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USQaf Fic: "Embraced..." - by Xof - Br/M - Part 10 of 15
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 10
- - - - - - -
The click of the closing door and Brian's subsequent turn of the lock found them both standing speechless as they looked around the room – a room that had been set for more than a casual viewing of interest, per Declan and Ashton's usual flare for style and scene.
Hurricane candle lamps were lit in all four corners of the room, with accent votives spread throughout along the walls and on shelves until the place was all shadows and low, warm light. Ambience all around.
In the center of the room was a pile of cushioned mats covered with richly colored quilted throws, topped with an array of large jewel-toned pillows. Beside which, there sat a bucket with champagne on ice and an assortment of hors d'oeuvres arranged on a platter within easy reach. Everything the two would need for an indoor picnic – intimately arranged.
Which would have been more than nice enough, but it wasn’t what Declan had been referring to when he’d named it a show. Or a showing, as it where.
No, that name only signified to them as their eyes followed the next flash of light to the farthest wall.
“Oh, god.” Michael breathed, a quick glance at Brian and then back. “It’s us.”
And it was – the pair of them, tangled and lost in the passion of the moment that was them wrapped tight, naked and kissing on black velvet. A flash, and it was them again. Another flash, and again. And then another. Half a dozen of them, set on random speed so that some remained for longer intervals than others, repeated over and over again.
Brian turned his head, finding the projector that was set up against the wall opposite the images. “Bastard made slides,” he said, ruefully amused. He’d been expecting to get the photos he’d had Declan take of him and Michael once they got back to the states. But it seemed Declan had been busy with more than his own exhibit while Ashton was playing tour guide.
Looking back at Michael, Brian saw that he’d walked across to the room – staring at the images as they passed over his back and onto the wall.
Coming up to him, Brian teased, “Will you look at the ass on that one in the blindfold.”
Michael shot him a look, his face hot even in the low light of the room. But he couldn’t help but smile a little as Brian gave him a wink, and then hugged him from behind – the both of them watching as the picture changed again. The memory of what they’d done, of what they’d said, so clear in their minds – and now with images writ large as day.
Michael shook his head, shifting as he felt himself responding – only to feel that Brian was as well. “I see you. So gorgeous.” He took a breath. “Always beautiful.”
Brian rested his faced against Michael’s hair, speaking into his ear. “I see you, dark and light – lost in the way I can make you feel.” He kissed Michael’s neck, and then raised his eyes back to the wall. “You look amazing, Mikey.” A squeeze, and he added, “We look amazing.”
It took him a bit, but finally Michael found it in himself to see what Brian saw – them together, rather than himself or Brian separately. “We...” Michael raised his hands to hold onto Brian’s. “We do,” he murmured. Then chuckled, “Thank heavens, you’re the one on top.” When Brian nudged him, Michael turned around in his arms. “I don’t think I’m anywhere near ready for full frontal.”
A hand slipped down between them, and Brian had Michael biting his lip as he tried to hold back a moan. “Doesn’t feel like you’ve got anything to worry about down there.”
“Bri, you – oh, that feels good.”
“Supposed to.” Brian rubbed his face against the soft scratch of Michael’s chin, growling softly, “I want you spread out, just like you were then.” To which Michael could only nod before he was swept up in a kiss that served to practically melt his toes.
They were heading for the mats and pillows when the room went almost dark, but for the candle flames. The sudden absence of a lighted slide stopping them, their eyes went back to the empty wall just as the projector flicked to its last and final presentation. The image there was one to see and hold in the memory. The one that showed them as they truly were….
Michael holding and held so tight, his mouth bruised and full and his eyes open – locked with Brian’s own. The blindfold gone. Brian above, pressed against him, clinging to Michael as they felt the impact of the words Brian had just said. The meaning of those words mapped over their faces, the power hitting them as they crested the wave and fell, each into the other.
That moment, that truth – captured in time.
Brian’s wish to have, and Michael’s desire to give – there for them to know.
“Now.” The word was Michael’s. He reached up and turned Brian’s face to his, letting him see his decision. He threaded his fingers into Brian’s hair, reaching up to kiss him. And then kiss him again. “You said. You said I could pick the time.” Brian nodded, eyes serious and all humor gone. Michael smiled, his voice emphatic as he said. “I want it to be now.”
Not just another time. *The* time.
“Michael.” His lover’s name a rasp, Brian pressed his face against Michael’s and breathed in deep the smell of candle wax and Michael’s skin. He groaned, his arms circling the smaller man with a force that had Michael almost off his feet. And then he was, Brian lifting him with a laugh that broke from his chest and had them both stumbling a foot or two until Brian tripped himself and Michael onto the mats and pillows in a mess of arms, legs and laughing hearts.
Michael's shirt landed on the floor, tossed with only enough care so that it didn't catch fire. Brian rubbed his face against Michael's flat stomach, feeling his lover's hands as they reached and scrambled to get something else off – whether it be his clothes or Brian's. "Help me, dammit." The frustration in Michael's voice pulling Brian's attention up from placing soft bites along his waistline. "How do we get you out of this?"
Brian rose up on his knees as Michael dropped his hands from the corseted shirt-vest with a groan. "Easy, I got it." He sucked in a breath and worked the clasps free down the front, the ornate beauties apparently not just for show. Pulling it back off his shoulders, Brian quickly had help as Michael sat up and pushed it down Brian’s arms. Both bare from the waist up, but for the leather and platinum that would remain.
There was a brief tussle as they fought to pull Michael’s boots off, and then Brian pressed him back until he was lying down. “I’ve been wanting to peel these off you all night,” Brian murmured, his eyes hungry and his hands doing their best to do just that.
Michael jerked as Brian gave his leather pants a tug that had them down at his thighs quick as a flash, the belts undone and off just as fast. His legs trapped, Michael inhaled sharply as Brian covered his hard-on and mapped his flesh with warm fingers as they played along his length and scratched through the dark curls surrounding. “I need, please just…. Bri.”
“Feel that, Mikey? Flesh to flesh, skin to skin. Can you imagine it?” The words were rough and thick with the desire that even the thought of what was to come could ignite in Brian.
Pressing Brian's hand against himself, Michael shook his head. "I don't want to imagine." He rose up again, kissing Brian as the other man went about removing the rest of Michael's clothing, blind. Finally kicking them free, Michael knelt and held onto Brian with arms around his waist as they looked at each other. "Make it real." He shivered as Brian's hands slid down his back and over his ass. "Do it."
Brian nodded, burning with just the idea of what they were about to do. He pulled Michael's hands down between them to undo his trousers, as he reached into a pocket and took out something they would need. And something they wouldn't. Two packets in his hand, one he kept – the lube. One he threw across the room as Michael pressed against him and licked the bend of his throat.
The scratch of Michael's teeth against his collarbone, and Brian cursed. "Fuck, get these off me." Dueling hands worked his shoes and trousers down, freeing him to guide himself over Michael as they arched and thrust against each other. Every touch, every kiss driving up the tension until Brian held Michael down with a hand flat on his chest as he drew the smaller man's legs up and over his thighs.
Michael moaned, trying to keep his hips still but failing as Brian wet his fingers with lube and then pushed them down to where they both wanted them. The pressure, the friction and then the slight burn as Brian eased the way, slicking the inside of Michael's body with a skill that had him clutching at pillows and arching into Brian's next thrust.
Brian watched Michael move for him and bit back a sound; he knew this was going from zero to 60, but he couldn't slow himself down enough to care. He wanted, they both wanted this – to the extent that it needed to be now. "You feel so damn hot inside," Brian said, his hand shaking unconsciously as he wet his fingers again and slicked them down his cock. Fuck, just the thought of what it was going to be like inside, clasping, wet and warm. If he didn’t do this soon, he’d burst like someone half his age.
For a man who prided himself on his sexual stamina, he was fairly close to having no control at all. “Fuck, Mikey.” A quick grab for a pillow to shove under Michael’s hips and Brian was over him.
Michael couldn’t think; he couldn’t do anything but feel. Feel and breathe out in a gush, “Ohh, god. Brian, ahhh. In, fuck. In me.” He squeezed his eyes shut with the first full thrust, the first moment that was Brian inside him – skin bare, with nothing between them.
“Look at me,” Brian groaned, his teeth clenched as he pushed forward and absorbed the sensation of his cock parting Michael’s flesh and breeching his body. Driving home, as he felt the fire of the moment flowing down his spine. “Look, aww.” Brian shook as he settled inside Michael, as he felt Michael’s body adjust around him. As he met Michael’s eyes, and saw the impact of how he felt mirrored in his lover’s dark gaze.
Michael wrapped his legs tight, grunting as Brian moved into him fully seated. He ran his hands over Brian’s body, his strong arms, his firm sweat-slicked chest and then down. Down to where they were joined, his fingers touching Brian and himself. Feeling the skin at the base of Brian’s cock where it was housed within him. “Move,” he whispered. “I want to feel you move.” His words a moaning plea to experience it from both the outside and inside.
Shifting, Brian hissed as he moved – his eyes focused between them, seeing what Michael could only feel given the angle. Seeing and feeling as he fucked. As he joined with Michael again and again, bodies inseparable as he thrust faster and faster.
Heart a blitzkrieg of sound in his ears, Michael’s hand fell away as he fisted the fabric at his sides, as he writhed under Brian’s sleek body and solid form. He couldn’t think past the sensation of Brian’s cock fucking into him, pulling back, then pushing in again. Even his own hard-on became an absent thought, though his body was wet with the evidence of his rising desire.
Hips snapping as Michael’s thighs squeezed, Brian worked them both closer and closer until he was over Michael – weight on his knees and hands. Leaning in, he moaned as Michael rose up and licked at his mouth, wetting his lips before thrusting past them to play over his tongue. The two of them, kissing and calling out – words like “good” and “God” passing between them until neither was capable of saying anything as the rush surged up inside. And then the moment came, the fire flared and they cried out as their bodies quaked and came.
Michael first, semen coating his stomach and Brian’s where it pressed against him with delicious friction. Then Brian, not a moment after, jerking as Michael’s body clenched around him so tight that he came with something that was both pleasure and pain.
“Michael, god.” Brian turned his face against Michael’s neck, moaning as he felt himself held surrounded by flesh and lube and seed. He pulled Michael close, easing them both on their sides a bit to settle his weight. His hand traveled over Michael’s back and behind until he was tracing them both, at the opening that had him, housed him and had driven him quite mad. “So wet… ”
Michael closed his eyes, still breathing hard, body sensitized and tingling. He opened his mouth but words didn’t come. Swallowing, he tried again. “I’m gonna have you running down my thighs. A real mess.”
Brian groaned as Michael’s tease had him pressing closer, trying to hold himself inside as long as he could. But his flesh was weak and as the seconds ticked by, he felt himself slipping free. “Damn, you’re killing me.”
A hum from Michael as he shook his head, and then a sharp gasp as Brian pressed his fingers through the wet ring of Michael’s body. “Aww, fuck. That’s…. ” He couldn’t even say.
Brian nodded, inhaling the smell of sex and skin as he rested his hand where it was, connected and warm. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it is… ”
Was, and would be again.
- - -
A loud knocking at their door had Michael jerking awake. He was disoriented, half-asleep and when he moved he hissed softly. His muscles were feeling the effects of last night's play, an almost endless flash of memories running through his muddled head as he remembered what had happened. At the party, after the party and then back in their room at Chez Rai.
Another knock, and he groaned. Taking a deep breath, he started to untangle himself from the sheet he'd managed to get wrapped up in. Brian was still dead to the world on his stomach, body bared to the rays of sunlight that were peeking through the drapes. Michael glanced at the mirror across from the bed, and winced. "Just what every good gay boy needs, wind tunnel hair." He eased out of bed, mouthing, "Owe," as his body protested the move.
Another moment to find his feet, and Michael went to the door – opening it a crack to find no one there. He frowned, looking up and down the hall, managing to miss the tray at his feet only by chance. Black lacquered to shine and inlaid with oriental flowers, the tray held plates of toast, jams, fruit, sweet rolls, juice and milk. It also had a note from Ashton.
"Gone shopping, and to visit an old friend. Back tonight. So happy for you both, I can hardly say! Love, Ash. PS – If either of you see the other side of your bedroom door today, Declan's left you a surprise. Check under the plate – enjoy!"
Under the plate, there was a key. One with another note attached on a string. This one was in Declan's elegant script. "Fifth door on the left, down the hall. Kids in a candy store should have somewhere to play. D"
Slowly moving through the room with the tray in hand, Michael put it on the bureau next to the bed. "Bri?" No response. Michael grinned, his lover dead to the world. With due cause, considering the state of himself and Michael's sore behind.
Such an unbelievable night.
Michael caught himself after a moment, lost in thought. He rolled his shoulders, resolving to have a soak while he ate. A few bits of fruit and some toast on a plate in one hand, a glass of milk in the other – and he was off. Hot water and bubbles calling his name.
It was sometime later that he opened his eyes to find Brian standing in the doorway, watching him as he relaxed back in the large tub. When nothing was said for the longest, Michael sat up and leaned against the side with his chin on his folded arms. "We got you all dirty," he murmured – smiling a bit as Brian scratched at his stomach – the remnants of their night dried on his body as it had been on Michael's.
Brian nodded as he came closer, enjoying the heat induced flush that tinged Michael's wet skin. But not as much as the look in those dark eyes as Brian stepped into the water and eased down opposite him. Drawing up his legs, Brian pulled Michael up so that he was kneeling between Brian's thighs. "Wash me."
"Yes, sir. Mister Sir." Michael agreed with a grin. He started running the soapy sponge over Brian's chest and shoulders, the two of them playing as Brian leaned in close as if for a kiss only to bypass Michael so he could reach the fruit on the ledge nearby. "Meanie."
“That’s me.” Brian closed his eyes as he ate a strawberry, absorbing the warmth of the water and the sensations caused by Michael's caring hands as the minutes passed. "You okay?"
Caught off guard by Brian's question, Michael stopped bathing Brian as he looked up to see he was being watched again. Brian's gaze moving over him, rising the flush of his skin as he lingered on some of the more visible marks left by his mouth or hands. They'd gone at it very needful there at the end, when his body had been pushed almost past the point of knowing it needed to slow down. "You took care of me; I'm good."
And he had. Brian had been very aware that even given their normal level of sex, this was new ground for them both. "How's your ass?" It was a serious question, but he still had a flare of amusement in his eyes as he said it.
Michael laughed, "I could ask you the same thing. How was my ass?"
"Fan-fucking-tastic," Brian said. "Now answer the question. We went at it a lot."
"I can feel it, but I'm okay. I checked," Michael said distractedly, letting go of the sponge as his hands went further down Brian's body – cleaning him intimately. His attention was caught again as Brian pulled his hands away, "What?"
"Stand up. Show me," Brian's voice was pitched low, but firm.
It was a mixture of command and concern that had Michael swallowing as he felt himself responding to Brian's control. It touched something in him, leaving him aroused and feeling safe at the same time.
He stood up, water and bubbles sliding down his body. He remained there, standing above Brian for a long minute as the other man traced his hands up Michael's legs until they rested on his hips and tugged until Michael turned around.
"Eyes open, Michael. Hands on the tub."
Michael tried to bite back his groan, but failed as he found himself bent at the waist with hands down and eyes looking straight across into the mirror that reflected them back. God, but he had to tighten his arms as the picture of himself and Brian assailed him. As he realized how similar it was to another memory. Their first time in Brian's bathroom. Fuck.
Michael had to fight to keep his head up, his eyes from closing as Brian leaned in and ran his hands up Michael's legs, between his thighs and then up again to his ass. With no hesitation, he pulled the cheeks apart – the opening to Michael's body bared to his eyes. To his touch. "Not too bad," he muttered, Brian’s voice sounding a bit thick as he ran his fingers over it, testing a bit by pushing inside. He had to hug Michael's legs as the other man moaned, his position becoming perilous as his knees threatened to unlock. "Easy, come here."
He guided Michael down until he was sitting between Brian's legs, resting back against his chest. Turning his face, Brian kissed him softly, and then again with more fire. The two of them necking, enjoying the kisses as they lie together in the water. Unhurried, and unconcerned for the time that passed. Each focused only on the man in their arms. And there they remained for it mattered not how long.
- - -
“Hello! Would you look in here,” Brian said, blocking the doorway so Michael was incapable of doing just that.
Giving Brian’s towel-clad hips a push, Michael came around and stopped. “Whoa.”
It was a playroom, completely equipped and décor expensive by the look of it. Done up in three main colors: black – equipment and furniture, all customized to match; silver – accents, chains and light fixtures; red – walls, vibrant and rich. There was a black lacquered floor that resembled the tray Michael had returned to the kitchen and a black ceiling with soft white recessed lighting along all four walls. The walls were customized with the letters D and A painted in large black script with silver borders, the initials overlapping with the D above and the A below.
“Again with the whoa.” Michael walked into the room, skirting the edge of the scene pieces – some of which he’d only seen in movies or described in books. There was the St. Andrews Cross in one corner. Padded benches, odd shaped stools of varying heights and designs, and the massage table with built in restraints. There was even a leather sling hanging from the ceiling in another corner. “Why am I not surprised that they have one of these?”
Brian came up to stand with Michael, his fingers playing over the sensitive skin of Michael’s bare neck – the collar safe in their room. “You ever try one of these?” He could tell by Michael’s quick head shake that it was something that intrigued him though; it was that nervousness Michael tried to hide before he reluctantly gave in enough to admit the lie with a small smile. Always so damn endearing. “Want to?”
Michael stared at it, and then shook his head. “Rain check? I don’t think my butt’s up for it yet.”
Brian snorted, “Your butt and my back.” It wasn’t a sign of age, he told himself. To feel a twinge or two – or three, considering the night they’d had. Not that he’d admit that to anyone other than Michael. Still, he was chagrinned at the admittance nevertheless. “Tell you what. Instead, why don’t we give the table a go?” He pulled Michael close, nuzzling his face against Michael’s as he murmured, “A nice massage, you do me. I do you.”
Michael swallowed, circling his arms around Brian’s waist. “Yes. Please.” He hid his private grin against the taller man’s neck as Brian groaned lightly. Please had come to mean something rather intimate between them over the last few months.
So a bit of pampering it was. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon.
- - -
Sunday started out lazily enough – all having slept in following a night of dancing and drinks on the town. One club after another, with a visit to the famous “Heaven” somewhere in the middle, until they’d all spilled into a cab in the wee hours and made it back to crash in their respective beds. A Saturday night spent like so many others, but made more unique and wild because it was London. Where everything was new, and felt like more due to how important Friday had proven – for both couples, in different ways.
Now, Sunday – they had a late brunch at a local café. The air was cooler than any other day since they’d arrived in London so they’d bundled up. They were all sitting around the outdoor table with coffee or tea to warm their hands, discussing their plans for the day. “How about Camden Lock?” Ashton suggested.
Declan groaned. “It’ll be packed, a complete mad house.” He pressed a hand to his head, having admitted earlier to having a headache. Not a hangover mind, because he’d been rather conservative in his alcohol intake the night before. Instead, he’d chalked it up to the volume of the music. Or rather, the “blaring noise,” of the last place they’d stopped.
“What’s Camden Lock?” Brian asked.
“Shopping!” Ash smiled. “Open air markets, pubs, theatres, shops. A very “in” – and often eclectic – mix of people, tourists and other oddities. I love it.”
“And I like it fine, but Sunday’s are the busiest day. Mid-week’s more my preference.” Declan gave Ash’s hand a squeeze. “You should go. Have a laugh. The three of you can browse and buy to your heart’s content, and I’ll head back to settle this head of mine.” When Ashton started to protest, saying he’d go back home as well, Declan shook his head and grinned. “You’ll have fun; that’s an order.”
A short tube ride – “for the experience” – later, and they were shoulders deep in a very diverse and interesting crowd. The three of them had to stick close not to get separated as they walked about, people watching and window-shopping. It wasn’t long before the buying began. So it was only a few hours until they were laden with a handful of bags each, and had stopped in at a pub for a drink.
Brian suggested they drop their finds back at Ash’s, and then head towards Harrods. Ashton agreed, “They’re open until six, so we’ve got time for me to check in with Declan. He might come with.”
They took a black cab back, the floor littered with plastic and paper bags of various sizes and weights. Brian held the cab as Ash and Michael headed up. After a few minutes, they returned without Declan. “He’s asleep in his study,” Ash told him. “We’ll talk with him about dinner when we get back.”
They split up after the first hour there, Brian wanting – much to Michael’s amusement given Brian’s earlier jibe on the subject – to spend more time hunting for shoes. Ash and Michael went to grab a snack from the food court, and were about to head back up to nab Brian when Ashton stopped suddenly.
He just froze. Still as a statue, staring across the way. “Shit.”
Michael sidestepped at the last second, having almost run into the back of him. “Ash? What’s wrong?”
Nothing answered, Ash didn’t even move. Michael looked around, and saw that it wasn’t something that Ashton was watching. It was someone, a woman with a small, straight frame, about Michael’s height, wearing conservative clothes and no makeup. Hair more white than blonde signified her age, though at a glance she had the kind of face, drawn with something akin to disappointment, which made her look older than she probably was. Late fifties, maybe. There was a bitterness to the set line of her mouth. But it was her eyes – so like Ashton’s own – that shone the hardest. “Who is that?”
Ash opened his mouth to answer, but the woman turned her back on him with dismissive rejection, and stalked away until she became lost from view in the crowd. The moment she was gone, Ash just folded – barely managing with Michael’s help to make it to a nearby chair at the table they’d just abandoned.
“Ashton, hey. Talk to me, okay?” Michael tried to lift his friend’s down-turned face, but Ash wouldn’t move. He just stared at the floor, his body so tight it looked painful. Pulling up a chair, Michael reached for Ash’s hands and tried to ease the fists they were clenched up into so he could hold them. “Ash. I’m, you’ve got me worried here. Look at me please.”
For the longest, Ash stayed still, focused inside so deep, too deep almost. It was frightening to see him so drastically changed from his normal happiness, to this. Michael looked around, not knowing what to say. He wanted Brian, but he wasn’t going to leave Ashton like he was. “Shit. I wish Declan was here.”
At the mention of his Master’s name, Ash drew in a quick breath – his hands squeezing Michael’s. He closed his eyes and whispered Declan’s name with a voice so quiet and rough, it sounded like sandpaper.
Michael nodded, his heart racing as he leaned in and hugged Ash. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.” He patted his friend’s jeans pocket, pulling out the mobile he felt in the right. It took a second to find, but he soon had number one on the speed dial ringing. Answered on the third ring, Michael spoke over Declan’s greeting – his voice shaken and probably too loud despite the noise of the shoppers around them. “Declan, something’s wrong. Ash is, he won’t talk to me.”
“What’s happened?” Declan asked quickly, “Where are you?”
“Harrods – the food court. I don’t know what happened. We were fine, and then there was this woman. She didn’t even say anything. Ash saw her, and just shut down when she walked away. He’s just sitting here, so still.” Michael said, leaning in with the phone so that Ash might be able to hear. “Dec, please can you come? Brian’s upstairs. I don’t want to leave Ash….”
“Already in the lift,” Declan interrupted Michael’s worried rush. “Put the phone to his ear.”
Quick to follow Declan’s order, Michael held the phone for Ash and watched closely as the sound of his lover’s voice brought Ashton more and more out of the shell he’d hidden within. He still didn’t talk beyond a yes, no and yes again, but he’d uncurled a bit, leaning on the table as he reached up and covered Michael’s hand on the phone with his own. Michael gave his knee a squeeze with his other hand, sitting with him as the long minutes passed. Finally, Ash pulled the phone down. “He’s here. Outside.”
Michael gave him a smile, glad that he was talking. But he looked so tired. Exhausted, even. Like all the strength had left him, and he was waiting for its source to walk into the room.
Which it did just moments later, as Declan came into view – dodging past folks to get to Ash. One hand on Ashton’s neck, and Declan knelt as the other man fell forward into him with clinging arms. “Shh, Darkling. I’ve got you.”
Face buried against Declan’s throat, Ash shook his head again and again. “It was her. She just….”
He didn’t finish, the words sounding so sad as Declan scrubbed his hand through Ash’s hair. “Hush, hush.” Turning to Michael, Dec said, “I’m taking him home. I need you to take his bags.” He was already rising, Ash following stiffly as he held onto his lover, leaning against Dec’s side. “This place closes soon. When you find Brian, come back to ours, okay?”
Michael nodded, watching Declan guide Ash slowly towards the nearest exit. He couldn’t help it; he had to ask. “Who was she?”
Who could do what she’d done to Ash with only a look?
Declan looked back with eyes gone dark, holding Ashton close as he answered with only two clipped words – his tone sharp enough to crack the air before he turned and they were gone.
The answer?
“His mum.”
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 10
- - - - - - -
The click of the closing door and Brian's subsequent turn of the lock found them both standing speechless as they looked around the room – a room that had been set for more than a casual viewing of interest, per Declan and Ashton's usual flare for style and scene.
Hurricane candle lamps were lit in all four corners of the room, with accent votives spread throughout along the walls and on shelves until the place was all shadows and low, warm light. Ambience all around.
In the center of the room was a pile of cushioned mats covered with richly colored quilted throws, topped with an array of large jewel-toned pillows. Beside which, there sat a bucket with champagne on ice and an assortment of hors d'oeuvres arranged on a platter within easy reach. Everything the two would need for an indoor picnic – intimately arranged.
Which would have been more than nice enough, but it wasn’t what Declan had been referring to when he’d named it a show. Or a showing, as it where.
No, that name only signified to them as their eyes followed the next flash of light to the farthest wall.
“Oh, god.” Michael breathed, a quick glance at Brian and then back. “It’s us.”
And it was – the pair of them, tangled and lost in the passion of the moment that was them wrapped tight, naked and kissing on black velvet. A flash, and it was them again. Another flash, and again. And then another. Half a dozen of them, set on random speed so that some remained for longer intervals than others, repeated over and over again.
Brian turned his head, finding the projector that was set up against the wall opposite the images. “Bastard made slides,” he said, ruefully amused. He’d been expecting to get the photos he’d had Declan take of him and Michael once they got back to the states. But it seemed Declan had been busy with more than his own exhibit while Ashton was playing tour guide.
Looking back at Michael, Brian saw that he’d walked across to the room – staring at the images as they passed over his back and onto the wall.
Coming up to him, Brian teased, “Will you look at the ass on that one in the blindfold.”
Michael shot him a look, his face hot even in the low light of the room. But he couldn’t help but smile a little as Brian gave him a wink, and then hugged him from behind – the both of them watching as the picture changed again. The memory of what they’d done, of what they’d said, so clear in their minds – and now with images writ large as day.
Michael shook his head, shifting as he felt himself responding – only to feel that Brian was as well. “I see you. So gorgeous.” He took a breath. “Always beautiful.”
Brian rested his faced against Michael’s hair, speaking into his ear. “I see you, dark and light – lost in the way I can make you feel.” He kissed Michael’s neck, and then raised his eyes back to the wall. “You look amazing, Mikey.” A squeeze, and he added, “We look amazing.”
It took him a bit, but finally Michael found it in himself to see what Brian saw – them together, rather than himself or Brian separately. “We...” Michael raised his hands to hold onto Brian’s. “We do,” he murmured. Then chuckled, “Thank heavens, you’re the one on top.” When Brian nudged him, Michael turned around in his arms. “I don’t think I’m anywhere near ready for full frontal.”
A hand slipped down between them, and Brian had Michael biting his lip as he tried to hold back a moan. “Doesn’t feel like you’ve got anything to worry about down there.”
“Bri, you – oh, that feels good.”
“Supposed to.” Brian rubbed his face against the soft scratch of Michael’s chin, growling softly, “I want you spread out, just like you were then.” To which Michael could only nod before he was swept up in a kiss that served to practically melt his toes.
They were heading for the mats and pillows when the room went almost dark, but for the candle flames. The sudden absence of a lighted slide stopping them, their eyes went back to the empty wall just as the projector flicked to its last and final presentation. The image there was one to see and hold in the memory. The one that showed them as they truly were….
Michael holding and held so tight, his mouth bruised and full and his eyes open – locked with Brian’s own. The blindfold gone. Brian above, pressed against him, clinging to Michael as they felt the impact of the words Brian had just said. The meaning of those words mapped over their faces, the power hitting them as they crested the wave and fell, each into the other.
That moment, that truth – captured in time.
Brian’s wish to have, and Michael’s desire to give – there for them to know.
“Now.” The word was Michael’s. He reached up and turned Brian’s face to his, letting him see his decision. He threaded his fingers into Brian’s hair, reaching up to kiss him. And then kiss him again. “You said. You said I could pick the time.” Brian nodded, eyes serious and all humor gone. Michael smiled, his voice emphatic as he said. “I want it to be now.”
Not just another time. *The* time.
“Michael.” His lover’s name a rasp, Brian pressed his face against Michael’s and breathed in deep the smell of candle wax and Michael’s skin. He groaned, his arms circling the smaller man with a force that had Michael almost off his feet. And then he was, Brian lifting him with a laugh that broke from his chest and had them both stumbling a foot or two until Brian tripped himself and Michael onto the mats and pillows in a mess of arms, legs and laughing hearts.
Michael's shirt landed on the floor, tossed with only enough care so that it didn't catch fire. Brian rubbed his face against Michael's flat stomach, feeling his lover's hands as they reached and scrambled to get something else off – whether it be his clothes or Brian's. "Help me, dammit." The frustration in Michael's voice pulling Brian's attention up from placing soft bites along his waistline. "How do we get you out of this?"
Brian rose up on his knees as Michael dropped his hands from the corseted shirt-vest with a groan. "Easy, I got it." He sucked in a breath and worked the clasps free down the front, the ornate beauties apparently not just for show. Pulling it back off his shoulders, Brian quickly had help as Michael sat up and pushed it down Brian’s arms. Both bare from the waist up, but for the leather and platinum that would remain.
There was a brief tussle as they fought to pull Michael’s boots off, and then Brian pressed him back until he was lying down. “I’ve been wanting to peel these off you all night,” Brian murmured, his eyes hungry and his hands doing their best to do just that.
Michael jerked as Brian gave his leather pants a tug that had them down at his thighs quick as a flash, the belts undone and off just as fast. His legs trapped, Michael inhaled sharply as Brian covered his hard-on and mapped his flesh with warm fingers as they played along his length and scratched through the dark curls surrounding. “I need, please just…. Bri.”
“Feel that, Mikey? Flesh to flesh, skin to skin. Can you imagine it?” The words were rough and thick with the desire that even the thought of what was to come could ignite in Brian.
Pressing Brian's hand against himself, Michael shook his head. "I don't want to imagine." He rose up again, kissing Brian as the other man went about removing the rest of Michael's clothing, blind. Finally kicking them free, Michael knelt and held onto Brian with arms around his waist as they looked at each other. "Make it real." He shivered as Brian's hands slid down his back and over his ass. "Do it."
Brian nodded, burning with just the idea of what they were about to do. He pulled Michael's hands down between them to undo his trousers, as he reached into a pocket and took out something they would need. And something they wouldn't. Two packets in his hand, one he kept – the lube. One he threw across the room as Michael pressed against him and licked the bend of his throat.
The scratch of Michael's teeth against his collarbone, and Brian cursed. "Fuck, get these off me." Dueling hands worked his shoes and trousers down, freeing him to guide himself over Michael as they arched and thrust against each other. Every touch, every kiss driving up the tension until Brian held Michael down with a hand flat on his chest as he drew the smaller man's legs up and over his thighs.
Michael moaned, trying to keep his hips still but failing as Brian wet his fingers with lube and then pushed them down to where they both wanted them. The pressure, the friction and then the slight burn as Brian eased the way, slicking the inside of Michael's body with a skill that had him clutching at pillows and arching into Brian's next thrust.
Brian watched Michael move for him and bit back a sound; he knew this was going from zero to 60, but he couldn't slow himself down enough to care. He wanted, they both wanted this – to the extent that it needed to be now. "You feel so damn hot inside," Brian said, his hand shaking unconsciously as he wet his fingers again and slicked them down his cock. Fuck, just the thought of what it was going to be like inside, clasping, wet and warm. If he didn’t do this soon, he’d burst like someone half his age.
For a man who prided himself on his sexual stamina, he was fairly close to having no control at all. “Fuck, Mikey.” A quick grab for a pillow to shove under Michael’s hips and Brian was over him.
Michael couldn’t think; he couldn’t do anything but feel. Feel and breathe out in a gush, “Ohh, god. Brian, ahhh. In, fuck. In me.” He squeezed his eyes shut with the first full thrust, the first moment that was Brian inside him – skin bare, with nothing between them.
“Look at me,” Brian groaned, his teeth clenched as he pushed forward and absorbed the sensation of his cock parting Michael’s flesh and breeching his body. Driving home, as he felt the fire of the moment flowing down his spine. “Look, aww.” Brian shook as he settled inside Michael, as he felt Michael’s body adjust around him. As he met Michael’s eyes, and saw the impact of how he felt mirrored in his lover’s dark gaze.
Michael wrapped his legs tight, grunting as Brian moved into him fully seated. He ran his hands over Brian’s body, his strong arms, his firm sweat-slicked chest and then down. Down to where they were joined, his fingers touching Brian and himself. Feeling the skin at the base of Brian’s cock where it was housed within him. “Move,” he whispered. “I want to feel you move.” His words a moaning plea to experience it from both the outside and inside.
Shifting, Brian hissed as he moved – his eyes focused between them, seeing what Michael could only feel given the angle. Seeing and feeling as he fucked. As he joined with Michael again and again, bodies inseparable as he thrust faster and faster.
Heart a blitzkrieg of sound in his ears, Michael’s hand fell away as he fisted the fabric at his sides, as he writhed under Brian’s sleek body and solid form. He couldn’t think past the sensation of Brian’s cock fucking into him, pulling back, then pushing in again. Even his own hard-on became an absent thought, though his body was wet with the evidence of his rising desire.
Hips snapping as Michael’s thighs squeezed, Brian worked them both closer and closer until he was over Michael – weight on his knees and hands. Leaning in, he moaned as Michael rose up and licked at his mouth, wetting his lips before thrusting past them to play over his tongue. The two of them, kissing and calling out – words like “good” and “God” passing between them until neither was capable of saying anything as the rush surged up inside. And then the moment came, the fire flared and they cried out as their bodies quaked and came.
Michael first, semen coating his stomach and Brian’s where it pressed against him with delicious friction. Then Brian, not a moment after, jerking as Michael’s body clenched around him so tight that he came with something that was both pleasure and pain.
“Michael, god.” Brian turned his face against Michael’s neck, moaning as he felt himself held surrounded by flesh and lube and seed. He pulled Michael close, easing them both on their sides a bit to settle his weight. His hand traveled over Michael’s back and behind until he was tracing them both, at the opening that had him, housed him and had driven him quite mad. “So wet… ”
Michael closed his eyes, still breathing hard, body sensitized and tingling. He opened his mouth but words didn’t come. Swallowing, he tried again. “I’m gonna have you running down my thighs. A real mess.”
Brian groaned as Michael’s tease had him pressing closer, trying to hold himself inside as long as he could. But his flesh was weak and as the seconds ticked by, he felt himself slipping free. “Damn, you’re killing me.”
A hum from Michael as he shook his head, and then a sharp gasp as Brian pressed his fingers through the wet ring of Michael’s body. “Aww, fuck. That’s…. ” He couldn’t even say.
Brian nodded, inhaling the smell of sex and skin as he rested his hand where it was, connected and warm. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it is… ”
Was, and would be again.
- - -
A loud knocking at their door had Michael jerking awake. He was disoriented, half-asleep and when he moved he hissed softly. His muscles were feeling the effects of last night's play, an almost endless flash of memories running through his muddled head as he remembered what had happened. At the party, after the party and then back in their room at Chez Rai.
Another knock, and he groaned. Taking a deep breath, he started to untangle himself from the sheet he'd managed to get wrapped up in. Brian was still dead to the world on his stomach, body bared to the rays of sunlight that were peeking through the drapes. Michael glanced at the mirror across from the bed, and winced. "Just what every good gay boy needs, wind tunnel hair." He eased out of bed, mouthing, "Owe," as his body protested the move.
Another moment to find his feet, and Michael went to the door – opening it a crack to find no one there. He frowned, looking up and down the hall, managing to miss the tray at his feet only by chance. Black lacquered to shine and inlaid with oriental flowers, the tray held plates of toast, jams, fruit, sweet rolls, juice and milk. It also had a note from Ashton.
"Gone shopping, and to visit an old friend. Back tonight. So happy for you both, I can hardly say! Love, Ash. PS – If either of you see the other side of your bedroom door today, Declan's left you a surprise. Check under the plate – enjoy!"
Under the plate, there was a key. One with another note attached on a string. This one was in Declan's elegant script. "Fifth door on the left, down the hall. Kids in a candy store should have somewhere to play. D"
Slowly moving through the room with the tray in hand, Michael put it on the bureau next to the bed. "Bri?" No response. Michael grinned, his lover dead to the world. With due cause, considering the state of himself and Michael's sore behind.
Such an unbelievable night.
Michael caught himself after a moment, lost in thought. He rolled his shoulders, resolving to have a soak while he ate. A few bits of fruit and some toast on a plate in one hand, a glass of milk in the other – and he was off. Hot water and bubbles calling his name.
It was sometime later that he opened his eyes to find Brian standing in the doorway, watching him as he relaxed back in the large tub. When nothing was said for the longest, Michael sat up and leaned against the side with his chin on his folded arms. "We got you all dirty," he murmured – smiling a bit as Brian scratched at his stomach – the remnants of their night dried on his body as it had been on Michael's.
Brian nodded as he came closer, enjoying the heat induced flush that tinged Michael's wet skin. But not as much as the look in those dark eyes as Brian stepped into the water and eased down opposite him. Drawing up his legs, Brian pulled Michael up so that he was kneeling between Brian's thighs. "Wash me."
"Yes, sir. Mister Sir." Michael agreed with a grin. He started running the soapy sponge over Brian's chest and shoulders, the two of them playing as Brian leaned in close as if for a kiss only to bypass Michael so he could reach the fruit on the ledge nearby. "Meanie."
“That’s me.” Brian closed his eyes as he ate a strawberry, absorbing the warmth of the water and the sensations caused by Michael's caring hands as the minutes passed. "You okay?"
Caught off guard by Brian's question, Michael stopped bathing Brian as he looked up to see he was being watched again. Brian's gaze moving over him, rising the flush of his skin as he lingered on some of the more visible marks left by his mouth or hands. They'd gone at it very needful there at the end, when his body had been pushed almost past the point of knowing it needed to slow down. "You took care of me; I'm good."
And he had. Brian had been very aware that even given their normal level of sex, this was new ground for them both. "How's your ass?" It was a serious question, but he still had a flare of amusement in his eyes as he said it.
Michael laughed, "I could ask you the same thing. How was my ass?"
"Fan-fucking-tastic," Brian said. "Now answer the question. We went at it a lot."
"I can feel it, but I'm okay. I checked," Michael said distractedly, letting go of the sponge as his hands went further down Brian's body – cleaning him intimately. His attention was caught again as Brian pulled his hands away, "What?"
"Stand up. Show me," Brian's voice was pitched low, but firm.
It was a mixture of command and concern that had Michael swallowing as he felt himself responding to Brian's control. It touched something in him, leaving him aroused and feeling safe at the same time.
He stood up, water and bubbles sliding down his body. He remained there, standing above Brian for a long minute as the other man traced his hands up Michael's legs until they rested on his hips and tugged until Michael turned around.
"Eyes open, Michael. Hands on the tub."
Michael tried to bite back his groan, but failed as he found himself bent at the waist with hands down and eyes looking straight across into the mirror that reflected them back. God, but he had to tighten his arms as the picture of himself and Brian assailed him. As he realized how similar it was to another memory. Their first time in Brian's bathroom. Fuck.
Michael had to fight to keep his head up, his eyes from closing as Brian leaned in and ran his hands up Michael's legs, between his thighs and then up again to his ass. With no hesitation, he pulled the cheeks apart – the opening to Michael's body bared to his eyes. To his touch. "Not too bad," he muttered, Brian’s voice sounding a bit thick as he ran his fingers over it, testing a bit by pushing inside. He had to hug Michael's legs as the other man moaned, his position becoming perilous as his knees threatened to unlock. "Easy, come here."
He guided Michael down until he was sitting between Brian's legs, resting back against his chest. Turning his face, Brian kissed him softly, and then again with more fire. The two of them necking, enjoying the kisses as they lie together in the water. Unhurried, and unconcerned for the time that passed. Each focused only on the man in their arms. And there they remained for it mattered not how long.
- - -
“Hello! Would you look in here,” Brian said, blocking the doorway so Michael was incapable of doing just that.
Giving Brian’s towel-clad hips a push, Michael came around and stopped. “Whoa.”
It was a playroom, completely equipped and décor expensive by the look of it. Done up in three main colors: black – equipment and furniture, all customized to match; silver – accents, chains and light fixtures; red – walls, vibrant and rich. There was a black lacquered floor that resembled the tray Michael had returned to the kitchen and a black ceiling with soft white recessed lighting along all four walls. The walls were customized with the letters D and A painted in large black script with silver borders, the initials overlapping with the D above and the A below.
“Again with the whoa.” Michael walked into the room, skirting the edge of the scene pieces – some of which he’d only seen in movies or described in books. There was the St. Andrews Cross in one corner. Padded benches, odd shaped stools of varying heights and designs, and the massage table with built in restraints. There was even a leather sling hanging from the ceiling in another corner. “Why am I not surprised that they have one of these?”
Brian came up to stand with Michael, his fingers playing over the sensitive skin of Michael’s bare neck – the collar safe in their room. “You ever try one of these?” He could tell by Michael’s quick head shake that it was something that intrigued him though; it was that nervousness Michael tried to hide before he reluctantly gave in enough to admit the lie with a small smile. Always so damn endearing. “Want to?”
Michael stared at it, and then shook his head. “Rain check? I don’t think my butt’s up for it yet.”
Brian snorted, “Your butt and my back.” It wasn’t a sign of age, he told himself. To feel a twinge or two – or three, considering the night they’d had. Not that he’d admit that to anyone other than Michael. Still, he was chagrinned at the admittance nevertheless. “Tell you what. Instead, why don’t we give the table a go?” He pulled Michael close, nuzzling his face against Michael’s as he murmured, “A nice massage, you do me. I do you.”
Michael swallowed, circling his arms around Brian’s waist. “Yes. Please.” He hid his private grin against the taller man’s neck as Brian groaned lightly. Please had come to mean something rather intimate between them over the last few months.
So a bit of pampering it was. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon.
- - -
Sunday started out lazily enough – all having slept in following a night of dancing and drinks on the town. One club after another, with a visit to the famous “Heaven” somewhere in the middle, until they’d all spilled into a cab in the wee hours and made it back to crash in their respective beds. A Saturday night spent like so many others, but made more unique and wild because it was London. Where everything was new, and felt like more due to how important Friday had proven – for both couples, in different ways.
Now, Sunday – they had a late brunch at a local café. The air was cooler than any other day since they’d arrived in London so they’d bundled up. They were all sitting around the outdoor table with coffee or tea to warm their hands, discussing their plans for the day. “How about Camden Lock?” Ashton suggested.
Declan groaned. “It’ll be packed, a complete mad house.” He pressed a hand to his head, having admitted earlier to having a headache. Not a hangover mind, because he’d been rather conservative in his alcohol intake the night before. Instead, he’d chalked it up to the volume of the music. Or rather, the “blaring noise,” of the last place they’d stopped.
“What’s Camden Lock?” Brian asked.
“Shopping!” Ash smiled. “Open air markets, pubs, theatres, shops. A very “in” – and often eclectic – mix of people, tourists and other oddities. I love it.”
“And I like it fine, but Sunday’s are the busiest day. Mid-week’s more my preference.” Declan gave Ash’s hand a squeeze. “You should go. Have a laugh. The three of you can browse and buy to your heart’s content, and I’ll head back to settle this head of mine.” When Ashton started to protest, saying he’d go back home as well, Declan shook his head and grinned. “You’ll have fun; that’s an order.”
A short tube ride – “for the experience” – later, and they were shoulders deep in a very diverse and interesting crowd. The three of them had to stick close not to get separated as they walked about, people watching and window-shopping. It wasn’t long before the buying began. So it was only a few hours until they were laden with a handful of bags each, and had stopped in at a pub for a drink.
Brian suggested they drop their finds back at Ash’s, and then head towards Harrods. Ashton agreed, “They’re open until six, so we’ve got time for me to check in with Declan. He might come with.”
They took a black cab back, the floor littered with plastic and paper bags of various sizes and weights. Brian held the cab as Ash and Michael headed up. After a few minutes, they returned without Declan. “He’s asleep in his study,” Ash told him. “We’ll talk with him about dinner when we get back.”
They split up after the first hour there, Brian wanting – much to Michael’s amusement given Brian’s earlier jibe on the subject – to spend more time hunting for shoes. Ash and Michael went to grab a snack from the food court, and were about to head back up to nab Brian when Ashton stopped suddenly.
He just froze. Still as a statue, staring across the way. “Shit.”
Michael sidestepped at the last second, having almost run into the back of him. “Ash? What’s wrong?”
Nothing answered, Ash didn’t even move. Michael looked around, and saw that it wasn’t something that Ashton was watching. It was someone, a woman with a small, straight frame, about Michael’s height, wearing conservative clothes and no makeup. Hair more white than blonde signified her age, though at a glance she had the kind of face, drawn with something akin to disappointment, which made her look older than she probably was. Late fifties, maybe. There was a bitterness to the set line of her mouth. But it was her eyes – so like Ashton’s own – that shone the hardest. “Who is that?”
Ash opened his mouth to answer, but the woman turned her back on him with dismissive rejection, and stalked away until she became lost from view in the crowd. The moment she was gone, Ash just folded – barely managing with Michael’s help to make it to a nearby chair at the table they’d just abandoned.
“Ashton, hey. Talk to me, okay?” Michael tried to lift his friend’s down-turned face, but Ash wouldn’t move. He just stared at the floor, his body so tight it looked painful. Pulling up a chair, Michael reached for Ash’s hands and tried to ease the fists they were clenched up into so he could hold them. “Ash. I’m, you’ve got me worried here. Look at me please.”
For the longest, Ash stayed still, focused inside so deep, too deep almost. It was frightening to see him so drastically changed from his normal happiness, to this. Michael looked around, not knowing what to say. He wanted Brian, but he wasn’t going to leave Ashton like he was. “Shit. I wish Declan was here.”
At the mention of his Master’s name, Ash drew in a quick breath – his hands squeezing Michael’s. He closed his eyes and whispered Declan’s name with a voice so quiet and rough, it sounded like sandpaper.
Michael nodded, his heart racing as he leaned in and hugged Ash. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.” He patted his friend’s jeans pocket, pulling out the mobile he felt in the right. It took a second to find, but he soon had number one on the speed dial ringing. Answered on the third ring, Michael spoke over Declan’s greeting – his voice shaken and probably too loud despite the noise of the shoppers around them. “Declan, something’s wrong. Ash is, he won’t talk to me.”
“What’s happened?” Declan asked quickly, “Where are you?”
“Harrods – the food court. I don’t know what happened. We were fine, and then there was this woman. She didn’t even say anything. Ash saw her, and just shut down when she walked away. He’s just sitting here, so still.” Michael said, leaning in with the phone so that Ash might be able to hear. “Dec, please can you come? Brian’s upstairs. I don’t want to leave Ash….”
“Already in the lift,” Declan interrupted Michael’s worried rush. “Put the phone to his ear.”
Quick to follow Declan’s order, Michael held the phone for Ash and watched closely as the sound of his lover’s voice brought Ashton more and more out of the shell he’d hidden within. He still didn’t talk beyond a yes, no and yes again, but he’d uncurled a bit, leaning on the table as he reached up and covered Michael’s hand on the phone with his own. Michael gave his knee a squeeze with his other hand, sitting with him as the long minutes passed. Finally, Ash pulled the phone down. “He’s here. Outside.”
Michael gave him a smile, glad that he was talking. But he looked so tired. Exhausted, even. Like all the strength had left him, and he was waiting for its source to walk into the room.
Which it did just moments later, as Declan came into view – dodging past folks to get to Ash. One hand on Ashton’s neck, and Declan knelt as the other man fell forward into him with clinging arms. “Shh, Darkling. I’ve got you.”
Face buried against Declan’s throat, Ash shook his head again and again. “It was her. She just….”
He didn’t finish, the words sounding so sad as Declan scrubbed his hand through Ash’s hair. “Hush, hush.” Turning to Michael, Dec said, “I’m taking him home. I need you to take his bags.” He was already rising, Ash following stiffly as he held onto his lover, leaning against Dec’s side. “This place closes soon. When you find Brian, come back to ours, okay?”
Michael nodded, watching Declan guide Ash slowly towards the nearest exit. He couldn’t help it; he had to ask. “Who was she?”
Who could do what she’d done to Ash with only a look?
Declan looked back with eyes gone dark, holding Ashton close as he answered with only two clipped words – his tone sharp enough to crack the air before he turned and they were gone.
The answer?
“His mum.”
TBC...
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