Plans, Part Two
Plans, Part Two of Three.
Part One is here.
It has been made painfully clear to me that I live for feedback.
Thanks to the angel of beta-ness,
gmta_nz.
Part One is here.
Plans, Chapter Two
by Xie
Always have a plan, and believe in it. Nothing happens by accident. - Football coach Chuck Knox
Melanie’s POV
So, don’t get the idea that I’m softening on Brian. First of all, he’s still a dick. Second of all, the sheer number of people in my life who think Brian Kinney walks on water is getting to me. Like, someday I’m going to figure out why I thought that having a wife who was his number one fan wasn’t enough, I had to have his best friend be Jenny’s father. Serious lapse in judgment. Fucking maternal hormones.
It was Christmas Eve, and Michael and Ben were coming for lunch. We were supposed to go to Debbie’s for Christmas dinner the next day, but Brian and Justin wouldn’t say if they were going to go with us or not. Every time Lindsay would ask, they’d look at each other for one silent beat, and then one or the other would say, “We’ll see.” It was driving Linds insane. I was kind of digging that.
“You should go for Gus.”
Brian looked at her like she was insane. “Lindsay, do you think this tree, these lights, and that pile of wrapped shit is for me? It’s all for Gus. And he isn’t going to give a fuck if I’m at Debbie’s for dinner or not, once he finishes unwrapping all that stuff.”
Michael and Ben rang the doorbell then, so we kind of cut off the conversation. Gus was upstairs napping but Jenny was awake and bouncing around in her little fluffy outfit, I refuse to use words like “snuggy” to describe my daughter’s clothing anymore. The whole cute children’s marketing thing is getting out of hand. She’s a human being, not a stuffed bunny, for fuck’s sake.
“Is this my little buttercup?” Michael was holding out his arms for Jenny.
“I’m trying to get how a guy who writes an x-rated underground comic book about a gay superhero who gets blowjobs on the cover is calling our daughter ‘Buttercup.’ Buttercup? Where the fuck does that come from?”
Michael laughed. “Blowjobs on the cover aren’t my department; you’ll have to ask Justin about that.”
“Ask me what?”
“Justin!”
Justin came into the room, smiling. I doubt I’d have normally noticed, but it struck me that this wasn’t the full-wattage ray of light smile. Justin was faking it.
And then he caught sight of Brian across the room and something inside him lit up. Instant sunshine. How many times must I have seen that, and thought, “Oh god, I’m going to throw up, when is he going to get over this stupid crush on Brian?” Crush? OK, I thought, I’m getting it now; this is the world’s longest running crush. I was starting to think we were in Princess Bride territory. You know. True love.
While Ben and Michael greeted Justin, I looked over at Lindsay, but she wasn’t even watching him. And even if she had been, I don’t think she’d have seen it the way I did. And I wondered if that happened a lot, if it happened with me, that sometimes I didn’t see her, either. If Justin went to New York even though he didn’t want to, because he didn’t know how to resist Brian’s plans, did Lindsay go to Toronto with me for the same reason? Didn’t Justin all but say that?
Shit, didn’t Justin say exactly that?
“You look perplexed.” It was Ben, holding Jenny.
“Did you want me to take her?”
“Nope, she’s fine with me.” He sat down on the couch next to me, and shifted her so she could see me. I put my finger into her little fist. “I just looked over at you and you have this look on your face, like you’re contemplating the meaning of existence. Or just realized you forgot to buy a present for someone.”
“No. I was just thinking. Were you surprised to see Justin?”
“No. Those two can’t ever stay apart long.”
“I only figured that out yesterday.”
Ben looked at me, surprised. “Yesterday? Mel, they’ve been together for almost six years. You just noticed yesterday?”
“You weren’t around for year one or you’d never say that.”
“Year one was a long time ago. Good thing you took another look.”
Justin’s POV
The weird freaking thing about being there with everyone at Christmas was, this was the first time I’d been with Brian when there were other people around since I left for New York. And I wasn’t liking it much. Too many variables to potentially fuck with my plan.
My first weekend sneak attack at the loft had been a success. I had to leave Sunday afternoon when the girl I’d shared gas and driving with had to go back to New York, but Brian and I spent the whole 32 hours we had together just fucking and sleeping and showering. And the only conversation we had could have been carried out with a vocabulary of not much more than “Please, harder, c’mon, feel like Thai?” I think Brian was actually starting to feel the first stirrings of curiosity as to what exactly I was up to, just before I left.
When I got back to New York, I checked my laptop for email.
I had twelve emails from Brian. All blank. I sent twelve blank replies. Really, I liked this better than if it had been a dozen fucking roses. I could see him sitting at his computer in the empty loft, still smelling like me and sex, and sending those emails. And then just when he finished the twelfth, wishing there was a way to unsend them.
For the first time since Brian decided I was going to New York, it might have finally crossed his mind that I gave in way too easy.
So the thing was, I didn’t want to mess that all up, now that all these people were around again. Like I said, too many variables.
“You’re here.”
I looked up. Michael. Looking pretty confused.
“Hey! Merry Christmas. Jenny looks great.”
His face softened. Michael’s easy. “Yeah, she’s pretty cute.” He’s right. Mel storms around all butch and mean when you say it, but Jenny is the cutest damn baby. Seriously, deadly cute.
“I was really surprised to see you. Why didn’t you tell anyone you were coming?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.” I smiled. Brightly.
“Yeah, well it was. Surprise for Brian, too? He didn’t say anything about you being here. I was just wondering what was up, what got you here out of the blue.”
OK. Brian and I had gone out of our way at every possible opportunity to hide the fact that we were seeing each other from Michael and everyone else. Hell, I wasn’t too sure Brian realized we were seeing each other. But I was here now, so maybe it was time.
“This is the sixth time I’ve been here, and Brian’s been to New York twice. It’s not out of the blue.”
“Motherfuck.”
I laughed, although it was sort of forced. “OK, I know you want to protect him from everything, Michael. And seriously, if it means keeping him from driving drunk or, you know, jumping off a tall building, go for it. But really, you don’t ever have to protect him from me.”
Michael didn’t say anything, which was kind of a change for him. Maybe Ben was rubbing off on him. Maybe Ben had a plan too. I watched Mikey think for a while, and then I looked away. Brian was sitting with Lindsay on the floor, near the tree, and they were talking. It made me nervous. Too many things going on that could fuck with my plan.
Melanie’s POV
Michael came over, but just then Jenny started to fuss. I took her from Ben and went upstairs to change her, unbuttoning her snuggy cuddly romperette whateverthefuck and putting on a fresh new diaper with nauseating little ducks on it. Someone could make a fortune marketing non-cutesy clothes and stuff for the children of cynics and people with taste.
“Do you think she wants a nap?” It was Lindsay at the door. Her blonde hair was in a neat twist and it was shining under the overhead light, and she smiled at me. It seemed real. I didn’t see any shadows.
“Linds, do you know Justin and Brian have been seeing each other all along, ever since Justin left?”
She looked startled. “They have? But… everyone told me they hadn’t been in touch. Brian never mentioned him, and when I asked him if he’d heard from Justin, he always just said he was sure Justin was fine.”
“That surprises you?” I buttoned up Jenny’s pants and started putting her little shoes back on.
Lindsay went over and sat on the bed. She frowned. I was thinking maybe I should have gotten her a copy of Brian Kinney for Dummies for Christmas.
“Justin said he’s been here six times.”
“Six times?” Lindsay looked confused, and slightly irritated. “No one ever said a word, not Brian, not Debbie or Michael. Six times?”
“I don’t think anyone knew. I think they were sort of flying under the radar.” Actually, I think Justin was even flying under Brian’s radar.
When exactly did I start having theories about other people's relationships? Maternal hormones. I couldn’t fucking wait for them to wear off.
Justin’s POV
Even though I told Brian the night before I left that we’d see each other all the time, when he came back with some bullshit about the nature of time and the universe, I knew he’d started writing this as a tragedy. There wasn’t any point in arguing with him, so I didn’t. That’s the whole thing about the plan. I needed one, because normal stuff just doesn’t work with Brian.
So, after a few weeks of blank emails and a couple of visits to Pittsburgh to shower, fuck, and eat Thai takeout (there’s no Thai food in New York, either), I was contemplating what to do next, sitting at my desk at work hitting my front tooth with a pencil. Don’t ask me why I do that when I think, it just seems to help. I was trying to figure out how to get Brian’s ass to New York without, of course, talking to him. I was mentally testing out an idea about a show I was in the next month.
I’d gotten into a shared studio space through an artists’ collective that Kalli, one of the other graphic artists at work, was part of, and had managed to get three of my paintings into their next show - thanks to a few shameless mentions of the ArtForum article. It wasn’t the biggest deal on earth but it was my first show since I got there.
So, I was hitting on my front tooth and mentally flipping through the Kinney Operating Manual, looking for the chapter on “Getting Brian to Come to New York.” After briefly considering stealing his credit card and threatening to become a go-go dancer in Chelsea, I made up my mind. I wasn’t going to fuck with the email thing, it was working too well. I wasn’t going to call him, because California had taught me that Brian Kinney doesn’t do phone conversations. I was going to Pittsburgh. I wasn’t totally sure what I was going to do once I got there, but what the fuck. There can be such a thing as too much planning.
Forty-two hours, six orgasms, four showers, zero conversation, and way too much Pad Thai later, I was back on my way to New York and there was a flyer about the show on Brian’s kitchen counter.
I wasn’t sure he’d come.
But he did.
I was standing with Kalli and two other artists from the collective when he came in the door. I saw him first, but he saw me a second later. I remembered my first show, how I’d pretended not to care that he was there. And the show at Lindsay’s gallery in Pittsburgh, when we’d been broken up, how we’d acted so cool around each other. So since I was all about trying new shit with him, I walked right up to him and kissed him. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“I’ve never missed one of your shows.”
“Yeah, this is only the third one in six years.”
“And I’ve been at all three.”
“In fact, I don’t think the first one counted.”
“I count it.” And then he kissed me. Hard.
We went back to Kalli and I introduced him to her and the others. Since I’d never mentioned Brian to anyone, I guess they were all sort of curious as to who the fuck he was. I didn’t enlighten them, but Brian wouldn’t let go of my hand so I’m guessing they figured it out. We looked at my work, then Kalli’s, and then Brian went off to look at everything else, while I talked to a guy Kalli thought I should meet. He’d read about me in ArtForum, he had a gallery, and he even knew Sidney Bloom, who ran Lindsay’s old gallery.
“How are you liking New York?”
“Expensive. Lots of great art. Too many cockroaches.”
He laughed. “Greatest city in the world. Just ask the cockroaches.”
Brian came up behind me at that moment. I knew it even before he lightly touched the small of my back. I introduced the two of them and the gallery owner walked off after a minute. Brian smiled at me. “Your stuff is the best.”
“You’re biased.”
“No, I’m not. I’m biased in that I’d want your stuff to be the best. I’m not biased in knowing it actually is.” Asshole. I’m smiling like some fucking idiot. In front of everyone.
Melanie’s POV
When I got back downstairs with Jenny, who was determined not to nap, Brian and Michael had disappeared and Justin and Ben had gone into the kitchen. I went into the living room with its roaring fire and fifty billion Christmas lights and tree and garland and mountain of presents, all courtesy of Emmett’s party planning business and designed carefully to make a child’s heart glad and not offend Brian’s pissy uber-cool sensibilities. Hard to imagine Emmett could tread that line, but he did. Lindsay was upstairs trying to wake Gus up from his nap before lunch. Maybe I’d cut the breakfast carbs back a little too much.
After a few minutes, she came downstairs with Gus, and Brian and Michael came back in, giggling and shoving each other. Great, three six-year-olds. Merry fucking Christmas, Melanie Marcus. And yes, Gus and Jenny, your daddies are stoned.
Justin and Ben came in with a huge plate of brownies, and Gus went racing over and got like, eight of them. Lindsay promptly put seven back on the plate and broke the remaining one in half. She’s such a good mom. That or Brian threatened her with bodily harm and withdrawal of affection if Gus started bouncing off the walls again.
Justin plonked down on the sofa next to me and I shoved Jenny into his arms. He laughed and started making revoltingly adorable faces at her, and I decided I needed a brownie. And a drink. There were limits on how much cuteness I could take in any given day, and I usually exceeded them by the time I’d changed Jenny’s morning diapers and snapped her poopsiette back up.
I was pouring myself a shot of Brian’s best scotch when I noticed Lindsay was staring at the sofa in what looked like shock. I turned and almost dropped the glass. Brian was sitting next to Justin and Jenny - fuck, he was draped around Justin and Jenny, holding her little hand and making faces at her while Justin leaned into him and laughed. And then Brian kissed Justin on the top of his head.
I knocked back the shot and poured another. Somebody had to get a look at the latest edition of the Kinney Operating Manual, I had an idea Justin had been fucking around with it and nobody had a fucking clue.
Fortunately for my sanity, Brian was his usual dickish self at lunch, making fun of Michael for bringing some Debbie-esque jello thing and Ben for bringing something repellant with soba noodles. How festive. He even made fun of Justin for eating half a turkey, and as he got drunker his sense of humor got stupider and stupider, and I began to see how he and Mikey got so close in high school. Nothing against Mikey, he’s Jenny’s dad and I actually love him to death, but he’s, you know, a comic book geek who can spend quality time with Gus without dumbing down his entertainment choices. I’m just saying.
After dinner Brian and Mikey disappeared again, and the rest of us went into the living room. Ben got butch and poked up the fire and put on more logs, and Lindsay and I settled on the sofa with Jenny. Justin took Gus over to the mountain of presents and started sorting them into piles, the one identified as Gus’ pile reaching somewhere near the ceiling by the time they were done. Ben sat in the chair near the sofa, a glass of wine in his hand. “So, how are you liking the mansion?”
Lindsay answered, “It’s beautiful. I can’t believe it’s Brian’s, it’s so unlike him.” Granted, parts of it were opulent in a way not like Brian’s loft, but he was a pleasure slut and this place was gorgeous and comfortable. And you just had to spend two minutes in his precious media room to know you were in Brian’s territory.
Ben smiled and said he’d been looking forward to seeing it.
“You’ve never been here before?”
“No. Not until now. Not me and not even Michael.”
“I’d be glad to give you the tour when Michael gets back,” Justin offered. He’d walked up behind us with a bottle of wine. You can take the bus boy out of the diner but you can’t take the diner out of the bus boy. Or whatever. The wine was a hell of a lot better than the diner coffee. I wondered if I was drunk.
“This isn’t your first time here, I take it?” Ben, making polite chit chat while probably wondering where his husband had gotten to with Brian. Or maybe not. Ben seemed extremely relaxed. Or maybe he was drunk too.
Justin looked smug. “No, not quite. I own this house with Brian. I’ve been here lots of times.”
The stoner daddies came falling into the room at that point, and Brian detached himself from Michael’s grasp and came over to Justin. He pulled the bottle of wine out of Justin’s hand, and took a big drink and wiped his hand across his mouth. “Want some?” he asked Justin with a big smile. He looked so relaxed and happy.
Justin squirmed out of his arms and took the bottle away, laughing. “No, thanks. I’ve had enough. One of us has to be able to drive tonight.”
Brian looked at Justin, head tipped to the side, confusion on his face. “But we’re already here. Drive where?” Justin just patted him on the back. Brian got the happy stoned look back and pulled Justin to him and gave him a big wet kiss.
“Brian?” Linds had great timing. Stoned, drunk, and making out with Justin. Perfect moment to start a conversation. Some of what they say about blondes is true.
“Huh?” He answered without unlocking his mouth from Justin’s. This guy is a sex god? Michael is a seriously bad influence on Brian. Although Michael seemed to have disappeared with Gus, presumably to find more brownies and then check out the new PlayStation. It’s nice Gus found a little friend to play with. I decided to provide some adult supervision.
“Linds, sweetie? Gus isn’t here; give me the baby and go see if you can find him.”
After a little while, Michael came wandering back, and told me Lindsay was taking Gus outside for some post-brownie sugar overload therapy. He seemed to have sobered up a little, so I let him take Jenny. He sat down next to me and bounced her a little bit, but she was sleepy and he finally just let her drift off. We sat and stared into the fire.
“So, Justin’s here.”
“Yup. Looks that way.” I shifted toward him, trying to see his face and get an idea of how he felt about that. He looked thoughtful.
“Did you know he’d be here?”
“Not until I walked in on him and Brian fucking their brains out on the kitchen table night before last.”
Michael rubbed his forehead. “OK. Too much information.”
“Is Justin being here a problem?” What the hell. Some of that pro bono work I used to do.
“Shit, not for me. And Brian’s like floating on air.”
That was probably due to the huge amount of pot and alcohol he’d ingested, but I didn’t say anything.
“Just, you know, weird that they didn’t say anything to us. It’s like they got married after all.” Bingo.
“Yeah, it is, isn’t it.” And I put my hand on his shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. I can be nice sometimes. I mean, he’s Jenny’s father.
Justin’s POV
Things had started veering a little bit off plan the next time I went to Pittsburgh after the show. When I let myself into the loft he wasn’t there, but he came in an hour or so later. I was sitting at the table with my laptop, playing with some new software I’d been trying out. He must have known I was there because the alarm was off and the lights were on, but he didn’t look around right away. Then he did, and saw me, and I smiled at him. He looked tired. “Hey.”
“Needed a shower?”
I got up and walked over to him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my body to him. “You’re tense.”
“I had a shitty day. A shitty week.”
This was pretty much more conversation than we’d had since I’d started visiting, but I suddenly got tired of the whole not talking thing. “What’s going on?”
Brian sighed, and put his arms around me and dropped his head down onto mine. I felt his body lean into me and he let out a breath. “Just boring crap.”
He pressed his lips into my hair. I stepped back and took his hands and pulled him into the bedroom. “You need a blowjob.” He laughed.
“Is that what I need?” I just silently undressed him, and then myself, laying each piece of clothing down carefully when I took it off, but not stepping away from him until we were both naked. Fuck, he was beautiful. I must have been licking my lips because I suddenly noticed my tongue was sticking out, and Brian was smirking at me. I pushed him and he fell back on the bed, pulling me with him.
The minute we hit the bed, Brian rolled over on top of me. I spread myself out under him, and he lifted up on his arms and bent down and lightly brushed his lips back and forth on mine. I opened my mouth and reached for him with my tongue, but he pulled back before dropping down and kissing me, open-mouthed and wet. I kept my arms and legs down and spread out, and he slowly started thrusting against me, rubbing our cocks together. We kept kissing, and I couldn’t keep from bringing my arms up and trying to hold his head with my hands, but he broke away from me then.
He stayed over me, never taking his eyes off mine. I had my hands resting on his forearms, and he kept thrusting slowly on top of me, and I started rising up to thrust back at him, my fingers gripping his arms.
He finally broke his gaze and leaned in again and started kissing me, and then his mouth trailed down the side of my face to my jaw and my neck, and he dropped down off his arms and put his whole weight on me. He was lying between my legs, and as he slid down my body, kissing and licking at my chest and my nipples, I felt his heavy cock slip across my cock, and down across my balls and then behind them, and then he moved back up just a little, and I felt the head of his cock at the crack of my ass.
I bent my knees and lifted my hips. And he just froze there.
It’s not like we’d never been in this moment before. It happened all the time. He knew I wanted him inside me bare, I knew he wanted to be there. We both knew we weren’t going to do it, at least, it wasn’t something we were going to decide on when we were naked in bed. But fuck. I couldn’t stop my hips from rolling back just a little more. Arching my back just a little. And he was just breathing and not moving.
Then the moment passed and he moved down lower, kissing my stomach and my hips, passing his warm lips over my cock, touching the slit with his tongue and playing in the wetness there. He moved back up, all the way up, and put his hands on both sides of my face and kissed me.
I slipped my hand behind his head, resting it on his damp neck, touching his hair. He was sliding down my body again, but I didn’t want that now, I wanted him in my mouth, so I tried to roll him over and get on top, but he wouldn’t let me.
“Brian…. I want to suck your cock. C’mon.”
He looked up at me, and smiled. It was almost sweet. “No.” It was all he said, and then he went back to my stomach and dropped kisses all over it, now and then pressing one onto my cock. I squirmed a little, trying to move him over, or to at least move his mouth closer to my dick, but he just laughed and slapped at my thigh lightly.
“Hold still.”
“Jesus, Brian.”
He was licking at my balls and then sucking on them, and I felt him slipping his fingers into his mouth, and I felt my ass involuntarily clench because I knew what he was going to do. He touched my asshole, first with his wet finger, and then with his tongue, and then he snaked his tongue inside, and followed it with his finger, and then swirled his tongue all around his finger and pressed his finger in deeper and then I was just going fucking out of my mind. I grabbed at my cock and he knocked my hand away and moved back up and took it in his mouth, all the way down in one move, while slipping his finger into me and pressing it on my prostate. My whole body jerked up and I felt his throat swallowing around the head of my cock, and his finger fucking my ass.
He pulled his head back and fucked my slit with his tongue, and then took me all the way down in his throat again, and then swallowed around me again, and I was gone. Just absolutely gone, flooding into him and beating my heels on the bed and grabbing his hair in my fists and shouting “Fuck, Brian” over and over.
He came back up my body and brought me a mouthful of my own come and I ate it off his tongue like I was starving, and then I pushed him over and finally got what I’d wanted since he walked in the door, the smell and taste and feel of Brian in my mouth.
I ran my tongue all over the head of his cock. He was so hard the skin barely moved on his shaft, and I tongued the vein running up it, and then took just the head in my mouth, lightly, and his hands reached out for my head and tried to push me down. I looked at him for a minute, and his eyes were closed and his back arched up. Then I just stopped looking or thinking and just blew the fuck out of him, pumping my head down onto him, taking him as deep into my throat as I could, swallowing him, my hands slipping under his ass and lifting him up to my face.
He had one hand in my hair, twisting and pulling at it, and the other back on the wall, and he was writhing under me, covered in sweat. The smell of him was so hot and so familiar, I’d missed it so much, having him in my mouth whenever I wanted him there. I knew he was close, and I moved my hands forward and pulled one out from under him, and started pressing on the space behind his balls, softly. I went all the way down on him and swallowed, and I felt his hand leave my hair and his hips come up off the bed and he shouted something I couldn’t understand, and poured his come down my throat.
We lay there just totally fucked out, him with his shitty day and me with my long trip. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so happy. I only knew it was probably the last time I’d been with him.
This was the hard part of my plan. I felt words boiling up inside me, important stuff like “I love you, I miss you, for fuck’s sake, can’t I come home?”, and all the trivial boring stuff about the day and what we’d be doing that night or the next day, all the little words you waste when you’re together and miss when there’s no one there to talk to.
And I knew, absolutely knew, that trying to put any of this into words was going to completely fuck this up.
It didn’t help that I wasn’t absolutely certain what was in Brian’s head. Most of the time I was pretty sure he knew I was playing him somehow. Other times I wondered if he honestly thought I was coming for showers and sex.
So I didn’t say anything, just kept kissing his neck, running my hand around in circles on his chest.
“Babylon’s re-opening weekend after next.”
I’d sort of fallen asleep, but that woke me up. “That’s great.” I waited to see what came next.
“I thought of asking you to come. But then I had a better idea.”
I lifted up my head and looked at him. He was staring at the ceiling.
“Don’t come.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t come to the Babylon opening. Being around you with everyone - fucks everything up.” His voice was so soft I could hardly hear him, and he looked like he was still working out what he was trying to say.
I had ten thousand questions and I opened my mouth to start asking them, but instead just said, “OK.”
A long silence. He was playing with my hair. I was glad I didn’t have time to get it cut before I came. Then he put a finger on my lips, and I opened my mouth and sucked it in, lapping it with my tongue.
“The opening’s on a Friday.”
His voice was still impossibly soft, even tentative. I had no idea where he was going with this, so I kept playing with his finger in my mouth. He slipped a second one in.
“You could just come down kind of late, and maybe go out to the house. I could come out there after the party.”
OK. I could do this without falling on him and smothering him with kisses. “Not the loft?”
He pulled me more into his arms, and buried his face in my hair. “The house. More private.”
I swallowed and tried to make my voice sound normal. “Sounds like a plan.”
No shit.
Continued here in Plans: Interlude
Part One is here.
It has been made painfully clear to me that I live for feedback.
Thanks to the angel of beta-ness,
gmta_nz.
Part One is here.
Plans, Chapter Two
by Xie
Always have a plan, and believe in it. Nothing happens by accident. - Football coach Chuck Knox
Melanie’s POV
So, don’t get the idea that I’m softening on Brian. First of all, he’s still a dick. Second of all, the sheer number of people in my life who think Brian Kinney walks on water is getting to me. Like, someday I’m going to figure out why I thought that having a wife who was his number one fan wasn’t enough, I had to have his best friend be Jenny’s father. Serious lapse in judgment. Fucking maternal hormones.
It was Christmas Eve, and Michael and Ben were coming for lunch. We were supposed to go to Debbie’s for Christmas dinner the next day, but Brian and Justin wouldn’t say if they were going to go with us or not. Every time Lindsay would ask, they’d look at each other for one silent beat, and then one or the other would say, “We’ll see.” It was driving Linds insane. I was kind of digging that.
“You should go for Gus.”
Brian looked at her like she was insane. “Lindsay, do you think this tree, these lights, and that pile of wrapped shit is for me? It’s all for Gus. And he isn’t going to give a fuck if I’m at Debbie’s for dinner or not, once he finishes unwrapping all that stuff.”
Michael and Ben rang the doorbell then, so we kind of cut off the conversation. Gus was upstairs napping but Jenny was awake and bouncing around in her little fluffy outfit, I refuse to use words like “snuggy” to describe my daughter’s clothing anymore. The whole cute children’s marketing thing is getting out of hand. She’s a human being, not a stuffed bunny, for fuck’s sake.
“Is this my little buttercup?” Michael was holding out his arms for Jenny.
“I’m trying to get how a guy who writes an x-rated underground comic book about a gay superhero who gets blowjobs on the cover is calling our daughter ‘Buttercup.’ Buttercup? Where the fuck does that come from?”
Michael laughed. “Blowjobs on the cover aren’t my department; you’ll have to ask Justin about that.”
“Ask me what?”
“Justin!”
Justin came into the room, smiling. I doubt I’d have normally noticed, but it struck me that this wasn’t the full-wattage ray of light smile. Justin was faking it.
And then he caught sight of Brian across the room and something inside him lit up. Instant sunshine. How many times must I have seen that, and thought, “Oh god, I’m going to throw up, when is he going to get over this stupid crush on Brian?” Crush? OK, I thought, I’m getting it now; this is the world’s longest running crush. I was starting to think we were in Princess Bride territory. You know. True love.
While Ben and Michael greeted Justin, I looked over at Lindsay, but she wasn’t even watching him. And even if she had been, I don’t think she’d have seen it the way I did. And I wondered if that happened a lot, if it happened with me, that sometimes I didn’t see her, either. If Justin went to New York even though he didn’t want to, because he didn’t know how to resist Brian’s plans, did Lindsay go to Toronto with me for the same reason? Didn’t Justin all but say that?
Shit, didn’t Justin say exactly that?
“You look perplexed.” It was Ben, holding Jenny.
“Did you want me to take her?”
“Nope, she’s fine with me.” He sat down on the couch next to me, and shifted her so she could see me. I put my finger into her little fist. “I just looked over at you and you have this look on your face, like you’re contemplating the meaning of existence. Or just realized you forgot to buy a present for someone.”
“No. I was just thinking. Were you surprised to see Justin?”
“No. Those two can’t ever stay apart long.”
“I only figured that out yesterday.”
Ben looked at me, surprised. “Yesterday? Mel, they’ve been together for almost six years. You just noticed yesterday?”
“You weren’t around for year one or you’d never say that.”
“Year one was a long time ago. Good thing you took another look.”
Justin’s POV
The weird freaking thing about being there with everyone at Christmas was, this was the first time I’d been with Brian when there were other people around since I left for New York. And I wasn’t liking it much. Too many variables to potentially fuck with my plan.
My first weekend sneak attack at the loft had been a success. I had to leave Sunday afternoon when the girl I’d shared gas and driving with had to go back to New York, but Brian and I spent the whole 32 hours we had together just fucking and sleeping and showering. And the only conversation we had could have been carried out with a vocabulary of not much more than “Please, harder, c’mon, feel like Thai?” I think Brian was actually starting to feel the first stirrings of curiosity as to what exactly I was up to, just before I left.
When I got back to New York, I checked my laptop for email.
I had twelve emails from Brian. All blank. I sent twelve blank replies. Really, I liked this better than if it had been a dozen fucking roses. I could see him sitting at his computer in the empty loft, still smelling like me and sex, and sending those emails. And then just when he finished the twelfth, wishing there was a way to unsend them.
For the first time since Brian decided I was going to New York, it might have finally crossed his mind that I gave in way too easy.
So the thing was, I didn’t want to mess that all up, now that all these people were around again. Like I said, too many variables.
“You’re here.”
I looked up. Michael. Looking pretty confused.
“Hey! Merry Christmas. Jenny looks great.”
His face softened. Michael’s easy. “Yeah, she’s pretty cute.” He’s right. Mel storms around all butch and mean when you say it, but Jenny is the cutest damn baby. Seriously, deadly cute.
“I was really surprised to see you. Why didn’t you tell anyone you were coming?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.” I smiled. Brightly.
“Yeah, well it was. Surprise for Brian, too? He didn’t say anything about you being here. I was just wondering what was up, what got you here out of the blue.”
OK. Brian and I had gone out of our way at every possible opportunity to hide the fact that we were seeing each other from Michael and everyone else. Hell, I wasn’t too sure Brian realized we were seeing each other. But I was here now, so maybe it was time.
“This is the sixth time I’ve been here, and Brian’s been to New York twice. It’s not out of the blue.”
“Motherfuck.”
I laughed, although it was sort of forced. “OK, I know you want to protect him from everything, Michael. And seriously, if it means keeping him from driving drunk or, you know, jumping off a tall building, go for it. But really, you don’t ever have to protect him from me.”
Michael didn’t say anything, which was kind of a change for him. Maybe Ben was rubbing off on him. Maybe Ben had a plan too. I watched Mikey think for a while, and then I looked away. Brian was sitting with Lindsay on the floor, near the tree, and they were talking. It made me nervous. Too many things going on that could fuck with my plan.
Melanie’s POV
Michael came over, but just then Jenny started to fuss. I took her from Ben and went upstairs to change her, unbuttoning her snuggy cuddly romperette whateverthefuck and putting on a fresh new diaper with nauseating little ducks on it. Someone could make a fortune marketing non-cutesy clothes and stuff for the children of cynics and people with taste.
“Do you think she wants a nap?” It was Lindsay at the door. Her blonde hair was in a neat twist and it was shining under the overhead light, and she smiled at me. It seemed real. I didn’t see any shadows.
“Linds, do you know Justin and Brian have been seeing each other all along, ever since Justin left?”
She looked startled. “They have? But… everyone told me they hadn’t been in touch. Brian never mentioned him, and when I asked him if he’d heard from Justin, he always just said he was sure Justin was fine.”
“That surprises you?” I buttoned up Jenny’s pants and started putting her little shoes back on.
Lindsay went over and sat on the bed. She frowned. I was thinking maybe I should have gotten her a copy of Brian Kinney for Dummies for Christmas.
“Justin said he’s been here six times.”
“Six times?” Lindsay looked confused, and slightly irritated. “No one ever said a word, not Brian, not Debbie or Michael. Six times?”
“I don’t think anyone knew. I think they were sort of flying under the radar.” Actually, I think Justin was even flying under Brian’s radar.
When exactly did I start having theories about other people's relationships? Maternal hormones. I couldn’t fucking wait for them to wear off.
Justin’s POV
Even though I told Brian the night before I left that we’d see each other all the time, when he came back with some bullshit about the nature of time and the universe, I knew he’d started writing this as a tragedy. There wasn’t any point in arguing with him, so I didn’t. That’s the whole thing about the plan. I needed one, because normal stuff just doesn’t work with Brian.
So, after a few weeks of blank emails and a couple of visits to Pittsburgh to shower, fuck, and eat Thai takeout (there’s no Thai food in New York, either), I was contemplating what to do next, sitting at my desk at work hitting my front tooth with a pencil. Don’t ask me why I do that when I think, it just seems to help. I was trying to figure out how to get Brian’s ass to New York without, of course, talking to him. I was mentally testing out an idea about a show I was in the next month.
I’d gotten into a shared studio space through an artists’ collective that Kalli, one of the other graphic artists at work, was part of, and had managed to get three of my paintings into their next show - thanks to a few shameless mentions of the ArtForum article. It wasn’t the biggest deal on earth but it was my first show since I got there.
So, I was hitting on my front tooth and mentally flipping through the Kinney Operating Manual, looking for the chapter on “Getting Brian to Come to New York.” After briefly considering stealing his credit card and threatening to become a go-go dancer in Chelsea, I made up my mind. I wasn’t going to fuck with the email thing, it was working too well. I wasn’t going to call him, because California had taught me that Brian Kinney doesn’t do phone conversations. I was going to Pittsburgh. I wasn’t totally sure what I was going to do once I got there, but what the fuck. There can be such a thing as too much planning.
Forty-two hours, six orgasms, four showers, zero conversation, and way too much Pad Thai later, I was back on my way to New York and there was a flyer about the show on Brian’s kitchen counter.
I wasn’t sure he’d come.
But he did.
I was standing with Kalli and two other artists from the collective when he came in the door. I saw him first, but he saw me a second later. I remembered my first show, how I’d pretended not to care that he was there. And the show at Lindsay’s gallery in Pittsburgh, when we’d been broken up, how we’d acted so cool around each other. So since I was all about trying new shit with him, I walked right up to him and kissed him. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“I’ve never missed one of your shows.”
“Yeah, this is only the third one in six years.”
“And I’ve been at all three.”
“In fact, I don’t think the first one counted.”
“I count it.” And then he kissed me. Hard.
We went back to Kalli and I introduced him to her and the others. Since I’d never mentioned Brian to anyone, I guess they were all sort of curious as to who the fuck he was. I didn’t enlighten them, but Brian wouldn’t let go of my hand so I’m guessing they figured it out. We looked at my work, then Kalli’s, and then Brian went off to look at everything else, while I talked to a guy Kalli thought I should meet. He’d read about me in ArtForum, he had a gallery, and he even knew Sidney Bloom, who ran Lindsay’s old gallery.
“How are you liking New York?”
“Expensive. Lots of great art. Too many cockroaches.”
He laughed. “Greatest city in the world. Just ask the cockroaches.”
Brian came up behind me at that moment. I knew it even before he lightly touched the small of my back. I introduced the two of them and the gallery owner walked off after a minute. Brian smiled at me. “Your stuff is the best.”
“You’re biased.”
“No, I’m not. I’m biased in that I’d want your stuff to be the best. I’m not biased in knowing it actually is.” Asshole. I’m smiling like some fucking idiot. In front of everyone.
Melanie’s POV
When I got back downstairs with Jenny, who was determined not to nap, Brian and Michael had disappeared and Justin and Ben had gone into the kitchen. I went into the living room with its roaring fire and fifty billion Christmas lights and tree and garland and mountain of presents, all courtesy of Emmett’s party planning business and designed carefully to make a child’s heart glad and not offend Brian’s pissy uber-cool sensibilities. Hard to imagine Emmett could tread that line, but he did. Lindsay was upstairs trying to wake Gus up from his nap before lunch. Maybe I’d cut the breakfast carbs back a little too much.
After a few minutes, she came downstairs with Gus, and Brian and Michael came back in, giggling and shoving each other. Great, three six-year-olds. Merry fucking Christmas, Melanie Marcus. And yes, Gus and Jenny, your daddies are stoned.
Justin and Ben came in with a huge plate of brownies, and Gus went racing over and got like, eight of them. Lindsay promptly put seven back on the plate and broke the remaining one in half. She’s such a good mom. That or Brian threatened her with bodily harm and withdrawal of affection if Gus started bouncing off the walls again.
Justin plonked down on the sofa next to me and I shoved Jenny into his arms. He laughed and started making revoltingly adorable faces at her, and I decided I needed a brownie. And a drink. There were limits on how much cuteness I could take in any given day, and I usually exceeded them by the time I’d changed Jenny’s morning diapers and snapped her poopsiette back up.
I was pouring myself a shot of Brian’s best scotch when I noticed Lindsay was staring at the sofa in what looked like shock. I turned and almost dropped the glass. Brian was sitting next to Justin and Jenny - fuck, he was draped around Justin and Jenny, holding her little hand and making faces at her while Justin leaned into him and laughed. And then Brian kissed Justin on the top of his head.
I knocked back the shot and poured another. Somebody had to get a look at the latest edition of the Kinney Operating Manual, I had an idea Justin had been fucking around with it and nobody had a fucking clue.
Fortunately for my sanity, Brian was his usual dickish self at lunch, making fun of Michael for bringing some Debbie-esque jello thing and Ben for bringing something repellant with soba noodles. How festive. He even made fun of Justin for eating half a turkey, and as he got drunker his sense of humor got stupider and stupider, and I began to see how he and Mikey got so close in high school. Nothing against Mikey, he’s Jenny’s dad and I actually love him to death, but he’s, you know, a comic book geek who can spend quality time with Gus without dumbing down his entertainment choices. I’m just saying.
After dinner Brian and Mikey disappeared again, and the rest of us went into the living room. Ben got butch and poked up the fire and put on more logs, and Lindsay and I settled on the sofa with Jenny. Justin took Gus over to the mountain of presents and started sorting them into piles, the one identified as Gus’ pile reaching somewhere near the ceiling by the time they were done. Ben sat in the chair near the sofa, a glass of wine in his hand. “So, how are you liking the mansion?”
Lindsay answered, “It’s beautiful. I can’t believe it’s Brian’s, it’s so unlike him.” Granted, parts of it were opulent in a way not like Brian’s loft, but he was a pleasure slut and this place was gorgeous and comfortable. And you just had to spend two minutes in his precious media room to know you were in Brian’s territory.
Ben smiled and said he’d been looking forward to seeing it.
“You’ve never been here before?”
“No. Not until now. Not me and not even Michael.”
“I’d be glad to give you the tour when Michael gets back,” Justin offered. He’d walked up behind us with a bottle of wine. You can take the bus boy out of the diner but you can’t take the diner out of the bus boy. Or whatever. The wine was a hell of a lot better than the diner coffee. I wondered if I was drunk.
“This isn’t your first time here, I take it?” Ben, making polite chit chat while probably wondering where his husband had gotten to with Brian. Or maybe not. Ben seemed extremely relaxed. Or maybe he was drunk too.
Justin looked smug. “No, not quite. I own this house with Brian. I’ve been here lots of times.”
The stoner daddies came falling into the room at that point, and Brian detached himself from Michael’s grasp and came over to Justin. He pulled the bottle of wine out of Justin’s hand, and took a big drink and wiped his hand across his mouth. “Want some?” he asked Justin with a big smile. He looked so relaxed and happy.
Justin squirmed out of his arms and took the bottle away, laughing. “No, thanks. I’ve had enough. One of us has to be able to drive tonight.”
Brian looked at Justin, head tipped to the side, confusion on his face. “But we’re already here. Drive where?” Justin just patted him on the back. Brian got the happy stoned look back and pulled Justin to him and gave him a big wet kiss.
“Brian?” Linds had great timing. Stoned, drunk, and making out with Justin. Perfect moment to start a conversation. Some of what they say about blondes is true.
“Huh?” He answered without unlocking his mouth from Justin’s. This guy is a sex god? Michael is a seriously bad influence on Brian. Although Michael seemed to have disappeared with Gus, presumably to find more brownies and then check out the new PlayStation. It’s nice Gus found a little friend to play with. I decided to provide some adult supervision.
“Linds, sweetie? Gus isn’t here; give me the baby and go see if you can find him.”
After a little while, Michael came wandering back, and told me Lindsay was taking Gus outside for some post-brownie sugar overload therapy. He seemed to have sobered up a little, so I let him take Jenny. He sat down next to me and bounced her a little bit, but she was sleepy and he finally just let her drift off. We sat and stared into the fire.
“So, Justin’s here.”
“Yup. Looks that way.” I shifted toward him, trying to see his face and get an idea of how he felt about that. He looked thoughtful.
“Did you know he’d be here?”
“Not until I walked in on him and Brian fucking their brains out on the kitchen table night before last.”
Michael rubbed his forehead. “OK. Too much information.”
“Is Justin being here a problem?” What the hell. Some of that pro bono work I used to do.
“Shit, not for me. And Brian’s like floating on air.”
That was probably due to the huge amount of pot and alcohol he’d ingested, but I didn’t say anything.
“Just, you know, weird that they didn’t say anything to us. It’s like they got married after all.” Bingo.
“Yeah, it is, isn’t it.” And I put my hand on his shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. I can be nice sometimes. I mean, he’s Jenny’s father.
Justin’s POV
Things had started veering a little bit off plan the next time I went to Pittsburgh after the show. When I let myself into the loft he wasn’t there, but he came in an hour or so later. I was sitting at the table with my laptop, playing with some new software I’d been trying out. He must have known I was there because the alarm was off and the lights were on, but he didn’t look around right away. Then he did, and saw me, and I smiled at him. He looked tired. “Hey.”
“Needed a shower?”
I got up and walked over to him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my body to him. “You’re tense.”
“I had a shitty day. A shitty week.”
This was pretty much more conversation than we’d had since I’d started visiting, but I suddenly got tired of the whole not talking thing. “What’s going on?”
Brian sighed, and put his arms around me and dropped his head down onto mine. I felt his body lean into me and he let out a breath. “Just boring crap.”
He pressed his lips into my hair. I stepped back and took his hands and pulled him into the bedroom. “You need a blowjob.” He laughed.
“Is that what I need?” I just silently undressed him, and then myself, laying each piece of clothing down carefully when I took it off, but not stepping away from him until we were both naked. Fuck, he was beautiful. I must have been licking my lips because I suddenly noticed my tongue was sticking out, and Brian was smirking at me. I pushed him and he fell back on the bed, pulling me with him.
The minute we hit the bed, Brian rolled over on top of me. I spread myself out under him, and he lifted up on his arms and bent down and lightly brushed his lips back and forth on mine. I opened my mouth and reached for him with my tongue, but he pulled back before dropping down and kissing me, open-mouthed and wet. I kept my arms and legs down and spread out, and he slowly started thrusting against me, rubbing our cocks together. We kept kissing, and I couldn’t keep from bringing my arms up and trying to hold his head with my hands, but he broke away from me then.
He stayed over me, never taking his eyes off mine. I had my hands resting on his forearms, and he kept thrusting slowly on top of me, and I started rising up to thrust back at him, my fingers gripping his arms.
He finally broke his gaze and leaned in again and started kissing me, and then his mouth trailed down the side of my face to my jaw and my neck, and he dropped down off his arms and put his whole weight on me. He was lying between my legs, and as he slid down my body, kissing and licking at my chest and my nipples, I felt his heavy cock slip across my cock, and down across my balls and then behind them, and then he moved back up just a little, and I felt the head of his cock at the crack of my ass.
I bent my knees and lifted my hips. And he just froze there.
It’s not like we’d never been in this moment before. It happened all the time. He knew I wanted him inside me bare, I knew he wanted to be there. We both knew we weren’t going to do it, at least, it wasn’t something we were going to decide on when we were naked in bed. But fuck. I couldn’t stop my hips from rolling back just a little more. Arching my back just a little. And he was just breathing and not moving.
Then the moment passed and he moved down lower, kissing my stomach and my hips, passing his warm lips over my cock, touching the slit with his tongue and playing in the wetness there. He moved back up, all the way up, and put his hands on both sides of my face and kissed me.
I slipped my hand behind his head, resting it on his damp neck, touching his hair. He was sliding down my body again, but I didn’t want that now, I wanted him in my mouth, so I tried to roll him over and get on top, but he wouldn’t let me.
“Brian…. I want to suck your cock. C’mon.”
He looked up at me, and smiled. It was almost sweet. “No.” It was all he said, and then he went back to my stomach and dropped kisses all over it, now and then pressing one onto my cock. I squirmed a little, trying to move him over, or to at least move his mouth closer to my dick, but he just laughed and slapped at my thigh lightly.
“Hold still.”
“Jesus, Brian.”
He was licking at my balls and then sucking on them, and I felt him slipping his fingers into his mouth, and I felt my ass involuntarily clench because I knew what he was going to do. He touched my asshole, first with his wet finger, and then with his tongue, and then he snaked his tongue inside, and followed it with his finger, and then swirled his tongue all around his finger and pressed his finger in deeper and then I was just going fucking out of my mind. I grabbed at my cock and he knocked my hand away and moved back up and took it in his mouth, all the way down in one move, while slipping his finger into me and pressing it on my prostate. My whole body jerked up and I felt his throat swallowing around the head of my cock, and his finger fucking my ass.
He pulled his head back and fucked my slit with his tongue, and then took me all the way down in his throat again, and then swallowed around me again, and I was gone. Just absolutely gone, flooding into him and beating my heels on the bed and grabbing his hair in my fists and shouting “Fuck, Brian” over and over.
He came back up my body and brought me a mouthful of my own come and I ate it off his tongue like I was starving, and then I pushed him over and finally got what I’d wanted since he walked in the door, the smell and taste and feel of Brian in my mouth.
I ran my tongue all over the head of his cock. He was so hard the skin barely moved on his shaft, and I tongued the vein running up it, and then took just the head in my mouth, lightly, and his hands reached out for my head and tried to push me down. I looked at him for a minute, and his eyes were closed and his back arched up. Then I just stopped looking or thinking and just blew the fuck out of him, pumping my head down onto him, taking him as deep into my throat as I could, swallowing him, my hands slipping under his ass and lifting him up to my face.
He had one hand in my hair, twisting and pulling at it, and the other back on the wall, and he was writhing under me, covered in sweat. The smell of him was so hot and so familiar, I’d missed it so much, having him in my mouth whenever I wanted him there. I knew he was close, and I moved my hands forward and pulled one out from under him, and started pressing on the space behind his balls, softly. I went all the way down on him and swallowed, and I felt his hand leave my hair and his hips come up off the bed and he shouted something I couldn’t understand, and poured his come down my throat.
We lay there just totally fucked out, him with his shitty day and me with my long trip. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so happy. I only knew it was probably the last time I’d been with him.
This was the hard part of my plan. I felt words boiling up inside me, important stuff like “I love you, I miss you, for fuck’s sake, can’t I come home?”, and all the trivial boring stuff about the day and what we’d be doing that night or the next day, all the little words you waste when you’re together and miss when there’s no one there to talk to.
And I knew, absolutely knew, that trying to put any of this into words was going to completely fuck this up.
It didn’t help that I wasn’t absolutely certain what was in Brian’s head. Most of the time I was pretty sure he knew I was playing him somehow. Other times I wondered if he honestly thought I was coming for showers and sex.
So I didn’t say anything, just kept kissing his neck, running my hand around in circles on his chest.
“Babylon’s re-opening weekend after next.”
I’d sort of fallen asleep, but that woke me up. “That’s great.” I waited to see what came next.
“I thought of asking you to come. But then I had a better idea.”
I lifted up my head and looked at him. He was staring at the ceiling.
“Don’t come.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t come to the Babylon opening. Being around you with everyone - fucks everything up.” His voice was so soft I could hardly hear him, and he looked like he was still working out what he was trying to say.
I had ten thousand questions and I opened my mouth to start asking them, but instead just said, “OK.”
A long silence. He was playing with my hair. I was glad I didn’t have time to get it cut before I came. Then he put a finger on my lips, and I opened my mouth and sucked it in, lapping it with my tongue.
“The opening’s on a Friday.”
His voice was still impossibly soft, even tentative. I had no idea where he was going with this, so I kept playing with his finger in my mouth. He slipped a second one in.
“You could just come down kind of late, and maybe go out to the house. I could come out there after the party.”
OK. I could do this without falling on him and smothering him with kisses. “Not the loft?”
He pulled me more into his arms, and buried his face in my hair. “The house. More private.”
I swallowed and tried to make my voice sound normal. “Sounds like a plan.”
No shit.
Continued here in Plans: Interlude