FIC: Closure (QaF, Brian/Justin, Gapfillerpalooza!, 5.01)
Welcome to season five of Gapfillerpalooza! This is the first time I'm going to be gapfilling a season as it airs. It's going to be kind of fun, I think. :-SS
This has a small spoiler for 5.02 in it. Which I totally didn't want to do, but there it is. Read at will. :)
This is up on my website as well. Keep your eyes on severina2001's journal for her return to Gapfillerpalooza! post. :)
Thanks for the fab beta to severina2001!
Closure - 5.01
By Liz
Brian hadn't kept accounts, but if he had to say, he'd guess he'd gotten nearly two hundred blow-jobs since Justin left. He'd fucked way less guys, but blow-jobs were something he could and did get anywhere, anytime. A lot of them had been mediocre, but there were a few that were well above average, and yet Brian came home from Woody's/Babylon/the supermarket feeling restless and tense.
He blamed Justin entirely, of course.
He didn't admit this to anyone, of course.
He'd been looking forward to Justin's mouth on his dick, to an orgasm that would finally relieve the coil of tension in his gut, finally relax neck muscles that felt like they'd been bunched up forever. He'd been dreaming about his dick in Justin's ass for four weeks straight, waking up at night to damp sheets and a painful erection. He had planned on hunting Justin down the minute his plane landed and fucking him where he stood.
He didn't care where it was or who was watching.
Now all Brian had to look forward to was more nights like the one he was having, stretching out for countless nights, weeks, months, years. The coil in his stomach tightened and he sat heavily on the bed platform. He tugged his shoes off wearily and unbuttoned his shirt slowly.
He obviously wasn't going to LA. Justin was busy, he'd said so himself. And it didn't make any sense for him to fly all the way out there and spend a weekend with Justin, getting sort of used to going bed relaxed and satisfied, and then coming home to Justin-less Pittsburgh. Especially since Justin wouldn't be coming home until ... wouldn't be coming home.
Brian finished rinsing his hair and twisted the tap off. He reached out and grabbed a towel, drying himself as he left the bathroom, a trail of wet footprints behind him. He grabbed the phone and dialed Cynthia's cell.
He waited for the beep of her voice mail and cleared his throat. "I need to cancel my trip as soon as you get to the office. I'm not going to LA." He hung up and tossed the phone towards the nightstand. He knew Cynthia would have questions, but he didn't care. He'd think of some brilliant reason not to go that wasn't all of the real reasons. Although he was sure Cynthia would know them anyway. She always did.
He circled the bed and looked down at his suitcase. It wasn't totally packed, but there were a few items tossed in. He lifted them out and put them away, then stowed the suitcase in the back of the closet.
He felt slightly better then, or at least like he'd taken a step in the right direction. He eyed the bottom drawer of his dresser as he toweled his hair. He almost wanted to find something to put in it - the shirts he'd taken out and hung up, or the dildos and anal beads that were currently stored in a box in the closet - just to fill it up. He almost didn't want it to stay empty. It felt like false hope.
But he couldn't bring himself to actually pull it open and drop anything inside. So he finished drying off and got into bed. He turned his back on the empty space to his left and closed his eyes.
He decidedly thought of anything but Justin, and it took him hours to get to sleep.
The End
Thanks to everyone who's sticking around, and who reads, and especially who comments. ♥
This has a small spoiler for 5.02 in it. Which I totally didn't want to do, but there it is. Read at will. :)
This is up on my website as well. Keep your eyes on severina2001's journal for her return to Gapfillerpalooza! post. :)
Thanks for the fab beta to severina2001!
Closure - 5.01
By Liz
Brian hadn't kept accounts, but if he had to say, he'd guess he'd gotten nearly two hundred blow-jobs since Justin left. He'd fucked way less guys, but blow-jobs were something he could and did get anywhere, anytime. A lot of them had been mediocre, but there were a few that were well above average, and yet Brian came home from Woody's/Babylon/the supermarket feeling restless and tense.
He blamed Justin entirely, of course.
He didn't admit this to anyone, of course.
He'd been looking forward to Justin's mouth on his dick, to an orgasm that would finally relieve the coil of tension in his gut, finally relax neck muscles that felt like they'd been bunched up forever. He'd been dreaming about his dick in Justin's ass for four weeks straight, waking up at night to damp sheets and a painful erection. He had planned on hunting Justin down the minute his plane landed and fucking him where he stood.
He didn't care where it was or who was watching.
Now all Brian had to look forward to was more nights like the one he was having, stretching out for countless nights, weeks, months, years. The coil in his stomach tightened and he sat heavily on the bed platform. He tugged his shoes off wearily and unbuttoned his shirt slowly.
He obviously wasn't going to LA. Justin was busy, he'd said so himself. And it didn't make any sense for him to fly all the way out there and spend a weekend with Justin, getting sort of used to going bed relaxed and satisfied, and then coming home to Justin-less Pittsburgh. Especially since Justin wouldn't be coming home until ... wouldn't be coming home.
Brian finished rinsing his hair and twisted the tap off. He reached out and grabbed a towel, drying himself as he left the bathroom, a trail of wet footprints behind him. He grabbed the phone and dialed Cynthia's cell.
He waited for the beep of her voice mail and cleared his throat. "I need to cancel my trip as soon as you get to the office. I'm not going to LA." He hung up and tossed the phone towards the nightstand. He knew Cynthia would have questions, but he didn't care. He'd think of some brilliant reason not to go that wasn't all of the real reasons. Although he was sure Cynthia would know them anyway. She always did.
He circled the bed and looked down at his suitcase. It wasn't totally packed, but there were a few items tossed in. He lifted them out and put them away, then stowed the suitcase in the back of the closet.
He felt slightly better then, or at least like he'd taken a step in the right direction. He eyed the bottom drawer of his dresser as he toweled his hair. He almost wanted to find something to put in it - the shirts he'd taken out and hung up, or the dildos and anal beads that were currently stored in a box in the closet - just to fill it up. He almost didn't want it to stay empty. It felt like false hope.
But he couldn't bring himself to actually pull it open and drop anything inside. So he finished drying off and got into bed. He turned his back on the empty space to his left and closed his eyes.
He decidedly thought of anything but Justin, and it took him hours to get to sleep.
The End
Thanks to everyone who's sticking around, and who reads, and especially who comments. ♥