Leave the Night On Pt. 04

That notebook is like a passage into my head; into the world like I remember seeing it as a child. Inside there's a collection of drawings. Wild, colorful, surreal. My sleepless dawns are filled with my best attempts to catalog the color and marvel of dreams adults forsake the ability to dream.

"I have dozens of these notebooks. Every idea for a children's book I've ever had I've put down on paper."

Julian closes my notebook, lying flat on his thigh. "So, this is what you do when you can't sleep."

"It's therapeutic."

"This is fantastic, My Pearl," he says, gracing me with a bright smile.

Relief and diffidence contradictorily sink into my chest. "Really?"

"Yes!" He shakes his head enthusiastically. "Someone should see this."

"You're seeing it," I reply.

"You know what I mean."

"Slow down, boy. I'm not a writer. I just dabble and doodle," I say, and Julian parts his lips to argue, except I don't give him the chance. "Anyway, I'm showing it to you. I wanted you to see it. Those are still my secrets in there. That notebook is a window into my head. I'm not sure people would want to venture into my dreamland."

"I would," he retorts, and something sweet and sensual begins to thaw the air.

"Well, that would be very narcissistic of you," I say, gliding into the familiar mood. "There's a whole lot of you in my dreamland. Naked you."

He bites down on his bottom lip. The sweep of his eyes over me is a prelude to what his hands will do when my clothes are off. "What am I doing naked in your dreams, My Pearl?"

"Anything I want," I sing. My hands are warm as I lay them atop my thighs, over the thin, light fabric of my skirt. Julian focused on my fingers curling around the pleated chiffon, bunching up the fabric into fists, and pulling it up slowly to reveal my skin.

My notebook is carelessly thrown on my bedside table. He slides closer to the edge of the bed, almost fooling me into believing he'll stand up and come to me. "What do you want, My Pearl?"

Just you, I think.

I translate my answer into action. My hands disappear under my skirt, up my thighs. Slowly, like I want to tease him, I slide my panties down, shimming out of them. They land like a small pool of laced satin around my feet. "Right now?" I say, using one toe to lift my underwear. "I want you to lie down in my bed so I can get my pussy all over your face."

Making a show of it, I manage to kick my panties to him. He catches it midair, releasing a thunderous laugh. "You sure you can handle my face in your pussy, My Pearl?" His eyes are two black pools shining with his amusement. "You'll scream the building down. The girls will think I'm killing you."

I push off the door and stride towards him, keeping up with my seducing act, swishing my hips. Julian opens his thighs, creating a space I step into easily. "It's my pussy on your face," I say, stopping before him. The outsides of my knees touch the insides of his jeans-clad thighs. "And yes, I can handle it. If not, I'll die happy. Or I might smother you with my pussy."

Imitating my earlier movement, his hands sneak under my skirt. His calluses rub deliciously against my skin. "Death by a mouthful of pussy," he says, grinning. "A man couldn't wish for a better fate."

"Besides," I say, picking up where I've left off, "the girls are expecting a scream fest from me tonight."

"I won't have a problem making you scream."

I love the smugness he wears when we're alone like this. I love the tilt it lends to his chin and the smartass grin on the edges of his mouth just waiting to happen. He is so, so beautiful.

My fingers are itching to touch him, so I indulge myself. The strands of his dark blue hair are silky ribbons leaking through the gaps between my fingers as they rake them along his scalp. Julian tips his head further back, the tendons on his neck straining and elongating. He closes his eyes against my caress, and I can see the vibration the groan he utters creates right on the bulge of his Adam's Apple.

His hands are under my clothes skimming the undercurves of my backside. The very tip of his fingers tracing the lines that swells up into my panty-less ass.

"You ever thought of being a model when you were younger?" I say, absentmindedly stroking his hair.

Julian chuckles, dropping his forehead to my stomach. "This country wasn't ready for my being an Asian male model in the early 2000's."

His voice, when he speaks, is gravelly, slow and soothing. There isn't an accent penetrating his sentences, though the cadence of his voice betrays foreignness. It's a trait I sometimes detect in myself.

With gentle hands, I tip his head back, angling his face so I'm offered a clear view. "You're beautiful," I mumble, almost to myself.

The dark brown of brewed coffee of his gaze acquires a vulnerable gleam. He regards me with an inquisitive eye, remaining quiet to allow my thumbs to smooth both his eyebrows; two black slashes. I descend to the soft, cushioned skin that hides the fold of his eyelids, hooding his short-lashed eyes. Delicately, I trace the prolonging descent of the curve that begins at the inner corner of his eyes and protrudes just beyond the outer one, shaping his identity so keenly.

A slight tremble brushes over him as my thumbs follow the sharp edges of his high cheekbones. From up close, I can pinpoint tiny dots, like freckles, scattered across his face. One of the very few signs of the years washing over him.

Rough skinned fingers gently close around my wrists, ceasing my exploration. "What are you doing?"

"I'm seeing you," I say, simply.

His gaze dances from one of my eyes to the other, searching. Something is shifting into place between us. Something heavy, too serious. He knows it, too. I'm getting lost inside the dark wonderworld of his eyes at the exact moment he chooses to gloss over it and change the course of the night. "See anything you like, My Pearl?"

The tone he uses is the same he used to introduce himself the first time we met. It contains only sass and confidence.

"Oh, I like it all, Mr. Song," I say, playing along.

Julian's features transform, changing into pure lasciviousness. He fills his hands with the soft flesh of my ass, then he moves them down the back of my thighs. Using the pressure of his palms, he pulls me into his lap. He groans a delicious sound as I straddle him, adjusting my weight over his legs. "Hi," he whispers with his lips a breath away from mine.

"Hey you," I whisper back, lacing my hands behind his neck.

"For a minute there, you looked like you were about to lick me."

I close the distance between us and suck on his bottom lip. The sensitive flesh is left red and wet when I release it. "Maybe I just wanted to bite you."

"You should. I taste good."

"Come here, then." I offer him my mouth and he kisses me with his daring, exploring tongue that swirls, licking the roof of my mouth.

"You grew up bilingual, too," he purrs into the kiss. "You can ask me to make you come in two different languages."

"Three, actually," I correct him.

He pulls away from my mouth, holding me back by my waist.

"My grandmother came from Senegal," I elaborate, offering him yet another piece of information. "She taught me French."

"So, you speak three languages?"

"Five."

"Five?" His surprise is a delight I get drunk on.

"The basic romances," I say, increasing his astonishment. "You of all people should know how good with my tongue I am." I make a show of wetting my lips to punctuate my meaning.

One of his eyebrow arches sarcastically. "Are you challenging me to a tongue duel, My Pearl?"

I lay my palms flat on the hard surface of his chest and give it a good shove. He falls back on the mattress with a soft thud. "I have it on good authority that I'm better."

He crosses his arms under his head, grinning like a friend. "Come sit on my face and you'll see who's the best."

Complying to one of his demands has never been easier. On my knees, I crawl along his torso until my hips are hovering over his head, inches from his mouth.

His hands slide around my waist and find my skirt's zipper on the small of my back. He slides it down then I help him pull the fabric over my head. "That blouse has to go, too," he says. My shirt is gone faster than Julian can blink twice.

Leisurely, I lower myself to his face.

The heat of his breath is what I feel first. This caress is followed by his nose grazing the wet slick of my pussy and causing my pulse to skyrocket into heaven.

"Oh, fuck."

Julian groans and I feel the sound vibrating against me. He runs the tip of nose along my pussy again and the electric pleasure makes me roll my eyes inside my skull. "You smell like a drug, My Pearl," he rasps, and the movement of his lips is another torturing caress.

Gently, but with firm hands, he grabs my waist, urging me all the way down until I'm fully seated on his face. My ass is right over his collarbones, my knees are bracketing his head.

The first flick of his tongue is a hot shock that causes me to yelp. The second is a rough touch that parts my lips as the hot wetness of his tongue meets the hot wetness of my pussy.

My hands tangle into his hair, keeping his mouth on me, drinking from me, stimulating my clit until I'm going crazy. He puts the very tip of his tongue at my disposal, letting me glide over it with chaotic motions. When I'm on the brink of becoming too overwhelmed by the sensation, my body attempts to flee the but Julian's strong grip keeps me in place; his mouth latches fiercely onto my pussy.

Every stroke is a reverence. Every flick of his tongue is purposeful, hitting me like a wave. He's slow enough that I can almost feel tortured by it. The dance of his tongue is alternated his sucks and even the breathes he releases through his nose turn me on.

There isn't a moment in which he isn't watching my reactions. I grab his hair more roughly and the grinding of my hips becomes violent. I'm almost riding his face. I try to relent, slow down, and when I do, he moans in protest, locking his hands around the top of my thighs so I have no escape.

My incoming ecstasy has me pressing my thighs together, trapping his head between them. I feel it in my whole body; in my legs growing weak; in my curling toes. I come undone in his mouth, my clit pulsing against his tongue, the mind-blanking pleasure rippling out thought me until I flop sideways on the bed, wilted and stupidly happy.

"Oh. My. God." My clit is throbbing, holding on to the memory of Julian's tongue.

He doesn't allow me time to recover and he's already climbing over me. "I'm not done with you," he says. His breath smells of me.

"Oh, have mercy."

He grabs me by my waist and drags my body down the bed until my knees are on the floor. He positions me in a praying stance in which I remain, waiting with a fervent devotion.

Julian gets on the floor behind me. His clothed chest molds itself to my naked back. "Now, My Pearl," he whispers in my ear. "Let's see if we can make you scream this entire building awake."

***

I JOLT AWAKE, COCOONED BY HUMAN WARMTH. Julian's long, wiry body is curled over mine. I'm perfectly safe tucked into the inflection made of his torso and legs. The yellow artificial light the streetlamp is casting inside my room tells me it's late. Whatever the time is, not enough has gone by. My head is still full of wine, the alcohol not quite dissolved into my bloodstream

For a second there, I believe I'm dreaming. I hear voices. Hushed out angry words, deliberately muffled, as though underwater. Just like that, I'm a child again, bearing witness to my parent's fights.

But the hissed-out words are too close. Too real.

Gingerly detangling myself from Julian's embrace, I climb off the bed. My heart is pounding with anxiety as I tie my rope tightly around my naked body.

"Hey."

I yelp, startled by Julian's hoarse, drowsy voice.

"You okay?" he asks.

I shake my head at him, pointing to the door and straining to listen. He heaves himself up on his elbow, angling his ear and we both pick it up at the same time; the unmistakable noise of someone crying.

It's a familiar scene to me. "It's Mark and Mel," I whisper. "They're fighting."

That seems to shoot awareness into Julian.

Suddenly, we both hear Mel whimpering, as clear as day, "No, Mark. Please. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm stupid. I won't do it again."

With eyes full of panic, I throw a helpless glance at Julian - who's already searching for his pants. Acting without reasoning first, I yank open my door.

Mel's backed up against the fridge, hands raised in front of her face in a defensive posture. Mark is right up against her; one hand around her throat; the other pointing an angry finger to her face.

They both register my presence at the same time.

Mark backs away, immediately. He drops his hand and takes a step away from Mel. Puffing out my chest, I'm fueled by defiance as I start towards my friend. It's only when Julian rushes past me, bumping my shoulder, that I notice my sudden appearance isn't responsible for Mark's retreat.

Julian positions himself as a wall in front of a shivering Melanie. His naked muscled torso is a stone barrier between her and her asshole of a fiancé. He is a few mere inches taller than Mark, but right now he's a giant.

His breathing is loud amid the silence of the night. His chest rising and falling with the angry rhythm of his exhales. His large hands are balled into fists. Whoever he is right now, this man is far from the Julian I know best. He's menacing enough to scare me before I remember who he actually is.

"I'm giving you one chance." Julian hisses to Mark, emanating danger. "One chance. Get out. Now."

Mark's face is tinged a crimson red. He's holding his head up. Still, his eyes avoid Julian and go in the direction of Mel instead. "Baby," he cajoles.

Mel's face is contorted with panic. From behind Julian, her freighted gaze finds mine and stays. There's an unreadable expression over her face, something beyond fear. She seems to be disassociated with reality.

"Mel, Babe," Mark beckons her again

She flinches, her body wanting to obey the command; used to obey it. I recognize the fear causing her to shiver and cower into a corner. Right now, she doesn't know she's stronger than that fear. "She's not going with you," I say, still holding her gaze. "She's staying here. In her home."

Julian advances, making himself bigger, scarier. Mark takes one reflexive step back from him. "I said get the fuck out, man," Julian says through clenched teeth. "She's not going anywhere with you."

Mark tries to catch Mel's eyes one more time, but when Julian threatens to get closer, he gives up. He half turns, seemingly afraid to give his back to Julian, and sets towards the door. While he is retrieving his coat his eyes briefly meet mine. In this short span of time he mouths a word I'm well accustomed to hearing from him. Bitch. Then he leaves, slamming the door in his wake.

"Are you okay?" Julian's voice asks Mel.

Wondrously, she looks up at him as though she can't believe he is real. Her face is blotchy, eyes so red and swollen I wonder if she can actually see clearly. She opens her mouth, but her lips only tremble, her chin wobbles and she's unable to speak.

The way Julian is right now, with a tiny muscle still feathering on his jaw, he's still a reminder of violence. So, I step up to them, finally unfrozen from the spot I'd been glued to, watching everything.

I stand beside Julian and lay a gentle familiar hand on his bicep to show Mel he's safe. He's good. "It's okay, Mel," I say, smoothly. "He's okay."

He's not like him. He's not like them; is what I'm actually saying and I think she understands it.

Her red-rimmed gaze wavers from me to Julian and back again, then she releases a sob. It's a cracking, deep sound that erupts from some place of darkness. And that sound breaks out of her, she throws her arms around my neck and hugs me.

There's a second in which I am still, shell-shocked. Mel lays her head on my shoulder and, finally comprehending her need for comfort, I put my arms around hers and hold her. Her tears wet the patch of silk on my shoulder, darkening it, but I let her cry while I run a soothing hand down her back.

Julian casts an understanding gaze and quickly ducks inside into my bedroom, re-emerging with a shirt on. He's followed by my other two roommates. Cami and Lil step arrive belatedly, still sleep mussed, surely awakened by the commotion.

With no need for words, they understand who must have happened and both come to Mel and me, joining the hug without any more explanation.

The three of us -Mel, Cami and myself - usher Mel into the living area and onto the sofa. Surprising me even more, she won't let go of me. The other two girls sit on the floor by her feet and she clings to me, laying her head on my lap.

Julian, bless him, gives us some space. He moves to the kitchen to silently prepare us some tea. My heart swells, on the verge of bursting out of my chest. He is wonderful tonight. How he stepped up to defend my friend. How he intuitively knows what I need right now without me having to ask him.

As if knowing my thoughts, he appears with three mugs of steaming tea. Our gazes meet and hold for what feels like an eternity. My lips silently shape a Thank you. He nods, smiling wryly, and retreats to my room.

Us girls stay with Mel until her crying subdues and the honey that sweetened our teas has long since dried up into an amber ring on the bottom of our mugs. From the light outside, down is just a few hours away when I notice Mel's asleep, snoring softly as my fingers smooth her hair.

As gentle as they can be, Lil and Cami help me rise without waking Mel. I retrieved her blanket from her room. The other two grab their pillows and both huddle on the floor by the sofa, acting as Mel's watching angels. "We'll stay with her," Lil whispers softly to me.

Planting a kiss on Mel's hair, I leave her to the care of my best friends and retreat to my room. Julian is asleep, sprawled in the middle of my bed. One of my pillows is under his head, another under one arm. Careful not to rouse him, I sit on the bed, allowing myself a moment to just watch him. He is a mountain dominating my space, so beautifully muscular; his chest and limbs are corded and taut, covered by velvety golden skin. I can tell he's tired by the soft rumble of his long exhales.

Exhaustion, physical and emotional, suddenly settles down on me. I discard my robe, and because Julian took all my pillows, I rest my head on his chest. A single tear I don't know the reason for rolls down my cheek and lands on his chest.

I hold onto him like he's all that tethers my heart to my chest right now.

I can't believe he's here for me tonight. I can't believe what he just did for my friend.

He has to know it is his fault that I'm in love with him.

***

I'M EARLY TO WORK TODAY.

As usual, I woke up too early. My body rested only a few hours of deep, dreamless sleep. I open the door to my classroom and halt. Principal Isherwood is seated at my desk wearing a severe expression that aggravates the gauntness of her features.

"Principal Isherwood!" I say, unable to hide my surprise. "Good morning."

"Miss Jones," she greets me sternly without turning her gaze from the window.

I stay, standing by the door. There could be a dozen reasons why she'd come to my classroom this early in the morning. She could have a dozen little complaints about my work. Even with all the possibilities out there, my mind can find a single excuse for this ambush.

"Is there anything you need, Mrs. Isherwood?" I ask, careful to keep any arrogance from leaking into the polite tone of voice.