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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 5
- - - - - - -
“Brian.”
Brian turned from looking out the window of the car to see Michael glued to the opposite side, eyes wide and lips parted on the awed whisper of his name. Sliding over, he hugged an arm around the smaller man’s waist and said, “Yeah?”
“London.” The word wondrous, like the expression on Michael’s face.
Mouth breaking into a grin that Michael could feel against the curve of his ear, Brian answered back with a laugh, “I know.” Giving him a squeeze, he added, “You look like you just discovered Neverland.”
For a moment, Michael closed his eyes, to the view, to the world – and absorbed Brian’s touch. His presence. His smell. “Too late. That was the day I first found you.”
And then it was Brian who closed his eyes as he turned his face into Michael’s hair, his only response, “Mikey,” said soft and low for only the two of them to hear.
The blare of horns and the swift swerve of the car drew them back quick enough, as it weaved at a dizzying speed through the crowded streets of London. Their driver was trying to keep up with the hired car carrying Declan and Ash; the speed, the narrow misses with other vehicles, the maze of turns, sudden stops and fast starts had the ‘Yanks’ feeling in equal parts exhilarated and apprehensive. It was proved well enough that their driver, though seemingly mad with dreams of race car finish lines running through his head, did possess the skills needed to get them to their destination in one piece, albeit with sea legs.
By the time they stepped out of the car and onto solid ground – or sidewalk, rather – Brian and Michael were feeling like they’d been on one hell of a roller coaster ride. The rush clear on their faces as they watched Dec and Ash coming their way.
“The drivers will carry in the bags,” Declan said as Michael hefted his carryon strap further over his shoulder. A sweep of the Irishman’s hand, “Shall we?” And they were left to follow as Dec climbed the few steps leading into what looked like the lobby of an office building.
In all the hustle to get things ready, and then the trip itself, Brian and Michael hadn't asked many questions about where it was that Declan and Ash lived, other than London and Ash's mention that their home was close to "everything." So it was a surprise to find themselves entering what appeared to be an investment firm, the name "Rai Enterprises" eloquently displayed over the entrance as they stepped inside.
“What the fuck is all this, Dec?” Brian was smiling, despite the bluntness of his words.
*This* being an old-world-meets-new-design lobby, complete with intricately carved wood paneling, frosted glass doors and metal flourishes. Art deco, masculine and yet lined with feminine grace – it gave the place a feel of walking back in time, but with all the necessary accoutrements of the modern world. It succeeded in being what it was meant to be, a statement of import, power and prestige.
“This,” Declan glanced at Ash, the two of them sharing a look that spoke to shared amusement. “This is, or rather was, my family’s chief concern for going on four generations.”
Ashton snorted, “Until *Dr.* Declan Dearest decided to break from the investment mold.”
Dec shook his head, “That was hardly the only factor.” He nodded to a woman who had just exited the far elevator and was walking their way. Speaking in a lowered voice, he added for their benefit. “My father’s desire to begin a second life without his first family was reason enough.” Turning to greet the mystery lady, Declan grinned. “Gertie, you’re looking fantastic.”
Gertie, short for Gertrude, was fifty-ish with a quiet beauty, upswept red hair and vibrant green eyes. “Welcome home, Dr. Rai. Mr. Forster,” she smiled hello with a formal affection that spoke to being more acquaintance than friend.
Declan made introductions, ascertaining that his instructions had been followed. There were keycards to the front entrance ready for both Brian and Michael, so they could come and go as they desired during their stay. Indicating the elevator that was on their left, he explained that they would both be given a duel set of codes that would allow them entrance to the upper level of the building.
Turning back to Gertie, Declan got lost in what seemed like an endless list of details that needed his attention.
Brian and Michael followed Ash’s lead, and stepped into the private elevator on their left. Their curiosity was evident so Ashton told them, “The family sold the investment business a few years back. The new owners kept the name because of the weight of its reputation.”
Brian asked, “And the building?”
“It still belongs to his family; the offices are leased out. Except for….” Ash winked.
Brian shook his head, “Let us guess.”
Ash confirmed with a small smile, “The top floor. It’s ours.”
Brian glanced at Michael, seeing his surprise. "Of course it is."
Ashton added, “Only for the past six years or so. Dec’s Da, he decided to uproot himself and his after the business sold. Moved to Japan, if you can believe.” Ash chuckled, “Not that he didn’t spend most of his time there anyway; the second Mrs. Rai is from Tokyo.” He paused. “A former geisha, actually. Beautiful, graceful and almost ethereally quiet unless spoken to. Meaning, about as far away from a fiery Irish woman as he could get.”
Remembering a conversation about Eastern cultures he’d had in what seemed almost another life with Ben, Michael asked, “Being a geisha, it’s a life of service, right?”
“In a way; they’re conversationalists, artisans. They are what they are most desired to be by their patrons.” The humor in Ash’s voice was more than evident, as was the wicked shine in his eye that said he knew where Michael was headed.
So Michael added, “Like father, like son?”
Brian drew Michael back against him, a grin spreading as he said playfully to Ash, “It’s all becoming very clear.”
“Ha ha. I wouldn’t let Declan hear you say that. He and his Da were decidedly on the outs when he left Dec’s mum to sew his Asian oats. There’s nothing a man wants to hear less than to be told he resembles someone he finds a disappointment.”
Brian nodded, silently understanding. After all, it was something to which he could relate. “So there’s still bad blood there?”
“More like agreement to disagree. They co-exist when in each other’s presence, but it’s an infrequent occurrence with them living so far apart.” He smiled, “Still, he’s a man who does fill a room, and Miho – the Mrs. – is striking. A woman with a good nature, but with enough will to hold a Russian heart.”
“Sounds like you like them.”
Ashton nodded. “I do. Much.” He looked at the floor, face a bit serious again as he said, “She’s been a good influence. Calmed his rage. He and Dec’s mum, they were bold, passionate and too much alike after all. Better apart.” He turned as Michael touched his arm, a look of memory held dear in Ash’s eyes. “She’s passed, Misha. Seven years gone.”
“What was her name?”
“Aisling Adair-Rai, mother, musician, muse. A wonderful spirit, still very missed.”
Brian asked, “And the dad? What’s his name?”
The elevator dinged softly, resonating their arrival as it came to a stop. Ash answered, while entering the code to open the doors. “Lyov. Lyov Petya Rai.” He shook his head. “It never fails to amuse, really. Lyov means ‘lion’ and since we’ve left much of the original décor the same as he left it, I can truly say….” Pushing one last button, Ashton stepped back as the doors opened. “Welcome to the lion’s den.”
- - -
“I’m taking it that Lyov’s interest in all things Asian *wasn’t* a passing fancy.”
Dry though Brian's comment was, one look at the living room into which they'd stepped confirmed it as fact.
"We all have to remove our shoes now. Does that give you a clue?" Ash said, bending down to unlace his and putting them on the metal gilded shoe rack placed to the side of the entranceway.
Michael toed off his shoes, his eyes traveling the room before them. "It's amazing."
And indeed, it was. A mix of contemporary and oriental opulence, the room was a showcase of at least one man's lifetime spent traveling far and away. Large leather furniture, black with an aged quality that was more design than use. A paper screen sliding wall that divided the living and dining rooms, and across the other walls was a dragon mural – fierce, but vibrant. The room dominated by the colors red, black, cream and gold.
Antiques throughout, ornate carvings and silk-screened wall art. And showcased in glass, each on opposite sides of the room, were a samurai warrior's uniform, complete with helmet and sword, and a geisha's intricately embroidered kimono, complete with wig and obi tied at the back. Both ensembles, vintage and perfectly preserved.
Brian let loose a soft whistle, fairly impressed despite himself. "Understated, demure..."
"Are both things this room will never be." Ash grinned, as he comfortably sprawled out on the sofa closest – as at home now as he seemed to be anywhere.
Michael's wanderings ended as he came to stand in front of a large wood sculpture. Circular, and three feet high – it was a two-dimensional bonsai tree carved in high relief. Each limb, each leaf conveyed with equal detail and loving attention. Varnished black and glazed to a high shine, it was....
"Beautiful." Michael reached out, stopping just before he could touch. Hesitant, until Ash told him it was all right.
"It's meant to be felt, as much as it is to be admired."
Michael traced the design with his fingers, enjoying the smooth with the rough. After a moment, he smiled softly. "It's yours, isn't it? You made this."
Reaching into his pocket, Ash nodded as he pulled out his mobile that was vibrating in his hand. He winked before answering, "I've always had this fondness for wood."
The two other men looked at each other, cracking up just a beat later. Michael almost missed Ashton's change in demeanor as he listened to whomever was on the line, though it wasn't a second later that his friend was sitting upright and then kneeling down with his head bowed and eyes closed, a "Yes, Master" on his lips as the call ended.
A soft snort, and he was on his feet again. "Dec says to stop my heel dragging and to show you your room. Seems he thinks that someone would like to finish a little something that was started while we were all riding the friendly skies."
Brian came up behind Michael and hugged him close, his eyes shining with humor and heat. “He’s a courteous man, that Declan Rai.”
Ash nodded, “Course if you were to ask him, he’d probably come up with some theory about the lessening affects of sexually induced adrenaline on jet lag.” He said it with a straight face, but the words themselves were laced with barely held amusement. Like he was referencing a conversation he’d actually had, perhaps more than once.
Brian gave Michael a squeeze, pressing his lips to the skin of his cheek as he murmured. “Let it never be said that I’m a man who won’t do his utmost to test such a theory.” He pressed his teeth, light but firmly, to the line of Michael’s jaw as his fingers pressed against the lingering mark that was fading slowly from his lover’s skin. “Up for a little experimenting, Mikey?”
Redundant, that. But so very true.
- - -
Burgundy silk and dark mahogany. The first impression cut short by the dizzying swing that was Brian pulling Michael round to press him against the guest bedroom door. Ashton's laughter growing faint from the other side as he walked away and left them to ... other matters.
Hands grabbing, pushing, fingers led by the demand of some other part of the body. Brian jerking Michael’s pullover off and onto the floor. Michael shoving Brian’s shirt off his shoulders, buttons undone and yet still attached only by luck alone. The both of them half-mad with needing skin to make contact with skin. Working in a rush until it was done and they were against each other, a groan and a curse passing as they kissed and pressed together.
“Bed?” It was Michael who managed to form the word, the question – though how he retained the coherency to phrase it was a mystery considering his higher brain function had been lost in the rush and rise of his sex and Brian’s knowing hands.
A sharp nod, “Now, Michael,” escaping with a growl and Brian stepped back to watch his progress to the bed.
No time to see their surroundings and no inclination to look when he could feel Brian’s eyes on him, Michael climbed on top and turned with his hand out to find that Brian was already there. Already there and taking Michael’s hand in his, palming a packaged square that told of just how he wanted to end their abstinence of more than a day.
Smiling with a look shared between them that said they both knew this manner of separation was almost done, Michael put the square in his mouth and scrambled to undo his jeans. He shoved them down and off as Brian did the same after tossing a lube pack from his pocket onto the bed, and then prowled up and then over him, pushing his way between Michael’s spread thighs.
Brian angled down, pushing against Michael as he watched him arching up to increase the friction. Covering him, body pinned so that the smaller man couldn’t move, Brian took the condom packet from Michael’s mouth with his teeth just to see Michael’s eyes grow near black in response. Square back in hand, Brian traced it over the line of Michael’s jaw. “You haven’t asked, not since the airport.” His voice lowering with each word, “Don’t you want to know what you get for being so very good, Mikey?”
Michael leaned his head up, eyes locked with Brian’s as he pressed his answer to Brian’s lips. “Yes, please.” The last word was drawn out as he moved to trace the round scratch of Brian’s chin with his tongue.
Brushing the wild tangle of Michael’s bangs back from his forehead, Brian pressed his own close – brow to brow. “You’ve surrendered your will to mine, given me the power of choice for us both.” He shifted against Michael, both men releasing sounds as their hard flesh moved each along the other. “Having that, feeling it, knowing you will do as I ask – it’s such a fucking rush.”
He kissed Michael, lips hungry and hot until he pulled back with both of them breathing hard. “I want to give you a taste,” hoarse words licked across moist lips, “of what it feels like to decide. The power of one choice that means more than the moment and will last past the fire.”
Michael wrapped legs around Brian’s thighs, his hands threaded through the brown hair at the back of his lover’s neck. “Tell me.”
“Listen first, then I will.” Brian smiled at the look on Michael’s face – eager and frustrated, aroused. “I want you to hold it close, think it through. Don’t rush just because you can.” He pulled Michael’s hand down, entwining their fingers – something held between, against their palms. “You’ll know when it’s time,” a squeeze and then he’d removed his hand leaving the square in Michael’s own. “You’ll decide this, for us both.”
Decide? When to stop with, when to start without….
Without anything in the way.
“Brian.” It was a rasp really, rather than full voiced. With clarity in his eyes and a hot shiver down his spine, Michael surged up and kissed him. Kissed him with a force that left no doubt to the impact of Brian’s gift, and how it affected Michael as he clung and arched. As he squeezed with his thighs and pushed with both hands until he had Brian rolled onto his back with Michael above. “Okay, okay. I’ll…. I’m…. Fuck, Brian. I need,” he was rambling – infused with a desire so strong it burned, “I want you.”
Brian lifted his hips, pulling Michael’s ass down against him. “You gonna ride me, Mikey?”
A breath, deep and grounding, then a look at what he held clutched in his palm as Brian’s hands started to travel and map their way over his skin. Squeezing his eyes shut, Michael circled down against Brian’s cock – aching to feel it. To give in and go without. But then the thought came, no. Not tired after hours on a plane, not in a rush. Not when getting off and getting through the drive for more was clouding judgment.
Choice made, final decision delayed – Michael ripped open the square with his teeth and opened his eyes to watch as he worked the condom over Brian’s length. He rose up, Brian’s hands already reaching back – slicked from the lube packet now half crushed under them. Slick and in… “Uhmm, now. Please, now.”
Brian was no better, wanting it too much to be anything other than quick. His fingers left Michael’s body not long after they’d entered, opening him just enough to ease but not enough to escape Michael’s hiss at the sudden press and burn of Brian’s first thrust. The both of them working their way together, Michael fighting his way down and Brian pushing up past the clamp and clasp of hot flesh made home.
The pressure had Brian groaning as Michael moved, rounding his hips and ass over him, surrounding him. Michael’s face was a grimace as he gasped for breath with teeth clenched, as he was buffered again and again by the bliss-spark of Brian’s cock thrusting over and against that spot that left him shaking.
“Not… fuck, not gonna last.”
A choked laugh, Brian’s response to Michael’s fractured groan. A laugh that became a curse as Michael threw back his head, hands clasped tight behind him on Brian’s raised knees. The hold for leverage as he was taken into Brian’s hand, stroked and tormented closer and closer to the end until with a shout, his balance was gone and his mind with it. Stealing through him, the pleasure rode shod over his senses as he was caught and held tight – as Brian’s body jerked, as his voice sounded hot and loud in Michael’s ear, as both of them fell to their sides on the bed, wrapped round, with hearts fit to bursting and lungs burning for air.
The two lay as on, insensate to their surrounds, aware only of each other as their strength gave way and consciousness left with it.
- - -
"Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who's the prettiest Master/slave of them all?"
A laugh, soft and half-full of sleep answered Brian's tease of a greeting, "Lo, the creature from the Pitts doth wake and grace us with his presence." Ash, lying full stretch over one of the sofa's in the living room with his head resting on Declan's lap, smiled before closing his eyes again and nuzzling into the brush of Dec's hand in his hair.
The pair of them were relaxed and settled on the couch with Declan reading a book with one hand while he petted Ash with the other. Both in robes, Declan's black to Ashton's dark blue, having just showered not long before.
Brian leaned against the wall near the hallway down which he'd been wandering. "This place is huge."
"Size queen." Again, it was Ash – who got a twigging of the ear from Dec for his fun.
"Don't." For all his admonishment, Declan's face was still warm with amusement. He looked at Brian, taking in the bed head hair and wrinkled travel clothes. "Your luggage is by your room door."
"Yeah, I figured that out when I almost tripped to my death, thanks." Brian scrubbed his fingers through his hair, feeling a headache coming on – which was usually his only true symptom of jet lag, though they never lasted long given his iron constitution. "What time is it?"
Declan answered, "Evening's come, just. So about seven." He put his book down. "Think you could rouse Michael to the waking world? I made reservations for 8:30."
"I think I can get him untangled from the sea of covers on our bed by then, sure. Where to?"
"One of our favorites, actually. Especially if you like Indian food."
Ash sat up, now very awake and asking with enthusiasm, "Zaika?" At Declan's nod, he was up off the couch and halfway down the hall. "Misha! Michael, up with you! We're this close to having manna of the gods!"
The sound of knocking, Ash's singsong "Wakey, wakey" and then a door was thrown open and Michael was ambushed with a shake to the shoulder as the sound of deep laughter came down the long hall from Brian and Dec.
Brian turned to Declan. "Food of the gods? This should be good."
"We'll practically have to roll him out the door after dinner." Dec laughed, his face lit with a private smile.
"What?"
Declan shook his head, still tickled. "There's a second meaning for manna, other than food." He snickered, "It can also refer to a sweet substance that comes from....” He paused, "Want to take a guess from what kind of tree?"
A beat, and then Brian practically barked out a laugh. "You're shitting me. The ash tree?" He looked back down the hall at the commotion that was Ash pushing luggage into his and Michael's room – make that suite considering the size of it – so that Michael could "get made up, and now."
Brian was the one shaking his head. "You're telling me that a sticky sweet Ash is *literally* your manna from heaven."
"And one hell of a dessert."
- - -
"I could have sworn there was only one of me in these trousers when we walked in the door, now it looks like I'm packing for two. Seams fit to rip."
At Ash's belly-full declaration, Brian almost chocked on his last taste of Michael's ice cream. Managing to swallow, he started to say something typically gay, male and snarky only to have Michael reply first.
"Biting my tongue. I am sooo biting my tongue."
Brian nudged him, "Not too hard, I have use for it later."
They all laughed as Michael stuck said tongue out at Brian, Declan joining in as he came back to the table after he'd settled the bill and gone to speak to the chef with all their compliments.
It had been a good evening. Fantastic really. Zaika was a beautiful restaurant, opened in a former bank. High ceilings, vibrant colors and rich aromas from food so perfect it was almost a crime. The staff had been welcoming, and aside from the small heart attack Michael had had when viewing the menu prices – a fact he'd kept to himself – the place had been one well worth the visit.
The dining experience alone had been one to remember. Exotic tastes, easy humor and plans for the coming days all shared between friends and lovers. Michael had been looking around, people watching, still caught up in the surreal feeling of each new minute on foreign soil. And Brian had enjoyed seeing it reflected in his lover's eyes, knowing not for the first time the pleasure of experiencing Michael's joy and delight on top of his own, making the journey all the more fresh, as well as new.
"He quickens you like no one ever has," Declan said, having leaned in to speak softly for only Brian to hear. "Am I right?"
Brian didn't turn, didn't stop looking at Michael who was engrossed in one of Ashton's many tales that had kept them entertained all evening. "Always has."
Michael heard the last, meeting Brian's gaze as he still listened to Ash.
Brian nodded, "Always will."
Declan chuckled, leaving Brian with one last thought before turning back to the conversation at hand. "He's not only your exception; he's your certainty as well." Looking at Michael, he asked, "So have you two decided what you'll be doing tomorrow?" Declan was going to be preoccupied with the set up of his show, so that left Ashton as guide for Michael and Brian's first full day in London.
"Ash suggested we take it easy the first day out, so breakfast... Where'd you say?"
"More like brunch, at Covent Garden. That way you get to browse around, do some great people watching. There are usually street performers, for a laugh. Great shops, a little bungee jumping."
"Bungee jumping?" Michael asked, because really – how do you do that in the middle of a city like London?
"It's more of a bounce-bungee set up, but it's great to watch people giving it a go while you sit at the cafe. Though if either of you are of a mind to try, I'd suggest doing it before we eat." Ash added, "As for the rest of the day, there are a few beautifully fierce lions in Trafalgar Square that I'd like to introduce to you both. The British Museum's right close by, so we could spend an afternoon looking at Egyptian mummies and gawking at nude men in marble and stone."
Brian chuckled, "Leave it to you to make something as dry as museum hopping sound pornographic."
"I like a little spice with my culture, thank you. Besides, what do you really think all that high-minded talk about the 'appreciation of the human form' was for if not to whitewash what could easily have been perceived as obscene by the viewing public? Art has always been the thinking man's pornography, to one degree or another."
Declan replied, "Brian, even you couldn't find a trek through that place boring when you'll have Ash there to tell you all the salacious background that went into a lot of the works on display. The British Museum, the Victoria & Albert Museum – doesn't matter which. He's an encyclopedia of tasty tidbits, grisly gossip and select speculation."
"Acquired through years of research, reading and not a little sweat of my brow at University, thanks very much."
Brian put up his hands in mock surrender. "I give up; the Museum it is." Even at the worst, it would be a place to go gift shop hunting for Lindz.
"He says he gives up, and me without my recorder." Ash grinned.
Declan and Michael were still smiling when a waiter came to their table with an envelope in hand, causing a stop in the conversation. "Mr. Forster?"
Ash took the black envelope, one that was made of an elegant sheen embossed stationary and closed with blood red wax. Wax that had been marked by the press of a seal, one baring the letter "D" in elegant old world script. Once the waiter had departed, Ash brushed his fingers over the wax and looked at Declan. "Master?"
"You may open it, now. I won't make you wait."
Ashton nodded, looking for all the world as if he were a kid on Christmas morning – but also as if he were a bit anxious of the contents. He looked at Brian, then Michael. "Should I explain, sir?"
"I will." Declan traced his fingers along Ash's jaw, unmindful and unconcerned if his actions drew any odd or reproachful looks, then moved them round to sooth at the back of his lover's neck. "You have something to be doing, Darkling."
He didn't turn his eyes from Ash as he explained to their friends, "The missive is a formal bequest, from Master to slave. He's either being told something that will change the status quo, or he's being given an answer to a formal request." He paused, "A master's word is law, which is why it's presented in writing. My hand to his."
Michael watched as Ash brought the envelope up to his lips, and pressed a kiss to the red wax. The Englishman looked at Declan, and said thank you before he slipped his finger under the flap and eased the seal apart. Another kiss, to the crisp white card that shone within and then he pulled it free.
Neither Brian nor Michael could see the words of the message; that remained private from Declan to Ash. But they did pay witness to the shine that met Ashton's eyes, the rose of his skin and the happiness of his expression. Like a harp that had been strummed with a well-practiced hand, Ash's whole presence seemed to sing without any sound. And with the song, came emotion rich and true.
A breath, a space in time that passed as Ashton seemed to read and then reread his Master's message; then he was reaching for Declan's hand, pulling it close and bending to press a kiss against Declan’s palm – his eyes closing as he tried and failed to fight back tears.
A proud smile from Declan, and then a kiss atop Ashton's head were followed by, "Gentlemen, I believe your plans for Thursday have now become sacrosanct."
And with that, both Brian and Michael were left to wonder at the mystery as their evening out came to a close. The details left for a later time….
- - -
"How's your head?"
Michael jumped a bit, surprised as he pulled the towel from off his hair to see that he'd practically walked right into Brian. Brian looked so good, standing there by the bed in nothing but a white terry robe – one that matched Michael's, both gifts from Declan and Ash that they'd found in their bathroom after dinner.
"The headache's gone; shower did the trick."
Brian didn’t reply back, he just sat on the bed and pulled Michael close. Hands slipping under the folds of the robe to rest on the smooth skin of Michael’s hips, his thumbs tracing the line of pelvic bones as his gaze roamed up to meet Michael’s own.
Michael murmured, “Your hands are still warm.”
“So’s the rest of me, come lie down.”
His robe pushed to the floor, Michael climbed onto the bed. Brian threw his own to the floor and then rolled to lie beside him, the pair falling easily into one of their usual sleeping positions – Michael on his side with Brian at his back, legs intertwined. A pull to settle the covers, and Brian relaxed, the brush of Michael’s dark damp hair against his nose. "Think you'll sleep through?"
Michael yawned before he could answer, and then managed, "Seems so." He closed his eyes, saying softly, "Best do, with all that walking we'll do tomorrow."
Brian snorted, "You in those sneaks so old they're practically antiques, and me in walking boots. Quite the pair."
"Hmm, you bought 'em for me." One of those rare times years back when Brian had pulled Michael into a store during a shared lunch hour, and made him leave with a box under each arm. One with burgundy suede sneakers, and the other with one of the most expensive pair of dress work shoes that Michael had owned to date. Little good Michael had thought it would do him, working at the Big Q.
"We could look while we're here, get to tease Ash about English craftsmanship of footware."
Michael smiled, "He'll just call you a Yank and change the subject."
"His insults are part of the fun."
Quiet came, the two of them easing into Morpheus' arms for several minutes when the silence was broken. “What time should we be up?” Michael mused quietly, his words already a little subdued by the coming of sleep. “Didn’t see a clock.”
Brian nodded, “No alarms on vacation, it’s a rule.” He squeezed Michael a bit, shifting about as he closed his eyes. A smile touching his lips as he heard Michael’s murmured okay.
“Uhmm, ’es sir.”
Sleep claimed all the rest.
- - -
"Okay, spill." Brian leaned back in his café chair, elbow up on the back of it as he relaxed after their late “full English” breakfast – including beans, tomatoes, eggs, toast and sausages. “We’ve sufficiently clogged our arteries, and while you’ve been an exuberant host, you’re a black belt dodger when it comes to secrets.”
Ash chuckled. “Black belt dodger, that’s good. I’ll have to remember it.”
Brian bowed his head, "Thank you." Then added, "You're still avoiding."
"Absorbing, more like. I never thought Declan was going to agree, he'd taken so long to decide. Almost a year."
Ash's words pulled Michael's attention away from watching the folks surrounding the bungee bounce contraption on the other side of the open courtyard outside the cafe from where they sat. He'd been staring at it, smiling as he'd watched others dare the adventure – though considering how full his stomach was, Michael was more than happy just to play spectator. "You’d better talk, or Brian'll start threatening us with things like his own version of strip truth or dare and we'll all get carted off for public indecency." He laughed as the tail end of one of Brian's remaining sausages got tossed in his lap.
"Hole in one." Brian grinned devilishly. His laugh joined in with the others as Michael mumbled something about him being an expert at that.
Ash couldn't resist, "Willy-waving is a bit frowned upon in Covent Garden – more's the pity. Which means strip anything is out, so it's an answer you shall have." He smiled, sprawling comfortably in his chair with his arms wrapped lightly around his waist. It wasn't too cold of a day for October in London, especially for anyone used to living in Pittsburgh, PA. And for once the sun was shining down, alleviating enough of the air's cool bite for them to be comfortable wearing just sweaters and jeans. Besides which, they'd been warned by Ashton that the museums tended to be on the warm side – so better to avoid shedding coats later.
Ash looked at Brian, “Don’t laugh.” At Brian’s raised brow, the Englishman continued. “I’m a bit of a numerology nutter. It’s a hobby, just.” When it was obvious that Brian was about to say something sarcastic, Ash spoke to Michael. “Eleven years, this anniversary. And eleven has always brought me luck. In life, business, art.” He smiled, “Everyone makes such a fuss on anniversaries ending in zed or five. Like they’re the only crossroads that deserve to be celebrated.” A wry laugh, “Not that we didn’t have a ten year do, brilliant and all. But this anniversary, it’s significant to me, and to Declan, *because* it is number eleven.”
Michael asked, “Why eleven?”
“It’s considered a Master number.” That earned him a snort from Brian, though he managed to hold his tongue as Ash told them the rest. “Ten is perfection. Eleven exceeds that. Holds to represent the artistic, the intuitive. To me, it’s the standing of one and one, side by side – always bonded.”
“Never to part.” Michael smiled, his face full of understanding.
Ashton nodded, looking down at his wrists as he brought them together – both arms parallel in semblance of the number of which they spoke. “It means steadfast, forever.”
Brian surprisingly didn’t banter back with a sarcastic response. Instead, he drank the last sip of his juice after tipping the glass minutely in Ashton’s direction. “And the note from Declan? How’s that play into the year?”
Lowering his hands back to the table, Ash leaned in to be heard over the sudden rush of a brood of kids running back to their parents from the bungee bouncer. “He’s given me permission to give him a gift.” Pause. “Or both of us, rather.”
“Do you always have to ask before giving a gift?” It seemed rather a lot of effort to Michael. Especially if what Ash had said was true, that Declan considered them equals despite their arrangement.
“No, Misha.” Ash laughed, “It’s the nature of the gift that necessitated my having to ask permission first.” He gave Michael’s hand a quick squeeze, and Brian a wink. “My body doesn’t belong to me anymore. So anything done to it, especially if it’s permanent, is Declan’s domain.”
A pause as their waiter came to leave their bill, and then Brian deduced, “You’re getting inked again.”
Ash nodded, “Exactly.”
Michael traced one of the letters on his friend’s wrist, fascinated as always by the meaning behind Ash’s marks. The faith, trust and fearlessness they represented. “Where, what of?”
“I’m not telling, yet.” Ash stood, placing a few pounds down to pay for brunch – waving away Brian’s look. “Not a word, you.” Turning back to the other subject, “I’d like you to come with, see it done. It would mean a lot to share it with you both. To have your support.”
“What about Declan?” Michael asked.
“I’m having it done on Thursday, and he won’t be seeing it – or me, until Friday night. He wants to keep the secrecy going until the big reveal.”
Brian stood, putting on his sunglasses as Michael came to his side. “It’s a date, then.”
Ashton grinned, “Speaking of which. I see several very large lions in our futures, boys. Follow me.”
TBC...
Would love to know what you think...
Hugs
xof
ETA - Additional Author's Note re: Declan's Step-Mother - I have had a review on Always by a Japanese reader who basically said it was laughable for me to have Miho be a former Geisha, because it's a western stereotype. Sigh. This is my reponse:
Author's Response: I am actually quite a fan of the Japanese culture. I did not choose for her to be a Geisha /((Geiko)) because it is a western stereotype of Japanese women. She is a former Geiko/Geisha, who has married a Russian - the man in question, like his son, is attracted to a certain type of partner - one who is dedicated to service, tradition, but who is not in any way diminished because of the role she/he chooses to take in life. I hold great respect for the sacrifice that such a life would entail. Her characterisation is not meant to be laughable or insulting. I do not belittle the tradition of the Geisha. And I do not expect my readers to think that was my intent. Just as I do not belittle the submissive nature of Ashton - in fact I celebrate it. 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 5
- - - - - - -
“Brian.”
Brian turned from looking out the window of the car to see Michael glued to the opposite side, eyes wide and lips parted on the awed whisper of his name. Sliding over, he hugged an arm around the smaller man’s waist and said, “Yeah?”
“London.” The word wondrous, like the expression on Michael’s face.
Mouth breaking into a grin that Michael could feel against the curve of his ear, Brian answered back with a laugh, “I know.” Giving him a squeeze, he added, “You look like you just discovered Neverland.”
For a moment, Michael closed his eyes, to the view, to the world – and absorbed Brian’s touch. His presence. His smell. “Too late. That was the day I first found you.”
And then it was Brian who closed his eyes as he turned his face into Michael’s hair, his only response, “Mikey,” said soft and low for only the two of them to hear.
The blare of horns and the swift swerve of the car drew them back quick enough, as it weaved at a dizzying speed through the crowded streets of London. Their driver was trying to keep up with the hired car carrying Declan and Ash; the speed, the narrow misses with other vehicles, the maze of turns, sudden stops and fast starts had the ‘Yanks’ feeling in equal parts exhilarated and apprehensive. It was proved well enough that their driver, though seemingly mad with dreams of race car finish lines running through his head, did possess the skills needed to get them to their destination in one piece, albeit with sea legs.
By the time they stepped out of the car and onto solid ground – or sidewalk, rather – Brian and Michael were feeling like they’d been on one hell of a roller coaster ride. The rush clear on their faces as they watched Dec and Ash coming their way.
“The drivers will carry in the bags,” Declan said as Michael hefted his carryon strap further over his shoulder. A sweep of the Irishman’s hand, “Shall we?” And they were left to follow as Dec climbed the few steps leading into what looked like the lobby of an office building.
In all the hustle to get things ready, and then the trip itself, Brian and Michael hadn't asked many questions about where it was that Declan and Ash lived, other than London and Ash's mention that their home was close to "everything." So it was a surprise to find themselves entering what appeared to be an investment firm, the name "Rai Enterprises" eloquently displayed over the entrance as they stepped inside.
“What the fuck is all this, Dec?” Brian was smiling, despite the bluntness of his words.
*This* being an old-world-meets-new-design lobby, complete with intricately carved wood paneling, frosted glass doors and metal flourishes. Art deco, masculine and yet lined with feminine grace – it gave the place a feel of walking back in time, but with all the necessary accoutrements of the modern world. It succeeded in being what it was meant to be, a statement of import, power and prestige.
“This,” Declan glanced at Ash, the two of them sharing a look that spoke to shared amusement. “This is, or rather was, my family’s chief concern for going on four generations.”
Ashton snorted, “Until *Dr.* Declan Dearest decided to break from the investment mold.”
Dec shook his head, “That was hardly the only factor.” He nodded to a woman who had just exited the far elevator and was walking their way. Speaking in a lowered voice, he added for their benefit. “My father’s desire to begin a second life without his first family was reason enough.” Turning to greet the mystery lady, Declan grinned. “Gertie, you’re looking fantastic.”
Gertie, short for Gertrude, was fifty-ish with a quiet beauty, upswept red hair and vibrant green eyes. “Welcome home, Dr. Rai. Mr. Forster,” she smiled hello with a formal affection that spoke to being more acquaintance than friend.
Declan made introductions, ascertaining that his instructions had been followed. There were keycards to the front entrance ready for both Brian and Michael, so they could come and go as they desired during their stay. Indicating the elevator that was on their left, he explained that they would both be given a duel set of codes that would allow them entrance to the upper level of the building.
Turning back to Gertie, Declan got lost in what seemed like an endless list of details that needed his attention.
Brian and Michael followed Ash’s lead, and stepped into the private elevator on their left. Their curiosity was evident so Ashton told them, “The family sold the investment business a few years back. The new owners kept the name because of the weight of its reputation.”
Brian asked, “And the building?”
“It still belongs to his family; the offices are leased out. Except for….” Ash winked.
Brian shook his head, “Let us guess.”
Ash confirmed with a small smile, “The top floor. It’s ours.”
Brian glanced at Michael, seeing his surprise. "Of course it is."
Ashton added, “Only for the past six years or so. Dec’s Da, he decided to uproot himself and his after the business sold. Moved to Japan, if you can believe.” Ash chuckled, “Not that he didn’t spend most of his time there anyway; the second Mrs. Rai is from Tokyo.” He paused. “A former geisha, actually. Beautiful, graceful and almost ethereally quiet unless spoken to. Meaning, about as far away from a fiery Irish woman as he could get.”
Remembering a conversation about Eastern cultures he’d had in what seemed almost another life with Ben, Michael asked, “Being a geisha, it’s a life of service, right?”
“In a way; they’re conversationalists, artisans. They are what they are most desired to be by their patrons.” The humor in Ash’s voice was more than evident, as was the wicked shine in his eye that said he knew where Michael was headed.
So Michael added, “Like father, like son?”
Brian drew Michael back against him, a grin spreading as he said playfully to Ash, “It’s all becoming very clear.”
“Ha ha. I wouldn’t let Declan hear you say that. He and his Da were decidedly on the outs when he left Dec’s mum to sew his Asian oats. There’s nothing a man wants to hear less than to be told he resembles someone he finds a disappointment.”
Brian nodded, silently understanding. After all, it was something to which he could relate. “So there’s still bad blood there?”
“More like agreement to disagree. They co-exist when in each other’s presence, but it’s an infrequent occurrence with them living so far apart.” He smiled, “Still, he’s a man who does fill a room, and Miho – the Mrs. – is striking. A woman with a good nature, but with enough will to hold a Russian heart.”
“Sounds like you like them.”
Ashton nodded. “I do. Much.” He looked at the floor, face a bit serious again as he said, “She’s been a good influence. Calmed his rage. He and Dec’s mum, they were bold, passionate and too much alike after all. Better apart.” He turned as Michael touched his arm, a look of memory held dear in Ash’s eyes. “She’s passed, Misha. Seven years gone.”
“What was her name?”
“Aisling Adair-Rai, mother, musician, muse. A wonderful spirit, still very missed.”
Brian asked, “And the dad? What’s his name?”
The elevator dinged softly, resonating their arrival as it came to a stop. Ash answered, while entering the code to open the doors. “Lyov. Lyov Petya Rai.” He shook his head. “It never fails to amuse, really. Lyov means ‘lion’ and since we’ve left much of the original décor the same as he left it, I can truly say….” Pushing one last button, Ashton stepped back as the doors opened. “Welcome to the lion’s den.”
- - -
“I’m taking it that Lyov’s interest in all things Asian *wasn’t* a passing fancy.”
Dry though Brian's comment was, one look at the living room into which they'd stepped confirmed it as fact.
"We all have to remove our shoes now. Does that give you a clue?" Ash said, bending down to unlace his and putting them on the metal gilded shoe rack placed to the side of the entranceway.
Michael toed off his shoes, his eyes traveling the room before them. "It's amazing."
And indeed, it was. A mix of contemporary and oriental opulence, the room was a showcase of at least one man's lifetime spent traveling far and away. Large leather furniture, black with an aged quality that was more design than use. A paper screen sliding wall that divided the living and dining rooms, and across the other walls was a dragon mural – fierce, but vibrant. The room dominated by the colors red, black, cream and gold.
Antiques throughout, ornate carvings and silk-screened wall art. And showcased in glass, each on opposite sides of the room, were a samurai warrior's uniform, complete with helmet and sword, and a geisha's intricately embroidered kimono, complete with wig and obi tied at the back. Both ensembles, vintage and perfectly preserved.
Brian let loose a soft whistle, fairly impressed despite himself. "Understated, demure..."
"Are both things this room will never be." Ash grinned, as he comfortably sprawled out on the sofa closest – as at home now as he seemed to be anywhere.
Michael's wanderings ended as he came to stand in front of a large wood sculpture. Circular, and three feet high – it was a two-dimensional bonsai tree carved in high relief. Each limb, each leaf conveyed with equal detail and loving attention. Varnished black and glazed to a high shine, it was....
"Beautiful." Michael reached out, stopping just before he could touch. Hesitant, until Ash told him it was all right.
"It's meant to be felt, as much as it is to be admired."
Michael traced the design with his fingers, enjoying the smooth with the rough. After a moment, he smiled softly. "It's yours, isn't it? You made this."
Reaching into his pocket, Ash nodded as he pulled out his mobile that was vibrating in his hand. He winked before answering, "I've always had this fondness for wood."
The two other men looked at each other, cracking up just a beat later. Michael almost missed Ashton's change in demeanor as he listened to whomever was on the line, though it wasn't a second later that his friend was sitting upright and then kneeling down with his head bowed and eyes closed, a "Yes, Master" on his lips as the call ended.
A soft snort, and he was on his feet again. "Dec says to stop my heel dragging and to show you your room. Seems he thinks that someone would like to finish a little something that was started while we were all riding the friendly skies."
Brian came up behind Michael and hugged him close, his eyes shining with humor and heat. “He’s a courteous man, that Declan Rai.”
Ash nodded, “Course if you were to ask him, he’d probably come up with some theory about the lessening affects of sexually induced adrenaline on jet lag.” He said it with a straight face, but the words themselves were laced with barely held amusement. Like he was referencing a conversation he’d actually had, perhaps more than once.
Brian gave Michael a squeeze, pressing his lips to the skin of his cheek as he murmured. “Let it never be said that I’m a man who won’t do his utmost to test such a theory.” He pressed his teeth, light but firmly, to the line of Michael’s jaw as his fingers pressed against the lingering mark that was fading slowly from his lover’s skin. “Up for a little experimenting, Mikey?”
Redundant, that. But so very true.
- - -
Burgundy silk and dark mahogany. The first impression cut short by the dizzying swing that was Brian pulling Michael round to press him against the guest bedroom door. Ashton's laughter growing faint from the other side as he walked away and left them to ... other matters.
Hands grabbing, pushing, fingers led by the demand of some other part of the body. Brian jerking Michael’s pullover off and onto the floor. Michael shoving Brian’s shirt off his shoulders, buttons undone and yet still attached only by luck alone. The both of them half-mad with needing skin to make contact with skin. Working in a rush until it was done and they were against each other, a groan and a curse passing as they kissed and pressed together.
“Bed?” It was Michael who managed to form the word, the question – though how he retained the coherency to phrase it was a mystery considering his higher brain function had been lost in the rush and rise of his sex and Brian’s knowing hands.
A sharp nod, “Now, Michael,” escaping with a growl and Brian stepped back to watch his progress to the bed.
No time to see their surroundings and no inclination to look when he could feel Brian’s eyes on him, Michael climbed on top and turned with his hand out to find that Brian was already there. Already there and taking Michael’s hand in his, palming a packaged square that told of just how he wanted to end their abstinence of more than a day.
Smiling with a look shared between them that said they both knew this manner of separation was almost done, Michael put the square in his mouth and scrambled to undo his jeans. He shoved them down and off as Brian did the same after tossing a lube pack from his pocket onto the bed, and then prowled up and then over him, pushing his way between Michael’s spread thighs.
Brian angled down, pushing against Michael as he watched him arching up to increase the friction. Covering him, body pinned so that the smaller man couldn’t move, Brian took the condom packet from Michael’s mouth with his teeth just to see Michael’s eyes grow near black in response. Square back in hand, Brian traced it over the line of Michael’s jaw. “You haven’t asked, not since the airport.” His voice lowering with each word, “Don’t you want to know what you get for being so very good, Mikey?”
Michael leaned his head up, eyes locked with Brian’s as he pressed his answer to Brian’s lips. “Yes, please.” The last word was drawn out as he moved to trace the round scratch of Brian’s chin with his tongue.
Brushing the wild tangle of Michael’s bangs back from his forehead, Brian pressed his own close – brow to brow. “You’ve surrendered your will to mine, given me the power of choice for us both.” He shifted against Michael, both men releasing sounds as their hard flesh moved each along the other. “Having that, feeling it, knowing you will do as I ask – it’s such a fucking rush.”
He kissed Michael, lips hungry and hot until he pulled back with both of them breathing hard. “I want to give you a taste,” hoarse words licked across moist lips, “of what it feels like to decide. The power of one choice that means more than the moment and will last past the fire.”
Michael wrapped legs around Brian’s thighs, his hands threaded through the brown hair at the back of his lover’s neck. “Tell me.”
“Listen first, then I will.” Brian smiled at the look on Michael’s face – eager and frustrated, aroused. “I want you to hold it close, think it through. Don’t rush just because you can.” He pulled Michael’s hand down, entwining their fingers – something held between, against their palms. “You’ll know when it’s time,” a squeeze and then he’d removed his hand leaving the square in Michael’s own. “You’ll decide this, for us both.”
Decide? When to stop with, when to start without….
Without anything in the way.
“Brian.” It was a rasp really, rather than full voiced. With clarity in his eyes and a hot shiver down his spine, Michael surged up and kissed him. Kissed him with a force that left no doubt to the impact of Brian’s gift, and how it affected Michael as he clung and arched. As he squeezed with his thighs and pushed with both hands until he had Brian rolled onto his back with Michael above. “Okay, okay. I’ll…. I’m…. Fuck, Brian. I need,” he was rambling – infused with a desire so strong it burned, “I want you.”
Brian lifted his hips, pulling Michael’s ass down against him. “You gonna ride me, Mikey?”
A breath, deep and grounding, then a look at what he held clutched in his palm as Brian’s hands started to travel and map their way over his skin. Squeezing his eyes shut, Michael circled down against Brian’s cock – aching to feel it. To give in and go without. But then the thought came, no. Not tired after hours on a plane, not in a rush. Not when getting off and getting through the drive for more was clouding judgment.
Choice made, final decision delayed – Michael ripped open the square with his teeth and opened his eyes to watch as he worked the condom over Brian’s length. He rose up, Brian’s hands already reaching back – slicked from the lube packet now half crushed under them. Slick and in… “Uhmm, now. Please, now.”
Brian was no better, wanting it too much to be anything other than quick. His fingers left Michael’s body not long after they’d entered, opening him just enough to ease but not enough to escape Michael’s hiss at the sudden press and burn of Brian’s first thrust. The both of them working their way together, Michael fighting his way down and Brian pushing up past the clamp and clasp of hot flesh made home.
The pressure had Brian groaning as Michael moved, rounding his hips and ass over him, surrounding him. Michael’s face was a grimace as he gasped for breath with teeth clenched, as he was buffered again and again by the bliss-spark of Brian’s cock thrusting over and against that spot that left him shaking.
“Not… fuck, not gonna last.”
A choked laugh, Brian’s response to Michael’s fractured groan. A laugh that became a curse as Michael threw back his head, hands clasped tight behind him on Brian’s raised knees. The hold for leverage as he was taken into Brian’s hand, stroked and tormented closer and closer to the end until with a shout, his balance was gone and his mind with it. Stealing through him, the pleasure rode shod over his senses as he was caught and held tight – as Brian’s body jerked, as his voice sounded hot and loud in Michael’s ear, as both of them fell to their sides on the bed, wrapped round, with hearts fit to bursting and lungs burning for air.
The two lay as on, insensate to their surrounds, aware only of each other as their strength gave way and consciousness left with it.
- - -
"Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who's the prettiest Master/slave of them all?"
A laugh, soft and half-full of sleep answered Brian's tease of a greeting, "Lo, the creature from the Pitts doth wake and grace us with his presence." Ash, lying full stretch over one of the sofa's in the living room with his head resting on Declan's lap, smiled before closing his eyes again and nuzzling into the brush of Dec's hand in his hair.
The pair of them were relaxed and settled on the couch with Declan reading a book with one hand while he petted Ash with the other. Both in robes, Declan's black to Ashton's dark blue, having just showered not long before.
Brian leaned against the wall near the hallway down which he'd been wandering. "This place is huge."
"Size queen." Again, it was Ash – who got a twigging of the ear from Dec for his fun.
"Don't." For all his admonishment, Declan's face was still warm with amusement. He looked at Brian, taking in the bed head hair and wrinkled travel clothes. "Your luggage is by your room door."
"Yeah, I figured that out when I almost tripped to my death, thanks." Brian scrubbed his fingers through his hair, feeling a headache coming on – which was usually his only true symptom of jet lag, though they never lasted long given his iron constitution. "What time is it?"
Declan answered, "Evening's come, just. So about seven." He put his book down. "Think you could rouse Michael to the waking world? I made reservations for 8:30."
"I think I can get him untangled from the sea of covers on our bed by then, sure. Where to?"
"One of our favorites, actually. Especially if you like Indian food."
Ash sat up, now very awake and asking with enthusiasm, "Zaika?" At Declan's nod, he was up off the couch and halfway down the hall. "Misha! Michael, up with you! We're this close to having manna of the gods!"
The sound of knocking, Ash's singsong "Wakey, wakey" and then a door was thrown open and Michael was ambushed with a shake to the shoulder as the sound of deep laughter came down the long hall from Brian and Dec.
Brian turned to Declan. "Food of the gods? This should be good."
"We'll practically have to roll him out the door after dinner." Dec laughed, his face lit with a private smile.
"What?"
Declan shook his head, still tickled. "There's a second meaning for manna, other than food." He snickered, "It can also refer to a sweet substance that comes from....” He paused, "Want to take a guess from what kind of tree?"
A beat, and then Brian practically barked out a laugh. "You're shitting me. The ash tree?" He looked back down the hall at the commotion that was Ash pushing luggage into his and Michael's room – make that suite considering the size of it – so that Michael could "get made up, and now."
Brian was the one shaking his head. "You're telling me that a sticky sweet Ash is *literally* your manna from heaven."
"And one hell of a dessert."
- - -
"I could have sworn there was only one of me in these trousers when we walked in the door, now it looks like I'm packing for two. Seams fit to rip."
At Ash's belly-full declaration, Brian almost chocked on his last taste of Michael's ice cream. Managing to swallow, he started to say something typically gay, male and snarky only to have Michael reply first.
"Biting my tongue. I am sooo biting my tongue."
Brian nudged him, "Not too hard, I have use for it later."
They all laughed as Michael stuck said tongue out at Brian, Declan joining in as he came back to the table after he'd settled the bill and gone to speak to the chef with all their compliments.
It had been a good evening. Fantastic really. Zaika was a beautiful restaurant, opened in a former bank. High ceilings, vibrant colors and rich aromas from food so perfect it was almost a crime. The staff had been welcoming, and aside from the small heart attack Michael had had when viewing the menu prices – a fact he'd kept to himself – the place had been one well worth the visit.
The dining experience alone had been one to remember. Exotic tastes, easy humor and plans for the coming days all shared between friends and lovers. Michael had been looking around, people watching, still caught up in the surreal feeling of each new minute on foreign soil. And Brian had enjoyed seeing it reflected in his lover's eyes, knowing not for the first time the pleasure of experiencing Michael's joy and delight on top of his own, making the journey all the more fresh, as well as new.
"He quickens you like no one ever has," Declan said, having leaned in to speak softly for only Brian to hear. "Am I right?"
Brian didn't turn, didn't stop looking at Michael who was engrossed in one of Ashton's many tales that had kept them entertained all evening. "Always has."
Michael heard the last, meeting Brian's gaze as he still listened to Ash.
Brian nodded, "Always will."
Declan chuckled, leaving Brian with one last thought before turning back to the conversation at hand. "He's not only your exception; he's your certainty as well." Looking at Michael, he asked, "So have you two decided what you'll be doing tomorrow?" Declan was going to be preoccupied with the set up of his show, so that left Ashton as guide for Michael and Brian's first full day in London.
"Ash suggested we take it easy the first day out, so breakfast... Where'd you say?"
"More like brunch, at Covent Garden. That way you get to browse around, do some great people watching. There are usually street performers, for a laugh. Great shops, a little bungee jumping."
"Bungee jumping?" Michael asked, because really – how do you do that in the middle of a city like London?
"It's more of a bounce-bungee set up, but it's great to watch people giving it a go while you sit at the cafe. Though if either of you are of a mind to try, I'd suggest doing it before we eat." Ash added, "As for the rest of the day, there are a few beautifully fierce lions in Trafalgar Square that I'd like to introduce to you both. The British Museum's right close by, so we could spend an afternoon looking at Egyptian mummies and gawking at nude men in marble and stone."
Brian chuckled, "Leave it to you to make something as dry as museum hopping sound pornographic."
"I like a little spice with my culture, thank you. Besides, what do you really think all that high-minded talk about the 'appreciation of the human form' was for if not to whitewash what could easily have been perceived as obscene by the viewing public? Art has always been the thinking man's pornography, to one degree or another."
Declan replied, "Brian, even you couldn't find a trek through that place boring when you'll have Ash there to tell you all the salacious background that went into a lot of the works on display. The British Museum, the Victoria & Albert Museum – doesn't matter which. He's an encyclopedia of tasty tidbits, grisly gossip and select speculation."
"Acquired through years of research, reading and not a little sweat of my brow at University, thanks very much."
Brian put up his hands in mock surrender. "I give up; the Museum it is." Even at the worst, it would be a place to go gift shop hunting for Lindz.
"He says he gives up, and me without my recorder." Ash grinned.
Declan and Michael were still smiling when a waiter came to their table with an envelope in hand, causing a stop in the conversation. "Mr. Forster?"
Ash took the black envelope, one that was made of an elegant sheen embossed stationary and closed with blood red wax. Wax that had been marked by the press of a seal, one baring the letter "D" in elegant old world script. Once the waiter had departed, Ash brushed his fingers over the wax and looked at Declan. "Master?"
"You may open it, now. I won't make you wait."
Ashton nodded, looking for all the world as if he were a kid on Christmas morning – but also as if he were a bit anxious of the contents. He looked at Brian, then Michael. "Should I explain, sir?"
"I will." Declan traced his fingers along Ash's jaw, unmindful and unconcerned if his actions drew any odd or reproachful looks, then moved them round to sooth at the back of his lover's neck. "You have something to be doing, Darkling."
He didn't turn his eyes from Ash as he explained to their friends, "The missive is a formal bequest, from Master to slave. He's either being told something that will change the status quo, or he's being given an answer to a formal request." He paused, "A master's word is law, which is why it's presented in writing. My hand to his."
Michael watched as Ash brought the envelope up to his lips, and pressed a kiss to the red wax. The Englishman looked at Declan, and said thank you before he slipped his finger under the flap and eased the seal apart. Another kiss, to the crisp white card that shone within and then he pulled it free.
Neither Brian nor Michael could see the words of the message; that remained private from Declan to Ash. But they did pay witness to the shine that met Ashton's eyes, the rose of his skin and the happiness of his expression. Like a harp that had been strummed with a well-practiced hand, Ash's whole presence seemed to sing without any sound. And with the song, came emotion rich and true.
A breath, a space in time that passed as Ashton seemed to read and then reread his Master's message; then he was reaching for Declan's hand, pulling it close and bending to press a kiss against Declan’s palm – his eyes closing as he tried and failed to fight back tears.
A proud smile from Declan, and then a kiss atop Ashton's head were followed by, "Gentlemen, I believe your plans for Thursday have now become sacrosanct."
And with that, both Brian and Michael were left to wonder at the mystery as their evening out came to a close. The details left for a later time….
- - -
"How's your head?"
Michael jumped a bit, surprised as he pulled the towel from off his hair to see that he'd practically walked right into Brian. Brian looked so good, standing there by the bed in nothing but a white terry robe – one that matched Michael's, both gifts from Declan and Ash that they'd found in their bathroom after dinner.
"The headache's gone; shower did the trick."
Brian didn’t reply back, he just sat on the bed and pulled Michael close. Hands slipping under the folds of the robe to rest on the smooth skin of Michael’s hips, his thumbs tracing the line of pelvic bones as his gaze roamed up to meet Michael’s own.
Michael murmured, “Your hands are still warm.”
“So’s the rest of me, come lie down.”
His robe pushed to the floor, Michael climbed onto the bed. Brian threw his own to the floor and then rolled to lie beside him, the pair falling easily into one of their usual sleeping positions – Michael on his side with Brian at his back, legs intertwined. A pull to settle the covers, and Brian relaxed, the brush of Michael’s dark damp hair against his nose. "Think you'll sleep through?"
Michael yawned before he could answer, and then managed, "Seems so." He closed his eyes, saying softly, "Best do, with all that walking we'll do tomorrow."
Brian snorted, "You in those sneaks so old they're practically antiques, and me in walking boots. Quite the pair."
"Hmm, you bought 'em for me." One of those rare times years back when Brian had pulled Michael into a store during a shared lunch hour, and made him leave with a box under each arm. One with burgundy suede sneakers, and the other with one of the most expensive pair of dress work shoes that Michael had owned to date. Little good Michael had thought it would do him, working at the Big Q.
"We could look while we're here, get to tease Ash about English craftsmanship of footware."
Michael smiled, "He'll just call you a Yank and change the subject."
"His insults are part of the fun."
Quiet came, the two of them easing into Morpheus' arms for several minutes when the silence was broken. “What time should we be up?” Michael mused quietly, his words already a little subdued by the coming of sleep. “Didn’t see a clock.”
Brian nodded, “No alarms on vacation, it’s a rule.” He squeezed Michael a bit, shifting about as he closed his eyes. A smile touching his lips as he heard Michael’s murmured okay.
“Uhmm, ’es sir.”
Sleep claimed all the rest.
- - -
"Okay, spill." Brian leaned back in his café chair, elbow up on the back of it as he relaxed after their late “full English” breakfast – including beans, tomatoes, eggs, toast and sausages. “We’ve sufficiently clogged our arteries, and while you’ve been an exuberant host, you’re a black belt dodger when it comes to secrets.”
Ash chuckled. “Black belt dodger, that’s good. I’ll have to remember it.”
Brian bowed his head, "Thank you." Then added, "You're still avoiding."
"Absorbing, more like. I never thought Declan was going to agree, he'd taken so long to decide. Almost a year."
Ash's words pulled Michael's attention away from watching the folks surrounding the bungee bounce contraption on the other side of the open courtyard outside the cafe from where they sat. He'd been staring at it, smiling as he'd watched others dare the adventure – though considering how full his stomach was, Michael was more than happy just to play spectator. "You’d better talk, or Brian'll start threatening us with things like his own version of strip truth or dare and we'll all get carted off for public indecency." He laughed as the tail end of one of Brian's remaining sausages got tossed in his lap.
"Hole in one." Brian grinned devilishly. His laugh joined in with the others as Michael mumbled something about him being an expert at that.
Ash couldn't resist, "Willy-waving is a bit frowned upon in Covent Garden – more's the pity. Which means strip anything is out, so it's an answer you shall have." He smiled, sprawling comfortably in his chair with his arms wrapped lightly around his waist. It wasn't too cold of a day for October in London, especially for anyone used to living in Pittsburgh, PA. And for once the sun was shining down, alleviating enough of the air's cool bite for them to be comfortable wearing just sweaters and jeans. Besides which, they'd been warned by Ashton that the museums tended to be on the warm side – so better to avoid shedding coats later.
Ash looked at Brian, “Don’t laugh.” At Brian’s raised brow, the Englishman continued. “I’m a bit of a numerology nutter. It’s a hobby, just.” When it was obvious that Brian was about to say something sarcastic, Ash spoke to Michael. “Eleven years, this anniversary. And eleven has always brought me luck. In life, business, art.” He smiled, “Everyone makes such a fuss on anniversaries ending in zed or five. Like they’re the only crossroads that deserve to be celebrated.” A wry laugh, “Not that we didn’t have a ten year do, brilliant and all. But this anniversary, it’s significant to me, and to Declan, *because* it is number eleven.”
Michael asked, “Why eleven?”
“It’s considered a Master number.” That earned him a snort from Brian, though he managed to hold his tongue as Ash told them the rest. “Ten is perfection. Eleven exceeds that. Holds to represent the artistic, the intuitive. To me, it’s the standing of one and one, side by side – always bonded.”
“Never to part.” Michael smiled, his face full of understanding.
Ashton nodded, looking down at his wrists as he brought them together – both arms parallel in semblance of the number of which they spoke. “It means steadfast, forever.”
Brian surprisingly didn’t banter back with a sarcastic response. Instead, he drank the last sip of his juice after tipping the glass minutely in Ashton’s direction. “And the note from Declan? How’s that play into the year?”
Lowering his hands back to the table, Ash leaned in to be heard over the sudden rush of a brood of kids running back to their parents from the bungee bouncer. “He’s given me permission to give him a gift.” Pause. “Or both of us, rather.”
“Do you always have to ask before giving a gift?” It seemed rather a lot of effort to Michael. Especially if what Ash had said was true, that Declan considered them equals despite their arrangement.
“No, Misha.” Ash laughed, “It’s the nature of the gift that necessitated my having to ask permission first.” He gave Michael’s hand a quick squeeze, and Brian a wink. “My body doesn’t belong to me anymore. So anything done to it, especially if it’s permanent, is Declan’s domain.”
A pause as their waiter came to leave their bill, and then Brian deduced, “You’re getting inked again.”
Ash nodded, “Exactly.”
Michael traced one of the letters on his friend’s wrist, fascinated as always by the meaning behind Ash’s marks. The faith, trust and fearlessness they represented. “Where, what of?”
“I’m not telling, yet.” Ash stood, placing a few pounds down to pay for brunch – waving away Brian’s look. “Not a word, you.” Turning back to the other subject, “I’d like you to come with, see it done. It would mean a lot to share it with you both. To have your support.”
“What about Declan?” Michael asked.
“I’m having it done on Thursday, and he won’t be seeing it – or me, until Friday night. He wants to keep the secrecy going until the big reveal.”
Brian stood, putting on his sunglasses as Michael came to his side. “It’s a date, then.”
Ashton grinned, “Speaking of which. I see several very large lions in our futures, boys. Follow me.”
TBC...
Would love to know what you think...
Hugs
xof
ETA - Additional Author's Note re: Declan's Step-Mother - I have had a review on Always by a Japanese reader who basically said it was laughable for me to have Miho be a former Geisha, because it's a western stereotype. Sigh. This is my reponse:
Author's Response: I am actually quite a fan of the Japanese culture. I did not choose for her to be a Geisha /((Geiko)) because it is a western stereotype of Japanese women. She is a former Geiko/Geisha, who has married a Russian - the man in question, like his son, is attracted to a certain type of partner - one who is dedicated to service, tradition, but who is not in any way diminished because of the role she/he chooses to take in life. I hold great respect for the sacrifice that such a life would entail. Her characterisation is not meant to be laughable or insulting. I do not belittle the tradition of the Geisha. And I do not expect my readers to think that was my intent. Just as I do not belittle the submissive nature of Ashton - in fact I celebrate it. Hugs xof
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