The washroom fills quickly with steam as the two of us step into the shower, naked together truly for the first time, the day finally allowing us enough light to see each other properly. His eyes grace every part of me, as if he had never seen me before, and perhaps he never really had, since before today I was nothing but a free bed and a few laughs to him.

Catching his gaze, I hold it with my own, and nudging him around him into the warm spray of the water, I finally ask him the question that has been driving me crazy since that morning. "Why?" I can’t help myself, though I’m afraid of what his answer might mean to the possibility of us. Running a hand through my wet hair, I patiently await the answer, perhaps killing the mood, but not really caring.

He swallows once, and reaches up to pull me very close to him. Looking straight into my eyes, unflinchingly, he answers me with more honesty than I had counted on. "You really don’t think I keep coming back to see the neat tricks you can do with a spoon and your nose, do you?" Gathering his hands in the small of my back and pulling me even closer, he kisses me softly, answering all my questions fuelled by self-doubt in his own way.

With both hands on his chest, I push myself away slowly. "That’s not the only trick I can do, you know," I say with a wink. When he gets that mischievous twinkle in his eye, I shuffle past him, nudging him into the warm spray. "Wash first," I command, and sit on the edge of the tub to watch.

Now, voyeurism was something I never thought about, but there is something truly exquisite about watching a beautiful man bathe. I follow his every movement, watching the water stream down his body, running small rivers between the small but defined muscles of his chest, off the ends of his elbows, between his thighs. The scent of my shampoo fills the room as he scrubs at his scalp, looking at me underneath wet eyelashes and smiling, slightly embarrassed by my obvious appreciation of him. Under the circumstances, I don’t really care, and smile back, enjoying every second. The white foam that covers his head and his hands streams down his body with the water, gathering at his feet. Lifting his head into the jet of water, he runs his fingers through his hair, and I am captivated by the way this defines his neck and shoulder muscles, not to mention the many things I would like to do with his arms. He reminds me of a marble statue in a rainstorm, or what vanilla would look like in the flesh.

He reaches behind him and turns off the water, spoiling my comparisons of him to classical works of art. But as he stands in front of me, dripping, it takes every shred of willpower in my body not to throw him down on the floor and never let him up again. Calmly, I reach behind me and grab a towel for him off the rack, handing it to him and not moving another inch. Forced to dry off in front of me, he does so quickly. Then he stands me up, and dries me off with the same towel, swatting my hands out of the way when I try to help.

When the both of us are dry to his satisfaction, we step out of the tub, and I rescue my robe from the floor, pulling it on again and tying the knot tightly. He wraps the towel around his waist, and tucks the end in carefully, making sure it’ll stay that way, and then looking at me as if to say "now what?" I walk backwards out the door into my bedroom, and turn to crook a finger, beckoning him to follow. Raising an eyebrow to this very suggestive move, he pads after me, head tilted to the side in a questioning manner.

I make the bed quickly as his forehead wrinkles in confusion. I can very nearly hear the thoughts that must be running through his mind. Glancing at him, I smooth the sheets and smile, advancing towards him. "Time for my next trick," I say, placing a small light kiss on his cheek. "Lie down on your stomach, please." His wrinkled forehead of confusion becomes one of surprise and delight, and he quickly obeys, giggling as he does. I grin madly at the back of his head, and grab my jar of mango butter off of the dresser.

Hiking up the ends of my robe, I kneel beside him on the bed, and open the jar. Using two fingers, I scoop out some of the butter and rub it between my hands. Pressing my thumbs into the muscles where his shoulder blades meet, I begin to rub out every knot that my fingers find. A satisfied moan from Elijah informs me that this was not what he expected, but was far better. Smiling at my ingenuity, I continue to work down his back, the flats of my palms massaging out tense muscles. "Why are you so tense?" I ask rhetorically, trying to concentrate on the small of his back, and being distracted by the swells of his ass, even though they’re covered in terry-cloth..

He answers my question in a small, muffled voice, full of sleep and contentment. "You would be tense all the time as well if your face was on the side of every building in North America." At this, I had to nod in silent agreement. "Besides," he continued. "I was so nervous last night, afraid you’d kick me right back out to the couch."

Pausing only for a second, in serious debate over the removal of the towel, I answer him honestly. "You have no need to be tense around me." Deciding to leave the towel where it is, I continue the massage at the backs of his thighs. A slight shiver at my touch is all I get in response to my statement, and I decide to leave things be. No need to ruin yet another moment with my rationality, so I fall silent and vigorously rub his calves. Finishing the massage on both legs, I press between his toes with my fingertips and stand up to admire the lean, relaxed form of his body. Leaning over him, I can’t help but smile when I realize he is fast asleep. I place a butterfly kiss on his shoulder and cover him with a spare blanket, closing the door softly on the way out of the room.

Sighing, I walk out to the kitchen. The clock on the microwave tells me it is the middle of the afternoon, and here I am, still in my robe. Life is good, I think to myself, and open the refrigerator door in an attempt to decide on what to make for lunch. The choices are slim, and I end up pulling most of whatever is left out onto the counter. Making the best of my limited supplies, I set the plate of food on the table, pausing to smell the wildflowers he had brought me the night before. If I had only guessed then what might happen...

Venturing back into my room, I change stealthily into an old pair of jeans and my favourite T-shirt. Rescuing his bag from the living room, I place it beside the bed, and painfully decide that I need to wake up Elijah. "Sleeping Beauty," I whisper in his ear. "Your things are here. Get up. It’s lunch time." He attempts to swat me away like an offending insect, but I grab his hand and kiss the palm, placing back on the bed. "Get up," I whisper again, and walk out of the room to eat. I’m not sure about him, but I am starving, and the food is calling me.

When he finally emerges from the bedroom, yawning but dressed, lunch becomes a subdued affair, with little conversation, smiles conveying everything we need to tell one another. When we finish, he goes out onto the balcony for a cigarette as I clean up the dishes. Checking the clock in the kitchen, I realize that it’s later than I thought. "Don’t you have a dinner meeting tonight?" I call out to him.

Blowing smoke out over the city, he says over his shoulder, "Yeah, but not until 6 o’clock." He inhales again, turning around to look inside for a moment, and by this time, I can smell the clove smoke wafting into the apartment. "What time is it now?" he asks exhaling, flicking ashes into the steel bucket I keep for that purpose.

Looking at the clock to confirm the time, I walk out onto the balcony to join him. "It is nearly four," I say, slumping in an old lawn chair and propping my feet up on the railing. Four storeys up didn’t seem like much when I first looked at the place, but the view was something else entirely, and I signed the lease based on it alone. Staring out at the city now, I quickly lose myself in various thoughts, and don’t realize that I am being asked a question until I suddenly have a gorgeous man in my lap. "What did you say?" I ask, snapping out of my reverie.

Turning impatient eyes on me, he says with a sigh, "I asked if I could just take your keys with me, so I could get in later. You’re not going anywhere tonight, are you?" Running the backs of his fingers down my cheek, he quirks a corner of his mouth up and adds, "You’d better not be going anywhere tonight. I might get jealous." Then tilting my jaw up, he leans in and kisses me. His kiss is still as soft as before and just as sweet. However, this time I can’t help but feel more than a little possessive.

Grabbing the back of his head with both my hands, I kiss him back roughly, nipping his lower lip with my teeth. He tastes like cloves and smoke, distinctively him. Pulling back for a moment to catch my breath, and admire his now slightly bruised lips, I say in a whisper, "You’d better not be gone long then, or I just might seek out other entertainment." Licking my lips, biting the lower one gently, I raise an eyebrow. The twinkle in his eyes ignites again, taking my breath away once more, and he stands up, hauling me by the arm inside after him. "What are you doing?"

Tossing me roughly onto the carpeted floor, he gives me an evil grin. "Time to show you some of my tricks. You won’t be seeking entertainment elsewhere, after this, I guarantee it." Surprised by this brashness from him, I move to stand up, but he pushes me back down. "Stay where I put you. You’ll like this," he says, and then adds soothingly, "I promise." Leaving me with my mouth agape, he goes into the kitchen for a moment. "And take off your clothes!" he commands from the other room.

Though not fond of surprises, I obey reluctantly, hoping that whatever may come from my being naked will be good. He is not gone long, but before he enters the room again, he also insists that I am to shut my eyes and lie perfectly still. Fear creeping into the corners of my mind, I do as he wants, stretching across the couch in an uneasy repose. I hear the footsteps of bare feet beside me, and I can feel his gaze on my body, causing my skin to break out in goosebumps all on its own.

Something very soft touches the end of my nose, and I inhale the sweet floral smell, knowing in an instant just what he plans on doing with that flower. I shiver this time, which illicits a very small giggle from Elijah, and he draws the flower petals down my face, brushing my lips, chin. It dips into the hollow of my neck, running a few times back and forth over my clavicle and then continuing down my chest, between my breasts to my belly button. At this I make a small sound in the back of my throat. Where is he going, I wonder, and though I can hear his breathing, I get not a whiff of a clue from him. Proceeding down my abdomen to one hip and beyond, he traces the flower over a kneecap and down a shin, tucking the stem between two of my toes, and leaving it there.

I wrinkle my forehead.. What the hell is he doing, I wonder, and the next flower hits my nose, following the path of its predecessor down my torso. This one traces down my other leg, it too ending with the stem tucked between my toes. Now, instead of worried, I’m confused and a little intrigued. Where was all this going, I think, as the third flower hit my nose, and drew itself over my chin, into the hollow of my neck. This one then travelled across one shoulder, and down an arm to my fingertips, then back up my neck, around my ear, and nestled itself into my hair. The next one did the same thing on the other side. By the time the fifth flower lands on my nose, I’m covered in goosebumps again and nearly quivering with anticipation and pent-up desire.

The flower hits my clavicle, like all the others, and does a loop around one breast, then the other. Then it travels slowly up the underslope of the first breast, just barely kissing the hard bud of my nipple before retreating back down to my ribs. Again, the other breast undergoes the same treatment. Then the flower loops around my abdomen and lifts off my skin. A snap is heard beside me, and then he plants the bloom right into my bellybutton, face up. At this sensation, I laugh a little and bite my lip. It tickles, and yet feels incredibly erotic. The feeling is different from anything I’ve felt before, incredible in so many ways, and serves to place that building desire in me right on its edge.

When his lips touch my nose, I can not help but moan softly. As they travel down my face, hitting my lips with a quick peck, and move down my throat, every part of me itches for their touch. My skin is set crawling with passion, but I know that moving will only cause him to stop. He works his way, painfully slow, down my body, trailing small, delicate kisses across my shoulders to the insides of my elbows, wrists and palms, down to my breasts, flicking his kitten-soft tongue once over each nipple. Then it’s down to my abdomen, across the smooth skin of each hip, and it takes all I have in me not to move my pelvis up to meet his lips as he diligently applies them to my thighs. Each ankle is blessed with his touch, and then, finally, his caress moves to my inner thigh. With his fingertips, he spreads my legs farther apart, and his kisses reach the place where they join. Taking the time to probe the soft curls with his tongue, again kitten soft, he finds what he is searching for and takes it between his lips, rubbing gently.

My fingernails dig into the carpet as I come, eyelids flying open to see the white ceiling appear as though it is bathed in colour. I gasp and he moves, fingers lightly removing the flowers from my toes and bellybutton, replacing the last one with another kiss. Still shivering from ecstasy, he wraps me in himself, his clothes a sharp contrast to my nakedness. As he rocks me back and forth slowly, I cling tightly to him, not wanting to come down, not wanting to let go of what he did to me.

We lay tangled on my floor for a long time, and then he gets up, returning quickly with a pillow and a large blanket. He helps me resettle on the couch, and wraps me up in the blanket, kissing my forehead when he’s done. "I have a few tricks myself," he says with a smile. "Go to sleep. That’s another order. I’ll be back before you know it." He kisses me hard on the lips, and then both cheeks. His eyes tell me he doesn’t want to leave, but we both know that he has to.

He goes into my bedroom, and changes his clothes again, this time looking a little more respectable when he emerges. Picking up my keys from the table by the door, he turns and looks at me one more time. "I’ll miss you," he whispers.

"I’ll be waiting," I whisper back, and close my eyes. I don’t hear him leave. Soon, sleep takes over, and dreams come. He’s in all of them, but all I can hear is his voice, calling my name aloud.

End of Part Two...