Never a Chance

by Castalie




«I said no, Blair.» I guide him out of the loft. This is going to be interesting. I hope it didn’t come out as playful, because I’m going for stern and determined. I’m not fooling him, of course. The look he sends me advises me to shut up and let him play. Blair, easy going and sweet guy? Tell me another one!


«You always say no, man,» he dismisses, letting me manhandle him toward the elevator. «Let’s just talk about the List, shall we?»


Can you spell ‘rhetorical question’?


«Take the ‘no music when you can hear it in the living room’ rule, for instance.»


Oh yeah, I’m always nostalgic for the old ones. The ones from back in the early days, when I thought I would be able to maintain discipline in my own home. Ah, the sweet memories.


«Do you need me to remind you of what happened to that one?» my exasperating lover asks, looking smugly over his shoulder as we leave the elevator.


Actually, I don’t. What happened is that the guy caught me relaxing on the couch while listening to some African drum songs coming from his bedroom. I couldn’t wipe the smirk off his face all evening That was when I gave up the first of what was going to be a long list of rules.


«Oh, and this one, ‘no smelly food from foreign countries that aren’t on the map’?»


Yeah, well, you can’t blame a guy for trying.


«What did we learn with that one?» Blair stops, waiting.


I glare at him. I won’t tell him we –read ‘me’-- learned that even though it seems improbable, the Sola y Gomez islands, Kiribati or Riou Kiou do exist, and *are* on the map. Who would have thought their ‘smelly food’ could be so delicious, too?


Blair doesn’t need an answer, of course. I promise myself I’ll do something about his smug look tonight—like fuck it right off his face!


«And what about the ‘no shoes in the loft’? Like in Japan, may I add. »


Well, it did last for a couple of days. Bad tactical move.  Blair never puts his coat in its place, why would it be different with his shoes? He let me spell it out with a knowing smile on his face.


One less rule. I was used to it.


Blair nods as if I’d spoken out loud. He deigns to begin walking again.


«Do you detect a pattern, Jim?»


This is a trap. Let’s pretend I just found something interesting on the truck, innocently parked in front of us now.


«Keep ignoring me, Jim, but you’re a detective, you draw your own conclusion. So, I’m asking you,» he purposely made me open the door of the truck for him, his body pressing against mine teasingly, «what makes you think I’ll follow the ‘no sex in the truck’ rule?»


I feel a stir in my groin at the sexy tone. I just have one thing to say; I never stood a chance.


The End



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