Queer as Folk - That Ragged Old Flag - Baby Blue
Title: That Ragged Old Flag - Baby Blue
Author: Sway / xheartrockx
Character/Pairing: Brian/Justin
Setting: post-513
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 1,999
Warnings:
Summary:Even after all these years, there's still things Brian can teach Justin... or vice versa.
Author's Note: I was a little pressed for time and this didn't get nearly as elaborate as I wanted to. So this might be the first part of a series. You've been warned.... And many many thanks go out to mander3_swish for the last minute beta'ing.
Author's Note 2: This was written for the first fest at woodys_place which you should all check out right now... or after you read this fic ;)
That Ragged Old Flag - Baby Blue
“What do you think?” Justin is covered in paint from head to toe, standing with his hands on his hips in front of his canvas.
“That the one for the AIDS walk show?” Brian leans against the door frame of the studio.
“Yep.”
“Then I think it's too bad you're donating the money you'd make from this to charity.” He saunters into the room and hands Justin one of the beer bottles he's been carrying.
“I'll ignore your lack of philanthropy and take it as the compliment I'm sure it was meant to be.” Justin pops the cap of the bottle and takes a sip.
Brian raises his beer in a toast. “Of course it was a compliment. It's fucking brilliant.” He wraps his arm around Justin's waist and pulls him close for a kiss but hesitates.
“What?” Justin asks, eyebrow raised in question.
“I do like it dirty, but you're covered in poppy red and I don't want to die of lead poisoning just because you're fucking hot when you're painting.”
Justin flashes him a grin, then reaches into his back pocket to produce an orange rag to wipe the paint off his face. “Better?”
With an irritated frown, Brian snags the rag from his hand. “Where the fuck did you get that?”
Justin shrugs. “Must have bought it at some point. I don't know. I use it to clean my face when I paint. What's the big deal?”
Brian lets him squirm for a second. “You do know what this means, don't you?”
“That I have poor fashion sense when it comes to rags?”
“That you're willing to do anything anywhere and at any time,” Brian explains, his tone and expression halfway between a naughty leer and mock surprise.
“Excuse me?”
“Don't tell me you've never heard of the handkerchief code?”
“The what now?”
“What kind of a fag are you?”
“The kind that likes to be fucked by other men. What the hell are you talking about?”
Brian sighs impatiently, then runs a hand through Justin's hair to smooth it out of his face. “Sunshine, how long have we known each other?”
“Going on eight years.”
“Then I think it's about time I introduced you to the fine art of flagging.”
The next day, Justin finds a copy of The Leatherman's Handbook sitting on the easel in his studio.
#
Babylon is packed. Yet again.
Sometimes it amazes Brian that even after the bombing and its subsequent reconstruction, the crowd would still line up around the block to get into the club. It's probably true what Justin once said: “By all means, keep on dancing.” Of course he's not complaining, especially when he looks at his bank account.
Brian leans on the railing, overlooking the crowd. He takes a sip from his drink and almost chokes on it when his gaze falls on one particular guest.
Amidst the tanned and toned masses, he spots a familiar blond, his shaggy bob too long to be short and too short to be long. His sleeveless shirt is showing off arms that are stronger than they look and his designer jeans are accentuating the most delectable piece of ass Brian has ever had. He can't deny that even after almost eight years, his dick still reacts like it had on the very first night.
Following his body's will, he downs the rest of his drink and makes his way down to the dance floor.
Now that he's getting closer to his target, he spots an additional piece of clothing he hasn't seen before. From the left pocket of said designer jeans sticks a light blue bandana.
So that explains the throng of fags circling around his husband like a shiver of sharks.
“Caught up on some light reading?” Brian has to lean in close for Justin to hear him.
Justin turns to him and give him his best innocent puppy dog look. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”
“I can see that. Shouldn't you be flying your flag from your right pocket?”
The blond seems to consider that for a second, then shakes his head. “No, I think I got it right.”
“Then how come you haven't lined up volunteers yet?”
Justin steps in closer and lets his arm slide around Brian's waist. “Maybe I'm waiting for someone special.”
Brian steps back from him, but is still close enough for him to hear. “Don't let me keep you then.”
Finally, Justin breaks into a grin and pull Brian close again. “Why would I settle for anything less than perfect?”
“Are you sucking up to me?” Brian eyes him curiously.
Justin plucks the bandana from his pocket and sticks it down the front of Brian's pants, his fingers lingering purposefully longer against Brian's growing erection than they actually need to. “No, but if you don't start sucking me off soon, I will find somebody else.”
It takes Brian a second to catch up and to start regretting giving Justin that book. “Here?” he asks then, already knowing the answer.
“In your backroom.”
It's not like Brian doesn't want to. He’s not as opposed to the idea of giving Justin a blowjob as people might think. In fact, for the past... well, let's admit it, eight years, Justin is the only guy he has blown and that's saying something.
And everyone in here and out on Liberty Avenue knows that Brian Kinney and Justin Taylor are a married couple. They are not entirely exclusive, but they are a couple and no one would be so stupid as to weasel their way in between uninvited.
And still, one thing Babylon doesn't see all that often is Justin taking the lead to the backroom with Brian following on his heels, ready to drop to his knees.
As if it does anything to save him from the curious glances and even the occasional amused snicker, Brian decides to put on a bit of a show. He shoves Justin against the back wall where he knows the audience is limited and plants a long, possessive kiss on his mouth.
“You are not changing my mind,” Justin says in reply, with an annoyingly cocky tone. “Get to it.”
Oh, Brian has taught him well. Maybe a little too well. Most of the time, it annoys him (except not really), but sometimes like tonight, it turns him on and his tailor-made slacks become a little tighter than they should be.
So he gives Justin an eye role before he kisses him again, slower this time. His hands slide underneath his husband's shirt, pinching his nipples, making him squirm. Then he lets his kisses travel south, down the side of Justin's neck, while pulling his shirt up to expose his milky white stomach. How his skin doesn't glow in the black light is a mystery to Brian.
He pops the buttons of Justin's jeans, and takes his time before sticking a hand down them. The breath hitches in Justin's throat, but he tries not to let it show.
With a satisfied grin, Brian sinks to his knees, trailing his kisses down Justin's stomach. He tugs at Justin's jeans, freeing his cock and eliciting a low moan.
Brian loves it when Justin lets himself be heard, especially in a public place. The first time they fucked at the baths, the kid had everybody turning their heads. Someone even offered to call the EMTs.
Justin fists Brian's hair, his hips bucking forward as Brian's hand closes around his dick. He strokes him slowly, knowing it's the exact opposite of what Justin wants from him. He wants to get off, and quickly. Sure, Brian can give it to him and he will, but he wouldn't be himself if he wasn't going to make Justin squirm a little.
Slowly, he runs his tongue along the underside of Justin's dick, tracing the pulsing vein up to the tip. With his fingers formed in a circle, he pushes back the foreskin. Another thing he never thought he'd enjoy as much as he does. Especially when Justin is making these little mewling noises just like a cat whose got the cream.
As he predicted, Justin almost comes apart when his dick enters Brian’s mouth. He then pulls back, sucking his cheeks. The fingers on the back of his neck tear at his hair so much it hurts, but Brian can't help the thrill he gets from this. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to get Justin the Leatherman's Handbook after all.
He dives down again, taking Justin's cock in as far as he can, his fingers closed tightly around the base. With his free hand, he tugs the jeans further down. He lets his fingers slip between Justin's legs, cradling his balls in his palm. The tip of his middle finger slides between the cheeks of Justin's ass, pushing for entrance.
Justin slumps further down against the wall, bends slightly at the knees to allow for better access. Yeah, he does like getting his ass teased, especially when Brian does it raw.
Brian can't help the grin spreading on his face. The little sounds Justin makes as he bobs over his dick and the looks of those around them fill him with inane satisfaction. He pushes his finger further, increasing his ministrations. He uses his tongue whenever he pulls back, making sure he lets it run across the tip with each stroke before he sucks Justin’s dick back into his mouth.
Justin's grip on him tightens, an indication that he’s is close.
If Brian was mean, he would leave him like this, on the brink, and get up and walk away; teach him a lesson for reverting back to his cocky and bratty days. But he has other plans. Better plans.
His finger slips past that almost painfully tight ring of muscle and Justin's hips jerk forward, which almost makes Brian choke on his dick.
It only takes Brian a few more sucks and flicks of his tongue to take Justin over the edge. Justin has to bite the back of his hand to stifle what can be best described as a whimpered cry. His back arches off the wall as he spills himself into Brian's mouth.
When Justin is done, Brian rises to his feet and kisses him - hard - on the mouth, letting him taste his own come. He can feel Justin grin, his tongue eagerly pushing past Brian's lips.
Oh Justin can be a little slut if he wants to. Not that Brian minds exactly. He pulls out of the kiss and runs a thumb across Justin's mouth to scoop up a drop of come.
Justin grabs his wrist and sucks Brian's finger into his mouth. That image, let alone the implication, makes Brian's cock twitch.
“So,” Brian leans into him so no one else will hear what he's saying, “was this what you were looking for?”
With a devious grin, Justin cups the front of Brian’s pants and squeezes down not so gently. “Was it what you intended when you gave me the book?”
Brian has to fight the urge to take him right there, right now. “I would have preferred your other pocket but... I'm sure we'll find a way to make due.”
“Like what?”
Now it's Brian's turn to grin. He tucks Justin's dick back in, then gives his husband a peck on the lips. “You'll see, Sunshine. You'll see.”
Author: Sway / xheartrockx
Character/Pairing: Brian/Justin
Setting: post-513
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 1,999
Warnings:
Summary:Even after all these years, there's still things Brian can teach Justin... or vice versa.
Author's Note: I was a little pressed for time and this didn't get nearly as elaborate as I wanted to. So this might be the first part of a series. You've been warned.... And many many thanks go out to mander3_swish for the last minute beta'ing.
Author's Note 2: This was written for the first fest at woodys_place which you should all check out right now... or after you read this fic ;)
That Ragged Old Flag - Baby Blue
“What do you think?” Justin is covered in paint from head to toe, standing with his hands on his hips in front of his canvas.
“That the one for the AIDS walk show?” Brian leans against the door frame of the studio.
“Yep.”
“Then I think it's too bad you're donating the money you'd make from this to charity.” He saunters into the room and hands Justin one of the beer bottles he's been carrying.
“I'll ignore your lack of philanthropy and take it as the compliment I'm sure it was meant to be.” Justin pops the cap of the bottle and takes a sip.
Brian raises his beer in a toast. “Of course it was a compliment. It's fucking brilliant.” He wraps his arm around Justin's waist and pulls him close for a kiss but hesitates.
“What?” Justin asks, eyebrow raised in question.
“I do like it dirty, but you're covered in poppy red and I don't want to die of lead poisoning just because you're fucking hot when you're painting.”
Justin flashes him a grin, then reaches into his back pocket to produce an orange rag to wipe the paint off his face. “Better?”
With an irritated frown, Brian snags the rag from his hand. “Where the fuck did you get that?”
Justin shrugs. “Must have bought it at some point. I don't know. I use it to clean my face when I paint. What's the big deal?”
Brian lets him squirm for a second. “You do know what this means, don't you?”
“That I have poor fashion sense when it comes to rags?”
“That you're willing to do anything anywhere and at any time,” Brian explains, his tone and expression halfway between a naughty leer and mock surprise.
“Excuse me?”
“Don't tell me you've never heard of the handkerchief code?”
“The what now?”
“What kind of a fag are you?”
“The kind that likes to be fucked by other men. What the hell are you talking about?”
Brian sighs impatiently, then runs a hand through Justin's hair to smooth it out of his face. “Sunshine, how long have we known each other?”
“Going on eight years.”
“Then I think it's about time I introduced you to the fine art of flagging.”
The next day, Justin finds a copy of The Leatherman's Handbook sitting on the easel in his studio.
#
Babylon is packed. Yet again.
Sometimes it amazes Brian that even after the bombing and its subsequent reconstruction, the crowd would still line up around the block to get into the club. It's probably true what Justin once said: “By all means, keep on dancing.” Of course he's not complaining, especially when he looks at his bank account.
Brian leans on the railing, overlooking the crowd. He takes a sip from his drink and almost chokes on it when his gaze falls on one particular guest.
Amidst the tanned and toned masses, he spots a familiar blond, his shaggy bob too long to be short and too short to be long. His sleeveless shirt is showing off arms that are stronger than they look and his designer jeans are accentuating the most delectable piece of ass Brian has ever had. He can't deny that even after almost eight years, his dick still reacts like it had on the very first night.
Following his body's will, he downs the rest of his drink and makes his way down to the dance floor.
Now that he's getting closer to his target, he spots an additional piece of clothing he hasn't seen before. From the left pocket of said designer jeans sticks a light blue bandana.
So that explains the throng of fags circling around his husband like a shiver of sharks.
“Caught up on some light reading?” Brian has to lean in close for Justin to hear him.
Justin turns to him and give him his best innocent puppy dog look. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”
“I can see that. Shouldn't you be flying your flag from your right pocket?”
The blond seems to consider that for a second, then shakes his head. “No, I think I got it right.”
“Then how come you haven't lined up volunteers yet?”
Justin steps in closer and lets his arm slide around Brian's waist. “Maybe I'm waiting for someone special.”
Brian steps back from him, but is still close enough for him to hear. “Don't let me keep you then.”
Finally, Justin breaks into a grin and pull Brian close again. “Why would I settle for anything less than perfect?”
“Are you sucking up to me?” Brian eyes him curiously.
Justin plucks the bandana from his pocket and sticks it down the front of Brian's pants, his fingers lingering purposefully longer against Brian's growing erection than they actually need to. “No, but if you don't start sucking me off soon, I will find somebody else.”
It takes Brian a second to catch up and to start regretting giving Justin that book. “Here?” he asks then, already knowing the answer.
“In your backroom.”
It's not like Brian doesn't want to. He’s not as opposed to the idea of giving Justin a blowjob as people might think. In fact, for the past... well, let's admit it, eight years, Justin is the only guy he has blown and that's saying something.
And everyone in here and out on Liberty Avenue knows that Brian Kinney and Justin Taylor are a married couple. They are not entirely exclusive, but they are a couple and no one would be so stupid as to weasel their way in between uninvited.
And still, one thing Babylon doesn't see all that often is Justin taking the lead to the backroom with Brian following on his heels, ready to drop to his knees.
As if it does anything to save him from the curious glances and even the occasional amused snicker, Brian decides to put on a bit of a show. He shoves Justin against the back wall where he knows the audience is limited and plants a long, possessive kiss on his mouth.
“You are not changing my mind,” Justin says in reply, with an annoyingly cocky tone. “Get to it.”
Oh, Brian has taught him well. Maybe a little too well. Most of the time, it annoys him (except not really), but sometimes like tonight, it turns him on and his tailor-made slacks become a little tighter than they should be.
So he gives Justin an eye role before he kisses him again, slower this time. His hands slide underneath his husband's shirt, pinching his nipples, making him squirm. Then he lets his kisses travel south, down the side of Justin's neck, while pulling his shirt up to expose his milky white stomach. How his skin doesn't glow in the black light is a mystery to Brian.
He pops the buttons of Justin's jeans, and takes his time before sticking a hand down them. The breath hitches in Justin's throat, but he tries not to let it show.
With a satisfied grin, Brian sinks to his knees, trailing his kisses down Justin's stomach. He tugs at Justin's jeans, freeing his cock and eliciting a low moan.
Brian loves it when Justin lets himself be heard, especially in a public place. The first time they fucked at the baths, the kid had everybody turning their heads. Someone even offered to call the EMTs.
Justin fists Brian's hair, his hips bucking forward as Brian's hand closes around his dick. He strokes him slowly, knowing it's the exact opposite of what Justin wants from him. He wants to get off, and quickly. Sure, Brian can give it to him and he will, but he wouldn't be himself if he wasn't going to make Justin squirm a little.
Slowly, he runs his tongue along the underside of Justin's dick, tracing the pulsing vein up to the tip. With his fingers formed in a circle, he pushes back the foreskin. Another thing he never thought he'd enjoy as much as he does. Especially when Justin is making these little mewling noises just like a cat whose got the cream.
As he predicted, Justin almost comes apart when his dick enters Brian’s mouth. He then pulls back, sucking his cheeks. The fingers on the back of his neck tear at his hair so much it hurts, but Brian can't help the thrill he gets from this. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to get Justin the Leatherman's Handbook after all.
He dives down again, taking Justin's cock in as far as he can, his fingers closed tightly around the base. With his free hand, he tugs the jeans further down. He lets his fingers slip between Justin's legs, cradling his balls in his palm. The tip of his middle finger slides between the cheeks of Justin's ass, pushing for entrance.
Justin slumps further down against the wall, bends slightly at the knees to allow for better access. Yeah, he does like getting his ass teased, especially when Brian does it raw.
Brian can't help the grin spreading on his face. The little sounds Justin makes as he bobs over his dick and the looks of those around them fill him with inane satisfaction. He pushes his finger further, increasing his ministrations. He uses his tongue whenever he pulls back, making sure he lets it run across the tip with each stroke before he sucks Justin’s dick back into his mouth.
Justin's grip on him tightens, an indication that he’s is close.
If Brian was mean, he would leave him like this, on the brink, and get up and walk away; teach him a lesson for reverting back to his cocky and bratty days. But he has other plans. Better plans.
His finger slips past that almost painfully tight ring of muscle and Justin's hips jerk forward, which almost makes Brian choke on his dick.
It only takes Brian a few more sucks and flicks of his tongue to take Justin over the edge. Justin has to bite the back of his hand to stifle what can be best described as a whimpered cry. His back arches off the wall as he spills himself into Brian's mouth.
When Justin is done, Brian rises to his feet and kisses him - hard - on the mouth, letting him taste his own come. He can feel Justin grin, his tongue eagerly pushing past Brian's lips.
Oh Justin can be a little slut if he wants to. Not that Brian minds exactly. He pulls out of the kiss and runs a thumb across Justin's mouth to scoop up a drop of come.
Justin grabs his wrist and sucks Brian's finger into his mouth. That image, let alone the implication, makes Brian's cock twitch.
“So,” Brian leans into him so no one else will hear what he's saying, “was this what you were looking for?”
With a devious grin, Justin cups the front of Brian’s pants and squeezes down not so gently. “Was it what you intended when you gave me the book?”
Brian has to fight the urge to take him right there, right now. “I would have preferred your other pocket but... I'm sure we'll find a way to make due.”
“Like what?”
Now it's Brian's turn to grin. He tucks Justin's dick back in, then gives his husband a peck on the lips. “You'll see, Sunshine. You'll see.”