Three Months to Forever Page 5

  “Oh God, Sai.” Ben’s cries were beautiful.

  Ben bucked once, but Sai pushed him back down with a hand clamped on a hip and eyes narrowed in admonition. A whimper escaped, but Ben held still. Sai bobbed, moaning around the thickness of Ben in his mouth and throat. Ben was primed to come, nearly vibrating with the need. And all it took was a couple of fingers slipped inside his used hole and a couple of taps on his prostate, and Sai was swallowing all the salty come that shot onto his tongue.

  Holding Ben afterward felt like he had acquired a new addiction. As the sweat cooled on their skin and Sai pulled the covers over them to protect against the breeze of the air-conditioning, he knew this one time would never be enough.

  Chapter Five

  Sunday, September 10

  THE TABLE was covered in little plates and bamboo steaming baskets, the aroma making Ben’s mouth water. He’d been to dim sum a couple of times before in Toronto; some of his Chinese friends had taken him. They would order a bunch of things he had never heard of, and everything looked strangely appetizing when it arrived. It was no different this time around with Sai, Winston, and Jacques sitting at the table with him.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to ask what everything was, but Ben held back. The last thing he wanted was to seem like the uneducated gweilo who needed handholding when eating dim sum. Jacques certainly didn’t look like he needed anything explained to him as he picked up a pair of chopsticks and expertly snagged some sort of dumpling.

  “Okay.” Next to him Sai used his chopsticks to point from one dish to the next. “These are barbecue pork buns, baked instead of steamed, which is a specialty at this restaurant. This is shrimp dumplings, pork dumplings, radish cake, deep-fried taro dumplings with pork inside, rolled noodles with shrimp inside, glutinous rice with chicken, satay snow pea sprouts, and congee with pork and thousand-year-old egg.”

  Ben’s head spun. “Thousand-year-old egg?” It was honestly the only thing he could remember after Sai rambled off the items on their table.

  “Yes, it’s black and looks rubbery. It’s delicious.” Sai ladled some into his bowl and picked out a piece on his spoon.

  It did look rubbery and black, and what looked to be the yolk was mushy and gray. His reaction must have been written across his face because Sai, Winston, and Jacques all burst out laughing at the same time. The heat of a blush burned on his ears; so much for not being an uneducated gweilo.

  “Don’t worry!” Winston waved at him from across the table. “It’s good! Try it!”

  Ben gulped. He told himself he was open and adventurous, and so far he hadn’t encountered anything in Hong Kong he wasn’t willing to try. Nothing except perhaps a thousand-year-old egg.

  “You don’t have to try it if you don’t want to.” Sai shot Winston a glare. “It’s just a normal chicken egg that’s been preserved in some clay or something—I’m not too sure. But it’s not a thousand years old.” Sai put his bowl down and picked up his chopsticks again.

  “No, I’ll try it.” And he nodded to prove to himself and the other three that he meant it. “I mean, that’s what I’m here for, right? To try new things?”

  They all looked at him like they didn’t believe him. Well, he’d show them. He snatched the bowl Sai had abandoned and scooped up the black rubbery thing with the Chinese soup spoon. It was cut up into small pieces and sitting in the congee that looked like rice porridge. It couldn’t be that bad, right? Not when an entire culture of people ate the stuff. Ben held his breath and put it in his mouth.

  The yolk was as mushy as it looked and disintegrated on his tongue. The white was jiggly like Jell-O, and he gave it a couple of chews before swallowing. It tasted tangy and slightly pickled and reminded Ben of the smell of an extinguished match. It wasn’t as gross as it looked, but it probably wouldn’t become Ben’s favorite go-to.

  Three pairs of eyes looked expectantly at him.

  He shrugged. “It’s okay.”

  They burst out laughing again.

  Jacques shook his head as he turned back to his own food. “Don’t let them fool you. Most non-Chinese don’t like that stuff. I never eat it.”

  “Because you have bad taste in food,” Winston accused him with a dramatic eye.

  Jacques tilted his chin up and looked down his nose. “I’m French,” he said with an accent slightly heavier than it was a second ago. “I have the best taste in food.”

  “Ignore them.” Sai’s chopsticks clicked as his hand flew around the table.

  When Ben finally figured out what Sai was doing, he found his plate piled high with a sample of everything they had ordered.

  “Oh, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.” He picked up his own chopsticks and tried to decide what he wanted first.

  “It’s a sign of respect to get food for others.” The way Sai smiled at him, dark and suggestive, reminded Ben of all the things they had done together the night before. His ass still ached from the pounding Sai had given him, but he would gladly take it again at the crook of Sai’s finger.

  “You can stop eye-fucking now,” Winston said with his heavy Cantonese accent and a dismissive tone.

  He almost laughed out loud at how annoyed Winston looked. When he glanced over to Sai, his smile had turned smug, and Ben’s blush deepened.

  “So, Ben. How long have you been in Hong Kong for now?” Jacques came to the rescue with a much-needed change of subject.

  “Um.” Ben paused to think. “Just over a week,” he answered, although it felt so much longer than that.

  “What has been your favorite part so far?” Jacques asked and took a sip of his tea.

  Sai—the answer rang out as clear as if someone has spoken it in Ben’s ear. But as he glanced at the man in question, who was busy dipping a dumpling in chili oil, he knew he couldn’t say his answer out loud.

  “The people,” Ben said instead. “Everyone has been so nice and welcoming to me.”

  Three pairs of eyes stared at him again, and Ben wondered what he had said wrong.

  “Truly?” Jacques looked surprised.

  “Yeah, I mean. Look at you guys, inviting me for dim sum even though you just met me.” And it was true. They didn’t make him feel like a foreigner or an outsider; they just seemed to accept him into the fold.

  The same went for the people at work. Granted, now that he thought about it, most of the people he interacted with at work were also expats. The locals seemed to keep to themselves.

  “We are an exception,” Jacques went on. “I’m a moderator for InterNations—”

  “Right—you guys put on that networking event.”

  Jacques nodded. “Exactly. Our mission is to connect expats and make them feel welcome in new cities. So we’re extra welcoming. Locals, though, don’t have the greatest reputation.”

  Winston gave his boyfriend an annoyed look but didn’t dispute the statement. Sai popped a piece of radish cake in his mouth and chewed, seemingly indifferent to Jacques’s slight.

  “Kwok Sai Hei?”

  Sai looked up, and Ben followed his gaze to find an older couple standing a few steps away from their table. Sai jumped from his seat, switching to rapid Cantonese as he addressed them. Winston lost all his typical energy, his expression grim and somber as he stood less quickly and went over to say hello.

  Ben leaned over to Jacques and whispered, “Who are they?”

  Jacques turned toward Ben and lowered his voice. “They’re the Leungs. Friends of Winston and Sai’s parents. They own several factories, and Sai acts as legal counsel for them. They’re an influential family, but then, they’re all influential.”

  “They?”

  “Winston and Sai’s families. They’re from an elite social circle in Hong Kong. Mostly business people, but active in politics.”

  “Oh.” Ben hesitated. “Should we introduce ourselves?”

  Jacques gave a curt shake of his head. “No. We are not important gwaanhai—connections. We’re not in positions that are useful for th
eir network, so there’s no reason for them to want to know us. Also they’re a little homophobic.” Jacques shrugged and tore a BBQ pork bun in half.

  Ben glanced at the older couple. The woman had her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her chin lifted, and she looked at Sai with haughty annoyance. The man stood just behind her, off to the side, scowling not too subtly at Winston. Winston scowled not so subtly back.

  Sai nodded at everything the woman said, his nods only deepening when it was his turn to speak. Ben couldn’t understand a word of the conversation, but he didn’t need to understand the language to read the power dynamic at play.

  The woman’s gaze shot to their table, first to Ben, then to Jacques, so quickly that Ben didn’t have time to smile at her before she turned on her heel and marched away. The man followed after a shake of his head.

  Winston returned to the table with his back ramrod straight, vibrating with a barely contained fury. Sai sat down in a slump, elbow landing heavy on the table, forehead cradled in his palm. Ben covered Sai’s other hand with his own, but he wasn’t prepared for the way Sai jerked his hand away and busied himself with his cloth napkin.

  The mood changed dramatically. Jacques tried to keep the conversation lively, and Ben did his best to contribute. But Sai and Winston were clearly distracted by whatever went down in that exchange. When Ben shot a worried look at Jacques, he just got another curt shake of the head and more forced chitchat.

  The food still tasted good, but it wasn’t nearly as enjoyable as it had been. The current of tension at the table eased only when the waiter brought over their bill. Ben pulled out his wallet, but Sai pushed his hand away and started in on a rapid-fire discussion with Winston in Cantonese.

  When Ben glanced over at Jacques in confusion, Jacques just shrugged.

  “They’re arguing over the bill,” he explained when Winston and Sai continued their argument at the restaurant’s reception desk.

  “Why? We should all split it.”

  “Oh no!” Jacques gave him a mockingly horrified look. “That is unacceptable. They must fight over who pays, and the person who wins is considered the most generous and hospitable.” Jacques paused with an amused smile. “Winston and Sai aren’t so bad, really. Others often resort to extreme measures.”

  “To pay for the meal?” Ben couldn’t quite believe it.

  “Oh, certainly. It’s very amusing to watch people trying to sneak cash into each other’s pockets,” Jacques said as they left the restaurant.

  Winston and Sai met them outside, and after a quick goodbye, Winston and Jacques left to run some errands.

  “Thanks for taking me to dim sum,” Ben said.

  “It was my pleasure.” Sai’s smile held a hint of sadness, and his shoulders slumped in a way Ben had never seen before. “And I apologize for that… incident.”

  “No! Don’t apologize! I just hope everything’s okay.”

  Sai’s smile slipped. “They’re friends of my parents. And Winston’s parents.”

  “Right, Jacques told me who they were. They were nice to come by and say hello.”

  Sai gave a dry chuckle. “It would’ve been rude if they did not. They wouldn’t want to risk rumors getting around that they failed to uphold basic social pleasantries.” Sai paused, lips pressed in a firm line. “Even if we are gay.”

  Ben’s mouth gaped, and he snapped it shut; it appeared Jacques had been right about the homophobic thing. But before Ben could conjure up any response, Sai put a hand on his shoulder, warm, solid.

  “I’m sorry, Ben,” Sai said with a hint of sadness. “I had wanted to take you to the Kowloon side this afternoon, but I need to go in to the office now.”

  “Oh, yeah. It’s okay.” Ben tried to hide his disappointment but couldn’t stop his brow from wrinkling. “Does it have anything to do with the couple?”

  Sai narrowed his eyes, and Ben could almost see him debate with himself before he finally spoke. “Yes, but it’s… nothing.”

  Said that way, Ben didn’t believe for a second it was nothing. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

  Sai sighed and dropped his hand from Ben’s shoulder. “I act as legal counsel for the Leungs, and they just told me that a new issue has come up, so I need to go address it immediately. Don’t worry; this happens a lot. I’m used to it.”

  It might happen a lot, but to Ben, that didn’t make it okay, even if Sai was used to it. It was on the tip of his tongue to say something, but what did he know about the dynamics of Sai’s relationship with the Leungs? Hell, for all he knew, this could be normal for Hong Kong.

  “Okay, well, next time?” If he sounded a little desperate, Ben didn’t care.

  Sai met his gaze and held it for several seconds. “Yes, next time.” A small grin graced Sai’s lips. “Definitely next time.”

  Chapter Six

  Saturday, September 16

  BEN CHECKED his watch again as he waited at the lower terminal of the tram that would take them up to the Peak, the tallest part of Hong Kong island. Sai was twenty minutes late. Ben had already texted Sai where he was waiting but hadn’t gotten a response.

  He reached into his pocket to pull out his phone again but stopped when he spotted Sai striding toward him, head bent, shoulders drooping, one hand stuffed into his jeans pocket, the other clutching the strap of a messenger bag slung across his chest. This did not look like the confidently suave Sai Ben had come to expect.

  “Hey, Sai,” Ben said as Sai strode up.

  “Hi, Ben.” The smile Sai gave him looked genuine, if labored.

  “Are you okay?”

  His smiled tightened a little around the edges, and Sai looked away as if he couldn’t meet Ben’s gaze. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m fine.”

  Ben frowned. “Are you sure? You don’t look okay. Did something happen?”

  Sai’s smile slipped a little more, as if plastered on his face by sheer will. “Yeah, fine. It’s fine. Let’s get in the queue.” Sai gestured toward the line that snaked back and forth across the lobby. He started off without waiting, and Ben scrambled to keep up.

  “How was your day?” Sai asked.

  Sai had completely ignored his question, but Ben let it go for now. “Um, yeah, it was good. Slept in and then met up with Mo and the girls for lunch. We wandered around Wan Chai for a bit.”

  Sai nodded and made appropriate sounds of agreement, but Ben wondered if he’d actually been listening.

  “Did you go in to work?” Ben asked.

  More nodding, but Sai didn’t offer up any details. “There’s quite a history to the Peak. At one point only expats were allowed to live up there.”

  Ben was torn between the interesting piece of history and the fact that Sai had again acted as if Ben hadn’t asked a question. “Oh, really? That’s crazy.”

  Sai shrugged dismissively. “British colonialism. Back then the only way to get up to the Peak was by foot. The tram wasn’t built until 1888.”

  The line moved quickly, and Sai spouted an unending stream of historical facts about the tram and the mountain they were going to see. Ben let him talk. It was interesting information, but more than that, it seemed to take Sai’s mind off whatever was clearly bothering him. By the time they got to the front, a bit of the tension had eased from Sai’s posture, and his smile looked a little less forced.

  Ben managed to snag a window seat on their tram, and Sai slid in next to him, resting his arm along the back of the bench. It felt nice, sitting on the bench so narrow they had no choice but to touch thighs, arms, and shoulders. Ben slouched as far down as the small space would allow, leaning on Sai’s shoulder.

  As the tram climbed up through residential neighborhoods, with trees, shrubbery, and vines encroaching on the tracks, Sai pointed out landmarks of interest. Ben soaked it all in, every little piece of information spoken in hushed tones in his ear. Sai might have been smaller in stature, but in that moment, he felt so much bigger to Ben, so sure and in control.

  The air got marg
inally cooler the higher up they ascended, helped by the canopy of vegetation and the slight breeze. When they got to the top, Ben was pleased to see Sai visibly more relaxed, as if by physically going up the mountain, he left behind all the troubles that lay below.

  The sun was low in the sky as they made their way into the Peak Tower, a bowl-shaped building set on a pedestal. Inside was a giant shopping mall, but Ben followed Sai to the elevators that brought them to the viewing deck. The sight was stunning.

  Hong Kong was laid out at their feet, towering buildings growing out of thick green vegetation, all clinging to the side of a mountain that gave way to the sea. On the other side of Victoria Harbour was Kowloon and more towering skyscrapers, each reaching for the heavens in their attempt to be the tallest of their peers. And beyond them, more mountains covered in green.

  This was Hong Kong: a battle between the concrete structures of modernity and the stubborn resiliency of nature. Urban centers so densely populated that people lived and worked on top of each other, juxtaposed with untouched landscapes that spanned as far as the eye could see.

  “It’s beautiful,” Ben whispered. It wasn’t like anything he’d seen before, and something in his heart shifted. All around them were shouting tourists snapping pictures, but Ben felt oddly tranquil standing on top of the mountain. Hong Kong wasn’t home for him, but he could see it becoming something like home.

  “It is.”

  Ben dragged his gaze away from the scene below and found Sai looking at him—eyes dark, lips pressed in a firm line. Ben’s stomach fluttered, and his mouth grew dry. He slipped into that place again. There were no words to describe it, and he didn’t fully understand it, but with that place came a sense of relief, of being able to let go of the reins of control he normally held on to so tightly. He swayed closer to Sai, and Sai swayed a little closer to him.