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Lori gave me a meaningful look as she headed for my bathroom, but I had no idea what concept she was trying to get across.  Truth to tell, I didn't realize I was following her like a drooling moron until she actually turned around and shut the door in my face.  I nearly drove my nose into the barricade, I was trailing her so closely.  Jesus, what was wrong with me?

I stalled, and waffled, and hung around indecisively in the hall before tiptoing back into my own living room.

Could it be I was scared to be alone with Carson, my old student, my old buddy?  Nah, of course not.

'Sensei.  I love you.  I know you think you can't love me back, yet----will you wait for me?'

I peeped into my living room like a burglar.  No one there.

No snarling, handsome perverted bastard leaping for us.  Changing in mid-leap to something from a nightmare.

'Keith!  I don't care what they say, nothing's changed!'

No policemen holding me back from him.  No servants, released from the darkangel's mind control by my strike, frantically explaining that I'd saved the boy from his crazy father, not the other way around.

Almost against my will, I moved to the kitchen.  The vision of Charles Ravenstreet on the floor, back in human form yet growling and biting at the appalled policemen holding him back from killing us.  That wouldn't leave my brain.

He'd lost all his human memories after I hit him.  He could retain the human shape; that was the easiest, almost instinctual.  But his memories, as well as his power----gone.  Only the animal lust remaining.  Only me, half-dead from fighting him.  Carson, shaking and traumatized.  And the stammering servants, explaining how the "crazy man" had hurt Carson.  Hurt him since childhood, I'd listened in shock to their stories, and me just saving him at sixteen?

I was pathetic.

Probably none of us would have been believed, if the proof hadn't been snarling and drooling and fighting to get out of their grip to savage me again.  I had a scar on my arm that would never fade, from that.  And even then, they'd only admitted Carse's dad was nuts.

His relatives, the best thing for him.  And even though I was acquitted, absolved of blame, do you think a one of them wanted me to have a thing to do with him?

Five years.

I couldn't hold on to the therapist's version, now that Carson had returned.  All I could do was remember what had really happened.  How I wasn't crazy.

How I almost wished I was.

How I'd struck at the demon that was his father with a frantic, fiery burst of magic.  Magic that had filled me from the mere act of touching, kissing, holding him.  Making love, to the slim begging boy I should never have touched.

I jerked to a halt at the sound of running water.

His back was to me.  Bare back; the elegant yet powerful lines of it, the ripple of muscle across his shoulders, would haunt me until the day I died.  Which would be today, if he turned around.

And eventually, he would.  I wanted to retreat back into the hall, swear I did.  But I kept staring at this beautiful stranger.  Half bent over, jacket tossed negligently over one of the two mismatched chairs at my kitchen table.  Calmly toweling his soaked midnight hair with the blue shirt he'd apparently been wearing.  Not the least dismayed by the lack of kitchen towels.

His jeans were soaked, too.  They clung to him like a second skin.

He had a nice ass.  I couldn't take my eyes off it.  Horrified, I realized that my fingers were twitching.  Crazy to caress what my eyes were feasting on.  A question was pushing its way to my lips, and when it emerged I was gonna sound like the biggest dork in the living world.

Were you really hard for me?

Oh God I was toast.

Will you hold me again and let me make sure of it?

I'm not a crazed pervert, I hasten to add.  Anyone else male or female toweling off in my kitchen would not have stirred me up this way, even with this body of a beautiful, powerful animal.   Well, maybe a little, I do have a sex drive!  But not like this. If it was say the pizza delivery guy-or-girl I would never feel this but Carson, my student, my friend, my

"Where's that coffee, McIntyre?  Jesus, you ARE stoned aren't you?"

I nearly jumped to the ceiling at Lori's slightly cross voice.  She sniffed suspiciously, eyeing me.  "I don't smell anything.  Well, nothing more than I USUALLY smell in your house, but Christ you are acting weird!  Y'know, more than one frayed towel in the bathroom would be nice if you're gonna have company.  Although I suppose I should be grateful that it was clean, at least."

Of course, by now Carson had emerged from his shirt and was studying us with some amusement in his cool blue eyes.  When had those eyes turned so distant?  I remembered them as hot, intense.  Passionate.  His eyes and his mouth were the only things that hadn't changed.  He'd always had a lush, softly sexy mouth even as a kid.  I remembered the taste of it----

Whoa, what was I thinking here?  I dropped my eyes in confusion, stared at his well-defined chest for a drowning minute before ripping my eyes loose.  Not helping dammit!

Lori didn't have to worry; she gaped at his body openly, then primly pulled her glance away.  I suspect that was just because she was almost on the verge of licking her lips.  Not totally smooth but certainly not hairy, a faint line of dark fuzz outlining the copper-colored nipples.  Another line, stealing down the hard flat stomach into his waistband leading to

Dammit!  I yanked my eyes away again with an almost physical jerk.

"Keith," Lori said.  It sounded like about the tenth time she'd said it.  I focused on her gratefully, almost intelligently.

"Huh?" I said.  Proving the latter.

She made a "tsk" noise.  Most irritating, especially given the look she threw at Carson.  Like they were companions in taking care of the mentally defective.

"You're dripping wet.  I know you don't care about your own floor, but how about your health?"  Then she winked.  "If you need some help toweling off, I'll volunteer, cutie."

Whoops.  I'd kinda forgot that me and Lori had been an item.  And we'd both enjoyed each other's bodies.  She was plump buy damn cute, in my opinion.  And she'd made no bones about how fine she thought I was for a middle-aged guy.  "McIntyre,  you could be twenty with a bod like that!  Bring it on!"

I dithered for a moment, not believing my ghastly luck.  She'd said that.  Ogled me.  In front of Carson.  And I couldn't even smack her in the head for it.

I didn't have to, as it turned out.  Carson did it for me.

He stepped forward.  With a grace that was almost uncanny, he threw one arm around me.

"No need," he said, calmly.  "I'll help him with that."

His other hand slid down my rear end and gripped it firmly.  My very wet rear end, Lori hadn't been wrong.  I was soaked.

She goggled at the two of us, and Carson stared back calmly.

Okay, the thing about Lori is, she really did mean well.  She approved of gay guys, in theory. And gals, if it came to that.  Hell, she demonstrated for gay rights, had a few gay friends.  Carefully selected gay friends, the photogenic sort I guess.  No one like my landlord George, who resembled Danny Devito more than anyone.  And I don't think she got into their personal life very deeply.

I for instance knew the only reason George had brought his drunken buddy to that party of mine, was that he was on the outs with his main squeeze, Steve.  Hell, I had practically nursed the bawling, maudlin prick through the rest of that night, feeding him coffee and sage advice he later swore a dipshit like me shouldn't be capable of.  I'd talked to Steve, too.  He was a quietly intelligent, very human man who had been bitterly hurt by his lover's constant drinking, partying, bringing other men home routine.

George had mellowed.  He was almost a house husband now.  And Steve, the manager and head chef of a very fine San Francisco restaurant----

Well, let's just say there was a reason I would never starve to death, or be homeless. No matter the cash flow.

But Lori had never thought of me as gay.  I mean, we'd been lovers, hadn't we?  And I guess the concept of "bi", though I'm sure she'd run across it in her reading, hadn't ever hit her smack in the face before.

Carson was gripping my butt, and I wasn't pulling away or punching him out like a real man would.  Shit, I had fallen against him, was damn near drooling at him.  More than Lori had, matter of fact.

Matter of fact, I'd forgotten all about her appalled presence.  "You still want me," I said idiotically.  "You can't.  You're beautiful."

He tilted his head very slightly.  Smiled just a bit.  "Thank you."

"Welcome.  I mean----shit!"

"I'll let myself out, shall I?  McIntyre?  I'm sorry, I had no idea----!"

"You still----but I'm----how can----"  I didn't care why or how.  All that mattered was that grip on my ass, the way he caught the rest of me.  Pulled me around.  Drove me against the wall.

Yeah.  He was still very very hard for me.

"Call you after the holidays, Keith, okay?  Oh, lord, I am so embarassed----Keith, why didn't you just TELL me----shit!  I will get you for this!!!"

The door slammed.  We were alone.

The door had scarcely closed on her, before that polite young man had me pressed against the wall.  Staring into my eyes, waiting permission for the next step without a smile, without a word.  What words were necessary, with that hard-on pushing against me like hot iron?

"You still want me," I blurted again like an idiot.  I'd never been able to keep shut up in my whole damn life.  Why start now?

That did get me a faint smile.  A movement towards me, though I hadn't dreamed we could possibly get closer.  He had me against the wall here!  "You state the obvious very well, Sensei," he breathed.

He was actually starting to rock gently against me. This was surrealistic.  This was madness.  "But it's been a long time, it's been, well, you're what, twenty now?  I'd think you, you'd have found somebody, ah, well, your own age by----ow!"

My intended speech about how I was a middle-aged failure and Carson could do so much better was pretty much knocked outta me in a whoosh as my former student slammed hard against me.  Driving that erection against my body, eyes suddenly flaming with anger even as that sensual mouth sought mine brutally.  Sure of his strength, holding me helpless against the fading wallpaper, rubbing against me obscenely until response came despite me fighting it.

Only when I was gasping for air and shuddering with arousal did Carson break the kiss.  Which had not been a practiced seductive move, more of an attack really.  I sucked air through bruised lips.  "You are one lousy kisser," I panted.

Then I froze at my own big mouth, was surprised when Carson smiled evilly and moved back the smallest bit.

"I told you I'd wait for you.  And so I'm unpracticed, it's true.  But if you're quite done saying stupid things and making excuses----"

I gasped as Carson slipped a hand between us to caress my swelling hard-on through my sodden jeans.  Almost gently, this time.

"You're still my teacher," he whispered in a tone so sultry-raw that the sound of it was almost enough to make me come.  "Teach me how to please you.  Love you.  Thank you, for saving me from Hell.  Teach me NOW."

TBC