Another Day, Another Sinus Infection
After all that trudging through freezing rain, getting my feet damp in Portland, I've ended up with a lovely sinus infection. I tell you, January is just not my month! I can't wait until Spring has sprung. So far away. . .sigh
Anyway, I was able to stay home from work today to recouperate and so I had a chance to whip up another quick fic. Actually, I started this one almost a year ago for a prompt from one of my writing books but never quite finished it--until today :) This little ficlet takes place toward the end of Season 2, just as Brian and Justin's relationship bursts into flames. All you angst lovers out there should enjoy this ;)
A cold breeze breathes through the open window, blowing back the white chiffon curtains. The air is crisp and clean and true. I can almost hear the crunch of quick footsteps in the snow and feel the fresh rush of air on my face.
But here in his bed, everything is slow and methodical; moving like lava down the side of a volcano-patiently burning its way toward the village below, getting ready to eat away the life that grows there and leave only a charred trail of ruins behind.
He drags his tongue along the side of my neck and nuzzles his nose against the back of my ear. On cue, I push my fingers into his hair and then tug on it as he shifts his weight on top of me and his mouth slides over my chest. He grunts a little as his lips drift lower. I can feel his dick digging into my thigh, straining and impatient. He’s ready for more.
More of the same.
He looks up at me for a second. His eyes reflect the heat of the orange light above the bed, flaming green and gold like a fire sweeping through a forest. Our eyes lock and for a second time stands still.
He knows. And my heart beats faster. The wind kicks in through the open window, rustling past the curtains, gathering over us like storm clouds. My hands feel clammy and cold against his flushed back.
They’re not the only part of me that feels cold.
“Justin,” he says against my stomach. His voice sounds firm, almost demanding. You’d think after how much we’ve been through, he’d say my name gently like he needs me, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t need my heart or my love. He needs my ass. That’s the only reason he hasn’t demanded an answer from me.
But I know that’s not fair. I admit it; I haven’t been the greatest at supplying information these days, myself. I guess considering what’s been going on, my ass is the least I can give him. I want to give it to him. But I want something from him, too--not just his sweat-soaked body, or his grinding hips or that cock that lives up to every gay boy’s fantasy. I want him--all of him. His love and his sadness and his fear and his anger and his happiness . . . I want him when he’s shit-faced and when he’s proud; when he’s confident and when he’s lost.
He grabs my shoulder and I glance up into his face. His mouth is closed and his jaw is set. His eyes are like two smoldering embers. His palm digs into my shoulder and I roll over. The truth of his look burns in my chest. I can’t have what I want.
I try to forget the heat of his body smothering mine after he comes. I listen to the wind and remember how free my breath floats on a cold day-rising through the air, lifting like a cloud-up and away.
Anyway, I was able to stay home from work today to recouperate and so I had a chance to whip up another quick fic. Actually, I started this one almost a year ago for a prompt from one of my writing books but never quite finished it--until today :) This little ficlet takes place toward the end of Season 2, just as Brian and Justin's relationship bursts into flames. All you angst lovers out there should enjoy this ;)
A cold breeze breathes through the open window, blowing back the white chiffon curtains. The air is crisp and clean and true. I can almost hear the crunch of quick footsteps in the snow and feel the fresh rush of air on my face.
But here in his bed, everything is slow and methodical; moving like lava down the side of a volcano-patiently burning its way toward the village below, getting ready to eat away the life that grows there and leave only a charred trail of ruins behind.
He drags his tongue along the side of my neck and nuzzles his nose against the back of my ear. On cue, I push my fingers into his hair and then tug on it as he shifts his weight on top of me and his mouth slides over my chest. He grunts a little as his lips drift lower. I can feel his dick digging into my thigh, straining and impatient. He’s ready for more.
More of the same.
He looks up at me for a second. His eyes reflect the heat of the orange light above the bed, flaming green and gold like a fire sweeping through a forest. Our eyes lock and for a second time stands still.
He knows. And my heart beats faster. The wind kicks in through the open window, rustling past the curtains, gathering over us like storm clouds. My hands feel clammy and cold against his flushed back.
They’re not the only part of me that feels cold.
“Justin,” he says against my stomach. His voice sounds firm, almost demanding. You’d think after how much we’ve been through, he’d say my name gently like he needs me, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t need my heart or my love. He needs my ass. That’s the only reason he hasn’t demanded an answer from me.
But I know that’s not fair. I admit it; I haven’t been the greatest at supplying information these days, myself. I guess considering what’s been going on, my ass is the least I can give him. I want to give it to him. But I want something from him, too--not just his sweat-soaked body, or his grinding hips or that cock that lives up to every gay boy’s fantasy. I want him--all of him. His love and his sadness and his fear and his anger and his happiness . . . I want him when he’s shit-faced and when he’s proud; when he’s confident and when he’s lost.
He grabs my shoulder and I glance up into his face. His mouth is closed and his jaw is set. His eyes are like two smoldering embers. His palm digs into my shoulder and I roll over. The truth of his look burns in my chest. I can’t have what I want.
I try to forget the heat of his body smothering mine after he comes. I listen to the wind and remember how free my breath floats on a cold day-rising through the air, lifting like a cloud-up and away.