Burning Honey

Author's note:

Long time reader, first time posting. This is really my first whack at any kind of romance. Hopefully it's a decent start. If there's interest, I'll continue - so please do give me any feedback you may have!

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"Can I get another, please?"

The bartender shot Aspen a glance from the corner of his eye. Sure, he'd been sitting at the bar for less than an hour and had just downed his third gin and tonic, but Aspen was fine, really. It was open bar at this deathly-dull gala - some charity thing thrown by Ruby's company - and its only redeeming quality was the top-shelf liquor flowing freely.

The bartender passed the drink over silently, clearly deciding it wasn't worth the trouble to say anything. Aspen didn't really blame him; he stood out like a sore thumb in his rented, almost-fitting rental tux among the sea of designerwear. He must have realized he wouldn't be getting a hundred-dollar tip from Aspen. He took the drink without comment and glanced at his ancient watch.

One hour down.

He sighed.

"Not enjoying the party?"

The voice came from directly beside him and Aspen would have jumped, had the gin not made him a little slow to react. He swiveled his stool around to come face to face with - it might have been the booze talking, but Aspen couldn't think of any other way to describe him - a man made of gold.

Tall and broad, the man seemed to take up Aspen's entire field of vision. He had that kind of year-round tan that Aspen felt sure came from weekending in places like St. Kitts or Nevis. His hair was a dark honey blonde, threaded throughout with streaks of sunlight - it was too long, Aspen thought, the tips curling at his collar, to exactly blend into the well-starched crowd of businessmen milling about. No, this man wouldn't exactly blend in anywhere. He was smiling at Aspen expectantly and of course his teeth were perfectly straight, though not, Aspen noted, the artificial white of toothpaste commercials. His eyes, warm and green-yellow, were crinkled by the grin, the slight laugh lines framing them suggesting that this was a common expression. He looked...well, he looked

inviting.

He must be some sort of schmoozing guru, Aspen decided, the guy they called in to broker business mergers or whatever men in suits did these days. He seemed persuasive somehow, although Aspen really couldn't say how he had come to that conclusion, as the man had barely spoken.

"Oh - it's fine- I'm just -" Aspen managed out before he was cut off by a rich chuckle. He stared just a little as the man made a flick of a gesture to the barman and was immediately presented with a glass of amber liquid and an obsequious sort of half bow. Looking at the fine cut of the man's suit - the perfect length sleeve just skimming over admittedly impressive biceps, the silk shirt with its topmost button undone underneath an ever so slightly loosened shiny gold bowtie - yeah, he

was

the type to leave a hundred dollar tip. Aspen didn't blame the barman for looking like he was on the verge of abeyance.

"No need to play nice," the man winked at Aspen before knocking back the drink without hesitation. "Painfully dull, isn't it? Not even any interesting people watching to be done, and most of 'em are as boring as they look," he grinned at Aspen conspiratorially. Aspen felt himself smiling back.

"It's not

that

bad," Aspen tried halfheartedly. "Well, okay, it is, but I don't know anyone here. At least there's booze." He raised his glass slightly to the man, who did the same with his freshly refilled tumbler.

"So," the man said, leaning in. "Does that mean you're crashing? Because I could think of much better parties to crash than this one."

"No, no," Aspen hastened to correct him. For some reason his cheeks had warmed at the man's closeness. "I do know one person here - I came with my girlfriend actually, Ruby Santiago, she's just over-" Aspen made a gesture to the spot where Ruby had been deep in conversation with a few silver-haired gentleman, but she was gone. Probably was off having them sign an iron-clad contract selling their livelihoods away, knowing Ruby. "Well, she was over there," he finished.

"Well," the man said. He hadn't moved his gaze from his face, even while Aspen had been gesturing towards across the room. "She seems to have left you to the wolves, hasn't she?"

Aspen winced. "She does that sometimes," he admitted. "Oh - not that you're bad company, in fact you're rather..." He trailed off, not knowing what had gotten into him. Sure, he was no social butterfly, but why did he suddenly sound like a moron even to his own ears?

The man leaned further in and Aspen found he couldn't look away from the green-gold of his eyes. They felt scorching as they returned his gaze.

"You're rather..., yourself," He said lowly.

Just then an older man, portly and balding, approached them.

"Mr. Marsters, I thought you should know Mr. Ahern has just arrived," the man said, not sparing a glance at Aspen. It was strange to see this middle aged man treat the younger one - he couldn't be out of his early thirties - with such deference.

"Thank you, Mathison, I'll be there in a moment," he said, though he made no move to get up. He was still looking at Aspen.

The man he called Mathison hovered uncomfortably. "With all due respect, sir, I told Mr. Ahern--"

"Alright, I'm coming. No need to get your panties in a twist." The man stood. He nodded to Aspen and a slow grin grew on his face. Aspen felt something like nerves flutter up within him. "Nice talking to you..." The man said, offering him a hand. Aspen reached out and grasped it from his sitting position. "Aspen," he said. "Aspen Altier."

The man give his hand a gentle squeeze. "Aspen," he repeated, and then he loosened his grip, and strode away, Mathison close on his heels. It wasn't until they were halfway across the massive ballroom that Aspen realized the other man hadn't shared his own name.

~~~

An hour and a half later, Aspen was feeling just fine. Three more drinks had helped plenty with that. He was making his way determinedly towards the cab stand out front and, he thought, doing a fair job of it - he wasn't stumbling, not quite, although he didn't remember the pavement outside being so uncooperative when he was entering.

Ruby had sent him home. She'd dutifully collected him from the bar and made the rounds introducing him to people who all looked vaguely the same to Aspen's admittedly slightly unfocused gaze: men in luxury suits, women in stiff dresses. They all shook his hand and inquired politely as to Aspen's work - "He's a journalist," Ruby would answer crisply for him. "He covers the environment in big business - you know, greening initiatives and so on." That wasn't quite right, but they'd nod knowledgably and the topic would move right on to "company matters." Aspen hardly had to say a word other than to the bartender.

Finally, Ruby had taken pity on him. She drew him aside, her brown eyes gleaming with excitement. "Darling, go home, would you? I'm this close" she put her thumb and first finger together so they almost touched - "to getting Bernie to agree to try out my restructure plan for R&D - you know, the one I told you about? I'm not leaving until he does - and I know you're bored as it is."

It was very like Ruby. She was an ambitious woman, sharp as a tack - it had been what attracted Aspen to her in the first place. Still, every now and then he felt like little more than an accessory.

It's just because she's in her element here,

he told himself. And he wasn't exactly fighting to stay, either.

He had just reached the curb and was about to stick out a hand for a taxi when a sleek black sedan pulled up, right in front of him. It came to a halt and Aspen for a fleeting moment felt sure it was waiting for him. Then the glass doors behind him swung open and when he turned there was the golden-hued man striding towards him purposefully.

Not towards you, dummy,

Aspen rebuked himself.

Toward the car.

The man did stop right beside him, though. He looked at him without saying anything at first, just let a grin play around his lips. Finally, "Well, look who it is, my bored friend." He looked amused and completely sober. "Hello there."

"I'm not--" bored? Your friend? Neither response seemed appropriate. Aspen let out a little sigh and settled on, "Hello."

The man's grin widened. His eyes looked like they were dancing, Aspen decided. He opened the door of the car and turned back to Aspen, gesturing to it. "Can I give you a ride somewhere?"

Every part of Aspen told him to politely refuse. Somehow, he found himself nodding dumbly, letting the other man press a hand to the small of his back and guide him into the car before him. He was warm. Aspen could smell him, too: expensive cologne with something more primal underlying it. Aspen took a deep breath.

After the man had climbed in after him, they sat looking at each other for a moment. Then that perfectly chiseled face broke out into a grin once more. "So," the man said conversationally. "You going to let us know where to take you?"

"Oh!" Was all Aspen could say for a moment.

You're drunk,

he told himself firmly.

Get it together.

It wasn't altogether convincing. He'd been drunk plenty without acting like this. Turning from the man, he gave the driver directions as coherently as he could manage - apparently passably, as the driver nodded. "Thank you, Nelson," the man told him, and then pressed a button that caused a dark paneled partition to rise between them. "Nelson prefers to drive without distraction," the man explained.

The hotel where the gala had been held was about a twenty minute drive from Aspen's loft apartment, if there wasn't traffic. Aspen figured he could make small talk for ten of those twenty minutes, maybe. Or he could just look out the window intently. Likely he'd never see this man again, or only briefly, the next time Ruby dragged him along to some work outing.

When the car pulled away from the curb, Aspen lurched forward - stupidly, he hadn't touched the seatbelt beside him. He scrambled back into the seat, blushing, and was fumbling with the buckle when the car made a sharp turn that sent him flying right into the man, who was securely belted in. He grabbed Aspen's hip to steady him, pulling him - was it unintentionally? - closer. "Whoa, there," he murmured. His eyes were hot. Aspen didn't move; he was breathing in the man's spicy scent. He felt a little lightheaded; clearly those gin and tonics had gone straight to his head, although typically Aspen had no problem holding his liquor. "I, uh, sorry," he said lamely, looking away and starting to wriggle back towards his seat.

The man's grip on him only tightened, however. The hand not on Aspen's hip rose to Aspen's chin, tipping his face up, forcing Aspen's blue eyes to meet burning gold ones. Aspen didn't breathe. He didn't know what was happening but he could feel his body trembling. And then the man leaned in and kissed him.

No,

Aspen thought vaguely somewhere.

This is not a kiss.

It didn't feel like one - not one that he'd ever given or received. This one felt more like drowning, or being consumed by fire - the man's lips were hot on his, fine stubble grazing his cheeks, that scent enveloping him and it was all Aspen could do not to moan. When he did give in the man did not pull away but took advantage of Aspen's parted lips to swoop in, nibble at the lower one, swipe his tongue across the top one, until Aspen groaned again and pressed himself tighter against the man. He made some growling noise of approval and Aspen was lost in the feeling of their breath mingling, tongues tangling.

He didn't pull away, just whined a protest when the man shifted them, pulled Aspen onto him so that he straddled his lap. Another noise was torn from Aspen, muffled by the man's lips, as their bodies pressed together and Aspen was amazed to find that he was ragingly aroused, his rock hard cock rubbing against this golden stranger's through layers of silk and polyester, and neither of them could get enough. Both of the man's hands were now cupping Aspen's ass and he pulled away from Aspen's mouth just long enough to bite at and then kiss his neck, whispering, "So sexy," right into Aspen's ear so that he shuddered. Not giving him a chance to respond the man stole his lips once more, fierce in his passion. Aspen's mouth felt bruised and swollen and he wanted more. Their hips were grinding together now, hard and fast and frantic, the man squeezing his ass so perfectly, and when he pulled away one more time to breathily groan out, "Aspen," it was too much and not enough. Aspen felt his back arch up involuntarily with the pleasure as he spilled, shuddering, into his pants.

For a moment the world went blank and all Aspen knew was the roaring in his ears and the heat of the body pressed to his. The feeling of rapidly cooling wetness against his crotch intruded, though, and gradually he became aware of the large hands running up and down his back, both soothing and sensual. It was a shock to open his eyes and meet the intense gaze awaiting him. There was hunger in those eyes, more desire than Aspen had ever seen directed at him.

"Aspen," the man said, and Aspen felt a shiver run down his spine at the huskiness in his voice. Aspen had to clear his own throat to respond, causing the man's smirk to return.

"I-uh-yes?" Those hands were still rubbing his back. Combined with the look the man was giving him Aspen felt sluggish, hypnotized. The man leaned in so that their lips were almost touching.

"We're here," he said, and the smirk slid into a grin.

"Wha--" Aspen was just noticing that the car had stopped moving. A glance out the tinted windows revealed them to be right outside his apartment building. "Oh."

With a blush, he began extricating himself from the man just as the car door was pulled open, revealing a uniformed Nelson standing to hold the door open.

Before he knew what was happening Aspen was on the sidewalk as Nelson folded himself back into the driver's seat. The back window rolled down to reveal the golden man wearing what Aspen had already come to think of as his customary grin.

"See you again soon, Aspen," the man said, and then they were driving away.

Aspen put a hand to his swollen lips and glanced down to see a distinctive wet spot on the rented trousers.

Fuck. What just happened?

And then, still not moving:

I never found out his name.

"Fuck!"