CLANDESTINE
Title: Clandestine
Written By: falconhawkowl
Timeline: approx. 2 years after 513
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: unprotected sex (within a monogamous relationship)
Summary: Complete schmoop! Brian and Justin have a New Year’s surprise.
Author's Notes: Love and gratitude to my wonderful beta!
Clandestine
December 31, 2007
10:09 pm
Brian’s POV
“SUNSHINE!” Debbie’s voice somehow manages to resound over the dance music we have pumping from the six-foot-high speakers placed in each corner of the ballroom. I glance over at Justin, who is grinning and preparing to be crushed by Deb’s hug. “I cannot believe that you’ve been back here for six fuckin’ months and I’ve seen you what, twice?”
“It’s the house.” Carl offers. “He probably can’t find his way out of it.” Justin laughs with Carl, but Debbie is still fixing him with her patented Debbie glare.
Justin sobers up. “I’m sorry Debbie. Brian and I had a lot of catching up to do.” Thanks a fucking lot, I say to Justin with my eyes. He just grins innocently at me as Deb turns her wrath in my direction.
“I should’ve known you’d be behind it. Why don’t you ever bring Sunshine into town with you when you come to work?”
“What the fuck would he want to go to work with me for?”
“To stop by the diner and see me!!” Her voice squeaks on the last word, and she’s looking back and forth between Justin and me now, expecting some sort of resolution to what she sees as a major problem.
I excuse myself, mumbling something about getting a drink, even though I’m already holding one. I’m antsy as hell, and I don’t think I can deal with Debbie right now. Justin, on the other hand, seems completely unflustered, so I’ll leave it to him.
“Brian!” And suddenly I’m engulfed by the flowery softness that is Lindsay. She’s draping herself around me, and it’s a nice feeling. I hug her back, tightly. It still surprises me, how much I miss both her and Gus. Their move to Canada has actually inspired me to like holidays, since that’s the only time they come to Pittsburgh.
Mel and I exchange civil smiles. She’s been significantly more agreeable since they moved, most likely because we so rarely have to encounter each other. She regularly emails with Justin, though. She’s loved him since he crashed into our lives seven years ago. Apparently his uncanny ability to see straight through me was alluring to her.
I keep my arm around Lindsay’s shoulders as my eyes scan the room, mentally ticking off the guest list. Ted and Blake are at the buffet table, laughing about something while they stock their plates. Emmett is there too, but he’s busy moving a vase of white roses six inches to the left, stepping back to examine it, then moving it six inches back to the right. He’s our party planner, and I must admit, he did a fucking lovely job. Apparently his work is never done, though, because now he’s scooting the vase a little to the left again.
Mikey and Ben are shaking it up on the dance floor. Hunter’s out there too, with his purple-haired girlfriend, as well as Jennifer and Tucker. I stick my tongue in my cheek as I watch Jennifer swirling around, laughing as Tucker pulls her close. I hope she doesn’t get pissed. Molly’s twirling JR around in circles. She loves kids. Daphne’s at the bar with her boyfriend, who appears to be on the verge of shooting in his pants as he attempts to makes casual conversation with Drew.
I look over at Justin. Debbie has left him, Carl in tow, to bombard Cynthia with her presence, but that’s all right…Cynthia can take care of herself. I see that at some point a dark-haired boy has managed to find his way onto Justin’s shoulders, giggling madly and holding on for dear life as Justin dances wildly around. I know I’m gazing at them in an uncharacteristically adoring way, but I don’t give a shit. Seeing Justin goofing around with Gus is one of my life’s greatest pleasures, and I’ve been over trying to pretend I’m not fucking crazy about both of them for some time.
“Gus asked me today if Justin was his other daddy.” Lindsay says suddenly, and I know she’s been watching them too. I don’t respond right away, because I’m a little thrown; the cosmic irony that Gus would ask that question today, of all days, is astounding. When it comes to moments of eternal significance, Justin and Gus seem to have the same schedule.
I affect indifference as I ask her how she responded. She steps away from me slightly, out from under my arm, and looks up into my face. “I told him yes.” She’s watching my expression carefully, waiting for me to validate this claim, or shoot it down. I love her so fucking much right now, and I let her see it.
“Good.” Is all I say. She’s smiling too. Leaning down, I kiss her temple before walking away. It’s almost 10:30, and Justin and I need to reconnect.
He’s holding Gus upside down by the ankles now, swinging him back and forth like a pendulum. Gus is screaming “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” and of course I assume he’s yelling to get my attention, until I realize he’s got his eyes squeezed shut. He must have taken this “other daddy” thing to heart.
Justin sees me approach and carefully lowers Gus to the ground, where he assists him into a somersault that leaves Gus swaying on his feet.
“Daddy, huh?” I greet Justin, and he actually seems a bit sheepish.
“It came out of nowhere. He just ran up to me and said it.”
I put my arm around his shoulders. “Hmm. Seems appropriate.” His arm snakes around my waist. “Did you give them to him?”
He simply nods.
We stand together for several moments, looking at our friends and family. Eventually he leans up and kisses the corner of my mouth, then looks at his watch. “You ready?”
I feel myself grinning at the enormity and simplicity of the question. “I’ve been ready for two years.”
His grin lights up at that.
It still amazes me when I think back to his leaving for New York. Everyone thought we were through, that we had broken up. Not a single soul realized that not only were we still together, we were still engaged. Of course, we didn’t bother to tell anyone, because it was none of anyone’s fucking business. But still…I would have expected SOMEONE to realize that we wouldn’t just walk away from each other, especially since we’d finally started to effectively communicate.
We had established it in bed, after the last time we’d made love in the loft. I’d lain on top of him, my face buried in his neck, his tears wet on my cheek, neither of us willing to initiate the separation. Finally I lifted my head and said “Don’t you know why I didn’t return them?” He shook his head the tiniest bit, his tears making tracks down his face. “I’m rather hoping we’ll make use of them. Someday.”
That started a whole new flood of tears for him, but he was smiling too. God, we were both such a wreck that day. “I’ll keep them safe. Polished.” He giggled and interrupted me with a kiss. “You just tell me when it’s time.” He nodded then, and kissed me again, and wiggled out from under me with renewed vibrancy.
And left.
It took me several encounters with several different friends to realize that everyone thought I’d been abandoned. No one seemed angry with Justin, though, so I just let them think that. There was something thrilling about having such a joyful secret that only he and I shared.
So he had made his hero’s journey, and discovered a few important things about himself and the world; one, that a lot of people in New York really are as full of shit as people in Hollywood. Two, that once he had sold a handful of paintings to some of the wealthiest modern-art collectors in Manhattan, commissions started rolling in. Not only from the New York scene, but from connoisseurs all over the world, and there was really no reason New York was any better than Pittsburgh for painting.
And third, he and I learned together that we’re almost as good at phone sex as we are at the real thing. Which is saying something.
Eventually people figured out we were still as wrapped up in one another as we’d been before he left…if anything, more so. But still no one asked about a wedding. Apparently they all thought the engagement had been the result of a momentary lapse of sanity on my part, and that assumption was seemingly comforting for them. Everyone had been thrilled for us while we were engaged, and yet I never shook the feeling that they were waiting for me to suddenly wake up to what I’d been saying and doing, and come to my senses.
Six months ago, Justin moved back to Pittsburgh and into Britin with me. Since then, I’ve managed to do a good bit of my job at home, thanks to the brilliant Theodore and the take-charge Cynthia, who keep everyone in order when I’m not at the office. Britin has become our own personal hermitage, in a way, and Debbie’s right…we’ve rarely bothered to venture forth to socialize with the crowd. The companionship of one another seems to be enough for us both.
There is a room down the corridor that Justin and I call the “Yes room.” Like many of the rooms in Britin, it has vaulted ceilings, rows of high windows, and an enormous fireplace. It is the room where he first said that yes, he would marry me. It is the room where, nine months ago, he asked me, with a touch of charming apprehension, if I still had the rings, and I responded that yes, they-and I-were ready and waiting. It’s the room we have closed off tonight, so that no one will enter until we’re ready for them to. Even Emmett, who has been here for two days leading his crew in the set-up for what everyone thinks is simply a New Year’s bash, has not gone in there. When he arrived Justin simply asked him not to, and while he raised his eyebrows in mild confusion, he said “Ok, sweetie. Whatever you say.” Emmett’s great like that.
I take Justin’s hand and we slip out the door and down the corridor, into the Yes room. The minister is curled up in front of the fire, reading a novel. We snuck her in earlier, while Emmett was in the bathroom adorning himself with eyeliner and body glitter. She looks up with a smile, and raises her eyebrows in question. Justin and I look at each other and then back at her, grinning like maniacs. We tell her to prepare, because everything is on schedule, and leave her arranging herself at the front of the room.
Justin’s heading back to the ballroom, but I have other plans. I grab his hand and pull him with me up the stairs.
“Brian, I don’t think we have time…”
“It won’t take long. Come on.”
When we get to our bedroom, I push him onto the bed, and on hands and knees, hold myself above him. I just look at him for several moments, using one finger to trace the curve of his jaw, his chin, his lips. I can tell he is rapidly becoming overwhelmed with emotion, so I lean down and replace my finger with my lips. He returns my kiss with interest, slipping his tongue into my mouth, running it over my teeth. It’s a strange kiss, because neither of us can stop smiling.
When I feel him toeing off his shoes beneath me, I pull away, kissing down his neck as I unbutton his shirt and slip my hand inside. His stomach quivers a tiny bit beneath my touch. My lips trace down his chest. I dip my tongue into his navel, causing him to gasp as I unbutton his pants and pull them and his underwear off in one motion. I’m grinning at him as I pull off his socks, never breaking the eye contact. He pushes himself up a little and pulls off his shirt, and I just look at him for several moments in appreciation. His body really is unbelievably beautiful.
“I love you, Justin.”
That seems to ignite something in him, and he throws his arms around me, trying to kiss me and pull my shirt over my head at the same time. I chuckle and pull back a little, to give him the leverage he needs. While he’s at it, he unbuttons my fly, then pulls me down on top of him. His skin feels so good against mine…I can feel the surprisingly firm muscles of his stomach and the smooth lines of his chest beneath me. He kisses me with his mouth open wide, holding my head down with one hand so I couldn’t pull away even if I wanted to.
One of my arms supports my weight so I don’t completely crush him; the other is trying to get my pants down. When he releases me and takes a deep breath I seize the opportunity to whisper, “Slow down. I’m not going anywhere, you know.”
He laughs a little as I finish removing my pants and toss them to the side. He sits up under me, one shoulder and then the other pressing against mine as he reaches down my legs and pulls off my socks.
“Now relax.” I say to him, as he places his hands delicately on my hips, as if experimenting with a totally new sensation.
“We’re on a schedule,” he whispers.
“Doesn’t matter. It’s only time,” I murmur, and he looks at me with the most tender, awestruck expression before pulling my head back down to resume the kiss.
We move together with a kind of reverence, slowly now, touching gently. His hands slide from my hips to my chest and begin to tease my nipples. I reach between his legs and trace his hardening cock with gentle fingers before taking it firmly in my hand.
He moves a little under me…he’s reaching towards the nightstand, so I raise myself up a bit to give him room. A moment later he starts writhing around in this lovely way, working his own hand down between his legs-he’s lubing his own ass. This is one of my all-time favorite things to see, so I sit back to enjoy the view. He grins up at me radiantly when he wraps both arms around me and pulls me down onto him again. I rest my head against his temple…his hot breath is on my cheek as I enter him. As always, I want to plunge in, but I keep it gradual, reveling in the feeling of his warmth, pulling back a bit to watch his face, his open mouth, his dilated pupils.
What starts out as a slow, gentle fuck rapidly ignites into something much more fierce and possessive. I feel the shift when it happens, because once I’m lost inside Justin, I feel like every nerve ending in my body is on fire. If anyone could see us from the outside, I’m sure it would look like I’m owning his body, like I’m the one in complete control of the fuck. Nothing could be further from the truth. Yes, I’m the one thrusting so deeply inside him that he’s whimpering, but it is he who is setting the rhythm with the pumping of his hips, his fingers digging into the backs of my thighs. We are working in total harmony, as we have always done, instinctively knowing what the other needs and wants. If I own him, it is only because he so completely and utterly owns me.
He sucks mercilessly on the spot where my neck meets my shoulder, and I know I’m going to have one hell of a mark, but it feels too fucking good to stop him. I change the angle and depth of my thrusts slightly, so that I am steadily stroking his prostate. His whimpers change to moans as I feel his body tense beneath me. When he comes, shooting onto our bellies and chests, his ass tightens around my cock and pulls my own blinding orgasm from me.
We lay together for several minutes, breathing, dazed. I can feel his heart beating beneath my chest, and my neck is stinging where he bit down when he came. “Brian?” he asks after a while. I am pulled from a near-doze.
“Mmm?”
“I think we’re not on schedule anymore.” With that, everything comes flooding back to me, and the music throbbing below us re-registers in my brain.
“Shit, the minister probably thinks we changed our minds.”
He laughs. We clean up and dress quickly, stealing quick glances at one another. It’s ridiculous…it’s like we’ve just met, like we’re teenagers who just fucked for the first time.
Back in the ballroom, I wait for the song to finish before turning the volume down and pulling Justin with me to the front of the room. He’s biting his lower lip and looks cute as fucking hell. I climb onto a chair and stand there looking out over my audience; this clearly amuses Justin, but I pull him up onto the chair beside me. Twenty pairs of eyes are on us, each one filled with questions and excitement. It’s only 11:30, and they don’t know why we’re interrupting the party now, when there’s half an hour left until the countdown.
“Justin and I are thrilled that you have chosen to bring in the New Year with us.” I’m so fucking giddy, I think I might fall off the chair. “Every New Year’s Eve is a chance to reflect on our pasts, and look toward our futures.” I look over at him, because it’s his turn to speak. We planned this announcement, of course, and as corny as it feels, we agreed that it was important that we make it together.
“However, this New Year’s Eve is more significant than others, at least for Brian and I,” He picks up where I left off, his voice wavering the tiniest bit, “and this is more than just a New Year’s party. We have a surprise for you, and we hope no one gets upset, but we didn’t want to tell anyone ahead of time. We didn’t want to jinx it.” He laughs at the silliness of these words, even though it’s pretty much the truth.
The smiles on the faces before us begin to fade, giving way to either confusion or curiosity; most of them don’t know what the fuck we’re up here talking about. I am laughing, because how can they not know? I see Jennifer off to one side, her hand clapped over her mouth and her eyes as big as saucers. Okay, so she may have figured it out.
Justin looks over at me, wearing his full-wattage smile. For a moment we’re just in our own world, sharing the energy of anticipation that is so strong it is almost tangible.
Finally the tension in the room reaches my consciousness, and I grasp his hand. “Welcome to our wedding!”
All of the women present, including Emmett, are immediately in tears. I look down at Justin, who is looking up at me, and I press my forehead against his, momentarily overwhelmed. This has got to be the single most bizarre experience of my life.
Then the moment passes, and Justin hops off the chair, pulling me along behind him and gesturing to everyone to follow as we run down the corridor. It reminds me of running through the hospital the night Gus was born, and I swear I am over the fucking moon. When we charge into the Yes room, followed by our noisy and eclectic extended family, the minister’s face breaks into a wide smile. Justin and I half-run, half-tumble to the front of the room, never letting go of one another’s hand. Everyone’s clambering into the chairs we’ve set up. I realize I’m still laughing but I don’t care…I’ve never felt so much fucking joy and love and ecstasy, not just between myself and Justin, but radiating from every person in the room. For the briefest moment I wish that Jack and Joan were here now to see how wrong they were, how wonderful my life is, and how fucking loved I am, by Justin, by my friends, my child and my surrogate mothers.
Our friends won’t shut the fuck up. They’re chattering, crying, shrieking. It’s utter pandemonium, but it’s perfect. Much better than the somber black-tie-only event I had always pictured weddings to be. The Yes room right now is a microcosm of our lives together: Justin and I, surrounded by people who love us dearly and whom we never cease to shock.
Finally the crowd starts to quiet. The words we say are simple; we’ve never had a penchant for verbal communication, so we decided our wedding shouldn’t contain a whole lot of it. He tells me that he loves me more than anything in his life, and will always love me; that he will stand by me and stay with me no matter what the future holds; that he will be faithful to me in whatever ways we deem important. This elicits a laugh from the crowd.
There is a sort of haze around us; our eyes are locked, and I feel that if I look away I’ll dissolve into nothing, or at the very least collapse onto the ground. From the way he’s holding my hands in a death-grip, I’m pretty sure he feels similarly.
I speak my vows to him. We each wrote our own, so mine are a bit different. I don’t speak of love, not in front of all these people. That is something for he and I alone. Instead, I promise to protect him, to support him in all of his endeavors, to always honor what is important to him. I promise him honesty, and I tell him that he will be my first priority for the rest of my life.
Then the minister speaks. I’d forgotten she was there. She asks about the rings, and right on cue Gus runs forward, shouting “Daddy! Daddy!” and waving the little box in the air above him. I can hear some of our friends squealing in surprise at Gus’ role in this grand secret. When I put the ring on Justin’s finger, the minister asks if I commit to the vows I spoke moments ago. I feel the entire room holding their breath but I don’t even hesitate.
“I do.”
When Justin slips the other ring, which is unbelievably warm, onto my finger and murmurs his own “I do”, I feel tears in my eyes, so I shut them tight and press my forehead to his again. That always grounds me. I can tell by the hitch in Justin’s breath that he’s on the verge of tears as well.
Our brief ceremony is complete and the minister tells us we may kiss, which seems hilarious to me, considering the history of our relationship.
Our audience erupts into hoots and catcalls as our mouths come together. We’re still kissing, sloppily, passionately, when we hear Michael yell, “It’s midnight!” The room is immediately filled with shouts of “Happy New Year!” and I pull my husband close to me, hugging him tight.
Written By: falconhawkowl
Timeline: approx. 2 years after 513
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: unprotected sex (within a monogamous relationship)
Summary: Complete schmoop! Brian and Justin have a New Year’s surprise.
Author's Notes: Love and gratitude to my wonderful beta!
Clandestine
December 31, 2007
10:09 pm
Brian’s POV
“SUNSHINE!” Debbie’s voice somehow manages to resound over the dance music we have pumping from the six-foot-high speakers placed in each corner of the ballroom. I glance over at Justin, who is grinning and preparing to be crushed by Deb’s hug. “I cannot believe that you’ve been back here for six fuckin’ months and I’ve seen you what, twice?”
“It’s the house.” Carl offers. “He probably can’t find his way out of it.” Justin laughs with Carl, but Debbie is still fixing him with her patented Debbie glare.
Justin sobers up. “I’m sorry Debbie. Brian and I had a lot of catching up to do.” Thanks a fucking lot, I say to Justin with my eyes. He just grins innocently at me as Deb turns her wrath in my direction.
“I should’ve known you’d be behind it. Why don’t you ever bring Sunshine into town with you when you come to work?”
“What the fuck would he want to go to work with me for?”
“To stop by the diner and see me!!” Her voice squeaks on the last word, and she’s looking back and forth between Justin and me now, expecting some sort of resolution to what she sees as a major problem.
I excuse myself, mumbling something about getting a drink, even though I’m already holding one. I’m antsy as hell, and I don’t think I can deal with Debbie right now. Justin, on the other hand, seems completely unflustered, so I’ll leave it to him.
“Brian!” And suddenly I’m engulfed by the flowery softness that is Lindsay. She’s draping herself around me, and it’s a nice feeling. I hug her back, tightly. It still surprises me, how much I miss both her and Gus. Their move to Canada has actually inspired me to like holidays, since that’s the only time they come to Pittsburgh.
Mel and I exchange civil smiles. She’s been significantly more agreeable since they moved, most likely because we so rarely have to encounter each other. She regularly emails with Justin, though. She’s loved him since he crashed into our lives seven years ago. Apparently his uncanny ability to see straight through me was alluring to her.
I keep my arm around Lindsay’s shoulders as my eyes scan the room, mentally ticking off the guest list. Ted and Blake are at the buffet table, laughing about something while they stock their plates. Emmett is there too, but he’s busy moving a vase of white roses six inches to the left, stepping back to examine it, then moving it six inches back to the right. He’s our party planner, and I must admit, he did a fucking lovely job. Apparently his work is never done, though, because now he’s scooting the vase a little to the left again.
Mikey and Ben are shaking it up on the dance floor. Hunter’s out there too, with his purple-haired girlfriend, as well as Jennifer and Tucker. I stick my tongue in my cheek as I watch Jennifer swirling around, laughing as Tucker pulls her close. I hope she doesn’t get pissed. Molly’s twirling JR around in circles. She loves kids. Daphne’s at the bar with her boyfriend, who appears to be on the verge of shooting in his pants as he attempts to makes casual conversation with Drew.
I look over at Justin. Debbie has left him, Carl in tow, to bombard Cynthia with her presence, but that’s all right…Cynthia can take care of herself. I see that at some point a dark-haired boy has managed to find his way onto Justin’s shoulders, giggling madly and holding on for dear life as Justin dances wildly around. I know I’m gazing at them in an uncharacteristically adoring way, but I don’t give a shit. Seeing Justin goofing around with Gus is one of my life’s greatest pleasures, and I’ve been over trying to pretend I’m not fucking crazy about both of them for some time.
“Gus asked me today if Justin was his other daddy.” Lindsay says suddenly, and I know she’s been watching them too. I don’t respond right away, because I’m a little thrown; the cosmic irony that Gus would ask that question today, of all days, is astounding. When it comes to moments of eternal significance, Justin and Gus seem to have the same schedule.
I affect indifference as I ask her how she responded. She steps away from me slightly, out from under my arm, and looks up into my face. “I told him yes.” She’s watching my expression carefully, waiting for me to validate this claim, or shoot it down. I love her so fucking much right now, and I let her see it.
“Good.” Is all I say. She’s smiling too. Leaning down, I kiss her temple before walking away. It’s almost 10:30, and Justin and I need to reconnect.
He’s holding Gus upside down by the ankles now, swinging him back and forth like a pendulum. Gus is screaming “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” and of course I assume he’s yelling to get my attention, until I realize he’s got his eyes squeezed shut. He must have taken this “other daddy” thing to heart.
Justin sees me approach and carefully lowers Gus to the ground, where he assists him into a somersault that leaves Gus swaying on his feet.
“Daddy, huh?” I greet Justin, and he actually seems a bit sheepish.
“It came out of nowhere. He just ran up to me and said it.”
I put my arm around his shoulders. “Hmm. Seems appropriate.” His arm snakes around my waist. “Did you give them to him?”
He simply nods.
We stand together for several moments, looking at our friends and family. Eventually he leans up and kisses the corner of my mouth, then looks at his watch. “You ready?”
I feel myself grinning at the enormity and simplicity of the question. “I’ve been ready for two years.”
His grin lights up at that.
It still amazes me when I think back to his leaving for New York. Everyone thought we were through, that we had broken up. Not a single soul realized that not only were we still together, we were still engaged. Of course, we didn’t bother to tell anyone, because it was none of anyone’s fucking business. But still…I would have expected SOMEONE to realize that we wouldn’t just walk away from each other, especially since we’d finally started to effectively communicate.
We had established it in bed, after the last time we’d made love in the loft. I’d lain on top of him, my face buried in his neck, his tears wet on my cheek, neither of us willing to initiate the separation. Finally I lifted my head and said “Don’t you know why I didn’t return them?” He shook his head the tiniest bit, his tears making tracks down his face. “I’m rather hoping we’ll make use of them. Someday.”
That started a whole new flood of tears for him, but he was smiling too. God, we were both such a wreck that day. “I’ll keep them safe. Polished.” He giggled and interrupted me with a kiss. “You just tell me when it’s time.” He nodded then, and kissed me again, and wiggled out from under me with renewed vibrancy.
And left.
It took me several encounters with several different friends to realize that everyone thought I’d been abandoned. No one seemed angry with Justin, though, so I just let them think that. There was something thrilling about having such a joyful secret that only he and I shared.
So he had made his hero’s journey, and discovered a few important things about himself and the world; one, that a lot of people in New York really are as full of shit as people in Hollywood. Two, that once he had sold a handful of paintings to some of the wealthiest modern-art collectors in Manhattan, commissions started rolling in. Not only from the New York scene, but from connoisseurs all over the world, and there was really no reason New York was any better than Pittsburgh for painting.
And third, he and I learned together that we’re almost as good at phone sex as we are at the real thing. Which is saying something.
Eventually people figured out we were still as wrapped up in one another as we’d been before he left…if anything, more so. But still no one asked about a wedding. Apparently they all thought the engagement had been the result of a momentary lapse of sanity on my part, and that assumption was seemingly comforting for them. Everyone had been thrilled for us while we were engaged, and yet I never shook the feeling that they were waiting for me to suddenly wake up to what I’d been saying and doing, and come to my senses.
Six months ago, Justin moved back to Pittsburgh and into Britin with me. Since then, I’ve managed to do a good bit of my job at home, thanks to the brilliant Theodore and the take-charge Cynthia, who keep everyone in order when I’m not at the office. Britin has become our own personal hermitage, in a way, and Debbie’s right…we’ve rarely bothered to venture forth to socialize with the crowd. The companionship of one another seems to be enough for us both.
There is a room down the corridor that Justin and I call the “Yes room.” Like many of the rooms in Britin, it has vaulted ceilings, rows of high windows, and an enormous fireplace. It is the room where he first said that yes, he would marry me. It is the room where, nine months ago, he asked me, with a touch of charming apprehension, if I still had the rings, and I responded that yes, they-and I-were ready and waiting. It’s the room we have closed off tonight, so that no one will enter until we’re ready for them to. Even Emmett, who has been here for two days leading his crew in the set-up for what everyone thinks is simply a New Year’s bash, has not gone in there. When he arrived Justin simply asked him not to, and while he raised his eyebrows in mild confusion, he said “Ok, sweetie. Whatever you say.” Emmett’s great like that.
I take Justin’s hand and we slip out the door and down the corridor, into the Yes room. The minister is curled up in front of the fire, reading a novel. We snuck her in earlier, while Emmett was in the bathroom adorning himself with eyeliner and body glitter. She looks up with a smile, and raises her eyebrows in question. Justin and I look at each other and then back at her, grinning like maniacs. We tell her to prepare, because everything is on schedule, and leave her arranging herself at the front of the room.
Justin’s heading back to the ballroom, but I have other plans. I grab his hand and pull him with me up the stairs.
“Brian, I don’t think we have time…”
“It won’t take long. Come on.”
When we get to our bedroom, I push him onto the bed, and on hands and knees, hold myself above him. I just look at him for several moments, using one finger to trace the curve of his jaw, his chin, his lips. I can tell he is rapidly becoming overwhelmed with emotion, so I lean down and replace my finger with my lips. He returns my kiss with interest, slipping his tongue into my mouth, running it over my teeth. It’s a strange kiss, because neither of us can stop smiling.
When I feel him toeing off his shoes beneath me, I pull away, kissing down his neck as I unbutton his shirt and slip my hand inside. His stomach quivers a tiny bit beneath my touch. My lips trace down his chest. I dip my tongue into his navel, causing him to gasp as I unbutton his pants and pull them and his underwear off in one motion. I’m grinning at him as I pull off his socks, never breaking the eye contact. He pushes himself up a little and pulls off his shirt, and I just look at him for several moments in appreciation. His body really is unbelievably beautiful.
“I love you, Justin.”
That seems to ignite something in him, and he throws his arms around me, trying to kiss me and pull my shirt over my head at the same time. I chuckle and pull back a little, to give him the leverage he needs. While he’s at it, he unbuttons my fly, then pulls me down on top of him. His skin feels so good against mine…I can feel the surprisingly firm muscles of his stomach and the smooth lines of his chest beneath me. He kisses me with his mouth open wide, holding my head down with one hand so I couldn’t pull away even if I wanted to.
One of my arms supports my weight so I don’t completely crush him; the other is trying to get my pants down. When he releases me and takes a deep breath I seize the opportunity to whisper, “Slow down. I’m not going anywhere, you know.”
He laughs a little as I finish removing my pants and toss them to the side. He sits up under me, one shoulder and then the other pressing against mine as he reaches down my legs and pulls off my socks.
“Now relax.” I say to him, as he places his hands delicately on my hips, as if experimenting with a totally new sensation.
“We’re on a schedule,” he whispers.
“Doesn’t matter. It’s only time,” I murmur, and he looks at me with the most tender, awestruck expression before pulling my head back down to resume the kiss.
We move together with a kind of reverence, slowly now, touching gently. His hands slide from my hips to my chest and begin to tease my nipples. I reach between his legs and trace his hardening cock with gentle fingers before taking it firmly in my hand.
He moves a little under me…he’s reaching towards the nightstand, so I raise myself up a bit to give him room. A moment later he starts writhing around in this lovely way, working his own hand down between his legs-he’s lubing his own ass. This is one of my all-time favorite things to see, so I sit back to enjoy the view. He grins up at me radiantly when he wraps both arms around me and pulls me down onto him again. I rest my head against his temple…his hot breath is on my cheek as I enter him. As always, I want to plunge in, but I keep it gradual, reveling in the feeling of his warmth, pulling back a bit to watch his face, his open mouth, his dilated pupils.
What starts out as a slow, gentle fuck rapidly ignites into something much more fierce and possessive. I feel the shift when it happens, because once I’m lost inside Justin, I feel like every nerve ending in my body is on fire. If anyone could see us from the outside, I’m sure it would look like I’m owning his body, like I’m the one in complete control of the fuck. Nothing could be further from the truth. Yes, I’m the one thrusting so deeply inside him that he’s whimpering, but it is he who is setting the rhythm with the pumping of his hips, his fingers digging into the backs of my thighs. We are working in total harmony, as we have always done, instinctively knowing what the other needs and wants. If I own him, it is only because he so completely and utterly owns me.
He sucks mercilessly on the spot where my neck meets my shoulder, and I know I’m going to have one hell of a mark, but it feels too fucking good to stop him. I change the angle and depth of my thrusts slightly, so that I am steadily stroking his prostate. His whimpers change to moans as I feel his body tense beneath me. When he comes, shooting onto our bellies and chests, his ass tightens around my cock and pulls my own blinding orgasm from me.
We lay together for several minutes, breathing, dazed. I can feel his heart beating beneath my chest, and my neck is stinging where he bit down when he came. “Brian?” he asks after a while. I am pulled from a near-doze.
“Mmm?”
“I think we’re not on schedule anymore.” With that, everything comes flooding back to me, and the music throbbing below us re-registers in my brain.
“Shit, the minister probably thinks we changed our minds.”
He laughs. We clean up and dress quickly, stealing quick glances at one another. It’s ridiculous…it’s like we’ve just met, like we’re teenagers who just fucked for the first time.
Back in the ballroom, I wait for the song to finish before turning the volume down and pulling Justin with me to the front of the room. He’s biting his lower lip and looks cute as fucking hell. I climb onto a chair and stand there looking out over my audience; this clearly amuses Justin, but I pull him up onto the chair beside me. Twenty pairs of eyes are on us, each one filled with questions and excitement. It’s only 11:30, and they don’t know why we’re interrupting the party now, when there’s half an hour left until the countdown.
“Justin and I are thrilled that you have chosen to bring in the New Year with us.” I’m so fucking giddy, I think I might fall off the chair. “Every New Year’s Eve is a chance to reflect on our pasts, and look toward our futures.” I look over at him, because it’s his turn to speak. We planned this announcement, of course, and as corny as it feels, we agreed that it was important that we make it together.
“However, this New Year’s Eve is more significant than others, at least for Brian and I,” He picks up where I left off, his voice wavering the tiniest bit, “and this is more than just a New Year’s party. We have a surprise for you, and we hope no one gets upset, but we didn’t want to tell anyone ahead of time. We didn’t want to jinx it.” He laughs at the silliness of these words, even though it’s pretty much the truth.
The smiles on the faces before us begin to fade, giving way to either confusion or curiosity; most of them don’t know what the fuck we’re up here talking about. I am laughing, because how can they not know? I see Jennifer off to one side, her hand clapped over her mouth and her eyes as big as saucers. Okay, so she may have figured it out.
Justin looks over at me, wearing his full-wattage smile. For a moment we’re just in our own world, sharing the energy of anticipation that is so strong it is almost tangible.
Finally the tension in the room reaches my consciousness, and I grasp his hand. “Welcome to our wedding!”
All of the women present, including Emmett, are immediately in tears. I look down at Justin, who is looking up at me, and I press my forehead against his, momentarily overwhelmed. This has got to be the single most bizarre experience of my life.
Then the moment passes, and Justin hops off the chair, pulling me along behind him and gesturing to everyone to follow as we run down the corridor. It reminds me of running through the hospital the night Gus was born, and I swear I am over the fucking moon. When we charge into the Yes room, followed by our noisy and eclectic extended family, the minister’s face breaks into a wide smile. Justin and I half-run, half-tumble to the front of the room, never letting go of one another’s hand. Everyone’s clambering into the chairs we’ve set up. I realize I’m still laughing but I don’t care…I’ve never felt so much fucking joy and love and ecstasy, not just between myself and Justin, but radiating from every person in the room. For the briefest moment I wish that Jack and Joan were here now to see how wrong they were, how wonderful my life is, and how fucking loved I am, by Justin, by my friends, my child and my surrogate mothers.
Our friends won’t shut the fuck up. They’re chattering, crying, shrieking. It’s utter pandemonium, but it’s perfect. Much better than the somber black-tie-only event I had always pictured weddings to be. The Yes room right now is a microcosm of our lives together: Justin and I, surrounded by people who love us dearly and whom we never cease to shock.
Finally the crowd starts to quiet. The words we say are simple; we’ve never had a penchant for verbal communication, so we decided our wedding shouldn’t contain a whole lot of it. He tells me that he loves me more than anything in his life, and will always love me; that he will stand by me and stay with me no matter what the future holds; that he will be faithful to me in whatever ways we deem important. This elicits a laugh from the crowd.
There is a sort of haze around us; our eyes are locked, and I feel that if I look away I’ll dissolve into nothing, or at the very least collapse onto the ground. From the way he’s holding my hands in a death-grip, I’m pretty sure he feels similarly.
I speak my vows to him. We each wrote our own, so mine are a bit different. I don’t speak of love, not in front of all these people. That is something for he and I alone. Instead, I promise to protect him, to support him in all of his endeavors, to always honor what is important to him. I promise him honesty, and I tell him that he will be my first priority for the rest of my life.
Then the minister speaks. I’d forgotten she was there. She asks about the rings, and right on cue Gus runs forward, shouting “Daddy! Daddy!” and waving the little box in the air above him. I can hear some of our friends squealing in surprise at Gus’ role in this grand secret. When I put the ring on Justin’s finger, the minister asks if I commit to the vows I spoke moments ago. I feel the entire room holding their breath but I don’t even hesitate.
“I do.”
When Justin slips the other ring, which is unbelievably warm, onto my finger and murmurs his own “I do”, I feel tears in my eyes, so I shut them tight and press my forehead to his again. That always grounds me. I can tell by the hitch in Justin’s breath that he’s on the verge of tears as well.
Our brief ceremony is complete and the minister tells us we may kiss, which seems hilarious to me, considering the history of our relationship.
Our audience erupts into hoots and catcalls as our mouths come together. We’re still kissing, sloppily, passionately, when we hear Michael yell, “It’s midnight!” The room is immediately filled with shouts of “Happy New Year!” and I pull my husband close to me, hugging him tight.