Date: Sun, 18 May 2003 21:49:39 +0800 From: paul sung Subject: Dear Enemy Part 4 (Revised) DISCLAIMER ========== This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. The author asserts all legal and moral rights (copyright (c) 2003 - psun@hotmail.com) to this work and you may not copy it or transmit it in any way except in its entirety and with this disclaimer. This story features descriptions of sex between males: - if such material is prohibited in your jurisdiction, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you're under the legal age to read such material, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you don't like, or are offended by such material, please DO NOT READ ON. And any comments - brickbats or bouquets, send them over to psun@hotmail.com And if you find that you like what you're reading, visit my page at http://www.geocities.com/savante_2002 That night we talked, settling into a warm camaraderie, still uncertain but there was something. It was amazing how easily we fell back into our old ways, teasing and ribbing each other almost as if nothing had happened between us. Years melted away as he started talking about what he'd been up to. Just as he said, he'd literally used his face to get him through college. Just like a tale from some urban myths, a talent scout had grabbed him as he'd walked down the streets and he'd started his career as a model after college. The money that he earned helped him set up his own little nest-egg as he struggled in the beginning at a career in professional sports. Of course I already knew all that but it was interesting to hear firsthand. It also amazed me considerably to hear that he had dreams of actually becoming a physician as I'd imagined earlier. As the hours passed, it was as if that night had never happened. Almost. Each time, I saw him turn his head, tilt his head in a certain manner, send me that particular smile with that glimmer in his sexy blue eyes, it still had my heart stuttering. As I slowly rifled through an inventory of my lovers, I wondered whether any of them had managed to draw such an emotion from me and came up with none. After a moment, he stopped and shook his dark head. Tilting his head to look at me, he flashed me a rueful grin. "God, I've been talking all this while." "Go on, Brad." Surprisingly, I found that I liked hearing what had happened. Since flying off to London, I had broken off all ties with all my old friends in school and college and it was interesting to find out what had happened to them. Of course none of them had been into as many pursuits as Brad and I seriously wondered how he managed to juggle all his responsibilities. "I don't mind." "Enough talking about me. Tell me what you've been doing?" Taking a slow sip from his coffee mug, he raised a dark brow. "So you seeing anyone?" "Sure." I shrugged coolly. "Didn't you see the platoon of hunky marines in the bathroom waiting?" "Wise ass." Flinching from the playful punch he aimed at me, I snickered. "No. Still single. Any cute friends?" "You surprise me." "Why?" Immediately suspicious, my brows drew closely together. "Just because I had a one night stand with you doesn't mean that I -" Cutting in before I could continue, Brad retracted his statement quickly. "That's not what I meant. I'm only surprised that you're still alone. A guy like you would make someone a very happy man." Of course he didn't realize that right now, I'd love to make him happy. There was a part of me that would always remember that amazing night that we shared with a pang of regret but then he didn't have to know that. "No one could compare to you." Pleased at my compliment, the corners of his lips turned up in a smile. "Thanks." "Stop. We're getting mushier than Hallmark." He laughed and caught me in a bear hug. That was how it was between us for the next few weeks. With the flimsiest of excuses as his platform, Brad would drop by my office to take me out for lunch and it soon became a simple routine for us. As he contemplated leaving sports, he'd started taking premed courses in the college across town in the off-season and he commuted back and forth. It was amazing how easily we fell back into the rhythms and patterns of our old friendship, like a missing piece of my life had finally fallen back into place. And it fit almost perfectly. Unfortunately, the platonic buddy-buddy relationship of the past didn't mesh well with my feelings for the man. Along with our rediscovered friendship, I also realized with some dismay that I had never actually fallen out of love with Mr Brad McKinley. The heavy emotional baggage that I'd carried around for years vanished in almost an instant as I found myself getting to know - and liking the older Brad McKinley. And anyway it was hard to remain angry with a guy who brought peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for breakfast. And looked like he did. Together with the rosy-tinted glasses of love came an amazingly adult sexual charge that I hadn't felt since I was a perpetually horny, hormonally charged teenager. As physically affectionate as he was, Brad had no qualms about generally driving me crazy and his physical closeness left me in a state of near-orgasmic high. I could feel my hormones churning each time Brad threw his arm around me and pulled me close to whisper in my ear. I know it certainly didn't mean anything to him - heck, he must have thought that I'd outgrown that stupid crush on him - but it drove me secretly insane. Oblivious to the erection tenting up my pants, Brad leaned from his chair to whisper into my ear, his warm breath heating up my cheek. We were out on a Sunday brunch and he'd dragged me out for some dim sum which I'd always loved. In between steaming plates of dumplings and sweetmeats, he decided to point out the local meat along the way. "Hey, look. What about him?" Brad made the suggestion with a teasing smile. "He's quite the good-looker." Swivelling around to catch a glimpse of the man walking by, I made a note. Sure, the man he was looking at was great-looking. Nice built, great smile but unfortunately nothing compared to the man by my side. Giving him a quick nudge back to his chair, I whispered fiercely. "Stop it." His blue eyes twinkled with unholy glee. "Why not? Great shoulders, big arms, nice butt. Isn't that you're looking for?" "Don't even think about it." "Surely, you don't expect to have brains and earning power with all that... you can't have everything, you know." He grinned. "But then again, there is one guy I know.." Unfortunately, it was a line that I'd heard before from many of my well-meaning friends and I could see where this was heading. Turning to him - with my chopsticks aimed threateningly - I said quietly. "McKinley, if you ever dare set me up on a blind date, I will.." He snickered. "Well, shucks, and here I know this great guy at work who.." "Brad." The stern look I turned on him made him laugh even harder. "Okay, before you jab me with that extremely dangerous chopstick, I have something that I know will placate you." Turning back to the gymbag that he'd dumped on the seat next to him, he opened it and started fishing around in the contents. "Placate?" I echoed in disbelief. "Yeah?" Giving me a quick glance through his lowered lashes, he grinned. "Don't make fun of my vocabulary now." "I didn't know you had one." Tugging out a thick manila envelope from his bag, he shoved it at me. "Here." For a full moment, I stared down at the envelope and then back at him. Shaking out the contents, I was almost speechless as I looked down at the stark black-and-white photographs inside. These were the first photographs that I'd captured with the simple camera that he'd bought for me years ago. They weren't all that great compared to some of my recent work but it was like finding a long forgotten friend. "My God, where did you find these?" "Can't really remember.." Thinking back, he drew his hand through his dark curls. "Probably in one of the bags you left behind in our place... you left in a hurry... I knew you'd want to keep these." Sure, I left in a hurry. After that disastrous morning, I barely had the time to pack all my stuff before I ran stumbling down the stairs. There hadn't been the time to rummage through all my belongings and I'd only grabbed the essentials. Shifting through a few shots that I'd taken of him, I smiled. Those shots were the easiest since it was simple enough to make Brad look good, the camera adored his striking good looks. These pictures certainly wouldn't be worth anything to the people who went to my exhibitions but these were taken by a young man obviously in the throes of his first love and they mattered very much to me. It amused me to realize that my camera had evidently managed to capture the love I'd felt for him then - even before I'd realized it myself. "Why are you being so nice?" "Hey I'm always nice," he protested. "Ask anyone." "Yeah, right." Arranging the pile back into some semblance of order, I placed them carefully back into the envelope. "You weren't all that nice when you dumped Tasha Blake." "Tasha?" He shrugged. "I was stupid as a kid." "Can't argue with that." My quick response had him grinning. "Still stupid right now but I bet I look much better now." Leaning back a little, Brad flexed for me and shot me his best smile. The leather jacket he wore fell open to reveal the blindingly white T-shirt that clung intimately to the perfection of his sculpted torso. "You wish." I rolled my eyes. Privately I thought that he looked good enough to eat but I figured he didn't need to know that. "Your ego knows no bounds." Tucking in another piece of dumpling, he shook his dark head. "Can't shake the truth." His lopsided smile brought to life an irresistible dimple that drew my eye and I wondered how he had remained single till this day. Since the day he'd dropped by my place, he'd managed to avoid the question several times but I was still curious. Though I managed to catch some news of him dating some up-and-coming starlet once in a while, I never seemed to hear of him having a long-term relationship. "Who are you seeing nowadays, Brad?" "You mean, a girlfriend?" Looking up from his plate, he gave me another nonchalant shrug. "No one." "Come on, seriously." "Seriously. No one," he repeated slowly. "Nada. Zilch." Recalling his prior behaviour, I smiled. "One-night-stands with the groupies then?" "No." "No one?" I stared in shock. It was simply improbable. A man who looked like him without a date? What was the world coming to? It boggled the mind that a handsome, intelligent man like him wasn't beating off crazy admirers with a stick. If a dish like Brad McKinley even stepped into a gay haunt, the queens would be feasting on his hot bod in seconds. "Stop looking like that." Giving me a quick punch, Brad laughed. "Come on, I am not some salivating cockhound." "Yeah. right. You don't want me to recite the names of every girl I made my waffles for, do you?" Regaining my senses, I shook my head in disbelief. Back in college, it seemed as if Brad had a neverending carousel of girlfriends. The names and images of his various girlfriends since Jennifer blurred in my mind and I found that I couldn't even properly place them in their order. And that wasn't even counting the numerous one-nighters that he occasionally brought over, girls I met once over breakfast the morning after and never saw again. "I seem to remember a certain bed creaking every night next door." He had the sense to blush. "You heard?" It wasn't all that often that I managed to catch him unawares - and make him blush. His dark face was flushed and I couldn't help poking at him. Confirming his suspicion, I replied smugly. "I sure did. Every silent scream." "Shit." "Damn right." His blue eyes flashed with humour. "You enjoyed every moment, didn't you." As juvenile as it sounded, I stuck my tongue out. It made him laugh again and he shoved me back in my chair. "Look, I've dated around some but there's no one that I particularly liked." As he continued, his sexy lips turned up in a sly grin. "No one with a fetish for peanut butter and jelly." "McKinley." Dropping the chopsticks back on the sand, I eyed him coolly. "That's the lousiest come-on ever. You're lucky you have that pretty face." "Don't forget the great ass," he reminded me, his blue eyes twinkling. I snickered. Munching through another dumpling, he turned the chopstick about to point at me. "How about you, Kincaid? I don't believe all that crap about you being single." It was a question that had been posed to me by my parents more than once and I found that I still didn't have a proper answer. Although I had done the rounds in London - and God knew, some of the British men with their crisp accents were hot - I still hadn't found the certain connection and chemistry that I expected in someone I planned to be with for the long-term. Perhaps I was a romantic fool with rose-tinted glasses but I had grown up in a home where my parents still cared very much for each other and it surprised me that I had come to expect the same in my own relationship. Sure, I might have chosen a different lifestyle than the one my parents would have wanted for me but it amused me that I still shared the same old-fashioned values that I'd been brought up with. The truth seemed to be the easiest answer so I told him. "Actually I have dated a few guys in London but they never worked out. I guess I just haven't met the right guy." "Someone hot like me?" Brad teased me with a salacious wink at me. "Come on, Dermot, you marry me and I'll treat you like a queen." Wadding my tissue, I tossed it at him. "You wish, asshole." Even as he laughed and evaded my missile, I started fearing for my sanity yet again as it had been at the tip of my tongue to reply in the affirmative. "Shouldn't you be getting home by now?" The man lazing on my couch playing with my remote looked up at me and laughed. "Kicking me out, Kincaid?" Sure, hot guys in the living room were always an improvement to any decor but Brad McKinley in a old faded tanktop and skintight jeans proved to be too much of a distraction for me. After his appointment at the gym, he'd dropped by at my place with two six-packs and pizza and I found myself unable to turn away a delivery boy who looked as good as he did. And he looked spectacular. The tanktop was cut low at the front. showing off his beautifully sculpted pectorals and his impressive lats. His nipples peeked out around the straps, thick, fleshy points ringed with soft dark hairs. I didn't even have to continue on how great his legs looked, all hard and pumped up in denim. He'd brought a disc of the latest shoot-em-up but I barely noticed as I kept my attention on the man beside me. It was getting difficult trying to restrain myself as the buzz of the beer clouded my mind. I'd never been a good drinker. A second ago, he'd downed a beer and as a few drops trickled down his chin, I had the image of myself licking the trail left by the beer down his cleft chin down his throat to where it disappeared into the folds of his shirt. It was when I started imagining nibbling on the nipples crowning the edge of his hard pecs that I decided that it was best that he left before I could make any uncalled for attacks on his virtue. "It's late. I gotta.. I gotta get some sleep," I ended lamely. It was easy enough to predict that I'd be fantasizing about tearing that tanktop off tonight. "Dermot, I have something.." He stood up, looked at me for a moment as if he wanted to tell me something but then he just shrugged. "Nah, it's nothing." "What?" I asked curiously. Shaking his dark head, Brad just smiled. "Nothing important." "Look, Brad.. I..." He was standing at my door and I could picture myself plastered against him on the doorway. Not a very good sign. Correctly guessing my condition, he grinned, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "You're already woozy right now, right?" he teased me. It had always been a well-known fact that alcohol and Dermot Kincaid didn't mix well. In college, I would have gotten my first taste of sex with one of the nubile co-eds after downing a six-pack if I hadn't heaved up. The man knew me much too well and I laughed. "Just a little. I could never hold my drink all that well." He reached over and slapped me on the back. "Well, I'll letcha catch you beauty sleep. Looks like you might need it." "Asshole," I replied fondly. Opening the door, he stepped out into the hallway for a moment before turning back to me again. "You know," Brad started sheepishly. "I think I forgot something." It didn't surprise me at all since he was notorious for forgetting things like that. Turning back to my living room, I scanned the area. "What? I don't think you left anything here." "I forgot to do this," he replied in determination. There was no moment for retreat, no time for a snappy answer before he came forward and kissed me. The shock of the sudden contact had my lips parting, allowing his tongue to flicker, grazing my teeth on the way down my throat. His hand reached around to cup my neck, holding my face close as our tongues parried and thrust in a frenzied swordsplay. I pulled back from him, gasping for air. His face was so close, the strong line of his jaw, his soft, sensual lips. This was the man I loved a long time ago and I remembered the way his lips had melted against mine, the way his warm, silky skin felt beneath my fingers, the hard, firm muscles tensed underneath my touch. His scent beguiled me as it had years ago, the spicy scent of his cologne and fresh sweat. When his lips brushed gently against mine again, I held my hands up to push him away. "What the fuck are you doing?" "Kissing?" he ventured carefully. "Foreplay?" As he pressed forward again, I shoved him away. "Stop. You can't do this." "Why?" "We don't do this." His brow creased as if in deep thought before he replied. "As I seem to recall, we did it four years ago." Brad moved down again and his hot tongue slithered across the edge of my ear. "And I think we did it pretty well for a bunch of amateurs even then." My left hand reached up to clutch his head, tangling in the silky curls of his dark hair - but I didn't know whether to push him away or pull him close. His long legs maneuvered between mine and I could feel the hard, pulsing length of his cock burning against my thigh. The recollection of the sheer size and power of him left me weak in the knees. A sudden wave of sexual desire swept me away, clouding my mind as I tried to reason with him. "Brad, what's all this?" He turned to me, his face barely an inch away now, his blue eyes looking thoughtfully at mine. "This is what I have been meaning to tell you all these years. If you'd read some of my letters, you'd have known." "What?!" "I'm bisexual," he admitted softly. "What?" He growled in reply. "You heard me." I closed my eyes for a moment. "God, you know I can't resist you and now you drop this bombshell on me?" "Yeah, is it working?" he asked hopefully even as one of his hands trailed down the curve of my spine to caress my butt. The idea that he could be interested in guys hit me like a ton of bricks and I couldn't say that I terribly disappointed. "When?" I said in surprise. "What happened?" His dark brow raised sardonically. "I'm dead horny now and you want to talk?" As he shifted his hip to press his stiff erection against me again, I realized that any explanations could wait. "You won't go crazy tomorrow," I told him. It was a statement, not a question and I found that I wasn't at all afraid that he would go into another berserker rage. "Nope." Grinning foolishly, Brad reached behind him and brought my left hand down to his lips. "After all, you have that nasty left hook." "Asshole." "Look who's talking."