Not One For Weddings Ch. 10

"I - oh­, God, Julian - I'm so close."

"Yes," he panted in a strained voice. "So am I. Mmm, love, please, come with me."

He always knew exactly what to say to have me bending to his will in an instant. I went as fast as I could into him and stroked him with equal resolution, turning him into a high-strung bundle of sensations ready to be released. Our satisfying cries echoed off the walls as we got nearer to the edge, and he held onto me with iron-strong limbs. I managed to drive into him unevenly for just a few more minutes before I had to succumb to the pleasure of Julian.

"Mmph, fuck, Jules," I grunted in a choke as I filled him with the evidence of our coupling. A second later, and he shouted my name as the first shot of his hot cream hit my chin. We clung to each other, as always, riding into each other as we rode out our orgasms. I loved the way he shivered and shook against me, the way he tightened and twitched around me, the way he moaned and groaned in ecstasy.

My arms gave out in exhaustion and I fell in a heap atop him when he'd milked me of everything I had to offer. I didn't feel bad for it and knew he wouldn't mind me doing so, as he'd told me often enough how much he liked it when I was on top of him; with the view of him the position allowed me, I had to agree. Our breaths were hard and heavy as we recollected ourselves there, caught in an embrace, until I felt myself slip out of him and he loosened his hold on me. With a sigh, I rolled onto the bed beside him. Turning his head with one hand so he was facing me, I brought him into a short, sweet kiss.

"I'll kill you if you ever leave me again," I threatened him with a smile on my face. I reached behind me to the bedside table and plucked out a few wet wipes to clean us up.

"You just want me for my body," he lamented with a returning grin as I wiped the small cloth across his chest.

"Oh, please," I snorted. "If that were true, our lives would be a hell of a lot easier."

"That's not quite the response I was hoping for," he frowned.

"Well, it's the response you're getting," I shrugged. "And as good - well, as amazing as that was, it wasn't what I would call a productive way to resolve an argument."

"I have to disagree; I, for one, am feeling pretty damn great right now. And at least this way we're not at each others' throats."

"Great," I snorted. "Let's just keep having sex for the rest of our lives and we'll never have to talk again."

"I would love to have sex with you for the rest of my life, in fact," he said quietly. Then he sighed, sat up, and gestured for me to do the same. He took hold of my hand and laced our fingers together, then brought our entwined fist to his lips. "We don't hold hands often enough," he murmured.

"I was thinking the same thing earlier."

"I'm sorry, Chris."

"I just don't know how you could leave me so easily," I admitted in a hurt breath. "Julian, at this point, I couldn't leave you - even if I wanted to. I never imagined that you could either, let alone that you would. I thought - well, I thought we were stronger than that, that we would be able to work through everything together. I guess I got that from watching my parents, the way their relationship has always been so stable, and I thought we could be like that, too... but maybe--"

"Hey, no, don't go there," he stopped me in an almost panicky voice. "Don't even say it, Chris, don't even think it."

"What do you expect me to think, then?"

"Think that I love you, more than anything and anyone."

His hazel eyes smouldered as he spoke the words, and I didn't doubt his sincerity for a second. I knew that I felt exactly the same way about him and would do anything to keep him despite of, maybe in part because of, our problems; I wanted to work through them together, always. As partners and - woah, Christopher, get back to reality. Slow down, pay attention.

"Julian, you know that I love you," I sighed again.

"Then that should be enough, right? As long as we have that, we can get through everything else."

I bit my lip and nodded my head, because he was right in that; at least the way I saw it - with him. Just him.

"Only you, Julian," I whispered, squeezing his hand.

He rewarded me with an almost triumphant, beaming smile. "So it seems. I fully intend to keep it that way, love."

"Good," I grinned at him. I went in to kiss him, eager as ever to reconcile and move on, never having been one to hold a grudge. It was quick and gentle, and too soon to end when Julian pulled away first.

"I don't think we're quite done yet," he stated ambiguously, not hinting towards anything sexual but I couldn't come up with anything else.

"What do you mean?"

He raised a brow at me. "Babe, have you already forgotten the cause of our argument yesterday afternoon?"

I shifted uncomfortably. "No, of course not. But you've made it obvious you don't want to talk about...that... So I won't bring it up again. I've learned my lesson."

His eyes tightened. "Hey, I don't want that, Chris; I don't want you to be afraid to talk to me because I'll blow up again or something. That's not happening again, ever, I promise. Ask me anything you wish, my love."

And though I trusted him, implicitly, I couldn't bring myself to say even a word, ask a single question; it was still in my mind that the last time I had, he left me in an enraged fit. I didn't want that to happen again, and certainly was not about to tempt fate for a repeat of the events of the day before.

"Okay then," he drawled in my silence. "I can start.

"As I so poorly began to tell you yesterday," he started with his eyes downcast. "I didn't have the easiest upbringing. My father was an alcoholic, he was manipulative, and he used religion as a weapon. My mother loved him, even for his faults - that's the way her father was, what she was taught how married people were. He would hit her when he was in one of his drunken fits, and she'd forgive him because that's what she'd seen happen to her mother. I don't blame her for being weak, it's all she knew.

"He always hated me, I guess at first for having been born male at all; I ruined for him being the only 'man' in the house. Even as a baby, as his son. I was a constant patchwork of bruises throughout elementary school, but of course not where they could be seen by the teachers. When I was twelve, I begged Uncle Sal to let me work for him in the restaurant - I'd been friends with his daughter almost from the womb - and he more more than glad to have me; my father said yes so fast time almost went backwards. My mom was fine with it because they knew the family through their church.

"When I was fourteen, I was on my break at work and flirting with a kid from school. My father happened to stop by that day - I don't know why, he never once had done so before - and he caught me. The moment I saw him standing at the other side of the restaurant I knew I was royally fucked, and I so was when I got home that evening. I'll spare you the verbatim account, but he yelled at me for hours while my mom cried and begged him to stop. He stormed around the house and told my sisters not to talk to me, spouted some bible crap at them then again at me and my mom, and called me a few more names for good measure. I didn't say a thing to him, I didn't cry or yell back to defend myself, I just took his verbal shitstorm silently - and that made him even angrier. He wanted a reaction from me, and that I didn't give one was probably the worst thing I could have done. Finally, he pinned me down and hit me while Zita screamed from her bedroom.

"I left that night, as soon as I could stand up. I went to the restaurant and told Uncle Sal and Mary what had happened - they took me in, without pause or question. They're my family more than anyone else, and I owe them everything.

"Zita still kept seeing me whenever she could, even if my father didn't like it; but, she was his favorite, so he didn't push it. My mom, of course, wouldn't allow even him to stop her from seeing me. I graduated highschool and moved away for University on a full scholarship, then moved here three years ago. Over time, he stopped drinking and apparently became remorseful for what he'd done - to me, and to the rest of them. My mom and Zita keep begging me to go back to visit, but I haven't. My other sisters, too, have come to be able to accept me and claim to miss me, but..." he shrugged. "I guess that's the end of my tale of woe."

He was finally being completely open with me, and I almost sighed from combination of being relieved and honored by his honesty. In fact I might have, because the corner of his lips twitched up into his familiar, slightly bemused grin. I returned him with my own smirk and leaned in to kiss him. Finally!

"Did it really take all of this for you to talk to me," I asked when we pulled apart, tugging at the ends of his hair.

"Give me a break," he defended himself. "That little speech was twenty-seven years in the making,"

"Thank you," I murmured, tracing my fingers along his stubbled chin. "For trusting me enough to tell me, even if it took a while. For being straight with me."

"I'm not so sure about 'straight'," he leered at me, "But I'm definitely telling you everything from now on out. And now that we're on that note... We have a couple of other things to talk about."

"Okay," I eyed him suspiciously, not sure of what else we had to discuss.

"When I walked out of here yesterday," he began with a gentle squeeze of my fingers to soften his blunt wording, "I immediately knew I'd fucked up, big time - before I'd even arrived at my car. But I knew I couldn't just come back in here and say sorry and everything would be okay; you deserved more than a half-assed apology, and it wouldn't have solved any of our problems. God, I felt like an absolute piece of shit, knowing I'd left you the way I did. When I thought about how I spoke to you, and about everything you said to me, it was obvious that you were right - you always have been, of course. You never asked me anything unreasonable, you've never held anything against me, you've never really pushed me until last night - and that was well-deserved, because you've never treated me the way I did you. You've been more than I deserve, you know that, and I appreciate it more than I can express.

"You made me realize that I had to get my shit together, get myself figured out. I'm too good at holding a grudge, when you never do, and I knew I had to make some serious changes if we were going to work this out. Because you're too good to have a petty asshole of a boyfriend. I went back to my condo, strapped on a pair, and called my parents.

"I spoke to my father - only you, Christopher, could get me to do that. I've said maybe ten words to the man in the last fifteen years, and one fight with you had me trying to fix nearly three decades of a non-existent relationship. For you. Just so I could have a hope of making things better between us.

"We talked for a long time. To make a long story short, he seems to be genuinely apologetic and I'm willing to give him a shot. It would mean a lot to my mother and sisters, to be honest, so I'm thinking of them moreso than myself... If I'm to tell you the truth, I really couldn't care less whether or not we had any sort of relationship at all, but seeing you with your family, I know it's important to you. Even though I know you'd never say that. I told him about you, too."

Me?

"Really? Jules, you didn't have to - I just wanted to know about your family, I never imagined you would even mention about me to them."

His eyes narrowed. "Babe, I told Zita about you within the first week I'd met you. My mom and Uncle Sal - and the rest of them - knew about you shortly thereafter. You've never been any sort of a secret, or anything even approaching that."

"Oh." I looked down, embarrassed at having assumed. "I didn't mean to--"

"Don't worry about it, love. Anyways, after he and I spoke, I talked to my mom and sister again. And, like I said, they've been asking me to visit. And with Thanksgiving coming up next week--"

"You're going to New Jersey?"

"Well, that's the thing. I was about to tell them again that I didn't want to visit, like I always do... but then I realized that I could bring you."

"You want to take me to New Jersey? To meet your family?" I was absolutely incredulous - he could have told me he had grown two extra toes at that point and I would have been less surprised. "Julian, you really don't have to. I know that's a lot for you- and, Thanksgiving is only five days away- and, I mean, a minute ago I didn't think they even knew about me--"

"But what if I want you to? Would you, Chris?"

Was there anything I wouldn't do for him? "Of course, you know that."

He gave me a small smile. "Then I'll tell you what I was doing this morning: I was making all of the arrangements for us to go on Wednesday morning. Our flight and hotel are both booked, and I was at work earlier so that everything will be okay for me to take an extended weekend."

"Really, Julian? You're sure about this? I don't want you to think you have to do this for me - you know I can't hold a grudge to save my life. You've been forgiven since you crawled back into bed with me this morning. You don't have to do all of this."

"Don't I? Chris, love, I mean - you're it, for me. It's you and I for the foreseeable future, right? I want my family - Uncle Sal and Mary, Zita and my mom - I want them to meet you. You're pretty damn amazing, obviously, and it would be nice to see them fawn over you."

He had the most sincere look on his face, and it was all I could do to crawl over him and give him the biggest, most heartfelt and touched kiss ever. It was easy to forget his missteps when he could make up for them so well - on a tenfold, or twentyfold, or fuck it, one-thousand-fold. For all of his faults, he could still say exactly what I needed to hear to make everything better.

"I love you, Jules," I breathed. He gave me his lopsided grin I so adored.

"And I love you, Haze. More than anything; you're the most wonderful, incredible, unbelievable person in the world. And you're mine, aren't you?"

"You know I am."

"Good, then I am so glad to call myself yours."

We kissed again, and it was almost strange how opposite and tender the moment was compared to our night before, and even morning, that had been so full of impassioned anger and hurt. Now, not only were we as good as we'd been before our fight, but we were better. If anything, if it were possible, I loved him even more; I didn't have to ask him to know he felt the same, his beautiful hazel eyes were a book to me.

"What's up, babe," I mumbled into the phone on Tuesday evening.

"Come outside," Julian directed me.

I got out of bed and wandered to the glass wall of his bedroom; it had been grey and wet all day, leading to my lazy day in bed watching television. Looking outside, it was absolutely pouring buckets and only a few poor, sodden souls dotted the streets.

"Yeah, that's not going to happen," I informed him without apology.

"Oh, don't be a baby. A little bit of rain won't kill you."

"True, but that's a lot of rain."

"Just get over here - I do things for you all of the time."

"Yeah, like what," I idly teased.

"Hmm... I seem to recall waking you up in a rather pleasing manner this morning. Do you remember that, too?"

I almost shivered at the memory he called forth. Yes, I very clearly could recall Julian waking me up that morning - he'd discovered he could best curtail my usual morning crabbiness by awaking me with his mouth wrapped around my cock. Not that it needs saying, but yes, it was a very effective system.

"Fine," I relented with a sigh, knowing he'd played me like a violin; I could almost hear his smug smile.

"See you in a minute, love," he parted with too much enthusiasm.

I made my way downstairs without his excitement, not being keen on soaking myself in the cold rain. When I arrived at the lobby of the condo, I was dismayed to see my black-haired man standing outside with an arm behind his back, alone in the middle of the street and getting soaked. The idiot. He was in his work clothes, as he'd had a late day to allow him to take an extended weekend; the benefits of being a teacher, I didn't have any work at all and could laze about his house without issue.

"What are you doing out there," I yelled out to him when I was outside, sheltered beneath the building's awning.

"Come here," he called me with a huge grin.

I refused to budge. "No, are you insane? Come on, let's go back up."

He pulled his arm out from behind his back to reveal a small bouquet of bright yellow flowers, and the most heart-melting smile plastered on his face.

"Get over here, Christopher," he beckoned once again, and this time it was nothing for me to step out into the torrent - even if I was sopping wet in less than five seconds.

When I got to him, before I had a chance to thank him or make some smart-ass remark, he had me in a deep and hard kiss right there in the middle of the street; he had me in a kiss that caught me by surprise and stole my breath away, the kind of kiss that was idealized and immortalized in every love song and poem written throughout history. My fingers tangled in his stringy-wet hair, not a care in the world of whether we were making a spectacle of ourselves - in point of fact, it was moreso because we were making something of a scene, freely out and open even on the empty sidewalk. Julian had no reservations on how he kissed me, eagerly taking the liberty to slide his tongue along the seam of my lips before prodding between and gaining access into my gratefully anticipative mouth. I moaned into him against myself, completely taken by him and the suddenness of the moment.

"Was that worth coming downstairs for," he wondered in a husky voice when we pulled apart.

"What the hell was that," I asked him in a lightly accusing tone.

"The quintessential kiss in the rain, of course. Isn't it mandatory for every love story?"

I almost blushed at his amorous words. "Is that what we have, Jules - a love story?"

"As near to it as we can manage, I think. Though I'm pretty sure most of them end up with the couple tragically dying."

I frowned at that; Julian's death was not a concept I cared to entertain. "How about this, then: let's both agree to stay away from unsinkable sinking ships, wet-nurses and friars with the genius idea to poison protagonists, and deviate entirely from anything remotely Nicholas Sparks-esque. Barring all that, I think we can get out of this thing alive."

"Sounds like a good idea."

We kissed again, more briefly this time but with no less passion. If it were up to me, I would have had him stripped and splayed out right there on the ground, in the middle of Seattle in the pouring rain. I didn't have a particular weakness for either flowers or grand gestures, but that it was him taking the time and energy to conceive of and cultivate that plan into fruition was enough to turn tulips into my favorite plant.

He pulled away with the most adoring expression to regard me.

"You're very much worth coming downstairs for," I answered his earlier question as we stepped apart.

To my delight, he wrapped an arm around me and hugged me to his side as we made our way back to the building, placing another kiss on my neck. As we neared the entrance, there was a group of about five girls standing in a circle, all laughing - and looking right at us. I hoped Julian wouldn't notice them, but by the way he tightened his arm, I knew he had.