"The Outsiders" 20
By Gaedhal
Atlanta, Georgia, July 1979
Instead of staying in Arthursburg for the final day of the Heritage Days Festival, Brian and Justin got up very early, packed the T-Bird, and hit the road before dawn, heading south for Atlanta.
The Atlanta of Brian's imagination was the Atlanta of the Civil War. Of 'Gone with the Wind.' An old, wooden city from another era -- a bit rough around the edges, but still gracious. A slow-moving place. A place to take a break before they moved on to Florida.
The reality of Atlanta was like a slap in the face.
What Brian and Justin found instead was a noisy, burgeoning metropolis circled by a mind-numbing ring of four-lane highways. Brian drove the T-Bird in circles, looking for the center of the city. Searching for anything that looked like the Atlanta in his head. But that city no longer existed -- if it ever had.
"Let's just get off this freeway and find a place to stay," Justin suggested. He was hot, tired, and starving. All he wanted at this point was to get out of this hellish traffic, take a cool shower, and then look for something to eat.
Brian nodded and turned off at the next exit. It wasn't a neighborhood at all, but a knot of filling stations, fast food restaurants, and chain motels identical to dozens that Brian and Justin had passed at every exit since they left Pittsburgh.
The boys checked into a Holiday Inn, which was a step up from the no-name motels they'd been frequenting in Virginia and the Carolinas. The place was brightly lit and wall-to-wall plastic and particle board, except for the sturdy double bed in the middle of their otherwise nondescript room.
Justin hoisted his heavy leather suitcase onto the bed. A painting of an anti-bellum mansion with white columns hung over it. Justin scrutinized it and made a face. "Some lousy painting! Looks like something I made with my Paint-By-Numbers kit when I was 12!"
Brian shrugged. "You didn't expect an art museum, did you, Sunshine?" He put his bag on a ledge next to desk/dresser. Everything was either built directly into the wall or bolted to it, as if the management was afraid the guests were planning to leave with the furniture. "There's a bed, a bathroom, a television, and an air conditioner, just like all the other joints we've been in. The only difference is that it's cleaner and more expensive. I thought I'd choke when the guy at the front desk said a double room was 30 bucks a night! Jesus! The last place we stayed in was $12!"
"It was cheap all right," Justin added. "And you could hear the cockroaches coming out of the walls all night long!"
"Oh, is that what that thing on your neck is?" Brian came up behind Justin and ran his finger over a bright red mark under his lover's jawline. "A cockroach bite?"
"Yeah," Justin breathed. "Made last night by a very big cockroach. About 6 foot 3 with a 9-inch dick!"
"Hmm -- interesting. I wonder if there are any of those big cockroaches in Atlanta?" Brian smiled. "Maybe you could coax one out of its hiding place?"
"If there weren't any in Atlanta before, then there are now." Justin turned around and slid his hands down Brian's slender body. "This looks likes somewhere a big cock -- I mean a big COCKROACH -- might be lurking." Justin unbuttoned the top of Brian's jeans and eased the zipper down. "I think I found something."
"You better take care of that, kid," Brian whispered. "Wouldn't want it to get away."
"Oh, I won't let it get away," Justin assured him. "I'll never let this get away. Because it's mine -- and no one else's!"
Brian closed his eyes as he felt Justin's lips wrap themselves around the head of his prick. When he was in Stanton he had always been able to lose himself in sex. It was one of the few pleasures available to him within the cold, grey walls of the Quad.
But this was not simply about pleasure. It wasn't only a physical connection. Having sex with Justin made him feel whole. Made him feel human. He was no longer a punk or a jock. No longer merely a con or an inmate, a nameless, faceless number. He was a man. Justin had given that back to him after so many years.
He touched Justin's head gently. "Let's lie down."
Brian dumped Justin's big suitcase onto the floor. Then he pulled his jeans off and removed his tee shirt while Justin also undressed quickly and flopped down on the bed.
"That air conditioning feels good," Justin sighed. He rubbed his arm where the skin was peeling from his sunburn. "I thought it was hot before, but this city is stifling."
"Everyone warned us not to drive south in the middle of July," Brian laughed, stretching out next to him. "But we didn't listen."
"Next time we'll come back in the winter. And we'll fly -- First Class!" Justin said. "I mean, when you're a millionaire from all the money you're going to make from your book!"
Brian snorted. "Sure! A millionaire! In your dreams, Sunshine!"
But that was the thing -- Justin had big dreams. And he thought Brian could do anything. Anything. Sometimes that scared him. He'd never had anyone trust him like that before. Believe in him like that. But that's what happened when you became a jocker. You had to step up to the plate. Be the man your punk needed you to be. In order to protect him. To keep him safe -- always. Brian hoped he could always be that man for Justin. That he'd never falter when it came down to fucking brass tacks.
Brian hated to admit that the incident with the bikers at the festival had thrown him. But after a minor freak out, Justin seemed okay. But it reminded Brian that he could never let his guard down for an instant. He always needed to be aware of the dangers of this strange, new world. The outside.
"I'm glad we're here, heat or no heat." Justin yawned and pressed his cool, pale body against Brian. "Just the two of us." He trailed his hand down Brian's chest languidly.
"I thought you were so hungry," Brian said. "While we were driving that's all you could talk about -- dinner! When are we going to stop? Where are we going to eat? Blah blah blah! But now you seem to have something else on your mind." Brian stroked his cock slowly.
"Man cannot live by fast food alone," Justin replied. His fingers softly traced the red scar that snaked down Brian's left side. "Remember when we'd lie together in the bunk, waiting for the C.O.'s to rack the doors so we could go down to the Dining Hall? Seems like it was a hundred years ago. A whole other life."
"It WAS another life," Brian murmured, pulling Justin into his arms "Forget about the past, kid. There are no bars on those doors. Nobody to tell us what to do or where to go. Not Warden Horvath. Not the C.O.'s. Not Ron. Not even your mom!"
"But what about...?" Justin began.
"No," Brian commanded. "No more fucking talk! Get that lube Deb gave us. Not the Vaseline, but the good stuff."
Justin grinned. He climbed off the bed, rummaged through his suitcase, and returned with the lubricant. Brian reached for the tube, but Justin held it back. "I'll do it! Half the fun is playing with your dick!"
"Then go to it." Brian lay back against the pillows as Justin applied the gel to Brian's cock and then to his own ass. "Too bad there's no Magic Fingers at this motel."
Justin rolled his eyes. "You're killing me, Brian!"
"Not yet I'm not."
"Then fuck me! Now!"
Brian rolled Justin over onto his back and raised his legs up to his shoulders. He guided his cock between Justin's legs and slipped the tip into the moistened, quivering hole.
For Brian there was always a moment of hesitation. Of uncertainty. When Justin's ass tensed. Flinched. That second right before Brian's cock went sliding in, finding its home. Then all his misgivings disappeared. When he felt himself inside of his kid. His punk. His lover. And when he saw Justin's face. Saw the relief there. The passion. And the love.
"Do you know how much I fucking love you?" Brian whispered.
"Yes," Justin groaned. It felt like there was a broomstick up his ass, but he never wanted it to leave. Never wanted to be empty again. "And I love you. Does anything else matter?"
"No," said Brian, thrusting deeply. And then again, deeper still. "Nothing else. Nothing."
