About The Night Sky Man: The Nine of Wands

by Mallory Path
27 pages / 12,500 words
ISBN: 978-1-60370-910-1, 1-60370-910-X
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc, epub, Sony Reader pdf

Ivan "Tolly" Tolliver is a former model turned modeling agent. Divorced with no children, he's given himself over to his work, and there's little he won't do for the models he represents, including crossing oceans for photo shoots and fashion events despite a terrible fear of flying. One of his models is a rising star named Nate, who Tolly thinks is one of the most beautiful men he's ever seen.

One night at a Fashion Week party, having had too much to drink, Tolly gives into his attraction and follows Nate into the men's room for a sexual encounter. What happens the next morning when Tolly's sober again?
 

Sample

When Tolly goes out onto the terrace, he finds Nate sitting sideways on the ledge, one leg folded up under him, the other dangling down, tuxedo jacket pushed back at the hips, cummerbund only slightly askew. His eyeglasses -- an accessory to make him look smarter -- have slipped down his nose. Nate has always been a smart kid, but people haven't always treated him that way; Tolly doesn't begrudge him the vanity.

There are four empty glasses on the ledge with him, and apparently they are occupying his attention because he doesn't greet Tolly straight away. Tolly leans against the wall, wanting neither to interrupt the meditation nor to return to the dull chaos inside.

After a moment, Nate looks over at him and, pushing the glasses up his nose with one elegant finger, smiles. Tolly smiles back.

"Is that for me?" Nate gestures at the champagne flute Tolly has forgotten he's holding. Tolly crosses over and hands it to Nate, who thanks him with another smile before turning to pour the champagne carefully into his glasses, filling them each to a different level. Tolly watches him moisten his index finger and swirl it around the rim of the first glass. Leaning in closer, Nate tilts his head and frowns. Then he looks up, brow still knit.

"It's too loud," he says, leaning to look past Tolly, glaring at the party through the open door.

Tolly goes over to slide the door shut. When he turns back, he sees that Nate is again intent on his goblets, trying to elicit forth the exact tones he wants from them with his saliva-slickened finger. Edging back, Tolly watches Nate put his middle finger in his mouth, watches him suck on the tip, and swirl it around the glass rim.

"Sometimes I like to think it didn't happen." Tolly doesn't know what compels him to speak, but he can't stop himself from adding, "That none of it ever happened."

There is a pause during which Nate continues to look down, his middle finger still swirling, charming forth and sustaining an exquisitely eerie note. It lingers in the air for a moment when he lifts he finger away.

When at last Nate looks up into Tolly's eyes, his expression is neutral. "Maybe it never did," he says. "Maybe it was all a terrible, beautiful dream."

Tolly opens his mouth to reply but finds he has neither words nor thoughts, and merely moistens his lips instead. They hold each other's gaze, eyelids flickering in half-blinks and not-quite-flinches.

"Maybe we're dreaming right now," Nate goes on, straightening up. "Maybe it's happening." He leans in close. "Right." A whisper of the word in Tolly's ear, whisper of a kiss on his neck. "Now."

Tolly senses more than feels the glass slip from his fingers; he hears the sparkle of it breaking. His head tilts back as he inclines into the touch of lips. He's holding his breath and starting to ache, but he doesn't actually seem to be feeling anything, and for a brief moment he wonders if perhaps it really is a dream.

Then Nate pulls back and looks at him. The music seems so distant, Tolly hardly hears it. A curious roar is muting it -- and he realizes it's his blood, his heart pumping it through his body faster than normal.

Nate is still looking at him, and Tolly realizes he's still looking at Nate. "When I look at you," he hears himself say, "I have obscene thoughts."

Nate doesn't say anything, doesn't smile, just blinks like he's in slow-motion, his eyelashes doing something behind the lenses of his glasses that Tolly can only call fluttering. Somehow the muscles in Tolly's stomach are tied to Nate's lashes, because when Nate flutters, Tolly does, too. He swallows hard, looking at Nate's face though avoiding his eyes; he finds himself focused on Nate's lips as he says, "I want to do things..."

"Obscene things?"

The lilt in Nate's voice sounds so amused it makes Tolly turn away with a snort that isn't quite a laugh. Grinning, he shakes his head in self-deprecation -- but when he looks up, Nate isn't smiling.

Now it's Nate's turn to swallow, but before Tolly can consider that, Nate leans in again and kisses him, this time on the mouth.