River and Julian:
price-julian:
[The pressure of the reciprocated thigh on thigh was welcomed with a type of applied pressure that was more than enough to have Julian stand up right now, screw the fucking risotto, and pull this one from his chair into somewhere just a little more private. Jesus Christ, maybe those three glasses of wine prior to his arrival had been a little irresponsible. But even so, the master of patience, simply stayed sitting back, a loose, yet interested, smile pressed across his mouth as he listened to the other speak.
His accent had never not been endearing, piqued in awkward places, yet undeniably shallow like many of those who hailed from farther up North. It added to River’s character, layers upon layers upon layers. He liked peeling each one back slowly. Taking what he could from the little that was often offered, personality wise, from any of his escorts. River was somewhat different though, exposed sides to himself that Julian was half convinced he wasn’t even aware he was showing. It was funny actually because what he most certainly had not realised was that this behaviour, the way he was now chatting fondly of another man (whom he’d already mentioned once before. Twice in less than ten minutes), the way he’d say things, sit with Julian as casually as any one could, the way he seemed almost, just about ready to bolt, or puke, any time he was in his company. They were all characteristic behaviours. All of them. River acted like his boys did, any and all of them, in those initial stages. Trust was always the first thing to solidify between them. Always trust.
But he digressed, tossed back another mouthful of wine. The glass now empty] Mmm..yes, yes I know Jaune. The cocky french-man. Although that adjective need not be necessary. The french man. Being arrogant is a right of passage. [tipped his head a little with a small smile] You talk about him a lot, something going on there? Don’t look so frightened its okay…he’s a handsome guy. The accent alone could drive about anyone crazy.
{he set his fork down now, folded, without looking, one of the cloth napkins over into itself till it formed a neat square] Can’t go wrong with steak and chips though, there’s this fucking brilliant place in Notting Hill, where I live in London. About a hundred quid for a steak but River let me tell you, that shit is orgasmic. [He’d pulled a cigarette out now, finished eating and held the stick to his lips so that it wobbled a little as he spoke] I’ll take you one day. But Oh the next meal? Hmm…well I’ve always wanted to be wanky enough to say I can make a souffle you know. A nice cheese souffle. Lets go with that.
[He chuckled suddenly letting his leg retreat from the space between River’s] Give me just one second [He excused himself, cigarette still balanced between two fingers as he sidestepped his way past River, lingering for a moment to gently, but with intent, run his free hand across and down the other’s face] I’m really, really liking the hair today, too bad it wont last long. [Another smirk, another side step and he was back in the apartment. But he was gone mere moments, coming back with a half drunken bottle of wine, that he set on the table just as he returned to his seat, deftly tapping the ash of his cigarette into an ashtray that balanced on the balcony edge. He replaced his leg between River’s almost immediately. Smiled]
[Fuck. He shouldn’t have been talking about Tate so much. He should have been careful—Lady always said it was discretion and his clients they had to be careful about, when it came to shagging each other. As long as it didn’t interfere with work, she didn’t care. But did this count as interfering? Especially when thinks about the scenario revolving around when they first exchanged real names? The jealousy that had lead to a fight that had lead to middle of the night handjobs in the dark—both too exhausted for anything else.
He blushes a bit, bites his lip, as though that’ll disguise it. Though he knows it won’t.] Erm. Yeah—well, no, I mean nothing... specific. Er. Not exactly, anyway. He’s just like, my best mate here. We’re close. And we’re.. [he shrugs] I don’t know. Our relationship is a bit complicated I reckon. Sorry for talking about him so much.
[When Julian gets up, a hand linger on the side of Deacon’s face, Deacon shivers, eyes falling shut. As the man steps away, the escort is forced to shift in his seat, his tight denims suddenly a lot tighter, uncomfortable. Fuck—despite being nervous, he’s awfully eager for, well. For whatever comes after dinner.
A wine bottle, still half full, gets put down between them, and Julian sits with a smile. Deacon, who still has half a glass of beer, takes another long gulp.]
Um, thanks again. Food was... perfect. [A beat] You said... [a slow grin.] You said something about my hair not lasting long... [it twists into a smirk, cheeky.] That true or are you just teasing me again, Master Price?
