Evening

by mlyn

Chapter 1

Herger Torgudson finished his mini bottle of wine and reclined his seat. This was the only way to travel—less than ninety minutes from Copenhagen to Oslo, but they still served free booze. It was mediocre wine, but at least it was alcoholic.

He glanced across the aisle at the stranger. Most people on planes were strangers, but this was a notable case: a handsome Arab wearing a badly rumpled cheap suit and carrying one overstuffed shoulder bag. He was styled as a Westerner, with close-cropped curly hair and no beard. He was staring at one of the drop-down video screens, not having anything else to distract him. Herger could see that his eyes were large, and deep brown. The late afternoon sun glinted in them.

The Arab looked over at him then, catching Herger watching. His face was serious, with deep lines around his mouth and between his brows. Herger tried to smile to break the tension, but the Arab did not return the expression. He looked down and rubbed a hand over his legs, evidently self-conscious about his appearance. Herger was well practiced in reading body language.

"Snakker du Norsk?" Herger asked.

The Arab's eyes widened as if startled, and he opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

Not Norsk. "Do you speak English?" Herger asked.

The look of shock disappeared, and was replaced by cautiousness. The Arab answered, "Yes." That was all.

"You look like you've been on a long journey."

The Arab rubbed his leg again. Definitely self-conscious. "Yes," he repeated.

"I've just come from Munich. Business trip," Herger offered.

The Arab nodded absently, not much interested. Herger switched tactics. He wasn't trying to be a pest, just friendly. The guy looked like he could use someone to take his mind off his situation, at least for as long as the flight lasted.

"What about you? Business or pleasure?"

"Neither."

Finally—a different word from the vocabulary.

"My name's Herger." He didn't offer a hand; that wasn't airplane etiquette. Keep it brief and polite.

"Ahmed," the Arab said after a pause.

Herger nodded once, and he lifted a hand and scratched his beard, trying to look casual. A softness had come into the Arab's face when they'd exchanged names, and the seriousness had turned briefly into beauty. Not just beauty—sex appeal. The guy had the potential for being gorgeous.

Herger thought about what Ahmed saw when looking at him. He'd see a man in his early forties, dressed in a business suit, tie a little loosened, with rumpled blond hair and a close-trimmed blond beard. Blue eyes and a friendly smile. But did he see anything else?

"Is this your first trip to Oslo?"

"No," Ahmed answered. The answer surprised Herger. "I was here for a Nobel Peace Price ceremony, thirteen years ago."

More surprises. "Was it for you?" Herger asked with a grin. Ahmed shook his head, and Herger thought he almost got a smile. His lips were full and curvy.

"You live in Oslo?" Ahmed asked. He said the name of the city the way English-speakers did, but Herger didn't correct him. Ahmed's voice was wonderful, deep and flowing smoothly in that one sentence. The sounds were like a low-flowing river, rhythmic and easy. It was a nice contrast to Norsk, with all its variations in pitch and sounds, like birds twittering. Herger wanted to hear more, but Ahmed had asked a question.

"Ja, yes. But I was born in the countryside, near Oppdal." He wanted to go on and asked about Ahmed's birthplace, but just then the pilot came on the PA to announce their destination. Ahmed straightened in his seat as if being called into court.

Sensing defeat, Herger raised his seat back and buckled in for landing.

 

They said nothing to each other as they shuffled off the plane. Ahmed disappeared while Herger chatted with a business contact he encountered just outside the gate. By the time the conversation had ended and his friend had gone on to catch his own flight, the entire plane had emptied.

Herger picked up his briefcase and strolled toward the exit. He was contemplating a glass of much better wine at home when a familiar accent broke his concentration.

"No, writer! Writer!" Ahmed's voice was shifting from frustration to anger. Herger paused, then changed direction and walked quickly over to the customs desk, where Ahmed and an agent were facing off.

"Unnskyld," Herger said to the agent, who looked like she had her finger on the button for security. "I know this man. Can I help?"

"How do you know him?" asked the customs agent in Norsk.

"He was my guide when I traveled in Iraq, in 2000. Ahmed. He's a writer, as he said." Herger put his hands in his trouser pockets and assumed an easy slouch, waiting.

"And who are you?" the agent asked him, only slightly less suspicious.

"Herger Torgudson, Bryggedrift AS. I'm Deputy Director of the organization that operates Aker Brygge."

The custom agent blinked once, and that was the only hint of her surprise. Good poker face, Herger thought.

"He must put your information on the visa form if you vouch for him. Then you sign."

"Ja." Herger looked at Ahmed, who was not able to hide his surprise at what was going on. "She says if I am to vouch for you, I must help fill out your visa form. May I?" In smooth movements he simultaneously pulled a pen from his breast pocket and slid the form over. He quickly filled out the pertinent information.

Ahmed murmured, "That is a Mont Blanc."

"Ja," Herger said back as he signed in a flourish. "Okay?" he asked the agent, sliding the form under the window.

The agent looked it over, taking her time. Herger worked to not show his impatience. He slowly twisted his pen closed and slipped it back into his jacket pocket, then put his hands back in his trouser pockets.

"This will suffice," the agent said finally, slipping into flawless English with a faint British accent.

"Ha er god dag," Herger said with a smile. He and Ahmed collected their documents, and then Herger cupped Ahmed's elbow and steered him toward the exit.

In the main terminal, Ahmed pulled his arm away and turned to Herger. "Thank you for your help. Now—"

"Oh no," Herger interrupted. "I put my name on that form. You owe me a story," he reminded Ahmed, and then, before he second-guessed himself, added, "How about dinner at my apartment?"

He nervously tightened his grip on his briefcase. Ahmed was staring at him with a gaze that missed nothing and transmitted a great deal of confusion. And it had been a long time since Herger had asked anyone out. For that matter, it had been a while since he'd eaten dinner with someone who wasn't a client, employee, or in his small circle of friends. He'd forgotten how nerve-wracking it was to ask to share time with a stranger, knowing nearly nothing about them, other than that you liked how they looked.

Ahmed didn't look any less confused. "Who are you?" he said finally.

Herger picked back up the casual façade he'd been showing. "Let's say that my card gets me a lot of places. I'll explain in the car. Do we have a deal?"

Ahmed looked around the terminal, and back towards the customs desk. Then he looked at Herger.

"Okay."

 

Herger led the way to a black Mercedes waiting among taxis at the curb. Ahmed's eyes bugged further but Herger refrained from comment, and breezily greeted his driver Harild. Without needing any instruction, Harild directed them toward home.

By the time they reached downtown Oslo from Gardermoen Lufthavn, they'd each had enough time to finish a bottle of chilled mineral water and for Herger to answer some new emails on his Blackberry. Harild directed the car through throngs of commuters, shoppers, and young mothers pushing prams, and Herger put his phone away.

"As for who I am," he said to Ahmed, as if they had just been having this conversation moments before, "I am director of an organization that operates the companies that make up Aker Brygge, the pier that is now a shopping district."

"I remember it," Ahmed said. Herger had not told him this for effect, but nevertheless Ahmed sat in the corner of the car, hands clasped tightly between his knees, back stiff. He knew without needing to be told that Herger handled millions of kroner, and the presence of wealth clearly intimidated him. "You own it?"

"No, the company is a conglomerate of owners. We are basically a board of directors. I, and my boss, manage the board so that everything on the property works smoothly, and we are paid by the dues of the members. We don't hold power over the individuals, though."

Sometimes he wished he did. He could feel his phone buzzing in his pocket, likely an email from the manager of the Peppe's Pizza in one of the ground-level food courts. The man did not understand a chain of management. If Herger could have his way, Peppe's Pizza would be eliminated from Oslo entirely.

He directed his thoughts away from work by a concentrated effort. Ahmed had gone back to looking out the window.

Now they were through downtown and past the twin brick towers of Oslo City Hall. They started down the pier, tires rumbling on the cobblestones.

Harild took them to the entrance of one of several tall buildings in the district. The first three levels were dedicated to shopping, another two dozen to offices, and the last few were for apartments. Herger led Ahmed through a quiet side entrance and pushed the elevator button for a floor that just said "PH."

Once there, Herger led them to the end of the foyer and tapped a code into a keypad to unlock his door. As they stepped into the apartment, the setting sun shone through the windows and bathed the room with warm light. The effect was dazzling, because there were also reflections of the sunlight off the Oslofjord, and the view had become a giant mirror. Herger hit a switch on the wall and screens descended, cutting the glare.

"Nice trick," Ahmed said. Herger chuckled.

"I'm going to open a bottle of wine. Will you drink with me?" Herger set down his briefcase and went into the kitchen, shedding his jacket and slinging it over a barstool positioned at the counter.

Ahmed followed slowly, and Herger watched the other man for a moment as he examined the kitchen. The white leather barstools and red-and-orange area rugs had been carefully chosen by his interior decorator to match the sleek cabinetry and slate tile floors, and Herger suspected that the design scheme, chosen to reflect the best in modern interior décor, served only to further intimidate Ahmed. Herger suddenly wished that his apartment was a little less meticulously arranged.

There was no response from Ahmed.

"Perhaps a shower first," Herger suggested gently. "I can lend you some things and send those out to be cleaned. You're a 30 waist, yes?"

"Yes," Ahmed said quietly. Now he was staring back at the windows, and the seating area between them. "Yes to all of it."

"Come with me."

 

Herger wasn't sure why he took Ahmed into the master bedroom and not the guest suite, except that maybe by showing Ahmed the private area where he slept, he would seem more approachable; safe.

But Ahmed's eyes were glazing over. It wasn't as safe as Herger had thought: the master bedroom wrapped around one edge of the building, so there were more expansive views of the Oslofjord. Ahmed even paused and watched a sail boat pull up to its slip.

Herger quickly led him into the bathroom and put a fluffy towel in his arms, told him that he would leave him some clothes, and left him alone. Herger didn't see him again for another hour.

Finally Ahmed reentered the kitchen wearing the slacks and short-sleeved shirt Herger had left out. Herger wondered if he was also wearing the boxers. He smiled and said, "You can keep those trousers. I don't like brown, but you look good in them."

Ahmed looked good in all of it. His skin was an even, rich color, like polished wood, and the white shirt practically shone in contrast. The slightly snug sleeves showed off his arms, and Ahmed had tucked in the shirt, showing off a surprisingly curvy ass. He still wore his own sandals, but they looked as though they'd had the dust knocked off of them. Even his face looked younger with the benefit of a shave. But the clothes and clean face also showed how thin he was; not starving, but wanting for a good meal or twelve.

"Thank you," Ahmed said, managing a strained smile. "I had no idea how much I needed that."

"I could tell." Herger turned off the heat on the stove and gestured with a spatula to a glass of white wine on the bar. "That's for you, and cod with asparagus and potatoes, as soon as I get plates." He was curious to see if Ahmed would pick up the wine. He did.

They took their dinner out on the balcony. The wind had picked up some, but the low summer sun and remaining warmth of the day made it comfortable enough to eat out-of-doors.

Herger had expected Ahmed to be silent throughout the meal, but the food and shower seemed to have revived him. They had only just sat down when he asked Herger, "Who is in the photo with you, the one beside the bed?"

Herger chuckled, surprised and a little embarrassed. He had entirely forgotten about the photo. "He is my ex-boyfriend."

A silence followed, while Ahmed swallowed a mouthful of food and looked down at his plate.

Herger swirled his wine, hoping he appeared untroubled. "I guess I should put the photo away before anybody gets the wrong idea, eh?"

Ahmed looked up. "There is nothing wrong with being homosexual," he said sternly.

Herger felt a thrill. Clearly Ahmed was not ambivalent on the topic. "I meant that someone might think I am not single," he said lightly, checking a smile.

"You are." It was a question, but Ahmed seemed too unsure of himself to say it that way. Herger nodded, searching Ahmed's face for a hint of reaction. Sure enough, Ahmed's shoulders relaxed a fraction. It filled Herger's chest with a warm glow, pleasure mixed with anticipation.

"We've been broken up for…" He paused to count. "Eighteen months. I had forgotten about that photo."

They talked about trivial things for the rest of the meal: the quality of the weather, the freshness of asparagus. Herger was not a great cook but generally made edible meals. Ahmed cleaned his plate.

Finally they took their dishes back inside, and Herger made coffee and served strawberry cake, explaining how the long, cool Norwegian growing season produced the best strawberries in the world. He watched with satisfaction as Ahmed savored every bite, letting it rest in his mouth before swallowing, slowly cutting with the side of his fork.

Herger imagined Ahmed's tongue, pressing the fruit against his teeth, crushing the flesh and releasing its flavors. His own mouth watered.

Ahmed put his fork down on his empty plate. "You want to know my story?"

"Yes." Herger poured fresh coffee for them both, trying to think of a way to broach the topic he most wanted to discuss. "I would like to be certain that it does not offend you to be staying in the house of a homosexual. I am not certain about the laws in Iraq—"

Ahmed nodded and Herger stopped, not knowing what he was going to say, anyway.

"Under Saddam Hussein, homosexuality was not outright illegal, but a man could be arrested on a variety of related charges, usually related to indecency." Ahmed shifted on his chair. "Until 2001. Then a law was enacted making sodomy punishable by imprisonment, and further convictions punishable by death."

Herger caught his breath. He wanted to ask, but he wasn't sure what to say. He was afraid of being rude, or offending Ahmed.

"I had excelled in writing in school, and when I graduated, began working for a regional newspaper outside Baghdad. In my spare time I worked on other material, short fiction to sell, and essays, which I would sell when I had a name for myself." Ahmed paused and eyed Herger critically. "Essays about being homosexual in a Muslim country."

Herger nodded, his heart rate quickening as he breathed more easily.

"I worked like this for a few years, until recently. I sold some novels and was in negotiations for one to be introduced to the American markets. And then someone found out about my essays. I received threatening letters, and my colleagues avoided me. Finally my editor told me that either I would leave, or he would begin contacting authorities."

Herger hissed and murmured, "Oye, oye oye." Ahmed nodded.

"I left behind my younger sister and mother. I've been to England and the Netherlands, but it is still not safe. Finally I used the last of my savings and took the next flight to somewhere that would not turn me away."

"For being gay?" Herger said in surprise.

Ahmed nodded again. "In England, they tried to send a gay boy back to Afghanistan for not having papers. He had to fight with the courts, because he knew he would be killed in his home country. I did not want the same trouble."

"I cannot say it will be any better here. Immigration is a controversial topic in Norway." Herger pushed aside his untouched coffee and leaned forward, his elbows on the table.

"I have to try to stay. I have no more money. I will work if I can. I'm thirty-five; I have plenty of experience for a journalist." Ahmed met his gaze. He did not look desperate or pathetic; he looked resolute, which Herger admired. Herger nodded.

"I don't have work for a writer now—"

"Oh no, I am not begging—"

"Please." Herger put a hand out on the table. "I want to help. Otherwise I would not have vouched for your visa, you see?"

"Yes, but—"

"I will put out inquiries with some people I know. Very casual, just to see what's out there. In the interim, you may stay here as my guest." Herger got up and collected their dessert dishes.

Ahmed sighed and nodded. In the waning evening light, shadows had formed under his eyes. He looked so drained, Herger wondered if he'd done the right thing.

 

Herger prepared the extra bedroom and left Ahmed alone there before going back to his own room.

As he entered, the sight of a bundle of clothes on his bed caught his eye. Of course—Ahmed's clothes, which he had promised to have laundered.

He picked them up—pants, a jacket, and a shirt—and saw underneath the boxers he had left out for Ahmed to borrow. Ahmed hadn't taken them. He understood immediately: Ahmed's pride had kept him from borrowing such a personal item and leaving his own undergarment to be cleaned. Herger smiled and put the fresh pair back in his dresser, and the other clothes he left by the door to take out in the morning.

Upon entering the bathroom, Herger learned another fact about his guest: Ahmed was fastidious. He'd wiped down the glass shower stall and the floor and counters, so there wasn't a drop of water anywhere. No signs of dirt or stray hairs, either. The room smelled faintly of Herger's shampoo and shower gel. There was a damp towel in the hamper, and Herger's razor had been moved. But other than these slight changes, Herger would hardly have known someone had been in here.

None of it was unusual for the situation, but Herger was surprised at how these things affected him. He had images in his mind, of Ahmed standing here in just a towel, shaving with Herger's razor. Had he used Herger's deodorant? Herger checked, but couldn't tell if the stick had touched someone else's skin.

He was not surprised at being faintly aroused by these things, but was surprised at the empathy he felt. The poor man had nothing; what had a stranger's shampoo meant to him?

Herger shook himself. He had three meetings before noon tomorrow—he needed to sleep. He washed his face and brushed his teeth quickly, fell into bed with a groan of weariness, and was immediately unconscious.

 

"Hallo, Magnus? Hei, Herger Torgudson. Hvordan går det?" Herger swiveled his desk chair toward the window in his office, one floor below the penthouse, and listened to the editor of Aftenposten, Magnus Svinø, return his greeting. They exchanged pleasantries while Herger watched the passenger ferry run to Bygdøy. Eventually there was a pause on the other end of the line, and Herger asked, "How satisfied are you with your writers?"

He thought about Ahmed while half-listening to Magnus answer. He'd left a note for Ahmed some hours earlier, with some money and the access code to the penthouse. The cash wouldn't get Ahmed far but it might entertain him for a few hours. The kitchen was also well-stocked and Herger had the full range of channels on Norwegian and European television, so Ahmed could have even stayed in.

"Why do you ask?" Magnus asked finally, after a long discourse on the various heartaches caused by his newsroom.

"Ah, no great reason. A writer friend is new in town, and he is curious about the local business. I told him I thought it was doing well."

"Ja, but you know how the young ones are. No ambition, even if they have some skill. What kind of experience does your friend have?"

Herger got up to pace, taking the call with him in his Bluetooth headset. "Reporting, daily newspapers. Also short fiction. He's been working for at least ten years."

"Can he send in some samples? And his c.v.?"

"Ja…Magnus, you should know he's from the Middle East." Herger toyed with a paperclip on his desk.

"So?"

"So that you're not surprised when he comes in, that's all." Herger tossed the clip aside and folded his arms, leaning back against his desk. The sun was high and the lunch crowds were thinning on the pier below, but within an hour or so, the shopping would pick up again.

"Just as long as his stuff is translated, you know I don't care. Have him call and make an appointment with Marit."

"Tusen takk."

"It's nothing. But let's have another game at the club soon, ja? I'm getting fat."

"So am I." Herger grinned at Magnus' laughter. "Later."

Herger pulled the earpiece off as Magnus disconnected, and he rubbed a hand over his face, then laughed again. He could hardly believe that was so easy.

 

He meant to check in on Ahmed after the call to Magnus, but when he looked at his watch after completing a few tasks, it read half before five p.m. He sighed and saved his work, logged off the computer, and started collecting his things.

"Ronild, call me you find out anything about the Norli contract." Herger juggled his briefcase and cell phone as he strolled through the outer office. His executive assistant nodded. "I'll be in tomorrow, but I'll sign and fax it back tonight if it comes through." Ahmed would just have to understand, he thought guiltily. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is Saturday," Ronild said nonchalantly.

"Oye. Okay. Monday." Herger shook his head and pushed open the stairwell door. "Enjoy your weekend."

Once on the stairs going back up to the penthouse, he started to call for Harild, then remembered there was too poor reception in the steel-enclosed stairwell to connect a call. Shoving his phone between his teeth as he reached the top floor and opened the heavy door, he punched in his code and entered the hallway.

Ahmed was exiting the elevator at that moment. He carried two large H&M bags stuffed with merchandise.

"Hei!" Herger dropped his phone back into his free hand. "Sorry. I meant to find you earlier, but I got caught up. But you've been out shopping, eh?"

Ahmed nodded and walked into the apartment as Herger let them in. "Thank you for the money. I will repay you."

"Nei, don't say that." Herger poured two glasses of water from a filtered tap and handed one to Ahmed. "Besides, you needed underwear." He winked and drank, and let himself envision Ahmed in a little pair of white briefs, crooking his finger.

Ahmed looked a little embarrassed, but smiled, charming Herger. He looked absolutely boyish when he smiled, and the faint blush had darkened his skin nicely. Herger revised the fantasy to include a grin to go with the little white briefs.

Herger realized he was starting to stare and looked at his watch before either of them became uncomfortable. "I'm going to the gym. You're welcome to join me if you like. I have some extra things you can borrow for that, too."

"All right."

Herger called Harild and let them know he wanted to leave in ten minutes. As he and Ahmed then walked down the hall toward his room, he took a longer look at Ahmed. He looked rested and relaxed; not happy exactly, but at least not about to fall over from exhaustion. Ahmed looked back at him curiously, so Herger gave him a grin pushed open his bedroom door.

He put together two sets of workout clothes and packed a bag, then they went to meet Harild in the parking garage. He drove them across town to a more high-end gym than anything they would have found within walking distance of the pier. As soon as they entered the locker room and saw a dozen half-naked Norwegian men walking about wearing only towels around their waists, Herger hoped he hadn't made a mistake. Did Iraqis feel the same about nudity as Europeans did? He hadn't ever gone into a sauna or such thing on his trip to the Middle East, so he had no reference point.

But Ahmed seemed at ease, and they took a pair of lockers to stash their things, then changed side-by-side. Herger snuck a glance while they were swapping out pants for shorts, but Ahmed moved too quickly for Herger to see more than a blur of dark hair. He pulled a t-shirt over his head, resigned.

From there, they went out to the treadmills.

For the first twenty minutes they didn't say anything to each other, although he could see Ahmed glancing at him and figuring out the treadmill controls. Eventually Herger slowed his pace and took a drink of water, then looked over at Ahmed.

"I talked to a friend at the local paper today."

"Yes?" Ahmed was a little out of breath. He ran smoothly; clearly he was used to exercise, if not on a treadmill.

"Ja. He is interested in seeing some work from you. You have some pieces translated?"

"No, but I can do that quickly. Herger—"

"Good. You can use my computer at the apartment."

Ahmed slowed the track on his machine and began to walk. "Herger. I hope you did not ask him to give me a job."

Herger shot Ahmed another glance, irritated. "I told you I wouldn't do it that way. I asked him how he was doing, he asked why I was curious, and I said I had a writer friend in town. He was the one who suggested you come in with a c.v. and some samples."

Herger punched his finger against the stop button on his treadmill and hopped off while the track was still running. He wiped his face and throat with a towel, looking at Ahmed as Ahmed came to a stop.

"I don't like to be second-guessed. You should know that about me."

"And I pay my own way, when I can." Ahmed picked up his own towel.

Herger tilted his head. "I respect that." He picked up his water. "But I also ask that you take me at my word. I'm going over to the weights."

Ahmed joined him while Herger was on his fifth set of tricep lifts; long enough that Herger's irritation had faded somewhat. He waited until Herger had returned the dumbbells to the rack, then said: "I apologize." He was looking down, fiddling with a dumbbell, but speaking loud enough for Herger to hear. "It was rude of me."

"I accept your apology, and let's put it behind us." Herger moved over to a mat to begin doing lunges. "We can just get to know each other, eh? You've seen my temper, now. Hot and short, like the rest of me."

Ahmed mustered a smile. Herger made a face and grunted, deliberately blowing out a breath like an escape valve on a steam engine, and smiled when Ahmed laughed.

 

Over the weekend, Ahmed worked on the computer in between outings with Herger. They started with a late dinner Friday evening, followed by coffee and a dessert. On Saturday Herger started showing him the city, touring down the pier and through the public art at City Hall, then up to the massive yellow royal palace on the hill, with the equestrian statue overlooking the downtown area. By noon Ahmed begged out of further tourist pursuits, saying he needed to work on the computer for a while, so they returned to the apartment and Herger put together a spread of meats, cheese, tomatoes and cucumbers with thick-crusted bread for their lunch. He added in little chilled shot glasses of akervit and a couple glasses of beer, although he wasn't certain if Ahmed would like akervit; not everyone who tried the grain liquor distilled with caraway seeds liked it.

Ahmed emerged from the office and sat down at the bar with a smile, looking over the lunch spread.

"You drink alcohol, yes?" Herger gestured at the glasses.

Ahmed nodded. "I don't follow the dietary laws. I ceased believing in Islam a great while ago." He picked up the shot glass, and Herger did the same.

"Skål," Herger said, lifting his glass. He drained the shot quickly, then picked up his beer. Ahmed repeated the cheer, carefully imitating the "skawl" sound, and drank as well. He cleared his throat and set down the glass.

"Someday you might tell me how you became atheist?" Herger picked up a slice of bread and began to load toppings onto it.

"If you want to be so bored…as you wish." Ahmed smiled and began to fix his own plate.

After lunch Herger left him to work and took a nap out on the balcony until a rainstorm moved in. He went in to the living room and stretched out on the couch, turning on the TV and flipping through channels.

Normally he would be in his office on a Saturday afternoon, but with Ahmed here, he didn't want to leave or get caught up in work. But he hardly knew what to do with himself. Bored with the TV, he got up and paced over to the windows, looking out onto the piers and fjord.

As the crowds milled around the public art outside of City Hall, his thoughts wandered to Ahmed. There was no guarantee that Magnus would give him a job. Despite what Magnus had said on the phone, Herger knew him to be somewhat close-minded about foreigners, as many Norwegians were. The general feeling was that Norway was for Norwegians. The borders had relaxed in recent years but outsiders were still looked upon as just that—outsiders. Ahmed might get a job and make friends, but he would never completely fit in. Herger knew that many immigrants eventually left Norway, tired of the feeling of isolation and other-ness.

But Herger had done a lot of international traveling, meeting others in the same field of business, comparing best practices and offering ideas for more effective property management. He was accustomed to meeting others and exchanging ideas. In the last six months he'd been to Germany twice, France, Belgium, Denmark three times, and England. Iraq, when he'd gone eight years ago, had been a working vacation, and he'd enjoyed learning about the other culture. The Iraqis were ruthless businessmen, and he'd liked their assertiveness. But not every Norwegian might feel the same way. He hoped he'd been a better ambassador than most.

"Herger?"

Herger blinked and refocused, looking over his shoulder. Ahmed was standing in the doorway, an uncertain, worried look on his face. For a moment Herger panicked, thinking that something had gone horribly wrong, or Ahmed had received some bad news, and they'd both be arrested.

"I can't figure out your printer," Ahmed finished.

Herger grinned. "All right." He rose to help him.

Chapter 2

Over the rest of the weekend Herger continued to show the city to Ahmed, and by doing so, tried to get to know him. They discovered that neither cared for jazz music (and left a piano bar early at this revelation), and both found Norwegians' fascination with American country western music to be absolutely baffling. Ahmed talked about the political climate in the Middle East, and Herger talked about the challenges of handling local and international business with Norway still using the kroner, and Norway's aversion to entering the European Union. And they talked about other things, too, staying up late into the night on Sunday evening. Even with the long summer days of early June, it was dark when they went to their separate rooms. Herger was groggy and surly Monday morning, leading Ronild to deposit a stack of sorted mail on his desk and leave him alone.

But with a rapport established, Herger sensed that Ahmed was growing more comfortable, and thereby becoming more open.

Ahmed went in to the Aftenposten offices on Monday with his resume and samples of work, and Magnus immediately offered him a position as editor of the English web desk; a niche position, but limitless in scope.

Herger celebrated this with two bottles of wine and tickets to an outdoor concert in the evening, where he watched Ahmed smiling a little tipsily in the slanting yellow light of dusk. On Tuesday, Herger held his usual staff meeting with a moderate hangover, but the single, simple memory of Ahmed's shoulders brushing his in the crowd was enough to boost his spirits.

By seven p.m. he was still at the office and not done with reviewing lease revisions for the Hugo Boss store. He called up to his apartment, but there was no answer from Ahmed.

"Should get him a mobile," Herger muttered to himself, and bent his head back to work. A headache was taking hold behind his right eye, and he rubbed his eyebrow distractingly.

The next time he came up for air, it was to see Ahmed coming into the office. He stood and threaded his fingers together, stretching his arms overhead with a groan.

"It is nearly nine p.m.," Ahmed said with a frown.

"So? You weren't in the apartment, last I checked." Herger dropped his arms and tapped a few keys to save his changes, then dug into a desk drawer for a bottle of painkillers.

"I've been there since five p.m."

Shaking out a couple pills into his palm, Herger swallowed them dry. "You didn't answer my call."

Ahmed laughed, but not in humor. "I should answer the phone in someone else's house?"

Herger glanced up from returning to the bottle to the drawer, and winced. "I'm sorry, you're right. Let me make it up to you. Have you eaten?"

"Yes, but I doubt you have. Come upstairs, I have something warm."

Herger quickly gathered his jacket, discarded tie, and briefcase. Ahmed keeping dinner for him—he could get used to this. Most of the time Herger worked late into the night and heated up something that had been previously frozen. The idea of someone waiting for him to come home—wanting him home earlier—moved him more than he wanted to say. Wendel, his ex-boyfriend, hadn't kept dinner for him in the last three years of their relationship.

In the apartment, the air smelled of exotic spices. Herger thought at first that Ahmed had made something Middle Eastern, but then he recognized the smell of miso soup. There were take-out containers on a counter.

Ahmed saw his look of confused surprise, and grinned. "It's warm, isn't it?"

"Ja, ja." Herger laughed, finding Ahmed's smile infectious. "Tusen takk." The moment stretched between them. Ahmed was fully grinning, and Herger beamed back, more entertained by himself and Ahmed than by the food.

"What does that mean?" Ahmed murmured. He was leaning gently against the counter but his hips were canted towards Herger, his posture open and inviting. He was wearing a crisp white shirt that Herger had given him, untucked and with the top two buttons undone, and he looked fantastic. It looked especially good paired with some dark wash jeans Ahmed had bought from H&M. Herger wanted to slip his hands under the cool fabric of the shirt and feel his warm skin, feel it heat under his fingers.

Herger stepped toward him, and Ahmed turned enough to meet him face to face. He straightened and Herger noted that they were the same height.

"It means ‘a thousand thanks,'" he said quietly, then reached past Ahmed to open a cabinet and take out a bowl. His arm brushed Ahmed's shoulder, but Ahmed didn't move away. Herger decided he liked the feel of Ahmed that close to him.

 

As June wore to a close, they explored the four-hundred-year-old fort and saw its castle lit by an evening sun, and spent a rainy Saturday at the natural history museum, where Ahmed studied the last thousand years of Scandinavian cultures. Herger trailed close behind for Ahmed to ask questions, and to gauge his reactions. Afterwards, they walked over to the royal palace, and Ahmed made Herger take a photo of him standing next to the palace guards.

"I haven't seen this much of the city in the last five years, I think," he confessed to Ahmed, putting his camera back in his jacket pocket.

"Why not?" Ahmed moved to Herger's side and they started walking off the palace grounds.

Herger shrugged. "It's not what my boyfriend wanted to do."

"But…five years? How long were you together?"

"Seven." Ahmed raised his eyebrows, and Herger chuckled. "Inertia is an amazing thing."

"Don't you…" Ahmed trailed off, and wouldn't finish until Herger prompted him. He finally said, "Seven years is a long time to go without seeing your city."

"It's not like we never left the apartment. We just didn't do this sort of thing." Herger led the way toward the water, thinking desperately of some distraction to avoid talking about Wendel. There was a wonderful French café not far from his building, on the pier. Maybe Ahmed would like a hot chocolate. The rain would likely stop while they were warming up. "As for how long we stayed together…well, I was afraid of being alone, I guess. I didn't want to break up with him long after I should have."

"Ah." Ahmed was quiet, and didn't look at Herger as they walked, sharing an umbrella. "That I understand."

By his tone, Herger could tell he didn't want to say anymore. He didn't want to spend much more time talking about his ex and past relationship, anyway. Being alone was awful, but in a way, it was easier than looking for someone new, too. He dropped the subject.

 

Herger finally finished his work on landing the Norli account, which meant a popular bookseller would be represented at Aker Brygge. To celebrate, at dinner that evening he had four glasses of wine to Ahmed's two, plus brandy with their dessert.

He hadn't realized how tipsy he was until they walked out of the restaurant and got in the car. He leaned back against the door and chuckled, licking his lips, pleased with the buzz. Ahmed was watching him, rather than the city moving by outside. Herger watched him back.

Soon Harild delivered them into the parking garage, and they departed. In the elevator, Herger leaned on the rail with one hand and watched the numbers tick up. Ahmed was still watching him.

When Herger blinked and refocused, Ahmed had moved closer, and then he put a hand on Herger's waist, and then he leaned in and kissed him.

Herger made a sound of approval and opened his mouth, touching his tongue to Ahmed's. Ahmed's lips were warm and wet and soft, and when Herger reached out, his body was also warm under Herger's hands. Herger tightened his fingers on Ahmed's shirt, wondering if it was going too fast to tug it out of Ahmed's waistband. He could barely believe Ahmed was actually kissing him.

"I couldn't resist," Ahmed whispered against his mouth. "You look so inviting—"

"When I'm drunk?" Herger smiled and moved his hands down and around to Ahmed's ass, just barely touching his fingers to the curves, not quite fondling. "I've wanted this for weeks."

"I know." Ahmed nodded and the motion brought their lips together again. Just as Herger was getting back into the kiss, the elevator dinged.

"That's our floor," Herger murmured, thinking of his bedroom. His face flushed with excitement at the prospect of getting Ahmed on his bed. He touched his tongue to Ahmed's lips.

Ahmed sighed regretfully, his breath gusting Herger's mouth. Then he pressed one more kiss on him and turned away, leading the way out of the car just as the doors started to close.

It was lucky that Herger only needed the pass code to open the door, because he would have fumbled a key with Ahmed standing behind him, one hand on his shoulder. As it was, he almost tripped over his feet getting inside, but he recovered, turned and pulled Ahmed in after him. He pressed him to the nearest wall, cupped Ahmed's jaw and touched their mouths together. And then he heard, "Herger?"

It was more shock than guilt that made them separate hastily, but Herger still wondered what Ronild thought of them when he turned and saw him in the kitchen. "Ja?" he choked out, and cleared his throat.

"I need to speak with you." He looked at Ahmed and added, "Also, a letter came to the office addressed to Herr Fahdlan."

Ahmed took the letter with some confusion but thanked Ronild politely. He went out to the terrace to give Herger and Ronild privacy. They watched him walk out, then turned to face each other.

"What's in the letter?"

Ronild looked affronted. "I didn't open it." He paused, then smirked. "I'm sure if you asked, he'd tell you."

Herger lowered his head and gave Ronild a disapproving look, as fake as they both knew it to be. "What are you saying?"

"He's nice. I like him."

"I like him too."

Ronild smiled and shifted the topic to his business at hand. After he left, Herger looked outside.

Ahmed was leaning his forearms against the railing, hip cocked with one leg relaxed. The pose pulled his trousers against his ass so nicely it was almost as if he had done it on purpose. Herger rubbed his mouth and went out, joining Ahmed at the railing.

"I apologize for the interruption. Ronild was going to leave me a message. It was important enough that he let himself in."

"That's all right." Ahmed watched the people walking about on the pier below. Most were trickling toward the grounds of the fort, where a football game was going to be broadcasted on a large screen that had been set up on a stage.

Herger felt his excitement bubble up as Ronild's news sunk in. He closed his hands on the railing, fingers gripping. His head was spinning, but maybe that was the wine.

"His news for me. Dale of Norway, you know them? The sweaters?"

Ahmed looked at him, squinting in the low sun, and nodded.

"They finally responded to our calls, and they want to open an exclusive store on the pier. Not just selling in tourist gift shops, but a whole store!" His excitement couldn't be contained, and he laughed and pulled Ahmed into a sudden hug.

He could tell by the brief tension in Ahmed's body that the hug had surprised him, but then Ahmed relaxed and put his arms around Herger's waist. A thrill went up Herger's spine as Ahmed turned his head to put his mouth next to Herger's ear, nuzzling, then said, "That is wonderful. I'm very happy for you."

Herger laughed again. He turned his head to press a kiss to Ahmed's mouth, then another. "But I have to go to Bergen tomorrow. That is where they have their head office. I need to pack tonight, and leave early. Ronild got me a flight first thing in the morning."

"Mmm." Ahmed returned one more kiss, then carefully drew away and walked toward the door. "How industrious of him."

Herger watched him go back into the apartment, his heart sinking. The mood had fizzled out; he'd felt that in Ahmed's brief, hesitant kisses. He wondered whether this cool manner was because Ronild might have seen them.

While the alcohol still made his tongue loose, he called out to Ahmed. "Can we resume this when I return?"

Ahmed paused just inside the doorway and glanced over his shoulder. "Of course." Then he continued down the hall and out of sight.

Herger blew out a breath and rubbed his mouth and beard. After such warm kisses in the elevator, that was an oddly cool goodbye.

 

Bergen was rainy and cold, unsurprisingly, but Herger had a good meal after his day-long meeting. Afterwards, the rain passed and the setting sun appeared, illuminating the wet sidewalks and streets with a beautiful yellow glow. He took a walk past the colorfully painted storehouses on the waterfront to enjoy the evening.

The Dale people had given him a sweater: one of the elaborate, thick, heavy wool ones with pure silver fastenings, which cost over a thousand kroner. Herger thought first of Ahmed wearing it, and had immediately asked if he could buy another one. They gave him a second one, also free. Now he had a big shopping bag stuffed with high-end Norwegian wool.

He took a late flight back to Oslo and got into the apartment after two a.m. The door to Ahmed's room was closed, and Herger was too tired to think of disturbing his sleep for a late-night kiss.

But in the morning he awoke before his alarm, his mind already occupied with the tasks he needed to start on to get Dale into Aker Brygge. He skipped breakfast and went into the office at half before six. When Ronild came in at eight, he had him order pastries and coffee for the staff. His generosity was due more to wanting someone to fetch food for him, and with a lingering celebratory zeal, than pure altruism.

He worked until his eyes were gritty, which was only five in the afternoon. With heavy limbs, he gathered his things and went out to Ronild's desk.

"You look terrible," he said, eyeing him critically. "Get some sleep."

Herger liked that Ronild was so forthright with him. Ronild was like his own male Moneypenny, with trim suits and sleek blond hair that hung in a wing. But even while he was so attractive, Herger respected that he was straight, and while it had taken some time before Ronild had felt at ease around Herger, they were now close friends. Herger suspected that it had something to do with Ronild witnessing how Herger's relationship with Wendel had soured, and then how Herger had thrown himself into his work thereafter. Now Ronild could anticipate his needs and navigate his moods, and respected that the love life of a gay man could be just as intense as that of a heterosexual…and just as lonely.

"I'm going up to crash. Call me if you need anything."

Ronild bent his head back to his work. "I won't."

Herger grinned and left.

 

One moment he was sitting down on his couch with a Euro Championships game on TV, and the next he was waking up to someone combing their fingers through his hair.

"Mmmm." Herger opened his eyes slowly, and smiled at the face above him.

Ahmed sat back, the couch shifting.

"Hva er klokken?" Herger mumbled, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

"I don't know what that means."

"Er, sorry. What time is it?"

"After seven. I just got in."

"Damn, I missed the game." Herger dropped his hand and rolled his head to look over at Ahmed. "But that was a nice way to wake up."

Ahmed gave him a small smile. "I have been thinking—"

"Oh, I brought you a gift!" Herger went to his room for the Dale bag and pulled out Ahmed's sweater, white with blue and red patterns. He returned to the living room and tossed it into Ahmed's lap. "You will look great in it. I can't wait until winter, and I will take you out to the ski parks, maybe a holiday in Telemark—"

"I was thinking of finding my own apartment," Ahmed interrupted. He stood, putting the sweater on the couch.

Herger stared at him. "What? Why?"

Ahmed folded his arms and looked out at the fjord. "I have an income now, and—"

Herger made a sound of disgust and turned away. Ahmed and his stupid pride. It was just money, and Herger wasn't spending much more than he would without Ahmed here. He was having more fun, too; or had been.

"Herger, I am grateful to you for your generosity and have enjoyed spending time with you. Please don't think otherwise."

Herger stood at the window and shoved his hands in his pockets, playing with loose change and his phone. He tried to pretend he didn't see Ahmed watching him.

Ahmed continued quietly. "I don't mean to offend you."

Herger crossed his arms and turned around. "It's not that," he said, with a wave of dismissal. "I just thought we were—" He broke off and shook his head angrily. He'd been so stupid, assuming that Ahmed liked him; had wanted him. In all the flings he'd had, he'd been rejected more than once, but this stung more than usual. He walked away, going into his office, where Ahmed would not follow.

On his desk he had a framed photo of him and Wendel, of the two of them on holiday in Nice. It instantly conjured the memory of him on his knees in their hotel room, Wendel on the bed, Herger sucking him off with the sun coming in through the terrace doors and hitting him in the back. He remembered the smell of sunscreen and the feel of the warmth on his back, the hot skin beneath him, the thick heavy length of cock in his mouth. Wendel had come so hard he had kneed Herger in the ribs, nearly knocking him over, and they'd laughed about it afterward.

Thinking of it, Herger felt the familiar ache of loneliness settle into his chest. It hurt so much he could barely breathe. He sat at his desk and stared at the photo, thinking that if he was sweet about it maybe he could get Wendel to see him again. It wouldn't be the first time, although last time Wendel had merely given him a drunken blowjob and left while Herger was asleep.

It was too damn hard to meet new people—most of the time he worked too much to get out at all, but at the same time the thought of returning to the dating scene was detestable. He was forty-one, for god's sake; he didn't want to date anymore.

Ahmed had pulled him out of his work-sleep-work routine, but now it seemed Ahmed didn't want to be in the situation any longer. And if Ahmed left, he was back at square one.

Herger scrubbed his face with both hands. He had to snap out of this. If he allowed himself to get depressed, his work would suffer, and that was inexcusable.

He turned on his computer and looked up the score for the game, looking for some distraction. After a few minutes, he realized he was thinking over every word Ahmed had said, and he hadn't seen a single thing on the page he was viewing. He needed to get out of the apartment to stop thinking about Ahmed. The gym would help clear his head.

He called Harild on his way back to his bedroom. Ahmed's door—the guest room had become his—was closed. He hated to think that Ahmed now felt a barrier was necessary.

After giving directions to Harild to pick him up, he changed clothes, then took his bag and went downstairs to street level and met the car.

He stayed at the gym for close to three hours, running for six kilometers, lifting far more weight than he was used to, and swimming laps until he couldn't keep his head above water. When he finally went to the sauna, it felt like his entire body was shaking with exhaustion.

The gym was going to close soon, so there weren't many people left in the sauna. He gasped for breath, overwhelmed by the dry heat. He stared at the slats over the dim lights until his eyes unfocused, letting his mind go blank, forcing himself to relax. And finally, sweat rolling down his face, he felt his eyes grow heavy.

It took the shock of a cold shower to wake himself up enough to dress, and then he took a cab home.

But even after tiring himself, he found he couldn't sleep. Around two a.m. he heard a door open in the hall, and from his bed he saw Ahmed pad by in a t-shirt and underwear. Some sounds from the kitchen followed, and eventually Ahmed returned with a steaming cup.

"Hey," Herger called before he could stop himself. Ahmed stopped short, then came to Herger's door, a tentative shadow.

"Can't you sleep?" Herger asked.

"No. I made some tea to see if that would help." Ahmed lifted the cup. "Can't you?"

"Nei." Herger rolled onto his back.

Ahmed took one step into his room. "I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to offend you, especially after the beautiful gift."

"I shouldn't have assumed you'd be happy staying here." Herger stared at the ceiling.

"I am happy—"

"Then stay." Herger turned his head and looked at him now.

Ahmed was suddenly very interested in sipping his tea. "I will…consider it."

Herger sighed loudly and rolled onto his stomach.

"I received a letter from the Immigration office," Ahmed said to his back. Herger lifted his head at the word immigration. "The one Ronild brought me, before you went to Bergen. It came to you because your address was on my visa form."

"What did it say?" His heart was in his throat.

"There's some question about my eligibility to work." Ahmed sipped his tea again, calmly, but the silhouette of his shoulders had gone rigid.

"Dammit." Herger sat up and scrubbed his face with both hands. "I'm sorry. Show me the letter, I'll see what I can do."

"I will handle this."

"And if you get deported? Do you want to go back to where you came from?"

Ahmed didn't answer for a long moment. Herger's skin prickled with the fear that Ahmed was crying, but he couldn't see him well enough in the darkness to tell. When he did speak, his voice was shaking. But the words Ahmed said were of pure frustration and anger.

"For someone so successful and intelligent, you are remarkably thickheaded when dealing with people. You think it's so easy for you to sit there and offer charity for your poor case, and it makes you so fucking altruistic, but you have no idea—"

"I do," Herger said hastily.

"I don't think so!" Ahmed's voice rose.

"I've been told before." Herger got out of bed and approached Ahmed cautiously, hitching at his boxers. He could see him clearly now. Ahmed was watching him warily. "I know I crave control. But you can't…I can't…" He couldn't get it out. Didn't even know what it was.

Ahmed stared at him. "You…oh." He laughed wryly. "I didn't know this crush had gotten so bad."

Herger's face burned. "You are so…hard."

"I have to be," Ahmed shot back, that hardness in his voice visible in the set of his jaw.

"No, you don't. Not anymore." Herger took a chance, reached out to Ahmed's face. Ahmed allowed the touch, but remained impassive.

Herger's fingers rested lightly on Ahmed's face, with no response. Herger forced himself to go further, cupping his palm to Ahmed's neck, feeling the blade of his jaw, rough with stubble.

"I'm rotten at this."

Ahmed snorted lightly, turning his head a fraction to the side, away from Herger's hand.

"I am. I'm rotten at relationship stuff, but I'm worse at being alone. I've been single for almost two years, and I hate it. I'm forty-one and the last time I was single for more than four months was when I was twenty-eight. I've gone from one fling to another, none of them lasting more than a few months. Until Wendel. He wasn't perfect but we had a good time together, and even when it wasn't good at all, I couldn't make him go. Because then I would be alone.

"So I'm telling you," he continued doggedly. "I want you to be here." He stepped closer, putting his other hand on Ahmed's chest. He could feel Ahmed's heart beating under the shield of his hot skin. "It could be good. I know it."

Ahmed had still not made any response, but it seemed that his breathing had quickened. Herger felt like Ahmed's walls were coming down the longer Herger touched him. His jaw relaxed under Herger's hand, and his eyelids dropped. Then his eyes closed completely, lashes coming to rest on his cheeks.

Herger leaned in and pressed his mouth against Ahmed's. There was no reaction at first, but Herger was persistent, and he started dropping light, gentle pecks on the corners of Ahmed's mouth, and in the middle where his lips were full and soft, and his rougher chin, and where his neck smelled strongly of him. And when Herger returned to Ahmed's lips, Ahmed responded. His mouth moved against Herger's, rubbing and pressing in long, drawn-out kisses that made the hair stand up on the back of Herger's neck. The stubble prickling his mouth felt intensely erotic. But he didn't ever try to deepen the kissing, just enjoying this.

He'd missed this; just easy and friendly touching, nothing serious. In contrast to all the adventurous sex he'd had in his life, this was unique. It made it kind of exciting.

Ahmed let out a breath, and then Herger felt the lightest touch of tongue. Herger's heart started pounding. His fingers were digging into Ahmed's chest, he realized, and he forced himself to relax. He wanted more, god how he wanted it, to just tear off Ahmed's t-shirt and shorts and feast on him. But he couldn't; or rather, wouldn't.

"He kissed me like this," Ahmed whispered. Herger froze and pulled away, just enough to let Ahmed speak. "My…lover. Just like this. That was enough for him."

"And you?" Herger breathed. The hair stood up on the back of his neck. Ahmed hadn't talked much about his Iraq relationship until now. "Was it enough for you?"

Ahmed breathed out a sigh that brushed Herger's mouth, and then bent his head back to another kiss. Now Ahmed's tongue tested the seam of Herger's lips, tiny little flicks that wet their lips enough to make them slide. Herger let him do what he liked. The blood was throbbing in his groin now, his cock getting harder by the second, and Herger knew now that if he took any more initiative he'd lose control. It'd been years since he'd felt so easily undone by just a kiss.

This had to be Ahmed's way of telling him he'd stay. Even though Herger wasn't asking for a relationship, or even a fling, he might get Ahmed's companionship, and that was enough.

Then Ahmed pulled away, and said, "I will send you that letter," and left the room with his tea. All business, no further reaction.

Herger choked out a laugh, watching Ahmed's t-shirt fade in the gloom. He closed his door then, climbed back into bed, and put his hand into his shorts. He brought himself to a quick and shuddering release that left him gasping.

Damn that infuriating man.

 

Ahmed faxed the letter to Herger's office, but it didn't help much. It was just a directive for Ahmed to make an appointment with the immigration office to verify his right to work. Ahmed would have to jump that hoop without Herger.

But he could hardly sit around and do nothing. He called Magnus Svinø on Monday afternoon. Magnus was in a bad mood, with the morning edition about to go to press and a hold up with the front page photos. Herger kept the conversation to the point.

"What are we going to do about this thing with Immigration and Ahmed?"

"I'm sorry to say this, but I'm not going to do anything. We'll see how it plays out. I have to go, Herger." A click signaled the end of the call.

"Fuck." Herger punched a button on his phone and pulled the earpiece off. But as soon as he did so, Ronild buzzed him.

"A call for you from the Office of Immigration."

"Shit!" Herger's blood pulsed and he yanked up the handset. "Put them through." There was a brief silence while Ronild complied.

"Herger Torgudson?" came a male voice from the other end.

"Ja."

"We understand you vouched for one Ahmed Fahdlan on his visa application."

"Yes, that's right."

"Can you explain your relationship to him?"

Herger's mind raced for something more suitable than "guy I met on a plane." His palms were sweating. He flexed his fingers on the phone and said, "He's my boyfriend."

There was a long pause. "You didn't put that here. You claimed he was your business associate."

"Well, yes. He's both. I didn't think you needed the additional information."

The voice was stern but bored, as though he heard such lame stories all day long. He probably did. "You should know that Herr Fahdlan's application is under review. We would like you to come in for an extended formal interview."

"I know he's making an appointment. Should I come in with him?" Herger flexed his fingers again, envisioning the two of them facing off against the government.

"Nei."

The vision dissipated.

"We will interview you separately. I will now transfer you to the appointment desk." Before Herger could say anything, the connection went quiet.

"Appointments."

Herger waited for the woman to say more, but she didn't. Finally he ventured, "Hallo. I was transferred to you."

"What day would you like?"

A choice! Herger hardly knew what to do with himself. He pulled up his calendar on the computer and said, "Sjette august?"

After some negotiating, he had an appointment and instructions to bring his personal identification papers and a copy of his business license. He finally hung up and pulled out his handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his palm and the phone handset.

What a fucking mess. And now he had to talk to Ahmed about their story for the immigration people.

 

"You told them what?"

Herger winced. "I know. It was the first thing that came to mind. I thought—"

Ahmed got to his feet and started pacing across the living room. "You thought you would say any damn thing and they'd just roll over for you, is that it?"

"I guess," Herger said. He wasn't quite sure why Ahmed was so angry, but the anger wouldn't get Ahmed to open up to him. He wanted to say whatever was necessary for Ahmed to calm down and act rational.

"I'm getting pretty tired of you doing whatever you please, no matter who it affects or what they want—"

"I know," he interrupted, watching Ahmed's furious expression. Now it was clear. "I try to fix everybody's problems, I try to control the situation, and I think I'm invincible. Anything else?"

Ahmed snorted and paced to the window, turning his back on Herger.

"We can't just ignore this," Herger went on. His face felt hot, a familiar sensation whenever he needed to perform damage control. "Despite what I said, the outcome is the same. They want to talk to both of us, so we had better work together for our mutual benefit."

"It's all your fault," Ahmed said to the window. "If you hadn't put your name on the visa form—"

"If you hadn't looked so pathetic on the plane, I wouldn't have even talked to you!" Herger got up and went into the kitchen for a beer. There was a sullen silence behind him. "But the fact is, we can either do this your way or mine. Which is more likely to get you deported?"

Ahmed was silent for a long time. Then, finally: "I don't know."

The sad truth was, Herger didn't know what their chances of success were, either. But he was used to working against the unknown, at least in business. In his personal life, he hated doing so, and Ahmed presented too many unknowns.

"Why have you been so resistant to my help? So I told them you were my boyfriend—that doesn't mean we have to make it true. People lie to the government all the time, especially for visas."

"It's—" Ahmed stopped and shook his head. He went to the sofa and sat, shoulders slumped. "All of this is too familiar."

"What?" That didn't make any sense. "Familiar? What, immigration?"

"No, you—" Ahmed waved his hand around the apartment. He looked directly at Herger and sighed. He was so clearly tired, beaten down. "A boyfriend who promises things that do not come to pass."

Herger felt a chill on the back of his neck. Ahmed was talking about Iraq. "Someone used you?"

"No." Ahmed crossed his arms, unconsciously defensive. "It was not—our relationship…never became totally physical. We did things with…hands and mouths, but that was it. I wanted more. That was something else he promised and didn't deliver. He was supposed to help my family and me, and we were supposed to become lovers, and we were supposed to live happily ever after. People thought we were roommates, a wealthy businessman and his journalist friend. Despite all the promises, that's all we were. And then his business started to fail and he wasn't so interested in delivering all the things he had promised."

"Ahmed…" Herger felt sick. Ahmed thought that he'd be the same? It had been a stupid situation, no doubt, and no surprise that Ahmed didn't want to repeat it. But did he think so little of Herger?

He had no reason not to. Herger had to prove himself first, just as he had in every other arena of his life.

He clenched his jaw, looking away. He could do it. He'd done everything else for himself already. Nobody had helped him get where he was.

"I'm sorry," he finished finally. Ahmed nodded grudgingly. "All I can say is that I would never want it to be that way. I will offer you whatever help I can give with this immigration situation, and if that is resolved, you can go whatever way you like." He almost choked on his breath, but forced himself to continue. "You could go now, if you wanted."

"No…" Ahmed said slowly, and met Herger's gaze. Herger's heart skipped. "No, we'll try this."

Herger nodded.

 

Herger lay awake in bed that night, utterly unable to sleep. He'd given up the effort around one a.m., and now was going over the agreed-upon story while the clock ticked toward three.

He and Ahmed had met in Iran and corresponded by letter, developing a relationship. Eventually they'd both felt the timing was right, and they'd met in Copenhagen so Herger could accompany Ahmed into Oslo. Herger had supported him for a short time but Ahmed had gotten his job at Aftenposten on his own merits. The immigration office could interview his superiors and check on this; he was reasonably certain the editors at Aftenposten would tell the truth.

There was a blur of white in his doorway. Herger turned his head and focused on Ahmed standing there.

"I want you to know," Ahmed started without prelude, murmuring quietly, "that I've believed all this time that you were being so generous and gracious just to get me into bed."

Herger looked at the ceiling. He'd left the shades open, and the room was flooded with moonlight. "There may be some truth to that," he admitted.

Ahmed pushed off the doorjamb and approached, taking a seat on the edge of Herger's bed. Herger moved his legs under the covers to give him room.

"If you had a choice, what would you rather have right now: a lover or a friend?"

Herger stared at him. He was too tired to think through strange ideas like this. After opening and closing his mouth, he finally said: "They're not mutually exclusive!"

"But you helped me because you found me attractive." Ahmed was sitting casually, as if he wasn't having this conversation, but was talking instead about the weather.

"That wasn't the only reason! That was the last reason!" Herger propped himself up on his elbows. "I wanted to help you because you needed my help! Or so I thought," he added with a grumble. "Yes I found you attractive, but that was not why I did what I did. How you look was…maybe two percent of the equation."

Now Ahmed smiled, and Herger felt his lips itching to smile back. He was so adorable with his face softened like that. "How about five percent?"

Herger almost laughed, but the fact that Ahmed was arguing the degree to which his attractiveness had factored into Herger's Good Samaritan act was too irritating. "Two and one half percent."

Ahmed chuckled now. Herger suppressed a smile. "All right, I believe you," Ahmed said. He sobered. "But you brought me here, had me stay as your guest, and refused all my arguments. You think I wouldn't be happier in my own place?"

"Now that was selfishness," Herger said with some satisfaction. "I wanted you to stay, so I used every persuasive argument I had. If you hate me for that, I won't blame you. But for god's sake, let's not string each other along. If you won't have a lover and a friend, then drop the lover part."

"You think I'm stringing you along?" Ahmed adjusted his pose, turning a little toward Herger so that one leg was higher on the bed. The boxers pulling around his thighs made lovely white edges in the dimness.

"Ja. Don't get me wrong, I love kissing you, but if you don't want this to become like…what you had before, then let's just stop now. We can be friends, just that. You don't have to do anything else."

Ahmed huffed, but he rose to the bait just enough to satisfy Herger. "It's not that I don't want to do anything else. It's that this situation is a bad one for starting a relationship."

"True."

"You think I don't know what I want? With you?"

"Oh, so you do want me? I haven't been so sure of that lately." Herger sat up fully.

Ahmed suddenly leaned forward, bracing a hand on the bed. The position brought his face close to Herger's, enough for Herger to feel his heat and breath. Herger narrowed his eyes, looking down at what he could see of Ahmed's mouth.

"I want to feel you under me, on top of me, all around me. I want to taste more than just your mouth. I want to hear you climax and for there not to be a pillow to muffle the sound."

Herger knew now would be a very bad time to kiss Ahmed, but he was just centimeters away. He could practically feel those soft lips already. Ahmed was barely breathing but Herger felt like he was panting.

Ahmed pulled back and stood. "But you know my reasons why we are not there yet."

"Yes." Herger did understand, and that was the worst part. "I know, and that's fine."

Ahmed absorbed this for a beat, then bent and pushed his fingers into Herger's hair. He tilted his head up and kissed him swiftly, so fast that Herger didn't have time to react, and then Ahmed pulled away.

"Sleep well," he said, and left the room.

Herger lay back, thinking that he would be awake for hours now, and immediately fell into unconsciousness.

Chapter 3

August hit Oslo like a marauding horde of Vikings. Over the course of a week, the temperature climbed from the high teens into the thirties, with high humidity. It made people surly and life uncomfortable. Despite air conditioning, there were far too many places in the city where there was no respite from the heat.

Herger wondered if there was some great cosmic joke at his expense as he walked into the interview room at the Immigration department on the sixth of August. The building was too old for air conditioning and everyone was walking around with the shine of sweat on their faces. Inside the cramped, windowless room, a floor fan sluggishly waved its head back and forth, moving the hot air around.

Herger took the seat closest to the fan and pulled his phone out of his pocket, ostensibly to be more comfortable, but truly as a show of dominance. The phone was a prop, something for others to focus on. Herger could pick it up at any time and look occupied with work, with something outside of what was happening in the room. It was a subtle but effective way of disarming the people around him, and he'd used it many times before with success.

But he soon found that the Immigration people were not so easily intimidated.

They wanted to know everything about Ahmed, and how Herger was connected to him. Herger was guarded and answered their questions as vaguely as possible. It wasn't hard, because he didn't have all the answers about Ahmed's life. And he tried to give as good as he got, asking them questions in return, trying to find out why they were so suspicious of Ahmed.

It seemed that the war in Iraq and general instability in the Middle East had the government on edge. They were concerned when Iraqi citizens came tromping into Norway and planned to stay, and Herger's addition to Ahmed's visa hadn't helped. The authorities wondered what role Herger had in Ahmed's immigration.

Ahmed wouldn't be deported, but they had their eyes on him, and Herger too.

As for his role in things, Herger gave them as little explanation as he could. He wanted to declare that Ahmed was effectively a refugee, that the only reason Herger had helped him was his attraction to Ahmed, that chasing after a gay journalist for suspicion of terrorist links was the stupidest waste of resources he'd ever seen.

He said none of that, only watching them with a steady, straightforward gaze and even breathing. He had an excellent poker face.

As the small committee began to wrap up the interview, he put one more question to them.

"What should Ahmed do—or either of us—to secure his citizenship?"

They hedged a bit, and gave him some weak answers, like holding a job for seven years or having a legal address for three years. Then one of the suits smirked and said, "or he could get married."

Herger nodded casually. The meeting was over.

 

He took the tram back to the pier. As he was walking down the pier to his building, he noticed a shimmer of color. Not a rainbow; an aura. He swore and quickened his pace. He didn't have long.

Once inside the elevator he couldn't see anything out of his right eye. The pain was growing, a constant maddening ache behind his eye socket. He pressed the heel of his hand hard against his eyebrow, as if pressure would help; it didn't, of course, but it gave him something else to focus on. And he pulled his phone out, using the phone's voice recognition feature to place a call to Ronild. In a few curt words he told him about the migraine. Ronild didn't ask questions and confirmed that he would cancel Herger's appointments for the next day, then ended the call without fuss.

He turned off the ringer and braced a hand on the wall as the elevator slowed suddenly. His stomach lurched, but he took a deep breath through his teeth. The door dinged and opened but he couldn't move, not yet. Another breath. A third. He finally got his feet moving as the doors started to slide closed again.

The sound of the door closing behind him was like a gong being struck in his head. He choked back a whimper and shuffled through the apartment by muscle memory, shoving the heel of his hand into his eye socket again. In the bathroom he fumbled with a pill bottle and glass of water, then stood over the sink retching for a moment before he could manage to swallow the dose of drugs. Then it was back into his bedroom, where he kicked off his shoes and threw off his jacket, curling into a fetal position on top of the covers.

Herger buried his face into the pillow, as though he could hide from the pain if only he could burrow deep enough. He instinctively wanted to roll over, to gain a more comfortable position, but he couldn't find the energy. He lay as still as possible, trying not to think, trying to relax, for the drugs to take the edge off, and for sleep to descend quickly. Instead his brain spun with vivid images, random and weird and beyond his control. It was almost as bad as the pain, the frightening lack of control over the hallucinations.

Something touched his fingers. He clasped at it. Not it. Another set of fingers.

"What is it?" Ahmed whispered.

Herger tried to speak and a whimper snuck out, embarrassing him. He cleared his throat and said, "Headache." He was surprised he could even speak. He kept his eyes closed. The visions had gone but he still couldn't open his eyes.

"Can I get you anything?"

Herger tried to shake his head. Bad idea. His swollen brain banged around inside his skull. He mashed his palm against his forehead again, groaning.

"Shh. All right. Shh now." Ahmed's hand moved to his back, then up to his neck, fingers rubbing. It felt good. He tried to make a sound to tell Ahmed.

The fingers were in his hair now. Tingles spread out from Ahmed's fingertips, rushing over his head in waves that went down his back and chest. It was almost erotic. Herger sighed and his body relaxed. The pain seemed to ease, if only slightly, and his mind quieted.

 

He woke with a start and realized he'd been drooling. Lifting his head an inch, he wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. It was dark in the room, but he could see enough light from elsewhere in the apartment to know it was still daylight outside.

"You're awake." Ahmed was behind him, close. On the bed with him.

Herger pushed himself upright and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His headache was gone; in its place was a sense of fuzziness from the dregs of the medication. But he could still function. "Ja," he said, still wiping his mouth. He cleared his throat and looked over his shoulder.

Ahmed was sitting up. He was fully clothed and lying on top of the covers, too. Looking toward him, Herger noticed his clock. It was a little after nine p.m., four hours after he'd left the Immigration office. Not a bad turnaround for a migraine like that one had been.

"Feeling better?"

Herger nodded. "I took some medicine before you found me." He swung halfway around to face Ahmed, twitching at his shirt; it clung to his body with sweat. "Have you been lying here the whole time?"

Ahmed lifted a shoulder. "A couple hours." He looked apprehensive.

"I—" He didn't know what to say. He combed his fingers through his hair and realized that was sweaty too. Making a face, he started unbuttoning his shirt to change into some lighter clothes. "I'm sorry if I alarmed you."

"It's—" Ahmed seemed ready to say 'it's okay' but changed his mind. "Thank you."

Meaning Herger had alarmed him. Ahmed wouldn't dismiss that fact. Herger accepted the response, appreciating Ahmed's honesty.

"I get those sometimes. That one was bad."

"What brings them on?"

Herger lifted a shoulder and stripped off his shirt, tossing it into his hamper. "Stress. It always is."

Something clicked for Ahmed. He nodded sharply. "You had the meeting today." His face drew taut. "How did it go?"

"It was irritating. Legally, you and I have nothing to worry about, other than the government hassling us. But there are things you could do to strengthen your position with the Immigration office."

"Yes, they've told me."

Herger paused in pulling off his socks. "What do you mean?"

"I had my meeting yesterday."

As Herger processed this, he could feel irritation washing over him. Then he deliberately quashed the emotion. Ahmed had a right to his own decisions, including when to hold a meeting, even when it affected them both. And he was feeling a little fragile after the headache, and didn't have an argument in him.

"I didn't want you to worry," Ahmed went on.

Herger looked down, unsure of what was in his face at that moment. He unzipped his pants and stepped out of them, then pulled some gym shorts and a t-shirt out of his dresser.

"Are you going to say anything?"

He was still processing what Ahmed had told him. "Thanks for thinking of me, but I wish I'd been able to give you some support."

Ahmed got up. Herger noticed that his feet were bare, and that struck him as particularly intimate. He swallowed and tried to keep his thoughts on track. "I wish you had told me about this."

Then it got a whole lot more intimate. Ahmed dimmed the lights to near gloom, walked right up to Herger, and pulled him into a kiss.

Herger dropped the shorts and put his arms around Ahmed's waist, delighted in the feel of his heat. After so long of burying his face in his pillow for comfort, it felt like a miracle to just hold him.

Ahmed wasn't so interested in the small details. He kissed fiercely, holding Herger's head, lips working at Herger's mouth, tongue flicking inside. Herger opened his mouth and let him in, moaning softly at the feel of Ahmed's tongue penetrating, desperately seeking.

He was wearing only his boxers, but Ahmed was fully clothed. Herger pulled Ahmed's shirt out of his waistband while the kissing continued, and felt a thrill when Ahmed didn't stop him. When he started working on Ahmed's belt and trousers, he began backing up, directing them to the bed.

Ahmed broke the kiss again and leaned back to look over Herger's shoulder at the bed, then back at Herger. "Stop thinking."

"What do you mean?"

"You're trying to take control of the situation. Stop it."

A laugh snuck out of Herger's throat. They were trying to get each other into bed and Ahmed was scolding him. "Yes sir," he said, very serious. He dropped his hands from Ahmed's waistband. "Whatever you say."

"That's more like it."

Ahmed looked and sounded incredibly satisfied, a smirk on his face. Herger laughed again, delighted by Ahmed's banter, and in the midst of it Ahmed pushed him off-balance. He toppled backward onto the bed, and pushed himself up onto his hands with a pleased grin.

"You should get some good rest," Ahmed told him. He walked backward toward the door, buckling his belt.

Herger's grin faded. What the hell? "All right," he said. Ahmed nodded and smiled, then left the room.

Herger flopped back onto the bed, pushing his fists into his eye sockets. He couldn't think of a good reason for Ahmed to suddenly stop and leave. Two steps forward, one back.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, he got up and went into the bathroom to wash up.

 

When Herger awoke to his alarm, he felt the awful sticky heat of summer weighing down his covers. The air conditioning wasn't working. He cursed, throwing off the down comforter, the duvet damp and clinging with his own sweat.

He trudged into the bathroom and took a cold shower, trimmed his beard and brushed his teeth, then headed into the kitchen wearing his robe and slippers.

Ahmed was sitting outside on the balcony, a cup at his elbow and an empty plate on the table before him. He was studying a copy of Aftenposten, but from the frown on his face, he wasn't getting much out of it.

Herger found that his French press was half full of coffee, and there was a box from a nearby bakery sitting on the counter. He poked inside and found a Danish.

Ahmed looked up and folded the paper as Herger came out to join him. It was barely six-thirty, but the sun was already up and the air was hardly cool at all.

"Did you go out?" Herger asked as he took the other chair with his coffee and plate.

"Yes, just to pick up the paper and these." Ahmed gestured at the food.

"You must have been up with the sun." Herger squinted at the harbor and sipped his coffee.

"It's nice to be out before the heat builds back up." Ahmed turned pages.

"Ja. What a day for the air conditioning to go out. I need to call someone." Herger drank some more coffee. He was trying to decide if he should ask Ahmed how he felt about the night before.

"What does 'også' mean?"

Herger looked over. Ahmed was studying the paper again.

"It means 'also.'"

"Ah." Ahmed nodded to himself.

Herger leaned over and pushed down the edge of the paper so that Ahmed would look up. "Hey. What is going on with you?"

"Nothing." Ahmed shifted, recrossing his legs. He was wearing a pair of summer trousers that looked a lot like ones that Herger owned. The ivory linen looked fantastic with his skin. "I was just up."

"Okay." Herger sat back. "As long as you weren't up because of me." He sipped his coffee.

Ahmed put down the paper. "What?"

"Maybe you were thinking about what almost happened last night."

Ahmed made a scoffing sound, but when Herger looked over, there was a smile creeping across his face. Herger laughed.

Ahmed scowled suddenly. "You're insufferable."

"All right, I'm sorry. It's not all about me, I know. So everything is okay?" He cut into his Danish, loaded with creamy cheese and peach slices.

"If you want to know the truth—" Ahmed crossed his arms. Herger thought looked adorable. "The truth is, I don't know what I'm doing."

Understandable. That would explain why Ahmed had stopped before things had really gotten started. Herger put his fork down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Nobody ever knows what they're getting into with someone new."

"Yes, but—"

"Ahmed, I'm telling you. I want this. I want you. It's that easy."

Ahmed looked at him steadily for a few seconds, then unfolded his arms and put his hands on his knees. "It's not easy where I come from."

Herger blew out a breath and leaned back in his chair. "Is this is a Muslim thing, or an Iraqi thing?"

"Sorry?"

"Your culture or your religion? Or maybe both."

"It—not my religion." Ahmed was squeezing his knees subconsciously, talking with effort. "I stopped being Muslim a number of years ago. I accepted my desires, and listened to how we are taught that God loves all of His creations, so I could not understand why there was such hatred toward homosexuals. I refused to believe I was evil for my natural feelings. So, I rejected all of the religious teachings. I respect it, but I do not believe in Islam. It does not believe in me.

"And when I left my…boyfriend…and his house, my mother suspected that we had not been just friends. I told them everything. They didn't take it well. They didn't wish me dead or expel me from the family, but…I got tired of listening to my mother crying herself to sleep. And after that is when the threatening letters started, so I decided to leave. I had to spare my family shame, but also keep them from the cultural pressure to have me turned in to the police. And in Iraq these days, it is not the police you have to worry about, but the death squads. They do not have any authority, except for their violent will to see homosexuals killed."

Herger ran a hand through his hair. He turned and looked out over the view, squinting with the sun hitting the side of his face. He hardly knew what to say to a story like that. Every time Ahmed talked about his past, it reminded him that Ahmed had been through much more than Herger would ever experience in his lifetime. "I don't know what to say. I'm sorry."

Ahmed relaxed his hands and put them back on the arms of his chair, sitting more easily. "That is why I left. I have made my peace with it. I still write my mother, and she wrote me back while I was in England. But it is better if we live apart."

"Both my parents are dead," Herger said. "I am an only child. My friends never minded that I am gay, but in school, I felt like I had no one to talk to. I wish you had had the same opportunities I have had, the same support, with the ability to meet people who are like-minded, and be open and out."

Without saying anything, Ahmed got up and leaned over Herger's chair. Herger tilted his head up and met Ahmed's kiss. Ahmed's lips were hot and wet, and slid over his with perfect pressure. Herger opened to him and Ahmed's tongue drove inside, licking and exploring. For someone with limited experience, Ahmed knew how to kiss like a pro.

Herger pressed up and ran his fingers into Ahmed's hair, massaging his scalp. He felt Ahmed catch his breath, and he grinned to himself before diving back into the kiss. When they finally let each other go, Herger's head was spinning. "Wow."

A smile broke over Ahmed's face. "Call me a late bloomer. You are my support."

Herger wanted to laugh with relief and happiness. "What changed?"

Ahmed's smiled cooled with thoughtfulness. He braced his hands on the arms of Herger's chair. "Last night—seeing you with your headache. It made me realize that we are each vulnerable, in our own ways."

Herger nodded.

"What are you doing today?" Changing the subject, Ahmed didn't straighten, still leaning over his chair. Herger liked feeling caged in by him.

"Ronild canceled my meetings. I called him yesterday about the migraine. I usually take the next day off when I get one."

"The only way to get you to take time away from your work is debilitating pain." Ahmed nodded to himself. "I should have known."

"Hey!" Herger reached around Ahmed and picked up his coffee. "I would be in the office right now, since I'm feeling fine. Instead I'm here with you." A small smile deepened the corners of Ahmed's mouth. Herger felt a warm glow at having brought that out, that little unconscious expression of pure pleasure. "Now, what should I do with you before you have to go to work?"

When Ahmed's gaze slid down his body, Herger laughed delightedly.

 

Despite their best intentions to enjoy the morning together, Herger's phone rang as they were finishing breakfast. It wasn't something that could wait; some drug addicts had vandalized a few store windows over night, and Ronild had known that Herger would want to know about it before repairs commenced. Herger ended the call and looked at Ahmed apologetically.

"I have to go in."

Ahmed looked exasperated. "Don't you ever get a break?"

Herger snorted. "You're not the first to ask that. I'm just going in for a moment. I have some other ideas for today. Why don't you come with me, and I'll walk you to work after?"

Ahmed nodded. "Sure."

Herger got dressed and they took the elevator downstairs to the office. Ronild had some digital photos ready to look at on his monitor, appearing collected and at ease. Herger marveled at his composure, especially with the stifling hot air in the office.

He reviewed the damage and the estimate for repair by the maintenance staff, and approved the proposal. "And the air conditioning?" he asked as he signed off on the work order.

"They're working on it." Ronild spoke in English out of deference to Ahmed.

"Might as well stay outside where there's a breeze, at least." Herger tucked his pen back into his pocket. "I won't be available for the rest of the day."

Ronild nodded, looking unfazed, although this was highly unusual behavior for Herger. "Any other emergencies will just have to wait until you are feeling better." Not the slightest hint of a smile touched his face.

"You got it." Grinning, Herger smacked the button for the elevator. "Let's get out of here, Ahmed."

As they rode the car down, Ahmed tilted his head and rolled his eyes over to Herger. "Why did Ronild call you? He had everything under control."

Herger watched the numbers tick down. "He knows I like to be aware of what's going on."

"But you had called in sick."

The elevator dinged and they got out. Herger pulled out his sunglasses and slipped them on as they moved into the mid-morning crowd of shoppers. "I don't like being in the dark, even if I'm not at work."

"This hardly—"

"The success of Aker Brygge depends on me knowing every detail." Herger turned off the pier and headed uptown, Ahmed keeping stride with him. "If a shipment is delayed, if a customer slips on a wet floor, if the wrong glass is installed in a storefront, that reflects on me."

"But that won't happen. You're all too good at your jobs, from everything you've told me."

"I know. But my boss and I built this company from the ground up, and it didn't always run this smoothly. You think I work too much now?" Ahmed nodded. "I used to work seventy, eighty hours a week. I don't mean to sound like a martyr, but I've given everything to get where I am today. It meant perseverance and sacrifice. So, I can't just let it go and relax." He smiled gently. "But I am trying."

Ahmed was quiet for a couple blocks. The conversation shifted to the weather and Ahmed's workload at the paper, and it kept them occupied until they reached the Aftenposten offices. Ahmed nodded at him as they departed, and smiled when Herger grinned at him, but Herger thought he looked distracted.

 

Like many die-hard shoppers, Herger was more interested in the hunt than the acquisition. After dropping Ahmed off at work, he'd continued on to the high-end shops downtown. He looked at Rolex watches for half an hour without buying one. At Aldo he tried on six pairs of shoes and left with the first pair he'd slipped into. And the casual weekend t-shirts…he spent an hour combing through racks, then shook his head and departed H&M with only a three-pack of boxers that cost fifty kroner on sale.

He had lunch, then picked up a gift for Ahmed at a bookstore. By then the appeal of shopping had worn off, and he headed back home to unload his bags.

He ended up in his office, and sat down at his computer to check his email. When he heard the front door open later, he realized he'd gotten sucked in and been sitting there for a couple of hours.

"Hei hei," Ahmed called.

Herger grinned at the use of Norsk. He put his computer to sleep and went out to the living room.

"Hei," he replied, crossing the room and linking his arms around Ahmed's waist, kissing him warmly. "Hvordan går det?"

"It felt like this day would never end." Ahmed cupped his face with both hands and returned the kiss, drawing it out. When he finally pulled away, Herger raised an eyebrow. "That was what I wanted to do all day," Ahmed explained.

"Oh, really?" Herger lowered his voice. Ahmed grinned automatically, making a surge of want and affection shoot through Herger's body.

"I couldn't stop thinking about what we almost did last night. In a good way," Ahmed finished hastily. "I wish we had. Done it."

"It's funny you bring that up…" Herger slipped away and went to the pile of purchases he'd left in the living room. "I got you a present." He tossed the book gently and put his hands in his pockets, standing back while Ahmed pulled it out of the bag.

Ahmed's eyes bugged slightly. "' Anal Sex for Couples: A Guaranteed Guide for Painless Pleasure,'" he read aloud from the cover.

Herger grinned. "Read it before you make any plans, all right?"

"What do you mean?" Ahmed turned the book over and looked at the back, already engrossed.

"Just that you should be informed before you make any decisions." Ahmed glanced up at him, an eyebrow lifting, and Herger added, "It would make me more comfortable."

"I thank you—" Ahmed lifted the book, "and I will read this, but there's no need to worry. I know what I want."

"Who's worried?" Herger grinned again, then headed into the kitchen. "What do you want to eat?"

"I don't care." Ahmed was following him, but had his head down in the introduction.

Herger pulled out a wok and all the fresh vegetables he had. He was about to ask Ahmed if he wanted to assist, but when he looked over again, Ahmed had seated himself on a barstool and disappeared into the pages. Herger smiled to himself and pulled the chopping board over.

Ahmed came up for air a few minutes later, and guiltily closed the book. "Would you like some help?"

Herger smiled to himself and pointed his knife at a bag of bean sprouts. "Wash those."

They ate outside on the balcony, taking advantage of the balmy air. Herger had resigned himself to the heat and sweating through it, thinking of it as a giant outdoor/indoor sauna, so he was making a habit of keeping activity to a minimum and drinking lots of water.

Ahmed brought the book outside with him, surprising Herger somewhat—Ahmed had seemed so cavalier about not needing it, but had become engrossed so quickly. Not that he minded Ahmed's distraction. The fact that Ahmed was interested in the topic was reassuring. It was especially gratifying that Herger had chosen so well in giving him a book. He felt some pride in choosing a gift that Ahmed would enjoy, with his sharp, analytical mind.

And he probably had never seen a text addressing gay sex, Herger realized suddenly. This was probably like receiving a Rosetta Stone that needed no translation. Herger shifted in his seat, feeling a pang of sympathy.

Ahmed's eyes widened as he turned a page. Herger murmured a questioning sound, and Ahmed looked up.

"There are pictures," Ahmed said quietly, as if afraid someone would hear.

"Oh, are there?" Herger grinned to show Ahmed he was gently teasing. He teased because he didn't know what else to say, and sympathy wouldn't go over well.

Then he scooted his chair around to Ahmed's side of the table, and smiled when Ahmed shifted the book so he could see.

 

After eating, Herger cleared the dishes and started straightening the kitchen, but Ahmed put the book down and pushed up his sleeves. "Let me. You cooked."

Herger got himself a beer while Ahmed washed up, loading the dishwasher and hand-washing the other things that couldn't fit. For a while he watched Ahmed work, admiring the rear view, then gave into his curiosity. "So, you've decided you're ready?"

Ahmed glanced over his shoulder but kept his hands submerged in the sudsy water. "What do you mean?" He flicked his glanced down Herger's body, standing relaxed and inviting against the kitchen island, and figured it out. "Ready for sex," he concluded in a lower voice.

"Ja." Herger reminded himself to stay in control. That voice would undo him. "What changed?"

Ahmed lifted the clean wok out of the dishwater and looked around for a towel. Herger got one out of a drawer and held out his hands with the towel over them, offering to dry it. Ahmed answered, "The trust, that we talked about. But I've always known what I wanted, physically."

Herger dried efficiently, not looking at his hands, but at Ahmed. "How do you know what you want? You come from a place where homosexuals are condemned to death."

Ahmed took the wok out of Herger's hands and put it away into a low cabinet, giving Herger a split-second chance to admire the way his pants pulled over his ass as he bent. Then Ahmed straightened and leaned back against the counter. "I struggled with my desires for many years, while I was a teenager. Finally, university allowed me a glimpse at Western thought. I knew a few people who passed around texts on homosexuality, just between us. It affirmed the way I felt—that love is innocent and good, and God cannot possibly condemn it. Otherwise He wouldn't be God."

Herger nodded and walked into the living room, knowing that Ahmed would follow. They sat on opposite ends of the sofa, turned toward each other. "So you stopped believing at that time?"

"Believing in God, yes. I started believing in myself. And I started writing my own thoughts, from the perspective of a man who lived in a Muslim culture but no longer believed in the Koran." Ahmed reached out, resting his hand on the back of the sofa and brushing Herger's shoulder. "I do want to be with you. You confided in me. Your fears. It meant a lot to hear that."

Herger smiled and shook his head. "It was nothing."

"But it was. And I'm sorry if I didn't make it clear before, but I have wanted you. I know I don't express it well. I haven't really had the experience."

Herger knew about expressing feelings. He moved closer on the sofa, bracing his arm against the back, and leaned in. Ahmed lifted a hand and drew him into a kiss, soft and gentle, but so perfect that Herger had to catch his breath. He leaned his forehead against Ahmed's and sighed.

"I want this," Ahmed whispered. Herger leaned back a few centimeters, watching him speak.

"Oh yes?" Herger prompted.

Ahmed smiled. "Arabs have fantasies too. At least, I do."

Herger raised an eyebrow. "Tell me."

Ahmed cleared his throat and looked down, his lashes lying against his cheeks. "I've thought about you…ah…"

"Your favorite fantasy," Herger prompted.

"You've just come out of the shower." Ahmed leaned his head back on the sofa, still not looking at Herger. Undoubtedly it was easier for him to say this without looking at him. "We've been at the gym. I catch you in the bedroom, and you drop your towel and walk over to me."

Herger carefully put his hand on Ahmed's thigh. Ahmed moved his legs slightly wider, welcoming the touch. Herger bit back a groan and asked, "And then?"

"You start taking my clothes off, and I help you. When we are both undressed, you climb into the bed without me, and I follow and pull the covers over us."

How chaste, Herger thought.

"Underneath the covers I put my hands on your chest and kiss down your belly." Ahmed's voice had reached a register Herger had never heard before, a low vibratory thrum that Herger could feel in his cock. He shifted slightly to give himself room, his cock filling.

"I take your sex in my mouth, and bring you to climax, with your hands in my hair."

Herger moved his hand up a little higher on Ahmed's thigh. The skin was hot underneath the trousers. "And then?" His voice sounded strained.

Ahmed opened his eyes. "That's as far as I get. I imagine you would do something to me."

"Oh yeah," Herger muttered. He leaned in and kissed Ahmed firmly, seeking, and there, Ahmed's tongue met his and the kiss deepened. The images were still whirling in Herger's mind, changing and evolving, Herger under the covers sucking Ahmed off, Ahmed's lean brown legs wrapped around his waist as Herger pressed into him, the hot tight clamp of his body around Herger's cock as his head pressed back into the pillow jaw working on a gasp oh god stop.

They were both breathing heavily when Herger pulled away. He stood, giving himself distance before he did anything else. "Finish the book," he said hoarsely.

Ahmed's gaze moved from his face to his crotch. Herger realized he was fully tenting his trousers, but made no move to hide himself.

"I will," Ahmed said. He got up and went to the kitchen, picking up the book from where he'd left it at the bar. Herger noticed a defined bulge in his pants as well. "Will you be going into work tomorrow?" he asked, coming back to the living room.

Herger winced. "Yes. Early, to catch up."

"Then you will need your sleep."

Aided by the fastest masturbation session he'd had in years, Herger thought. He nodded.

"But tomorrow is Friday. Surely you can afford to take the weekend off?"

"Ja," Herger said, thinking that he'd take a leave of absence if he could get Ahmed alone near a bed. Then he paused with a flash of inspiration. "We could go away. There's a company-owned hytte near Lake Mjøsa. I could see if it's free."

"A…"

"Hytte." Herger pronounced it carefully, knowing that it sounded like he was swallowing and trying to say "hoot-ah" at the same time. "A cabin. …Well, a chalet, not really a cabin. Would you like to go?"

"If it would mean separating you from Ronild…absolutely."

"Keeping me away from Ronild? I can't make any guarantees." Ahmed laughed, making Herger grin. "I'll call him about the hytte. But we still have hours of daylight left. How about going out? Enjoy the evening, maybe have some gelato." It would keep him from obsessing over what Ahmed was finding in that book. "You like gelato?"

"I don't know."

"You don't…" Herger blinked. "You haven't had gelato?"

Ahmed shook his head.

Herger pointed at Ahmed's book. "Leave that. Come with me."

 

Herger took him through downtown to the big multi-level mall outside the train station. In the ground floor food court, there was a little kiosk with a crowd around it. It wasn't Herger's usual kind of place, and Ahmed kept giving him disbelieving looks, but Herger calmly got into line and ordered for them. He got chocolate, being the hedonist he was, and Ahmed wanted cloudberry, that uniquely Norwegian fruit, in the traditional combination with whipped cream.

As he paid, he asked the teller, "Is Edgar or Heath around?"

The teenage girl nodded, staring nervously at Herger at the mention of Edgar and Heath. "In the back. You want me to get them?"

Herger said yes. As the girl went through a pair of swinging doors, Herger collected the cups of gelato as they were deposited on the counter by the other employee working the tubs. He handed one to Ahmed just as the kitchen doors swung open.

Edgar came out, and his look of bewilderment changed quickly to pleasure, and he came around the counter with a grin. "Herger. Hvordan går det?"

"Good, good," Herger answered in English. He grasped Edgar's offered hand and shook it warmly, then gestured to Ahmed. "This is a friend of mine. Ahmed, Edgar."

Edgar greeted him just as the door flapped again and Heath exited. There was another exclamation and round of introductions and handshakes.

"What brings you out here?" Edgar asked.

"I was in the mood for something sweet, and Ahmed has never had gelato. So of course we had to come here."

Heath grinned. "Of course. You want to find someplace to sit and eat that?"

There was an atrium level in the mall, with plenty of skylights and seating. They opted for that and headed upstairs, weaving around shoppers.

"You own the gelato stand?" Ahmed asked Heath as they took a seat at a bistro table.

"Ja, with Edgar. We were in business school with Herger, that's how we all know each other." Heath leaned back and folded his hands over his stomach, crossing his legs at the ankle. He wasn't a tall man, about Herger's height, but had a vibrant energy about him. And with his curly red hair and coastal accent, he stood out from the other people in Oslo. His ancestors were probably Scottish Celts, from the look of him.

Edgar was his opposite in most every respect. Taller, darker, and quieter, he had a calming but still commanding presence. Together they were the energy and the brains of the business, Herger knew. He watched them talk to Ahmed, pleased at how easily the conversation flowed. They were good with people, which is how their gelato stand had expanded to a chain that covered all the urban areas in southern Norway. It had been good luck to find them at work; he knew they liked keeping their hands in the daily aspects of the business, but they weren't always in the office, so to speak. Perhaps it was a good omen, too.

"So, what do you think?" Heath asked Ahmed.

Herger realized Ahmed hadn't taken even a lick of gelato. With the attention on him, Ahmed dipped his spoon into the cup and brought it to his mouth.

His eyelids fluttered and he made a quiet moan. Herger shifted with a jolt of arousal, watching Ahmed lick the spoon for every last bit.

"It's wonderful." Ahmed took another scoop. "Flavorful, creamy, smooth—"

Herger cut in before he embarrassed himself by crawling across the table and into Ahmed's lap. "Ahmed's a word smith," he said to Edgar and Heath with a smile.

"Seems so," Heath laughed.

"Where are you working?" Edgar asked Ahmed.

"Aftenposten. Herger got me the job."

"I did not!" Herger sat up straight and pushed his empty cup away. 'You got the job on your own. I just introduced you to Magnus. That's networking, that doesn't count."

"Magnus? Magnus Svinø?" Heath asked. "Ja, Herger didn't help you there. Magnus…"

"Is a ruthless asshole?" Edgar offered a tight smile.

"Makes up his own mind," Heath finished with a laugh. "But take the credit where it is due," he added to Ahmed.

Ahmed didn't look at Herger, but relaxed slightly. Herger smiled to himself.

"How do you know him?" Ahmed asked Edgar and Heath.

"We advertise in the paper," Edgar answered. "But we've also met him casually. Oslo's a small town, especially at his level."

"Where are you from?" Heath asked Ahmed. After Ahmed told him, he then asked, "Do you miss it?"

Ahmed glanced at Herger, then sighed and nodded. "In some ways. It is a very different culture, and familiarity is comforting. But as a homosexual, I am also an outcast. I would prefer to live where I can speak my mind freely."

"Hence journalism," Edgar said. Ahmed nodded.

Herger's phone chirped. He pulled it out of his trouser pocket as Heath laughed, "Speaking of work…"

It was Ronild, calling back about the hytte. The other three continued chatting while Herger confirmed the reservation. When he hung up, he noticed Edgar looking at his watch.

"We'd better let you get back to work." He stacked the empty gelato cups and spoons. Edgar and Heath rose, Edgar nodding. Herger realized it was quite late and the mall would be closing soon, so naturally they would want to leave.

"It was a pleasure to meet you," Edgar said to Ahmed. "I'll look for your work online."

"Here's our card. Free gelato whenever you want." Heath handed a small rectangle of paper to Ahmed.

"Thank you." Herger could practically hear Ahmed salivating, and grinned as Ahmed shook the other men's hands. "I hope to see you again soon."

As Herger and Ahmed left the mall, Ahmed touched his hand lightly to Herger's back, and a thrill went up Herger's spine. Ahmed leaned closer and spoke next to Herger's ear, his voice low and relaxed. "Thank you for this."

It was almost ten p.m. by the time they started walking across the city, but the sun was still visible in the sky. Dusky light washed through the streets, which were almost totally empty. Oslo had a nightlife, but it was pretty well hidden.

Herger was feeling a bit reckless, drunk on the night and Ahmed's company. The light was perfect, the breeze off the water stirred the hot air, they were alone, and they had a fifteen-minute walk ahead of them.

Then he felt something touch his hand, and realized Ahmed was threading their fingers together. He grasped Ahmed's hand and gave it one squeeze of recognition, then relaxed. He tried to appear innocent.

Then Ahmed paused and turned to him, saying, "Is this okay?" He looked to his right and left, checking the street. It was empty.

"Nobody cares," Herger said. But he made his hand go limp, letting Ahmed pull away if he wanted.

"Good." Ahmed tightened his fingers again, and they continued walking.

Chapter 4

Herger reserved the hytte for the three nights starting Friday; they could make an early drive back to Oslo on Monday morning. On Friday morning he sent off an email to Ahmed, letting him know the plan, and grinned when Ahmed responded with a request for swim trunks.

His day passed slowly, despite having hundreds of emails to sift through and all sorts of end-of-week issues to deal with. He was still on his phone as he left for the weekend, waving distractedly to Ronild as he stepped into the elevator.

Ahmed was already in the apartment and packing clothes. As he put his phone away, Herger laid a hand on Ahmed's shoulder in greeting and looked over the stack of things Ahmed had laid out.

"Oye, nei. One pair of pants, one pair of shorts, two shirts. That's it. I'll get you the swimming trunks and put together the bathroom kit."

"Shoes? Socks? Underwear?" Ahmed called after him, holding a rejected sports jacket.

"You plan on wearing underwear?" Herger laughed to himself as he fished in his own drawers.

After their clothes were packed into one of Herger's large suitcases, Herger put together a crate of food, snacks, and wine to take with them. They could stock up at a local store, but he wanted to have something to make dinner with when they got there. He sent Ahmed off to gather some music and reading material while he worked.

They finished packing in short order and took the elevator to the garage, where Harild was waiting to hand over a car.

The drive took just under three hours. Ahmed finished the sex book along the way, while Herger pointed out beautiful portions of scenery and talked about the old small towns along the route, and how much some of them had changed when Lillehammer had hosted the Winter Olympics. As Ahmed looked out the window, Herger reflected on how different it all looked during winter. He hoped Ahmed would want to see it then, too.

Ahmed turned his attention from the scenery. "Edgar and Heath," he said.

"Yes?"

"Are they a…couple?"

Herger chuckled. "Sorry. It's not funny, I know, but they would find it amusing. You're not the first person to wonder."

"And?"

"No, they're not. Once you get to know them, you'll see how poorly suited they are for each other, romantically. Very different personalities. Good for business, not for love."

"We aren't the same, either."

Herger raised an eyebrow. Was Ahmed insinuating that they were in love? He decided not to say anything to that. "Anyway, Heath is something of a womanizer. Edgar is more of a loner. I do have some gay friends, and I will introduce you. But of the friends I went to college with, I'm the only fag."

"A shame," Ahmed commented mildly.

"No, it's good. Means I never had to worry about becoming attracted to any of them or have any ill-advised flings."

"None of them cared about you being gay? When did you tell people?"

"Ah…" Herger sighed, trying to push his mind back that far. "I came out when I was seventeen. My parents were…okay about it. They were older when they had me, and kind of weird—I'm named from the Middle Ages. Thank god they just gave me the family name and not Raven-Feeder or some nonsense."

Ahmed chuckled.

"But while they didn't really want to know about what I did in my private life, they loved me, and accepted the boyfriends I brought home."

"What happened to them?"

"Cancer." Herger chewed on his lip. The ache of longing for them had not faded completely. "My mother got sick when I was in my late twenties, and passed quickly. My father went a few years ago. I promised him, before he went, that I would try to change the way I lived my life, to be happier and more well-rounded. It was part of what made me want to break up with Wendel."

"I am sorry for your loss." Ahmed reached over and put his hand on Herger's wrist. Herger gave him a smile and turned back to the road.

"Thank you."

 

They pulled off the main highway half before nine p.m. and started following back roads. Finally Herger slowed to a stop on a two-lane road and frowned at an open driveway.

"What is it?"

"The gate. It should be closed." He guided the car into the drive and got out, closing the gate behind him.

In another 200 meters, the hytte appeared, a modestly sized structure with a clean yet "rustic" style, modern wood construction with an old-fashioned slate tile roof. There was a car parked in front, a new Volvo coupe that Herger didn't recognize. He set his jaw. "Stay here," he told Ahmed, and got out.

The door was unlocked. Herger opened it just as the man inside was reaching for the knob, and they both came up short. Fear surged through Herger's veins, and every muscle tensed. Then he realized he knew the man.

"Hallo, Herger," Wendel smiled, recovering first.

"What are you doing here?" Herger stepped inside and closed the door, thinking of Ahmed in the car not thirty meters behind him.

Wendel looked fantastic. He was tanned and smooth-skinned, like he had just come from the spa. His arms and chest looked firm and sinewy from working out, and he was wearing fashionable weekend clothes, a crisp shirt with a popped collar under a v-neck sweater, and snug corduroys. His dark hair brushed his shoulders.

Wendel shrugged breezily. "Thought I would come up for the weekend."

"This is a company hytte. How did you get in?"

"You never got the extra key back from me." Wendel held it up. God, it had been over two years since their skiing holiday in Lillehammer.

"Well, give it to me now, and get out."

Wendel looked at the key in his hand, then closed his fingers around it and put his hand back in a pocket. He was as effortlessly unsophisticated, yet charming and sexy, as he had ever been. Herger felt his face redden.

"Why don't we stay here together?" Wendel asked, smiling toothily.

"I have someone with me. Don't be like this."

"Like what?" Wendel retorted, an edge under his lazy voice. This was an old, old argument. "Oh, there he is now."

Herger turned just in time to see Ahmed through the glass panels flanking the door. He was coming up onto the porch and reached for the doorknob before Herger could react. Herger swallowed and made room in the entryway for him.

"Hallo," Ahmed said, carefully trying the Norsk pronunciation.

Herger didn't want to make introductions. It would just keep Wendel there longer, make it seem to Wendel that it was all right for him to be there. Herger knew he was letting his emotions get the best of him, that he was showing everything, but Wendel had always been able to get under his skin.

Wendel ignored him, speaking only to Herger. "I don't think I need to leave. I don't want to." He folded his arms, undoubtedly to show off how well-developed they were.

"Don't be childish. If I have to call the police, I will."

"Ah, always calling on the lackeys to do your dirty work. In a way, it's reassuring to see how little you've changed, Herger. Other than getting old, I mean."

Herger ground his teeth. "Out."

Wendel finally directed his gaze to Ahmed, a smile playing on his lips, but he still didn't say anything to him. "Quite a change from the last time you and I talked." Herger saw him flick his tongue across his lower lip, like he was getting ready to taste something. "Or is talking the right word for what we were doing?"

"The nice thing about getting old is that you don't make the same mistakes." Herger leveled his gaze at him, repressing a smirk as Wendel's expression darkened. "I've moved on, Wendel."

"With him?" Wendel looked at Ahmed again, who was glancing back and forth between them with an apprehensive gaze. "What did you do, adopt him from Africa?"

"All right." Herger rolled his eyes away, but at the same time he moved closer, grabbing Wendel's arm and pulling him off-balance. Wendel was bigger than him, but the advantage of surprise worked for Herger for a moment. Just a moment. Wendel caught his balance before Herger could get him to the door, and he planted his feet and turned on Herger.

Herger saw a flash of fist and heard Ahmed shout something. He leaned away, but not enough, and Wendel's fist clipped his jaw. His head snapped back and he stumbled, hitting the edge of a wall. Between the flash of pain in his back and jaw, he couldn't see for a moment, but he could hear Wendel and Ahmed. He blinked furiously, pushing himself upright, and saw Ahmed's arms wrapped around Wendel's neck and shoulders. Ahmed was manhandling him toward the door, and shoved Wendel against it.

"Leave," Ahmed said, teeth gritted.

Wendel huffed a breath through his teeth. He nodded, his chin bumping against Ahmed's forearm. But Ahmed wasn't about to release him to open the door. He tightened his grip fractionally and said, "Open it." Wendel turned the knob himself.

Finally Ahmed released him, and Wendel straightened stiffly as he crossed the threshold. "See you next year," he called back as he walked out to his car, his voice strained with anger.

Ahmed slammed the door and crossed his arms over his chest. "So that was Wendel." He turned to Herger. "I don't want to know what he said, do I?"

Herger shook his head, rubbing his back with one hand. "Not a word." He turned away, still shaking his head. "Son of a bitch. And I still didn't get the key from him…we'll have to have the locks changed."

"Hey." Ahmed was behind him, close, but before Herger could turn he felt arms slip around his waist. "You're shaking."

"I know. Just angry." He tried to slow his breathing, reminding himself that five minutes of Wendel was not enough to ruin the weekend. He forced himself to relax, leaning back against Ahmed. Ahmed put his chin on Herger's shoulder, his short curly hair brushing Herger's ear. They were quiet for a moment, until all Herger could hear was his heart beating.

"Let's get the things out of the car," Ahmed said finally, his voice low and close. Herger felt a brush of something against his ear, and realized it was Ahmed's lips.

Ahmed carried in the suitcase while Herger grabbed the crate of food, which he took straight to the kitchen and began unpacking. Ahmed came in from unpacking in the bedroom and watched him.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Herger said as he stocked the fridge with groceries. "He could behave pretty badly."

"Was he like this all the time?"

"No," Herger said with a snort. "He's wonderful, mostly. He's sexy, smart and talented. But he's used to getting what he wants."

"I can tell," Ahmed muttered. Herger smiled despite himself and looked over at him, where Ahmed was leaning against the counter with arms crossed. Herger stood and shut the fridge.

"I hope you don't think less of me for having been with him."

Ahmed shook his head. "I'm just…confused. He treats you like that, but you kept his photos around your apartment." Herger had put them away after Ahmed had moved in, but it was true, he'd been broken up from Wendel for almost two years before that.

No wonder Ahmed was confused. Herger pushed his hands through his hair, trying to formulate what he wanted to say. "Relationships are complicated."

"Really?" Ahmed said dryly. Herger shot him a stern look.

"I mean that when it was good, it was really good. You remember the best parts far better than the bad. Were you in love with your boyfriend?"

Something in Ahmed's face seemed to soften. He uncrossed his arms, dropping his hands to the counter behind him. "Rafid," he said quietly. "I thought I was in love with him. But I remember leaving him more keenly than being with him."

Herger nodded, but didn't say anything. He remembered that feeling from leaving Wendel, before the loneliness had set in.

Ahmed looked askance for a moment, then pushed off the counter and wandered out of the kitchen. "Are you going to give me the tour?"

"If you like. You've seen most of it." Herger followed him into the great room, where the late evening sun was streaming into the yellow-painted room with the full force of a midsummer sunset. The entire room was built with honey-colored wood planking, and the furniture was all dark leather. "Living room here, going out to the patio," he said, opening the french doors. "Fire pit, chairs and tables, sporting green, and through those bushes there is the path down to the lake." He stepped off the wide deck and strolled across the grass, where in years past he had played football and badminton and croquet, gotten drunk with cohorts and laid under the stars with Wendel.

At the edge of the green there was a flagstone path with neat, low steps, and they followed it for about thirty meters through low shrubs and sparse trees until they reached the shore.

The low evening sun on Lake Mjøsa was dazzling, sending white sparkles up from the breeze-tossed surface. There were a few rowboats in sight, one on the far side of the lake and one further north before the shoreline curved and cut off the view. Down here on the shore was a dock and another modest patio, with lounge chairs spread around invitingly.

"Beautiful," Ahmed murmured.

Herger looked at him. Ahmed was almost in silhouette by the sparkling lake, giving him an angelic glow. He looked totally relaxed, his shoulders low, hips thrust forward with his weight on his heels, his hands in his pockets. The last time Herger had seen him look so comfortable was in the elevator when Ahmed had first kissed him. Thinking of it, Herger suddenly had an urge to kiss him.

He moved over behind Ahmed and put his arms around his waist, as Ahmed had done to him back in the cabin. Ahmed immediately leaned back and dropped his head far enough for it to rest on Herger's shoulder. He laid his hands over Herger's arms, holding him in return.

"So you like it, then."

"Mmm-hmm." The breeze picked up and Herger could smell Ahmed, deodorant and sweat and his own earthy scent. Herger tightened his arms, pulling Ahmed's solid weight against his body, and turned his face into Ahmed's throat. He could feel his pulse against his lips, and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the skin.

"Should we go inside?" Ahmed said, a laugh hiding in his voice. The sound vibrated against Herger's mouth.

Herger licked the skin. "I think we should stay right here. I could lay you down on the dock and take you with night coming over us."

Ahmed shuddered, his hands tightening on Herger's forearms.

Herger smiled and shook his head. "But no, I wouldn't do that. I'd want the first time to be perfect." He rocked his hips against Ahmed's ass, just enough so he could feel a brief hint of Herger's heat and firmness. He wasn't hard, not yet, but Ahmed's scent was making his dick twitch.

"Herger," Ahmed breathed.

"So maybe we should go inside," Herger echoed back to him. He closed his teeth gently over Ahmed's earlobe, exhaling a gentle gust of warm breath against his ear and cheek, and Ahmed jerked and groaned quietly. Herger grinned. "But I like it out here in the fresh air. It makes me feel…lively."

"I can tell." Ahmed was breathing a little faster now, and pressing back against Herger's body. He was eager. Herger thought of what might happen if he exploited it, and grinned at the thought of the neighbors getting an eyeful.

Herger loosened his grip and moved one hand down the center of Ahmed's body, sliding over his hip and down to one thigh. He rubbed with an open palm, like soothing a hurt. "It's up to you. Dinner first, down here on the water, or…we go back and I give you the tour of the bedroom." He winced after saying it, appalled at how cheesy that offer was. Ahmed had already seen the bedroom, too.

Ahmed didn't seem to notice; he was trying to maneuver so that Herger's palm would go from his thigh to his crotch. "I guess the wise thing would be to have dinner first. Fuel for later."

Herger laughed. "Always so sensible." He kissed Ahmed's cheek briskly and released him, stepping back. "You can stay down here and enjoy the scenery. I'll bring the food out."

He made a relatively quick and easy meal: American-style sandwiches on round rolls. He took a tray down to the dock, with a couple of bottles of beer.

Ahmed was lying out on one of the lounges, but what surprised Herger was that he'd taken his shirt off. His deep brown skin seemed to glow in the last pink rays of sunlight. Herger paused on the dock to take in the full effect. Ahmed must have heard him coming, but didn't stir.

"Warm down here," Herger said after a minute.

"Mmm. It's perfect." Ahmed cracked open one eye and peered at him. "What have you got?"

Herger set down the tray directly on the dock and stretched out next to it. Ahmed moved from the lounge to join him. While they were eating, an old man came by in a rowboat and paused to chat with Herger, commenting on the pleasant night and how nice it was to see people out. As he rowed off, he glanced at Ahmed and didn't say anything, but didn't seem to be disconcerted at the shirtless Arab having an intimate dinner with the Norwegian.

Herger finished his food and picked up his beer, wiping his mouth with a napkin. As he leaned back on his elbow, he noticed Ahmed's serious gaze was directed at him. At his mouth.

He grinned and put the bottle to his lips, extending his tongue to meet the flow of beer. Ahmed's lips parted slightly.

Herger swallowed and sighed. "Mmm. Tastes so good."

Ahmed looked down, shaking his head while a smile overtook him. "You're teasing me."

"And enjoying it."

Dusk overtook the dock and the night air cooled. They finished and packed up the tray, then went back up to the house together. They were both in a state of low arousal, and Herger found that it made everything more sensuous, even the brush of a plant against his bare forearm. He let Ahmed take the lead up the narrow walking path, but it was more to let him look his fill of Ahmed's trim body than anything. He'd put his shirt back on when they had packed up the dinner tray, but even the memory of all that skin was enthralling. Herger wanted to touch him, but held himself back until they were inside.

 

"I can wash the dishes," Ahmed offered as Herger set the tray down in the kitchen.

"Don't bother." Immediately Herger turned to him, taking his head in both hands and kissing him deeply. Now he could have his fill of Ahmed. The hoppy taste of the beer was fresh in his mouth, and Herger chased it with his tongue.

He slipped his hands under Ahmed's shirt and discovered that Ahmed's skin was hot, the hair on his stomach soft where it trailed under the waistband of his trousers. Herger followed it up Ahmed's chest, his fingers bristling the hair in the opposite direction, and over to one nipple, rubbing his thumb around it in circles as they kissed. Ahmed gasped, jerking under Herger's touch.

So responsive. God, he was intoxicating. Herger pulled his hand out and spread his palm flat over Ahmed's chest and felt his heart pounding through his shirt. He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against Ahmed's. "I'm sorry. That was too fast."

"No, it wasn't." Ahmed took his wrist and pulled on it to draw Herger closer, settling into an embrace. "Just unexpected. It's been a long time."

"All right. But I also want to savor this." Herger tilted his head back into another kiss, this one slow, his tongue making the lightest flicks into Ahmed's mouth. But it had the same effect, making Herger's pulse race and his breath quicken. Ahmed felt so good, soft lips and the hint of beard, with a wet tongue hidden like a treasure. And Ahmed's hands were on his hips, pulling him closer until their bodies were flush together, heat and growing hardness between them.

Herger groaned into his mouth and spoke against his lips. "Bed?"

"Okay."

With the soft agreement, the hair stood up on the back of Herger's neck. He gently pulled away, taking one of Ahmed's hands and leading the way into the half of the cabin that they hadn't explored.

There was one master bedroom and two small guest rooms. The master bedroom was cool; the heat had been off for some time, and the sun and humidity didn't reach back here. Herger began pulling decorative pillows off the big queen-size bed. Ahmed took the pillows and stacked them on the floor, then helped Herger take off a heavy blanket and fold it up. Finally the bed was ready, the duvet and top sheet folded down. Herger looked at Ahmed, standing on the other side of the bed. He walked around to Ahmed's side and sat down.

Ahmed toed off his shoes and began unbuttoning his shirt, starting at the top and going slowly down his sternum. Very slowly. Herger was immediately absorbed in the reveal of that dark olive skin sprinkled with black hair. The hair thickened the lower Ahmed's hands went, until he undid the final button and the shirt swung open. Half-dressed was a great look on him. Herger stared at the trail of hair disappearing into his waistband and tried to will the pants open by sheer brainpower.

Ahmed unbuckled his belt and slipped his fingers underneath the band of fabric. Herger licked his lips.

"You keep doing that," Ahmed murmured.

Herger forced his gaze upward. Ahmed's eyes were intensely brown and amused. "What?"

"You keep licking your lips. Like you're hungry."

"I am hungry." He reached out and snagged Ahmed by a trouser pocket, pulling him closer. Ahmed came without resisting. Herger let go of the pocket and trailed a finger up underneath the loose shirt, hearing and seeing Ahmed's breath shudder as Herger tickled him. Herger found his nipple and brushed it gently again, watching his face now. Ahmed was still watching him, and the amusement had been replaced by desire. He was breathing slowly and deeply, and his pupils were dilated. He was finally serious about doing this. In that moment Herger lost his breath too, and he dropped his hand.

Ahmed leaned over and Herger tilted his head up, and their mouths met in an easy kiss that quickly turned serious. Ahmed licked into his mouth and tangled with Herger's tongue, his lips pressing hard, breath gusting as he grew more excited. Herger's entire body was aching, the feeling concentrated in his groin. He reached out, finding Ahmed's body and running his hands down his back, curving his hands over Ahmed's ass and pulling gently. Ahmed gave in, putting one knee on the bed next to Herger's hip as they kissed. They broke just enough for Herger to scoot back and Ahmed to move forward, climbing onto the bed, both of them still trying to kiss. Finally they could both stretch out, and Herger lay back with Ahmed braced over him.

He could feel the heat of Ahmed's body, and the open panels of his shirt brushing Herger's arms and sides as they kissed. It was fantastic, both of them taking it slowly enough to explore and learn each other, but still ramping up the tension. Herger wanted to tear Ahmed's clothes off him, but he knew it shouldn't go like that. Ahmed wouldn't like it. And this was good, great actually. They were savoring each other.

And then Ahmed sat up abruptly, putting his weight back on his heels. It brought his pelvis down snug against Herger, and Herger moaned as Ahmed's weight gently pressed against his cock and balls. Ahmed stripped off his shirt, his chest flushed a deeper color. Then he unbuttoned Herger's short-sleeved shirt, revealing the pale skin and sparse blond hair sprinkled across his chest. When Ahmed's fingers slowed to stroke over his skin, Herger pulled him back down, pressing his fingers into the firm, soft skin of Ahmed's back.

Ahmed avoided the kiss this time and turned his face to Herger's neck, leaving a row of gentle bites from his jaw to his collarbone. Herger writhed and drove his hands down Ahmed's back and under the waistband of his trousers, into his underwear, finding the pillowy, relaxed muscles of his ass. Just then Ahmed flexed and the muscles hardened, reacting like a live thing to Herger's touch. Herger laughed, but it quickly turned to a groan as Ahmed dug his teeth into one side of Herger's chest.

Ahmed pulled up. Herger tried to meet him for a kiss and there was a hand in his hair, holding it just tight enough to get his attention. Herger narrowed his eyes.

"I want you to let me do whatever I want," Ahmed enunciated slowly.

Herger's face felt hot. He nodded incrementally, feeling his hair pull against Ahmed's grip. "Okay."

Ahmed's grip immediately eased, and his fingers combed through Herger's hair. Herger remembered the feeling from before he'd fallen asleep after his migraine, the way it had taken his mind off the pain.

Ahmed kissed him once more and slid down his body, rubbing his cheek against Herger's chest. The rasp of stubble felt fantastic, especially when Ahmed changed direction and his beard scratched over Herger's nipple. He jerked and sucked in a breath at the stab of sensation, and heard Ahmed chuckle quietly. The feeling continued as Ahmed worked his way down, kissing Herger's stomach with an open mouth, breath making his skin even hotter.

Then he reached the waistband of Herger's trousers, and licked a line from hip to hip just above the fabric. Herger hissed and dug his hands into the pillow.

"Mmm," Ahmed said into his hip. He started working the fastenings of Herger's pants, and Herger lifted up to help him, his breath coming faster. Herger stripped off his shirt while Ahmed pulled the trousers down and took Herger's sandals off with them, leaving Herger in his boxers. Then Ahmed's hands returned to his waistband, and Herger lifted his hips again to help him, and kicked off the boxers at last.

Ahmed leaned on an elbow and cupped Herger's erection. Herger took a careful breath.

"You're not circumcised." Ahmed rubbed a thumb up the shaft and over the foreskin.

"Nnngh. No." Herger thrust up and his cock slid smoothly through Ahmed's fist. It felt fantastic, the gentle slide of skin against skin, Ahmed's hand firm around him. But then Ahmed put an arm over his hip to hold him down and rubbed the foreskin again. Herger opened his eyes and looked down his body. Ahmed looked completely absorbed in him.

"Ahmed." The brown gaze looked up. "I want you to fuck me."

Ahmed released him, as if caught doing something bad. "Are you certain?"

"Absolutely." Herger reached down to his hand, lying still on Herger's hip, and stroked the back of it.

"If you trust me…"

"You know I do."

Ahmed's smile widened, and then he buried it in another kiss to Herger's stomach, this time closer to Herger's cock. He continued trailing kisses that way, then finally licked the tip and lowered his mouth, taking him inside.

Fuck, that felt amazing. Herger heard a whimper sneak out of him as he pumped his hips carefully. And he could tell Ahmed loved it. He worked one shoulder under Herger's leg so he could get closer, and breathed a moan as he bobbed his head. He moved his hand from to Herger's balls, stroking a finger over them, then further, teasing his cleft.

"Lube?" Herger gasped shakily. He'd packed it in the bathroom kit, but didn't know if Ahmed had seen it.

Ahmed lifted his head. His lips were shiny and red. Herger bit the inside of his cheek, resisting the urge to push his dick back into Ahmed's mouth.

Ahmed patted the side of his thigh. "Get it, then."

Oh, god. Herger turned onto his side, careful not to knee Ahmed, and went into the bathroom, where the kit was sitting on the counter. He took out the tube of lubricant and a couple of condoms.

Ahmed had finished undressing while Herger was in the bathroom. Herger was sorry he'd missed it, but there were better things to concentrate on. Ahmed was lying in the middle of the bed, one hand under his head, watching him. His cock, fat and unsheathed, pointed up against his belly from a nest of black hair. Herger's mouth watered.

He put the supplies on a bedside table and climbed onto the bed, kneeling next to Ahmed, who rolled to face him.

Herger hadn't had his fill, though. "Please," he whispered, leaning down. "Let me." He kissed Ahmed's belly, hearing and feeling him inhale in anticipation. The skin inside his hipbones was unimaginably soft. Herger rubbed his cheek against it, knowing his beard would be ticklish. Ahmed repressed a laugh, and while he was off-guard, Herger turned his head and licked the length of Ahmed's dick.

Ahmed sucked in another breath and whimpered. Herger took him into his mouth, tongue swirling. The smell and taste of him were rich and musky, of maleness and sex and temptation. Herger licked around the crown, feeling out the flared head. Ahmed hissed and squeezed his shoulder hard, his hand shaking slightly.

Herger backed off. Ahmed lifted his head. "Put it on me." He gave a half smile. "I don't know how."

Herger swallowed, his eyes fixed on Ahmed's groin. He sat up and put his hands on Ahmed's hips, bringing him closer, and tore a condom packet open. He rolled it on efficiently, then ran his palm along the length of Ahmed's erection a couple extra strokes. "Just that easy." He stroked a few more times for good measure.

"Can I continue now?"

When Herger looked up, he saw Ahmed grinning.

"Oh, be my guest." Herger laughed and stretched out, and Ahmed took up his kneeling position, reaching for the lube on the bedside table.

Herger was ready to give some tips to Ahmed, but Ahmed didn't need them. He was careful, gentle, used enough lube but not too much. In a couple of minutes Herger was splayed out on the bed, two of Ahmed's fingers inside him, gasping at the feeling of being stretched. One time Ahmed had brushed his prostate, and it'd been so long since that had happened Herger had almost come right away.

Ahmed pulled his fingers out and scooted up closer, then leaned over Herger on one arm, his other hand between them. Herger closed his eyes and savored the sensations: Ahmed's cock touching his hole, then the pressure, then the sensation of being penetrated. There was the old moment of panic that Ahmed wouldn't fit, that this was wrong and it would hurt, and then…it didn't. Ahmed pushed up inside him with a ragged groan, and stopped. There was a mild burn of being stretched, but it began to ease immediately.

Herger opened his eyes. Ahmed was looking down at him, sweat running down his temples, his eyes slightly unfocused. Herger grinned and lifted his head for a gentle kiss, murmuring against his mouth, "Whenever you're ready."

Ahmed nipped his lip, and while Herger moaned at the gentle sting, he pulled out and thrust in again.

"Ohhh…fuck." Ahmed was pretty big, and Herger felt the burn of his ass adjusting. He reached overhead, under his pillow, and held on to the edge of the mattress. "More."

"That wasn't too…"

Herger grinned and stretched, arching his back. It shifted Ahmed inside him and both of them took a shaky breath. "It felt fantastic. I'll let you know if it hurts," Herger said, more serious. "You do whatever you want."

"Whatever you want," Ahmed said with a little laugh.

"I'll enjoy whatever you do." Herger bent his legs, curling them behind Ahmed's thighs, and lifted his hips. "Now do it."

Another thrust made his eyes cross. When he could see again, Ahmed was showing him his teeth. "Domineering bastard."

"Then teach me a lesson."

Ahmed kissed him hard, his teeth pressing against Herger's lips. Then he pulled completely out, nipped Herger's lips again, then pressed back in. Slowly. Taking his sweet time.

Herger swallowed. "Come on…"

"No, I don't think so."

He continued to move at his own pace, sometimes withdrawing all the way so Herger felt the stretch of him reentering, again and again. Before long he'd let go of the mattress and hung on to Ahmed, fingers digging into his arms and back, legs wrapped around his hips and thighs.

"Come on…please…" He was whispering now.

Ahmed pushed in again. "Please?" he panted. "I like hearing you say that."

Instead of answering, Herger just drew him into a kiss. Ahmed breathed raggedly against his mouth, unable to focus on the kiss, driving in to Herger again and again, faster and faster. He started hitting Herger's prostate and Herger cried out, giving up on the kiss entirely, reaching overhead again for the mattress edge as pleasure knifed through his groin and up his spine. He held on to Ahmed's flank with his free hand, fingers digging in. "God, yes—there, just—oh god, Ahmed—"

"Herger—" Ahmed leaned back, kneeling up, and pulled Herger to him with a deep thrust. His expression was fiercely intent; eyes dark and totally focused on Herger. Herger felt his gaze as keenly as the cock inside him. He reached down and started jerking himself off with Ahmed's pace, moving ever faster. Ahmed moaned, watching him. "Herger—oh, oh—"

And then Ahmed thrust once more, unevenly, and stopped, a low moan escaping him.

"Yes," Herger whispered. He'd been so close, within seconds of coming, but Ahmed stopping had broken his own rhythm. But he didn't say anything, instead running both hands up and down Ahmed's sweaty back, his strokes more comforting than meant for arousal.

Ahmed leaned down and dropped a kiss to Herger's shoulder. He was still breathing hard as he carefully withdrew and sat back on his heels. Herger watched him remove the condom, and his hands were shaking.

"I'll just—" Ahmed started, and hesitated awkwardly.

Herger smiled and sat up. He took the condom from Ahmed's unresisting fingers and went into the bathroom to throw it away.

When he came back, Ahmed had gotten under the sheet and seemed to be a little more aware. He had fluffed some pillows and looked extremely comfortable as he watched Herger walk from the bathroom, eyes fixated on Herger's dick. Herger's erection had subsided somewhat, but his cock was still heavy and full.

Herger got back into bed and lay on his side next to Ahmed. Ahmed leaned over Herger on one elbow, touching Herger's chest with his free hand, sliding his fingers down to circle his fingers around Herger's cock. He kissed Herger and put his mouth close to his ear. "I'm sorry I've made you wait so long," he murmured. His breath stirred Herger's hair, tickling him. At the same time he continued languidly stroking Herger's cock, aided by sweat and pre-come and lube. His erection quickly renewed. "What shall I do with you now?"

Herger wondered briefly if Ahmed simply wasn't sure, or was returning the choice to him. Either way, he wasn't going to dawdle over it. He turned his head to put his mouth by Ahmed's ear and whispered, "I want your mouth on me."

Ahmed turned and kissed Herger roughly, then slid down the bed, getting back between Herger's legs. He used the sheet to wipe away excess lube, then delicately took his cock and slid his mouth over the head.

"I won't last," Herger whispered. His balls were still drawn up tight, and he could feel the sense of tingling anticipation growing fast. Ahmed hummed his understanding and the sound vibrated down through Herger's cock to his balls. He choked back a cry and thrust up once before he could get himself back under control. But Ahmed didn't seem to mind it. Herger's cock had pushed to the back of his mouth, but he hadn't pulled away. The way Ahmed took it so easily was what did Herger in. Herger thrust again and again, feeling Ahmed's hands encouraging him, and in seconds his orgasm seized him.

Ahmed sat up, rubbing his mouth against the back of his hand. Still panting, Herger reached for him, and Ahmed lay down in the spot next to Herger. Herger immediately rolled over and spooned up behind Ahmed's warm body, wrapping an arm around him and letting the sex endorphins work their magic. But before he could let himself fall asleep, he had to make sure.

"Was this okay?" he mumbled.

Ahmed laid his hand on Herger's arm. "It was perfect."

Chapter 5

Herger woke when Ahmed slipped out of bed. He lifted his head, blinking blearily. It was dark out, and out here in the country, there weren't many other lights around. He could hear Ahmed but couldn't see him. Herger called his name in a low voice.

"Be right back," Ahmed murmured. The bathroom light flicked on but the door shut immediately after, blocking most of the glare. Herger heard him using the toilet a moment later. He flushed and used the sink, then opened the door and shut off the light.

"Ah. Can't see."

Herger snorted. "Follow the sound of my voice."

Ahmed shuffled over and climbed back into bed. Herger helped him arrange the covers, then rested his head on his hand and looked in Ahmed's direction.

"No regrets?"

Ahmed rolled onto his side, facing Herger. "None. And you're—" Now he hesitated. "You're certain I didn't hurt you?"

"Absolutely certain. I've been doing this a long time, Ahmed. I'm broken in, like old shoes." Herger yawned.

"Stop it. You're not old."

"But I am broken in." Herger groped for Ahmed's hand and, finding it, examined his fingers by touch. "You could compare me to some tight young thing, and find that these fingers fit a lot more easily up my ass."

"The…things you say," Ahmed choked out. Herger chuckled and leaned in, finding Ahmed's mouth and kissing him slowly.

Ahmed clutched at him, fingers pressing into Herger's back as he inched closer. Herger was surprised by his vehemence, but didn't pull away. Ahmed moved over him, pushing him back into the bed, his tongue driving into Herger's mouth.

The kiss was desperate. Ahmed was breathing raggedly, gasping and making small whimpers like an animal, all muffled against Herger's mouth. Herger tried using his hands to soothe him, stroking his face and neck and chest, then down his back.

Ahmed moved between his legs and settled against him. His groin was tingling with arousal, but not hard yet. Still, the weight of him felt good. Herger hooked one leg around one of Ahmed's and rubbed his foot against Ahmed's calf.

Finally Ahmed broke away from the kiss and pressed his face into Herger's neck. "Herger…"

"Right here." Herger touched Ahmed's curls and held the back of his head, stroking down to his neck. "What's wrong?"

"N-Nothing." Ahmed settled against him, relaxing and stroking down to Herger's bare hip. "I just…can't seem to get enough of you."

Herger pursed his lips, thinking. He'd seen this before, especially in young men…inexperienced men, after their first time.

Ahmed's hand had moved from Herger's hip to his thigh, and moved up from there. He lifted off Herger enough to give himself room to touch, starting with the valley between Herger's pelvis and leg. He ran his thumb along it, down from his hipbone to the curly hair around his cock.

He still had his face tucked against Herger's neck, only now Herger could feel a flick of tongue occasionally, and Ahmed's lips moving. The light touches felt good, making him sensitized to everything. A scrape of stubble and a cooling gust of breath were magnified. By the time Ahmed's fingers ran through his pubic hair and onto his cock, Herger realized he was starting to get hard again.

"I love the way you feel," Ahmed whispered into his shoulder. His voice was a hiss of pure need. Herger groaned and arched his hips. Ahmed's hand squeezed him gently, then moved off. He moved his touch down to Herger's balls, curling his fingers around them and squeezing ever so slightly, then releasing again and going further back, a thumb rubbing along his perineum, pressing just enough to get a surge of sensation running through Herger's cock. Herger gasped.

"I enjoyed that book," Ahmed said in a low voice, and chuckled.

That laugh sounded devious. Herger wet his lips and reached down to stroke Ahmed's back. "I can tell."

"Tell me," Ahmed fingers pressed against Herger's ass cheeks, and Herger spread his legs wider, "do you think I feel as tight and smooth inside, as you did?"

One finger pressed into Herger's entrance. There was still enough lube to make it effortless. Ahmed went deep with one push, and he pressed against Herger's prostate with enough force to send another jolt of sensation through his cock.

"Fuck…" Herger clawed the sheet. "I'll have to find out," he managed.

"I want you to," Ahmed rumbled. "Right now—"

Herger's phone buzzed from the bedside table.

"No," Ahmed told it.

"They'll call again if it's an emergency." He shifted with Ahmed's finger, trying to see if it could go deeper. Ahmed tried a second finger against his opening, testing the lube and give of muscles.

"I want to feel this," Ahmed continued. His second finger pressed in, making the burn ignite again. Herger gasped and Ahmed paused. "Tell me. Tell me you'll do it." His voice was commanding in a way that Herger hadn't heard before.

The phone buzzed again.

"Hold on." Herger groped for it and picked it up. There was an SMS. Ronild: Please call. "Something's wrong," he told Ahmed.

Ahmed pulled back and sat up.

 

"I don't want you to come back, I just thought you could tell me what went on, and tell the police too…"

"Of course. Can you put them on?" Herger put the phone against his shoulder and pulled on his boxers, then got up to pace.

Ronild's voice went further away, muffled. Then it came back. "They want to take my statement first. I can give them your number and they can call you on Monday—"

"Nei. Tell them I'll call tomorrow. We'll get this settled right away."

Ronild was silent for such a long moment that Herger looked to see if he'd lost the call. Finally, he whispered, "Thank you. I'm sorry, again, I didn't want to call—"

"I would have been angry if you hadn't. Now get off the phone so you can give your statement and get some sleep."

"Yes sir." There was the tiniest hint of a smile in his whisper.

"Good night."

"Good night."

Herger pressed a button on the phone and dropped it to the bedside table, then looked at Ahmed.

He was sitting up in bed with the sheet pulled up to his waist. One arm rested across his stomach, the other lay flat along his side.

"I'm sorry."

"What is it? Is he all right?"

"Shaken." Herger sat on the edge of the bed. "He'd left some things in the office while he went out with friends. When he went back to get his things, he found Wendel there. He was trying to break in to my office."

Suddenly his breath left him. He put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. "He pushed Ronild around, hit him, smashed some things. I guess he was drunk. Luckily that was all he did, and then he left."

Ahmed was silent for a long moment. Herger opened his eyes and looked at him. He was chewing his lip and looking off into the middle distance. His brows were furrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down.

"Ronild called me just because it was too strange for Wendel to show up suddenly like this. When I told him that he'd been here, it came together. Tomorrow I'll talk to the police and tell them that this seemed like a pattern, or at least cause and effect. They can charge him for trespassing here, as well as the other charges." He swallowed. "Trespassing into my office; vandalism, assault."

"I don't know how you could love somebody like that," Ahmed muttered.

"I don't," Herger replied sharply. "I don't love him, not anymore. I broke up with him after I started to see him for the spoiled child he is. Time has just worsened him."

Ahmed looked at him, and seemed chastised. "I'm sorry for Ronild."

"I am too." He got into the bed finally, pulling the sheet over his legs. "And more sorry that this had to happen this weekend. You can't get a break, can you?"

Ahmed managed a half smile. "You already gave me a wonderful evening. Let's just go to sleep, and start over in the morning."

Herger nodded. Ahmed shifted down under the covers and turned off the lamp on his side of the bed. In the dark, Herger stretched out and pulled the covers over himself.

There was a long, tense silence while Herger listened to Ahmed breathing.

Eventually he felt a touch on his side. Wordlessly they turned toward each other, Herger linking their fingers together between them.

But Herger did not fall asleep for a long time, and instead lay awake thinking about Ronild and Wendel. At some point in the early morning his weary mind gave up consciousness. He awoke suddenly a few hours later when Ahmed got up and went into the bathroom, turning on the shower.

He rolled onto his back and rubbed his gritty eyes. He felt terrible about Ahmed's weekend being tarnished by Wendel, and stewing over it all night had not made him feel any easier about it. And what was more, Ahmed had seemed so disgusted that Herger and Wendel had ever been together at all. He didn't care what Ahmed thought of Wendel, but Ahmed thinking less of him was painful.

He envisioned Ahmed wanting to leave here, return to Oslo, moving out of the apartment and never speaking to him again. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingertips into them until he saw white behind his eyelids.

The shower turned off. Herger lowered his hand. Ahmed came out a moment later, a towel around his waist. Herger watched him for a moment, not saying anything, until Ahmed looked over and saw him awake.

"Hey." Ahmed smiled and sat on the edge of the bed. He leaned over and kissed Herger warmly, the water clinging to his beard growth wetting their mouths.

Ahmed leaned back. Herger eyed him cautiously, looking at his cheerful smile for any hint of falseness. "You're in a good mood."

Ahmed shrugged. He stood and unwrapped the towel from around his waist, using it to finish drying. "Why not?" He eyed Herger as he wiped his throat. "You look exhausted."

"I didn't really sleep."

Ahmed frowned. He put the towel back around his waist and sat back down, finding Herger's leg through the bedclothes and rubbing it. "Thinking about Ronild?"

Might as well be frank. "Worried about what you think of me. Because of all that Wendel has done."

Ahmed's eyes widened, and he didn't say anything for a moment. When he found his voice again, it was hushed. "Herger, I—" But then he stopped.

Herger couldn't stand listening to the silence. "You don't need to say anything." He threw off the bedcovers and got to his feet, going into the bathroom. Pouring face wash into his palm, he started cleaning up.

A hand touched his back as he bent over the sink to rinse.

"Was it what I said last night? I don't think you would have been with someone like…him, had he always been this way. You're a better man than that."

Herger finished rinsing his face and looked up into the mirror, water dripping. Ahmed gazed back at him, worry and regret clear in his eyes, but no guilt.

Herger picked up a hand towel and mopped his face dry, then directed what he said next into his hands. "I'm going to have to call the police and deal with this today. I'm sorry for it."

"Do whatever you feel is necessary." Ahmed moved his hand down Herger's back and around his waist to his front, holding him gently in a one-armed hug. It made Herger feel better than he would have guessed. Ahmed bent his head and pressed a kiss to Herger's bare shoulder. "I'll get some breakfast started."

"Wait." Herger turned, stopping Ahmed with a hand on his hip. The towel he wore, already precipitously fastened with a tucked edge, shifted under his touch. Acting on instinct, he hooked his fingers under the edge and pulled the towel completely away. When he looked up, Ahmed was grinning. The look of pure happiness lifted Herger's spirits. "It's too early to call them, anyway," Herger finished, chuckling.

 

The sun was filtering in through the bedroom skylights. The trees outside view made dancing shadows across Ahmed's back, while a breeze through the open window made goosebumps rise.

Or maybe the goosebumps were from what Herger was doing; he wasn't sure. He went on tracing the dips and shallows of Ahmed's back with his tongue.

Ahmed was wiry, too thin, and it showed the best in his back. Luckily he had retained some curves in his ass, but when Herger could see the rest of him like this, he realized he could count ribs if Ahmed stretched the right way. His face had filled out some with the benefit of rich Norwegian cooking, but he still could use more weight.

Herger sat up, settling himself on Ahmed's legs, and rubbed a thumb up Ahmed's spine. Ahmed arched slightly in reaction and settled with a sigh.

"You're not falling asleep, are you?"

"Mmm." The sound was negative, mumbled into a pillow. "Keep going."

"Yes sir," Herger muttered, but he smiled and ran his hand back down Ahmed's back, to his ass, measuring the curve with his palm. He brought his other hand up to join it on the other cheek, and dug his fingers in gently, massaging. "I love your ass," he said absently.

Ahmed chuckled. "It's just a butt."

"Uh uh. It's gorgeous." His thumbs rubbed the underside of the curves, where the thigh made a crease. He parted the muscles slightly, getting a glimpse of dark hair and secret skin. Ahmed moaned quietly. "It's even better when you make that sound while I do this."

He slid back down, nudging Ahmed's legs apart to lie between them. He heard Ahmed's breath hitch, and smiled as he bent his head again. Starting at the first hint of curve, he licked a line down the middle of one ass cheek. The skin was smooth and warm and totally soft, even when the muscles clenched under his tongue.

"Relax," Herger whispered. He petted the tense muscles until Ahmed relaxed again. Then he licked the other cheek.

"What are you doing?" Ahmed's voice sounded strangled.

"What?" Herger sucked one spot in a smacking kiss. "You didn't read anything about this in your book?"

"I…skipped to the good part."

Herger snorted. "No wonder you got through it so fast."

"What are you talking about?" Ahmed sounded exasperated.

"It's, uh…" He couldn't talk about this with his head on Ahmed's ass. Herger sat up. "It's commonly called assplay. Just…anything that gets you used to someone doing something to your…well, to your asshole. You have to work up to it," he finished. "You can't just ram anything in there."

Ahmed turned his head, resting it on his folded arms. "You were going to…put your mouth on me?"

"You showered. It's no problem." Herger grinned, putting his hand back on Ahmed's ass and stroking it.

He leaned over and kissed Ahmed's relaxed mouth, smiling when Ahmed lifted his head and rolled onto his side. He stretched out next to Ahmed, their legs tangled together as they continued the kiss. When Ahmed sighed into his mouth a few minutes later, Herger knew he could go on.

He started with dropping kisses down Ahmed's body, his chest and stomach and over to one hip. Ahmed shifted restlessly, and Herger pushed him back onto his stomach and moved back between his legs.

"Just trust me," he whispered, pressing a kiss between Ahmed's shoulder blades. He deliberately rubbed his beard against Ahmed's skin, knowing that the gentle tickles heightened sensation. Ahmed writhed under him, his breath coming faster.

More kisses, down Ahmed's spine. His skin was soft and hot, and sweat made a sheen that slicked Herger's lips. When he got to the top of Ahmed's ass, he pushed the muscles apart and licked down the cleft. The fine black hairs lay flat, like an arrow pointing to the spot Herger was aiming for.

Ahmed was saying something. It was Arabic; Herger couldn't tell what it was, but he'd bet his apartment that it was profane.

He got to Ahmed's hole and licked around it, exhaling as he did. Even though he'd just showered, Ahmed's natural scent was strong here. It was intoxicating, addictive; Herger inhaled deeply and pursed his lips, kissing the relaxing ring of muscle.

"Herger. Herger, please, Herger—" Ahmed's voice was shaking, his breath sobbing. Herger shushed him, his mouth still pressed against his flesh. Then he licked again, using his thumbs to pull Ahmed's flesh apart a little more, and stiffened his tongue to penetrate.

"Ah, FUCK." Ahmed's hips jerked hard enough that Herger lost his place. He lifted his head, laughing to himself, and put a hand on Ahmed's lower back. Ahmed turned his head down to look sideways at Herger. His face was red; his eyes glassy.

"Is it okay?"

"I…" Ahmed's mouth worked silently, trying to find words. "Yes, but…"

"Then enjoy it." Even while they were still looking at each other, Herger slipped a finger between his cheeks and stroked the rim of his hole, just petting lightly. Ahmed's body jerked again, but he dropped his head back down in acquiescence.

Herger replaced his finger with his tongue, pushing in again. Ahmed groaned. This time Herger withdrew his tongue, then pushed it in again. Fucking, gently and slowly. The swearing continued. Herger pressed his pelvis down into the mattress, trying to relieve the ache in his dick.

Ahmed moved his hips, lifting and pushing back, meeting Herger's tongue thrusts. His hole was getting wet and slick, and the muscles were relaxing.

Herger pulled up, panting for breath. He got the lube from the bedside table and squeezed some onto his fingers. When he touched his fingertips to Ahmed's hole, Ahmed groaned and lifted his hips, his back arching.

"Come up," Herger murmured, patting Ahmed's hip with his free hand. Ahmed unsteadily got onto his hands and knees, head hanging between his arms. He was still breathing quickly and shallowly. As Herger's gaze ran down his body, he saw that Ahmed was so hard his cock had risen to press flush against his belly, pointing directly up his chest.

"I'm going slow. Okay?" Herger probed with one finger. Ahmed rocked back, his body opening without hesitation. Herger's finger slipped in to the first knuckle as Ahmed moaned quietly. "Good, yes." Herger leaned his hip against Ahmed's side, reaching around under Ahmed's body and taking his cock in hand. As he stroked his palm up Ahmed's erection, he slipped his finger out a few centimeters, then back in. As he watched carefully, Ahmed turned his head and bit his arm with a groan.

He was so receptive, so eager. Just the sounds he was making were enough to make Herger's cock throb. And with Ahmed's ass gradually opening to him, Herger moved his finger a little deeper and quickened the pace of the hand on Ahmed's cock. He buried his finger to the second knuckle and then Ahmed gave a loud cry and thrust forward wildly into Herger's fist, his cock jerking. Herger closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of Ahmed's body clamping around his finger, his flesh in spasms and releasing into Herger's hand.

Finally Ahmed stopped moving. Herger carefully let him go and put a hand on his hip, guiding him to lie down on his side, out of the large wet spot they'd created. He spooned up behind Ahmed and wrapped his arm around him. Ahmed was still breathing hard when Herger pressed his face to the back of Ahmed's neck and kissed him.

"That was…" Ahmed's voice surprised him. He swallowed audibly. "Remarkable."

"You enjoyed it?" Herger buried his grin in Ahmed's shoulder. "I didn't do much. You weren't used to the sensations. Wait until you feel your prostate."

Ahmed shifted. Herger released him and he rolled over to face Herger. His eyes were dark; serious, but not angry. As Herger was trying to read his expression, he felt a hand on his dick, rubbing through his boxers.

"Let me," Ahmed murmured.

Herger closed his eyes, his mouth working on a groan. He fumbled with his boxers, pushing them down into a tangle around his thighs. He was aching. Needed a hand, a mouth, a fucking pillow; anything. Ahmed took him in hand, thank god, pulling and stroking with quick, efficient movements. Pre-come was enough for lubricant; he'd been leaking for a while.

"Let go," he heard whispered. A hot mouth pressed against his ear. He gritted his teeth, feeling himself seconds away from that shining edge of bliss. "Come on, I want to feel your come in my hands—keep going, yes, that's it…" Herger sobbed, his hips pumping wildly. He reached out and found Ahmed there, held on to him with aching fingers. "Come Herger, now—"

Herger threw back his head and spilled, breath rushing out of him with Ahmed's name, and it was still as good as the time before, still every care and worry rushing out of him to be replaced by Ahmed's love.

 

Herger really wanted a cigarette.

He held his phone to his ear and paced through the kitchen as he listened, opening every drawer and cabinet in the hopes that some previous guest had left a pack behind. He'd quit smoking when he'd left Wendel--breaking all his bad habits, all at once--but between the morning's activity with Ahmed and the call he was making, he was jonesing.

He stopped at the great room windows and looked out. Ahmed was lying out on the grass, reading something.

"Are you there?" Ronild asked over the phone.

Herger turned his back on the view. "Yes. Sorry."

"What do you want to do about this?"

Herger rubbed a hand over his face. "What are my options?"

"You'd have to speak with your lawyer. But the police said you should come back to Oslo."

"Dammit." Herger sighed and looked back out the window. Ahmed was in the exact same position, still reading peacefully. He was oblivious to what was going on, and Herger wanted him to stay that way. "All right. Clear my schedule for Monday."

"Understood. Enjoy the rest of your weekend."

He finished exchanging goodbyes with Ronild and hung up. Then he left the phone on a table and went outside, walking across the grass to where Ahmed lay. Ahmed looked up as Herger stretched out.

"Get everything sorted out?"

"In part." Herger put his hand on Ahmed's bare foot and wiggled it companionably. "I will likely have to deal with some things on Monday. Legal things."

Ahmed's face changed, his relaxed smile fading. "Oh. All right."

Herger summoned a strained smile and stroked up Ahmed's bare calf. Ahmed was wearing knee-length khaki shorts and a t-shirt, and Herger knew for a fact that Ahmed had taken him at his word back in Oslo, and that he wore no underwear. While one hand played lightly behind Ahmed's knee, tickling him, Herger reached up and started working on Ahmed's fly. Ahmed chuckled and rolled onto his back.

 

The rest of the weekend went well enough. They shared meals and relaxed around the property, swam in the lake and sunned on the dock. On Sunday morning Ahmed woke Herger and fucked him slowly while the sunlight brightened the room, then made breakfast and brought it to Herger in bed. After dinner on Sunday night, they took some drinks outside to the dock and stretched out on their towels, watching the sun go down across the lake and the stars come out.

They both got ready for bed by unspoken agreement. Herger climbed under the cool sheets and rubbed his eyes, tired already. But as he had little idea of what to expect after returning to Oslo, he anticipated another sleepless night of worrying.

Ahmed got into bed and shivered visibly at the touch of the sheets. After more than a week, the heat wave had finally broken. North of the city out here, the air was noticeably cooler. Herger burrowed down, pulling the covers up to his chin. Ahmed turned out the light on his side of the bed.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" he said in the dark.

Herger rolled onto his back, staring at the blackness where the ceiling would be. "The police want to take my statement in person. I just don't want to be involved in this at all." That was the truth, but not the whole truth. He couldn't tell Ahmed the rest; not yet.

Ahmed made a sound of understanding, but Herger knew he was disappointed. Ahmed shifted around on his side of the bed until he was comfortable, and then there was no other sound from him until his breathing turned into the slow, even gusts of a man asleep.

 

As they passed Hamar, Herger glanced over at Ahmed in the car. Ahmed was sitting stiffly, staring hard out his window at the passing scenery, but not apparently taking any interest in it.

"I'm not going to keep this from you any longer."

Ahmed turned at that. He looked cautiously relieved. "What is it?"

"Wendel is pressing charges against you, for assault."

"What?" Ahmed stared at him.

"I should have anticipated it," Herger said wearily, looking back at the road. "He wouldn't have let this go without trying to get retribution."

"What the HELL does he—he assaulted you first! I was defending you! Can he do this?"

"He's going to try. He won't win, but he would love to take us to court and make things messy."

Ahmed said something else in a low voice, and it sounded filthy. Herger realized it was in Arabic. He glanced over again and saw Ahmed's hands fisted on his legs in barely contained rage.

"There's something else."

"Oh, wonderful."

"No one has said anything to me yet, and I doubt they have even planned for it, but there will likely be trouble from Immigration for you."

"It's inevitable, you mean. Once they see the color of my skin…"

Herger stayed silent, ashamed. Ahmed made a scoffing sound that was frighteningly close to a sob. He had his head turned away again.

"I have a proposal," Herger said, his voice ragged. He couldn't catch his breath.

"…All right."

"We can see someone before we go to the police. We're not under arrest, so it's not like we can't take the long route home, if you get my meaning."

"I do. Go on."

Herger tried to take a breath. His hands were sweaty on the steering wheel. "I would need to call some people, find out where to go, but I know we can do it quickly."

"Herger. What are you talking about?"

He forced his mouth to say the words. "Marriage certificate."

There was a long silence from Ahmed again. Herger glanced over, afraid of what he'd see.

Ahmed was staring at him, incredulous. As Herger looked at him, he sputtered, "What?"

"Gay men can marry in Norway. Well, they can register as domestic partners. It would take care of Immigration. Wendel might back down if he knows he can't get you that way. If…if you're my husband."

"Oh my god," Ahmed said.

"I'm sorry to spring this on you. It's not the way I ever envisioned proposing to someone. But I…" Herger stared hard at the road, forcing himself to come to terms with his next thought. "I don't want to lose you."

"Herger…" Ahmed put his hand out, touching Herger's leg. Herger looked at him. The shock had worn off enough for Ahmed's happiness to show in his face. Herger felt a rush of relief so intense he was nearly dizzy. He looked back at the road, navigating a turn in the highway. "I accept," Ahmed finished softly.

"Good." Herger cleared his throat and picked up his phone, glancing at it as he clicked through his contacts list. "Let me call some people."

He already knew what he needed to do to get a certificate. He started by calling his lawyer and friend, Kjeld, to act as witness and help with the preparations. Kjeld had been in the first years of university with Herger, Edgar, Heath and other friends. After Kjeld, Herger called Edgar and asked the same favor of him. Then he called Ronild.

"Can you put together hors d'oeuvres and champagne for the usual list of people? Or…thirteen, I guess, including Ahmed. Actually, add ten to that and invite the staff. Party at the apartment." He waited for Ronild to make an inquiring noise, then glanced at Ahmed and grinned. "I'm getting married."

"Congratulations. Listen, Herger…Bulwyf is here."

"He is?" A chill ran up Herger's neck. His boss had interesting timing, and Herger hoped he wouldn't be angry by what he was about to tell him. "Can you put him on?"

A deep voice came on the line a moment later. "Herger. How are you?"

"Oh, reasonable. Yourself?"

"What's this Ronild's writing down about champagne?"

"Just a little gathering. I decided to get married today. I would be honored if you'd attend."

"Can I give you away?" The voice had a trace of amusement in it.

Herger laughed, relief flooding him. "Even better. We're going to have a celebration at my place, seven p.m."

"I'll be in my office until then, and then I'll come up. Here's Ronild." Before Herger could say goodbye, Ronild was back on the line. The hors d'oeuvres would not be a problem. In the meantime, Ronild would let himself into the apartment and make sure it was clean and tidy.

Herger thanked him warmly and ended the call. As they started into the outskirts of Oslo's suburbs, he grinned at Ahmed. "My boss is going to give me away."

Ahmed laughed. They were both giddy. "Do I get to meet him first?"

"I'm joking. But he will be at the apartment later. You haven't met Bulwyf because he's been in Kristiansand with his family for a summer holiday."

"He doesn't mind you taking the day off?"

Herger shrugged. "We've known each other for years, from soon after I got out of school. He's like an older brother." And a stern taskmaster…but since he'd made no comment about Herger shirking work, Herger wasn't going to worry about it today.

They drove on for a bit, then something occurred to him. "You still have to work today. Should I drop you off?"

Ahmed nodded grudgingly. "I don't think I should ask for the day."

"No, not with Wendel pulling this trick on you; you don't want to attract any more attention. You can take a few minutes to meet me for the certificate filing, though?"

"I guess I'll have to."

They both laughed, although a flock of butterflies sprang to life in Herger's stomach.

Within a half hour they were back in downtown Oslo. Herger took Ahmed to the Aftenposten offices and stopped in front of the building. As Ahmed opened the door, Herger leaned over and said, "Hey."

Ahmed looked over and saw Herger watching him expectantly, as small smile on his face. Ahmed chuckled and ducked his head, delivering a quick kiss goodbye. It was brief but perfect; firm, warm, just lingering enough to be meaningful. "Call me when you're ready."

"Ja. Have a good day."

Ahmed got out of the car and stood on the curb. "Ha er god dag," he returned with a grin, and closed the door.

Chapter 6

Herger dropped the car off at his garage and went up to his office to check in. Ronild was at his desk, and looked up when Herger opened the other door.

He had a light bruise and swelling on one side of his jaw, but otherwise he looked impeccable. Herger leaned a hip against his desk and sighed.

"I'm sorry."

Ronild looked back at his monitor. "Don't apologize. There's no need."

"No, there is. If I hadn't sent him away angry, then—"

"He would have been an asshole to someone else." Ronild stood and gathered some papers, laying them out individually. "I have some things for you to sign, and Herr Gilaksen wanted to see you."

"All right, point taken." Herger pulled out his pen and signed the lease renewals, then glanced toward Bulwyf's office. "Wish me luck?"

"Luck," Ronild said, and smiled.

Herger knocked on Bulwyf's door and waited until he heard Bulwyf's voice intone, "Enter." He went into the office and sat in one of the mod leather armchairs grouped around a coffee table. On the other side of the table, Bulwyf sat on a long sofa. He was looking over some spread out documents, but shuffled them together when Herger sat.

Bulwyf looked good; he had a deep tan, and it contrasted sharply with his pale green summer suit, hair so blond it was almost white, and sharp blue eyes. That gaze examined Herger for a moment, then the eyelids flicked down and Bulwyf sat back.

"I would like to meet on Friday to discuss new business. Numbers look good for this quarter but I'm concerned that they will start to slide before the holidays. We should talk to the shops about the Jul campaigns, and see what kind of events we can book."

Herger arranged his tie and crossed a leg over his knee. "That's all on our plate already, and I just signed a few lease agreements. No one has moved out, and Norli and Dale are coming in."

"Yes…congratulations on Dale, by the way."

"Thank you."

This was all a little odd. Bulwyf had always said he had faith in Herger's abilities, and had not discussed any concerns over a fall slump in probably seven years. But Herger waited patiently, knowing that Bulwyf would make his point. Even if it took waiting until Friday.

"So you're getting married."

"That is the plan, yes."

Bulwyf examined him carefully, not saying anything. His gaze was intense and searching. Herger bore the scrutiny for a full minute, and then Bulwyf finally continued.

"Are you happy?"

Herger considered, then answered as firmly as he could. "Yes."

Bulwyf arched a brow but said nothing.

"Look…you know me." Herger got up and started pacing the room, hands in his pockets. "Impetuous sometimes, yes, but also analytical. I know what I'm doing and I want to do it. How many men do you know who decide to get married on a whim?"

Bulwyf sat back on the couch and regarded him lazily. "So this is a whim?"

"…Not exactly." Herger stopped and jingled some change in his pocket. "You know I'm also protective of the things and people I care for. This thing with Wendel…I don't want to take any risks."

But of course Bulwyf didn't understand the reference to Wendel, so Herger explained everything: meeting Ahmed, giving him a place to stay, their relationship growing closer. He found himself speaking more slowly and haltingly as he went on, and realized it was because he was talking about how he went from finding Ahmed attractive to feeling fiercely protective. He even had to explain taking Ahmed away for a weekend together; that was, of course, how they had run into Wendel.

Bulwyf listened attentively until Herger finished, then rose and adjusted his cuffs. Herger stood too.

"I've known you long enough to understand what you're saying, probably better than you understand yourself." Bulwyf extended his hand to shake. "Congratulations. You've fallen in love again."

Herger laughed nervously, but took Bulwyf's hand, his words sinking in. By all evidence…he was right.

 

After leaving Bulwyf's office, Herger answered some emails and organized his desk. Then he talked to Ronild about who was handling the assault case at the local police station. Taking the officer's card, he left on foot to give his statement. After a fifteen-minute walk, he turned into a building behind a sign that read Politi.

Giving his statement as to what had happened in Lillehammer took about a half hour. He tried to be clear but thorough, giving some of his long history with Wendel so that the police understood how well Herger knew him. He made sure not to say anything that would make him sound like a spurned lover with a vendetta, and gave his words an air of credibility.

The police officer was difficult to read, but Herger left the station believing that he had been successful in his own goals for the meeting.

As he approached the pier, he checked his watch and then called Ahmed. It was time.

He got a car from the garage and picked Ahmed up at the Aftenposten offices, then set off through the city. "We're going to a byfogd, a city recorder, who will set this up for us. We're meeting a couple of friends there."

"Okay." Ahmed nodded and smoothed a hand down his chest. Herger realized he'd put on a tie, and the thoughtfulness made him smile.

They parked on a street in the old northern part of downtown Oslo and walked into one of the hundred-year-old stone administration buildings. Herger quickly found their way to the right office, where Kjeld's familiar shock of auburn hair shone under the lights in the hallway. They greeted each other and shook hands. Edgar was in the restroom, Kjeld explained.

Herger nodded, looking around with nervous energy. "Good, good. Kjeld, this is Ahmed."

Kjeld directed his attention at Ahmed and smiled warmly, a sight that Herger was glad to see. He was prone to being deeply serious, almost pessimistic, but nevertheless was an intelligent and steadfast friend. Kjeld shook Ahmed's hand firmly while Ahmed tried the pronunciation of his name, the "kj" making an odd "ch" sound.

Ahmed glanced down and said, "I like your tattoo." Kjeld's bare forearm, exposed by his rolled sleeves, was covered in a series of traditional Scandinavian characters. Kjeld nodded in thanks.

Edgar joined them then, and also exchanged a handshake of greeting with Ahmed. Then Edgar said, "Shall we?" and they stepped into the recorder's office.

There was one group ahead of them, and they were partway through the official ceremony. Herger looked at the two men discreetly holding hands as they answered the prepared text read by the recorder, and felt a shiver go up his spine. Nervousness suddenly made him feel nauseous.

"Normally we'd need to wait at least a week, if not a month," Kjeld whispered to the rest of their group. "But I drew up the necessary documents and got them notarized. You have your passports and birth certificates?"

Ahmed and Herger nodded, Herger's hand automatically going to his breast pocket and pulling out all their documents. The group before them was wrapping up the ceremony.

"Here we go," Edgar murmured.

The other group left and the recorder waved them forward. Kjeld drew out his documents and laid them out on the counter, explaining that he was the lawyer for Herr Torgudson and Herr Fahdlan, and that the two wished to enter a registered partnership.

 

It only took twenty minutes. Herger felt so sick with nerves that he forgot Ahmed was standing next to him until Ahmed touched his hand partway through, and Herger grabbed his hand and threaded their fingers together. Immediately after that, they both stated their willingness to be entered into a registered partnership with each other, and the recorder declared the partnership to be lawfully contracted.

Herger's knees were weak.

The recorder pulled out some more documents and quickly filled them out, then slid them across the counter. Herger pulled out his pen in an automatic movement, then looked at Ahmed.

"Second time we've done this, eh?"

Ahmed grinned and nodded. Looking at his happy, relaxed expression, Herger finally felt his nerves calm and a peace come over him. He took a breath and signed his name, followed by Ahmed, Edgar and Kjeld. The document confirmed registration of the partnership. As soon as it was signed, the recorder gave them another form: a certificate of domestic partnership.

 

"We'll meet Kjeld and Edgar back at the apartment tonight for a little party. If you're up to it, that is." He was married now; he had to think of his spouse's opinion.

"Yes, I'd like that." Ahmed seemed distracted, and tapped his fingers on his legs. Looking at his hands, Herger realized they hadn't even thought of rings.

"Will you tell your mother of this?"

The tapping slowed. "I haven't decided yet. It would make her happy to read the word ‘marriage,' but if I said that my spouse is a man…"

"I understand." Herger pulled away from a red light and tightened his grip on the wheel as the car went over cobblestones. "It is your decision of course, but let me know if—"

"Herger, there's the office."

"Oye! Takk." He hadn't been paying attention. He screeched to a halt and pulled out of the lane and into a loading zone. Ahmed opened the door, and oddly this felt like a reprise of what they'd done just a few hours prior, when Herger had dropped Ahmed off for work. Except now they were married.

"I'll be…home in a few hours," Ahmed said, leaning back in the open door. Herger nodded. Ahmed seemed to think of something for a moment, then decided, and leaned in closer to Herger. Herger met his kiss and smiled, holding up his hand in a wave as Ahmed closed the door.

Now he had just one more thing to do. He drove to the local police office.

 

Herger spoke with the desk sergeant about the charges against Wendel and Wendel's counter charges. They agreed that the two parties needed to have their lawyers communicate with the district attorney. Wendel should not see him without attorneys present.

Herger went into a private call room and pulled out his cell phone, calling the district attorney's office. He got a secretary and introduced himself, and was asked to wait on the line while she rang the attorney at his desk.

"Herr Torgudson, thank you for calling."

"Of course. Regarding this situation with Wendel Rasmusson…"

"I'm sure you want it to go away."

"Yes."

"Have you had an estimate of the damage done to your office?"

"I heard a figure…I'm not sure I—"

"If it's under one thousand kroner, I would recommend that you drop all charges. Rasmusson would likely then drop the charges against Herr Fahdlan. No guarantees, of course."

Herger rubbed his beard. He didn't want to do this without talking to Ronild, since Ronild was the victim; but he also believed he knew what Ronild would say. Although he wanted retribution for what Wendel had done, Ronild would want business—life—to return to normal. He would probably agree to drop the charges. But Herger hated to let Wendel get away with the crimes in this way.

Before he could decide, the attorney spoke again.

"I would suggest a compromise."

"I'd like to hear it," Herger replied, relieved.

"I could charge Rasmusson with destructive mischief. It would be a fine, nothing more. I can't guarantee that this would take the wind of out his sails, but—"

"That sounds reasonable. We can't speak to what Wendel will or won't do."

"Indeed."

"So that's settled. Thank you for—"

"One more thing, Herr Torgudson."

The hair stood up on Herger's neck. "Ja?"

"I can't wave away these charges against Herr Fahdlan without looking into them, taking a statement from each side, et cetera. If Rasmusson decides to pursue them, I will need to see Herr Fahdlan. I understand he is an immigrant living with you, correct?"

"Not any longer." Herger felt deep satisfaction at the words he spoke next. "He's my registered partner."

There was a long pause, and then the attorney cleared his throat. "I see. Based on what Rasmusson said…well, that changes things somewhat. I will take it into consideration."

"Yes. Thank you for your time."

Herger blew out a breath as he ended the call. He'd done what he could. Now only time would tell if it had been enough.

Herger went back to work, but the moment he walked into the office he realized he'd be useless. Ronild wasn't at his desk—in the apartment upstairs, Herger realized—and Bulwyf had gone out again. There was a few other staff members around, but with management out (and out of his mind), it was clearly going to be a day when no new business happened.

Herger went up to the apartment.

Ronild was chewing his lip over the arrangement of vases in the living room. When he saw Herger standing in the entranceway, a smile bloomed across his face.

"The groom is home."

"Oh god." Herger put a hand to his head. "Are people going to call me that?"

"You or Ahmed. More likely, they'll call you the bride. I didn't, because I value my job."

"Smart man." Herger gestured at the vases. "Are you moonlighting in interior design?"

"You're right, this is the specialty of the homosexual. I'll leave you to it." Ronild went into the kitchen while Herger chuckled. "Canapés are in the refrigerator, as well as the champagne. The catering company lent us some buckets for the bottles, and there's plenty of ice in the freezer. Napkins and plates are on the counter, as you see. Anything I've forgotten?"

"Of course not." Ronild nodded and headed for the door, but Herger held up a hand to stop him. "Ronild…you're indispensible, you know that?"

Ronild regarded him somberly. "Yes."

Herger grinned. "Then I guess no amount of thanks is enough."

"None needed." Ronild held out a hand, and Herger shook it firmly. Ronild smiled, dropping some of his usual somber business attitude. "Congratulations."

"Thank you. One more thing."

Ronild waited silently.

"I just spoke with the district attorney. We discussed lowering the charges to destructive mischief." Herger watched him closely as he said this.

Ronild nodded, with no apparent disappointment or anger. "That sounds reasonable."

Herger nodded and smiled, feeling another bit of tension slide off his shoulders. "We'll see what happens now. And for tonight, will you—"

"Yes, I'll come. I have some things to wrap up downstairs, first, as it is—" Ronild checked his watch, "a quarter past two p.m., and therefore not yet the end of the business day. Go soak your head or something."

"Gladly." Herger left Ronild to see himself out, and headed into the bedroom.

He occupied himself with putting together the best suit he could; not an easy task, since he was trying to find a balance between due formality, joyful celebration, and chic trends. In the end he chose a pale tan pair of slacks, the cuffs rolled a half inch, and sea foam green shirt with no tie. He wore his new pair of Italian leather loafers without socks, as a nod to the fashion plates of the summer in Milan. With all the light colors, he'd be sure to attract the bride jokes.

He checked his watch. Three p.m. Still a few hours before Ahmed would get home, and more hours beyond that before people would start to arrive. He was going to go fucking stir-crazy.

Recalling what Ronild had joked about soaking his head, Herger went into the bathroom and turned on the taps in his big Jacuzzi tub.

 

He soaked himself until he was nodding with drowsiness, then got out, dried quickly, and crawled onto his bed for a quick nap. He was awakened by the front door closing. Ahmed appeared in the doorway a minute later.

He paused and took in the view of Herger lying on top of the covers, naked. Herger grinned sleepily and rolled over onto his back, stretching. "I took a bath."

"Really." Ahmed stepped into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. "Do you always do this after baths?"

Herger shrugged and closed his eyes. "I can't say I have a habit."

A hand on his stomach surprised him. Ahmed stroked up his chest, his fingers teasing one nipple. Herger made a sound that Ahmed chuckled at. "Maybe you should make it a habit."

The hand lifted. Herger opened his eyes.

"After tonight," Ahmed added. He glanced around Herger's room and saw the clothes laid out over a chair. "I see you're ready for the ball."

"Of course, being the belle." They shared a grin. Herger sat up. "Guess I should get dressed."

"Yes, I'd rather I be the only one to see you like this." Ahmed smacked his bare ass as he walked by. Herger clicked his tongue and wiggled his butt as he got out a fresh pair of boxers from his dresser. Underneath his calm exterior, he wanted to yell with joy. After two months, Ahmed had gone from being nearly mute with reserve and fear to being playful and affectionate.

Ahmed took a shower while Herger dressed, and then Herger weighed in on what tie Ahmed should wear—he wanted to look more polished when meeting many of Herger's friends for the first time. Herger then wandered out to the living room and started going through his music collection on his iPod, trying to pick out appropriate music. He got a playlist going and then went into the kitchen to nibble on hors d'oeuvres and put the champagne into the ice buckets.

Promptly at seven there was a knock on the door, and Herger went to open it. Magnus Svinø stood there.

Herger felt himself break out in a sweat even while he put on a smile and extended a hand for Magnus to shake. He'd had no idea Ahmed had invited his boss. "Magnus, good to see you."

"Congratulations on the happy occasion." Magnus, very tall, husky, red-faced and sharp-eyed, entered the apartment and looked around. "Ahmed isn't here?"

"He'll be out in a moment. Can I fix you something to drink? I thought I'd wait to open the champagne—"

"Akervit's fine, if you have it."

Herger pulled out the good stuff from his freezer and poured a generous shot glass. As he handed it over to Magnus, he heard a knock on the open door and Kjeld calling "Hallo?"

Ahmed came out of the back rooms after a few minutes and greeted Magnus and Kjeld warmly, then got himself a tall glass of water. Herger knew the feeling of nervous dry mouth.

Guests arrived in a steady stream. Around half before eight, most of them had arrived, so Herger opened the first bottle of champagne. Herger and Ahmed passed around glasses, and then Kjeld lifted his and cleared his throat.

"As Herger's attorney…" he started. He smiled at the laughter that followed. "I believe you could also say I was his best man. Bulwyf reserves the honor of having given him away, at least in spirit." He nodded at Bulwyf standing at the edge of the assembled group while the others laughed again. "Anyway, I want to say a few words."

While Kjeld went on, Herger looked around and saw Ahmed standing next to Heath. Their eyes met and he beamed, feeling as though his face would crack. Ahmed's teeth flashed in a broad grin he couldn't hold back.

"To Herger and Ahmed," Kjeld finished, raising his glass. The others drank to the toast. Herger took a sip of his champagne and then caught Kjeld's extended hand in a firm grip as Kjeld walked past him.

"If I may have a few words…" The clink of silver on glass caught everyone's attention. Bulwyf put the spread knife back on the bar when all eyes were on him.

"Most of you know that Herger and I have worked together some fifteen years, shortly after he was fired from his second job for kissing the mail boy during work hours."

The group laughed. Herger shook his head at Bulwyf and refilled his glass of champagne.

"Not much has changed," Bulwyf intoned, to another round of chuckles. "Another aspect of Herger that hasn't changed is his dedication to every aspect of his life—his friends, his work, and, hopefully now, his family." Bulwyf lifted his glass to Ahmed. "To honor that, and because I'm everything the local business community accuses me of being, I'm opening a new branch of Bryggedrift AS in Kristiansand. Operations of Aker Brygge will shift completely to Herger, as I am promoting him to Co-Operator."

There was a collective gasp and murmur. Herger put his glass down on the bar before he dropped it.

Bulwyf lifted his glass to Herger now. "To my future of beaches, and to your future of tourists."

His head spinning, Herger walked the few steps to Bulwyf. His old friend embraced him tightly, murmuring words of congratulations in Herger's ear while applause thundered around them.

 

The party continued smoothly, although Herger was in a daze after Bulwyf's announcement. He introduced Ahmed to new people, then got pulled away into other conversations. But pretty soon he noticed that Ahmed had quite the group gathered around him, with hardly anyone else not listening in on whatever he was saying. Herger fixed himself a small plate of canapés and walked over.

Ahmed was relating how they had met on the plane, much to the fascination of everyone. When Heath saw Herger standing next to Ronild, he interrupted and joked, "So Herger initiated you into the Mile High Club?"

Ahmed's face burned with an endearing blush. Herger scowled at Heath. "I'm a gentleman, you son of a bitch."

"Yeah, right," Edgar drawled. The group laughed.

"So, Herger," Ronild broke in, "did you marry Ahmed to make him legal?"

Herger smiled, although he was aware of how the group quieted at the question. "Marrying him made him a citizen. That's all I will say."

The next question came from Sofie, the company accountant. She tucked her long blonde hair behind one ear and smiled shyly at Ahmed. "What I would like to know is, when did you know you were in love with Herger?"

The group of men aww'd theatrically, but Sofie and Ahmed ignored them.

"I remember it clearly. I came home from work one day and Herger was in his bedroom."

"I don't know if I want to hear this," Magnus grumbled, inciting another round of laughter.

Ahmed smiled. "Don't worry. Anyway, I could tell something was wrong. Herger was almost in a fetal position, all his clothes on, on top of the covers. I asked him what was wrong and he said he had a headache."

Ronild nodded knowingly, understanding that this had been just the week prior.

"I sat down with him and put my hand in his, and he took it. He didn't push me away or ask me to leave. When I saw how much he trusted me in his most vulnerable moment, that's when I fell for him."

Sofie smiled.

"To migraines." Heath lifted his glass, and the group drank.

Chapter 7

Herger walked into the rear entrance of the hotel and stomped his boots, trying to get off most of the snow before he entered the lobby. As he stripped off his layers, Edgar came in behind him, doing the same thing.

Smells of mulling spices and hot food emanated from the bar area, just inside the foyer. It was likely that Heath had partaken of both. Herger grinned and sat down to take off his boots, trying to make his numb fingers go faster.

"Save me some," Edgar said as Herger got up and padded into the hallway.

First thing first. Herger went straight to the bar and ordered a mug of mulled wine and hot venison stew, with the food to be delivered to his chair. He waited for the mug and took it with him.

Heath was stretched out on a sofa in front of the fireplace that dominated the center of the room. He appeared to be asleep, and there were dirty dishes and mugs on the table in front of him.

Ahmed was sitting in an armchair next to him, looking at a big coffee table book about a Viking-era horde found near the ski resort. The hotel had the book out for loan. Herger pulled up another armchair next to his and cleared some space on the table for himself. Edgar, close behind him, just nudged Heath's feet out of his way and took the end of the couch.

"Hei," Ahmed said.

Herger looked over at him, smiling, but was surprised to see Ahmed's face flushed and his eyes bright. His head didn't look entirely steady on his shoulders.

"Oh no," he laughed. "How much have you had?"

Edgar looked over, smirked, and looked at Heath. "Probably not as much as him."

"Four or five," Ahmed said. He was definitely slurring.

"Oh god. Of what? Have you had anything to eat?" His own drink forgotten, Herger picked up the empty mug nearest Ahmed and sniffed.

"Just ciders. We had some sandwiches, too." Ahmed caught Herger's sleeve and pulled. Herger put the mug down and turned, only to see Ahmed lean in for a kiss.

"Oye, come on. Not here." Herger turned his head, but Ahmed just nuzzled into his neck. Edgar was laughing.

"Then where?" Ahmed breathed into his ear. The familiar sound of Ahmed's inviting whisper made Herger tense with arousal.

The waitress brought Herger's stew. Herger gently nudged Ahmed back into his seat and accepted the dish, then waited while the waitress cleared the table of empties and departed again.

"So, what brought this on?" Herger gestured toward the departing waitress and the mugs she carried.

"Phone call." Ahmed stretched his arms behind his head.

Herger thought immediately of the news Ahmed had been waiting weeks to receive. "The American publisher?"

Ahmed nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "They're sending a check for the advance. I have eight months to prepare a manuscript."

Herger and Edgar both let out exclamations of surprise and happiness. Herger put his hand on Ahmed's knee and squeezed meaningfully. "That is reason to celebrate. I'm very proud."

"Speaking of news, have you heard anything about Wendel?" Edgar asked.

Herger shook his head. "Nothing after he dropped the charges against Ahmed." He smiled at his spouse, who was only giving half his attention. "It turns out that standing up to him does work sometimes."

"If only you'd known that earlier." Edgar looked at Ahmed, and clearly was searching for some way to include Ahmed in the conversation. Finally he smiled and said, "Are you sure you don't want to try learning to ski? We went all over. The snow is perfect for learning."

"Nnnh." Ahmed's dissent was clear, if not an actual word. "I do not enjoy snow."

"Ah, we knew that," Edgar chuckled. "But I thought you might have changed your mind." Herger had recounted to all his friends the story of how Ahmed had been walking home from work and gotten a dose of snow down his collar when it had slid off the awning of a restaurant. What Herger hadn't shared was how he'd gotten Ahmed warm and dry again.

"It's nice if you've got good clothes on. Fun to play in." Herger carefully took a spoonful of stew, and found it just the right temperature. He took another spoonful.

"I can think of other ways to have fun." And Herger nearly bobbled his soup as Ahmed's hand crept onto his upper, inner thigh. Edgar started laughing again.

"God in heaven." Herger dropped his spoon back into the bowl and caught Ahmed's hand before it could reach its destination, then promptly pressed his legs together. "If you can't control yourself, I'm taking you upstairs."

Ahmed merely arched an eyebrow, brown eyes twinkling.

"At least let me finish eating," Herger finished with a grumble.

While Herger worked on his soup—determinedly keeping Ahmed's hands away from any sensitive areas—Edgar roused Heath and persuaded him to go for a walk outside around the hotel to clear his head. While Heath was sleepily pulling on his outerwear, Edgar worked out a plan with Herger. Herger could take Ahmed upstairs for a nap—or whatever, Edgar added with a grin—and Edgar would pass the afternoon reading in the lounge. Heath could read or go back to his room for a nap as well. They could all meet in the restaurant for dinner at seven.

"Sounds good," Herger said. "And if I want to get out again before nightfall, I'll text you." It was not yet three, so he had some time before dusk fell.

Edgar nodded, said a friendly goodbye to Ahmed, and propelled Heath toward the exit.

"Let's go upstairs," Ahmed said as soon as they were out of earshot. He put his hand on Herger's back and stroked up his spine through his sweater, his touch a bit too heavy and lingering to be strictly appropriate. "'M not drunk. I'm fine."

"Ha. I can judge for myself." Herger polished off his soup and checked his beard for any drippings, then finished off his wine.

"'M I embarrassing you?"

"No!" Herger turned, looking fully at Ahmed's slightly worried face. "Well, maybe a little," he amended with a grin. "But Edgar's good about it."

"Maybe I should lie down." Ahmed was serious now, and averted his gaze. Herger felt bad for taking away Ahmed's fun.

"Hush." Herger risked a quick kiss, and enjoyed the taste of cider on Ahmed's lips. "I'll come up with you." He stood and quickly gathered his coat, scarf and hat, and went out to the foyer to get his boots. By the time he came back to the chairs, Ahmed had gathered his coat. Together they headed for the elevators, Herger in his stocking feet.

 

Their room was on the fourth floor, just across the hall from the two single rooms Edgar and Heath had. Ahmed had the door unlocked before Herger could fish out his keycard. While Ahmed wandered inside, Herger put his boots on a low rack just inside the door and hung up his coat and accoutrements on the pegs above.

Ahmed filled a glass with water from the bathroom and was drinking deeply. Herger sat and skinned off his snow pants, leaving his layer of long underwear and thick double layer of socks. Thinking of a nap for himself, he then pulled his Dale sweater overhead, followed by his silk thermal turtleneck.

"Like unwrapping a present." The bed dipped behind Herger. Ahmed pressed a kiss to his shoulder, his mouth scratchy with stubble.

Herger smiled. "A sweaty, smelly present?" He peeled off his socks next.

"Nope." As if to confirm, Ahmed pushed his nose behind Herger's ear. The warm breath tickling his hair made shivers travel down Herger's neck.

Herger had found Ahmed's shift from an anxious, backward-looking fugitive to this sensual, self-confident man fascinating to observe, particularly since their impromptu marriage. Ahmed was already what Herger wanted in a boyfriend—partner, mate—whatever you wanted to call it. He was giving yet receptive, fair and logical, emotional yet rational. And wholly, unabashedly passionate.

However, the lowered inhibitions of his inebriated state had created a level of ardor Herger hadn't seen in him before. He was becoming very nearly frantic.

Herger turned his head and caught Ahmed's mouth in a deep kiss, falling back onto the bed with Ahmed bending over him. Ahmed immediately moved to straddle his legs, jeans brushing coarsely against Herger's long underwear.

Ahmed didn't kiss him for very long, his hot wet mouth soon sliding away to nip at Herger's throat, then collarbone, then nipple. He jerked, groaning, and felt Ahmed renew his concentration, licking and sucking with intent. At the same time, Ahmed ground his hips down, trying to find some friction, although the jeans hampered him.

Herger reached for his shoulders and tried to pull his sweater up. Ahmed wasn't paying any attention. He slid backwards, hands running down Herger's sides, and stopped at the waistband of his long underwear. Herger had on nylon briefs underneath, but even that wasn't much fabric between his skin and Ahmed.

And then Ahmed put his mouth on Herger's cock, tongue and lips wetting the fabric around the outline of him, hot breath making the fabric cling. Herger felt blood surge to his dick, making it harden in seconds. He felt dizzy.

"God, Ahmed—" he arched his hips as best he could, uncaring of the fact that he was still partly clothed. Ahmed's mouth felt too good to make him stop.

Ahmed moaned and sucked harder, drawing the cloth-covered head of Herger's cock into his mouth. Herger hissed and reached down to the waistband of his underwear.

Ahmed's fingers got there first, and he finally leaned back and pulled the last of Herger's clothing off. Kneeling on the floor, he went directly back to Herger's cock, sucking it into his mouth with a soft moan.

Herger let his head fall back and closed his eyes. His attention went to the sounds and feel of Ahmed's mouth, the gentle moans in concert with the wet sounds of tongue and lips. He loved this, but more than that, he loved that Ahmed loved it. He felt his arousal rapidly growing, making his breaths come faster, panting. He moved his hips faster, thrusting deeper. "Ahmed—yes…"

Ahmed lifted his head. "Herger, I want—"

"Ja." He could get behind that idea.

Ahmed scrambled up and Herger went into the bathroom for some lube and a condom. When he came back out, Ahmed had just finished kicking off his jeans. He looked up at Herger and grinned, relaxed and eager and just happy.

Herger chuckled and went over to him, wrapping his arms around Ahmed's waist and lowering his head to nuzzle his throat. Their hips fit together perfectly, erections fitting together with an easy glide. Ahmed gasped quietly and pressed his hips harder against Herger's, trying for friction.

Herger rocked against him and drew his mouth up Ahmed's neck to his ear. Just the feel of Ahmed against him kept the arousal ramped up. He bit Ahmed's earlobe gently. Ahmed groaned a little. Herger kissed under his ear. "Love you," he murmured into his curly hair.

Ahmed's hands touched low on Herger's back, resting on the curve of his ass. "Herger…"

"So impatient." Herger gave a mock sigh and withdrew far enough to kiss Ahmed firmly. He handed the lube to Ahmed, who backed up and got on the bed, then Herger unwrapped the condom.

A few minutes of preparation, and then he withdrew his lube-slicked fingers and kissed Ahmed again, then moaned as Ahmed reached down and took him in hand, directing him. Herger positioned himself at Ahmed's loosened entrance and pressed in slowly, the passage easy.

He got most of the way inside Ahmed, then paused and leaned down to kiss Ahmed's lips again. "You okay?"

"Of course." Ahmed nipped at his mouth and flexed the muscles stretched around Herger's cock. "C'mon."

Without saying anything, Herger quickly pushed the rest of the way into Ahmed's body, until his balls brushed Ahmed's ass. Ahmed tilted his head back, dark hair brushing the sheets, his throat working silently.

Herger had thought about taking this slowly, making Ahmed feel more relaxed and calm, but watching Ahmed's reaction changed his mind. Seeing Ahmed aroused had never yet failed to turn Herger on, hard. He took hold of Ahmed's thighs, to hold them both steady, and then he started fucking him in earnest.

"Nng—Herger—" Ahmed arched his back, his hands going to Herger's forearms and gripping them tightly. "Yes, please—"

"This what you wanted?" Herger shortened his thrusts to quick little movements.

Ahmed cried out and reached for his cock between them. He lifted his head, staring fiercely at Herger as he stroked his cock in a blur. "Yes—"

Herger moaned, feeling his balls tighten as he watched Ahmed jerking himself off. His muscles burned and sweat dripped down his back. He fell over him onto his hands, bracing on all fours, driving his hips down and his cock into Ahmed's body. He couldn't move as fast this way, but he could thrust harder and deeper, and felt Ahmed's hand moving against his stomach.

"Ah, god—" Ahmed reached up and grabbed a fistful of pillow. "So deep."

Herger moaned. He was nearing the end of his stamina for this pace, but this felt so good, sinking into Ahmed's body and watching him writhe.

Ahmed lifted his head, and Herger lowered his, and they kissed, but it was messy and unsteady. Ahmed broke away and whispered, "I'm close."

"Me too. Ahmed—" Herger gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, concentrating. The tightening spread to his ass and stomach, and he thrust once more, stopping when he felt Ahmed's body clench around him as Ahmed cried out. Herger didn't move, letting the waves of Ahmed's orgasm move with him, too, the muscles of Ahmed's ass clenching and releasing around Herger's cock. Then the sensation of his own orgasm rose up and swamped him, holding him for endless pulsing seconds until he was wrung out and empty.

Ahmed's hands were on his back and neck, pulling him down to lay flat, guiding his head to rest on his shoulder. Herger nuzzled into Ahmed's collarbone, kissed it lazily, and closed his eyes.

He must have dozed for a minute, because the next thing he noticed was Ahmed shifting with a sound of discomfort. Herger lifted his head and opened his eyes, whispering "Unnskyld" as he tried to move gently.

"It's okay." But Ahmed winced as Herger pulled out. Herger made an apologetic face and went to get a washcloth.

He cleaned the lube from Ahmed's ass first, then used the clean side of the cloth and wiped the semen from Ahmed's chest and hand. Ahmed could do this himself, of course, but Herger liked taking care of him, and it seemed to amuse Ahmed to be serviced. Dynamics aside, it meant Herger could take the opportunity to subtly rub Ahmed's nipple with the cloth as he finished.

Ahmed grinned, then stretched as Herger went back to the bathroom. "I'm hungry," he said, raising his voice for the sound to carry.

"Wonder why." It was good, though—Ahmed no longer sounded as drunk, and food would help with any lingering effects. But it was only four now, far too early for dinner. He heard Ahmed getting into the minibar, and the rustle of snack food wrapping.

Coming out of the bathroom, he went to where Ahmed was standing by the mini refrigerator, wearing a little pair of black briefs and munching on a bar of chocolate. He wrapped his arms around him from behind. Ahmed lifted the candy bar over his shoulder and Herger took a bite.

"You got what you want," Herger said through a mouthful of chocolate. "How about you come outside with me? Just until dinner."

"Oh, you enjoyed that in no way?" Ahmed snorted, but twisted the wrapping of the candy bar around the remainder and put it back in the fridge. He opened the closet and started pulling out the spare set of outerwear, including his own Dale sweater. Herger smiled and went back to the pile of clothes he'd been wearing—putting on a fresh set of long underwear. Finally they pulled on boots and Herger led the way out of the room.

As they stepped out into the brisk wind and expanse of white snow, Ahmed hunched into his collar and adjusted his scarf, looking over at Herger. "You know I'm just doing this for you."

Herger smiled and started down the plowed sidewalk, a path that would lead into the woods and on a nice, easy walk. He already knew it was quiet and peaceful; the perfect way to spend the rest of his private time with Ahmed. "I know."

When they were away from the busiest areas of the hotel, Herger held out his gloved hand, and smiled when Ahmed took it.

Notes:

In late March 2008, I was telling a fellow fan that it might be fun to write cliché-fic for The 13th Warrior fandom. I decided it would have to be a present-day AU, and work off the ancient romance-novel trope of a marriage of convenience, and worked up a sketchy idea for a ridiculous plot. Then, while I was traveling in Norway in June 2008, I started writing it. The result is far less silly than I originally envisioned, but still a present-day AU with a romance novel plot device. I’m not going to apologize. *G*

Endless love for nos4a2no9, whose stellar beta work and die-hard cheerleading made this fic much more than it had been by my hand alone.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Evening