Alright, so maybe this wasn't the most brilliant idea in the history of Rob. Not entire sure what I thought I'd achieve by going out into the garden—and technically I'm not supposed to be here because it belongs to the flat below—and staying there for as long as it takes for Quinn to apologize. It would have been a reasonable idea, wouldn't it? Say on a nice clear summer day if I'd remembered to bring a beer along with me... and a book. It would be a nice idea if Quinn actually played along.
Right now though, I feel a bit like a wet dog. I swear the sky is raining on me personally. Don't believe me? Well, how do you explain that it didn't start raining until five minutes after I'd gone in the garden and there's blue sky on the horizon? As for Quinn, what's the bloody use of my sulking and getting wet and pouting up at the kitchen window if he insists on pointedly ignoring me? Somebody ought to explain the rules to that man!
I'm just considering taking root and letting moss grow all over my shadow side—you'd be amazed how fast that stuff grows when it's wet—when Quinn opens the kitchen window and leans out a bit, though not enough to get wet of course. "Ready to come in yet?"
I shake my head and turn up the pout a notch.
"And I don't suppose you'd care to tell me what it is you think I've done that is so terrible, do you?" He asks.
I shake my head again. "That's the bloody point Quinn, you're supposed to know what you've done!"
"Fabulous, there were at least ten words in that sentence," Quinn remarks drily. "That's more than you've said to me since you went out there and it wasn't all monosyllabic either, I do believe we're making progress after all. Sure you don't want me to throw down a brolly and a coat for you?"
"No thank you. I'd look a right idiot standing in the middle of the garden holding an umbrella," I reply.
"You look a right idiot standing in the garden and getting rained on," Quinn sighs. "Look, I'm sorry, alright? Whatever I did I'm sorry, now come on up out of the cold already."
"That doesn't count," I grind out.
"What?" Quinn says quite exasperatedly, "I'm apologizing, aren't I?"
"Yeah, but it doesn't count if you're not apologizing for what it was you did wrong," I explain.
"But you're refusing to tell me what I did wrong!" Quinn shouts this time. "How the flipping heck am I supposed to apologize to you if I don't know what it is I did wrong and you won't tell me... and stop looking at me like that!"
He slams the window shut and I go back to contemplating the downstairs neighbor's flower pots. It's the principle of the thing now, innit? Can't go back inside until he admits he was wrong and apologizes for it. Just wish it'd stop raining on me personally.
I reckon it's about five minutes or so before the window opens again and Quinn is stood there with a put-upon look on his face. "This isn't about the carrots, is it?"
"You mean when you tried to poison me for tea last night?" I ask sulkily.
"Eating a few carrots won't kill you Rob," Quinn sighs.
"So why'd you have to hide them underneath the meat then?" I ask sarcastically. "No, it isn't about the carrots, but you can apologize for that too."
"Fine, fine," he says, "I'm sorry I tried to get you to eat some vegetables, happy now?"
"Yeah, still not coming in until you apologize for what you did wrong though," I reply.
"But you're not going to tell me what that is, are you?" Quinn sighs. "Not even a hint?"
I shake my head and he slams the window again. This is starting to get a little repetitive, innit?
Another five minutes and the window opens again. "Is it because I said that the girl Nicky was making out with the other night gave scarecrows a bad name?" He asks.
"What? The stick figure?" I ask. "No, I agreed with you on that one, and speaking of her, do you think you could maybe find him one of your nursey friends with a little bit of meat on her body?"
"I'll see what I can do," Quinn sighs. "Come on Rob, just a little hint, please?"
"Alright, this morning," I mutter. "It was something you said this morning."
It's funny how you can see understanding dawning on some people's faces, innit? 'Course he's grinning like an idiot now, trying hard to suppress the laughter.
"Christ Rob," he gurgles, "that it? You've been stood out there for two hours because I said you were cute?"
I nod and pout some more. "Men are not cute!"
"No, not at all, especially not when they've been standing in the rain for two hours, looking like a wet dog and pouting at the window, not cute at all," he chuckles.
"Handsome!" I shout. "Men are handsome! Or they have a good build or they are toned. They are most certainly not cute!"
"Alright," Quinn says slowly and deliberately, "you are most definitely not cute. I apologize whole-heartedly for calling you cute. It will never happen again. Satisfied? You're not cute. Will you come back in now?"
"You don't think I'm cute anymore?" I whine. "You probably don't think I'm attractive either, do you? You don't like me at all!"
"Fine, I give up you stubborn little sod!" Quinn shouts. "Come on up when you're through being a drama queen. It's no skin off my nose if your cute little arse manages to catch pneumonia."
"So you do think I'm cute?" I pout.
"Depends on whether it'd make you come inside," he snaps. "Because a minute ago you were insisting that you aren't cute. It'd help if you made up your mind eventually..."
"Tell me again," I pout.
"Rob, you've got the cutest arse in the Thames Valley, now would you mind terribly much getting a move on and getting that cute little arse upstairs before you catch your death? I'll be running you a bath," Quinn shouts and slams the window shut again.
I skulk around the garden for a few more minutes, just for the look of the thing really. He says I've a cute little arse! Wonder whether I can somehow convince him to come into the bath with me? Oh sod it all! I'm going back inside. He's going to be extra nice and extra attentive for days now and I don't think I'll be finding any carrots hidden in my tea for at least a week or so. Plus, he'll be setting Nicky up with a proper girlfriend and...
Alright, so I guess the whole sulking and pouting in the back yard in the pouring rain bit didn't work out too well after I lost track of the main objective there. I mean, I was sending rather mixed messages towards the end, wasn't I? Cute or not cute, that was the question, and I might have been rather ambivalent on the subject. So I do the sensible thing and start squelching towards the house, sneezing all the way.
No sooner do I enter the house than Quinn starts ripping the sodden clothes off of my body. "Get naked before you freeze to death!" He orders—the epitome of romance, he is.
I'm about to turn to go back out when the bastard actually trips me! He trips me!
"Don't even think about it," he chides. "You'll be lucky to get away with a cold after that little stunt. Just get those clothes off and get your arse into the bath to warm up a bit."
I decide to employ the quivering bottom lip, which seems to work some, though the effect is slightly spoiled by the fact that I'm sitting on my arse on the floor looking puzzled—well, come on, when was the last time you tripped up a boy or a girl you fancied? Grade school?
"Don't want to," I whine. "Think I'll just go back outside for a bit, if it's all the same to you..."
"Why? So you can pout at the window some more?" Quinn asks quite exasperatedly. "Jesus Christ Rob, are you channeling the inner two-year-old today?"
"Don't know what you're talking about," I reply, crossing my arms in front of my chest. Oh, great move there Rob! Now you really do look like a two-year-old.
"Fine. If that's how you're going to play it, I'll go along," Quinn sighs and picks me up without much further ado to throw me across this shoulder and start moving towards the bathroom at speed. Stupid bastard nurse trained to lift invalids all over the place!
"Let me down!" I shout hitting wildly around me—though not so wild as to hit him in any areas that are vital to my sex life.
"I will, about five seconds from now," he pants. "Would you stop moving around like a lunatic?"
Before I can answer him, he's pushing open the door to the bathroom and I have only a few seconds to realize he's going to put me down in the middle of the tub, the tub that is full of water, mind you—and bubble bath! I fucking hate bubble bath!—clothes and all. So I do the only thing I can think of that might at least go some way towards getting even and pull Quinn down with me.
I land hard in the bath, making the water splash all over the place. While he manages to keep his feet on the ground, the better part of his torso, as well as his arms, make it into the tub with me. He stays there for a few seconds unmoving, while I try to rearrange my face into a fetching pout—I've a feeling I'll need it in a moment.
"Was that really necessary?" He sighs.
I nod.
"Fine, shift over so I can get in behind you, would you?" He says unbuttoning his pants and then shrugging off his sodden shirt.
I am too surprised to act contrary for a moment and before I know it, Quinn is settling in behind me and helping me out of the last of my clothes. Then he leans back against the wall, his legs at either side of mine, and pulls me back to lie against his chest. Can't remember now why I didn't want to come in here in the first place. The bath is warming me up a bit and it's kind of nice having a chest to lean against with Quinn's hands brushing across my shoulders...
"Rob?" He asks after a while.
"Hmm?"
"Is 'sweet' alright?"
"Hmmm?" I drawl lazily, my eyes firmly shut.
"Can I use the word 'sweet' in reference to you?" He asks.
"I suppose so," I mumble. "So long as it's in a manly fashion."
He chuckles. "You're kind of sweet when you're sulking. Infuriating, but sweet."
His hands are brushing across my thighs now and my dick is taking a definite interest. "How sweet?" I ask, my voice cracking a bit.
"Sweet enough to eat," he replies softly, starting to run his hand along my erection.
"That a proposition?" I ask leaning closer into his touch.
He doesn't reply, just tightens his grip on my dick some and start stroking me off properly. Definitely can't remember why I didn't want to do this.
He keeps on going even when my balls draw up close to my body and nuzzles my neck a bit. The orgasm sneaks up on me so slowly, I don't even realize it's happening until I'm shuddering and coming all over his hand. He keeps on going until the last few drops are wrung from me body. Then he kisses my temple and says, "wasn't really propositioning you there, but now I am: want to go back to bed and make love all afternoon?"
I sigh contentedly. "Yeah, think that's the first sensible thing that's come out of your mouth all day."
"Like you've actually been sensible," he chuckles.
I lean back further into his arms. "I'll have you know I was the picture of sensibility all day," I pout. "It were you what was behaving like an utter prat."
"If you say so Rob," he sighs. "If you say so. You're really cute when you're in one of your moods, you know."
"Don't call me cute!" I grumble.
"Fine, you're very sweet when you're in one of your moods," he chuckles. "That better?"
"Yeah."
"And you're fucking odd too," he sighs.
"That's what you love about me," I pout.
"That too," he replies. "Doesn't hurt that you have the cutest arse north of the Thames."
"You really think my arse is cute?" I ask.
"The cutest," he replies with conviction. "Want to take you to bed and fuck you all afternoon."
So he does.
© KJB 2003-2003.