Chapter Seventeen Mind Your Own Business #2
“No one has the foggiest where you went to school. I don’t have the foggiest where you went to school and I don’t care,” Michael said earnestly. Julian met his eyes then. “You’re clever. You’re beautiful. You’re here with me. That’s all that matters.”
It was confounding to Michael how someone who had shown so little regard for what others thought when publicly displaying affection for another man could also be so self-conscious about class.
He supposed it spoke far more to his upbringing than even his accent did.
Sexual liberation was in higher supply than upwards mobility, and clearly that had been ingrained in him young.
It struck Michael then that a great deal of Julian’s bravado was covering for a deep-rooted insecurity.
About where he came from, about his appearance, about his intelligence.
He made himself bigger so people couldn’t see how small he truly was -- or thought he was.
But Michael saw him, truly saw him, and he didn’t care.
Julian was enough, just as he was. Beneath the table, Michael gave Julian’s knee a reassuring squeeze.
He knew it couldn’t erase decades of insecurity, but he hoped it could be a start.
Julian smiled at him, hesitantly, but it was still a smile, so it was a triumph in Michael’s book.
* * *
Rahul was seated a few tables away from Julian and Michael who were sat in their own private booth at the back of the establishment.
He hid behind his foldout menu like a spy on a park bench behind a newspaper, eyes peering suspiciously over the cardboard top.
He was on them like a hawk, like a bad dream.
He’d be there at every turn, waiting for the first slip-up so he could pounce.
Make my best friend kiss you, I’ll show you, sir.
I’ll show you what pain is. Yes, sir. I’ll be on you like Hepatitis C. You won’t be able to get rid of me.
They were having some kind of hushed conversation, the two of them, huddled all close.
Then under the table, as if God himself couldn’t touch them, Michael placed his unholy hand upon Julian’s innocent thigh.
The gall! The disrespect! The food at this so-called restaurant cost more than half Rahul’s monthly rent and here Michael was, feeling Julian up as if they were at a common whorehouse.
Well, if he thought Rahul was going to sit by and just take this, he was sorely mistaken.
As a waiter began walking in their direction carrying a full tray of water glasses, Rahul acted on instinct and stuck out his foot.
The waiter, his sight blocked by the tray, tripped badly on Rahul’s outstretched leg and went flying forwards.
* * *
Michael stood in shock as several glasses of freezing cold water were flung onto him. The server looked on in horror while Julian was barely able to contain his laughter.
“I am so, so sorry, sir,” the server grovelled, coincidentally also Irish. “Your dinner tonight is on the house. Please, order whatever you like.”
“We will,” Michael said coldly, scooping up the table’s napkins to wipe at his damp chest. The server scampered off, tail between his legs, surely to receive a tongue-lashing from his manager.
Michael shrugged off his soaking jacket to reveal his white shirt clinging almost translucently to his extremely well-cultivated abdominal and pectoral muscles.
“Let me,” Julian said with a cheeky grin and stole the napkins off a nearby table, pressing them to Michael’s firm chest. It was only the most perfunctory excuse, as Julian was doing more stroking than sopping.
Michael smirked. He’d doubtless be putting the young man’s naughty mind to task as soon as privacy allowed.
* * *
From several tables away, Rahul watched helplessly as Julian was lured in by the siren song of abs in the inadvertent wet T-shirt contest Rahul had created. He let his head thunk down on the table, much to the alarm of nearby diners.
* * *
The final leg of their epic date night was a gay club in Kentish Town. Julian had mentioned once in passing that he’d never been to one but had always been interested. Well, tonight was the night.
Michael didn’t often frequent such establishments.
He was retiring by nature and tended to keep himself to himself, but if he was desperate for a shag he might find himself here, picking a ready young twink out of the crowd for a quick lay before coming to his senses and sending the sweet young thing on his way.
But Julian enjoyed pageantry, and there was no shortage of pageantry at the Come and Go.
Not only pageantry but dancing. Michael could endure just about anything if it meant he could dance, chest to chest, sweat to sweat, hard body against hard body, with Julian.
The music was deafening, the lights dizzying, and the boy’s body was hot against his.
After only a few songs, his hair was flat and his fringe plastered to his forehead.
Michael could feel every ridge of his bones, every hard contour of muscle against him as Julian thrust and ground to the tempo of the beat.
His nose bumped Michael’s cheek, his breath cool on Michael’s neck in the heat of the packed dance floor.
Michael’s hands travelled of their own accord from Julian’s angular shoulder blades down to the bony juts of his hips, bringing him ever closer, hoping to somehow find a way to meld their bodies together.
When Julian pulled back, his eyes were heavy-lidded, mouth open invitingly.
He’d sworn to Julian he would go slow, do it the right way, do it the way Julian deserved.
That was to protect Michael as much as it was to protect Julian.
Letting go fully would not only hurt Julian but push him away, out of Michael’s life, something he could not endure.
But Christ help him, when Julian looked at him that way, when Julian’s hand sneaked under his shirt to paw at the sweat-slicked skin of his back…
When Julian leaned in and kissed his neck, using just the faintest hint of teeth, his breath coming in quick and shallow…
Michael’s hands and mouth and lips and teeth were on him before his mind could even catch up.
Julian’s floral cologne and cigarette scent suffused Michael’s senses.
The feel of his silken top was like liquid, slipping between Michael’s feverish fingers.
He felt high. Every sense overloaded. The club’s cheap beer was on Julian’s tongue as it plumbed the depths of Michael’s mouth as thoroughly as Michael delved into his.
The music overpowered every sound, but Michael could still feel the moan in Julian’s mouth.
Months of fantasies felt as though they had all been leading up to this single moment.
Every frustration, every tight trouser and every aching, lonely night spent dreaming of Julian beneath him, had all been building up to this.
And Michael was powerless to stop it. His logical mind was being held captive as his desires took complete control of his body.
He hadn’t realised he’d backed Julian up against a wall in a dark corner of the club until he felt the impact rattle his own bones.
They’d gained enough distance from the music for Michael to be able to hear the near-pornographic groan that escaped Julian.
God above, he wanted him. And he’d wanted him for so long.
And finally, Julian wanted him back. How was he supposed to resist?
How was he supposed to keep himself from hoisting Julian up by his slender waist and devouring his pale throat?
Jesus, when Julian’s long legs went around his hips and pulled him in so he could feel the hard length of him pressing against his own aching cock, he thought he might black out altogether.
Instead, he made an unintelligible noise and thrust his hips harshly into the boy’s.
Christ, he felt good. All sweaty and hard, while the skin under his silk top was soft and smooth and fucking perfect.
He bit down hard on Julian’s neck to keep from making an entirely embarrassing sound and felt Julian’s body seize up beneath him, raking fingernails pulling him closer, undulating hips beckoning him on.
He was vaguely aware of the club continuing on around them, but he couldn’t be arsed.
He was a hair’s breadth away from fucking Julian right then and there, consequences be damned. If Julian kept this up, he just might.
And then Julian said, “Rahul?”
* * *
Rahul followed the pair to what he hoped was their final destination of the night.
He didn’t have it in him to follow them to yet another location after this, so if they planned a midnight sightseeing tour, they were on their own.
He was slightly dismayed to see that they had made their way to a gay club.
There was a small chance yet that Julian had been oblivious as to Michael’s motives and inclinations, but they were growing fainter by the second.
They’d locked lips in a cinema, groped in a restaurant, and had now made their way to an establishment of the homosexual variety.
Julian might be able to navigate the premises with an innocent lens for a time, but after a while even he would have to acknowledge the blokes grinding suggestively against one another on the dance floor.
Rahul situated himself on the outskirts of the dance floor at a high table with a fruity cocktail, drinking resentfully around the colourful umbrella.
He was seeing fewer and fewer scenarios where this night ended in victory for him.
There was a possibility, however remote, that he had pegged Julian and Michael’s relationship wrongly, and that his mate of fifteen years wasn’t as innocent as he’d once suspected.
He was very near packing it in, in fact, when he briefly lost sight of the dancing pair.