Sex in C Major
Chapter 66

"Mm."

"Why?"

"Because Darian has a crap sense of humour."

"That's a joke?"

"We had two. Istanbul and Constantinople."

"Why?"

"The song? You know, it's Istanbul, not Constantinople?"

"But why?"

"I'm Turkish, I suppose Darian thought it would be funny."

Stefan still didn't get it, but the cat was rumbling happily, and...well. It did have a ridiculous name, so he found himself smiling.

"Where's the other one?"

"Had to have it put down."

"Oh."

"I suppose that's the ultimate irony. Constantinople outlived Istanbul."

Stefan laughed. The cat stopped purring for a moment, then continued when he scratched its ears again.

"So are you from Istanbul?"

"Birmingham. My parents are both from Turkish Kurdistan."

"Where's that?"

"South-east Turkey."

"Why did they leave?"

"Work. They run a Turkish restaurant in Birmingham city centre. There's no competition. Back in Turkey, being able to cook good Turkish food is like being able to make baked beans on toast over here."

"Can you cook?"

Yannis laughed. "No."

"Can Daz?"

"Better than me, but he prefers Moroccan food to Turkish. He thinks Turkish food is takeaway kebabs and strong coffee," Yannis said disdainfully. He put the empty plate on the floor, and the cat jumped down to investigate. "I'm going for a shower. Take it you're feeling better?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Yannis disappeared upstairs. Stefan stayed with the cat for a while, and after it was done with the plate, retreated into the kitchen to wash up and clean the counters. The cat wound around his ankles hopefully for a while, then disappeared when it transpired that he didn't know where the cat food was, or whether he was supposed to feed it at all.

Then something started ringing.

For a moment, Stefan didn't even recognise it as a phone. The ringtone was bright, bold brass-a tune he'd never heard before and it stopped before he could do much more than dry his hands and work out that it was in the hall. But it started up again not a minute later, and he managed to fish the phone out of a coat on one of the hooks. A picture was flashing on the screen: Daz and Yannis, crushed together for the selfie, in matching red beanie hats and both beaming at the camera.

The glee on both their faces made Stefan's stomach feel warm.

Then he realised he was holding Yannis' phone while Daz was calling, and he would probably be punished if he answered it or cancelled the call.

Shit.

"Yannis!" he called up the stairs.

Nothing.

"Um, Yannis, your phone!"

He headed up, holding the phone out in front of him like a bomb, terrified of accidentally hanging up or answering. He knocked on the closed bathroom door.

"Yannis! Daz is ringing you!"

A muffled shout told him the door was open.

"Um, what?"

"Bring the phone in then, idiot!"

Stefan stared at the handle, then took a deep breath and opened it.

And then promptly felt stupid. The pipes hadn't been screaming. Yannis had showered, but he was done, and was standing at the sink in his jeans, trimming his beard. Stefan handed over the ringing phone, and hovered at the door as Yannis answered in Arabic. Or was it Turkish? Did Daz speak Turkish?

Then Yannis said Stefan's name.

Stefan blinked, wondering why-if-they were talking about him. Yannis gave him a look, then another, then turned and walked out of the bathroom and into the master bedroom. Stefan hovered in the bathroom doorway, uncertain of what to do. Uncertain if he was wanted.

Then: "Stefan."

He went. Yannis had hung up, and dropped the phone on the bed.

"Bend over the footboard."

Stefan gulped, and did so.

"Darian's coming home. And he's in a mood. So you'll have to be ready when he gets here."

"R-ready for what?"

"He'll be frustrated." Yannis' hand gripped the back of Stefan's neck and pushed until he was bent nearly double over the footboard, head buried in the mattress. His ankles were kicked apart, and the towel ripped away. Stefan shivered. He was exposed. Vulnerable. And he needed to be prepared.

Latex snapped.

Then cool, slick fingers were probing at him. They were horrible and uncomfortable, and he squirmed, fighting not to pull away. It was like like a medical exam. The lube squelched; his arse was stretched on fingers that invaded, punctured, and then withdrew without a care. Stefan ached, empty, when Yannis withdrew, then whined when his cunt was subject to the same bruising treatment.

"Don't get excited," Yannis warned when Stefan began to rub himself against the footboard, seeking pleasure to drown out the uncomfortable probing. "When Darian gets back, he's going to use you. Plain and simple. You'll be a vessel, nothing more."

Stefan's dick twitched in interest, and he bit his lip to avoid saying anything.