L'Affaire d'Amour
February - May 2000


 Journeys end in lovers meeting.
   William Shakespeare

Nick Flannery, traveler by profession, was weary of traveling. Dropping his overnight bag in an out of the way corner, Nick slumped down onto one of the two bench seats in the private car. One hand distractedly stroked through his closely cropped brown hair while the other undid the top button of his shirt. He squinted against the sunlight streaming in through the large window and found himself idly wishing someone would get up and pull the shade down so he could sleep. Problem was, he was the only someone in the compartment and he didn't feel like making the effort. He contented himself with loosening the buttons of his shirt down to where it tucked into his trousers and kicking off his shoes.

Nick made his living writing travel reviews. Once upon a time he had enjoyed his job immensely, but somewhere in this past year it had gotten a little too sedate. A little too normal. A little too boring. About the time he'd discovered he no longer enjoyed the solitary thrill of taking off for parts unknown, he'd found himself longing for companionship. That yearning had grown especially strong as of late. And sex. Hell yes, sex would be a nice bonus. A small smile turned up the corners of his mouth. Sex and the wished-for companion didn't necessarily have to come in the same package but he sure wouldn't mind it one bit if they did.

Just as he was about to get really comfortable, there was a discreet knock at the door of his private car, one of the luxuries his successful writings had allowed him. Frowning, he slid the door open to find Max, his usual porter on this particular route, standing there, looking a bit uneasy.

"Mr. Flannery, sir? I know you usually travel alone but we seem to have had an error in bookings and this gentleman is left without a berth. Would you mind sharing yours? It will only be until this evening, sir."

Nick frowned. How was he supposed to say no when the traveler in question was standing right there? Nevertheless, Nick was about to refuse -- until he got his first good look at the man standing at the porter's side. Blue eyes caught at his own brown ones, holding them captive. Amazing eyes that sucked him in and sent a shot of sexual energy straight to his groin. His gaze, once he regained control of it, did a quick up and down of its own volition. When he finally reached the other man's face again, there was an answering twinkle in those eyes that said Blue Eyes liked what he saw too. Feeling himself color slightly, Nick held out a hand.

"Nick Flannery," he introduced.

"Vegas Tanner." A warm hand engulfed his, held on for just a moment longer than courtesy dictated.

Nick turned back to the porter, his previous reservations about sharing his compartment with a stranger forgotten. "Mr. Tanner can make himself at home here until his stop, Max."

"Very good, sir. Lunch and drinks will be on us, Mr. Flannery, Mr. Tanner. Please, feel free to order whatever you wish."

Nick stood aside to allow Vegas entrance. His trip had just gotten a whole lot more interesting. At least this leg of it had. Leaning out the door, Nick caught the porter's attention. "Max? A bottle of champagne would be nice. And a luncheon tray for two with some of the chef specialties."

"Of course, sir. I'll deliver it myself," replied the porter, relieved to be off the hook.

Quietly sliding the door shut, Nick turned to see that Vegas had dropped his knapsack to one side of the door and was standing at the large window, with his back to Nick, watching the countryside roll by outside the train. Nick took the opportunity to look the other man over again. Jeans that fit snugly but weren't overly tight cupped what Nick could only describe as a mouth-watering ass. Vegas' feet were clad in sturdy loafers made for extended walking, and a loose light green shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal lightly tanned forearms, covered his broad shoulders -- shoulders that were turning and catching Nick once again in the act of giving him the once over. The blue eyes twinkled knowingly at Nick again. Nick was slightly embarrassed at having been caught but Vegas' easygoing manner allowed his embarrassment to be overlooked. He was definitely out of practice.

"Make yourself at home," he invited, indicating the bench seats. Bench seats that folded out into one big bed, a wicked inner voice whispered. Nick's eyes swiftly darted to Vegas. He breathed a silent sigh of relief that the other man's attention was elsewhere and hadn't caught the thoughts that must have been incredibly transparent on his face for a brief moment.

"Thanks," smiled Vegas. He flowed down in one smooth movement to lounge on one of the benches, looking very much like a big satisfied relaxed cat. He started to toe off his shoes. "You mind?" he asked.

"Not at all," grinned Nick, indicating his own stockinged feet. It was only when Vegas' gaze slowly slid up from Nick's feet, traveling ever so slowly up his legs, pausing to linger at waist level, and then continuing upward, that Nick remembered his shirt was unbuttoned and was no longer tucked into the waistband of his trousers. He didn't dare button it up now. That would be too obvious. Besides, Vegas didn't seem to mind the view, Nick discovered, much to his pleasure. Making himself comfortable on the other bench seat, Nick stretched his legs out until they were nearly touching Vegas'.

"Thanks for sharing your car with me," expressed Vegas gratefully. "I don't usually splurge on private accommodations when traveling but I knew there was some beautiful countryside on this particular route and I decided to indulge."

"I don't mind," Nick assured him. "I could use the company actually."

"You didn't feel that way at first," Vegas grinned. "I thought for a minute you were going to tell the porter to go stuff himself."

"Yeah, well . . ." Nick trailed off sheepishly, embarrassed by his behavior.

"What changed your mind?" asked Vegas, his tone not conveying a great deal of curiosity, as if he knew the answer already, but was asking the question more out of a need to keep the conversation going.

"You did," Nick blurted out before he could stop himself. He felt the full heat of a deep blush rise up his face now. Shit. Was he that out of practice that he couldn't even be subtle about it?

But Vegas wasn't laughing. Rather, he was looking more than a little interested. "Tell me something, Nick -- is it okay if I call you Nick?" At Nick's nod, he continued. "I'm gonna be blunt here because we've only got so much time before we get to my destination."

Appreciating Vegas' straightforwardness, Nick said, "Okay. Shoot."

"You like men? Sexually, I mean."

"Um, yes." Nick would have been incredibly nervous if not for the mischievous gleam in Vegas' eyes.

"You find me attractive?"

"Very much so," replied Nick promptly, deciding Vegas was on the right track about getting right down to things.

"Nick . . ."


"God, you're beautiful. You have any idea what your voice alone is doing to me?"

My voice?! wondered Nick. What about yours? That barely perceptible midsouth twang that you could hear if you listened really closely. Nick wanted to hear it vibrate with the power of an orgasmic groan. He nearly groaned aloud himself when a knock on their compartment door interrupted proceedings. Reluctantly, Nick pulled the door open to find that the porter had arrived with their lunch.

Guilt had apparently caught up to Max after he had deftly maneuvered one of his better-paying regulars into accepting unexpected company on this leg of the journey. Vegas and Nick watched the porter fuss over the luncheon tray, setting everything out just so and being slow as molasses about it. The mood they had been cultivating was quickly evaporating, and Nick couldn't miss the looks Vegas was sending his way that said 'get rid of this guy.' So when Max reached for the bottle of champagne, Nick deftly snatched it up before the porter could lay a hand on it and smoothly said, "Thank you, Max. I think we can handle it from here."

"Very well, sir," replied the clueless porter, completely missing the heated glance that flashed between the other two men. "Please call if you need anything else, Mr. Flannery."

Barely containing his sigh of relief when the compartment door slid shut behind the exiting porter, Nick turned back to Vegas. "Champagne?" he asked with a conspiratorial grin. Vegas nodded with an answering grin. Looking at the label on the bottle, Nick realized this was the good stuff. Max must be feeling guilty, he thought amusedly.

Locating the corkscrew, Nick deftly twisted it in and popped the champagne cork. He wasn't prepared for the resultant backfire of champagne gushing out in a burst of cold spray. Nor did he notice Vegas ducking as the outer fringes of the unexpected champagne shower barely missed him.

Once the champagne had calmed down, Nick realized the front of his shirt and his chest and stomach were dripping with champagne, not to mention half the bottle was now gone. A huge rolling laugh pulled his attention away from the uncooperative bottle of champagne. Nick glanced at Vegas and was gratified to see no signs of mockery there, only amusement.

"You should see the look on your face," grinned Vegas as he climbed to his feet and came around the luncheon cart to where Nick was standing. He gently took the bottle of champagne out of Nick's hand and set it back on the luncheon cart. Ever so casually, Vegas reached out and slowly pushed the champagne-sodden shirt off Nick's shoulders and down his arms until it dropped to the floor, forgotten.

"I bet you taste like champagne," murmured Vegas. He leaned in close, inhaling Nick's scent. Nick's eyes closed, soaking up the warmth of Vegas' near proximity, while Vegas' hands massaged his shoulders. Nick couldn't contain a  jump of startled pleasure when Vegas' tongue sensuously teased a nipple before moving downward, following the trail of champagne. Nick stood absolutely still, reveling in the intimate touch.

Then the caresses were gone, but not the presence. He could feel Vegas, just breaths away from him. Nick's eyes opened to see that now familiar blue gaze mere inches from his own.

"Can I kiss you, Nick?" asked Vegas softly.

Nick didn't bother with a verbal reply. He reached a hand around Vegas, taking him by the nape of his neck and pulled him in. Their lips touched. Tentatively at first. Just a taste. Nick started to pull back, but then Vegas' lips parted and Nick's tongue slid in as if coming home at long last. The kiss deepened, grew harder, more demanding. Their breaths mingled. They both groaned.

Vegas' leg found its way between Nick's and Nick found himself suddenly under an overwhelming siege of welcome sensations. He couldn't decide what to give attention to first. All he knew was he wanted more.

Echoing Nick's thoughts, Vegas, his forehead resting against Nick's, whispered, "I want to--"

"Me too," Nick quickly confirmed, trying to get his breathing under control.

"Right here?" asked Vegas.

"Right now."

"Okay then . . ."

Vegas stepped back, quickly pulling his shirt over his head. Dropping the shirt to one of the benches, he held out a hand to Nick and pulled the other man toward the large compartment window that was nearly as tall as the two of them.

"Someone might see us," Nick commented, a definite lack of protest in his voice.

"So?" Vegas grinned wickedly.

Nick decided he liked that grin. It had a definite shameless appeal. Following Vegas, he waited until the other man had turned back to him before pinning him against the window, his body fitting snugly against Vegas'. Nick's hand wandered down between them to press against the front of Vegas' jeans, rubbing up and down against the evidence of Vegas' arousal. "What do you want?" asked Nick in a low voice.


The simple reply coupled with the fire in Vegas' eyes traveled at express speed to Nick's groin. He smiled. "You've got me." The hand that had been wandering southward joined his other to grab at Vegas' brownish blond hair, pulling him in for another kiss.

Vegas fervently returned the kiss, his own hands going to Nick's waist to undo his trousers. Once Nick's belt and the waistband of his trousers were loosened, Vegas slid his hands beneath the waistband. He bypassed Nick's briefs and kept going until he felt the warmth of the other man's skin against his palms. His hands cupped Nick's ass, pulling their lower bodies tight against each other. Nick groaned into Vegas' mouth.

"I like the sound of that," murmured Vegas. "What else you got?"

"I got you," Nick stated firmly before leaning down to latch onto one of Vegas' nipples. Vegas arched into Nick, adrift in the feel of the other man's mouth on him. Having lost his grip on Nick when the other man moved, Vegas caressed his smooth back and ran his hands through Nick's short hair before bending to kiss and nibble at Nick's exposed nape and shoulders.

Working his way down Vegas' abdomen, Nick crouched before the other man, quickly unzipping his jeans. A Cheshire cat grin flickered over Nick's face when he saw Vegas wasn't wearing underwear.

Vegas' hands tightened on Nick's shoulders when the warmth of the other man's mouth engulfed his hardness. It was sweet. God, it was so sweet. Vegas pushed himself at Nick, voicelessly asking for more. Nick's fingers fondled Vegas'  balls, tongue-teasing his cock at the same time. The warmth of the sun at his back against the glass was nothing compared to that talented mouth, Vegas discovered as he fell into the whirlpool of Nick's sensual caresses.

After what seemed like an eternity of bliss, Vegas gasped out, "Nick!" He looked down to see Nick looking up at him, tongue swirling around the tip of his cock. Vegas very nearly came then. The glint in Nick's eye told Vegas he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Come up here," Vegas rasped out.

Nick did as he was bid. Leaning in close, he trapped Vegas' erection between their two bodies. "You called?" he breathed into Vegas' mouth before the other man yanked him in for a ravenous kiss. Vegas pushed Nick's trousers and underwear down. No sense in either of them being clothed at this point.

Holding both their cocks in his hand, Vegas stroked them together while laying claim to Nick with his mouth. Nick's lips escaped his, however, and suddenly seemed to be everywhere -- nibbling at his ear, sliding over the long column of his throat, biting at his nipples -- before moving upward once again to lay siege to his mouth.

Vegas hadn't felt this taken with and by someone in ages. And if he was any judge, Nick was just as taken with him. It was good. But he wanted more.

"Nicky," he whispered.

"Hmmm," hummed Nick who was otherwise distracted with mapping out Vegas' body by taste and touch.

Deciding the best way to gain his attention was by demonstration, Vegas abandoned his hold on their erections. Reaching around Nick, he pulled him close, trapping their erections between their bodies. Vegas slid a teasing finger up and down between Nick's buttocks before gently pushing a probing finger between his cheeks in pursuit of the ultimate goal. He pushed the tip of his finger in, just barely, before pulling back out. Nick's back arched, his rear end pushing back in search of the elusive caress.

Vegas teased him a few more times before Nick's head dropped to his shoulder in semi-feigned frustration.

"You like that?" asked Vegas.

"I'd like more," hinted Nick. One of his hands squeezed in between their bodies and took Vegas in his grasp, indicating what he'd like more of. His finger swirled around the end of Vegas' erection, which was moist with his juices.

"Don't move," Vegas instructed, as he slid out from between Nick and the window. He slid past Nick to grab his knapsack on the other side of the compartment, where he quickly located the needed item. Turning back, he saw Nick watching him. They both stood silently for a long moment, taking each other in. It was their first full glimpse of each other and their obvious signs of arousal. Vegas reached down to run a hand over his own erection and watched delightedly as Nick mirrored his actions.

"C'mere," said Nick softly.

Rejoining Nick by the window, Vegas didn't argue when the other man took the lube from him, squeezed some out onto his palm and then reached for him. Vegas' eyes slid closed as he let himself fall into Nick's touch but an overwhelming need to watch won out. His eyes drifted open to lazily watch Nick touch him in some of the most private of places. When the caresses became too much and threatened to end it all before they'd had a chance to begin, Vegas confiscated the lube with a softly uttered "your turn". Moving in close, he kissed Nick's chin before closing in to take his mouth.

A lubed finger gently worked its way between buttocks to tease the opening there until Nick was continually pushing against Vegas' finger, demanding more. Only then did Vegas push forcefully inside. His finger slid in, meeting little resistance. Nick went still, savoring the feeling. Then Vegas began moving the finger in and out.

A second finger joined the first, then a third. Nick's quickened stroking of Vegas' cock was message enough that he was more than ready. Gently turning Nick to face the window, Vegas held him against his chest, caressing him. He whispered in Nick's ear every single thing he was going to do to Nick -- whisperings that required no answer, for which Nick was grateful. He was lost in a sea of sensual pleasure and beyond any coherent verbal response at that point. Vegas pushed him forward. Nick, head pillowed in his arms, leaned his upper body against the window, using it for support, while his lower body pushed back against Vegas, craving closer, more intimate, contact.

Vegas' left arm draped across Nick's chest in a 'you're mine' sign of ownership while his right hand guided himself into Nick. Braced against the window, Nick's breath caught in small heaves of arousal. Vegas took it as slow and steady as his own arousal would permit, knowing by Nick's impatient movements that the slow pace was driving him over the edge. Finally, he found himself fully within Nick's embrace. They froze in that position for a long moment, discovering how well they fit together. And then Nick was pushing back against Vegas, demanding more, and Vegas moved, Nick's movements countering his perfectly.

Lost in the intensity of the moment, neither man noticed that the train had slowed down in preparation for traveling along the outskirts of a small town. Nick and Vegas, oblivious to all but each other, gave several residents of the small town quite an eyeful. By the time both men tumbled over the precipice, giving shouts of orgasmic culmination, the train was already leaving the small town and once more picking up speed.

Nick's hearing returned firs t- -loud breathing in his ear being the only thing to immediately register. As his senses extended outward, Nick became aware that Vegas was draped over his backside like a warm blanket. And he hadn't pulled out yet. Smiling, Nick accepted Vegas' weight at his back and allowed himself  a few moments to wallow in the afterglow. It felt good, although good seemed an incredibly inadequate word at that moment.

Finally remembering to open his eyes, they widened in startled bewilderment when he saw the countryside rolling by at a leisurely pace. Until that moment, Nick had forgotten he was plastered, nude as a jaybird, against the large compartment window, all his glory hanging out for the world to see. That should worry him, he thought, but he was too content right then to let it bother him.

Vegas moved, breaking Nick's reverie. Slipping out of Nick, Vegas turned him until they were face to face. "That was. . ."

"Nice?" Nick ventured.




"Worth a repeat?"

"You read my mind. But--" A slight frown line appeared between Vegas' eyes.

Nick ran a finger over it, as if he could smooth it away. "But?" he encouraged.

"I'm starving. Can we eat first?"

Twinkling blue eyes met steady brown eyes that were crinkling at the corners with suppressed laughter. "I think that can be arranged -- after you clean up the mess you made on the window."

Vegas looked past Nick to see the remains of the other man's pleasure splattered on the window. "I made? That's not my--" The rest of his protest was drowned out by a very forceful, very passionate, very welcome kiss.

Reluctantly pulling out of the kiss, Vegas grinned. "Well, damn, Nicky. You keep kissing me like that I'll do anything you want me to do."

Nick laughed and, giving Vegas a light slap on his bare rear, handed him a cloth napkin from the luncheon tray. Nick collapsed onto one of the seats. Sipping at the remains of the champagne, he entertained himself by watching a very nude Vegas clean the window. It had been a fun afternoon and a release he'd needed more than he'd known. He idly wondered if he could convince Vegas to change whatever traveling plans he had and travel with him for a while.

Still grinning, Vegas rejoined him. He helped himself to Nick's champagne before plopping himself down on the bench seat and laying down so that his head was in Nick's lap. "Feed me," he demanded, looking up at the amused brown eyes.

"What did you have in mind, Your Highness?"

"You can start with whatever's on that tray the porter brought. Then maybe something long and meaty for dessert. . ."

Amid much laughter and lovemaking, the two men whiled away the rest of the day until they reached Vegas' stop. Despite his earlier musings, Nick made no efforts to convince Vegas to change his plans and travel with him.

"Same time next year?" asked Nick softly, still wondering how Vegas managed to track him down at least once a year. They'd been doing this for three years now. Each time was as passionate as that first time had been. He smiled fondly at the other man.

"See ya around," agreed Vegas, giving Nick a quick kiss before slinging his knapsack over one shoulder and heading off to parts unknown.



Nick keyed open his compartment. His thoughts elsewhere, he turned to slide the door shut behind him, but stiffened when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning back to warily face the interior of his compartment, he found himself staring openmouthed at a familiar male form laid out in all his splendor on the now made-up bed.

"Didn't I just leave you--"

"I was beginning to think you'd never get back, Nicky," commented Vegas with a huge pout that was not to be believed.

"Change of travel plans?" he calmly asked Vegas, hoping his racing heart wasn't betraying him.

"You might say that."

Nick's eyes narrowed. Quick to catch on to what he hoped was happening here, he decided to not give in to Vegas right away. Two could play at this game. He went about his business in the compartment, not glancing at the bed or its occupant again.

Vegas watched in silence, beginning to have second thoughts that he had read Nick's desires correctly. He'd been hit with a shocking insight after leaving Nick earlier -- realizing that he didn't want to leave. That he could satisfy his wanderlust just as well, if not better, in Nick's company than without it. Now, though, his doubts were growing by leaps and bounds. He hadn't received the enthusiastic welcome he thought he would. Maybe this wasn't what Nick wanted. Could he have misread him that completely?

Then Nick, his back still to Vegas, started undressing. Each piece of clothing that came off erased a little bit more of Vegas' doubts. Then every stitch of clothing was off, the lights went out, and Vegas barely had enough time to react to Nick's shouted "Incoming!" before being engulfed in a very energetic and affectionate full-body kiss.

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