Blue Dream (Kreuzberg Dragonshifters Book 1) #Wattys2016

Blue Dream Part 12

"That car's following us again," Paul said, later that afternoon, as he drove away from the parking lot, towards Kreuzberg once more.

"It can't be," Flake said, and there was a genuine note of concern in his face, his voice at that.

"I'm telling you, that it is," Paul insisted, as he checked the mirror again. "The exact same one as this morning; same model, same colour, same bloody number-plate, even. That can't be a coincidence; they must be following us for a reason."

"Perhaps," Flake agreed, and it seemed as though he was starting to believe Paul. "Wonder who it is?"

"I don't know, but I don't like the idea of leading them straight to our front door, whoever it is," Paul said, darkly. "I'm gonna try losing them."

Flake grunted and nodded his agreement, but otherwise remained silent. Paul took a few wrong turns, doubled back on himself and even took a few turns suggested by a watchful Flake beside him. In time, they lost the car that followed them, but it was not without some effort on their part; despite the fact that the car had been lost to traffic, still Paul felt some agitation after drawing up outside their home. He still didn't feel quite safe, and checked the street several times on the walk up towards the front door to their flat, hoping that the car would not still pass. He didn't see it, yet his agitation still communicated itself to Flake.

"I don't fucking like this," Flake said, darkly, as he all but pushed Paul inside the front door. "This is almost like the old days, with the Stasi."

"Don't say that," Paul said, sharply, yet he knew that, in a sense, Flake was right.

Flake didn't take his words back, yet he didn't say anything else, either; both men were distracted by the sight of Richard padding out of the living room, an expression of alarm upon his face that seemed to make his eyes glimmer more than usual.

"What's going on?" he asked, his tone as alarmed as his face.

"A car followed us home," Paul said, before Flake could. "Or partway home, before we lost them. The same car followed us to work, this morning. "

"You're kidding; I don't like the sound of that. Who the fuck would do that?" Richard asked, in alarm, as he made his way to the front window, to peer out of the curtains, warily.

"No idea," Paul said, with a shrug as he joined his new lover at the window. "I don't like it."

"Neither do I, thanks for asking," Flake said, on his way past.

Neither Paul nor Richard took any notice, yet Flake merely shrugged and didn't take offence; both men seemed too intent upon watching the road outside to pay attention to anything else.

"Nothing yet," Paul said, when Richard looked askance at him, as a green BMW rolled past, followed swiftly by a clapped-out old Citroen.

Richard grunted, and they watched, yet no other car was to be seen. Finally Flake called them away from the window, whilst imploring them to stop nosing so that they could have their dinner. Both men nodded and did as the other man asked.

****

That night, Richard followed Paul into the smaller man's room, a little awkward and out of place still, yet Paul's welcoming gesture and smile seemed to put him at his ease. He watched as Paul changed into his night-things, noting the almost shy way that Paul did so, as though embarrassed by the intimacy of such a situation, despite the fact that they'd made love long into the night the evening before.

Paul slipped beneath the covers and waited for Richard to change into his own night-things; Richard finally joined him, warm body soon pressed against Paul's own beneath the covers. Richard lifted the sleeve of Paul's t shirt, pressed his lips against the tattoo emblazoned across Paul's upper arm, gently, in a lingering kiss. Paul turned into Richard's warmth, enjoying the feel of the other man against him.