rivers_bend

Continuing on a couple of years after Freshers, Rupert and Julian are still at Cambridge. Thank you to tigertrapped who encouraged this above and beyond the call of duty.

Adult rated for *gasp* sex, ~3,000 words


Banging on the door woke him up. 'Charles, the phone's for you! Some woman.' This was the trouble with shared accommodation. No privacy. Had to be Runyan as well, of course. Cooper would have just tapped on his door called him to the phone and left it at that. Runyan would want to know who it was and if it was anyone other than his mother would plague him about a woman phoning. God, he hoped it was his mother.

The phone was in the foyer, a squat brown payphone with a yellow receiver, the greasy feel of which made him slightly queasy every time he had to touch it. 'Hello?'

'Rupert, honey, it's your mother.'

She sounded… 'Mum? Are you ok?'

'Oh, Rupert,' she said, then he heard the muffled sound of crying as she covered the phone with her hand or pressed it to her chest.

'Mum?'

No answer, and then the sound of the phone being passed and his sister's asthmatic wheezing. 'Lizzy? What's going on?' Rupert was starting to feel panicked. His mother was the picture of stoicism and Lizzy's asthma was never this bad in November.

'It's daddy,' she said.

He never had understood how she could find enough affection for the man to call him "daddy," it was all he could do to call him "father." Nonetheless, a cold feeling hit him in the gut. 'What?'

'Roo, he's dead.'

Fuck! 'What do you mean, dead?' Stupid question. As though there were several definitions of the word. 'Why? How?' He just needed "when" and "where" and he could write an article for the newspaper. Great, now Lizzy was crying and it sounded like she couldn't breathe at all.

'Lizzy, where's your puffer? Where's mum?' He heard the clicking sound of her shaking her ventolin and then Amelia came on the phone.

'Can you come?' She sounded scared. At thirteen she was the baby of the family by four years.

'Of course,' he said. 'I'll get the next train I can. I'll take a taxi from the station.' Damn. He had an exam tomorrow. He supposed there were contingencies for situations like this. Presumably you weren't meant to take exams when your father had just died. And still no one had told him how it had happened. His father was a hale and hearty bastard, controlling everything and everyone around him, with the exception of his wife, who got her own way with the man through a power Rupert wished he understood.

He put down the phone when he realised there was no one on the other end any more. Runyan poked his head out of his room. 'Who was it?' He had his trademark loopy grin on his face.

'Fuck off,' Rupert said, going to his room to pack. He wrote a note for his tutor and asked Cooper to take it round during office hours. He was home four hours after his mother's call.

The house was filled with women when he got there. His mother and her sister, his father's sister and her daughter, and Lizzy and Mils. All of them were crying. Rupert wanted nothing more than to turn around and go back to Cambridge. His cousin, who insisted on being called Nitzie despite having been christened Annette, was a silly girl of sixteen, with bright orange hair and a penchant for wearing pink. It hurt his head to look at her at the best of times, even more so today. Her mother Aileen was older than Rupert's father and saw no wrong in him, even when he was calling his son a nancy-boy and dragging him out of school. Her hair was a much more attractive auburn shade, genes that had been passed on to Liz and Amelia, and she set it off with a wardrobe of browns, russets and greens. Though he found her tiresome at best, she was at least easier on the eye than her daughter.

Aileen was the first to notice that he'd come in. 'Rupert,' she said, wiping her eyes on a lace edged handkerchief, 'You'll have to pull your socks up. You're the man of the family now.'

'Auntie Aileen.' He nodded at her and then opened his arms to his sister who was flying towards him while his mother followed behind at a more sedate pace. Amelia had on her school uniform and he was alarmed that she looked like a teenager and not the little girl he remembered.

'Mils, hey, it's ok,' he said, stroking her hair and trying to ease her grip on his neck.

'Darling,' his mother said, visibly pulling herself together. 'You got here so quickly. Do you need something to eat?' She reached up and brushed his hair off his face, dark and slightly wavy hair, like her own. She doted on all her children, but Rupert knew he was her favourite.

'Amelia, go put the kettle on, make your brother a cup of tea.' Katherine Charles had married at the age of twenty-two, three years after inheriting half her parents' large estate. What she'd lacked in years she'd more than made up for in poise. Even her red-rimmed eyes took nothing away from that.

Rupert had dropped his bag inside the door when he arrived and he now saw the housekeeper taking it upstairs. It looked like she'd been crying as well. Rupert had never felt less like crying in his life.

'What happened?' None of this was real and he longed for something that would explain the phone call, the rushed train journey and this house filled with tearful women.

'Come sit.' His mother pulled him further into the sitting-room where his aunt Mary had her arms around Lizzy and his cousin was looking at him from under her wet lashes.

--

His exam had wiped him out, the second one in as many days, but he's done now, essays and project handed in, the final questions answered. He was making toast when the phone rang. Julian turned off the grill and went to answer it. All his flat mates had finished their exams the day before and were gone home already. His father was away until the end of the week and so Julian had planned to stay in Cambridge until the weekend, catching up with friends he'd been ignoring in order to revise.

'Hello?' Julian hoped it wasn't his flatmate's ex. She didn’t understand that she'd been dumped, and rang several times a day.

'Julian? It's Rupert.' They'd not seen each other since Easter term and Julian was surprised Rupert was phoning. He usually just dropped round if he fancied going out.

'Jules, can you- I hate to ask this, but…'

Rupert must be in serious trouble. His voice was thin and it was unlike him to stammer. 'What's up?'

'The bastard's dead.'

Who? Oh, god, his father. 'Are you ok? What do you need?' Julian thought with a twist of fear of his own father.

'I wanted - I'll pay for the train - can you come to the funeral?'

'Of course. But won't your mother -'

'She'll be happy to see you. She never had a problem. It was dad, he - she always thought you were a nice boy.'

'When?'

'The service is at four tomorrow. If you get the ten o'clock train, you can come to the house. That train has the fewest changes.' Rupert told him what train to get and how to get to the house, the number to ring if there was any trouble. 'Are you sure you don't mind? You've not got to miss any exams or anything?'

'I'm done. I was only staying because dad's out of town for the rest of the week.' Julian wondered for a moment if he shouldn’t have mentioned his father, but it was too late to go back, and he'd never minded Rupert mentioning his mother in all the years they'd been friends.

'Thank you. I just need, I don't know, I just needed a friendly face. Someone who - anyway. Thank you.'

'I'll see you tomorrow.'

Julian no longer fancied toast when he got off the phone. He went to find his dark suit and make sure he had a clean shirt instead.

The train journey was uneventful and Julian arrived at the Charles estate at quarter to two. Rupert's mother was warm and genuine in her greeting, introducing him to her sister and sister-in-law as an old school friend of Rupert's. If her husband had told her what he'd caught Julian and Rupert doing in the cricket pavilion, she obviously didn't mind. Though the house seemed over-run with relations and neighbours, it had a strangely empty feel to it. It was a relief to leave for the church.

Sitting on his own half way down the aisle of the crowded church, Julian watched the back of Rupert's head. His sisters and his mother frequently brought their hands up to their faces, but Rupert sat still as stone. The woman to Julian's left kept murmuring, 'Poor Katherine, and those poor children,' which made her husband give her hand three quick pats.

Not needing to mingle with the very important people, Julian could escape to the grounds when the service was over. There was a bench behind the building that got the late afternoon sun and he sat down leaning back on his palms, closing his eyes, listening to the chatter of the mourners on the other side of the church. A cold hand on the back of his neck made him jerk upright. Rupert apologised and sat down on the opposite side of the bench so they were facing each other.

Without warning, Rupert pushed his fingers into Julian's hair and pulled him awkwardly forward so they were kissing.

It was nothing like the other times they'd kissed, this time Rupert was focused on Julian, lips plucking, tasting, thumbs stroking along Julian's hairline, hungry, sweet… Julian pushed him away.

'Rupert, what are you doing?'

'Come back to the house after the cemetery? Mother said you can stay the night, stay until your father comes back even.'

Julian looked at him, feeling worry tighten his lips.

'I won't-' Rupert sounded dejected. 'We don’t have to do this if you don't want to.'

'I didn’t mean- it just took me by surprise, the funeral…' Julian didn't know what he meant. It was the way Rupert had kissed him. Like he was clinging to something. The desperate fumblings of their school days and the nights they'd spent together since they'd met up again during fresher's week had been about mutual satisfaction. This hesitant neediness was strange.

'Roo!' A girl's voice from the side of the church made Rupert jump back, putting as much space between them as the bench allowed. It was Amelia, sent to find them. 'Mum said Julian can come in the car with us if you want, but it's time to go.'

--

That night Julian was given a spare room, a spare toothbrush, and an old pair of Rupert's pyjamas. He'd spent the evening avoiding Rupert's cousin who kept trying to corner him with drinks and plates of food. When Julian's bedroom door started to open just as he was drifting into sleep he feared it was Nit, or whatever she called herself, come to see if she'd have more luck at night. He was relieved that it was Rupert.

'What are you doing in here?' he whispered. 'Won't your mother have a fit if she catches you?'

'She and aunt Aileen are on the other side of the house, and the girls are asleep. Can I..?'

Julian scooted over to the other side of the bed and let Rupert climb under the covers.

'He was killed by a horse. Did I tell you that? Kicked in the head. The neighbour's son saw the whole thing.'

What do you say to that? 'I'm- god, Rupert, I'm sorry.'

'I wanted to kick him in the head. When he sent me to Scotland. You heard what he said when he found us, but if you'd heard the things he called me, that I was disgusting, that I made him sick.' Rupert reached his hand out and Julian took it, moving so that Rupert's head was resting on his shoulder, his arm around Julian's waist. 'He threatened to disown me if it happened again. But mother told me… It's her money, you see. She said it didn't matter, that it was just his upbringing, but I hated him, after that.

'The horse is dead. Ran off after he threw father, got tangled in some barbed wire, they had to shoot him. Lizzy and Amelia don’t know yet. Mum didn't want me to tell them. I'm glad it's dead. I thought that he- I thought I'd be glad if he died. Sometimes. But I'm glad the horse that kicked him is dead. It doesn't make sense. Nothing makes sense.'

Julian squeezed Rupert's hand, wishing he was anywhere else, having no idea what he was supposed to say or do.

Rupert's palm was resting on Julian's hipbone, and he started rubbing idly at it. Julian could feel his head heavy on his collar bone, the movement of Rupert's ribs against his as they breathed. Neither of them spoke for several minutes; Julian thought Rupert might fall asleep. Everything that had ever been easy between them seemed gone, snuffed out like Reginald Charles' life. Then Rupert disentangled their fingers and slid his hand under the waist of Julian's pyjamas.

'Shh,' he said, before Julian could say anything. He ran his thumb along the crest of bone at Julian's hip, fitted it to his palm, splayed his fingers along the hollow that marked the edge of Julian's arse. Goosebumps rose along Julian's chest as Rupert moved down under the covers, pushing the pyjamas out of the way so he could trace Julian's hips with his tongue.

'Rupert.' Julian twisted his fingers in Rupert's hair, trying to pull him back up the bed.

Rupert lifted the duvet to look at Julian, chin resting on Julian's stomach. 'No. Please, I just need- please let me do this.' He licked again at the arch of Julian's hip, eyes on Julian's face.

The setting seemed wrong, but Rupert's mouth and hands felt good and the look in his eyes… Whatever he was after, Julian wasn't sure he could give it to him, but he would try. He nodded.

The thick-walled room still held some heat from the afternoon sun which kept Julian's bare torso from feeling chilled when Rupert folded the duvet down. He looked away finally and fastened his mouth to the skin over Julian's pelvis. Sucking and biting, he made Julian jump with the sharp pinch of pain. 'Ow,' he said, brushing his fingers over Rupert's cheek.

'Sorry.' Rupert soothed the bite with his tongue, lapped wetly at the groove along the top of Julian's thigh, and then as though Julian's skin contained something he needed, he sucked again, pulled an oval of skin into his mouth, raising the blood to the surface. Julian would have marks, deeply purple, but he felt a stirring in his groin, a craving for the sensation.

Rupert tugged at Julian's pyjamas and Julian wriggled out of them. When he'd dropped them off the side of the bed Rupert pushed Julian's thighs apart, lying between them. He used his tongue, teeth, lips and fingers everywhere, stroking, biting, teasing, until Julian wanted to snap at him to just get on with it.

When he did finally get to Julian's cock he sucked so hard it hurt. 'Fuck,' Julian said, gasping, and Rupert eased off, making his mouth a tunnel of wet and heat.

Julian felt moans trapped in the back of his throat, and, acutely aware of Rupert's sisters across the corridor, he pulled a pillow over his face. Muffled and essentially blindfolded, the sensations intensified and Julian could feel every finger on his hips, Rupert's exhalations on his stomach and the wet clutch of his throat. He's been practicing since last time we did this, he thought, then he only thought, fuck, yes, as he came.

After using one finger and his tongue to catch the spill he hadn't swallowed, Rupert rested his head on Julian's thigh. It felt oddly more intimate than what they'd just done. He could feel Rupert's face wet on his skin. 'Hey,' he said softly.

Rupert wiped his eyes on his left wrist and moved back up to lie with his head on Julian's chest. 'I hope that fuck is watching me right now. Sucking you in his house,' he said.

Julian felt his skin cringe from the words, though they were said without apparent malice. He felt uncomfortable enough doing this in the Charles' house without being reminded of why they were here, and of that awful day in school when Rupert' father had arrived early to collect him and had found them with Julian's hand in Rupert's trousers.

'Can I sleep here with you tonight?' Rupert spoke so quietly Julian barely heard him.

'Course,' Julian said, not being able to imagine any way he could say no.

'Thanks.' Rupert turned away and tugged at Julian's hand until he was forced to turn and curl around Rupert's back.

When he woke in the morning Rupert was gone and he made no protest when Julian announced over breakfast that he needed to get back to Cambridge. He seemed ensconced in the bosom of his family. Julian was confident enough that it wouldn’t happen that he said, 'Ring me if you need me and I'll come back,' when Rupert dropped him at the train station.

'Thank you, for everything,' Rupert said, kissing Julian on the mouth.

He didn't see Rupert again until the middle of Lent term. They had drinks, talked about the evilness of classes that started at nine in the morning and discovered that they'd both given head to a boy who hummed Beethoven while they did it, then they went their separate ways.