Quentin & Abhay Dastoor, Sunday afternoon
Oct. 22nd, 2023 03:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_erverse posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsQuentin spends some quality time at Haven with Abhay Dastoor, who helps him feel secure in his decision to work with Radha.
There was a variety of habitations at Radha's haven. Some people lived in groups, and a handful had their own spaces. Perhaps due to his relationship, or maybe his key role in the survival of the commune, Abhay was solo. So he had graciously invited Quentin to join him for tea. Privately. Quentin was more than happy to accept.
"I'll admit, I'm a coffee man, not tea," Quentin said, shrugging. "Unless it's a Long Island iced version."
"Oh!" Abhay's back was to Quentin as he prepared their beverages, but he looked over his shoulder with a slight frown. "I can get you coffee, if you prefer. Or," he said with a small smile, "a drink? I mean, it's always happy hour somewhere, right?"
Quentin sauntered over to his host, remaining a respectful distance away, but just barely. The air buzzed around him, like his mere presence was energizing the atmosphere. He liked the jolt it sent down his spine. "I wouldn't want to put you out after you've already been so generous," he teased. "But if you're offering, I won't say no. Got gin or vodka?"
"Yes, and..." Abhay's smile widened into a grin. Still fiddling with his tea, he nodded toward a cabinet. "It's not a full bar or anything, but help yourself." He placed his kettle down and turned around. "I'm only more than happy to offer," he added, as direct as he'd been throughout his interactions with the other man. "If it keeps you around for a little longer."
The couple of bottles were all mid-shelf booze and no more than half-empty, Quentin noticed as he telekinetically opened the cabinet and beckoned one to his hand, suggesting Abhay drank sparingly but at least knew what to avoid. "You haven't seen the last of me," he promised as he poured himself a couple fingers. "Radha has asked me to assist her with a project of sorts. I unfortunately can't stay here for long stretches at a time, but I'll be traveling back and forth."
Abhay nodded, then turned to pour a cup of tea into a clay mug in speckled earth tones. "Well, something to look forward to then." He smiled. "Not your going and coming," he added after a second. "But your returns. And the stretches, however long."
"A couple days at a time, probably," Quentin said between sips. "Or longer if there's something keeping me here. Radha needs help, there's something I can do for the commune, bad weather keeps me from leaving, or I just find myself enjoying my time here . . . Those all seem likely, don't you think?"
Abhay gave Quentin a cryptic smile, then carried his tea over to an olive sofa with square arms. "Mostly likely," he said as he sat down, tilting his head next to him in a way that suggested he wanted Quentin to join him. "Don't think the weather will be a problem." He set his tea down on a macrame coaster. "But that last thing might," he added, a playful look in his eyes. "I think you'll like it here."
"Oh?" Quentin acquiesced, joining the other man on the couch and returning his frisky expression, gazing deeply into the other man's brown eyes. Abhay's mind was still shut up tight, intricate shields keeping Quentin from peeking in. That was fine. There were other ways to get inside the man. "I already am. But give me another reason."
"Oh, a challenge?" Abhay cocked an eyebrow. He crossed a leg and draped one arm over the back of the couch, a small smile on his lips. The rhetorical question left space for a further comment. Instead, there was a kind of anticipatory silence.
Then, the rumble of a thunderclap. "Hmm," Abhay said, not looking anywhere nearly as curious as the noise might have suggested. The pitter-patter of rain against the ground soon followed. "Guess I was wrong about the weather."
The forecast had been for seasonally appropriate weather. Quentin had checked before flying out of New York and again when he landed. So the sudden change was a surprise. But the rainfall and the tingle he felt near Abhay, like static electricity, and the faint smell of ozone could only be explained by the other man's apparent mutant gifts. A beneficial power to have when living off the land.
"I'll need to stay here to wait out the storm," Quentin lamented. "I hope you don't mind. We can pass the time."
“Please.” Abhay left his arm in place, stretching past Quentin in a kind of half embrace. “What kind of host would I be to push you out into a storm?”
These teasing games were fun, but all good things must come to an end, and besides, the next stage was always more fun. Quentin shifted forward so he was halfway straddling Abhay's melon-crushing thighs and, when Abhay wrapped his free arm around Quentin's waist, leaned in for a kiss. Like he had been struck by lightning, his lips stung on contact, and that only spurred him to deepen the kiss, find relief in Abhay's mouth and hands.
Later, when the only sounds in the bungalow were heavy breathing punctuated by the drip-drop of the slowing rainfall against the roof, Quentin concluded that this newfound alliance was the best decision he had ever made.
There was a variety of habitations at Radha's haven. Some people lived in groups, and a handful had their own spaces. Perhaps due to his relationship, or maybe his key role in the survival of the commune, Abhay was solo. So he had graciously invited Quentin to join him for tea. Privately. Quentin was more than happy to accept.
"I'll admit, I'm a coffee man, not tea," Quentin said, shrugging. "Unless it's a Long Island iced version."
"Oh!" Abhay's back was to Quentin as he prepared their beverages, but he looked over his shoulder with a slight frown. "I can get you coffee, if you prefer. Or," he said with a small smile, "a drink? I mean, it's always happy hour somewhere, right?"
Quentin sauntered over to his host, remaining a respectful distance away, but just barely. The air buzzed around him, like his mere presence was energizing the atmosphere. He liked the jolt it sent down his spine. "I wouldn't want to put you out after you've already been so generous," he teased. "But if you're offering, I won't say no. Got gin or vodka?"
"Yes, and..." Abhay's smile widened into a grin. Still fiddling with his tea, he nodded toward a cabinet. "It's not a full bar or anything, but help yourself." He placed his kettle down and turned around. "I'm only more than happy to offer," he added, as direct as he'd been throughout his interactions with the other man. "If it keeps you around for a little longer."
The couple of bottles were all mid-shelf booze and no more than half-empty, Quentin noticed as he telekinetically opened the cabinet and beckoned one to his hand, suggesting Abhay drank sparingly but at least knew what to avoid. "You haven't seen the last of me," he promised as he poured himself a couple fingers. "Radha has asked me to assist her with a project of sorts. I unfortunately can't stay here for long stretches at a time, but I'll be traveling back and forth."
Abhay nodded, then turned to pour a cup of tea into a clay mug in speckled earth tones. "Well, something to look forward to then." He smiled. "Not your going and coming," he added after a second. "But your returns. And the stretches, however long."
"A couple days at a time, probably," Quentin said between sips. "Or longer if there's something keeping me here. Radha needs help, there's something I can do for the commune, bad weather keeps me from leaving, or I just find myself enjoying my time here . . . Those all seem likely, don't you think?"
Abhay gave Quentin a cryptic smile, then carried his tea over to an olive sofa with square arms. "Mostly likely," he said as he sat down, tilting his head next to him in a way that suggested he wanted Quentin to join him. "Don't think the weather will be a problem." He set his tea down on a macrame coaster. "But that last thing might," he added, a playful look in his eyes. "I think you'll like it here."
"Oh?" Quentin acquiesced, joining the other man on the couch and returning his frisky expression, gazing deeply into the other man's brown eyes. Abhay's mind was still shut up tight, intricate shields keeping Quentin from peeking in. That was fine. There were other ways to get inside the man. "I already am. But give me another reason."
"Oh, a challenge?" Abhay cocked an eyebrow. He crossed a leg and draped one arm over the back of the couch, a small smile on his lips. The rhetorical question left space for a further comment. Instead, there was a kind of anticipatory silence.
Then, the rumble of a thunderclap. "Hmm," Abhay said, not looking anywhere nearly as curious as the noise might have suggested. The pitter-patter of rain against the ground soon followed. "Guess I was wrong about the weather."
The forecast had been for seasonally appropriate weather. Quentin had checked before flying out of New York and again when he landed. So the sudden change was a surprise. But the rainfall and the tingle he felt near Abhay, like static electricity, and the faint smell of ozone could only be explained by the other man's apparent mutant gifts. A beneficial power to have when living off the land.
"I'll need to stay here to wait out the storm," Quentin lamented. "I hope you don't mind. We can pass the time."
“Please.” Abhay left his arm in place, stretching past Quentin in a kind of half embrace. “What kind of host would I be to push you out into a storm?”
These teasing games were fun, but all good things must come to an end, and besides, the next stage was always more fun. Quentin shifted forward so he was halfway straddling Abhay's melon-crushing thighs and, when Abhay wrapped his free arm around Quentin's waist, leaned in for a kiss. Like he had been struck by lightning, his lips stung on contact, and that only spurred him to deepen the kiss, find relief in Abhay's mouth and hands.
Later, when the only sounds in the bungalow were heavy breathing punctuated by the drip-drop of the slowing rainfall against the roof, Quentin concluded that this newfound alliance was the best decision he had ever made.
