Chapter Six Bizarre Love Triangle
Seventy-three. Seventy-four. Seventy --
Michael’s workout was interrupted by the shrill cry of the telephone.
He dropped from the aluminium bar installed in the doorframe of his office that he used for chin-ups.
He picked up his vest where it lay discarded on the floor and used it to wipe the sweat from his glistening chest and face.
The phone continued to trill, burrowing incessantly into his head.
Sighing, he threw his shirt aside and lifted the receiver off his desk beside his typewriter.
“Yes?” he answered grumpily. He could not abide his exercises being interrupted.
“Wotcher, Michael,” said a cautiously cheery voice on the other end.
Michael’s chest instantly constricted. It was finally happening. “Julian,” he replied, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.
“Do you, ah… are you busy? I didn’t interrupt your writing or anything, did I?”
Still so nervous on the phone, Michael marvelled, with a little exhaled chuckle.
He glanced over at his cold typewriter, the page within its grips sitting blank.
He had had an unprecedented bout of writer’s block recently.
“No. I’m not busy.” And, because he felt like it, he added, “It’s good to hear from you. ”
“Cheers. Yeah. Erm. Listen, can I come over? If you’re not busy. I’ve got something I want to say.”
“I told you, I’m not busy.” He could hardly contain his excitement. It was all he could do to keep his tone neutral. He’d have to work on his poker face before Julian arrived. “You can come over whenever you’re ready. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.”
Not half an hour later, Julian Collier was walking through his door, taking off his parka and shoving his hands anxiously into the too-tight pockets of his too-tight trousers.
Michael, still in his vest, which was damp from sweat and clinging to his laboriously sculpted frame, went over to his bar on the other side of his upright piano. “Anything to drink?”
“Whatever you’re having.” He was stealing little glances at Michael from under his fringe whenever he thought Michael wasn’t looking.
Michael bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. He poured two fingers of Scotch into two tumblers and handed Julian one. Julian sipped from it and his face contorted slightly before he was able to help himself. The laughter bubbled in Michael’s chest but he refused to let it out. Not yet.
“D’you play?” Julian asked, gesturing at the piano with his glass. “Never thought to ask.”
If he wanted to make small talk before getting to the meat of it, if that would put his mind at ease, then Michael was more than willing to play along.
“Some. I learned at Eton. I only play when I’m feeling rather melancholy, though.
But somehow I don’t think you came here to inquire after my musical abilities. ”
“No. Yeah. Right.” Julian set his glass on the coffee table and wrung his hands together, taking his lip pensively between his teeth. “I wanted to tell you that I did what you said.”
“Oh?”
“I sorted things out with Rahul. Things aren’t like they used to be between us. They’re not complicated anymore. We’re just friends.”
Michael put on long-suffering airs. “Julian. We’ve been down this road before. If Rahul --”
“No, I mean it!” He turned big, pleading eyes on Michael.
“He’s dating some new bloke and everything.
He’s over me. And I’ve got nothing to do with him besides the band and work.
There’s nothing between us anymore. I promise.
Michael.” He daringly stole forward and took Michael’s unoccupied hand in two of his.
“I did what you said because I want to be with you. I do. More than anything I ever wanted. Please. You’ll give me another chance, yeah?
You’ll let me try? Please. Michael? Please. ”
He looked close to tears then, on the verge of falling to his knees. Michael couldn’t help but inwardly crow. Julian begging to take him back. Rahul as out of the picture as he was going to get. It had gone pretty much exactly to plan.
When he’d understood the full scope of their messy relationship, Michael knew that if he had a snowball’s chance in hell he was going to have to get Rahul out of Julian’s life.
If he had come right out and told Julian to get rid of Rahul, even if Julian had done it, over time Julian would have ended up resenting Michael for having made him cut his best friend out of his life.
But if he was clever about it, if he cemented Rahul in Julian’s mind as the villain, then Julian would get rid of him on his own accord.
And he had. Crediting Rahul as the reason for splitting with Julian had entirely turned Julian against him.
Though Rahul wasn’t nearly as out of Julian’s life as he would have liked, this was still a promising start.
Michael was no fool. He had been keeping tabs on Julian since he’d “broken up” with him.
He’d kept a discreet eye on him at the Barber, at his flat, at the record shop, at the Mango Club.
He’d seen how he’d given Rahul the cold shoulder and how discordant the band’s shows had been.
He’d hoped it would be the lead up to Julian cutting ties with him entirely.
But it seemed that childhood friendships ran deep, and, while Michael had put a significant dent in their relationship, it would take more than that to sour them to each other completely.
That was a matter for another time. Julian was back, just as Michael’d predicted he would be.
That Rahul was dating someone else was more than fortuitous.
It meant there would be no further disruptions to his and Julian’s relationship, which was all Michael had wanted.
He wanted unobstructed access to the boy, and that’s what he would get if Rahul continued to mind his own business.
Michael made a great show out of pretending to think things over. He pulled a face and tilted his head from side to side as if considering. “Can you ever really be free of the hold Rahul has on you?”
“Yes! Of course I can. Michael…” Even bolder, Julian stepped forward into Michael’s space, fingers warily reaching forward to graze Michael’s unshaven jaw. Close up, Michael could see the unshed tears clinging to his dark eyelashes. “Please,” he reiterated.
Of course Michael was going to say yes. That had been his plan all along.
But he’d wanted to ensure that he held all the cards and Julian was entirely at his mercy.
That was the only way this was going to work.
If Michael was in complete control. Julian was willful, he would get himself into trouble left to his own devices.
Michael needed him to submit to him to keep him safe from himself.
He cupped Julian’s cheek in his palm and Julian melted immediately, eyelashes fluttering closed and pale cheeks filling with colour. “All right,” Michael whispered. “I’ll give you a chance. Just one more. Understand?”
“Yes,” Julian practically whined before Michael covered his mouth with his own.
Julian kissed him back with a ferocity that spoke of hunger and pent-up desire.
It did nothing but fuel Michael’s ego. Julian had wanted nothing but him, even when he wasn’t around, so much so that he was unable to feel release.
And Michael had watched -- he’d watched him as he’d tried to jerk off but slumped back on the couch, frustrated and depressed.
He’d give him his release now. He’d fuck it out of him.
Something he could do now without fear as the darkness inside him lay dormant as a hibernating dragon.
Even if imagining his hands tightly clenched around Julian’s throat wrung a bone-shattering orgasm from him as he bent Julian over the coffee table and fucked him senseless.
* * *
So Julian and Michael were back together.
That was… yeah. That was fine. Absolutely and completely and totally fine.
Rahul had no problem with it. Not even the teeniest, tiniest problem.
Not even a Borrower-sized problem. Yes, he still thought Michael was a creep.
Yes, he still thought Michael was bad news for Julian.
But Julian was going back into this with his eyes fully open, or so Rahul hoped.
He knew what Michael wanted from him. If Julian was to be believed, Michael had gotten exactly that from him quite a few times now.
So there was no more warning Rahul could give.
And he wasn’t about to try and protect him anymore.
Julian was no longer his problem. These days, Henri was his problem.
Julian was just his mate. And mates were sympathetic towards each other when they were on the outs with their partners and supportive when they were in their partners’ good graces.
They didn’t obsess over whether they were with the right partner, or if their partner was trustworthy, or if they might end up with their heart broken.
Even if he had had that momentary lapse and imagined it had been Julian he was making love to, nothing could take away from the fact that from now on they were just mates. Platonic, normal, blokey mates.
Rahul kept reminding himself of that as Michael dropped Julian off at the shop after lunch and the two snogged for what felt like fifty hours before Michael finally left and Julian entered the shop, lips red and swollen.
Rahul huffed and turned the page of his novel.
It was War and Peace this time. Let no one tell you Rahul Chaand wasn’t a bloody intellectual.
“All right?” Julian greeted merrily as he approached.
“Mm.” Rahul nodded. When Julian had taken his seat and propped his boots up on the counter, taking out a nail file and buffing away at his already short nails, Rahul supplied, “How’s the cretin?”
“Honestly!” Julian cried, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “You think the two of you could learn to get on.”
“Why should we?” Rahul baulked petulantly. “It’s not as though you and Henri are bosom buddies, are you?”