rivers_bend

tigertrapped wrote the lovely Missing and asked me if I wanted to write Julian's POV of the evening's events. As I find it impossible to say no to writing Julian and to any of Tiger's requests, Missed was born. Contains sex, Max in a suit, the Admiral, and Rupert convincing Julian to do something he'd rather not.

Adult rated, ~3,400 words


Despite the fact that he still, three months later, took every opportunity to ask about Max, Rupert was somehow simple to be around. If Julian got moody, Rupert would never ask what was wrong, just say, 'Stop thinking about him, you knob, that guy over there wants to suck you off.'

'Who wouldn't,' Julian had learned to reply, and they'd get in another round of drinks. Rupert would send him emails about celebrities he'd spotted, or phone on a Friday afternoon and explain why it was a matter of life and death that Julian come out with him after work, and all Julian had to do was not mind if Rupert sloped off for fifteen minutes with a muscle-bound man in flannel or cut the night early so he could go home with a poser with his t-shirt in his back pocket. He was more fun than going to bars on his own, and Max had dropped off the face of the earth after their breakfast in Holland Park. There was waiting, and there was pining and Julian was only prepared to do the former.

Rupert St was perpetually heaving on Friday nights, which Julian suspected was the appeal. Rupert always suggested it, Julian always hedged, and Rupert almost always won. With his own almost magical ability to find a table as his excuse, Rupert sent Julian to the bar when they got there. True to his word, he'd secured them a table in the corner with a view of two boys in vests dancing cock to cock just a few feet away.

'Fuck me, will you look at them. Let's just hope no one points out that they're in a public place.' Rupert took a sip of his drink. 'Gin again? You're not going to get all maudlin on me tonight I hope.'

'You're the one complaining that other crap makes you fat.'

'What about Jack and Diet Coke?'

'Or Southern Comfort and Lemonade? You have a thing about sweet.'

'Speaking of which, the arse on the guy over there. Leaning on the table? Do you think that's as sweet as it looks?'

The guy in question turned around and looked over at them as though he'd heard, though he'd no chance over the music and general din. His eyes flicked over Rupert and settled on Julian. 'Bastard,' Rupert murmured. 'That arse should be mine.'

'You can have him.'

'I doubt it. He wants you. Look at him. He's got your clothes off already.'

He had dark hair, short back and sides but long enough on top to show it was curly. His vest didn't quite meet the top of his jeans. In a room full of denim that had been distressed before having a £150 price tag attached, his actually looked like they'd seen a day's work or fifty. Julian could practically hear Rupert drooling.

'I swear to you, if you do not take him home, or at the very least get your hands on what's lurking inside those jeans…' Rupert trailed off as the man started walking towards them. 'Details, Julian, I want details,' he said, lips against Julian's ear.

'What're you drinking?' His voice went with his jeans, genuine, not London, and not trying to be. He had nice lips, especially when he smiled.

'Gin and tonic.' Julian pushed his half-full glass a centimetre or so towards the man with the back of one finger.

'Can I buy you another?' Lincoln, Julian guessed. But not Leeds. 'I'm Jonathan.'

'Julian.' Jonathan nodded and walked off towards the bar.

'He didn't even look at me.' Rupert was wide-eyed with drama.

'No,' Julian agreed, trying not to smile.

'I'm scandalised.'

'As you should be.'

'Please tell me you're going to fuck him.'

'Rupert, please.' Julian wondered why he was trying.

'At least make him take his jeans off before you suck his cock so you can touch that arse.'

'He's buying me a drink. No one's mentioned cock-sucking.'

Rupert looked at him like he was speaking Greek. 'If I hadn't had my hands down your pants when you were thirteen years old, sometimes I'd think you'd never done this before.'

'You're far too easy to wind up.'

Jonathan came back with a pint and a gin and tonic which he handed to Julian. Rupert pointedly took Julian's unfinished drink and took a sip.

'Stop,' Julian mouthed at Rupert, who only smirked.

'Are you from London?' Jonathan leaned close to Julian, resting a hand on his knee.

Julian nodded.

'I'm down for my brother's wedding. We're at a hotel just up the road. I have my own room.'

Rupert kicked Julian's ankle.

'Ok,' Julian said. He revised his estimation. Jonathan had spent time in Manchester.

Julian had only finished half of his new drink when Jonathan set his empty pint glass on the table. 'D'you want to see my room then?'

Julian stood quickly to avoid another prod from Rupert's expensive trainers. He let Jonathan lead the way.

His hotel really was just around the corner, a chain on Shaftesbury Avenue. As soon as the lift doors shut Jonathan had his hands on Julian's arse, pulling him hard against his thigh, kissing him. The lift stopped on the third floor and Jonathan took Julian's hand, pulling him down the corridor. It took him three tries to get the card-key to work in the lock.

Once they were on the other side of the door, Jonathan pulled Julian towards the bed, kissing him, manoeuvring them so Julian lay half on top of him and he could slide his hand down the back of Julian's jeans. Julian's mobile dug into his hipbone when Jonathan shifted underneath him. 'Just a-' he said, trying to roll off and get his phone out of his pocket.

Realising what he was doing, Jonathan took it and put it on the nightstand, adding his own. Julian took the opportunity to take his shoes and his shirt off. The smile on Jonathan's face as he moved to unlace his boots made Julian glad he'd come back here.

It seemed Jonathan would be happy to kiss for hours, tongue-fucking Julian's mouth, sucking his lips, moaning as he used his grip on Julian's arse to grind Julian's hard-on against his thigh. He'd never met a man who liked kissing so much.

Finally, starting to find the friction against his zipper more painful than pleasurable, Julian pulled away. 'Do you want me to suck...?' he said, gesturing at the bulge he'd been feeling against his hip.

Jonathan nodded, undoing his jeans and pushing them out of the way. Julian heard Rupert say, but you've got to get him to take them off so you can feel that arse, but he couldn't be bothered. Jonathan's hand settled on his shoulder as Julian stroked Jonathan's cock.

A noise from the top of the bed caught his attention. His mobile, vibrating on the nightstand. Jonathan groaned, and Julian ignored the phone, lowering his mouth to the flesh his hand was working, turning the groan to a gasp.

When he wasn't using it for kissing, Jonathan liked to use his mouth for other things. He was saying, 'Oh, yes, so good,' over and over. Finally Julian couldn't take any more and abandoned the blowjob, just keeping his hand moving as he sealed off the words with his lips. That was obviously the combination Jonathan needed, he bucked into Julian's hand, sucking his tongue, fingers clutching at Julian's back.

After he'd come, Jonathan pulled Julian's fingers up to his mouth, cleaning them with lavish licks and then sucking them as though Julian were a child's dummy. Julian's phone whirped again, letting him know he had a voicemail. He wondered if it were Rupert but figured he wouldn't be that impatient for details, knowing he'd be likely to get more if he didn't interrupt. Work was unlikely to be phoning on a Friday night. He wondered if it was his father. He was about to check when he felt fumbling at his zip and then Jonathan was releasing his fingers and replacing them with Julian's cock.

He sucked enthusiastically, with swift tongue motions and hollowed cheeks, humming contentedly at the back of his throat. Julian was shocked out of the lassitude induced by the lazy sucking of his fingers, almost coming from the suddenness of the sensations. When he felt Julian jerking in his mouth, Jonathan swallowed Julian to the back of his throat, humming as Julian came, still trying to catch his breath.

Julian felt lips and teeth on his stomach and chest as Jonathan pushed his way up the bed. He watched as Jonathan smiled and then kissed him. 'I'll be right back,' Jonathan said and headed towards the bathroom. Rolling over, Julian reached for his phone.

He dialled his voicemail, but it didn't ring or give him his message. Looking at his screen showed the message was there, so he tried again. This time he got through. It was Rupert after all. He had time to wonder why Rupert was ringing him when he knew full well where Julian was, when he heard Max's name. He was doing up his jeans and putting on his shoes, shoulder holding the phone to his ear as he listened to the rest of the message. 'We're in Rupert St, if you get this message in time,' the voice said.

In time? What did that mean? Julian checked the clock on the bedside table. He'd been here just over an hour. They were well before chucking out time, Rupert had obviously been looking at Max when he left the message, so Max must know he'd phoned. Damn, he couldn't get his fingers to calm enough to tie his laces. He took a deep breath, got his shoes done up and reached for his shirt. He was doing the buttons when Jonathan walked out of the bathroom.

'You have to leave?'

'Sorry, that phone call. I've had a great time, but I really do have to go.'

'Do you want me to walk you?' Jonathan started to reach for his boots.

'Oh, no, that's fine. It's no trouble.'

'Ok.' Jonathan stood and, putting his arms around Julian, kissed him again.

Trying not to seem impatient, Julian returned the kiss, but then pulled away. 'May I just..?' He pointed towards the bathroom.

'Sure.'

Julian shut the door, leaned on the counter and looked at himself in the mirror. Fuck. Max. Three months, and he'd not so much as seen him at a distance, and now Rupert was sitting with him while he was in a Best Western with one of the Village People. He cupped water into his mouth. Ok, that wasn't fair. Jonathan was perfectly nice, and quite probably genuinely a construction worker. Spitting into the sink, he ran wet fingers through his hair, smoothing it down. Close enough. He wasn't wasting more time. With luck, Max would only be messing it up again very shortly.

'Thanks again,' he said as he let himself out of Jonathan's room. 'Enjoy the wedding.'

The lift was down on the ground floor so Julian took the stairs, unwilling to wait. Even compared to the well-lit hotel lobby, Shaftesbury Avenue seemed bright, but as soon as he turned off into the smaller streets of the West End he could breathe the cool of night. Fighting his desire to run back to the pub, Julian stood for a second, calming his heart and breath. He was excited to see Max - desperate - but he didn't think it would hurt Max to wait an extra minute after making Julian wait three months. Where the fuck had he been? Julian could usually find him two or three times a month, catching him through a café window or across a street, but there had been nothing.

When he got back to the bar it was even more crowded than when he'd left it. Knowing Rupert wouldn't give up a table once he'd found one, Julian headed back to the corner. He saw Rupert, mugging as though for the cameras and gesticulating, and then there was Max. Hair sleek over the back of his head, grey suit which had Julian immediately torn between wanting to rip it off him and wanting to watch those shoulders moving under the fabric. He pushed through the crowd as though it weren't there and lay his hand where his eyes had been, leaning down to kiss Max's neck. He smelled perfect. Tasted perfect, and then he lifted his face and Julian was kissing lips just as desperate as Julian felt, wanting him, needing him, blocking out everything else, even the buzz of Rupert's voice.

Max's grip loosened at the back of his neck. Julian sucked in a breath, saying, 'Hi, Rupert. Bye, Rupert.'
--
When Julian woke up the next morning he could still smell Max on his skin. More than the smell of sex, though he smelled of that too, it was a smell Julian had up until now associated with Montpellier Square. He was reluctant to shower, not wanting to lose it, but he wasn't going downstairs to talk to his father in the state he was in.

Clean and dressed, he went down for breakfast. His father was finishing a cup of coffee at the kitchen table. 'I was going to make eggs but then I heard the water go on, so I thought I'd wait to see if you wanted any.'

'Thank you. That sounds good. Shall I make them as I'm up?' Julian said.

'Fine. Do you want some coffee?' He poured some and held it out. 'Max came by last night while you were out.'

Julian reached up and squeezed his shoulder, making the bruise there ache, sending a shiver of want down his spine. 'I saw him,' he said, his back to his father, face cooled by the refrigerated air as he got out the eggs.

'Ah. I'm glad. I told him you would be around today, but he said that he wouldn't.'

Julian almost dropped the eggs. Max wouldn't be around today. He was going back to Prague for debriefing and he didn't know how long he'd be. If Max hadn't found Rupert, if Rupert hadn't rung him… How many months would it have been without seeing Max?

'Julian?' His father sounded concerned. Possibly because he'd been standing in the middle of the kitchen holding a carton of eggs and not moving.

'I- I'm fine. Had I told you where we were going?'

'I had no idea. I said you were out with a friend, he asked if the friend was Rupert and then he left.'

How had he known? Max didn't frequent bars, he and Julian had never discussed them, Julian had only been to Rupert St a handful of times before he'd started hanging out with Rupert again… And that was probably it. Max had only met Rupert once, but Rupert was not a man who made himself difficult to read. Crowded and popular, the bar was his kind of place, and that it shared his name was the clincher. Julian had never even made the connection before. Which was why he was a lawyer and Max was a spy.

Except Max wasn't a spy any more. He'd given it up. What had he said? Packed the job in. That part's over. Julian hadn't wondered at the time what part wasn't over, but now he did.

His father's voice interrupted his thoughts. 'Shall I make the eggs after all?'

Julian realised that he'd only got as far as putting the eggs down. 'Maybe. Sorry. I think I need a cup of coffee.'

'It's there, next to your elbow. Why don't you sit down and drink it.'

'Thanks.' Julian sat down, letting his father get on with making eggs.

'Scrambled, fried or boiled?'

'However you fancy, it's fine with me.'

Max had looked good. Mostly sober, as sober as one could be spending an evening with Rupert, sharply dressed, no sign of kicked-in ribs, so what wasn't over?

Thinking about it gave him a headache so he drank his coffee.

'Do you think you could make some toast?'

There was a pot of water simmering on the stove, it looked like they were having boiled eggs. Julian was just as glad his father had taken over, with how he was feeling this morning, they would probably be rock hard by the time he'd remembered to take them out of the water. A fresh bakery loaf stuck out of the breadbin; Julian found the bread knife and cut slices for toast. His father handed him the grill pan without a word and together they finished making breakfast.
--
Rupert phoned at two o'clock on Monday. Julian was surprised he'd managed to wait that long. 'Thank you again for phoning me the other night,' he said, when Rupert identified himself.

'You're welcome. I have a way you can return the favour.'

'I'm not sure I like the sound of that.'

'What are you doing tonight?'

'I thought that party was next weekend?' Julian looked on his desk calendar.

'It is. This is something else.'

'Is this the favour?'

'I need you to play squash with me tonight.'

'I don't play squash.'

'Of course you do. Everyone plays squash.'

'Rupert, that's insane.'

'Ok, everyone doesn't play squash. But you have to. Matt's been in a car accident.'

'That's unfortunate for Matt, but I don’t see what it has to do with me.'

'If I give up my court with less than 24 hours notice, then I don’t get priority bookings any more.'

'A crime, I'm sure.' Julian found his head was resting in the palm of his hand, fingers fisting in his hair. He sat upright. He wasn't giving in this easily.

'Come on. Ok, you don't owe me for the Max thing, I did that out of the kindness of my heart, and the need for new fantasy fodder-'

'Please tell me that you didn't just say that.'

'Julian, I'm not telling you anything you don’t already know. He's hot. You're hot. Together… I'm just saying. But that's not my point. Please. Do this for me.'

'I don't own any squash clothes, or a racquet, nor do I even know what the rules are.'

'I have spares of all of that, and don't look at me like that-'

'I'm on the other end of a phone-'

'I can see your face anyway, the shorts have a drawstring, they'll fit well enough, and it couldn't be easier. I hit the ball, you hit the ball. Repeat.'

'I don’t want to play squash.'

'I'll meet you at the gym at five thirty.'

'Rupert-'

'Don't be late, we've the court at five forty-five.'

'Rupert-' But he was talking to a dial tone.

Mondays were often busy with work from over the weekend, but this Monday he was finished at half past four. Which left him plenty of time to get to Rupert's gym.

He waited for about five minutes before Rupert arrived, gym bag and briefcase in tow.

'I really can't believe you talked me into this.'

'Ha, neither can I, but it's too late now. Come on, we have matching shorts to change into.'

Julian glared, but Rupert was past and signing him in as a guest already, so didn't notice.

The changing rooms were aggressively chrome and black, and Julian wondered if this was why Rupert had chosen the gym. He was hanging his shirt in a locker when Rupert grabbed him from behind.

'You kinky devil you!' Rupert had one hand on Julian's right hip and one on his left shoulder. The shoulder that didn't have a large mouth-shaped bruise on it. Fuck.

'Rupert, leave it alone.'

'Tell me this was Max and not Mr Hot-lips.'

Julian jerked away. 'Of course it was Max.'

'Can I touch it?'

'You are seriously twisted. No. Now give me whatever clothes I'm supposed to be putting on for this debacle.'

'I was kidding a little about that fantasy fodder thing, but I'm not any more.'

'Rupert, have you grown up at all since we were in school?'

'Why would I want to do that?'

'Right then. What are the rules for this game? Are you sure we can't just go running or something?'

'If you tell me exactly what you were doing when you got that mark on your back, we don't have to play squash.'

'Just give me the damn racquet.'

Julian was particularly pleased that Rupert only won two of their three games.