Chapter Twenty-Five -- A Game of Fate
Hudson woke up with a start. A strange dream had disturbed his sleep through what felt like the entire night. It involved Otis wielding a gun and laughing a harsh unpleasant laugh, and every time Hudson had tried to take the weapon away from him his beautiful face had turned into the nightmarish visage of Gideon Keres. Other faces had come and gone, belonging to Jackie, Jasper, Angel, and the victims the police had on file. In his dream, Hudson had walked down a gallery of such faces, a gallery of death -- he had thought at the time -- although many of them hanging there were still alive.
Still? He straightened up until he was in a sitting position and ran his hands over his face. A grey morning was sneaking into bed with them and the promise of a new day filled him with apprehension. He reached for Otis, who was deeply asleep. Not a morning person, his beautiful boyfriend. That was enough to bring a smile to his face, the remnants of his bad dreams already shrinking and fading to the shape of a soon to be forgotten memory.
He pushed himself out of bed and traipsed toward the bathroom. What nonsense. He wasn't the kind to believe in dreams. They only went to show the tremendous amount of stress he had been under lately. He would catch those bastards soon. Watkins and Keres obviously wanted a debut with a bang for Till The Sweet End, and they had no idea there was an intruder in their midst.
Not one, but two. Hudson trusted Jackie to be on his side until the end. After that, he would have to take care of the guy, one way or another. He couldn't just abandon him to his own devices. Funny how paternal he felt toward the young thug. But, in his book, Jackie was someone who could use some saving, and saving was Hudson's job.
He went through the motions, brushing his teeth, taking a shower, washing away the misery of last night's dreams. Otis's bathroom was small and filled with steam quickly, giving him the illusion of being wrapped in a fuzzy blanket that would protect him against the world outside, no matter what.
Safe. Safety. Otis's favorite words were getting under his skin, it seemed. Well, he needed to get out of there and face the music, as always.
A pleasant smell wafted to his nostrils as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom. By the looks of things, Otis was busy making toast, faithful to his promise to bring Hudson his breakfast in bed.
"Sorry about the smell," Otis called out from his small kitchen. "This place is so small that I can't help it."
"Don't worry," Hudson shouted back as he put on his jeans and t-shirt. He checked his gun, too; it looked like Otis hadn't let himself fall prey to curiosity again, because the thing looked like it hadn't been moved from where he'd left it.
He needed to trust Otis, but the unsettling sensation he had experienced last night upon seeing his gun in the slender white hand came back. He pushed it down. To have a boyfriend, one to whom he had just confessed his love, meant to have faith, too.
A smile curled his lips as he remembered Pete saying that to him over and over. Have a little faith, man, just a little faith. There had never been a bigger optimist than his best friend. That hadn't helped him in the end, but whenever Hudson recalled the good times he had spent with Pete, he wished silently for a heaven to exist somewhere. Another world, deserving of so much love for life as Pete had used to have.
In the memory of his best friend, he could have faith. He let out a deep sigh and stowed the gun in the special holster attached to his calf. Draping the jeans over his boot to conceal the thing, Hudson took one last critical look. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to use it, but its presence was reassuring.
Otis came back with a plate filled with toast. "Are you leaving already?"
"No, not yet. But somehow, prancing around naked and eating your toast sounded a bit too decadent for me," Hudson said.
"You should bring a few things over. Like casual clothes you can wear indoors. Do you have any?"
Hudson laughed. "I'm not that helpless. My wardrobe is fine."
"I could buy some things for you," Otis said while his pretty face scrunched up in thought. "But I need to know your sizes."
Hudson took the plate from Otis's hand and placed it on the nightstand. "Are you sure you can budget for things like that? I'm a big guy. And I have expensive taste."
Otis gave him a long once-over. "Expensive? It doesn't look like it. And yes, I can budget."
Hudson hugged Otis, pressing the willowy body against his own, enjoying his warmth. "You really want to make yourself indispensable, don't you? I've heard that's how the road to perdition starts."
"I don't think I understand," Otis's muffled words emerged from below.
"I'm just teasing you. I'll bring some more clothes later tonight. Is that all right?"
"Yes, certainly. I will make room for them in the closet. Hudson, can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead. You made me toast, so you're entitled to ask as many questions as you want."
"I've read a little and..." The hesitation stretched for a few moments. "I believe I would like to be owned. By you." The last words were a dropped whisper, barely audible.
"Owned? That choker isn't enough? A leash?"
"I don't think so," Otis continued in the same quiet murmur. "Not anymore."
"Damn, you want to make it official," Hudson said in a teasing voice. "I'll think of something. Until then, I want you to know that you're mine and I won't let you go. How does that sound as a promise?"
"It sounds great," Otis agreed hurriedly. "I like your hands, here," he said and took Hudson's arms to move them until they were resting on his shoulders.
Hudson couldn't say that he was in the least surprised to feel Otis pressing his fingers around his svelte throat. From there, he got the gist. He held his hands wrapped around Otis's neck, pressing only gently at the base in front with his thumbs.
"I gotta say, my beautiful prince," he chuckled, "you are a lot kinkier than I thought."
"I don't understand a lot of things, but I understand this," Otis continued in the same soft voice. "I understand why people want it because I want it, too. And I'm so lucky to have found you, because I know it cannot be just anyone."
"Your words are music to my ears, do you know that?" Hudson said tenderly and moved his mouth slowly over Otis's plump lips, coaxing a sweet kiss out of him. "I'm lucky, as well."
"Do you believe in fate?" Otis murmured against his lips.
Fate. Hudson couldn't say he was the superstitious type.
"I mean," Otis added, "it must have been fate that caused you to move into this building, and I moved into this building, and we crossed paths like this. Take away any one small decision that has led us here, and we might not have happened. And that would have been very sad, although we would never have known it."
"I have no idea. I'm not into fortunetelling and the like. People make their own luck, I guess. And fate."
"That makes sense," Otis agreed. "I moved here because it was cheap and I could afford it. There wasn't that much of a choice. Did you have to choose between this place and another?"
"No," Hudson said. "It seemed like the perfect option for what I had in mind."
It did. Not the perfect option for finding a boyfriend and falling in love with him, but his choice had been logical if that was what Otis wanted to find out with all these questions.
***
Since Hudson seemed keen on not believing in fate, Otis decided against asking him about sensations of foreboding and whatnot. It bothered him that he was still thinking of the unpleasant feeling he had experienced the other day when he and Missy had both noticed that distressing draft. His skin crawled just thinking about it.
There was no such thing as fate, and Hudson was right. He didn't even know why he was getting so obsessed with it. Maybe because he was happy and he didn't want anything to come between him and his happiness. It was an unreasonable worry about things that could happen. He shook them away.
The most important aspect right now was that he was slowly getting Hudson to move in with him. He was being a tad sneaky about it, but he had been busy reading all sorts of blogs with relationship advice and a bit of sneakiness could take one a long way. As long as there was no resistance on the other's part, it meant that they both wanted the same thing.
Still, moving too fast could scare the potential partner off, and Otis couldn't have that. Now that he had that out of the way, he could focus on more practical aspects such as freeing enough space in his closet for Hudson's things.
He must have been lost in thought for a while because Hudson pulled him back from his musings.
"A lot on your mind?"
"Yes, according to reliable research, humans have around 60,000 thoughts every day. That sounds like a lot, and although I haven't counted them--"
"What are you thinking of right now?"
There were many things, and that research must have been right on point. Otis remembered that there was something he had been meaning to ask Hudson.
"The pictures of me you took that time," he began, feeling courageous, "are you going to correct them? With your special brushes?"
"I don't see one reason why I'd do that."
"But they can't be perfect. I'm not perfect," Otis argued.
Hudson chuckled and pressed his lips against Otis's forehead. "That's where you're wrong. In my eyes, you're perfect."
"And is that good enough for you?"
"Only you would ask such a question. Otis, you really have no idea," Hudson continued and sighed but not like someone in pain or exasperated. It was difficult for Otis to put his finger on exactly the significance of that sigh, but it was surely positive. "There is only one possible answer. Yes. You're good enough, perfect as you are."
Later, after Hudson was gone, Otis realized something amazing. His small apartment seemed like a palace. It was no longer small. It was even beyond adequate. There was so much room for him and everything that made his heart feel as if it was full to the brim.
