21. Chris
Chris
December, Cardiff
It hadn’t even been three hours since he’d left Elliot and Jackson’s stag, but as he sat on the train home, Chris felt like it had been a lifetime ago.
Early December rain fell outside, harsh and unforgiving as the countryside passed in a blur.
He flicked through his photos from the weekend, selecting some to share with the others in the group chat.
His fingers stumbled over one of Isaiah dancing with Jacob and Malek in the club that first night.
He didn’t even remember taking it, but he could see why he had.
Isaiah was a vision, his purple hair vibrant under the neon lights, T-shirt clinging to his lean body and just see-through enough to show the outline of his tattoo.
The tattoo he’d finally gotten to see up close, which read “Luctor et Emergo.” Chris’s Latin was shaky at best, but a quick search told him it meant “I struggle and emerge,” which seemed so very Isaiah that it made him grin.
He adjusted himself as subtly as he could, looking around at the dozing passengers nearby, and forced himself to scroll to the next picture. Then he sent the lot of them to the group chat, which pinged with heart emojis and thanks in return.
He tucked his phone back into his pocket, hoping to join his fellow passengers in catching some sleep before the train pulled into Cardiff, but then his phone buzzed, then buzzed again.
It was probably the group chat; he didn’t need to check it, but the incessant fear of missing out that had him well and truly in its grip this year spurred him on.
The name on the screen made his stomach do a strange series of acrobatics as he unlocked the phone.
Isaiah
Nice photos.
Took a special one for you.
The image file took a moment to load, blurry until Chris tapped it open and nearly choked on his tongue. Isaiah, in front of a mirror, biting his lip as he palmed himself over his joggers. The erection Chris had been fighting back while scrolling through his own pictures was back with a vengeance.
Chris
Are you trying to kill me?
Isaiah
Nah. Wouldn’t deprive the world of your jawline
But hurry up, this is the part where I expect payment.
Chris felt his mood plummet immediately. He’d thought the weekend meant something, that they’d moved beyond that. But he also didn’t think he had it in him to say no.
Isaiah
I’ve just realised how you probably interpreted that, so let me be clear
Send me a picture, Green.
The breath that escaped from Chris was one of relief and giddy energy, until he realised what Isaiah wanted. Fuck, he didn’t want to disappoint.
Chris
I’m on a train. You trying to get public indecency added to the next article about my fall from grace?
Isaiah
As if anyone that’s ever seen that cock could print a single negative word about it.
Chris grinned down at his phone like a goddamn loon.
Isaiah
Now chop chop. Trains have loos.
He rose, making his way down the aisle unsteadily and praying to any god that would listen that no passengers were paying enough attention to notice the very obvious way he held his bag in front of him.
He entered the loo and locked the door, then checked three times just to be sure it wasn’t going to slide open on him if someone pressed the button outside.
Then he got his phone out and let his eyes slide over the picture Isaiah had sent again.
His cock twitched, and he took the first photo, palming himself just as Isaiah had in his own picture.
Isaiah
Very nice. More please.
The message was accompanied by another shot of himself. Naked, flushed, and pink, stretched out on a dorm room bed.
Chris
Hell of a way to tell me you got back safe.
Isaiah
Were you worried about me, sweetheart?
The pet name was new. He loved it.
Chris
Nah, you can handle yourself
Isaiah
Show me how you handle yourself
Chris snorted because that was a fucking terrible line, but he complied anyway.
The location was far from his mind as he stroked himself, snapping and sending photos back and forth with Isaiah until he knew he was close.
Then he flicked over to video and shot an unsteady clip as he came, Isaiah’s name on his lips.
Isaiah
Fuck, well that’s what I’ll be thinking about during my show tonight.
Chris waited for the jealousy to come, but it didn’t hit.
Isaiah
You’ll be there, right?
Chris
Am I unblocked?
Isaiah
Of course you are, Green. I want you there. Want your eyes on me.
Fuck.
Chris
I’ll be there.
Not even the promise of an Olympic gold could have kept him away.
Dinner with his family that evening felt painfully, unnecessarily long. His parents video called Nick while they ate, something about making it a family meal. His twin only made three cracks about Chris probably taking drugs at the stag, so he supposed that was progress.
It was inching closer to nine p.m., though, and Chris was getting nervous about missing the start of Isaiah’s show.
He’d told him he’d be there, and as much as he wasn’t sure Isaiah would even notice his screen name amongst the thousands of subscribers he apparently had now, he didn’t want to let him down.
“So exciting, the wedding next weekend,” his mum gushed. “And at the Hewitt estate as well,” she said wistfully.
Nick scoffed.
“Nick,” his dad said sharply.
Nick rolled his eyes. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I forget the golden rule? Anyone even tangentially connected to Christopher is a delicate, special flower that can never be criticised.”
Chris stumbled at that. Was that really what Nick saw? He didn’t have time for his brother’s delusions now though. He pushed back from the table. “I’m off,” he announced.
“Running away like a fucking pussy, as usual,” Nick snapped, clearly forgetting their parents were also present.
“Nicholas.” His mum’s tone left no room for argument. “Apologise to your brother right this second.”
“It’s fine, Mum.” Chris sighed. “I’ve got coursework to finish.”
He forced himself to slow his steps as he walked towards his room, but as soon as he hit the stairs, he practically jumped down them two at a time, racing the clock to log on and make it to the start of Isaiah’s show.
He stretched out on the bed, tablet in hand, and clicked into the site.
A little thrill of pleasure shot through him when he was admitted to the channel with no issue.
And there was Isaiah on the screen, smirking as he toyed with a strand of purple hair.
Blue eyes flashed with something for a moment that Chris could have sworn looked like relief, and then he said in that sultry voice he reserved for streams. “Welcome back, Flash. I’ve missed you. ”
After much begging, pleading, and a tiny bit of guilt tripping, Chris had managed to convince his parents to let him borrow the car to get to the wedding.
The Hewitt estate was somewhere near Kent, and getting there by train had sounded like a total ballache, but as he pulled into yet another service station after nearly four hours on the road, Chris wasn’t convinced this was much better.
It was probably because he was so anxious to get there and see Isaiah in the flesh, but the drive was painful beyond belief. He spent most of it playing the last week over in his head. They’d continued texting, sending pictures back and forth and flirting, but they hadn’t spoken.
Chris had joined every stream Isaiah put out, but he hadn’t even considered asking for a private show.
The truth was, he was afraid. Afraid of pushing for more than Isaiah was willing to give, afraid he was just a diversion, that this meant far more to him than it did to the other man, who had everything going for him while Chris’s life was still in limbo.
He was waiting for the end of his ban, waiting to see if he could ever land another sponsorship, always waiting.
Sure, Carl said there were plenty of sponsors that wanted him, but how true would that be if he came back and couldn’t hit the times he had before?
He wasn’t sure he could do it, wasn’t sure he deserved to.
He stretched up, cracking his back before climbing into the car again to begin the final leg of the journey. His phone buzzed as he put it back in its mount and pulled open the map. Isaiah.
Isaiah
Looking forward to seeing you all dressed up.
Chris smiled.
Isaiah
Hoping I’ll get a chance to mess up your tux later
There it was, the confusing mix of heat and anxiety that filled his veins whenever he thought of Isaiah Owens.
Chris
Get back to your best man duties.
I’ll steal you away first chance I get.
An email had come through. He’d half expected another itinerary, but what he’d got had set his heart racing. Test results. He searched his phone for his own latest test and fired the email back at warp speed before getting back on the road. His heart hammered, this was real. Isaiah wanted him too.
Chris gnawed his lip raw as he drove, worried he’d been too transparent, that the feelings growing in him for Isaiah were too strong to hide and that if he made this any more than what Isaiah clearly wanted from him, he’d lose that as well.
He’d already spent months not even able to watch him; he couldn’t put himself through that again.
After another two hours, Chris turned onto a gravel road at the end of a lane, half-obscured by trees.
A security guard checked his ID against a list and waved him forward.
He drove down the long, winding drive lined with beautiful red rose bushes, then was directed to a shaded parking area by a woman in a high vis.
He carried his suit and overnight bag into the sprawling manor house, where a young woman with tight, dark curls and a bright smile greeted him at the door.
“Chris, right?” she asked. He nodded as she waved him in.
“Darius has put you in the Green room.” She rolled her eyes.
“He thought it was funny. Because secretly my brother has the sense of humour of a twelve-year-old.”
“Ah, you must be Selena?” he said, things clicking into place.