Enthralled

Notes: I find it hard to believe, but I -have- run across someone who had never heard of this word. Gesundheit--interjection. Word said after a sneeze: used as an expression of good health to somebody who has just sneezed [Early 20th century. From German, literally "health."]


Enthralled
By Scribe

Chapter Six

Shepherd was busy looking into his glass, and he didn't see Gilbert's eyes narrow. In fact, they almost seemed to slant a bit. In that instance, despite the fact that his eyes were brown instead of blue, Gilbert looked quite a bit like Pyewacket. Still, his voice was calm as he said, "I knew you were engaged, but I gathered that the nuptials were at some undefined point in the future."

"That's what I thought, too. Merle was making noises about a June wedding. That was fine with me. I mean, considering the elaborate plans she was making, I'm sure it would take at least six months to arrange everything to her satisfaction."

Pyewacket, after his eviction from the couch, had been sulking on the far side of the room. He immediately picked up on Gilbert's mood shift. Gil had been feeling warm and cozy with this other human, radiating interest and anticipation. Now the overwhelming sense Pyewacket was getting from his was annoyance, bordering on indignation, or actual anger. Oddly enough, it wasn't directed at the man sitting beside him. No, his interest in that fellow had markedly sharpened. When Gil was this involved with someone, it was time to take an interest in them, too.

Pyewacket trotted over to the end of the couch and leaped up on the back. Shep gave him a slightly startled glance as Gilbert said. "It just seems very sudden."

"It is," Shep agreed, eyeing the cat, who had begun to step daintily along the couch back. "I have to tell you, I'm at a loss. Yesterday she was looking over lists of caterers, showing me swatches of material for bridesmaid dresses... They were godawful colors, by the way. Sort of like lurid sherbet--lime, pineapple, or raspberry."

"I've heard that brides deliberately give their attendants hideous dresses, so as to make themselves look that much better on their wedding day."

Shep laughed. "I'd never heard that, but it does sound like something Merle would do." He realized how that must sound and said hastily, "Not that she's a spiteful girl. She's just devoted to looking her best at all times." Pyewacket had approached almost to his shoulder and had lifted his head, sniffing delicately at Shep. Shep sneezed. "Excuse me. No, she was having phone conversations with my mother about whether there should be a wedding supper, or a wedding breakfast, how many tiers we should have on the cake..." Pyewacket was nuzzling his shoulder. Shep sneezed. "Excuse me. He seems to be feeling a little friendlier toward me."

"He's getting to know you. It sounds like Merle was willing to invest a lot of time and effort into this." *And a lot you your money.*

"Yeah. But then suddenly this evening she decides we ought to elope." Shep grinned sheepishly. "I almost tripped into the gutter when she told me. It's such... such..."

"Such an un-Merle thing?"

"Exactly! It happened right after we left the Zodiac club. I think I'd just said something about maybe we should see about getting together with you for cocktails, or dinner, or something. You know, start building a circle of mutual friends instead of just her friends, and just my friends."

Shep finished his drink and was setting aside the glass, so he didn't notice Gil's expression. *And that's it, isn't it?* Gil thought angrily. *Little Miss Merle scented some interest on my part, and more importantly, on your part, too. She doesn't want to lose you, Shep, but losing you to ME--that would gall her most bitterly. She never has forgiven me for turning her down. She's not about to risk having us take an interest in each other, not even for a Vanity Fair wedding. So, she's moving to get you tied up, nice and legal, before anything can happen. Because after that nothing would happen, would it? You're not that kind, Shep. When you take a vow, you'll break your neck trying to keep it, won't you?*

When Shep had leaned forward to set down his glass, Pyewacket had walked behind him. When Shep sat back, the cat leaned against the back of his head. Shep found himself with a tail tickling one cheek, and whiskers tickling the other. He sneezed violently, three times in a row. "Excuse me. You know, I think I may be allergic to your cat. It's funny--I've never noticed other cats affecting me like this."

"Pyewacket is special." Gilbert set down his own glass and reached over, plucking Pyewacket off the sofa back.

Shep had taken out a handkerchief, and now he blew his nose. "You don't say 'bless you'."

"I'm sorry."

"A lot of people don't. I guess it's a little old fashioned."

"I only call down blessings on serious matters. I WILL say gesundheit... Let's see... five times." Shep smiled at that. "There--you're smiling again. You were looking a little worried." He cuddled Pyewacket in his arms, and began rhythmically stroking the cat's head.

Shep considered this. "I hadn't thought of it before, but I suppose you're right. I AM a little worried. I mean, Merle and I have known each other for some time, and I was happy enough with the way things were going, and now it seems like she's just... just..."

"Jumping the gun?"

"Jumping at me." Shep flushed. "That didn't sound right. She's a lovely girl."

*Oh, sure she is--for someone. But not for you, Shep. I have to do something about this.* Pyewacket started to purr, and began kneading at his arm, claws barely pricking. *Yes, Pye--WE have to do something about this. All right, my little imp. You know what I want. Help me get it.*

Shep was continuing. "I mean, not just physically. Oh, there is that. But... but... her sense of style. Yes, Merle is very stylish. Dash, I think she calls it. You know, stylish, without being extreme or..." his eyes flicked to Gil for the briefest second, "exotic." He swallowed, then said firmly, "But she has a lot of wonderful characteristics, too."

*Isn't he sweet? Trying to convince himself. Nothing overwhelming, Pye.* The cat twisted his head to look at Gil questioningly. *No, I mean it. Don't force him to love me. I don't think that will be necessary. I think that all we need to do is just... set him free. You know--lower the inhibitions.* Gil watched the way Shep was gesturing as he tried to enumerate Merle's good qualities. Such big hands. *Bring them WAY down, Pye. I want them to hit the floor. I want him to have absolutely nothing between himself and an awareness of what he really wants.* The cat made a breathy, assenting sound, and turned his eyes back to Shep. The purring intensified.

"She's intelligent. She was in the top ten percent of her class at Vassar, you know. And it isn't just cold intellectualism. She's interested in philosophy, too. If it's been discussed in the Sunday supplement, by golly, she's going to read up on it. She can hold her own in any cocktail party you set her down in."

Even as he spoke, Shep realized that Merle was sounding a tad shallow, despite his best intentions. He was trying to be fair and loyal, but somehow... Somehow with the cat's blue, and Gilbert's brown, eyes fixed on him, he just couldn't sound as sincere about Merle's sterling qualities as he meant to. And he was glad that he hadn't decided to start praising Merle's physical charms, because every time he looked at the man sitting beside him, Merle began to seem a bit--overblown.

*Why is he staring at me like that? It's making me feel like my clothes are a size too tight.* "And artistic. Merle is very artistic. She paints, you know."

"Mm." Gilbert's voice was soft. "I seem to recall floral still lifes. Lots of them. I remember thinking they'd look rather good on a greeting card--or perhaps a box of chocolates."

"She's trying to get away from that. She's trying to be more modern, but you're right--they do come out looking like something someone would give for Mother's Day. Unless she goes to the extreme. Her housekeeper once said they looked like something you might find growing on Mars. Merle didn't think that was funny." He blinked. "Come to think of it, she fired the woman soon after that."

"Let me guess--she drank?" said Gil dryly.

"Merle was convinced she stole one of her pins. Y'know, the funny thing is, I saw Merle wearing that brooch a week later, and she said she'd found it pinned to a suit. Apparently she'd just forgotten it. She never hunted the woman up and gave her the job back, though."

"Surprising." Gil snuggled Pyewacket higher, resting his chin on the cat's head, and he began to hum.

"And she works for charities. That's a big thing among the women of her circle." He laughed a little nervously. "Sometimes you'd think there was a competition as to who had their names on the most committees. I told her once that it seemed like all they ever did was have luncheon meetings to plan balls and bazaars." He seemed to think of something. "And I remember once I asked her how much of the money they raised went to the charity, and she said something about costs, expenses, administration fees..." *He's humming. What is that tune? I feel like I ought to know it.* "When I asked for a round figure she got kind of huffy. Said she'd have taken business courses if she'd thought she was going to have to account for her generous endeavors." *God, that's infectious. I'm going to be hearing that tune in my sleep tonight. It sort of gets into the blood.*

There was a soft thud, and Shep looked over to find Gilbert toeing off his other shoe. "You don't mind, do you?" He wiggled his toes, and Shep found himself captivated by the supple flex. "I've already confessed how I like to be comfortable."

"No, no. It's your home, after all."

"But I want you to feel at home, too, Shep." Cradling Pyewacket in one arm, Gil reached up with the other, and tugged free the tie that was holding his hair in a ponytail. The shining blond tresses spilled free, brushing over his shoulders. "I want you to be comfortable here." Shep stared at him. One lock had fallen, half covering the side of his face. Shep found himself thinking that Veronica Lake was the SECOND best looking person ever to use that hairstyle. "Are you, Shep?"

Pyewacket's purring was louder, a soft, steady rumble. *OhjesushecaughtmestaringandhethinksI'mweird.* "Am I what?"

Gil smiled. "Comfortable?"

"Oh. Well... I'm all right, I suppose." Gil's eyes were fixed on his face. Shep felt like no one in the world had ever really SEEN him till this man, at this moment. He began again desperately. "I know that Merle isn't exactly the most demonstrative woman in the world. Some people think she's a little cool." *He's humming again. God, I can feel it in my BONES. It's like I'm vibrating in tune with his humming and that cat's purring.* "And maybe she's a little, uh, fastidious about physical..." He stopped, blushing hotly.

Gilbert wasn't going to let him escape that gaffe, though. "Yes? That's how she's always struck me, too. I get the feeling that Merle isn't at ease with her sexuality." Shep swallowed hard, and Gil tsked. "Oh, now I've shocked you. But Shep, that's something you have to consider, if you're going to marry. Physical intimacy is vital to a loving relationship. Doesn't Merle enjoy making love?"

"I shouldn't be discussing this," Shep said faintly.

"I'm sorry. I AM being rude. Perhaps..."

"I wouldn't know." Shep stared at Gil, and his shoulders drooped a little. "We haven't."

"Oh."

Shep sighed. "Kind of strange for this day and age, huh?"

"No. A bit old fashioned, perhaps, but rather sweet."

Now Shep's voice was a little frustrated. "I'd agree, if I thought it was for honor, or purity, or whatever you want to call it." He shook his head. "I think Merle just doesn't want to deal with the bother and the mess."

Gil shook his head sadly. "I don't like the sound of that."

"Neither do I."

"I believe that if you're really attracted to someone--if you want to be with them--well, you should show it." His voice dropped a little. "In every way." There was a moment of silence as they stared at each other. "Shep, you're flushed."

"I'm all right."

Gil let Pyewacket slip to the ground and half turned. He bent his left leg at the knee, planting his foot on the sofa, while his right foot stayed on the floor. The pose was casual--and wanton. He reached over. "But you're breathing has gotten heavier, too. I'm concerned." Long, elegant fingers loosened the knot on Shep's tie. "Let me try to make it a little easier for you."

"Gil..."

"Yes, Shep?" The tie dropped to the coffee table. Gilbert began to unbutton Shep's collar. "Just a moment, and you'll feel much better." He smiled. "Freer."

Shep reached up and caught Gil's wrists, stopping his hands. He was staring right into Gil's eyes. "I'm going to marry Merle."

"So you've said," Gil said softly.

"I am." His hands tightened on Gil's wrists. *What am I doing? I can't just touch him like this. I'm holding him too hard. It must hurt. Why doesn't he say something? Why doesn't he tell me to let go? Why doesn't he look disgusted, or afraid? He looks... he looks...*

Gilbert didn't pull away. He leaned forward. "If that's what you really want, Shep. I only want you to have... what you really..." Shep was staring at his mouth. Gilbert smiled a little as he breathed, "desire."

Shep made a strangled sound. He lunged forward, his mouth coming down on Gilbert's. At the same time he tugged on Gil's wrists, pulling till the man's hands were on either side of Shep's waist, almost as if he were embracing him. He'd kissed Merle before. Hell, they were engaged--of course he'd kissed her. But it had never been anything like this.

Gilbert's lips were firmer than Merle's, but still soft. And they didn't stay primly pressed together. To Shep's near bewilderment, they parted, and he felt Gil's tongue dab delicately at his mouth. With a moan he opened, and Gil's tongue flicked inside, stroking over his own in a touch that sent a surge of blood through his body, the heat seeming to coalesce in his crotch. He could feel himself starting to get hard--just from this one, brief kiss.

Shep jerked his head back, but he didn't let go of Gil. He was gasping, and Gilbert's breath was coming more deeply, too. There was a slight pink tint in the younger man's cheeks, and his brown eyes were wide, and sparkling. Shep murmured, "I don't know what..."

"Shep Henderson," the tone was a low, sensual growl. "If you dare to apologize for kissing me," he smiled slowly, "I'll have to punish you."

"I just... Gil, I don't know why all of a sudden I..."

Gil turned his hands. Without seeming to strain, he'd pulled loose from Shep's grip, and now he was holding Shep's wrists. His thumbs stroked over the underside, feeling the pulse. "Don't you? And it really isn't all that sudden, is it, Shep? Haven't you been feeling it since we met? Haven't you felt things like this before?"

Shep licked his lips. "Nothing like this."

Gil dipped his head, letting his hair trail over the back of Shep's hands, smiling secretly as he felt the other man shiver. "But something similar, if not as strong?"

"Yes," Shep said faintly. *Oh, God, I was never going to admit that to anyone.*

"You've looked at other men before and wondered what it would be like to touch them, to have them touch you."

"Yes. But I didn't--I never did."

"I know." Gil leaned toward him again, lifting his face. "Maybe you've just been waiting for the RIGHT man."

This time Gil kissed Shep. Shep's lips parted quickly, and after that first touch it was Shep who took control of the kiss. His lips moved on Gilbert's hungrily, his tongue explored and tasted. Still holding Shep's wrists, Gilbert leaned back slowly. Shep followed him down, till he was half lying on top of Gil, between his legs.

Shep groaned into Gil's mouth as their groins came together, and he jerked as he felt the firm press of another man's erection for the first time. The look he gave Gil was wondering, but almost stricken. Gil moved quickly, wrapping his legs around Shep's waist, whispering, "Sh, it's all right, Shep." He humped up, rubbing against Shep, whispering. "It's all right to feel like this." He caressed Shep's cheek, smiling when the other man turned his face into his palm. "I want this, too."

"You do?"

Gil nodded almost solemnly. "This, and a lot more. I'll show you." He reached down between them, finding Shep's belt. Shep drew in a breath, and Gil said, "Don't be afraid. We're not going to hurt each other, Shep--not in any way." He had the belt open, and was unzipping the fly. "Just relax. I'll make you feel good, and I'll show you how to do the same for me."

Shep closed his eyes as he felt Gil's hand slip into his trousers, warm fingers stroking over the cloth-clad solidness of his erection. "You've done this... lots?" *Oh, damn, why don't I just call him a slut?*

Gil's voice was amused rather than insulted. "More than a monk, less than a prostitute." He kissed Shep softly. "Does it bother you?"

"No," Shep said honestly. "I'm glad one of knows what he's doing."

Gil laughed. "Always a good idea. What have," he'd found the comfort slit in Shep's boxers, "we here?" Shep dropped his head, pressing his cheek against Gil's shoulder. "Mmm, I think this is going to be my very favorite Christmas present." Shep humped, thrusting his cock deeper into Gil's grip. "I KNOW it is."

Shep's voice was muffled. "I don't know what to do."

Shep's ear was convenient, and Gil took the opportunity to nibble it. "I think you'll learn quickly." He squeezed, and chuckled in delight when Shep responded by growling. "But we'll keep it simple this first time." He unhooked his legs. "Lift up for a minute."

Shep pressed his hands on either side of Gil, levering himself up a few inches, and Gil quickly shoved the other man's pants and underwear past the curve of his ass, half-way down his thighs. Gil reached for his own belt, and was a little surprised when Shep shifted quickly, kneeling on the couch between Gil's spread legs, and catching his hands. "Let me." Gil lay back as Shep unbuckled his belt and opened his pants, then reached into the gap. Gil closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath as Shep closed his hand around his hard on--and gave it a firm stroke. "You're hard already."

Gil's voice was throaty. "You do that to me, Shep."

Shep stroked him again. "I want to do more than that to you."

Gil lifted his ass, shoving his own clothes down. "Then do it." As Shep lowered himself again, Gil reached back, and gripped the older man's ass, fingers sinking slightly into the crease, massaging. Shep had never thought of his ass as an erogenous zone. He could see he'd have to rethink things. Even the very slight prick of Gil's nails as he tugged him down more firmly was erotic. "Just do what feels good." As Shep started to move against him, Gil sighed, "There'll be plenty of time for picking and choosing later."

The thought that, should he wish, this did not have to be an isolated encounter, fired Shep's blood even more. He thrust against Gil, relishing the firm muscles, the sturdy frame. When he was with a woman, he always felt like he HAD to be gentle and careful--for their safety. With Gil he felt like it was a choice. If he became more forceful Gil wouldn't break. In fact, he was urging Shep on to stronger efforts, shoving up to meet him, murmuring encouragement, telling him how good it felt, how much he was enjoying it.

It was different. He was used only to the wet clasp of a woman's body, but he found to his surprise that this was even more pleasurable. Then Gil pulled his head down, kissed him, and whispered, "I want you to fuck me later, Shep. I want to feel you inside me," and Shep realized that something akin to what he was used to WAS possible. A thought of himself buried in Gil's body, feeling heat and tightness, hearing Gil make pleased noises, flashed through his mind, and he went a little crazy.

Gil just held on, throwing his head back as Shep's hot, hard flesh rubbed against his own, rubbing slickness along his length, across his thighs and belly. Shep buried his hands in Gil's hair, holding his head firmly, and kissed him again, hard, sucking on his tongue. Gil whimpered as he felt the strong, hot gush of Shep's seed on his belly. An instant later his own orgasm struck him, and he clutched Shep's shoulders, listening as his new lover gasped out his name.

They lay there for a few moments, breath slowing. Pyewacket watched from his perch on a bookshelf. Then he jumped down, landing so lightly that there was no thump to disturb the lovers. He strolled out to the front room, thinking that if he could manage to get the front door open, he might go pay that Persian another visit.

Gil ran his hands through Shep's thick brown hair. He knew that at this moment he ought to be discreet, but he just couldn't. He was feeling too satisfied, and a little smug. Besides, it might be a good idea to test how strongly Shep was caught. "Was I as good as Merle?"

Shep sighed, dropping a kiss at the corner of Gil's mouth. "Merle who?"