"Why do I have to go to Catholic School again, Mum?" Stuart asked as his mother pulled into the school parking lot.

"Because this forsaken city your father's work dragged us to is full of Protestants, and I'll not have my son growing up with anything but devout Catholics."

"But can't I go to public school and just go to church classes every week?" Stuart asked. He hadn't felt comfortable in a church in a long time, ever since he had found himself taking more interest in the boys in his gym class than the girls. Not that he was a poof or anything - he was just curious. He doubted any devout Catholics would be willing to let him explore his curiosity.

"Now Stuart, I don't want to hear anymore of that whining from you. You're almost fifteen; it's about time you started acting like a man, don't you think?"

"Yes, Mum," he said softly. Only four more years before he was on his own and he wouldn't have to answer to anyone but himself.

"Good. I'll see you after school then," his mother said.

"Bye, Mum," he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek before slipping out of the car.

The school was unfamiliar, full of English kids who seemed to like nothing better than staring at their new Irish schoolmate. Stuart went through all the necessary stops to the offices as quickly as possible before making his way to his Catechism class.

The teacher barely gave him a second thought as she sent him to an empty seat at the back of the class. He thought he was in for another boring class just like those in Ireland, until he looked to the seat to his right. There, sitting beside him, was the singularly most intriguing boy he had ever met. Clad in an unkempt and untucked uniform, the boy was a mess compared to his classmates. Even his eyes spoke of adventures and broken rules. He was not beautiful, but he wasn't bad looking with his spiky black hair, rich brown eyes and deep tan. He turned to look at Stuart, "Max Childs," he said, extending a hand in greeting.

***

"Vince, come down here, I want to have a talk with you," Hazel called from downstairs.

Vince quickly marked his place in his new (used) Isaac Asimov book and rushed downstairs to the kitchen, wondering what he could have done wrong. He didn't actually remember doing anything, so maybe she did just want to have a talk with him. Not that it was ever just a talk with Hazel.

He hoped - truly hoped - she didn't find the magazine he had nicked from the porn shop down by Canal Street. He had been petrified to go there, and too mortified to actually buy it, but he really wanted to know more about - it.

"What's up, mum?" he asked as he sat down. Hazel already had two cups of tea set out for them, and some biscuits. He noticed an open bottle of scotch on the counter as well, and wondered just how strong her tea was. He never understood how she could have alcohol in her tea, but after fifteen years he was used to it.

"We're getting a new boarder early next week," Hazel told him. Vince relaxed. That was all she needed to tell him. They seemed to get a new boarder once every six months or so to help with the rent. He usually just stayed out of their way and hoped they'd do the same for him. They usually did.

"Is that all, mum?" he asked with a smile.

"No, it's not all, you cheeky twat. D'you think I'd call you down hear for a cuppa just to tell you that?"

His shoulders tensed again, waiting for whatever she had to say next. He took a sip of tea to cover up his nervousness.

"Now, this boarder is an old friend of mine, Bernie," she continued. "He's also a homosexual, Vince."

Vince nearly choked on his tea when she said the word. 'Homosexual.' How could she be so casual about it? He didn't know whether to nod and pretend it was perfectly normal, or start ranting about not wanting to share a house with a 'pervert.' He wondered which one would make her believe that he wasn't - couldn't be - a poof, too.

She continued before he could make up his mind, though. "And don't you say one nasty word about it," she told him forcefully. Then her tone became gentler. "I think it would be good for you to have a bit of a role model in here, to answer your questions and all. I know you'll have them." A pause. "I know, Vince. I've know that you were one - you were homosexual, just like Bernie - since before you knew what the word meant. You've never been able to hide anything from me, 'specially not anything this big."

For the first time, Vince was speechless. He didn't even ask how his mother knew. He felt his face heat in a blush, and he just wanted to run back up to his room and forget he had heard anything his mother had said.

Hazel gently took her son's hand in her own. "It's okay Vince. Nothing to be ashamed about. In fact, you've every reason to be proud, so long as you never lie about who you are. Promise me you'll never hide yourself unless you absolutely have to. Always be proud of who you are."

Vince's breath caught in his throat, but he managed to stammer out a quick "I promise."

"There's a good boy," Hazel said, releasing Vince's hand. "Don't forget it. Now, I'm sure you'll want to go back up and do some thinking. Be down for supper for seven."

Vince nodded and hastily made his retreat to his room. He picked up his book, but couldn't open it. Instead, he flung it on the floor and collapsed on his back on his bed. It was hard for him to even think of the conversation he had just had, but he forced his mind to process it.

Haze was right, of course. This wasn't just a phase, or a passing curiosity, no matter how hard he prayed that it would be. He had never been interested in girls - never would be, he supposed - but he had been drawn to boys for as long as he could remember. For a long time, he didn't even realize that he was different. Then he learned what it meant to be a poof or a queer, and he denied it so much, but it still wouldn't go away. Hazel was right about this. It wouldn't go away, ever.

He felt a familiar tear running down his face, and wiped it away, willing himself not to cry. He had cried enough. Never again would he allow himself to be upset about being a homosexual. Hazel was right about that too - there was no point in crying about what you can't change, and every reason to enjoy it.

Next time he went to Canal Street, he wouldn't be so scared of being found out.

***

Stuart found himself spending most of his time since moving to Manchester with Max getting into trouble. The boy had a penchant for mischief and Stuart was only too happy to lend his own brains and charms to Max's plans.

Max was a year older than Stuart, and much more mature. Stuart looked up to him as he had never looked up to any adults, even his father. It seemed that Max knew everything about life, and Stuart was eager to hear what the other boy had to say.

He found himself developing something of a crush on Max, but, since this was a Catholic school, he decided to broach the issue carefully. It took a long time to gather the courage, since he had never told anyone about his crushes on other boys before. Maybe it would have been easier with a mate who knew how he felt, but Stuart didn't have that. He really only had Max.

"Max," he began one day was they were hanging out in the park behind the school, smoking a joint, "do you know any poofs?"

"What're you asking me about that for, Stuart?" Max asked. "'Course I don't. I wouldn't associate with them if I did."

Stuart was disappointed, but he went into his prefabricated story anyway. "Well, my Mum has this friend - a man her age - who she says is a poof. She's known him all her life, though, so she's still friends with him. I was wondering how I should act around him."

Max sneered. "Pray for him, I guess. All them poofs are going to Hell anyway. Damn sinners."

"You don't believe that, do you?" Stuart asked, his heart breaking bit by bit.

"'Course I do. Don't you?"

"Well, what about everything we do?" Stuart asked. "We're right sinners, but we're not going to Hell for it all, are we?"

"That's what they want us to think," Max told him, "But no, we're not bad sinners. Not like the poofs. We might end up in purgatory for a bit, but it's straight to Hell for them. Trust me, there's a group you want to stay far away from."

Stuart couldn't believe his ears. He had expected talk like this from his priests and nuns, but not from Max. After all, Max knew exactly what he could and couldn't do to not go to Hell, and he walked the line everyday. He never crossed it, though; he knew what was too far. If Max told him something was Hell-bound wrong, he'd have to believe him.

"You're right," Stuart said, trying to hide his dejected tone of voice. "I'll stay away from him."

Max favored him with a smile before taking another hit.

***

A few months after his talk with Hazel, Vince found himself alone on Canal Street. Hazel had gone out of town for the weekend, and Bernie was visiting a cousin in Liverpool, so he was free to stay out as late as he liked without repercussion. He was glad to take the opportunity to make his second - and much more daring - venture into the heart of queer Manchester.

He had dressed for the occasion in a dark brown shirt he had bought himself with his small savings and a pair of jeans that were a size too tight. They were a bit uncomfortable, but they were snug enough to show off his ass. He knew he wasn't dead sexy, but he looked good enough. Perhaps he would have his first shag tonight.

He found a bar that seemed to be frequented by a younger crowd and went in. Flashing a fake ID he had bought from a friend at the bartender, he ordered a shot of vodka. Just one, he decided; just enough to calm his nerves. He had, of course, drunk much more before, but it was always in his own home, usually with one of his few friends.

He downed the shot quickly and began to watch the people in the bar. They were amazing. Mostly male, they ranged from flamboyant drag queens to understated muscle men and everything in between. Men were kissing men openly, even groping each other in public. It was hot, but it was also liberating. Vince had never imagined a place were people were so free to be themselves.

"Hey there, gorgeous," a flittering voice said from behind him. "Buy you a drink?"

Vince turned to see a tall young man only a couple of years older than he was taking a seat beside him. "Uh, sure," he said slowly.

"Your first time on Canal Street?" the boy asked, tilting his head.

Was it that obvious? "Second, actually, but the first time I didn't really go out - just went to the shops."

He smiled. The boy was charming, though much too flamboyant for Vince's taste. Surprisingly enough, though, he didn't put Vince on edge. He extended a hand. "Well, I'm Alex, but someday they'll be calling me Alice. Alice Band."

Vince shook his hand slowly. "Vince Tyler. Pleased to meet you."

"So proper!" Alex - Alice? - laughed.

Vince laughed at himself with him and finally felt himself starting to relax.

He wasn't ready for a shag that night, and surprisingly enough it was Alex who convinced him not to cop off with anyone just yet, to get used to the scene a bit first. Later, Vince would be grateful for the friendly advice. He was already grateful to have befriended Alex, who went to school across town and couldn't wait to graduate in two years to go to London and become a fashion designer. His new friend was willing to point out the nuances of queer life to him, especially the things he couldn't find in magazines and that he was too shy to ask Bernie about.

He didn't get in that night until after two. Alex had taken him dancing at a new club called Babylon and he had completely lost track of time. They made plans to meet again before Alex copped off with a muscular Celt and Vince made his way back home.

Even though he hadn't copped off - yet - he was happy. He had made his first homosexual friend. He had gone to his first queer bar and club. And he had had a wonderful time.

For the first time, he really didn't know what all the fuss about sexual orientation was about. If the men in Via Fosse and Babylon weren't ashamed of themselves, why should he be? If Alex wasn't ashamed of wanting to be a woman, why should he care who he wanted to have sex with?

And there it was. For the first time in a long time, Vincent Tyler was at peace with his world.

Chapter One
*********1999*********

Stuart sat at his desk, looking through his computer files for a - any - bit of work he had to finish up on. He had fifteen minutes before he was supposed to leave for the day, but if he found something to do, he would be able to stay another couple of hours and tire himself out enough that he could just go mindlessly to bed when he got home.

Not that home was bad. Not at all, actually. Most people would be thrilled to have his life. He had a sinfully expensive flat, a beautiful, intelligent fiancee, and more friends than he sometimes thought he could handle.

He was just exhausted by that life. Here, alone in his office, when he was doing what he was best at, he felt more relaxed than in any pub with any amount of friends. He didn't have to put on the act here; this was the only place where being himself was not only completely acceptable but necessary for him to be successful. Here he was everything he could never be in the real world.

Of course, that meant he often worked long into the night, finishing projects long before they were due, just to hold on to that feeling.

Ana fussed over that a lot more than he cared to think about. She didn't live with him yet - as a devout Catholic, she didn't believe in premarital sex, which was just fine by him - but she was still upset when he wasn't home until late into the night. He didn't understand why she cared so much. It wasn't as though their relationship was one of great love and passion. She was too uptight for that and he - well, he wasn't one for love. He didn't have time for it, he told everyone. They were just two friendly businesspeople, both almost thirty, looking for a comfortable arrangement.

Besides, she kept him in line, made sure he went to church every Sunday and all that. Kept him moral, or as moral as he's ever been. She was good for him, he supposed, even if they didn't love each other.

Sandra came in just as he gave up on his search. He had finished everything in his queue, and he wouldn't even have to come in tomorrow unless he wanted to sit around playing games on his desktop. He grimaced at the thought.

"You're not staying late again tonight, are you Stuart?" she asked. "You haven't gone home at a decent hour all week."

"All month, actually," Stuart told her. "I will be tonight though. Don't have anything here left to do."

Sandra rolled her eyes and sighed. "Why do you work yourself so hard? You know it's not healthy."

"Why don't you work yourself harder?" he snapped back.

He was surprised when Sandra held her tongue, though she did give him a deadly glare. He waited as she took a breath, letting her features soften. She really would be a pretty bird if she weren't always so mad, Stuart decided. Not his type, but pretty enough.

"I'm meeting some friends at the pub tonight. Care to join us?" Sandra asked. It was a frequent enough question; Sandra often told him he worked too hard, then invited him along with her to the pubs. Stuart never accepted, not because he was her boss, but because he didn't like frequenting pubs anymore.

The work thing was a good excuse. "I would, but first I'd have to fire you," he told her with a wry grin.

"Like you could get along without me," she said cheekily. Their easy banter was working wonders on his nerves, he realized as he felt himself relax.

"Well, then, I'd best not be going out with you tonight," Stuart said.

There was a knock on his office door and Stuart briefly wondered who had the nerve to need him this late in the day. When Sandra opened the door to an unfamiliar man, all annoyance deserted him in favor of wonder. He was absolutely brilliant. Short blonde hair combed and spiked to perfection; crystal blue eyes that sparkled as he smiled; soft, sensuous lips; a hard, compact body...

Stuart immediately pulled his mind away from the sinful thoughts and began to silently pray to the God he was beginning to lose faith in. Our Father, who art in Heaven ...

The man pulled Sandra into a tight embrace and kissed her on the cheek. Sandra reciprocated the behavior before turning back to Stuart.

"Stuart, this is my old college friend, Vince Tyler. You might have heard of him; he's had a few science fiction books published. Vince, my boss, Stuart Jones."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Jones," Vince said, extending a hand.

"Just Stuart, please." He was surprised when both of Vince's hands enveloped his own to shake.

"You sure you don't want to come out with us?" Sandra asked as Vince dropped his hand. She had that tone in her voice that she usually used when she was trying to tempt Stuart into something.

"No, thanks," Stuart said. "Ana will be expecting my call when I get home, and she'll probably want to go out when she finds out I'm out of work so early."

"Another time, then?" Vince asked hopefully, giving Stuart a peculiar look - a look that went straight to his cock. Stuart was glad he was still sitting behind his desk.

"We'll see," Stuart said, unwilling to commit to an answer with this man, although he knew he should be giving him a definitive 'no.'

Sandra gave him an odd look, but when Vince just nodded she herded her friend toward the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Stuart."

"I'm staying home tomorrow, taking a break," he told her. "You should, too. We're both so ahead in our work that we can take a holiday."

Sandra nodded her thanks and gently pushed Vince out the door and into the hall. She followed close behind.

Once the closed door had firmly isolated him in his office, Stuart sat back and closed his eyes, trying to clear his head. He didn't understand. He had done everything right: gone to mass, prayed, gone to confession, prayed, gone to Bible study groups, prayed...but it hadn't worked. None of it had worked. He still had those thoughts - the only ones that would land him straight in Hell if he ever acted on them. Some even said the thoughts themselves would send him to Hell. He was beginning to wonder if there was any point to it all. Not for the first time he was wondering about the legitimacy of all this religion stuff.

That, too, was a sin. He sighed. So many barriers out there, telling him what he could and could not be, and now they were making their way into his haven. He pulled a joint from his pocket and started to light it, then thought the better of it. He was going home, anyway. Might as well smoke in the car, where no one would wonder about the scent.

He pulled his plain black coat over his plain white shirt and headed out the door. Yes, a joint on the way home would make him feel much better.

***

Vince settled into his seat between Alex and Sandra at Via Fosse with his G&T. He noticed a few eyes seeking his own, inviting him to the loo or the ally for a quick shag, but he ignored them. It was too early, and his mind was on dark blue Irish eyes.

"So how long have you been hiding that gorgeous boss away from us?" he asked his friend once she sat down with her drink.

"She's been hiding what?" Alex asked, tearing his attention away from the pretty boys in the black leather by the door.

"I haven't been hiding anything," she told them. "I've been trying to get him to come out here for months now. Besides, he says he's straight. Has a fiancee and everything to prove it."

"Just because he has a fiancee doesn't mean anything," Alex said.

"And that man is not straight," Vince added.

"I never said he was," Sandra sad, almost sadly. "I think even he knows what he is, just doesn't want to tell anyone. Damn Irish and their religion. He must have been brainwashed from a damn early age to rebel against himself so completely. He's such a bastard about everything else. He doesn't let anyone tell him what to do or how to do it, and to Hell with authority. He's brilliant, most of the time, though, so they give him a long leash at Thrive."

Vince grimaced. He hated those types: the ones who put their faith so completely in mythology, as he saw it, that they denied everything they were for it. He had even made sport out of "converting" them, a time or two. Things around here were getting boring enough. All the shags seemed the same lately, and Vince was craving some adventure. Maybe he'd help this Irishman in the best way he knew how.

"And with a fiancee? The poor girl, she'll be devastated when she finds out," Alex said almost offhandedly.

"The fiancee is a wet blanket as it is. Uptight little church girl. The only reason she's not a nun is because she inherited her family business and she wants to keep it in the family. She wants her children to inherit it."

"I think she's holding him back in the world," Vince said decisively, trusting his best friends to know what he meant.

Sandra certainly did, because she favored him with a mischievous grin. "Vincent Tyler, that is my boss you are talking about."

"So you'll be able to help me, won't you?" Vince asked with a wink.

"Oi, what are you to prattling about now?" Alex asked. Although he had known Vince longer, he was never as good at figuring out what he was thinking as Sandra was.

"I was thinking that maybe I would save this Stuart bloke from himself. You know, some gay community service."

Alex laughed. "Oh, another one? Don't you remember what happened the last time?"

"Well how was I supposed to know he'd gone and impregnated that wife of his? He should have known better than to have sex with birds."

By this time the three of them were laughing at the memory. It had been quite the drama at the time, though Vince had helped the man and his wife to eventually sort everything out to their contentment. Things were actually much better for the couple and their little girl now that they weren't together.

"Well, you needn't worry this time," Sandra told him. "He's a virgin in every sense of the word. Catholic sensibilities, you know, though I suspect it has more to do with not wanting to bed any women in Stuart's case."

Vince was surprised by that. A man as beautiful as Stuart could have had anyone he wanted, man or woman. What did he think he was wasting those looks for?

"So what's the plan then, Vince?" Alex asked once they had settled down a bit.

"Nothing cruel, mind," Vince said. "Just introduce the man to Canal Street, get him to admit who he is, maybe even seduce him if he doesn't make me want to kill him by then. You know, stir things up a bit."

"You men get way too much pleasure out of drama," Sandra said with a wry grin. "I wouldn't even help you if I didn't know Stuart so well. He's not happy, and marriage is just going to make it worse on him. No matter how much drama you put him through, it'll be good for him."

"Then you'll help me?" Vince asked excitedly.

"What do you need me to do?" Sandra asked.

"Just set us up to meet. I'll do the rest," Vince told her. He already had a few plans for his quarry in mind, but he wasn't going to ruin it by telling his friends. They would just have to find out.

He was being honest when he told Alex he wasn't going to be cruel, though. He wouldn't out the man. It would be a good hunt, though, to urge the man into coming out by himself, and eventually giving himself to Vince. Vince always liked a hunt, especially with such attractive prey. The hunt and the kill: that was what he lived for. He'd come to terms with the fact that anything after than was bullshit long ago.

Across the room he saw a victim almost as attractive as Sandra's Irish boss. He quietly excused himself to go to the loo, then honed in on his quarry. Yes, the hunt and the kill: that was all he really needed.

Chapter Two

"You're coming, and you'll like it," Sandra said, her hands on her hips, as she stared down at Stuart.

"What are you going on about now?" Stuart asked. "I told you, I don't feel like going to any pubs. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not next week. Leave me in peace already."

They had gotten into a heated argument about Stuart going out with Sandra and her friends that night. Stuart had let it slip that he just didn't like pubs anymore, and Sandra was convinced that a night out with her friends would cure that. As if her friends were any different than any other group of people in Manchester. Stuart, of course, wasn't interested.

"You're working yourself down to nothing, and I won't have it. You can either come out this one night with me, or I can call your Ana every night for the next month, telling her if you staying after hours is actually legit or if you just don't want to go home that night." Sandra stood her ground.

"You wouldn't," Stuart said with wide eyes.

"I'll start now," Sandra told him, picking up his office phone.

Stuart quickly put his finger on the receiver, cutting her off. "Fine. You win. Just this once, though."

Sandra smiled triumphantly. "Of course. Now, we'll be meeting at that pub where Adam took us all when he was engaged a few months ago. You remember it?" Stuart nodded, remembering the dull pub with the empty dance floor. "Good. Meet us there around seven. I'm going home to get ready. I'll see you later, then."

"Yeah...see you later," Stuart sighed as she walked out. He gathered his things together. He may as well go home and "get ready" as well, though he didn't know how necessary it was at a place like that. What was he going to do - pick up the birds?

He drove home, stripped to his under ware, and poured himself a glass of good whiskey. If he was going out, he was damn well going to be inebriated enough to like it. He drank it in one long gulp, then made his way to the bedroom to find something comfortable for the pub.

He stopped to admire himself in his full length mirror. Clad in nothing but tight white briefs, his every muscle was on perfect display. He worked long and hard on that body (another distracting pastime for when he couldn't be at work) and was damn proud of it. He'd gotten a lot of offers based on it as well, but nothing he was interested in. He wondered if maybe tonight would be the night - at last - when he would find someone - a woman - who sparked his interest. He'd give up the whole thing with Ana if he could just find that woman.

That wasn't bloody likely. He sighed and turned away. He picked out a pair of old, slightly baggy jeans and a loose sweater and put them on, checking the time. He had twenty minutes to get to the pub, so he poured himself another glass of whiskey and downed it quickly, reveling in the burning sensation as it traveled down his throat. A moment later, he felt the slight giddiness that often accompanied his alcohol binges.

He gave his head another few minutes to clear before putting on his coat and setting out for the dreaded evening.

The pub itself was sickening in its resemblance to every other pub Stuart had frequented in the past decade. Boring men in boring clothes (of which he fit right in) stood or sat at the bar watching boring women in slightly less boring (but much less enticing) clothes and trying to figure out how drunk they'd have to get them to get a shag. Stuart didn't understand any of them.

He quickly found Sandra and her party sitting at a table by the far wall. Stuart swore silently .The handsome bloke from the other day, Vince, was with her. He didn't want to see too much of the man; he was an extraordinary temptation, and Stuart wasn't sure how well he'd be able to keep his control. Last night he had caught himself masturbating to the very thought of him - wasn't that bad enough, without having to see the man himself?

Between Vince and Sandra sat a tall, lanky man who was talking more animatedly than a squirrel. His outfit alone really was a sight to behold: lime green shirt and tight lavender leopard print pants. Beside him, Vince, in his conservative, tight black pants and shirt looked even sexier.

Stuart took a steadying breath and made his way over to the trio. As he came up behind Vince, who had his back to the door, he heard the tail end of their conversation. "Can you believe it? They have toilets in which no one's ever had sex!" Vince hissed, trying to hold back a laugh.

Sandra and Alex began laughing uproariously at this, which just goaded Vince on. "And there are people talking in sentences that have no punch line, and they don't even care!"

Stuart was confused. Wasn't this their regular hang out?

"And why would you be going somewhere where people frequently have sex in the toilets?" Stuart asked Sandra before bothering to greet the others. He expected a blush from her, and was surprised to see her giggle as if at a private joke.

"Stuart," Vince said with a smile, gesturing for him to sit at the open place between him and Sandra, "it's nice to see you again. This is our friend, Alexander Perry. Alex, Stuart Jones."

Alex offered his hand palm down, as if to have Stuart kiss it like a lady's. Stuart smoothly took the hand and turned it to properly shake. He was Stuart Alan Jones, after all, cool and confidant even when he was startled and more than a bit bewildered.

"Alex, behave," Vince admonished, swatting the other man on the arm. He turned to Stuart, "You'll have to excuse Alex; he has expectations of men that even we don't want to meet sometimes, never mind blokes like you."

Stuart raised his eyebrow and was about to ask just what kind of bloke he was when Alex interrupted him. He thought he knew the answer anyway. It was hard to see Alex as anything other than a queer. It terrified him that this beautiful man beside him was likely to be one, too.

"Stop being such a spoil-sport, Vince."

"And you two stop your bickering," Sandra rebuked them both. She gave Stuart and embarrassed smile. "They've been friends for fifteen years; no one really expects them to get along anymore."

Stuart smiled at that. "Is this what I've been missing every night that you've invited me out?"

"Not at all," Alex said with a laugh. "We're not so boring as these folks here. Most night we're at Via Fosse, then to the clubs to dance. We've switched things up a bit for you tonight, though."

Sandra gave him a pointed look. She asked in a stern voice, "Alex, I'm going to get another round. Want to help me carry the drinks?"

Alex sighed and stood up. "What'll you be drinking then?" he asked Stuart.

Stuart's head was still a bit light from his earlier drinks, so he decided on something lighter than he'd usually drink. "Just a beer, please."

Stuart was afraid there would be an uncomfortable silence as soon as the pair was gone, but he was pleasantly surprised to find them conversing like old friends. "You're a science fiction writer? How did you get involved in that?"

"It was quite natural, really," Vince told him "I've always been a sap for science fiction - practically in love with Dr. Who when I was a boy. Still am, actually. When I went to Uni, I couldn't think of anything I'd like to do more, so I went for a communications degree. It just seemed to work out, I suppose. Where did you go?"

Stuart found himself talking animatedly about his old college days. When Sandra and Alex got back, they joined in the conversation occasionally, but he felt as though he were only talking to Vince.

He was more than a little surprised almost three hours later to realize how well he was getting along with the man. He had always thought that if he ever met a gay man he would hate him for doing the unforgivable. Or at least he would be right jealous of him for giving into temptation. He didn't expect to hit it off perfectly, or to want to know him better. The idea scared him.

But then again, there was nothing wrong with two blokes enjoying each other's company, even if one was headed straight for Hell. It wasn't Stuart's business, after all. If anyone said otherwise, Stuart thought fuck them.

"Oi, this place is boring me," Alex complained, not for the first time that night. "Let's go down to Canal Street. I'm sure the crowd at Babylon is just getting good."

"Canal Street?" Stuart asked curiously. He remembered the kids in school whispering about it being full of freaks, but he didn't know much more about it than that. Not that he wouldn't count Alex as a freak, but he didn't think Vince or Sandra would fit the bill.

"That's where we usually hang out when I don't have the husband around to drag us out around here," Sandra explained.

"What's so special about it though?" Stuart asked naively. He didn't think now was a good time to bring up the "freak" thing.

The others were polite enough to just smile knowingly, but Alex laughed aloud at the question. "You mean to tell us that you've lived here for years, and you don't know that Canal Street is the home of lovely queers like me and Vince here?"

Well, there goes any doubts about that, I suppose, Stuart thought as he tried to come up with a witty remark. He couldn't, so instead he did the next best thing: he pulled a runner. Not literally, but close enough. He yawned loudly and said, "Well, you guys go on, then. I'm right knackered; should be in bed actually. It was nice meeting you, though."

Vince looked at his watch. "I should be in bed too," he said. "I have an early meeting with my agent, and I wouldn't want to sleep through it."

"You'll want me to drive you home, then?" Sandra asked with a sigh.

Stuart knew he shouldn't let himself alone with this all-too-tempting man, but for some reason he was in a better mood than he had been in since before he could presently remember, and he didn't want Sandra to ruin her night. So he did something completely un-Stuart like. "I could give you a ride. No point in making Sandra driving you around when she could go straight to Canal Street with Alex."

"Would you?" Sandra asked with a bright smile. "No offence, Vince, but it would be much easier for me."

"Of course," Vince said with a wave of his hand. "Let's go then," he said, putting on his coat and saying his goodbyes. He soon had Stuart out the door and was asking which car was his. Stuart led them to his boring, reliable sports car. It wasn't even a cool sports car; it was just like every other one you see on the roads. It got him around though, and that was what was important, right? Who did he have to impress with some fancy jeep or something?

Vince climbed into the passenger seat and cheerfully gave Stuart his address. As Stuart was pulling onto the road he said, "You really should come out with us again sometime, maybe even come down to Canal Street. It's a lot more fun than that ridiculous straight scene."

Stuart didn't want to tell Vince how much he agreed with that assessment of the boring pubs and clubs he usually frequented, so he pretended to ignore the last. "Maybe I should. I'd even take Ana, but I don't think she's like it too much. Too puritan in some of her views," he told Vince.

"That's your fiancee?" Vince asked. "Why didn't you bring her tonight?"

"Didn't want to spoil my fun with the wet blanket," Stuart answered honestly before thinking about it. Damn, he hadn't planned to tell anyone how much he hated going out with his fiancee. She was always such a bore, but she was still his.

Vince shook his head. "And here I thought I had relationship problems." He paused, and then, as though realizing what he had said, he hurriedly continued. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. Not my place, I know. I don't know anything about it. Just forget I said anything."

Stuart probably should have been annoyed at the other man, but the twittering apology just amused him. "Don't worry about it. You're probably right."

Vince seemed to relax at that, but he still changed the subject. "Well, you should still come to Via Fossa with us one night soon, even if I am a right idiot and don't know when to keep my mouth shut."

Stuart laughed and pulled up to the address Vince had given him. "I'll think about it. May not be ready to go down and hang with all the gay boys just yet, though. I wouldn't mind another night like this, though." He would much rather spend a night with just Vince, but he wouldn't admit that, at least not aloud. He pulled a card out of his suit jacket and handed it to the other man. "Here, call me and we'll make plans. Or just have Sandra talk to me."

Vince favored him with a breathtaking smile as he took the card. He also let his fingers wander down Stuart's hand and linger a moment on his fingers before pocketing the slip of heavy paper. "Ta. I'll talk to you soon, then," he said as he got out of the car. Stuart felt lucky to have gotten off that easily. He was sure that if Vince had initiated a good night kiss he wouldn't have fought it. In fact, feeling Vince's fingers over his own made him want to initiate the kiss himself.

"Good night," Stuart said with a little wave.

"Good night," Vince answered. Stuart waited until he was inside before pulling out and making his way back home, trying not to think too hard about much of anything.

***

Vince sat at the foot of his bed well before midnight, wondering why he wasn't at Babylon finding a nice trick to cop off with.

Once again, Irish eyes and a subtle Irish accent plagued his mind. He was surprised to find himself so taken by the man. Never before had he found someone he liked talking to so much - especially not someone as attractive as Stuart Jones.

He would have to tread carefully with this one. He really didn't want to develop any real feelings for him. Once he shagged him, it would be different; then he could write him off as just another trick.

God did he want to seduce him now, though. He couldn't get that Irish lilt out of his head. He didn't even realize his hand was moving until it grasped his cock and began to rub it. He let himself come thinking of dark curls and Irish eyes.

Chapter Three

It was only three days since Stuart had allowed Sandra to drag him out to the pubs, but it felt more like several weeks. Stuart had buried himself even deeper in his work, trying to forget the blue-eyed man his PA had introduced him to. Nothing was working; his mind kept wandering to Vincent Tyler, at work and at home. In the morning he awoke from dreams of the man. When he masturbated - which wasn't often, at all, considering how impossible it still was for him to get off without thinking of a man - his body came into his mind unbidden. He had even started to sketch his face into an ad or two before catching himself.

He had requested more work to exhaust himself with, which made his partners at Thrive worry, but he brushed off their suggestions of taking a vacation. His work was still the best, even if he was disappointed with it lately, so they couldn't force him into anything.

That was one perk of workaholism. Since he made partner, no one could easily force him to do anything he didn't want to, even take a vacation. Though now he was wondering if they weren't indirectly trying it by not giving him any work. It was only three o'clock and Stuart was already searching his files for some forgotten project he should be working on.

"Stuart?" Sandra's voice came over the intercom, interrupting his search. "Phone for you on line one."

"Who is it?" Stuart asked, annoyed.

When she didn't answer, Stuart sighed and picked up the phone. "Good afternoon. Stuart Alan Jones speaking."

"Do you always use your middle name at work? Sandra used it when she picked up, too." The crisp baritone carried images of the very man he had been trying to forget.

"It sounds better than just 'Stuart Jones,' don't you think? It has more of a ring to it; more original," Stuart said, not letting his surprise sound in his voice.

"Sexier," Vince agreed. Stuart had to control himself before he choked into the phone. He knew Vince was openly gay, but he hadn't expected the other man to flirt so freely with him.

"Whatever works," Stuart said as smoothly as he could, which would have been pretty smooth for a lesser man. "What can I do for you? Looking for some PR on a new book?"

"I actually wasn't thinking about work when I called," Vince told him. "I was wondering if you wanted to come out again with us tonight, actually."

"Why didn't you just have Sandra ask me?"

"You'd give her an excuse and not come if I did." Stuart wondered how the other man already knew him so well, but then realized that Sandra had probably filled him in on that aspect of Stuart's personality.

"Well, I can't anyway," Stuart lied. It really wasn't a good idea for him to go out with this man again, not with his faith as fragile as it was, and with this obsession. He was too likely to give in to temptation. "I have too much work to do."

"Liar," Vince said with a smile. "Sandra already told me that you've been 'busy' searching for something to do all afternoon."

Damn her, Stuart thought even as a wave of relief fell over him. "What else did that woman tell you?"

"Only that your fiancee has a business meeting tonight so you won't be seeing her, and you never see your family so that's not an excuse either," Vince said. Stuart could hear the triumphant smile through the phone. "So how about you pick me up around eight?"

"Not tonight," Stuart said bluntly. He had to reject this man now, before things got out of his control. "I have to get back to work. I'll call you, okay? Bye."

He knew he was panicking, but he still hung up as quickly as he could. The man wreaked his nerves more than anyone else in his life had. Even Max back in school, whom he had silently lusted over for years, hadn't tried his control this much. Maybe it was because Max had told him repeatedly that God hated fags, and that he would beat any poof within an inch of his life for hitting on him. Vince, on the other hand, was encouraging and flirtatious.

Stuart shook his head. This was not a good train of thought. He needed a distraction. He quickly shut down his computer and gathered his things.

"I'm going home early. I'll see you tomorrow," he told Sandra as he walked out of his office.

"Not coming out with us tonight?" Sandra asked, seemingly disappointed.

"Another time," Stuart told her. "Tell the boys hi for me."

Sandra frowned, but didn't argue. "See you tomorrow, then."

Stuart rushed out of the building and down to his car. He'd recently had a personal gym set up in one of the spare rooms of his condo. He figured now was as good a time as any to use it to exhaust himself past all thoughts of men, sex, or Vincent Tyler.

***

When Stuart came to the door, he was wearing only a pair of shorts short enough to leave very little of his amazing physique to the imagination. His toned chest was covered in a layer of sweat, and he seemed to be out of breath.

Vince hoped he hadn't interrupted anything embarrassing.

He put the thought out of his mind, remembering Sandra's description of Stuart's too-pure Catholic fiancee. No way would she be here for sex, and Stuart wasn't the type to go to another woman for relief. And if he gave in to the "temptation" of men that easily, Vince wouldn't be playing this game.

For once, Stuart seemed shaken. "Uh, hi. What are you doing here?"

"Sandra sent me here. She said you needed to be dragged out again." It was only a half-lie. Sandra had said that someone should drag Stuart out before he killed himself with stress, but she hadn't specified Vince per say.

Stuart seemed to accept it with a snort to cover his bemused smile. "Damn woman. Oversteps her bounds more and more. I'm going to have to fire her for this."

"She says you wouldn't dare," Vince told him with a nervous smile, hoping he really hadn't endangered his friend's job. "She's apparently the only one who'll put up with you."

"Great, now she's got everyone on her side, telling them what a monster I am." Stuart still seemed amused, despite the words, as if this was an ongoing joke between them. He opened the door wider. "You might as well come in. I'll go put on some clothes." He gestured to his clothes and continued as if in explanation, "I was just working out."

"You don't have to get dressed on my account," Vince told him with a wink. "I'm rather enjoying the view."

Stuart visibly blanched, but continued to speak as though he hadn't been affected. "That's what I was trying to avoid. Ana wouldn't be too pleased to know I let strange men into my apartment to drool over me. She doesn't even come to do that, though I don't know why. I'm perfectly lovely; why doesn't she take advantage of it?" With that, he turned and walked into what Vince assumed was the bedroom.

Vince couldn't control a soft chuckle at the man's arrogance. It was true - he was 'lovely' as he put it - but the sheer confidence with which the words were spoken surprised Vince. This man was different than anyone he had met until now.

He walked up to the door Stuart had disappeared behind and talked through it. "Make sure you wear something sharp."

"Why?" The reply was muffled but still clear enough to understand. "I told you I'm not going out tonight."

"Sandra told me you say that. Told me her original threat to call Ana every night still stands."

Stuart must have forgotten himself and the situation at the sound of that, because he opened the door wearing nothing but a pair of dark jeans, half opened to reveal black briefs. Vince took a moment to admire the man as he said, "That's not fair. She told me just I just had to go out once."

"Seems she changed the rules then," Vince told him with a smile, knowing he'd won.

Stuart growled. Vince had never actually heard a man growl outside of the bedroom, but Stuart did, and he even managed to make it both menacing and sexy. "Fine. Give me a few minutes to shower and we'll go out." He slammed the door and Vince went back to the living room and made himself comfy on the couch. He glanced at Stuart's video collection, but, seeing no science fiction or porn, he turned on the satellite and made a mental note to buy the other man some good movies of both varieties.

Half an hour later, Stuart finally emerged, looking hopelessly dull, despite his natural beauty. Once again he was wearing loose jeans and an even looser, drab sweater. Vince took one look at him and shook his head. "There's no way you're going out like that."

Stuart raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it enough that I'm going? Do you have to dress me too?"

"Apparently," Vince said, hiding a grin. "Trust me; tonight looking dull and drab will not help you to fit in." Vince walked past Stuart and into his bedroom, hading straight for the dresser. Stuart seemed to have given up fighting because he just watched calmly as Vince pulled out clothes and threw them on the bed.

He picked out the tight dark jeans Stuart had been wearing earlier and a russet shirt that had been in the very bottom of a pile of "outgrown" shirts. Of course, outgrown merely meant that they showed off his body in any way. "Wear these. You'll fit right in."

Stuart looked at the outfit then said, quite snarkily for someone who was being helped, "You do know I have a fiancee. I'm not looking for anyone to pick up out there."

Vince nodded, patient as ever with his quarry. "Trust me, where we're going, you'll attract more stares in what you're wearing than in these. Besides, you'd probably have as much fun turning a man down as you would fucking him."

"More," Stuart said quickly.

"More, then," Vince amended amiably, not believing it for a moment. "Get changed. I'll be waiting on the couch."

Stuart sighed and nodded, pulling at the hem of his shirt. He gave Vince a pointed stare, acting like a young girl afraid of changing in front of him. Vince hastily left, deciding that, given his intentions, Stuart was very justified in his shyness.

***

Stuart changed into the new outfit quickly. He walked out knowing how good he looked, and was pleased to see that, from the look he gave him, Vince appreciated how the tight fabric clung to his body as well. He didn't dwell on how happy that made him; he just said a silent prayer. God, give me strength....

"Well, I think you're about ready to be seen in public," Vince told him with a teasing grin.

"You're lucky I'm going out at all," Stuart reminded him, only half serious. "Keep this up and I'll make this a miserable evening for everyone."

"Alright, let's go then."

Vince led them downstairs and into Stuart's car. Although Stuart insisted on driving, Vince navigated for him, directing him to a street down by the canal.

"Canal Street," Vince said with a contented sigh as they got out and onto the street, "home away from home."

Stuart looked around in awe. All he saw were men. Hot men wearing almost nothing but tanned skin and hard muscle. Sad men in drab outfits worse than what he was wearing earlier. Mostly-men in flashy dresses and even flashier jewelry. Young men still in school and old men who must be on Viagra by now. The few women he saw seemed to have no romantic attachments to any of the men. In fact, most of them were busying themselves by checking each other out.

It was a place straight out of Stuart's dreams.

All he could do was stare for a moment. He didn't know so many openly gay men existed in England, never mind Manchester.

"Come on then," Vince said, not even realizing how shocked he was. "They're waiting for us in Via Fosse."

"Where?" Stuart managed to ask.

"The bar there," Vince said, grabbing his arm and pulling him in. A moment later, Stuart remembered to pull out of the other man's grasp as he followed him into the strange bar.

Chapter Four

The inside of the pub wasn't that much different than straight pubs, so long as you weren't looking at the clientele. Stuart counted a total of five women in a crowd of fifty or so. The rest were men, as beautiful and varied as they were on the street.

"This is where you spend most nights?" Stuart hissed to Vince. For once, he was genuinely apprehensive. He was on very unfamiliar territory, with a rebellious body which insisted on hardening under their lustful stares.

"Yup," Vince said, looking back at him with a smile. "Me, Alex, and Sandra, usually. We know just about all the regulars, though."

Vince led him to a booth in the middle of the bar. Sandra and Alex were already there. "Mission accomplished," Vince told Sandra before kissing her cheek in greeting. "I'm going to get some drinks. Beer okay?" After a chorus of "yes's" he left Stuart standing beside his PA and her flamboyant friend.

"Well, have a seat, gorgeous," Alex said, gesturing to the empty seat across from him. "How did Vince get you out here with us again?"

"He threatened me. Again," Stuart said, giving Sandra a pointed look. "You're risking a lot by trying to refurbish my social life."

Sandra's response was interrupted by the arrival of a young blonde man who couldn't have been old enough to be in Uni yet. "Hey, there, Alex, Sandra. Who's the new guy?" he asked as he slid into the booth next to Stuart, leering suggestively. "Want me to show you around Canal Street?"

"No, thanks, Nathan," Vince said from behind him, coming back from the bar with four beers. "Stuart doesn't like chicken." At Vince's pointed stare, Nathan got up for a moment to allow Vince to sit next to Stuart, then slid back in at the end of the booth.

"Oi, Stuart likes a different kind of bird," Alex agreed with a teasing smirk. "No meat for him at all. He's engaged, he is."

Nathan's eyes widened in disbelief. Stuart decided he should protect his manhood - or straightness - or whatever it was, because he was still so in shock from his surroundings he wasn't quite thinking right. He took a long sip of beer and used the same line he'd been using since the engagement, hoping he'd start to believe it if he repeated it enough. "That's right, Alex," he said. "To the most beautiful creature in Manchester, no less." She was beautiful, actually - it was just that there were so many more beautiful creatures in this bar alone.

Nathan looked to Vince for confirmation. When Vince nodded, Nathan looked even more shocked. "No!" he said softly, and then nonchalantly stole a sip from Vince's beer. "Not in a million years would I figure you for a straight."

"Just shows how much you have to learn about gay men, chicken," Alex said. Stuart wasn't sure how many meanings that sentence had, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know them all. "Why don't you go hit on someone your own age?"

Nathan just gave Alex a dirty look, and then turned to Vince. "Buy me a drink?" he asked pleadingly.

"Not tonight. Go find Hazel; she'll buy you whatever you want if you slip her a tenner."

Nathan gave him a dirty look, too. "Some friend you are," he said before slipping out of the booth.

Stuart was, if anything, more overwhelmed now. Nathan - that boy - was more comfortable here than he was. He wondered briefly where that iron will of his had disappeared to. Then Vince laid a companionable hand on his arm and he remembered. He took another long sip of beer.

"What do you think of the place?" Vince asked.

"It's much more interesting than any place I've taken Ana to," Stuart told him, pulling his arm away from Vince.

"What's this Ana like anyway?" Alex asked. "Besides beautiful, cause you already told us that."

Stuart smirked, just as he knew he was supposed to, and recited the same speech he knew he was supposed to give, though he was feeling it less and les, not more and more. "Any man would be lucky to have her. She's gorgeous, and smart as anything. She's a great businesswoman, really, even if she did inherit instead of working her way up. She's almost as good as me." Another smirk, this one self-satisfied. "She's a good woman, too, the kind who's at Mass every Sunday, and confession before."

"She sounds like such fun," Alex said sarcastically. "How is she in bed?"

Stuart didn't really know if Alex was serious or not, as a gay man and all, so he smiled knowingly. "Best shag in Manchester. Want the details?"

"C'mon, Alex," Vince said. "Do you really want to hear what it's like to have sex with a woman?" His voice sounded half disgusted, half amused.

"We're not all that bad," Sandra said with a smile before she took a sip of her cocktail.

"Well, I don't know how you straight blokes do it," Alex said. "No offence, Sandra."

"None taken."

Suddenly a flamboyant woman in way too much make-up was beside the table and Stuart thanked God for the interruption in conversation. Stuart had to do a double take to make sure it wasn't a drag queen, especially when Vince go up to give her a hug and a chaste kiss.

"Hiya, Hazel," Vince said, sitting down far enough into the booth for the woman to sit down beside him. His thigh was pressed against Stuart's, and Stuart had to put both of his hands on his beer to prevent himself from rubbing the taut muscles.

"Hi, honey. Alex, Sandra," she greeted them. She turned toward Stuart, "Who's the new man? And why didn't you tell me about him before? He's quite the catch."

Vince sighed. "Stuart, my mother, Hazel. Hazel, Stuart. He's straight."

"Yeah, Stuart was just telling us about his fiancee. He's straight as an arrow," Alex agreed.

"Sure he is," Hazel said patronizingly. She turned to Stuart and spoke slowly, as if explaining something to a very young child. "I'm sure she's a lovely girl, Stuart. I'm sure you're very happy with her."

Stuart glared at the woman who took so many liberties even as she was meeting him. "Very happy, thank you," he said.

"You should bring her around here sometime," Hazel said. "I'm sure she'd have fun meeting your new friends."

"I don't think she'd have much fun," Stuart said honestly, keeping the edge in his voice. "Catholic, you know. Both of us are, actually."

Hazel nodded, as if that explained something. "Shame," she said.

"Excuse me?" Stuart asked, mildly insulted.

"Hazel doesn't mean anything by it," Vince explained quickly. "She's just got it in her head that religion - especially Catholicism - keeps people from being what they ought to most times. Too long on Canal Street, you know. All those men does something to someone's head and all." He was twittering now, and Stuart decided he ought to stop it, because it was too cute for him to handle at the moment.

"It's all right. We do do that," Stuart said, favoring Hazel with a charismatic grin. "I'm sure a beautiful girl like you can forgive me that one flaw, though."

"If that were your only flaw, I'd be in heaven," Sandra said dryly.

"You lie," Stuart said with a smile. He gave her his favorite line: "I'm lovely. All of me, absolutely lovely."

Hazel sniggered and turned to Vince to murmur into his ear. Stuart's ears were just sharp enough to pick up her saying, "I like this one, Vince. He could be trouble." The grin she gave was absolutely gleeful.

Vince laughed and said aloud, "Don't worry so much, Hazel. It's getting a bit stuffy in here. We're going to Poptastic soon, I think. Have fun with Bernie."

"Alright, you be careful, love, and have fun," Hazel said. She waved to the others as she retreated to another booth.

"So we're going dancing, Vince?" Alex asked, suddenly even more animated as excitement overtook him.

"Yeah, I feel up for a dance or two. You game, Stuart?"

Stuart was still feeling overwhelmed at just a pub, so he shook his head. "Not tonight, boys. You got me out this far, isn't that enough for you?"

"I never have enough," Vince said, giving him a saucy wink.

Stuart snorted. "I'm sure. I'm going home, though. Have fun, boys, Sandra."

"See you around, then," Alex said.

"See you tomorrow," Sandra said.

"Yep. Tomorrow, bright and early," Stuart said hurriedly. He followed Vince out of the booth.

"I'll call you then, and you'll come out again?" Vince asked. "Maybe next time we'll get you to the actual clubs?"

Stuart nodded, still not wanting to turn the beautiful man down, though he knew he should. "We'll see."

Vince, he noticed, had moved very close to him, helping him straighten the collar of his jacket in a loving gesture that Ana had never shown him, or anyone for that matter. His lips were only inches from Stuart's. It would be so easy for Stuart to lean down and cover that soft mouth with his own. He might have, if they hadn't been in a crowded pub in front of his PA.

Instead he jerked away violently. "Later, then," he muttered as he made a hasty escape. He swore at himself the whole time, knowing he was losing every aspect of the cool the image he had worked so hard to cultivate, just to keep up a charade, but he didn't see many other options. His image would have to suffer.

***

"So what did you think of him, Mum?" Vince asked, taking a sip of his tea.

"Who?"

He knew Hazel was just feigning innocence, but he elaborated with a sigh anyway. "Stuart, from the pub last night. What did you think?"

"He's a handsome bloke. I'd have claimed him for myself if he weren't already spoken for. Not often that you find handsome straight men down on Canal Street."

Vince glared at her. "He's not straight."

"But he has a fiancee, honey. Isn't that straight enough for you?"

"He's going to ruin both of their lives."

"And who are you to save him from his own mistakes, Vincent Tyler?" Hazel asked, suddenly serious.

Vince met her eyes, which was a rare occurrence when she was staring him down. "He's so messed up inside, he needs someone to save him. Catholic brainwashing, you know. Doesn't know right from wrong anymore. He's going to marry someone he doesn't even love, just because she's a good Catholic."

"How do you know he doesn't love her?" Hazel asked.

"He doesn't talk like he loves her at all. And he doesn't want her around. Even if he were straight, she'd be terrible for him, and I haven't even met her."

Hazel sighed and gave in, lowering her eyes. It was the first, and probably last, time Vince had won a battle of wills with her. He suspected she had let him win. "Religion's a dangerous thing to mess with. If it's made him lie for this long, it might not be wise to push him."

"I know," he said, "I should stop right now. But something's telling me I ought to go on with it, too. Like it's vitally important that Stuart Alan Jones does not marry a woman."

"Sure that's not just that perfect ass of his talking to you?"

"No," Vince said, smiling at the memory of said ass. "Well, that's part of it, but not all. It's like," he paused, trying to articulate his thoughts. "In another life we could have been best friends. When it's just him and me, it's so comfortable, right. It's when we're in a crowd, or the sex thing is brought up that things are weird. I don't know, Mum. I can't get him out of my head, though. I feel like I'm going mental from it."

Hazel favored him with a sympathetic smile. "Well, if you feel that strongly about it, give it all you've got. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Yeah, I know," Vince said, feeling rather dejected. Then he smiled a bit at her. "The chicken hit on him last night. I thought Stuart would go into shock."

Hazel laughed. "That boy's incorrigible. Good thing he's hot. You know, he shagged Jeremy Adams last night."

Vince relaxed and listened as his mother gave him all the latest Canal Street gossip. There was something so familiar about this, he found himself forgetting all about his newest "project."

***

The couple in the back corner of the restaurant, closest to the balcony, was the most attractive in the room. Stuart knew it, and Ana knew it, though she didn't care too much. Stuart was just annoyed at his inability to be excited by being with such a beautiful woman.

"Do you know what Rodger told me yesterday?" Ana asked. Rodger was her business partner.

Stuart looked the woman over. She had long blonde hair most women would kill for, and too many paid exorbitant sums of money to replicate, and bright blue eyes. Even in a conservatively cut black dress, most men noticed her ample chest and thin, supple body. Stuart knew that if she stood up, he would see long, slender legs that most men felt the need to touch at any possible moment.

Stuart cursed himself silently for not being most men.

"No, what did Rodger tell you?" he asked sweetly.

"Well, you know his brother is gay, the poor dear," Ana began. She had the idea that anyone who was not a good Catholic was a "poor dear" who needed to be saved. "Anyway, it seems the other night he saw you in a gay bar down on Canal Street."

It had been two days since Stuart had visited Via Fossa, and he hadn't yet told Ana about it. He hadn't been planning to, either, but now there was no helping it. "Sandra took me there to meet some friends of hers. She thinks I work too hard," he told her simply.

Ana looked at him quizzically. "Why would she be at a gay bar?"

"Because some of her friends are gay," Stuart explained slowly. "That's where she goes when her husband isn't out with her. She says he thinks all those gay men act as perfect chaperones."

Although Stuart wanted to laugh, there wasn't even a hint of a smile from Ana, so he didn't show his amusement. "Well, I don't like the idea of you going there, Stuart," she told him. "That whole neighborhood is a sinful place. I want you to stay away."

Stuart raised his eyebrow. "Afraid I'll be stolen away by some handsome bloke?" he asked cheekily.

Ana wasn't amused. "According to Rodger, you already had several offers," she said blandly.

What, is this woman tracking me now? Stuart asked himself, annoyed. Maybe marriage isn't the best idea.

Aloud he said, "You don't have anything to worry about from any of them. It's just a bit of a lark, teasing the queers."

Ana's expression didn't soften, so he continued, "If you really don't want me going down there, I won't, okay?"

She smiled sweetly at that. "Thank you, Stuart. You know, it just worries me when you get involved in stuff like that."

Stuart tried hard not to roll his eyes. "I won't get involved in anything like that, Ana," he told her, just as he knew he should. The waiter returned to the table. "Look, here's dinner. Let's just talk about something else and enjoy the evening."

Ana nodded amiably, since she had gotten her way, and started on her dinner as Stuart told her about his newest campaign.

Chapter Five

"Come out with us again tonight."

"Can't. Too much work."

"Sandra says -"

"Sandra doesn't know what she's talking about. I've work to do."

"..."

"Besides, I'm tired. I'm allowed to be tired, aren't I?"

"Guess so." Snicker. "Nathan was so looking forward to seeing you again."

"Nathan's too eager for his own good."

"Come on out. It won't kill you to have some fun."

"I have fun. I took Ana out just last night."

"Was it any fun?"

"..."

"Alright, sorry about that one. Out of line, yeah, I know."

"Now I'm really not coming out."

"Maybe I ought to come over and drag you out again." Flirtatious voice. Stuart ignored it.

"Too late. My door's locked, and I'm not answering for anyone."

"What if I bring curry? We can stay in and hang out, yeah?"

"You really want to see me don't you? I'm straight you know."

Snort. Stuart ignored that, too. "So, it'll be fun to hang out with a man without the sex thing. Just a movie, yeah?

"Fine. But make sure it's good curry. And no porn."

Chuckle. "Fine. Good curry. No porn. I'll see you an hour then."

"See ya."

Stuart hung up the phone and wondered what had just happened. He had started out good to his word not to go to Canal Street - and he thought he had stayed faithful to the promise. But he wasn't sure if having Vince over at his flat was a loophole or not. He knew Ana wouldn't like it if she heard of it, but right now he wasn't sure if he cared too much.

Damn woman thinks she can control me. If it were about anything else... He didn't finish the thought. He just growled under his breath like the caged animal he felt he was beginning to resemble.

And how had Vince convinced him to let him come over to the flat - alone - for dinner and a movie? Why couldn't he ever just stick to his excuses and say no to this man? Wasn't the work thing a good enough excuse?

Well, if you count reading web comics as work, he thought wryly, closing the "Something Positive" comic on his browser.

He looked down at himself. He hadn't gone into work today, so he hadn't showered. He had spent most of the day working out and fucking around on the computer, actually, and he was sure he wasn't decent enough for company. He sighed. At least the flat was clean.

He headed for the shower, wondering how he was going to handle this newfound "friendship."

***

"You're late," Stuart said as he opened the door for the other man.

"Only by a few minutes," Vince told him, handing him a steaming brown paper bag. He began twittering his explanation. "There was a line at the take out place, and at the video store. You wouldn't believe the amount of people out there right now staying in for dinner and a movie. I don't think anyone in Manchester will be out tonight. Except Hazel and Alex, maybe. I've never known them to stay in ever." Not for the first time, Stuart stifled the urge to still those lips with his own.

He stopped him with a raised hand, palm facing Vince in defense against the barrage of words, instead. "It's alright. Really. What movie did you get?"

"'The Matrix'," Vince told him. "I figured if I was going to subject you to science fiction, the least I could do was make it a blockbuster." He took the DVDs from their bag to set them up.

"Please tell me you didn't get all three," Stuart said.

Vince looked back at him with a shy, endearing smile. "I didn't actually think we'd watch all three, but you know, it's better to have them and not than to want them and then not have them and have to go out again. Besides, I'll probably end up watching them at mine tomorrow anyway. Don't know why I don't own them yet, actually. Just haven't gotten around to it, I suppose."

Amused, Stuart let Vince ramble as he collected plates, silverware, and beer bottles from the kitchen. When he came back, he found Vince sitting on one end of the couch, waiting for Stuart to start the movie.

"I hope beer's okay," Stuart said, handing him his plate and drink.

"Great, thanks," Vince said, taking them both. Stuart sat on the other end of the couch, wondering if he shouldn't take the armchair instead. He decided he could trust the other man - and himself - this much, at least.

He gradually started to relax as the effects of the movie and a stomach full of Indian food took their toll on him. He found himself lying down, his legs bent just enough so that his feet weren't touching Vince, who had curled up on the other arm of the couch. At first he didn't even notice Vince's hand rubbing his ankle slowly. Once he did, he decided to ignore it. It felt good.

Besides, what was a bit of ankle petting between friends?

As the movie ended, Stuart slowly pulled his legs back into his body, regretting the fact that the defeat of Agent Smith had to herald his return to reality. He took the remote and turned off the television before flipping on a random CD.

"Mmm, U2, good blokes," Vince murmured as if coming out of a dream.

"Not bad," Stuart agreed. "I did a campaign for them a while ago. They were nicer than most of my clients, actually."

"Really?" Vince asked, coming alert.

Stuart smiled and nodded. "It was a fun campaign. Better than anything I'm doing now, at least."

"And what are you doing now?"

"I," Stuart said with his most pompous air, "am working for the dog food king of Britain."

"No," Vince said, laughing. "Couldn't they find anything more interesting than dog food to give you?"

"That's what I get for requesting extra work," Stuart said, sighing. He really didn't want to have to go back to his dog food meeting in the morning.

Vince looked at him in askance. "Why on Earth would you request extra work?"

"I like it," Stuart said simply. "I'm a workaholic."

"No one's that much of a workaholic," Vince told him. "What's so wrong with your life that you have to hide yourself in your work like that?"

Stuart suppressed a glare at Vince. That question had hit a bit too close to home. Something in him wouldn't let him lie to Vince, though, so he evaded the real answer instead. "I like my work. I can let go of all the bullshit when I'm working."

"Somehow you don't strike me as the type to put up with bullshit," Vince told him.

"Not usually, no," Stuart agreed softly, silently wondering why he let himself put up with any at all.

He wanted to change the subject to Vince and Canal Street, but wasn't sure how. Or if he should. Or what questions would be.

Dammit, I'm Stuart Alan Jones. I don't get worked up about shit like this, he reminded himself.

Stuart stared at Vince in that inquiring way that always made people squirm. After a moment he asked, "What's it like?"

"What's what like, Stuart?" Vince asked, obviously perplexed, much to Stuart's amusement.

"The whole gay thing. I don't think I've ever met an openly gay person before this past week."

Vince raised an eyebrow at the new line of questioning.

Stuart continued. "When did you come out? What's it like dealing with people? How's the sex?"

"Looking to convert?" Vince asked with a nervous chuckle.

Stuart smirked, enjoying the feeling of making the other man uncomfortable. "Just curious. I'm in PR. I like to know what goes on in people's heads."

"Even during sex?"

Stuart just continued to smirk and stare at Vince, not at all sure of what he was doing, but pretending nonetheless.

Vince sighed, giving in. "I don't think I actually came out. Hazel told me when I was fifteen. Not that I didn't already know, of course, but I couldn't even say the words to myself back then. She told me the only thing I had to be ashamed of was hiding, so I stopped. Hiding, I mean. Being out did wonders for me. I mean, I wasn't just hiding from the world anymore. I was going out to Canal Streets on the weekends - I met Alex the first time I was down there - and I wasn't letting myself just get by in school, either. I even got into Uni, which I thought I'd never do," Vince smiled at the memory.

"Fifteen and down at the clubs? You were younger than Nathan, weren't you?"

"Nah, the chicken's fifteen, too. Lots of kids down there these days, actually. Back when I was in school it was just me and Alex, mostly. All our shags were a couple of years older than us, at least."

Stuart laughed, trying to hide his discomfort. "Shagging older men at fifteen? You were just like that chicken, weren't you?"

Vince smiled. "I don't think I was as bad as him. Usually I let them come to me back then."

Stuart thought about asking, 'And now?' but decided he probably didn't want to know the answer, given the situation. Instead, he asked, "What's it like, shagging a man?"

Vince looked surprised at the question. Actually, Stuart was pretty damn surprised that he had found the courage to ask it. He had been wondering about it since he knew what shagging was, though.

We're not bad sinners. Not like the poofs. It's straight to Hell for them.

Stuart pushed Max's young voice out of his mind and listened to Vince answer.

"I don't know if I could compare it to shagging a bird, since I've never had one, you know," Vince said slowly. "But, well, it's the most wonderful feeling in the world. Of course, when he's first in you, especially the first time, it hurts, God it hurts. But once you've relaxed and you feel yourself around him...." Vince's voice trailed off as he blushed.

That blush was so hot. It went straight to Stuart's groin. So had the words, actually.

I'd never be friends with a faggot. Lot of Hellspawn, they are, Max's voice, on another occasion, entered Stuart's mind.

Stuart had to get out of the conversation. Now. Without being too obvious that he had been affected. That meant he couldn't just say, "Get out!" and slam the door on Vince's face as he was tempted to.

Instead he counted to ten, thought of cold showers, then thought of Ana naked. That did the trick.

This is going to be one Hell of a marriage, he thought as his cock softened. He rose with his usual catlike grace and made his way over to the DVD player to retrieve the disks.

"I have an early meeting tomorrow," he explained as calmly as he could. "It's probably best if I went to bed."

Vince took the DVDs and put them in their respective cases. "I'll see you at the pubs soon, then? You promised a go at the clubs, too."

Stuart shook his head. "No can do. Ana doesn't want me going down to Canal Street. She thinks it's a bad influence."

Vince cocked his head quizzically. "I didn't think you were the type to take orders so easily."

"Not usually, but I made an exception this time," Stuart told him.

"Come on," Vince said with that sweet smile. "Come down once more. Give the clubs a go and I'll make sure Sandra never bothers you to come out with us again."

"I don't know," Stuart said. "I think Ana would appreciate it if I wasn't going out with your crowd, though."

"See? Breaking the rules would be a good thing in her eyes this time. Besides, you promised," Vince pouted like a small petulant child.

Stuart really couldn't say no to a face like that. Besides, he was more than a bit pissed that Ana thought she could control his social life. It's not like this marriage was based on anything but convenience, and he'd be damned if she'd inconvenience him over it. "Alright. I'll go. Next week sometime, okay?"

Vince's face brightened. "Alright. Next week. You'll call me?"

Stuart nodded and led Vince to the door. "Yes, I'll call you. I promise."

When they got to the door, Vince leaned in as if to kiss Stuart good bye, but stopped at the last possible moment. Stuart wasn't sure whether he was relieved or not.

Instead, Vince just said, "I'll see you soon, then."

"See you then," Stuart agreed before Vince departed.

Stuart closed the door and leaned against it heavily. He didn't know what kind of game he was trying to play. He had managed to control these urges for thirty years now - well, twenty, at any rate; he hadn't felt them as a child - and now, just when he was about to marry a nice woman and settle down for a normal life free of deadly sins, he was about to break. This was not fair. What, he wondered for the umpteenth time, was it about this Vince that made him so irresistible when Stuart had been able to deflect so many advances in the past?

He should be able to forget about this. He should be able to just calmly smile and turn Vince away, but somehow he couldn't. Somehow, this man had a control over him that even his fiancee couldn't compete with.

He wanted more from this man then he had ever wanted from anyone in his life. He didn't want just a shag - though he could grudgingly admit that that would be nice. He felt comfortable enough with this man to have the kind of friendship with him he hadn't had with anyone since Max moved to America for college. More even; he could share his secrets with this man. He could see Vince taking the place in his life Ana was supposed to occupy.

It's straight to Hell for them.

He decided to call him the next day and cancel, knowing full well that he wouldn't - couldn't - but needing the comfort of at least having a plan to make things in his life "right" again before he went to bed.

Why, he wondered, would God punish him like this?

He didn't sleep at all that night.

Chapter Six

"He won't show." Vince sighed and took another sip of the beer he had been nursing for the past hour.

"What are you talking about?" Alex asked distractedly, making eyes at one of the younger boys by the bar. The Union was slowly starting to empty as people made their way toward the clubs for the night.

"Stuart. He was supposed to be here at ten. He was supposed to come out to Babylon with us tonight. It's eleven-thirty already."

Vince really wasn't sure whether he was upset or relieved to know that Stuart wasn't coming. He had been anxious all day, trying to figure out how Stuart would respond to a club full of sweaty, half-naked, gay men gyrating against each other to a heavy beat. He wasn't sure if Stuart was ready for it yet, and Stuart's reaction to the club would dictate Vince's next move with him. Things had been progressing well so far - they had even talked a couple of times over the past week, just talking on the phone because Stuart couldn't actually find time to see him yet - but that could change drastically if Babylon didn't agree with the Irish man.

Alex shot him annoyed look. "So find another partner at Babylon. Find a group. You can have an orgy at yours. That'll take your mind off things. Besides, he's straight."

"No he's not."

"He says he is. He's engaged. Isn't that bad enough?"

"He's just confused," Vince told him mournfully. "Besides, I don't want to find someone else at Babylon. I want him."

This made Alex finally turn around and look Vince in the eye, "Honey, please don't tell me you've gone and lost your heart to that man. Even if he didn't think he was straight, he's a right bastard, you know."

"You just don't know him well enough," Vince said with a sigh.

"I know enough," Alex said. "Come on. We're going to Babylon, and we're going to find you the hottest man in there, and you're going to have him. How does that sound?"

"It sounds like you're forgetting someone." The Irish lilt came from behind Vince.

Vince turned to meet the midnight blue eyes. "A bit late, aren't you?"

Start shrugged. "I had to deal with Ana for an hour. The woman is a pest."

"Then, if you don't mind my asking, why are you marrying her?" Alex asked, ushering them all toward the door.

"I do mind, actually," Stuart sneered.

"Touchy," Alex said. He whispered in Vince's ear, "This is what you've got yourself all worked up about?"

Vince laughed and pushed him away, not wanting to answer. He found Stuart's attitude endearing, in a crazy kind of way.

Alex shook his head in confusion before straightening to his full height and gesturing broadly. "Come on, ladies, off to Babylon, for dancing and boys!"

Now it was Stuart who leaned down to whisper in Vince's ear. "Did he just call us ladies? Bit confused, isn't he?"

Vince laughed. "Don't mind Alex. He's from another world."

Stuart just shook his head and followed them down Canal Street to Vince's favorite and oldest club.

***

Stuart needed a drink. Several in fact.

"Give me a few minutes," he told Vince, who was trying to pull him onto the dance floor. "I'm going to have a drink first. Don't know if I can dance at all, actually."

Although Vince looked adorable when he gave that pleading look, he forced himself to turn around - look toward the bar, not at all those bodies, he told himself - and ordered a good hard whiskey

He was relieved when Vince began dancing, lost in the crowd. He didn't need to be near that man now, not with hundreds of hot, sweaty, sexy bodies out there reminding him of exactly what he was denying himself. He was much too close to giving in as it was, without Vince there to represent everything he could ever want in a man.

No. I want nothing from men, Stuart reminded himself, not for the first time that night alone. My mind is just playing tricks on me. It's just God's way of tempting me.

Why had he allowed himself to come here again? He took a long sip of his whiskey.

"Fancy a dance?" a voice asked from beside him. He turned to see a man with deeply tanned skin and raven hair looking at him in askance. He was undeniably hot, and Stuart felt his limits being tested again. He had withstood Vince's advances, though, and after that, he decided he could withstand anyone.

"I don't dance," he said, feigning boredom.

The other man seemed to be encouraged by the answer, not deterred. "Care to join me in the back room, then?"

"What's in the back room?" he asked.

Suddenly, he realized Vince was back by his side. The man must have been keeping an eye out for him as he danced. He was grateful at least that Vince was there to save him from this bloke. "He's not interested in the back room," Vince told the dark man.

"Who are you to say what he's interested in?" the man asked with a glare.

"He's with me," Vince said, "so sod off." He put his arm around Stuart's waist possessively to drive home his point.

The man gave both Stuart and Vince an evil eye, but reluctantly left them in favor of a different quarry.

Stuart could feel himself trembling under Vince's hand. He wasn't sure if it was what had just transpired that terrified him so much, or contact with the other man. Just to be sure, he pulled away and leaned on the bar.

"Thanks," he said, flashing Vince a very charming, very fake grin.

"Anytime," Vince said, leaning on the bar beside him.

"What is in the back room?" Stuart said, feeling extremely innocent for once.

"Sex," Vince said blandly. "Quick wanks, blow jobs, anonymous shags, group sex - you can find just about anything back there if you want, so long as you're not looking for a pussy."

Stuart blanched at the casual manner with which Vince had delivered the words, as if anonymous public sex was just a way of life. Then again, maybe it was down here.

"Some of these blokes can be rather over-eager," Vince continued, letting a hint of humor seep into his voice. "I'll protect you from them if you want, so long as you'll dance with me." He looked over at Stuart and winked.

"I don't need any protection," Stuart said with a sneer. "I can take care of myself."

Vince just gave him a skeptical look.

Stuart smiled and sighed, knowing he had lost. He was half glad for an excuse to dance with the man; if he danced with him to keep men away, that was alright. Right?

"Alright, I'll dance with you. Just make sure no one else tries to take me into that back room, alright?"

Vince's smile was heartwarmingly sweet. Stuart tried very hard to ignore the predatory look that occupied his eyes. "Of course not. You're mine tonight, and I don't share."

"Just don't get any ideas," Stuart warned. "I don't want to have to ask Alex to protect me from you."

Vince laughed and grabbed his hand, pulling him onto the dance floor. "I like my partners willing, thank you," he yelled into Stuart's ear.

Stuart decided not to verbally answer. It was too hard to yell over the music. Instead he let himself move with the music.

At least, he tried to let himself move with the music. He had never danced like this before. Sure, he had taken some ballroom dancing back in school when they forced him, and he had been in a few over-crowded, gyrating audiences at concerts, but this was completely different from either of those. Here he had room to move, but no set rules for his body to follow. He found himself flopping aimlessly, unable to correctly pick up the beat.

Vince, thankfully, took pity on him and did not laugh. "It's all in your hips," he told Stuart instead. "It takes a bit of getting used to, this music."

Stuart tried to concentrate just on his hips, but it still wasn't working. His body just didn't want to move properly.

Suddenly, Vince had him in his hands, directing his hips to move in the right direction to the right beat. Once he felt what he should be doing, it was easy for Stuart to pick it up on his own. Vince didn't move his hands away when he felt Stuart take control of his body, though. He left them there and smiled at Stuart. "Just relax a bit," he yelled.

Stuart knew he should fight it, but between the heady rush of the music, the dance and all the other bodies around him, he couldn't help but left himself relax, even in Vince's grip. He raised his hands over his head and just let himself move, not caring about anything else for at least the moment.

He didn't know how many songs they danced together for, but he suddenly started to pay attention again and smiled when he heard the chorus of an old song his mother used to listen to. He even began to sing along, letting his arms lower around Vince's neck and looking the other man in the eye. "It's rainin' men! Hallelujah, it's rainin' men! Amen!"

Vince smiled and began to sing with him, pulling Stuart's hips closer to his body. They fit perfectly together, in a way no woman had ever fit Stuart. He somehow even felt himself relaxing as Vince's hands made their way up his spine and onto his neck and upper back, instead of tensing up. It just felt so right.

As the song ended, Vince pulled his head down, and Stuart allowed it. He allowed Vince's lips to brush his, then press against his, then finally to merge with his as Vince's tongue entered his mouth searchingly. He couldn't pull away. He craved this touch, this taste - needed it, even. He pressed his tongue against Vince's, tasting it, wanting to devour the man on the dance floor as the next song played. He rubbed his growing erection against Vince's, knowing the other man felt it, and was as aroused as he was.

We're not bad sinners. Not like the poofs. It's straight to Hell for them.

Stuart jerked back suddenly, as if he were burned. This was wrong. This was so wrong. He knew he shouldn't be here; he'd burn for being here. He had to get out. Now.

He ran toward the exit, not even bothering with his coat - Vince had the chip from the coat check anyway, a voice in the back of his head remembered. He ran out into the night and kept running, knowing that Vince had followed him, but also that Vince wasn't as fast as he was and he had lost him after only a few quick turns. He ran all the way back to his flat halfway across the city and even that didn't seem far enough.

Once he was inside, he stripped out of his club clothes, touching them as little as possible, as if they held a virus that caused queerness. He slipped on an old dressing gown and began to pour himself a glass of his hardest liquor. Thinking the better of it, he swallowed the bit in the glass then drank straight from the bottle.

His cell phone rang. It was Vince, probably looking for some explanation for the sudden disappearance. He let it ring. After the voicemail picked up, Vince called again, though. And again. And again. He turned the damn thing off and picked up the flat's wireless before walking into the bedroom with it and his bottle.

Stuart began to dial Ana's number before he realized it was already 2 am and he hadn't told her where he would be. Had promised not to go where he would be, actually. Only now did he realize the wisdom in her asking him to make that promise.

He put down the phone. He would call her tomorrow. And he would never, ever see Vincent Tyler again.

Chapter Seven

"Ana?"

"Stuart?" her voice was crisp and clear, even through the cell phone. "What's wrong? You never call me during the day. Why aren't you at work?"

"It's my lunch break," Stuart explained tersely. "I was thinking about the wedding. How much of it do you have planned?"

"There's nothing to do but set a date," she told him. "I told you this already. We've talked to the priest. We did the blood tests. I have the dress. You have the tuxedo. The bridesmaids are set. My catering company is doing the food. We're having it at Father's estate, so we don't even need a booking. All we need is for you to set the date so we can send out the invitations and schedule with the church."

"How about sometime next week?" Stuart asked, hating himself even as the words came out of his mouth. He didn't want this marriage, but he knew it was the only way.

"Next week? Stuart! Are you insane?" Ana nearly screamed into the phone.

"No, I'm fine, Ana, just fine," Stuart said calmly, trying to pacify her. "I just want this wedding as soon as possible."

"Do you know how much it will cost - "

"Money's no problem," Stuart said, cutting her off. "Both of us have more money than we know what to do with. Call Val or whoever you've put in charge of this thing and tell them to get it together as soon as possible. I don't care - postpone the reception six months so all the guests can make it. That's all they care about anyway. Just make sure it gets done."

Ana sighed. "Alright, Stuart. I don't understand, though. You've been putting off setting a date for months."

"And now I've set one. Get on it," Stuart said harshly before hanging up on her without so much as a "good bye."

He lowered his cell into his lap and started at it. Idly, he fingered the buttons, looking through the received calls. Fifteen calls in the last twelve hours, all from Vince. The voice mail he had listened to this morning had nearly broken his heart.

"Hiya, Stuart. It's me, Vince. I - I just wanted to apologize. Guessed I pushed a bit too hard, yeah? Sorry. Call me back, yeah?"

Then, later in the day, another one. He selected it from the menu and listened to it again, though he had heard it a dozen times already today.

"I know you got my first message, Stuart." He could hear the uncontrolled shake in the other man's voice, as if he were trying very hard not to cry. "You told me you check them compulsively. I guess you won't want to talk to me again. Don't know if I blame you after - I was out of line. Stuart, I'm sorry. I'll be around if you want to call. I'll understand if you don't."

"You twat," Stuart sighed as he hung up, wanting to have a good cry himself. "You don't even know what you did to me last night, do you?"

He checked his watch. He should be getting back to work. Sandra already had it out for him today. No point in being late to give her reason to lay into him again.

***

Hazel knew her son was unlucky in love, but she hadn't expected that Stuart to send him running to her kitchen to be consoled over a cuppa quite so soon. She had given it a couple of weeks after meeting him. She had at least expected to see him again before this inevitable moment. Instead, here was Vince, having tea with her and Alex and explaining the latest in a long line of dating disasters.

"I don't know what I did wrong," Vince said miserably. "I took things slow and waited until he was relaxing to make a move. When I kissed him, I knew he liked it - I could feel him rubbing against me, begging for more. So why did he pull a runner?"

Hazel smiled to herself, proud to know that she was one of the few mothers with a gay son who could speak so candidly to her. She was careful to hide it behind the cup as she sipped her tea, though.

"Don't blame yourself, love," Alex said. "He wanted it - we could all tell. It was clear to everyone in that club that he belonged to you last night."

Hazel sighed. She knew this whole thing would lead to trouble, right from the start. She had just hoped the trouble would be worth it. Obviously it wasn't. At least, if things went as they looked like they might, it wasn't. "It's probably not your fault, Vince," she said, trying her best to be sympathetic. "Didn't I tell you not to mess with religion? It's unpredictable, especially with a bloke like Stuart."

"What do you mean, a bloke like Stuart?" Vince asked before taking a sip of his own tea.

"I mean the kind of man who says fuck the world except when it comes to who he fucks," Hazel told him. It was true, boys like that were much less predictable than the real fanatics. She tried again to console her son. "Just give him some time to think. He'll figure things out for himself soon enough."

"I don't have time to give him, Hazel," Vince told her. "Sandra called me today and told me that the twat was planning to marry that damn fiancee of his next week. Sooner, if possible."

Hazel sighed. This boy was really panicking it seemed, to go and do something as reckless as that. Maybe she should step in here. Vince, of course, wouldn't have to know. "Don't worry, love. A marriage like that doesn't last, even for Catholics. They can get those - what are they called?"

"Annulments," Vince supplied. "Don't know if that's a good idea, though. He'd be better off not getting married at all."

"Well of course he would be," Hazel said, getting annoyed. "But you can't have everything, can you?"

"I don't see what you're getting so worked up over, Vince," Alex said. "He's not even a nice bloke. Why would you want anything from that bastard?"

Both Hazel and Vince shot him dirty looks. Hazel slapped him on the back of the head, making Vince sigh and roll his eyes.

"He even left his coat there, the twat," Vince told her. "It was freezing last night and he went home without even a coat. I have it, of course. I brought it in with the other stuff, cause I thought maybe you could bring it back to him. He doesn't want to see me right now, that's for sure."

Perfect, Hazel thought. She would just stop by and have a talk with this Stuart as she dropped off his coat.

Aloud, she said, "Oh, just give me more work to do. I don't have anything better to do with me time, do I?"

Vince smiled slightly. "Thanks, Mum," he said. He rose and kissed her cheek. "I have to go. Meeting with my agent. I'll see you at the Union tonight?"

"Of course, love," Hazel said.

"See you tonight," Alex said with a little wave as Vince left the house.

***

Just after noon the next day, Stuart was pouring his first glass of whiskey for the day when he heard the knock at the door. He was sure there would be many more glasses, but they would come after he got rid of whatever visitor dared come see him before he was good and drunk.

He opened the door, already read to slam it in the intruder's face. He was startled enough to see Hazel Tyler not to make some snide remark and send her on her way. Instead he said rather dumbly, "Can I help you?"

"You can help me alright," Hazel said. She thrust a black leather coat at him. Taking it, he realized it was the one he had abandoned at Babylon two nights prior. "Vince picked this up for you. He seems to be under the impression that I'm his errand girl, so he gave it to me to take here."

"Thank you," Stuart said, ready to leave her and go back to his drink. The look on Hazel's face made him pause.

"Well?" she asked after a moment.

"Well what?" Stuart asked.

"Now would be the polite time for you to invite me in for a cuppa to thank me for bringing over your coat, now wouldn't it?"

"Well, I -" Stuar began, but Hazel cut him off.

"Thank you, I'd love too," she said, walking past him and into his flat. Not in the mood to argue for once, Stuart just sighed and hung up his coat in the closet.

"What, drinking straight at this hour?" he heard Hazel's voice from the kitchen. "Don't you know that you're supposed to add liquor to a drink before sunset? Otherwise, you may as well be an alcoholic."

Stuart felt his dark mood start to lighten and he couldn't help but to smile. He liked this woman, he decided, despite her (not brilliant don't think brilliant) son.

"I'll put some tea on then," he said as he entered the kitchen, "and add it to that."

"There's a good boy," Hazel said with a grin.

They chatted idly as the tea heated, about how nice Stuart's flat was, Hazel's interesting wardrobe, and the weather. Stuart felt his mood lighten even more by talking to this woman. She was the mother he could have had, if his mother cared one whit for who he really was.

No one mentioned Canal Street or the incident with Vince until after the tea (both mixed with whiskey) was served.

"Now, what's this I hear about you pulling a runner on my Vince the other night?" she asked over her cup.

"Don't start," Stuart said warningly. "It's not up for discussion."

"It's my son we're talking about," Hazel said forcefully. "We'll discuss whatever I want to discuss."

Stuart met her eye and tried to stare her down, but soon found himself looking into his teacup. "He didn't give me much choice, now did he, kissing me like that and all."

"And weren't you leading him on when you didn't want a thing to do with him?" Hazel asked harshly. "Having a bit of a lark then? Playing with the queer's heart?"

"It wasn't like that," Stuart said.

"Oh? Then how was it? Tell me then."

"I did want him," Stuart told her. Somehow admitting it to her was so much easier than admitting it to anyone but himself. It was rather like discussing an open secret; so long as it was only the one other person, and it was discussed in private, it was okay. "I do. I just can't."

"And why not?" Hazel asked. "Don't tell me that fiancee of yours is the problem. We both know you don't want her anymore than you want me."

Stuart allowed himself a slight laugh. The truth was, right now he'd probably prefer even Hazel to Ana.

"Don't be so self-depreciating," he told her.

"And don't be so quick to change the subject."

Stuart sighed. "I'm Catholic," he said slowly, making sure she understood every word. "We Catholics aren't queer. We go to Hell for that kind of stuff."

Suddenly, Hazel's whole demeanor changed. It was as if a predatory bird had put its hackles down for a moment and allowed itself to be pet. "Have you ever thought to ask why God created you to be attracted to men then?"

"It's a test," Stuart said simply. Didn't everyone know that?

Hazel sighed. "And why would he test you like that - to make sure you keep yourself from loving?" she asked softly - much more softly than he had believed her capable a minute ago. "God doesn't test people, love; life does that. If God made you one way, He wants you to be that way. If He gave you the ability to love, you should just be grateful for that and hold on to it, in any form it comes."

"It was a mistake, then. I'm just a flawed model he forgot to recall," Stuart told her.

The anger was back in her eyes. "God does not make mistakes," she told him vehemently, "especially not in the case of my son. If you think Vince is flawed because he's gay, you're thicker than I thought."

She suddenly calmed down again. "People, however, are prone to flaws: flaws in judgment, flaws in interpretation - even Biblical - and even prejudice. Just because they say God's one way doesn't mean it's true."

Stuart didn't want to hear anymore of this. He had never heard such opinions, and it terrified him that he found them more logical than the ones he had grown up with - the ones that had been holding him back for so long.

"I think you ought to get out," Stuart said flatly, trying to control his rebellious emotions. He barely believed what he was saying as he told her, "I can tolerate a lot of things, but blatant blaspheme is not one of them."

Hazel nodded. "I think I've had about enough. I'll see you at the Union when you're ready then. You're buying. Or maybe I'll just see you at the wedding."

She was out the door before Stuart had a chance to respond, leaving him alone and staring at the door. He finished off his whiskey laced tea and threw the cup against the wall. The sound of shattering glass soothed him.

"Damn woman."

He didn't - wouldn't - believe what she said. It was just one more trick. One more snare to pull him into Hell, like Babylon and Vince and that ache in his heart whenever he thought of the other man. That ache that definitely wasn't love, because love was a gift from God, never to be ignored, and no matter how much of a fucker God could be, He wouldn't let Stuart fall in love only to have to reject the feeling in His name.

He thought of an American friend Vince had told him about. Michael, if his memory was correct. He had a husband and two kids in Pittsburg. He and his husband had been best friends since high school, and had been in love for as long as they could remember, though it took the sad twats almost two decades to do anything about it. Were they delusional? Or was their love real?

It had to be real, didn't it, to last that long?

He pushed the thoughts out of his head. There was no way he could even be considering this. He was straight. Confused, yes, but straight, because God makes all men for women and this obsession with Vince Tyler was nothing but infatuation. Sinful infatuation.

Right?

Stuart sighed and took a long sip of whiskey straight from the bottle. He didn't want to have to think anymore. He just wanted oblivion for a while.

Chapter Eight

Stuart ran his hands down the firm body, nestling his head into the shoulder to kiss and nip at the sensitive area at the base of the neck. He could feel hands exploring him, setting his nerves on fire, making their way down his stomach and toward his aching cock.

He rubbed himself against those hands, groaning when the friction sent shivers through his body. He lifted his head to briefly kiss those soft sensuous lips before looking deeply into bright blue eyes. Although he wanted to shout it from figurative rooftops, he couldn't find the voice to do more than whisper the words, "I love you, Vincent Tyler."

Vince just smiled and pulled him down for another heart-stopping snog.

***

Stuart opened his eyes, suddenly awake. That dream had been too real, and too arousing for his comfort.

"God, why are You doing this to me?" he muttered, looking at the clock. His alarm would be going off in ten minutes anyway, so there was no point in going back to sleep.

Or maybe He's trying to make a point, that devious voice in the back of his mind whispered. Maybe that crazy woman was right yesterday.

Stuart wanted to believe the voice, wanted more than anything to let himself be with Vince, but he didn't know if he could. How do you go against fifteen years of self-conditioning in just a few weeks?

Then again, he wondered, whose words did he want to believe: a fifteen year old kid who taught him how to steal fags from his mother's purse, or a woman he liked more than his own family?

He sighed and pushed the covers away. He might as well get himself ready for work. No point in letting his brain chase itself around in circles again.

***

"Wonderful presentation, Stuart," Mr. Ross said, clasping his hand. "The best I've seen in, well, ever, I think. You'll draw up the papers so we can sign them for Monday?"

"Of course," Stuart said, smiling at his client. "I'm glad you like it."

"You don't have to put on that facade with me, boy. Don't you think I can see who you are from these drawings? You're talent comes from that 'fuck the world' attitude, and don't try to deny it."

This time Stuart gave him a real smile. "You've caught me. "Now if you could just tell my fiancee that that attitude's a good thing, I'll be happy."

Mr. Ross laughed. "Congratulations. You must be really in love with the woman to let her tie you down. You're too smart to marry a girl just because you think you should." The last was said with a tinge of bitterness, as though he himself had made that same mistake.

Stuart hid a grimace. "Yes, well, I like to think so."

Mr. Ross smiled. "You get on those contracts now; I'm going to see the sights of Manchester."

"There's not much to see," Stuart told him, "but if you like I can send you a guide to show you around."

"Not necessary," the client said. "I grew up not far from here. I'm sure I remember enough to find my way. I'll see you Monday."

"Monday, then," Stuart nodded before retreating to his office. He would, he decided, be a happy man, if only he didn't have to deal directly with clients. At least not clients like those, who always manage to say exactly the last thing he wanted to hear.

I'm a fraud, he decided. The great Stuart Alan Jones, marrying because someone told him it was the right thing to do. How the fuck did that happen?

"How did it go?" Sandra asked, walking into his office with a cup of coffee.

"Well enough," Stuart said, trying to hide his foul mood. After the experiencing the cattiness that was Sandra two days ago, he didn't feel like raising her ire again so soon. "He liked the presentation well enough. We're signing the papers on Monday."

"Are you really going to be working that soon before the wedding? I thought you'd take a few days off to prepare."

"When have you ever known me to take a few days off for anything?" Stuart asked snidely.

"Don't you get cheeky with me, Stuart Jones. You're lucky I'm here at all today, what with how you treated my Vince and all."

My Vince, Stuart thought with a silent growl before he could stop himself.

Stuart grimaced. Didn't she know better than to bring that up around him? Especially with this damn wedding weighing on his mind? And the (cringe) honeymoon?

"Drop it," he said in his most commanding voice. He looked down at the proofs Sandra had left on his desk. He had asked for sexy; he had gotten cartoons. Children's cartoons. "Remind the art department this is an advertising firm, not a coloring book company. Maybe they can come up with something a little less juvenile. I want it on my desk by tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir," Sandra said. She picked up the pile and headed out of the office.

"Are you in love with your husband?" Stuart asked impulsively before she reached the door.

Sandra turned toward him with a sly smile. "I thought the great Stuart Alan Jones didn't care for love. It's all a bunch of fairy tales, if I remember correctly."

"If you're not going to help you can leave," Stuart growled.

Sandra moved back toward his desk and softened her tone of voice. "Of course I love him. I wouldn't be able to put up with him if I didn't. Why? Having doubts about you and Ana?"

"Of course I'm having doubts," Stuart snapped. "I never loved her, as you well know."

"But if you're as incapable of love as you always say, that shouldn't be a problem," Sandra reminded him slowly, "unless you've gone and fallen for someone."

Stuart glared at her. He hated these dances. They both knew who he was talking about. Instead of answering her directly, however, he asked, "Is love ever wrong?"

"Of course not." Sandra stared at him with an odd look. It took him a moment to realize it was pity.

Stuart couldn't deal with pity, especially not from his employees. "Get out, then," he snapped. "I've work to do. I want no interruptions, no phone calls."

Sandra just nodded before leaving the office quietly.

Stuart sighed, wishing not for the first time that he could be just like every other bloke. Was it too much to ask to want what he was (supposedly) supposed to want?

He wished he could be like the image he projected. He had once been well on his way to just saying "fuck it all" and not caring one whit about what God or anyone else wanted from him. The only thread of faith he still held onto even now was the fear Max had instilled in him all those years ago. He thought it ironic that his only faith lied in fear.

"Fuck it," he muttered, turning toward his computer. He had work to do.

Besides, avoidance had always worked before. All he had to do was stop thinking about the problem, and even if it didn't go away he could deal with it.

***

Canal Street. That was the base of all of his problems, in a way. A place where he had the option of being whatever he wanted to be; love whoever he wanted to love. A place where sex was a way of life, and sex between men was the norm.

Stuart walked down the street, watching all the people he passed. Even now, hours before the bars filled or the clubs opened, men of all shapes and sizes were roaming the streets. One man dressed all in black leather was giving him an inviting look, but he avoided eye contact and kept walking. Actually, he was getting quite a few inviting stares, but he ignored all of them.

Instead he focused on the couples. There weren't many, but there were a few. Two teenage boys still in school were walking just in front of him, hand in hand, completely at ease with public displays of affection. Every now and then they would pause their conversation for a quick kiss, on the lips, the cheek, the hand - it didn't seem to matter, so long as their lips touched skin.

Stuart let his legs lead him into a small park at the end of the street. Beneath the trees, landscapers had scattered heavy grey stone tables with stone benches, presumably for picnics or for parents to sit at as they watched children playing on the various rusting playground equipment arranged in the far corner. The park was nearly empty except for a few men sitting on the benches. It seemed old and desolate, bereft of children. Even its few patrons seemed sad, old and isolated from the world.

Stuart leaned against a tree and watched as two old men, each at least sixty, walked into the park and sat down at a bench. One pulled a bag of bread out of his pocket and began to tear up a piece to throw to the ever-hungry birds as the other continued talking.

Every now and then, the talking man would reach over and touch his companion, to hold his hand or gently grab his arm. Whenever that happened, Stuart saw the bread-thrower's small smile widen.

Long after the bread was gone, they sat there like that, the one talking and the other watching the birds, and occasionally smiling or laughing at what the other said. Eventually, the talker said something that made the other man turn and look at him. Putting one hand on the other man's cheek, he said something too low for Stuart to distinguish, and then brought their lips together for a brief, tender kiss.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Stuart knew that he should be disgusted at this display - who wanted to see old people kissing, after all? - but he wasn't. Instead, he couldn't seem to get over the look the man had given his companion before kissing him. That look was filled with more affection than Stuart had ever thought existed, especially after the years of wear and tear that these two seemed to have survived together. That look could be described as nothing but love. That look, if nothing else in this world, was God's will incarnate.

And that was what he wanted, someday, when he grew old and grey. More than anything else, he wanted to be able to look at someone like that, and know it was forever.

He could never have that with Ana. He may never be able to have that with Vince, either, but at least he had a fair chance at it. He already loved the man.

He had a wedding planned, though, and the kind of life he was supposed to lead. There was no turning back now.

Chapter Nine

"Alright, I'm here. Now can you please tell me why I'm up and at your flat at this ungodly hour?" Alex said, glaring down at Vince.

Vince laughed and ushered him into the flat. "It's nine in the morning. Most people are at work by now," he said. Alex just glared harder, still looking for an explanation for being woken up and called over so early. "You're going help me get ready for a wedding," Vince explained.

Suddenly, Alex's whole demeanor changed. "Oh! Who's wedding?" he asked.

Vince rolled his eyes, leading them toward the bedroom. "No one's. I'm going there to make sure Stuart doesn't make a mistake."

Alex probably would have frowned at that, but he was already looking in Vince's closet, trying to find something appropriate - which for him, of course, probably meant bright and flamboyant. "Why are you wasting so much time on this bastard?" Alex asked, holding out a - surprisingly - good suit. It was the dark chocolate brown; the one Hazel had insisted he buy after publishing his first book because it brought out his eyes so well. He had forgotten he even owned it. "And where have you been hiding this? I demand to see it on you. Now."

Vince slipped out of his dressing gown and put on the pants as Alex searched for an appropriate shirt. "He's not a bastard," Vince said. He amended the thought immediately. "Or, not always. You have to get to know him. He's really quite fantastic once you know him."

Alex sighed. "You know I wouldn't do it for anyone else, but I'll tolerate him for you sweetheart. Here, wear this one." He handed Vince a dark blue shirt. It would be brilliant with the suit. Vince smiled as he put it on; he knew Alex had the talent for real fashion instead of just camp if he put his mind to it.

"How did you find out about this wedding today anyway? Is he talking to you again?"

"No," Vince said, not letting himself feel the rejection he had been wallowing in lately. He had decided just this morning to crash the wedding and claim his man, and any negative thoughts may crumble his resolve. "Sandra told me about it. I have to go, though. She says Stuart's been acting odd lately - morose, even. He even asked her if she loves her husband, which is something he'd never ask anyone under most circumstances. Maybe he's had a change of heart. More likely he needs someone to hit him over the head to get him to think straight."

Alex laughed. "And you're the man to do it?"

"Course I am," Vince said. "Who else?"

"Well, isn't that what the fiancee of his is there for?" Alex asked.

"Nope. She'll just get in the way. How do I look?"

"Fabulous," Alex said with a smile. "Though maybe we should go back to mine. I just picked up the most delightful shimmer powder -"

"No make-up," Vince cut him off with a warning glare. He didn't like the look in his friend's eye.

"Oh, alright. Can I at come to see the show then?"

Vince smiled. "Course you can. Hazel's coming anyway, so you might as well be her escort. I'll warn you though, we're not staying long."

"Well maybe you're not," Alex told him with a mischievous grin, "but can you imagine the scene you'll create after you and Stuart leave?"

Vince smiled. So long as his friend and mother were occupied with that entertainment, he would have Stuart all to himself for most of the day, if things went according to plan.

***

"What ever happened to the traditional rented tux?" Darren, Stuart's American-born cousin and best man, asked, looking at Stuart's brand new, custom tailored Armani. The suit was black, alright, but it didn't sport those ridiculous stripes down the pant legs, nor the traditional cummerbund or vest, and the silk shirt Stuart wore under it was black instead of white.

"This is my wedding, and Ana's not the only one who wants to look good for it," Stuart said, buttoning the shirt. "Besides, when else do I have an excuse to buy my own Armani?"

Derek shook his head. "You're worse than your wife."

"She's not my wife yet," Stuart said, grateful that, for at least these few moments, he was still free. He didn't want to go through with this at all. Maybe he should just run away like all those silly brides in the movies.

"I can't believe how lucky you got with her, Stu," Derek said, handing him the black silk tie. Stuart reflected silently that he looked more like he was going to his funeral than his wedding in all this black. He wished he had thought to add some color to his ensemble. Even a red rose would have been nice - insufferably romantic, given the situation, but color at least. "She's everything any man could want in a woman - beautiful, rich, good connections."

Controlling bitch, inane religious fanatic, insufferable cunt, Stuart added in his head with a frown.

"She is that," Stuart muttered aloud, realizing his cousin actually expected him to answer. He put on his jacket and looked in the mirror. After playing with his hair a bit (not that it was ever bad) he decided he was perfect. Lovely. Dead fucking sexy.

"God, Stu, you've got to quit with the preening. You're like a fucking chick," Derek told him.

"I'm too sexy to be a 'chick'," Stuart said with a grin.

Derek rolled his eyes. "I don't know where you get that shit from. You know, Claire and I never thought you'd be married. For some reason, we thought you'd become one of those old bachelors, like in the old-fashioned British movies. Like the professor in My Fair Lady or something. Not that we thought you couldn't find a wife - we just never thought you were interested in all this."

Who would be? Stuart asked bitterly. "Well, it seems like you were wrong," Stuart said coldly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to take a walk."

"Alright," Derek said, "Just make sure not to spy on the bride. It's bad luck to see her before she walks down the isle, you know."

Stuart grumbled something appropriate and went out to find a place where he could be alone.
***

"This is it," Vince said, handing the cab driver a few bills and ushering Alex and Hazel out.

"It's a bit old fashion, isn't it?" Alex asked, "Getting married in a proper church and all?"

"So is homophobia, but that doesn't stop some," Hazel said with a sigh. Vince smiled. No matter how much she annoyed and terrified him sometimes, he loved his mother to death.

"Alright, you two can go on in and find seats for the show. I'm going to go find Stuart," Vince said, pushing the two toward the door. "If anyone asks, just say you're friends of the groom."

"Nonsense!" Hazel said. "We're waiting out here to meet you when you come out. We'll have plenty of time to find seats after."

"Besides, what kind of family would we be if we didn't wait around to make sure you got your boy?" Alex asked. "Go on, then. Good luck."

Hazel leaned over to kiss Vince on the cheek. "Go get him," she said, wiping the lipstick print away with her thumb.

Vince nodded and headed toward the church. Stopping the first man he found in the vestibule, he asked, "Have you seen Stuart Jones?"

"Who are you?" the man asked in an American accent.

"I'm a friend," Vince said, trying to be as vague as possible. "I have to talk to him before the wedding."

The American looked Vince over for a moment. He must have seen something he liked because he nodded. "Stu's upstairs in the balcony," he said, pointing to the stairs on either side of the vestibule. "He doesn't want to be disturbed, though. My guess is guess he's having a moody version of cold feet. Be careful what you say to him."

"Thanks," Vince said before rushing up the nearest set of stairs.

He slowed down for the last few, taking a moment to take a deep breath and try to calm his racing heart. He turned the last corner into the balcony as silently as he could. "Stuart?" he asked tentatively when the thin figure came into view.

"I told that bastard Darren I didn't want to - " Stuart's harsh words were cut short when the man turned to see Vince. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his words still crisp but not as callous.

"Had to talk to you before you made a mistake," Vince said, making his way over to Stuart. He looked down over the balcony railing. The interior of the church was beautiful; all stained glass and polished hardwood. Despite the small crowd that had already gathered, it seemed very serene. "Nice church. Is this where you go every Sunday?"

"Ana does," Stuart said, obviously not in the mood for small talk. "What do you have to say."

Vince took another deep, calming breath. Stuart was going to make this hard on him. "Why are you doing this? You don't belong with her."

"Says who?" Stuart asked, playing his usual game of pride and challenging. Vince wasn't in the mood for games, though.

He stepped before his friend, trying to catch his eye. Stuart was being difficult and looking down at one of the stained glass windows, so Vince put a hand on his cheek and forced him to look at him. "You," he said, speaking slowly as to articulate every word, "are gay. You know it. I know it. Your God knows it. There's no way you're going to be happy with Ana."

"Save me the speech - your mother already gave it too me when she dropped off my coat," Stuart said with a sneer. Somehow Vince wasn't surprised; he had half expected Hazel to have words with Stuart when she was so willing to take him the coat. "Besides, if not her, who'll have me?" Stuart asked archly. "Who would I be happy with?"

Vince could see a teasing sparkle in Stuart's eye, subtle but there to someone who knew how to look. Something had changed in Stuart, probably due to Hazel's speech. The fear that had haunted him since Vince had met him was gone.

"Maybe me, if you'll give me a chance," Vince said shyly. He could feel his skin warming as he blushed but he continued almost desperately. Even if Stuart didn't want him, which he doubted given the chemistry between them, he had to know that he shouldn't be in this wedding. "Come on. Come back to mine and we'll talk for a bit. Or go back to yours alone if you don't want to see me. Or go have lunch with Ana if you really want and explain everything to her - just don't do this to yourself, or to her."

"You know," Stuart growled, bringing his lips close to Vince's, "that blush of yours is absolutely fantastic. Makes me wonder just how far down it goes."

Vince smiled predatorily, knowing he had caught his prey. "Come back to mine and maybe I'll show you," he said before putting his hand around Stuart's head and pulling him in for a snog.

Vince had thought that their first kiss was electric, but it was just a spark compared to this one. This time Stuart's hands wandered freely beneath Vince's jacket as their lips meshed. Vince ran his tongue over Stuart's lips, tasting them before Stuart opened up to him, allowing their tongues to battle. Eventually, once Stuart had allowed Vince to win (Vince had no doubt in his mind as to who would have won if Stuart had wanted to) Vince traced the sharp points of Stuart's teeth, tasted his tongue, the roof of his mouth, and anything else he could reach. He kept one hand in Stuart's heavenly curls as the other wrapped itself around Stuart's waist, pulling him closer. Their hips connected, and this time as their twin erections rubbed together Stuart did not run. Instead he groaned into Vince's mouth and pulled him closer, rubbing them together again and making Vince shudder.

Eventually, the need for air made them pull apart.

"Oh. My. God," Vince whispered between labored breaths.

"Ana never made me feel like that," Stuart confided, gasping for breath.

Vince took a moment longer to find his voice again. "I don't think anyone's ever made me feel like that. Come back to mine?" He took Stuart's hand in his and kissed the back.

"Of course," Stuart said. Still holding Stuart's hand, Vince took the lead and led them downstairs and out of the church.

***

"You know, you look a bit morbid all in black like that," Vince said once they were on the front lawn.

Stuart laughed at hearing his own thoughts echoed by his friend - lover? "I was going to add a red rose, but I thought people might get the wrong idea, like I was trying to be romantic."

Vince chuckled. "God forbid you be romantic at your own wedding."

Stuart was about to say, "Fuck off," when Vince let go of his hand and turned to pluck a red rose from one of the flower arrangements lining the path to the church. "There," he said, breaking off most of the stem and putting the rest through Stuart's lapel buttonhole. "Perfect."

Usually Stuart wouldn't allow that kind of romance from anyone, but right now he was in a good enough mood to make an exception. Besides, he was in an all black Armani with only a red rose to accent his own color. He knew he must look positively brilliant, vain thing that he was. One good thing about being out of the closet was that he didn't have to pretend to be boring anymore.

He reached into his pocket for the keys to the brand new jeep he had bought the day before (he needed something to cheer him up in the face of the wedding) and scanned the street for his vehicle. "Shit," he muttered as a white limousine pulled up in front of the church. He turned to the other man. "Vince, I do believe you're about to meet the lovely Ana."

Vince gave him a shocked look, but didn't have time to respond before a woman in a very long, very large white dress stepped out of the limo, almost right in front of them. "Stuart!" she cried as soon as she saw him, futilely trying to hide herself and that huge dress behind her thin arms. "Why aren't you in the church? You're not supposed to see me until the wedding! It's bad luck!" She paused for a moment when she realized Vince was there. "And who is this?"

"Ana, there's not going to be a wedding," Stuart said, as callous as ever he knew, but he wanted to get back to Vince's flat as soon as possible. Knowing he might as well start now, no matter how much it scared him, he forced out the words, "It's bad luck for the groom to be gay as well, you know." He was proud of himself to not only keep his voice steady, but pull off his usual bravado as well. "This is Vince Tyler. I'm going home with him now if you'll just excuse us."

Stuart took no little pleasure in seeing the shock and anger in her face. "You can't be serious. Do you know how much was put into this wedding? How much it cost us?"

"Have them bill me for everything you can't get refunded on," Stuart said, careful not to show any negative emotions. "Even the dress if you want, just send it to my flat along with the bill. I have a friend, Alex, who would love a Vera Wang. About your size, too, though smaller in the chest."

"Stuart," Vince hissed warningly, though Stuart could hear the laugher in his voice. Even if it didn't feel so good to piss Ana off after months of dealing with her shit, Stuart would have gone on just to hear Vince's stifled laugh.

Ana glared at him. "You do know what you're doing to yourself don't you? Go off with him and you'll be headed straight for Hell like all the other faggots. Didn't I tell you those folk on Canal Street were a bad influence?"

There. That was the attack Stuart was waiting for, but it no longer hurt nearly as much as he thought it would. He told her, "Keep on with that bigotry and you'll be the one burning. Go on in the church and tell them whatever you want. I'm sure they'll be looking for an explanation."

She glared at him for a moment before stalking angrily up the path into the church.

"My God," Vince said once she was out of earshot, "do you have to make a scene out of everything? You're worse than Alex."

"But I do it with style," Stuart told him before covering his mouth with a short kiss.

"That you do," Hazel said, coming up behind them and surprising Stuart into breaking the kiss. "Congratulations, love."

"Thanks Hazel," Stuart said just before he was hit in the side of the head by the woman's purse. "Ow! What was that for?"

"For playing with my son like that," Hazel said. "Now you boys go have fun." She pulled Stuart into a tight hug and whispered into his ear, "Hurt him and I'll have your balls for earrings."

Stuart's eyes went wide and Alex began to laugh. "Don't mind her, she's just a bit protective of her boy," he said when Hazel let go of Stuart to talk to Vince for a moment. Suddenly Hazel was on Alex's arm again. "You boys go have fun. We're going in for a bit of entertainment."

Stuart laughed and waved them on - who was he to deny them the right to watch the families go crazy? He took Vince by the arm and led him to his jeep. He had his own plans.

Epilogue

Although Stuart drove fast enough to ensure that they were at Vince's flat within just a few minutes, they were strangely somber minutes. Neither man said anything in the car, and they didn't do more than hold hands as they rode the elevator up to Vince's flat. Stuart was, more than anything, nervous. He knew he was lovely, but that didn't mean he'd be a good shag. Most of his friends had always told him that the prettiest birds made for the worst shags. Stuart hoped that wasn't him.

He found it in him to nuzzle Vince's neck as the he was unlocking the door to his flat, however, which made him giggle then moan in the most enticing way. Stuart wanted to hear that moan as much as possible, almost as much as he wanted to see the other man blush. He was encouraged to know that he could make the other man make those sounds.

"Come on," Vince said, pulling Stuart into the flat when he wouldn't stop, even though the door was open. "We can't do anything out here."

"Where's your sense of adventure?" Stuart asked, running a hand under Vince's coat before pushing it off completely.

"Cheeky," Vince said before snogging him full on the mouth again. Again, Stuart lost himself to the kiss, letting Vince strip him slowly of his jacket and shirt, not once losing contact. Stuart toed off his shoes and socks, keeping his hands on Vince as much as possible.

"Mmm," Vince hummed as they broke apart. "Bedroom. Now," he said, pulling Stuart toward his room with him. Once he was sure Stuart was following, he let go and began pulling off his own clothes, throwing them to the ground and letting them lie. Stuart smiled, all thoughts of self-consciousness behind him when he realized just what he was in for. Stuart noticed that somewhere along the way, Vince, too, had lost the socks and shoes, so that by the time they were in the bedroom neither one was wearing any more than their dress pants.

When they entered the room, Stuart grabbed Vince's wrists and turned him around, taking a moment to stare at his half-naked body for the first time. He was absolutely gorgeous - all hard lines and muscle, with a bit of a paunch, just enough to make Stuart want to grab it and pull him in. Which he did with animalistic fervor. He pressed his lips over Vince's oh-so-invitingly-bruised ones and allowed his hands to wander the bare flesh freely. As they snogged he pressed Vince back toward the bed.

Vince's hands, he noticed, were busy unbuttoning his pants, so he let his hands do the same to Vince. Their cocks sprung free of their confinement together, and Stuart gasped and shuddered when Vince's hard flesh rubbed against his. All he could do was pull Vince closer and massage that wonderful body as the other man stroked both their cocks together.

When he was sure he couldn't take anymore, he pushed Vince back onto the bed then fell on top of him. Trying to act more experienced than he was, and taking his cue from pub conversations and the magazines he had purchased in the last few days, he began kissing slowly down Vince's neck and chest. He took a moment to lick and suckle each hard nipple before licking his way down his stomach. Leaving his fingers to play with the nipples, Stuart began to lick Vince's gorgeous cock tentatively. When he felt Vince's fingers run through his hair encouragingly, and the raspy words, "You're fantastic," he began to suck the head, carefully guarding his teeth with his lips.

"Oh. My. God," Vince said, pulling Stuart back up toward his face. "I need you in me. Now."

Now Stuart's new-found confidence began to waver. As eager as he was to learn, he had never done anything like this before, and he wasn't quite sure how. "I don't," he began, suddenly feeling an uncharacteristic shyness. "I mean, I've never done this before."

Vince smiled up him understandingly, without any of the teasing look that Stuart had feared in his eyes. "Don't worry," he said, "I'll show you."

Vince took Stuart's shoulders in his hands and flipped them both over so that Stuart was on his back and Vince was lying on top of him. "Just relax," Vince said, grabbing a tube of clear gel off his nightstand. "Lube," he said at Stuart's inquiring look.

He raised himself up, and, fully in Stuart's view, slipped one lubricated finger deep into his arsehole. For a moment, he slid just the one finger in and out, fucking himself on it, then he added another, scissoring them to stretch himself even further. The whole time he was watching Stuart.

Stuart couldn't take it. It was too hot, watching this display just for him. He lowered a hand to stroke his cock, but Vince pushed it away. "That's mine," he growled. Stuart groaned in disappointment when Vince took his fingers out of that inviting hole, but his disappointment was short-lived. Vince reached over for a condom and the bottle of lube again.

Seeing Vince tear open the condom with his teeth like a fucking animal was one of the sexiest things Stuart had ever seen. He thought he was going to come from the sight alone.

Vince slipped the opened condom onto Stuart's cock, making Stuart moan at the sudden sensation, before covering it with lube. He held that beautiful arse just over Stuart's cock. "Ready?" he asked, as though Stuart was the one about to be penetrated.

Stuart nodded and put his hands on Vince's hips, guiding him down onto him. The feeling of actually being inside Vince was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Stuart knew this wasn't going to last very long, so he reached out and began stroking Vince, fast and hard, wanting to come together.

When Vince came all over his chest after only a couple of strokes, Stuart thought he would explode at the feeling of Vince's ass tightening around him, milking his cock for all it was worth. Stuart had never experienced such an intense orgasm. As he let his body go to the sensation, he was fleetingly afraid that he would pass out from it.

He didn't though. When Vince finally (too soon! Stuart thought with a whimper) pulled off Stuart, he was still alert and watching his lover as he took the condom off and threw it in the trash, then wiped them both off with the flannel he kept on his nightstand.

"So," Vince asked as he nestled onto Stuart's chest, pulling the duvet over them even though the afternoon sun still shined through the window. "Are you really a queer, or were you just playing with me?"

"Can we do it again?" Stuart asked in response.

Vince laughed. "Incorrigible. I've created a monster."

Stuart turned them so that they were both on their sides, eye to eye. He took a moment to kiss Vince softly on the lips before echoing his dream. "I love you, Vincent Tyler"

Vince smiled. "I love you, too, Stuart Alan Jones," he said before pulling him in for another soft kiss.

Stuart pulled Vince into him, content to just hold him there, as close as he possibly could. This was where he belonged.