Decisions, Chapter 4
This is the fourth chapter of Decisions. There will be one more. Those muses, you just never know when they're going to get chatty on you.
My transcontinental beta,
gmta_nz, held my hand and cracked the whip.
As always,
orlith did the safer sex beta, but all the smut is mine so if it sucks, don't think he's bad in bed.
Thanks to my banner goddess, KT, for enabling my addiction inspiring me.
I've turned down paying work to write this story. Pony up with the feedback or who knows what I'll do?
Chapter One is here. Chapter Two is here. Chapter Three is here.
Decisions, Chapter 4
By Xie
As we decide and choose, so are our lives formed. In the end, forming our own destiny is what ambition is about. -Joseph Epstein
Brian’s POV
I felt my headache getting worse. I massaged the bridge of my nose. I thought about drugs, sex, and shopping. Nothing helped.
I was standing out on the front porch while Melanie and Lindsay got the last load of stuff into their car. I had been up and down the stairs fifteen times in the last half hour, bringing down load after load of baby crap and Christmas gifts that, for some reason, I had bought for Gus.
JR was in her baby seat in the car. Justin was trying to help Mel get one last suitcase into the back and still get the door closed. Gus was racing around in circles on the snow-covered front lawn.
Lindsay walked up to me, and I came down the steps and hugged her goodbye. She kissed my cheek and smiled, and I held onto her for a second.
She pulled away and squeezed my arm. “Oh, I almost forgot, I meant to give this to you. It’s the bill for the scaffolding.”
I didn’t take it. “That’s Justin’s, you can give it to him.”
“Give me what?” Justin was coming up the path with Gus. Lindsay turned to him, a little confused.
“It’s the bill for the scaffolding, Brian said I should give it to you.” My headache got worse again.
Justin took it. “I’ll get you a check before you go…”
“No, there’s a bill, just go ahead and send the check to them.” She looked like she wanted to say more but she bit it back, smiled, and hugged Justin goodbye. He hugged her back, and he went down to the car to say goodbye to Mel and JR. I took Gus down to the car and buckled him into his safety seat and waved as they pulled out. Justin was standing on the other side of the car, and he was waving too.
“I’m gonna miss them.” He sounded sentimental.
I walked over to him and grinned. “We’ll see them all the time. And now I can fuck you in every room of the house again.” I pulled him close and kissed him, my hands grabbing his hair. He put his arms around me and let his tongue play with mine, and then he pulled away a little. Our foreheads were still touching and he was burrowing inside my coat.
“Brian?”
“Mmmm?” I kissed his face. It felt cold.
“Brian, when did you STOP fucking me in every room of the house?”
I stopped to consider. “Oh yeah. Well, now we can throw out all the junk food.”
We went inside and I dragged him into the living room and pushed him back onto the sofa and fell down on top of him, kissing him the whole time. He was laughing.
“Lindsay tried to give my bill to you?”
“Yeah.” I kissed him again, hoping to shut him up. It never worked.
“She thinks I’m your MISTRESS.” He was giggling. I kissed him again and grabbed his hand and pulled it to my crotch.
“Yeah, if you were my mistress you’d be blowing me now instead of laughing about it.”
He cupped his hand around my cock and whispered, “Yeah? So if I blow you it means I’m your mistress?”
I thought about that for a minute. “No, only if I’d paid the bill.”
He buried his face in my neck and slid his hand inside my jeans. “Good answer.”
Justin’s POV
The first couple of weeks after Mel and Lindz and the kids left were weird, but good. It was strange to suddenly have four other people, one of whom was a totally unpredictable, noisy, bossy six-year-old kid, just disappear. Along with the seemingly endless supply of Cap’n Crunch, popcorn, and cookies that had once filled our kitchen cupboards. I wondered what Brian would do if I replaced all of it.
I went to New York for a week at the end of January, and Brian came up the weekend the show opened at Armand’s gallery. I had four pieces in it, and all four of them sold. A bunch of us went out to celebrate afterwards, including Kalli, who was glowing over the success of the first big show she’d put together since going to work for Armand full time. Brian bought us all champagne with dinner and then took us out dancing. I got drunk and danced with Kalli on the platform at a gay club. It was like dancing with Emmett, because she shimmied just like he did and in her high heels was about as tall as him, too. Brian finally came and dragged us both down, dropped Kalli off at her apartment, and took me back to our hotel. I fell asleep in the back of the limo with my head on his shoulder.
I’d told Kalli about the painting I was working on, and she promised to come see it when it was done. I worked on it every day, but found that something about transferring smaller designs onto a big canvas was fucking up my hand more than usual. I was starting to freak out a little, and one day, after I’d dropped my brush three times in a row, I took a deep breath, climbed off the scaffold, and drove into town to see Michael. He’d been bugging me to come by and look at ideas he had for Rage and I’d been putting it off.
The shop was fairly quiet when I went in, only three teenagers browsing the racks, and Michael came out from behind the counter and hugged me. I’d brought us both coffees from the Starbucks up the street.
Michael’s story ideas were good, but I hesitated.
“I don’t know, Michael, I have to think about it. I’m working on a painting, and if it’s ready I want it to be in a show in the spring, and I’ve only got so much time.” But I was lying. It wasn’t really time that was the problem, it was my hand. Which I realized I was unconsciously rubbing. I’d been doing that a lot lately.
Michael had known me a long time, and had some kind of radar for when I was lying anyway. He looked at my hand, which I’d stopped rubbing the minute I’d noticed what I was doing, and then at me. He even raised his eyebrow, something he must have picked up from Brian in high school. But he just said, “Yeah?”
I sighed. “My hand’s been bugging me.”
Michael kind of frowned. “What are you doing for it?”
“The physical therapist just said I have to rest it when that happens, there’s nothing else. Take an Advil, whatever.” Which did no fucking good at all.
He didn’t say anything right away, just seemed to be thinking about what to say. “Well, how about after the show, then? If we’re gonna do this, we should do it this summer.”
I promised to let him know, and he said he’d email the story ideas to me, and I took off.
When I got home, Brian was in the kitchen, unpacking Chinese food takeout.
“Hi, honey, what’s for dinner?” I threw my jacket on the back of a chair and sat down and smirked at him. He leaned against the counter and looked at me.
“Well, if you get your ass up off that chair and walk over here and put it on a plate, Chinese food.”
“You’re so mean.”
“It’s tough love.”
I got up and walked over to the food. “You admit you love me?”
“In a tough, manly kind of way, sure.” And he dumped an entire container of kung pao chicken on a plate and walked out of the room with it.
But he did bump me with his shoulder when he walked by and he let me eat some chicken off his plate on the floor in front of the TV.
After dinner, I went back into the studio and saw my paintbrush lying on the floor where I’d dropped it. I should have cleaned it, should have cleaned up everything. I started soaking and washing brushes and putting my paint away, and then went and turned on my computer. I was re-reading Michael’s notes on Rage when Brian came in.
“Not painting?” He glanced up at the canvas on the wall, and could probably tell I hadn’t done much on it that day. I just shrugged.
He came over and sat on the corner of my desk. He looked like he was going to say something, but then he didn’t. I raised an eyebrow at him. He stuck his tongue into his cheek. I wondered how long we could go on making faces at each other instead of talking.
“OK, my hand has been fucked.” I had this constant problem lately of shit coming out of my mouth without my knowledge or consent.
Brian sighed and leaned down and put his forehead on the top of my head. He picked up my right hand, and I had to fight the impulse to pull it away. He could tell anyway, and he let my hand go. I looked at him and he lifted his eyebrows.
“What’s been happening?”
I got up and walked over to the pile of paint rags I’d thrown on the table and started sorting them into two completely meaningless piles. I began to see why my not talking had gotten Brian to talk. The silence was getting way too meaningful for me.
“It’s nothing new. It’s just really starting to interfere, with my getting what I want out there.” I hated saying it, because really, I didn’t want him to know it. Stuff like this sometimes bothered him more than it bothered me. And this was bothering me a lot.
“I went to the physical therapist, it was a bunch of bullshit. ‘Take an Advil. Ice it. Rest.’ The same crap as always.” I sat down at the table and started putting the rags back into one pile. One rag at a time.
I glanced over at Brian. He was still sitting over on the edge of my desk. I was glad that he didn’t look too upset, not as upset as he usually did when my hand was really bad. He actually looked kind of thoughtful.
“Maybe there’s something else you could try.”
I shrugged that off. “I think I’ve tried everything.”
He sighed. “Well, it’ll be better in the morning, right?” I nodded. It would be. It always started out fine. Brian got up from the table and came over and put out his hand. I took it and he pulled me up. “Let’s go to bed. Then it’ll be morning and everything will be fine.”
I laughed. “Yeah, which translates, c’mon upstairs and give me a blowjob, that’ll make everything all right.” He grinned at me.
“It will.”
“Promise?”
He bumped my forehead with his. “I promise.”
He went upstairs and I finally got the rags sorted out just the way I wanted them, in the same big heap they’d been in when I started. I set out my brushes to dry, turned off my computer and the lights, and went upstairs.
Brian was already in bed, and I took off my clothes and climbed in with him. He pulled me into his arms and started playing with my hair and kissing the side of my neck. This was his favorite way to force me to tell him things I otherwise wanted to brood on.
“What about that acupuncture thing Daphne was talking about?”
I couldn’t believe he’d said that. “Are you out of your mind? That stuff doesn’t work, it makes no sense.”
“You don’t know that. She said it helped her.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“It can’t hurt.”
I looked at him. He looked serious. “They stick needles in you.”
“Daphne said it didn’t hurt.”
I thought about it for a minute. “It’s so Ben-like.”
“You really can’t pick and choose things you do in life based on whether Ben has ever done them.” He suddenly moved up on top of me and straddled me, holding my wrists back over the bed. “For instance, you might miss out on some really hot things.” He kissed me.
I grinned at him. “Like… tofu stir-fry?”
“Like, getting fucked by me with your hands tied to the headboard.”
I thought about that. “Or like marrying Michael or adopting Hunter?”
That shut him up. But just for a minute. “OK, but the point is, you can pick and choose. Tied to the bed, yes, tofu stir-fry, no. Acupuncture, yes, adopting Hunter, no. Simple.”
I sighed and he rolled off me and pulled me over so my head was lying on his chest. “I’ll talk to Daphne. But I still say it’s completely pointless and unscientific.”
“Probably.” He put his hand up and I put my palm against his. His fingers were longer than mine. He kissed my hair and I lifted my face up to him, and he kissed my mouth. I put my head back down. Our hands were still pressed together, and he was looking at them. I curled my fingers and he intertwined his with mine. “But you could try it anyway.”
I kissed his chest. “Not everything can be fixed, Brian.”
He was still holding my hand, and he moved his other hand to the back of my neck. I felt him cupping it, cradling it, and I kept my face buried in Brian’s chest.
“And some things can.” His voice was quiet and just a little bit rough.
I lifted up my head and kissed him, letting go of his hand and pulling him on top of me, my legs spreading under him and my knees bent. I remembered a time when I tried to comfort him with words but couldn’t touch him at all, and how what worked best was the opposite, touching and not words.
Brian was kissing me, his hands in my hair. I was holding onto his wrists and my feet were resting on the backs of his legs, and I was starting to rock against him slightly, feeling his cock against my thigh, getting hard. Mine already was, pressing into his abdomen. He started to slide down me, but that wasn’t what I wanted, and I let him know, keeping hold of him, moving my legs up and wrapping them around his back.
He tucked his face into my neck and kissed me, taking a little bit of skin between his teeth and biting just enough to leave a mark. I let go of his left wrist and reached out my hand and got lube and a condom from the bedside drawer, and he pulled back from me and took them, and smiled a little at me while he put the condom on. He squirted lube onto my fingers, and I reached down and slid one into my asshole. He was sitting back on his heels, watching, and when I put a second finger in, and bent them and moved them apart, he settled in between my legs and kissed my fingers, and licked them. Then he started to nibble and bite at the inside of my thighs, and then I decided that was enough playing and pulled my fingers out of my ass and dragged him back up on top of me.
He kissed me and said, in a conversational tone of voice, “I fucking hate this condom.”
I laughed. “Just don’t think about it. Two more months. Then no more condoms. Just skin.”
Brian groaned. “Two months. This is gonna kill me.”
I put my mouth up to his ear and pulled him tight into me with my legs. “It’ll be over before you know it. Now fuck me.”
Brian’s POV
I could literally feel Justin not talking. I wasn’t sure if he thought I didn’t want to talk, which was probably true, or if he didn’t want to talk. So I smiled at him, because I didn’t want him to worry while I fucked him. He could worry later.
I loved seeing his fingers inside of him, his hole all stretched out around them. I loved the way the insides of his thighs felt on my lips, smooth and sensitive. He shivered when I kissed him there. And then he pulled me up with that “fuck me RIGHT NOW” look in his eyes.
I put the head of my dick right at the opening of his hole, and just let it rest there. He wriggled against me and started to move his hand down, but I stopped him and pushed just a little. He thrust up and the head went in, and then I stopped, shifting my weight back and moving my hands off the mattress and onto his hips to keep him from pushing up again.
He moved on the bed, frustrated, and I pulled back out almost all the way, the tip of my cock barely there, and then pushed it back in, stopping again just when I got the head inside.
“Brian.” He was pulling me with his legs and pushing up against my hands. I liked him like this, all squirmy and trying not to beg. I smiled at him.
“Yeah?”
“Fuck. Me.”
I pulled the head back out again, pausing just at the very point of being all the way out of him, and then slowly eased it past the tight entrance again. Every time I pulled back and every time I pushed in, that tight ring of muscle squeezed my cock, and then locked around me. And then I dragged it back out slowly, and pushed it in again slowly, and Justin was going slowly and noisily nuts right under me. He was groaning every time I pulled back, and holding me tight with his legs, and I did it one more time and he started chanting “fuck me fuck me fuck me Brian just FUCK ME” over and over, his legs crossing halfway up my back and his arms reaching down and pulling at my waist.
I eased my cock in again, and paused just like all the other times, but this time I slid into him a little more, and he relaxed and opened up for me, biting at my neck and kissing me and moaning while I went deeper and deeper into him. I knew payback was going to be a bitch, and it was. His ass was working on my cock and when I let go of his hips and put my hands back on the mattress so I could have some leverage to really fuck him, he started to thrust up at me and grab onto my cock with his ass until I was about three seconds away from coming. I felt a tingling sensation in my balls and my abdominal muscles clenched, and I fought down the impulse to mindlessly thrust into him and explode.
I slowed it down a little and pulled back from the edge, and concentrated on stroking Justin’s prostate every time I pulled in and out. He was at that point where he’d crossed his arms over his face, and I hissed his name, and he moved them back, and opened his eyes and looked at me. His lips were parted and his eyes were glassy and dark. His skin was all blotchy and flushed and I changed the angle I was fucking him a little and he bucked his hips and bit his lip and closed his eyes again. I saw him move his arms like he wanted them back over his face, but he didn’t. He knew I liked watching him come.
He was biting hard on his lip and his head was back. I wanted to kiss his throat but I couldn’t, it was all I could do to just keep moving my cock in and out of him, hitting him just on his prostate every time. He arched his back and finally grabbed his cock and started jerking on it, and I put my head down and fucked his orgasm up and out of him, all over his hand and my chest and his stomach. And as soon as I felt the tight grip of his ass on my cock while he came, I did too, big waves of it pulsing over me and out of me, inside of Justin. And then I just knelt there, trying to get my breath, my head still down.
And Justin shifted me down next to him, and cleaned us both off with a towel, and kissed me and smiled at me and climbed back under the covers and kissed me some more. I pulled him down and curled up around him, feeling warm and tired. I didn’t think about anything, I just fell asleep.
Justin’s POV
I woke up the next day and even though I still thought it was the stupidest and most useless idea Daphne had ever come up with, which was saying a lot, I called and asked her about the acupuncture thing. She was all excited about the prospect of my being skewered alive, and gave me the name and number of the acupuncturist she’d gone to, who also worked at the low income clinic where Daphne was interning that semester.
Whether the voodoo worked or not, my hand started being a little better. One day I even started sketching out some ideas for the next Rage, and realized at some point I’d been drawing for almost an hour.
Brian never smirked or said he told me so, and I was careful not to mention to Daphne that my hand was better, because I’d have never heard the end of it. Besides, I didn’t want to jinx it. Since I found it easier to believe in jinxes than acupuncture.
Whatever the reason, by the end of February I had gotten more done on the painting than I’d thought I would, and I called Kalli and told her to come anytime after the weekend. I was standing there staring at the painting the next Sunday morning, and Brian was standing behind me. They’d taken down the scaffolding the day before.
It was huge, and grey, and shot through with blue pigment, almost like really old pottery. There was a wide, uneven black slash running diagonally across the upper left of the painting. The right side had a burst of orange and gold flowing out over the grey and blue, or not really flowing but spraying. Like it was over it, not erupting from under it. It wasn’t like flames at all, though. I thought it looked like someone had dropped a huge mass of hot-colored flowers down on the pavement, but everything in intense close-up, so all you saw were colors and textures. Slices and ribbons and lines of orange and gold, on top of the blue-crackled grey.
Brian had both his arms around my neck, and I put my hands up and rested them on his forearms. I leaned back into him, and smiled. I tipped back my head, and he was looking at the painting.
“Well?” I always had to ask him.
“It’s beautiful and intense. It’s the best thing you’ve ever done. It’s fucking huge.” He grinned at me when he said that, and I grinned back. It really was ridiculously big. I must have been out of my mind.
Later that week, Kalli came running up to the front door, laughing in her patented Kalli way. Her hair was springing out all around her face out from under a black hat, and she was wearing black jeans, black boots, and, just to add a splash of color, a dark grey sweater under her black jacket. God, I missed New York.
She threw her arms around me and smacked me on my cheek, no doubt leaving blood red lipstick marks. Sort of an urban chic version of the Deb experience.
I didn’t even bother showing her around the house. I took her right into my studio, and unlike everyone else who ever saw it, she didn’t comment on its size or the light or how much Brian must really love me to have built it. She just walked over to my painting and stood there staring.
I was used to Kalli looking at paintings, so I sat down at the computer and fucked around aimlessly for a while on the ideas Michael had sent me for Rage. I had half an eye on her, so when she finally turned around and looked for me, I was ready. “Well?”
“Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Justin.” She looked slightly pale.
“Is that good?” I knew it was, I just wanted her to say it.
“I don’t even know. Good. What a totally lame word.” She went and sat down at the worktable. “Fuck.”
“You know, you’re good at running a gallery, I’m thinking as an art critic, not so much.”
“Don’t beg for praise, little boy. You know this is good, you don’t need me to tell you.”
She sounded like Brian. Except he tended to like me to beg.
I grinned at her. “You like it. Will Armand?”
“Armand is going to have a fucking orgasm when he sees this. Or rather, when he figures out how the hell to get it in the gallery. What were you thinking, doing something this big when you’re not established enough to get away with it?”
“I was thinking I was lucky not to have to worry about that.”
“Jesus, if this is what getting plowed by that gorgeous man does to your creativity, do you think he’d fuck me?”
I burst out laughing. “No, actually, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t. But hey, I’ll let him know you asked.”
She got up and turned and looked at the painting again. “Do you have anything else, or is this it?”
“Just the smaller variations I did when I was working it out.” I showed them to her, and she kept shaking her head and saying “fuck” a lot.
“OK, let me call Armand, he told me to call the minute I saw what you had.”
She got him on her cell phone. “It’s me. We’re fucked, the thing is as big as a barn. And if you don’t find a way to get it in the gallery, I’m quitting.”
She listened for a while, and I went back to the computer. She paced all over the studio talking to Armand, gesturing frequently, which I’m sure helped him understand the nuances of her position. I’d never actually seen anyone pace in four-inch heels before, it was sort of mesmerizing. She finally snapped her cell phone shut and turned to me with a happy expression on her face.
“He totally hates you. He’ll have someone here to pick it up within the month.”
“He trusts you that much?”
“Despite the aspersions you cast on my abilities as an art critic, I’ve never been wrong.”
“Yeah, well, you’re young, give it time.”
“Do you hear that a lot, little blond boy?”
“Bitch. I have no control over that.” I felt myself blushing.
“Jesus, Justin, you blush like a 12-year-old girl, I’ve never known anyone who blushed as much as you. So, what’s a girl got to do around here to get something to drink?”
I took her out to the kitchen and got her a beer, and we went into the living room. She stood in the middle of the room and turned in a slow circle.
“Fuck, Justin. Explain it to me really slow, in words a six year old could understand: How did you meet this guy and where can I get one just like him who likes girls?”
“He picked me up under a street light when I was in high school.”
“OK, is that a true story or are you fucking with my head?”
“It’s a true story.”
“So it’s too late for me. I’m just fucked.”
“Yeah, you are. Plus, there’s only one Brian.” Then I blushed again. I had to get over that.
Brian’s POV
There’s a point where overhearing turns into blatant eavesdropping, and I’d crossed that line several sentences before. I cleared my throat and came into the room, and Justin got up and came over and kissed me on the cheek. His face was flushed, and I knew he was wondering what I’d heard. I smiled at him and winked at Kalli.
“So, what did you think of it?”
“It was spectacular. You seem to have a beneficial influence on Justin’s creative process. Tragically he tells me you don’t like girls. Tell me there’s something you’ve been hiding from him all these years.”
I laughed. “Sorry. Besides, the effect only seems to work on Justin.” There went the blush thing again. He looked 16. He was so easy.
Justin went to the kitchen to get another beer, and I poured myself a Jack Daniels. Kalli shook her head when I offered her some. “Thanks, but I’m driving. Which by the way, I hate. I knew I lived in New York for a reason. The lack of needing to drive must be it.”
“The painting. Is it as good as I think it is?”
“I have no words.”
“I’m going to guess that’s not literally true.”
She sat there for a few minutes, just looking at my face. “I don’t know if you know how good it is, but the fact that you’re asking that question makes me think you probably do. Yeah, it’s that good.”
“Will it sell?”
“Justin is not well known. He’s very young, and he looks younger, and he’s too blond and pretty. Armand is pretty hot on him, which helps, but no gallery owner can make an artist without something else. The piece is huge, which means it will be hard to hang, for us, and for anyone who might want it in their collection. There are all kinds of problems with this work.”
She paused and then said, “It will sell before we open the show.”
I bit down on my lip. I’d kind of thought that myself, but what did I know?
She added, speaking slowly, “It makes me want to go home and crawl in my bed and never paint again, because there’s just really no point at all.”
Justin came back in the room with two beers, and gave one to Kalli. I wondered how long he’d been standing in the hall outside, overhearing.
I took them to dinner, and then to Babylon. The three of us danced for a while, and then I went over to the bar to get a drink. Emmett was there, relatively glitter-free for him. It was a weeknight.
“Justin certainly has the best hags.” He took a sip of his Cosmo.
“She’s here from New York looking at his paintings for a show.” I took a swallow of my beer. I’d decided to stay sober enough to drive home tonight, in case Justin wanted to get drunk and celebrate. He looked flushed and happy on the dance floor, even though he hadn’t had anything but wine with dinner. A butch-looking blonde in a tank top had danced over to them and was trying to lure Kalli off to dance with her, and Justin laughed and waved Kalli away, and walked over to me and Emmett.
“Hey, Em.” He kissed Emmett’s cheek and then came and put his sweaty self in my arms and took a sip of my beer. I kissed him and he smiled at me. So I kissed him again. He turned all the way into me and I bent my knees so I was closer to his face.
“You two really should get a room, you know.” It was Emmett, laughing at us.
I barely broke my mouth away from Justin’s, my hands on either side of his face. He was running his hands up and down inside my shirt. “Can you keep an eye on Kalli? For… ten minutes?” Justin bit me. “Twenty minutes?”
Emmett vowed to protect Justin’s New York hag with his life, and Justin and I went over towards the stairs. He stopped me after we’d taken a few steps, and pressed his whole body against me and kissed me slow and hard, his tongue stroking all over my mouth, his hands on my bare skin under my shirt. He let his hand slip down between us and flattened his palm against my cock and pressed, hard, and I turned around and pushed him against the wall behind us.
I got my knee up under his crotch and he let his weight rest on it, his cock pressing into my thigh and his hands undoing the buttons on my jeans. I put my hand on his wrist and stopped him, and then dragged him over to the doorway to the backroom.
The security guy looked surprised but just nodded when we went by, and I ignored him. Justin didn’t even notice him, he was walking behind me, his hands on my hips, kissing the back of my neck. I grabbed him and yanked him into me, and cupped his ass with one hand and opened his pants with the other. I reached in, feeling him all hot and hard, wrapping my fingers around his cock. He had his hands back on my jeans, and he was pushing them down, and this time I let him push me against an empty space on the wall.
He grinned up at me then, and undid the buttons on my shirt, and finished unbuttoning my jeans, and then slowly licked down my chest. He flicked his tongue over my nipples and sucked on each one, and then kissed and bit at me as he knelt down in front of me. He smiled up at me again and then pressed his face into my stomach, and then started nuzzling my cock, his hand wrapping around the base.
He licked at the head and I felt my breath catch. His tongue started swirling on me and I spread my legs a little more, letting myself sag into the wall. He was jerking me with his hand and licking me with his tongue, and I felt my hips start to thrust a little. I wanted to watch, but I couldn’t stop from arching my neck back when he locked his lips around me and grabbed the backs of my thighs with both his hands and went all the way down on me in one motion. I groaned and got my hands in his hair, and held onto two handfuls of it while he swallowed and sucked and licked me, pulling me in by the backs of my legs and moaning softly around my cock.
It’s the kind of feeling that you wouldn’t mind going on for hours but the whole thing about feeling like that is, it can’t. In just a couple of minutes, I felt myself start to come and he pulled back a little, moving his hand back to my cock, and letting me fill up his mouth while I pulled his hair in my fists and groaned. And then I was done, and just resting on that wall, my head tipped back, his warm mouth still on me. I could feel his breath on my skin.
I let go of his hair and smoothed it back, and then he looked up at me, and smiled a little, my come on his lips and a little bit on his face. I reached down and pulled him up, and he leaned into me, pressing himself against my chest and stomach and groin, and I licked my come off his face and tasted it in his mouth.
Justin took my hand and put it on his cock, and I moved my hand on it, catching the precum that was making the head wet and rubbing it over the shaft. We were kissing and he was so close to me I couldn’t get much movement between us, but his hard cock got harder while I jerked it and he pressed himself against me suddenly, and started to come. He stayed leaning on me, breathing hard, and in a minute I realized we hadn’t exactly thought this through, since he’d just come all over my jeans. And we were kind of a sticky mess. And I just kissed him and laughed and he laughed up at me, and tucked his head under my chin and said, “Ooops.”
“Well, you know…. Oooops is bullshit.” I grinned at him.
“Tell me you have clean clothes up in the office.”
I shook my head.
“A towel?” I thought about it, and nodded.
“I own this place, I’m going to guess someone will give me a towel.”
“Yeah, Brian, go on out to the bar and tell the guy your boyfriend just came all over your pants, and get a towel.”
“You just came all over my pants in front of all these people, and I have to go out there and get a towel?”
He leaned into me a little harder and kissed my neck.
We just stayed there for a while, and then I fastened up his pants, and mine, and straightened out his shirt, and buttoned a couple buttons on mine, and we went out and found a towel.
Continued here…
My transcontinental beta,
gmta_nz, held my hand and cracked the whip.
As always,
orlith did the safer sex beta, but all the smut is mine so if it sucks, don't think he's bad in bed.
Thanks to my banner goddess, KT, for enabling my addiction inspiring me.
I've turned down paying work to write this story. Pony up with the feedback or who knows what I'll do?
Chapter One is here. Chapter Two is here. Chapter Three is here.
Decisions, Chapter 4
By Xie
As we decide and choose, so are our lives formed. In the end, forming our own destiny is what ambition is about. -Joseph Epstein
Brian’s POV
I felt my headache getting worse. I massaged the bridge of my nose. I thought about drugs, sex, and shopping. Nothing helped.
I was standing out on the front porch while Melanie and Lindsay got the last load of stuff into their car. I had been up and down the stairs fifteen times in the last half hour, bringing down load after load of baby crap and Christmas gifts that, for some reason, I had bought for Gus.
JR was in her baby seat in the car. Justin was trying to help Mel get one last suitcase into the back and still get the door closed. Gus was racing around in circles on the snow-covered front lawn.
Lindsay walked up to me, and I came down the steps and hugged her goodbye. She kissed my cheek and smiled, and I held onto her for a second.
She pulled away and squeezed my arm. “Oh, I almost forgot, I meant to give this to you. It’s the bill for the scaffolding.”
I didn’t take it. “That’s Justin’s, you can give it to him.”
“Give me what?” Justin was coming up the path with Gus. Lindsay turned to him, a little confused.
“It’s the bill for the scaffolding, Brian said I should give it to you.” My headache got worse again.
Justin took it. “I’ll get you a check before you go…”
“No, there’s a bill, just go ahead and send the check to them.” She looked like she wanted to say more but she bit it back, smiled, and hugged Justin goodbye. He hugged her back, and he went down to the car to say goodbye to Mel and JR. I took Gus down to the car and buckled him into his safety seat and waved as they pulled out. Justin was standing on the other side of the car, and he was waving too.
“I’m gonna miss them.” He sounded sentimental.
I walked over to him and grinned. “We’ll see them all the time. And now I can fuck you in every room of the house again.” I pulled him close and kissed him, my hands grabbing his hair. He put his arms around me and let his tongue play with mine, and then he pulled away a little. Our foreheads were still touching and he was burrowing inside my coat.
“Brian?”
“Mmmm?” I kissed his face. It felt cold.
“Brian, when did you STOP fucking me in every room of the house?”
I stopped to consider. “Oh yeah. Well, now we can throw out all the junk food.”
We went inside and I dragged him into the living room and pushed him back onto the sofa and fell down on top of him, kissing him the whole time. He was laughing.
“Lindsay tried to give my bill to you?”
“Yeah.” I kissed him again, hoping to shut him up. It never worked.
“She thinks I’m your MISTRESS.” He was giggling. I kissed him again and grabbed his hand and pulled it to my crotch.
“Yeah, if you were my mistress you’d be blowing me now instead of laughing about it.”
He cupped his hand around my cock and whispered, “Yeah? So if I blow you it means I’m your mistress?”
I thought about that for a minute. “No, only if I’d paid the bill.”
He buried his face in my neck and slid his hand inside my jeans. “Good answer.”
Justin’s POV
The first couple of weeks after Mel and Lindz and the kids left were weird, but good. It was strange to suddenly have four other people, one of whom was a totally unpredictable, noisy, bossy six-year-old kid, just disappear. Along with the seemingly endless supply of Cap’n Crunch, popcorn, and cookies that had once filled our kitchen cupboards. I wondered what Brian would do if I replaced all of it.
I went to New York for a week at the end of January, and Brian came up the weekend the show opened at Armand’s gallery. I had four pieces in it, and all four of them sold. A bunch of us went out to celebrate afterwards, including Kalli, who was glowing over the success of the first big show she’d put together since going to work for Armand full time. Brian bought us all champagne with dinner and then took us out dancing. I got drunk and danced with Kalli on the platform at a gay club. It was like dancing with Emmett, because she shimmied just like he did and in her high heels was about as tall as him, too. Brian finally came and dragged us both down, dropped Kalli off at her apartment, and took me back to our hotel. I fell asleep in the back of the limo with my head on his shoulder.
I’d told Kalli about the painting I was working on, and she promised to come see it when it was done. I worked on it every day, but found that something about transferring smaller designs onto a big canvas was fucking up my hand more than usual. I was starting to freak out a little, and one day, after I’d dropped my brush three times in a row, I took a deep breath, climbed off the scaffold, and drove into town to see Michael. He’d been bugging me to come by and look at ideas he had for Rage and I’d been putting it off.
The shop was fairly quiet when I went in, only three teenagers browsing the racks, and Michael came out from behind the counter and hugged me. I’d brought us both coffees from the Starbucks up the street.
Michael’s story ideas were good, but I hesitated.
“I don’t know, Michael, I have to think about it. I’m working on a painting, and if it’s ready I want it to be in a show in the spring, and I’ve only got so much time.” But I was lying. It wasn’t really time that was the problem, it was my hand. Which I realized I was unconsciously rubbing. I’d been doing that a lot lately.
Michael had known me a long time, and had some kind of radar for when I was lying anyway. He looked at my hand, which I’d stopped rubbing the minute I’d noticed what I was doing, and then at me. He even raised his eyebrow, something he must have picked up from Brian in high school. But he just said, “Yeah?”
I sighed. “My hand’s been bugging me.”
Michael kind of frowned. “What are you doing for it?”
“The physical therapist just said I have to rest it when that happens, there’s nothing else. Take an Advil, whatever.” Which did no fucking good at all.
He didn’t say anything right away, just seemed to be thinking about what to say. “Well, how about after the show, then? If we’re gonna do this, we should do it this summer.”
I promised to let him know, and he said he’d email the story ideas to me, and I took off.
When I got home, Brian was in the kitchen, unpacking Chinese food takeout.
“Hi, honey, what’s for dinner?” I threw my jacket on the back of a chair and sat down and smirked at him. He leaned against the counter and looked at me.
“Well, if you get your ass up off that chair and walk over here and put it on a plate, Chinese food.”
“You’re so mean.”
“It’s tough love.”
I got up and walked over to the food. “You admit you love me?”
“In a tough, manly kind of way, sure.” And he dumped an entire container of kung pao chicken on a plate and walked out of the room with it.
But he did bump me with his shoulder when he walked by and he let me eat some chicken off his plate on the floor in front of the TV.
After dinner, I went back into the studio and saw my paintbrush lying on the floor where I’d dropped it. I should have cleaned it, should have cleaned up everything. I started soaking and washing brushes and putting my paint away, and then went and turned on my computer. I was re-reading Michael’s notes on Rage when Brian came in.
“Not painting?” He glanced up at the canvas on the wall, and could probably tell I hadn’t done much on it that day. I just shrugged.
He came over and sat on the corner of my desk. He looked like he was going to say something, but then he didn’t. I raised an eyebrow at him. He stuck his tongue into his cheek. I wondered how long we could go on making faces at each other instead of talking.
“OK, my hand has been fucked.” I had this constant problem lately of shit coming out of my mouth without my knowledge or consent.
Brian sighed and leaned down and put his forehead on the top of my head. He picked up my right hand, and I had to fight the impulse to pull it away. He could tell anyway, and he let my hand go. I looked at him and he lifted his eyebrows.
“What’s been happening?”
I got up and walked over to the pile of paint rags I’d thrown on the table and started sorting them into two completely meaningless piles. I began to see why my not talking had gotten Brian to talk. The silence was getting way too meaningful for me.
“It’s nothing new. It’s just really starting to interfere, with my getting what I want out there.” I hated saying it, because really, I didn’t want him to know it. Stuff like this sometimes bothered him more than it bothered me. And this was bothering me a lot.
“I went to the physical therapist, it was a bunch of bullshit. ‘Take an Advil. Ice it. Rest.’ The same crap as always.” I sat down at the table and started putting the rags back into one pile. One rag at a time.
I glanced over at Brian. He was still sitting over on the edge of my desk. I was glad that he didn’t look too upset, not as upset as he usually did when my hand was really bad. He actually looked kind of thoughtful.
“Maybe there’s something else you could try.”
I shrugged that off. “I think I’ve tried everything.”
He sighed. “Well, it’ll be better in the morning, right?” I nodded. It would be. It always started out fine. Brian got up from the table and came over and put out his hand. I took it and he pulled me up. “Let’s go to bed. Then it’ll be morning and everything will be fine.”
I laughed. “Yeah, which translates, c’mon upstairs and give me a blowjob, that’ll make everything all right.” He grinned at me.
“It will.”
“Promise?”
He bumped my forehead with his. “I promise.”
He went upstairs and I finally got the rags sorted out just the way I wanted them, in the same big heap they’d been in when I started. I set out my brushes to dry, turned off my computer and the lights, and went upstairs.
Brian was already in bed, and I took off my clothes and climbed in with him. He pulled me into his arms and started playing with my hair and kissing the side of my neck. This was his favorite way to force me to tell him things I otherwise wanted to brood on.
“What about that acupuncture thing Daphne was talking about?”
I couldn’t believe he’d said that. “Are you out of your mind? That stuff doesn’t work, it makes no sense.”
“You don’t know that. She said it helped her.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“It can’t hurt.”
I looked at him. He looked serious. “They stick needles in you.”
“Daphne said it didn’t hurt.”
I thought about it for a minute. “It’s so Ben-like.”
“You really can’t pick and choose things you do in life based on whether Ben has ever done them.” He suddenly moved up on top of me and straddled me, holding my wrists back over the bed. “For instance, you might miss out on some really hot things.” He kissed me.
I grinned at him. “Like… tofu stir-fry?”
“Like, getting fucked by me with your hands tied to the headboard.”
I thought about that. “Or like marrying Michael or adopting Hunter?”
That shut him up. But just for a minute. “OK, but the point is, you can pick and choose. Tied to the bed, yes, tofu stir-fry, no. Acupuncture, yes, adopting Hunter, no. Simple.”
I sighed and he rolled off me and pulled me over so my head was lying on his chest. “I’ll talk to Daphne. But I still say it’s completely pointless and unscientific.”
“Probably.” He put his hand up and I put my palm against his. His fingers were longer than mine. He kissed my hair and I lifted my face up to him, and he kissed my mouth. I put my head back down. Our hands were still pressed together, and he was looking at them. I curled my fingers and he intertwined his with mine. “But you could try it anyway.”
I kissed his chest. “Not everything can be fixed, Brian.”
He was still holding my hand, and he moved his other hand to the back of my neck. I felt him cupping it, cradling it, and I kept my face buried in Brian’s chest.
“And some things can.” His voice was quiet and just a little bit rough.
I lifted up my head and kissed him, letting go of his hand and pulling him on top of me, my legs spreading under him and my knees bent. I remembered a time when I tried to comfort him with words but couldn’t touch him at all, and how what worked best was the opposite, touching and not words.
Brian was kissing me, his hands in my hair. I was holding onto his wrists and my feet were resting on the backs of his legs, and I was starting to rock against him slightly, feeling his cock against my thigh, getting hard. Mine already was, pressing into his abdomen. He started to slide down me, but that wasn’t what I wanted, and I let him know, keeping hold of him, moving my legs up and wrapping them around his back.
He tucked his face into my neck and kissed me, taking a little bit of skin between his teeth and biting just enough to leave a mark. I let go of his left wrist and reached out my hand and got lube and a condom from the bedside drawer, and he pulled back from me and took them, and smiled a little at me while he put the condom on. He squirted lube onto my fingers, and I reached down and slid one into my asshole. He was sitting back on his heels, watching, and when I put a second finger in, and bent them and moved them apart, he settled in between my legs and kissed my fingers, and licked them. Then he started to nibble and bite at the inside of my thighs, and then I decided that was enough playing and pulled my fingers out of my ass and dragged him back up on top of me.
He kissed me and said, in a conversational tone of voice, “I fucking hate this condom.”
I laughed. “Just don’t think about it. Two more months. Then no more condoms. Just skin.”
Brian groaned. “Two months. This is gonna kill me.”
I put my mouth up to his ear and pulled him tight into me with my legs. “It’ll be over before you know it. Now fuck me.”
Brian’s POV
I could literally feel Justin not talking. I wasn’t sure if he thought I didn’t want to talk, which was probably true, or if he didn’t want to talk. So I smiled at him, because I didn’t want him to worry while I fucked him. He could worry later.
I loved seeing his fingers inside of him, his hole all stretched out around them. I loved the way the insides of his thighs felt on my lips, smooth and sensitive. He shivered when I kissed him there. And then he pulled me up with that “fuck me RIGHT NOW” look in his eyes.
I put the head of my dick right at the opening of his hole, and just let it rest there. He wriggled against me and started to move his hand down, but I stopped him and pushed just a little. He thrust up and the head went in, and then I stopped, shifting my weight back and moving my hands off the mattress and onto his hips to keep him from pushing up again.
He moved on the bed, frustrated, and I pulled back out almost all the way, the tip of my cock barely there, and then pushed it back in, stopping again just when I got the head inside.
“Brian.” He was pulling me with his legs and pushing up against my hands. I liked him like this, all squirmy and trying not to beg. I smiled at him.
“Yeah?”
“Fuck. Me.”
I pulled the head back out again, pausing just at the very point of being all the way out of him, and then slowly eased it past the tight entrance again. Every time I pulled back and every time I pushed in, that tight ring of muscle squeezed my cock, and then locked around me. And then I dragged it back out slowly, and pushed it in again slowly, and Justin was going slowly and noisily nuts right under me. He was groaning every time I pulled back, and holding me tight with his legs, and I did it one more time and he started chanting “fuck me fuck me fuck me Brian just FUCK ME” over and over, his legs crossing halfway up my back and his arms reaching down and pulling at my waist.
I eased my cock in again, and paused just like all the other times, but this time I slid into him a little more, and he relaxed and opened up for me, biting at my neck and kissing me and moaning while I went deeper and deeper into him. I knew payback was going to be a bitch, and it was. His ass was working on my cock and when I let go of his hips and put my hands back on the mattress so I could have some leverage to really fuck him, he started to thrust up at me and grab onto my cock with his ass until I was about three seconds away from coming. I felt a tingling sensation in my balls and my abdominal muscles clenched, and I fought down the impulse to mindlessly thrust into him and explode.
I slowed it down a little and pulled back from the edge, and concentrated on stroking Justin’s prostate every time I pulled in and out. He was at that point where he’d crossed his arms over his face, and I hissed his name, and he moved them back, and opened his eyes and looked at me. His lips were parted and his eyes were glassy and dark. His skin was all blotchy and flushed and I changed the angle I was fucking him a little and he bucked his hips and bit his lip and closed his eyes again. I saw him move his arms like he wanted them back over his face, but he didn’t. He knew I liked watching him come.
He was biting hard on his lip and his head was back. I wanted to kiss his throat but I couldn’t, it was all I could do to just keep moving my cock in and out of him, hitting him just on his prostate every time. He arched his back and finally grabbed his cock and started jerking on it, and I put my head down and fucked his orgasm up and out of him, all over his hand and my chest and his stomach. And as soon as I felt the tight grip of his ass on my cock while he came, I did too, big waves of it pulsing over me and out of me, inside of Justin. And then I just knelt there, trying to get my breath, my head still down.
And Justin shifted me down next to him, and cleaned us both off with a towel, and kissed me and smiled at me and climbed back under the covers and kissed me some more. I pulled him down and curled up around him, feeling warm and tired. I didn’t think about anything, I just fell asleep.
Justin’s POV
I woke up the next day and even though I still thought it was the stupidest and most useless idea Daphne had ever come up with, which was saying a lot, I called and asked her about the acupuncture thing. She was all excited about the prospect of my being skewered alive, and gave me the name and number of the acupuncturist she’d gone to, who also worked at the low income clinic where Daphne was interning that semester.
Whether the voodoo worked or not, my hand started being a little better. One day I even started sketching out some ideas for the next Rage, and realized at some point I’d been drawing for almost an hour.
Brian never smirked or said he told me so, and I was careful not to mention to Daphne that my hand was better, because I’d have never heard the end of it. Besides, I didn’t want to jinx it. Since I found it easier to believe in jinxes than acupuncture.
Whatever the reason, by the end of February I had gotten more done on the painting than I’d thought I would, and I called Kalli and told her to come anytime after the weekend. I was standing there staring at the painting the next Sunday morning, and Brian was standing behind me. They’d taken down the scaffolding the day before.
It was huge, and grey, and shot through with blue pigment, almost like really old pottery. There was a wide, uneven black slash running diagonally across the upper left of the painting. The right side had a burst of orange and gold flowing out over the grey and blue, or not really flowing but spraying. Like it was over it, not erupting from under it. It wasn’t like flames at all, though. I thought it looked like someone had dropped a huge mass of hot-colored flowers down on the pavement, but everything in intense close-up, so all you saw were colors and textures. Slices and ribbons and lines of orange and gold, on top of the blue-crackled grey.
Brian had both his arms around my neck, and I put my hands up and rested them on his forearms. I leaned back into him, and smiled. I tipped back my head, and he was looking at the painting.
“Well?” I always had to ask him.
“It’s beautiful and intense. It’s the best thing you’ve ever done. It’s fucking huge.” He grinned at me when he said that, and I grinned back. It really was ridiculously big. I must have been out of my mind.
Later that week, Kalli came running up to the front door, laughing in her patented Kalli way. Her hair was springing out all around her face out from under a black hat, and she was wearing black jeans, black boots, and, just to add a splash of color, a dark grey sweater under her black jacket. God, I missed New York.
She threw her arms around me and smacked me on my cheek, no doubt leaving blood red lipstick marks. Sort of an urban chic version of the Deb experience.
I didn’t even bother showing her around the house. I took her right into my studio, and unlike everyone else who ever saw it, she didn’t comment on its size or the light or how much Brian must really love me to have built it. She just walked over to my painting and stood there staring.
I was used to Kalli looking at paintings, so I sat down at the computer and fucked around aimlessly for a while on the ideas Michael had sent me for Rage. I had half an eye on her, so when she finally turned around and looked for me, I was ready. “Well?”
“Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Justin.” She looked slightly pale.
“Is that good?” I knew it was, I just wanted her to say it.
“I don’t even know. Good. What a totally lame word.” She went and sat down at the worktable. “Fuck.”
“You know, you’re good at running a gallery, I’m thinking as an art critic, not so much.”
“Don’t beg for praise, little boy. You know this is good, you don’t need me to tell you.”
She sounded like Brian. Except he tended to like me to beg.
I grinned at her. “You like it. Will Armand?”
“Armand is going to have a fucking orgasm when he sees this. Or rather, when he figures out how the hell to get it in the gallery. What were you thinking, doing something this big when you’re not established enough to get away with it?”
“I was thinking I was lucky not to have to worry about that.”
“Jesus, if this is what getting plowed by that gorgeous man does to your creativity, do you think he’d fuck me?”
I burst out laughing. “No, actually, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t. But hey, I’ll let him know you asked.”
She got up and turned and looked at the painting again. “Do you have anything else, or is this it?”
“Just the smaller variations I did when I was working it out.” I showed them to her, and she kept shaking her head and saying “fuck” a lot.
“OK, let me call Armand, he told me to call the minute I saw what you had.”
She got him on her cell phone. “It’s me. We’re fucked, the thing is as big as a barn. And if you don’t find a way to get it in the gallery, I’m quitting.”
She listened for a while, and I went back to the computer. She paced all over the studio talking to Armand, gesturing frequently, which I’m sure helped him understand the nuances of her position. I’d never actually seen anyone pace in four-inch heels before, it was sort of mesmerizing. She finally snapped her cell phone shut and turned to me with a happy expression on her face.
“He totally hates you. He’ll have someone here to pick it up within the month.”
“He trusts you that much?”
“Despite the aspersions you cast on my abilities as an art critic, I’ve never been wrong.”
“Yeah, well, you’re young, give it time.”
“Do you hear that a lot, little blond boy?”
“Bitch. I have no control over that.” I felt myself blushing.
“Jesus, Justin, you blush like a 12-year-old girl, I’ve never known anyone who blushed as much as you. So, what’s a girl got to do around here to get something to drink?”
I took her out to the kitchen and got her a beer, and we went into the living room. She stood in the middle of the room and turned in a slow circle.
“Fuck, Justin. Explain it to me really slow, in words a six year old could understand: How did you meet this guy and where can I get one just like him who likes girls?”
“He picked me up under a street light when I was in high school.”
“OK, is that a true story or are you fucking with my head?”
“It’s a true story.”
“So it’s too late for me. I’m just fucked.”
“Yeah, you are. Plus, there’s only one Brian.” Then I blushed again. I had to get over that.
Brian’s POV
There’s a point where overhearing turns into blatant eavesdropping, and I’d crossed that line several sentences before. I cleared my throat and came into the room, and Justin got up and came over and kissed me on the cheek. His face was flushed, and I knew he was wondering what I’d heard. I smiled at him and winked at Kalli.
“So, what did you think of it?”
“It was spectacular. You seem to have a beneficial influence on Justin’s creative process. Tragically he tells me you don’t like girls. Tell me there’s something you’ve been hiding from him all these years.”
I laughed. “Sorry. Besides, the effect only seems to work on Justin.” There went the blush thing again. He looked 16. He was so easy.
Justin went to the kitchen to get another beer, and I poured myself a Jack Daniels. Kalli shook her head when I offered her some. “Thanks, but I’m driving. Which by the way, I hate. I knew I lived in New York for a reason. The lack of needing to drive must be it.”
“The painting. Is it as good as I think it is?”
“I have no words.”
“I’m going to guess that’s not literally true.”
She sat there for a few minutes, just looking at my face. “I don’t know if you know how good it is, but the fact that you’re asking that question makes me think you probably do. Yeah, it’s that good.”
“Will it sell?”
“Justin is not well known. He’s very young, and he looks younger, and he’s too blond and pretty. Armand is pretty hot on him, which helps, but no gallery owner can make an artist without something else. The piece is huge, which means it will be hard to hang, for us, and for anyone who might want it in their collection. There are all kinds of problems with this work.”
She paused and then said, “It will sell before we open the show.”
I bit down on my lip. I’d kind of thought that myself, but what did I know?
She added, speaking slowly, “It makes me want to go home and crawl in my bed and never paint again, because there’s just really no point at all.”
Justin came back in the room with two beers, and gave one to Kalli. I wondered how long he’d been standing in the hall outside, overhearing.
I took them to dinner, and then to Babylon. The three of us danced for a while, and then I went over to the bar to get a drink. Emmett was there, relatively glitter-free for him. It was a weeknight.
“Justin certainly has the best hags.” He took a sip of his Cosmo.
“She’s here from New York looking at his paintings for a show.” I took a swallow of my beer. I’d decided to stay sober enough to drive home tonight, in case Justin wanted to get drunk and celebrate. He looked flushed and happy on the dance floor, even though he hadn’t had anything but wine with dinner. A butch-looking blonde in a tank top had danced over to them and was trying to lure Kalli off to dance with her, and Justin laughed and waved Kalli away, and walked over to me and Emmett.
“Hey, Em.” He kissed Emmett’s cheek and then came and put his sweaty self in my arms and took a sip of my beer. I kissed him and he smiled at me. So I kissed him again. He turned all the way into me and I bent my knees so I was closer to his face.
“You two really should get a room, you know.” It was Emmett, laughing at us.
I barely broke my mouth away from Justin’s, my hands on either side of his face. He was running his hands up and down inside my shirt. “Can you keep an eye on Kalli? For… ten minutes?” Justin bit me. “Twenty minutes?”
Emmett vowed to protect Justin’s New York hag with his life, and Justin and I went over towards the stairs. He stopped me after we’d taken a few steps, and pressed his whole body against me and kissed me slow and hard, his tongue stroking all over my mouth, his hands on my bare skin under my shirt. He let his hand slip down between us and flattened his palm against my cock and pressed, hard, and I turned around and pushed him against the wall behind us.
I got my knee up under his crotch and he let his weight rest on it, his cock pressing into my thigh and his hands undoing the buttons on my jeans. I put my hand on his wrist and stopped him, and then dragged him over to the doorway to the backroom.
The security guy looked surprised but just nodded when we went by, and I ignored him. Justin didn’t even notice him, he was walking behind me, his hands on my hips, kissing the back of my neck. I grabbed him and yanked him into me, and cupped his ass with one hand and opened his pants with the other. I reached in, feeling him all hot and hard, wrapping my fingers around his cock. He had his hands back on my jeans, and he was pushing them down, and this time I let him push me against an empty space on the wall.
He grinned up at me then, and undid the buttons on my shirt, and finished unbuttoning my jeans, and then slowly licked down my chest. He flicked his tongue over my nipples and sucked on each one, and then kissed and bit at me as he knelt down in front of me. He smiled up at me again and then pressed his face into my stomach, and then started nuzzling my cock, his hand wrapping around the base.
He licked at the head and I felt my breath catch. His tongue started swirling on me and I spread my legs a little more, letting myself sag into the wall. He was jerking me with his hand and licking me with his tongue, and I felt my hips start to thrust a little. I wanted to watch, but I couldn’t stop from arching my neck back when he locked his lips around me and grabbed the backs of my thighs with both his hands and went all the way down on me in one motion. I groaned and got my hands in his hair, and held onto two handfuls of it while he swallowed and sucked and licked me, pulling me in by the backs of my legs and moaning softly around my cock.
It’s the kind of feeling that you wouldn’t mind going on for hours but the whole thing about feeling like that is, it can’t. In just a couple of minutes, I felt myself start to come and he pulled back a little, moving his hand back to my cock, and letting me fill up his mouth while I pulled his hair in my fists and groaned. And then I was done, and just resting on that wall, my head tipped back, his warm mouth still on me. I could feel his breath on my skin.
I let go of his hair and smoothed it back, and then he looked up at me, and smiled a little, my come on his lips and a little bit on his face. I reached down and pulled him up, and he leaned into me, pressing himself against my chest and stomach and groin, and I licked my come off his face and tasted it in his mouth.
Justin took my hand and put it on his cock, and I moved my hand on it, catching the precum that was making the head wet and rubbing it over the shaft. We were kissing and he was so close to me I couldn’t get much movement between us, but his hard cock got harder while I jerked it and he pressed himself against me suddenly, and started to come. He stayed leaning on me, breathing hard, and in a minute I realized we hadn’t exactly thought this through, since he’d just come all over my jeans. And we were kind of a sticky mess. And I just kissed him and laughed and he laughed up at me, and tucked his head under my chin and said, “Ooops.”
“Well, you know…. Oooops is bullshit.” I grinned at him.
“Tell me you have clean clothes up in the office.”
I shook my head.
“A towel?” I thought about it, and nodded.
“I own this place, I’m going to guess someone will give me a towel.”
“Yeah, Brian, go on out to the bar and tell the guy your boyfriend just came all over your pants, and get a towel.”
“You just came all over my pants in front of all these people, and I have to go out there and get a towel?”
He leaned into me a little harder and kissed my neck.
We just stayed there for a while, and then I fastened up his pants, and mine, and straightened out his shirt, and buttoned a couple buttons on mine, and we went out and found a towel.
Continued here…