There was a lot of chatter. People talking endlessly about things that Gregor had to pretend to care about in order to cultivate his friendships with the right people. But being a social butterfly was such a very taxing labor, and it was far easier to strip away the layers, that affected facade.

“Abe, I think I need a vacation.” He complained, as he sat in the back, one leg folding over the other at the knee, his arms tucked against his chest as he peered over the seat divide towards the other man.

“Yeah. Just got out of a party. Real hard life you got goin’ on there.” The man muttered from the front seat.

“What was that, Wenslydale?” Gregor asked, his attention having already diverted to the flash of lights outside as they quickly passed buildings, and signs, and street lamps.

“I said you should go to the Cancun estate, sir.” Came a louder voice from the front.

“Ugh. Last time I went there, I had bad shellfish.”

“Puked your guts out did you?”

“I don’t vomit, Abelard.”

“Oh, the other en-”

“Abelard.”

“What about a road trip?” The man who had been Gregor’s faithful servant for about a year was attempting to keep the laughter out of his voice. In truth, the suggestion had just been a random one. Thrown out like darts at a board. And yet yet he could feel the intense stare at the back of his head.

“Hrmm.” Came a noise from the back seat. “I don’t suppose you have a destination in mind. I don’t want the Bentley used outside of city limits so I might consider purchasing something e-”

“I’m not going with you.” Came the response. And then tacked on. “Er. Respectfully. Sir.”

“What?”

“That’s not part of the job description. Why don’t you call up one of your family people and ask them?”

“That’s not as atrocious an idea as yours normally are. I must be wearing off on you.”

“Sure.”

“What?”

“I said ‘Yes, sir.’” At which point Gregor reached for his cell phone so he could shoot off a text to one of his cousins. ‘Lulu, I neeeeeed to get out of this hellhole for a week or two. Take me somewhere nice? See you in a day or two at the manor. Have a car or something ready to take us wherever. Kisses!’

And then he hit send. Yes. He expected his cousin to clear his schedule for the vacation. Gregor had already decided it was for the best.

Louvel von der Marck:

Mortorcycle

Louvel watched the back of the car leave the parking lot before he stepped out of the restaurant. His hand pressed against the massive wooden door and stepped outside. So that was how it was going to be. He should have expected as much. Just like that he was done with their year plus of plans and ready to sink into the comfort of bouncing Bea and her daddy’s wallet. While the headlights of Martin’s car faded and were no longer able to be seen Lou felt his jaw tighten up. He wished a baker's dozen of kids that were enormous brats and a lifetime of his socialite wife to be whining about how he doesn’t put out enough. Because Lou knew Martin would be looking at all that that like doing the laundry and not any more entertaining than that.

The keys to the restored black Harley Davidson Fatboy spun around his finger while he made his way towards the bike. It was nothing new. He would get over it and really he had needed it to happen more than he cared to admit. There was something about it that was like trying to hold water in a strainer. It didn’t work and was never meant to. A stretch of his leg over the bike brought him comfortably *** to seat while reaching for the helmet resting on the back. The slide of the old school helmet went like it always did. He was about to fasten it when he realized he hated it. Perhaps he always had and it didn’t hit him until that moment. Martin bought it. Said he needed to be safe. **** Martin. **** being safe too.

Louvel fired up the engine and welcomed the rumble beneath him, the power that was attached to it. It was time to fly, reach the speeds he was used to be told to limit. No more limits, no more holding back. Louvel was ready to soar like he was meant to. Just as he kicked the heel of his boot back at the metal stand that was keeping the bike up his cell vibrated in his pocket. Martin could go to hell. He tossed the helmet into the small strip of grass in front of where he parked. He walked the bike backward then paused.

If it wasn’t him then it could very well be one of the staff back at the manor. Hell, it could be one of the family. While his hand pulled out the cell he wished for the latter and once his eyes fixed on the screen he was finding his evening improving swiftly. A text from Gregor. He wanted to get lost for a week or two. Lou was ready to do the same thing. What were the chances of that? The half grin on his lips went along with the reply he sent out to the fourth cousin he missed the more he thought about it.

-Sounds like a plan. Was just about to do the same thing. Caught me in time. I will be waiting. Back at you.-

The cell slid back into his pocket and the grin didn’t fade. He wanted to go somewhere nice? Wanted to get away from it all? Gregor’s idea of getting away from it all no doubt was incredibly different than Lou’s. What Gregor needed was to escape every amenity known to the von der Marck heir. Yes, Louvel would gladly take him away from it all and give him exactly what he needed. The loud rumble of the engine between his legs roared as he headed out of the parking lot and down the open road. Life just got a whole lot better. Leave it to family to make that happen


Gregor von der Marck:

He never quite felt like he could breathe in New York. He loved it. Loved Broadway. Loved the upscale parties. Loved the museums and the gallas, and the events. He loved to go to the charity balls. Loved being the socialite son of two of the most respected persons along the east coast of the United States. All of that was part of his identity, as inseparable from him as his eyes or his skin, or his heart. But he never quite felt like he could let down that icy veil which kept him separate from everyone. There were his friends, a tiny handful who occasionally got to see bits and pieces of who he was, but on the whole, he was very aware of the ‘packaging’, aware of how he had to present himself to the world. Because, without even trying, he wielded a great deal of power in whatever community he happened to be part of. He wore that duty like a weighted mantle over his shoulders, which meant he could never really be comfortable. Like a woman wearing heels that added six or more inches to their height - he had to endure the blisters on his feet so that he could look good.

And he was looking forward to putting all of that out of his mind. He got a text back, but decided not to respond. Instead, his phone was slid shut and he pocketed it. The remainder of the evening was the usual nondescript haze of booze as he self-medicated. Flight plans were made. Wenslydale had instructions about what to pack. So Gregor passed out once everything was good and ready.

The following morning he boarded a privately owned jet plane, which his father normally used for business. The internal decor had been crafted out of salvaged wood. The appearance was deliberately rustic, because Friedrich von der Marck liked to remember where he had come from. The snowy deep woods of Ontario. Plus it was good for the environment. Well. If you didn’t also reason that it was all attached to a jet which consumed enough fuel in one trip to feed the economy of a developing nation for no less than a month. Thus, by the time he landed, he had already shucked his traditional couture in favor of something he considered a little more earthy. Faded denim of knee-length shorts, a black t-shirt that dropped past his waist, a flannel shirt that fastened about the middle, and shoes that had looked old when he purchased them.

The look was what he considered to be casual. Whether or not it actually worked was another matter entirely.

Thus, by about 10 AM, he stood on the front porch of Louvel’s home, which happened to be a personal ‘Keeper’s cottage’ not attached to the main building of the VDM Manor house. Beside him, flanked on both sides, were about ten bags. It seemed Gregor, despite being thoroughly entranced by the idea of road tripping, knew very little about the experience. That wasn’t about to stop him from pretending he was an expert. Thus he knocked on a door to the sound of a Abelard (who had been kind enough to escort him across country lines), peeling out of the small drive, which wasn’t even properly paved road. Gregor didn’t even notice that the normally present 1970’s Ford truck (used for taking care of the grounds and making trips into town), was not present.

outfit

Louvel von der Marck:

Louvel Attire

The serenity of morning was nearly sacred to Louvel. Especially out where he was savoring it far from the hustle and bustle of urban living that his city committed family member would be missing for the next two weeks. He figured Gregor would be arriving fairly early because that was the predictable thing to do when one expected to head for some place to get away from it all. A resort in the crystal blue waters of some island paradise. Or some retreat that would require a day of flight to reach overseas. Poor Greg. It was really too easy to take him away from what he knew. He made it almost too easy.

While he poured a cup of coffee he reached over and took hold of the map and the itinerary which basically was only one sentence listed at the bottom. The USA road map sported his less than fancy penmanship. Why have a schedule when you are escaping the world and what it expects of you?

Relax, breathe and hold on tight. His writing said it all.

The small backpack on his bed consisted of jeans, swim trunks which he likely would not even wear if they found the right spots to dive into, socks, t-shirts. A small tent was fixed at the top since that would be the first thing that would be needing to set up when they stopped for the first night. It was hard not to smile about the expression that Gregor would have at all of this.

Louvel leaned over and pulled the backpack in his grip as he moved through the small modestly furnished room he occupied while in residence on the grounds. Some liked a sense of permanence, surrounding themselves with objects that made them feel at home and centered. Not Lou. The small Keeper’s cottage was as home as it got for him. He could feel just as at home in Bali, Nepal, China and the other places he frequented on his adventures. He was a free spirit and he was about to see if he could have a little of that rub off on Gregor. A sound of a knock and the spontaneous fast roll of tires leaving caught his attention. The place was small enough that he had his hand on the door knob and turning it after twenty steps.

“Welcome home.”

Louvel looked at Gregor as he stepped forward to embrace him in his familiar tight bear hug that usually was well received by Judah. The physical part of the greeting was interrupted by what Lou discovered at Greg’s feet. A sea of luggage. Not one or two pieces but ...what was it ten? He shook his army green stocking capped head. His hand was about to pull off the cap but instead decided to be proactive. He reached with both hands and took hold of numerous pieces and started tossing them inside the small interior room. Once his hands were empty he tossed more and repeated this until the porch was empty.

Finally Lou eyed Greg and finally smiled because he had on the right clothing. In fact he was not sure if he ever had seen Gregor in denim shorts or a flannel shirt. He was the one that went on the family hikes during gatherings with a couple layers of linen lined with designer labels and no less than two bottles of sanitizer and pockets loaded with communication devices ready to pull his *** back to civilization if needed.

“C’mere.” His arms wrapped around the guy and squeezed while patting the back of his shoulder. “Always good to see you.” He released him then looked down at the luggage littering the floor around his feet. “Got a little surprise for you.” He winked as his long fingers pulled open the first pricey bag and dumped the contents out onto the rustic table. He leaned over and continued to do the same with the next bag, and the next and ...so on. “You get to go through all that and repack.” He opened the small wardrobe door and tossed Gregor an empty backpack. “Everything you need to survive on for the next two weeks has to fit in that and over your shoulders.”

Lou let that sink in and reached for a cup and poured Gregor some really strong coffee. It appeared like perhaps he would be needing it.



Gregor von der Marck:

Welcome Home. The words washed over Gregor like the soothing cool waters of the Caribbean when one had one’s feet tucked against the moist sand of a glimmering shoreline. There was something magical about the ocean, about tide waters in general. Like every time they lapped against flesh, they were able to leech away some of one’s worries. Those words did very much the same thing to the young von der Marck. It helped that no sooner than they were said and he was being embraced by the strong figure that was his cousin. Louvel had a body that had obviously seen a lot of hard work, and the man’s proclivity towards going without shirts revealed that fact, along with sculpted muscles any Greek or Roman god might have been envious of. Gregor felt powerful biceps around him. He felt arms tighten. He felt his spine pop just a little bit as the breath rushed out of him. Had it been someone else? He probably would have gone limp. Dead fish. Or he might have greeted them with the palm of his hand so hard that it might have broken a nose. But Gregor had a special place in his heart for those of his family whom he had known for most of his life.

When he had been younger, he had been a tag along to Judah and Louvel’s adventures. A boy who was curious and not yet fully developed in mind or spirit. Years had created some division there. Not disdain. Not distrust. Things had just changed as Gregor had reached adulthood, but he always remembered Louvel as a powerful man. As someone to be trusted. Loved. Safe, in a way that Gregor wouldn’t even have associated with his parents and their fruitless endeavours to people please. So instead of fighting or flopping, he let himself slip up onto the balls of his feet so he could curl arms around a neck and squeeze as tightly as he could. His normally pristine hands threatened to form calluses against the expansive stretch of Lou’s back.

“Ugh, this hat is atrocious.” He complained, as he twisted his fingers into it, so he could yank it off properly, giving it a toss onto the porch behind him, as if it were some sort of run away trash. Of course, that brought up another issue altogether: Louvel’s long hair. Very few men could pull off the look successfully. A person almost had to look like some sort of hammer wielding Nordic god to look good with that style. And yet Louvel did so with ease. Gregor would probably complain about it later anyway. Just to be sure he kept his wits about him.

[Louvel von der Marck]

Gregor von der Marck:

Then his bags were being taken into the little house, and dumped out onto a table one after another. The look of horror on Gregor’s face betrayed just how quickly the walls came down. Because he looked genuinely shocked as opposed to, for example, offering a withering cut of his eyes. If looks could kill, Gregor would have been a serial murderer. But they couldn’t, and he just took to the situation with equal, comical measures of incredulity and aplomb. “What are you…” But it was obvious what Lou was doing wasn’t it? Before he knew it, all of his bags were dumped out, with contents falling off of a table onto the floor. He caught a bag as it was tossed while he stepped inside, and tried to figure out what to do. “E-help said to pack light.” He commented. That was the paired down version of what I wanted to bring..

But he wasn’t about to fail at a challenge. “We are going to have a very long talk about this later.” He threatened, though the words were empty. He was excited about the prospect of getting to spend more time with Lou. How long had it been since they had gotten to hang out? How long had it been since Gregor had spent any measure of time with anyone other than the social vultures of New York? So he began to go through everything, one item at a time. He inspected them all with the his critical, calculating gaze. And then he caught sight of Louvel’s bag. A few wandering fingers later, and he had a good idea of what he needed to be packing. He casually took out his cousin’s pair of swim trunks and kicked them under a piece of furniture whilst the man was getting him some coffee. He then zipped up Lou’s bag so he could begin to fill his own with similar contents. Though how the other man survived without a few key pieces of electronics was completely beyond him.

By the time he was done, the backpack was a little bit bloated, but everything fit. He had to cut out 90% of his wardrobe, along with all of his electronics except for his phone and a couple of replacement batteries, a charger. He had the necessary items for any long trip. Refillable water bottle. Bug repellant. Hand sanitizer. Suntan lotion. Things of that nature, which could be used to combat the out of doors. Thus, when he was handed a coffee, he had the fortune of being well on his way to done. And the table no less sprawled upon with enough items to open a small store. Oh well. He would gather them later. Or leave them. He had been meaning to maintain a proper wardrobe at the family manse.

“Just so we’re both aware, I refuse to wear soiled clothing, Thor, so I hope that’s in your plans somewhere.”

Then he took the coffee. Swiped it really. And leaned closer so he could press an affectionate kiss against the man’s jaw. “Now. Where are we off to?”


Louvel von der Marck:

Louvel watched Gregor and was smiling more than perhaps he should. Overall Gregor took it far better than he actually expected. There was no huge tantrum, which he was pretty sure that would not be so much a thing anymore. The most amazing part of it all was of course that Gregor managed to actually get all his belongings that would be crucial in this trip condensed down to one bag. Not one to lose the moment, because it certainly was one of those moments, he reached for the camera that was handy once Greg’s kiss at his jaw cooled. A click and a smooth slide of the camera into his backpack and the moment was preserved.

“I will keep that in mind.” Yes, Thor was about to introduce him to a world he was pretty sure Gregor would have not thought of escaping to. Lou had plans. Leave it to Gregor to inspire them. “As for where we are heading to I will give you a hint.”

He announced as he set his coffee cup down and finger combed his blonde hair back. Seems the hat was going to stay behind. That was fine. Gregor was going to have all the time in the world brushing his golden locks out of his face sitting behind him going no less than sixty-five on the open road. On two wheels.

“Follow me.” He had both backpacks in hand while opening the door. The motorcycle that would be their transportation was parked out back. The truck he normally drove would not get them past the Canadian border. “I think you will have no problem putting it all together soon enough.”

When the bags and their bodies were outside he leaned in and grabbed the road map and pinched it between his teeth while locking up the door. He moved around the back, his boots and weight pressing into the dirt beneath. Already he could taste the freedom at hand for both of them and there was no roar of engine or exhaust to confirm it. He pulled the map from his teeth and stretch his hand out and patted it against Gregor's chest.

“One of your clues, Slick.”

He chuckled as he left Gregor holding the map. It was up in the air if the man would take the initiative in eyeing the routes outlined in his unique notation of places between here and there to stop. Little triangles symbolized where the best spots to set up the tent would be. He turned the exterior corner of the modest building and set eyes on the black beauty that was a ticket to paradise. The backpacks were set on the seat of the motorcycle and he made his announcement.

“Your chariot awaits you, Master von der Marck.” Louvel delivered a nearly flawless delivery of one of Gregor’s staff. He bowed just a little for extra effect while his red and black checkered flannel covered arm swept the air over the Harley Davidson.

Gregor von der Marck:

Follow me. Louvel said, and Gregor simultaneously held his mug of coffee close so he could inhale the rich aroma. It wasn’t the expensive blend he would have preferred, but the smell of the coffee beans, the flavor that wafted up to his nose, all of it mingled together to make him nearly purr a sound. One of his vices. Better than smoking. Almost better than a glass of wine or whiskey. He couldn’t go a day without a hot cup. So he downed it. He liked it black as sin and twice as sweet. And Louvel was very good at giving Gregor what he wanted, even if they had this delicate back and forth, this fragile set of steps around each other, which could be mistaken in one breath for being the wary circling of predators, and in the next revealed to be the hushed acceptance of to creatures bound hip to hip.

In his other hand, Gregor held his backpack while he drained his mug dry. He placed the thing down on a nearby surface on the way out, before reaching into a pocket to pull out a stick of gum, which he popped into his mouth. Nothing was grosser than coffee breath. Next came the cherry flavored Carmex, which helped with the way that coffee seemed to naturally dry out his lips. He applied it in one layer, which left his mouth glistening. It would only take a few moments for the reflective barrier to fade and by then, he was already out on the porch. And of course his eyes had been following Louvel better than the rest of his body. He’d slid along gracefully after the man, but his gaze? Well his gaze had dropped to watch the way jeans pressed snug against a muscular backside.

A map hit his chest seconds later and he grabbed it, tugging the pages open so he could peer down in assessment. One thing in particular caught his attention more than anything else, a line scrawled at the bottom: Relax, breathe and hold on tight. With a fresh shot of caffeine in the veins, he let his mind pour over what the words might mean while he assessed the rest of the markings. It seemed they were going camping. He lifted the thing closer, trying to read every little scribble. What in the hell were the triangles for? Pizza pla…no. He stepped outside of himself for a second. Attempted to apply Thor logic. Triangles. Tents? Was Louvel going to make him sleep in a tent? He was about to say something when a thought struck him. His tongue darted out over his lips. He tasted cherry and decided to let the matter drop.

“You weren’t kidding. We’re going to be in the car for days with this trip.” He commented after having moved on to assess the little ‘one inch equals x number of miles’ scale. It was only then that he glanced up, realizing Louvel wasn’t right beside him. He caught sight of a motorcycle, and one of his dark brows (the only evidence of his true hair color), arched practically over his head. His nostrils twisted and lips briefly puckered. That. Was not a car. And it certainly explained why his luggage would have been a problem.

“I see.” He said before breezing closer. He folded the map up, and leaned into Louvel’s chest for a moment so he could push the thing into one of the other man’s back pockets, his fingertips giving a lazy stroke of the layered, thick paper before he decided to assess his ‘chariot’. “Well it’s not what I had in mind.” He said evenly. It was always difficult to tell what Gregor was thinking. He had this almost uncanny ability to leave his face featureless. Unmoving. Unflinching. Unchanging. Most people looked at him and assumed he was painfully aloof with interest in almost nothing. “I suppose it’ll do.” He finally released the words in a kept breath before holding out the bag. “Does this go on me or do I fasten it somewhere?”

Louvel von der Marck:

Louvel struggled not to smirk let alone laugh at the map in Gregor’s hands. He was surprised to see him taking the time to actually give a look over. Usually that would be more effort than he likely ever had to apply at finding out where he was going on any given day in his busy city centered life. They were raised in incredibly different environments. It didn’t make one better than the other no matter what Gregor’s take was on it. Deep down the von der Marck’s all worked with what they had and around what they didn’t have. For the moment, though, Lou was in his element and he didn’t feel odd in the least for keeping Gregor guessing what would happen next. He was asked to make something happen and so far from the looks of the man’s reaction he was delivering.

As Gregor stepped forward identifying that there was indeed no vehicle but a motorcycle instead the tug to the corner of Lou’s lips finally gave way. The step in and close press of the younger von der Mark’s lower chest to the upper part of his own reminded him he may have taken the reins on this exursion but it was in fact Gregor who stood taller between the two. Time certainly had passed and left its mark. Louvel’s eyes looked up as the map found his back pocket with a rather helpful hand. A hard deep focus worked into the mesmerizing blues that got Gregor von der Marck pretty much anything he wanted. Lou’s eyes dropped down briefly taking note of the retreat of Gregor’s hand.

“Good.” Louvel agreed with the summation of the trip planned was nothing close to what Gregor had pondered or expected. “Perhaps at some point what you had in mind may just sneak up on you and surprise the hell out of you.” His hand swatted down on the black leather seat that would be feeling a whole lot of Gregor for the next fourteen or so days and nights. “May just be hard to get off once you try it. Never know.”

Louvel took the bag from Gregor who held it like it could still take some form of life and flip back and bite him. A few steps around Gregor and he was looking at a set of shoulders that were wider than he remembered. Greg wasn’t the only one getting a few surprises. Lou looked down at the man's hips which were a few inches higher than his own. He inhaled deep and caught the lightest scent of cherry and it was perfect. Before he could get caught up in it he lifted the back pack up and slid each strap over the length of Gregor’s arms. Once it was hiked up in a secure spot he reached under his arms and fastened the waist clasp at the front and pulled at the extra canvas strap and gave it a firm tug.

“You good to go?” Louvel stepped back around and pulled his own backpack off the seat. “Sure looks like it to me.”


Gregor von der Marck:

When he had been younger, Gregor had been obviously much shorter than Louvel, a boy next to someone fully grown. But puberty had kicked him in the teeth with growth and testosterone that left the man with the cutting tongue almost a head taller than his cousin. He no longer looked up into those entrancingly wild green eyes, but instead peered down, a gaze angled to drink in every nuance, every shift of expression, every dilation of those dark pupils. He damned himself not to look into them, because he could get lost for hours, like he was caught in some deep meditation, exploring his mind and reaching new heights, nearing nirvana or enlightenment. He dared himself to though, because he loved a challenge. And there was a challenge present. Could he get close to Lou without wanting to touch the man, and bridge the years between them with heat? The thoughts trickled through his mind slowly, but never really registered on the surface. He was good at that. Not showing what he was really feeling, not revealing how much he wanted to get as close to Thor as possible.

Maybe that was why he didn’t care about the bike. He could have fought it, but the prospect of holding onto the other man and exploring more of his burgeoning, simmering feelings had a certain fatalistic deliciousness to it. And as if on cue, he heard Lou’s words, pulled right out of his own mind May just be hard to get off once you try. Gregor could tell when he was being flirted with. His instinct was to scoff, because that was what he did most often when faced with a would be partner. He would ignore them, and if they didn’t get the hint, then he would reject them in the most public and often cruel means possible. Because he didn’t want to hold hands. He didn’t want to play happy couples. He didn’t want to be one half of a partnership, or get pictures taken in photo booths or do anything that exposed the softness of his belly and made him feel weak. And those emotions. The yearning for something he couldn’t have. The desire. The fire. Those were all things that could be used against him. They were all things he desperately wanted to give into.

He didn’t scoff. Instead, he felt heat blossom in his chest. “I think you’ll find I have no trouble getting off when I’m riding.” He said as Lou circled around him to begin putting that backpack on. And the intimacy of the moment didn’t escape him. Perhaps if he had been younger, he might have felt a little doubt about it. Maybe Lou was just being nice. Maybe he wasn’t really interested. But Gregor knew a game of cat and mouse when he saw it. And he was happy to play along until it reached some sort of conclusion. It was like a dare. Like the older man was practically begging to be put right into his place. Again, thoughts trickled through his mind, but he didn’t let them hit the topmost layer of his expression. The bag was on, and Lou was talking again. “I’m good.” He said, the tone almost conveying the boredom which naturally seeped into his voice. It happened without him even intending most of the time. Even when something had all of his attention. And thus he watched the way Louvel strapped the other bag to the very back of the bike’s seat, leaving almost uncomfortably little room for the pair of them.

Cat and mouse. He thought to himself when the other man mounted the bike. No helmets. He swung his own leg over the seat, situating himself between Lou and the backpack. Of course with the narrow room provided, he was flush against a body. He’d seen enough movies to know how it went. Arms circled around the other man’s middle, fingers locking together right over his cousin’s abdomen. His long legs curled, feet pressing onto a metal ledge. His knees were bent, but it was surprisingly more comfortable than he would have thought, his legs basically flanking Lou’s hips, pressed close against them, chest shoved to back. He could rest his chin right on his cousin’s shoulder comfortably. So he did just that. “You going to try and get me off now?” He asked against an ear, voice soft, right when the engine roared to life.

To be continued...

[Gregor (DELETED 8093)]

The Road Trip: Part 2

Louvel von der Marck:

“Either now or later.” Louvel slipped on his aviator sunglasses and stared straight ahead as he guided the bike around the front of the building.

The initial starting roll of the bike had Louvel’s feet pulling back and coming to rest on the pegs at each side of the bike. The constant vibration of the motor worked its way through the soles of his boots and up the backs of his legs. He adjusted his spot where he was sitting with the subtle shift of his hips back and up so that he was leaning forward just like the bike called for. The speed increased as they started out despite the gravel kicking up beneath the tires. He hoped to clear the unpaved road before Gregor found the bite of the fine rock more than he counted on. He looked back just enough to make sure the one behind him was not in tears or ready to hop off. Satisfied that Gregor was in it for the full ride he took the turn at the end of the long drive once they cleared the gates.


“Hang on tight.” The full power of the custom crafted bike beneath them was opened up.

No helmets, no music except what he could recall in his head. The wind, the beauty of the wilderness that they passed through was abundant and stretched as far as their eyes could see. The highway stretched ahead like a gray inviting ribbon leading to anywhere they would choose to go. The grip of one hand on the handlebar kept the bike on course while he reached back and made sure the backpack on Gregor’s back was holding up. Confident it was staying put he returned to having both hands where they belonged.

The press of the body behind him had him thinking. It felt great, he was taking off like he always did and this time he had company. The faster they went the tighter their bodies became. Here they were trying to be two free spirits on the road and his mind was going against that. He started up Freebird in his mind to let the soaring speed of the machine beneath him take hold. Gregor was back there. And it was getting really hard to remember the kid that used to get a kick out of telling him his clothes were all wrong, his hair wasn’t right and the rest of him needed a whole lot of help in between.

Gregor von der Marck:

The wind was cool as it whipped over them, over Gregor’s mostly bare legs. He could feel little goosebumps rising on his skin, but those had nothing to do with the chill and everything to do with the body crushed against his own. Because the speed of the whole thing made him clutch closer. Which made him inhale that rich scent that was his cousin. There were hints of something spicy there, and then a wild, masculine, animal heat that threatened to rip away all of those layers of careful polish that normally surrounded Gregor. He could almost feel it all melting away in the wake of that heady sensation of the thrumming, vibrating machine under him, and the warm back he was tucked against. He might have been able to ignore it if it all didn’t play so well together, didn’t interconnect in a way that left his biceps flexing and his hands wandering.

It didn’t help, the way that Louvel pressed back against him. Or the way that hips lifted. There was only so much space between them and Gregor felt every bit of that motion. Felt it echo through him in a way that left his knees briefly sliding open a little bit, his own form grating against his cousin’s so that the other man could feel what he had done. It was practically an accusation. And that was how the whole ride went. At least until lunch time about three and a half hours later. The two of them stuck together with the most subtle of movements between their bodies as the only thing that betrayed they were something more than two guys who happened to be sharing a bike. It was like torture for the youth. The speeding up along empty roads. The slowing down for lights. The waiting. The weaving between traffic. All of it melted together in a way that left him breathless and murmuring soft things against an ear. It was both draining and invigorating all at once.

By the time they were coming to a halt in some roadside diner, he had one hand curled against his cousin’s belly and another set of fingers digging into a thigh, lazily squeezing down. He had given up being afraid of the motorcycle hours before. There had been a few seconds when he’d felt like his lack of control would lead them to a crash. Would lead them into fiery death and oblivion. But the crunch of metal and the flames never came. Instead, it was just the two of them with their bodies moving in unison. Like they were some sort of rowing team who relied on one another to get across a frigid sea. But there was no frigid sea, just the open road, the asphalt rivers. And they soared across it on their steel horse while an engine rumbled away with enough power to propel them to the moon and back.

All that power between his thighs and Gregor understood why riding could be so addictive.

He gave one last, firm squeeze of his cousin’s denim before he moved to stand on wobbly legs, dismounting. The world just kept on moving. Or at least, he anticipated its movement. He wanted to feel it rushing by him. He already missed the way Louvel’s flannel clad back felt, and how his chin fit so perfectly against a shoulder. He had to glance down curiously for a moment to ensure no stains darkened his shorts. How embarrassing would that have been? Thankfully he was safe. No need to re-arrange his own flannel shirt to hide any slick evidence of just how alive the ride had made him feel. So it was something else that had sent a shock right through his system?

He wasn’t even thinking when he went to tug open the glass door by its metal bar. His brain was pleasantly numb, but not in a way that left everything gray and ugly - in a way that left him seeing color so vibrant, he worried he’d inhaled something illegal. He held the door for his cousin though, glancing back towards him. “If that’s how the whole trip is going to be, I’m fucked.” He said honestly. He didn’t even complain that it wasn’t a five star place. At some point his voice had gotten a little hoarse. Maybe from the cool air. Maybe from the way his voice had droned on with endless, incessant questions.


Louvel von der Marck:

Louvel felt the release of the heat that had accumulated on his back when Gregor finally pulled out from the small space his tall frame managed to fit. It was some room for his body to finally breathe but he didn't feel as relaxed for the extra space available like he normally would. Truth was that while he loathed dragging some along like a monkey on his back when on the bike, Gregor fit far better than anyone really should.

While Lou pulled the key from the ignition he watched Gregor get his legs back. The younger von der Marck had hair the color of summer clouds. It shimmered beneath the sun and that set off his sky blue eyes. He noticed just how blue they were while he spun the key then slid it in his pocket.

As Louvel slid back the spot on the seat where Gregor had spent the better part of the last several hours was still warm. Lou stayed there just long enough to get distracted but eventually his leg pulled over the bike and set it to stand on its own. As soon as he caught up to Gregor the door to the diner was held open. His eyes went up just enough to land on his cousins.

If that was how the rest of the trip was going to be?

Lou’s gaze dropped a little on what covered the lower part of Gregor’s body then bounced back up. His right hand reached up and curled into a firm grip on the back of Greg’s shoulder while his left went to the spot on his stomach that still felt like Gregor was holding on tight. Without thinking about how it sounded as it came out, or perhaps he didn't even care, he spoke his first thoughts.

“Yes, you will be. So just get used to it now.”

Lou walked through the door while his words replayed in his mind. His hand reached up and took hold of the back of his neck and rubbed slowly. The inside of the diner was like an icebox. That was a relief because he was in the process of stretching out his arms letting the flannel come off his shoulders leaving his white tank top beneath to keep his chest covered.


Gregor von der Marck:

So just get used to it now. Well. There it was. Louvel was very lucky that he’d pulled them off the road at a diner, because otherwise, Gregor might have crawled right into his face. But the younger von der Marck let the cool of the diner wash over him and help to soothe away some of the ache, not only of the trip, but of his unabashed desire. He followed along right after his cousin quietly, undoing the strap around his middle, the one holding his bag in place so that when they finally got to a booth, he could sling the bag into a seat and drop himself across from the other man. The table was welded to the floor and the top was faux-wood. There were two long rows of booths in a vaguely ‘L’ shape, which constituted most of the diner’s rectangular shape.

There was a kitchen, which anyone could see at a glance, and a single register in the corner of a long line of bar stools which separated the cook area from the rest of the building. The bar top was made from the same fake wood, and there was a patron there, slowly cutting his way through runny eggs. It was one of those breakfast all day sort of places, that specializes in waffles or pancakes or something. There were two servers on staff. The place was small, economical, and a little bit run down, but ultimately clean. It had the benefit of distracting Gregor from his thoughts of consuming Louvel.

No sooner were they seated than they were being approached by a young man. He had acne in splotches over his face, and spots on his shirt that looked like some sort of food stain. He was lean, and if he’d put effort in, he probably would have been reasonably attractive save for a slightly undersized chin, and a big hook of a nose. His hair was too long. Or rather. His hair was long, and unkempt. There was no style to it. As if it had just been allowed to naturally grow out. And it was greasy.

“No.” Gregor said before the guy even properly got to them. “Send someone else over here to take our orders. You look slovenly, and I dislike repeating myself.” He was greeted with a look of slight shock. And then he could see the wheels turning as if the young man was asking himself what ‘slovenly’ meant. But ultimately the boy decided it wasn’t worth getting into a fight over, and he retreated. This left Gregor offering a smile across the table to his cousin while he reached into his back pocket and withdrew a wallet. Seconds later, there were two stacks of bills on the table right to one side, and he was pushing the leather thing back into place.

They were then greeted by another young person, this time a girl whose nametag said ‘Tipper’. Like Gore’s wife. She seemed clean enough, and Gregor briefly wondered if the two were the children of the owner or something. Summer job? She attempted to introduce herself and Gregor held up a hand, and a lone finger to silence her. “Hello, Tipper. Before you take our order, let me draw your attention to these bills. As you can see there are two stacks. In one is nine ten notes. In the other is ten one notes. That’s one hundred dollars, and this constitutes your tip so long as you adhere to my very precise standards. Every time I find myself reaching for a glass that is not adequately full, every time I am without a clean napkin, every time you visibly hovery, every time you talk to me other than to specifically take my order, every time my meal is not prepared exactly to my liking, I will be removing a bill from the stack. I will start with the tens and once those run out, I will move over to the one notes. Thus, if you end up with no tip, you know exactly on whom the fault lies.” He said. In truth, he had once been a terror when eating out. ‘Abusing the waiter’, his father would call it. So Gregor had developed this little game to ensure he got what he wanted, and the service representative didn’t feel like they were being short changed either figuratively or literally.

The girl looked at the money and simply nodded, which left Gregor to immediately launch into the order. “My companion will be having your best cut of steak. Best. I will know if it’s not. Seared for a moment. Cooked in butter. It should be rare to medium rare. It needs to be sprinkled with kosher salt or any salt that has coarse grains. His sides will be your garden salad, croutons on the side, and mashed potatoes with bacon, sour cream, and cheese. For the salad, be sure it is extremely fresh, because limp lettuce makes me gag. He’ll have Dr. Pepper. “ He paused a moment as if to make sure she was processing it all. She’d only taken out her pad about halfway through, though that was because Gregor spoke quickly in his bored monotone.

“For me, I would like orange juice, pineapple juice, water, and coffee in that exact order. They are all to be refilled regularly. The coffee must be black. I don’t mean your darkest brew. I mean I want you to brew as black as you can get, and then pour the coffee into the water reservoir, use new grounds, and brew it a second time. Do this twice. The pot requires a full cup of sugar, and not a single drop of creamer.” Tipper looked like she was about to speak and Gregor’s hand, the one held up to silence her, shifted to abruptly remove a ten note from one of the two piles. She paled and went silent again. “I will have toast quartered, not halved. The butter should reach the crust, not just the center. I will have a half a grapefruit dusted in sugar and two eggs over medium. I find runny yoke disgusting.” As he spoke, a hand dropped once more, but this time to retrieve his bottle of portable hand sanitizer which he applied liberally and began to massage into his palms. “I will take two links of sausage, unless all you have are sausage patties, in which case I will take two pieces of bacon. Baked. Not cooked on the stovetop. I expect our drinks in less than three minutes. That will be all. Thank you. Goodbye.” He said before making a gesture to make it clear she was dismissed.

His attention then returned to Lou, and the corner of his mouth tugged in a half smile as he held out the bottle of hand sanitizer. “Would you like some? Oh, and also, I’m eating half your croutons.”


Louvel von der Marck:


While making his way into the diner the patron making slow work of rather easy eggs glanced back and Lou nodded his way which was returned. Apparently it was that kind of afternoon for some. He eyed the grill where his nose was feeling called to. Depending on how long the wait was for their order to be processed he was likely to make the guy look like a snail in a true race for getting the feed bag on. He was famished. He didn’t live on open air alone and he was not going to be hiding it either.

When Gregor made his choice in which seat was worthy of holding his *** off the floor Louvel naturally slid into the opposite seat and tossed the flannel shirt in his hand to the seat. His hand did an open sweep of the surface in front of him for the small hints of the last supper before he arrived that perhaps had not been wiped up as well as it could have been. It seemed good and he leaned back taking a long look at Gregor who stuck out like a sore thumb.

The man could wear flannel and make it look like next year's fad and the denim fit him really well. That just sort of went without saying. Gregor made anything look good but there was no way to wipe off that air about him. With the way he sat, his eyes taking in the general surroundings, it was impossible to ignore. It was as if any minute an entourage would arrive any minute and profusely apologize as they rolled out his red carpet and banished all within.

Maybe the man climbed on and off a bike without a serious piss fit but the ritual and customs of typical dining,well, that was a totally different thing to the von der Marck across from him. Young blue eyes took that seriously. In the right setting so did Louvel. He was not without his lifelong introduction to upper class etiquette. Mara taught him everything that Gregor was raised on. It just so happened that his mother believed the first tool in survival for her son in the world he would be thrust into was to live as everyone else did. Start from the earth she loved and embrace it and all the people and diversity of the social and economic classes because money could come and status could go and then what? Nothing lasts forever he heard her say often.

Louvel heard her voice as he watched Gregor. It was pretty much as he expected. Dismissals, demands, high expectations and a total disregard for the reality around him. Gregor’s world hardly had limits but he was in a off the beaten track diner that likely didn’t make in ten years what he did in a week. He could own the place and shut it down in the same hour. A blonde brow perked up on Louvel’s face. That finger went up and he chuckled softly as his bare long arm settled across the line of the back seat behind him. Poor Tipper. Greg in all his glossy GQ looks was taking charge in the way he was infamous for. There was no use in stopping him.

While the details of the little game of service with a smile and reward went on Louvel managed to see the patron who finally polished off the endless task of eggs rise from his seat. He pinched his bottom lip between his teeth to feel the pressure. The guy was not small. He ate more than eggs and it showed. Briefly he took pause behind the waitress who was getting the low down on how things were going to be. Lou hoped it wasn’t one of those places where everyone who filled their gut was a superhero out to save the aproned damsel in semi-confusion. He nodded up at the guy then rolled his eyes. Thankfully a small quirk of the corner of his lips left the situation resolved. Off he went and Lou heard that his steak was being ordered just as he preferred it. There was hope after all. That is if the place actually served steak. He glanced around and began to wonder. The scent of hand sanitizer pulled him back around to his dining companion. Croutons? time to burst the man’s bubble of perfect endings.

“You touch my croutons and I am going to eat you.” Lou’s hand pulled the bottle offered and gave it a healthy, firm squeeze sending that sanitizer shooting into his palm. With the press of his thumb the cap snapped shut and he reached forward and slapped Gregor’s palm then pulled back so his fingers painted the fluid to leave a clear shine. “That work for you?”

Once the bottle was out of his possession and his hands worked the sanitizer into his skin he was back to being comfortable. His legs stretched out and the toe of his boot thumped the base of the seat Gregor was in. A slow inhale picked up the start of that steak he wondered about. Now he was feeling the true hunger kicking in.

“So, what have you been up to besides growing like a weed?” He knew that would be a comparison Gregor wasn’t going to be expecting.

Gregor von der Marck:

While Gregor made his demands very clear, he noticed the way that his cousin got comfortable in his seat, drinking in the rest of the scene with eyes that looked like they rarely missed anything. In truth, Gregor completely missed the other patron as the man got up to go. Mainly because it was his style to give someone exactly one first impression to draw his attention. If they managed to fail in appeasing his need for aesthetic perfection, they were dropped into a category which 99% of people occupied. Ignored. Forgotten. Unimportant. There was just no two ways around it for him. He spent a considerable amount of energy attempting to make sure that people were aware of their place in the world and precisely what he expected of them. He didn’t have extra time to waste on anyone who served literally no purpose in his world. Was that egocentric? Yes. Was that selfish? Also yes. But those were two traits which defined his personality. It was ugly, but nobody had ever accused Gregor of being a humanitarian.

He went to the requisite charities. He paid cash into the funds which saw to it that people in developing nations had enough water and education. As far as he was concerned, that gave him enough karmic leeway to be the most entitled, in a generation of people who were used to having things handed to them.

When the waitress gave them space, he watched the way Louvel took the hand sanitizer and squired enough of it onto a hand that Gregor knew he was going to have to get a refill soon. Not that he had any clue where said refills actually came from. They were always in the exact same space in the vanity drawer in his bathroom. He watched the fluid for a moment, surprised that it didn’t trickle out onto the counter from a palm, and make a mess. “Maybe that’s the point.” He said bluntly as he settled back. He had excellent posture, which had come from years at a private academy, where education was part book learning and part grooming in long-standing etiquette. He took the bottle back, and tucked it away, though the exchange reminded him of something.

A hand lifted so he could snap his fingers a few times, glancing up. The diner was small enough that he could see Tipper glancing over to him. He caught her gaze. “Traci, darling, if you would be so kind. I need to add a small side of onion gravy to my order. Thanks. You’re a doll.” He didn’t make sure she’d actually heard before he was watching Louvel again. The man seemed to be getting comfortable, and he felt the faintest vibration filter up through the fake wood and equally fake leather of his booth. It took him a second to realize Lou’s foot had bumped into the seat. There was the barest shift of his own stance and he could actually feel the other man’s leg against his own.

[Louvel von der Marck]

Gregor von der Marck:
“Like. A. Weed.” He said, his tone having lost some of its animation. His look was severe, but it lacked the emotion behind it to make it truly intimidating. “You haven’t even seen the best grown parts.” He pointed out as he decided to try and give up some of that ramrod straight way in which he naturally sat. He slouched slightly, his back bowing as his shoulders pressed into the seat. And then one foot sid out of a shoe. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have chanced letting his bare skin touch the floor, but special circumstances and all that. His leg stretched out and came to rest on the bench across from him. Right between the other man’s thighs. Why play footsy when you can really make a statement?

“Let’s see. Graduation. Getting my own apartment. My parents opened the family accounts to me. My name has been added to all of our residence paperwork.” All of that came with ‘being an adult’. Because nobody lived forever, and Johanna and Friedrich wanted to be sure their son wasn’t going to get bent over a barrel by the government if they died. Of course, none of that was ‘real’ to Gregor. His parents were going to live forever. That’s just what parents did. They had existed before him and would exist after. “I have a man servant named Abelard. Reminds me a bit of father. Probably why he was suggested to me. I’ve been at university, working on a degree in business. Eventually I want to manage a fashion line or go into design myself.” All said with the rehearsed, practiced sense of confidence and self which oozed from Gregor. Yes. He knew all of what he was about.

“What about you? Still keeping things running on the homestead? Any important new people in your life?” It was then that Tipper returned with a tray loaded down with drinks. She placed the orange juice in front of Gregor, along with the water and coffee. Without missing a beat, Gregor lifted a hand and removed a ten note because she had forgotten the pineapple juice. That or the diner didn’t have it. Whatever the case, it wasn’t his problem. The Dr. Pepper was set down in front of Louvel. “Thank you, Tabitha. I expect our food within the next ten minutes.” He offered her a faint, contrived smile as she hastily pulled away.

Louvel von der Marck:

Louvel looked at Gregor. Just a dead on stare. It was the point? Really? His fingers tapped in succession on the surface beneath them. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? He wasn’t all that sure Gregor was intending things to sound the way they did. Lou was wondering on his own remarks now that the point was raised...if that was the same point he was thinking about. The stare continued.

This was Gregor. The very one that just offered him some hand sanitizer. Now he watched him pulling away monetary notes that could have belonged to Tabitha. Wait that wasn’t even the woman’s name. Tipper? The woman didn’t seem to respond in disapproval or any attempt made at correcting him. She rolled along with it and Lou figured maybe she was smart enough to see it for what it all was and perhaps intending to get something out of it as well. If not she may have enough to buy her dinner somewhere else thanks to Gregor’s reward system for getting what he expected...or to toy with people until he got bored with it. It was their arrangement and he was there to do what exactly? Wait on a steak that he could smell cooking. He shot a glance to the grill then back to Gregor.

The affluent von der Marck could very well be Valentino and the well rehearsed and trained great talker in his upper class social circles but this was a little beyond what Lou was expecting. How forward could his comment be intended when he was offering up antiseptic while he suggested it? Was he playing a verbal game of one up and oblivious to the consequences until they would arrive? Hopefully he was aware there was a world out there more than happy to take his big blues and give them a few reasons to roll back in his head if he kept at it.

Lou was supposed to be doing something here. He was sure of it. Then Gregor mentions his man servant reminds him of his father. Lou’s lips parted and his laughter came through briefly. It was at the right time and only long enough to apply to the comment about his servant and his father being similar. He wasn’t concerned about the younger von der Mark taking insult because it was rare indeed for him to insult anyone. And by now it was not the first time that the way Gregor worded something brought on Lou’s amusement.

The shift of Greg’s leg didn't mean much. His boot was going to be staying where where it was. Or so he thought. The press of a foot that clearly belonged to Gregor, as there was no one else seated with them, made contact in the dark yet warmest part of his road tired body. One turn deserved another. That was one good way to find out just what Gregor was up to. While he went on about his getting an apartment, doing what everyone else did he stayed relaxed. Why give the guy a distraction from his little game of money talks? Why not?

“I am not always there. There is more to the world than the manor and I take the time to see it as we all should. Besides there are a few more hands than mine that make things run smoothly.”

His boot lifted up and pressed it right at Gregor to mirror where his foot was on him. With the way it was laced it was not going to be on him to remove it if that was expected. Instead he let it fall on the fate of the next couple seconds it took him to finish up. It was a draw on how blue eyes would take it.

“Some new people, yes. Planning to take a trip to Nepal, maybe hit Bali beforehand.” He watched Gregor while his arm dropped from the back of the seat behind him and his hand landed in the flannel he had been wearing. “Getting reminded all the time how old I am and it is time to grow up and do the family thing.” His teeth found his bottom lip while his left knee wiggled just enough that he noticed then stopped. “Or be ready to.” He slid a finger at the hard, chipped edge of the table between him. “Let's just say I will be leaving that up to you and our saint of a cousin. The heirs for Otto will come from Heath most likely. He will make daddy really proud, already does. You two would get along famously I would imagine.” With that his hand reached over and took hold of the adequately washed glass in front of him and brought it to his lips. What he got out of the effort was a confirmation that Dr. Pepper was indeed on the diner’s limited menu. “What parts? You found a few inches since I last saw you. Am I missing something?”


Gregor von der Marck:

He could tell there was something on Lou’s mind, something distracting him from the conversation at hand. It didn’t take much effort to guess that he, Gregor, was the cause. And that too was the point wasn’t it? Delicate steps. They were dancing, the two of them, and Gregor knew first hand that despite appearances, Louvel was light on his feet. Those boots wouldn’t have tromped all over his toes no matter how heavy they looked. His cousin, much like him, had been brought up as part of a lineage that stretched back hundreds of years. They had a sense of self that came with being part of the von der Marck clan. Etiquette training. Dance instruction. In another lifetime, they might have been the rich blooded princes of the French aristocracy. Or they might have been the wild casanovas.

It was not enough to make a pass at Lou. Anyone could do that. Gregor wanted to infect his mind, to keep those startling blue eyes in his cousin’s head until the end of time. There was laughter, and Gregor smiled thinly at the response, as he watched the other man. In his periphery, he could see their waitress working with the cook. Ten minutes. She was cutting the grapefruit in half. She wanted that money, and the young von der Marck was happy to give it to her. That was the trick. Being willing to give up your cash to get the best out of the service, and the truth of the matter was that Trisha, or whatever her name was, worked harder at appeasing Gregor than most. Who said good help was hard to find? Only people too poor to afford it.

They were mid conversation and he felt a boot press between his thighs, dragging against the denim of his shorts. And there it was, another step closer to consumating that infection of the mind and soul. The surface was hard enough to be unpleasant through the layers of material, and Gregor found himself lifting a brow as if his mind had turned to another subject already. Like what Lou would look like in nothing but those boots. He let a hand drop without missing a single beat. No. He was no expert at under the table foot play. He couldn’t undo laces with his teeth. He wasn’t nearly as experienced as he intended to pretend he was. He made up for it in confidence. Secure in the knowledge that he knew exactly what he wanted and he intended to get it one way or the other. “You know I travel a lot during my vacations.” He commented as he plucked at the knot holding the boot lacings together. Though he took fewer and fewer vacations while he was at school. He was ready to get on with his life. To do something other than study and take tests. His social life had all but dropped off when he’d gotten out of high school. He still made it to the high class, upscale parties he was meant to attend, but the truth of the matter was that he didn’t socialize outside of that. Or talk to people. Or bother with weekend getaways. He focused entirely on his degree. Which. Seemed to surprise just about everyone around him.

But that was just a symptom of who he was. He was driven. Period. Fussy. Cruel. Never lazy. “Bali sounds wonderful. Nepal too. When I get out of school, we should trip together. I can drag you to a fashion show in Paris. You can drag me...hiking.” He said the word after a few seconds and with just enough emphasis to make it clear that he wasn’t too keen on the idea, but was willing to pretend to be longsuffering enough to go through with it anyway. He yanked a boot off with a firm motion, dropped it onto the seat beside him along with his bag.

The pair of them were interrupted by trays of food. Gregor considered taking a bill away just because the timing was terrible. But Tammi hadn’t technically broken any of his rules. So instead he leaned back, the smile disappearing from his features as his gaze lifted to the server. She put down their food exactly as it had been requested. Even the side of onion gravy. And only once she had gone did he stop glaring at her with enough force to bore a hole through her skull. “I’m afraid I won’t be of much use there. I don’t see myself falling into the cliche pitfall of getting married just to produce some squalling brat for the family. Duty doesn’t require that much of me.” He commented as he lifted his three times brewed coffee to inhale lightly. The scent was overwhelming to the senses, and just that was enough to perk him up. He sipped and his shoulders lifted slowly, a low shudder running through him.

Which was right about the time he decided that he was going to show his cousin exactly what he meant. So he shifted his hips a little, legs sliding so that he could press firmly against the bottom of a newly exposed foot, letting the other man feel the warmth that had gathered there. Letting him feel just exactly what else had grown. Not that Lou would have any frame of reference for the past. “You’ll have to let me know if the steak is any good.” He commented as he cut an egg down the middle, bisecting the yolk. He then cut a neat square out of each peace and nudged the excess bits away before carefully pressing one of the squares onto an equally sized piece of quartered toast. Mmm. Perfect.

Louvel von der Marck:

Once he mentioned it to Gregor he gave it a little more thought. The idea of having kids wasn’t so off for Louvel. Kids he could handle, he liked them in general. Maybe it was because they weren’t his to begin with when he was around them. He wasn’t incredibly selfish. He could do the work of raising them, which would be outdoors, but his mind wasn’t into what it would take to get him there. Mara understood while Otto believed Louvel would come around eventually and see his side of things. Louvel knew there was enough places in the world he could conquer to pass the time until Otto got it through his head. Or died. Either way Louvel von der Marck was changing for no one.

While Gregor mentions he traveled Louvel naturally listens. He had no doubt greg had seen some amazing places. He had heard random conversations through the family line that he was out there like the rest of them in places that required passports and days and nights lost to flight time to get there.

If they talked about Lou’s adventures few got why he was in a jungle, or dangling from some cliff and fixing a tent to the side instead of spending his resting hours in a four star hotel. Louvel was the type to get dirty, close to the earth beneath him and be willing to dive from it and surrender himself to whatever would be waiting below. He lived for the rush of the unknown, the exhilaration of what he had yet to see and to absorb it with all his senses when he finally arrived to his destination. The more unpredictable, the more risk involved, the better.

Some played with the laws of society, the rules that governed how one was expected to act, live. Stirring up the masses and that was their rush. Going against authority, shaking up the system and how it runs. The farther away from it all the better was his motto.

Lou had the hunger for the extreme, the wilderness and the challenges it offered if one was open to them. That is where he felt alive and connected to the world. The one he was introduced to the day he was born. Much to Otto’s dismay Mara insisting on giving birth outdoors. She insisted she felt it was where his first breaths should be taken, his first sleep should be beneath the open sky and stars. People only did that by accident was his thought. He dropped her off as she planned and when the time had come he returned three days later. Sure enough his wife came out of the California woods with Louvel in her arms and the midwife that had accompanied her in tow.

Louvel’s eyes went from the table in front of them back up to Gregor. They likely had very different arrivals into the line they were a part of starting at where they took their first breaths. Yet he felt the equal connection to who they represented all the same. One somehow complimented the other.

In more ways than one it appeared. The boot on his foot perched up on the seat between Gregor’s thighs was loose and sliding off allowing the air to circulate around his sock. His mossy eyes set across the table and downward to the space where Greg’s body and the table met. He wiggled his toes because that seemed like the thing to do whenever the little guys are granted freedom and as he did he was presented with a really warm spot to place them. The years of rock climbing gave Lou some strength most didn’t have and he applied just the right amount of pressure and unique grip in the curl of his toes that said if he had to, he could hang on tight. He had yet to fall. And doing so was not in any of his near future plans.

“You sure you would be into that?” Louvel felt the muscles of his leg working slowly and it felt great, at least on his end. Greg wasn’t one to tell empty tales it seemed. “I may just take you up on that.” He leaned just enough while the food arrived that it would almost appear he was about to look under the table. But he didn’t. Lou had a sense of touch that didn’t require sight. He could live in the dark and see so much more. Survival and extremes developed that early on. “If you find you are up to it.” His toes flexed hard and tight. The scent of beef arriving beneath his nose brought out more hunger. While he cut into it he watched Gregor briefly then lifted the small portion of steak on the end of his fork. “Tell me if it suits your taste?”


Gregor von der Marck:


He was having some trouble keeping up with the conversation. What had that been about infecting Lou’s mind? It seemed that flawlessly, effortlessly, the power Gregor thought he had; it shifted. But how long had the younger von der Marck looked up to his cousin? How many years had he harbored private feelings for those deep, soulful green eyes and that hard body? Eighteen and he’d not shown outward interest in anyone since about the age of ten. He’d never engaged in romantic trysts, or really even given anyone the indication he had any sexual interest in them at all. There were certain stereotypes that went with the mask he had crafted for himself. Shallow. Manipulative. Overt use of attraction to achieve his own ends. While he certainly personified the rich ***** demeanor, he’d never needed to kiss someone to control them. And so there he sat, across from Louvel, attempting to keep his composure as he felt a foot move against him.

Hadn’t that been the plan? Make it clear what he wanted? Maybe he hadn’t expected, after having wanted the man for so long, that Lou would give into him. And yet there it was, the feeling of pressure, the slide of a ball of a foot. The curl of those toes that left him feeling like his heart was in his throat. All of the blood felt like it was draining right out of him, flooding south of his belly to evidence how skillful his cousin was, and so Gregor had a rare moment where his confidence rippled. But then arousal rose right to the surface of his turbulent soul and took the reigns. He pressured between thighs to feel that he wasn’t alone in his desire. He’d almost completely forgotten about his food. There was a grapefruit with a single piece carved out of it. He’d consumed part of the eggs. His coffee was half gone. Still the torture which had begun on the back of the motorcycle continued until there was a piece of steak right in front of him. He leaned, shoulders dragging across his side of the table so he could let his lips slip around the piece. He pulled back to chew slowly, looking into the other man’s eyes. He swallowed without even thinking about it.

Had Lou asked him a question? “It tastes fine.” He finally said. Fine was not a very generous term. It had been cooked perfectly, but again, his senses were wrapped up in something other than a late lunch. He swallowed again, but this time it had nothing to with food. “I think.” He began as he attempted to distract himself from Lou’s attentions with a few more bites of grapefruit. “That if you are my guide, you can take me just about anywhere.” He reasoned. There was a certain strain to his voice. There was a huskiness there which hadn’t been remotely noticeable before. But his voice wasn’t the only thing straining and he tried all of the old tricks. Think about the national anthem. Think about the pledge of allegiance. Think about dead puppies. None of it worked. And so, when he was only half done, he decided he had, had enough. Because the reality was that he was old enough to want his **** appreciated, but too young to have the patience for endless toying and teasing. Their little game was one that he might get better at over time, but he knew he had lost this round.

And that both excited and infuriated him. So he was standing, with an eighty dollar tip on the table. He left his bag and a boot on the bench. He dropped some plastic. Tanya, or whatever her name was, could take care of the bill while he got what he needed. He gripped his cousin’s flannel shirt and tugged, trying to drag him up and out of the bench seat. “You. Come with me to the powder room.” He might have been less forward if there had been more people in the diner. More people to get a good look at them and judge. But it was just the waitress, waiter, and cook. And who honestly cared about them or what they thought, or their opinions? He needed to let off some steam. And so he continued to yank with the patience of a fetching ball held just above a dog’s head. He didn’t stop until Lou was up. And they were stumbling their way towards the lone bathroom. Unisex. The kind that locks from the inside. It wasn’t romantic in the slightest, but that was Lou’s fault. That asshole. That angel. “Leave your boot, we’ll get it on the way out. Go.”

Louvel von der Marck:

“Beef. It’s what’s for dinner.”

That jingle for some years gone by oddly went through his mind while the second cut of steak went to his lips. It was still lunch. He chewed slowly and glanced down realizing that his hips were getting a little too comfortable with the subtle shifting that they were doing. The steak was good. Really good in fact. Tender and juicy just like he liked it but there was something he liked even more and his appetite shifted from his empty belly to his...a brow lifted as his eyes did. Well, well.

Gregor may not know it but he had a set of climbing feet. He was nearly a pro from what he could make of the prehensility demonstrated in the foot moving in his lap. The glowing von der Marck, it seems, may very well be able to dangle with the best of them on the effort of his single foot alone. Yes, he just bought himself a full scale expedition against the nearest...make that up...rock he could find on a map or possibly outside nearby.

Slowly the fork in his hand came to rest on the plate as if he was thinking things over and had the time to do so. Despite his surroundings he was rather relaxed. Too relaxed. He could be in the middle of nowhere and he wouldn’t act any different relaxed. That was on Gregor. He caught those blue eyes and took a little extra time to focus on the shape of his mouth. While he did his lips pressed together. It was a slow firm rub of the two against one another. If Lou was his guide. That went around in his head while he felt a little uncomfortable in his current seat.

Lou reached for his flannel shirt because really at that point something was going to have to give. He needed to cool off get his bearings straight if that actually applied to what was going on. Fresh air. That would work. Check on the bike perhaps? See if his key still fit in the ignition while the effects of those blue eyes wore off, if they would actually wear off. His jaw flexed as did his grip on the flannel shirt in his hand when he pulled it to his lap. Just what was really going on was less questionable. His foot was hot, stretching and far too comfortable. It was then that it dropped when Gregor stood up. The cool tile beneath caught his attention while the click of plastic landed on the surface of the table among the barely consumed plates and drinks.

So that was it. Lou was already scooting his foot blindly for that boot that couldn’t be too far off from the warm spot on the seat where Greg had been sitting. He poked a little feeling the stretch of the material over his upper thighs as he did. It appeared he was going to have to rise to the occassion and retrieve it himself. His hand with the flannel bunched up pushed down and he was fully prepared to make the effort when he was the receipient of Gregor’s helping hand.

Powder room?

Lou hardly had the time to ponder if the place had anything close to what he referred to while he stood up finding the one that had a hold on him was still a few inches taller than him. So, young man was handing out the orders? Louvel smirked. He would leave his boot behind. No problem. He went along with that hand on him because Lou knew full well what he himself was about. Could this be more curiosity, toying or a power play of some sort? Perhaps. He was down with it because Lou always came out on top in certain situations. Particularly these kind. Gregor had been used to pulling along his staff, his parents perhaps, his peers. So how would he take having the tables turned?

“It will be waiting for me and you when we get back.”

Lou gave him a little space then took a firm hold of the back of Greg’s waistband of his shorts and used it to guide him from the back just where he was heading...perhaps a little faster than Greg was orginally intending to step. Once that door marked for any use was reached Lou’s open hand pressed firmly on it and sent it open to knock back against the wall behind it. He released Greg’s clothing from his grip while ignoring the hold Greg had on him. His hand swatted the door shut and the lock snapped secure.

“Need some help with something? Hmm?”

Louvel felt like a switch had been hit on him and he was oblivious to anything but those eyes, that heat growing beneath his hand as he reached out for the mans shoulder he felt it all click. Lou took a firm hold of the back of Greg’s neck instead to pull him in. He would be a guide indeed.

To be continued...