Tybalt enjoyed being stuck in traffic about as much as he enjoyed losing arguments, looking silly or going to the dentist. Although he'd rather be stuck in traffic than any of those things, oh well, it didn't make it any more pleasant for him. It gave him time to brood and he had much to brood about that afternoon.

'You're falling in love.'

'With Skids? Don't be silly, Apollo.'

'Let's see who's laughing in a few weeks, Tybalt.'

Tybalt wasn't very good at listening to things he didn't want to hear in the first place. So he had laughed; ignoring Apollo, as usual, and Apollo had been right, as usual.

It was odd, he thought, inching forward in traffic, that Skids had stolen the initiative from their first meeting. Skids' grateful hug had confused Tybalt very much, so much that he'd sat pondering it while Skids poured his little heart out uninterrupted. This caused Skids to think that Tybalt was a great listener when he was, in truth, a terrible listener. However, at each and every meeting since then, Skids would do something confusing and Tybalt would spend the majority of their date, for want of a better word, trying to figure out what hell was going on while Skids rambled on about God only knew what. At the time, Tybalt thought he was simply conserving his strength for a later seduction, learning about Skids without having to contribute much to the conversation. What he later realized with a shock was that Skids had misinterpreted his silence for passivity, something Tybalt had only ever dabbled in.

By then Tybalt had decided to defer the thrill of the chase for the novelty of being courted by Skids. It amused him very much. It was quite different from Tybalt's usual requirement of expensive entertainments and charming small talk. If he wound up in bed with one of these rich guys (or rich women on rare occasions), well, it was usually in a five star hotel in Manhattan or, preferably, Paris. By then his seducer would have bought at least three paintings and arranged for a show in some swanky gallery. After Mik left him and he gave up on love, such liaisons and the occasional inspired seduction were all Tybalt expected from life.

Something of a realist, Tybalt was reasonably certain that Skids would not be taking him to the George V in Paris anytime soon. But, at Skids' suggestion, they had gone for a walk in the park and watched people making fools of themselves romping and frolicking with their dogs or children or both. Skids enjoyment of the pleasure of others gave Tybalt, who sneered on anyone's pleasure but his own, pause; was Skids seeing something here with the masses that Tybalt was not? What could that be? And yet another afternoon passed with Skids rambling on and Tybalt making vague, but sympathetic noises, while trying to see the world through Skids' eyes.

He was so engrossed in his own thoughts and half listening to Skids, that he completely missed the smoker lighting up and exhaling ahead of them.

'Ew!'

Tybalt was too busy fishing his inhaler (which was never far from him) out of his pocket to comment.

'Tybalt... are you alright?'

He'd nodded over the device at Skids. 'It's alright, Skids, just asthma,' he said when he could speak again.

Skids glanced around. 'Do you want a soda or...?'

'Coffee would be better.'

'Okay, sit here.' He dragged Tybalt to the nearest bench and made him sit down. 'I'll be right back,' and took off like a shot.

Tybalt leaned back and frowned at his respiratory system. 'Just when I'm trying to impress someone...' It had been a mild attack, but had alarmed Skids and Tybalt was musing over that when his date came back with a large coffee.

'Thank you.' Tybalt sipped slowly, watching Skids over the Styrofoam cup rim. Skids seemed to have calmed down, perhaps it had been surprise and not alarm when Tybalt used his inhaler. 'What do I owe you for the coffee?' he asked when he'd finished it.

'Nothing. It's my treat.'

Tybalt smiled graciously and said 'Thank you'.

'It was the smoke, wasn't it?'

Tybalt nodded. 'And the dogs and the dust and who knows what else.'

'My classmate has asthma,' Skids said. 'She drinks coffee, too. She's majoring in Communications.' And he was off on a tangent.

Wearing a weary, but vaguely interested look on his face, Tybalt leaned back and let Skids' voice become background noise. He was resting, hoping he'd have enough energy to steal a kiss from Skids that afternoon. That had been his plan all along but the moment had never arrived and now it was passed. 'Well, I suppose I should take you home,' he said when Skids wound down.

'My dorm is right over there.' Skids pointed at a cream colored building beyond the trees. 'I'll walk you to your car though.' He said good-bye and gave Tybalt's arm a warm squeeze before darting off into the dusk.

Tybalt just had time to notice that Skids was an inch or two taller, just the right height to crush his lips to...

A horn blast jolted Tybalt out of his reverie. He glanced in the mirror at the very cranky woman in a Toyota Echo behind him and slowly closed the ten or so feet between his and the car in front of him. 'Some people have no patience,' he thought. 'Unlike me, who perhaps had too much.'

'How's pixel boy?' Apollo asked when Tybalt got home.

'Moving right along.'

'Mr. Howell called. He said he's interested in one of your new paintings.'

Ah, Mr. Howell. Mr. Howell was a new admirer – extremely rich, vulgar and had been moving right along until Skids diverted Tybalt's attention. Tybalt left a message for the gallery to find out which painting Mr. Howell was interested in. Mr. Howell's interest in Tybalt could simmer awhile longer.

Bored in traffic, Tybalt flipped on the radio. The first bars or "Kashmir" played and this made him smile. He considered "Kashmir" one of the sexiest songs ever written. The rhythm was just perfect for...

Distracted by a cute guy giving him the eye one lane over, Tybalt didn't bother to leer back; it took too much energy to flirt with strangers in a traffic jam. Since Skids was taking up all his spare attention, he simply didn't have enough interest.

Not that he hadn't tried to get interested in other people. Especially when Skids broke a date an hour, a mere little hour, before it was supposed to happen, Tybalt decided living well would be the best revenge. He'd gotten dressed up and went to a bar that had Latin music and didn't care if two guys or two gals danced together. In fact, such things were strongly encouraged and the drinks were overpriced, too.

And Tybalt could dance; meringues, cumbias, whatever, as long as he was crushed in somebody's arms, he couldn't care less what the dance was. These nights usually ended up with some hot sweaty sex in the back of someone's car or in the alley or, if they had the presence of mind, in a bed somewhere, anywhere. But not that night; although he threw himself into the dance as much as ever, his heart just wasn't into going home with any of the extremely attractive men hitting on him. There were two memories in the way, one of dancing like this with Mikhael long ago and the other, of Skids hugging him. Tybalt was in the mood to dance off his frustration but, unusually, not to be maul or be mauled by any of these sweaty, sexy guys that night. Firmly but politely he declined their blunt invitation to go outside for some air. Heh heh heh. 'No thanks.' One of the Romeos called him a prick tease and Tybalt decked him; this hurt his hand but made him feel better psychologically. Seemed like a good way to end the evening so he went home.

'You're home early.'

'It's 3 AM, Apollo.'

'That's early.'

'You're up late.'

'Yes, I am.'

Tybalt just shrugged, took a shower and went to bed. Apollo kept weird hours sometimes and Tybalt didn't pry, usually because he was too preoccupied with his own affairs to worry about Apollo's but also because if Apollo wanted to tell him, he would have done so. Tybalt could be a challenging friend, but he was also a good one most of the time.

Under normal circumstances, Skids would have been dismissed and forgotten already. But these were not normal circumstances. And they got even stranger for Tybalt; if he'd been disconcerted by their first meeting, he was discombobulated by their first kiss.

Skids, who did not have a car, had gotten into the habit of seeing Tybalt home and then taking the bus wherever it was he went after these dates. Tybalt thought this was stupid and illogical and had tried to point this out to Skids, who just ignored him, which Tybalt found perversely refreshing. Skids seemed to be calling the shots and that was... interesting.

They had been to see a film Skids picked out called ”The Stormriders”. As a general rule, Tybalt had little interest in martial arts films but this one had enough nice moments to be mildly entertaining. Although he would never have picked this film in a million years, Tybalt found himself enjoying it. Or possibly he was enjoying Skids' arm that had mysteriously draped itself around him. He leaned discreetly against his date and relaxed for the first time in what seemed like years.

On the way home, Tybalt realized what his relationship, for lack of a better word, with Skids reminded him of. Shockingly, it reminded him of how safe and loved he felt with that bastard Mikhael. 'Damn,' he thought. 'Why can't the past just be in the past? And how utterly weird that this happy-go-lucky little punk reminds me of my huge brooding Russian lover. Ex-lover. Reminds me of how I felt with my ex-lover. Damn.' He noticed Skids was being quieter than usual, but he was too wrapped up in his own inner monologue to rejoice in the comfy silence very much. And it was a comfortable silence, just like the silences he used to have with Mi... Oh never mind.

'Well, thankyouforseeingmehome, wouldyouliketocomein?' It was the usual end of the evening comment.

'Not tonight, thank you.'

'Ah, someothertimemaybe.' Tybalt half turned to open the door when Skids touched his arm. A tentative, hesitant touch, but definite contact nonetheless.

'Tybalt... May I kiss you?'

Remain calm. 'Sure.' Tybalt braced for one of those gorilla-like, bone-crushing grabs he usually got for kisses.

But that didn't happen. Skids gently tilted Tybalt's chin up and pressed his closed lips onto Tybalt's closed lips. The effect was electric; Tybalt felt his knees get weak and all that was holding him up were Skids' fingers under his chin. And then, far too soon, it was over; Skids, with a little extra press at the end to make the parting all that much sweeter, drew away. It was one of the nicest, most terrifying kisses Tybalt had ever had in his life and he was still trying to recover as Skids took his keys, opened the door and pushed him inside.

Skids said 'Hi' to Apollo and 'Good night' to Tybalt and pulled the door closed after him.

'Are you alright?'

'Of course I'm alright,' Tybalt snapped and turned away.

'Mr. Howell called. He's thinking of buying the triptych.'

'Oh, fuck, Mr. Howell.'

'That's probably why he wants to buy the triptych now.'

Tybalt had taken great pleasure in slamming his bedroom door on Apollo's parting shot. He had a lot to think about, a lot to hope for and something to lose for the first time in a long time.

Shortly after this good-night kiss, Skids asked Tybalt to come hear "Boy Band" play in a club. It would be a short evening because his band was only playing one set and then they could go out and do something. Skids then said something so shocking Tybalt could barely cover his surprise.

'I told Cy and Harley that I didn't care what their problem with you was, there was no way I wasn't inviting my boyfriend to this gig and they could get over it or get a new guitar player. And I really love my spiders.'

'Oh, I see, I guess I'll see you there… can I bring Apollo? He likes music.'

Skids said that would be fine. Apollo would probably hate it but Tybalt felt he needed a chaperone that evening.

'Apollo, would you cancel all your plans for Friday night and go hear some terrible music with me?'

'What the...?'

As if on auto-pilot, Tybalt relayed the pertinent sections of his conversation with Skids.

'So, pixel-boy has known all along you're Mik's ex-lover, that you hit on Harley in your usual subtle and charming fashion, and that you punched out his friend... whatever his name is...'

'Cyanide, I think.'

'What charming circle of new friends you're making, Tybalt. Yes, I'd love to go to amateur hour in a bar where our feet will stick to the floor and let's not drink anything we don't see come out of a bottle we open ourselves.'

'You know, Apollo, if you're going to be ill-natured about this...'

'Me? Never; I wouldn't miss this for the world. Do you know why?'

'No.'

'I'm just going to assume that if Harley knows you're coming, then Mik also knows and will be there to protect his property.'

Tybalt groaned and took a breath through his nose. 'I can back out of this, I can...'

'Don't even think of it, Tybalt. I want to see how Mik handles his jealousy when he sees you're finally over him.'

'Am I?'

'Aren't you?'

'I've no idea.'

'This might be more interesting than I thought.'

So they had gone to the Chou Chou Club that night. Tybalt, all in black and Apollo in jeans and a leather jacket. They were part of the miniscule older crowd but that certainly didn't stop every young person of either sex from hitting on them. Tybalt simply ignored the scene around him and even the most persistent suitor got the message fairly quickly. Apollo was nicer to the scantily clad girls; he seemed to be making a list of rankings for later.

'This might be a better night than I thought.' Apollo murmured next to him.

'Just be sure you see their birth certificates before you get naked with them.' Tybalt murmured back.

They'd arrived when Skids told them to but, since these things never start on time, Boy Band was not up yet and the band onstage was horrible. They drank beers they opened themselves and found a place near a window that let some air in.

Tybalt knew he was waiting for Mikhael to appear, he had no illusions about that. He had no desire to talk to Mikhael but needed to see him here tonight. In some inchoate way everything with Skids depended on Tybalt seeing Mikhael tonight, as if confronting his past would free his future. He was watching, lost in thought, coiled and ready to lash out if need be. So much so, he just didn't notice Skids until the guitarist was right on top of him.

'Hi! You made it!' Skids exclaimed and wrapped his arms around him.

Thrown off balance, Tybalt managed to say 'Hi' back and return the hug. He glared at Apollo, who was looking on and highly amused.

Skids drew back and kissed Tybalt on the cheek. Since they'd become mildly physical, Skids had a playful new habit: whenever he was close to Tybalt, he'd pull the fastener out of Tybalt's hair and stroke the freed locks. Tybalt wasn't sure he liked this very much; most of his lovers admired his hair but pretty much left it alone. Only a few, Mikhael among them, ever took the initiative to let down his hair and only when they were already in bed. It was an immensely sexy action, but with Skids, well, he just liked the way Tybalt's hair felt and looked loose around his shoulders. Mostly Tybalt thought Skids was just an innocent sensualist and that was something he could work with. Occasionally it crossed his mind that this was the kind of possessive gesture he doubted Skids was capable of until Skids made exactly such a gesture, which was becoming quite often lately.

So Tybalt stood in a bar with sticky floors, his long red hair being absently mauled by Skids, who was chatting happily with Apollo. However, Apollo, who had a vaguely interested look on his face, was actually watching Mikhael, Harley and Cyanide across the room. Tybalt followed his gaze and made eye contact with Mik, who looked furious.

'So, anyway, doesn't this band suck? We'll be on in a few. Will you go out with me after the set?'

Tybalt wrenched his attention away to say, 'I'd love to,' and turned his head so Skids kissed his cheek and not his lips.

'I'll see you in awhile, okay?'

'Okay.' Tybalt made sure he was out of earshot before he turned to Apollo. 'How long was Mik...?'

'He saw the whole thing, Tybalt. I'm surprised he didn't walk over here and kill Skids when the kid pulled your hair down.'

Tybalt sipped his beer and looked thoughtfully around the room. He drew the hair fastener out of his pocket and pulled back his hair. This was another one of Skids cute innovations, to slip the clasp or fastener into Tybalt's pocket. Recently Tybalt had been finding new and interesting fasteners in his pocket, the one he was wearing was new: burnt umber silk over elastic with three turquoise animal charms. He thought it was ridiculous and gauche whenever he bothered to think about it. But who would see it here in this dark, creepy bar but Skids, who would be pleased and since it was easy to please Skids, Tybalt didn't find it a hardship. This was the fastener he put on again since Skids hadn't left him a new treat in their last encounter.

The next time he looked at Mikhael, the Russian was sitting alone. The band was well into their first song; Harley watching his lover glare at Tybalt and Apollo.

'What are you thinking, Tybalt?' Apollo leaned in to ask.

He was thinking that he didn't give a damn about Mikhael Rasputin or Harley, that burnt umber silk and turquoise animal charms were sublime, that he was tired of being so in control of everything, that Skids was adorable when he played the guitar, that "Boy Band" really sucked but he would keep that to himself, that Skids' hands were long and supple, that the beer he was drinking was lukewarm, that the night was cooler than usual, that he really ought to buy the next round, that he wanted to fall asleep in Skids' arms with Skids' voice in his ear, with Skids' stroking his hair, that he wanted to surrender body and soul to this crazy kid and he didn't care what anyone thought about it. That's what Tybalt was thinking, but what said was, 'Rasputin looks lonely, d'you think we should join him?'

'No.'

'Good. Then we won't.'

'Have you lost your mind?'

Tybalt laughed merrily, more merrily than he could remember laughing in a long time. 'Maybe I have,' he said, rasping a little from the close, over-heated room. He hoisted himself onto a bar stool so he could rest. He felt around his pockets for his inhaler, not needing it then, but maybe later. And he did buy the next round, or Skids did because he left strict instructions with the bartender that his gorgeous red haired boyfriend was not to pay for his drinks.

'He said that?' Tybalt was laughing again, waving away a plume of joint smoke some nearby vipers were indulging in.

'His very words,' the bartender said, handing the beers over. 'I had a hard time believing you were with him, but he was all over you like a cheap suit so it must be true.' He paused while Tybalt laughed again. 'I'd probably sport you a few beers myself.'

'How kind of you.' Tybalt turned away to find Apollo smirking behind his beer. He shrugged and watched the band. Skids was making sultry eye contact, which Tybalt thought was amusing as well as arousing, Cyanide was scowling, Harley was being sexy and scowling at the same time (most impressive). It seemed to Tybalt that the most competent musician was the girl bass player, who laid down a solid foundation for them to play over. But Skids was adorable so it didn't really matter how awful the music was, really it didn't. He shifted on his barstool to get more comfortable.

Tybalt shifted in his seat and his foot slipped off the clutch. He had to slam hard on the brake so as not to bunny hop into the trunk of the car ahead of him. He sighed and started the car again. Bored with "Kashmir", he pressed the button on the CD player and relaxed into Russell Smith's "Kammermusik – Trio for Clarinet, Violoncello and Piano". The seemingly harmless melody was full of unexpected nuance and depth, which reminded Tybalt of Skids. His mind wandered back to the bar filled with pretty young things and very loud music.

The set finally wound down and the band was packing up while the next band was setting up. Apollo seemed to have settled on the lucky lady of the evening and was giving her the full benefit of his charms. Tybalt smiled serenely when Skids, amp in one hand and guitar case in the other, materialized by his side.

'Can you give me a ride home, Tybalt?'

'Sure, let me see what Apollo...' Tybalt caught Apollo's eye, who gave him a thumbs up and a wave good-bye. 'He seems to have it all under control.'

'And she's awfully pretty, too.'

'Hm. They're always pretty.' Tybalt jingled his keys. 'Let's go.'

Skids was quiet on the drive to his dorm. Tybalt just assumed he was tired from playing for thirty minutes; he'd never especially liked musicians, but he did admire their stamina.

'Would you like to come in?' Skids asked a little too innocently. 'I mean if you don't mind,' he added hastily when Tybalt seemed to be mulling it over.

'No... I don't mind.'

Tybalt sauntered along behind Skids, half listening to whatever Skids was saying about whatever. He was remembering the various dorm rooms he'd lived in his college days, many of them with Mikhael. Strange how that memory no longer stung. It was as if... 'What, Skids?'

'I said, how did you like the music?'

'It was swell.' Tybalt smiled blandly at Skids' happy face, fully aware that Skids had totally missed the irony in his voice, but, oh well, that was Skids and Tybalt was getting used to it. He followed Skids into his room and looked around. 'So, this is where you live.'

'For now. I'd like to move out someday, if I can find the right person to live with.'

Something – a certain banality swathed deeper meaning – in Skids' tone made Tybalt turn and look at him. But Skids' face gave nothing away. 'Yes, I've been lucky that Apollo is so easy to live with. He seldom gets on my nerves.'

'Oh, that's good. I can hang up that up.' Skids moved forward to take Tybalt's jacket.

'Am I staying?' Tybalt asked, as Skids removed the garment in question. He also pulled the fastner out of Tybalt's hair while he was at it.

'I hope so.' Skids murmured, planting a soft kiss on Tybalt's neck before he darted off to the coat rack.

Tybalt was glad to have a moment to recover from the violent shiver of pleasure that shook him. If Skids noticed, then he was too polite to act on it because at just that moment he could have bent Tybalt over the desk and fucked him senseless. But fortunately (or unfortunately) that moment passed and Tybalt had himself back under control when Skids came back.

'Would you like to sit down?' Skids asked, sitting on the bed. 'Come sit here.' Skids patted the space next to him.

Tybalt was thinking that he was becoming too comfortable letting Skids make all the moves and that he should sit in the desk chair. But his resolve failed him so he sat on the bed next to Skids, who immediately took him in his arms. They'd been necking in Tybalt's car for weeks so there was nothing new in this for Tybalt. However, he was surprised when Skids' hand began to fumble for his belt.

'You move right along, don't you, Skids?' Tybalt drew back to catch his breath.

'I'm sorry, but I want you, Tybalt, and I think we've waited long enough.'

'Oh. Don't you want to know what I think?' Tybalt asked, pushing Skids hand away.

'I think you think the same thing.' Skids gave Tybalt's erection a firm squeeze.

Tybalt gasped and considered running screaming from the room but, well, if he was going to do that, he would have done it by now. 'Okay, you're right, but I'm not sure you know what you're doing, Skids.'

'Oh, I know!'

'You do, huh? How do you know?'

'I emailed a guy named Minotaur and he explained everything to me.' Skids was cheerfully unbuttoning Tybalt's shirt.

Tybalt put his hand over Skids' nimble fingers. 'And what did this Minotaur person explain to you?'

'How to make love to you.' Skids opened Tybalt's shirt and sighed happily at the smooth, muscular chest. He leaned down to kiss the rock hard nipples and warm flesh.

Tybalt took a steadying breath. 'And did this Minotaur person explain the difference between a top and a bottom?'

'Mmmmmmm hmm.'

'And which are you planning to be tonight?'

With a little nip, Skids left Tybalt's delightful chest alone and sat up. 'Whichever you want me to be.'

As he'd suspected for a while, Tybalt finally admitted to himself that he just didn't feel like dominating Skids, that he didn't have the will or energy or even desire for it, not that night anyway. He was enjoying being more passive with Skids than he'd been with anyone since Rasputin and he just didn't want that to change. At least not yet, so he just nodded and said, 'Let's see how the evening goes. But, I do have one request – could you please cover up the tarantulas?' He pointed to the tank by the headboard.

Skids went into the bathroom and came out with two towels. One he tossed on the bed, the other he carefully draped over the front of the terrarium. 'Better?'

'Much.' Tybalt, who was having a hard time believing he was about to let Skids fuck him, kicked off his shoes while Skids made sure the door was locked and turned off all the lights except the reading lamp on his desk. It crossed Tybalt's mind to take off the rest of his clothes and slip into the bed, but then again, he decided to let Skids do it; it would be fun for him.

Skids did have fun undressing Tybalt and exploring his body. He seemed more pleased than impressed with Tybalt's long, classical form and creamy white skin. 'You are so beautiful, man.' Skids kissed him for a long time.

Tybalt said, 'Thanks,' when Skids let him up for air and suggested that Skids get undressed, which Skids was more than happy to do. This was, however, the last suggestion from Tybalt that Skids took seriously that night.

It later occurred to Tybalt that Skids, who seemed a little nervous now that they were naked and in his bed, was following some kind of script in his head and was too unsure of himself to deviate from it. Anytime Tybalt tried to assert himself, such as moving them into a sixty-nine when Skids went down on him (surprisingly well for a novice, too), until Tybalt, after being told at least three times to relax, simply did and let Skids run the show (that night).

Once Tybalt did relax and hand over control to his would-be lover, Skids proceeded to give him a great deal of pleasure with only minimal fumbling. Skids touch was firm but gentle and his kiss sweet as he caressed Tybalt to climax.

Tybalt was a little shocked that he could still come like that, he hadn't come so hard so fast since he was a kid. He buried his face in Skids' neck to hide his blush and catch his breath. 'Stop smirking,' he said when Skids tilted his chin up to look at him and got kissed instead.

'Better?'

'Oh, much. What about you?' Tybalt reached for Skids erection but Skids simply brought his hand to his lips.

'Not like that,' Skids sighed.

In one of those rare moments of telepathy, Tybalt didn't want him to come like that either. He drew Skids' right hand to his lips and sucked the middle finger into his mouth. Using all the tricks he'd ever learned, Tybalt showed Skids what wonders were in store if he played his cards right. He also got Skids middle finger very wet and slippery.

Deftly maneuvering Tybalt's left leg over his own right hip, Skids reached down to caress Tybalt. Locked in a long, complicated kiss, Skids slid his hand over the fine curve of Tybalt's ass.

Tybalt was just enjoying the kiss and hardly noticed Skids fishing around under the pillow until the slick, cool finger pressed inside him and he realized Skids had lube under the pillow. 'How long have you had this planned, Skids?' he asked when he could get use of his mouth for a moment.

'A week.'

'I see.' He wondered what else was under the pillow.

'Am I hurting you?'

'No. You know, Skids, I have done this before.'

'I still don't want to hurt you.'

'You're not, that feels good,' Tybalt whispered against Skids' ear.

'It's supposed to feel really good. According to Minotaur, there's supposed to be a spot...' Skids paused as Tybalt gasped, thrashed and became instantly erect. 'I guess I found it. Am I hurting you?'

'No! Idiot! Don't stop!' Tybalt could barely get the words out as he crushed Skids in his arms and ground against him. A few more caresses from Skids and Tybalt came a second time. 'What was that, Skids?' he asked, lying in Skids arms, panting and trying to hear over the roaring in his ears.

'I said, so that's what Minotaur meant about clenching,' Skids said cheerfully.

'How much of an anatomy lesson did Minotaur give you?' Tybalt asked breathlessly, thinking he and Skids had a lot to talk about... later.

'More information than I've used so far.' Skids said absently applying a little more lube to Tybalt.

'And the night is young,' Tybalt said, allowing Skids to move him onto his back and spread his legs. 'We don't need that," he added when Skids pulled a little square package from under the pillow.

'Minotaur said...'

'He's not here, is he?'

Skids smiled sweetly and continued to roll down the condom. 'We need it.'

'I hate latex.' Tybalt felt a little stupid and very thrilled being dominated in such a nice way. He couldn't quite remember it ever being like this.

'Try to think about something else,' Skids said distractedly as he slipped the head inside.

'Yes, dear... oooh God yessss...'

Skids was silent as he made love to Tybalt. Except for the occasional moan that mingled with Tybalt's voluptuous sighs, their joining was intense, if not solemn. Sure that he wasn't hurting his lover, Skids let his passion take him and pounded into Tybalt until he came with a small, strangled cry and collapsed into Tybalt's arms. 'Are you... did you...' he panted against Tybalt's neck.

'Hm? Come? Yes, when you did. Thanks,' Tybalt sighed softly into Skids' mussed hair. He didn't tell Skids how unusual this evening had been for him, that he usually topped and didn't give a damn if his partner had any pleasure at all. He further wondered if Skids would believe him; Tybalt himself could hardly believe in the pre-Skids Tybalt anymore. 'Hey, don't doze off.'

Skids roused himself, gently withdrew and went into the bathroom. Tybalt made quick use of the towel and thought there might be something to the condom fetish this Minotaur person had; it was certainly easier to clean up afterwards. Skids came back to the vision in his bed and played with Tybalt's tangled locks as he relaxed in his lover's arms.

'I should go,' Tybalt said, glancing at the clock.

'No, stay!'

'Won't you get in trouble?' Tybalt asked, brushing the hair off Skids' face.

'Yes, but they'll get over it. I want to wake up next to you.'

Tybalt wanted to wake up next to him, too, but also in the comfort of his own home and not this tiny dorm room. 'You can do that at my place tomorrow night. I'll make you pancakes for breakfast, you'll love it.'

'Well...'

'Just say yes, Skids, and bring some condoms.'

'And blueberry syrup, too.'

'And... oh, for the pancakes, okay, yeah.' Tybalt dressed with his usual grace and even thoughtfully removed the drape from the tarantula cage. 'Sleep tight,' he said, bending down to give his lover a good-night kiss.

At home, Tybalt paused by Apollo's door and tried to figure out if he was hearing more than one girl squealing in there or not. He'd have to ask in the morning, if so, Apollo might become a regular at the Chou Chou Club, the good lord help him.

Tybalt had an uneventful morning, he didn't see Apollo before he left for his studio and Maria Therese at his gallery called. She said to keep doing whatever he was doing to Mr. Howell; he bought the triptych, two lithographs and the big landscape in oil. This was excellent news; that money would pay a few bills and keep him in pancake mix for Skids for quite awhile. But all he said to Maria Therese was, 'Ah, proof positive that the more you tease them, the more they do for you.' He hung up on her greedy cackle and went to his studio.

Apollo was still slightly hung-over and drained from his previous evening when a half-hysterical Skids showed up that afternoon, looking for Tybalt. The poor kid wound up telling Apollo about a fight he'd had with Mikhael over his brand new lover. It sounded bad enough to Apollo that he decided Tybalt would rather know about this sooner than later. And because Skids was so distressed, Apollo called the studio to say they were on their way. Not that Apollo expected to find anyone there with him, not since the advent of Skids. However, it was never a good idea to surprise Tybalt in his studio; he actually did paint and print there, but there was also a bed that got some use now and then.

'Skids, don't hug me, I'm covered with paint.' Tybalt did lean forward for a kiss. 'Hi, Apollo, don't go please. Now, Skids, tell me what's up?'

Skids took a deep breath. 'I went to see Harley to talk about the gig and Mikhael let me in. He asked me if I got laid last night.'

'And did you tell him?' Tybalt asked, thinking it was amusing that that's the first thing Rasputin would want to know.

'I told him it was none of his business. And he said that I probably did because you were always a slut.' Skids was very surprised when Tybalt burst out laughing.

'He called me a slut to your face? Really?' Tybalt let his mirth spin out in happy laughter.

'Tybalt, I think you really have gone over the edge.' Apollo snarled under the gales of infectious laugher, trying not to laugh himself.

'Then what happened?' Tybalt asked when he could.

'I slapped his face.'

Tybalt paled. 'You did? And what did he do?'

'He stomped off and slammed the door of his studio.'

'You're lucky you didn't get your ass kicked, Skids.' Apollo said quietly.

'Rasputin's not the violent type,' Tybalt said. 'Not physically violent anyway.'

'Not over a slap, maybe, but never swing on him, Skids, because he will hurt you if only because he's bigger,' Apollo cautioned.

'I would give you a grateful hug for defending me, but I’m covered with paint. Maybe Apollo can hug you for me.'

'How about a manly clasp on the shoulder instead?' Apollo gave Skids' shoulder a quick squeeze.

'I'm not afraid of Mikhael.' Skids said quietly. 'I used to like him because Harley loves him so much. But I'd like to know what his problem with you is.'

'Didn't he tell you?'

'I don’t want his version. I want yours.'

Tybalt shrugged. 'It's a long and stupid story, Skids, and really none of your business...'

'He just slapped Rasputin over you, Tybalt, it might be his business now,' Apollo said coolly.

'Oh, Apollo, I almost forgot you were here. Well, anyway, why don't you come have dinner tonight, Skids, and I'll tell you the whole sordid story. Apollo can join us and correct me when I veer of into how I wished things had been instead of how they really were.'

'What time?'

'Oh, sixish and bring your toothbrush.' Tybalt smiled wickedly.

'And the...'

'Yeah, and your toothbrush,' Tybalt cut him off. 'Now, run along, I have a lot to do.' He went back to work and Apollo gave Skids a lift back to his dorm.

On the way home, Tybalt picked up a roast chicken, some salad greens and a chocolate cake, which was for Skids. He left the front door open for Skids or Apollo, since Apollo didn't seem to be home, and went into the kitchen to put his groceries down. Hearing a knock on the door he yelled for Skids to come in and continued putting groceries away. When he looked up he found Rasputin standing over him and not Skids as he expected. 'I heard you called me a slut,' Tybalt said blandly, rising from his crouch and closing the cabinet. 'Did you come over here to find out if it's true?'

Rasputin sighed heavily and looked at a point just over Tybalt's left shoulder. 'I came here to make peace with you, Tybalt. This whole situation has Harley very upset...'

'My my I do hope Harley doesn't snap his fingers. At least not the ones you're wrapped around, he'll break your back.'

'... and since you won't quit this nonsense with Skids...'

'It's not nonsense and why should I?'

'... I'm trying to make the best of a bad situation.'

'What's so bad about it, Mik? What's it to you?'

Mikhael clenched his jaw and swallowed. 'How dare you fall in love with Skids,' he said, low and dangerous.

Tybalt ignored his tone; it had no power over him anymore. 'Is that the problem? That I'm in love with him? Or are you angry because I stopped loving you to do it?'

Mik growled low in his throat and closed the distance between them in two steps. Or would have had Tybalt not slapped him across the kitchen. No telling what terrible things might have happened then but for Apollo and Skids strolling in, looking innocent and unconcerned.

'Hi, Rasputin, what brings you out this way?' Apollo asked, giving the Russian a hand up. Skids was too busy hugging Tybalt to notice what Mik was doing.

'Oh, I just came by to apologize for calling Tybalt a slut,' Mik said casually, as if he hadn't just been sprawled on his ass in Tybalt's kitchen.

'Shouldn't you apologize to Skids for that?' Apollo asked just as casually.

'Skids, I apologize for calling your boyfriend a slut, whether he is or not is beside the point,' Mik grated out through clenched teeth.

Skids tried to look to Tybalt for guidance, but his boyfriend had buried his face in Skids' neck to try to hide his laughter. 'Okay, Mik, um, thanks.'

'Will you come and see, Harley tonight?'

'Not tonight,' Tybalt cut in.

'No, not tonight, but tomorrow afternoon...'

'We'll see,' Tybalt said.

'I'll call him for sure,' Skids said, hugging Tybalt closer.

'Don't let Tybalt snap his fingers, Skids.' Mik left before Skids could react. Skids was also too busy holding Tybalt, who was rocking with laughter.

Apollo set the table while Tybalt made a salad and put the food out. Tybalt felt better that evening than he'd felt in a long time and was charming to both Apollo and Skids. He told them about Maria Theresa at the gallery, Mr. Howell's generous purchases and his hopes for another show in the near future, possibly one in New York someday. He went into the kitchen and returned with Skids' cake and a pot of coffee for himself and Apollo.

Skids pushed his half eaten slice of cake away from him. 'Are you going to tell me, Tybalt?'

'Tell you what, precious?' Tybalt looked innocent.

'About you and Mik.' Skids' voice had a new edge in it Tybalt hadn't heard before.

'Oh, it's such old news...'

Skids looked at his watch. 'There's a bus I can catch in twenty min...'

'Alright, alright.' Tybalt rolled his eyes at an amused Apollo and took a deep breath. 'Once upon a time, Mikhael was broke like a normal human being. We were living on grants and scholarships and if one of us didn't get the one we were both going for, well, we'd have to break up. So, I did what I knew Mik could not do, I had sex with the grants' administrator so I'd be sure I got it because it was possible that neither of us would get it and I wanted to be sure. I didn't want to lose Mikhael over money and I lost him anyway. He called me a whore and wouldn't listen to why I did it. I think he didn't care why I did it, just that I did. I mean, Skids, it's bad enough being a whore, but when the reason for being a whore calls you a whore and leaves you, what does that make you? A whore squared? Or just a fool who thought Mik loved me enough to forgive me, when obviously he did not?' He looked down at the tablecloth. 'Understand?'

For an answer, Skids picked up Tybalt's hand and pressed his lips to the palm. 'Do you really love me?'

'Oh, more than you know, Skids, more than you know.' Tybalt leaned forward to kiss him as the phone rang. It was Mr. Howell. 'Apollo! Grab that!'

'I'm far too nice to you, Tybalt,' Apollo said, handing him the phone. He shrugged off Skids' puzzled look.

'Oh, hello, Mr. Howell, thank you for buying my pictures, you're too wonderful,' Tybalt gushed into the phone. 'You want me to come help you hang them? Tonight? Well... give me your address.' He wrote it on the pad Apollo handed him and pressed a finger against Skids' protesting lips. 'By the way, Mr. Howell, I can only come over for an hour and I'll have to bring my boyfriend because we're going salsa dancing later. Good, see you in a bit, good-bye, Mr. Howell.' He hung up and looked deeply into Skids' eyes. 'You must protect me from the Mr. Howells of the world, Skids, they are wonderful for my career, but terrible for my character and I do so want to be good now.'

Apollo excused himself to laugh in the other room.

'I really do want to be good now, Skids, for you,' Tybalt said when they were on their way to the generous Mr. Howell's mansion.

'I believe you, Tybalt.' Skids squeezed his hand resting on the gear shift. 'I have to tell you, I don't know how to salsa dance.'

'You're a quick study, Skids, I'm sure you'll pick it up right away. It might even remind you of something.'

'Remind me of what?'

'Sex.'

And so, stuck in traffic several weeks later, Tybalt was brooding as usual, but at least he had something nice to brood over for a change.

***end***

~ Tybalt on Film ~

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