rivers_bend

After reading tigertrapped's rather stunning Wasted, I found that Rupert Charles is much bossier than I'd imagined, and was very keen to have my his opinion on the sexiness that is Max known. When I tried to explain to him that this isn't his story, it's Max and Julian's, he said that didn't stop him having a point of view and if I refused to type it up for him he was going to poke me with a stick until I changed my mind.

Self-indulgent, Mary-Suesque, adult-rated for language and narcissism, ~2,000 words of boy!porn under the cut.



Leaving Julian and the mysterious and wasted Max in his spare room, Rupert went down to the kitchen and put the kettle on. He made a pot of tea, but there was no sound of footsteps on the stairs. Mind, Mr Complications had been grabbing at Julian before Rupert even had his back turned. No way would Rupert be wanting tea if he had that to put in his mouth instead. On the other hand, if Max really had taken four tabs of E he could do with some water. Better take some upstairs, and nothing to do with wanting to see those hipbones again.

Max was rude, no better word for it, but despite his protests, Rupert didn’t mind. He'd rather be told to kneel than piss off, but Max seemed only to have eyes for Julian anyway, so Rupert's kneeling was unlikely to be on the cards. Julian tore himself away and came to meet him in the doorway.

'I'm sorry, Ru, look, he's out of his head. He doesn't mean anything.' Julian put a hand on Rupert's arm.

'So is this the guy worth getting on your knees for?' Rhetorical question, Christ, you only had to look at him.

Julian just nodded.

'Just try not to spill anything on my sheets.'

Julian held out his hand for the water, with a final glance at Max, Rupert handed it over. He shut the door behind Julian; after all, there's only so much a guy who's given head three times and not got his cock out once in the last four hours needs to hear.

Not that closing the door helped - whoever turned these places into flats wasn't thinking about soundproofing when they installed the doors. Whatever they were doing in there it didn't sound like either of them had his mouth full. Moaning, sharp intakes of breath, they sounded like a porn soundtrack. Looked like a porn movie too, Rupert bet; he'd seen Max take off his shirt, and though he was a little bonier than Rupert usually went for, he was sex on a stick, no doubt about it.

Rupert took off his own shirt, looking at himself in the mirror. He went to the gym three mornings a week. Maybe he could do with cutting down on the alcopops, the six-pack was showing the signs, but he still looked pretty good. Rupert undid the buttons on his jeans and reflected that Julian looked like he still wore the same size as he had the last time Rupert had had the opportunity to see him out of the damn things, which was way back when they were 21. Graduation party, everyone pissed, old times sake, that kind of thing. Nothing like whatever was going on in his spare room while he stood in front of his mirror in a pair of boxer shorts he'd paid sixty quid for at Harrods for fuck's sake.

The hand he pushed inside the silk waistband was still chilled from the bottle of water. He slid past his cock, squeezed his balls, watching his six-pack twitch, thinking about Max, on his back, Julian crouched over him, licking his stomach, making Max's muscles twitch, making his cock twitch.

Julian might take Max in his hand, just like fuck yes, that, only his hand would have been heated on Max's skin, on the bruise coming up on his ribs perhaps, or the flush at the back of his neck. Julian had probably slid his hands over those abs, splaying his fingers, reaching down into those jeans - how did they stay up?- brushing just a thumb over the head of Max's cock, moist with wanting Julian, the look in his eyes and the way he'd reached for him.

Rupert arched his back the way Max would when Julian touched him, wrapped his fingers around the hard-on that had been growing since his guests had started up with the noises, well, ok, since Max had stripped off his shirt and told Rupert to piss off so he could fuck Julian. And oh, god, if he wasn't fucking Julian right now, he didn't know what they were doing because Julian sounded like he was dying, only he'd got to heaven on the way, and fuck, he was going to come in his boxers and he didn’t even care.

Half a step back and he was up against the bed where he could sit and get his breath back. All was silent next door. He'd probably get hell from the girl upstairs tomorrow. She didn’t approve of gay neighbours or noisy sex. It didn’t seem fair. If he was going to get a lecture, he should at least have had a ringside seat. Though it definitely would have been a shame to get spunk on the red leather chair. He'd heard that spunk could take the dye out of coloured leather.

With as little effort as possible, Rupert wiggled out of his boxers, and under the covers. Four in the morning, and he hadn't even got laid. What a night.
--
The trouble with his flat was the bedroom windows got afternoon sun. Which was fine when he'd remembered to pull the drapes over the blinds, but the blinds on their own were useless. No, optimism. It could be worse. His bedroom could get morning sun.

Rupert listened to see if the sun had disturbed Julian or Max. Nothing. Knowing there was no point trying to get back to sleep now he was awake, Rupert got up and went to take a shower, which reminded him the best thing about his flat. It had water pressure.

As he hooked his kimono off the back of the door Rupert considered for the briefest moment dressing in deference to his houseguests, but thought, fuck it. They hadn't done anything in deference to him, and besides, his legs were one of his best features.

Weekend mornings, if he'd been out the night before, were for green tea. As it was Sunday, Rupert decided on Jasmine. The smell reminded him of the guest house in Yokohama where he'd- Rupert heard the creak of floorboards above him and the shower going on. He wondered if it were Julian or Max, or if they were as joined at the hip as they'd seemed last night and if even now they were pressing each other up against the mirrored tiles, watching themselves as they soaped come and sweat off their chests.

Sunday nights were half price drinks at that bar with the tacky zebra print banquettes if you got there early. Rupert decided it was definitely a night to go out on the pull; he was letting his imagination run away with him.

The footsteps above went back to the bedroom and then tentatively made their way downstairs. Max, Rupert guessed. Julian hadn't been drinking, and those were the steps of a man with a serious headache.

Rupert was trying to judge how much sarcasm was appropriate to the situation when Max pre-empted him with an apology.

'I was pretty rude last night,' Max said.

Pretty. God, yes. His hair was wet and tousled as though he didn't care that he looked like he'd spent all night having sex, a look he appeared to have achieved without product. Yet another gross inhumanity. His skin looked still damp, in a sheened with sweat sort of way, or as though he'd been licked all over. And Christ, what Rupert wouldn't give to do that.

When Max asked if there was anyplace he could buy coffee Rupert almost offered to make him some, but then realised that Max needed to get out before he stopped apologising and moved on to being rude again. He generously gave him twenty pounds instead, wondering if he was also after hair of the dog that had bit him. He almost recommended a doorway up by the tube station, but figured if Max needed more pills he would probably know where to find them.

The front door had no sooner shut than Rupert heard footsteps and the shower starting again. Julian came down a few minutes later, looking somewhat more rumpled than Max, whose outfit had not started out looking neat and pressed and was consequently less worse for the wear.

Gesturing at Julian's ensemble, Rupert said, 'Very boy-toy. The look suits you, if I may say so.'

Julian grimaced. 'Thanks. I think. Nice bathroom. Did you choose the mirror tiles yourself?'

'I didn't actually. But they do a great job of keeping me from wasting all that money I spend on gym membership.'

'I can imagine.' Dry as chalk. The Tremont trademark, if Rupert recalled the few meetings he'd had with the Admiral.

'Jasmine green tea?' Rupert poured himself a second cup from the pot as he offered.

'No, Max said something about going to get coffee.' Julian rubbed his forehead tiredly.

'I gave him twenty quid. Seemed the least I could do for the show you two put on last night.'

'The show?' Julian looked much more worried than Rupert had intended. He remembered Max saying something about eyes at his place. Something odd going on there.

'Just, well, you two weren't very quiet last night.'

Julian looked away, but there was a definite smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

'What was he- never mind. You have a set of lungs on you though. Gave Fay Wray a run for her money.'

'Christ, Rupert, shut up.'

'Hey, I'm not complaining.'

'Well, I am.' Julian sounded serious, so Rupert desisted.

'How did you meet him?' Rupert settled his elbows on the breakfast bar, chin on his upraised hands, then reconsidered the eager housewife pose and lowered his fists to the counter.

'Long story.'

'How long have you known him?'

'If you're going to ask me how long his cock is, I might hit you. Just giving you fair warning.'

He hadn't considered asking, but now he was desperately curious. Not that he was a size queen. Well, ok, he was a size queen, but he didn't have to tell Julian that.

The front door slammed.

'You're forgiven for dropping off the face of the earth when you met him, you know. He is fucking gorgeous,' Rupert said quickly, sotto voce, before Max could make it downstairs. Straightening, he tightened the sash of his dressing gown, not wanting to play the total slut.

Max didn’t seem to care either way, ignoring him completely, suggesting that he and Julian go drink their coffee in the park.

Rupert's attempts at humour were met with a glare so chilling he was actually frightened. Just for a moment, but it was unsettling to be frightened in his own kitchen.

Julian went to leave with Max. When he looked towards Rupert to say goodbye, Rupert mouthed, 'He's even sexier when he's angry.'

Julian shut his eyes as though he despaired.

After they left, Rupert checked his email and the Tokyo Market, more out of habit than anything, as he'd moved out of the Asian Markets after Christmas, and then got dressed, wondering how long it would be before he heard from Julian again.