Wine, Man, and Song
by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)
from Michael's pov, part number to be assigned later
Rating: adult
Please do not archive this story without asking me first. The copyright belongs to me.
Michael celebrates a strange French holiday with Brian at Brian's request.
Thanks to Tinnean for the beta and encouragement, and thanks to Greg for introducing me to the concept of Beaujolais Day and celebrating it with me for a wonderful bunch of years. :-)
*****
I shut the door, dropped my briefcase, shrugged off my overcoat, hung it in the coat closet, and sank down on the couch. Too much to do, too little time to do it in, and no time for much of any fun. But tonight would be different.
Brian was coming over.
I smiled and stretched at the memory of his call. I'd been sipping my coffee that morning when the phone rang, and I'd thought maybe it was my blasted family calling, trying to catch me off-guard to get me to agree to something I'd reject in my right mind. But it was Brian, diffident voice and all.
'Michael, would it be possible for me to come over tonight?'
His voice showed how desperate he was for me. I loved it.
I made him wait a moment. 'All right.' No need for him to think I was as eager as he clearly was.
'Thank you, Michael. It's kind of you to make time for me.'
I relented when I heard the controlled note in his voice. After all, I did want him to stick around. 'I'll look forward to it.' It had been about a week since we'd had sex. It would do me good to fuck him.
'So will I.' The eagerness was back, and I smiled. 'Will you be home by six?'
My, my, he really did need me. It was gratifying. 'I'll make sure of it.'
'Good. Thank you.'
He hung up, and I put down the phone and went back to my coffee, with a smile that took a long time to fade.
Ah, Brian. However had he managed without me?
And now it was evening, and he'd be here soon. I'd give myself a few minutes to relax, then I'd change. Odd that Brian had wanted to come over so early, unless he wanted to get fucked and go home for a good night's sleep. That made sense. Fine, I'd fuck him, then get something for dinner. I'd had a late enough lunch. I'd manage.
The doorbell sounded, and I levered myself off the couch and checked my watch. Brian was early. Smart of me to have given him a key to the building. It saved me having to buzz him in. I'd given him a key to my front door as well, but I'd warned him not to use it without my express request on pain of my severe displeasure and dismissal from my bed. He was not just going to show up. I wouldn't have that.
I opened the door. Yes, Brian, but not looking desperate at all, instead looking as though he'd come from a trip to the grocery store, complete with shopping bag. What the hell?
"Hello, Michael. I brought dinner."
Ah, so that was what was in the bag. How cute. I hoped he'd brought something edible.
I motioned him inside and shut the door. "Dinner?"
"Have you already eaten?"
"No."
He beamed. "Great. It's Beaujolais Day, and I wanted to celebrate it with you."
What in hell was Beaujolais Day? "Ah. I wish you'd said something this morning." Then I could have found out what the hell this Beaujolais Day was.
"I probably should have. Sorry about that." He didn't look sorry, though. He was still beaming. "Come with me to the kitchen. It won't take much to get the meal ready, but I'd like your company."
He headed off to the kitchen, and I laughed to myself and followed him. Very well, if Brian wanted to celebrate some strange holiday, I'd do it. Bed could wait.
Brian was unpacking the bag when I walked in. "A good pate, French bread, goat cheese with herbs, mesclun salad," he took out two bottles of wine and set them on the counter, "and of course, Beaujolais Nouveau. I got the Georges Dubouef and Drouhin."
So this was a holiday about wine. "If you expect me to help you finish both bottles, you're out of your mind. I have work in the morning."
He laughed. I'd never seen him so relaxed and happy, and I liked it. It had been fun in the beginning to keep him off-balance, but I knew he was mine now, so I could let him have his fun.
"No, no, I wasn't expecting we'd finish even one of them, but I wanted to try both. Here, I'll open one. Any preference?"
He poked around in the silverware drawer to no avail, and I took pity on him and found him the corkscrew. "I'll take care of the wine, Brian."
"Pour a glass of each. We can share, if you're willing to."
I'd kissed him. I could certainly share a glass. "Fine."
I levered the cork out of the Duboeuf - flowery label - then the Drouhin, found glasses, and poured a glass of each. I decided to try the Drouhin first, so I put the glass with the Duboeuf by Brian.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
It was... nice to have him in my kitchen, fixing me dinner, even this kind of simple dinner.
"I thought we'd eat in the living room. Like a picnic."
Picnic. My god. But he looked so damned happy that I couldn't say no. "Very well, but I refuse to sit on the floor."
He threw back his head and laughed. "Ah, Michael, you're a joy." Then he leaned over and kissed my cheek, smiled, and went back to slicing the bread.
I was a joy? "Did you start drinking without me?"
He laughed again. "No, Michael. You are a joy. Is it a problem that I said so?"
Well, no, just... no. "Not at all." If he wanted to act like a giddy schoolgirl, I could stand it for one night. "Is there anything else I can do?"
"If you'd take out the CD in the bag and put it on, that would be great."
I took out the CD. Edith Piaf? I'd heard of her, but the little I'd heard of her I hadn't liked. Well, I'd put it on, and if I didn't like it this time, I'd take it out and put on something I liked. There was only so far I was willing to indulge Brian.
"I'll have everything ready in a minute or two. You look like you're still in the suit you wore to work. Want to change?"
That was a good idea. "Yes."
"Then go do it, and never mind about the CD. I'll take care of that." He took the case from me. "Meet me in the living room."
My, Brian was getting bossy. I'd have to do something about that. I set down my wine glass and grabbed his arm. "Dinner can wait." Before he could say anything about Beaujolais Day or music or food or make any objection of any kind, I took his mouth with mine and thrust my leg between his. As I kissed him, I felt him harden.
That was better.
He was panting when I released him. "Michael..." He shut his eyes and shuddered.
"What is it, Brian?"
"You... aren't you hungry?"
"Not that hungry. I want you stripped, on my bed, and begging me to fuck you. You want it too, don't you?"
"I... yes."
Now that was the Brian I knew. "Come with me, then."
*****
I finished rolling on the condom. "Now, Brian. Beg me."
He was on his hands and knees, naked, braced, and ready for me to fuck him, but I wanted to hear him.
"You know I want you. Fuck me, please."
"You're so polite," I said softly and got on the bed behind him. He shivered when I stroked his back. "'Fuck me, please.' I like that."
"Then do it. Please."
"So polite." I squeezed some lubricant on my dick and made sure I coated it thoroughly, then squeezed some on my fingers and stroked it on Brian, enjoying the whimpers that brought. "Even though you're desperate for me, you're polite. It's amazing."
"Fuck me, dammit."
I laughed softly. "And there goes the politeness. Very well, Brian," I thrust into him, "I'll fuck you."
He bucked against me, and I almost came. God, when had I gotten so hot? I told myself sternly to calm down and focus, and got into a rhythm of fucking. He cried out and came after a few minutes of the fucking and the magic my fingers worked on his dick, and I let my control go and came too.
I pulled out. "Still up for your Beaujolais Day?"
He twisted around to face me. "Yes. I hope you are."
I could handle getting dressed and having some dinner and wine. "Sure."
He smiled and put his hand on my arm. "I'm glad."
I found myself reaching out to touch him in response, but stopped myself before I did. I didn't do things like that.
He took his hand off my arm, got off the bed, reached for a tissue, wiped his come off his stomach, discarded it, and pulled on his boxers. I shrugged and got up. I'd put on some clothes and join him.
*****
"Have some of the cheese."
He spread some on a piece of bread and handed it to me, and I took a bite. Not bad.
"Now some of the wine."
"Brian, I am perfectly able to manage to eat my own dinner without your direction, thank you."
He smiled. "You're right. I'm going overboard. Eat what you want. But please, try some of the Duboeuf."
"After I change the music." Edith Piaf might have been a famous French singer, but her music did not appeal to me.
"Could you put on something by a French person, if you have it?"
"Why this insistence on the French?"
"Beaujolais Day is a French holiday, the first day the new vintage is available for sale. That's why."
Definitely a wine holiday. Trust the French to grab any opportunity to drink. "Ah." I stopped the CD player and took out the disc and put it back in its case. I'd remind Brian to pack it up and take it with him. Jarre... he was French. There. Good background music, more instrumental than vocal, one of the few electronic artists I could stand, and it met Brian's request.
"It's funny - I walked into a wine store one Thursday in November five years ago, looking for a white to have with the chicken I planned to roast that night, and they were having a tasting, with bread and cheese, so I went over and had some. They told me that it was for Beaujolais Day and explained what that was, and I ended up taking two bottles with me and had that with my roast chicken instead. And after that, I always made sure to go to a good wine store and get some Beaujolais Nouveau and celebrate Beaujolais Day. This is the first one I've had someone to celebrate it with. Thank you, Michael."
"You're welcome." This meant a lot to him, if the wistful look on his face as he told that story was any indication. Well, I'd said that I'd give him what he needed, and if sharing some wine and French food was part of it, I could handle it.
"Some year I'm going to be in France on Beaujolais Day. That would be great." He finished his glass and poured himself some more, and I spread some pate on a slice of bread. Good pate, smooth and rich, but with a bite underneath.
"I'm sure you'd enjoy it."
"You would too."
I sipped my wine and didn't answer.
He nodded to himself as though I had. "Some year."
I wasn't sure if he meant that some year he'd go or some year we'd go, and I wasn't going to ask.
"Do you want me to slice some more bread?"
"No, I'm fine."
"I think I could use a little more. Be right back." He smiled and got to his feet. "Good musical choice. Jarre's one of my favorites."
When he was out of sight, I shook my head. The man kept surprising me.
*****
When we'd both had enough, Brian packed up the leftovers and put them in my refrigerator. "You keep them. The wine too. I'll pick up some for myself tomorrow."
"All right. Thank you." If he didn't want to carry the food and the wine home, I had room in my refrigerator.
"You're welcome. I'd better get going. It's almost eleven."
Was it that late? Yes, it was. But he wasn't going to leave. "No, you're not going to get going. You're staying here."
"I didn't drink that much, Michael. I'll be fine."
I gave him a cold look. "Don't argue with me."
He stared straight at me, and I stared back. If I wanted him to stay, he'd stay, dammit.
After a few moments his face eased into a smile. "Very well, Michael. Thank you. I appreciate your consideration."
He could think what he wanted. "Yes. I usually watch some TV before bed."
"That sounds good."
He followed me out to the living room and sat by me on the couch. I picked up the remote and turned on the cable box, then the TV. I'd watch some news, then it would be time for bed.
*****
Brian was asleep, head on my shoulder, before the news program was over. Good thing I'd made him stay. I muted the sound. Soon I'd wake him and get him into bed, but some time to myself wasn't a bad thing.
Paris. Were they still celebrating this odd holiday there? No, they were hours ahead of us - six, if I remembered correctly. They'd be long in bed.
Brian wanted to go to Beaujolais Day. Maybe I should take him. He'd be all enthusiasm and excitement. It would be amusing. And it had been a while since I'd been to Europe. Of course, there was no guarantee I'd still want him this time next year, but on the chance that I would, I'd keep it in mind.
"Michael? Did I fall asleep?"
"Yes."
He yawned. "Sorry."
"Not a problem. The news wasn't that interesting anyway."
He yawned again. "Can we go to bed now?"
"Yes, Brian. We can go to bed."
"Good." He sat up. "I'm glad I get to sleep here with you."
He made it all sound so damned simple, and for him, it was. For me? Well, it was simple, actually. I wanted him, and I had him.
I'd keep it that simple.
*****
Posted 11/21/05
