An Ordinary Man

It was late afternoon, and Ivan had managed (mostly) to stop thinking about where and how he had woken up earlier. OK, he had clearly gotten utterly drunk and had a very … adventuresome night, probably with someone he’d never see again. When his thoughts drifted back this way, into those endless muddy eddies, something nagged at the back of his brain, but whatever it was, was too fuzzy to sort out. Meanwhile, he was finding a surprising amount of things in his flat that required his attention.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> For example, when had he last sorted the collections of Vorpatril holos his mother insisted upon giving him every Winterfair? Yes, it was a mind-numbing task, but today it seemed quite important that it be done.

He started when his comconsole chimed. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved to be interrupted, or worried who might be calling.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> It had only chimed once, so just a message, then. He seated himself at it, and keyed up the note. He read it twice, uncomprehendingly.

Ivan,

I believe you took my belt, and left me yours. While this may have some sort of arcane or sentimental significance to you, I would rather like mine returned. Please do stop by so we can switch them back.

Byerly

Ivan blinked several times, then got up slowly and went to his room.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> He picked up the belt from its hook in the closet. No, it really wasn’t his. He sat down hard on the edge of his bed, then collapsed back onto it.

Lips pressed furiously against his … a warm mouth descending upon and pleasuring him … pain that became pleasure … a smear of brunette on the pillow next to him -- short brunette hair … kisses more intense than he’d ever experienced … the streets he’d traveled to get home … the pain when the water of the shower and probably a bit of soap had run into the crack of his ass …

This isn’t happening, style='font-style:normal;mso-bidi-font-style:italic'>style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Ivan thought. I did not sleep with Byerly Vorrutyer last night.

Of course, no other explanations leapt to mind, saving perhaps madness.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> And if one of them was going to go mad, surely By would be first in line with his family heritage. Ivan was horrified.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> At the same time, he was not entirely sure if he was horrified because of what he’d evidently done, or because his horror quotient seemed rather lower than he thought it ought to be.

And he wants his damned belt back.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Even implied I took it as a, a keepsake or something.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Ivan was surprised to find he was still holding it. He supposed he could send it back without actually going back there.  There remained the problem of how to package the belt so that either a courier or the mail service would not find themselves wondering why they were transporting a belt from Lord Ivan Vorpatril to Lord Byerly Vorrutyer.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Or, really, why they were transporting class=GramE>anything style='mso-spacerun:yes'> from Lord Ivan Vorpatril to Lord Byerly Vorrutyer. So, going there was probably the best idea. Otherwise, he might just find By showing up here at some inopportune moment. It wasn’t as though he’d never done so before.