Not One For Weddings Ch. 09

"Julian...please," he pleaded breathily, his fingers knotting in my hair.

I glided my nose down his chest, over his sternum, to his navel. "What is it you want, Chris?"

"You."

"You have me, babe. Just tell me what you want from me."

"I wanteverythingfrom you, Jules."

I came upon his crotch, then, where his cock was proudly awaiting and glistening from his combined pre-cum and the lubricant he'd already applied before I'd arrived. I buried my nose in his tuft of pubic hair, inhaling his musky scent, and looked up at him with hooded eyes.

"Did you imagine me down here, before I so rudely interrupted you?"

"No," he panted, giving me a hungry look. "But I'm open to improvisation."

I ran my lips dryly over him, from the base of his cock to his tip. I traced my lips over it as if I were applying lip balm, but didn't take him into my mouth.

"I don't know, Chris," I husked over him. "You seemed rather intent earlier on sticking to your fantasy."

"I got over that," he claimed in a huff.

"What a convenient time for this change of heart," I mused as I breathed over his pulsing member.

"Well, you have me in a rather compromising position."

I looked up at him with a leer. "I must say, you look fucking hot in this position."

He was growing tired with my slow pace. "Hurryup," he complained. "You're driving me insane."

And as much as I loved to agonize over him, he was not to be trifled with in that moment. I lowered my mouth over him, taking in his full length until my nose met his crotch; he rewarded me with a low groan. I traced my tongue along his shaft, making patterns designed to reduce him to a moaning heap of desire. Already, he was quivering beneath me and fisting his hands in my hair. I allowed him to guide my head over him, setting the pace as he pleased to make up for my cautious beginning.

"Mmph, ooh," he groaned as I moaned over his over-excited tool. He tugged me off him by my hair and pulled me up. "Get over here."

He brought me in for a passionate kiss, his tongue snaking its way into my mouth, and his hips reaching up to grind against me. I sighed into his mouth and scratched my nails along the backs of his thighs, pausing when I got to his ass to give a firm squeeze. That sent an entire new onslaught of pleasurable waves through him, as he reflected with the raise in his volume and the way his lips moved urgently against mine

"Julian," he gasped, pulling away. "I need you, please," he begged in a rough voice.

I dragged my lips away from his and positioned myself between his strong, shapely legs. I massaged them, beginning at the taut muscles of his ass and working my way down. I lifted them as my fingers kneaded, until I had him folded in half and his already-prepared, pink hole was winking up at me. I rested his feet on my shoulder - and, hell, even his feetwere sexy. He stared at me with eyes full of trust and lust, almost shaking with anticipation. I aligned my drooling cock with his shining entrance, and slowly pressed myself into him.

"Fuck, Chris," I cursed at the feeling of his searing heat surrounding me. "God, baby, you feel so good."

I started out with long, slow strokes into him, and pulling almost completely out before pushing back in. His tight muscle twitched around me as I did, while he awarded me with a steady stream of pleasured moans. Just looking at his face that was contorted in carnal bliss was enough to have me pounding harder into him, my balls slapping against him with each inwards thrust.

"Ugh, Jules," he grunted. "You feelsomuch better...bigger...hotter..." He cut himself off with his own amorous cries.

His words were more an aphrodisiac than anything else known to man, and he was well aware of that. I fucked him with abandon as he so wished for me to do, as he had pleaded for me to do, as he'd fantasized I might do. If his quivering and delighted cries were any indicator, I was delivering on every one of his eroticly-imagined plots. He decorated my chest and stomach with clear, sticky trails. I heard his shaky intake of breath, and knew then that he was getting closer and closer to exploding all over us. I reinforced my pumping at the insistence of his heightening moans, going faster and deeper than before, and fighting to keep myself under enough control to bring him to the edge of ecstasy. A minute later, and he was urging me to let myself go and join him for a mutual release.

"I'm going to come, come with me," he growled as he yanked on my hair.

I tried a few more wild bucks into him, before I gave myself over to the absolute pleasure provided by my desperately arousing blonde. Simultaneously, either by chance or design I wasn't sure, he gave a shout of my name following jets of his lubricious cream coating us both. His grasping channel clamped even tighter on my cock as his orgasm gripped him, determined on taking me for all I was worth.

Minutes or moments later, a final sigh announced for the both of us the end of our amative union. Wearily, I disengaged myself from a droopy-eyed Chris, who was content to surrender himself to me then as ever. I brushed my lips over his ankles as I removed them from my shoulders, then collapsed into a worn-out pile of flesh beside him. Our breaths were hard and irregular as we came down from our coital high. A few errant groans escaped us both, accompanying thoroughly satisfied sighs.

Chris' rolled his head towards me, his lazy smile making its signature appearance.

"That was hot, Jules," he proclaimed, tracing down my chest.

"Yeah, it was," I agreed. I picked up his fingers from where they began to wander around my stomach, the tips of each digit frosted with his come that he'd picked up and swirled about me. I brought them into my mouth and licked them clean, keeping my eyes on his as I did. His pooled caramel orbs narrowed on mine, and the next breath he sucked in was somewhat more unsteady than the one before.

"That was hot, too," he swallowed.

"I'm glad you appreciate it," I grinned at him.

He leaned in to give me a soft kiss, then pulled away with the smile to match it. "What made you get out early?"

I stretched my hand behind me to pluck a couple of wet-wipes from where he kept them on the side-table. "You did," I answered his question as I cleaned him up first, then myself. "It was a slow day at work, and I couldn't concentrate on anything knowing you were here."

My phone buzzed from the table on Chris' side of the bed.

"Pass me that, love," I requested him.

He reached his arm out to grab it, but spun it around in his hands rather than hand it to me. "What if I want to look at your phone," he wondered with a glint in his eyes.

I recognized his challenge and shrugged in response. "Go ahead. Do you want me to unlock it for you?"

"No, of course not," he snorted as he relinquished me my phone. "You know I wouldn't go through your things like that."

I did know that, and for exactly that reason is why I would trust him to. I gave his wrist a deft kiss as I retrieved from him my phone. He lightly stroked my hair as I checked the reason for the buzzing that had interrupted us, and even as I did it buzzed again, my sister's name popping up.

"It's Zita calling," I explained to Chris. "Do you mind if I answer her?"

"Go ahead - at least for once it's notmyfamily with the inappropriate timing," he joked.

I accepted the call and had a brief conversation with my sister; as I spoke to her in Italian, Chris just watched me with a bemused smile the entire time. I was pretty sure he was beginning to pick up a few words in the language from the way his eyes perked up every now and again. Our phone call ended after two whopping minutes, and I hung up with a sigh.

"You run your hand through your hair when you're frustrated," Chris said to me; I made a non-committal noise in response. He continued: "You do it a lot when you're on the phone with your sister."

I offered him a humorless half-grin. "My sister can be very taxing on my patience. She and my mother keep trying to get me to visit for the holidays."

"Why don't you?"

"I have no strong compulsion of any sort to see them."

"You should go," he pressed me. "They're your family, after all."

"No, I shouldn't. It's different from your family, Chris, you couldn't understand."

"Well, how could you expect me to understand anything about your family if you don't tell me about them? We've been together for four months, Julian, and I still know almost nothing about them. Meanwhile, you'vemetmy family; you joke with my sister; my mom is constantly asking about you; my dad is impressed as all hell by you. But you can't even talk to me about the people who raised you?"

"Don't go there right now," I cautioned him, standing up and pulling my jeans back on.

"Of course, I forget myself," he went on sarcastically, also getting up and dressing. "I know howobsceneit is of me to ask my boyfriend - who practically lives with me at this point - a few simple, rational questions that anyone in a committed relationship would expect to have freely answered."

"Please, Christopher, I don't want to fight right now," I struggled to keep calm as I buttoned up my shirt.

"Then what do you want, Julian," he questioned me angrily. "You never want to fight, but neither do you want to talk."

I walked out of the bedroom and went to the kitchen; he followed shortly behind. "I just don't want to do this right now," I repeated. "We were having a nice afternoon, can we please get back to it?"

"No. I'm not about to pretend that everything's fine because you don't feel like talking to me."

I said nothing, and served myself a glass of water. I stared darkly out the window, my back to Chris.

"What the hell is it with you," he seethed behind me. "You prefer to bury your head in the sand and ignore any problems we might have. You won't talk to me unless I badger you to, and even then I'm lucky to get a handful of words out of you. This isn't fair, and for the love of Christ,put down the fucking water and look at me."

I slammed the cup down onto the counter and spun around to face him. "Fine! You want to fight? Let's fight. What do you want from me, now?"

His eyes sparked at my insensitive words. "What do you think I want? It's always the same problem with you. You're great at feeding me sweet nothings, telling me you love me and you trust me, but when it comes to the big things you completely close me off. If this is some sort of 'dark and mysterious' thing you have going on, I'm sick of it. I am beyond done with this whole act."

"Really, Christopher, you think I'm putting on some kind of anact?"

"Maybe, what do I know," he raged. "After all, Icouldn't understand,right? I'm probably just toostupidto understand."

"That is not what I meant, and you know it," I accused him.

"Then, fuck, what did you mean? Tell me, Julian. What the fuck did you mean?" He paused for half a beat, then continued before I had a chance to get a word in. "You know what? I think you're right - Idon'tunderstand. I don't understand how I can be completely open and honest with you from day number one, and you still don't trust me enough to do the same. I've told youeverythingyou wanted to know about me, I've never hidden anything from you, and I've never lied. What don't I tell you? What don't you know about me? Nothing! There is nothing you don't know about me, even the things that I'm most ashamed of. I told you about my past, something I've never told anyone else, and I did so as soon as you asked me. I didn't make you grovel and beg and yell and scream. How is this any different?"

"It's completely different," I argued back.

"No! It's not! This is a two-way street, you can't go picking and choosing what information you want to share and what you don't. I sure as shit didn't want to tell you about Lucas, but I fucking did when you asked me instead of pussying out and hiding behind a mask of anger like you are now with me."

"Don't you go putting that on me, I didn't force you into anything. I woke up in the middle of the night, and you were nowhere to be found. I found you in the shower, you were a mess."

"What, are you going to try to tell me that you're the poster child for someone who's organized and has everything under control? Give me a break, Julian."

"I'll fully admit I don't have a clue of what I'm doing," I granted. "But at least I can have a modicum of control over what people know about me."

"Is that all I am to you? Just another person that you have to control what you say around?"

"No--"

"Are you sure? Because, for some reason, that's the impression I seem to be getting. I cannot imagine why."

"Very well, do you want to know about my family? Let me tell you, then." I took another drink of water, then turned back to him with a glare I couldn't help, and didn't care to fix. "My father was an abusive drunk who beat his wife and emotionally manipulated his daughters. He used religion to rationalize his actions, and my mother allowed him to. He hated me from the moment I was born. He was glad to hand me over to Uncle Sal when I was twelve to work. When I was fourteen years old, I'd been working at the bakery for two years, and he came by one day when I was on my break and flirting with a guy I knew from school. He saw me, he figured it out immediately and dragged me home. A bunch of bullshit yelling happened, but in the end all my sisters but for Zita shunned me for being gay because that's what my father told them to do. My mother was a weak woman, and she went with it. I moved out the next day, Uncle Sal and his wife took me in without question or hesitation. My father didn't watch me graduate high school or university. He did his best to ignore me when I'd stop by to visit my sister or mother over the holidays. Now he's stopped drinking, and by all accounts he's a changed man and all that crap who wants me to forgive him as if none of it had happened.

"So, there, there's the sob-story you. Does that make you feel better? Is it a huge weight off your shoulders, does everything make sense to you now?"

The air went deathly quiet.

He was wide-eyed at the tsunami of information I'd thrown at him. "I- Julian, I... I'm sorry, I didn't..."

He may have been at a loss for words, but I was livid by that point. "Don't give me that shit, Christopher. I fucking told you it wasn't going to be some bullshit happily-ever-after fairytale. I told you I didn't like talking about my family, well there, now you know why. You made your damn bed."

"I'm sorry, Julian," he whispered, not meeting my glowering eyes. "I didn't know."

"Don't talk to me like that," I yelled at him, my rage in full-force as his had been only minutes before. "I don't need this pity, I don't want to hear your apology. Itoldyou you didn't want to hear what I had to say, so don't give me that pathetic look."

Silence.

Broken only by the sounds of our breathing. He had no response, and looked not at all unlike a fish flopping around on a dock. That only made me angrier, and my fury bubbled and boiled within me as the silence stretched on. I'd known this was the sort of reaction I'd be confronted with - a whole lot of good telling him what he wanted to know had done.

More silence.

After months of prying questions. After I'dtoldhim I didn't want to speak of my family. After knowing full well that it was something I was supremely uncomfortable with discussing, and he'd pushed me, andpushedme for the sake of his own selfish curiosity.

And now, he had nothing to say to me.

"Fuck this."

Chris

He left.

Julian, the man who I loved and trusted, who I respected and adored above anyone else, left me in a fit of rage.

Shocked was an understatement. To say it was unexpected was so insignificant a word it almost felt like a lie. Because, in fact, his actions were so far beyond what I had believed to be within the realm of possibility, I may as well have slipped into a parallel universe. Not only had I never imagined a situation where he might storm away from me in a choke of fury, but neither in any way at all. I'd never imagined Julian would, or evencouldleave me.

And I just. Fucking. Stood there.

I watched him growing angrier with me - and, with reason, it was true. I prodded and poked him until he exploded, and didn't even stick it through to clean up the mess I'd made. I let him get mad - no, getfurious- then stood there mutely, as if to emphasize his anger for him. Tongue-tied, I let him yell at me until he couldn't stand my presence. And even when he turned around, even as he walked away, I couldn't find a single word, if only to ask him to stay.

Frozen in place, I stared at the closed door that had been slammed shut. Ten minutes had to have passed before I could coax my stiff legs to move; a mistake, it proved a second later, as my knees gave out and I fell to the floor. I felt an unfamiliar clenching in my chest, a constricting of my throat, and a shortness of my breath.

I was not a man who cried. My parents had never spouted the whole "boys-don't-cry" crap, it just wasn't something that came naturally to me. And I didn't cry then - Ibawled. Like a child, big, fat tears rolled down my cheeks as sobs ripped out from my lungs like bats out of hell.

I cannot believe I just let him go.