Fic: Queer as Folk: So Come and Dance With Me 14/? Part 2/2
Brian shifted his hips, lowering Michael’s ass gently to the futon. He took a deep breath and pulled, holding the base of the condom in place as he left Michael’s body. A shudder went through the man beneath him, and he tied the condom off, tossing it into the wastebasket in the corner.
The window above them, almost entirely covered in posters, rattled as a gust of wind blew past. The silence outside was over.
Brian stroked his fingers through Michael’s hair, staring down at him. He didn’t know what to say. The panic he expected - deep down, in that voice (that ironically sounded like Michael) that told him when he was doing something stupid - didn’t come. His body didn’t twitch with the urge to jump up, to escape. He licked his lips and tilted his head, staring at his best friend’s eyes as they filled with tears.
Christ, he thought. Say something, asshole.
“Why didn’t we do that sooner?” Brian’s voice asked, sounding rough even to himself.
Michael blinked, the glassy wetness of his eyes reflecting Brian’s image. Then his lips twitched into a grin. “Fuck if I know,” he said.
Brian grinned, his fingers tugging on a lock of Michael’s hair.
Michael’s eyebrows arched and he glanced away. When he looked back at Brian something in his eyes had changed. The tears gone, he looked almost… determined. “We should get dressed.” He sighed and smirked, looking embarrassed. “Having sex right in front of the window probably wasn’t a great idea.”
Brian growled, ducking his head to nip Michael’s lower lip. “I couldn’t wait long enough to lure you to the loft.”
“Lure?” Michael giggled, tugging his lip from Brian’s teeth.
“Oh, would you have come willingly?” Brian asked, smirking.
Michael blinked. “I don’t know,” he said. He pushed gently on Brian’s chest, and Brian shifted to his knees, then stood, climbing off of Michael. He grabbed the roll of paper towels sitting on the counter and wiped himself clean, then handed them to Michael, after a short hesitation.
He wanted to wipe the come from Michael’s chest. But suddenly that felt… too intimate. He realized, slowly, that he wasn’t sure where he stood now, or where they stood.
Worse, he thought. I don’t know what answer I want.
His clothes felt cold and restrictive as he pulled them on, and he frowned down at the missing buttons on his shirt. Brian lifted his gaze to Michael, watching as he bent over to tug on his underwear.
“I’m going to need a bigger wardrobe budget,” Brian said, leering at Michael’s ass and feeling his dick stir.
“Huh?” Michael asked, turning to face him. He tugged on his t-shirt, and his hair stuck out in every direction.
Brian grinned and buttoned his pants, then stepped closer to him, stroking both hands through his hair, brushing it into place. “This is the second shirt you’ve ruined.”
Michael’s eyes widened and he looked down at Brian’s missing buttons. He winced, whispering, “Shit. Sorry.”
Brian snorted. “Luckily I’m fabulously wealthy, so you can destroy as many of my shirts as you want.”
Ducking his head, Michael was silent for a long moment. Brian dropped his hands and watched him, feeling nervous again. Not awkward, quite, but nervous. Was he going to start crying again?
Michael lifted his head and his eyebrows were low, his lips pouty and full, a flush across his cheeks.
Brian licked his lips, overwhelmed with the urge to push him back onto the futon, or the floor, or over the counter, and fuck him again.
“Does that mean we’re going to do this again?” Michael finally asked, his voice forced, but almost confident sounding.
Brian arched an eyebrow, and stuck his tongue in his cheek. He hadn’t thought about it. He’d just assumed they were. Was that a question? Why wouldn’t they? “You enjoyed yourself, didn’t you?” Brian asked.
Michael’s eyebrows arched and his eyes widened. “Well… yeah,” he muttered.
Smirking, Brian chuckled. “Then why the hell wouldn’t we?”
The smile that crossed Michael’s face was practically bashful, but he held Brian’s gaze.
He didn’t mention Ben. And he didn’t mention commitment.
Something about that was a little strange, but Brian was thankful. He put that thought aside, dismissing it, and all memories of the other man in Michael’s life. He was the one here now. He was the one that was going to take Michael home tonight, and fuck him again, and again, and sleep next to him naked, but this time he’d be allowed to touch him, to stroke him awake in the morning, to kiss him when his lips yearned for the taste of another man.
The knock on the door startled them both, Michael jumping and Brian’s body tensing like it did when he was surprised.
“Let us in, it’s fucking freezing!” a high-pitched male voice shrieked.
“Christ,” Brian muttered, lifting his fingers to the bridge of his nose and pinching it in irritation. “What the hell are they doing here?”
Michael winced, looking dismayed. “Fuck if I know! Shit!”
Brian sighed and dropped his hand. “Fuck. I forgot. Ran into Sunshine earlier, he demanded we all go to Woody’s.”
Michael’s eyes widened at the use of the nickname and he glanced away quickly, shrugging and nodding. “Right. Of course.”
Brian winced. Asshole, he thought again. Tactful as shit, aren’t I?
Michael reached the door before Brian could say anything, and Emmett and Justin ran through it, the taller man shrieking. A freezing gust of wind blasted past them, and Michael shoved the door shut, turning the lock.
“What are you still doing here?” Emmett demanded, pouting. “We’ve been waiting at Woody’s!”
Brian’s gaze flicked to the clock on the wall. Shit, it had only been an hour. It felt like… longer. Or maybe shorter. “It’s only seven fifteen,” he snapped. “Why the hell didn’t you just wait for us?”
Justin’s eyebrows were arched, just a little. His gaze, more observant than Brian liked (as always), shifted from Michael’s neck, to Brian’s missing buttons. His nose twitched as he sniffed the air.
“Let’s go,” Michael said. “I could use a beer.”
“Well you better have a warmer coat than that one,” Emmett said, pointing to the jacket hanging on the wall. “You’ll freeze your tail off!”
“Shit,” Michael muttered, pulling his jacket from the wall. He glanced at Brian from the corner of his eye. “I was distracted this morning. I forgot it was going to snow.”
Brian grabbed his coat from the counter and lay it over Michael’s shoulders, snatching the jacket from his hand and tossing it onto the counter.
A flush spread across the back of Michael’s neck. He shifted the coat off. “I’m fine, it’s only a few blocks.”
“Wear the damn coat,” Brian grunted, putting it back on him. “You’re a wimp. I don’t mind the cold.”
Michael pursed his lips and said nothing, his eyes staring at the floor.
“So, let’s GO,” Emmett whined. “Before it gets worse out there!”
Brian sighed and glanced at Justin, almost scared to meet his gaze.
The twink-that-could arched an eyebrow at Brian and shook his head. Then he smirked and his chest jerked in a short chuckle. “I’ll buy you a drink,” he said to Brian. “You look like you could use one.”
Fuck yes I could, Brian thought. “I can pay for my own liquor, mister starving artist,” he said.
Michael winced at the fondness in Brian’s voice, and he flicked off the lights, pressing the buttons on the store alarm. A soft beep, beep, beep filled the air. “Come on,” Michael said.
They slipped out into the cold, and Michael locked the door.
“Who’s up for a game of pool?” Emmett asked with a smile.
“You suck at pool,” Justin said, grinning.
“But it’s a fabulous way to attract men; showing them you’re good with a long pole.” Emmet winked.
Brian snorted and slipped his arm around Michael’s shoulders. He’d done that plenty of times, especially when it was cold out. But it still felt different, somehow. His new familiarity with his childhood friend’s body felt… strange. Not bad. But strange. Still, his hand rested on Michael’s shoulder, and Michael hesitated before leaning into him a little as they walked.
Justin strode ahead next to Emmett, glancing back at them only once. He smirked a little at Brian, and Brian averted his gaze.
They were going to have a talk, eventually, he knew. Justin was the one person he could count on to call him on his shit, no matter what. But hopefully he could avoid it, at least until he knew… what was happening. Because right now he wouldn’t have any answers.
The window above them, almost entirely covered in posters, rattled as a gust of wind blew past. The silence outside was over.
Brian stroked his fingers through Michael’s hair, staring down at him. He didn’t know what to say. The panic he expected - deep down, in that voice (that ironically sounded like Michael) that told him when he was doing something stupid - didn’t come. His body didn’t twitch with the urge to jump up, to escape. He licked his lips and tilted his head, staring at his best friend’s eyes as they filled with tears.
Christ, he thought. Say something, asshole.
“Why didn’t we do that sooner?” Brian’s voice asked, sounding rough even to himself.
Michael blinked, the glassy wetness of his eyes reflecting Brian’s image. Then his lips twitched into a grin. “Fuck if I know,” he said.
Brian grinned, his fingers tugging on a lock of Michael’s hair.
Michael’s eyebrows arched and he glanced away. When he looked back at Brian something in his eyes had changed. The tears gone, he looked almost… determined. “We should get dressed.” He sighed and smirked, looking embarrassed. “Having sex right in front of the window probably wasn’t a great idea.”
Brian growled, ducking his head to nip Michael’s lower lip. “I couldn’t wait long enough to lure you to the loft.”
“Lure?” Michael giggled, tugging his lip from Brian’s teeth.
“Oh, would you have come willingly?” Brian asked, smirking.
Michael blinked. “I don’t know,” he said. He pushed gently on Brian’s chest, and Brian shifted to his knees, then stood, climbing off of Michael. He grabbed the roll of paper towels sitting on the counter and wiped himself clean, then handed them to Michael, after a short hesitation.
He wanted to wipe the come from Michael’s chest. But suddenly that felt… too intimate. He realized, slowly, that he wasn’t sure where he stood now, or where they stood.
Worse, he thought. I don’t know what answer I want.
His clothes felt cold and restrictive as he pulled them on, and he frowned down at the missing buttons on his shirt. Brian lifted his gaze to Michael, watching as he bent over to tug on his underwear.
“I’m going to need a bigger wardrobe budget,” Brian said, leering at Michael’s ass and feeling his dick stir.
“Huh?” Michael asked, turning to face him. He tugged on his t-shirt, and his hair stuck out in every direction.
Brian grinned and buttoned his pants, then stepped closer to him, stroking both hands through his hair, brushing it into place. “This is the second shirt you’ve ruined.”
Michael’s eyes widened and he looked down at Brian’s missing buttons. He winced, whispering, “Shit. Sorry.”
Brian snorted. “Luckily I’m fabulously wealthy, so you can destroy as many of my shirts as you want.”
Ducking his head, Michael was silent for a long moment. Brian dropped his hands and watched him, feeling nervous again. Not awkward, quite, but nervous. Was he going to start crying again?
Michael lifted his head and his eyebrows were low, his lips pouty and full, a flush across his cheeks.
Brian licked his lips, overwhelmed with the urge to push him back onto the futon, or the floor, or over the counter, and fuck him again.
“Does that mean we’re going to do this again?” Michael finally asked, his voice forced, but almost confident sounding.
Brian arched an eyebrow, and stuck his tongue in his cheek. He hadn’t thought about it. He’d just assumed they were. Was that a question? Why wouldn’t they? “You enjoyed yourself, didn’t you?” Brian asked.
Michael’s eyebrows arched and his eyes widened. “Well… yeah,” he muttered.
Smirking, Brian chuckled. “Then why the hell wouldn’t we?”
The smile that crossed Michael’s face was practically bashful, but he held Brian’s gaze.
He didn’t mention Ben. And he didn’t mention commitment.
Something about that was a little strange, but Brian was thankful. He put that thought aside, dismissing it, and all memories of the other man in Michael’s life. He was the one here now. He was the one that was going to take Michael home tonight, and fuck him again, and again, and sleep next to him naked, but this time he’d be allowed to touch him, to stroke him awake in the morning, to kiss him when his lips yearned for the taste of another man.
The knock on the door startled them both, Michael jumping and Brian’s body tensing like it did when he was surprised.
“Let us in, it’s fucking freezing!” a high-pitched male voice shrieked.
“Christ,” Brian muttered, lifting his fingers to the bridge of his nose and pinching it in irritation. “What the hell are they doing here?”
Michael winced, looking dismayed. “Fuck if I know! Shit!”
Brian sighed and dropped his hand. “Fuck. I forgot. Ran into Sunshine earlier, he demanded we all go to Woody’s.”
Michael’s eyes widened at the use of the nickname and he glanced away quickly, shrugging and nodding. “Right. Of course.”
Brian winced. Asshole, he thought again. Tactful as shit, aren’t I?
Michael reached the door before Brian could say anything, and Emmett and Justin ran through it, the taller man shrieking. A freezing gust of wind blasted past them, and Michael shoved the door shut, turning the lock.
“What are you still doing here?” Emmett demanded, pouting. “We’ve been waiting at Woody’s!”
Brian’s gaze flicked to the clock on the wall. Shit, it had only been an hour. It felt like… longer. Or maybe shorter. “It’s only seven fifteen,” he snapped. “Why the hell didn’t you just wait for us?”
Justin’s eyebrows were arched, just a little. His gaze, more observant than Brian liked (as always), shifted from Michael’s neck, to Brian’s missing buttons. His nose twitched as he sniffed the air.
“Let’s go,” Michael said. “I could use a beer.”
“Well you better have a warmer coat than that one,” Emmett said, pointing to the jacket hanging on the wall. “You’ll freeze your tail off!”
“Shit,” Michael muttered, pulling his jacket from the wall. He glanced at Brian from the corner of his eye. “I was distracted this morning. I forgot it was going to snow.”
Brian grabbed his coat from the counter and lay it over Michael’s shoulders, snatching the jacket from his hand and tossing it onto the counter.
A flush spread across the back of Michael’s neck. He shifted the coat off. “I’m fine, it’s only a few blocks.”
“Wear the damn coat,” Brian grunted, putting it back on him. “You’re a wimp. I don’t mind the cold.”
Michael pursed his lips and said nothing, his eyes staring at the floor.
“So, let’s GO,” Emmett whined. “Before it gets worse out there!”
Brian sighed and glanced at Justin, almost scared to meet his gaze.
The twink-that-could arched an eyebrow at Brian and shook his head. Then he smirked and his chest jerked in a short chuckle. “I’ll buy you a drink,” he said to Brian. “You look like you could use one.”
Fuck yes I could, Brian thought. “I can pay for my own liquor, mister starving artist,” he said.
Michael winced at the fondness in Brian’s voice, and he flicked off the lights, pressing the buttons on the store alarm. A soft beep, beep, beep filled the air. “Come on,” Michael said.
They slipped out into the cold, and Michael locked the door.
“Who’s up for a game of pool?” Emmett asked with a smile.
“You suck at pool,” Justin said, grinning.
“But it’s a fabulous way to attract men; showing them you’re good with a long pole.” Emmet winked.
Brian snorted and slipped his arm around Michael’s shoulders. He’d done that plenty of times, especially when it was cold out. But it still felt different, somehow. His new familiarity with his childhood friend’s body felt… strange. Not bad. But strange. Still, his hand rested on Michael’s shoulder, and Michael hesitated before leaning into him a little as they walked.
Justin strode ahead next to Emmett, glancing back at them only once. He smirked a little at Brian, and Brian averted his gaze.
They were going to have a talk, eventually, he knew. Justin was the one person he could count on to call him on his shit, no matter what. But hopefully he could avoid it, at least until he knew… what was happening. Because right now he wouldn’t have any answers.