Not One For Weddings Ch. 08

Back in the bedroom we laid down facing each other, both of us with one hand on the other's hip. My fingers traced along the curve of his body.

"We're not doing this again," I murmured.

His crooked grin made a reappearance. "What, not have sex for a week?"

I flicked his navel, which only succeeded in making him laugh. I rolled my eyes at him, but smiled.

"Really, Jules."

"Okay, what's up?"

"No more clamming up on me. If there's a problem, talk to me. Always, always talk to me. Please, because I can't stand the guessing game and walking on egg shells."

His hand gave me a gentle squeeze. "As ever, love, you're right. I just... I felt like I was taking advantage of you, having sex with you so casually after everything you'd told me. Not at all because of anything on your part," he stressed, making sure my earlier worries didn't arouse themselves again. "But like you, I obsess - and I obsess over you. I adore you, Chris. I felt like a shit, no better than the fucker who hurt you."

The man was unbelievable.

"You're insane, do you know that? I mean, you're completely and utterly insane." The corner of his lips twitched up into a half-grin. I placed a hand on his cheek and continued speaking. "Listen to me, babe: you cannot compare yourself to Lucas, understand? That's the rule. Not in any way, shape, or form; no hinting, no allusions; no guilting yourself with this imagined outline of something that never happened. Deal?"

His eyes tightened and he opened his mouth to say something, but I covered it with my hand and spoke again before he could begin. "The only acceptable response is 'yes'. Anything else means you're breaking the rule."

He said nothing. I sighed.

"Julian, you can't think like this. I love you - do you know what that means? You are my choice. Lucas was forced upon me; there was nothing about him that I consented to, that I ever did or ever would. But the key thing here is that that's in the past. You, my dear worry-wart, are the present. You are my present, and my future if you'll have me."

I could see in his eyes my words taking effect, and knew that he was taking me at face value. Then, his lips were softly pressing against mine. The kiss, short but deep, said more than his words or any could hope to express. As we pulled apart, our eyes were locked on each other; and, oh, those empyreal hazel eyes of his, flecked with gold and swirled with green. Focused on me, of all people in the world.

"I am so yours," I mumbled to him. "Jules, if you don't know that by now then you're blind and deaf. Let me make that clear to you, in no uncertain terms: I'm yours, anything you want or need from me - body, mind, and soul. Yours."

"Have I told you recently how amazing you are?"

I grinned at him. "I am great, aren't I?"

He rolled his eyes at me, but a smile painted his face at my returned cockiness. "You could, however, do with a lesson or two in humility."

"Whatever."

With that, I quickly moved to sit atop him, straddling his lap. I pinned his hands above his head and dipped down to give him a hard kiss, pulling away only when we were both struggling to breathe correctly. I gazed down at him smugly; I knew he loved it when I was on top of him like that. He gave me a simpering grin.

"Though I will concede that a bit of arrogance suits you," he amended. Releasing the hold I had on his wrists, I stroked his hair while his hands went to my hips. He pulled me down for another kiss, this time soft and unassuming, before shifting us so that he was behind me, his leg thrown over mine, full lips at my neck.

And as silly as it sounds, I felt so safe in Julian's arms. It's not as if he was some sort of overly-muscled hulk of a man at ten feet tall with an intimidating presence who's gaze would strike fear into the souls of anyone who dare cross him. Hell, he was maybe an inch taller than me and played with dogs for a living (okay, that may have been an exaggeration, but he poked fun at my career enough that it was well-deserved). It was hard to deny, though, the sense of invincibility I felt with the weight of his arm around me.

And then the sound of a Queen song burst my bubble of contentment.

"Have I mentioned yet that my family has terrible timing," I grumbled as I reached to grab my phone. "What's up, Drew," I answered in a dull voice.

"Why do you always sound so grumpy when I call you?"

"Why do you choose the worst times to call me?"

"Oh, are you with Julian?" She sang his name out exaggeratedly.

"Yes, I'm with Julian." At hearing his name, his lips pressed against me, relieving some of my annoyance towards my sister.

"Tell him I say hi."

"She says hi," I relayed her message to him with a roll of my eyes. He nodded in acknowledgment and nibbled at my neck to make me smile. "Okay, I told him," I said to Drew, my smile evident voice

"I can tell, you all of a sudden sound like you don't detest me."

"I don't detest you; it's more of a mild distaste," I teased her.

"I'll remember that come Christmas and all you get from me is a lump of coal. Hey, do you think Julian would want to come to Mom and Dad's for Christmas?"

"That's three months away," I tried to keep her obsessive planning at bay. "Don't go and start micro-managing yet. At least wait until November before making him feel too awkward and uncomfortable. He's still a flight risk," I added, more to get a reaction out of Julian than anything. He glared at me and bit the back of my neck with the pinch of my nipple. I openly laughed, not caring that Drew was listening and would surely give me shit for it later.

"Chris, are you still there? On my end all I can hear is this absurdly thrilled voice not dripping with disdain, and I know that can't be you."

"Why can't it be? I'm with someone who doesn't make it a point to get under my skin at every turn." Even as I spoke, I felt a set of teeth playfully gnawing on my ear lobe and I could hardly mask the laughter in my tone. "Someone who, by the way, won't let me focus on my phone call!" I elbowed his ribs in mock-frustration.

"Chris? God, you have it bad, don't you?"

"I do," I sighed with faux-wistfulness. "I think we both do."

"Ugh, you're disgusting," she lightly ridiculed me.

"I know, it's horrible. Being happy. What a bore I've become."

"No, that's something you've always been, bro."

"Maybe so," I allowed her with a chuckle. "But it seems to be working for me."

"You're really happy, aren't you," she mused. "Like, Mom and Dad level happy - the kind that we used to make fun of them for when we were kids."

That was a heavy implication for her to be making. Certainly, our parents had a perfect relationship, or as close to perfect as it gets; but they'd also been married for nearly thirty years. Accepting that...Drew wasn't too far off in her assumption. I was stupidly, ridiculously, insanely happy and in love with Julian.

"I guess you're right, Drew. We're pretty damn happy."

"Can he hear me?"

Her voice had lowered, taking on a more serious note. "No, why?"

"Do you think he'll be the one you marry," she asked, point-blank, no hint of teasing in her voice.

"Woah, Diem, slow down there." I suddenly wished I were alone so that I could explain to my sister without worrying about Julian. "That's a conversation for another day, okay? Preferably a bit more on the future, and without you the instigator of it."

"Alright, alright, sorry. I know it's soon, but you know Dad proposed to Mom after just two weeks. Although, they didn't get married until three years later, so you may have a point."

"Thank you. Anything else, inquisitive pest? Before you called, we were trying to go to sleep."

"No, I've given my night's fill of innappropriate questions. I'll be sure to tell Mom everything, along with my own take and speculations."

"Of course you will. You know, it'd be a nice gesture on your part to perhaps, here's a crazy suggestion, not repeat everything I say to you to our mother."

"Hush, I have enough respect for you that I wouldn't tell Mom about that last question. Unless you say I can..."

"No, let's make that abundantly clear now, the answer is no." She laughed her witch's cackle, pleased at having gotten to me.

"Fine, I'll abide by that. See you later, goodnight."

I hung up and put my phone on the night-stand, shaking my head.

"You talk about me to your sister," Julian noted. He didn't say it either negatively or positively, but in a sort of subdued observational tone.

"I do," I confirmed with a shrug. "Really, aside from all the crap she gives me about, well, everything, she's a good listener. I tell her almost everything. These days, she can't get enough about you." And I love to brag about you.

"I'll castrate you if you divulge details about our sex life," he muttered. "And I'm rather fond of your genitals, so please don't make me have to remove them."

I couldn't help my laugh. "Jules, I do have some level of tact."

His arms constricted tighter around me, placing a peck on my cheek. "I love you, Chris. Your balls are safe for now."

*****

It was a couple of days later, Julian and I were going to a sports bar to meet a couple of his friends to watch a football game. He said didn't really follow the sport, but enjoyed it enough that he'd go out when invited to watch it.

I...was not a sports person.

"Didn't you ever play sports in school," he asked me as we walked into the building that smelled of beer and chicken wings; not an altogether off-putting aroma.

"No, never. It's a miracle I passed gym class."

"That's a shame; I bet your ass would look great in a pair of those tight pants athletes wear. Or a jockstrap," he leered at me.

"It's not the clothing I have objections to." He started towards the bar, but I had to use the restroom. I saw no obvious signs as to where it was, and had to ask Julian.

"It's over there," he pointed to where there were two doors: one had a baseball bat painted on it, the other a glove. What does that even mean?

"Follow up question: am I a bat or a glove?"

"The bat is the men's," he laughed.

"I'll be back in a minute. Get me a drink."

"Okay." He leaned in closer to me, his lips at my ear. "And I promise I won't spike it." He pulled away with a smirk on his face, contrasting my wide-eyed expression.

I let out a shocked laugh. "That's not funny, Jules!"

He gave my nose a kiss. "It's a little funny."

I shook my head at him, but was still laughing. I turned away from him and walked towards the baseball bat. "You're a bad person," I called to back to him, my voice colored with amusement.

*****

Julian

I ordered a beer for Chris from the slight bartender with spiky brown hair and a tight black tank top, who quickly flitted away to gossip with another server. I was still smiling from my rather dark joke when I saw two familiarly bald heads meandering towards me.

"Over here, guys," I called to them.

"Hey, Julian," the taller of the two, Miles, greeted me. "We would've been here earlier, but Tony here doesn't seem to grasp that the world doesn't revolve around him."

"Not true," Tony defended himself as he slid onto a stool. "If Miles didn't have his shit everywhere, I wouldn't have to clear a path just to get to the bathroom."

I grinned at their usual superficial bickering. "It's alright, we just got here a couple of minutes ago."

Miles' eyes gleamed. "Oh, yes, where is the second part of we?"

"Restroom...actually," I looked back to see Chris emerging from the baseball bat door. "Here he comes." He walked over to our small group and stood beside me. "Chris, these are Miles and Tony."

"So you're the teacher he won't shut up about," Miles said by way of greeting.

Chris grinned and gave me a raised eyebrow. "I'd better be. Otherwise he has a lot of explaining to do later."

I rolled my eyes at him and handed him his beer. "Here, drink this. Don't encourage them."

"No, no, please encourage us," Tony insisted. "We're running low on things to laugh at this guy about. He's a hell of a lot of fun to tease." Miles nodded in agreement.

Chris took a seat beside me. "Sorry, I'm under threat of castration if I tell anything worth listening to."

Of course, they laughed at that. "Yeah, he can be pretty uptight about that kinda thing," Miles accepted. "I've known him since he first moved here and he's hardly any less prudish than when he first met me."

Chris and I exchanged a look at the 'prudish' remark, undoubtedly recalling our first meeting that had been anything but. He smirked back at them. "Sure, sure."

Miles' face lit up. "What does that mean?"

"It means you guys have to get your noses out of matters that are none of your concern," I put a stop to his line of questioning that would only end up with me flushing. "I don't badger you and Tony about your private life."

What was meant to be a deterrent, Miles took as a challenge. "Let me tell you, then, that while I was driving us over here, Tony--"

His mouth was swiftly covered with Tony's hand, cheeks aglow. "Why don't we get you something to eat," he said to his inappropriate companion.

"I'm not hungry," came Miles' muffled response.

"I just want something to stuff into your mouth and shut you up."

"Speaking of something stuffed in someone's mouth--"

Chris, Miles and I all had to laugh at Tony's reddened complexion. "Let's watch the game," he muttered and stared fixedly at a television passing a fantasy football commercial. Miles patted his back in an attempt to lighten his mood; as his stiff shoulders relaxed, it seemed to work. We turned our attention to the beginning game, and I noticed Chris' brows wrinkled in confusion.

"They have food here," I said to him. "The home fries are really good."

His eyes perked up, glad to have a distraction from the sports game. "Okay. Do you want anything?"

"I'm fine."

I turned back to the T.V, and vaguely heard Chris ordering from the bartender. He seemed to be engaging Chris in conversation, and his provokingly high-pitched giggles bothered me more than they should have. Chris, naturally flirty and talkative, was only the reason for them. I tried to listen in to what they were saying.

"Why are you talking to me instead of watching the game," the brunette used a maddening baby-voice.

"I far prefer interacting with actual people to watching athletes running around on a screen."

"You realize this is a sports bar," the lithe server giggled again. "Most people here don't give me the time of day, let alone are as friendly as you."

"I have a lot of practice."

"Oh, I'm sure you do," he purred in response, finding an innuendo where none had been implied. Chris, to his credit, at least had the decency to shift in his seat. The bartender's attention was then called by an impatient looking young woman, and with a wink and a promise to return quickly, he unwillingly went to perform his job.

I said nothing to Chris in regards to his new 'friend', not wanting to be ridiculous. Out of the corner of my eye, I paid attention to the server; he was not nearly as sociable with his other clients as with a certain teacher at my side. He returned a few minutes later, food in hand, which he set down with a flourish. The way his fingers brushed against Chris' for too long didn't escape me.

"Hope you like these, honey." I too much enjoyed the tightening in Chris' eyes at the pet name.

"I'm sure they'll be delicious, thank you."

Again, the attention of the bothersome brunette was called. He bustled away, but not before taking the liberty to squeeze the fingers of the man I was beginning to grow irritated with. I took out my phone and sent him a text.

Tell happy Mr. Bartender to keep his hands to himself!

Why, are we the jealous sort, Jules?

I could almost feel his teasing smile through the words on the screen.

Not at all. But remember that I don't share. And I certainly don't share with giggly little twinks.

I heard a his soft chuckle beside me.

See, now that sounds like the tone of someone who's jealous.

I'm not jealous...I'm...possessive? That sounds worse.

You probably don't want to hear this, but I think you're adorable when you're being jealous/possessive.

Yeah, well, let's see how adorable I am when I have your balls in my mouth.

"Can I get you another drink," the overly-friendly bartender offered my now thoroughly amused blonde, interrupting our conversation. I shot him a dirty look he didn't see.

"Yes, please. Can I get a glass of water, too?"

"Sure thing, cutie. Trying to pace yourself?"

"No, but I think my boyfriend here is a little thirsty." He gestured towards me, and graciously left out the rest of his thought, which surely went something along the lines of 'thirsty for attention, the jealous idiot'.

The bartender gave me a brief look of undisguised distaste and turned to get the drinks. He handed over them wordlessly and left again with his face twisted into a scowl to serve an arriving group of men in sports jerseys. I took a drink of the water to try to hide my over-large beam.

I felt a soft pair of lips at my ear. "I know who I came with, baby, and I know who I'm leaving with."

He sat back, looking altogether too proud of himself. I stuck my tongue out at him, serving only to further enhance his smugness. He brought his beer to his lips.

As the night wore on, I discovered something about Chris: when it came to alcohol, he was a lightweight. He had a buzz going on by the time he'd finished his first beer, and by the third he was drunk. He also got more handsy with each sip of the light beer, his hands starting out to occasionally hold mine, to constantly touching my arms and running along my legs. Every time I looked at him, he'd give me his best attempt at a coy smile and bite his lip.

"Have I told you how hot you look in all black," he murmured, fingering the neck of my tee.

"Only three times in the last twenty minutes."

"Oh, that's right," he giggled. Unlike the squeaky little bartender, I loved the sound of Chris' musical laughter. He slid his hand into the neck my shirt and gave my shoulder a soft squeeze. "But you do look hot."

I delicately removed his hand. "We need to get you home."

"Now there's an idea," he lilted, standing up too quickly and holding onto my shoulders to steady himself. I stood up somewhat more gracefully and wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him to me. I lead him to stand before Miles and Tony.

"See you two later--"

"Julian's taking me home now," Chris sang out loudly. We all had to laugh at his dramatics, and he joined in guadily.

"Yeah, he definitely needs to go to sleep. Have a nice night, guys." They waved us away, chuckling at Chris' theatrical display of affection as he clumsily tried to place kisses on my lips and neck.

I gave his cheek a peck. "When did you become so flamboyant?"

He went to nuzzle my chest. "After the second beer, I think. Why, do you mind?"

"Not in the least, love." I stuffed him into my car, and he watched me walk around to the driver's side with a longing stare.

"Your ass looks really, really good in those jeans," he complimented me, reaching over the center console to pet my thigh. I moved his hand back.

"I can't drive with you distracting me like that," I said in response to his disgruntled look. "Put your seatbelt on."

He leaned back into his seat with a melodramatic sigh, but did as I asked. "I kinda liked it when you got jealous earlier."