Preferred Reader

PREFERRED READER By Madeleine Urban & Rhianne Aile Summary: James longs for more than just books when he spends time at the local bookstore.

Staring longingly across the room, a book hiding most of his face, James watched the man making stacks of bestsellers on a display table. He sighed again, clutching at the hardcover he held. He'd been here about every third day for two months, doing research for his history review and spending an equal amount of time mooning over the man who had captured his eye. James just couldn't seem to shake his attraction. No matter where he sat in the large chain store just off campus, his gaze moved until he found him. At a table upstairs with his laptop, by the stacks on the balcony, riding up or down the escalator, even sitting in the cafe having lunch. And, of course, when he checked out. James never left the store without buying something - because there was no way he was missing hearing the man's voice. His nametag said "Christopher". Christopher scanned the heavy hardcover volume, turning it over in his hands before he slipped it into a bag. "This is the sixth book on the Theban Band I've seen you buy," he said, his blue eyes connecting with the deep brown of the slender man checking out. "Most people go to the library for these kinds of titles." Blinking across the counter, James was suddenly speechless. Christopher was keeping track of the books he was buying? He swallowed hard. "Ah. Research. For my thesis. The university library doesn't have anything this specific," he said, eyes still wide. Christopher grinned, the smile causing wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. "Interesting subject. What is your degree in?" He took the bill and counted back change into the outstretched hand, wondering if he was imagining the sparks as his fingertips brushed the exposed palm. "Master of Arts in History. Ancient Mediterranean studies," James said weakly. His hand was on fire where the other man had touched it. "I'm in here...a lot," he said, hoping Christopher would just - keep - talking.

*2* "I've noticed." The man behind the counter's eyes darted away for a fraction of a second to make sure there was no one else in line. Eyes settling back on the beautiful man still standing at the register, he let himself imagine that he might just be flirting. Figuring he had nothing to lose, Christopher asked, "So do you have to leave right this minute?" James looked up from where he'd curled his hand into the plastic handle of the bag. "No," he answered before he could think of something more debonair to say. He inwardly winced. All this time watching this man, dreaming, fantasizing, and all he could give was a one-word answer? Pathetic. Stepping out from behind the counter, Christopher nodded towards the cafe. "I've been on my feet since we opened this morning. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?" "Coffee?" James echoed, and after a pause, he nodded quickly. "Yeah - yeah, that would be great. Coffee." He watched nervously as Christopher walked the length of the counter, trying really, really hard not to stare at the denim-covered rear. Once Christopher was rounding the end James snapped his chin around to look away. He unconsciously wrung the plastic bag. Christopher paused, smiling as the younger man continued to stand in front of the register, looking everywhere but at him. He waited patiently until he managed to catch the brown eyes. Not knowing the man's name yet, he held out his hand in a silent invitation. Surprised by the gesture, James slowly reached out and slid his cool fingers into Christopher's warm hand, electricity zipping through him as he started walking along with the bookseller toward the cafe, bag hanging from his other hand. "Since you don't have a nametag, I guess I'm going to have to break down and ask your name. I was going to check your credit card, but you paid with cash. Ruined all my plans," Christopher teased gently. Amused at Christopher's gentle prodding, James actually smiled. "It's James," he answered. Christopher lost his breath as James smiled at him. Damn, how did a man that beautiful end up buried in the stacks researching ancient history? "James," he repeated, just needing to run the name over his tongue. "How do you like your coffee, James?" he asked, taking the abused plastic bag from the other man's hand and setting it on a corner table in the nearly deserted cafe.

*3* "I like mochas," James said quietly, moving to stand by one of the chairs at the table. "With whipped cream," he added before thinking about what that might sound like. Christopher walked towards the counter muttering something about 'real coffee', but was secretly looking forward to watching his new acquaintance sip at the frothy concoction. He smiled at the redhead behind the counter. "Hi, Darla. Your oldest feeling any better?" Christopher always made it a point to know about his employees’ families. Chatting cheerfully, he ordered himself a black coffee and James's mocha, asking for extra whipped cream. When Darla promised to bring it out, he returned to the table. Pulling out the slightly wobbly cafe chair, he leaned his elbows on the table, chin cradled in his hands. "So what is the focus of your thesis?" he asked James. Thrown by the question, James's mind went blank as he stared at the other man for a long moment. "Oh! Ah, adaptations of family structures within changes in cultural environments," he said flat out, as if he'd rehearsed it many times over. He smiled wryly. "If I understood what you just said, I'm sure I'd find it quite fascinating," Christopher chuckled smiling as Darla set their drinks on the table. "Thanks, you're an angel," he told the woman. "I'm not much good with out a steady infusion of caffeine," he admitted, raising the mug to his lips and blowing the steam across the top of the dark liquid. James nodded, having seen the man all over the store with a covered cup. "I'm surprised they let people out of the cafe with drinks. Although they have tops, there's still accidents. Burnt tongues. Stained carpet. Wet books. Screams of pain." He rambled a bit when he was nervous. Christopher laughed at James's images. "Yes, but the catastrophes don't out weigh a happy customer who buys more on a caffeine high." He wiggled his eyebrows in a ridiculous parody of Groucho Marx. "So what do you do when you aren't studying ancient Greeks dressed in next to nothing and sporting big spears?" Snorting right in the act of taking a drink, James got a face full of whipped cream and a burnt lip. He carefully set down the cup before breaking into embarrassed laughter, dabbing at his face with a napkin. "I'm so sorry," Christopher said, helping to sop up the spilled coffee, his shoulders still shaking with laughter. Jumping up from the table, he returned moments later with a glass of ice water. "Here, this should help." He pulled a chair close to James's, his knees bracketing the younger man as he held an ice cube to the red lips.

*4* James's eyes got wider and wider as the ice cube slid across his mouth, and he was riveted, unable to look away from Christopher's face. The other man's eyes were, thankfully, turned down - looking at the possible burns, James guessed. But within seconds the younger man was shaking visibly with nerves. "Ah, thanks," he mumbled, reaching up to cover Christopher's hands with his own. Christopher watched as the frozen cube ran across the full lips, making them even redder. The warmth of the skin melted the ice until James's mouth was wet, his lips parted. He couldn't drag his eyes away. He could feel his body swaying closer. His eyelids felt heavy, and he wondered if James would taste of chocolate, coffee and cream. Staring as Christopher seemed to waver a little closer, James was frozen in place, his heart thumping and his pulse racing. Then a woman's amused voice shocked him out of the moment. "I brought you a damp towel," Darla said, lips twitching as she offered it to the two men. Her eyes darted between them. Christopher glared playfully at the Darla over James's shoulder. Taking the towel from her hand, his look clearly said, 'Leave.' He wiped each of James's hands in turn before dabbing at his shirt and finally the table. All were done in complete silence. Finally satisfied with his makeshift cleanup, he tossed the rag on the table and picked one of James's hands back up. "Would you have dinner with me tonight?" he asked. "I promise to pick a place with no nosy redheads." "Dinner?" James repeated, shocked. Here he'd been watching the man for ... well, weeks ... and just like that, he was asking him out? Seeing the earnestness in the older man's eyes, he blinked and nodded. "Yes. Dinner would be great," he said. Realizing that he was still sitting very close, but unable to make himself want to move away, Christopher reached up and brushed a dark curl out of the scholar's eyes. "What do you like?" Giving a little confused smile to Christopher, James asked, "Like? As in food? Or...something else?" Christopher bit his tongue, wanting desperately to bait James into a seductive conversation, but the bookstore (while he was still on the clock) wasn't the place to do it. He settled for brushing his thumb along James's bottom lip. "I want to know everything you like," he husked, eyes dark and full of erotic promise. "And something tells me that I'm going to enjoy finding out very, very much, but for now, I'll settle for what kind of food you'd like tonight."

*5* The heat that flushed through James was obvious - his cheeks, his neck, his throat, his eyes all reddened. "Oh -" he breathed. "Ah...fish?" he tried, eyes wandering over the face he'd memorized weeks ago. This all seemed so surreal, and his hand shook as he raised it to lightly touch Christopher's. Christopher smiled, knowing the perfect place to take James. "I get off at six. Can I come by and pick you up or would you rather meet me back here?" "I live on the far side of campus," James answered, not sure Christopher would want to drive all the way over if they were going to dinner in the opposite direction. "I don't mind to meet you here." "And I don't mind picking you up," Christopher said softly, his hand falling to rest on James's denim-covered thigh. Pulling a pen and folded piece of paper out of his shirt pocket, he handed them to James. "Make me a map, and I'll come get you at seven-thirty." Smiling shyly, James sketched out a map to the grad student housing, also writing down the name of the building and the phone number to call from the lobby. He thanked the other man quietly, stuttering slightly. "I'm look- looking forward to it," he said.

Christopher's eyes never drifted from James as he walked out of the store. He started as his arm was nudged with a fresh cup of coffee. "He's beautiful," Darla said, sitting in the chair James had just vacated. "Yes... yes he is," Christopher agreed softly, his eyes still focused on the door. ~*~*~ At seven twenty-five, Christopher pulled up in front of the six-story brick building that served as grad student housing, parking against the curb before pulling off his helmet and leaving it sitting on the hard black leather seat of his Harley. Running his fingers through his hair, he wished that he'd had a chance to get it cut before coming to get James. It was way past due, the blond strands brushed his shoulders. Catching the door as an Oriental girl exited, he took the stairs two at a time to the third floor and knocked on James's door, holding a plain brown bag behind his back. Glancing up from the note cards he was forcing himself to work on instead of being ill with nerves, James frowned. Did Karl want something else? He'd already borrowed all of his notes from Ancient Greek and Rome class. Muttering he walked over to the door, talking before he even opened it. "Karl, I gave you all my notes, I'm not explaining them to a jerk who can't find his cock in his

*6* own...pants...oh FUCK." James smacked his hand over his mouth, his eyes wide with shock. It was Christopher. Standing outside his door. Wearing jeans and a leather jacket. The younger man whimpered in embarrassment. Grinning, Christopher leaned against the doorjamb. "I bet that makes going to the bathroom hard." James's hands moved to cover his eyes. "Sorry," he said weakly. "Thought you were...someone else." He lowered his hands slowly, looking quite ashamed. "I was hoping." Christopher pushed away from the door and walked into the small apartment. It was pretty standard secondhand starving student sheik. Pulling the brown paper bag from behind his back, he held it out to the younger man. He'd scoured the backroom for just the right book before leaving work. He'd considered flowers but thought James would like this better. "This is for you." Blinking at the bag, James slowly reached out to take it. "For me?" he asked, a bit dazed. "What is it?" He looked up at Christopher uncertainly. "Oh well... we got this shipment in last year of these really outrageously priced art books. Most of them didn't sell, and we pulled them to ship back, but the paperwork never came through. Anyway... this one..." He pointed to the book still wrapped in brown paper in James's hands. "It's Greek art from the time period you're studying." James's eyes widened, and he plucked at the bag, unfolding the top and sliding it away. Pleasure and excitement transformed his face. "It's...it's...wonderful!" he exclaimed, sliding his hand over the glossy color cover. Impulsively - before he thought about it - he threw an arm about Christopher's neck and hugged him. The bookseller froze for an instant before his hands came up to splay against James's back and hold him close. Turning his head into the dark curls he inhaled the clean slightly spicy scent of James's shampoo. After just a few moments, James realized what he'd done, and he pulled back, face reddening. "Ah. Thank you very, very much," he murmured, looking up at the bright blue eyes and getting caught in them. He'd long admired Christopher from afar, but for whatever reason had never noticed his eye color. Christopher stepped into James's personal space, his body a hair's breadth away from touching. "Let me tell you a secret about me," he said, barely louder than a whisper. "I like to be hugged. I like to be touched." His mouth drifted dangerously close to the student's neck, his nose brushing at the hair curling around James's ear. "And I really... really... like the idea of you hugging and

*7* touching me. So please don't apologize." Putting slightly more space between them, he grinned. "Now, ready to go to dinner?" Eyes wide and face flushed for an altogether different reason, James nodded and stepped back carefully before turning to set the book on his desk. He picked up his jacket from the neatly made twin bed and shrugged into it. "I'm ready," he said. 'Oh I hope so,' Christopher thought as he opened the door and ushered James out of the apartment. "I made reservations at my favorite seafood restaurant down on the beach. It's about a thirty-minute drive up the coast. Is that okay with you?" "Yes, that's fine," James said as he locked the door behind them. He led the way back down the stairs and to the doors. "I actually thought you might call from down here," he said. "You didn't have to come all the way upstairs." "Of course I did," Christopher said, opening the door for his date. "What kind of gentlemen would I be if I didn't call for you at your door? My mother would skin me alive." He grinned as he walked to the black and chrome motorcycle at the curb, and he extended a helmet to James. The young man's brows about crawled into his hairline. "I've never been on a motorcycle," he said faintly, taking the helmet automatically. Christopher helped James fasten and tighten the helmet, showing him how the two-way communicator worked. Straddling the big bike, he lifted the kickstand and started the engine. "Get on behind me," he instructed, twisting around. "Your feet go here, and your arms go around my middle. The closer you stay the easier it is for me to control her through the turns." Blinking helplessly, James swallowed and climbed onto the bike, surprisingly graceful. He looked to place his feet where Christopher had pointed, and then he scooted forward a bit to put his hands at Christopher's waist. He really wanted to snuggle up close, just because he could, but...that would be dangerous. James was already concerned about what might happen. He had fallen for the image of Christopher some time ago. If the real thing didn't measure up or decided he wasn't interested after all, James knew he would be heartbroken. Christopher grabbed James’s hands and pulled them firmly around his middle until he felt the younger man's chest connect with his back. "Much better," he purred into the headset. "Hang on." With a jolt of speed, he accelerated away from the curb.

*8* James squeaked when his chest hit Christopher's back and his abdomen pressed against his lower back, and the squeak turned into a gasp when the bike leaped into motion - and suddenly James was holding on as tight as he could, even lowering his head to huddle close. For most of the drive, the two men were silent. Christopher enjoyed the feel of James pressed against him, the wind and the salt tang in the air. There was something hypnotic about the beach road at night, the switchback turns, and the moon on the water. Sharing it with James made it just about perfect. Growing accustomed to the purr of the bike between his legs and the shifting of his weight with the turns, James gradually loosen his hold on Christopher, just a bit, enough that he could look up and out and marvel at the beautiful scenery. He'd lived here for six years now, and he'd never even been to the beach. It was gorgeous, especially with the full moon. He almost wished he weren't wearing the helmet so he could feel the wind in his face and hair. It was almost...romantic. The warmth he leaned against, the lovely surroundings, it was certainly seductive, in a calm, slow manner. Reluctant to end the trip, Christopher pulled into the tiny parking lot. Shutting off the engine, he pulled off his helmet and turned to James to help him with his. "Sit for a minute. The vibrations make your legs numb," he said as the slender man started to get off the bike. In his mind he pictured turning on the seat, lying back on the handlebars and pulling James against his chest. Making love on his bike was one of his deepest fantasies - as of yet not acted out. Pausing since he figured Christopher would know, James blinked a little as the moonlight flooded into his eyes when he pulled off the shaded helmet and visor. "That was wonderful," he said, breaking into a giddy smile. Christopher's pulse sped up at the exuberant tone in James's voice. "Nothing quite like it." He got off the bike, stroking his thumb against the strong angle of James's cheekbone. "Let me help you," he offered, taking James's hand in his. "See that pipe. Don't touch it or we'll end up in the ER for burns." Distracted by Christopher's touch, it took James several heartbeats to look down. Seeing the pipe, he carefully climbed off the bike with Christopher's help, stamping his feet a few times - the other man hadn't been kidding about his legs going numb. He didn't notice right away that Christopher hadn't let go of his hand. Chucking, Christopher wrapped a steady arm around James's waist. "Don't worry. It goes away pretty quickly." He continued to hold the young man to his side as they walked toward the restaurant.

*9* "Christopher!" A short, swarthy man ran towards the host’s stand as the two men entered. "Georgio!" Christopher returned the greeting, using his free arm to hug the older man without releasing James. "This is my friend, James. I've promised him the best meal he's ever tasted, so don't make me a liar." By the twinkle in the restaurateur's eye, he may as well have said 'lover' instead of 'friend'. "Right this way. Corner table on the deck," Georgio gushed as he ushered them across the small restaurant and out onto a spacious deck right on the beach. The waves crashed not more than fifty feet away. Candles and moonlight illuminated the small tables, each in its own secluded alcove separated by bamboo dividers. "Here you go. I'll send Marta back with the wine." Christopher held out a chair for James before taking his own seat. James was just speechless - the beautiful restaurant, the beach so close, the private, romantic table, and Christopher being chivalrous on top of it. It was like a dream come true. How could he have been so lucky? "How - how did you find this place?" he said, stuttering a bit and hating it. He was very nervous, and it showed. Not nervous in a bad way...just shaky. "I special ordered him a cookbook that no one else seemed capable of finding. He's been attempting to pay me back ever since." Christopher chuckled. "With the way he cooks, I'm perfectly willing to be gracious." A grin broke free before James even thought about stopping it. "You are quite handy at the store. I've special ordered a few books as well," he pointed out, keeping his hands in his lap because he knew he'd fidget. Having Christopher's attention trained solely on him made him feel self-conscious. The blond shrugged. "I don't mind putting in a little extra work on the Internet to find a title for a special customer." His eyes left no doubt that he felt James was special. James visibly brightened with Christopher's compliment, eyes sparkling in the low light and smile widening. How was it possible? Had Christopher been watching him all the while that he was watching Christopher? Surely not. This man was not one to watch from afar. He was one to take action. Action he was now focusing on James. A slender woman with dark hair caught in a bun at the nape of her neck appeared at the table, wine bottle in hand, her greeting just as enthusiastic as the host’s. By the time she left the table, two glasses of wine had been poured and a selection of appetizers served.

* 10 * Christopher scooted his chair around to James's side of the table, adjusting the place settings accordingly. At the young man's surprised look, he grinned unapologetically. "The view is better from over here." His stare lingered on James's face as he said it, but his hand pointed at the ocean. "I hope you don't mind me ordering ahead. You have to try this," he said, lifting a forkful of clams in garlic butter sauce to James's lips. Blinking, James pulled back. "What is it?" he asked cautiously, trying to focus on the fork so close. "You said you liked fish, so just trust me," Christopher said, looking deep into James's eyes. "Let me lead tonight and next time can be your turn." Opening his mouth, James leaned forward and slid his lips around the fork, pulling it off and chewing before closing his eyes in apparent enjoyment. "That's...wonderful," he said, searching Christopher's face as the other man took a bite. "Next time?" he asked quietly. "I have six favorite restaurants to work our way through. If we alternate them with one of your favorites each time, I'd say we have at least a month's worth of dates planned." The corners of Christopher's mouth twitched up slightly, his eyes dancing as he held up a bite from a different dish. Eyes getting wider and wider, James accepted the bite, because he had no idea what to say. Twelve dates in one month? After swallowing, he said shakily, "Okay, if that's what you want." "It's very much what I want," Christopher said, putting the fork down and brushing a dark brown curl away from James's face. "I've got an admission to make. I've been lusting after you for months, calling myself a dirty old man the entire time. You look a great deal younger than you really are." Taking a deep breath, he continued. "I finally checked your frequent buyer card. Your birth date is on it to mail out your discount certificate. I'd been hoping you'd come in all week. I sort of feel like I'm making up for lost time." If James's jaw could have hit the floor, it would have. After several long moments in which Christopher started to look a little embarrassed, he screwed up his courage. "There's a reason I usually go to the bookstore three times a week instead of the library," he blurted. "I was hoping." Christopher brushed his fingers over the flush on the young man's cheek, scooting back reluctantly to allow Marta to deliver the main course. The conversation was intelligent and thoughtful, interspersed with looks that grew progressively more heated. When Marta came to ask about dessert, James

* 11 * shook his head. "I couldn't possibly. The food was incredible. I ate too much already!" Christopher thanked Marta, standing and giving her a kiss on the cheek. Reaching down, he helped James to his feet, pulling him close until the young man's body brushed his chest. Lips brushing James's ear, he whispered, "That means you owe me one more date so I can bring you back for the tiramisu." James blushed, and he looked out at the ocean. "Make it a picnic on the beach," he murmured on impulse. "You know the best thing about having dinner at the beach?" Christopher asked, leaning towards James, voice pitched low like he was about to impart an important secret. James shook his head slightly, and Christopher smiled, his mouth coming within a breath of James's. "It's the perfect romantic setting for a first kiss." Trembling and wide-eyed, James did something he would have never thought he could do - he turned up his chin. And their lips touched.

=fin=