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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 14
- - - - - - -
"Do *not* tell me you just suggested the man get his tattoo done in 'Wingdings' script." Declan admonished Hugh, as the larger man sat at his computer while Brian and Michael were watching him play with elements for the final design. The man had software that would make some of Ryder's art department turn envy-green.
Amused, Hugh just gave his friend a shrug and didn't say anything else until Ash's laughter broke through his control and he let it loose. "It'd be one hell of a topic for conversation, you have to admit."
Brian popped Hugh on the head and then hugged his arms around Michael. "Ignore them."
Not embarrassed, much – Michael nodded as he pressed back against his lover. "Yes, sir." He didn’t mind the teasing; it was actually helping to distract him from his small fit of nerves. It wasn’t that he was second-guessing his choice. It was that he didn’t know how he’d respond to the pain. He’d only asked Ashton a half dozen times how it would feel. Or rather how bad it might get. His friend had sought to reassure him that it was tolerable, and then over, with a sense of passage achieved. As rites often were.
Hugh had talked with Brian beforehand about where the tattoo was to be placed, so all that was left was for Michael to approve the final look and then it was time for the reveal.
“So we have before,” Hugh said, opening a file that showcased a three-dimensional outline of a male body from the shoulders to mid-thigh. He nudged Ash when the man whistled, then told Michael, “Okay, deep breath. This will be after.” A click of his mouse and the program came to life, the tattoo design moving, twisting across the screen until it came to be mapped over the man’s body. Slipping into place, it stopped for a moment before the image zoomed in closer as the body rotated so the mark could be seen from all angles. The presentation ended with the form facing forward, the still frame locked on full-screen so the design dominated the monitor.
So caught up in looking, Michael didn’t say anything at first. Then his mouth curved up, and a bright smile lit his face. “That’s perfect,” he said, as his hand passed over that same spot on his own body. The mark, the words, the certainty in “Always Will” to be writ on his skin, curved from the top of his hip down, angled along his pelvic bone to end just before the bend of his thigh. “Always” on top, with “Will” straight down, sharing the “W” in “Always” – the double L’s cuddled together, one cradled in the lap of the other. As if they were two lovers lying cupped together on their sides.
“You like?” Brian knew the answer to the question before he was even done asking it when Michael grabbed his hand and pressed it where the tattoo would go.
“Completely,” Michael answered, turning to kiss him – the two getting distracted enough that they only drew apart when Hugh cleared his throat.
“I’d have left you to it,” the other man winked, “but if we don’t get these tats started sometime today, you’ll end up missing your flight out come the morrow.”
Brian groaned, just as Michael frowned and asked, “These tats?”
“Shite,” the artist cursed, both for having said too much and because Ashton took that moment to not so playfully kick him in the shin. “Sorry, man. Owe.”
“Well, that lasted all of not long.” Brian shook his head, and then gave Michael a squeeze. “Surprise.”
“What? You too? When did, really?”
“Official decision? The other night on the boat after you told me what you had planned. Before then, it was just an idea that made sense once we came here with Ash." Brian nodded towards Hugh. "I was going to bring it up later when we got home. But I decided to make it a two-fer with this wanker's consent, after you told me what you had planned.”
"Hey, name-calling and needles don't mix," Hugh grumbled, though with little heat considering how he'd flubbed up Brian's surprise.
"Lo, listen to the man talking like a native." Ash teased, causing Declan to snap his fingers in a way that was distinctive and familiar. A signal to behave, and hush. One that Ash immediately responded to.
Having been watching Michael rather than playing into the fun, Declan caught Brian's attention and nodded for him to look.
Brian saw that Michael was standing there, in the round of his arms, with eyes shining. The emotions therein enough to having him drawing Michael aside, turning him around as he asked, "Hey, Mikey. You okay?"
Feeling too full to speak, Michael nodded. Then he leaned up to hug Brian. "Are you sure about this? I mean... ” Michael didn't even know what to say; he'd never even thought it would be an option for Brian. How could the man improve on perfection, right? And now this, knowing that Brian intended to carry the mark of their promise just like Michael.
"Like you said, I want this. Besides, you know me. I don't do regrets."
Michael laughed nervously, “This would be a hell of a first time, if you ever start.”
Brian ruffled Michael’s hair, batting his hands away when he tried to fix it. “Don’t. I like it all bed-rumpled and mussed.” He leaned in, brushing his lips across the warmth of Michael’s forehead. “Wanna see where it’s going to go?” Feeling the other man nod, Brian turned to Hugh. “Show him.”
“As the man commands,” was Hugh reply. Another click of his mouse and the scene changed onscreen, this time showing the smooth firm line of the nude figure’s back. The words floated along and then slid into place. The same script and letter size as Michael’s. The same words. The difference in design being that they were lined up straight, each letter on top of the next evenly spaced and vertically centered from neck to waist. “Always Will” – mapped along his spine in a way that drew the eye, and made one want to trace and touch the length of it.
“Wow.” It was a whisper, slipping out as Michael moved closer to see. He looked back at Brian, and then back at the screen again. “Oh man, that’s so…. Wow.”
Declan nodded, amused by Michael's reaction. “Nonsensical and gobsmacked. Yes, we have a winner.”
- - -
"How're you doing?" Brian asked over the incessant buzz-hum-whine of the ink gun as it moved over the stenciled skin to the right of Michael's lower abdomen. They'd been at it half an hour, and Michael had had his eyes closed and a death grip on either Brian's hand or the table ever since.
Michael grimaced a little when Hugh wiped the excess ink away, and then reapplied the needles. He'd been startled when they'd begun, thinking maybe it wasn't going to be so bad, but then as time wore on, the pain grew more noticeable because of the duration of it. The repetition had him feeling raggedy. Hugh had said that every person responded differently to the process. For some, the pain was just a mild discomfort. For others, it was enough to make them cry throughout.
For Michael, it wasn't the worst pain he'd felt. He's had asthma attacks as a kid when it had felt like all the oxygen had left his lungs, and sharp knife flares of agony had shot through his entire body. Those were the worst he'd experienced. What made the ink gun unique was the constant stop, start, stop and start with pricks and stings that varied depending on the sensitivity of the area over which it traveled.
"I'm alright. It's just," Michael paused, looking over at Brian who was watching closely. "It's wearing, you know. I think my nerve-endings hate me *and* Hugh right now. How's it looking?" He was determined not to peek at it until it was done.
Brian smiled, “Like the man might know what he’d doing.” He had to laugh looking over across the room at Ashton, when the Englishman called out, “Good on him!”
Declan gave his slave’s hair a tug, “Hush, or it’s the corner for you until we leave. This is their time.”
Slapping a hand over his mouth, Ash looked up at him from where he lay nearby on a sofa with his head in Declan’s lap and muttered an apology through his fingers, “Sorry, Master.”
Brian caught the fairly fond look of long suffering that passed the Dom’s face. Amused by their friends’ interplay, he leaned in and told Michael quietly, “Ash causes him to be on his toes so often, Declan may as well be a ballerina.”
Hugh, who drew back the ink gun as he laughed loudly, caught the comment. “Oh man, tutus and toe shoes. Now that’s an image I’ll not be rid of for years.”
Even Michael had to smile, though it left his face when Hugh went back to work. Brian caught his shaky exhale as his lover’s grip tightening for a moment before Michael eased back into thinking past the discomfort. Trying to help distract him, Brian rubbed his free hand over the other mark on Michael’s body – the remnant of a promise fulfilled. The bite bruise was just below the line of Michael’s collar, at the bend of his shoulder. Not too big, but it did draw the eye – and his fellow sub’s notice when Ash had given him a secretive shared smile upon seeing it when Michael had taken off his sweater earlier.
Michael turned his head, rubbing his chin over the back of Brian’s fingers as he opened his eyes and looked at Brian’s face. He could see the pride there, the admiration and the love.
So much history in a pair of eyes…
“It looks amazing, Mikey. Outline’s done. He’s working on the shading within the letters,” Brian told him after a long pause. The design had letters that appeared almost three-dimensional; with an added shine effect that was more a trick of shadowing – leveling out degrees of darkness from pale to jet-black. It was going to look fantastic once it was done, Brian knew. Thinking about how he’d enjoy seeing the top of it peaking out of Michael’s underwear or jeans, picturing the look of it completed underneath.
As it was, Brian had already had some fun trying to tease Michael who had had to drop his trousers and lie back on the table in just his underwear – underwear that had had to be pulled down so that his right hip was bare for Hugh’s steady hand. Brian’s flirting had ended with the first gasp that escaped from Michael’s lips once the ink gun touched home.
“Need a break?” Hugh asked, as he wiped at the excess ink again. When Michael shook his head, the artist continued. “Just let me know, yeah?”
A good while and two breaks later, Michael was done. Standing with mirror in hand as he looked down at himself and then back at his reflection, over and over. He was a jumble of excitement, surprise, relief and buzzing with euphoric energy. “Bri, look at it. It’s, fuck. Hugh, you’re incredible.”
“Praise and a job well done, they feed the soul,” the man joked.
Brian hugged Michael from his left, tracing along the unmarked skin around the tattoo. When Michael looked at him, face lit with a big giddy smile, Brian pressed their foreheads together and told him, “Beautiful.” The man, the mark – and the moment.
Hugh saw to cleaning Michael up, bandaging him and giving him the same aftercare rundown that he’d done following Ash’s tattoo session. Adding that Michael needed to pay extra care that he didn’t wear anything with too tight a waistband until the tattoo had healed. “Think big and roomy,” he’d snarked.
Michael replied, “Sounds like maternity wear.”
“More like granny panties,” Brian quipped, getting smacked on the arm by his lover in retaliation.
When it came time for Brian to be inked, his humor left him quick enough. Gun buzzing, the first touch had Brian tensing and cursing. “Fuck. Ah, okay. Shit.” But once he caught his breath, he forced himself to relax and stayed quiet. They’d switched the music from Michael’s favorites to Brian’s jazz; and he listened to it, trying to block out the noise that accompanied the discomfort and bite of Hugh’s work.
Michael stayed close, running his hand over Brian’s arms now and again as he worried his lip, concerned over how Brian was doing. He smiled when Brian caught his hand and threaded their fingers together, the pair of them sharing a look for a long while before Brian told him he was fine.
“It’s all good, Mikey. Feels like hell, but I’m okay.”
His “okay” left him after the first hour, as did any patience he may have managed. Brian shut his eyes and clenched his jaw, trying not to count the seconds or ask Hugh if he would ever be fucking done. He was already pissed off from being told during their last break that he couldn’t have a drink because alcohol acted as a blood thinner, which meant he’d bleed more when they started back. Not that he did much to begin with, according to Hugh. “I’m an artist, with no aspirations to be a blood letter. Thanks very much.”
By the end, he was so focused within that he didn’t hear Hugh shutting off the machine. It was Michael, leaning in to call his name that had Brian back in the room. “Brian, you’re done.”
“Thank fuck,” he groused, opening his eyes and shifting up to stand. He didn’t ask how it looked, just took the mirror Michael gave him and followed him to the bathroom so he could see the reflection of his back. He was smiling in under a second. It was striking, strong and just as well done as Michael’s. Brian flexed his shoulders, skin still aching but it didn’t matter. Seeing it done, a part of him from neck to waist, gave Brian a sense of satisfaction and pride he could have only guessed at before now.
“What do you think?” Michael asked, his gaze never straying from Brian’s back – so enamored with the view that he was staring at his lover like he was a new jewel in a jewelry case.
Turning this way and that, Brian looked over his shoulders into the mirror. “Oh the joys of being made a pincushion and paying for the privilege,” he snarked playfully, before adding, “I’d say it looks fucking worth it.” Privately, he was most thankful that it did look as good as it did. It would have been such a bitch to have something half-assed by a stranger back home. For him and for Michael.
Hugh was again to be commended.
Michael stepped closer and ran his fingers softly over Brian’s back, avoiding the newly inked skin as he admired the work. “God, that’s hot.” He looked up in surprise as Brian suddenly turned and kissed him, leaning in as he held Michael still with a hand on his neck, taking a taste of what Michael eagerly wanted to give.
The moment was broken an untold length later when a booming voice sounded through the doorway. “You've got two gents out here who want to take a peek at your backside, Kinney. That's according to Ash. Not me, mind. But I’ve got to bandage your back, so haul tush. Tock tick. Which means now.”
Groaning, Michael started to laugh when Brian whispered, “I’d place odds that as soon as his Annie steps in a room, that man goes all teddy bear charm and honeybee sweet.”
The image alone would have been priceless, Michael thought. He gave Brian a careful squeeze. “Let’s get you mummified. Then maybe we can find something to fill my bottomless pit of a stomach, pretty please.” Said stomach choosing that moment to play Greek chorus as it growled. Loudly.
“That sounded frighteningly similar to ‘feed me’,” Brian grinned at Michael’s blush. It was a trait Michael hadn’t lost in all their months – no, years together.
Michael gave Brian’s arm a pull. “Anything you say, Seymour. Just lead way.”
- - -
After playing show and tell for Declan and Ash, they all bid Hugh goodbye with bear hugs and handshakes. But not without the artist ribbing Dec for being the one man out of the four of them *not* to have gotten inked. Albeit again.
He just gave Hugh that enigmatic smile of his and said, "That’s a bit of history that has yet to be written.”
They made a quick stop in for sandwiches on the way back to Chez Rai, just something light because they were in the awkward too late for lunch and too early for dinner part of the afternoon. Besides, Declan had already made plans for their evening. All he’d say was that they had a stop to make and then reservations set for after.
Michael whispered in Ashton’s ear, “A man of mystery, and a control freak to boot. Bless.”
The two subs shared a laugh as Ashton nodded, “I know!” His words hardly a complaint, the tone alone showcased just how marvelous he thought the idea was.
Back in their room after having a bite to eat, Brian crawled up on the bed and lay down on his stomach groaning. “My arms were already killing me from yesterday, now today with the needles – shit.” The grin on his face took the sting out of his griping. He looked over at Michael, who was standing across the room looking down at their luggage. They’d gotten a good start on the packing, but his lover, friend and sub was a worrier when it came to details and Brian didn’t want him to miss the fun of their last day by dwelling too much before it was even time for them to leave. “Come here, Mikey. Lie down with me.”
Settling on his back by Brian’s side, Michael closed his eyes. “Do you know what Dec’s got planned?”
Brian snuggled closer, resting his face against the soft brush of Michael’s dark hair with his eyes closed as well. “Yeah, but I’m not saying.” He chuckled at Michael’s answering grumble, the man fast to falling asleep. Not surprising considering their lack of sleep the night before when they’d gotten preoccupied by other activities, strenuous and sensual in equal measures. “We’ve got an hour before we have to get up,” Brian said in a tired murmur.
Michael nodded slowly, past the point for speech.
Naptime it was.
- - -
The pop of a champagne cork, caught skillfully by a trained hand, signaled the start of their ride, the secret of their journey’s end having been revealed long before they’d actually stepped aboard their private capsule on the London Eye. Declan hadn’t been able to go with them the first time they’d ridden it, so he’d arranged to rectify that by hiring a capsule so they could experience the ride after dark. “London lights from a sky view.” It was his preferred way to go round.
Ashton was the first out of the cab, already giddy with getting to go up again. The attraction had been a favorite of his since it first opened, so day or night – he was always game.
By the time the capsule had risen to the very top, the four of them were just starting on their second bottle. Michael stood close to the glass, with Brian at his back as they looked out at the beautiful view. The whole of the city was spread out beneath, sparkling in lights for as far as the eye could see. Buildings they never would have noticed by day, drawing the eye in a way that added to the overall glamour of London lit by night. “Trying to set it all in your memory, Mikey?”
Finishing off his second glass in probably far too fast a fashion, Michael turned to Brian. “Locked and loaded. Although, a couple more glasses of this and the rest of the night may become a blur.” He grinned when Brian passed over his own glass for him to finish, albeit with only two swallows left. They passed off their empties with their host server, and then Brian took Michael’s hand and guided him to join their friends who were standing side by side at the other end of the capsule.
Michael wondered how the pair could have left such a wonderful place, crossing the pond to take up residence in Pittsburgh, PA. But then with all he and Brian had learned about their past on this trip, he reasoned that a new start in a city without such harsh memories had been a good decision for them both. They were happy in their new home, and he was certainly glad to have them in his life, to have them be a part of his and Brian’s world.
Declan laughed at something Ash whispered in his ear, kissing him quiet before he nodded yes. “A toast it is.” He waited for them all to have their glasses filled, then said, "To Brian and Michael, may your journey be one of continuing new joys and discovery. And may the love that has been yours for half your lives, carry you both to the end of your days." He raised his glass, "To always."
Brian touched his glass to Michael’s, their eyes locked as each drank to the promise of that word and all that it meant for them both. Then he looked to their friends. “Well, at running the risk of ruining my imagine, and sounding like a man who makes a good bit of my living from the power of words,” Brian held up his glass and said, “'Think where man's glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends'.” He grinned, adding, “To Dec and Ash.”
The toast complete, Declan shook his head, smiling back. “You devil, that was Yeats.”
Brian agreed, but then added, “More to the point, and with present company in mind, *that* was an Irishman.”
- - -
It wasn’t long thereafter that the four men huddled into a cab, pulling their coats closed against the wind that signaled with almost certainty that there would soon be rain. They settled in as they re-crossed the river on their way to dinner. It was back to Zaika, by popular choice and not a small amount of hinting by a certain Englishman. Ash said he figured it would be good karma, coming full circle back to the same sinfully good restaurant that they’d dined in the first night of their trip. Declan just gave him a look that said he knew it had more to do with Ash’s desire to stuff his face than their karmic well being.
Dinner was a slow, easy affair. None of them were in a rush to leave as they savored the food and enjoyed the atmosphere. They had a good time, ate enough to have Brian contemplating stepping up his workout routine for the next month and drank until all of them were happily buzzed. They left laughing at yet another in a long line of off-colored jokes courtesy of Ashton’s loosened tongue, and Declan’s wry replies.
Back in their room, Brian got Michael to bypass the opened and mostly filled luggage strewn on the floor and led him to the bathroom so they could deal with the preliminary after-care on their tattoos. “God, I’m glad to get that shit off,” Brian grumbled after Michael helped him remove the bandages that had covered the center of his back from neck to waist for the last few hours. “That tape’s a bitch.”
Michael chuckled, “The tape? Man, look at us.” He looked at himself in the mirror, the dark ink now mapped into his skin.
Brian hummed, looked back over his shoulder at his own reflection. “We did it, didn’t we?”
Grinning tiredly, Michael nodded. “We so did.”
A wink and a hug from Brian, and it was time to finish what they’d started. They followed Hugh’s instructions, cleaning each other’s tattoos gently with antibacterial soap, patting their skin dry and then adding ointment. By the time they were done, both of them were, as Ash would say, “knackered” – so it was straight to bed not long after.
They woke early the next morning thanks to a knocking wakeup call from Declan. “Breakfast in half an hour, we leave in two.”
Michael groaned as he shifted awake. They’d slept on their sides, Brian at his back so they wouldn’t press down on their tats. Sitting up, he looked down and blinked blurrily. “Owe.” They’d been right to say it would feel like a bad sunburn. Still, he felt happy just seeing it again.
“Shit,” Brian cursed, rolling onto his stomach. “I think my back has a hangover.”
Forcing themselves into motion, the pair got up and managed to make their way to breakfast, a quiet time with all the men still half asleep and nursing sore heads or bodies. Or both. Then it was back to finish the packing.
Michael decided to wear his loose black workout pants, the only thing on hand from his wardrobe that was soft enough not to aggravate his sore skin/new ink. Underwear was a no, to Brian’s amusement. But before Michael could get dressed, Brian had one last surprise. “Wait, come here.”
He held Michael close, speaking softly with a teasing light in his eyes. "You remember on our flight here, that little game I had you play?"
Michael shifted nervously, remembering all too well. Talk about frustration! "Yeah." With a pointed look from Brian that said the game was on, he answered again. "Yes, sir."
The look of both anticipation and dread on Michael face amused Brian enough to give him a squeeze. "I have a different idea in mind for the trip home." He let Michael go and went to retrieve something from one of the bedside drawers. Turning so that Michael could see, Brian uncoiled a long thin length of silk rope and let it trail down to the floor as he pulled a section of it tight between his hands. "I think it's time we give the skills I learned during my little session with Master You another try, don't you? With some variations just for today."
Fifteen minutes later, and Michael was fighting himself not to move. Not to moan. Not to voice the effect Brian's variations were having on his body. No easy task, considering Brian seemed dead set on driving him nuts.
"Still, Michael. We’re almost done."
Michael couldn't help thinking if Brian kept it up, he'd been more than done – he'd be a limp mess. "I can't believe...” Just as quick as he started, Michael stopped. It wasn’t a good idea to talk out of turn; given the way it usually ended with him having to wait longer than if he hadn't said anything at all.
Brian glanced up from the latest of several knots he was tying, and looked at his sub with teasing menace. “Can’t believe what?”
Licking his lips, Michael looked down the length of his body and answered, “I can’t believe you actually want me to have all this on under my clothes. I’m gonna get strip searched for sure now. And then what will I say?”
“Spare a pair of scissors, officer?” Brian laughed, low and dirty. Then he sat back and appraised his handiwork. “Very nice.”
Michael tried for humor, “Are you sure that Master You doesn’t truss up turkeys in his spare time?” But Brian’s wandering hands, and expert touch – damn the man – were more than enough to shut that avenue down real quick. Hot, quick pulls, then slow soft strokes. And through it all Michael had to try to stay still, to accept – and above all, he had to try not to come. “I’m, ahh. I’m gonna… I need.” Almost, and then nothing – Brian’s hand gone. “Fuck,” Michael groaned. “You’re not gonna let me, are you? I’ll be flying with blue balls.”
“All part of the fun, Mikey.” Brian stood up, and turned him around so they were both looking in the mirror nearby. “For both of us.”
Black lines and loops, silky soft and thin, were crisscrossed up the length of Michael's arms from just under his leather cuffs to his shoulders, over his chest and then brought down at his back to loop and cross down his legs in diamond shapes. Harlequin style – it was reminiscent of the ribbons they'd played with on their last evening at Dec and Ash's home in Pittsburgh. The rope wasn't tight, as that would have defeated the purpose. It was tied with little give, but in such a way that when Michael moved, he could feel the soft brush and touch of the silk against his skin. It was oddly erotic, the mix of pleasure and the feel of being tied.
Brian had even managed to keep the pattern going, while leaving Michael's abdomen and hips free, nothing to worry the site of his new tattoo and with a care so that movement wouldn't be restricted on the plane.
Hugging Michael from behind, Brian shut his eyes and focused as he rubbed against his lover. "That feels...."
"Yeah, it does," Michael breathed out when Brian got lost in the sensation and went silent. Hands moved over him, palms skimming over silk and skin as they held the moment and didn't notice the time.
A sharp knock snapped them back as Ashton called through the door that the car would be downstairs in less than half an hour. Brian groaned as he pulled back from Michael's warmth. "Keep that thought," he said as he quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and eased his loosest sweater over his head, already thinking about how he'd have to sit on the plane so as not to press directly against his marked spine.
Pulling on his socks and shoes, Brian watched as Michael got dressed and then began to double check the luggage, their carryon bags, passports and their tickets. The look of worried concentration marking Michael's face had Brian calling for his attention, "Hey, Mikey."
Turning back to him, Michael caught the fond mischievous look on the other man's face. “Yeah?”
Brian smiled, repeating something Michael had said two weeks before. “London.” His emphasis of the word caused Michael to laugh.
“I know,” Michael said, finding it all still wondrous and still amazing.
It had been all they’d hoped for, and so very much more.
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 14
- - - - - - -
"Do *not* tell me you just suggested the man get his tattoo done in 'Wingdings' script." Declan admonished Hugh, as the larger man sat at his computer while Brian and Michael were watching him play with elements for the final design. The man had software that would make some of Ryder's art department turn envy-green.
Amused, Hugh just gave his friend a shrug and didn't say anything else until Ash's laughter broke through his control and he let it loose. "It'd be one hell of a topic for conversation, you have to admit."
Brian popped Hugh on the head and then hugged his arms around Michael. "Ignore them."
Not embarrassed, much – Michael nodded as he pressed back against his lover. "Yes, sir." He didn’t mind the teasing; it was actually helping to distract him from his small fit of nerves. It wasn’t that he was second-guessing his choice. It was that he didn’t know how he’d respond to the pain. He’d only asked Ashton a half dozen times how it would feel. Or rather how bad it might get. His friend had sought to reassure him that it was tolerable, and then over, with a sense of passage achieved. As rites often were.
Hugh had talked with Brian beforehand about where the tattoo was to be placed, so all that was left was for Michael to approve the final look and then it was time for the reveal.
“So we have before,” Hugh said, opening a file that showcased a three-dimensional outline of a male body from the shoulders to mid-thigh. He nudged Ash when the man whistled, then told Michael, “Okay, deep breath. This will be after.” A click of his mouse and the program came to life, the tattoo design moving, twisting across the screen until it came to be mapped over the man’s body. Slipping into place, it stopped for a moment before the image zoomed in closer as the body rotated so the mark could be seen from all angles. The presentation ended with the form facing forward, the still frame locked on full-screen so the design dominated the monitor.
So caught up in looking, Michael didn’t say anything at first. Then his mouth curved up, and a bright smile lit his face. “That’s perfect,” he said, as his hand passed over that same spot on his own body. The mark, the words, the certainty in “Always Will” to be writ on his skin, curved from the top of his hip down, angled along his pelvic bone to end just before the bend of his thigh. “Always” on top, with “Will” straight down, sharing the “W” in “Always” – the double L’s cuddled together, one cradled in the lap of the other. As if they were two lovers lying cupped together on their sides.
“You like?” Brian knew the answer to the question before he was even done asking it when Michael grabbed his hand and pressed it where the tattoo would go.
“Completely,” Michael answered, turning to kiss him – the two getting distracted enough that they only drew apart when Hugh cleared his throat.
“I’d have left you to it,” the other man winked, “but if we don’t get these tats started sometime today, you’ll end up missing your flight out come the morrow.”
Brian groaned, just as Michael frowned and asked, “These tats?”
“Shite,” the artist cursed, both for having said too much and because Ashton took that moment to not so playfully kick him in the shin. “Sorry, man. Owe.”
“Well, that lasted all of not long.” Brian shook his head, and then gave Michael a squeeze. “Surprise.”
“What? You too? When did, really?”
“Official decision? The other night on the boat after you told me what you had planned. Before then, it was just an idea that made sense once we came here with Ash." Brian nodded towards Hugh. "I was going to bring it up later when we got home. But I decided to make it a two-fer with this wanker's consent, after you told me what you had planned.”
"Hey, name-calling and needles don't mix," Hugh grumbled, though with little heat considering how he'd flubbed up Brian's surprise.
"Lo, listen to the man talking like a native." Ash teased, causing Declan to snap his fingers in a way that was distinctive and familiar. A signal to behave, and hush. One that Ash immediately responded to.
Having been watching Michael rather than playing into the fun, Declan caught Brian's attention and nodded for him to look.
Brian saw that Michael was standing there, in the round of his arms, with eyes shining. The emotions therein enough to having him drawing Michael aside, turning him around as he asked, "Hey, Mikey. You okay?"
Feeling too full to speak, Michael nodded. Then he leaned up to hug Brian. "Are you sure about this? I mean... ” Michael didn't even know what to say; he'd never even thought it would be an option for Brian. How could the man improve on perfection, right? And now this, knowing that Brian intended to carry the mark of their promise just like Michael.
"Like you said, I want this. Besides, you know me. I don't do regrets."
Michael laughed nervously, “This would be a hell of a first time, if you ever start.”
Brian ruffled Michael’s hair, batting his hands away when he tried to fix it. “Don’t. I like it all bed-rumpled and mussed.” He leaned in, brushing his lips across the warmth of Michael’s forehead. “Wanna see where it’s going to go?” Feeling the other man nod, Brian turned to Hugh. “Show him.”
“As the man commands,” was Hugh reply. Another click of his mouse and the scene changed onscreen, this time showing the smooth firm line of the nude figure’s back. The words floated along and then slid into place. The same script and letter size as Michael’s. The same words. The difference in design being that they were lined up straight, each letter on top of the next evenly spaced and vertically centered from neck to waist. “Always Will” – mapped along his spine in a way that drew the eye, and made one want to trace and touch the length of it.
“Wow.” It was a whisper, slipping out as Michael moved closer to see. He looked back at Brian, and then back at the screen again. “Oh man, that’s so…. Wow.”
Declan nodded, amused by Michael's reaction. “Nonsensical and gobsmacked. Yes, we have a winner.”
- - -
"How're you doing?" Brian asked over the incessant buzz-hum-whine of the ink gun as it moved over the stenciled skin to the right of Michael's lower abdomen. They'd been at it half an hour, and Michael had had his eyes closed and a death grip on either Brian's hand or the table ever since.
Michael grimaced a little when Hugh wiped the excess ink away, and then reapplied the needles. He'd been startled when they'd begun, thinking maybe it wasn't going to be so bad, but then as time wore on, the pain grew more noticeable because of the duration of it. The repetition had him feeling raggedy. Hugh had said that every person responded differently to the process. For some, the pain was just a mild discomfort. For others, it was enough to make them cry throughout.
For Michael, it wasn't the worst pain he'd felt. He's had asthma attacks as a kid when it had felt like all the oxygen had left his lungs, and sharp knife flares of agony had shot through his entire body. Those were the worst he'd experienced. What made the ink gun unique was the constant stop, start, stop and start with pricks and stings that varied depending on the sensitivity of the area over which it traveled.
"I'm alright. It's just," Michael paused, looking over at Brian who was watching closely. "It's wearing, you know. I think my nerve-endings hate me *and* Hugh right now. How's it looking?" He was determined not to peek at it until it was done.
Brian smiled, “Like the man might know what he’d doing.” He had to laugh looking over across the room at Ashton, when the Englishman called out, “Good on him!”
Declan gave his slave’s hair a tug, “Hush, or it’s the corner for you until we leave. This is their time.”
Slapping a hand over his mouth, Ash looked up at him from where he lay nearby on a sofa with his head in Declan’s lap and muttered an apology through his fingers, “Sorry, Master.”
Brian caught the fairly fond look of long suffering that passed the Dom’s face. Amused by their friends’ interplay, he leaned in and told Michael quietly, “Ash causes him to be on his toes so often, Declan may as well be a ballerina.”
Hugh, who drew back the ink gun as he laughed loudly, caught the comment. “Oh man, tutus and toe shoes. Now that’s an image I’ll not be rid of for years.”
Even Michael had to smile, though it left his face when Hugh went back to work. Brian caught his shaky exhale as his lover’s grip tightening for a moment before Michael eased back into thinking past the discomfort. Trying to help distract him, Brian rubbed his free hand over the other mark on Michael’s body – the remnant of a promise fulfilled. The bite bruise was just below the line of Michael’s collar, at the bend of his shoulder. Not too big, but it did draw the eye – and his fellow sub’s notice when Ash had given him a secretive shared smile upon seeing it when Michael had taken off his sweater earlier.
Michael turned his head, rubbing his chin over the back of Brian’s fingers as he opened his eyes and looked at Brian’s face. He could see the pride there, the admiration and the love.
So much history in a pair of eyes…
“It looks amazing, Mikey. Outline’s done. He’s working on the shading within the letters,” Brian told him after a long pause. The design had letters that appeared almost three-dimensional; with an added shine effect that was more a trick of shadowing – leveling out degrees of darkness from pale to jet-black. It was going to look fantastic once it was done, Brian knew. Thinking about how he’d enjoy seeing the top of it peaking out of Michael’s underwear or jeans, picturing the look of it completed underneath.
As it was, Brian had already had some fun trying to tease Michael who had had to drop his trousers and lie back on the table in just his underwear – underwear that had had to be pulled down so that his right hip was bare for Hugh’s steady hand. Brian’s flirting had ended with the first gasp that escaped from Michael’s lips once the ink gun touched home.
“Need a break?” Hugh asked, as he wiped at the excess ink again. When Michael shook his head, the artist continued. “Just let me know, yeah?”
A good while and two breaks later, Michael was done. Standing with mirror in hand as he looked down at himself and then back at his reflection, over and over. He was a jumble of excitement, surprise, relief and buzzing with euphoric energy. “Bri, look at it. It’s, fuck. Hugh, you’re incredible.”
“Praise and a job well done, they feed the soul,” the man joked.
Brian hugged Michael from his left, tracing along the unmarked skin around the tattoo. When Michael looked at him, face lit with a big giddy smile, Brian pressed their foreheads together and told him, “Beautiful.” The man, the mark – and the moment.
Hugh saw to cleaning Michael up, bandaging him and giving him the same aftercare rundown that he’d done following Ash’s tattoo session. Adding that Michael needed to pay extra care that he didn’t wear anything with too tight a waistband until the tattoo had healed. “Think big and roomy,” he’d snarked.
Michael replied, “Sounds like maternity wear.”
“More like granny panties,” Brian quipped, getting smacked on the arm by his lover in retaliation.
When it came time for Brian to be inked, his humor left him quick enough. Gun buzzing, the first touch had Brian tensing and cursing. “Fuck. Ah, okay. Shit.” But once he caught his breath, he forced himself to relax and stayed quiet. They’d switched the music from Michael’s favorites to Brian’s jazz; and he listened to it, trying to block out the noise that accompanied the discomfort and bite of Hugh’s work.
Michael stayed close, running his hand over Brian’s arms now and again as he worried his lip, concerned over how Brian was doing. He smiled when Brian caught his hand and threaded their fingers together, the pair of them sharing a look for a long while before Brian told him he was fine.
“It’s all good, Mikey. Feels like hell, but I’m okay.”
His “okay” left him after the first hour, as did any patience he may have managed. Brian shut his eyes and clenched his jaw, trying not to count the seconds or ask Hugh if he would ever be fucking done. He was already pissed off from being told during their last break that he couldn’t have a drink because alcohol acted as a blood thinner, which meant he’d bleed more when they started back. Not that he did much to begin with, according to Hugh. “I’m an artist, with no aspirations to be a blood letter. Thanks very much.”
By the end, he was so focused within that he didn’t hear Hugh shutting off the machine. It was Michael, leaning in to call his name that had Brian back in the room. “Brian, you’re done.”
“Thank fuck,” he groused, opening his eyes and shifting up to stand. He didn’t ask how it looked, just took the mirror Michael gave him and followed him to the bathroom so he could see the reflection of his back. He was smiling in under a second. It was striking, strong and just as well done as Michael’s. Brian flexed his shoulders, skin still aching but it didn’t matter. Seeing it done, a part of him from neck to waist, gave Brian a sense of satisfaction and pride he could have only guessed at before now.
“What do you think?” Michael asked, his gaze never straying from Brian’s back – so enamored with the view that he was staring at his lover like he was a new jewel in a jewelry case.
Turning this way and that, Brian looked over his shoulders into the mirror. “Oh the joys of being made a pincushion and paying for the privilege,” he snarked playfully, before adding, “I’d say it looks fucking worth it.” Privately, he was most thankful that it did look as good as it did. It would have been such a bitch to have something half-assed by a stranger back home. For him and for Michael.
Hugh was again to be commended.
Michael stepped closer and ran his fingers softly over Brian’s back, avoiding the newly inked skin as he admired the work. “God, that’s hot.” He looked up in surprise as Brian suddenly turned and kissed him, leaning in as he held Michael still with a hand on his neck, taking a taste of what Michael eagerly wanted to give.
The moment was broken an untold length later when a booming voice sounded through the doorway. “You've got two gents out here who want to take a peek at your backside, Kinney. That's according to Ash. Not me, mind. But I’ve got to bandage your back, so haul tush. Tock tick. Which means now.”
Groaning, Michael started to laugh when Brian whispered, “I’d place odds that as soon as his Annie steps in a room, that man goes all teddy bear charm and honeybee sweet.”
The image alone would have been priceless, Michael thought. He gave Brian a careful squeeze. “Let’s get you mummified. Then maybe we can find something to fill my bottomless pit of a stomach, pretty please.” Said stomach choosing that moment to play Greek chorus as it growled. Loudly.
“That sounded frighteningly similar to ‘feed me’,” Brian grinned at Michael’s blush. It was a trait Michael hadn’t lost in all their months – no, years together.
Michael gave Brian’s arm a pull. “Anything you say, Seymour. Just lead way.”
- - -
After playing show and tell for Declan and Ash, they all bid Hugh goodbye with bear hugs and handshakes. But not without the artist ribbing Dec for being the one man out of the four of them *not* to have gotten inked. Albeit again.
He just gave Hugh that enigmatic smile of his and said, "That’s a bit of history that has yet to be written.”
They made a quick stop in for sandwiches on the way back to Chez Rai, just something light because they were in the awkward too late for lunch and too early for dinner part of the afternoon. Besides, Declan had already made plans for their evening. All he’d say was that they had a stop to make and then reservations set for after.
Michael whispered in Ashton’s ear, “A man of mystery, and a control freak to boot. Bless.”
The two subs shared a laugh as Ashton nodded, “I know!” His words hardly a complaint, the tone alone showcased just how marvelous he thought the idea was.
Back in their room after having a bite to eat, Brian crawled up on the bed and lay down on his stomach groaning. “My arms were already killing me from yesterday, now today with the needles – shit.” The grin on his face took the sting out of his griping. He looked over at Michael, who was standing across the room looking down at their luggage. They’d gotten a good start on the packing, but his lover, friend and sub was a worrier when it came to details and Brian didn’t want him to miss the fun of their last day by dwelling too much before it was even time for them to leave. “Come here, Mikey. Lie down with me.”
Settling on his back by Brian’s side, Michael closed his eyes. “Do you know what Dec’s got planned?”
Brian snuggled closer, resting his face against the soft brush of Michael’s dark hair with his eyes closed as well. “Yeah, but I’m not saying.” He chuckled at Michael’s answering grumble, the man fast to falling asleep. Not surprising considering their lack of sleep the night before when they’d gotten preoccupied by other activities, strenuous and sensual in equal measures. “We’ve got an hour before we have to get up,” Brian said in a tired murmur.
Michael nodded slowly, past the point for speech.
Naptime it was.
- - -
The pop of a champagne cork, caught skillfully by a trained hand, signaled the start of their ride, the secret of their journey’s end having been revealed long before they’d actually stepped aboard their private capsule on the London Eye. Declan hadn’t been able to go with them the first time they’d ridden it, so he’d arranged to rectify that by hiring a capsule so they could experience the ride after dark. “London lights from a sky view.” It was his preferred way to go round.
Ashton was the first out of the cab, already giddy with getting to go up again. The attraction had been a favorite of his since it first opened, so day or night – he was always game.
By the time the capsule had risen to the very top, the four of them were just starting on their second bottle. Michael stood close to the glass, with Brian at his back as they looked out at the beautiful view. The whole of the city was spread out beneath, sparkling in lights for as far as the eye could see. Buildings they never would have noticed by day, drawing the eye in a way that added to the overall glamour of London lit by night. “Trying to set it all in your memory, Mikey?”
Finishing off his second glass in probably far too fast a fashion, Michael turned to Brian. “Locked and loaded. Although, a couple more glasses of this and the rest of the night may become a blur.” He grinned when Brian passed over his own glass for him to finish, albeit with only two swallows left. They passed off their empties with their host server, and then Brian took Michael’s hand and guided him to join their friends who were standing side by side at the other end of the capsule.
Michael wondered how the pair could have left such a wonderful place, crossing the pond to take up residence in Pittsburgh, PA. But then with all he and Brian had learned about their past on this trip, he reasoned that a new start in a city without such harsh memories had been a good decision for them both. They were happy in their new home, and he was certainly glad to have them in his life, to have them be a part of his and Brian’s world.
Declan laughed at something Ash whispered in his ear, kissing him quiet before he nodded yes. “A toast it is.” He waited for them all to have their glasses filled, then said, "To Brian and Michael, may your journey be one of continuing new joys and discovery. And may the love that has been yours for half your lives, carry you both to the end of your days." He raised his glass, "To always."
Brian touched his glass to Michael’s, their eyes locked as each drank to the promise of that word and all that it meant for them both. Then he looked to their friends. “Well, at running the risk of ruining my imagine, and sounding like a man who makes a good bit of my living from the power of words,” Brian held up his glass and said, “'Think where man's glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends'.” He grinned, adding, “To Dec and Ash.”
The toast complete, Declan shook his head, smiling back. “You devil, that was Yeats.”
Brian agreed, but then added, “More to the point, and with present company in mind, *that* was an Irishman.”
- - -
It wasn’t long thereafter that the four men huddled into a cab, pulling their coats closed against the wind that signaled with almost certainty that there would soon be rain. They settled in as they re-crossed the river on their way to dinner. It was back to Zaika, by popular choice and not a small amount of hinting by a certain Englishman. Ash said he figured it would be good karma, coming full circle back to the same sinfully good restaurant that they’d dined in the first night of their trip. Declan just gave him a look that said he knew it had more to do with Ash’s desire to stuff his face than their karmic well being.
Dinner was a slow, easy affair. None of them were in a rush to leave as they savored the food and enjoyed the atmosphere. They had a good time, ate enough to have Brian contemplating stepping up his workout routine for the next month and drank until all of them were happily buzzed. They left laughing at yet another in a long line of off-colored jokes courtesy of Ashton’s loosened tongue, and Declan’s wry replies.
Back in their room, Brian got Michael to bypass the opened and mostly filled luggage strewn on the floor and led him to the bathroom so they could deal with the preliminary after-care on their tattoos. “God, I’m glad to get that shit off,” Brian grumbled after Michael helped him remove the bandages that had covered the center of his back from neck to waist for the last few hours. “That tape’s a bitch.”
Michael chuckled, “The tape? Man, look at us.” He looked at himself in the mirror, the dark ink now mapped into his skin.
Brian hummed, looked back over his shoulder at his own reflection. “We did it, didn’t we?”
Grinning tiredly, Michael nodded. “We so did.”
A wink and a hug from Brian, and it was time to finish what they’d started. They followed Hugh’s instructions, cleaning each other’s tattoos gently with antibacterial soap, patting their skin dry and then adding ointment. By the time they were done, both of them were, as Ash would say, “knackered” – so it was straight to bed not long after.
They woke early the next morning thanks to a knocking wakeup call from Declan. “Breakfast in half an hour, we leave in two.”
Michael groaned as he shifted awake. They’d slept on their sides, Brian at his back so they wouldn’t press down on their tats. Sitting up, he looked down and blinked blurrily. “Owe.” They’d been right to say it would feel like a bad sunburn. Still, he felt happy just seeing it again.
“Shit,” Brian cursed, rolling onto his stomach. “I think my back has a hangover.”
Forcing themselves into motion, the pair got up and managed to make their way to breakfast, a quiet time with all the men still half asleep and nursing sore heads or bodies. Or both. Then it was back to finish the packing.
Michael decided to wear his loose black workout pants, the only thing on hand from his wardrobe that was soft enough not to aggravate his sore skin/new ink. Underwear was a no, to Brian’s amusement. But before Michael could get dressed, Brian had one last surprise. “Wait, come here.”
He held Michael close, speaking softly with a teasing light in his eyes. "You remember on our flight here, that little game I had you play?"
Michael shifted nervously, remembering all too well. Talk about frustration! "Yeah." With a pointed look from Brian that said the game was on, he answered again. "Yes, sir."
The look of both anticipation and dread on Michael face amused Brian enough to give him a squeeze. "I have a different idea in mind for the trip home." He let Michael go and went to retrieve something from one of the bedside drawers. Turning so that Michael could see, Brian uncoiled a long thin length of silk rope and let it trail down to the floor as he pulled a section of it tight between his hands. "I think it's time we give the skills I learned during my little session with Master You another try, don't you? With some variations just for today."
Fifteen minutes later, and Michael was fighting himself not to move. Not to moan. Not to voice the effect Brian's variations were having on his body. No easy task, considering Brian seemed dead set on driving him nuts.
"Still, Michael. We’re almost done."
Michael couldn't help thinking if Brian kept it up, he'd been more than done – he'd be a limp mess. "I can't believe...” Just as quick as he started, Michael stopped. It wasn’t a good idea to talk out of turn; given the way it usually ended with him having to wait longer than if he hadn't said anything at all.
Brian glanced up from the latest of several knots he was tying, and looked at his sub with teasing menace. “Can’t believe what?”
Licking his lips, Michael looked down the length of his body and answered, “I can’t believe you actually want me to have all this on under my clothes. I’m gonna get strip searched for sure now. And then what will I say?”
“Spare a pair of scissors, officer?” Brian laughed, low and dirty. Then he sat back and appraised his handiwork. “Very nice.”
Michael tried for humor, “Are you sure that Master You doesn’t truss up turkeys in his spare time?” But Brian’s wandering hands, and expert touch – damn the man – were more than enough to shut that avenue down real quick. Hot, quick pulls, then slow soft strokes. And through it all Michael had to try to stay still, to accept – and above all, he had to try not to come. “I’m, ahh. I’m gonna… I need.” Almost, and then nothing – Brian’s hand gone. “Fuck,” Michael groaned. “You’re not gonna let me, are you? I’ll be flying with blue balls.”
“All part of the fun, Mikey.” Brian stood up, and turned him around so they were both looking in the mirror nearby. “For both of us.”
Black lines and loops, silky soft and thin, were crisscrossed up the length of Michael's arms from just under his leather cuffs to his shoulders, over his chest and then brought down at his back to loop and cross down his legs in diamond shapes. Harlequin style – it was reminiscent of the ribbons they'd played with on their last evening at Dec and Ash's home in Pittsburgh. The rope wasn't tight, as that would have defeated the purpose. It was tied with little give, but in such a way that when Michael moved, he could feel the soft brush and touch of the silk against his skin. It was oddly erotic, the mix of pleasure and the feel of being tied.
Brian had even managed to keep the pattern going, while leaving Michael's abdomen and hips free, nothing to worry the site of his new tattoo and with a care so that movement wouldn't be restricted on the plane.
Hugging Michael from behind, Brian shut his eyes and focused as he rubbed against his lover. "That feels...."
"Yeah, it does," Michael breathed out when Brian got lost in the sensation and went silent. Hands moved over him, palms skimming over silk and skin as they held the moment and didn't notice the time.
A sharp knock snapped them back as Ashton called through the door that the car would be downstairs in less than half an hour. Brian groaned as he pulled back from Michael's warmth. "Keep that thought," he said as he quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and eased his loosest sweater over his head, already thinking about how he'd have to sit on the plane so as not to press directly against his marked spine.
Pulling on his socks and shoes, Brian watched as Michael got dressed and then began to double check the luggage, their carryon bags, passports and their tickets. The look of worried concentration marking Michael's face had Brian calling for his attention, "Hey, Mikey."
Turning back to him, Michael caught the fond mischievous look on the other man's face. “Yeah?”
Brian smiled, repeating something Michael had said two weeks before. “London.” His emphasis of the word caused Michael to laugh.
“I know,” Michael said, finding it all still wondrous and still amazing.
It had been all they’d hoped for, and so very much more.
TBC...
Would love to know what you think...
Hugs
xof
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And the tattoos! Both of them together..with just the perfect two words. Their gifts to each other. *sigh* One thing...no tats for me. For one thing I'm too old and secondly, I hate pain. Now maybe one of those rub on tats that kids wear...
Ahh, their final night in London. A beautiful view, champagne and delicious food. What more could anyone ask for? Please tell me they'll be back?
And I just KNEW that Brian would come up with something new for Michael's flight home. The man has a twisted mind. LOL
Glad they are all going together. It would be sad if they had to separate just when they're getting so close.
Wonderful dear. Waiting eagerly for the last bit.
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The tale is winding down, pout. But I'm happy you've enjoyed it!
:)
Hugs
xof