The Visit Card

The Visit Card

May 8^th, 1981

Paris

'So much for Mathilde de Saint Glass' candidacy. The girls at Bijoux's behave better,' Konrad inwardly huffed, though his face did not betray his annoyance. His ‘date’ for the night, carefully chosen by his uncle Hermann following Aunt Elisabetta's advice, was drunk.

Completely drunk. Trashed to the point of making him doubt between putting her in a taxi and taking her to the E.R. before she would fall into a coma or driving her back home.

'Problem solved by itself. I can't marry a woman who bets (and wins) against me in a vodka race.' Konrad thought. “Mathilde, should I take you home?” he asked trying to recover some of his dignity, watching disapprovingly how the “prospective duchess” lay her bare back on the counter as the barman poured the contents of a bottle in her mouth while people cheered their enthusiasm and admiration at her skills.

The tall blonde hesitantly stood up and resolutely spat the liquid she had not swallowed in Konrad's shoes direction. Doing his best to hide his disgust at her behaviour, he repeated the question, and she blinked once or twice.

“Hotel,” she slurred, and two girls next to her applauded her words.

'No taxi, then. One of the Serbs will have to drive her home and see that she gets inside. Pavicevic will do,' Konrad thought as she laced her arms over his neck and tripled over her stilettos, almost stomping on his foot too. He glanced at the girls who had joined them at the disco, and they stopped laughing. “My chauffeur will drive you home, Mathilde,” he growled as he steered her out, partly dragging her from her waist, held in an iron grip.

“Take her home,” he growled as he unceremoniously deposited her date in his bodyguard’s arms. “See she gets inside,” he added.

“And you, sir?” Pavicevic asked, doing his best to dodge the drunken kisses the lady was trying to bestow upon him.

“I'll walk back to the hotel on my own.”

“Yes, my Griffin,” the man replied without further questioning his superior's orders.

'How did I get into such a mess? Why can't I say no to them? Even if she would have been as good as described, I would have never married her.'

He looked at the small entrance to the underground disco and shook his head, ignoring the many stares he was getting from the doormen and the young people waiting in line to enter. 'I should have known well before; the Quartier Latin and Montmartre are for artists, not for people like me. Whoever heard of a good restaurant at Rue Boutebrie? Total waste of my time.'

Casting a last glance at the narrow door, his heart froze when he saw a man, about his age, coming out of the place. He was shorter than him, but the way he carried his head with arrogance made him look much taller; it fit with the casual way he wore a trench coat over his shoulders, matching his dark business suit, very similar to Konrad's. The crowd, instead of disdainfully looking down at him like they had done with Konrad, watched the stranger in awe, enraptured by his magnetism.

The light blue eyes against the slightly uncombed brown hair made Konrad almost gasp as he had never seen someone so beautiful. He quickly averted his eyes when the stranger locked his gaze with his own and, ignoring the women literally drooling over him, smiled knowingly. Konrad turned his back on purpose, strangely ashamed that he had been caught staring like an idiot. With long strides, he walked away down the small street putting as much distance as he could from the disco.

Almost out of breath, he stopped before he reached the Cluny Square, feeling a bit lost.

“My night was also a total fiasco,” a soft tenor voice said next to him in German.

“Are you a tourist too?” Konrad almost barked at the stranger who had followed him.

“No, I heard you speak German. My mother was German. I saw you at Le chat qui rit. She was quite out of herself,” the man said with a kind smile, and Konrad couldn't help to smile back.

“I didn't make her drink so much so as to take advantage.”

“She was more than willing to be abused without the alcohol,” the man chuckled. “Pity my date was even less conservative than yours, well, in a sort of way.”

“A little bit of conservatism would have been very welcomed in my case,” Konrad laughed as the recollection of the hellish night disappeared from his memory. “And in yours?” he asked, immediately regretting his lack of manners.

“He was too old and into bondage. It leaves too many marks for my taste,” the stranger said slowly, fixing his eyes on Konrad who only gasped.

“I see,” he replied embarrassed and averted his eyes.

“Do you want to have a drink with me?” the man asked casually.

“Wouldn't you prefer another kind of company?” Konrad challenged him and wondered why he had done it if the young man was so beautiful and obviously interested in men, exactly as he.

“No,” he answered. “My name is Roger.”

“Konrad.”

There was no need for further introductions as this was meant to be an adventure. He briefly shook the hand that was extended to him, and once more his mind wondered why he was so enthralled by a stranger.

“I live nearby, at St. Germain des Près,” Roger said. “I know a pub that might be still open.”

“I'm returning to my hotel. The Ritz. The bar is always open,” Konrad said. He was dammed if he was going to go with a perfect stranger to an unknown destination.

“You are certainly a tourist,” Roger laughed full heartedly as Konrad frowned. “The Ritz is on the other direction. I'll walk you there before you fall from the Pont St. Michel.”

Having identified the source for his uneasiness caused by the unfamiliar streets he had been passing by, for the first time in his life Konrad also laughed at himself. Suddenly, a stupid mistake, such as having the map of Paris completely mixed up, didn't seem so horrible, nor accepting help from anyone stroke him as a sign of weakness. “You are right, I have no idea of where I am.”

“Rive Gauche, here; Rive Droite, there.” Roger extended his fingers to point at both directions. “Don't worry, when I came from Poitiers, I only walked down the avenues in order to avoid getting lost. It was much later that I could understand the metro.”

Still chuckling at his own mistake, Konrad followed the stranger, wondering why his face was somewhat familiar to him, but he couldn't place where he had seen him before. 'I wouldn't have forgotten such a face.'

They walked in silence along the dark streets until they reached the Seine, and Konrad stopped to enjoy the view of the river. Although he couldn't see the waters, their sound filled him with an unexplainable sorrow and tiredness. 'Perhaps I'm more exhausted than I want to admit,' he thought as he leaned over the bridge's parapet, forcing his eyes to descry the river’s waters, guiding himself by their murmur and imaging their coppery colour.

“Why are you so sad?” Roger asked out of the blue, breaking the spell the river had over his companion.

“Excuse me?” Konrad blurted out as he turned around.

“You are really sad. That's very clear for me,” Roger insisted, taking the spot next to his. “As if you were longing for something.”

“I am not,” Konrad refused stubbornly. “I am fine as I am.”

“Fine is not happy, therefore you are sad. There is nothing wrong with that,” Roger said. “We don't have to be happy and productive all the time.”

“No, we don't.”

“So, why are you sad?”

“Do you always bring such subjects up in your dates?”

“No,” shrugged Roger. “I’m just intrigued by why a man who looks like you do has so little self-confidence.”

“My father died a year ago.”

“I'm sorry. Were you two very close?”

“He was practically a stranger to me,” Konrad answered. “He left quite a mess behind.” 'In the form of eighty-something old aristocrats, conservative to the bone, feisty, greedy, and willing to get rid of me not even two months after I was named Hochmeister. I have Cousin Georg to thank for that.'

“Inheritance problems, I see. My father already made his will and he gave us the talk of what each one of us will get in the end. Pascal, the eldest, gets the lands; Jerôme, the artworks and jewellery; and I, the cash.”

“The will could be contested.”

“None of us will ever do it. We are too afraid that my father may come back from the grave to hit us if we don't obey him. His proposition was a good solution,” Roger answered with a smile. “My mother died when I was ten. It seemed the end of the world, but slowly everything recovered its meaning and life... just continued.”

“What if nothing ever had a meaning?” Konrad asked him, confessing his greatest fear: that his life was a total waste as he had begun to suspect every morning when he had to face the Council, the associates and everybody else.

“Then looking for it will only drive you mad,” Roger simply answered with a warm smile, almost imperceptible under the dim light of the lamppost. “Live for today and your ideals.”

“What if those ideals are wrong or outdated?”

“Ideas are never outdated. Men, perhaps, are,” Roger answered with certainty. “Do you know what my father says? ‘Our values were given to us by God. How could they be wrong?’”

“Your father is right,” answered Konrad and again fixed his eyes on the running waters. “God dictates even our smallest moves.”

“Perhaps,” Roger replied as he touched softly Konrad's forearm as a way to offer him comfort. “Troubles eventually go away, but betraying yourself never does.”

“You are right, Roger,” Konrad said, and for the first time in a very long year he felt that everything was falling into place again. “Nothing ever happens by chance.” 'Here I was, getting ready for another night of pretence, and I found him in the middle of the mud.'

“It's getting colder. Should we walk to …?”

“Yes, of course.” Konrad rose to his full height and once more looked at Roger, this time more intensively than before, and the man wasn't able to hold his penetrating glance. “What do you do for a living?”

“I'm a trader in a private bank; running up and down the whole day, pleasing old, greedy folks.” Roger answered, glad that Konrad's gaze had somewhat softened at hearing his job's description.

“The bondage fan was your boss?” Konrad joked like a child.

“Almost. Boss of my boss,” Roger chuckled, and Konrad grimaced in sympathy. “I will be in so much trouble on Monday. Papa will have to save my skin again.”

“Don't worry about that. Bankers caught with their hand in the wrong jar never tell. Believe me, I know,” Konrad smirked, remembering all the times he had met with Carlo della Francesca, and on none of those occasions they had ever officially recognised the other despite that a certain Dr. Fabrizio del Monaco was working at the Correr Museum in Venice and both bankers were part of the institution's sponsorship board.

Roger laughed good-heartedly and mumbled, “You're right.” Once the laughter had died on his lips, he asked, “What do you do? You look like a banker.”

“Risk analysis,” replied Konrad. “Some demining operations also,” he added wryly. Roger's smile widened.

“And drop a bomb now and then too,” he joked, entertained by the youth's seriousness.

“I'm planning more of a blitzkrieg,” Konrad said as he started to walk fast towards the Boulevard du Palais, glad to be back on the Rive Droite once more. He heard Roger's hurried footsteps behind him and he stopped when the other caught him by the arm.

“It's a bit far away. Why don't you take a taxi? We can meet at your room.”

“Yes, it's the most sensible thing to do,” Konrad replied quickly. “Suite 467.” 'I don't need a scandal on top of all the problems I have.'

Roger only smiled before he said, “Don't let them foolish you and ask for oysters from Brittany,” and vanished into the night just as he had arrived, leaving Konrad fascinated as he also loved seafood and champagne.

* * *

A noble guest stomping his foot against the Persian rug was normally a bad sign for any waiter at the Ritz, with the sole exception of a room service of oysters and champagne for two. In that case, the anxiety was not directed towards the waiter but the lover. There was no need to hurry. With slow moves, the old man set the champagne bucket and the ice plate over the coffee table in front of the marble French chimney.

Another hardly repressed huff from the young duke informed the waiter that his patience was over, and the man quickly disappeared leaving Konrad alone.

The phone rang and it was Pavicevic calling to know if he had arrived safely. Konrad had trouble to suppress his annoyance at being treated like a toddler by the same men who had trained him to fight to death.

“Good night, sir. The lady arrived safely.”

Konrad had totally forgotten about her.

“Good night, Pavicevic,” he growled at the younger brother of his Summus Marescalus, and as he was about to end the conversation, he remembered to tell his bodyguard, “Take the morning free if you wish. I want to sleep late tomorrow.”

“Very well, sir,” Pavicevic answered and hung up the phone.

'Will he come or not?' was all Konrad could think about, remembering how well he had felt next to the man. Roger had not tried to get something out of him and his advises had been given without second intentions. Very nervous, he sat on the couch and watched as the melting ice formed glistening drops that run down the silver bucket.

A soft knock on the door made him jump like a well-oiled spring and he dashed to the door, only to remember at the last minute that he shouldn't look like an eager teenager. He gulped and recomposed himself before he opened the door.

Konrad watched as Roger entered the room and couldn't help to compare his way of walking to the graceful movements of a panther. Standing tall in the middle of the living room, the Frenchman removed his trench coat and Konrad gaped now that he was able to see his face under a bright light.

The only imperfection he could find in the perfect features was the placement of an eyebrow slightly higher than the other. Once more he felt bare and weak as he couldn't believe that such a beauty was in the same room with him and had asked nothing of him.

“I hope you are not shy,” Roger said with a mischievous smile. “You don't strike me as such,” he added as he began to undo his tie.

“Don't you want to try them?” Konrad asked, pointing with his head towards the forgotten oysters as he hid his nervousness by filling the champagne glasses.

“What for? Their taste could ruin what I really want to taste,” Roger replied in a low voice, and Konrad looked at him. “You were driving me mad the whole night with your pouting child face,” he added. “After seeing you, I sent my supreme boss to hell.”

“I never saw anyone as beautiful as you are,” Konrad confessed dumbfounded.

“Likewise.” Roger broke a shy smile. “You just look incredible,” he whispered, and Konrad wished it were so, if only for a night.

The younger man watched with big eyes how Roger gently took one of the glasses from his hand and walked backwards two steps, circling the table in direction to the large brocade sofa, where he sat clearly expecting for Konrad to join him.

Nervous like a teenager on his first date, Konrad also walked around the table and sat next to Roger, not touching him, just enjoying the electricity that seemed to circulate between their bodies.

“To you, Konrad,” Roger said, slightly rising his glass at eye level and waiting for Konrad to do the same before he drank the amber liquid. Without saying another word, he left the glass over the table and once again waited for Konrad to repeat his actions. Hesitantly, Roger then bent his body towards Konrad's and his lips briefly and shyly touched his, as if he were asking permission to do more.

Konrad watched how Roger separated from him, readjusting his position to the farthest corner of the sofa, and for a second the other man looked very vulnerable, like a small child trapped in a men's world. With great care, he leaned over Roger's body and took his head between his hands before kissing him softly, closing his eyes in utter delight when he felt his partner's hands mirror his moves and caress his blond bangs.

The kisses fuelled their passion as Roger enticingly parted his lips, inviting Konrad to taste his mouth without restraints. He lay back against a cushion to let Konrad place his weight over his body at the same time he crossed his arms over the other’s nape to secure the youth that was now eagerly kissing him much like a young and reckless puppy. In a way, it was endearing to have someone so eager and crystal in his bed, someone who showed a mix of aggressiveness and reverence at the same time. Roger decided to play the lamb to see where the young one would be willing to go, and he was rewarded by his companion's increase of enthusiasm and dedication.

Roger removed his lips from Konrad's mouth and got some enjoyment from the dismayed sound he heard when he broke contact. He smiled softly, pleased of the power he held over his date. Delaying his moves as much as he could, he began to pull from the other’s silk tie, carelessly dropping it on the floor before starting to undo the shirt's buttons.

Konrad could only gape at him, letting Roger do as he pleased while his mind compared his current lover’s seductiveness with the shyness Fabrizio had always shown during their making love, or the wanton kisses he had received from his first male lover, more focused on instant gratification than in really bonding with him. He felt lost with this man who one second looked like a vulnerable child who wanted to be protected, and the next made him feel like a little boy out in town for the first time. It was simply maddening.

Unable to wait any longer for Roger, Konrad finished removing his jacket and shirt, dropping them on the floor. Once more he tried to kiss companion on the lips as his hands began to fondle with his tie and buttons, but the chuckles he heard from Roger when he broke one of the mother-of-pearl buttons with his fingers, made him stop.

“We have all night. A ten minutes show won't do in my case,” Roger said as he delicately pushed Konrad away and assumed a sitting position on the sofa. Once more he laced his arms around the blond and started to kiss him on the earlobe slowly and tenderly, alternating his kisses with gentle laps to his neck. Konrad felt himself dissolve in pleasure.

“You are like a kitten,” Konrad said as Roger continued to kiss him, his lips mockingly worrying the skin between them before releasing it and soothing the reddened skin with a lick or a kiss.

Still trapped in his own bliss, Konrad suddenly felt a sharp pang of pain in his neck. “You bit me,” Konrad stated shocked, surprised that the delicate creature he had before over him had bitten him, leaving a good mark in his neck.

“I'm not a girl. I like it rough,” Roger growled as he attacked again Konrad's lips with ferocity, tired of playing the lamb for so long.

His momentum made Konrad tumble and both men loudly crashed against the floor. Taking advantage of the young man's momentary daze, Roger mounted on top of him to continue to kiss him with more aggressiveness than before.

'This is unexpected,' thought Konrad as he watched how Roger was now almost tearing his leather belt in his haste to get the fly of his trousers open, 'but welcomed.'

“I also,” he said loudly, but Roger didn't hear him, too busy as he was pulling from his trousers.

Being ignored was something Konrad deeply hated, more than not being in command of a situation, no matter what it was, and he decided to put an end to it before Roger could get the wrong idea. With a simple defensive move, he forced Roger to the ground, and before the other could protest, he pushed the coffee table away with a single move to make more space for them as he effectively trapped the other man under his legs.

This time Konrad's kisses were not so gentle as before, and he felt very proud of himself when he heard Roger moan under him. Without giving him time to recover and start another game, Konrad removed his partner's trousers, which joined his own ones in a rumpled heap against the cream wall.

Roger couldn't care less if the wool carpet was too rough against his bare skin as he contemplated the magnificent youth he had on top of him, wild and unrestrained, unlike the very conservative and serious boy he had seen on the disco. 'The most boring ones are finally the best once they're unleashed.'

His back arched in pleasure once he felt his companion's lips take his member in his mouth, eagerly sucking him without any kind of technique or tempo, but in a way that made him feel about to explode and lose control. 'Not new to this, but really untrained,' he briefly thought, but he oddly found it to be one of the most erotic moments in his life.

His climax was too fast for his own liking and he felt drained after it. He watched as his partner kept sucking from him even if there was nothing more to obtain, and he caressed his blond head with tenderness. “You're a brute,” he said with a soft smile. “I love it,” he added quickly as the youth looked up at him with a mixture of anguish and remorse.

“I'm sorry,” Konrad said as he removed his body from the other man. He had been convinced that Roger had enjoyed it as much as he had done, if he were to judge by the moans and the ragged breathing he had heard.

“Wait, let me show you how it's done,” Roger told him as he once more laced his arms around him, resting his weight over his turned back. “You're just new to this,” he explained. “Let me give you pleasure,” he purred as he began to cover once more Konrad's back with butterfly kisses, knowingly smiling when the youth shuddered in pleasure.

“It's all about timing,” he whispered in his ear as his hands travelled over the powerful chest and played with the abdomen. “Sex is in your mind not in your genitalia. It's like a dance where there are no rules or anything left to chance. It can be sweet and soft one minute, and violent and rough the next.”

Konrad turned around and observed Roger very carefully before he answered, “Sex is sex, but I thought we wanted something different tonight.”

“Yes, we want something different, and I want to show it to you,” Roger whispered again and kissed Konrad, this time with great tenderness, making him close his eyes and drop his defences.

“You are incredible,” Konrad mumbled and let Roger push him towards the carpet once more, as his hand caressed the side of his angelical face. “I could travel half the world just to be with someone like you.”

“I also,” Roger said briefly and began to kiss Konrad's chest languorously. “It's all about control and self-restraint.”

The youth watched how Roger played with his body and he let him do it, enjoying how the other would bid his time before placing a kiss or would simply breathe harder over his tense skin, making him shudder with delight. Since he was told everything was a matter of self-control, he would show Roger just how much control he had.

He said nothing when Roger mounted him and impaled himself on his member, moaning in a way that nearly drove Konrad mad with desire. He contemplated the smaller man on top of him as he felt his member being sucked with slow yet powerful moves. The pace Roger set was unhurried, as if he would like to stop time, enjoying each time his thrusts met with Konrad's stronger ones.

The half-closed lids of his partner were the most erotic sight Konrad had seen in his whole life. His eyes fixed on the undulating pelvis simultaneously rocking and pumping his being, Konrad nearly dissolved in the onslaught of sensations, on the brink of his release.

“As I said, it's only a matter of control, chaton,” Roger gloated, feeling the youth almost dying under the assault of sex. “I'm on top.”

Those words were enough to make Konrad open his eyes and push his companion away, making him lose his balance and land hard over the carpet.

Without giving Roger time to recover, Konrad firmly grabbed his wrists and forced him to kneel in front of the couch, placing the upper part of his body against the brocade seat as Konrad's legs trapped his buttocks and his manhood rested against them, firmly blockading any escape attempt. To ease Roger's squirms, he began to delicately lick his neck and earlobe, muttering how beautiful he was and how much he desired to make love to him, magically easing the other man's rage at being so easily dominated.

“Let me take you, please,” Konrad whispered between sloppy kisses, just to ease Roger's wounded pride. “All of you feels just incredible.”

The contact of Konrad's rigid and pulsating member against his lower back reminded Roger of how good everything had been till the youth had decided to play again the “alpha male”. “I like it rough. Can you do it?” he asked between ragged breaths, but Konrad didn't give him time to recover as he penetrated him with energy.

Roger felt in bliss when Konrad found where he should concentrate his pounds and focused on there, alternating a fast with a slow pace. 'He really knows what to do,' Roger absently observed as he was transported into a realm of lust he was unaware that could exist. He was torn between the man who almost brutally pounded into him, and the man who carefully, almost like a child, roamed his chest with his hands, checking that he was enjoying their moment together, making him feel special and cherished. Important. Not the useless Tom Thumb his family believed him to be. So lost was he in the myriad of feelings that arose inside of him, that Roger missed his own release, only feeling the warm liquid spreading in his insides.

Both men crumbled together, carelessly hitting the coffee table and making the champagne bottle fall and spread its contents over it. Laughing like a fool, Konrad threw the napkins over the liquid to prevent it from falling on the carpet and lay down again, gathering Roger into his powerful arms.

“No way to teach you gentleness. You are a noble savage,” chuckled an exhausted Roger, clutching Konrad's head against his chest to softly pet it. “You are incredible in bed,” he added with a mischievous smile.

“I never met anyone like you,” Konrad replied, embarrassed by the compliment.

“I also,” replied Roger. “You look so formal and aloof and, yet, here we are.”

“Minus one coffee table.”

“Big crime.”

“Indeed.”

“Do you always have to have the last word?” joked Roger very amused at the youth's social predominance techniques.

“Always. Professional bias,” Konrad replied with a smile, and he laughed at himself as he realised that for the past three years he had been doing nothing but having the last word on everything.

“Well, that's about to change. We continue this in your bed because I want to kill some Persians for not making this thing smoother,” Roger said as he readjusted his position over the rug.

“Fine,” Konrad said with a smirk, secretly glad he could joke about himself with someone who was not judging him. 'Like with Fabrizio: no tomorrow, no Griffin, no Order; only freedom.'

Roger chuckled once more and rose from the floor, extending his hand to help Konrad up.

* * *

The bedroom was as stately as the living room had been with the four-posted bed, sofa, a desk and a matching chair all in the Louis XIV style. Konrad watched how Roger entered the room as if that kind of decoration was the most usual thing in life, and he realised the man was from a similar social extraction to his. 'Not your typical trader,' he thought. 'The best ones at London are the children from the fishmongers at the markets.'

Roger simply moved the covers aside and got in the bed. “Oh, which side do you prefer?” he asked casually, and that convinced Konrad that he was from a similar upbringing as his. 'Could it be? Not terrified about the money and with enough as to not want mine?'

“The right if you don't mind,” he answered before he joined Roger, taking the vacated spot in the bed. For some reason, this night the bedclothes felt heavenly and he sighed in content.

“You look like a satisfied cat,” Roger commented as his arms once more came to surround Konrad’s neck.

“You too,” Konrad replied as he pulled his body closer to his. “I'm really beaten after the week I had.”

“What do you do?”

“I work in a bank and try to make my doctor's degree in London.”

“Do you live in London?”

“I'm from Zurich, but most of the time I'm in the London office. I was ordered to come here to date the lady you saw tonight.”

“Will you get a reimbursement for your plane ticket?”

“Unlikely,” Konrad answered in mock sadness. “I wouldn't dare to ask for compensation to my aunt Elisabetta. It was her idea. I love my skin too much to do it.”

“Dragon lady?”

“Something like that,” Konrad said as he pulled the covers around Roger, thinking again that the man looked like a child. “And you? What do you do?”

“Besides seducing with very bad luck the boss of my boss?” Roger said, and Konrad stared at him feeling the pang of jealousy bit his heart. “Nothing much, to tell the truth. I'm a trader at a bank here and a school dropout; and the family's official black sheep, now that my brother Jerôme has become a responsible man. I didn't finish the university.”

“It's not that bad. I'm not sure if I will ever finish my doctor's degree at the pace I'm taking the courses, and I haven't written a single line of the thesis so far.”

“What did you study?”

“Business administration.”

“And you work in risk analysis?”

“Sort of,” chuckled Konrad. “Should I take a look at your portfolio?”

“No, thank you. My dirty laundry is private.” Roger used a very haughty tone and then laughed. “Are you happy with your work?”

“I can't complain.”

“Likewise, but there are days when I would love to do something else. Something that wasn't imposed by my family,” said Roger. “I got my job because my father put me there, not because I'm good at it.”

“I'm in the same place you are,” confessed Konrad. “I do my best to survive, but the competition is hard and nothing I do is good enough to please people.”

“I think we both have the same problem here. ‘Don't take so many risks but make more money,’ is what my boss tells me everyday,” Roger complained.

“But he never told you how to achieve such miracle?” Konrad sneered. “Yes, I have the same problem.” 'The only way to keep the associates' mouths shut is to make more and more money, or get more and more favours for them.'

“Turning sour over it won't improve your life,” Roger said and kissed Konrad on the forehead. “Life sucks, but this is what we have. We can only hope to find someone with whom to share the burden.”

“I think the same,” Konrad replied and bent his body over Roger to kiss him on the lips, enjoying how Roger returned his affections with that wanton passion that drove him mad.

This time, Roger became pliant in his arms, not trying to lecture him on anything. His hands travelled over Konrad’s back as he slightly parted his legs to let him nest his body between them and feel his own pulsating erection stabbing his abdomen.

Roger crossed his legs over Konrad’s buttocks, trapping him but at the same time offering his neck to his lover’s mouth in a display of surrender that made Konrad feel invigorated and full of power. Roger's hand took his member and directed it towards his entrance, and Konrad hesitantly penetrated him, afraid of hurting Roger as there had been no preparation to dull the pain, but his companion didn't care and pushed his hips upwards as he cried in ecstasy at the intrusion.

Feeling trapped, and urged to increase his pace, Konrad abandoned all his reserves and began to pound into the body lying under him, barely listening to the whispered words of love being poured in his ear intermixed with pants. As he was about to reach his climax, he remembered Roger liked to do it slowly—“not in ten minutes”—, and he moved away from him.

“Turn around,” Konrad ordered, and Roger did as he was told, getting on his fours.

This time Konrad, unable to restrain himself any longer, penetrated him in one swift and decided move, only stopping when he heard the other cry.

“Don't stop!” Roger panted. “You're doing so well,” he croaked when Konrad resumed his pounding and found his prostate, focusing on it.

Roger's hips moved faster to force Konrad to increase the speed of his thrusts, and the other man responded by brutally grabbing Roger's manhood and stroking it to the rhythm of his thrusts, halting his pace now and then to change the angle or the speed in order to delay his own release.

“Do it now,” Roger begged unable to stand the marvellous sensual torture he was being subjected to, the sweet pain of being so brutally ridden and the hand massaging his member exactly the way he loved it becoming intolerable. Konrad climaxed inside him with a low grunt and fell boneless next to him in the bed.

“I think I love you,” the youth murmured. “You are perfect for me.”

“You too,” Roger answered, sated as he had never been before. “I could keep you forever,” he added before he closed his eyes in utter exhaustion.

* * *

The early morning light awoke Konrad and the first thing he looked for was Roger, to see if he was still in bed with him. Seeing that the young man was soundly asleep over his side brought a smile to his lips, and he caressed his lover's hair with real affection before lacing his arm across his midsection and spooning his body against his.

'Finally. It was just a matter of finding the right person to share my life with, just like he said.'

Unaccustomed to be embraced in the middle of his sleep, Roger sleepily opened his eyes and turned around to find Konrad watching him with love written in his eyes. “Hi,” he said shyly. “Don't you sleep?”

“I can't,” Konrad answered. “I was thinking on what you told me.”

“About?”

“About finding the right person to share your life with.”

Roger sat on the bed alarmed. The last thing he needed in his life was one puppy-eyed youth shouting his love for him. “We have only known each other for a night,” he said nervously.

“I believe in love at first sight.”

“What we had tonight was an excellent date. My best in years, but love takes time. Lots of it,” Roger clarified.

“Maybe it started as a flirt, but I don't think this is it any longer,” Konrad said as his heart increased its rate.

“I would love to see you again and maybe we could do it, but...”

“Then we will see each other again,” Konrad said with a brilliant smile. “Here; discreetly. Nobody but us would know about it if you want to avoid troubles with your family.”

“Konrad, you are very cute. Incredible, really, but this is nothing more than a date without the customary dinner. I have a life and probably you too.”

“Are you married?”

“No! Well, not yet,” Roger lied.

“So?”

“It's not that easy for people like us,” Roger said.

“Why not? We both like each other and perhaps even love each other. Why can't we be together if we harm nobody?”

“You're so young,” Roger mumbled frustrated at the youth's stubbornness. “It's not a matter of doing what we want. We both have responsibilities. I have them towards my family. I'm going to get married very soon. Maybe one day, you also will.”

“I don't like girls, well, not to the point of marrying one of them,” Konrad said. “I love the way you speak to me, without judging me.”

“I have nothing to judge you about; please, be reasonable,” Roger said to the now pouting and frowning young man. 'Great, now to play nanny. Way to end a wonderful evening.' “We are different and we share nothing at all.”

“We come from the same world.”

“I really doubt it,” Roger answered dryly. “Let's go back to sleep, and tomorrow you will see things more clearly.” Huffing, he turned around in the bed, violently snatching the pillow to exorcise his anger.

Confused and still not realising what had just happened, or even able to understand his lover's harsh words, Konrad gaped at him.

'Not compatible? My ass!' he thought as he also turned around, squeezing his pillow to hide his desperation.

* * *

Silence engulfed them. Together but alone. 'Nothing worthy was ever easy to get,' thought Konrad. 'For once in my life, I feel good to be around someone; at peace and happy. I can't let him go and to hell with the consequences.'

“You are starting to make me feel guilty, Konrad,” Roger said, without turning to face him. “It is nonsense what you want.”

“Didn't you feel the connection?”

“How could there be any connection between us if we know each other from only just a few hours ago?”

“I feel like I've known you all my life. I can't shake the feeling that we know each other from before. Perhaps you're what I was looking for all this time.”

“Somehow your face also looks familiar to me, but there's nothing mystic about it,” Roger huffed and turned around, forcing Konrad to do the same and look at him. “How many times have you done this before?”

“Do what?”

“Dating.”

“Many. I don't count them!” Konrad protested.

“Well I did it about thirty times last year.”

“Dating thirty times the same person?”

“No, thirty different persons,” Roger answered, and Konrad gaped at him. “I'm old enough as to do it, and so they are. There is nothing wrong with it. What do you want to do? Hold hands while we stroll about the Bois de Boulogne?”

“No! I would be very discreet.”

“And?”

“What else do you want me to do?”

“Nothing at all. Meeting you was fantastic, but it's over,” Roger said crudely, his patience with the stubborn youth having reached his limit. “I like you, but we are different, and pouting like a child will not solve it. I'm a free spirit, and I don't like to be bound to anything or to anyone,” he added in a soft tone, already regretting his earlier harshness. “You are very young and really amazing; I'm sure you'll find someone better.”

“I like you,” Konrad stated, and Roger sighed. “I lead a very stressful life, but when you are around, I feel as if the world has some meaning.”

Roger fixed his eyes on Konrad, and for the first time in a long while, he felt vulnerable and weak. “That's the most beautiful thing anyone has ever told me,” he whispered. “Normally, I'm just the useless dead-weight my family carries around. I can never make things better. I only screw them up.”

“For me you don’t,” Konrad insisted. “I feel alive when I'm with you. I only want a chance to be with you. I'm not saying this will work out, but I think we should give it a try.”

Watching the desolate expression in Roger's face, made Konrad feel the urge to comfort him and cast any kind of sorrow away from the man. He closed the distance between them and embraced his partner, delicately kissing him and mumbling words of love.

Defeated, Roger let him do what he wanted, starting to enjoy the kisses he was getting. 'Perhaps he gives up later,' he thought, feeling a bit light-headed under the avalanche of kisses and caresses. He readjusted his back on the mattress to let Konrad lean all his weight over his body.

* * *

The glaring sun filtering through the large windows blinded Roger as he sat on the bed. It was almost ten in the morning and he should be already driving away to visit his brother Pascal in the countryside. He cast one last good look at his lover and sighed, feeling strangely empty. 'It's just sex, no matter how good it is,' he tried to convince himself, but he couldn't do it.

'I have a life. I won't ruin it because of a good-looking pup,' he told himself firmly, as he carefully left the bed, not willing to wake his partner up. He fetched his clothes, scattered all over the salon, and Konrad's too. Walking on tiptoes, he returned to the bedroom, and once more he contemplated the sleeping youth.

'Why is it so hard to say good-bye? There's nothing going on between us. One last kiss and I’ll go away.'

Roger sat on the bed and his hand delicately moved aside a few strands from Konrad's forehead as he gently stroked his face to wake him up. The luminous smile he received almost broke his heart, but Roger clung to his decision. He let Konrad grab him by the nape and bent his body to kiss him eagerly.

“I just wanted to say good-bye, Konrad,” Roger said with a broken voice once they had separated, and he averted his gaze when the youth fixed his pained eyes upon his.

Konrad contemplated the man staring at the bedside table and knew that it was over much before the battle would have started. “There must be a visit card in my jacket,” Konrad said in a dry voice before rising from the bed. “Take one just in case you change your mind,” he added in a casual tone, hoping to mask his desperation.

“I'm not a long-term relationships man, Konrad. I thought you knew it well since the beginning. I'm going to get married very soon,” Roger answered dejectedly.

“A leopard doesn't change his spots,” spat Konrad. “You are not going to sit every night at home with your wife.”

“But I can try. I have enough adventures to tell in my old age,” Roger said with a smirk. “It was very nice, but it's over. I have no place for someone like you in my life.”

“Are you not even staying for breakfast?” Konrad growled full of resentment.

“What for?” Roger asked genuinely surprised. “There's nothing else we can say to each other.” He also rose from the bed and finished dressing, ignoring the younger man and trying to dismiss the sensation of déjà vu that assaulted him. Somehow, the blond German seemed to be familiar. He watched how Konrad grabbed his clothes, piled over the chair where he had left them, before closing the bathroom's door with force, on the border of slamming it.

'My, what a temper has this boy,'

He sat once more over the rumpled bed, messed up his hair and laced his shoes. 'Just for politeness' sake, I should take his card so he's not so hurt.'

Approaching to the white, golden ornamented door he called “Konrad?” out loud but no answer came from the other side. 'That's very mature indeed,' he thought. “I'm taking one of your visit cards. In which pocket are they?” he asked a bit impatiently.

“Interior left pocket,” was the almost inaudible answer.

“Thank you,” said Roger, regretting just a bit what had happened between them. Cruising was cruising, and the blond was old enough as to know what it was all about. “I'm leaving you mine over the desk,” he added, already calculating that the German was too proud to ever phone him back unless he would make the first move.

The bespoken jacket that still lay on the floor of the living room didn't seem to be the usual attire for an employee at the risk analysis management division on any bank. Roger picked it up from the floor and automatically shook it to make it recover its shape. His eyes found the small silver case inside it, and he returned to the bedroom. It was still empty.

Shaking his head, Roger took out the case and left the jacket over the chair in front of the desk before searching for one of own his business cards in his pockets to leave it over the table. His eyes closed instantly the moment the sun glared against the silver case, blinding him momentarily.

The only words Roger could read from the long list of names engraved in the small cream-white paper were “Konrad von Lintorff”.

* * *

The prolonged silence on the other side of the door was like a balm for Konrad. His head slowly hit the wooden frame. He felt tired like never before. One quick sob prevented the tears threatening to come to his eyes, and he gulped to cast away the last shreds of sorrow.

'It's over,' he thought as he washed his face and brutally combed his hair. 'Just a one night stand. Not your first, nor your last one.

'I really thought we could have something special. He was special.

'Regrets will not help me,' he thought as he looked himself in the mirror, supporting his weight on his hands. The marble under his palms felt warmer than himself, and he closed his fist, cursing that once more he had been deprived of what he wanted the most.

Already expecting Roger to be gone, he stood frozen at the bathroom's door when he saw the man sitting on the bed with his head buried in his hands. For a second, his heart burst with joy as perhaps Roger had reconsidered his words and wanted to stay, but the red-rimmed eyes told him otherwise.

“Je m'appelle Roger de Lisle Guttenberg Sachsen,” the other man said in a broken voice. “… Merde.”

Roger watched how the youth sat like a robot on the chair, slowly breathing as he fixed his eyes on him.

“Are you by any chance related to the Viscount of Marignac?” Konrad asked a minute later after his mind processed the information.

“He is my father,” Roger replied softly. “I'm married to Maria Augusta zu Löwenstein. One of our Magnus Commendator's nieces.”

“Now we know why we both thought we knew each other from somewhere else,” Konrad commented softly as he rose from the chair and sat next to Roger and laced his arm around his shoulders.

“We... I didn't recognise you, sire,” Roger answered as he put some distance between them, ignoring the pained look Konrad directed at him, hurt because of this new rejection.

“There is no need for that, Roger. I am Konrad to you,” he said sadly.

“You are my Hochmeister, even if I was not given any position in the Order.”

“Roger, this changes nothing between us. Every word I said earlier was true. I think I'm falling in love with you. Nobody ever before has made me feel as well as you did. We could give us each other a chance to be happy together.”

“Didn't you hear me? I married Maria Augusta less than six months ago. My father counts on my marriage to secure his position in the Council.”

“Your father's position is as solid as rock, Roger,” Konrad protested. “I know Maria Augusta. She will not hate you if you tell her the truth. She will hate more to be entangled in a deception. Do you even love her?”

“Love has nothing to do with this. It's our duty. We respect each other, and she is perfect for me.”

'I can't let him go,' was all that went through Konrad's mind as he listened to Roger speak about his wedding and its necessity for the de Lisle family. As he listened, he got lost once more in the blue eyes that had shone with so much compassion and love for him, captivated by the angel face in front of him. 'If Marignac wants a better seat in the Council, he should earn it himself, not by marrying my love to zu Löwenstein's niece. Roger is mine.'

“This should have never happened. We are both dead if this goes public,” Roger mumbled, already realising that Konrad had completely disregarded his tirade. His fame of being deaf to anything that was not good for his interests was not undeserved. His father was permanently ranting against the wild youth who had taken over the Order no more than two years ago.

“We have no future at all,” Roger insisted desperately. “We must forget this ever happened and continue with our lives as they are. Imagine the scandal. You are my superior, and we all swore to obey and follow you,”

“See you next Friday. Here,” simply ordered Konrad as he rose from the bed and left the suite, softly closing the door behind him.