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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 11
- - - - - - -
The cab was caught up in traffic, much to the frustration of both its paying passengers. It just seemed like every light was plotting against them getting back faster than they were. The atmosphere inside was tense with Michael staring down at the floor and Brian out the window.
"He's never mentioned any of his family," Brian said. Ashton had been so open about everything to do with his lifestyle and his nature; it just seemed off to realize that the whole while, he'd been silent on something so basic.
"Yeah," Michael answered, rubbing his hands over his denim clad knees. Even that one word sounded guilty. Some friend, right? He could remember asking whether Ash's family knew about his lifestyle, but he'd never thought to ask anything past that. Ashton had said no at the time. On reflection, it was all he'd ever said in the way of family outside of his life with Declan and his extended circle of friends. "Must be bad, if it made him feel that way."
Brian didn't answer, knowing all too well how bad a bad family could be.
When they got out of the lift, it was to find the lights off everywhere but in the kitchen. The large room was empty, save for one lone figure sitting at the breakfast table.
“Declan?” Michael came in, stopping when he saw the bottle sitting on the table and the cut crystal glass in their host’s hand.
Brian took in the same view and went around to the other side of the table. He pulled up a chair, turning it so he could sit astride. “Where’s Ash?”
“Sleeping.” Declan took the last swallow, tilting the bottle to fill the glass to half way again. “He won’t be up until tomorrow.” A pause, and then he signed. “Had to sedate him, otherwise he’d drive himself on and on – pacing. Remembering. Awake or in dreams.”
Brian nodded, Michael sitting beside him as he mentioned, “He told me that he sleepwalks.”
“Gets worse when he’d upset,” Declan agreed. He took a long swallow then hissed as it burned down his throat. Pushing the glass away, he leaned back in his chair and looked at them. “He’ll be nervous tomorrow. Fidgety. Like he’s got all this energy under his skin that he can’t expel.”
Michael hugged his arms around his waist, an old gesture of insecurity that they’d been seeing less of until now. “He just went so….”
“Still. Quiet.” Declan interjected. “He hasn't done that in almost four years.”
Brian heard the anger in his friend’s voice. It was an emotion he was rather familiar with, all things considered. “What did she do?”
“What didn’t she do?” Declan answered. He looked at the bottle again, but then shook his head and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “This’ll take awhile, and I haven’t eaten since this morning. So I’m opting for Thai. Michael if you’d do the honors and call it in, then I’ll get into it, yeah?”
Once the order had been placed, they settled in the living room. Declan tugged his legs under himself, as he got as comfortable as the current topic would allow. “Ash couldn’t have had more polar opposite parents than Charles and Elin. He was a smile and a laugh, always full of good humor and a welcoming spirit. She was the product of a strict home, reserved and serious. Pretty in her youth, but did nothing to support it so now she looks worn and… ” He didn’t finish, pausing as if trying to find the right word.
“Bitter.” Michael said. “She looked plain and bitter.”
“Well, there – as you say,” Declan agreed. “She had a hard upbringing, lout of a weak-willed father and an overbearing mother. So she did what she could quick enough to leave it behind. Charles and one wedding ring later, she found herself in a small flat, still a teenager – living off her husband’s meager wage and pregnant with Ash.” A small smile touched his lips, the first he’d had since they’d come back. “Charles loved his son so much, and was so loved by him in return. Elin had Ashton’s sister, Katherine, three years into their marriage. And while Katie was everyone’s dear, Ash was his father’s joy. I think Elin resented that, largely.”
He looked thoughtful, then said, “From what he's told me of Charles, Aston is so very much his father’s son. I’m glad that they had time to share before Charles passed. If he hadn’t, if Charles had died sooner than he did and left Ash in her care while his personality was still forming – I don’t think he would have come my way.”
Brian glanced at Michael, the two of them sharing a moment that spoke of their own pasts. Neither of them had any experience of having had a father whose world revolved around them. Vic had come close, for the short while he would come in and out of their lives. But it was hardly the same. As for the mother – Brian looked away. It was sounding rather too familiar.
“How old was he when….”
Declan finished for him, “When Charles died? Fifteen. Aneurysm, sudden and quick when he was at work. And just like that, Ashton’s whole world changed. His mother withdrew; she was a part of their lives but never truly there for either of her children emotionally. She just wouldn't or couldn't connect without Charles there to play mediator."
He straightened his legs and stood, pacing as he continued. "More and more, Ash had to care for his sister – from homework to laundry – acting as father in Charles’ stead. He tried to fill the void in her life that he couldn’t in his own. But at the same time, he was so lost. Eventually it got to be too much and that's when he started delving into ways to escape the havoc in his life when he wasn’t at home. Experimenting with sex, and then into the scene. Always keeping it hidden from his mother and sister. It was like he was living another life."
Brian nodded, telling Michael to the side, "Been there, done that." They'd both done a bit of hiding in their everyday lives – Brian from his parents and Michael from his former co-workers.
Declan agreed, "To a degree, we all do it. Ashton just tends to take things a step further than most."
"Seems understandable so far," Michael said. Probably more so once they'd heard the rest.
"It was a pattern. Elin ran towards marriage, which ended in disappointment and widowhood. Ash ran towards the scene, and started playing too far much too fast. And Katie – she ran to her first boyfriend who skipped town as soon as he heard she was pregnant." Declan sighed, "But unlike their mother, Ash and Katie turned their negatives into positives. Ash when he came to me, and Katie as soon as she held her daughter in her arms. Little Lola," he said, voice full of happiness and something so sad combined. "He always said if ever a child could hold your heart in her hand with just a smile...."
He stopped and looked down, lost for a moment in memory. When next he spoke, it was forced, like he was pushing past emotions that were thick as – well, a London fog. “Elin threw Katherine out when she found out about the pregnancy, so she came to live with Ash while he was scraping by in university. They managed, created a home for Lola despite everything. But then Ash went on holiday with a friend for a week in Edinburgh.” Declan inhaled slowly, running his hand over his mouth and down his chin. “He came home to an empty apartment. He called all sorts looking for Katie, and then he contacted the police. Found out there had been, that she was – she’d been hit by a car on the way from work the day after he’d left. Breaks gave in the rain; she died almost instantly.”
“God,” Michael shook his head. That was brutal.
“Wait,” Brian stood. “The day after? And no one tried to leave word? None of their friends or the cops?”
“The friends hadn’t been told, and the police did what they always do. They contacted her nearest relative.”
“Fuck. Elin.” Brian cursed.
“Exactly. Who did nothing to tell her own son that his sister had died. She’d already had her cremated, with no service.”
Michael drew his legs up on the cough, hugging his knees. “What about Lola?”
Declan nodded, the answer clear on his face and in the way he was clenching his hand into a fist. “Elin, again. Sussed out the daycare from the card in Katie’s purse and played the dutiful grandmother who had to pick up the toddler because her daughter had been delayed at work. When Ash called them, the attendant who’d talked with his mum had quit two days after Elin left. And the role call roaster for the day Katie died just showed, ‘released to family member’ – with no other details. He was half mad by then. So he called Elin.”
Losing his cool and letting the anger show, Declan continued, “The bitch told him that Lola was no longer his concern, and then hung up on him. When he tried to come by her house to reason with her, she called the police on him. When he tried to get assistance in gaining visitation, her barrister got his case denied due to her son’s ‘amoral lifestyle’.” Declan looked at them, “He hadn’t even known she knew he was gay.”
Brian sank down onto the sofa beside Michael, staring at Declan – his expression harsh. “What did Ash do after that?”
“He exhausted his avenues, and then himself. He became despondent, played too hard and dropped out of school because he couldn’t function.” Unconsciously, Declan pushed his jumper sleeve up and ran his fingers down the tattoo on his arm. “He hadn’t seen Lola for almost a year by the time we met. To say he was wounded and raw is an understatement. I just didn’t know the reason why at the time.”
Michael leaned against Brian, taking his hand as they sat there trying to process everything they’d heard. He thought back to Ashton’s face when he’d seen his mother earlier that day. The image in his head only added to his sense of dread so he asked, “There’s more to tell, isn’t there? Something even worse.”
“Yes, Michael. Something worse,” Declan said, and then jerked when the buzzer sounded from downstairs. He bit his lip, and then sighed as he went to answer the intercom. “Food’s here. Back in a minute.”
Once he’d gone down in the lift, Michael turned to Brian. “Shit.”
Brian pulled him in, letting Michael hug him hard. “Wonderful world, isn’t it?”
Michael just nodded, his face staying pressed against Brian’s chest until he heard the lift doors open a few minutes later. Brian and Michael got up to help Declan in the kitchen as he went through the motions of setting up for dinner. None of them said anything about the dubiousness of their appetites given the current topic, but the smell of the food reminded them quickly enough that none of them had had much in the way of proper food that day.
Declan asked, “Eat now, details later – okay.” He sounded almost as tired as Ashton had looked.
Chalking it up to the Italian in him, Michael did manage to eat some despite everything. As did Brian and Declan – though the latter only finished half his food before he started talking again. “About five years ago, Ash’s Grandmother contacted him. She told him that Lola was in hospital; she had leukemia. Her doctors were asking all close family members to be tested to see if they could be potential bone marrow donors. The decision to call him had not been a popular one with Elin, you can believe. Ash asked to see Lola, but was refused again.”
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “That was a hard, hard time. He told his Gran that he would gladly donate, no strings. And even that proved a waiting game because it was Elin's decision, and she wasn’t agreeing to shit. Her mother added pressure until she agreed. Ashton and I went in, and he had it done – expecting *not* to see her. But his Gran met us on our way out, and took his hand. She sneaked him in, and for shortest ten minutes of his life – he stood over Lola’s bed and watched her sleep.”
Declan stopped, reaching again for the bottle he'd abandoned earlier. A couple heavy swallows and he winced, passing it to Brian. "That's my limit done for now. Tomorrow's going to be intense enough without adding a hangover."
"That's a fucking understatement," Brian agreed, but took a couple slugs regardless.
Michael frowned, picking absently at his food with little interest, too focused on the details of Ashton's past. "You said that was five years back, and that you left England for a new start around four years ago. What happened to Lola?"
Declan reached over and squeezed his hand, then pulled away. "She had the operation, and for awhile things looked promising. But Ash's mum still wouldn't budge, so he didn't get to see his niece again while she was getting well. After awhile, his Gran stopped telling him things because Elin threatened to cut her off from Lola, too. But still, he was happy that he'd been able to help. He felt like he was more a part of Lola than ever. That was his consolation."
He shook his head, clearing his throat as he strained to finish. "But then months later, it got worse. And again Elin kept it from him. She never said a word. He didn't," he paused, finally managing to say what Michael had felt was coming and had been most dreading. "He didn't know that Lola had died until two days afterward when his Gran left an envelope at the front desk downstairs. It had a short note, explaining that she'd passed. And a packet of photos – Lola at different ages, smiling with shining eyes and dimples in her cheeks. I found him sitting on the floor, motionless with them spilled all around him. As quiet and still as you said he was today."
Michael wiped at his wet eyes, his heart aching for all that his friend had suffered. "I don't understand how a mother, how *anyone* can treat someone with such cruelty. Ash’s mother,” he looked from Declan to Brian. “Your mother. It’s just fucking unnatural.”
Brian bit back his usual response when his mother was mentioned, which was distain and anger. Instead he nodded towards Michael while speaking to Declan. “Says the man with the biggest heart in the room.”
“Doesn’t he just,” Declan agreed. “But given the world, he’s beautifully refreshing.”
“Always has been,” Brian said, as Michael rose to put away the leftovers. Turning his attention back to Declan, he asked, “How do you want us to handle tomorrow? Stay out of the way, or clear out so you two have some space?”
“No, stay. Be here. It’ll help him focus on something else,” Declan assured him. “He’ll be alright; it’s just that seeing her brought all the pain back like a blow when his defenses were down. He’s so strong, my Ash. He’s had to be, one loss after another. And it’s never dulled his shine. I won’t ever have that happen, if it’s in my power to prevent.”
Brian took the bottle and raised it high. “With you at his back and by his side, may he ever glint the sun and glow the moon.”
Declan smiled as Brian drank to seal the toast. Looking more relaxed then he had all evening, he teased with something like his old self, “You *are* Irish.”
- - -
“You're thinking too loudly, Mikey.” Brian spoke in the darkness of their room. It had to be the middle of the night, and Michael was not sleeping. Which meant neither was Brian.
It was something he hadn't thought about really. How similar their sleep patterns had become.
Michael turned towards him, and moved closer. Resting his head against Brian's shoulder, he said, "Sorry, just – I don't know."
Brian rolled over, pulling Michael against him in the dark until the two of them were lying on their sides with their heads on the same pillow. "You're worried."
"Course. But it’s more that I'm angry. I feel so bad that they just had this wonderful day, and then wham. She just saps it out of him with a look.”
“Mikey, don’t. She’s only as powerful as you allow her to be. Let it go.”
Michael sighed, nodding as he lay there with his eyes closed. He tried to drift under on the sound of Brian’s breathing and the warmth of his body. But he just couldn’t slip into sleep. “My brain won’t shut off,” he whispered, moving restlessly. Finally on the verge of giving up and getting up, Michael gasped in surprise when Brian suddenly grabbed his thigh and jerked it up so that they were angled groin to groin. “Ohhh. Fuck.”
“Precisely.”
Sleep was a long time in coming, but once they had, it did too.
- - -
It was lunchtime on what had so far turned out to be a quiet, ominous day.
Crashing glass and a string of curses drew all eyes around to find Ashton already on his knees trying to pick up the shards from the drinking glass he’d dropped on the kitchen floor. He gave a bit of a laugh, the sound ringing hollow with the brittle merriment he’d been attempting to maintain since he’d shown up to breakfast that morning with a frowning Declan at his side. “Clumsy goose, that’s me.” He shook his head and muttered something too low to hear, eyes focused so much on the floor that he didn’t realize….
“Ashton, stop.” Declan stood up, coming to him as he grabbed at Ash’s wrists. “You’re bleeding.”
Frowning, Ash looked at the drops of blood on his hands with a confused expression – like it being there was something he couldn’t reason. Then he said, “Oh, sorry. Didn’t feel it.”
Brian and Michael shared a look, both hearing the void that was in Ash’s voice, a kind of absence that brought their backs up.
Declan’s too it seemed, as he pulled Ash to his feet. “You must have a care,” he said, his tone so controlled. “I won’t have what’s mine damaged, Ash.” He grabbed a dishtowel and wiped away the blood. Just small cuts here and there, but the fingers would need to be wrapped. Declan put his free hand under Ashton’s chin, insisting on the man’s attention. With his other hand, he squeezed with enough pressure on the towel that Ash winced. “Is this what you need, to feel? To see clearly who and what you are?”
Ash blinked, inhaling sharply as Declan let go. His awareness stronger, as if he was closer to coming clear of the cloud that threatened his mood. “Master.” He bowed his head, pressing it against Declan’s neck. “Please.”
Declan threaded his fingers into Ashton’s hair. “Tell me. What do you need?”
“To feel, too much. So much that I fly.” He raised his head. “Help me, push me there.”
Declan held his gaze, taking his time to answer. To decide. And then with a single nod, he answered. “Go. You know what to do.”
Ash leaned in, touching his forehead to Declan’s for a moment as he breathed, “Thank you, Master.” Then he was gone.
When Declan turned their way, Brian met his gaze but not Michael. Michael’s eyes dropped, trying – and failing – to hide the worry and doubt that was there for all to see.
“He needs the release, Michael.” Declan gave him a smile, assuring, “Emotionally and physically.”
“I know, it’s just – he was so drained, and now…”
Brian stopped him, asking, “Why are you so scared of it?” When Michael looked at him with surprise, he said, “It’s what he wants. And you’ve seen him, Michael. After. Laughing, blissed out on sensation.” He knew Michael had confused Ashton’s reaction at first, the time he’d walked into their playroom thinking something was wrong. But he’d talked to them both and knew it had been happiness, not harm in Ash’s response.
“Easy. We fear what we do not know, or understand.” Declan came over. “Ash wants you to understand because it’s so much a part of him, Michael.” He crouched down in front of them, speaking to both. “It’s not something you have to want for yourselves. Being in the scene, holding the roles that you do – this is only one aspect of what’s possible. And none of them are more or less important than the rest.”
Rising up, he turned to Brian. “Do you still have the key I left?”
“Sure, why?”
“It was an invitation to use the room at any time during your stay. Why not now?”
Michael asked, “What do you mean?”
Declan looked from one to the other. “Bare witness, and be at ease.” Addressing Brian, he asked, “Is it a yes?”
Brian thought about it and then took Michael’s hand, giving it a squeeze to both reassure and reiterate his given role as control. His decision for them both made. “Very, yes.”
- - -
Half an hour found them within the playroom, and hyperaware of every whack, tap, smack and thump.
Not to mention every moan and gasp that came from Ashton as he moved under the force of Declan’s arm. The rhythm was a constant, even as the tempo changed – sped up, slowed down. Every hit, each one contacting with Ashton’s skin, a measured thing as his Master worked him like an instrument well known and used well.
Michael shifted, and then fought not to squirm as Brian held him locked back against his chest as his fingers roaming over the inseam of Michael’s jeans, doing all sorts of mischief between his thighs. As they had been since almost the start, after the two of them took up position close by. They were sitting on the floor; Brian’s back against the wall with Michael in front sitting between Brian’s legs. “Fuck,” Michael gasped, edging closer to losing it as Brian increased the pressure of his hand as it worked over the bulge of Michael’s hard-on, trapped within its denim cage.
“Not yet,” Brian breathed against his ear. “Watch. Watch and imagine how he feels. He’s going to give over and come. Just as soon as Declan tells him too.”
Michael squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, taking a breath to ground himself and then did as told. Eyes open and locked on the scene unfolding before them, becoming transfixed by it the longer he stared.
Ashton was naked and blindfolded with arms tied, spread out on either side. Standing now only by his strength of will and the danger that bending his legs would put him in. Considering how much pressure that would put on his shoulders and arms, it was an effective, though subtle, assertion of Declan’s control.
The Englishman’s back was of course off limits due to the new tattoo, but for a master like his Master – it proved no limitation. After all, there was so much more of him to play with instead that it hardly mattered. Not that he hadn’t paid proper attention to that span of flesh as well, starting the scene by slowly spreading ointment over the inked design with a care that was reverent of both the man and the meaning behind the gift.
He’d left Ash standing there, without sight and absent touch as he’d stepped away to partially undress. His cashmere jumper tossed over a nearby chair, Declan had removed all except for his black trousers. He’d rolled his shoulders and raised his arms to stretch his back before going to a cabinet close by. Inside there were almost two-dozen different implements of his skill, enough that Brian had turned and whistled softly in Michael’s ear, who could only gulp at the sight.
What surprised them both was that Declan didn’t choose one of the most common instruments to start with, a lightweight suede flogger or the like. But instead, it was a crop. The kind you’d imagine in hand if you were riding to hounds. Even Brian had gone a bit still when Declan turned around with it in hand.
But again, this was definitely Declan’s floor and he’d set to work with no hesitation.
The first tap landed dead center on the left cheek of Ashton’s ass, not a blow hard and harsh, more a sharp smack, quick and over. One meant to sting, and then burn as the second one landed. And the third, and fourth, and so on. The same spot over and over as Ash gasped, clenched his teeth and moaned through it. Cheek fully-blushed bright red, Declan pulled back – not even breathing hard. He grabbed something that looked like a white ball of fur from the cabinet, and slipped his hand inside. It was a mitten, soft to look at and apparently to feel as Ashton shivered and pressed back against it when Declan ran it over his hot skin.
Only a brief respite before Declan switched back and started in on Ashton’s other side. The same pattern, the same focus. And as Ashton’s body grew moist with sweat and the stinging tears that wet his blindfold, the crop still fell and Declan played the game. Following down his slave’s thighs, his arms and around to his nipples – the last causing Ash to yell out and jerk, whimpering as Declan followed up with the fur that was now moist from his body.
When he was trembling hard and almost insensate with wanting still more rather than the less that most people would assume – Declan drew back again. He changed things up by pulling out a new toy, a long flat black strip of leather encased in nylon. “You move so well for me, Darkling,” he said as he ran it over the line of Ashton’s hip. “For me, for them.” Declan turned his head, looking at Brian and Michael. “Can you feel their eyes on you? My eyes.” He turned back, nuzzling against Ash’s side – soothing him as his slave shook and pressed against him like he was the best and greatest high worth having. Declan smiled, “How close are you?”
“Master,” Ashton rasped out, the first true word he’d said in some time. “If it please you, so close.”
“It pleases me to know what you want; what would you have me do for you?”
Ashton gave a choked laugh, his endorphins kicking in. Then he sucked in a breath and yanked at his captured arms as he leaned his head back. He groaned, softly. “Harder. Push me over, Master. Please.”
Declan leaned in, and spoke quietly to Ash, the words lost as Brian drew Michael’s attention back with a quick sleight of hand that had Michael’s zipper down and his jeans open in the blink of an eye. “Uhmm, hot and wet.” He pushed his hand inside, not moving further – just holding Michael’s hard length cupped in his hand. “You can’t come, Mikey. Not when he does. Not until I tell you to.”
“Fuck, Bri. Don’t. Let me.” Michael shook his head, tightening his hands on Brian’s thighs as he pressed back against the answering bulge he felt against his back.
“Not a chance, now keep still and watch.”
Not that he had a choice as his eyes snapped back towards the other two men, called there by a sudden loud smack-slap sound. The kind that was louder than it was strong, but still powerful. One hard one followed by a cry as Ash shook and whispered, "Again. Please, Master." Declan angled another hit of the slapper on the other side of his bottom, the impact leaving a red mark over already blushed skin – as did all the rest that followed. "Again, yes." Another over the back of his thigh, left. Then right. Ass and thighs, over and over until Ashton was writhing under the constant motion, the sensations spilling out of his mouth in a hoarse plea as his mantra of, "Again," changed to, "Please! Master, now!"
The last so needful, yet insistent, that Declan threw the slapper on the nearest table and encircled Ashton, enfolding him in his arms from behind as he pressed against Ash's hot skin and reached around to touch him. To stroke and jerk him just right, just so with wild words in Ashton's ear as the man's pleasure slammed into him with a force that would have taken him off his feet had Declan not been there to hold him through it.
And there it was again, the reaction that Michael had glimpsed before. Ashton a jumbled wreck of laughter and tears. But unlike before, Michael could see it was something his friend reveled in as Declan touched him, held him and told him he was valued and adored.
Eased free both literally and figuratively from the ties that bound him, Ashton flowed against Declan who supported him as he turned towards Dec and came to rest his head on his Master’s shoulder. He wrapped his arms around Dec’s waist, the two of them swaying gently as if listening to song only they shared. A pull and Declan had the blindfold off Ash’s face, and then he turned his head and kissed him. Kissed him and ran his fingertips down Ash’s behind and thighs as Ashton gasped, hissed and laughed against Declan’s lips.
“They’re… ” Michael paused, turning to see Brian. He didn’t know the words to say; it was as if the moment was more than words could hold. Instead, Michael pressed his forehead to Brian’s and held his eyes as the breath of each man warming the other’s mouth. Unhurried, his own arousal taking a back seat as he just *was* – content in a way he hadn’t known he could be having seen what he’d seen. But now he knew that he understood, and that made all the difference.
And there both couples remained, intimately in the moment – each in different ways.
Each happy to be in this place made freer because of the one he held, and who held him in turn.
- - -
“Shift it, Misha! He’s waiting,” Ash called over his shoulder as he quickly dodged past people who were trying to head for work.
London in the early morning, cold and dimly lit – but still so atmospheric for the visitor in its mists. A visitor that was having trouble keeping up with the revitalized Ashton Forster, who had been bouncing off the walls awake before all the rest of them, making plans for their day. A day without Brian or Declan, one meant just for “the kid in our hearts.”
Phrasing that had Michael wondering if it may have also been for the child in Ash’s memory, as well.
But he didn’t ask, too happy to see Ash smiling and teasing like it was any other day.
Any other day that included being dragged out of bed and across town to the *perfect* bakery for just the right sweets before going by black cab to Adelaide Street near Trafalgar Square.
And all because Ashton was being mysterious about having breakfast with some mystery man.
“Wait up! What’s this guy’s name again?”
Ashton stopped, and did a quick turn as Michael tried to avoid running into him. Grinning, the smile on his face matching the one in his eyes, Ash handed him the bag from the bakery. “Oscar Wilde.”
Michael shook his head, laughing incredulously. “Where are we going, a library?”
“Aww, bad gay boy. No.” Ash turned around, and waved towards something that Michael hadn’t noticed when they’d stopped. “Misha, meet my friend Oscar.”
To their left, only a few feet away was something that looked like a bench. Green granite – oddly shaped but as they got closer, Michael could see why. It was similar in design to one of the sarcophagi in the Brit-Mu. At the foot was inscribed, “A Conversation With Oscar Wilde – 1845-1900.” At the head….
At the head was Oscar Wilde. Or rather, a bronze three-dimensional artist’s rendering of him rising from the granite monument with flair and a smile. He even had a raised hand complete with cigarette.
The other added touch being an inscription. The words, Oscar Wilde’s own. “We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."
Ash walked around, and spread out lengthwise on his side before giving Michael a wink. “This is one of my favorite spots in London.” Sitting up, he reached for Michael’s arm. “Come have a sit with us. Oscar’s always good at lending an ear.”
While his friend got busy pulling out one of the pastries they’d brought with, Michael sat down and looked around. “This is weird. Feels like we’re sitting on his coffin.”
Ash laughed around a mouthful of sweet, then swallowed it down and said, “It’s actually meant to be interactive art. Obviously it’s a monument, but the artist, Maggi Hambling, wanted the viewer to be a part of the piece. So even now, sitting here having breakfast with a friend – we’re a part of his history and he’s a part of ours.”
“You artistic types, always so clever,” Michael laughed.
“Says the writer of a successful comic book.”
They spent a pleasant hour people watching, talking, eating and having a laugh. And not a little teasing as Michael dared to mention his chief question of the day, “How in the hell are you able to sit after yesterday?”
“Misha, love. I could ask you the same thing – for entirely different reasons.”
“Ash!”
“Oh ho, there it is. The color in your cheeks matches the color of mine, before the red went out.” Ashton laughed, loud and free – never even caring when heads turned as passersby were on their way to somewhere other and else. He calmed soon enough, answering Michael. “He cares for me, afterwards. Bathing, massaging and napping. And the burn disappears, until it’s more of an ache. I’m not bruised, but I’m tender to the touch. Doesn’t hurt; it just reminds me – in a good way, that I’m his. And that is a wonder to me, no matter how many years go by.”
Wonderment at his place in another man’s life, it was a feeling that Michael was intimately familiar with – to a separate degree. Brian’s limelight cast a shadow under which he’d oft times found himself in the shade, though now it warmed him from the inside as well as the out.
They finished their treats, although Michael had a time of it trying to keep a straight face when Ash kept making sticky finger jokes – mock whispering them into the bronze Oscar’s ear.
“Right then,” Ash popped up and checked his mobile for the time. “Declan should have Brian off by now. He’ll get an eyeful,” he said with a wink at Michael. They both knew where their men were headed for the day, a private exhibition by one of Declan’s friends in the art of Kinbaku, Japanese sexual rope bondage.
Michael snorted, “More like he’ll be one step closer to receiving his knot tying badge.” The invitation had been extended to him and Brian, but after the last couple of days Michael had bowed out of it. His care taking instincts were still in full force when it came to Ashton, hence why they were headed off to have a day of silliness and fun. Lost boys on a lark. “But I’m calling foal if he tries to truss me up from the ceiling.”
“Well, you have to admit. It’d be a look.” Ash snarked, sidestepping Michael’s playful shove.
- - -
“Smile for the birdie!”
“More like quack for the duck,” Michael laughed, getting more tickled as Ash continued taking pictures of him standing beside their latest mode of transport. He looked behind him again. “Where do you come up with these things?”
“Live here long enough, and you’ll see the strangest things passing you by,” Ash answered. “This just happened to be one of the more memorable.”
Memorable seemed an understatement considering they were standing in front of a bright yellow and blue painted tour bus that looked like a hybrid boat on wheels. The herald and hallmark of the Official London Duck Tours Company. The vehicle, one of five apparently, had originally been one of the amphibious DUKWs used to transport troops ashore during the D-Day siege. Now, it had been reborn as one of the more gawktastic touring vehicles that Michael had ever seen. Who needed a red double-decker when you could ride a Duck?
“It’s one of my guilty pleasures,” Ashton admitted as Michael stepped aboard with him, the two of them finding seats readily in the intimate setting of its 30-occupant capacity.
“I’m happy you wanted to share it with me; it sounds like an adventure.”
“Sightseeing by land and Thames, it’s a laugh to be sure.”
A laugh, indeed, one that continued to lighten their day and Ashton’s mood as they enjoyed the sights, the expressions on the faces of the folks they passed and the stories the tour guide had to tell. If it wasn’t Michael’s awe as he looked up at the soaring beauty of Westminster Abbey paired with the majesty of Parliament, Big Ben and the Eye in the distance, it was them cracking jokes about passing Buckingham Palace on a yellow duck mobile.
But it was the sudden unbidden whoop that Michael released when the vehicle first hit the water that had Ashton cackling so hard he got slapped on the shoulder. “Shut up!”
“Your face! Priceless, hold still for the birdie.” *flash*
Experiencing London by river, now that was fun! “God, can you imagine all this at night with the lights shining?” Michael kept looking all around, left and right – grabbing the camera from Ash so he could try and capture just some of the amazing things surrounding them.
“Why imagine? We could take a nighttime cruise around, the four of us. Could be an idea, yeah? After dinner tonight.”
Michael never turned from the view, enjoying the motion of the water as he smiled. “Definitely, yes.”
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 11
- - - - - - -
The cab was caught up in traffic, much to the frustration of both its paying passengers. It just seemed like every light was plotting against them getting back faster than they were. The atmosphere inside was tense with Michael staring down at the floor and Brian out the window.
"He's never mentioned any of his family," Brian said. Ashton had been so open about everything to do with his lifestyle and his nature; it just seemed off to realize that the whole while, he'd been silent on something so basic.
"Yeah," Michael answered, rubbing his hands over his denim clad knees. Even that one word sounded guilty. Some friend, right? He could remember asking whether Ash's family knew about his lifestyle, but he'd never thought to ask anything past that. Ashton had said no at the time. On reflection, it was all he'd ever said in the way of family outside of his life with Declan and his extended circle of friends. "Must be bad, if it made him feel that way."
Brian didn't answer, knowing all too well how bad a bad family could be.
When they got out of the lift, it was to find the lights off everywhere but in the kitchen. The large room was empty, save for one lone figure sitting at the breakfast table.
“Declan?” Michael came in, stopping when he saw the bottle sitting on the table and the cut crystal glass in their host’s hand.
Brian took in the same view and went around to the other side of the table. He pulled up a chair, turning it so he could sit astride. “Where’s Ash?”
“Sleeping.” Declan took the last swallow, tilting the bottle to fill the glass to half way again. “He won’t be up until tomorrow.” A pause, and then he signed. “Had to sedate him, otherwise he’d drive himself on and on – pacing. Remembering. Awake or in dreams.”
Brian nodded, Michael sitting beside him as he mentioned, “He told me that he sleepwalks.”
“Gets worse when he’d upset,” Declan agreed. He took a long swallow then hissed as it burned down his throat. Pushing the glass away, he leaned back in his chair and looked at them. “He’ll be nervous tomorrow. Fidgety. Like he’s got all this energy under his skin that he can’t expel.”
Michael hugged his arms around his waist, an old gesture of insecurity that they’d been seeing less of until now. “He just went so….”
“Still. Quiet.” Declan interjected. “He hasn't done that in almost four years.”
Brian heard the anger in his friend’s voice. It was an emotion he was rather familiar with, all things considered. “What did she do?”
“What didn’t she do?” Declan answered. He looked at the bottle again, but then shook his head and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “This’ll take awhile, and I haven’t eaten since this morning. So I’m opting for Thai. Michael if you’d do the honors and call it in, then I’ll get into it, yeah?”
Once the order had been placed, they settled in the living room. Declan tugged his legs under himself, as he got as comfortable as the current topic would allow. “Ash couldn’t have had more polar opposite parents than Charles and Elin. He was a smile and a laugh, always full of good humor and a welcoming spirit. She was the product of a strict home, reserved and serious. Pretty in her youth, but did nothing to support it so now she looks worn and… ” He didn’t finish, pausing as if trying to find the right word.
“Bitter.” Michael said. “She looked plain and bitter.”
“Well, there – as you say,” Declan agreed. “She had a hard upbringing, lout of a weak-willed father and an overbearing mother. So she did what she could quick enough to leave it behind. Charles and one wedding ring later, she found herself in a small flat, still a teenager – living off her husband’s meager wage and pregnant with Ash.” A small smile touched his lips, the first he’d had since they’d come back. “Charles loved his son so much, and was so loved by him in return. Elin had Ashton’s sister, Katherine, three years into their marriage. And while Katie was everyone’s dear, Ash was his father’s joy. I think Elin resented that, largely.”
He looked thoughtful, then said, “From what he's told me of Charles, Aston is so very much his father’s son. I’m glad that they had time to share before Charles passed. If he hadn’t, if Charles had died sooner than he did and left Ash in her care while his personality was still forming – I don’t think he would have come my way.”
Brian glanced at Michael, the two of them sharing a moment that spoke of their own pasts. Neither of them had any experience of having had a father whose world revolved around them. Vic had come close, for the short while he would come in and out of their lives. But it was hardly the same. As for the mother – Brian looked away. It was sounding rather too familiar.
“How old was he when….”
Declan finished for him, “When Charles died? Fifteen. Aneurysm, sudden and quick when he was at work. And just like that, Ashton’s whole world changed. His mother withdrew; she was a part of their lives but never truly there for either of her children emotionally. She just wouldn't or couldn't connect without Charles there to play mediator."
He straightened his legs and stood, pacing as he continued. "More and more, Ash had to care for his sister – from homework to laundry – acting as father in Charles’ stead. He tried to fill the void in her life that he couldn’t in his own. But at the same time, he was so lost. Eventually it got to be too much and that's when he started delving into ways to escape the havoc in his life when he wasn’t at home. Experimenting with sex, and then into the scene. Always keeping it hidden from his mother and sister. It was like he was living another life."
Brian nodded, telling Michael to the side, "Been there, done that." They'd both done a bit of hiding in their everyday lives – Brian from his parents and Michael from his former co-workers.
Declan agreed, "To a degree, we all do it. Ashton just tends to take things a step further than most."
"Seems understandable so far," Michael said. Probably more so once they'd heard the rest.
"It was a pattern. Elin ran towards marriage, which ended in disappointment and widowhood. Ash ran towards the scene, and started playing too far much too fast. And Katie – she ran to her first boyfriend who skipped town as soon as he heard she was pregnant." Declan sighed, "But unlike their mother, Ash and Katie turned their negatives into positives. Ash when he came to me, and Katie as soon as she held her daughter in her arms. Little Lola," he said, voice full of happiness and something so sad combined. "He always said if ever a child could hold your heart in her hand with just a smile...."
He stopped and looked down, lost for a moment in memory. When next he spoke, it was forced, like he was pushing past emotions that were thick as – well, a London fog. “Elin threw Katherine out when she found out about the pregnancy, so she came to live with Ash while he was scraping by in university. They managed, created a home for Lola despite everything. But then Ash went on holiday with a friend for a week in Edinburgh.” Declan inhaled slowly, running his hand over his mouth and down his chin. “He came home to an empty apartment. He called all sorts looking for Katie, and then he contacted the police. Found out there had been, that she was – she’d been hit by a car on the way from work the day after he’d left. Breaks gave in the rain; she died almost instantly.”
“God,” Michael shook his head. That was brutal.
“Wait,” Brian stood. “The day after? And no one tried to leave word? None of their friends or the cops?”
“The friends hadn’t been told, and the police did what they always do. They contacted her nearest relative.”
“Fuck. Elin.” Brian cursed.
“Exactly. Who did nothing to tell her own son that his sister had died. She’d already had her cremated, with no service.”
Michael drew his legs up on the cough, hugging his knees. “What about Lola?”
Declan nodded, the answer clear on his face and in the way he was clenching his hand into a fist. “Elin, again. Sussed out the daycare from the card in Katie’s purse and played the dutiful grandmother who had to pick up the toddler because her daughter had been delayed at work. When Ash called them, the attendant who’d talked with his mum had quit two days after Elin left. And the role call roaster for the day Katie died just showed, ‘released to family member’ – with no other details. He was half mad by then. So he called Elin.”
Losing his cool and letting the anger show, Declan continued, “The bitch told him that Lola was no longer his concern, and then hung up on him. When he tried to come by her house to reason with her, she called the police on him. When he tried to get assistance in gaining visitation, her barrister got his case denied due to her son’s ‘amoral lifestyle’.” Declan looked at them, “He hadn’t even known she knew he was gay.”
Brian sank down onto the sofa beside Michael, staring at Declan – his expression harsh. “What did Ash do after that?”
“He exhausted his avenues, and then himself. He became despondent, played too hard and dropped out of school because he couldn’t function.” Unconsciously, Declan pushed his jumper sleeve up and ran his fingers down the tattoo on his arm. “He hadn’t seen Lola for almost a year by the time we met. To say he was wounded and raw is an understatement. I just didn’t know the reason why at the time.”
Michael leaned against Brian, taking his hand as they sat there trying to process everything they’d heard. He thought back to Ashton’s face when he’d seen his mother earlier that day. The image in his head only added to his sense of dread so he asked, “There’s more to tell, isn’t there? Something even worse.”
“Yes, Michael. Something worse,” Declan said, and then jerked when the buzzer sounded from downstairs. He bit his lip, and then sighed as he went to answer the intercom. “Food’s here. Back in a minute.”
Once he’d gone down in the lift, Michael turned to Brian. “Shit.”
Brian pulled him in, letting Michael hug him hard. “Wonderful world, isn’t it?”
Michael just nodded, his face staying pressed against Brian’s chest until he heard the lift doors open a few minutes later. Brian and Michael got up to help Declan in the kitchen as he went through the motions of setting up for dinner. None of them said anything about the dubiousness of their appetites given the current topic, but the smell of the food reminded them quickly enough that none of them had had much in the way of proper food that day.
Declan asked, “Eat now, details later – okay.” He sounded almost as tired as Ashton had looked.
Chalking it up to the Italian in him, Michael did manage to eat some despite everything. As did Brian and Declan – though the latter only finished half his food before he started talking again. “About five years ago, Ash’s Grandmother contacted him. She told him that Lola was in hospital; she had leukemia. Her doctors were asking all close family members to be tested to see if they could be potential bone marrow donors. The decision to call him had not been a popular one with Elin, you can believe. Ash asked to see Lola, but was refused again.”
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “That was a hard, hard time. He told his Gran that he would gladly donate, no strings. And even that proved a waiting game because it was Elin's decision, and she wasn’t agreeing to shit. Her mother added pressure until she agreed. Ashton and I went in, and he had it done – expecting *not* to see her. But his Gran met us on our way out, and took his hand. She sneaked him in, and for shortest ten minutes of his life – he stood over Lola’s bed and watched her sleep.”
Declan stopped, reaching again for the bottle he'd abandoned earlier. A couple heavy swallows and he winced, passing it to Brian. "That's my limit done for now. Tomorrow's going to be intense enough without adding a hangover."
"That's a fucking understatement," Brian agreed, but took a couple slugs regardless.
Michael frowned, picking absently at his food with little interest, too focused on the details of Ashton's past. "You said that was five years back, and that you left England for a new start around four years ago. What happened to Lola?"
Declan reached over and squeezed his hand, then pulled away. "She had the operation, and for awhile things looked promising. But Ash's mum still wouldn't budge, so he didn't get to see his niece again while she was getting well. After awhile, his Gran stopped telling him things because Elin threatened to cut her off from Lola, too. But still, he was happy that he'd been able to help. He felt like he was more a part of Lola than ever. That was his consolation."
He shook his head, clearing his throat as he strained to finish. "But then months later, it got worse. And again Elin kept it from him. She never said a word. He didn't," he paused, finally managing to say what Michael had felt was coming and had been most dreading. "He didn't know that Lola had died until two days afterward when his Gran left an envelope at the front desk downstairs. It had a short note, explaining that she'd passed. And a packet of photos – Lola at different ages, smiling with shining eyes and dimples in her cheeks. I found him sitting on the floor, motionless with them spilled all around him. As quiet and still as you said he was today."
Michael wiped at his wet eyes, his heart aching for all that his friend had suffered. "I don't understand how a mother, how *anyone* can treat someone with such cruelty. Ash’s mother,” he looked from Declan to Brian. “Your mother. It’s just fucking unnatural.”
Brian bit back his usual response when his mother was mentioned, which was distain and anger. Instead he nodded towards Michael while speaking to Declan. “Says the man with the biggest heart in the room.”
“Doesn’t he just,” Declan agreed. “But given the world, he’s beautifully refreshing.”
“Always has been,” Brian said, as Michael rose to put away the leftovers. Turning his attention back to Declan, he asked, “How do you want us to handle tomorrow? Stay out of the way, or clear out so you two have some space?”
“No, stay. Be here. It’ll help him focus on something else,” Declan assured him. “He’ll be alright; it’s just that seeing her brought all the pain back like a blow when his defenses were down. He’s so strong, my Ash. He’s had to be, one loss after another. And it’s never dulled his shine. I won’t ever have that happen, if it’s in my power to prevent.”
Brian took the bottle and raised it high. “With you at his back and by his side, may he ever glint the sun and glow the moon.”
Declan smiled as Brian drank to seal the toast. Looking more relaxed then he had all evening, he teased with something like his old self, “You *are* Irish.”
- - -
“You're thinking too loudly, Mikey.” Brian spoke in the darkness of their room. It had to be the middle of the night, and Michael was not sleeping. Which meant neither was Brian.
It was something he hadn't thought about really. How similar their sleep patterns had become.
Michael turned towards him, and moved closer. Resting his head against Brian's shoulder, he said, "Sorry, just – I don't know."
Brian rolled over, pulling Michael against him in the dark until the two of them were lying on their sides with their heads on the same pillow. "You're worried."
"Course. But it’s more that I'm angry. I feel so bad that they just had this wonderful day, and then wham. She just saps it out of him with a look.”
“Mikey, don’t. She’s only as powerful as you allow her to be. Let it go.”
Michael sighed, nodding as he lay there with his eyes closed. He tried to drift under on the sound of Brian’s breathing and the warmth of his body. But he just couldn’t slip into sleep. “My brain won’t shut off,” he whispered, moving restlessly. Finally on the verge of giving up and getting up, Michael gasped in surprise when Brian suddenly grabbed his thigh and jerked it up so that they were angled groin to groin. “Ohhh. Fuck.”
“Precisely.”
Sleep was a long time in coming, but once they had, it did too.
- - -
It was lunchtime on what had so far turned out to be a quiet, ominous day.
Crashing glass and a string of curses drew all eyes around to find Ashton already on his knees trying to pick up the shards from the drinking glass he’d dropped on the kitchen floor. He gave a bit of a laugh, the sound ringing hollow with the brittle merriment he’d been attempting to maintain since he’d shown up to breakfast that morning with a frowning Declan at his side. “Clumsy goose, that’s me.” He shook his head and muttered something too low to hear, eyes focused so much on the floor that he didn’t realize….
“Ashton, stop.” Declan stood up, coming to him as he grabbed at Ash’s wrists. “You’re bleeding.”
Frowning, Ash looked at the drops of blood on his hands with a confused expression – like it being there was something he couldn’t reason. Then he said, “Oh, sorry. Didn’t feel it.”
Brian and Michael shared a look, both hearing the void that was in Ash’s voice, a kind of absence that brought their backs up.
Declan’s too it seemed, as he pulled Ash to his feet. “You must have a care,” he said, his tone so controlled. “I won’t have what’s mine damaged, Ash.” He grabbed a dishtowel and wiped away the blood. Just small cuts here and there, but the fingers would need to be wrapped. Declan put his free hand under Ashton’s chin, insisting on the man’s attention. With his other hand, he squeezed with enough pressure on the towel that Ash winced. “Is this what you need, to feel? To see clearly who and what you are?”
Ash blinked, inhaling sharply as Declan let go. His awareness stronger, as if he was closer to coming clear of the cloud that threatened his mood. “Master.” He bowed his head, pressing it against Declan’s neck. “Please.”
Declan threaded his fingers into Ashton’s hair. “Tell me. What do you need?”
“To feel, too much. So much that I fly.” He raised his head. “Help me, push me there.”
Declan held his gaze, taking his time to answer. To decide. And then with a single nod, he answered. “Go. You know what to do.”
Ash leaned in, touching his forehead to Declan’s for a moment as he breathed, “Thank you, Master.” Then he was gone.
When Declan turned their way, Brian met his gaze but not Michael. Michael’s eyes dropped, trying – and failing – to hide the worry and doubt that was there for all to see.
“He needs the release, Michael.” Declan gave him a smile, assuring, “Emotionally and physically.”
“I know, it’s just – he was so drained, and now…”
Brian stopped him, asking, “Why are you so scared of it?” When Michael looked at him with surprise, he said, “It’s what he wants. And you’ve seen him, Michael. After. Laughing, blissed out on sensation.” He knew Michael had confused Ashton’s reaction at first, the time he’d walked into their playroom thinking something was wrong. But he’d talked to them both and knew it had been happiness, not harm in Ash’s response.
“Easy. We fear what we do not know, or understand.” Declan came over. “Ash wants you to understand because it’s so much a part of him, Michael.” He crouched down in front of them, speaking to both. “It’s not something you have to want for yourselves. Being in the scene, holding the roles that you do – this is only one aspect of what’s possible. And none of them are more or less important than the rest.”
Rising up, he turned to Brian. “Do you still have the key I left?”
“Sure, why?”
“It was an invitation to use the room at any time during your stay. Why not now?”
Michael asked, “What do you mean?”
Declan looked from one to the other. “Bare witness, and be at ease.” Addressing Brian, he asked, “Is it a yes?”
Brian thought about it and then took Michael’s hand, giving it a squeeze to both reassure and reiterate his given role as control. His decision for them both made. “Very, yes.”
- - -
Half an hour found them within the playroom, and hyperaware of every whack, tap, smack and thump.
Not to mention every moan and gasp that came from Ashton as he moved under the force of Declan’s arm. The rhythm was a constant, even as the tempo changed – sped up, slowed down. Every hit, each one contacting with Ashton’s skin, a measured thing as his Master worked him like an instrument well known and used well.
Michael shifted, and then fought not to squirm as Brian held him locked back against his chest as his fingers roaming over the inseam of Michael’s jeans, doing all sorts of mischief between his thighs. As they had been since almost the start, after the two of them took up position close by. They were sitting on the floor; Brian’s back against the wall with Michael in front sitting between Brian’s legs. “Fuck,” Michael gasped, edging closer to losing it as Brian increased the pressure of his hand as it worked over the bulge of Michael’s hard-on, trapped within its denim cage.
“Not yet,” Brian breathed against his ear. “Watch. Watch and imagine how he feels. He’s going to give over and come. Just as soon as Declan tells him too.”
Michael squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, taking a breath to ground himself and then did as told. Eyes open and locked on the scene unfolding before them, becoming transfixed by it the longer he stared.
Ashton was naked and blindfolded with arms tied, spread out on either side. Standing now only by his strength of will and the danger that bending his legs would put him in. Considering how much pressure that would put on his shoulders and arms, it was an effective, though subtle, assertion of Declan’s control.
The Englishman’s back was of course off limits due to the new tattoo, but for a master like his Master – it proved no limitation. After all, there was so much more of him to play with instead that it hardly mattered. Not that he hadn’t paid proper attention to that span of flesh as well, starting the scene by slowly spreading ointment over the inked design with a care that was reverent of both the man and the meaning behind the gift.
He’d left Ash standing there, without sight and absent touch as he’d stepped away to partially undress. His cashmere jumper tossed over a nearby chair, Declan had removed all except for his black trousers. He’d rolled his shoulders and raised his arms to stretch his back before going to a cabinet close by. Inside there were almost two-dozen different implements of his skill, enough that Brian had turned and whistled softly in Michael’s ear, who could only gulp at the sight.
What surprised them both was that Declan didn’t choose one of the most common instruments to start with, a lightweight suede flogger or the like. But instead, it was a crop. The kind you’d imagine in hand if you were riding to hounds. Even Brian had gone a bit still when Declan turned around with it in hand.
But again, this was definitely Declan’s floor and he’d set to work with no hesitation.
The first tap landed dead center on the left cheek of Ashton’s ass, not a blow hard and harsh, more a sharp smack, quick and over. One meant to sting, and then burn as the second one landed. And the third, and fourth, and so on. The same spot over and over as Ash gasped, clenched his teeth and moaned through it. Cheek fully-blushed bright red, Declan pulled back – not even breathing hard. He grabbed something that looked like a white ball of fur from the cabinet, and slipped his hand inside. It was a mitten, soft to look at and apparently to feel as Ashton shivered and pressed back against it when Declan ran it over his hot skin.
Only a brief respite before Declan switched back and started in on Ashton’s other side. The same pattern, the same focus. And as Ashton’s body grew moist with sweat and the stinging tears that wet his blindfold, the crop still fell and Declan played the game. Following down his slave’s thighs, his arms and around to his nipples – the last causing Ash to yell out and jerk, whimpering as Declan followed up with the fur that was now moist from his body.
When he was trembling hard and almost insensate with wanting still more rather than the less that most people would assume – Declan drew back again. He changed things up by pulling out a new toy, a long flat black strip of leather encased in nylon. “You move so well for me, Darkling,” he said as he ran it over the line of Ashton’s hip. “For me, for them.” Declan turned his head, looking at Brian and Michael. “Can you feel their eyes on you? My eyes.” He turned back, nuzzling against Ash’s side – soothing him as his slave shook and pressed against him like he was the best and greatest high worth having. Declan smiled, “How close are you?”
“Master,” Ashton rasped out, the first true word he’d said in some time. “If it please you, so close.”
“It pleases me to know what you want; what would you have me do for you?”
Ashton gave a choked laugh, his endorphins kicking in. Then he sucked in a breath and yanked at his captured arms as he leaned his head back. He groaned, softly. “Harder. Push me over, Master. Please.”
Declan leaned in, and spoke quietly to Ash, the words lost as Brian drew Michael’s attention back with a quick sleight of hand that had Michael’s zipper down and his jeans open in the blink of an eye. “Uhmm, hot and wet.” He pushed his hand inside, not moving further – just holding Michael’s hard length cupped in his hand. “You can’t come, Mikey. Not when he does. Not until I tell you to.”
“Fuck, Bri. Don’t. Let me.” Michael shook his head, tightening his hands on Brian’s thighs as he pressed back against the answering bulge he felt against his back.
“Not a chance, now keep still and watch.”
Not that he had a choice as his eyes snapped back towards the other two men, called there by a sudden loud smack-slap sound. The kind that was louder than it was strong, but still powerful. One hard one followed by a cry as Ash shook and whispered, "Again. Please, Master." Declan angled another hit of the slapper on the other side of his bottom, the impact leaving a red mark over already blushed skin – as did all the rest that followed. "Again, yes." Another over the back of his thigh, left. Then right. Ass and thighs, over and over until Ashton was writhing under the constant motion, the sensations spilling out of his mouth in a hoarse plea as his mantra of, "Again," changed to, "Please! Master, now!"
The last so needful, yet insistent, that Declan threw the slapper on the nearest table and encircled Ashton, enfolding him in his arms from behind as he pressed against Ash's hot skin and reached around to touch him. To stroke and jerk him just right, just so with wild words in Ashton's ear as the man's pleasure slammed into him with a force that would have taken him off his feet had Declan not been there to hold him through it.
And there it was again, the reaction that Michael had glimpsed before. Ashton a jumbled wreck of laughter and tears. But unlike before, Michael could see it was something his friend reveled in as Declan touched him, held him and told him he was valued and adored.
Eased free both literally and figuratively from the ties that bound him, Ashton flowed against Declan who supported him as he turned towards Dec and came to rest his head on his Master’s shoulder. He wrapped his arms around Dec’s waist, the two of them swaying gently as if listening to song only they shared. A pull and Declan had the blindfold off Ash’s face, and then he turned his head and kissed him. Kissed him and ran his fingertips down Ash’s behind and thighs as Ashton gasped, hissed and laughed against Declan’s lips.
“They’re… ” Michael paused, turning to see Brian. He didn’t know the words to say; it was as if the moment was more than words could hold. Instead, Michael pressed his forehead to Brian’s and held his eyes as the breath of each man warming the other’s mouth. Unhurried, his own arousal taking a back seat as he just *was* – content in a way he hadn’t known he could be having seen what he’d seen. But now he knew that he understood, and that made all the difference.
And there both couples remained, intimately in the moment – each in different ways.
Each happy to be in this place made freer because of the one he held, and who held him in turn.
- - -
“Shift it, Misha! He’s waiting,” Ash called over his shoulder as he quickly dodged past people who were trying to head for work.
London in the early morning, cold and dimly lit – but still so atmospheric for the visitor in its mists. A visitor that was having trouble keeping up with the revitalized Ashton Forster, who had been bouncing off the walls awake before all the rest of them, making plans for their day. A day without Brian or Declan, one meant just for “the kid in our hearts.”
Phrasing that had Michael wondering if it may have also been for the child in Ash’s memory, as well.
But he didn’t ask, too happy to see Ash smiling and teasing like it was any other day.
Any other day that included being dragged out of bed and across town to the *perfect* bakery for just the right sweets before going by black cab to Adelaide Street near Trafalgar Square.
And all because Ashton was being mysterious about having breakfast with some mystery man.
“Wait up! What’s this guy’s name again?”
Ashton stopped, and did a quick turn as Michael tried to avoid running into him. Grinning, the smile on his face matching the one in his eyes, Ash handed him the bag from the bakery. “Oscar Wilde.”
Michael shook his head, laughing incredulously. “Where are we going, a library?”
“Aww, bad gay boy. No.” Ash turned around, and waved towards something that Michael hadn’t noticed when they’d stopped. “Misha, meet my friend Oscar.”
To their left, only a few feet away was something that looked like a bench. Green granite – oddly shaped but as they got closer, Michael could see why. It was similar in design to one of the sarcophagi in the Brit-Mu. At the foot was inscribed, “A Conversation With Oscar Wilde – 1845-1900.” At the head….
At the head was Oscar Wilde. Or rather, a bronze three-dimensional artist’s rendering of him rising from the granite monument with flair and a smile. He even had a raised hand complete with cigarette.
The other added touch being an inscription. The words, Oscar Wilde’s own. “We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."
Ash walked around, and spread out lengthwise on his side before giving Michael a wink. “This is one of my favorite spots in London.” Sitting up, he reached for Michael’s arm. “Come have a sit with us. Oscar’s always good at lending an ear.”
While his friend got busy pulling out one of the pastries they’d brought with, Michael sat down and looked around. “This is weird. Feels like we’re sitting on his coffin.”
Ash laughed around a mouthful of sweet, then swallowed it down and said, “It’s actually meant to be interactive art. Obviously it’s a monument, but the artist, Maggi Hambling, wanted the viewer to be a part of the piece. So even now, sitting here having breakfast with a friend – we’re a part of his history and he’s a part of ours.”
“You artistic types, always so clever,” Michael laughed.
“Says the writer of a successful comic book.”
They spent a pleasant hour people watching, talking, eating and having a laugh. And not a little teasing as Michael dared to mention his chief question of the day, “How in the hell are you able to sit after yesterday?”
“Misha, love. I could ask you the same thing – for entirely different reasons.”
“Ash!”
“Oh ho, there it is. The color in your cheeks matches the color of mine, before the red went out.” Ashton laughed, loud and free – never even caring when heads turned as passersby were on their way to somewhere other and else. He calmed soon enough, answering Michael. “He cares for me, afterwards. Bathing, massaging and napping. And the burn disappears, until it’s more of an ache. I’m not bruised, but I’m tender to the touch. Doesn’t hurt; it just reminds me – in a good way, that I’m his. And that is a wonder to me, no matter how many years go by.”
Wonderment at his place in another man’s life, it was a feeling that Michael was intimately familiar with – to a separate degree. Brian’s limelight cast a shadow under which he’d oft times found himself in the shade, though now it warmed him from the inside as well as the out.
They finished their treats, although Michael had a time of it trying to keep a straight face when Ash kept making sticky finger jokes – mock whispering them into the bronze Oscar’s ear.
“Right then,” Ash popped up and checked his mobile for the time. “Declan should have Brian off by now. He’ll get an eyeful,” he said with a wink at Michael. They both knew where their men were headed for the day, a private exhibition by one of Declan’s friends in the art of Kinbaku, Japanese sexual rope bondage.
Michael snorted, “More like he’ll be one step closer to receiving his knot tying badge.” The invitation had been extended to him and Brian, but after the last couple of days Michael had bowed out of it. His care taking instincts were still in full force when it came to Ashton, hence why they were headed off to have a day of silliness and fun. Lost boys on a lark. “But I’m calling foal if he tries to truss me up from the ceiling.”
“Well, you have to admit. It’d be a look.” Ash snarked, sidestepping Michael’s playful shove.
- - -
“Smile for the birdie!”
“More like quack for the duck,” Michael laughed, getting more tickled as Ash continued taking pictures of him standing beside their latest mode of transport. He looked behind him again. “Where do you come up with these things?”
“Live here long enough, and you’ll see the strangest things passing you by,” Ash answered. “This just happened to be one of the more memorable.”
Memorable seemed an understatement considering they were standing in front of a bright yellow and blue painted tour bus that looked like a hybrid boat on wheels. The herald and hallmark of the Official London Duck Tours Company. The vehicle, one of five apparently, had originally been one of the amphibious DUKWs used to transport troops ashore during the D-Day siege. Now, it had been reborn as one of the more gawktastic touring vehicles that Michael had ever seen. Who needed a red double-decker when you could ride a Duck?
“It’s one of my guilty pleasures,” Ashton admitted as Michael stepped aboard with him, the two of them finding seats readily in the intimate setting of its 30-occupant capacity.
“I’m happy you wanted to share it with me; it sounds like an adventure.”
“Sightseeing by land and Thames, it’s a laugh to be sure.”
A laugh, indeed, one that continued to lighten their day and Ashton’s mood as they enjoyed the sights, the expressions on the faces of the folks they passed and the stories the tour guide had to tell. If it wasn’t Michael’s awe as he looked up at the soaring beauty of Westminster Abbey paired with the majesty of Parliament, Big Ben and the Eye in the distance, it was them cracking jokes about passing Buckingham Palace on a yellow duck mobile.
But it was the sudden unbidden whoop that Michael released when the vehicle first hit the water that had Ashton cackling so hard he got slapped on the shoulder. “Shut up!”
“Your face! Priceless, hold still for the birdie.” *flash*
Experiencing London by river, now that was fun! “God, can you imagine all this at night with the lights shining?” Michael kept looking all around, left and right – grabbing the camera from Ash so he could try and capture just some of the amazing things surrounding them.
“Why imagine? We could take a nighttime cruise around, the four of us. Could be an idea, yeah? After dinner tonight.”
Michael never turned from the view, enjoying the motion of the water as he smiled. “Definitely, yes.”
TBC...
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