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Julian doesn’t stick around for long after him and Asra have sex.
It’s not like he didn’t want to, but Asra much preferred it this way. If Julian had it his way, he’d pull Asra against him. Their chests would heave against each other as they basked in their post-orgasm glow. Once the feeling of their bare, sweaty skin pressed against each other became unbearably uncomfortable, Julian would slip away, leaving Asra to doze in the pleasant space between awake and asleep. The candle would be dim, about to burn out by then. The warm light would dance across their skin, and Julian would be hypnotized by the sheer sight of them so peaceful.
He’d watch them forever if he could, however, he had other plans. Julian would slip into Asra’s bath and start to fill the tub. Julian knew him and Asra both preferred to run the water on the hotter end. He’d be overwhelmed by the amount of salts and oils Asra kept by their bath, eventually settling on running a handful of pink salts under the water until they dissolved. It didn’t take long for a rose-like aroma to fill the bathroom. He’d rise on aching legs, back to Asra’s room. He’d jostle Asra from their light slumber, and maybe if was really lucky, Asra would let Julian carry them from the bed and into the bath. The tub would be too small for two people, Julian’s knees bent at an awkward angle, but he wouldn’t mind. Not when Asra would lean back against Julian, turning their head around to place a kiss-
Julian stomped the butt of his cigarette under his boot.
As if. Asra never kissed Julian. Not during sex, not before, and definitely not after.
Well, they kissed Julian. Just not where he wanted. A kiss to his neck followed by a bite hard enough to leave a mark. A kiss to the center of his chest as Asra slid into Julian. And if Asra was especially rough, a fleeting kiss to his cheek as Julian shuffled his shaking legs into his all too tight pants.
The first time Julian asked for Asra to kiss him, proper and square, Asra used their safe-word without a moment of hesitation. Julian wasn’t upset by Asra stopping the scene, but more so the wide-eyed, incredulous, disgusted look that Asra gave Julian, like him asking for something as simple as a kiss was an outrageous demand. Like Julian was too lowly for Asra to even think about kissing. Julian had certainly asked for worse. But he dropped the topic, and hadn’t asked since then.
He stretched his arms high above his head and let out a sigh, the last of the smoke leaving his lungs. It was darker outside Asra’s shop than he would’ve preferred. Especially since his legs and lower back were killing him. He’d be sure to bruise in the morning, maybe even welts would form across his ass from how hard Asra had hit him. Not that he minded all too much, but the walk home was never fun.
Julian’s shoulders popped as he stretched. His skin was still sweaty, clothes sticking to his skin in a way he found rather bothersome, but the night air was cool enough that by the time he got home, the stickiness left from their endeavor wouldn’t be so bothersome. He felt a little bad leaving the stomped out cigarette outside Asra’s store -he knew they hated it when he smoked at all, the smell bothered them- but another part of him couldn’t bother to care. The part of Julian that found home in the back of his hit and in the pit of his stomach, the part of himself he hated, hated, to look at, felt a sense of self-satisfaction at leaving something Asra hated, something they found so vile, at their front door to deal with in the morning. The feeling grabbed Julian’s chest and squeezed until his chest ached and his head buzzed.
He pocketed the butt, wiping the residue ash onto his pants.
Another exhale, and before he could even start the walk back home, the chime of Asra’s shop doors opening had his head turning (maybe with more excitement than he’d ever admit out loud).
(They came back for him.
Maybe they’d see how dark it was and how chill the air was, and invite Julian back in with open arms. The warmth of their shop had never seemed more appealing.)
Asra was wearing Julian’s coat, specifically had it wrapped around their shoulders, similar to how Julian himself often wore it. Julian must’ve forgot it in his hurry to leave.
His heart got stuck somewhere in his throat, making it hard to swallow. He knew he had to look foolish, gawking at Asra, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Their lean, thin frame was swallowed up by the heavy fabric. The red lining was inviting against their tan skin. And most importantly, it was Asra in Julian’s coat.
Julian must had been staring for too long, because Asra cleared their throat, an awkward, albeit clear noise in the otherwise quiet night. Their skin was still flush after their roll-about, but seemed to redden even more with Julian’s open staring.
Asra was embarrassed.
Julian had just seen Asra naked, certainly not the first time either, and yet Asra was embarrassed about wearing Julian’s coat. He could’ve fainted right there.
“Ah, Ilya..” Asra’s voice was clear, sleepy almost, as if they had just woken up from a long nap. “You forgot your coat. It felt easier to slip it on rather than carry it all the way down here. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh no, not at all. Thank you.” Julian’s own voice was hoarse, as if he had been the one with the other’s dick down his throat not only an hour prior, and not the other way around. It was his turn to feel flush, not having to look to know a blush was steadily creeping down his chest. “It, erh, looks nice on you.”
Julian’s ass was bruised and sore from Asra’s own hands, and here they were, blushing like schoolchildren in the night.
Asra looked away, pulling the coat closer to them, as if they were using it for protection. Protection from what? “You flatter me, Ilya. Here.”
Much to Julian’s disarray, they shouldered the coat off and extended it to Julian. He accepted it, of course he did. The motions of putting it on were robotic in thought, the action having been performed countless times before.
Julian’s heart hammered in his chest, the two facing each other, nothing to say. The air was tense. So, so stupid..
“Well, I had best be on my way before it gets too late. Thank you for tonight, darling. Rest well.” Julian’s smile was small, practiced and charming, even if he knew it had little effect on Asra.
“Ilya, come here for a moment.”
Asra still refused to look at Julian, eyes cast to the side, and Julian’s heart stopped.
Had he done something wrong? Asked for too much, for too little? Cum too fast, or too many times? Oh lord, it was cigarette, wasn’t it?
Julian took a hesitant step forward. Asra’s gaze flittered up to him. Their expression was unreadable.
“Closer. I want to do something. I’m not going to bite, not out here at least.”
Another step closed the distance between them. He could hear Asra’s breathing from here, see the soft, languid rise and fall of their chest.
Asra raised their hand up to Julian’s face, and he shut his eyes, resisting the urge to flinch. Wouldn’t had been the first time Asra had hit Julian across the face, but usually it was in the bedroom, Julian begging for it.
Nothing happened.
Julian cracked an eye open, guilt swarming in his stomach the moment he saw the expression on Asra’s face. Their hand was suspending, clearly had stopped themself the moment they saw Julian react in fear. There was a small frown on their face. Maybe they weren’t originally upset with Julian, but they had to be now.
All Julian could manage was a muttered “.. My apologies. Please proceed.”
Asra sighed, shaking their head. “What to do you, Ilya..”
They didn’t say it was a question. He remained quiet.
Asra’s palm was soft against his cheek. Just the slightest pressure as they curved their fingers across Julian’s jaw. All it took was the tips of their fingers reaching the back of their skull, enough to scratch at the hair there, for Julian to understood Asra’s unspoken request. He bent at the waist, lowering his face to Asra’s height.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Asra pulled, more gentle then they usually would, at one of Julian’s curls.
“Hush, Ilya.” They hesitated, “and close your eyes.. Please.”
How could he resist that. Gods, he didn’t care if what Asra did was worse than a slap. Anything to hear that tentative plea again.
He didn’t expect the soft press of lips against his own. It took a second before what he felt caught up with his mind. Asra pulled at a curl again (they’re nervous, Julian can tell) Julian’s nerve endings finally shooting off as his head caught up with the rest of him.
Julian wrapped an arm around Asra’s waist. The height difference between them strained Julian’s neck and Asra’s nose bumped against his own and he was still sweaty from earlier and he can’t find himself to care about any of it.
They kissed slowly, languid, mouths open and moving against each other. Asra’s lips were softer than Julian could’ve ever imagined, but he wasn’t surprised. Asra’s skin is all soft. Their bottom lip is plush. Julian can’t help the hushed groan that escaped him at the tender nip at his own lips.
Asra pulled away, and Julian followed. Asra let him.
Julian’s ecstatic. There was no fireworks, no explosions as their lips move against each other. But it’s warm. It’s forgiving, merciful. Julian’s stomach twisted into knots, and his heart beat so fast he was afraid he’d collapse. Or maybe, just maybe, his chest would burst, letting out all of his love, his admiration, his doubt and fear. Nothing holding him back, he’d float away. His arm around Asra, their against his face, was his anchor to the ground.
When Asra pulled away again, Julian didn’t follow. Instead, his eyes flew open, hoping he wasn’t too obvious.
He wanted to see Asra, see what they looked like as they kissed while he had the opportunity. Before they tucked whatever led them to kiss Julian in the first place far into their pocket, not to be seen again.
The light from inside Asra’s shop was the source of illumination. The light was warm, orange, a backlight against Asra’s form, casting shadows across the bridge of their nose. Moths are drawn to light, but light is drawn to Asra. The glow seemed to dance around them, Julian couldn’t help but wonder if something about it was magic, or if all things light and warm simply found their way into Asra’s grasp. They were beautiful. Beautiful, and intelligent. Julian wondered if his head would be on backwards if it wasn’t for Asra keeping him in line. Julian wasn’t a great man, so what lucky thing had he done to had met Asra?
Julian loved them. He really, honestly, loved them.
He didn’t know what to do with such a realization. He knew all along, but never was the thought so clear and conscious in his head. He was happier than he’d ever been. He wanted to cry.
Asra’s nose wrinkled, but Julian didn’t feel any disgust from them. Their body language was lax, like a cat who got the cream. Like Asra was the lucky one.
“I told you to quit that nasty habit of your’s, Ilya.” They shook their head, hair falling in front of their eyes. “Such a nasty taste when I kiss you,” and much to Julian’s surprise, they laughed. A divine sound.
Julian expected Asra to not address the kiss, not even moments after. Everything between them, Asra kept locked up. Even behind closed doors, nothing the two of them did held any significance. Julian wasn’t stupid. If Asra didn’t speak it into existence, it didn’t exist, no matter how solid and pointed the action was. But they said it. They said it.
“Come get a drink with me,” Julian blurted out.
Asra’s laughter stopped. Besides their quirked eyebrow, their expression was still hopeful.
In other words, Julian still had a chance.
“What happened to having to get home? Heading out before it gets too late, I remember you saying.”
“Ah,” Julian dismissively waved his hand, “For a man like me, no such thing as too late. C’mon, the Rowdy Raven should still be open.”
Julian flashed his most dazzling, charismatic smile. Asra did not seem impressed. However, they did seem the consider the idea.
A hum, and then a sigh, and finally, “Alright, but you’re paying.”
Asra didn’t love him.
Or at least, they weren’t sure.
Asra wasn’t stupid. They knew how Julian felt about them. They didn’t love how trusting Ilya was of them. They didn’t love the way he simply turned the other cheek whenever Asra would hit him, asked for or not. They didn’t love the way Julian looked at him, like Asra had done something worth being admired for. The way Julian would rip open his chest and bare his heart, vulnerable and still beating, if Asra asked. He wouldn’t mind if Asra did nothing more except lean close and spit into his still beating heart.
He’d actually probably like that.
Asra, however, did love the sex.
(Or maybe they loved such an easy, willing target. Someone who took all of Asra’s aggression in stride, in pride, and still found a reason to look at Asra like that.)
Asra wasn’t sure why they kissed Julian.
(For all that Asra knew, there was a lot they didn’t know. That frustrated them.)
In all honesty, Asra took pity on Ilya, which they didn’t do very often. The doctor felt bad for himself well enough, he didn’t need another person encouraging his self pity.
But Asra was rough on Julian tonight, Asra knew that much. Asra raked their fingers down Julian’s back, leaving red lines in their wake. They beat Julian’s ass with a ruler they kept around the shop (the thought of his beaten red ass wasn’t going to leave their mind anytime they tried measuring something) until he cried. If Asra hadn’t already been hard, the sight of Ilya crying certainly would’ve done it. Getting off to the man crying made Asra sick, which only made them harder - so hard it hurt.
Asra was just as depraved as Ilya, but they did a much better job at keeping it hidden.
So maybe they simply felt bad for being too harsh on him tonight. As they finished up, his voice was sated, but Asra knew better. They had known Ilya long enough to know not to trust that man’s words. He was often an open book, much too willing to have other’s look inside, whether or not he realized it. It took pushing to get Ilya to say what he really wanted.
So the polite smile, the fake smile that Asra hated, and the “until next time, my dear,” meant nothing to them.
Asra couldn’t stand the aftercare and the moments after, no matter how much guilt they felt at asking Ilya to leave so soon. Gripping hands turning soft, doting.. Lovestruck eyes and praise. It made them sick.
But Ilya had been good, too good even, he deserved a reward. That’s what men of his kind sought after, anyways, right? Praise, a reward, a reminder they weren’t as bad as they told everyone they were?
Yes, that sounded good. Asra found that quick a believable excuse. They would go with that. They kissed Ilya because they felt bad, and Julian had been good, and nothing else.
Julian made Asra’s head hurt, and for reasons the doctor didn’t even understand.
Was pity the reason they found themselves agreeing to a drink with the man? Was Julian extending his stay, even if they weren’t even in Asra’s home? In fact, they were in Julian’s space. Bars tucked away in the midnight streets of Vesuvia belonged to men like Ilya. Asra was outside of their comfort zone.
Asra never quite enjoyed the Rowdy Raven. The environment made them quit anxious. But his Ilya convinced him into one drink, and into two.
Asra lost count of how much Julian had drank by their first hour there.
They hadn’t intended on staying so long. An hour at the most. It was already late. But there was something about Ilya that made them want to stay. A fluttering feeling in their stomach that they tried to dismiss as nothing but nerves.
Occasionally someone would come up to their table and make a comment to Julian, and he’d smile and nod, entertaining them until they found their way out. For the most part, it was just the two of them. The heavy, loud crowd died down as night turned to early morn. Quiet music played, there was no sight of the source, however. Asra found it enjoyable nonetheless. Julian recounted tale after tale of different wild encounters and interesting people he’d met throughout his journeys. Some stories Asra had heard before, others were new to them. They learned forward when Julian’s voice lowered to a hushed whisper, even if it was just the two of them, and they laughed when Julian laughed. They didn’t have to feign interest. Julian was an entertaining storyteller. And most importantly, he was honest. They liked Ilya best when he was honest. They weren’t fond of tue bravado he seemed comfortable hiding behind. Countless drinks in, and Julian was honest. He didn’t have to exaggerate his stories for Asra to find him fascinating.
Ilya’s face was red from the alcohol, and his smile was loose. Not drawn up, and practiced, like he usually liked to attempt with Asra, and with every other person Julian seemed keen on charming. A bite mark, definitely from Asra hours prior, had turned a lovely shade of purple. Julian didn’t seem to notice.
Yes, Asra decided, they liked their Ilya best like this.
By the time the pair found their way out of the Rowdy Raven, the sun was starting to peak over the horizon, making the sky a shade of periwinkle. The streets were just as empty and just as quiet as they were when the two had left.
Julian was still heavily intoxicated, having to lean against Asra’s side in order to accomplish even small, staggered, steps. He was taking that moment to be difficult, refusing to give Asra directions to where he lived. He giggled against the side of Asra’s neck, a much too childish giggle for a man of his size and stature.
All of the sudden, Julian took off, walking with impressive confidence for a man who couldn’t stand on his own mere seconds ago. Asra had the energy to only stand and watch. Julian took to the middle of the street, spinning in the early morning ray’s, singing a song that Asra couldn’t decipher the words too. Spinning too much and too fast, Julian collapsed to his knees and retched.
They were tired, and irritated, and yet they couldn’t find it in them to care. Julian was an idiot, and Asra wasn’t any better.
Once he had caught his breath, and thankfully, miraculously, not thrown up, Asra lowered themself to the ground with Julian. His eyes were unfocused, and his chest rose and fall with heavy breaths.
“What a fool,” Asra muttered. Julian paid them no mind, probably not even sober enough to hear them.
Asra placed a kiss to the corner of Julian’s mouth, knowing full well he wouldn’t remember a thing after a few hours rest. They weren’t looking forward to tending to his hangover.
“Come, Ilya. Let’s go home.”
Asra didn’t love Julian. They didn’t love his honesty, or his forgiveness, or his vulnerability.
Asra didn’t love Julian, but maybe, one day they could.