Page 8 of Electric Boy

“Fucking Christ, Ash,” Julian’s voice pitched up, his short fingernails digging grooves into her hips. “Jesus fucking Christ, you feel so fucking good.”

Julian was very vocal during their lovemaking, something Aisling greatly appreciated. Her previous boyfriends had been manly, laddie sorts. They grunted once, at the end of it -- if she was lucky. She never knew if they were truly enjoying themselves or just getting it over with. When Julian wasn’t gasping or moaning, he was babbling endless curses and encouragements. It left Aisling feeling quite chuffed, if she were being honest. She was also quite loud when they got going, and she hoped that between the two of them they were the envy of all the neighbourhood.

When Julian came, he collapsed over her back, kissing her neck. Aisling couldn’t come in that position, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t enjoyed herself thoroughly. Later, they lay together on the sofa, squeezed in tight. Julian nuzzled his nose into her hair, idly cupping one of her breasts. She twirled a lock of his unnaturally black hair around one of her fingers, watching him breathe through kiss-raw, parted lips.

“I really am sorry about last night, chicken.”

Julian tilted his head up to look at her. His face was soft and serious, no cartoonish grin to distort it. Aisling liked him best like this, when he wasn’t performing, relaxed and vulnerable. She hoped she was the only one who got to see him like this. Though she knew she probably wasn’t. There was at least one other person he shared this soft, real version of himself with.

“I know, bunny,” Julian said.

“But you understand why I was upset, don’t you?”

His lighter-coloured brows drew together slightly. No, he didn’t understand. “Yeah, of course,” he lied.

“As your girlfriend, I ought to be the most important person in your life. Isn’t that right?”

“Uh, yeah. ‘Course. I mean, you are the most important person in my life.”

“Yes, well, you see what I was getting at last night is that I’m not. Not really. And don’t say it isn’t true. We’ll just start fighting again. If I really were your most important person, you’d share things with me. You’d tell me how you’re feeling. You’d be honest with me.”

“I am honest with you, bunny.” His eyebrows pitched, giving those big eyes of his a forlorn, puppy-dog look.

“I know you think you are, but you’re not as honest as you could be. You’re not as honest as you are with Rahul.”

He rested his forehead against her shoulder, hiding his face. “Rahul again.”

“Yes. Rahul again. You feel perfectly fine telling Rahul everything, from what you dreamed about last night all the way to things I’ve told you in confidence. But then I go and ask you what you’re thinking about and you say ‘nothing,’ or you make a joke. And whenever I want us to have a romantic night in or go to see a show or grab a drink with my friends, it’s always ‘Rahul and I are going to the Barber,’ ‘Rahul and I are going to the arcade,’ ‘Rahul and I are going to wash each other’s bollocks’.”

Julian giggled, tickling her shoulder.

“It’s not funny! Almost the entire time we’ve been together I’ve felt like a second-class citizen in our relationship. Because you always put Rahul first.”

Hearing the genuine note of hurt in her voice, he picked his head back up. “I know what you’re feeling. Really, I do. And I’m sorry. You are my most important person. And I’ll try and talk to you more. Honest I will. But you gotta understand, you and Rahul are completely different. I’m not choosing him over you. And I’m not telling him stuff I don’t tell you. I’m telling him Rahul stuff. Stuff that’s just for me and him. Telling you the stuff I tell him would be like me trying to get off with him the way I get off with you. You wouldn’t want me bumming him, would you?”

Aisling relented and cracked a smile. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Exactly. So, yeah, I’ll try and talk more about my feelings and stuff, but I can’t talk to you the same way me and him talk. We got a bond, you know. Well, you wouldn’t understand. Not really. It’s a man thing, innit? Like, a manly bond sort of thing. Just know it doesn’t mean I love you less. I love you loads, bunny. You know I do, right?”

“Of course I do, chicken.”

“Good. ‘Cause I do. And if you try and leave me again I’ll go to pieces, I will. I’m not joking. I’ll chuck myself right off London Bridge. Eaten by crackhead Thames eels before I even reach the bottom.” His threat was rather undercut by his enormous grin. Aisling kissed it off him.

As her tongue explored her own taste in his mouth, the hardness against her thigh alerted her that Julian was ready for a second round. She was on top this time, a position that better suited her. He suckled her nipples as she rode him.

Her favourite part of their frequent break-ups was, without a doubt, the incredible make-up sex.

Chapter Six: This Charming Man

Michael stood in the hedge outside Julian’s block of flats, watching through the little basement window as Julian fucked his beautiful girlfriend.

He wasn’t quite sure what he’d expected, really. To find Julian pining away for him? They’d only met properly that very morning. Had he thought that meeting at long last would flip a switch in the young man’s mind and he’d become as obsessed with Michael as Michael was with him? How stupid he’d been. A bloody idiot was what he’d been.

He’d been concerned for the boy, of all things. He’d waited at The Barber & Pony, expecting to see Julian, like always, enter stumblingly with his mates, bedecked and bedazzled. When the friends had turned up without him, he suspected Julian might still be feeling the ill effects of last night’s heavy drinking. He should go round, he’d thought, and make sure Julian was all right.

Instead, he’d watched with ever-increasing agony as the two pretty young things exhausted themselves in their lovemaking. When at long last they were finished, the girl rose and made her way out of frame, presumably to the bedroom. Julian remained draped naked across the old sofa, relaxed, pale limbs splayed decadently. Michael found watching easier to bear when it was just him, without the dagger of his buxom lover piercing his heart. He inhaled deeply, trying to untighten his chest and return to the meditative-like state in which he used to watch Julian from afar. He might as well get used to it again, since it was clear he and Julian would have no further contact.

Julian’s expression was distant, dreamy, his eyes combing unseeingly over his ceiling. In an unexpected flash of movement, Julian retrieved his wallet from off the floor and flung himself back against the sofa cushions. He pulled from it a little crimson rectangle. Michael’s breath caught. He’d recognize his own business card anywhere. The young man studied the card for a moment, front and back. His eyes returned to the ceiling, bringing the card subconsciously to his lips and nibbling thoughtfully on the corner.