New QAF Fics: Purl and Stitch, R, 1/1
Purl and Stitch
by Suz
Disclaimer - CowLip/Showtime own them, etc etc.
Post-series fic. Brian/Justin, humour, rated R. YAY FIC!
Two different fics, joined by a common thread. Silliness abounds, in case you couldn't tell from the title ;) Feedback would be fabulous!
*
Purl
*
Justin has to do something with his hands.
Not always. Not like Brian, who's always smoking, or playing with something, or running his fingers over some part of Justin's body (not that Justin has a problem with that).
But when Justin can't draw or paint, he still has to do something with his hands. Eating's not an option. For one, he really can't afford to waste food by eating when he's not hungry. And even if he could, he doesn't want his ass to become so big that it's not fuckable anymore. And Justin likes sex. A lot.
Justin hasn't painted for over two months, and has been knitting for the same amount of time.
It's scarves, mostly. They're easy to do. Just cast them on and keep knitting - nothing fancy to it.
Of course, he says they're easy, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have carelessly thrown lumps of yarn in his room which, when stretched, form scarves all right; scarves that barely have straight fucking edges. And yeah, okay, it was annoying as fuck that he couldn't keep them straight, that he couldn't keep the right tension. Sometimes he dropped a stitch but he figured that out on the next row and fixed it, and as far as he was concerned that should've been the end of any problems.
Justin got over himself pretty fast. It was funny, really. When he laid them out flat, they didn't even look like scarves - more like gently winding streams of colour.
It was better now, though. The more he knitted, the straighter the edges became, and at least he was fucking creating *something*. Plus, this talent would be great at Christmas - everyone would get a scarf whether they wanted one or not, and if anyone fucking complained he'd strangle them with it.
Okay. So he may not be totally over the frustration.
But for the most part, knitting helped him relax, which was an extremely good thing after yet another shitty day at work and yet another shitty day of creating nothing but another fucking scarf.
When the knock came, Justin recognised it and knew instantly who it was. Which was probably pathetic but Justin didn't care, because Brian had come to visit. Pausing his knitting, Justin made sure not to drop any stitches and carefully placed everything on the lone table in the room. Just for a split second he considered hiding the evidence, but fuck it. He wasn't embarrassed about being gay - he wasn't about to be embarrassed about the fact that he knitted, either.
Flinging open the door, Justin threw his arms around Brian as he stepped inside and their mouths crashed together. Brian rarely let Justin know when he was coming to visit - i.e., fuck - he just appeared. Justin didn't really care though, because it meant that Brian had missed him just as much as he'd missed Brian, and he couldn't keep away from him for one more fucking day.
"Good flight?" Justin managed to ask around Brian's tongue as the door was slammed shut and they stumbled towards the bedroom.
"No," he bit out, pausing to yank Justin's shirt over his head. "But it'll be worth it in about thirty seconds."
"Just thirty seconds?" he laughed breathlessly, but then his pants had been pulled off and Brian was pushing him down onto the bed and there was a hand around his cock that wasn't his own.
In truth, it took about twenty-eight seconds.
"Kids these days," Brian smirked darkly, leaning forward and rubbing Justin's own come into his skin. "No staying power."
Justin could've defended himself. Insisted that it'd been too long since they'd fucked - that having sex with someone else never even came close to this.
But he didn't have to, and when Brian fucked him, he smiled.
He screamed, too, but that was a given.
*
"What the fuck is this?" Brian demanded, yanking something out from under him that he'd apparently been lying on.
Oh. So that's where that knitting needle went. "Oh, that's just one of my knitting needles. Thanks. I've been looking for that thing everywhere." He reached out to take it, but realised pretty fast that Brian wasn't letting go. "Brian?"
He looked stunned. "There are so many things wrong with that sentence that I don't even know where to start."
Biting back a smile, Justin tried to look innocent. It wasn't easy. "Oh?"
"One - you have a knitting needle in your *bed*. You could've wounded me. *Punctured* me."
"Well it's not like anything else ever does," Justin muttered, thinking forlornly of his own cock.
Unsurprisingly, Brian ignored him. "Two - you're knitting. *Knitting*. And three - you're *knitting*." Apparently it was worth mentioning again.
Sighing, Justin finally got the needle away from Brian and dropped it off the side of the bed, making a mental note to be careful when he got up later. Moving his head until he could meet Brian's gaze, he fluttered his eyelashes deliberately. "I've been working on some *darling* little booties for the twins, sweetheart - pink and white, of course, with a lace trim and-"
Brian slapped his ass.
At any other time, Justin might've enjoyed it. Instead, he drew himself up to his full height - or as much as he could when he was straddling Brian's naked body - and folded his arms across his chest as he looked down at him defiantly. "I haven't painted for a while. Knitting helps me relax, helps me feel like I'm creating something. September taught me how, and most of the time I'm even using her yarn and needles. I have not suddenly turned into a housewife, and I'm not about to 'infect' you with sentimentality - let's face it, I don't need to. We both know that if I made you a scarf, you might not wear it, but you'd fucking keep it somewhere - even if it is hidden away - because *I* made it for *you*." Brian flinched. Good. "Get the fuck over yourself."
Brian stared up at him. "You're really hot when you're angry."
Justin grinned, pleased. Brian wasn't really being much of an asshole about it. "I'm hot all the time," he replied, relaxing his body and leaning down for a kiss.
"Mmm," Brian responded, his expression growing serious when Justin pulled back. "You're not painting?"
He smiled, his right hand finding Brian's left. "I will. Just not right now."
Nodding, Brian tugged him closer again.
Justin let him.
*
Stirring in bed sometime later, Justin frowned when he realised no one was lying next to him. Rubbing a hand over his hair, he yawned and sat up, looking around the dim room for signs of life.
The room wasn't big, so he didn't have to look far.
Brian was standing in the corner of the room Justin stuffed his knitting into, sorting through the various scarves - some better than others.
Smiling to himself, Justin rested his arms on his knees, watching as Brian looked through the scarves, throwing back the ones he didn't want and mumbling occasionally. Finally finding one that he apparently approved of, Brian wrapped it around his neck and turned, not looking at all surprised to see Justin watching him.
"I'm taking the black one," he announced.
Still smiling, Justin stretched out on his back, pulling the covers aside in obvious invitation. "Yeah," he grinned wider as Brian climbed onto the bed, scarf hanging from around his neck. "I figured you would."
*********
Stitch
*
Brian has always had secrets. Some serious. Some life-threatening. And some he really doesn't want anyone to know about.
He started knitting three months ago.
And that sounds fucking easy, like he just *decided* knitting would be a good idea. It wasn't that at all, but he had to do something.
The doctor had been blunt. The latest cancer scare - and thank fuck, it had just been a scare - had caused him to emphasise certain advice. Like the fact that Brian should give up smoking if he wanted to stick around for a while.
Brian, of course, had fought against it at first. He always did what he wanted to do - wasn't the way it went? And he fucking loved smoking.
But then he thought about Gus and Justin, and threw away the last of his cigarettes.
He'd never tell anyone, but it wasn't fucking easy. He became even moodier than usual, firing Ted at least twice a day. They all must've known something was up, and occasionally one of them would try to broach the subject (Mikey wondered if he and Justin had split up. Again. Brian told him to go fuck himself).
None of them got very far.
Until Jennifer. She came to the loft occasionally, to visit. Brian wasn't sure exactly why but he actually kind of liked Jennifer, when he tended not to like people in general. And on one such visit, she looked him straight in the eye and uttered a few immortal words:
"I used to smoke. Knitting really helped me quit."
The idea was laughable. Brian Kinney knitting? No fucking way.
But the giving up smoking thing was hard. Harder than he thought it'd be, which was fucking ridiculous because he'd already beaten cancer once. And he wasn't about to let himself down, wasn't about to give in and let himself smoke again. But he felt fucking restless all the fucking time. His fingers were always itching for something to do and though Brian knew that a lot of people who gave up smoking ate more and put on weight, that was *not* happening to him. No fucking way. It was a matter of honour.
So when the choice came between putting on weight or taking up knitting, it was a no-fucking-brainer.
He wasn't about to admit the fact that he was knitting, though, so he didn't mention it to anyone at all. Not even Jennifer. He didn't even venture anywhere near a...knitting-type shop.
Brian fucking loved the internet.
He read up on it, and ordered various knitting needles and two colours of yarn - black and dark grey. One evening after they arrived, he eyed the box of knitting accoutrements on the coffee table, sighed, and took a sip of his whisky.
And started knitting.
He'd printed off a tutorial from the internet - with photographs, thank fuck - and it took him a few tries, but eventually he wrapped his mind around the concept. He was knitting, and he actually kind of knew what he was doing. True, he only actually kind of knew what he was doing thanks to the tutorial, but it was something.
He stuck with easy designs - scarves, mostly - and yeah, they didn't often come out looking quite the way they should, but the more he did it the better he got.
And at least he wasn't fucking smoking or eating.
Eventually, it became like second nature. He did it while watching TV. While talking on the phone to Justin (using speakerphone, of course). He hadn't quite figured out how to do it while fucking, but if he'd wanted to Brian was sure he would've found a way.
And then, one day, Justin arrived at the loft without calling ahead.
Hearing the loft door rumble open, Brian quickly shoved his latest attempt down the side of the sofa (trying not to think exactly what those needles could be doing to said precious sofa). Getting to his feet, he turned to see Justin smiling broadly as he walked inside, dropping a bag at his feet.
"You're early," Brian said, even as he walked towards him. He was supposed to be picking Justin up at the airport in a few hours.
"I managed to get an earlier flight," Justin replied, still smiling as Brian approached and wrapped his arms around him. They kissed once, twice, three times, and Brian forgot all about knitting.
"Brian," Justin sighed happily, his mouth resting against Brian's neck.
He splayed a hand against Justin's unfortunately clothed back. "Mmm?"
"Take me to the bedroom and fuck me."
Brian could rarely say no to him. And he could never say no to a request like that.
*
Justin was fucking smart. Arriving earlier meant more fucking, which was *always* a good thing.
Sighing with post-fuck contentment, Brian didn't want to move but knew he had to - he seriously needed to take a piss. Kissing the top of Justin's head, Brian slipped out from under him, making Justin grumble.
"Come back here."
"Gotta piss," he retorted, swaggering into the bathroom.
After he'd pissed and washed his hands - catching his stupid fucking grin in the bathroom mirror, damn it - he swaggered back out, only to stop cold when he saw what Justin was holding - yarn. And needles. And obviously homemade scarves.
So, he'd found the knitting drawer. Truthfully, using the drawer that'd always been Justin's probably hadn't been his smartest move.
Maybe, on some level, he'd wanted to be found out.
Or maybe he was fucking stupid.
Wide-eyed, Justin looked from all the knitting shit to Brian. Then from Brian to all the knitting shit.
Brian did *not* clear his throat. "I started knitting," he began too-casually. "I quit smoking." Eyes widening further at those words, Justin's gaze moved to the bedside table where he obviously didn't see any cigarettes or an ashtray. Brian didn't blame him for not noticing before - being fucked by Brian Kinney tended to make you forget about anything else. "But I wasn't about to put on any extra pounds."
Nodding slowly, Justin was clearly trying to process this information. "So you...started knitting."
"Yes," he announced haughtily.
"Okay," Justin replied, nodding even slower as he carefully put everything back in the drawer. After he slid it shut, he sat further back on the bed and looked up at Brian calmly. "Just had to adjust my worldview, but I'm good now."
And he was smiling. And he wasn't making fun of Brian - well, not exactly - and if there was anyone who'd let him get away with doing something so completely pathetic, it was Justin.
Not that it was perfect.
When he was back in bed again, Justin climbed on top of him, resting his head on Brian's chest.
"So..." Justin began. "Will you teach me?"
"Sorry," Brian shrugged. "The secret of knitting is a well-kept one. I'm not allowed to share it with just anyone-"
"Teach me or I'll tell everyone that you've been knitting."
Fucker. "Fine."
"And I want bright green yarn."
Little shit. "Fine."
"Oh! And you have to make a sock to go over my-"
Sighing, Brian pulled away and opened the drawer, feeling around for something. When he found it, he slid closer and lobbed it at Justin's head. "Here, you missed this one. Go for it."
Pushing himself up, Justin grinned as he realised what it was. Rolling off of Brian, Justin stretched out on his back and carefully pulled it on. "It fits!"
Brian *may* have made it with Justin in mind - fuck knew he knew exactly what Justin's cock size was by now - but he'd never expected to actually give it to him.
"This is so sweet," Justin said happily. "My very own cock sock, made by my very own boyfriend."
Oh, please. "You did not just call me sweet."
Smiling, Justin rolled back on top of him - only now he had yarn rubbing against Brian too. He lifted his eyebrows mischievously. "Wanna try fucking me while I'm wearing this thing?"
Hmm. Well. If Justin wanted to...
"Fine. But you're the one cleaning it later."
~FINIS
by Suz
Disclaimer - CowLip/Showtime own them, etc etc.
Post-series fic. Brian/Justin, humour, rated R. YAY FIC!
Two different fics, joined by a common thread. Silliness abounds, in case you couldn't tell from the title ;) Feedback would be fabulous!
*
Purl
*
Justin has to do something with his hands.
Not always. Not like Brian, who's always smoking, or playing with something, or running his fingers over some part of Justin's body (not that Justin has a problem with that).
But when Justin can't draw or paint, he still has to do something with his hands. Eating's not an option. For one, he really can't afford to waste food by eating when he's not hungry. And even if he could, he doesn't want his ass to become so big that it's not fuckable anymore. And Justin likes sex. A lot.
Justin hasn't painted for over two months, and has been knitting for the same amount of time.
It's scarves, mostly. They're easy to do. Just cast them on and keep knitting - nothing fancy to it.
Of course, he says they're easy, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have carelessly thrown lumps of yarn in his room which, when stretched, form scarves all right; scarves that barely have straight fucking edges. And yeah, okay, it was annoying as fuck that he couldn't keep them straight, that he couldn't keep the right tension. Sometimes he dropped a stitch but he figured that out on the next row and fixed it, and as far as he was concerned that should've been the end of any problems.
Justin got over himself pretty fast. It was funny, really. When he laid them out flat, they didn't even look like scarves - more like gently winding streams of colour.
It was better now, though. The more he knitted, the straighter the edges became, and at least he was fucking creating *something*. Plus, this talent would be great at Christmas - everyone would get a scarf whether they wanted one or not, and if anyone fucking complained he'd strangle them with it.
Okay. So he may not be totally over the frustration.
But for the most part, knitting helped him relax, which was an extremely good thing after yet another shitty day at work and yet another shitty day of creating nothing but another fucking scarf.
When the knock came, Justin recognised it and knew instantly who it was. Which was probably pathetic but Justin didn't care, because Brian had come to visit. Pausing his knitting, Justin made sure not to drop any stitches and carefully placed everything on the lone table in the room. Just for a split second he considered hiding the evidence, but fuck it. He wasn't embarrassed about being gay - he wasn't about to be embarrassed about the fact that he knitted, either.
Flinging open the door, Justin threw his arms around Brian as he stepped inside and their mouths crashed together. Brian rarely let Justin know when he was coming to visit - i.e., fuck - he just appeared. Justin didn't really care though, because it meant that Brian had missed him just as much as he'd missed Brian, and he couldn't keep away from him for one more fucking day.
"Good flight?" Justin managed to ask around Brian's tongue as the door was slammed shut and they stumbled towards the bedroom.
"No," he bit out, pausing to yank Justin's shirt over his head. "But it'll be worth it in about thirty seconds."
"Just thirty seconds?" he laughed breathlessly, but then his pants had been pulled off and Brian was pushing him down onto the bed and there was a hand around his cock that wasn't his own.
In truth, it took about twenty-eight seconds.
"Kids these days," Brian smirked darkly, leaning forward and rubbing Justin's own come into his skin. "No staying power."
Justin could've defended himself. Insisted that it'd been too long since they'd fucked - that having sex with someone else never even came close to this.
But he didn't have to, and when Brian fucked him, he smiled.
He screamed, too, but that was a given.
*
"What the fuck is this?" Brian demanded, yanking something out from under him that he'd apparently been lying on.
Oh. So that's where that knitting needle went. "Oh, that's just one of my knitting needles. Thanks. I've been looking for that thing everywhere." He reached out to take it, but realised pretty fast that Brian wasn't letting go. "Brian?"
He looked stunned. "There are so many things wrong with that sentence that I don't even know where to start."
Biting back a smile, Justin tried to look innocent. It wasn't easy. "Oh?"
"One - you have a knitting needle in your *bed*. You could've wounded me. *Punctured* me."
"Well it's not like anything else ever does," Justin muttered, thinking forlornly of his own cock.
Unsurprisingly, Brian ignored him. "Two - you're knitting. *Knitting*. And three - you're *knitting*." Apparently it was worth mentioning again.
Sighing, Justin finally got the needle away from Brian and dropped it off the side of the bed, making a mental note to be careful when he got up later. Moving his head until he could meet Brian's gaze, he fluttered his eyelashes deliberately. "I've been working on some *darling* little booties for the twins, sweetheart - pink and white, of course, with a lace trim and-"
Brian slapped his ass.
At any other time, Justin might've enjoyed it. Instead, he drew himself up to his full height - or as much as he could when he was straddling Brian's naked body - and folded his arms across his chest as he looked down at him defiantly. "I haven't painted for a while. Knitting helps me relax, helps me feel like I'm creating something. September taught me how, and most of the time I'm even using her yarn and needles. I have not suddenly turned into a housewife, and I'm not about to 'infect' you with sentimentality - let's face it, I don't need to. We both know that if I made you a scarf, you might not wear it, but you'd fucking keep it somewhere - even if it is hidden away - because *I* made it for *you*." Brian flinched. Good. "Get the fuck over yourself."
Brian stared up at him. "You're really hot when you're angry."
Justin grinned, pleased. Brian wasn't really being much of an asshole about it. "I'm hot all the time," he replied, relaxing his body and leaning down for a kiss.
"Mmm," Brian responded, his expression growing serious when Justin pulled back. "You're not painting?"
He smiled, his right hand finding Brian's left. "I will. Just not right now."
Nodding, Brian tugged him closer again.
Justin let him.
*
Stirring in bed sometime later, Justin frowned when he realised no one was lying next to him. Rubbing a hand over his hair, he yawned and sat up, looking around the dim room for signs of life.
The room wasn't big, so he didn't have to look far.
Brian was standing in the corner of the room Justin stuffed his knitting into, sorting through the various scarves - some better than others.
Smiling to himself, Justin rested his arms on his knees, watching as Brian looked through the scarves, throwing back the ones he didn't want and mumbling occasionally. Finally finding one that he apparently approved of, Brian wrapped it around his neck and turned, not looking at all surprised to see Justin watching him.
"I'm taking the black one," he announced.
Still smiling, Justin stretched out on his back, pulling the covers aside in obvious invitation. "Yeah," he grinned wider as Brian climbed onto the bed, scarf hanging from around his neck. "I figured you would."
*********
Stitch
*
Brian has always had secrets. Some serious. Some life-threatening. And some he really doesn't want anyone to know about.
He started knitting three months ago.
And that sounds fucking easy, like he just *decided* knitting would be a good idea. It wasn't that at all, but he had to do something.
The doctor had been blunt. The latest cancer scare - and thank fuck, it had just been a scare - had caused him to emphasise certain advice. Like the fact that Brian should give up smoking if he wanted to stick around for a while.
Brian, of course, had fought against it at first. He always did what he wanted to do - wasn't the way it went? And he fucking loved smoking.
But then he thought about Gus and Justin, and threw away the last of his cigarettes.
He'd never tell anyone, but it wasn't fucking easy. He became even moodier than usual, firing Ted at least twice a day. They all must've known something was up, and occasionally one of them would try to broach the subject (Mikey wondered if he and Justin had split up. Again. Brian told him to go fuck himself).
None of them got very far.
Until Jennifer. She came to the loft occasionally, to visit. Brian wasn't sure exactly why but he actually kind of liked Jennifer, when he tended not to like people in general. And on one such visit, she looked him straight in the eye and uttered a few immortal words:
"I used to smoke. Knitting really helped me quit."
The idea was laughable. Brian Kinney knitting? No fucking way.
But the giving up smoking thing was hard. Harder than he thought it'd be, which was fucking ridiculous because he'd already beaten cancer once. And he wasn't about to let himself down, wasn't about to give in and let himself smoke again. But he felt fucking restless all the fucking time. His fingers were always itching for something to do and though Brian knew that a lot of people who gave up smoking ate more and put on weight, that was *not* happening to him. No fucking way. It was a matter of honour.
So when the choice came between putting on weight or taking up knitting, it was a no-fucking-brainer.
He wasn't about to admit the fact that he was knitting, though, so he didn't mention it to anyone at all. Not even Jennifer. He didn't even venture anywhere near a...knitting-type shop.
Brian fucking loved the internet.
He read up on it, and ordered various knitting needles and two colours of yarn - black and dark grey. One evening after they arrived, he eyed the box of knitting accoutrements on the coffee table, sighed, and took a sip of his whisky.
And started knitting.
He'd printed off a tutorial from the internet - with photographs, thank fuck - and it took him a few tries, but eventually he wrapped his mind around the concept. He was knitting, and he actually kind of knew what he was doing. True, he only actually kind of knew what he was doing thanks to the tutorial, but it was something.
He stuck with easy designs - scarves, mostly - and yeah, they didn't often come out looking quite the way they should, but the more he did it the better he got.
And at least he wasn't fucking smoking or eating.
Eventually, it became like second nature. He did it while watching TV. While talking on the phone to Justin (using speakerphone, of course). He hadn't quite figured out how to do it while fucking, but if he'd wanted to Brian was sure he would've found a way.
And then, one day, Justin arrived at the loft without calling ahead.
Hearing the loft door rumble open, Brian quickly shoved his latest attempt down the side of the sofa (trying not to think exactly what those needles could be doing to said precious sofa). Getting to his feet, he turned to see Justin smiling broadly as he walked inside, dropping a bag at his feet.
"You're early," Brian said, even as he walked towards him. He was supposed to be picking Justin up at the airport in a few hours.
"I managed to get an earlier flight," Justin replied, still smiling as Brian approached and wrapped his arms around him. They kissed once, twice, three times, and Brian forgot all about knitting.
"Brian," Justin sighed happily, his mouth resting against Brian's neck.
He splayed a hand against Justin's unfortunately clothed back. "Mmm?"
"Take me to the bedroom and fuck me."
Brian could rarely say no to him. And he could never say no to a request like that.
*
Justin was fucking smart. Arriving earlier meant more fucking, which was *always* a good thing.
Sighing with post-fuck contentment, Brian didn't want to move but knew he had to - he seriously needed to take a piss. Kissing the top of Justin's head, Brian slipped out from under him, making Justin grumble.
"Come back here."
"Gotta piss," he retorted, swaggering into the bathroom.
After he'd pissed and washed his hands - catching his stupid fucking grin in the bathroom mirror, damn it - he swaggered back out, only to stop cold when he saw what Justin was holding - yarn. And needles. And obviously homemade scarves.
So, he'd found the knitting drawer. Truthfully, using the drawer that'd always been Justin's probably hadn't been his smartest move.
Maybe, on some level, he'd wanted to be found out.
Or maybe he was fucking stupid.
Wide-eyed, Justin looked from all the knitting shit to Brian. Then from Brian to all the knitting shit.
Brian did *not* clear his throat. "I started knitting," he began too-casually. "I quit smoking." Eyes widening further at those words, Justin's gaze moved to the bedside table where he obviously didn't see any cigarettes or an ashtray. Brian didn't blame him for not noticing before - being fucked by Brian Kinney tended to make you forget about anything else. "But I wasn't about to put on any extra pounds."
Nodding slowly, Justin was clearly trying to process this information. "So you...started knitting."
"Yes," he announced haughtily.
"Okay," Justin replied, nodding even slower as he carefully put everything back in the drawer. After he slid it shut, he sat further back on the bed and looked up at Brian calmly. "Just had to adjust my worldview, but I'm good now."
And he was smiling. And he wasn't making fun of Brian - well, not exactly - and if there was anyone who'd let him get away with doing something so completely pathetic, it was Justin.
Not that it was perfect.
When he was back in bed again, Justin climbed on top of him, resting his head on Brian's chest.
"So..." Justin began. "Will you teach me?"
"Sorry," Brian shrugged. "The secret of knitting is a well-kept one. I'm not allowed to share it with just anyone-"
"Teach me or I'll tell everyone that you've been knitting."
Fucker. "Fine."
"And I want bright green yarn."
Little shit. "Fine."
"Oh! And you have to make a sock to go over my-"
Sighing, Brian pulled away and opened the drawer, feeling around for something. When he found it, he slid closer and lobbed it at Justin's head. "Here, you missed this one. Go for it."
Pushing himself up, Justin grinned as he realised what it was. Rolling off of Brian, Justin stretched out on his back and carefully pulled it on. "It fits!"
Brian *may* have made it with Justin in mind - fuck knew he knew exactly what Justin's cock size was by now - but he'd never expected to actually give it to him.
"This is so sweet," Justin said happily. "My very own cock sock, made by my very own boyfriend."
Oh, please. "You did not just call me sweet."
Smiling, Justin rolled back on top of him - only now he had yarn rubbing against Brian too. He lifted his eyebrows mischievously. "Wanna try fucking me while I'm wearing this thing?"
Hmm. Well. If Justin wanted to...
"Fine. But you're the one cleaning it later."
~FINIS