Page 79 of Hilarina and the Ogre

Hilary darted away a third time. He didn’t even seem to be trying. “Are you going to feed me, or does my nonexistent other lover have to do it instead?”

“And do you kiss him too? This nonexistent lover of yours?”

Finally, Hilary allowed himself to be caught. “Jealous?”

“Gnashing my teeth over it. Where is this fellow? I feel like adding to my list of victims.”

Hilary didn’t kiss him again. Not that night, nor the next day, nor even the next. In fact, he’d even pulled away from the cheek kisses, leaving Trenton to wonder if maybe he’d done something wrong. Had he not shown enough enthusiasm? Had he shown too much enthusiasm? Maybe Hilary was waiting for him to initiate. Or maybe that would only worsen things. A normal man in his thirties would have known how to navigate such a situation. Would have had enough experience not to be flummoxed by something as silly as his first kiss. Instead, Trenton was a blind idiot before a stumbling block, and he was forced to ask.

“Can I kiss you?”

He ought to have waited until after the shower. Hilary was never comfortable before his shower, and maybe something had also gone wrong on shift, because the man was uncharacteristically impatient as he shot back, “Do you even want to?”

Sometimes patients died. Hilary was always off after those shifts. Trenton knew there was no reason to take it personally, but it stung a little. He’d been wound up all day thinking about what to do, and he didn’t want to be dismissed. “I think so.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Hilary kicked off his shoes without putting them on the rack. “Keep thinking, then,” was all he tossed over his shoulder before storming to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind himself.

Trenton had to take a couple of breaths and look up at the ceiling to blink back the blurring in his eyes. He couldn’t expect Hilary to play the savior all the time, and he ought to have left it alone, allowing the man to be human, but he couldn’t. When he knocked at the bathroom door, he received no answer. That really should have warned him off. People needed space, and he never gave Hilary any. Even a stalker could tire of his obsession after a while, couldn’t he?

He pushed open the door. Hilary never locked doors. But stepping inside when he knew he wasn’t welcome flustered Trenton, and he forced himself to speak before he could forget what he wanted to say. “I only said ‘I think’ because I can’t speak from experience, but it wasn’t like saying I think I’ll wear the blue tie. It’s ‘I think I should add him to my life insurance policy. I think I’d follow him anywhere. I think I’d take a bullet for him.” He forced himself to slow down. His words were running into each other, and his breath was coming fast. “If you’re upset because you think I’m just playing around, or hanging back because I’m not interested, I’m saying it’s the opposite. I’m saying I care so much that it paralyzes me. Because the thought of hurting you makes my stomach cramp until I can’t eat. I say ‘I think’ because since coming here, since learning of my significance, you have been in every one of my thoughts. ‘I think’ because it’s all I can do—what I can’t help doing. You’re the only one I ever think about—the only thing in my head!”

Trenton was so busy shouting at the shower curtain, he wasn’t watching the shadow behind it. But as he finally reached his crescendo, the curtain was wrenched back, and a dripping, glaring, and unmistakably pissed off Hilary demanded, “And so?”

It had him slamming up against yet another obstacle. “So…?”

The glare could have sliced him in two. Hilary was looking like he’d never seen anything he wanted to squash more in his life. “Are you going to kiss me, or not?”

It took a heartbeat. Maybe two. Not more than that, and then it was only two steps forward, and Trenton caught him, slippery and hard to grip, so he used both hands, holding his face tight.

The kiss wasn’t anything he could be proud of. Technically, he’d had a week to prepare, but he’d spent that on useless dithering. No method, no technique, and too much enthusiasm meant poor Hilary was being engulfed by something resembling phagocytosis. But maybe kissing was easier than he thought, or Hilary was just good at working around him, but as he stepped in under the water to get better access, he forgot anything about ‘first time’ and simply became the person energetically and urgently kissing Hilary. He didn’t notice how hot the water was (but it would explain why his friend always came out looking like a boiled lobster) nor could he feel the fingers digging into his back. There was only that mouth, and that mouth, over and over, and wanting to get at it from every conceivable angle, each new vantage point a distraction and renewed hunger. It mattered less what he was doing and more that he was doing it, the thought of stopping much worse than simply not having enough breath. But the confines of the shower were irritating, the reality of slipping a real danger, and the over-boiled water a constant annoyance. He hauled Hilary up, glad for the excuse to have him close, though still not close enough. The weight was everything, and he only wanted more of it, so glad Hilary wasn’t any smaller, that his bulk and strength weren’t a danger to him and he could give vent to the hunger—the hunger!—it was worse and better than anything, the drive an insistent fury that promised soon, soon, and that taking would give him everything if only he didn’t stop—dear god, but he couldn’t stop.

“Don’t—it’ll never dry. Trent!”

He wouldn’t stop, and even the minor interruption of having his shirt pulled up over his face and head had him snarling his protest. But Hilary snarled right back. “You’re dripping everywhere. Do you know how much this mattress cost?”

They’d come to the bedroom. And the implications of that—the nature of his behavior—caught up with Trenton, crashing him back into the present. Hilary tugged at the sodden pants, sagging low on his hips with the weight of all the water. “Take this off.”

Trenton flushed. It was late for embarrassment, so he wasn’t sure what it was. Hilary nudged up into another kiss. “You can put on something else. We don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

He flushed deeper, but he didn’t take the words back. Hilary looked him over.

“Well, it’s not a rush. I’m getting a towel.”

Trenton should have been grateful for the chance to gather his thoughts, but he wasn’t. If he’d been allowed to crash forward, it might have been clumsy, but there also wouldn’t have been space for doubt or nervousness. With his brain back, the panic returned. He didn’t know what to do or what came next. Thankfully, Hilary was there to take the reins. The man wasn’t gone long, only enough to snag the towel as he’d said, rubbing at his hair. He held out the second towel towards him. “Before you get pneumonia.”

Hilary seemed so calm. So adult. Trenton didn’t know how to meet his eyes. He stumbled out of his sodden pants, tripping a little as he got them off his second leg. He felt even clumsier naked, like a lumbering prehistoric creature. He’d never liked his body, and it only seemed to grow uglier with the passing years. He was hairier than Hilary, and his pale skin couldn’t hide bruises or scars or clogged pores. And then, of course, there was his cock. He didn’t know why that embarrassed him. They both had one. But Hilary seemed to carry his more gracefully. It also seemed neater, like it didn’t swing around as much. Trenton knew he was being so awkward. He hoped he wasn’t staring.

Hilary tossed a pair of sweatpants his way. “If you want,” he said. And then added, “I’m here. I’m not running.” Trying to calm him. That’s what the man was doing. Like dealing with a spooked horse.

Trenton pulled on the pants. Then he went up behind Hilary and hugged him.

Hilary had been trying to put on his own pants and had to stop and reach back to pat at him. “Right here.” He said again. “I’m coming. Go warm up the bed.”

Trenton was feeling shy again. The little kid trying to follow directions. They were the same age (and he, even a few months older) so why did Hilary always feel like the adult?

The sheets still smelled like detergent. Trenton had changed them only that morning—and almost every morning because of the face Hilary made whenever he found them fresh. This time was no exception. Hilary dove face first into his pillow, somehow pulling every last square inch of blanket up around himself at the same time. “I changed my mind. You go to work instead. I’m going to live in bed forever.”