“Okay, okay, that’s pretty cool,” Simon had to admit, and Ray grinned at him, but probably had no actual idea just how much Simon had meant by that. The whole experience had blown him away. Sure, on the surface of it, all he had done was close his eyes. Ray probably couldn’t understand just what that had meant to him, though. And it was better that way.
Their eyes met, and it was somehow more intimate than the one, ill-fated time that their lips had pressed together—probably because they were both awake and aware and not loopy from the long trip. It was an intense experience, this endless contact that seemed to go on forever.
At that moment, Simon was sure of two things. One, he had never really seen Ray before. Not like this. There was no block in Ray’s gorgeous eyes, nothing to keep Simon’s gaze from sinking right in. And second, he was positive that Ray saw the same thing in him, which should scare him more than it did.
How long this intense eye contact would have lasted, Simon didn’t know. But he was, luckily, pulled out of it, one of his students gripping his forearm and pulling his attention away from Ray. Which was, of course, all for the best.
“Hey, is that Notre Dame over there?” the student asked, and Simon was more than happy to point out the sights of Paris. The city, glittering and beautiful, was laid out at their feet, and from this high up, they could see it all.
But even as he let himself get lost in the sight of Paris, he was still achingly aware of Ray’s presence. He could sense him, listening intently to the impromptu lecture. This was what it was all about for Simon. This was why he had fought so hard to make this trip happen. This was an experience that he could never have given the kids sitting in a classroom. Real-life experience was worth more, at least to him, than anything he could read in a book.
Even so, it was hard to focus entirely on that. At least half of his attention, even as he explored Paris with his class, was on Ray. On his intent attention, on his physical presence, and, most of all, on thoughts of what might happen when they got back to the hotel room this evening. When they were all alone, no students to interrupt them and pull them apart.
Of course, nothing would happen. Nothingcouldhappen, and he would see to it that nothing did. But that didn’t change the fact that, over and over again, Simon’s mind kept sneaking back to that highly forbidden subject. And if he let himself, which of course he wouldn’t, he could get far too lost in what it would be like to finally let himself go.
Ray was more or less straight, so he’d said. And yet, all on his own, he’d kissed Simon. Without any prompting by Simon, he’d taken that step. And, yes, his brain did naturally go to what might happen if Simon tried to get him in bed. He had the feeling that he could succeed. And Ray would be wild in bed, Simon could easily tell that much.
But Simon would never know. So the really ridiculous thing was how often he had to keep reminding himself of that. It had been a long time since anyone had gotten to him like this. Maybe no one ever had.
But it didn’t change the facts of the matter.
Chapter Nine
Ray
It was a week in that everything changed.
One week down, three to go. And things between him and Simon were finally starting to seem normal, like they had settled into a routine. Neither of them acted on the low-level sexual tension which simmered between them all the time, and as the days passed, it started to seem like it was something they could do forever and never do anything about.
And that was exactly what Ray had hoped would happen. Attraction was fine, but it didn’t control him. He didn’t have to give in to it. So he and Simon spent their evenings quietly, playing card games together or watching French TV that left Ray with no idea at all what he had just heard. It wasn’t exciting, but it was working out just fine for them, and it kept them out of trouble, so that was all he cared about.
That is until the night Ray woke up soaking wet.
The weather until then had been gorgeous, clear and cold and bright, not so much as a trace of a cloud in the sky. Not until the evening before, when it had gotten dull and gray outside. Now, Ray woke up with cold water, liquid ice, it felt like, splashing onto his face, and he woke up spluttering to find himself drenched.
It had started to rain in the night, the sort of rain that was only one step removed from snow. The roof above them had started to leak, and, lucky Ray, it had done so right over his bed.
“Okay, what the actual fuck?” he asked, and he didn’t mean to say it out loud, and not as loud as it came out. But then, the water was very, very cold. He had a bit of adrenaline going from being woken up like that.
“Ray?” Simon’s voice drifted over from the other bed, and Ray winced as he pushed his blankets off, shivering in the cold air. He sat up and met Simon’s gaze, giving a helpless little shrug.
“I didn’t mean to wake you, sorry,” he admitted honestly. But it was too late, Simon was already sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes, his dark hair adorably disheveled and his cheeks creased from the pillow. But he was undoubtedly awake, and while Ray felt a little bit guilty about that, he had to admit that he was glad that he wasn’t going to have to deal with this on his own.
“You’re soaking wet,” Simon observed, and Ray looked pointedly up at the ceiling, still oozing water which dripped steadily down onto the bed. Simon followed his gaze and then winced and got out of his warm bed.
“You’re going to need to take those wet clothes off. The front desk will definitely be closed by now, so you’re going to have to sleep in my bed.”
Ray watched as Simon found the ice bucket which had come with the room and put it on the bed, under where the majority of the water was dripping. Just like that, he was calmly and competently taking care of the whole situation, while Ray just stood there, sodden and staring.
“In your bed?” he echoed and then shook his head. That sounded so good, in such a terrible way. Or terrible in such a good way. It came down to the same thing. He wanted to do it, but that meant it was a terrible idea.
“Yes. You have to sleep somewhere, and the floor is too hard. The couch is too small. So by process of elimination, it has to be my bed.” Simon sounded so calm, so logical that it soothed Ray. It had been long enough since anything had happened between them. Simon was probably completely over it. So it just sort of made sense.
Slowly, Ray started to strip out of his underwear, which was all that he was sleeping in. Simon disappeared into the bathroom and handed Ray a towel, and it wasn’t long until he was safely cuddled up in another pair of boxer-briefs and tentatively lying down on Simon’s bed.
It smelled like him, which was distracting. Simon had this scent that was all his own, subtle but very distinct, very deeply masculine. It was all through his sheets and blankets, and Ray had the almost overwhelming desire to bury his face in the pillow and breathe in. He restrained himself because that would be pretty awkward, but it was a near thing.
Instead, he closed his eyes and lay on his side, facing his soaked bed. When Simon slid into bed as well, Ray’s back was to him. As long as he stayed like this, he couldn’t get himself into any trouble, he figured.
