by Helena Stone
“Even my mother will have to agree that sharing with you is by far the best option,” Mitch said. “Strange, isn’t it?”
“What?” Cian asked.
“That those ludicrous rates and lousy rentals are exactly what I need to convince me ma that moving in with you is the only sensible, not to mention affordable option.”
Cian closed the laptop. “If that argument doesn’t persuade her and my parents, I don’t know what will. It’s even worse than I thought.”
Leaning back on the couch, Mitch relaxed. His mother had always been a practical woman. For the first time since she’d suggested that it might be better for him to find his own place in Dublin, Mitch was certain he’d manage to convince her otherwise.
With that problem solved, nothing stood in the way of him fully enjoying the Pride festival.
Chapter Four
Cian
“Well? Did you make up your mind?” Cian asked from the threshold of his bedroom, doing his best not to laugh.
Mitch glared at him over his shoulder before focusing on the bed and the four T-shirts lying there. Obviously at least some of Cian’s amusement had been audible in his voice.
Cian couldn’t help himself and chuckled. “It’s your own fault for buying four new shirts. You were only ever going to wear one of them today.”
Mitch turned to him again, his brow still furrowed, although his eyes sparkled. “But they’re all so pretty.”
Studying the various rainbows draped across his bed, Cian couldn’t deny they made a pretty picture. “Pick that one,” he said, pointing at the black shirt with a broad rainbow running diagonally across the front and back.
“Are you sure?” Mitch asked.
“With your skinny black jeans,” Cian added. His cock twitched in his pants when the image of Mitch in the outfit he’d suggested flashed across Cian’s mind. “And hurry up. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”
“Okay. Okay.” Mitch muttered as he reached for the towel wrapped around his waist and loosened it.
“I’ll leave you to it.” Cian turned and made his way to the living room. If he stayed with Mitch while he was getting dressed, chances were it would end up with Cian stripping rather than Mitch putting on his clothes.
Too excited to sit still, Cian randomly moved around the living room, glancing at the sky through the window to check it was still blue and almost cloudless. Today would be Mitch’s first Pride experience and Cian was determined to make it as memorable as he possibly could. The first time Cian had watched the parade, he had been on his own, and while he’d had a good time and being surrounded by people just like him had made him feel safe, he wanted more for Mitch. Who am I kidding? He wanted more for himself too. Pride with friends had been good. Pride with Mitch should be magical.
“Well, will I do?”
Startled, Cian looked at the doorway. He took his time to drink in the sight of Mitch. He was even more stunning than Cian had imagined. With jeans so tight Cian figured Mitch had poured himself into them and the new, bright T-shirt hugging his body, Mitch managed to look edible and adorable at the same time.
“You’ll do.” Cian was shocked by the rasp in his voice. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve such a gorgeous man in his life, but with his jeans suddenly uncomfortably tight, he hoped it wouldn’t change anytime soon.
He swallowed, hoping it would clear his throat. “Let’s go.”
The first five minutes of their walk toward the city center was like every other Saturday. It wasn’t until they got closer to Parnell Square, where the parade would start, that they saw groups of people in rainbow attire, girls holding hands with girls and, once or twice, men holding hands with men.
“Today that’s safe?” Mitch asked.
It was a good question. “I don’t know,” Cian admitted. “Safer than at other times, I guess. All it takes is one lunatic homophobe…” He glanced at Mitch, who returned his gaze, his eyes wide.
Cian shrugged. “I guess that’s true any day of the week, and not just us gays need to be wary of lunatics.” Way to lower the mood. “What do you want to do?” He needed to get the focus back on the festivities. “Wanna join the parade from the start, or shall we watch it from O’Connell Street and join the end of it after we’ve seen it all?”
Mitch blinked at him as if struggling to keep up with his conversational twists. Then his face relaxed. “Watch first, I think.” He smiled widely. “I definitely want to make sure I don’t miss anything.” He picked up speed, as if his excitement had gotten to his feet.
Cian half jogged a few steps to catch up, laughing as he fell into step with Mitch again. “Excited much?”
Mitch threw him a hard stare, his eyebrows comically high on his forehead. “Of course I am. First Pride, remember?”
“Yes. I do know.” Cian really did. So far, he’d been part of Mitch’s every first as a gay man. His first time admitting he was gay. His first kiss. The first time he visited a gay club. The list was long and still growing, and it filled Cian with pride that he’d accompanied Mitch on that journey, occasionally even guided him.
It scared him too.
He wanted every first experience Mitch had to be perfect. Past experience had shown that wasn’t possible. And Cian knew it wasn’t really his responsibility. Neither of those facts diminished his urge to protect Mitch, to make his life as pain-free as possible. But there were things Cian had never done before either. And they were getting perilously close to the moment when they might cross that particular bridge.
“Are you okay?” Mitch gave him a worried once-over. “I’m not upset, you know. I know you’re fully aware this is my first Pride. That was a joke.”
“Sorry.” Cian wanted to kick himself. So much for making sure Mitch had a good time if he couldn’t even keep his thoughts under control. “I was miles away for a minute.”
They arrived on O’Connell Street, and Cian steered them to the right, along the parade route. People wearing every color of the rainbow packed the sidewalk, many of them sparkling, as the sun reflected the glitter they appeared to have bathed in.
“So many people,” Mitch said, his voice raised but still hard to hear over the mixture of song, conversations, and exclamations surrounding them.
Cian bent his neck to bring his mouth closer to Mitch’s ear. “I think we’ll have to walk a bit further along the route to find a spot where we’ll actually be able to see the parade when it passes.”
Making their way across O’Connell Bridge proved next to impossible due to the sheer number of people gathered there. Even walking in single file, they made slow progress. Cian couldn’t care less. Crowds didn’t bother him, and he enjoyed watching Mitch walk ahead of him, his head constantly moving from left to right as if he wanted to take everything in at the same time.
Every few meters, Mitch glanced over his shoulder at Cian, his eyes wide and sparkling with excitement and his smile broad.
Not that Cian disagreed. There was a lot to see, to be amazed at, to admire, and to wonder about. He guessed Pride was the sort of event where, just for one day, people felt free to be all of who they were, without limitations and self-imposed restrictions. Without the fear that being themselves might be too much for others.
They walked almost to the end of the parade route before they found a quieter stretch of sidewalk.
“Let’s stay here.” Cian stopped walking. Across the street, a man wearing only a tiny pair of shorts was strumming a guitar while somebody whose gender Cian couldn’t determine danced in the middle of the street.
“Works for me,” Mitch said without turning to face Cian. “Wouldn’t it be nice if life could always be like this?” He sounded wistful.
“Always a party?” Sure. Bring it on.” Cian grinned.
“No, you eejit.” Mitch bumped his upper arm against Cian’s. “Well, I wouldn’t mind that either, but I meant that I wished all of us could just be who we are and do what we like every day.”
The sound of
the parade approaching put an end to further conversation. A cacophony of music grew ever louder before the first float came into a view, and Cian and Mitch lost themselves in a solid hour of people watching. They nudged each other as a particularly vibrant or spectacular group or person walked by, and grinned at each other when a group of people dressed as Pride-colored superheroes caught their attention.
Cian wasn’t sure what he enjoyed more, watching the passing parade or observing Mitch as he lost himself in the spectacle. Expressions flashed across Mitch’s features in rapid succession. Delight, surprise, awe, but mostly pure joy shone from his whole being.
Cian understood what Mitch was experiencing so well. He remembered how liberating it had been for him. Small rural towns like Castleforest didn’t have facilities for those on the LGBTQ spectrum. He had no doubt that, for the first time in his life, Mitch truly felt as if he belonged, as if he did have a tribe. Visiting Pride was confirmation that he wasn’t alone.
After the last float had gone by and the noise levels became tolerable again, Mitch turned to Cian.
“That was amazing.” He looked over his shoulder. “Best day of my life.” He wrinkled his nose. “Second best but still, fucking brilliant.”
Cian desperately wanted to know what Mitch’s best day had been but stopped himself from asking. Just in case he wouldn’t like the answer.
“Let’s go to the Pride Village,” Cian suggested. “This party ain’t over.”
Mitch nodded, and they joined the crowd still flowing by.
“Tell me,” Mitch said after they’d walked for a few minutes. “What’s with all the company names on those floats we saw? What do eBay and Tesco have to do with Pride? Are they just using our event to promote their name, or do they actually support us in real life?”
The sudden switch from lighthearted and happy to serious took Cian by surprise and he scrambled to catch up.
“I don’t know about those particular companies,” he replied. “But in general? Sure, they’re jumping on the bandwagon. Everything those companies do is with profit margins in mind.” Cian pointed to a banner along the route, advertising a national bank against a rainbow background and featuring the words Proud Sponsor of Pride. “On the other hand,” he continued. “It says a lot about the world we live in that companies like Facebook and Google, not to mention authentically Irish businesses, think it’s good for their image to be associated with Pride.”
“I hadn’t thought about it like that.” Mitch looked pensive. “Win some, lose some, I guess.”
“Absolutely,” Cian agreed. “That’s life in a nutshell, isn’t it? But no matter how you look at it, having them here, even if it is for the worst of reasons, is better than the days when we had to hide.”
Mitch stopped walking moments after they’d entered through the gates to the Pride Village. Tents and stalls filled the park, while people moved around, enjoying themselves, dancing, showing the world exactly who they were. “So many people,” he whispered. “All like us.” He glanced at Cian before adding, “All proud.”
Chapter Five
Mitch
He hadn’t known it was possible, but Mitch was exhausted and buzzing at the same time. To say he’d had an amazing day didn’t even begin to cover it. His first Pride had been everything he’d wished for except bigger, brighter, and more empowering than he could have imagined. Watching the parade, mingling with the crowds, being part of an event where he was normal—not the odd one out—had achieved what dating Cian and even going to gay clubs hadn’t quite managed. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Mitch was happy to be himself, without reservations.
He looked to his right, where Cian appeared to be as lost in his thoughts as Mitch was. He glanced at Cian’s hand, moving back and forth as Cian walked. Mitch bit his lip. Fuck it. If not today, then when?
After fortifying himself with a deep intake of breath, Mitch reached out and grabbed Cian’s hand with his own, taking care to keep his grip light, giving Cian every opportunity to pull back should he wish to do so.
Cian’s fingers tensed against his, but Mitch refused to be the first to let go and wasn’t quite brave enough to meet Cian’s gaze. He walked on, drinking in every step he took while holding Cian’s hand. It might be a year before they got to do this again.
When Cian laced his fingers with his and squeezed, Mitch thought his heart might not be big enough to contain all the joy.
Despite his feet screaming at him, a stab of disappointment hit Mitch when Cian’s front door came into view. The last time he’d held somebody’s hand while walking, he’d still been in primary school. It seemed so simple, holding hands, but now that he’d walked through Dublin while holding his boyfriend’s hand, he knew there was nothing simple about it. It was such a common thing for most people, but for him, it was part of everything he’d feared he might never have. It was special…everything.
After Cian unlocked the front door, Mitch stared up the stairs. Everything. He wanted it all, to embrace the totality of what he was, and just two flights of stairs lay between him and something he’d thought about, dreamed about, fantasized about for weeks. Something he’d been afraid to mention to Cian. But no more. Today he had wings. Pride had somehow managed to cement everything he’d known in theory. He had no doubt there would still be moments when he’d feel “other”, but he also knew that from that moment forward, his otherness wouldn’t fill him with shame.
Before he could take his first step up the stairs, Cian grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around, capturing Mitch’s mouth in a passionate kiss. Mitch forgot about his painful feet and surrendered to the onslaught, losing himself in Cian’s mouth, his smell, and the fingers, stroking the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. He pressed closer, wanting to feel Cian’s body against his. Wanting more. Wanting… Everything.
The sound of a door opening and closing filtered through Mitch’s lust-filled daze, and he reluctantly ended the kiss. Cian rested his forehead against Mitch’s. Then he pressed his lips against the bridge of Mitch’s nose and pulled back. “Let’s take this upstairs,” he said in a soft tone of voice.
Mitch didn’t need to be told twice. He missed being close to Cian the moment he put his foot on the first step of the stairs, but he did so eagerly, sure in the knowledge that only thirty steps separated them from connecting again and on a far more intimate level.
In his rush to get to Cian’s apartment, Mitch almost missed the white piece of paper on the stairs. At the last minute, he picked it up and stared at the names scrawled across what turned out to be an envelope.
“This is for you,” he said without interrupting his ascent.
“Bring it,” Cian muttered. “I’ll look at it upstairs. It’s probably just junk mail.”
Mitch wondered how Cian could possibly be sure about that. Then he remembered it was Saturday, which meant no post deliveries.
When they entered the apartment, Cian didn’t so much as look at the missive before dropping it on the small table next to the door and placing his backpack on top of it.
“Aren’t you going to—”
Cian’s lips were on Mitch’s before he could finish his sentence, and Mitch had no objections whatsoever. Whatever was in the envelope would still be there tomorrow. It would wait. The need surging through Mitch’s body, on the other hand, was immediate, bordering on desperate.
“What do you want?” Cian asked, his lips moving against Mitch’s as he spoke.
“You,” Mitch said instantly. “But I want to shower first.”
Cian pulled back a little, studying Mitch’s face. “What happened to ‘we’re only going to get sweaty again’”?
Mitch wasn’t sure how to answer that question. He knew what he wanted, but had no idea how to put his desire into words, never mind say them out loud. He stepped back, releasing Cian’s hold on him. “I won’t be long.” Before Cian could say anything else, Mitch headed for the bathroom, pulling his T-shirt over his head as he wal
ked.
The lukewarm water was heavenly on his skin, and he allowed himself a few short moments to simply stand under the spray and enjoy. Then he reached for the body wash, squeezed a liberal dollop into the palm of his hand, and washed himself, making sure to pay extra attention to parts he usually didn’t linger on. His body reacted immediately, his cock lengthening at the thoughts about what he hoped would happen when he and Cian got together rather than his personal hygiene routine.
Mitch startled as the shower curtain was pulled back, and he froze in the act of rubbing a soapy finger through his arse crack.
Cian stared at him, his eyes wide and his gaze heated. “Don’t stop on my account,” he said, his voice betraying his lust. “Unless you want a hand, that is.”
Heat flooded Mitch, as if molten lava had replaced the blood in his veins. “I’ll never say no to your hands…on me.”
Cian’s eyes smoldered as he stepped into the bathtub, pulling Mitch close. “I like the way you think,” Cian muttered as he stroked a hand down Mitch’s back.
Mitch moved slowly from side to side, feeling Cian’s cock stiffen against his belly, the sensation enticing and turning Mitch’s need up a notch or two. When Cian’s finger stroked through his arse crack, the movement electrified Mitch. His whole being yearned for more… More Cian. More intimacy.
He sought Cian’s mouth with his own, kissing him deeply, desperately, wanting to convey his desires without words. Moments later he pulled back, coughing and sputtering as the water from the shower filled his mouth.
“Not here,” he said. “Come to bed.”
The expression on Cian’s face was a cute combination of lust and amusement. “Lead the way. I’m right behind you.”
Mitch was out of the tub before Cian finished his sentence. He didn’t stop to dry himself either, picking up a towel instead and patting the worst of the water away as he walked to Cian’s room, his hard cock leading the way. Once there, he walked straight to the bedside cabinet, opened the drawer, and extracted the essentials.