Writer of a Certain Age

The first thing that Dan noticed about the house was the size. He had seen big houses before, even bigger than this one, but it seemed to dominate the entirety of the area. It was huge, and it seemed to crouch down and glower at the passing people. Dan knew that was ridiculous, on a practical level - houses didn't glower.

Reading all of those gothic novels was clearly beginning to have an impact on his mind. He adjusted his hat on his head, and he rubbed his hands together. He'd seen the ad in the paper - room to let for unmarried individual, must have good references - and he was in need of a new room to let. His previous lodgings, while very nice, had recently acquired new tenants in possession of a new baby and a very loud dog. Dan's editor was beginning to get on his case about all of the late deadlines.

It was probably for the best - the old place was close enough to the tavern that Dan had been led to more than one indiscretion. It would be in his best interest to live elsewhere.

Although this particular place was quite elsewhere - not so far that he couldn't take a carriage, but only just. He hadn't lived somewhere so quiet since he was a child on his parent's farm - the nearest house was more than a mile. This house was big and looming, with great windows in the front blocked out by heavy black curtains. The door had a little stained glass portion level with his eyes, and it took him a moment to realize that the doorknocker was engraved in the shape of a skull.

Um.

He was beginning to feel like a character in one of his own stories, minus the heaving bosoms and fluttery sighs. He probably wouldn't be able to pull off a billowing white gown, if it came down to it, and he was a bit too much of a coward to stab someone like Lady Charlotte had done in his most recent novel.

Well. Best get on with it.

Dan knocked on the door, his heart in his throat.

A maid answered the door, and she curtsied to him. He smiled at her awkwardly - he hadn't grown up around servants, and always felt awkward when he interacted with them. He let himself be led into a parlor, which had far more taxidermy than he was used to seeing, and he perched on the end of a sofa that had pillows embroidered what he at first thought to be random designs, but turned out to be spiders.

He tried not to stare into the face of the horned... something or other, which had turned its glassy eyes on him. He focused on his hat, which he had removed upon entering the house, and he tried not to wriggle too much. He always squirmed when he was nervous, and he knew that it was unsightly. Still, he was... well, he was nervous. This increasingly felt like a set up of some kind.

"Are you Dan? I realized that I didn't ask you what you looked like, when we were corresponding." The woman who swept into the parlor was wearing a black dress, trimmed with a good deal of lace at the hem, the collar, and the sleeves. She smiled at Dan, and she was so beautiful that it made his chest hurt. She had dark hair, and her eyes were big and open. He wanted to sink to his knees and write odes, or perhaps things that were... less than discreet.

"I am indeed," he said, and he stood up, bowing to her. "Thank you very much for allowing me to come to your home."

"No need to thank me," said the woman, who had signed her letters "Suzy" in a flowing, delicate hand. She sat down, arranging her skirts about her, and she fixed him with a thoughtful eye. "It would be wrong to expect you to simply rent a room without first coming to see it."

Dan shrugged. "I suppose I should thank you for renting me the room in the first place," he said. "It is very much making my life easier."

"If I may ask, what is the problem with your current rooms?" The maid came in with a whole tea set on a tray, complete with steaming cups of tea, sugar lumps, and a little pitcher of cream.

"I have new neighbors who have a baby," said Dan. "A baby and a dog. They're very nice people, and I don't begrudge them their family, but there are certain things that I need in order to adequately do my work, and relative silence is one of them."

"I will warn you that I do not exactly live in a silent home," said Suzy. "If you were to stay here, there is some noise."

"Some noise is fine," Dan assured her hastily. "The regular hustle and bustle of a household I have no trouble with. It's just... howling at three past midnight every night that gives me trouble."

Suzy winced. "That does sound like it would, yes," she said. "Would you like to see where your rooms would be, should you choose to take the offer?"

"I'm flattered that you're offering in the first place," said Dan, and he resisted the urge to run his hands through his hair the way he always did when he was nervous. This was all going well. Entirely too well, all things considered. "Are you sure? I fear that this hasn't been much of an interview."

Suzy made a dismissive hand gesture. "You're well groomed, you're clearly not an axe murderer, and you've been nothing but polite," she told him.

"I could be an axe murderer," said Dan, and he almost immediately regretted it, because that was not a thing that a person said. "I mean," he added, when Suzy gave him a strange look. "Can you really tell that one is not an axe murderer, if they're sans axe?"

You just ruined a perfectly good conversation, scolded Dan's internal monologue. This is what you get.

Suzy threw her head back and laughed. It was a good laugh, too - a hearty one, and her bodice was a tad... lower cut than is necessarily proprietary, although then again, the woman is in her own home. When is one allowed to wear lower more... racy things, if not in the comfort of one's own home?

"I hadn't thought of it that way," said Suzy, and she smiled at him a little wider. "I suppose I could call my husband in to consider it. He is a fairly good judge of character."

Dan wasn't sure why his stomach gave a little plummet of disappointment when he head the word "husband" - it wasn't as if he'd ever have a chance with a woman as beautiful as Suzy. Or as moneyed. "I'm not an axe murderer," he told her earnestly. "I've even got references!"

"How would references that one wasn't an axe murderer even work?" Her expression went thoughtful. "Since presumably all people who are not axe murderers don't have to proclaim it regularly."

"I suppose it does look a tad suspicious," Dan admitted.

"Apart from your lack of axe murdering tendencies," said Suzy, "do you have any particularly sterling qualities that make you think you would be a good fit for our attic room?"

An attic room, even, thought Dan. I truly will feel like a character from one of my novels. "I am of fairly quiet character," said Dan. "I mainly keep to myself and write. I will occasionally go to the tavern for some company, or some music -"

"Do you like music?" Suzy interrupted.

"I am quite fond of music, yes," said Dan. He tucked a piece of hair behind his ear. "I like to go to the tavern to listen to people sing."

"Do you drink?" She was looking at him with those green eyes of hers, and he felt pinned down, like a moth to a card.

"Not really, no," he admitted. "I fear I find the taste somewhat off putting, and it does things to my stomach. I usually order a lemonade." He wasn't entirely sure why he was telling her this - there was something embarrassing about admitting this. He always felt faintly juvenile about the fact that he didn't really have much stomach for alcohol. He'd been made fun of for it in the past.

She smiled at him, and his stomach gave another awkward little flip-flop. Oh no - was he catching another fancy? He tended to go a bit wobbly for women if they even smiled at him sidelong, which only added to the feeling of being juvenile. "I can understand that," she said. "Myself and my husband aren't exactly fond of it either."

"Right," said Dan.

There was an awkward silence, and Dan made poured himself a cup of tea, adding cream and sugar, stirring it carefully. He sipped it - it was very good tea, because of course it was. Suzy sipped her own tea, and she was looking at him thoughtfully, her expression surprisingly shrewd under all the makeup.

"Do you have a lady?" She put her teacup down on the saucer, and the china clinked.

"I am currently not courting anyone, no," said Dan.

"Do you plan to?"

Dan was faintly surprised. That was all rather... blunt. Then again, maybe she was worried about him bringing strange people into her house, should he choose to stay there. He couldn't entirely blame her for that.

"Presently, I do not have any suitors, no," he said. "Perhaps at some point in the future, I'd like to, but at present I have too many other things to concentrate on."

"You'd best be careful not to let it go on too long," said Suzy. "If you hold off for long enough, you'll find your life has passed you by." There was something faintly wistful about her expression, although Dan couldn't entirely put his finger on what it is.

"I need to write a few more books first, I believe," said Dan. "After that... well, I shall see."

"What sorts of books do you write?" Suzy stirred a bit more sugar into her tea. A big, fluffy cat with a ribbon around its neck jumped up onto the couch beside her, and she petted it. The cat was black and white, and it was purring, rubbing its cheek against her thigh, getting cat hair all over her lovely skirts.

She didn't seem to mind.

"I write what my publisher tells me to write, most of the time," Dan said, because being an adult man admitting to write romances was embarrassing enough. To admit it to a woman of such refined taste as Suzy... well.

"Surely you write for the pleasure of writing as well," said Suzy. The cat had climbed into her lap, and was purring loud enough that Dan was faintly surprised that the crockery wasn't vibrating.

"Oh, that too," Dan assured her. "I don't write anything that I... don't like. I just know what sorts of things will sell."

"And what sorts of things are those?" Suzy scratched the cat under the chin, and the cat's head tilted back.

Might as well cut to the chase, then. "Romances, mainly," said Dan. "I write under a nom de plume, for... obvious reasons."

"I've never been much for romances," said Suzy, but she was looking thoughtful. "My husband, though, is quite fond of them."

"Is he?" That was unexpected.

"Oh yes," said Suzy. "What sorts of things would you write, were you not worried about money and your publisher?"

Dan opened his mouth, and he would have sworn upon the holiest of books that he meant to say something pithy and fun. But what came out was "I want to make people laugh."

Suzy looked surprised. "Laugh?"

"Yes," said Dan, and then he just went for it, because why not? "I like to make people laugh. I know that it is considered to be a lesser thing to aim for, but I have found that laughter is often what brings people together. I would like to write the sorts of things that make people happy." He sighed, his expression rueful. "I suppose I should aim for a loftier goal, such as finding Truth or Beauty, but, well..." He shrugged.

"I think that making people laugh is a lofty goal," said Suzy. "I know that it can take just as much work as finding Beauty or Truth."

"You flatter me," said Dan, and he was aware that he was flirting. It was quite chaste flirting - it was the kind of flirting that he'd do in front of some prim chaperone, without worrying about raising any eyebrows. And yet... he was still blushing. "I'd like to see the room, if that's alright?"

"Certainly," said Suzy, and she stood up, brushing her skirts off. It seemed to dislodge most of the cat hair. "Come with me, please."

* * *

The attic room was really a suite of rooms - there was a small study, and then there was a cozy bedroom. He liked the coziness - he'd never been one for especially big, sprawling rooms. Something about them always made him feel like something could come in and catch him. It was also, mercifully, free of taxidermy. Not that he didn't admire it, because all of the taxidermy itself was good taxidermy! But it could be hard to sleep when something that had been dead for years was staring a hole into his back.

"I absolutely love it," he told her, after surreptitiously checking for any musty smells, or anything to do with mice. It all smelled fine - it was better than fine, everything smelled clean, and faintly perfumed, as if there had been some kind of herbs scattered about.

"So you'll take the room?" She looked faintly surprised.

"Yes, please," he said, then; "unless there's someone else who you would prefer to have it?" He hoped not.

"No, no," Suzy said hastily. "Simply... I have seen people that were somewhat off put by the taxidermy."

"Are these individuals off put by how good a hunter your husband is?"

Dan wasn't expecting Suzy to throw her head back and laugh at that, although it was another one of those friendly, inviting laughs. He cleared his throat, and resisted the urge to shift from foot to foot.

When Suzy caught her breath, she was grinning a little wider. "I'm sorry," she told him, but she was still clearly trying not to giggle. "I, um." She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry," she said again. "My husband does not hunt. I am the one who stuffed the various animals around the place, and they were brought to me by a few different friends of mine."

"Oh," said Dan. "I see." He hadn't expected that. He'd never met a lady taxidermist before.

"I do hope that won't be a problem," said Suzy, and now there was a slightly anxious cast to her features.

"No, no," Dan assured her quickly. "It will not be a problem at all. I am simply surprised."

"Well," said Suzy, "if you'd like the room, you shall have it."

"I very much like the room," said Dan. "Thank you very much."

* * *

It wasn't until Dan was walking back to his current rooms that he realized that he hadn't actually met the husband. For all he knew, the man would be some great, hulking terror of a man.

Although it helped that this mysterious husband of Suzy's wasn't the one who had left all those dead animals about. There was something faintly eerie about it, but it helped to know that there wasn't some gun toting maniac wandering around the place.

Dan had never been one for hunting. He'd outright refused to go running with the hounds when he was a teenager, citing the cruelness of the act. He did not forego eating meat entirely (as such), but he did have to be careful about it.

What would living in that vast, rambling estate be like, anyway? He'd half expected to end up with a carriage house, or something similar. Walking up all of those stairs would probably be a trial, but then again, he'd always been one to enjoy taking exercise. All things considered, this was about as close to ideal as anything could get on the sinful Earth.

* * *

Dan moved in with little fuss and fanfare a week later, packing all of his possessions into one trunk and carrying his typewriter in his arms like a baby. The man driving the carriage helped him unload the trunk when they reached the house, and Dan was sure to give the man a generous tip.

The servants helped Dan carry the trunk up, and then it was simply a matter of getting everything more or less sorted out. He unpacked his clothes, set his typewriter up in the study, then lay on the bed, his hands behind his head. He stared up at the ceiling, his expression thoughtful, his feet almost dangling off of the edge of the bed. It wasn't entirely long enough for him, but beds almost never were.

"This is my home now," he said out loud, and the words seemed to drift about in the small space, warming it.

He had a home now, a home that wasn't an unpleasant room in a boarding house. A home that wouldn't have drunk tavern goers going by at all hours, or having to deal with strange men and their dalliances. Not that Dan was against a dalliance, as such, but so many of them seemed to happen late at night, when Dan was trying to sleep, or else during the parts of the day where Dan was trying to get any of his work done.

It took a surprising amount of effort to write romances. He hadn’t realized that it would be quite that hard when he’d agreed to do it - he had agreed on a lark, truth be told. He’d needed the money, and he had some history with writing. Not especially exciting writing, admittedly - some creative, some less so - but… well, some part of him had wondered how hard it could be, if some housewife could scribble something out between her other wifely duties.

He had been dead wrong.

Romances made him tear his hair out. They were nearly as bad as writing comedies, and writing comedies had been an experience akin to having his teeth yanked out by the barber surgeon.

At least, he assumed. He'd never had to have a tooth extracted. He'd been ridiculously lucky that way. His parents had taken him and his sister to a traveling medicine show once, and he'd seen... well, he'd seen things. Some of them still sneaked into his head when he was trying to sleep.

But he'd somehow managed to gain some kind of following, and his publisher said that he had a way with words. Admittedly, the only other thing that his publisher really worked with was the Boy's Adventure magazines, and the sorts of ridiculous erotica that usually involved girls in boarding schools getting spanked for increasingly ridiculous reasons.

(He'd read one out of curiosity, and alright, certain aspects of it had been... interesting to the more carnal parts of his soul, but still).

Dan sighed, and he surveyed his new room. It was nice. It was better than nice. Meals were included, and he had room to pace when he was caught on a particularly difficult bit of plot. It had good windows, it had good airflow, it wasn't too cold, there were servants who would be cleaning it once a day... he couldn't really ask for more, could he?

He tried not to think of the loneliness at the pit of his stomach, when he thought of Suzy with her faceless husband. What sort of a fellow was he, anyway? Dan was imagining some faceless, nameless brute with a bushy beard, or maybe muttonchops. Women as wonderful as Suzy almost always had husbands of that sort.

Dan had never done anything... indiscreet with a married woman. He had engaged in several dalliances with ladies of questionable virtue, but what young man about town hadn't? Although even in the confines of his own head, he knew that he'd never be a "man about town", not really. He was too timid, to anxious. He liked the idea of courting a girl, sitting in a parlor somewhere and drinking tea, talking about books and music and all of the many other things that went through his head. His parents loved each other very much, and he didn't know if he'd ever be able to replicate that.

With a groan, Dan flopped onto the bed, face down. "He's probably a lovely fellow," he mumbled, although he didn't really believe it. Beautiful women with fortunes didn't tend to marry nice men. At least, that was what he had gathered. He, admittedly, didn't know that many beautiful women with fortunes.

He rolled onto his back, stared up at the ceiling. It was slanted, and he liked the way it made the space feel that much smaller. It was a bit like staying inside of a tent; he had camped when he was a youth, sleeping rough. A tent made of shingles and tiles and stone, thought some small part of him, and he smiled in spite of himself, pleased with the mental image.

He could probably afford to take a nap. He had handed in his latest manuscript when he had realized he needed to move; he'd finished it in a marathon of typing, and it was probably absolute garbage, but he thought that everything he'd ever handed in had been absolute garbage, and yet here he was.

There was a knock on the door, and Dan sat up, guilty and not sure why. His parents, while very loving people, harbored very strong feelings about idleness. Being found abed like this during a time of day when people should have been busy doing other things was usually something that led to him being told off and given some form of drudgery. The slight anxiety that he would be told off still lingered. He sat up, adjusted his clothes so that he didn't look like he had been flopped on the bed, and glanced at the small mirror over the washbasin. At least he looked half presentable.

He opened his door, and looked down to see Suzy smiling at him, looking only slightly nervous. "Hello," she said.

"Hello," said Dan.

There was an awkward silence, and she cleared her throat.

"I'm going to be planning out the menu for the next week," said Suzy, "and it occurred to me that I actually know next to nothing about your favorite foods."

"Oh," said Dan. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn't that.

Suzy was holding a cat - a different cat this time - and the cat was purring. Dan wanted to reach out and pet the cat, but that would have involved reaching out for Suzy's chest, and he wasn't sure if that was exactly the kind of thing that a gentleman did with a married woman.

That was one of the things that was always tripping Dan; there were so many rules for this sort of thing, and he wasn't always sure what he should have been doing, or what would be seen as right or wrong. It didn't help that so many of the rules seemed so arbitrary.

"I don't eat much red meat," said Dan, when he realized that the silence had gone on for a bit too long. “I fear I have a delicate constitution.”

“I can certainly work with that,” said Suzy, and she smiled at him. “Do you like fish?”

“I’m quite fond of fish,” Dan assured her.

"I am as well, so that puts you at an advantage," said Suzy.

"I am always one to appreciate an advantage," Dan agreed, and then he tried not to wince, because that was an awkward thing to say.

Suzy raised an eyebrow, but she didn't seem offended. "I shall leave you to your writerly musings."

"Thank you," said Dan, and he tried not to blush. Could she tell that he had just been laying about like some kind of vagabond?

"Dinner will be at seven," she said, and then she was turning around, walking down the hallway. He watched the long trail of her skirts, and he tried not to stare at the way her hips were moving.

He closed the door behind her, and he flopped back on the bed again. It had been a while since he'd kept the company of a woman intimately. He tugged on his own hair, and he sighed, letting himself more or less sink back into the bed on his back. The last woman he'd been with had been a slender little thing, blond hair trailing across her shoulders. She had... well.

Dan wasn't going to go down that road. He indulged in the sin of Onan a bit more than he should have, he would admit that, but at the very least it was easier to think of it as fairly harmless when he was doing it on his own late at night when he couldn't sleep. Doing it in his new rooms in broad daylight felt like a bit... much. Besides, what if Suzy or one of the maids walked in while he was in the act?

Being kicked out before he'd even had a chance to sleep in the place was a tad excessive. It would probably make for a good story, though, and he shoved the thought into the part of his mind that he usually reserved for the novels that he wrote on a more commission basis. There were probably a certain type who would be amused at the idea. He'd have to hint at it a lot more obliquely than just stating it, for obvious reasons, but... still.

Dan sighed again, and he stretched. Maybe he needed a nap. A good lie down in the heat of the day - such as it was around here - might do him some good. He'd read that in other countries there were entire chunks of the day that were devoted to just napping. That sounded like actual heaven to him.

Why not. He'd moved to a new place, and it would do good for his brain to have a bit of a rest. Get some of those writer humors flowing or something like that. He stood up, locked the door carefully, and then undressed. He drew his curtains, and he turned down the covers of his bed, climbing in. The bed just fit him, if he curled up a little bit. He lay flat on his stomach, his face in the pillow, and he tried not to think of the way Suzy's hips had moved.

He was beginning to become engorged, which was annoying, because he was resolutely not going to do any of that. He sighed into the pillow, letting himself relax into it, and he let his mind wander, just a bit.

If I was writing her in a novel, I'd make the cat white, he thought, in that hazy sweet place that came about right on the edge of sleep. White cats seem much more thematic. Not that he didn't appreciate a grey and white cat, but... still.

His last thought, as he fell asleep, was to wonder how he would describe her eyes. He wasn't sure what colors he'd use to describe them, exactly, except that he'd probably need to look into his dictionary. At least he had fallen out of the habit of using gemstones as a comparison.

* * *

Dan woke up slowly, his head foggy and full of sleep. The light had changed, gone golden and slightly blurry around the edges. The shadows were creeping out from around the edges of the curtains, and it painted stripes across the floor. He sat up, and he could already tell that his hair was a mess that he would need to attack with a hairbrush.

Dan rubbed his eyes, still slightly hazy. He had been sleeping. He had been dreaming, and he didn't remember his dreams. He woke up with the sense that the dreams had been weird, but he wasn't entirely sure what kind of weird they had been. What they had been in the first place.

The house was settling around him, creaking and groaning in a way that was faintly unsettling. He looked up at the ceiling, and he could see the light striped across the beams. He'd seen a zebra in a traveling circus once, and it had been a bit of a shock; all that black and white, so strongly contrasted against itself. He sat up and fully, and let the image of the whole house as a massive zebra stay in his mind.

He grinned, and he yawned. He could hear the quiet sounds of people moving around the house. Welp.

Might as well get some writing done, then get ready for some dinner. He'd be able to do that without too much work, he figured. He had the opening of the story in his head, involving a mysterious lady surrounded by taxidermy animals, and some kind of suitor arriving in her vast, rambling estate.

He pulled himself upright, and got dressed again. He’d have to get properly dressed before he went down to dinner, but he’d always had trouble with writing when he wasn’t in the proper attire. He’d heard stories about people who did all of their writing naked; he couldn’t imagine doing that. Especially now that he had such a beautiful landlady who in theory had the keys to his room.

Suzy could, in theory, just burst into the room at any moment. Should she wish to.

The idea shouldn't have made his cock twitch like that. He sighed, tilting his head back before he left his room. He needed to do something about that. It must have been a while, if just being in the vicinity of a beautiful woman was leading him to flights of fancy such as this.

* * *

Dan met Suzy's husband in the dining room. He was a broad, friendly looking man in a dark blue suit, with a pink carnation pinned to his jacket. His hair was unfashionably long, and he kept it tied up, his eyes dark and curious.

"So you must be our new boarder," he said when Dan walked in, and he stood up, offering a hand to shake. "I do apologize for not being here to greet you earlier. I was needed at the business. My name is Arin."

Dan took his hand and shook it, squeezing it just a bit. Strong grip, but not the type of man who seemed to be trying to break Dan's fingers as some sort of ridiculous intimidation. Good. Dan had never gotten on well with that sort. "It's quite alright," said Dan, pulling his seat up to the table. "I do understand that not everyone is a useless layabout such as myself."

"Nonsense," said Arin, spreading his napkin across his lap. "Suzy tells me that you are a writer?"

"I am indeed," said Dan, and he tried not to let his stomach sink too low. These big, friendly types tended to look down on the sorts of writing that Dan did. He might as well bite the bullet. "I write romances."

"Oh!" Arin's whole visage seemed to perk up. "I am quite fond of romances."

"Are you?" Dan resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow.

Arin... blushed, and it was the kind of blush that could be described as "luminescent", going all the way to his ears. "I am a bit of a sentimentalist," he said, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "I know it isn't the most manly thing -"

"I've been told that I'm not exactly sufficiently manly," Dan burst out. He wasn't sure why he was talking about this, when Suzy was right there. Something about the two of them just put him at ease in a way that was unfamiliar, but strangely comforting. Although that in and of itself was putting him on edge, which probably said something about the interior workings of his mind. Still.

"Few are considered manly enough, as far as I'm concerned," said Arin, "and we're all the better for it."

"I could make a good gentleman," Suzy cut in, and Dan flushed, catching her eye. The image of her in a suit sprang into his mind, and he was embarrassed to find that his cock was getting hard all over again. At least it was well hidden, sitting like this.

"You could do anything that you set your mind to," Arin said, and he was smiling at his wife with such a sweet expression that it made something in Dan's chest ache. Would anyone ever look at him like that?

Probably not, if he kept boarding in other people's houses and never actually went to any of the events that his family threw in an attempt to meet anyone.

That little bit of bitterness must have shown on his face, because Suzy shot him a concerned look. "Are you quite alright, Dan?"

"Yes," Dan said, and he cleared his throat. "Yes, I'm fine. I do apologize." He smiled at them. "I am a bit unused to company - in my former lodgings, I ended up eating most of my meals alone, and writing can be a solitary occupation."

"That sounds nice," Arin said, and he sounded faintly wistful. "I sometimes grow quite weary of other people."

"Arin would become an anchorite, if given the choice," said Suzy.

"Nonsense," Arin said. "Anchorites aren't allowed the finer things in life. I'm a bit too fond of those."

Dan snorted, and then the maid was bringing the soup in. "So if you could somehow become an anchorite, but still maintain the luxurious lifestyle that you currently have, you would be happy?"

"It does sound pretty nice," said Arin. "I guess I'd miss some people." Another sweet look.

"I could never be an anchorite," said Suzy. "I'd go mad from the boredom."

"You mean a lifetime of contemplating God does not sound like an ideal to you?" Dan didn't intend it to sound quite so flirtatious when he said it, and yet. He tried not to blush too hard.

"I suspect I am a bit too fond of the pleasures of the flesh," said Suzy, and it sounded like something out of one of the saucier romance novels that Dan had written under a different name. To save some face, he took a sip of his soup.

"I would never want to give up good food," said Arin. "I fear I am a tad too fond of it."

"I disagree," said Suzy, and now the two of them seemed to be falling into a familiar back and forth. It was almost like sitting on a boat, being rocked by unfamiliar tides.

"So... what led to you taking on a boarder?" Dan took a sip of his own soup. It was thick, and it had vegetables. "If I may ask, I mean."

Suzy shrugged. "We have so much space," she said, "space we're not using."

"Right," said Dan. His own family hadn't been rich, per se, but they had been well off. His own mother had a room that was full of useless things that nobody was really allowed to go inside of.

"And besides," said Arin, "it's nice to have some company around."

"You were just saying you'd like to be an anchorite," Suzy pointed out. "Which is it?"

"It can't be both?" Arin held both hands up, his spoon catching the light.

Suzy gave a delighted little giggle. "The sociable anchorite," she said.

"That would make quite a novel," said Dan, his expression going thoughtful.

"At the very least, a good title for a novel," agreed Arin.

"I don't know if there's a way to make that particular sort of tale engaging to the sort who enjoys my novels," said Dan. "I rather doubt I've got the skill for it."

"I'm sure you do," said Arin, and he gave Dan such a smile that Dan's stomach clenched up in an awkward way.

Dan probably should have said something, instead of looking down at his plate and mumbling something embarrassing. He glanced up, and saw that Arin was still looking at him with fondness.

It wasn't the first time that Dan hadn't gotten into some kind of tizzy over a man before. He didn't think he was an inverse - at least, he didn't want to be an inverse. He hadn't ever really told anyone about it, for the obvious reasons.

And yet.

As the days went by, and Dan ended up at more meals with the happy couple, the urge to kiss Arin grew stronger. To kiss either of them, really. He didn't know where that was coming from, except perhaps excessive loneliness.

But was he lonely?

Dan sat up in his attic room, staring at the rafters in thought, his hands behind his head. He was trying to write a romance. It would be a proper romance, too - maybe something that wouldn't be dismissed by the world at large. He couldn't ever put his actual name on it, for multiple reasons, but at the very least he could make it good, right?

But it was supposed to be between a man and a woman, and yet. As hard as he tried to make it make sense, to make it work, it just... wasn't. Another man kept creeping in.

"This is pathetic," he said out loud. At least he didn't have to worry about anyone overhearing him - as far up in the house as he was, nobody really heard him. They didn't even hear him pacing at night, as far as he was concerned. Or maybe they did, but they didn't say anything. Although if he went down that road he would start to worry about them secretly hating him, and for the most part he could shut that up with the logical parts of his brain.

"I am the author," he told his typewriter.

It didn't say anything, thankfully. If inanimate objects had started to talk to him, he was going to have to start worry for other things in his life.

He may have been the author, but there wasn't much on the paper now. Was he an author, if he hadn't actually written that much that day? It was incredibly hot that day, and although his attic room was cooler than the rest of the house. The windows were flung open, allowing the breezes in. He could hear the rustling of the trees from his spot, and he stood up and stretched, his arms behind his head.

Dinner would be in an hour or so. He probably needed to find one of his nicer suits, maybe ask if a maid could press it. He always felt like he needed to dress nicer for dinner. He wanted to look nice for Suzy and Arin, and he didn't know how he felt about that.

Dan made his way towards one window, and he found Arin and Suzy on the great lawn, playing some kind of game. Maybe croquet? He didn't know the specifics, just that the two of them were standing together, a tray with a pitcher of lemonade on the table next to them. They were standing close, hip to hip, and they were laughing together. Arin's arm was around Suzy's waist, pulling her closer, and she had a hand loosely tucked into the pocket of his jacket.

Something like pain seized in Dan's chest, and he wondered vaguely if he was having some kind of heart attack. There was something like loneliness in the back of his throat, and some kind of sweetness that almost hurt. He wanted... what did he want?

Even he didn't know.

"Dan," called Suzy from down on the lawn, and Dan was jolted out of his reverie. He saw that they were both waving up at him from the rolling grass.

He was struck with the urge to duck out of sight, to hide behind something. It was like being caught peeking at a girl undressing, only... moreso. He wasn't sure why he felt so guilty; it wasn't as if they were doing anything illicit. They had looked so wholesome he would have put it on a postcard, except for the feelings it was stirring inside of him.

Maybe he was lonely.

He waved back at her, instead of ducking.

"Come down and play with us," called Arin, his hands over his mouth to amplify his voice. "We could use a third!"

If I were writing this, I would find that excessive, thought Dan, but he was grinning ruefully.

"I'll be right down," he called, which in no way was what he had intended to say. He wasn't sure what he had intended to say, truth be told. Instead, he pulled away from the window and put on his shoes, before making his way down the creaking staircase.

* * *

The light was almost gentle on him, as he was handed a croquet mallet.

"Hi," said Dan, and he was blushing.

"Hello," Arin said cheerfully. He had stripped his suit jacket off at some point, and he'd rolled his sleeves up around his elbows. "I am currently getting my -"

"Arin," Suzy interrupted before Dan could finish his sentence.

Arin grinned at Dan, unrepentant. "My wife is a much better croquet player than I am," he said.

"I'm scarcely much better," said Dan.

"Well," said Arin, his tone philosophical, "we can at the very least both be horrible together. Perhaps our horribleness can overcome her technique."

"I don't have a technique," Suzy said, fluttering one hand.

Dan's eyes followed the line of her arm, down over the curve of her breasts and her corseted waist, all the way to her bare feet, sinking in the grass.

"I may simply just be very bad," Arin agreed, and he laughed.

Dan followed the line of his throat, down his chest, and there were his bare feet as well. Was this a situation where he should have taken his shoes off as well? Was he overdressed? But then again, he didn't want to be underdressed either, and surely being overdressed was at least more seemly than -

"Dan," said Suzy, and he realized that he had drifted off.

"Sorry," Dan said, and he cleared his throat. "You were saying?"

"I was asking if you have any experience with croquet," said Suzy. Her tone was patient. She really was very patient with him, wasn't she?

"Oh," said Dan, and he cleared his throat. "Not especially, no. I don't think it's very difficult though, is it."

Arin snorted. "It looks simple," he told Dan. "Then you get down into the meat of it, and you find..." He shrugged, and then he was laughing. It was ugly, honking laughter, and Dan found himself even more endeared to the man than he had been to begin with. "You find that sometimes even if something is simple, you are simply not very good."

"I'm sure you're very good," Dan said, in what he hoped was an assuring tone.

"Well," said Arin, "if I'm not, at the very least, I am at least enjoyably bad."

"I fear I may not even be that good," said Dan. He took the offered croquet mallet, and he rolled his own sleeves up, self conscious of just how pale he was.

"Only one way to find out," Suzy said cheerfully, although there was a glint in her eye that Dan might have called "wicked" on anyone who wasn't a beautiful lady such as her. He tried to convince himself that the way his heart sped up was related to being nervous about losing to her, and he almost believed himself when he said it.

* * *

Dan, it turned out, was middling at croquet. He wasn't sure how he managed that, since he didn't entirely understand how the game worked in the first place, but he knew that he had to tap his ball with the mallet, and when he did that, it went places. It didn't always go to the places that he was trying to get it to go, but at least it was better than some of the card games he had played, where he just sat there and grew more and more bored.

Suzy and Arin were delightful companions to play a game with. Dan wasn't sure why he was so surprised with, since he enjoyed doing other things with them. They were the most openly affectionate couple he'd ever been around as well, and once he had gotten over the slight scandal at seeing them be quite so... close, he found it sweet. Sweet, and a tad melancholy. He wasn't sure where the melancholia was even coming from, except that it seemed to seize him when he saw Arin interlace his and Suzy's fingers together, or when she leaned into him.

Arin was nothing, if not an attentive husband. He fetched Suzy lemonade, he helped adjust her stance, he kissed her or hugged her or made jokes on her demand. His eyes were almost always on her face, and he seemed to be utterly captivated by her. Suzy, for her part, seemed to bask in the attention. Dan's own parents had been affectionate, but Arin could have been put down as downright doting.

Not that Arin was complaining. He seemed to be fine with all of it, truth be told. More than fine; he was preening under the attention. He'd occasionally shoot a glance at Dan, and then he'd blush, but he'd keep grinning. Dan wasn't sure what was going on, but he felt like he was being included in something that was much deeper than he knew.

"Dan," said Suzy, after she had beaten them soundly at croquet, "we were thinking of going to the theater tomorrow night. Would you wish to accompany us?"

"The theater?" Dan tried not to goggle too much. Suzy was stretching, and the sun was playing out across her face beautifully, the shadows from the nearby trees dancing like nymphs out of some kind of old myth.

And then Dan blushed, because that was a comparison so contrived he wouldn't even put it in one of his own short stories. But it was true; she looked wild, with her skirts a mess and her hair tied up, her bare feet peeking out from amongst the grass. She was usually much more put together, but somehow, seeing her like this felt almost as if he was getting to know her better.

"Do you like the theater?" Arin was gathering up the croquet equipment, stacking the hoops, then piling up the mallets. He set the balls out besides them. "I assumed, as you are a writer..."

"I do like the theater, yes," said Dan. "It has simply been a very long time since I've gone."

"I do understand that," said Arin, and he sighed. "It is such a busy place to go, what with all the people."

"I find it enjoyable," said Suzy.

"Well," said Arin, making a face, "you like people."

Dan cleared his throat. He wasn't sure why he was feeling so awkward, and yet.

"You don't count as people," Arin said, flapping a hand at Dan. "I mean that as a compliment," he added, seemingly as an afterthought.

"I'm not entirely sure how to take that as a compliment," Dan admitted. "What makes me not a person?"

"You're not a person," Arin corrected, stooping down to pick up his shoes from the grass. "People and a person are two different things."

"People are usually comprised of multiple persons," Dan pointed out, although when he put it like that, he sounded more than a tad absurd.

Arin snorted. "Well, yes, alright, but people are..." He made a broad hand gesture. "People are everyone, and their expectations, and their... breathing."

"Breathing," Dan said, skeptical.

750 Words on Thu, Oct 10
"With one or two exceptions, I really detest the sensation or being breathed on," said Arin. "The thought of all those lungs exhaling and inhaling, on me..." He gave a shiver that seemed only a tad theatrical.

"Is there any particular reason?" Dan was trying not to look at Arin as if the other man was some kind of speciman. He had the bad habit of sometimes talking to people that way - he really needed to get out of it.

Arin shrugged. "I honestly don't know," he said.

"How did Suzy and you meet?" How do you share a bed, if you don't want to be breathed on? He didn't say it, for obvious reasons. It would be rude to inquire after someone's marriage bed.

Still.

He kept learning more about this strange couple and becoming more endeared to them.

"Oh, there is a whole story to that," said Suzy, and she put her hand on Arin's elbow, squeezing it.

"Is there now?" Dan tried not to perk up.

Suzy smiled at him, and something in his chest went tight and hot. "I'll share it someday," she told him, and her voice was sweet and teasing.

Dan flushed so hot he was half amazed he didn't swoon right there. He was... having a lot of feelings, all at once, and he wasn't sure what to do with all of them. Not that he had ever been good at having feelings in the first place.

* * *

That night, after dinner and bed, Dan abused himself. He shouldn't have - he knew he shouldn't have, that it wasn't right. He didn't believe in Hell, or he might have thought that he would go there. As it was, it just seemed... distasteful.

He at least made sure the door was locked first.

Dan lay on his back, looking up at the shadows of the rafters overhead, and he frigged himself. He wrapped his fist loosely around his cock, rolling his hips forward to fuck up loosely into it, his hear thrown back and his mouth falling open. He let his eyes drift shut, and he let the pleasure roll over him like a wave. Images played across his mind - the various tarts and strumpets he had spent his time with, the girl who had let him remove her bodice so that he could play with her breasts when they were both still teenagers, the time the one girl had slipper her small, soft hand down the front of his trousers.

He was imagining that again, only he was also watching from a distance. He was watching it happen, and he was breathing heavily, stroking himself carefully. The wet sounds of it were filling the whole room? and he was covering his mouth with one hand to keep from making any especially unsightly noises. He didn't want Suzy and Arin to know what he was up to, even though logically he knew they wouldn't. It wasn't as if they would be able to hear him from here.

Abruptly, as if summoned by his worry, the image in his head changed from his own clandestine rumblings to Suzy and Arin. How long had the two of them been together, before the first time they did anything of that sort? He tried to imagine elegant, beautiful Suzy allowing anything like that, and found it next to impossible. His stomach knotted up all over again, and he almost sobbed.

What did Suzy's breasts look like? It wasn't the sort of thing that he thought about too often - he was aware that it was improper, and not the sort of thing that a proper gentleman focused on.

He did, admittedly, sometimes have trouble holding on to being a proper gentleman, but still.

He could hold her breasts in his hands, maybe press his face into the space between them. He could pinch her nipples between his fingers and... oh, what would her nipples be like? What would they feel like in his mouth, against his tongue?

Dan shuddered, and he was beginning to jerk himself harder. They would be so lovely, and sweet and tender. He could flicker his tongue against the tips of them and she would moan. Oh, what would she sound like when she moaned? Would she clutch at his hair, or maybe at his shoulders? One woman he had taken to bed had bitten him while he was on top of her, and that had been... much more enjoyable than he had imagined it might be.

Suzy looked like the type who would bite. She could fasten her teeth right where his shoulder met his neck and dig in, hard enough to bruise.

Did Arin bite?

The image of kissing Arin floated into Dan's mind, and then being sandwiched between Arin and Suzy, being kissed by the both of them. Kissing someone with a beard, and the odd tickling that would no doubt bring on. Thet was something to consider. He hadn't ever even thought of that before.

He hadn't ever considered kissing a man to begin with, let alone a married man. Although did someone being married or not really have an impact when he was thinking about things that he probably shouldn't have been?

Was thinking about any of that any worse than he was currently doing?

Dan groaned into his hand, and his hips picked up speed. The bed was beginning to creak, and that was probably a thing to worry about, but he would worry about that later. He was shaking now, and the image of Arin's chest against his back and Suzy's breasts against his chest were just... it was all just so much, and he sobbed as his orgasm washed over him, his cock shooting stringy come up towards his stomach. He was still shaking as he sat up awkwardly, grabbing around for a clean handkerchief so that he could wipe himself down. He was... sticky. Sticky, and faintly ashamed.

He shouldn't have done that. He especially shouldn't have done that while thinking about his… hosts? Landlords? Friends?

Maybe that was part of the confusion - he didn't entirely know where he stood.

Was it normal for landlords to take their tenants to the theater? Dan had lived under the roofs of many different landlords, and most of them hadn't been as friendly and personable as Suzy and Arin. Maybe he was reading too into things.

Dan sighed.

This was all simpler at his old lodgings. True, they hadn't been this spacious, he hadn't been fed half so well, there had been all of that noise, and the hosts hadn't been half as gracious, but... still. He was the tenant, she was his landlady, and from there everything was just... simple. Easy.

He wasn't sure what to do on this uncertain ground, and it was making him nervous. But it wasn't as if he could just ask them, could he? That would also be strange. Hello, lovely people who have opened your home to me for a pittance, might I inquire as to what the nature of this relationship is?

Dan snorted as he mopped the cooling fluids from his chest. He really was beginning to get a bit loony from all the time in his own head lately, if this was what was becoming of him. He needed to go out more. Maybe going to the theater would be good for him; it had been such a long time since he'd done anything for the mere fun of doing it.

It would be good for him. He knew, logically, that he got weird when he spent too much time in his own head writing. It didn't help the guilt at not working when he should have been working (and according to his inner critic, he always should have been working), but he got weird when just left to his own machinations. He flopped back onto his bed, staring up at the rafters again, and he yawned. The same languor he always associated with some self abuse was tugging at his limbs, and he yawned so widely that he felt his jaw crack.

It would all be fine. He just needed to get out of his head for a little bit. An evening at the theater would be just the ticket. He was probably just focusing on Arin and Suzy like this because he was so pent up.

* * *

Dan woke up early with figments of an idea battering at the corners of his mind. He was used to that, to a certain degree. Part of his writing was just inspiration that showed up unannounced like an uninvited guest to demand attention until he did what he was asked.

Who was he to argue?

So Dan sat at his typewriter, and he banged on the keys, trying to get the words to flow. He had the idea, he had the build of it; there was an old house, and an odd couple that the heroine didn't entirely understand. In a flight of fancy, he even named her Danielle. She arrived, there to... what? He had the image of the girl standing in the great hallway, looking up at the head of some great taxidermy beast, while a woman with dark hair and a bearded man made their way down some grand staircase. The whole set up didn't look like the house he was currently staying at, but that felt like a sheer force of will at this point.

His heart was in his threat as he kept typing, describing Danielle. Taller than fashionable, more skinny than slender, frizzy curly hair. He usually wrote his main characters a bit more... attractive. Lots of (slyly) buxom women, long silky hair, big blue eyes. He probably should have been following that formula, since that was what sold the most books.

And yet.

He kept typing, as the story began to unspool under his fingers, like one of his mother's balls of yarn. There was the great house full of stuffed animals, and there was the strange, friendly couple. Danielle was there to tutor the wife in... something. There was a fifteen minute pause, as he stared off into the middle distance, trying to figure out just what it was this woman was doing living with strangers. It would be simpler, if women could just be boarders.

He typed longer, chewing on his lower lip as he let himself sink into the story. He could rewrite the story, edit when he finished it. He just needed to get it out first, before he lost it. The grey light of dawn turned into actual light, and he stopped straining his eyes, and just typed.

He almost never had a story that flowed this easily. He wondered, faintly, if there would even be a market for it. Who would want a story about a strange girl living with a man and a woman? Especially when he was writing both the man and the woman flirting with the girl. He needed to decided in which direction he was going to push it.

He had written women in love before, although usually not in this sort of story. He had written a few smuttier novels, although he always became embarrassed writing that sort of thing.

He had the women kissing, which was always a popular one. He remembered a letter he received once, about how he always wrote women getting into who knew what kinds of mischief with each other, but never had them kissing. He tried to amend that, to the best of his ability.

Dan did not himself understand the inverse mind, per se. He didn't think of himself as an inverse, apart from the fact that he sometimes thought about men in his more... distracted moments. But surely that was a normal part of life?

He shook himself out of his haze, and he leaned back in his chair, to stare down at the paper that had unspooled from his typewriter.

Oh wow.

He'd written enough that he had run out of paper, and there seemed to still be some writing left in his head. It was beating against his skull, like a particularly unpleasant headache. He rubbed his eyes, and he stretched, letting his arms go up and over his head. What time was it, anyway? The sun was up and casting shadows through the windows, but he'd never been good at telling the time like this.

Dan stood up, and he groaned as his back protested. Okay, no, he was a bit too achy. He had spent too much time bent over the typewriter. Too much time over the typewriter, too much time squinting at the page. He should have turned a light on.

That didn't matter - none of it mattered, because he'd gotten the words out. He'd gotten the words out, and now he could make his way towards the dining room, to get some food. He was only stumbling a little, his whole head full of cotton and shadows, when he realized that he wasn't wearing shoes. He wasn't really properly dressed at all, but it was too late to go back now. Maybe he could sneak into the kitchen and the cook could provide him with... well, something.

Suzy was in the kitchen.

Suzy was in the kitchen in an apron, and her dress was rolled up to her elbows, flour up to her forearms. She looked up at the sound of Dan's feet on the floor, and she smiled at him. "Hello!"

"Oh," said Dan, and he cleared his throat, suddenly aware of just how unkempt he looked. He was wearing trousers, at least. Trousers, a shirt with a big blotch of ink on the front of it, and his hair was an utter mess where he had been running his fingers through it.

"Don't mind me," Suzy said cheerfully. "I'm just making a pie."

"Don't you have a cook to make your pies for you?" Dan was acutely aware of how cold the floor was under his feet.

"I like to cook myself, sometimes," said Suzy, and then she paused. "Although when I put it like that, it sounds faintly unsavory."

Her words and her slightly scandalized tone startled a laugh out of Dan, and then she was laughing with him. She wiped her hands on her apron, then dusted off the apron. "So how can I help you?" Her tone was all business now.

"I don't want to bother you," said Dan. "I know it's early -"

"It's two in the afternoon," said Suzy.

"Oh," said Dan. "When did that happen?"

"Time generally progresses," Suzy said, and her tone was gentle. "Are you alright, Dan?"

"Sorry," said Dan, and he cleared his throat. "I was, uh... I was writing."

Suzy grinned at him, and she came up to him, grabbing him by the wrist. "I know what the creative mind can be like," she said, her tone sympathetic. "It can be difficult to keep track of such trivial matters as "time" when you're enraptured by the muse."

Dan snorted in spite of himself, and he sat down, his elbows on the table. "I take it you have some experience with creativity?"

"I did the taxidermy myself," said Suzy, indicating the various stuffed animals around the place. "I've been lost in the zone."

"Oh," said Dan. Truth be told, he'd never really considered the implications of doing... that sort of thing. "So your husband isn't an avid hunter, I take it?"

"Oh, god no," said Suzy. "No, he... he is not fond of hunting."

"Right," said Dan, and some of the anxiety that he had been carrying around in the base of his stomach seemed to ease. He didn't have anything... against hunting, per se, but he'd never seen the appeal of it. Blood sports in general just seemed unpleasant.

"I have a few friends who do like to hunt, though," said Suzy, "and I've made it known that I'll pay good money for an intact animal."

"Right," said Dan. He didn't entirely... understand it, but then again, there were plenty of things in the world that he flat out didn't understand.

"So," said Suzy, and she rubbed her hands together, sending up another cloud of flour, "have you eaten?"

"No," said Dan. "No, I don't think I have."

"If you can't even remember if you've eaten or not, you definitely need to eat something."

"I have a, um, a delicate constitution," said Dan, which was a nicer way to say "my guts hate me."

"Well," said Suzy, "what kind of things can you eat without your guts hating you?"

"What do we have on offering?" Dan rested his elbow on the table, his chin on his palm. He was watching her bustle about the kitchen, and he was trying not to stare. Her hips moved fetchingly under her dress, and he could hear the quiet creak of her corset. Why have I never thought of the appeal of that before? he wondered faintly. Have I just not listened loud enough?

And then Arin was coming in, and he had his sleeves rolled up. There was ink on his hand, and along his sleeve. "Oh," he said, "hello, Dan."

"Hello," said Dan, and he tried not to blush any harder. He had been ogling the man's wife.

Arin flopped onto the chair across from Dan, and he stretched out. He had a very broad chest, and Dan wanted to sink his face into it. He rubbed his face, and he tried to think of how to describe his heroine kissing her male employer. I'd have to include the beard, he thought, and how would he do that? He'd never kissed someone with a beard before.

"I am tired of trying to be funny," Arin said, with some authority.

"Hm?" Dan shook himself out of his reverie.

"Being funny," Arin repeated. "I'm not good at it."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Dan, because his mouth was operating before his brain at this point.

"Do you think I'm funny?" Arin shot Dan a look that Dan couldn't read.

"I don't think I know you well enough to be able to tell if you're funny or not," said Dan. "In my experience, nobody is really able to be funny on command."

That startled a laugh out of Arin, and Dan was pathetically grateful that he hadn't vexed Arin in some way. "That is a fair enough assessment," said Arin. "I suppose we'll just have to spend more time together, then!"

"Don't badger the poor man," scolded Suzy, and she set a dish down in front of Dan. "I hope this will suit," she said, and she sounded apologetic. "If you don't like it -"

"I'm sure I'll love it," Dan interrupted, which was rude of him. He blushed, cleared his throat. "I'm sure I'll love it," he repeated, and he gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

She smiled back at him, and patted him on the cheek. It was probably leaving a smudge of flour on him, but he could feel the warmth of her skin even after the brief contact ended. He was probably blushing.

"Suzy is an excellent cook," Arin agreed.

"You're a better one," said Suzy, and Arin was the one blushing this time.

"You like to cook?" Dan perked up. That sounded like the kind of thing that he could put in his book.

"I dabble," Arin said, and now he looked faintly uncomfortable.

"What kind of things do you like to cook?" Dan looked down at his plate. He hadn't been paying any attention to what was put in front of him; it looked like some kind of fish. Not a fish that he could identify, but then again, he had almost no experience with fish. They swam, they went under the water.

"Oh, this and that," said Arin. He rubbed the back of his neck, and he looked faintly uncomfortable.

"He makes amazing noodles," Suzy said, her tone conspiratorial. "Especially when he's feeling particularly creative."

"Oh, wow," said Dan. "I didn't... expect that."

"I'm not just a useless son of a rich man," Arin said, and his tone was surprisingly mild.

Dan flushed, looking down at his plate. "I didn't say that,"

"You didn't need to," said Arin, and then he reached over, patting Dan on the shoulder. "I'm not mad at you," he added quickly. "I just know what people say about people like me."

"Mostly they say that you have a lovely house and an equally lovely wife," said Dan, which was only a bit of a fib. As far as he knew, people didn't actually talk much about Arin, but... still. It was the principle of the thing, right?

Arin patted him on the shoulder, and that was more warmth lingering on Dan's skin. Dan tried not to blush harder at it, tried not to squirm in his seat. This was all... strange. Not necessarily in a bad way, but still. He took a bite of the fish, and he found it creamy and almost sweet, with minimal spicing.

"It's delicious," he said, and he probably shouldn't have been talking with his mouth full, but he couldn't help it. It was just so good.

"Thank you," said Suzy, and she blushed. Modesty turned her pink, and she went blotchy. She was endearingly awkward in her modesty, and he wanted to kiss her with all of his heart.

To save face, he took another bite, chewed.

"How are you finding your accommodations?" Arin looked at Dan, his expression interested.

"They're good," Dan said, when he'd swallowed.

"Is there anything you find yourself needing?" They were both so... attentive. It wasn't something that he was used to.

"I am out of paper," said Dan. "Is there a place where I can find some more?"

"You can borrow some of mine," said Arin.

“He wouldn’t be borrowing,” said Suzy. “It’s not like you expect him to give it back to you, do you?”

“Well, alright, no,” said Arin, “although I suppose if he let me read everything before everyone else did, that would count a little bit, wouldn’t it?”

If Arin reads my new manuscript, he’ll be able to recognize all of the bits of it that are actually about him and his wife, wailed some anxious part of Dan’s mind. He tried not to let the panic show on his face, and he gave a wan smile. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said.

“You never let me read your comics before you’ve polished them,” Suzy told Arin, and she sat down next to him.

“That’s different,” Arin protested. “I’m not very good.”

“Well, I’m not very good either, so we make quite the pair,” said Dan, and he smiled crookedly at Arin.

“I disagree,” said Arin. “I’m sure that you’re marvelous.”

“I’m not as good as I could be,” Dan amended. “I’m not writing the types of things I should be.”

“And what types of things should you be writing?” Arin was looking at him intently.

“I don’t really know,” Dan admitted. “But not what I’m writing.”

“That sounds ridiculous,” said Arin. “How are you supposed to hold yourself to some kind of standard if you’re not even sure what that standard is?”

“I suppose it does sound a bit silly when I put it like that,” Dan admitted.

"I know what it's like for people to simply... expect things from you," said Arin, and there was something wistful about his face that made Dan's chest hurt. "But you need to figure out what it is that you want to do with yourself."

"That's the hard part," said Suzy, and she patted Dan on the shoulder. The touch wasn't especially intimate, but it left him blushing regardless.

"Do either of you know where I could get more paper?" Dan blurted out.

"Paper?" Suzy frowned.

"It's dreadfully embarrassing, but I seem to have used up all of my paper." Dan took another bite of his food, and he chewed carefully. "I'm new to the area," he said, when he had swallowed, "and I'm not sure where to find a place to buy paper. My old paper shop is quite a ways away." It would also be rather difficult to get a coach at this time of day. He could, in theory, use a telephone to call for one, but they always made him nervous.

He'd read somewhere that the sparks of telephones went through the core of the Earth, and would someday set off some kind of massive earthquake. He doubted the validity of that, but... still. He didn't want to end up being responsible for a great wave crashing over something, or anything like that.

"I can loan you some," said Arin, derailing Dan from his thought process.

"What, paper?" Dan frowned.

"Certainly," said Arin. "I've got a lot of the stuff."

"I feel guilty just... taking your paper," Dan protested.

"If it makes you feel any better, you can let me read one of your other books," said Suzy.

"I'm the one lending him the paper," Arin said, and his voice took on a whining cadence that Dan probably should have found annoying, but instead found endearing.

"That may be so," said Suzy, "but I bought the paper."

"I can't argue with that," said Arin, and now he was grinning. "Does that sound like a fair deal?"

Dan licked his lips. He wasn't sure about how he felt letting his landlords read his books - but were they his landlords, or his tentative friends? These sorts of things always seemed to be more complicated than they needed to be.

"I can live with it," Dan said, because he was legitimately afraid of losing some of the idea that was beating around in his head.

Suzy smiled at him, and she tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear. "I'm looking forward to it," she said, and her tone was so earnest that he was pretty sure that she wasn't making fun of him.

So how about that?

* * *

Dan took the pile of paper, and he let Suzy into his room. It felt especially scandalous, remembering how he had abused himself in it the other night. He was blushing, but hopefully she didn't realize why.

She is a married woman, said some part of his mind. She has to be aware of this sort of thing. It was still intense to think about.

Suzy made a beeline for the bookshelf, and was browsing it, frowning in concentration. "Which of your books are you the proudest of writing?" Even though it was her house, she still managed to look strangely out of place in his room. All of her feminine frippery, in comparison to his more masculine stylings.

"I like the funny ones," Dan told her honestly. "I don't find writing romance hard, because so many people find the same sorts of things romantic. But something being funny takes a surprising amount of effort."

Suzy nodded, her expression thoughtful. "I've always admired people who were funny," she said. "It was one of the reasons that I fell in love with Arin."

Dan tried to ignore the little stab of jealousy that wormed its way up his chest, to nudge his heart. He wasn't even sure what it was that he was jealous of in the first place. Did he want her to fall in love with him? Did he want someone to love him in general for being funny?

Dan looked at his hands, shoved them in his pockets. He had set the paper by the typewriter, and he was rubbing his hands together now, trying to get more comfortable. He was... he didn't know what he was feeling, but he was feeling a lot of it.

"This one looks good," said Suzy, and she held up a book with a picture of a stylized lizard on the cover.

"I hope you enjoy it," Dan said earnestly. That one was especially... silly, but at least it wasn't smutty. He didn't know how he felt about a lady such as Suzy reading something smutty.

"I'm sure I will," Suzy told him, and she shot him another dazzling smile that made him blush.

* * *

Dan typed on into the evening. He paused to light a lamp at one point, but then he was back, the keys clicking under his fingers, his eyes fixed on the page. The story was unraveling; things were going creepy, in interesting ways. He liked the terror of it, liked the way he could build the tension and build the tension until it was nearly ready to snap. He kept picturing it in his head, down to the great, gloomy house.

He wasn't sure why he'd found this house quite so foreboding, when he had first come here. It was an odd place, to be sure,but he'd been in scarier ones in the past. He came up for air at some point, and his whole head was aching, his eyes burning. How long had he been staring at the page?

"Wow," he said out loud, and the silence of the house washed over him like a wave.

He was starving all over again, and he stood up. He was so tired, aching, and he wasn't even sure why. How long had he been under? He didn't usually go into a fugue state like that.

Putting himself in that specific mindset was a rare one, but then again, when was the last time some idea had seized him so strongly? He rubbed his aching head, and he made his way downstairs. The paper that Arin had given him was excellent as well - thick enough that he didn't have to worry about his typewriter keys breaking through it.

He was still barefoot as he made his way towards the kitchen. He stopped when he heard a sound near the sitting room with a taxidermy zebra by one of the couches. What was that?

It sounded like a sigh. A sigh, and then the sound of clothing rustling. It was probably none of his business, but, well... Dan had always been nosy. Part of why he had become a writer was to simply have a chance to get into other people's business, even if those people weren't actually real people. He could just take a peek, right?

Dan peered around the doorway, and he saw... Arin and Suzy.

More specifically, he saw Suzy on her back, her legs spread wide on the couch, and Arin was on the floor between her spread thighs, his head disappearing up into her skirt. Suzy was making desperate noises, and her hands were curving over his head through the fabric of the dress. Dan could see the shape of her fingers curving over his skull.

Oh.

"Arin, oh, Arin," Suzy murmured, and her voice was quiet and desperate as she shook. She was panting, and her hips were rolling up. "Such a good boy, Arin, such a good... boy, oh, Arin, Arin!" Her voice was rising in pitch, and for all that Dan was already becoming ridiculously aroused, there was something... endearing about it.

Suzy, falling apart like this. She was usually so collected, and yet here she was, wriggling and panting and squirming. God, what did she taste like? When was the last time he'd had a woman's cunt on his face? He missed it.

Dan strained his ears, and he could just make out the wet sounds of Arin's mouth, as he sucked and licked. Arin's head was still moving, and he was doing things with his tongue, clearly, because Suzy was beginning to get loud again.

Then Arin pulled back, and he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "You need to be quiet," he said, and his voice was teasing. "If you keep that up, you might wake him up."

"Since when do you give me orders?" Suzy gave him a raised eyebrow, but she was clearly grinning.

"A thousand pardons," said Arin, and he somehow managed to give an effusive bow, which was impressive from his sitting position.

"I wouldn't mind him catching us," Suzy said, and her voice was rough now.

Dan's heart was in his throat.

"He's so pretty," said Arin, and his tone had taken on a slightly dreamy tone. "I'd love to see him fuck you."

What.

"Well," said Suzy, "we'll just have to work harder, won't we?" Her hand went to the top of Arin's head, tangling in his hair. "Speaking of..."

"I live to serve," said Arin, and his head was disappearing under Suzy's skirts again.

Dan backed away, and his mouth was dry, his head pounding. They wanted him. They didn't just want him, they wanted him. They wanted him like... that. Arin wanted him. Did Arin want him? Did he want Arin?

Dan went to the kitchen, and he made a big show of clattering around, to give them a chance to... become decent. As it were. Not that they weren't already decent. They were wonderful people, just...

Dan was aware, in a distant sort of way, that he was gibbering. He was gibbering like one of his own heroines in a particularly lascivious novel. He rubbed his face again, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when he was tapped on the shoulder.

"Oh, Suzy," said Dan. "I didn't see you there." He cleared his throat, and he nearly choked; he could smell her, still. That particular smell of a woman, aroused.

Suzy was pink cheeked, her eyes bright. A few of the pins that had been holding her hair in place seemed to have sprung loose, and she looked positively radiant.

Arin must have brought her to climax floated through Dan's head, and he blushed hard.

Since when was he so lecherous?

"I'm sorry," said Suzy, and she gave him a slightly guilty look. "I didn't hear you."

"It's alright," said Dan, and he laughed, self conscious. Her corset was still on, tight as ever, and her neckline seemed lower than usual. He could see the softness of her breasts, and he wanted to bury his face in them.

He needed to put that in a book some day. When his brain worked again. If it would ever work again. He had an erection, and it was throbbing at him, engorged to the point that it was nearly painful.

"I'll make you some food," said Suzy, and she indicated the table. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

"I'll be fine," Dan said, and he tried to appear casual, and not like he was ogling.

"I insist," said Suzy. "Sit."

And he sat. He wasn't thinking when he sat, he just... did, and he shifted, pressing his knees together in hopes of stymieing his erection, or at least making it less... obvious.

"How is your writing going?" She was bustling around the kitchen all over again, and she was walking so... smoothly. She almost glided. It made his heart twist.

"It's going," he said. "You engage in some of the creative arts. I assume you know how it can be sometimes."

She gave a little laugh, and she nodded. "Oh, definitely," she agreed. "Sometimes it feels like nothing creative that I attempt ever feels like behaving itself."

He laughed himself. "What can you do?" Look at him, making conversation after watching his landlady who was also his friend engaging in the kind of hedonistic debauchery he generally associated with dirty postcards! He was getting better at this.

What was "this"? Had he ever, in his whole life, been in a situation like this before? He didn't even know how to describe it, except that he was having a lot of his feelings at once, and they all seemed to be churning away in his stomach like a maelstrom. This wasn't his usual stomach upset, either.

"The paper has been really helpful," he said, and he tried to remember if he'd said that or not. "It's stronger than the paper I usually use."

"Card stock," Suzy said. "I've heard people say before that typewriters are surprisingly hard on their paper, but a lot of artists like to use card stock."

"And you said it was a silly idea to buy all of that specialty paper," said Arin, coming in as well. He looked downright relaxed, his hair down from its usual ponytail, his sleeves rolled up. He was ruddy in the face, and he looked relaxed.

He climaxed as well. The both of them are like newlyweds.

Dan swallowed, aware of his Adam's apple bobbing like some kind of buoy. He needed to stop thinking like this, he needed to stop focusing on them in this manner. It couldn't be seemly.

Not that he had done many seemly things in his life, but... still.

Dan leaned back in his seat, rubbed his eyes and tried to get his thoughts in order.

"I've been writing," he said, lacking anything else to say, "and it's been going smoothly. I think that your house really has the right... resonance, to help me along."

"You aren't the first to say that," Suzy said, her tone thoughtful.

Dan was surprised at the sudden flash of jealousy that shot through him, curdling in his stomach. I'm not the first?

"Oh?" He tried to keep his tone casual, as she put a plate in front of him. It was beans on toast.

"We had a lady and her husband living here for a while, and the both of them were artists," said Arin, and he sat across from Dan, his chin in his hand. He was watching Dan eat with an expression that might have been a bit unsettling if Dan wasn't already feeling awkward. "They both said that the felt their creative energy flowed much... freer here than it did in their former lodgings."

"In fairness," Dan said, "my former lodgings weren't... bad. They were just very loud, which can make it somewhat difficult to concentrate on the various intricacies needed for creative focus."

"Oh, no doubt," said Suzy. "When I need to taxidermy something, I always like to make sure that there is absolute silence." Then she was shooting Arin a Look which had some history behind it.

Arin had the good grace to look sheepish, at least. "I learned that," he told her. "Don't worry about that."

She smiled at him, and he smiled back at her, an easy, open smile. The two of them worked so well together, and it made something in Dan's chest ache.

"Have we been... bothering you?" Arin's tone was delicate, probing.

Those were the same words that he had used to describe someone being kissed, and he didn't know how he felt about the fact that he was making that connection. What would it be like, to kiss Arin? To feel those whiskers against his face, to hold that broad face in his hands? Dan's cock twitched in his pants, and his heart began to beat a little faster.

"Not at all," Dan assured them. "It's been nice to have people who want to talk to me. I fear that a lot of people seem to think that writing works by simply isolating an individual, and then the words come out."

"A lot of people treat artists the same way," Arin said, and his tone was sympathetic. "Although I did want to ask you a question." He leaned further forward, and now his expression could almost be described as "conspiratorial".

"Yes?" Dan licked his lips. Is he going to ask me if I saw the two of them being intimate?

"How do you get... like, how do you manage to get poses to work?" Arin sounded faintly sheepish.

Dan paused. "Poses?" That wasn't the question he was expecting. He didn't know if he'd ever been asked something like that. He wasn't even sure he knew what it meant in this context.

"Alright, so," said Arin, and now he looked sheepish, "so I will admit to the fact that sometimes I draw some more... ribald things."

"Ribald," Dan echoed. He hadn't the faintest idea that Arin engaged in that sort of thing, but he'd have to take Arin's word for it.

"The type of thing that might be viewed as less... prudent to be discussed around certain company," said Arin. "Nothing too... much," he added quickly.

"Too much," said Dan, and he took another bite of his beans on toast. He was just saying everything back to Arin. He must have been tired, if he was having this much trouble just making things make sense.

"But I've been having some difficulties with poses," said Arin. His tone was very earnest.

"You do have..." Dan gestured to Suzy, and then realized that maybe that was untoward, and dropped his hand. This whole conversation was taking on a slightly surreal cast, like he was in a dream.

"I mean, yes, but -" Arin started.

"You wouldn't ask your wife for something uncouth?" Dan supplied.

Arin snickered. "No," he said.

"I'm perfectly fine being uncouth, I'll have you know," said Suzy, and she raised on elegant eyebrow.

Dan flushed, looking down at his hands. "I see," he said.

"But," said Arin, "I don't have any male models. I was wondering if you might be willing to..." He cleared his throat.

"Male?" Dan frowned. "Why do you need a male model?"

"Because I'm drawing the male figure," said Arin, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I need to be able to see it in order to do it."

"Right," said Dan, and he cleared his throat. "That makes sense."

"Would you be willing to do some modeling for me?" Arin leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed across his chest. He was jiggling his leg.

"I would be willing to, yes," said Dan. "What kind of modeling would you like, specifically?"

"I'm amused that you were willing to do it before you knew what it was that you were doing in the first place," Suzy cut in, and Dan flushed.

"Sorry," he said. "I tend to leap before I leap."

"As long as you aren't leaping into anything particularly dangerous, I think that might be a good philosophy," said Arin. "I know that I tend to overthink things."

Suzy gave him a calculating look. "Would you be comfortable helping us?"

"Us?" Dan rubbed the back of his neck, ruffling the thin hair at the base of his neck.

"Us," said Arin, "because Suzy helps me with these things too. You'd be posing with her."

"With her," said Dan, and then he realized he was blushing. "Oh. Um. Sure. I'd be... that'd be... sure."

"Are you alright?" Arin frowned at Dan, and one of his hands reached out to Dan's.

Dan let his hand be held. "I'm alright," he said, and he cleared his throat. "I don't, um... I don't know many other artistic types."

"You are an artistic type," Suzy pointed out.

"Writing is different," Dan insisted. "I don't need to see things."

"How do you make a position work? I've read some of your..." Arin trailed off, and now he looked hopelessly embarrassed. "I mean, I wanted to see what it is you work on," he said meekly. "Not for the new one, obviously, but the... older ones. The ones that are already published."

"Oh," said Dan. He wasn't sure how he felt about this. His stomach was knotting up like a bag of snakes, and his heart was in his throat. He wasn't sure how he felt about this at this point, except that... wow. It definitely wasn't he was expecting.

"So are you still willing?" Suzy's voice broke him out of his reverie.

Dan nodded, and he licked his lips. "Yeah, I could... yeah."

"I'm glad," said Arin. "I've been thinking about having you model for me since you walked in our door, to be perfectly frank."

"I'd rather you be Arin," Dan said, before his brain had a chance to catch up with his mouth.

There was a beat of silence, and then Arin burst out laughing, his head thrown back and his face turning red.

Suzy laughed along with him, and then Dan was joining in, the three of them cackling in the echoing kitchen. He tried not to shiver when Suzy's hand rested on his shoulder, and he licked his lips. He was trying not to be too... something, although he felt he was edging onto that territory.

They didn't seem to mind, at least. That was good.

“That was a good one,” said Arin. “Have you ever used that in one of your books?”

“I can honestly say that I don’t think that I’m very good at humor,” said Dan. “I do my best to be witty in my creations, but funny in and of itself is not necessarily something that I’m… good at.”

“I think you’re quite god at it,” said Arin, with confidence.

Dan tried not to blush too hard at the compliment.

“So for the pose we’re doing, you don’t have to be fully dressed,” said Suzy. “Minimal clothing is fine.”

“Minimal clothing,” Dan echoed, and he tried not to blush. Was this going to make its way into his latest piece?

… Maybe.

Oh god, how would his readers feel about that? Had he made the couple in his book artists? He wasn’t sure - he usually stuck to just having them be the idle rich, for the obvious reasons.

He had to admit, it was kind of the perfect set up for amorous activities. But it wasn't as if it was an actual invitation to amorous activities, because in what universe would that be a real thing?

"I'd be happy to model for you," he said.

"Good to know," said Arin, and he smiled, a wide, toothy grin.

Dan glanced over at Suzy, saw that she was grinning just as wide. He was beginning to feel like he'd somehow walked into some kind of snare, and any moment now he would be up in the air and waiting for whatever hunter had laid the trap to come and get him.

Was he even afraid of that?

The image of his head mounted on a wall drifted into his mind, and it was joined with the image of his face buried between Suzy's thighs the way Arin's had been, and Dan's cock jumped in his pants.

Oh fuck, now of all times? Although if not now, when?

"Dan," said Suzy, cutting into his thoughts. "Are you alright?"

Dan shook his head, trying to get his brain back into some kind of working order. "Yes, sorry," he said. "I believe I'm still a bit dazed."

"Writing really takes it out of you, doesn't it?" Arin made a sympathetic noise.

"It does sometimes leave me a tad giddy," said Dan, which was a safer thing to say than... well, any of the other things that were going through his head at present. "It isn't a bad feeling," he added, when he caught their concerned expressions.

"Would you like to come with me when I make the shopping?" Suzy had, at some point, gotten herself a cup of tea, and was stirring it carefully.

"Shopping?" Dan blinked, trying to keep abreast with the conversation.

"Shopping," Suzy echoed. "I need to buy some things. Would you like to come with me?"

"Oh," said Dan, and he licked his lips. "Um. Sure. When?"

"Tomorrow," said Suzy. "You can get lunch with me as well." She paused, her expression going slightly worried. "Unless you need to concentrate on your writing?"

"I think it would do me some good to get some fresh air," Dan told her honestly. "And to figure out what direction I'm going to send this story."

"Would you like to tell us about where it's going?" Arin rested an elbow on the table, and was looking at Dan with an expression of great interest.

"Oh," said Dan, and he licked his lips, tried not to blush. "I'm still in the... in the process of figuring that out myself," he said, more honestly than he intended it to. "Not to complain, since it is nice to have a story flowing along, but..."

"Sometimes it feels nice to know where it's going?" Arin made a sympathetic noise. "I can understand that. I've had a similar experience."

"If I may ask, how would that work out with visual art?" Dan put his own elbow on the table, leaning forward. He had known several artists over the course of his life, but most of them didn't discuss their process. There had mostly been a bunch of ribbing and a lot of drinking, back in those days.

He had been mostly sober these days, and was still a bit too self conscious to really try ribbing someone who was technically his landlord.

"What do you mean?" Arin leaned back in his seat, as Suzy took Dan's plate.

"Like..." Dan tried to find a way to frame it in his head. "Because when I am writing, I don't have the total story in my head every time. Sometimes, I know what's going to happen next, but not what's going to happen after that, if that makes sense?"

"Somewhat, yes," said Arin. He was nodding.

"And when I know what's going on, I can know... like, I'm not looking at the whole picture. When you're painting or drawing, do you not see the completed work in front of you as you add more?" Dan was finally beginning to glom on to the idea as he saw it. "Because as I write, I don't look at it from on high and then see all of the different levels of it, the different parts that are... well, part of it." He laughed, suddenly embarrassed. "To be completely honest, sometimes that happens to my own detriment. I lose track of what has happened where, and then I have to go back and edit, to ensure that what I've written connects to what was already written."

"Sometimes I think a piece of art is going in one direction, when in reality it's going in another direction," said Arin slowly. "I may get seized by a whim to put a shadow in one place or another, or to change the perspective, or even put a new figure in when I wasn't planning to."

"It can be amusing to watch him," Suzy cut in. "Sometimes he appears to get into arguments with the things he's painting!"

"I can't help it," Arin grumbled, although it was a good natured grumble. "So many of these things don't seem like they want to cooperate with me. Do they not know that I'm the one creating them?"

"Have we ever agreed with our own creators?" Dan hadn't meant to sound quite so... philosophical as he said it, but it still popped out like that.

Suzy raised an eyebrow at him, and Dan looked down at his hands and blushed.

"That was profound," said Arin, "although now my mind is going to wonder whether we're actually just being painted across some great canvas."

"Or written across some great typewriter," Dan agreed.

Suzy snorted, and they both turned to look at her. Dan could feel himself already starting to blush. "You both sound like you should be in a coffee house arguing with the students," she told the two men.

"I'll have you know, I've been to plenty of coffee houses," said Dan, and then he gave a sheepish expression. "Although I seldom win my arguments."

"Nobody wins an argument when it comes to students," said Arin.

"I wasn't quite so quick witted when I was a student," said Dan.

"Students are different these days," said Suzy. "Smarter, I think."

"I would think you'd be shaking your fist at the state of the youth of today," said Arin, grinning.

"I can not understand the youth of today while still acknowledging that they're smart," Suzy groused.

“You sound like such a curmudgeon,” said Arin, but he was grinning.

Dan was grinning as well - could feel his whole face opening up with it, and he needed to stop blushing quite so hard. They had to see it, even in the dimness of the room.

“I’m sure you were a very intelligent student,” Suzy said, and she patted Dan on the arm.

Dan tried not to blush. “I do my best,” he said, and he cleared his throat. “I had, um, I had better head to bed,” He rubbed his hands together. “If I’m to be good for any help tomorrow. With the shopping.”

“Oh, I’m sure that you’re going to be excellent,” said Suzy, and something about the way she was grinning at him was making his stomach tie up in knots.

“Thank you,” Dan said, willing his prick to go down. “I certainly do my best.”

Suzy took his hand in hers and squeezed it, their fingers lacing together, and Dan tried not to blush quite so hard.

* * *

Dan spent too much time getting ready the next morning. He knew he was fussing, trying to look his best, and he knew that he was being a bit ridiculous.

He couldn't seem to stop, as he tried to run a brush through his hair, then gave up and just wet it, forcing it back from his face. He was wearing a clean white shirt, a nice pair of breeches, a jacket with leather patches on the elbows. He looked... nice. Hopefully not too nice - he didn't want to send the wrong message. Was he sending the wrong message?

What message was he even trying to send?

He was up too early to try to look nice, when he had been up too late working on his project. His young protagonist had already been up to... quite a few adventures. Some of them had involved some truly filthy things - things that he had never done before, that he was curious about but had never actually been engaged with himself.

The girl had a prick in her bum and a cunt on her face, and the combination was one that he was, admittedly, very curious about. Not that he'd ever thought about having a prick in his arse, per se, and yet...

And yet.

Dan sighed, stared down at his prick in his trousers. He needed to be less worked up. This was getting ridiculous. He hadn't been this easy to rile up as a youth, and he was pretty far from being a youth at this point. He closed is eyes and counted, his head tilted back, and he licked his lips.

Alright.

This would be fine. Absolutely fine.

* * *

Dan came down to meet Suzy at the time they were meant to embark, hopefully looking casual. Looking... nice.

Suzy, of course, looked stunning. She had on a black dress with a bustle, and her hair was braided and pinned up, the black satin of her dress catching the light in captivating ways. Not for the first time, Dan wished that he could do any kind of visual art. He wanted to catch the way the light was highlighting the line of her profile, reflecting off of her dress and her skin like a crow's wing.

"There you are," Suzy said, and she smiled warmly at Dan.

"Hello," he said, barring anything else to say. "You look... you look very nice." He cleared his throat, rubbed his hands together.

"Thank you," said Suzy, and she did a little twirl. "I haven't had an excuse to wear this dress in a while yet."

"Well," said Dan, his mouth going dry, "I'm, uh... I'm glad to help. If it's helping.Um." He cleared his throat, and he was blushing.

Suzy reached out and took his hand, squeezing his fingers, and Dan flushed again, harder this time. He cleared his throat, and he tried not to move around too much. He was faintly surprised at how flustered he was getting - he wasn't used to being quite this impacted. Sure, he'd had a passing flight of fancy now and then, but it wasn't usually quite so... intense.

"You're very much helping," Suzy said, and her tone was earnest. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Oh," Dan said, and his voice cracked. "Is, um, is Arin alright? With that?" Why was he asking that? What was he actually asking, come to think of it? It felt like he was on some very thin ice, but he wasn't sure what exactly he was standing over in the first place.

This was all a lot more fraught than it had a right to be. He was helping a woman who was technically his landlady go shopping, so why was he this anxious? It was just shopping. It wasn't anything else. It wasn't anything less, either, come to think of it, but -

"Dan," said Suzy, "are you ready to go?"

"I'm ready to go," said Dan, and he cleared his throat. "Sorry. Lost in my thoughts."

"I'm used to you artistic types," Suzy teased. "Were you communing with the muse?"

I want to bury my face in your tits until I can't breathe, thought Dan, and he blushed, licking his lips. "Something like that," he said. Did it count as communing with his muse if he was focusing on his own horny feelings, considering he wrote so much smut?

He was overthinking this all over again.

"Do you ever feel like your thoughts are conspiring against you?" Dan blurted out, as the two of them began to make their way down the street. Suzy was holding a basket over one arm, and she looked over at him, her expression thoughtful.

"What do you mean?" She was at least keeping pace with Dan, who was making an effort not to walk too fast.

"Like... your own thoughts are trying to make you mess up. Somehow." He shrugged, resisted the urge to shove his hands into his pockets.

"I'm not sure," Suzy said. "I've had my own... struggles with my mind, but for the most part it usually cooperates with me, when I make it behave itself."

"How do you do that?" Dan didn't like how desperate his voice sounded, and yet.

He was beginning to get desperate.

"I found things to channel my feelings into," Suzy said, and then her small hand was going to Dan's arm, holding on to it. "I have my husband, my friends, my art."

"Those are all worthwhile things to concentrate on," Dan agreed. His skin was tingling where she was touching him, even through the fabric of his jacket.

"I suppose I just... try to remember that things aren't half as horrible as I think they are," she said, and she shrugged, looked sheepish. "I used to think that the world was ending every time I hit a particularly unpleasant issue, but I began to realize that even when I thought that it was the end of the world, it usually wasn't."

“How can you tell, though?” He hated how plaintive he sounded, then; “sorry. I’m overthinking this.”

"The world is still turning," Suzy said, "and we're still walking on it. And even if we weren't walking, the sun would still rise and set. The world would keep going."

"I suppose there is a comfort in that," said Dan slowly. "I never looked at it that way, though."

"I've had to deal with some... unpleasantness in regards to my health," said Suzy, and there was a vagueness there that Dan recognized. He'd been there himself. "I ended up learning to take things a day at a time."

"That's a healthy way to look at things," said Dan.

"I do my best," Suzy demurred. "Now. Let us shop."

Dan followed behind her faithfully, as they began to weave their way through the market.

* * *

Dan found it was easier to do what Suzy asked for. Hold this, carry that, reach for this, measure that. He couldn't complain. He liked the way she looked at him over one shoulder, almost coyly, smiling at him with her lips. She painted her face more than other women that Dan had known, but he liked it.

The stark contrast of her lips against her face made him flush, and the image of her lips around his cock floated into his head as she dickered with the man behind the general store counter.

He flushed, shifted, tried not to think about it anymore even as it crept through his head. It was replaced with the sight of Arin doing the same thing - Arin sliding into bed with him, Arin kissing him under Suzy's watchful eye.

He might have been more inverted than he had thought. Much more inverted than he thought. Not that he could complain too hard, when his heart was beating in his ears like this, and he was watching the way that Suzy was simply... bustling around, as if she belonged here. As if this was the place that she reigned supreme.

"Dan?" Suzy's small hand was on his arm, and he tried not to startle too hard. He might drop the bottle of rose water she was handing him.

"Sorry," said Dan, and he cleared his throat. "I was off with the fairies."

"They take you a lot, don't you?" Her expression was thoughtful."

He shrugged, still bashful.

"Well, I suppose I'll just have to hold on to you a little tighter," Suzy said, and her arm went around his middle, squeezing him. It was practically improper, in this mixed company, but it still made his whole body flood with warmth.

"I won't go anywhere," Dan said, more fervently. "I promise."

"Good," Suzy said, with some finality.

Dan almost wished he could stop the giant, goofy grin that was threatening to take over his face.

Almost.

* * *

When they came to the house, they found Arin chopping vegetables. His sleeves were rolled up, and Dan could see that Arin was much more muscled than anyone Dan had seen outside of a circus strongman poster.

He smiled at the two of them, and pushed a piece of hair behind his ear. It was escaping its queue. "Hello," he said. "Good trip?"

"I didn't know you cooked," said Dan, as he began to help Suzy unload the basket.

"I decided it would be fun to learn," said Arin. "I was without a passion for a while, when I felt overwhelmed with art."

Dan privately wondered how one could become overwhelmed with art... and then didn't wonder, because he remembered the times that he'd fallen so deeply into writing that he hadn't had a chance to breathe. So why not become overwhelmed with the art?

"I'm sorry that happened," Dan said, and hopefully he sounded sincere. He knew that sometimes it could come off as a tad... phony.

"It happens to the best of us," I suspect," said Arin, and he gave a shrug that seemed downright philosophical. "At least I found it again. But for a while I was pursuing a new passion, and cooking seemed to be as good a passion as any other."

"I can't really argue with that," said Dan. "As someone who likes to eat." He handed Suzy the things from the basket, then came up behind her to put something in the cupboard.

"Arin is an excellent cook," said Suzy, and she sounded proud. "What are you making us?"

"We're going to have soup," said Arin. "The weather is getting to the point where I want to eat soup."

"I like soup," Dan agreed.

"You'll help Arin," said Suzy, tossing Dan an apron, and he took it, a bit surprised.

"If you think I can," said Dan, a bit haltingly.

"I gave the servants the day off," said Arin, "and I can use all the help I can get." He had tied his long hair back, but one piece had fallen out, and Dan's fingers itched to tuck it behind Arin's ear.

"I'd be happy to help," said Dan, and he unbuttoned his own sleeves, beginning to roll them up.

* * *

Dan was put to work peeling vegetables, which he did without too much trouble. His own mother had put him to work when he was a child often enough. He listened to the two of them talking, as he carefully peeled carrots, trying not to get his fingers. It was nice to just be included.

"So would you be willing to model for me tomorrow?" Arin asked, when Dan had graduated to peeling potatoes.

Dan looked up, to see Arin mixing something in a big copper bowl. "Tomorrow? Oh, certainly."

"We're not going to be interrupting you, are we?" Suzy was sitting at the table with Dan, chopping the carrots that he had been peeling. "I know how difficult it can be, to get back into the creative rhythm."

"No, no," Dan said quickly. "No, you won't be interrupting me at all." He sighed, as the scent of broth began to fill the kitchen.

"What are you working on presently?" Suzy's tone was pleasant enough, but Dan still froze.

And then he started talking. He didn't even try to fudge the truth, which was dumb, because he should have. What if he offended them? He'd never had much in the way of sense, had he?

"So," he said, "there's a young lady who goes to work in a big old house..."

* * *
He told them everything. He glossed over the smutty bits, but only just. He might have been blushing a bit as he told more, of the wife and young Danielle (and he would really need to change that name) kissing each other, of the husband seducing her.

His landlords (friends, maybe?) kept quiet, and let him talk. When he finally finished, Suzy took the pile of peeled potatoes from in front of Dan. "That sounds pretty excellent," said Arin, and he cleared his throat. He seemed to be blushing.

"I'd like to kiss you," said Suzy.

Dan dropped the peeler, which he had been fiddling. "What?"

"I'd like to kiss you," Suzy repeated, and her eyes darted towards Arin. "I know he'd like me to kiss you, too."

Dan was flushing, staring down at the potatoes, then looking back up at her, eyes wide. "But... you're... you're married."

"I won't be any less married just because I kiss you," Suzy pointed out, "Kissing will not annul a marriage."

"I've known people who would disagree with that," said Dan, and he tried not to let his nervousness shine through. He was looking at Suzy's mouth, and it looked so kissable, as his heart beat in his throat.

"Well, we're not those people," said Arin. "I'd like you to kiss her too." He paused, and he flushed. "I'd like to kiss you," he added.

"Oh," said Dan.

"You don't have to say yes," Suzy added quickly. "You can..." She looked unsure for the first time.

"No," said Dan. "I mean... I'm not saying no. I'm saying yes. To not saying no." He cleared his throat. "Wait."

"I have no idea what you meant by that," Arin said, and he was grinning, just a bit.

"I'm not sure either," said Dan, and he laughed. Some of the tension left the room, at the very least. "I'm not... I don't think I'm an invert," he said. "At least, not fully. But... I would very much like to kiss you. Both of you." He couldn't believe he was saying this.

He was going to get thrown out on his ear. He was going to lose all of his reputation, he was going to -

Somehow, during his panicking mental scrambling, Arin had come around to stand in front of Dan. He leaned down, his big, blunt hands on Dan's face, and then he was kissing Dan.

The facial hair does tickle. thought some dazed part of Dan's mind. I don't know why I'm so surprised at that. His hands were on Arin's shoulders, clutching at the fabric of Arin's shirt, and he sighed into the kiss.

Arin's fingers were combing through his hair, gentle as anything, careful not to get caught. Dan shivered, and Arin pulled him closer, until they were belly to belly. It was the kind of kiss that Dan associated with his own romance novels, as he melted into the sweetness of it, the warmth.

There was softness against his back, and then a smaller hand on the back of his neck, squeezing it. He sighed again, and Arin's tongue swiped against the seam of his lips, and then Arin was licking into his mouth.

It was different than kissing a woman, in ways that Dan couldn't put his finger on, but then again, he was used to kissing a certain type of woman, wasn't he? Arin was about as different from anyone that Dan had ever kissed, and Dan couldn't really complain about that, because he was nothing, if not a seeker of novelty.

This felt like it was more than novelty, felt like it was... he didn't know what it was, except that now Suzy's hands were in his hair, and he was bending over, leaning back awkwardly to kiss her, and she kissed like Arin did, with purpose. Arin's big hands were on his hips, Suzy's hands were on his face, in his hair. She was holding his hips in place, and Arin's hips were rolling against his, Suzy's breasts were pressing into his back...

Dan was drowning in warm skin, and he hadn't realized just how badly he had been missing it. Skin hunger, they call it skin hunger some part of his mind mumbled, as Arin's hands untucked his shirt, and he shivered, his head tilting back, resting on her shoulder. Arin's fingers were ticklish, Suzy's lips were hot and wet against his own. Then Arin's hand was tracing up his stomach, ticklish and delicate. He tried not to squirm too much, tried not to embarrass himself, tried not to breathe too hard, because then he'd wake up and it would turn out that he had imagined all of this, and then what was he going to do?

Suzy broke the kiss, and she guided Dan's mouth back to Arin's, and then they were kissing again, holding each other. Dan reached back, grabbing Arin's ass and held it in his hands. He squeezed it, kneaded it like he'd seen Suzy knead dough, and Arin moaned into his mouth.

Arin was hard, right up against his leg, and Dan had never dealt with... that, and wasn't sure what to do with it. His stomach twisted in anxious, interesting ways that made his heart leap in his throat. He rolled his hips forward, pressing his own cock against Arin's thigh, and Arin moaned. It was all so much, so much heat, so much sweat, so much everything that was just throbbing through him like a heartbeat.

"Oh," Dan mumbled, and then Arin was... dropping to his knees, and he was staring up at Dan with those gorgeous brown eyes of him.

"I'd like to give you head," Arin said, as if that was just a thing that people said.

"The... you want to..." Dan trailed off, as his brain shorted out. He'd had someone put their mouth on him before, but never for very long, and it had never been a man before. Let alone someone just volunteering to do it, free of charge.

Oh wow.

"If you don't want me to," Arin said, "I don't... I mean..." His hand was wrapped loosely around Dan's ankle.

"No," Dan said quickly. "No, no, I want it. I mean yes. I do want it. Not no to you -"

Arin was unbuttoning Dan's pants, and Dan sank back against Suzy, as Suzy kissed along his neck, dry little kisses that left him even weaker. "You're doing such a good job," Suzy whispered in his ear. "You're making us so proud, Dan, you're..."

Dan moaned, as Arin's lips wrapped around his cock. How was this happening? How had... what had brought this along? How did he make sure it never actually stopped?

Arin's mouth was skilled, and that was a surprise in and of itself. The last time Dan had experienced this... well, it hadn't been half this skillful. How had Arin gotten so good at it? Dan's fingers threaded through Arin's hair, and he let himself ride the sweet sensations of Arin's mouth on him.

His last thought, before he went over the edge, was of how he was going to write this into the story.

He'd have to find a way.

Archive of Our Own^beta

Actions

Work Header

Writer of a Certain Age

7r33h0u53r3fu633

Summary:

Notes:

Work Text:

Actions

Kudos

Comments

Footer

About the Archive

Contact Us

Development