New Fic: This is What I Want to Tell You (B/J, NC-17)
Um. Hi.
So, it's been pointed out to me by a couple of people that I kind of missed something last week :| And yes, I did. But RL got in the way, and it was all good things but I'm sorry that I made some of you worry :( Damn, you guys are the best.
Anyway, I did scrape a little thing together for 511, and I hope you guys like it, even if it's late. It's another experimental-type thing, and it's admittedly kind of sappy and schmoopy, but eh. Couldn't help myself with this one. Hugs to ragingpixie, as always :)
Title: This is What I Want to Tell You
Justin's POV : NC-17 for coarse language and explicit sex
Premise: 511 Gapfiller
This is What I Want to Tell You
This is what I want to tell you... I want to tell you about how we sat in the `vette after the explosion. How he held me and we kissed again and he said he was taking me home, and how he was about halfway back to the loft when I realized that I don't live there anymore and I had to tell him where to turn right, where to turn left, and where to pull over. I want to tell you how it made me feel funny that Brian didn't know where I live. And I want to tell you how fucking badly I wanted to ask him to come up with me, to hold me on my borrowed bed.
I want to tell you how much I wish I never told him where to turn left and where to turn right and where to pull over. I want to tell you that I wish he just took me back to the loft.
*
"Are you okay?"
"I told you, it's just some scratches. Nothing serious."
"No... I mean are you okay."
"Yeah. I'm okay. You going back to the hospital?"
"In a bit... the cops are waiting for me at the club... I've got to go over all this shit with them."
"Well, don't forget to take care of yourself too. You need to sleep... you need to get home and to bed."
"Yeah, I will."
"Okay."
"C'mere."
"It's gonna be okay. He's gonna be okay."
"I know. I know that."
"Okay... thanks for the ride."
"Will I see you later?"
"Yeah, you'll see me."
"Later."
"Later."
*
I want to tell you how he held my hand when we left the hospital after hearing that Michael was going to be okay. Tell you how he hugged me hard and kissed the side of my face and I let him do all of it, even though in the bright light of day everything seemed somehow muted. How his words from the night before seemed shadowed and quiet and different and maybe like I'd imagined them.
*
"Need a ride?"
"No... I need the fresh air."
"You sure?"
"Yeah... thanks though."
"I'll call you later, okay?"
"Yeah, just get some sleep Brian."
"I will."
"Later."
"Later."
*
I want to tell you about later on that day when he came to my studio. I was surprised that he was there, and tried not to pay attention to him, tried not to look at him, all Prada coat and Boss cologne and slick and gorgeous and everything. I want to tell you about how my heart skipped a beat with his silly proposal and his words of affection and his fingers wrapping around my arm so tight and warm and possessive, like he was claiming me, taking me.
And I want to tell you that I wanted to say yes, yes, yes to everything he offered. But I have to tell you that I knew better. That I knew it was fear and protectiveness and him just freaking out. I had to believe that's all it was because, I mean, seriously, get real. Brian wanting to marry me? Like that was ever going to happen in my lifetime.
*
"Think about it."
"There's nothing to think about. Tomorrow when we find out Michael's going to be fine, you'll forget all about this. You'll regret ever coming here. I know you."
"You don't know me as well as you think you do."
"I know you better than you know yourself. Now are you sure you don't want me to get us something to eat? There's an amazing Thai place on the corner-"
"No. I don't want to eat. I want you."
"And I told you no. Give it a couple days, okay? You'll see. You'll be back fucking everything that moves and you'll have forgotten all about this."
"I won't."
"You will."
"I..."
"Brian..."
"I'll call you."
"Okay. Call me. Later."
"Later."
*
I want to tell you about the trip out to the country. The one where he showed up at my place in the afternoon, right in the middle of my painting and I told him I was busy, and I told him I couldn't go, but he grabbed my arm lightly and dragged me out the door anyway, telling me he had to show me something. I asked him what, but it didn't matter. He wouldn't answer.
*
"Seriously, Brian... I really want to get this painting done."
"Just put on a clean shirt and come with me."
"Why?"
""Because I'm asking you... because it's important."
"Well..."
"I promise I'll have you back by dinnertime. In fact, I'll buy you dinner, okay?"
"You don't have to buy me-"
"Just do this for me, okay?"
"Okay."
*
What I really want to tell you about is what happened when we got there. What happened when he pulled up in the driveway of this huge beautiful house and we got out of the car and he told me that this place, this mansion, this home of my dreams, was ours. Was the place that we would live if only...
See, what you need to understand is that I didn't think he'd ever do this. I mean, I know he told me he loved me, and I know he asked me to marry him and yeah, he seemed mostly serious and yeah, Brian generally doesn't joke about things without being obvious about it.
But I also knew that he wouldn't do anything so crazy as sell the loft and the club and buy this house and say all those things to me if he wasn't serious. If he didn't really mean it.
And what you mostly need to understand is that it wasn't the house, the proposal, the words of love... it was that he listened to me. He really listened to me. He heard what I wanted, what I needed, and he gave that to me.
That means everything.
And really... what I want to tell you about is... what it was like after he said all those things and after I said yes, and how after that everything had changed.
Changed in this amazing way... I want to tell you how it felt to kiss him that first time after saying yes, I'd marry him. What it felt like to kiss him and whisper I love you against his lips and to have him whisper it back. How I felt free and amazing and hopeful and excited and crazy and like I had to be dreaming, had to be imagining this entire thing because it was so much like the dreams I'd had since I first met him.
*
"Say it again, Brian."
"I love you. I love you. I love you."
"I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing it."
"Good, because I'll never get tired of saying it."
"Are we really getting married?"
"Uh-hunh."
"And are we going to be... a... real couple? I mean..."
"If you're wondering if I'm going to stop fucking around, the answer is yes."
"You're going to stop tricking? For good?"
"Why do I need anyone else when I have this?"
"That's what I've always thought..."
"Well, you've always been right."
*
And I want to tell you how he undid my shirt buttons slowly, how he unbuckled my jeans and slid them over my hips. How he laid a sheet on the thick hardwood floors in front of the warm fireplace and pulled off his own clothes slowly, never taking his eyes off me. How he kissed me softly in the middle of the room, then pulled me to my knees, still kissing me, his hands on the back of my neck, wrapped around my throat. His body pressed to mine, his cock sliding between my legs, brushing under my balls.
How he pulled me down to the floor and gently laid me down on my back... how he laid beside me and slid his leg between mine and rubbed his cock against my thigh and pressed his leg against my dick. How it felt so good, and how I'd been so desperate for his touch since I left him. How I hadn't had anyone's hands on my body since I left him.
*
"I missed you so much."
"Hmmmm... me too."
"I missed this so much too... oh yeah and that... and that... and definitely *that*... oh God... don't ever stop... "
"I won't... just don't ever make me miss you again."
"I won't."
*
And of course there's all the other things I want to tell you about. The way he kissed me long and hard, then crept down my chest, his tongue lapping at my skin as he did... the way he pulled my cock into his mouth and sucked me softly, rhythmically, between his lips... the way it was so gentle and so good and how he made my orgasm just slide out of me, my come ending up in his mouth, on his tongue... and how he climbed back up my body and slipped his tongue against my lips and shared my come back with me.
How I knew I'd never have this with anyone else and how that idea, that thought, made me so amazingly dizzy... how I knew he'd never share it with anyone either, that this was ours and only ours forever now, and that made it even that much more important and somehow even better.
I want to tell you about how he pulled my legs over his shoulders and passed the condom to me to slide on him. How he looked at me and smiled and how he nodded just a little when I whispered that maybe one day we won't need these... how that made me close my eyes and imagine he really was inside me raw when his cock pushed into my hole and how the idea of *that*... the thought of him fucking me raw made my heart stutter in my chest, my breath catch in my throat, my eyes feel itchy and hot and when I opened them again, he was staring at me with the same look on his face, like he was thinking the exact same thing and how we'd have so much more now. We'd have everything now.
*
"It'll be amazing."
"It's always amazing."
"It'll be... even more so."
"It'll be ours."
*
God... I need to tell you about how good it felt this time he fucked me... and how he wasn't really fucking me, but making love to me. Soft and slow and sweet... taking me to the edge and back, kissing my face, his hands in my hair, whispering he loved me with every push in. He couldn't stop saying it, the words poured out of his mouth, and I couldn't stop saying them back. It was like we were crazy for it now, like neither one of us could get enough, and everytime he said it, my heart felt full and everytime I said it, I felt elated. There's nothing like saying those words to someone you love so much, then hearing them returned to you. Nothing like knowing that you feel the same way about each other.
*
"I love you."
"I love you."
*
I want to tell you all those things, I want to tell you about how it makes me feel, how I'm so fucking happy and ecstatic and like I'm dreaming. Like this is all an amazing, wonderful dream.
I want to tell you everything, but right now... right now I want to keep it for me. I want to keep it inside and for me and for him - for us - because I finally feel like there is a for us. I finally feel like we have something real, for real, for good.
I feel like we have a future and I know that it'll be even better than the one I dreamed of.
So I hope you understand that right now... this second... I want to keep it for us. And I know that maybe it's selfish and silly and romantic...
But you're just going to have to wait till the wedding to hear about it.
*** *** *** *** ***
So, it's been pointed out to me by a couple of people that I kind of missed something last week :| And yes, I did. But RL got in the way, and it was all good things but I'm sorry that I made some of you worry :( Damn, you guys are the best.
Anyway, I did scrape a little thing together for 511, and I hope you guys like it, even if it's late. It's another experimental-type thing, and it's admittedly kind of sappy and schmoopy, but eh. Couldn't help myself with this one. Hugs to ragingpixie, as always :)
Title: This is What I Want to Tell You
Justin's POV : NC-17 for coarse language and explicit sex
Premise: 511 Gapfiller
This is What I Want to Tell You
This is what I want to tell you... I want to tell you about how we sat in the `vette after the explosion. How he held me and we kissed again and he said he was taking me home, and how he was about halfway back to the loft when I realized that I don't live there anymore and I had to tell him where to turn right, where to turn left, and where to pull over. I want to tell you how it made me feel funny that Brian didn't know where I live. And I want to tell you how fucking badly I wanted to ask him to come up with me, to hold me on my borrowed bed.
I want to tell you how much I wish I never told him where to turn left and where to turn right and where to pull over. I want to tell you that I wish he just took me back to the loft.
*
"Are you okay?"
"I told you, it's just some scratches. Nothing serious."
"No... I mean are you okay."
"Yeah. I'm okay. You going back to the hospital?"
"In a bit... the cops are waiting for me at the club... I've got to go over all this shit with them."
"Well, don't forget to take care of yourself too. You need to sleep... you need to get home and to bed."
"Yeah, I will."
"Okay."
"C'mere."
"It's gonna be okay. He's gonna be okay."
"I know. I know that."
"Okay... thanks for the ride."
"Will I see you later?"
"Yeah, you'll see me."
"Later."
"Later."
*
I want to tell you how he held my hand when we left the hospital after hearing that Michael was going to be okay. Tell you how he hugged me hard and kissed the side of my face and I let him do all of it, even though in the bright light of day everything seemed somehow muted. How his words from the night before seemed shadowed and quiet and different and maybe like I'd imagined them.
*
"Need a ride?"
"No... I need the fresh air."
"You sure?"
"Yeah... thanks though."
"I'll call you later, okay?"
"Yeah, just get some sleep Brian."
"I will."
"Later."
"Later."
*
I want to tell you about later on that day when he came to my studio. I was surprised that he was there, and tried not to pay attention to him, tried not to look at him, all Prada coat and Boss cologne and slick and gorgeous and everything. I want to tell you about how my heart skipped a beat with his silly proposal and his words of affection and his fingers wrapping around my arm so tight and warm and possessive, like he was claiming me, taking me.
And I want to tell you that I wanted to say yes, yes, yes to everything he offered. But I have to tell you that I knew better. That I knew it was fear and protectiveness and him just freaking out. I had to believe that's all it was because, I mean, seriously, get real. Brian wanting to marry me? Like that was ever going to happen in my lifetime.
*
"Think about it."
"There's nothing to think about. Tomorrow when we find out Michael's going to be fine, you'll forget all about this. You'll regret ever coming here. I know you."
"You don't know me as well as you think you do."
"I know you better than you know yourself. Now are you sure you don't want me to get us something to eat? There's an amazing Thai place on the corner-"
"No. I don't want to eat. I want you."
"And I told you no. Give it a couple days, okay? You'll see. You'll be back fucking everything that moves and you'll have forgotten all about this."
"I won't."
"You will."
"I..."
"Brian..."
"I'll call you."
"Okay. Call me. Later."
"Later."
*
I want to tell you about the trip out to the country. The one where he showed up at my place in the afternoon, right in the middle of my painting and I told him I was busy, and I told him I couldn't go, but he grabbed my arm lightly and dragged me out the door anyway, telling me he had to show me something. I asked him what, but it didn't matter. He wouldn't answer.
*
"Seriously, Brian... I really want to get this painting done."
"Just put on a clean shirt and come with me."
"Why?"
""Because I'm asking you... because it's important."
"Well..."
"I promise I'll have you back by dinnertime. In fact, I'll buy you dinner, okay?"
"You don't have to buy me-"
"Just do this for me, okay?"
"Okay."
*
What I really want to tell you about is what happened when we got there. What happened when he pulled up in the driveway of this huge beautiful house and we got out of the car and he told me that this place, this mansion, this home of my dreams, was ours. Was the place that we would live if only...
See, what you need to understand is that I didn't think he'd ever do this. I mean, I know he told me he loved me, and I know he asked me to marry him and yeah, he seemed mostly serious and yeah, Brian generally doesn't joke about things without being obvious about it.
But I also knew that he wouldn't do anything so crazy as sell the loft and the club and buy this house and say all those things to me if he wasn't serious. If he didn't really mean it.
And what you mostly need to understand is that it wasn't the house, the proposal, the words of love... it was that he listened to me. He really listened to me. He heard what I wanted, what I needed, and he gave that to me.
That means everything.
And really... what I want to tell you about is... what it was like after he said all those things and after I said yes, and how after that everything had changed.
Changed in this amazing way... I want to tell you how it felt to kiss him that first time after saying yes, I'd marry him. What it felt like to kiss him and whisper I love you against his lips and to have him whisper it back. How I felt free and amazing and hopeful and excited and crazy and like I had to be dreaming, had to be imagining this entire thing because it was so much like the dreams I'd had since I first met him.
*
"Say it again, Brian."
"I love you. I love you. I love you."
"I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing it."
"Good, because I'll never get tired of saying it."
"Are we really getting married?"
"Uh-hunh."
"And are we going to be... a... real couple? I mean..."
"If you're wondering if I'm going to stop fucking around, the answer is yes."
"You're going to stop tricking? For good?"
"Why do I need anyone else when I have this?"
"That's what I've always thought..."
"Well, you've always been right."
*
And I want to tell you how he undid my shirt buttons slowly, how he unbuckled my jeans and slid them over my hips. How he laid a sheet on the thick hardwood floors in front of the warm fireplace and pulled off his own clothes slowly, never taking his eyes off me. How he kissed me softly in the middle of the room, then pulled me to my knees, still kissing me, his hands on the back of my neck, wrapped around my throat. His body pressed to mine, his cock sliding between my legs, brushing under my balls.
How he pulled me down to the floor and gently laid me down on my back... how he laid beside me and slid his leg between mine and rubbed his cock against my thigh and pressed his leg against my dick. How it felt so good, and how I'd been so desperate for his touch since I left him. How I hadn't had anyone's hands on my body since I left him.
*
"I missed you so much."
"Hmmmm... me too."
"I missed this so much too... oh yeah and that... and that... and definitely *that*... oh God... don't ever stop... "
"I won't... just don't ever make me miss you again."
"I won't."
*
And of course there's all the other things I want to tell you about. The way he kissed me long and hard, then crept down my chest, his tongue lapping at my skin as he did... the way he pulled my cock into his mouth and sucked me softly, rhythmically, between his lips... the way it was so gentle and so good and how he made my orgasm just slide out of me, my come ending up in his mouth, on his tongue... and how he climbed back up my body and slipped his tongue against my lips and shared my come back with me.
How I knew I'd never have this with anyone else and how that idea, that thought, made me so amazingly dizzy... how I knew he'd never share it with anyone either, that this was ours and only ours forever now, and that made it even that much more important and somehow even better.
I want to tell you about how he pulled my legs over his shoulders and passed the condom to me to slide on him. How he looked at me and smiled and how he nodded just a little when I whispered that maybe one day we won't need these... how that made me close my eyes and imagine he really was inside me raw when his cock pushed into my hole and how the idea of *that*... the thought of him fucking me raw made my heart stutter in my chest, my breath catch in my throat, my eyes feel itchy and hot and when I opened them again, he was staring at me with the same look on his face, like he was thinking the exact same thing and how we'd have so much more now. We'd have everything now.
*
"It'll be amazing."
"It's always amazing."
"It'll be... even more so."
"It'll be ours."
*
God... I need to tell you about how good it felt this time he fucked me... and how he wasn't really fucking me, but making love to me. Soft and slow and sweet... taking me to the edge and back, kissing my face, his hands in my hair, whispering he loved me with every push in. He couldn't stop saying it, the words poured out of his mouth, and I couldn't stop saying them back. It was like we were crazy for it now, like neither one of us could get enough, and everytime he said it, my heart felt full and everytime I said it, I felt elated. There's nothing like saying those words to someone you love so much, then hearing them returned to you. Nothing like knowing that you feel the same way about each other.
*
"I love you."
"I love you."
*
I want to tell you all those things, I want to tell you about how it makes me feel, how I'm so fucking happy and ecstatic and like I'm dreaming. Like this is all an amazing, wonderful dream.
I want to tell you everything, but right now... right now I want to keep it for me. I want to keep it inside and for me and for him - for us - because I finally feel like there is a for us. I finally feel like we have something real, for real, for good.
I feel like we have a future and I know that it'll be even better than the one I dreamed of.
So I hope you understand that right now... this second... I want to keep it for us. And I know that maybe it's selfish and silly and romantic...
But you're just going to have to wait till the wedding to hear about it.
*** *** *** *** ***