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Title: “Embraced…”
Author: xof
Feedback: xof1013@gmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Brian/Michael, Declan/Ashton (OMC/OMC)
Genre: Drama, Angst
Sequel to: “Encompassed…”
Disclaimer: Don’t own ’em, but damn it’s fun imagining I do. Declan and his Ash are my creations.
Status: Complete, but will be posted in 15 parts. (Over 140 pages total)
Archive: ATP, Always, yes.
Summary: Six months into their new relationship/arrangement, and our boys get an invitation to take a journey across the pond. London calling…
Timeline: Set after the finale of Season 2, varying irrevocably onward from there.
Pairing Note: This is very much a Brian/Michael story. However, I have created two original characters based on (and only on) the physical appearance of the actors Aidan Gillen and Craig Kelly. My OMC’s are not meant to represent the actual actors or any of their onscreen roles.
Notes: This was the story that was never planned. I saw “Encompassed” as a one-off. But the characters obviously had a lot more to say and do. An embarrassing long year and a half later, and it’s not only done – but also longer than the original. Blimey…lol. Many thanks, and dozens of hugs to Em and Margo for their support and beta help. You are both very special, and I appreciate your encouragement so much.
Warnings: Deals with the subject of Dominance/submission and bondage. However, it is a story of love and sensual play that aims to build the spirit, not tear it down. I encourage readers to take a chance and follow our boys as they discover each other, and themselves, in this new way.
Embraced…
By xof
(Begun – May 2006)
- - - - - - -
Part 12
- - - - - - -
A long lunch of sinfully good pizza and a visit to the last of Ash’s must sees for their boys day out – the Pollock Toy Museum – had them returning back to Chez Rai. Albeit in a grand fashion, with the pair of them practically spilling off the lift without noticing that Declan was standing at the entranceway with eyebrow raised.
“Oh, shit. Sorry.” Michael smiled, chagrinned.
“Master! We –”
“Stop.” Declan held up his hand. “Before you’re off rambling at high speeds that baffle the mind, in three words or less, how was your morning?”
Energy barely contained, Ash grinned. “Wilde, Duck, Toys.”
His Master snorted, “No wonder your giddy factor is on high.” He turned to Michael. “We got back from Master You’s studio about an hour ago. Brian said to tell you to join him as soon as you got in. So off with you.”
Michael waved to Ash as his friend reminded him of their “watery date” later, and then headed down the hall to his and Brian’s room. He found Brian curled up on the bed, magazine spread out but unread beside the sleeping man. It was a sight that was endearing and enticing all at once.
Going with the impulse, Michael put the camera and souvenir bag of goodies he’d gotten at the toy museum down quietly. He kicked off his shoes, and then slowly crept up onto the bed. Brian didn’t stir at first, only shifted in his sleep when Michael got close enough to touch. Once Brian had settled on his back with his legs open, Michael moved between them and smiled. Looking up from under dark lashes, he pressed his mouth against the soft mound at Brian’s groin and breathed warm air over the worn denim that separated him from his objective.
It wasn’t long before Michael’s nuzzling grew more insistent, Brian’s flesh hardened as he inhaled – waking on a moan. “Mikey?”
“Hello,” Michael whispered, then turned his face back against him. He hadn’t gotten to have his taste of Brian that morning, more’s the pity. He reached for Brian’s zip and gave it a slow, oh so slow, pull. He was buried nose deep in dark coarse curls by the time Brian was fully aware.
“Fuck. Keep doing that.” Brian groaned as Michael did, running that talented tongue everywhere. Then came the soft, malleable wet warmth of Michael's mouth as it was shaped and worked over Brian's hard cock. It left him getting too close too soon, damn it. “Stop. Wait.” Fuck, he was good at that. “Come up here.”
Michael reluctantly drew away from the taste of him, covering Brian’s hard-on with his hand as he slid up to lie against him. “I got you all wet,” he whispered, causing Brian to catch his mouth in a kiss that was hungry and long.
Wrestling Michael around as the kiss ended, Brian rose up above him – capturing him as he pressed Michael’s wrists to the bed. When Michael tried to arch up against him, thrusting his hips into the cradle of Brian’s spread thighs, Brian shook his head. “No. Be still, Michael.” Dom voice, thick and hot. “I’ve been thinking of us fucking all day, but not like this.”
Frustrated and needful, Michael groaned out, “How then?”
Tightening his grip, Brian reminded him with a word, “Michael,” that there had been something missing in his reply.
Pushing into Brian’s hold, Michael fisted his hands. His breath shortened as his body responded to being held down, as it usually did. “Sir, please. Tell me how.”
Brian leaned in, his eyes burning over Michael. But it wasn’t enough – making Michael squirm. Brian wanted more. “Take off your clothes.”
Released from Brian’s restraint, Michael sat up and did just that as economically as he could under the heat of his lover’s gaze.
“Off the bed, over there.” Brian said, giving his own jeans and socks a shove before following with a pillow in hand.
There being the leather chaise lounge that took up one corner of their large room. He positioned Michael, seated but leaning back against the backrest, supported by the pillow behind. Michael’s legs were spread astride with his feet on the floor. “Stay, don’t move.” A quick turn back to the bed to find something he’d hidden earlier, and Brian was back – silk rope in hand. “I’ve had this picture in my head all morning. All through that demo, and back here waiting – knowing what I wanted to do to you.”
Michael closed his eyes, the words echoing in his head and through his blood. He was already breathing hard before Brian’s next touch. And when he opened his eyes, it was with full acceptance of Brian’s will.
Michael’s expression had Brian grinning, before the smile faded into a look of determination. And intent. He knelt on one side of the chaise and took one of the three lengths, tying Michael’s ankle to the support nearest. Then he did it again on the other side, immobilizing Michael’s ability to move his legs almost completely. Brian crawled up with him and pushed Michael against the leather behind, catching him at just the right angle so that Brian was straddling Michael’s thighs on his knees. Towering over him, Brian roughly jerked Michael’s wrists together, and set about securing them with the last length of rope. The knots firm, but the material as smooth to the touch as the first time he’d held Ash’s sleep rope in his hand.
Master You had definitely shown him a thing or two about knots, not that he was endeavoring to do to Michael what You had done with his surprisingly female assistant. But having Michael like this, submitting to being tied – bound to take whatever Brian chose to give. Or do. Fuck, it was hot. “Raise your arms, over your head.”
Michael frowned, but did as told. He couldn’t figure out Brian’s next move. Then he couldn’t think at all, past how amazing Brian was when he set about driving Michael mad. And oh god, but the man knew more things about turning his lover into sexual mush than any other Michael had been with. Even little things, unique in his experience – such as the quick lashing flick, then flat lick of Brian’s tongue along the underside of his arms, elbows down, over and over, again and again. Such as the way Brian did the same thing to his inner thighs, but didn’t even get close to Michael’s hard-on. Leaving him on the verge of whimpering, so blasted hard, but unable to do anything but accept. And ask for more. “Please, sir. Touch me.”
“You’re so hard, Mikey. And you taste,” Brian dipped his head, running his tongue over the head of Michael’s sex.
“Uhnn,” Michael moaned, his breath catching as Brian rose up fast and pressed into his mouth. The kiss one meant to consume, one that certainly overwhelmed. They only parted for lack of air, and then Brian told him to lower his arms.
“Go on, drop them over my head. Round my back.” He grinned. “Trap me inside.”
Michael moved his bound hands over Brian’s head, bringing them down until he had Brian in his arms. He leaned up, pressing close as Brian reached out and gripped the leather behind him. “What are you up to?”
“Shhh.” Brian kissed him, rubbing his hard-on against Michael’s abs. “Close your eyes, until I say.” And Michael did, biting his wet bottom lip in a way that had Brian leaning in to brush it free. “Don’t bite too hard, Mikey. That’s my job.” His words referenced by doing just that, nipping at the base of Michael’s throat.
“Fuck,” Michael breathed out, pushing his neck closer, only to have Brian move back. There was movement, but Michael couldn’t figure out what Brian was about with his eyes shut. So he whispered, “What are you going to do?”
No answer, just more shifting of Brian over his lap with the pressure of his hard cock moving against Michael’s skin. But then it was Brian’s hand on Michael, slick and warm – stroking him until Michael thought he was being intentionally tipped towards the edge. Until….
“You want to know what’s happening, Mikey. What I’m going to do?”
Michael could only gasp. “Yes!”
Brian rose up on his knees, switched his grip and then answered the question on his slow, intense way down. “This, aww. Uhnnn.”
Oh god, oh . . . god. Michael’s eyes flew open, staring with surprise into the dark hunger of Brian’s face. The two of them seized in the moment as Brian took them into new territory, even as he made to take them both over the finish line of their latest venture. One hard inch at a time. Until he’d hit the base of Michael’s sex, and stilled with a deep groan as Michael squeezed his arms around Brian’s hips and held on tight so the man above him, around him, couldn’t move.
“Fuck, the way this feels.” Michael pressed his face against Brian’s chest, and shook his head. “The way you *feel* – from inside.”
Brian dropped his head back, laughing dryly with his next breath. “Ahh.” The sound was involuntary as he tested the waters, clenching his cheeks as his body adjusted. Topping, he was used to. But this, it was something he’d done little of in the last few years. But ever since the other night, and every time since – his curiosity had been peaked. Now, feeling Michael up his ass bare – while still having control of it from the top… Oh, shit – he had to move. Had to feel it to the fullest. Because so far, “We’re sooo not gonna last.”
Michael burst out laughing, but it quickly turned into a groan as Brian started moving. Up and down, fucking himself on Michael. Rubbing against him. The rhythm getting faster and fast as he worked them sweat-wet and grunt happy. Brian reached between them, trying to hold himself up with one hand on the chaise as he palmed and jerked his dick with the other. So close he was painting Michael with pre-cum, panting for his next breath with Michael clutching tighter and tighter, as best he could with his hands bound.
And then with a wince of pleasure so sharp it was part pain, Brian hit the line and slammed on through. Cursing, laughing – Michael echoing him just half a second behind, shuddering hard as he shot, fast and blindingly inside Brian’s body. A mess between them, and mess inside.
“God, that was…. You’re just,” Michael rambled, but then stopped. Too blissed out to think.
Breathing hard and strength sapped, Brian nodded mutely as he rested with his face against Michael’s forehead. He shifted his hips, hissing softly – enjoying the ache, enjoying the feel. Knowing that the act, *without* – had been worth it. Considering who was inside. “It was. I am. And aren’t you just.”
- - -
"You, mister, are lost in thought."
Michael looked over his shoulder, “More like enjoying the view.”
“Well, that’s understandable. I do have one hell of a profile.” Brian smirked, grabbing Michael closer when his lover gave him a shove. “Look who’s getting all pushy-sub.” He pressed his mouth close to Michael’s ear, growling playfully. “Give a man a piece of ass, and he starts getting airs.”
“Airs? Man, we’ve been in England less than two weeks, and you’re already speaking the lingo.” Michael turned and circled Brian’s waist with his arms, enjoying the warmth of him as a shield against the bracing cold evening breeze. The wind, the sound of the boat moving through the water, the murmur of the other passengers and the music playing on the sound system inside – they all blended together into the soundtrack of their night.
For Michael, it was one of those moments. He felt so happy, so carefree. And so in love with the man who loved him.
He reached up to kiss Brian, letting the touch linger as he rubbed his chin along Brian’s – knowing what the soft scratch of his facial hair did to the man. “You were so amazing. The way you felt, around me. Being inside you, it felt so good, I… I can’t find the words.” Michael breathed out, “Do I feel like that for you?”
Brian pressed his forehead to Michael’s, threading his hands in his lover’s hair. “Fuck, yes.” He wrapped his arms around Michael, tight and strong. “Every time.”
Michael turned his face, angling it against Brian’s throat so he could inhale his scent. “Love you.”
A chuckle, and then Brian gave him a lift off his feet for all of a moment, and set a laughing Michael down again. “You better, all things and – as Ash would say – 'bare willies' considered.” This time when Michael tried to give him a shove, Brian pulled his hands around behind Michael’s back. “Now now, Mikey. All this rough housing in public and you’ll be shocking the other tourists.”
“Like they’re looking at us when they’ve got all of London lit up in the dark to look at.” Michael said, giving Brian’s hold on his hands a test. Nope, no going anywhere until Brian wanted. “You make me miss the good bits and we’ll have to take this ride all over again,” he teased.
Brian snorted, tightening his grip for just a moment before he leaned in and kissed Michael softly. Then he gave him a turn so they were both facing the glittering view. Spectacular really. Seeing the buildings and monuments illuminated at night, and then their reflections off the water. Brian was enjoying himself, enjoying Michael’s enthusiasm and the times his lover couldn’t help put point to something and be thrilled by its beauty. As so often was the case, his enjoyment heightened by Michael’s own.
After awhile, Brian glanced over and saw that Ashton was still manning the video camera after dutifully having volunteered to try and film the sights. Declan stood at his side, with his arm wrapped around Ash’s waist. Considering that the darker man was laughing, there’d be no telling what kind of running commentary the Englishman was doing as he kept filming. But Brian would give good odds that it would be an *interesting* one.
“Bri?” Michael hesitated, and then ventured on when Brian gave him a kiss on his neck just above his collar to show he was listening. “This has been the best trip I’ve had. Ever.”
Brian hummed. Then asked on impulse, curious despite himself, “What about Paris?”
“No. This one – best by a mile. Being here, with you. It’s something I don’t want to *ever* forget.”
“Not likely. You’ve got a memory a thousand miles long.”
Michael stayed silent for a long while, looking out over the water until they were nearing the dock. Then he turned, “I want to do something. Have something done. And I don’t want you to talk me out of it.”
Brian could tell just by the sound of Michael’s voice that he was being serious, no teasing. “Okay. What?”
Taking a deep breath, Michael said. “I want to make an appointment. With Hugh.” When Brian frowned and started to say something, Michael pushed on at a faster pace – reciting the list he'd come up with in his head of ways to defend his decision. “It’s not a whim. I understand what it means. I’m not playing copycat. And I want this, even if….”
When Michael hesitated mid-sentence, Brian asked, “Even if what, Mikey?”
Caught, the answer hanging there between them – Michael took a different tact. “No matter what, I want this. This moment – this trip, the two of us as we are – inked on my skin. Forever.”
Talk about the power of words. “Shit, Michael.” Brian pulled him in, hugging him around the neck. The feeling, the rush of what Michael meant. Fuck – *always* the exception, touching buttons inside him that no one else could even get near. Still… “You don't want to rush this. You have to *think* as well as feel this one out.”
Pressed against Brian, Michael nodded. He felt such strength when he was here, in Brian’s arms. Inner-strength. And now, there was this new certainty added into the mix. No matter what, he would have this. Something time could not take or change. “I have. I know. And I am doing this. I want it to be a part of the experience.” He lifted his face, kissing Brian before he asked, “Will you come with me?”
Brian smoothed the palm of his hand over Michael’s jaw as he looked at him. He already knew his answer, but it didn’t stop him from delaying. “Do you know what you’re getting?”
Michael smiled, shy and happy. “Yes.” He leaned up and pressed the answer against Brian’s ear with a kiss and warm words.
Two words. And no, it wasn't a name. But it was a promise. One they both shared. Brian’s words come back with a permanence that would truly be skin deep.
Brian closed his eyes as he felt himself reacting to them. From the heart, from the head – a high so good, he didn’t have the means to deny either of them. Not that he’d wanted to. When he looked at Michael, he smiled. “One request. Let me choose where, and I’ll go.”
God. Even the thought of how *intimate* – let alone how erotic the idea was of letting Brian decide where he would be tattooed – it had him almost speechless. Michael gave quick nod. His body reacting enough, pressed against Brian’s as he was, for it to be obvious just how turned on he was by the thought, which only added to the ramble of his reply. “Yes, yeah. Okay.”
Brian grinned. “Deal.” He gave Michael another kiss, then looked up as he heard Ashton calling out that they’d better shift tail for de-boarding. He raised a hand, letting Dec and his wayward slave know they were coming. Speaking to Michael, he chuckled, “Better wait to tell Ash until later, or else he’s liable to bounce himself off the boat and end up in the Thames.”
“Behave.” Michael laughed, though not even for a moment doubting that it was probably true.
- - -
To say it was a bizarre experience to be walking through the residence of one of England's most famous, albeit fictional, detectives while at his back, Michael was hearing all the ins and outs of Tattoos 101 – well, bizarre was an understatement. “Would you two give it a rest? I’m trying to concentrate.”
Michael glanced over at Ashton, eyebrows raised. The laugh he was trying to hold in got that much closer to bursting free when the other man pretended to lock his lips with a twist and put an imaginary key into the pocket of his jeans. Michael leaned in and whispered, “Keep doing that and we’ll probably end up on the other side of a hairbrush spank-fest.” He had a feeling it was an implement that Declan would have on hand, being a traditionalist. And considering the way Brian was closely eying the personal effects laid out on the bureau of the bedroom they were standing in, he might be feeling one on his backside someday in future too.
“Promises, Misha. Promises.”
The pair of them had been on a tear all morning following Michael’s little announcement about wanting to see Hugh. Ashton had hit the door running, giving Michael a squeeze before making a beeline for the phone to see about setting the appointment. Declan had clapped him on the back, smiling that smile of his – both enigmatic and knowing. He’d asked if Michael was sure, but his tone showed that he already seemed to know that Michael had made up his mind. Then he’d said his congratulations before having to head out for a day of business appointments he’d been putting off since they’d arrived.
Hugh had been happy to hear from them, making not a few jokes at Ash’s expense. “Walking billboard to the talents of a great artist,” that he was. He’d set the visit up for the day after though, “Always give a fella some breathing room, me. Makes it mean even more if you actually show up.” A promise from Michael and Brian to come early so they could all share a meal, and decide on semantics had led to the detailed ramble from Ash and Michael that had followed them into the black cab and all the way over to what had been one of the highest priorities on Brian’s short must-see list for London.
The Sherlock Holmes Museum.
Yes, welcome to 221b Baker Street – all three floors an exact reproduction of the residence described in the stories of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, with no detail spared from floor to ceiling. From the cluttered Victorian jumble that was Holmes' study, to the character's bedroom and those of Mrs. Hudson, the housekeeper, and Dr. Watson on the second floor. Personal effects, decoration and design – it was an avid reader's playground.
The presentation was everything that Brian had hoped it would be as he slowly walked from room to room, upstairs and then down again for the better part of an hour. The funny thing was that it didn't even occur to him that he was being as much of a fan boy about all things Sherlock as Michael was for his comics and Ashton was for Star Trek.
Not that it escaped Michael's attention as he fondly watched Brian experiencing the detective’s domain with all the narrow focus and searching eyes of a geek at a comic book convention – a look that Brian had had to suffer through countless times through the years, on Michael. Seen from the outside, it was particularly endearing.
Brian Kinney – super fan.
One who readily stepped up, and sat down for a photograph to be taken of himself in Sherlock's armchair. Ashton's amusement was barely contained as he encouraged Michael to sit in the man's lap for another. The pair left the on-looking tourists from Japan in the room looking rather perplexed when Brian did just that.
If ever there had been a "hero" in Brian's world, one he'd valued since childhood, then Sherlock Holmes was it. Flawed, but brilliant, as the detective was, Sherlock became the perfect fit for a boy looking to escape. A fact he hadn't shared with many, and mostly with Michael.
The stories had sparked his imagination and helped him find a place to safely lose himself when he needed to hide away from the troubled environment of his own home. There was no telling how many times he'd read them over the years, so much so that he had them practically memorized. To the degree that he found different scenes and bits of dialogue were running through his head as he walked through the house, a soft smile on his face and in his eyes.
They all ended up in the gift shop, of course. It was a staple of every attraction they’d visited so far. Brian bought a Calabash pipe, a looking glass, one of Holmes’ deerstalker hats – and in a moment of mushiness – he bought two large dressed Sherlock teddy bears. One for Gus, which he didn’t think would survive until his son’s next birthday unless Lindsay had a hand in it, and one for Michael, to add to the London bears collection he was planning to showcase in the display case of Red Cape Comics.
He didn’t even bat an eye when Michael bought a caricature magnet of Sherlock to add to the others that now graced his once spotless, now cluttered stainless-steel finished refrigerator doors. But he did have a laugh on their way out when Michael leaned up to kiss him, before shoving a small bag in his hand and hurrying out the door to catch up with Ash. The contents of which Brian discovered were a pair of Sherlock Holmes silhouette cufflinks. He snorted fondly, pocketing them securely as he joined the other two men. He gave Michael a fast tickle, and catching him quickly when he tried to squirm away. “You are so pathetic.”
Michael just smiled at him. “And *you* are very welcome.”
Since it was still too early for lunch, they continued on with the detective theme by making a stop at the “Murder One” bookshop on Charing Cross Road. It’d been recommended as a must-see for anyone who loved detective stories, specializing in Sherlock Holmes material from all over the world. All of which conspired to increase their load as Brian added another bag filled with rare paperbacks and the like to his stash.
When Michael's stomach started growling, Ash pointed to the clock overhead. "It's gone half past one. All aboard for the stuffing-our-faces express."
Brian stared at him for a moment, then turned to Michael. "I can *not* believe a gay man just said that with a straight face. Particularly this one."
Ashton just laughed and made for the door with one parting comment. Calling back, "Well, you know the old saying. ‘There’s nowt so queer as folk’.”
Pause. Then Brian shook his head, and set to walking the same way, a grinning Michael by his side.
Lunch was a series of tall tales, warm English ale and pub grub at – yes, the Sherlock Holmes Public House and Restaurant. It was a small pub near Charing Cross Station at the turn of Northumberland Street. Seated, they were surrounded by a charming mix of Brits and other tourists, with accruements on view like Sherlock’s violin and morbidly enough – the detective’s morphine syringes. Morbid, yes – but it appealed to Brian’s dark humor. The three of them settled in, eating and drinking beer as they fell into a game of who could make the worst double-entendre at the expense of English culture. It was a hard-won race, but in the end Ashton crossed the finish line with a particularly dirty turn at “bangers and mash” that had Michael coughing as he laughed so hard that beer came out of his nose.
The afternoon before them, they made their slightly tipsy way to Shaftesbury Avenue; to what was decidedly Michael and Ash’s version of hog heaven.
Forbidden Planet – London’s megastore for all things science fiction, fantasy and cult. It was self-professed to be the world’s largest and best-known entertainment retailer for all three genres. They weren’t two seconds inside before Michael and Ash disappeared from view in a mad dash that was more squee than aww.
Brian ended up wandering the aisles, passing by his lover and their friend every now and again – hardly noticed. Both men were boys-at-heart, kings of their own world, and Brian merely the looker-on as they gorged their pleasures.
Ironic how tables can turn on the head of a pin.
- - -
Their evening started with a call from Declan to Ash. “Toynbee Hall Exit, Aldgate East Underground Station. Seven o’clock, got it.” The Englishman’s voice was full of laughter barely held back as he pocketed his mobile, a mischievous look in his eyes. “Right. We sooo need to drop these bags off before then.”
“What’s happening at seven?”
Ash answered Michael with a wink. “We’re going for a walk.”
Michael glanced at Brian then back. “In the dark?”
“Oh, definitely.”
Brian asked, curious, “What’s Declan got planned?”
“Gotta see a guy about a man called Jack.”
Not just any man, of course.
Turned out that the “walk” that Declan had arranged for them to join was a rather infamous one, the oldest and most renowned Jack the Ripper Walking Tour on tap – literally a walk in the world that was Victorian London, circa 1888. The Whitechapel murders brought back to life in vivid detail, told on the streets and in the alleyways where the actual events took place. Complete with vintage photographs, and macabre antidotes that only added to the eeriness of the atmosphere.
It was a scary tale, morbid and fascinating. Michael was riveted, Brian impressed. Declan and Ash had heard it before, but they enjoyed seeing it like new through the eyes of their friends.
Almost two hours through the warren of roads and places, and the tour was over. The small crowd dispersed, and the four of them stood round as Ashton clapped his hands together and rubbed. “So, anyone else up for a curry?”
Declan laughed and Michael groaned. “You can *eat* after all that?”
Brian answered first. “Says the half-Italian with a stomach like a bottomless pit.”
Dec snorted, “Coming from a cast-iron Irishman, is that really a question you don’t know the answer to?”
Bringing them back the original question, Ash asked, “Take-away or restaurant?”
Takeaway won out at a vote of four-none. They’d all been on the go so much that day that a relaxing evening back at Dec and Ash’s home was the more appealing choice.
After they’d eaten, the men settled in the living room, making use of the large black leather sofas as they listen to music and talked. Declan got up and set about making a fire. The lights were lowered so the flames were the dominant source of illumination in the room, except for the soft glow coming through the closed off screen wall to the dining room. Brian sorted through their CD’s, choosing something smooth and sultry. Something slow, which pleased Ashton well enough for him to get up and bow to Declan, asking him to dance with a smile.
Declan accepted, drawing Ash close. “You’re in a mood, all happy and cute.”
“Oh, there you go. Flattery.” Ash laid his head against Dec’s shoulder as they swayed to the music. A murmured, “Eleven years, and I still got it,” causing Declan to laugh, and nod.
“Absolutely.”
Michael looked up as Brian came to him, making room as Brian stretched out behind him on the couch as the two of them cuddled up, watching their friends. Lulled and relaxed, he pulled Brian’s arm around him.
“What are you thinking, Mikey?”
“That they’re beautiful.”
Brian looked at Michael, seeing in him all the phases of their years as friends and now lovers, from the teen with eyes so large, shy and adoring to the man who laughed and smiled from within as well as from without, so loyal and strong through all of life’s trials – and often Brian’s selfishness. “Take a peek into the looking glass, Alice. I know I quite like what you’ll see.”
Michael turned his head. “Silver tongue seducer, that's you.”
“It’s a talent.” Brian pressed a kiss to Michael’s neck as he turned back to watch at their hosts, and then whispered, “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”
“Hmm,” Michael answered, distracted by other things.
Or rather, other views. Like the one presented before them as Declan and Ash moved on from dancing to something all together more intimate.
The pair were knelt before the fire, lit by its flames as they kissed. As they touched. Slow, easy – without haste. Declan guided Ash to turn around, back to front but still on his knees as his Irishman began to undress him. Jumper first, then undershirt – leaving him bare from the waist up. Just skin and ink.
Declan ran his hands up Ash's arms, pushing his fingers into the man's hair – soothing at first and then pulling, holding his head back as his slave gasped. Caught and held firm with just that one handed grip, Ashton kept his hands at his sides, balled up into fists as he moaned at the way Declan played with the rings that adored his lover's chest with his free hand. Tugs, twists and hard flicks until Ash was practically vibrating visibly with the sensations, breath a ragged thing.
A kiss was pressed to the back of Ash's neck, and another to the center of his tattoo before Declan let go and told him to stand. "Take these off," he murmured, looking up at the line of Ashton's body from his place on the floor. And there he stayed as Ash took off his jeans and socks, turning as Declan's hands guided him around.
There was something so erotic in that moment for Michael, as he bore witness to the Master on his knees and the slave standing tall above. The dichotomy of their positions tinged the atmosphere with some kind of "otherness" that had Michael completely engaged.
So much so that he started when Brian called back his awareness by slipping a hand between Michael's thighs, molding his palm to the hard-on trapped inside his jeans. Teeth and tongue played over his ear and down his neck until Michael couldn't keep back a moan, couldn't keep still as Brian pressed against him from behind, clearly as aroused as Michael by what they both were seeing.
Fingers, long and sure, unfastened Michael's jeans as Brian bit at the back of his neck above his collar. Then again just below after Brian made a frustrated sound and yanked Michael's pullover off. When Michael reached back to hold Brian's head to him for more – Brian licked over the small marks he'd left as he rolled Michael half onto his stomach and gave the smaller man's jeans a jerk down over his hips.
Michael pressed his mouth against the back of his hand, muffling the hungry sounds caused by the force of Brian's strength. The manhandling, and pressure of Brian against his back – fuck, but it called to Michael's blood until it roared in his ears chorused with the rapid beating of his heart. Naked, jeans trapped around his ankles with Brian almost fully clothed behind him, he gasped when he felt the heat and length of Brian's cock against his ass. A sure sign that Brian was as hungry for more as he was.
A sound from across the room, needful and pleading, had Michael looking back even as he felt Brian pushing slicked fingers along the crease of his ass. Caught in the duality of what he felt and what he saw, Michael stared as Declan worked Ash closer, and harder. Irish lips tasting the length of his slave, sucking at him with fierce intent as his lips and chin were coated with the early stages of English cream. Stared and panted as Brian pulled at his hips, and licked along his spine as his hot cock mapped its progress between Michael's cheeks – grazing over his hole again and again, but never in.
"Touch yourself." Brian told him, struggling to hold back himself as he too watched their hosts. His eyes went back and forth between Michael's flushed face, and the scene that had helped cause the look of stark desire found there. He let Michael shift a bit so he could reach under and do as Brian said, but then Brian was over him again, mapped along his body from shoulders to knees. “Hard and fast, Michael? Or slow and long?”
It was there, an answer on his lips – about to gush out of him in a rush. But it didn’t come, as he saw Declan pull away and order Ash down on his hands and knees. Hand at the back of Ash’s neck, Declan rose up behind him on his knees, opening his trousers one handed. Intent so very clear. Ash saying, “Yes,” and “Please,” as Declan moved against him, and then inside of him with a fierceness that had his slave arching his back and panting. Eyes blazing with pleasure, hot and burning as they found Michael’s. As Michael’s silence became his consent for Brian to choose the way, to take him as he would. As he willed it, which was now, then both – hard and long.
Brian thrust into him, fully from tip to base in one move. It caused a flash of fire to shoot through Michael’s nerves, over his body – burning just under the skin. He moaned and grunted in the wake of it, pushing back as Brian moved him bodily back and forth, driving Michael onto his cock again and again. Until Michael’s world was sensation, his only conscious connection to anything other than himself and Brian’s will was the sight of the same on Ashton’s face. Seeing himself there, just as Ashton must on Michael’s face. The two men being taken as they in turn took it all, and loved every passing second as the tension built, as the room filled with sounds of sex and men. As they were driven to the edge that was as sharp as it was strong.
Declan wincing, groaning harshly as Ash snapped back against him, coming just as his Master came – their faces slack and blind as climax enclosed them. Brian grunting, a laugh breaking through as he pushed himself and Michael through towards both their endings. Michael shaking as his body tried to house the storm within, then shook even harder as it crested and he came.
The two couples were in tangles, collapsed together on separate spots in the same room. Catching their breath, and trying to come down to planet Earth – as first Michael and then Ash began laughing. No reason, just one started and the other caught on almost immediately. Declan raised his head tiredly and met Brian’s questioning gaze with a shrug. The two men breaking into smiles themselves as their lovers continued giggling, happy and free – each inciting the other’s hilarity as they gave themselves up to being joyful, their dominants not far behind.
The long day ending with an echo of gregarious ease.
The moment one to remember, when time meant nothing and just *being* was all.
- - -
“I swear, it’s true! 1857 – the Grand Duke of Tuscany figures one day, ‘I know JUST the gift to give the Queen of England.’ What is it? What could possibly be *perfect* enough for so conservative a grand lady? A cast model of one of the most famous and *naked* men in all the world! There he was rising tall over her head – Michelangelo’s David, with dangles and bit in full view. She was shocked, heart all a flutter – standing there like she would have been, all short, trussed up, fully covered from throat to toes and buttoned up to within an inch of her life. Can you imagine?” Ash laughed, his face full of excitement as he spoke to his circle of three listeners in a stage whisper where they all stood under the shadow of said 19 foot towering David in room 46b of the Victoria and Albert Museum.
“Political crisis in the making! Have to keep it, must display it because one mustn’t be considered rude. But oh, mustn’t cause innocent eyes to widen or mouths to drop. What’s to be done? Two words – who wants to guess?” Then he answered just as quick, before the others could give it a go. “Fig leaf! Plaster cast, over a foot and a half high and hung strategically with two hooks on days when the royal eyes were going to be paying a peek.” Ashton turned and looked up the length of the statue, a smile lighting his face. “And all to protect Her Majesty’s sense of modesty – a woman who married her first cousin, and was the mother of nine children all together. Four of which were boys.” He turned back. “One of my professors told us the story, complete with illustrations of the Queen surrounded by babies wearing fig leaf nappies.”
Declan fondly reminded Ash, “She’d only had seven by then, and was pregnant with the eighth. I’m thinking she was just off men in general at the time.”
Brian snorted, glancing at Michael who was biting back a laugh himself.
Michael had to admit that he was enjoying the Museum experience a lot more on this trip than he had on his trip to France. His visits to the Louvre with his ex, David, had proven more like scholastic fieldtrips – long on details, and lacking the style and fun that Ashton brought to the experience naturally. Paris versus London was proving to be no contest at all, given the company, the circumstances and the change in lovers.
Brian wandered away as Ash pointed out the aforementioned famous fig leaf, which was now housed separately in a protective case close by – browsing a little amongst the other casts they had in the same gallery. The Casts Court – two room, almost three stories high, a glass ceiling and vibrantly colored décor. Dozens and dozens of famous pieces, from Roman columns to medieval tomb casts. All very Victorian. And very cluttered, like walking through a rich person’s attic with the ceiling removed on a sunny day.
Or a rainy one, as their morning was proving. Drops hitting the glass above their heads…
They’d been wandering rather aimlessly through the V&A for the last couple hours, no real direction planned, Sometimes circling round or backtracking through galleries depending on what captured their interest and what didn’t. As if seven miles of gallery space covering all aspects of culture, design, fashion, furniture and art could leave a visitor wanting in at least *some* area. From the exotic Asian galleries that reminded Brian and Michael of Declan’s Chez Rai, complete with armor and kimonos, to the streamline styled furniture of the Art Deco period that appealed to Brian’s taste – there was fun for all.
“Brian.” Declan nodded at Ash and Michael’s retreating backs. “We’re almost done here. Just have to give a goodbye to Ashton’s three girls and then we can grab some lunch.”
“Three who?”
“Come and see.”
They followed in the exuberant wake of Ashton’s guidance until they came to a standstill in front of the statue to which Dec had been referring.
Declan did the introductions. “This one is called ‘The Three Graces’ – daughters of Jupiter, companions to the Muses. Thalia, who represents youth and beauty. Euphrosyne, mirth. And Aglaia, elegance.” The description sounded recited, but only because he’d had years of getting acquainted with this rival for Ash’s attention. Ashton who was looking up at the piece with a smile, so focused on it that it was as if the rest of the world had gone away. “It’s the most celebrated sculpture here, and his favorite of the lot.”
“I can see why,” Michael said, finding them beautiful. Ivory white, marble smooth – the three women were nude. Embracing and touching in soft ways that conveyed fond comforts tinged with enough eroticism to be daring. Holding each other in and with love, full affection and yes – grace. “They look like if you touched them they’d come to life.”
“Who’s the sculptor?” Brian asked, thinking it was something he’d share with Lindsay. She’d have been standing there as mesmerized by them as Ash was. Perhaps for different reasons, since Ashton *knew* firsthand how much skill and effort went into making sculptures like the “girls.”
“Antonio Canova.” Ash blinked, and then answered – his attention finally turning back their way.
“He lives!” Michael teased. Looking at Brian, he said, “You think we should see if they have a print for Lindz and Melanie?”
Brian nodded. “Great minds, Mikey. Great minds.” He asked Ash, “All done? Then off we go.”
They had a gift shop to find, and more money to burn.
TBC...
Would love to know what you think...
Hugs
xof
Author: xof
Feedback: xof1013@gmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Brian/Michael, Declan/Ashton (OMC/OMC)
Genre: Drama, Angst
Sequel to: “Encompassed…”
Disclaimer: Don’t own ’em, but damn it’s fun imagining I do. Declan and his Ash are my creations.
Status: Complete, but will be posted in 15 parts. (Over 140 pages total)
Archive: ATP, Always, yes.
Summary: Six months into their new relationship/arrangement, and our boys get an invitation to take a journey across the pond. London calling…
Timeline: Set after the finale of Season 2, varying irrevocably onward from there.
Pairing Note: This is very much a Brian/Michael story. However, I have created two original characters based on (and only on) the physical appearance of the actors Aidan Gillen and Craig Kelly. My OMC’s are not meant to represent the actual actors or any of their onscreen roles.
Notes: This was the story that was never planned. I saw “Encompassed” as a one-off. But the characters obviously had a lot more to say and do. An embarrassing long year and a half later, and it’s not only done – but also longer than the original. Blimey…lol. Many thanks, and dozens of hugs to Em and Margo for their support and beta help. You are both very special, and I appreciate your encouragement so much.
Warnings: Deals with the subject of Dominance/submission and bondage. However, it is a story of love and sensual play that aims to build the spirit, not tear it down. I encourage readers to take a chance and follow our boys as they discover each other, and themselves, in this new way.
Embraced…
By xof
(Begun – May 2006)
- - - - - - -
Part 12
- - - - - - -
A long lunch of sinfully good pizza and a visit to the last of Ash’s must sees for their boys day out – the Pollock Toy Museum – had them returning back to Chez Rai. Albeit in a grand fashion, with the pair of them practically spilling off the lift without noticing that Declan was standing at the entranceway with eyebrow raised.
“Oh, shit. Sorry.” Michael smiled, chagrinned.
“Master! We –”
“Stop.” Declan held up his hand. “Before you’re off rambling at high speeds that baffle the mind, in three words or less, how was your morning?”
Energy barely contained, Ash grinned. “Wilde, Duck, Toys.”
His Master snorted, “No wonder your giddy factor is on high.” He turned to Michael. “We got back from Master You’s studio about an hour ago. Brian said to tell you to join him as soon as you got in. So off with you.”
Michael waved to Ash as his friend reminded him of their “watery date” later, and then headed down the hall to his and Brian’s room. He found Brian curled up on the bed, magazine spread out but unread beside the sleeping man. It was a sight that was endearing and enticing all at once.
Going with the impulse, Michael put the camera and souvenir bag of goodies he’d gotten at the toy museum down quietly. He kicked off his shoes, and then slowly crept up onto the bed. Brian didn’t stir at first, only shifted in his sleep when Michael got close enough to touch. Once Brian had settled on his back with his legs open, Michael moved between them and smiled. Looking up from under dark lashes, he pressed his mouth against the soft mound at Brian’s groin and breathed warm air over the worn denim that separated him from his objective.
It wasn’t long before Michael’s nuzzling grew more insistent, Brian’s flesh hardened as he inhaled – waking on a moan. “Mikey?”
“Hello,” Michael whispered, then turned his face back against him. He hadn’t gotten to have his taste of Brian that morning, more’s the pity. He reached for Brian’s zip and gave it a slow, oh so slow, pull. He was buried nose deep in dark coarse curls by the time Brian was fully aware.
“Fuck. Keep doing that.” Brian groaned as Michael did, running that talented tongue everywhere. Then came the soft, malleable wet warmth of Michael's mouth as it was shaped and worked over Brian's hard cock. It left him getting too close too soon, damn it. “Stop. Wait.” Fuck, he was good at that. “Come up here.”
Michael reluctantly drew away from the taste of him, covering Brian’s hard-on with his hand as he slid up to lie against him. “I got you all wet,” he whispered, causing Brian to catch his mouth in a kiss that was hungry and long.
Wrestling Michael around as the kiss ended, Brian rose up above him – capturing him as he pressed Michael’s wrists to the bed. When Michael tried to arch up against him, thrusting his hips into the cradle of Brian’s spread thighs, Brian shook his head. “No. Be still, Michael.” Dom voice, thick and hot. “I’ve been thinking of us fucking all day, but not like this.”
Frustrated and needful, Michael groaned out, “How then?”
Tightening his grip, Brian reminded him with a word, “Michael,” that there had been something missing in his reply.
Pushing into Brian’s hold, Michael fisted his hands. His breath shortened as his body responded to being held down, as it usually did. “Sir, please. Tell me how.”
Brian leaned in, his eyes burning over Michael. But it wasn’t enough – making Michael squirm. Brian wanted more. “Take off your clothes.”
Released from Brian’s restraint, Michael sat up and did just that as economically as he could under the heat of his lover’s gaze.
“Off the bed, over there.” Brian said, giving his own jeans and socks a shove before following with a pillow in hand.
There being the leather chaise lounge that took up one corner of their large room. He positioned Michael, seated but leaning back against the backrest, supported by the pillow behind. Michael’s legs were spread astride with his feet on the floor. “Stay, don’t move.” A quick turn back to the bed to find something he’d hidden earlier, and Brian was back – silk rope in hand. “I’ve had this picture in my head all morning. All through that demo, and back here waiting – knowing what I wanted to do to you.”
Michael closed his eyes, the words echoing in his head and through his blood. He was already breathing hard before Brian’s next touch. And when he opened his eyes, it was with full acceptance of Brian’s will.
Michael’s expression had Brian grinning, before the smile faded into a look of determination. And intent. He knelt on one side of the chaise and took one of the three lengths, tying Michael’s ankle to the support nearest. Then he did it again on the other side, immobilizing Michael’s ability to move his legs almost completely. Brian crawled up with him and pushed Michael against the leather behind, catching him at just the right angle so that Brian was straddling Michael’s thighs on his knees. Towering over him, Brian roughly jerked Michael’s wrists together, and set about securing them with the last length of rope. The knots firm, but the material as smooth to the touch as the first time he’d held Ash’s sleep rope in his hand.
Master You had definitely shown him a thing or two about knots, not that he was endeavoring to do to Michael what You had done with his surprisingly female assistant. But having Michael like this, submitting to being tied – bound to take whatever Brian chose to give. Or do. Fuck, it was hot. “Raise your arms, over your head.”
Michael frowned, but did as told. He couldn’t figure out Brian’s next move. Then he couldn’t think at all, past how amazing Brian was when he set about driving Michael mad. And oh god, but the man knew more things about turning his lover into sexual mush than any other Michael had been with. Even little things, unique in his experience – such as the quick lashing flick, then flat lick of Brian’s tongue along the underside of his arms, elbows down, over and over, again and again. Such as the way Brian did the same thing to his inner thighs, but didn’t even get close to Michael’s hard-on. Leaving him on the verge of whimpering, so blasted hard, but unable to do anything but accept. And ask for more. “Please, sir. Touch me.”
“You’re so hard, Mikey. And you taste,” Brian dipped his head, running his tongue over the head of Michael’s sex.
“Uhnn,” Michael moaned, his breath catching as Brian rose up fast and pressed into his mouth. The kiss one meant to consume, one that certainly overwhelmed. They only parted for lack of air, and then Brian told him to lower his arms.
“Go on, drop them over my head. Round my back.” He grinned. “Trap me inside.”
Michael moved his bound hands over Brian’s head, bringing them down until he had Brian in his arms. He leaned up, pressing close as Brian reached out and gripped the leather behind him. “What are you up to?”
“Shhh.” Brian kissed him, rubbing his hard-on against Michael’s abs. “Close your eyes, until I say.” And Michael did, biting his wet bottom lip in a way that had Brian leaning in to brush it free. “Don’t bite too hard, Mikey. That’s my job.” His words referenced by doing just that, nipping at the base of Michael’s throat.
“Fuck,” Michael breathed out, pushing his neck closer, only to have Brian move back. There was movement, but Michael couldn’t figure out what Brian was about with his eyes shut. So he whispered, “What are you going to do?”
No answer, just more shifting of Brian over his lap with the pressure of his hard cock moving against Michael’s skin. But then it was Brian’s hand on Michael, slick and warm – stroking him until Michael thought he was being intentionally tipped towards the edge. Until….
“You want to know what’s happening, Mikey. What I’m going to do?”
Michael could only gasp. “Yes!”
Brian rose up on his knees, switched his grip and then answered the question on his slow, intense way down. “This, aww. Uhnnn.”
Oh god, oh . . . god. Michael’s eyes flew open, staring with surprise into the dark hunger of Brian’s face. The two of them seized in the moment as Brian took them into new territory, even as he made to take them both over the finish line of their latest venture. One hard inch at a time. Until he’d hit the base of Michael’s sex, and stilled with a deep groan as Michael squeezed his arms around Brian’s hips and held on tight so the man above him, around him, couldn’t move.
“Fuck, the way this feels.” Michael pressed his face against Brian’s chest, and shook his head. “The way you *feel* – from inside.”
Brian dropped his head back, laughing dryly with his next breath. “Ahh.” The sound was involuntary as he tested the waters, clenching his cheeks as his body adjusted. Topping, he was used to. But this, it was something he’d done little of in the last few years. But ever since the other night, and every time since – his curiosity had been peaked. Now, feeling Michael up his ass bare – while still having control of it from the top… Oh, shit – he had to move. Had to feel it to the fullest. Because so far, “We’re sooo not gonna last.”
Michael burst out laughing, but it quickly turned into a groan as Brian started moving. Up and down, fucking himself on Michael. Rubbing against him. The rhythm getting faster and fast as he worked them sweat-wet and grunt happy. Brian reached between them, trying to hold himself up with one hand on the chaise as he palmed and jerked his dick with the other. So close he was painting Michael with pre-cum, panting for his next breath with Michael clutching tighter and tighter, as best he could with his hands bound.
And then with a wince of pleasure so sharp it was part pain, Brian hit the line and slammed on through. Cursing, laughing – Michael echoing him just half a second behind, shuddering hard as he shot, fast and blindingly inside Brian’s body. A mess between them, and mess inside.
“God, that was…. You’re just,” Michael rambled, but then stopped. Too blissed out to think.
Breathing hard and strength sapped, Brian nodded mutely as he rested with his face against Michael’s forehead. He shifted his hips, hissing softly – enjoying the ache, enjoying the feel. Knowing that the act, *without* – had been worth it. Considering who was inside. “It was. I am. And aren’t you just.”
- - -
"You, mister, are lost in thought."
Michael looked over his shoulder, “More like enjoying the view.”
“Well, that’s understandable. I do have one hell of a profile.” Brian smirked, grabbing Michael closer when his lover gave him a shove. “Look who’s getting all pushy-sub.” He pressed his mouth close to Michael’s ear, growling playfully. “Give a man a piece of ass, and he starts getting airs.”
“Airs? Man, we’ve been in England less than two weeks, and you’re already speaking the lingo.” Michael turned and circled Brian’s waist with his arms, enjoying the warmth of him as a shield against the bracing cold evening breeze. The wind, the sound of the boat moving through the water, the murmur of the other passengers and the music playing on the sound system inside – they all blended together into the soundtrack of their night.
For Michael, it was one of those moments. He felt so happy, so carefree. And so in love with the man who loved him.
He reached up to kiss Brian, letting the touch linger as he rubbed his chin along Brian’s – knowing what the soft scratch of his facial hair did to the man. “You were so amazing. The way you felt, around me. Being inside you, it felt so good, I… I can’t find the words.” Michael breathed out, “Do I feel like that for you?”
Brian pressed his forehead to Michael’s, threading his hands in his lover’s hair. “Fuck, yes.” He wrapped his arms around Michael, tight and strong. “Every time.”
Michael turned his face, angling it against Brian’s throat so he could inhale his scent. “Love you.”
A chuckle, and then Brian gave him a lift off his feet for all of a moment, and set a laughing Michael down again. “You better, all things and – as Ash would say – 'bare willies' considered.” This time when Michael tried to give him a shove, Brian pulled his hands around behind Michael’s back. “Now now, Mikey. All this rough housing in public and you’ll be shocking the other tourists.”
“Like they’re looking at us when they’ve got all of London lit up in the dark to look at.” Michael said, giving Brian’s hold on his hands a test. Nope, no going anywhere until Brian wanted. “You make me miss the good bits and we’ll have to take this ride all over again,” he teased.
Brian snorted, tightening his grip for just a moment before he leaned in and kissed Michael softly. Then he gave him a turn so they were both facing the glittering view. Spectacular really. Seeing the buildings and monuments illuminated at night, and then their reflections off the water. Brian was enjoying himself, enjoying Michael’s enthusiasm and the times his lover couldn’t help put point to something and be thrilled by its beauty. As so often was the case, his enjoyment heightened by Michael’s own.
After awhile, Brian glanced over and saw that Ashton was still manning the video camera after dutifully having volunteered to try and film the sights. Declan stood at his side, with his arm wrapped around Ash’s waist. Considering that the darker man was laughing, there’d be no telling what kind of running commentary the Englishman was doing as he kept filming. But Brian would give good odds that it would be an *interesting* one.
“Bri?” Michael hesitated, and then ventured on when Brian gave him a kiss on his neck just above his collar to show he was listening. “This has been the best trip I’ve had. Ever.”
Brian hummed. Then asked on impulse, curious despite himself, “What about Paris?”
“No. This one – best by a mile. Being here, with you. It’s something I don’t want to *ever* forget.”
“Not likely. You’ve got a memory a thousand miles long.”
Michael stayed silent for a long while, looking out over the water until they were nearing the dock. Then he turned, “I want to do something. Have something done. And I don’t want you to talk me out of it.”
Brian could tell just by the sound of Michael’s voice that he was being serious, no teasing. “Okay. What?”
Taking a deep breath, Michael said. “I want to make an appointment. With Hugh.” When Brian frowned and started to say something, Michael pushed on at a faster pace – reciting the list he'd come up with in his head of ways to defend his decision. “It’s not a whim. I understand what it means. I’m not playing copycat. And I want this, even if….”
When Michael hesitated mid-sentence, Brian asked, “Even if what, Mikey?”
Caught, the answer hanging there between them – Michael took a different tact. “No matter what, I want this. This moment – this trip, the two of us as we are – inked on my skin. Forever.”
Talk about the power of words. “Shit, Michael.” Brian pulled him in, hugging him around the neck. The feeling, the rush of what Michael meant. Fuck – *always* the exception, touching buttons inside him that no one else could even get near. Still… “You don't want to rush this. You have to *think* as well as feel this one out.”
Pressed against Brian, Michael nodded. He felt such strength when he was here, in Brian’s arms. Inner-strength. And now, there was this new certainty added into the mix. No matter what, he would have this. Something time could not take or change. “I have. I know. And I am doing this. I want it to be a part of the experience.” He lifted his face, kissing Brian before he asked, “Will you come with me?”
Brian smoothed the palm of his hand over Michael’s jaw as he looked at him. He already knew his answer, but it didn’t stop him from delaying. “Do you know what you’re getting?”
Michael smiled, shy and happy. “Yes.” He leaned up and pressed the answer against Brian’s ear with a kiss and warm words.
Two words. And no, it wasn't a name. But it was a promise. One they both shared. Brian’s words come back with a permanence that would truly be skin deep.
Brian closed his eyes as he felt himself reacting to them. From the heart, from the head – a high so good, he didn’t have the means to deny either of them. Not that he’d wanted to. When he looked at Michael, he smiled. “One request. Let me choose where, and I’ll go.”
God. Even the thought of how *intimate* – let alone how erotic the idea was of letting Brian decide where he would be tattooed – it had him almost speechless. Michael gave quick nod. His body reacting enough, pressed against Brian’s as he was, for it to be obvious just how turned on he was by the thought, which only added to the ramble of his reply. “Yes, yeah. Okay.”
Brian grinned. “Deal.” He gave Michael another kiss, then looked up as he heard Ashton calling out that they’d better shift tail for de-boarding. He raised a hand, letting Dec and his wayward slave know they were coming. Speaking to Michael, he chuckled, “Better wait to tell Ash until later, or else he’s liable to bounce himself off the boat and end up in the Thames.”
“Behave.” Michael laughed, though not even for a moment doubting that it was probably true.
- - -
To say it was a bizarre experience to be walking through the residence of one of England's most famous, albeit fictional, detectives while at his back, Michael was hearing all the ins and outs of Tattoos 101 – well, bizarre was an understatement. “Would you two give it a rest? I’m trying to concentrate.”
Michael glanced over at Ashton, eyebrows raised. The laugh he was trying to hold in got that much closer to bursting free when the other man pretended to lock his lips with a twist and put an imaginary key into the pocket of his jeans. Michael leaned in and whispered, “Keep doing that and we’ll probably end up on the other side of a hairbrush spank-fest.” He had a feeling it was an implement that Declan would have on hand, being a traditionalist. And considering the way Brian was closely eying the personal effects laid out on the bureau of the bedroom they were standing in, he might be feeling one on his backside someday in future too.
“Promises, Misha. Promises.”
The pair of them had been on a tear all morning following Michael’s little announcement about wanting to see Hugh. Ashton had hit the door running, giving Michael a squeeze before making a beeline for the phone to see about setting the appointment. Declan had clapped him on the back, smiling that smile of his – both enigmatic and knowing. He’d asked if Michael was sure, but his tone showed that he already seemed to know that Michael had made up his mind. Then he’d said his congratulations before having to head out for a day of business appointments he’d been putting off since they’d arrived.
Hugh had been happy to hear from them, making not a few jokes at Ash’s expense. “Walking billboard to the talents of a great artist,” that he was. He’d set the visit up for the day after though, “Always give a fella some breathing room, me. Makes it mean even more if you actually show up.” A promise from Michael and Brian to come early so they could all share a meal, and decide on semantics had led to the detailed ramble from Ash and Michael that had followed them into the black cab and all the way over to what had been one of the highest priorities on Brian’s short must-see list for London.
The Sherlock Holmes Museum.
Yes, welcome to 221b Baker Street – all three floors an exact reproduction of the residence described in the stories of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, with no detail spared from floor to ceiling. From the cluttered Victorian jumble that was Holmes' study, to the character's bedroom and those of Mrs. Hudson, the housekeeper, and Dr. Watson on the second floor. Personal effects, decoration and design – it was an avid reader's playground.
The presentation was everything that Brian had hoped it would be as he slowly walked from room to room, upstairs and then down again for the better part of an hour. The funny thing was that it didn't even occur to him that he was being as much of a fan boy about all things Sherlock as Michael was for his comics and Ashton was for Star Trek.
Not that it escaped Michael's attention as he fondly watched Brian experiencing the detective’s domain with all the narrow focus and searching eyes of a geek at a comic book convention – a look that Brian had had to suffer through countless times through the years, on Michael. Seen from the outside, it was particularly endearing.
Brian Kinney – super fan.
One who readily stepped up, and sat down for a photograph to be taken of himself in Sherlock's armchair. Ashton's amusement was barely contained as he encouraged Michael to sit in the man's lap for another. The pair left the on-looking tourists from Japan in the room looking rather perplexed when Brian did just that.
If ever there had been a "hero" in Brian's world, one he'd valued since childhood, then Sherlock Holmes was it. Flawed, but brilliant, as the detective was, Sherlock became the perfect fit for a boy looking to escape. A fact he hadn't shared with many, and mostly with Michael.
The stories had sparked his imagination and helped him find a place to safely lose himself when he needed to hide away from the troubled environment of his own home. There was no telling how many times he'd read them over the years, so much so that he had them practically memorized. To the degree that he found different scenes and bits of dialogue were running through his head as he walked through the house, a soft smile on his face and in his eyes.
They all ended up in the gift shop, of course. It was a staple of every attraction they’d visited so far. Brian bought a Calabash pipe, a looking glass, one of Holmes’ deerstalker hats – and in a moment of mushiness – he bought two large dressed Sherlock teddy bears. One for Gus, which he didn’t think would survive until his son’s next birthday unless Lindsay had a hand in it, and one for Michael, to add to the London bears collection he was planning to showcase in the display case of Red Cape Comics.
He didn’t even bat an eye when Michael bought a caricature magnet of Sherlock to add to the others that now graced his once spotless, now cluttered stainless-steel finished refrigerator doors. But he did have a laugh on their way out when Michael leaned up to kiss him, before shoving a small bag in his hand and hurrying out the door to catch up with Ash. The contents of which Brian discovered were a pair of Sherlock Holmes silhouette cufflinks. He snorted fondly, pocketing them securely as he joined the other two men. He gave Michael a fast tickle, and catching him quickly when he tried to squirm away. “You are so pathetic.”
Michael just smiled at him. “And *you* are very welcome.”
Since it was still too early for lunch, they continued on with the detective theme by making a stop at the “Murder One” bookshop on Charing Cross Road. It’d been recommended as a must-see for anyone who loved detective stories, specializing in Sherlock Holmes material from all over the world. All of which conspired to increase their load as Brian added another bag filled with rare paperbacks and the like to his stash.
When Michael's stomach started growling, Ash pointed to the clock overhead. "It's gone half past one. All aboard for the stuffing-our-faces express."
Brian stared at him for a moment, then turned to Michael. "I can *not* believe a gay man just said that with a straight face. Particularly this one."
Ashton just laughed and made for the door with one parting comment. Calling back, "Well, you know the old saying. ‘There’s nowt so queer as folk’.”
Pause. Then Brian shook his head, and set to walking the same way, a grinning Michael by his side.
Lunch was a series of tall tales, warm English ale and pub grub at – yes, the Sherlock Holmes Public House and Restaurant. It was a small pub near Charing Cross Station at the turn of Northumberland Street. Seated, they were surrounded by a charming mix of Brits and other tourists, with accruements on view like Sherlock’s violin and morbidly enough – the detective’s morphine syringes. Morbid, yes – but it appealed to Brian’s dark humor. The three of them settled in, eating and drinking beer as they fell into a game of who could make the worst double-entendre at the expense of English culture. It was a hard-won race, but in the end Ashton crossed the finish line with a particularly dirty turn at “bangers and mash” that had Michael coughing as he laughed so hard that beer came out of his nose.
The afternoon before them, they made their slightly tipsy way to Shaftesbury Avenue; to what was decidedly Michael and Ash’s version of hog heaven.
Forbidden Planet – London’s megastore for all things science fiction, fantasy and cult. It was self-professed to be the world’s largest and best-known entertainment retailer for all three genres. They weren’t two seconds inside before Michael and Ash disappeared from view in a mad dash that was more squee than aww.
Brian ended up wandering the aisles, passing by his lover and their friend every now and again – hardly noticed. Both men were boys-at-heart, kings of their own world, and Brian merely the looker-on as they gorged their pleasures.
Ironic how tables can turn on the head of a pin.
- - -
Their evening started with a call from Declan to Ash. “Toynbee Hall Exit, Aldgate East Underground Station. Seven o’clock, got it.” The Englishman’s voice was full of laughter barely held back as he pocketed his mobile, a mischievous look in his eyes. “Right. We sooo need to drop these bags off before then.”
“What’s happening at seven?”
Ash answered Michael with a wink. “We’re going for a walk.”
Michael glanced at Brian then back. “In the dark?”
“Oh, definitely.”
Brian asked, curious, “What’s Declan got planned?”
“Gotta see a guy about a man called Jack.”
Not just any man, of course.
Turned out that the “walk” that Declan had arranged for them to join was a rather infamous one, the oldest and most renowned Jack the Ripper Walking Tour on tap – literally a walk in the world that was Victorian London, circa 1888. The Whitechapel murders brought back to life in vivid detail, told on the streets and in the alleyways where the actual events took place. Complete with vintage photographs, and macabre antidotes that only added to the eeriness of the atmosphere.
It was a scary tale, morbid and fascinating. Michael was riveted, Brian impressed. Declan and Ash had heard it before, but they enjoyed seeing it like new through the eyes of their friends.
Almost two hours through the warren of roads and places, and the tour was over. The small crowd dispersed, and the four of them stood round as Ashton clapped his hands together and rubbed. “So, anyone else up for a curry?”
Declan laughed and Michael groaned. “You can *eat* after all that?”
Brian answered first. “Says the half-Italian with a stomach like a bottomless pit.”
Dec snorted, “Coming from a cast-iron Irishman, is that really a question you don’t know the answer to?”
Bringing them back the original question, Ash asked, “Take-away or restaurant?”
Takeaway won out at a vote of four-none. They’d all been on the go so much that day that a relaxing evening back at Dec and Ash’s home was the more appealing choice.
After they’d eaten, the men settled in the living room, making use of the large black leather sofas as they listen to music and talked. Declan got up and set about making a fire. The lights were lowered so the flames were the dominant source of illumination in the room, except for the soft glow coming through the closed off screen wall to the dining room. Brian sorted through their CD’s, choosing something smooth and sultry. Something slow, which pleased Ashton well enough for him to get up and bow to Declan, asking him to dance with a smile.
Declan accepted, drawing Ash close. “You’re in a mood, all happy and cute.”
“Oh, there you go. Flattery.” Ash laid his head against Dec’s shoulder as they swayed to the music. A murmured, “Eleven years, and I still got it,” causing Declan to laugh, and nod.
“Absolutely.”
Michael looked up as Brian came to him, making room as Brian stretched out behind him on the couch as the two of them cuddled up, watching their friends. Lulled and relaxed, he pulled Brian’s arm around him.
“What are you thinking, Mikey?”
“That they’re beautiful.”
Brian looked at Michael, seeing in him all the phases of their years as friends and now lovers, from the teen with eyes so large, shy and adoring to the man who laughed and smiled from within as well as from without, so loyal and strong through all of life’s trials – and often Brian’s selfishness. “Take a peek into the looking glass, Alice. I know I quite like what you’ll see.”
Michael turned his head. “Silver tongue seducer, that's you.”
“It’s a talent.” Brian pressed a kiss to Michael’s neck as he turned back to watch at their hosts, and then whispered, “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”
“Hmm,” Michael answered, distracted by other things.
Or rather, other views. Like the one presented before them as Declan and Ash moved on from dancing to something all together more intimate.
The pair were knelt before the fire, lit by its flames as they kissed. As they touched. Slow, easy – without haste. Declan guided Ash to turn around, back to front but still on his knees as his Irishman began to undress him. Jumper first, then undershirt – leaving him bare from the waist up. Just skin and ink.
Declan ran his hands up Ash's arms, pushing his fingers into the man's hair – soothing at first and then pulling, holding his head back as his slave gasped. Caught and held firm with just that one handed grip, Ashton kept his hands at his sides, balled up into fists as he moaned at the way Declan played with the rings that adored his lover's chest with his free hand. Tugs, twists and hard flicks until Ash was practically vibrating visibly with the sensations, breath a ragged thing.
A kiss was pressed to the back of Ash's neck, and another to the center of his tattoo before Declan let go and told him to stand. "Take these off," he murmured, looking up at the line of Ashton's body from his place on the floor. And there he stayed as Ash took off his jeans and socks, turning as Declan's hands guided him around.
There was something so erotic in that moment for Michael, as he bore witness to the Master on his knees and the slave standing tall above. The dichotomy of their positions tinged the atmosphere with some kind of "otherness" that had Michael completely engaged.
So much so that he started when Brian called back his awareness by slipping a hand between Michael's thighs, molding his palm to the hard-on trapped inside his jeans. Teeth and tongue played over his ear and down his neck until Michael couldn't keep back a moan, couldn't keep still as Brian pressed against him from behind, clearly as aroused as Michael by what they both were seeing.
Fingers, long and sure, unfastened Michael's jeans as Brian bit at the back of his neck above his collar. Then again just below after Brian made a frustrated sound and yanked Michael's pullover off. When Michael reached back to hold Brian's head to him for more – Brian licked over the small marks he'd left as he rolled Michael half onto his stomach and gave the smaller man's jeans a jerk down over his hips.
Michael pressed his mouth against the back of his hand, muffling the hungry sounds caused by the force of Brian's strength. The manhandling, and pressure of Brian against his back – fuck, but it called to Michael's blood until it roared in his ears chorused with the rapid beating of his heart. Naked, jeans trapped around his ankles with Brian almost fully clothed behind him, he gasped when he felt the heat and length of Brian's cock against his ass. A sure sign that Brian was as hungry for more as he was.
A sound from across the room, needful and pleading, had Michael looking back even as he felt Brian pushing slicked fingers along the crease of his ass. Caught in the duality of what he felt and what he saw, Michael stared as Declan worked Ash closer, and harder. Irish lips tasting the length of his slave, sucking at him with fierce intent as his lips and chin were coated with the early stages of English cream. Stared and panted as Brian pulled at his hips, and licked along his spine as his hot cock mapped its progress between Michael's cheeks – grazing over his hole again and again, but never in.
"Touch yourself." Brian told him, struggling to hold back himself as he too watched their hosts. His eyes went back and forth between Michael's flushed face, and the scene that had helped cause the look of stark desire found there. He let Michael shift a bit so he could reach under and do as Brian said, but then Brian was over him again, mapped along his body from shoulders to knees. “Hard and fast, Michael? Or slow and long?”
It was there, an answer on his lips – about to gush out of him in a rush. But it didn’t come, as he saw Declan pull away and order Ash down on his hands and knees. Hand at the back of Ash’s neck, Declan rose up behind him on his knees, opening his trousers one handed. Intent so very clear. Ash saying, “Yes,” and “Please,” as Declan moved against him, and then inside of him with a fierceness that had his slave arching his back and panting. Eyes blazing with pleasure, hot and burning as they found Michael’s. As Michael’s silence became his consent for Brian to choose the way, to take him as he would. As he willed it, which was now, then both – hard and long.
Brian thrust into him, fully from tip to base in one move. It caused a flash of fire to shoot through Michael’s nerves, over his body – burning just under the skin. He moaned and grunted in the wake of it, pushing back as Brian moved him bodily back and forth, driving Michael onto his cock again and again. Until Michael’s world was sensation, his only conscious connection to anything other than himself and Brian’s will was the sight of the same on Ashton’s face. Seeing himself there, just as Ashton must on Michael’s face. The two men being taken as they in turn took it all, and loved every passing second as the tension built, as the room filled with sounds of sex and men. As they were driven to the edge that was as sharp as it was strong.
Declan wincing, groaning harshly as Ash snapped back against him, coming just as his Master came – their faces slack and blind as climax enclosed them. Brian grunting, a laugh breaking through as he pushed himself and Michael through towards both their endings. Michael shaking as his body tried to house the storm within, then shook even harder as it crested and he came.
The two couples were in tangles, collapsed together on separate spots in the same room. Catching their breath, and trying to come down to planet Earth – as first Michael and then Ash began laughing. No reason, just one started and the other caught on almost immediately. Declan raised his head tiredly and met Brian’s questioning gaze with a shrug. The two men breaking into smiles themselves as their lovers continued giggling, happy and free – each inciting the other’s hilarity as they gave themselves up to being joyful, their dominants not far behind.
The long day ending with an echo of gregarious ease.
The moment one to remember, when time meant nothing and just *being* was all.
- - -
“I swear, it’s true! 1857 – the Grand Duke of Tuscany figures one day, ‘I know JUST the gift to give the Queen of England.’ What is it? What could possibly be *perfect* enough for so conservative a grand lady? A cast model of one of the most famous and *naked* men in all the world! There he was rising tall over her head – Michelangelo’s David, with dangles and bit in full view. She was shocked, heart all a flutter – standing there like she would have been, all short, trussed up, fully covered from throat to toes and buttoned up to within an inch of her life. Can you imagine?” Ash laughed, his face full of excitement as he spoke to his circle of three listeners in a stage whisper where they all stood under the shadow of said 19 foot towering David in room 46b of the Victoria and Albert Museum.
“Political crisis in the making! Have to keep it, must display it because one mustn’t be considered rude. But oh, mustn’t cause innocent eyes to widen or mouths to drop. What’s to be done? Two words – who wants to guess?” Then he answered just as quick, before the others could give it a go. “Fig leaf! Plaster cast, over a foot and a half high and hung strategically with two hooks on days when the royal eyes were going to be paying a peek.” Ashton turned and looked up the length of the statue, a smile lighting his face. “And all to protect Her Majesty’s sense of modesty – a woman who married her first cousin, and was the mother of nine children all together. Four of which were boys.” He turned back. “One of my professors told us the story, complete with illustrations of the Queen surrounded by babies wearing fig leaf nappies.”
Declan fondly reminded Ash, “She’d only had seven by then, and was pregnant with the eighth. I’m thinking she was just off men in general at the time.”
Brian snorted, glancing at Michael who was biting back a laugh himself.
Michael had to admit that he was enjoying the Museum experience a lot more on this trip than he had on his trip to France. His visits to the Louvre with his ex, David, had proven more like scholastic fieldtrips – long on details, and lacking the style and fun that Ashton brought to the experience naturally. Paris versus London was proving to be no contest at all, given the company, the circumstances and the change in lovers.
Brian wandered away as Ash pointed out the aforementioned famous fig leaf, which was now housed separately in a protective case close by – browsing a little amongst the other casts they had in the same gallery. The Casts Court – two room, almost three stories high, a glass ceiling and vibrantly colored décor. Dozens and dozens of famous pieces, from Roman columns to medieval tomb casts. All very Victorian. And very cluttered, like walking through a rich person’s attic with the ceiling removed on a sunny day.
Or a rainy one, as their morning was proving. Drops hitting the glass above their heads…
They’d been wandering rather aimlessly through the V&A for the last couple hours, no real direction planned, Sometimes circling round or backtracking through galleries depending on what captured their interest and what didn’t. As if seven miles of gallery space covering all aspects of culture, design, fashion, furniture and art could leave a visitor wanting in at least *some* area. From the exotic Asian galleries that reminded Brian and Michael of Declan’s Chez Rai, complete with armor and kimonos, to the streamline styled furniture of the Art Deco period that appealed to Brian’s taste – there was fun for all.
“Brian.” Declan nodded at Ash and Michael’s retreating backs. “We’re almost done here. Just have to give a goodbye to Ashton’s three girls and then we can grab some lunch.”
“Three who?”
“Come and see.”
They followed in the exuberant wake of Ashton’s guidance until they came to a standstill in front of the statue to which Dec had been referring.
Declan did the introductions. “This one is called ‘The Three Graces’ – daughters of Jupiter, companions to the Muses. Thalia, who represents youth and beauty. Euphrosyne, mirth. And Aglaia, elegance.” The description sounded recited, but only because he’d had years of getting acquainted with this rival for Ash’s attention. Ashton who was looking up at the piece with a smile, so focused on it that it was as if the rest of the world had gone away. “It’s the most celebrated sculpture here, and his favorite of the lot.”
“I can see why,” Michael said, finding them beautiful. Ivory white, marble smooth – the three women were nude. Embracing and touching in soft ways that conveyed fond comforts tinged with enough eroticism to be daring. Holding each other in and with love, full affection and yes – grace. “They look like if you touched them they’d come to life.”
“Who’s the sculptor?” Brian asked, thinking it was something he’d share with Lindsay. She’d have been standing there as mesmerized by them as Ash was. Perhaps for different reasons, since Ashton *knew* firsthand how much skill and effort went into making sculptures like the “girls.”
“Antonio Canova.” Ash blinked, and then answered – his attention finally turning back their way.
“He lives!” Michael teased. Looking at Brian, he said, “You think we should see if they have a print for Lindz and Melanie?”
Brian nodded. “Great minds, Mikey. Great minds.” He asked Ash, “All done? Then off we go.”
They had a gift shop to find, and more money to burn.
TBC...
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