Born Again: Chapter 4
Oookay, I know it's been a really long time. I'm sorry! I'm one of the laziest people you'll ever meet, but I'm usually so good about updating. I apologize and will try harder next time. Someone needs to whip me into shape. :TRY HARDER!:
Rating: Adults Only
Characters: Brian and Justin, to begin with; the rest of the gang, later.
Warning: Justin/Ethan, although you never see them have sex (Ummm... This will probably change. I didn't plan on it, but...); Hetero-Michael; drugs <--Hee hee.
Disclaimer: They're not mine.
Brian thinks that if his balls were being ripped off by rabid sewer rats with gigantic, yellow, dripping teeth and shit-covered fur, he’d still be having more fun than he is at the GLC this very moment.
Art fags and pretentious dykes twirl around him, sipping cheap champagne and pretending to like one another. Lindsay pinches him as he lets out a long, bored sigh.
“Boring,” he grumbles, shutting his eyes against the bad art assaulting his senses. “And that’s not art,” he points to a large pink... thing... in the middle of the room, “That’s an embarrassment.”
Lindsay slaps Brian’s pointing hand down, glaring at him from beneath a plastered smile.
“Why can’t I just sign the papers and leave?” Brian complains, following Lindsay to the drink table. “You think this is spiked?” He asks, leaning over the punch bowl and inhaling deeply. “No. God. What kind of party is this?”
“Stop acting like you’re five. And once Mel gets here with the papers, you can sign them and leave. I promise.”
“Since I’m here, you might as well show me around,” Brian mutters, clasping Lindsay’s hand and dragging her to the rainbow-colored partitions the GLC have made into a long wall. He needs to be distracted. He can’t think about what signing the papers will mean.
He doesn’t want to think about the fact that a little more than a month after he’s been inducted into fatherhood, the title’s being stripped away from him.
The artwork is mediocre, at best. Most of the framed pieces are boring pencil sketches of trees and ducks and... He squints as he looks the next one. It could either be a snake or a garden hose, although Lindsay informs him that it’s a fruit bowl.
“God, I can’t be that blind,” Brian groans, moving his head closer to the art, tilting his head left and then right.
Lindsay giggles conspiratorially, “You’re not.” She drags Brian further along the wall, bypassing the unimaginative paintings of quite a few artists before they stop in front of yellow panel. “Now, this,” Lindsay motions to the art, “This is good shit.”
Brian opens his mouth to say something nasty, but his words fail him. These pieces are no where near the lackluster work surrounding them.
This art is good.
Brilliant, even.
“The artist’s name is Justin Taylor. He’s a local artist and was generous enough to donate some of his stuff for our auction. If I play my cards right tonight, I might get to host his show at the gallery. God,” Lindsay sighs, leaning against Brian as they stare at the work, “Isn’t he incredible?”
Brian swallows. “Look at the colors...” He’s collapsing under the beauty and honesty of the art in front of him. There’s a simple sketch of a hand rubbing the back of a neck that blows Brian away. He can’t lay his finger on it, but something about the sketch--the ambiance--seems familiar. Brian’s mind burns as his eyes follow the curves and lines, tearing himself apart as he tries to understand the work. “I like this one the best,” he tells Lindsay, pointing to the smaller sketch.
Lindsay grins at Brian. “Why?”
Shrugging, Brian steps closer. “I don’t know. There’s something about it. Like I know it. I mean, I’ve been there.” He traces the hand with his eyes. “I know that feeling. Whatever it is. It’s like... wow...”
“Thanks,” a soft male voice answers.
Both Lindsay and Brian jump away from the art. They feel like children caught with their hands inside the cookie jar.
Justin smiles at them. “I’ve been watching you two standing here, staring at my art, and I just had to know.” He holds out his hand to Lindsay first, “I’m Justin Taylor.”
Brian’s eyes dart back and forth between the art and Justin. Talk about ironic.
Lindsay’s already spouting off about her gallery and the possibility of exhibiting Justin’s art. He’s smiling and nodding appropriately, but watches Brian out of the corner of his eyes. Brian grins in acknowledgment of the attention.
When Lindsay stops to breath, Justin smiles and asks for her business card. Flushing, she rushes off to find her purse, leaving Brian and Justin alone.
“You never called,” Justin says calmly, bringing his punch to his mouth, grinning around the lip. Just being near Brian again has made him giddy.
They both study Justin’s work. “Didn’t know your name.”
“Otherwise you would’ve?”
Brian dips his head slightly. His chin brushes Justin’s ear. “Perhaps.”
An hour later and they’re still clinging to each other, standing away from the crowd in a corner. Brian glances at his watch and then at the door. He’s getting more anxious as each minute passes.
“What’s up your pants?” Justin asks. “‘Cause it’s obviously not me.”
“Lindsay’s partner’s meeting us here. She has the papers for me to sign.”
“Papers?”
“Parental Rights.”
Justin raises a brow, but doesn’t say anything. He lets his free hand slip behind him and stroke the back of Brian’s thigh in a soothing manner.
“You’re playing with fire again, little boy,” Brian whispers, but does nothing to move away from Justin’s touch. If Justin didn’t know any better, he’d say that Brian seemed to arch into his caress.
“I’ll be careful.”
They people-watch together, making fun of hideous dresses and obnoxiously loud suits. “Just because he’s gay,” Justin points to a man in a cherry red track suit, “Doesn’t mean he can wear that.”
Brian notices Ethan fairly early in the evening.
“Don’t look now,” Brian nods towards Ethan, “But I think you have a stalker.”
Justin follows Brian’s motion. “Oh. Him. That’s just my boyfriend.” And they way Justin spits out the label is the only thing stopping Brian from feeling like a jealous little girl.
Instead, he chooses to elevate a very chiseled brow. “I didn’t know Ethan Gold is a fag.”
Justin can’t hide his surprise. “You know who he is?”
“I do read the paper, you know. I’m not an idiot. He’s the world’s next Paganini, right? You two should make quite the team. I just find it interesting that... Well, what’s he doing there and you here?”
“That’s ‘cause he’s not out. See the girl next to him? That’s my best friend, Daphne. She goes to all the Pittsburgh social functions with him. Instead of me.”
“I sense some hostility. I know a great way to relieve that.”
Justin smiles. “Isn’t that a little inappropriate?”
“Why? ‘Cause of where we are or ‘cause of your boyfriend?”
“Fuck Ethan, Brian. I’ve been with him for three years. It didn’t stop me from fucking you then, it won’t stop me from fucking you now. Let’s go.”
“Won’t Evan see?” Brian asks, following Justin around the rainbow-colored panels. They slip through a space between the wall and the red panel.
“It’s not like he has the guts to come after me.”
There are a few large, round tables, their chairs standing proudly on top of them. They can see, under the panels, the feet of guests milling near the art. Their voices loud and distracting; they surge into the room.
“This isn’t very private,” Brian grins, allowing Justin to grab him by his belt and lead them to one of the tables.
Justin claws at Brian’s clothing, ripping open his pants and digging his hands in Brian’s briefs. Justin falls to his knees, tearing off his own shirt before he takes Brian in his mouth.
“Jesus,” Brian hisses as Justin frantically swallows him. “Take it-- easy.”
Justin’s head circles and bobs, his tongue painting Brian’s now erect cock with masterful strokes. He comes almost instantly, both embarrassed and proud.
“That was quick,” Brian grins, pulling Justin up. He licks his lips and then dives for Justin, pressing Justin’s mouth against his own, taking tiny breaths from their noses, quick and stunted. Justin’s the first to pull away.
“Our first kiss,” he smiles. “Not bad.” He wraps both arms around Brian’s neck and shoves his tongue down his throat. He raises one leg and then the other, using them to encase Brian’s hips. He can feel Brian’s hands fumble at his zipper and then, finally, contact.
“I’ve never been this hot for someone before,” Justin breaths into Brian’s ear before biting, hard, on the lobe. Brian sucks in his groan, unable to let out the yelp he desires because of the large crowd on the other side of the partitions.
“Me neither,” Brian grunts, pushing Justin onto one of the tables. He tears open Justin’s pants, not quite peeling them off completely, but rather, leaves them hanging off of Justin’s right foot.
They set up a slow, agonizing rhythm, their cries buried beneath hot lips and connected tongues. When Brian feels Justin coming, he jerks away from Justin’s face, lifting himself on his hands to watch. For a moment, Brian’s tempted to let Justin scream his orgasm and bring everyone running behind the panels, but instead he cover’s Justin’s mouth with his hand. Even through his hand, Justin’s loud and Brian stills his thrusting, waiting for someone, anyone, to peek around the corner.
Brian bites his bottom lip as he concentrates on Justin--the way his body trembles, the way his pale skin flushes a healthy pink, the way his eyes roll back into his head and his lashes flutter their fall, the way his legs tighten their hold on Brian’s hips, the way Justin’s nostrils flair as he breaths desperately, and the way his mouth licks and bites at the hand covering his mouth. It’s too much for Brian to handle and he comes as soon as Justin’s orgasm is over.
And he comes with a loud cry, surprising both of them.
“Shit!” Justin exclaims. “Brian!” He rushes forward to press his mouth forcibly against Brian’s, swallowing the rest of Brian’s noises.
Brian falls away from Justin, his naked ass hitting the floor. He looks up at Justin, mouth open in confusion. “What happened?”
Justin smiles down at him, sliding off the table and into Brian’s arms. They lay on the ground together, sweaty, trying to regulate their breathing.
“You’re beautiful when you come,” Justin whispers, tracing Brian’s full lips with his index finger.
Smirking, Brian answers, “I’m always beautiful,” before sucking Justin’s finger into his mouth. He bites down gently before releasing it. “Beside, you are...” He trails off, clearing his throat and sitting up unexpectedly. Justin stumbles off his chest. “We should get dressed,” Brian explains when Justin opens his mouth in protest.
Justin lets out a long, hard sigh. “You’re right. Ethan’s probably looking for me by now.” He stands up and starts to dress. “Even if he does do it discreetly.”
“Do you care?” Brian asks, his voice soft as he pulls his shirt over his head. Justin doesn’t know how to interpret the look on Brian’s face.
“Not really,” Justin whispers. I just want to be with you, he adds silently. And when Brian turns sharply to look at him with wide eyes, Justin’s afraid he’s spoken out loud.
But then Brian smiles. “Good. I was afraid I’d have to be jealous.” He drops a soft kiss on Justin’s parted lips before sliding between the panel and the wall, leaving Justin to button his pants with shaking hands.
Onto Chapter 5....
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