TRYING TO MAKE SOME SENSE OF IT ALL, PART 1 / 20

[kachelofen]

I have finally wrestled this thing to the ground. I think. More or less

SUMMARY: This is an INVERTED AU. Alternating viewpoints. Brian is a little shit and Justin is just trying to be patient while his life is turned upside down.

The story is complete and will be posted on a three day schedule.

AN: I wrote this as a self-indulgence and hence it has all the things that you hate: enough sex for it to be NC-17, but it’s not graphic enough to be porn and it’s sprinkled with quotes from the show, but most of them are completely out of context. Some of the plot is from the show, too, but obviously a little askew - or a lot askew, even.

Having said all that, I decided that I kind of like it despite its flaws. But feel free to disagree.

The title is a line from the song Stuck In The Middle With You by Stealers Wheel. But it probably says more about how I feel about this fic than its contents. And it’s only fair to warn you that the next line in the song goes: But I can see that it makes no sense at all.

I would like to extend a special thank you to the lovely and very talented britinkinlor for spending time and effort to make it possible for me to create an icon that I had in mind. ...which I then decided not to use. Sorry about that, Ali. But thank you so much for being so patient and helpful. ♥
The icon I am using I stole somewhere. If it's yours, let me know and I'll be happy to credit.

As always, comments of any kind are very welcome.


Trying To Make Some Sense Of It All

PART ONE

It's my first time in the backroom of Babylon. I have heard of it, of course, but, having been to the club only twice before, I've never had the opportunity - or the desire - to enter. As I am dressed in my best shirt and pants, I don’t dare lean back against the wall because God only knows what’s stuck to it.

The guy on his knees in front of me has a pleasant smile and his dance moves were good, so I readily agreed when he offered to give me a blowjob. After all, that is what I've come here for, isn’t it? So maybe he expressed it in a way that grated with me, coming from a stranger, but I'm just drunk enough not to care. I try not to pay any attention to the activities and the noises around us, but the smell I cannot escape. It smells of booze and sweat and sex and it’s intoxicating.

It seems incredibly appropriate to come here for the first time today of all days. On the other hand, what good is it going to do now? He will never know. There could be a raid and my face could be plastered on every front page in town tomorrow morning and he would never know. Shame that, because this is exactly how he viewed gay people. I should have done this before and thrown it in his face, but this has never been my scene. Too seedy, too open, too... honest?

The guy has opened my pants and pulled my underwear down and is stroking my cock now. I can’t help but hope that my Armani pants won’t slide all the way down because if I don’t trust the walls, I shudder to think what’s on the floor. He slides one hand under my balls and uses the other one to hold my cock while he licks it up and down.

I'm as hard as a rock and want this for so many reasons, but it's not what I usually do. I’ve had blowjobs before. Of course, I have, I am gay after all and we all love blowjobs. But usually, I know the guy’s name and quite a bit else about him. This isn't really me.

I know why I’m here. It’s psychology 101. I want to prove my dad right in everything he ever said about gays and then I want to tell him that I’m one of them and that I love it, all in the crudest possible terms. But no matter how I phrase it, I will never have the chance to do that because all my life I’ve been too chicken shit to tell him anything. Oh, I’ve had plenty of excuses, most of them somehow supplied to me by my mother. No need to rock the boat. Finish your education first. It won’t accomplish anything. Your father will disown you. But what it comes down to is that I am a coward. I should have told him because now, he will never have known me.

So, here I am, in the backroom of some club that all my friends consider the lowlife of gay Pittsburgh, getting a blowjob from a stranger. It really isn’t me. This is just too sordid.

I put my hands on the guy’s cheeks and tilt his head up, so I can look at him.

“I’m Justin. What’s your name?”

He smiles broadly. “Todd.”

I smile back at him. “Hey, Todd, how’re you doing?”

His smile broadens a little more. “Fine.”

And then he starts on my cock in earnest and while knowing his name may not really make any difference, it makes me feel better. Or maybe it’s the fact that my cock has now disappeared into Todd’s mouth and he is really very good at what he’s doing. I close my eyes and no longer think about it when I lean against the wall.

When I come, sighing and grateful, I'm surprised that he swallows and then licks my cock clean so thoroughly that I can feel it wanting to come back to life. I could never do that to a stranger. Todd seems to be in heaven though, smiling blissfully. I like sucking cock myself, but not like this and not here. God, I hope he doesn’t want me to reciprocate.

I imagine myself kneeling on the come-stained floor, giving a blowjob in front of two dozen people - the same two dozen people who just watched me receive a blowjob. Jeez, I must be really drunk that I managed to get it up in here. And suddenly, I wonder if I will be allowed to leave like this. I have no idea what the etiquette is in this place and, for all I know, all these guys are Todd’s buddies. And even if not, how selfish would it be to just walk out?

Todd is finally finished and tucks me back in neatly before standing up. He's a couple of inches taller than me.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks and seems concerned. “You don’t look so good.”

“I feel sick,” I say and it’s the God’s honest truth.

“You should get some fresh air,” he suggests pleasantly.

I can just nod and stumble out of the room. The noise level shoots up when I get into the main area of the club and it takes me a few moments to remember where the exit is. At the coat check-in, I retrieve my suit jacket and waistcoat. I put both on although my shirt is still unbuttoned. I really should have changed before I came here, but if I'd gone home first, I'd have lost my courage and that would be another thing to regret. No, it had to be today.

Outside, the night air makes me feel less sick but strangely more drunk. I walk for a bit to get away from the people coming in and out of the club until I stop under a streetlight. Leaning against it, I start buttoning up my shirt.

When I look back at the entrance, I watch the people leaving it. There's a group coming out just now and I marvel at how confident they seem. Like they do this every day - which they probably do. They're having a conversation, but apart from the dark-haired guy, who looks about twelve, none of them look too happy. There's a tall guy in - is that tangerine? - leather pants with an orange shirt and a slightly smaller one, who looks strangely non-descript.

And then there is the fourth member of the group, tall, auburn hair, and dressed in black jeans and a plain dark t-shirt. And still, he sticks out more than his colorful friend. He is beautiful, but it’s not just that. There's something about him that draws my eye and I’m not the only one. Almost every guy here is cruising him more or less openly.

I’m not cruising him, just admiring. This guy is way out of my league. What would I want with someone who can have any guy he likes? I have trouble enough keeping the ones who are not even that attractive. He has his arm slung casually over the shoulders of the guy who looks like a kid. God, how does that guy even get into Babylon? Didn’t the bouncers check his ID? They checked mine.

Suddenly, the good looking guy is looking straight at me and his eyes are something else, too. He has been casually checking out everyone around him while talking to his friends. Now it’s my turn, but his eyes don’t glide over me, like they have done with the other guys. He lifts his arm from his friend’s shoulders, still looking over, and then he ignores his calls as he walks straight up to me.

“Hey, how is it going? Had a busy night?”

His voice makes me tingle. He just oozes sex. His eyes sparkle with an amused challenge. They seem dark, but it could just be the light. His lips are full and display a slight smirk. He is even taller than he seemed from the distance and I have to look up at him. He's younger than me, maybe just a couple of years, maybe half a dozen or so, it’s difficult to tell.

I wonder what it must be like to be this beautiful and this confident. Does it make your life much easier? It must do. But I’m not stupid. I can recognize a predator when I see one.

“Does that line really work?” I ask, amused now.

He shrugs. “Nobody cares what I say as long as I speak to them.”

Is he serious? I upgrade my assessment from confident to arrogant. And want to kick myself that I feel flattered by his attention. And, boy, does he do attention well! There is something in the way he looks at me that makes me feel like I’m the center of the universe. I suppose, I am just now, because he wants to get into my pants. But I know the type, I will disappear into a dark hole as soon as he gets his rocks off. On the other hand, isn’t that exactly what I want today? Who cares if he’s using me, as long as it also means that I can get laid by the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on?

“Brian!” His friend has come up to us, gives me a dismissive glance, and then turns back to... Brian.

“We have to go. Mom’s shift finishes in half an hour. I have to get home.”

Brian doesn’t look away from me. “Do you have a place?”

“Yeah,” I hear myself say.

“Then why are we still here?”

“Because your friend says you have to go.” Or maybe he’s his little brother, only, they don’t look alike.

He looks at the guy, who is about my height and doesn’t look any older close up. “Go home, Mikey. I’ll see you later.”

“Brian, don’t be stupid. You know Mom won’t let you in if you don’t come home with me.”

Brian shrugs. “I’ll come through the window. Just leave it open.”

“No. I want you to come with me.”

“Well, you’re shit out of luck then. I’m going with him.” He points to me.

I can’t remember inviting him or even just agreeing to anything but can’t help feeling a little smug when his friend shoots daggers at me. Brian makes an inviting gesture, telling me to lead the way and just out of the corner of my eye, I can see Mikey’s face turn into a mixture of hatred and hurt, as he stares after us silently.

“Shouldn’t you walk him home?” I ask. “A kid that age shouldn’t be walking around alone at this time of night.”

Brian laughs as if I said something really funny, but he doesn’t answer. When I stop by the jeep, he walks around it slowly and I can see that he likes it. I suppose, it's every gay boy’s dream. But again, he doesn’t say anything and just gets in on the passenger side.

“Do you have a license?” I ask.

“Sure.”

“I had too much to drink. Do you wanna do the honors?”

He looks at me in surprise. “For real?”

“It’s either that, or walk. It’s not too far. It’s just on Fuller.”

“Okay,” he says and I get out to walk round the car to get into the passenger seat. His friends are still standing by the streetlight, watching us and talking amongst themselves. Brian just slides over into the driver’s seat, grinning to himself.

He tells me that he doesn’t need any directions and while he's driving us home, I’m wondering if I’ve gone insane. I’m letting a complete stranger drive my car and when he’s done that, I plan on taking this complete stranger up to my loft and having sex with him. Yeah, I must have gone insane, because alcohol alone is not enough to account for this madness.

Normally, I apologize for the rickety elevator to anybody I take home. Most people eye it with suspicion, although it works well and has yet to let me down. Daphne, who is a little claustrophobic, always insists on taking the stairs. But Brian doesn’t seem to have any qualms. He ducks under the wooden gate without hesitation when I hold it up for him.

Then he's leaning against the opposite wall and watches me, undressing me with his eyes, planning, anticipating. I don’t mind. I know most guys find me attractive. I have that boyish look about me still, that forces me to show my ID in more places than I care to admit. As annoying as that can be, it also reconciles me with the fact that I’ll be turning thirty next year. A watershed in every gay man’s life, however pathetic that may be.

“So, what’s with the suit?” he asks, smirking his amusement at my formal attire.

I look down at myself and shrug. “I’ve come straight from my father’s funeral.”

If I was hoping to shock him - which maybe I was a little - I am disappointed. After barely a second’s hesitation, he barks out a laugh. “Best thing you can do. Celebrate.”

I smile ruefully. Over the years, I've come across a lot of people who were rejected by their parents when they came out and it always seems that if any of the parents come round eventually, it’s usually the mother. “You, too, huh?”

His face darkens and he stays silent. It suits me just fine. I don’t really want to talk about it anyway. And I get it, no bonding over asshole fathers. In fact, no bonding at all by the looks of it, because he’s back to picturing me naked and now he’s actually licking his lips. Watching him, I’m starting to imagine what those lips will look like wrapped around my cock. I shiver a little and grow hard. It makes him smile.

On the top floor, he opens the gate to let me pass first and I can feel his eyes on me, as I go ahead and unlock the door. Leaving it open, I do a quick inventory of my loft while he closes it behind me. I didn’t expect anybody to come here today, so my place is the usual mess, but I dare say, he won’t care. And it’s not as if it would be any less messy if I had anticipated visitors.

When I turn to look at him, I just catch an expression of wonderment as he looks around. For those few seconds, he looks very young all of a sudden. It's same expression that he viewed the jeep with.

“Cool place,” he says, taking in the high ceilings, the designer kitchen and the raised platform that forms the bedroom. Then he seems to catch himself and he adds in a lazy voice, “I’m gonna get a place like this, only mine will be on Madison Avenue.”

It is said with such conviction that, even given the property prices in New York and, you know, living in Pittsburgh, of all places, I kind of believe him. He seems to have the necessary confidence to achieve things.

I walk over to the fridge and take out two bottles of water. Better start battling my hangover now because I might not get round to it later. I open one and take a long drink. Then I turn around. “Do you want some wa...” I nearly choke because, while my back was turned, Brian has taken off all of his clothes, barring a thong, which is straining under the bulge of his hard-on.

God, he is beautiful. Long limbs, a swimmer’s body, with narrow hips and somewhat broader shoulders, maybe a little on the skinny side, but just... breathtaking.

He holds out a small plastic package towards me. “Do you want some Special K?”

Huh? He’s offering me cereal? At this time of the night? And shouldn’t that be the other way round, since this is my place? Luckily, my brain kicks in just before I can make a complete fool of myself.

“I’m allergic to a lot of drugs, so I think I’ll pass.”

He nods and throws the bag towards where he discarded his clothes on the couch. Then he pulls down his underwear and takes that off, too, spreading his arms wide as he stands back up. He is clearly not adverse to close inspection and neither does he have any need to be. Really not. His erection is as impressive as the rest of him. And I’m glad he’s not asking me any more questions. I don’t think my brain will save me this time.

“Come here,” he says and it’s husky and, oh, so seductive.

I walk over to him as if in a trance, my eyes travelling up and down his body. I want to touch every inch of that body and I do hope the feeling is mutual. But he surprises me again. When I’m close enough, he takes my arm but not to pull me closer like I was hoping. No, he just takes the bottle of water that is still in my hand. His smirk tells me that my face is giving away my disappointment.

And then I watch him drink. His neck is long and graceful. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down slowly and I know I will paint this as soon as possible. When he’s halfway through the bottle, he stops and pours the rest over his head, shaking his hair to make the water droplets fly. I'm mesmerized by a small rivulet running down his chest, just next to his nipple, which is a lovely dark shade in a sea of bronze.

I don’t really register him letting the empty bottle drop onto the floor, but I do feel his hand cupping my neck, pulling me towards him. And then he’s kissing me. Really kissing me. I’ve had a string of boyfriends over the last ten years and I have always loved kissing, but nobody has ever kissed me like this. His tongue is in my mouth before I can even finish the thought that I want it to be in there. He fucks my mouth with it. There is no other way to describe it. It’s harder and more punishing than the hardest I've ever kissed anybody. Because this is not my boyfriend. This is not about love or even making love. This is pure sex.

I feel an incredible sense of relief and anticipation. This is what I wanted and never dared ask for, or demand, ever since I started having sex. If he keeps this up, then maybe I can finally have the sex I always dreamed of and fantasized about. I'm so engrossed in kissing him back as hard as I can and as hard as he can take it, that I don’t realize that he has opened my pants until I feel his hand wrapping round my naked cock. I grunt, half in surprise and half in pleading for him not to stop.

Then he manhandles me to the bedroom, pushing and shoving me backwards any way he pleases until I find myself on my bed, miraculously naked, barely aware of how he pulled my clothes off on the way here. He doesn’t let up at all, following me with his body immediately, biting, licking, sucking on mine and I want to tell him to show me everything he’s got and maybe I do because he laughs a little.

And then something shifts in me. It could be the fact that he is laughing at me and making me feel pathetic. Or maybe it’s the realization that, for once in my life, I can have the sex I’ve always craved because this guy will not think of me as a slut in the morning or even if he does, why would I care? He hasn’t even asked for my name so far.

That’s when I decide that I will take what I need from tonight, just this once. No embarrassment, no inhibitions and I trust there will be no admonishing ‘slow down’ or ‘what’s gotten into you tonight’ from him either. When I start to use my hands and mouth on him, he laughs a little again and whispers, “That’s better.” And I pray to a God I don’t really believe in, that I will remember every second and every little detail of this night tomorrow morning. And every day that comes after that.

*******

“My, my, what’s a guy like that doing at Babylon, I ask you,” Emmett says in that weird Southern drawl that he has.

“Dancing, drinking,” Ted suggests drily.

“Fucking,” I add, without even looking to see who they're talking about. As far as I'm concerned, ultimately, everybody comes here to fuck. Or at least, wanting to fuck, although some have more success than others.

Predictably, Michael laughs at that and moves a little closer to me. In general, I don’t mind Michael being close. He can drag me onto his bed and I’m happy to squeeze into the small space with him to read comics or he can practically sit in my lap at the diner, and I don’t even notice. But here at Babylon I feel crowded. He’s cramping my style. He doesn’t look a day older than when we met at fourteen, for fuck’s sake! He looks even younger than Emmett, when I know for a fact that Emmett is a year younger than both of us. But of course, Emmett is shacking up with Godiva, who's some sort of revered matriarch around here. She introduces him to all the right people and puts a word in for him. He even gets into Babylon for free. I'm almost envious, but then I sometimes wonder if they are fucking and that really puts it all into perspective for me because I wouldn’t fuck either Godiva or Emmett.

“I reckon he’s a breeder,” Ted says. They're still looking at the guy on the dance floor.

“Yeah, that’s why he’s at a gay night club,” I say sarcastically. “He took the wrong turn on the turnpike.”

“Just saying,” Ted mumbles. “I bet he’s got a wife and kids at home.”

“Who are you talking about?” Mikey finally joins in, craning his neck to see. “Brian can tell you. His gaydar never fails.” He beams up at me.

“The blond beacon in the suit,” Emmett says.

I don’t see anybody in a suit, but there’s a guy dancing up a storm in formal pants and a dress shirt. I watch him for a bit. He moves with total abandon to the music. He’s either very uninhibited or very drunk. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up and it’s unbuttoned, but that’s all the concession he’s making to this hub of scanty clothing.

“He’s gay alright,” I say with confidence. I’m almost sure that I’m right, but even if I’m not that just means that he'll never be seen again after tonight and how is anybody going to prove me wrong then? I know I haven’t seen him here before because I would remember. I’m always attracted to the great dancers. It stands to reason that if they can move on the dance floor, they can move their body in other situations, too. And his blond hair kind of stands out. Come to think of it, he's very attractive, almost beautiful in an otherworldly kind of way, maybe a little short and too young for me.

I like my tricks older and more experienced. One, I might learn something and I’m always up for that and two, it's more of a challenge to make them bottom for me. Twinks are no fun. Although this one is dancing with Todd, so he can’t be a total bottom or, if he is, Todd will be severely disappointed later.

I drain the last of my beer, putting it on the bar and zero in on a guy with tattoos, whom I've been sizing up on and off for a week. I would have fucked him before now, but there have been other, more urgent candidates. I start dancing close to him and within a minute we're practically plastered against each other, cock to cock and we really don’t need any words. I nod towards the backroom and he follows me silently.

After a bit of kissing and groping, we have a short battle of wills and then he’s facing the wall and I’m preparing him. It doesn’t always work out this way, but I’ve been coming here for over four months now and I’d say ninety-five percent of the guys that I drag in here are happy to take it up the ass from me. And the other five percent have been worth it so far, because you can’t be a good top if you don’t know how to bottom. I reckon I’ll top exclusively from now on. I’m hot enough to get away with it, even at my age. Guys have been lining up to suck me off or get fucked by me from day one.

I've just finished preparing tattoo guy, and have my dick at his hole, when I see Todd come in with the blond guy in tow and he parks himself right in my line of vision. Blondie looks uncomfortable, but Todd won’t care and his blowjobs are really something. But then I wonder if Ted was right after all about the wife and kids because Blondie tells Todd his name and asks for his. He really isn't from around here.

I get caught up in what I'm doing, concentrating on the guy in front of me to make sure he has a memorable experience. I’ve got a reputation to build. When I look at Blondie again - Justin, he said his name is Justin - I almost falter because he looks so blissed out and, yes, even from a bit closer he's still beautiful. Then I lose track for while because I’m in the middle of a fuck and when I’m finished, Justin is gone. Shame, maybe he would have been worth checking out after all.

As expected, Mikey is waiting for me outside the backroom, telling me we have to go home. I check the time and, right enough, it’s nearing the end of Debbie’s shift. I don’t know how he expects to get away with sneaking out for much longer when his mother is working at the Liberty Diner. It’s only a matter of time until someone blabs to her that her son is trawling Babylon three times a week. Or until there will be a new bouncer and Vic vouching for him while he was here on a visit will no longer be enough to make them ignore that his ID is a bad fake.

Out of all of us, only Ted is old enough to get in legally and to buy drinks. But like I said, Emmett is Godiva’s protégé and I… well, I have my own ways. And my fake ID is much better quality. You get what you pay for and I just happen to have plenty of the right currency.

Outside, I sling my arm over Mikey’s shoulders because I no longer need to appear available. I’m done for the night. That's not to say that I no longer check out every guy in the vicinity, but that’s just habit. Oh, there's Blondie again, taking a breather and making himself presentable to go home. I remember how he looked when Todd was sucking him off and I think to myself that I really shouldn’t let this opportunity pass, in case he never turns up again.

Five minutes later, I stare enviously at his car. My dream car. I try not to let it show too much, but when he asks me to drive, I can’t believe my luck. Is he for real? He lets some guy he’s just met drive his car? I wasn’t lying to him when I told him that I have a license. He’s not to know how many odd neighborhood jobs it took to pay for it, nor that it's no more than three weeks old. I fully intend to buy myself a car with the money from the summer job I've scored, but this... this is something else.

His place looks like a dump from the outside and the elevator is even worse, but that is all forgotten when I get into the loft. Oh my fucking God, what a place! The kitchen is designer and everything is open plan, with high ceilings and all the original beams. His sleeping area is like an altar, which is exactly as it should be. It’s the coolest place I’ve ever been to, but he has no idea how to decorate. Jeez, how can one person have so much clutter? Has he never heard of travelling light?

In the elevator, he was pretty turned on, despite his feeble attempt at conversation. Yeah, like I’m gonna discuss dear old Jack with him. Or anything at all. That’s not what we’re here for. Time to move this along a bit, before he sees me staring around in envy. But he’s on his way to the kitchen now, so I think I’ll just get started on my own.

When he turns around, he stares at my naked body, as I knew he would. I can’t make him out. He seems like an innocent in some ways, one of those let’s-get-to-know-each-other types, that you have to overwhelm to shut them up. Not my favorite type because I’m not interested in them and I’ll be damned if I share any information about myself. But there's also something a little jaded about him. That’s good, it means more fucking and less talking, only, they're usually a bit passive. Ah well, I don’t mind doing all the work.

From what I could see, he has a great body. Toned just this side of defined muscles, but still soft and pliant. Love the skin tone, all porcelain that never sees any sun. It makes some people look pasty, but not him, on him it looks like a work of art or an empty canvass. I wanna paint on him alright.

He looks kind of angelic, not just that shock of blond hair but his features, all even, with full lips and those incredible blue eyes. I wonder how old he is. I reckon, he’s not that much older than me, a couple of years maybe, early twenties, tops. God, how I want to do things to him that he never dreamed of and see him looking debauched under me.

He’s reluctant at first, all looks and no action, but when I kiss him, something snaps and he’s giving as good as he takes and he can take quite a lot. I revel in the knowledge that he will have some light bruising tomorrow. Try and explain that away.

“Show me everything,” he whispers, barely audible, and I have to laugh because I intend to. Even after a blowjob and a fuck in the backroom, I know that I won't be finished with him until I have tried every position imaginable. I want my cock up his ass and down his throat and his down mine. I want to rim and be rimmed. Suck and fuck. And then do it all over again. I thought I was finished for the night, but this is just the beginning.

At first, he seems a bit hesitant, but that doesn’t stop him from being more responsive than anyone I’ve ever been with. He relishes every touch, however slight. When I rim him, he comes in less than two minutes and he’s not even embarrassed about that. And then he starts reciprocating, wanting to try everything and, fuck, he gives me the best blowjob I’ve had so far.

Time loses all meaning. We seem to be going at it for hours and yet it seems to be over in a flash when we pass out from sheer exhaustion in the early hours of the morning.

I get woken up by the alarm and it takes me a moment to work out where I am. Not at home because there is a naked body in my arms and wouldn’t that go down well with dear old Mom and Pop? Not at Mikey’s either because I never sleep in Mikey’s bed, especially not naked, however much he would like me to. I open my eyes and look into the bluest eyes I have ever seen and with them comes the memory of hours of fucking and even a name, Justin.

He leans over me to hit the alarm and lies back down, looking at me. Fuck, here it comes. This is why I never stay over at a trick’s place because I don’t want to do the morning-after talk. What's the point? Once I walk out that door, I will forget about this before I reach the street. If I want someone to talk to, I go to Mikey.

He gives me a blinding smile and strokes my cheek tenderly, but before I can pull back, he's up and out of the bed. “I’m going to have a shower. If you like, you can have a shower afterwards and I’ll make some breakfast, but I have to be at work in just over an hour.”

I watch him walk naked into the adjacent bathroom and he has definitely the most perfect ass I have ever seen. It's round and smooth and just the right size to fill your hands nicely. Okay, so here's my cue to leave. I hear the shower come on and get up to find my clothes. As I walk towards the main living area, I turn my head and see him in the shower, surrounded by steam, and lathering that beautiful body with a big smile on his face.

And somehow I take a detour and find myself in the shower with him. He's a little startled when I open the shower door, but then his eyes travel over my body and lock onto my morning wood and he licks his lips. Oh yes, I wouldn’t say no to getting another one of those blowjobs.

He kisses me and I let him, but when he pulls back a bit, I push on his shoulders in an obvious gesture and he grins at me, fucking grins. At the beginning of last night he could barely bring himself to touch me and now he can’t get enough? Yeah, Kinney, you’re just that good! Shame I won’t benefit from it after today.

After the blowjob, I fuck him up against the shower wall after he goes out to get a condom and some lube. He should just keep them in the shower - I would. Why are people so impractical? But the small interruption doesn’t stop the fuck from being phenomenal. He is just as responsive as he was last night and even though I’m topping, he pushes back against me with every stroke and groans when he comes.

While he is making some breakfast, I look over his place. There's an easel in the corner and some canvasses stacked against the wall. I think the art is pretty good but painting in your home? No thanks. I suppose with the way his apartment looks, it doesn’t make much difference. The things I could do with this place! Money is really wasted on the rich.

He's dressed in a fine suit, I think it’s Hugo Boss, but I’m not completely sure, something way out of my price range anyway. I go and sit at the breakfast bar and start drinking my coffee. I have forty-five minutes to get to school. Mikey had better not forget my uniform. When he puts some toast in front of me, I wolf it down. It will have to last me until lunchtime in the cafeteria.

“Sorry, I don’t have anything else in the house,” he says apologetically.

I shrug without looking up or stopping from shoveling in the food. Debbie’s house is not far from here. If I hurry, I can catch Michael before school and get changed there. I’m already showered, so that will save time.

“What do you do for a living?” he asks.

Ah, finally, the small talk. Wait a minute! Does he think...? I grin. “I’m in advertising.” Not a complete lie, at least not at the moment. I do have the prospect of a scholarship next year. Okay, it’s more like pretending and dreaming, but still a little true.

“Really? Me too. Where do you work?”

Okay, I didn’t expect that. Fuck! “What is this? Twenty questions?”

He stares at me for a few moments and he looks hurt. What did he expect? That we would swap our life stories and exchange phone numbers? Become friends? Boyfriends even? God, the clingy ones are the worst. I don’t feel the need to say anything else. First of all, I never saw him before last night and chances are that I'll never see him again, because he obviously doesn’t frequent the same places as me. And secondly, I can see his eyes cloud over and he smiles, but not at me, to himself. Yeah, he got the message.

He puts his plate and cup in the sink and walks over to a cluttered desk, where he starts packing a briefcase. “I have to leave in ten minutes. I can give you a ride somewhere if you like.” His voice is a little strained and formal now and he’s not looking at me.

“S’alright. I can walk. It’s not far.”

There's a long pause and then he looks at me again and smiles softly. “I don’t mind doing it. And you still have to get changed.”

How the fuck did he work it out suddenly? What gave me away? I frown and now I’m ready to bolt.

“Or are you not working today?”

Relief floods through me, although I’m not sure why. Ten minutes ago, I assumed that he knows that I'm still in high school. Then I was tickled pink that he thinks I'm working. And now I somehow don’t want him to know. His attitude will change and I hate that. I wonder how old he thinks I am.

“Yeah, I’m working today,” I say cooly and get up to rinse my plate and cup in the sink. I turn to look at him. He still has that soft smile on his face and it creeps me out. Is he playing me? “Ready when you are.”

In the car, he doesn’t say anything or ask any more questions. I ask him to drop me a street away from Michael’s house. When I get out, I turn and say thanks for the ride and he smiles again. A huge fucking bright smile. It should be illegal to be this cheerful in the morning, or to have a smile like that.

“Thank you, Brian,” he says and I have no idea what he’s thanking me for. I’m not particularly surprised that he remembers my name though. He would. But he’s not finished. “My name's Justin, in case you’re interested.”

“I’m not,” I say truthfully and he smiles that fucking smile again. I shut the car door and as soon as he has pulled away and is a little way off, I start running.

PART TWO HERE:  http://kachelofen.livejournal.com/12353.html#cutid1