Decisions, Chapter 2
This is the second chapter of Decisions. My muses dispense information to me on a need-to-know basis so I'm not sure exactly how many chapters this will end up being, but my guess is four. The first chapter is here.
No fiction I write would exist without the amazing abilities and inspiration of my beeeyoooteeeful beta chick,
gmta_nz.
Speaking of inspiration, my banner goddess KT needs to be thanked, because several times when I was stuck, I sat and stared at the lovely banner she made for this story, and suddenly it was all flowing again.
orlith did the gay boy safer sex beta-ing for this story, and also looked me metaphorically in the eye at one point and said, "Brian would never do that" and helped me fix something that was bugging me. He did not, though, beta the story or the sex scenes, so if they suck and not in a PLAW, blame me not him.
The other thing I would nevah evah be able to write without is feedback from you. If you think we as authors are joking when we whore beg grovel squeal like pigs ask for feedback, we're not. We need it like we need air and water and batteries for our vibrators. It helps make up for what
besame_bj has so beautifully described as the somewhat inadequate payscale of writing fanfiction. Unless you hate it. Then OK, you don't have to say anything. I have a very fragile ego.
And last, this is dedicated to
happier_bunny and
_alicesprings for keeping the world safe for the Brian/Justin perv love.
Decisions, Chapter 2
By Xie
“In the important decisions of personal life, we should be governed, I think, by the deep inner needs of our nature.” - Sigmund Freud
Justin’s POV
Some nights it was me, some nights it was him.
His mouth pressed to my ass, licking and tongue fucking me, and then he’d crawl up my back and I’d feel him lying there, heavy, weighing me down, all that heat and skin and I wanted to feel it. Wanted to go up on my knees and spread my cheeks and feel his cock drop between them. Wanted him to fuck me raw.
And then he’d pull back a little and I’d hear the sound of the condom wrapper ripping, and I’d bury my face in my arms and try not to think about it anymore.
Other times, he’d be kissing my back and I’d feel him slide down me, rubbing his cock up and down in the crack of my ass, sometimes letting his cock drop down between my thighs and fucking me there, and I knew, absolutely knew, if I lifted up just that little bit more, he’d have been in me. But something held me back, mostly knowing Brian would never forgive himself, and maybe never forgive me. These were the kinds of things you were supposed to talk about and work out and plan and decide on. Not something you did in the darkness, in bed, without talking about it, because you wanted it, because you wanted to feel him come inside you, wanted to put your hand back and touch your asshole and feel it overflowing with his come. And didn’t want to wait or talk or get into the whole impossible discussion of making it real.
Brian’s POV
I always knew if I wanted to, Justin would. He’d have done it when he was 18 and stupid, he’d have done it when he’d gotten smart. Smart about the world, about men and the things they’ll say to get in your ass, gotten smart about me. It had been a long time, six years, and all the talk I’d given him about how I wasn’t different had worn thin. Of course this was different. Of course I wasn’t just anyone.
So it wasn’t easy. He wasn’t always sticking with the program and I was sometimes forgetting it myself, forgetting why this mattered so much, when I was in a dark room in a warm bed with Justin underneath me, pushing back or arching himself, letting me know in every way short of asking for it, what he wanted, what he’d do.
That night he was rutting up against me, pulling on my hips, twining his legs around my back. He’d lubed himself before I got into bed, which I found out when he stopped me from rimming him. He pressed my fingers into him instead. He was incredibly wet. And tight. He squeezed down on my fingers. He never took his eyes off mine. I reached out my hand for a condom and I felt a little breath, an exhalation, from him, disappointment, a swallowed word, I wasn’t sure. I put it on and then pushed into him and he lifted up for me, and I went into him, slowly at first, then faster, his legs wound around me, his ankles crossed behind my back, his arms thrown back behind his head.
I bent down and kissed him, kissing his full lower lip, biting and licking at his pout. He suddenly threw his arms around my neck, pulling me down, sucking my tongue into his mouth. He let it go, and pressed his mouth to my ear. “I want you, I want you inside me, I want to reach down my hand and feel your skin sliding into me, so hot Brian.” I couldn’t help it, I started moving faster. I felt his ass walls squeezing on me, releasing, working my cock, wanting to make me come.
He kept talking, low and husky, in my ear. “It would feel so hot. I want to feel you come and then touch it and feel it leaking out of me, running out of me.”
That shot through me like adrenaline, like drugs, like desire. I could hardly breathe, and I couldn’t stop thrusting into him, too fast and too hard, but I couldn’t stop it. He was making me crazy, the words and his breath and his ass milking me.
“I want to feel full of your come. I want to feel it.” And I snapped my hips into him one last time, and just came, overflowing into the condom, and he held onto me, and when I looked at his face, he turned it away from me.
Justin's POV
“Don’t be embarrassed.” It was Brian’s voice, rough and hot in my ear. But I was. I kept my face turned away, even when he kissed my neck and pulled out of me as gently as he could, and tossed the condom, and started to jerk me off. I covered my face with my arms. Brian hated it when I did that, but I couldn’t help it.
His hand was moving on me, and it felt good. He was kissing my neck, biting at it a little, nuzzling me. I arched my back, feeling the ache from when he was inside me before, and the pull in my thighs from when they were up around him while he fucked me.
I felt empty and wished he was still inside me. He moved his hand faster and my cock got slipperier when he flicked his thumb over my slit and smeared the wetness he found there over it. I forgot about my embarrassment as I felt my balls pull up and I felt myself start to spill out, to come, and I turned my face back to him and let him kiss me. I kissed him back, feeling his tongue fucking my mouth while his hand jerked me off, and my come spilled out over his hand and shot up onto my stomach.
I put my hand on his to stop it from moving; all of a sudden it was too much. His face was buried in my neck. My heart was pounding. And then he scooped the come up off my stomach and reached down between my thighs and smeared it on my hole and pressed two fingers into me. I gasped and felt a deep cramp almost everywhere, in my ass and my gut and maybe my heart, all at the same time. I wasn’t coming anymore but it felt like I was, and it hurt. His tongue was deep inside my mouth and I was just holding on, feeling his fingers fucking me.
I unhooked one arm from around his neck and reached down and touched his hand at my ass, and closed my fingers on it. He stopped moving, but left his fingers inside me, covered with my come.
“Justin.” I kept my eyes closed. He didn’t say anything more.
Brian’s POV
New Year’s Day I woke up late, like every normal person in America who’d been out until 3 in the morning - and unlike the blond I live with, who was nowhere to be found, which meant he was in his studio. Melanie and Lindsay must have taken the kids somewhere, because there was no sign of them, either. They were staying for a few weeks, while they looked for a place to live and jobs back here in Pittsburgh.
There was coffee in the kitchen, and it was hot, so I decided to forgive Justin for not being there to give me my morning blowjob. I was sure we’d agreed on him blowing me whenever I wanted, though he probably had some loophole in there for major holidays. But I was optimistic, so I poured him a cup too and headed to the studio.
The door was open and I went in. He was sitting cross-legged on his table, looking up at the big blank wall. Blank as in, having nothing on it that he could have been looking at.
“What are you looking at?” He jumped a little, and then smiled at me.
“Just thinking about something I want to do, wondering if I have room in here. And being glad I’m not in my old studio where I wouldn’t even be wondering, I’d know.” He took the coffee and I tried to figure out how to change the subject from art to blowjobs. I possibly should have had the coffee first, and let the caffeine saturate my neural pathways. I kept getting distracted by how happy he looked thinking about his big studio here and being glad he wasn’t in New York.
“Brian? Justin?” And there went any residual hope. That was Lindsay’s voice. She came into the studio, still in her coat and scarf, her cheeks and nose red from the cold, her knit cap in her hands. I heard a door slam in the front hall and the sound of Gus laughing. “We were wondering if you’d ever get up. We took the kids to the park.”
Justin set down his mug and jumped off the table. “Lindz, do you know how I can get a scaffold in here? I want to do a really big thing. Over there.” He nodded towards the blank wall he’d been staring at. I wandered out. The two of them could be at this for hours. I went upstairs and jerked off in the shower.
Last night was the first time Justin and I had been at Babylon together since the club re-opened, at least, other than a quick look during the daytime, when no one was around and all the lights were on. This was the first time I’d walked in there with him since before the bombing, with the lights flashing and glitter falling and the music thumping, and all my employees acting like Justin walked into that club every night of his life, saying “Good evening, Mr. Taylor” when we walked by. Even the ones who’d never laid eyes on him before.
I was particularly surprised at everyone’s ability to recognize Justin, since he was wearing the New York club clothes I’d bought him on my last visit, and not his usual pants four sizes too big and a baggy sweater. When I’d tossed them at him while he was getting dressed he’d actually blushed. Which made me have to fuck him before we could go out, but really, it didn’t take much to get me to do that lately.
I was just about to go up the stairs with Justin when a brightly glittered creature in black eyeliner came dancing over to us.
“Sweeties! Happy New Year!”
Justin stood on his toes and kissed Emmett on his cheek. I caught sight of the head of security talking agitatedly on his headset, and excused myself for a minute. Emmett dragged Justin out on the dance floor.
After I checked with security and got myself a drink, I didn’t feel like dancing, so I went upstairs to the office. Ted was there with one of the sound guys, looking at some paperwork.
“I realize you can’t drink or fuck, Theodore, but do you have to work on New Year’s Eve?”
Ted looked up and raised his chin in my direction. “We’re just finishing up, anything else we need to go over, Ron?” There wasn’t, so Ron, or as I thought of him, the sound guy, left. I went and sat at the desk and leaned back in the chair. Ted was watching me. I had the unnerving sensation he was laughing at me.
“What’s up, Brian? You’re not dancing, drinking, drugging, or dragging someone into the back room? Has the sky fallen? Hell frozen over? Will I look out the door and see little pigs flying around?”
I shrugged and turned the chair around to look at the shelves behind the desk. “Justin’s dancing with Emmett.”
Ted nodded. “Yeah, I try not to be seen dancing with the two of them, it can really destroy what little self-confidence I have.”
I turned my chair back around to face him. “So, did you give everyone photos of Justin or just a general description?”
He didn’t even pretend not to know what I was talking about. “We showed a fifteen-minute instructional video.”
“Theodore?”
Ted still looked smug. I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“You know, I can fire you. I could have you replaced in about ten minutes by any number of people glad to work for half what I pay you.”
“Yeah, I can see that now. I go to apply for a new job, they ask why I left Kinnetik, and I tell them, Brian Kinney fired me because I wouldn’t stop teasing him about his boyfriend.”
“Fine. Then I’ll have you killed instead of just fired.”
Ted walked over to the door. “You know what else, Brian? It would be worth getting fired, and maybe even killed, just to have the inestimable joy of seeing you slide ever-further into the pit of fire, kicking and screaming and grabbing at branches all the way down. Have a great time with Justin in New York.” And he walked out of the room.
I was sure I must have fucked a hit man or two, I was going to have to find one who owed me a favor.
I went back downstairs and saw Justin where I’d left him, dancing with Emmett. I came up behind him and scooped him up close to me, and he didn’t even open his eyes, just leaned back into me and smiled. I met Emmett’s eyes over his head and raised an eyebrow. He grinned and said, “Just one little tab of E. He asked so pretty.” Then Justin turned around in my arms and started kissing me and I had no fucking idea where Emmett went after that.
After making out with Justin on the dance floor like I was in high school, undoubtedly to the glee of all my employees who were probably preparing blackmail video footage at that very moment, I dragged him over to the bar and got him a bottle of water. He never seemed to want to drink enough water when he was high, and I always had to make him. He usually had no aversion to anything else I wanted to put in his mouth at times like that, so I kissed him and got a mouthful of cold water for it. And then he giggled. And then he went up on his toes and kissed me again, this time without the water surprise. And then I looked up and saw Ted leaning on the bar behind Justin, looking remarkably happy for a man who was going to be out of work, or possibly dead, the next day. And standing next to him, looking even happier, if by “happy” you mean “gloating,” was Melanie.
“So, Justin.” It was Ted. “Mel tells me Santa was very good to you this Christmas. You must have been an awfully good boy.” Melanie laughed and spewed beer out her nose.
Justin turned around in my arms and gave Ted a blissful look. “Yeah, Ted, he brought me an iPod and a car and ummm, a bottle of water, and I think some other stuff. He bought me this, too.” And he held out a corner of his shirt, exposing his flat stomach. I forgot what I was going to say to Ted. “Only not for Christmas. He got me that in New York when he visited me. Because otherwise he has to be all embarrassed at my pants. But he just took them off anyway, so I don’t know why…” I got my hand over his mouth and turned him around and pushed his face into my shoulder. I’d remembered that doing drugs made Justin horny, I’d forgotten they also disconnected the filter between his brain and his mouth.
“Hey, guys! Happy New Year!” It was Mikey and the Professor. It suddenly struck me that, after his abdominal muscles, Ben’s total lack of a sense of humor was his finest quality.
Justin had pulled away from me to hug Michael and Ben, and then Ben said, “So, Justin, I heard you got a new car for Christmas,” with a big dopey grin on his face.
I put down my drink and headed for the stairs. I felt a hand on my arm. Mikey.
“Hey! I just got here, where ya going?” I shook off his hand.
“Where do you think I’m going?”
“I think you’re going to get your dick sucked.”
“Are you volunteering, or did you just want to watch?”
“No, what I had in mind is more of an intervention.”
I didn’t mean to but I laughed. I cut it off fast, though. “Save it for Ted and his 12-step losers.”
“Come on, Brian… let’s dance.”
“Michael, I thought you were the one who wanted me to stay the poster child for a life of hedonism. What’s your problem tonight?”
“What, just because I didn’t want fucking terrorists to shut down a place where we’ve spent half our lives, it means I think you need to spend Justin’s first night back here getting your dick sucked in the back room?”
“If Justin doesn’t want me to go back there, Justin can ask me. It’s none of your business.” And I left. But I just went upstairs and got another drink. Michael’d killed my mood.
Three shots later I was looking down from the catwalk, watching the lights and glitter and Justin dancing with Emmett again. And Ben. And Michael. And Lindsay and Mel and Ted. Blake wasn’t there. Ted had said he’d gone skiing for the week. Good. There were enough blonds here already. Justin had his arms up in the air and he and Emmett were shimmying back to back, laughing like it was the silliest thing they’d ever done, which believe me, it wasn’t. Melanie started doing the same thing with Ted, who freaked out and backed away, and then Lindsay doubled over laughing at whatever Melanie said to him.
Michael had his arms around Ben’s neck and they were laughing too, but privately, and not really paying attention to the Justin and Emmett show. It was twenty minutes to midnight. But I’d had enough of symbolic gestures and sentiment and family to last me until next New Year’s.
I turned around to get another drink, and practically fell on top of Ted.
“Dancing with Melanie bad enough to drive you off the dance floor?” I realized too late he’d know I’d been watching. Plus I was seriously drunk and he was sober, which as I recalled was not a good combination for me and him. But he just shrugged.
“They’re having a good time. I wasn’t in the same mood.”
“Meaning they’re all drunk and you’re not. Plus the hubby’s out of town and everyone down there is dancing two by two.”
“OK, so I know you’re not jealous of Emmett and Justin, because that’s the least likely thing in the universe.” Then he shut up, even though I kept waiting for either a question or a snide comment. But he just stood there. I hated him when he was patient. I waved the bartender over for another drink and waited Ted out.
He cracked first. “Getting itchy, Brian?”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Things going too well? Justin’s back, Gus is coming back, the club is back, Kinnetik’s doing great, you and Michael made up, things going too well, you need to fuck them up now so you can feel normal?” I was seriously wondering if you could sue a twelve step program.
“If I suddenly get the urge to be psychoanalyzed, trust me, it won’t be by you and it won’t be at Babylon.” I looked back down at the floor, and couldn’t see Justin anymore. Emmett was gone, too, but Mel and Lindz and Michael and Ben were still dancing. Then I saw Emmett dancing on the other side of the club, but I still didn’t see Justin’s blond head. I knew all I had to do was ask any one of the people working here and I’d probably be able to get his GSP coordinates, Ted had probably had a transponder sewn into Justin’s pants.
And then I glanced away from Ted, to my right, and Justin was leaning with his back on the railing, a bottle of water in his hand. He smiled. “I thought you might be thirsty.” And he took a big gulp of water and then put his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me in and pushed it into my mouth. He kept kissing me after I swallowed it, nuzzling his hand into my hair. Then he pulled away. “Everyone misses you. Come dance with us, it’s almost midnight.”
Justin’s POV
I realized at some point Brian had left me and Lindsay talking in my studio. She was sitting on the floor, her legs pulled up to her chest, speculating on how much scaffolding I’d need and trying to figure out the best way to work with a piece the size I had in mind. She’d taken off her coat and scarf, but she was still playing with her knit cap. I realized how long it had been since I felt like I was with the old Lindsay instead of serious art gallery Lindsay. It reminded me of Kalli, how when she would work at Armand’s gallery she’d pull her hair back in a tight knot with just one glossy curl hanging down on her neck and wear a slinky black dress and high heels, but when she was at the studio her hair just bushed out all over the place and she wore a mini skirt over her jeans and boots.
Lindsay was wearing jeans and a sweater and her hair was curly. I remembered the first time she’d told me I had talent, and let me draw her and Gus. And how she got Brian to come to that first art show.
She stood up and sat at the table near me. “This is a beautiful studio, you’re going to love working here.”
“Yeah, it’s a big change.”
“He built this for you.” I just nodded. He did.
“I’m still so sorry for what I said on Christmas, Justin. I never, ever wanted to hurt you or Brian. And I’m so sorry that I did.” She’d already apologized, she didn’t have to do it over and over. I told her that.
She shook her head. “I know, I’ll shut up about it. But Justin, you’re absolutely, positively sure, New York doesn’t have anything for you?”
“I am absolutely, positively sure New York does have things for me.”
“Then why are you coming back here? To be with Brian? There are opportunities in New York, in the galleries there, you just can’t get in Pittsburgh.”
“I know, Lindz. I really do know. But in the end, is that about art, or is it about money? Are you telling me I can’t be an artist and be in Pittsburgh, or are you telling me I can’t be a rich and famous artist and be in Pittsburgh? Because that’s not about art, it’s about ambition.”
“But you’re acting like you have to choose between success in the art world, and Brian. Don’t you know he’d wait for you?”
I didn’t know that, or at least, not in the way she meant. And I wasn’t sure if, despite her apologies for the scene at Deb’s on Christmas, I was ready to trust her again. But she seemed genuinely concerned about me. I took a deep breath.
“Yeah, Lindz, I know he won’t go off after someone else. It’s just, I don’t want to have to do the work of cutting through the protective outer layers all over again.” I didn’t tell her the rest, that I needed him to rub my hand when it got stiff. That getting fucked three times a day kept me feeling creative. That sometimes I felt like a kid drawing pictures at school because he knew his mom was going to put them on the fridge, so I just made more and more art so Brian could look at it and tell me it was good, and make me believe it because I knew he’d never lie about it.
I’d stopped answering her and she stopped talking and looked at me until she had my attention again. “I can have the scaffolding set up while you’re in New York if you want.” She was smiling. I took the olive branch.
“That would be great, thanks.” She smiled even more, and then Melanie knocked on the door, even though it was open.
“Hey, guys, Gus wanted to see Justin’s studio, is it OK?” Gus came flying in the door and raced for where I was sitting on the table again, and I helped him climb up. It was huge, almost more like a stage than a table, and he must have thought so too because he decided to start stomping around acting out his favorite scenes from every cartoon he’d ever seen. It suddenly struck me that scaffolding and a six-year-old in the house wasn’t the greatest combination ever.
The same thought must have occurred to Lindsay because she suddenly said, “You’re going to need to get a lock on this door when the scaffolding is up.”
Melanie shook her head. “Lindz, we’re not going to be here that long. We need to get out of their hair.”
I objected.“You can stay as long as you want, Brian loves having Gus here. And you guys and JR, too, I mean.”
Lindsay laughed. “Don’t worry, Justin, I think Mel and I both know we’re here on Gus’ ticket. It’s OK.”
Melanie snorted. “Yeah, well, I might possibly have gotten my ticket revoked last night. Did Brian mention anything about hit men to you, Justin, and has anyone actually heard from Ted today?”
Lindsay burst out laughing and I felt my face getting red. My memories of last night were a little bit hazy in parts, but I did seem to remember something about Ted’s prospects for a long and healthy life not being the best, and possibly the evisceration of Melanie too. I had to stop Brian from playing those violent video games with Gus.
And then Gus decided to switch from marching around the table to flying off it, and Lindsay and I dove for him at the same time. We both missed, but it wasn’t really that high off the ground and he just jumped up laughing and went tearing off out the door and down the hall. Lindsay heaved a big sigh and took off after him.
“Brian really will miss him.” It was Mel. I looked at her in surprise.
“Yeah, but at least he’ll be here and not in Toronto. I’m really glad you guys are coming back.”
“And you’ll be here.”
I smiled. “Yup.” She looked at me for a minute with a curious expression on her face.
“I’m really happy for you, Justin. Brian’s luckier than shit you put up with him.”
There was a paint rag lying next to me and I threw it at her, and she caught it laughing. “You know what I mean. Admit it, he’s a dick sometimes.”
“Justin likes my dick.” It was Brian, standing in the doorway. I regretted having thrown away my only weapon. “Did you solve the great scaffolding crisis or do I need to get the studio remodeled again?”
Brian’s POV
Justin stuck his tongue out at me and then announced he was hungry. What a shock. Mel laughed and headed for the kitchen, and Justin followed her out, but I grabbed him as he went past and pulled him in for a kiss. He molded himself right up against me and I started thinking maybe I could get him to blow me before lunch. Then his stomach growled. This really wasn’t my day. He must have read my mind because he burst out laughing. He slipped his hand down and cupped it round my dick, and pulled my hand down to his ass, and whispered against my throat, “After lunch, I promise. Now it’s a major holiday, remember, you have to be sweet and sentimental to me in front of people. We have a deal.”
“Yeah, but you’re supposed to blow me whenever I want. And uh, wasn’t there something about me fucking you into the mattress? When do we get to that part?”
“Blow you whenever I want, and you fuck me into the mattress after lunch and after you tell me you love me.”
“God, what are you, a lawyer?”
He stuck his tongue out again so I sucked on it. I still had my hand on his ass and he still had his on my dick, so I thought things were looking up, until his stomach growled again. People always think having a young lover is so hot, they should really walk a mile in my shoes sometime.
“OK, I get it, lunch. Then fucking.”
“Lunch, then you tell me you love me, then you fuck me.”
“Or you can just blow me.”
“If I feel like it. Depends on what you make me for lunch.”
Fortunately Lindsay had already made grilled cheese sandwiches for the kids and pasta and salad for us. It was remotely possible there were some things about her being here I was going to miss.
Justin’s POV
The day after New Year’s, Brian and I went to New York to get my stuff. He wanted to fly and have everything shipped, I wanted to drive my new car and bring home as much as possible ourselves. I won.
He got to pick the hotel, pack for me, and insult my driving, so he was happy.
When we got to New York, he learned the major difference between trying to get somewhere in your own car as opposed to giving an address to a driver and then just sitting back while he or she got you there. It involved maps, yelling, slammed glove compartment doors, and threats of death. Plus more yelling. By the time we got to my apartment, I was really glad we’d never gotten married because I would have so been getting a divorce. He sulked in the car while I gathered up my clothes and CDs and books. He’d told me in no uncertain terms that if so much as one cockroach egg found it’s way to the house he was going to have it fumigated with me inside it, so I left everything else.
When I got back down to the car, he was in the driver’s seat. Like I was surprised at that. I decided to pick my battles and put my bags in the back and got in the passenger side door. “Let’s go.”
He pulled out into traffic. He must have been studying the map while I was upstairs, because he didn’t ask for directions. In fact, he got us to the studio without either one of us saying another word. I really hated him.
We double-parked and went inside and I unlocked the gate to my space. Brian was right behind me, and just before I walked in he put his hands on my shoulders and turned me around. I looked up at him, not sure what he wanted, and he touched his forehead to mine. I smiled at him.
“What is it?” He shook his head.
“Just wondering if you were really sure about this.” Oh god, here we went again. I really wasn’t sure what was more annoying, his backseat driving or his total inability to let me decide for myself how I wanted to live my life. Although on second thought, they were the same problem.
“Are you kidding? I’ll get lots more work done in Pittsburgh. And better work.”
He wrinkled up his forehead. He shouldn’t do that, botox was expensive and if he lost his ability to lift his eyebrows he might have to speak or something.
“Yeah, I’m better living with you, otherwise it’s too much of a distraction from my art to have to go out and find sex.”
“So you just want me around for convenience.”
“You knew that, though, didn’t you?” I bit his ear lobe. “That I was only with you for the sex?”
“I actually thought it was something like that. It’s why I keep you around, so I don’t have to get up and go out, I can just roll over on top of someone.”
“Yeah. It’s worth all the other shit.”
“Other shit?” He didn’t like that.
“Yeah, the telling me how to drive and ridiculing my clothes and trying to find blowjob loopholes in our prenuptial agreement.” He swatted me on the ass and then we started packing up my stuff and taking it out to the car.
While I was stacking small canvases near the doorway, Kalli walked in. “Justin! I’m glad I was here when you came, Armand came and got your big pieces on Friday. He told me you’re going to be working in Pennsylvania now.”
“Yeah, I am. You remember Brian?”
Kalli smiled at Brian and then winked at him. “Yeah, I vaguely remember him sweeping you off in a limo last time, everybody down here talked about it for like a month.” Brian liked that. He always seemed to like my female friends who thought he was hot.
Kalli tore her eyes away from Brian and smiled back in my direction. “That’s good, Armand loves shows like ‘Emerging Artists of Wyeth Country.’ Or maybe something about the Amish, he’d love that.”
I laughed. “Well, better try selling him on something more along the lines of ‘Emerging Artists of the Dying Industrial East,’ because we live in Pittsburgh.”
Kalli helped us bring the last load of stuff out to the Range Rover. “No limo this time?”
Brian smiled, a little evil. “No, Justin wanted to drive his new car.” I blushed. Kalli looked at me with her eyebrow raised. I slammed the hatch shut at the back; we’d gotten everything in.
Brian got into the passenger seat and I turned to say goodbye to Kalli. She was still laughing. When she had me in a goodbye hug, she whispered in my ear, “Justin? I want to share with you some wisdom about the art world and talent and human nature that I’ve learned over the years.”
I pulled back and looked at her. She had a serious look on her face but her eyes were sparkling.
“Just remember, having a hot guy shoving his dick up your ass and buying you expensive things doesn’t make you less of an artist.” And she laughed again and kissed me on the cheek and went back inside.
Brian’s POV
Justin didn’t explain his bright red face when he got in the car, and I didn’t ask. We drove to the hotel without my having to look at the map again, and without Justin’s input on the best route. Still, I was glad to hand the keys to the parking attendant, our suitcases to the bellman, and my credit card to the front desk, just so we could get into a room without cockroaches, dust, paint fumes, and seventy-five layers of grime. I was starting to think Justin really did come home for the showers.
He was busy sorting through his suitcase looking for something, so I went and took a shower by myself. When I got out he had his sketchbook out. I was wrapped in a towel and my hair was wet. Justin seemed kind of restless.
“Something you can’t find?”
He looked over at me, and shook his head. “Nah, I found everything, just feel weird, feel like painting. I don’t suppose we can go home tonight?”
“Tell me you’re kidding. I don’t want to see that car again until tomorrow. If then.”
He laughed a little. “Yeah, I’m kidding, I’m fucking exhausted. All I want to do is get into bed and sleep until morning. If you even suggest anything more strenuous than room service I will so not blow you for a week.”
I’d planned on going out, having fond memories of our last night in New York, but at that point room service and bed sounded perfect, although the sleep part wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. We called in our dinner order and I pulled him down on the sofa with me so he could thank me for giving in so graciously. It appeared, though, that he was in a talkative mood. I thought back to the happy days of his not-talking phase. My “no regrets” policy might need some revision.
“Brian?”
I reluctantly hauled my mind back to the present and answered him. “Yeah?”
“Why are you always, always second guessing me on this shit?”
“Ummm, I think I know better than you how you should live your life? Because I’m an arrogant, controlling asshole with an ego the size of Pennsylvania?”
“Wow. That just cut out a whole big chunk of this discussion.”
“I wanted to get it over with before dinner got here.”
“But now what are we going to do?”
“Well, you could blow me like you promised.”
“When exactly did I promise that?”
“Prenuptial agreement. Page 15. I drove, you blow.”
There was really nothing he could say to that except “OK.” And even Justin can’t keep chattering with a dick in his mouth. And since room service took forever, I picked him up after and carried him to the bed and returned the favor. Conversation is really a totally over-rated form of communication.
But after dinner Justin still seemed restless, and I asked if he was sure he didn’t want to go out. “We could just go get a drink, we don’t have to go dancing or anything. You seem a little wired.”
He pointed at the minibar. “There’s like, forty different kinds of booze right here in the room, we can get totally plastered without going out the door.” Sounded good to me, so I made us both a drink. I sat down on the couch and he took his drink and sat on the ottoman. “Can I draw you?”
I shrugged. “As long as I can watch TV. Sure.” He’d been drawing me for years, I hardly noticed anymore. But there was nothing on and after surfing for a while I turned the TV off and shut my eyes. It had been a long fucking day.
It suddenly seemed too quiet to me. I didn’t want to move when Justin was drawing me, so I waited a little longer, and then I opened my eyes. He was sitting on the ottoman still, his right hand cradled in his left. His pencil was on the floor, and his sketchbook was half off his lap. His eyes were closed. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed.
“Justin.” He opened his eyes, and I couldn’t for even one second stand to look at the bleakness in them. I got up and went over and knelt down in front of him and wrapped myself around him. I knew it wouldn’t help. I did it for me, not him. I really am the most selfish asshole sometimes.
After a few minutes he relaxed. Maybe he was a little better. Maybe there’s just so long you can hold your muscles rigid like that. I don’t know. But I took it. And I pulled him up, gently, and brought him over to the sofa and sat down with him. He was resisting me but I ignored it. He was tense all over again. I really didn’t care.
And then we went through the same thing again, him sitting rigid and then finally softening, and I just kept my arms around him and he eventually started breathing and let his back touch my arm and then the back of the sofa, and then he put his head on my shoulder and then I relaxed too. And put my head down on his soft hair.
His right hand was lying on his thigh, and I could see it was still half-cramped up. I was afraid if I touched it he’d tense up again. I didn’t know what to do. I know people think sometimes that I’m being stubborn or cold when people need things from me, but most of the time I just feel like my mind is a blank and my instincts go quiet and the only safe thing to do is nothing. To not give the answer or read the script. And for Justin there are times I’ve tried to push past that and find the words or actions he’s asking for. But right then he wasn’t asking for anything. And I had to figure out what he needed, when he had no idea, and neither did I. Because I’m selfish and I couldn’t stand seeing him like that.
I tried to imagine what I could lose that would be like this is for him, and I couldn’t. Not even when I was sick and couldn’t fuck, not when I was totally dead in the water on a campaign, not when everything in my life was going to shit, not when I was broke and unemployed, not the night he went over and picked up those packed bags and left, not even when I heard that a bomb had gone off at Babylon and went looking for him, none of it was helping me understand what he must feel right now. Because I knew it wasn’t just a skill or even a need or desire that was being thwarted. It was more like not being able to breathe. Or maybe I really didn’t know what it was. Maybe I couldn’t.
But sitting on the outside looking in at it was killing me. And so I had to make it stop somehow. And there was nothing I could do.
So I just sat there with him and waited for inspiration. But nothing came to me.
Justin’s POV
I could tell how upset Brian was, and it made me feel worse. I think the most helpless feeling I’ve ever had is seeing Brian helpless. You’d think between him worrying about me and me worrying about him and the two of us worrying about the other one worrying about him, we’d be fine. But instead I sat there feeling like an idiot for letting the shit with my hand get to me, when it didn’t really matter. Even when I couldn’t draw I could paint. I could usually paint for hours at a time. And I could use my computer, too.
But I didn’t have my computer that night, and I had no way to paint. And fuck, there are just some times when I have to do something, get some kind of images out there, or I feel like I’m going to explode. And all I wanted was to sketch Brian for a little while. And I think I got like ten minutes. I can almost always get at least twice that. I never really know what sets my hand off. Maybe it was driving or moving boxes or maybe I was just fucked.
I wished Brian would rub my hand but it seemed like he was afraid to move. I didn’t want to cry so I didn’t say anything, but I kind of picked up my right hand and slid it over onto his thigh, and he grabbed it and started massaging it. He was probably relieved that he could do something. And then after a little while I really did feel better. Not just my hand, which didn’t really hurt all that much, it just stopped working. The cramping and pain were from my trying to use my muscles to do what my brain wouldn’t do, tell my hand to move and hold a pencil. If I stopped the minute things started getting fucked, there wouldn’t really be any pain and cramping. And I’d get about five minutes instead of twenty.
Brian surprised me. He smiled at me and held my hand in both of his and said, “Better?” But I could tell from his eyes his smile was bullshit.
I nodded. “Yeah, thanks. That’s the only thing that helps.”
He sighed. “What happened?”
“What always happens, after a while I just can’t control my hand anymore. Sometimes I get more time than that.” I kind of shrugged.
“What does it feel like?”
“It doesn’t hurt, really, I just can’t control it. Then I try to use my muscles and that’s when it gets all cramped up.” He knew this.
“That’s not what I meant, what I meant is, what does it feel like, for you.”
OK, that was weird. I thought Brian Kinney was asking me about my feelings. I wasn’t sure, though. That seemed kind of unlikely.
“Ummm, what do you mean?”
“I mean, what does it feel like when you’re drawing and then you can’t?”
I was about to make some kind of crack about him freaking me out, but I caught myself at the last minute. It looked like he really wanted to know, and all of a sudden I wanted him to. I thought about it a little before I thought of how to put it.
“It’s like having sex, and you’re in the middle of it, and it’s really good, and then it just stops. Like the other person just… evaporated or something. And you’re still in the middle of all the feelings and it’s all still pouring through you but there’s just nowhere for it to go. There’s no one there.”
I guess when I look back on that night in ten years, it might turn out to be the most number of words Brian ever spent asking me about my feelings. Or maybe it’ll start a new trend. But either way, he was done talking. He was holding my hand and kind of playing with my fingers, and he put one in his mouth and started licking and sucking it, and playing with it with his tongue. And it felt really good.
Brian’s POV
Justin was up on his knees with his hands braced on the wall behind the bed. I had my hands on his hips and I was fucking him, pulling him back down hard onto my cock as I slammed up and forward. I had started out fucking him slow but he kept asking for it harder, and he didn’t seem to want me to touch his cock. He didn’t seem to even want to come, but he was shoving himself down on me, and I gave up fighting it and wrapped my arms around his chest and thrust up into him just when he drove himself down and tightened on me, and I came, shouting his name and biting hard at his shoulder.
I was still gasping when Justin pushed off the wall and fell back onto me. I wrapped my hand around his cock and started to jerk on it. He was dripping all over my hand. I was still buried inside him, and I could feel him getting closer, and I whispered into his ear, “Justin, I wanted to come inside you, I wanted to fill you up with my come and let it run down out of you and all over your thighs and then push you down on the bed and lick it up, lick all my come off the insides of your thighs and then lick it out of your asshole, suck all my come out of you.”
And Justin just exploded all over my hand and the bed and the wall behind the bed, his ass clamping down so hard on my cock it hurt like fucking hell, and his head thrown back on my shoulder and his hands gripping my forearms so hard he was going to leave bruises. And when he was finally lying under me on the bed, his sides heaving, trying to get his breath, I whispered into his ear again. “It’s not just you who wants it, Justin.”
Continued here...
No fiction I write would exist without the amazing abilities and inspiration of my beeeyoooteeeful beta chick,
gmta_nz.
Speaking of inspiration, my banner goddess KT needs to be thanked, because several times when I was stuck, I sat and stared at the lovely banner she made for this story, and suddenly it was all flowing again.
orlith did the gay boy safer sex beta-ing for this story, and also looked me metaphorically in the eye at one point and said, "Brian would never do that" and helped me fix something that was bugging me. He did not, though, beta the story or the sex scenes, so if they suck and not in a PLAW, blame me not him.
The other thing I would nevah evah be able to write without is feedback from you. If you think we as authors are joking when we whore beg grovel squeal like pigs ask for feedback, we're not. We need it like we need air and water and batteries for our vibrators. It helps make up for what
besame_bj has so beautifully described as the somewhat inadequate payscale of writing fanfiction. Unless you hate it. Then OK, you don't have to say anything. I have a very fragile ego.
And last, this is dedicated to
happier_bunny and
_alicesprings for keeping the world safe for the Brian/Justin perv love.
Decisions, Chapter 2
By Xie
“In the important decisions of personal life, we should be governed, I think, by the deep inner needs of our nature.” - Sigmund Freud
Justin’s POV
Some nights it was me, some nights it was him.
His mouth pressed to my ass, licking and tongue fucking me, and then he’d crawl up my back and I’d feel him lying there, heavy, weighing me down, all that heat and skin and I wanted to feel it. Wanted to go up on my knees and spread my cheeks and feel his cock drop between them. Wanted him to fuck me raw.
And then he’d pull back a little and I’d hear the sound of the condom wrapper ripping, and I’d bury my face in my arms and try not to think about it anymore.
Other times, he’d be kissing my back and I’d feel him slide down me, rubbing his cock up and down in the crack of my ass, sometimes letting his cock drop down between my thighs and fucking me there, and I knew, absolutely knew, if I lifted up just that little bit more, he’d have been in me. But something held me back, mostly knowing Brian would never forgive himself, and maybe never forgive me. These were the kinds of things you were supposed to talk about and work out and plan and decide on. Not something you did in the darkness, in bed, without talking about it, because you wanted it, because you wanted to feel him come inside you, wanted to put your hand back and touch your asshole and feel it overflowing with his come. And didn’t want to wait or talk or get into the whole impossible discussion of making it real.
Brian’s POV
I always knew if I wanted to, Justin would. He’d have done it when he was 18 and stupid, he’d have done it when he’d gotten smart. Smart about the world, about men and the things they’ll say to get in your ass, gotten smart about me. It had been a long time, six years, and all the talk I’d given him about how I wasn’t different had worn thin. Of course this was different. Of course I wasn’t just anyone.
So it wasn’t easy. He wasn’t always sticking with the program and I was sometimes forgetting it myself, forgetting why this mattered so much, when I was in a dark room in a warm bed with Justin underneath me, pushing back or arching himself, letting me know in every way short of asking for it, what he wanted, what he’d do.
That night he was rutting up against me, pulling on my hips, twining his legs around my back. He’d lubed himself before I got into bed, which I found out when he stopped me from rimming him. He pressed my fingers into him instead. He was incredibly wet. And tight. He squeezed down on my fingers. He never took his eyes off mine. I reached out my hand for a condom and I felt a little breath, an exhalation, from him, disappointment, a swallowed word, I wasn’t sure. I put it on and then pushed into him and he lifted up for me, and I went into him, slowly at first, then faster, his legs wound around me, his ankles crossed behind my back, his arms thrown back behind his head.
I bent down and kissed him, kissing his full lower lip, biting and licking at his pout. He suddenly threw his arms around my neck, pulling me down, sucking my tongue into his mouth. He let it go, and pressed his mouth to my ear. “I want you, I want you inside me, I want to reach down my hand and feel your skin sliding into me, so hot Brian.” I couldn’t help it, I started moving faster. I felt his ass walls squeezing on me, releasing, working my cock, wanting to make me come.
He kept talking, low and husky, in my ear. “It would feel so hot. I want to feel you come and then touch it and feel it leaking out of me, running out of me.”
That shot through me like adrenaline, like drugs, like desire. I could hardly breathe, and I couldn’t stop thrusting into him, too fast and too hard, but I couldn’t stop it. He was making me crazy, the words and his breath and his ass milking me.
“I want to feel full of your come. I want to feel it.” And I snapped my hips into him one last time, and just came, overflowing into the condom, and he held onto me, and when I looked at his face, he turned it away from me.
Justin's POV
“Don’t be embarrassed.” It was Brian’s voice, rough and hot in my ear. But I was. I kept my face turned away, even when he kissed my neck and pulled out of me as gently as he could, and tossed the condom, and started to jerk me off. I covered my face with my arms. Brian hated it when I did that, but I couldn’t help it.
His hand was moving on me, and it felt good. He was kissing my neck, biting at it a little, nuzzling me. I arched my back, feeling the ache from when he was inside me before, and the pull in my thighs from when they were up around him while he fucked me.
I felt empty and wished he was still inside me. He moved his hand faster and my cock got slipperier when he flicked his thumb over my slit and smeared the wetness he found there over it. I forgot about my embarrassment as I felt my balls pull up and I felt myself start to spill out, to come, and I turned my face back to him and let him kiss me. I kissed him back, feeling his tongue fucking my mouth while his hand jerked me off, and my come spilled out over his hand and shot up onto my stomach.
I put my hand on his to stop it from moving; all of a sudden it was too much. His face was buried in my neck. My heart was pounding. And then he scooped the come up off my stomach and reached down between my thighs and smeared it on my hole and pressed two fingers into me. I gasped and felt a deep cramp almost everywhere, in my ass and my gut and maybe my heart, all at the same time. I wasn’t coming anymore but it felt like I was, and it hurt. His tongue was deep inside my mouth and I was just holding on, feeling his fingers fucking me.
I unhooked one arm from around his neck and reached down and touched his hand at my ass, and closed my fingers on it. He stopped moving, but left his fingers inside me, covered with my come.
“Justin.” I kept my eyes closed. He didn’t say anything more.
Brian’s POV
New Year’s Day I woke up late, like every normal person in America who’d been out until 3 in the morning - and unlike the blond I live with, who was nowhere to be found, which meant he was in his studio. Melanie and Lindsay must have taken the kids somewhere, because there was no sign of them, either. They were staying for a few weeks, while they looked for a place to live and jobs back here in Pittsburgh.
There was coffee in the kitchen, and it was hot, so I decided to forgive Justin for not being there to give me my morning blowjob. I was sure we’d agreed on him blowing me whenever I wanted, though he probably had some loophole in there for major holidays. But I was optimistic, so I poured him a cup too and headed to the studio.
The door was open and I went in. He was sitting cross-legged on his table, looking up at the big blank wall. Blank as in, having nothing on it that he could have been looking at.
“What are you looking at?” He jumped a little, and then smiled at me.
“Just thinking about something I want to do, wondering if I have room in here. And being glad I’m not in my old studio where I wouldn’t even be wondering, I’d know.” He took the coffee and I tried to figure out how to change the subject from art to blowjobs. I possibly should have had the coffee first, and let the caffeine saturate my neural pathways. I kept getting distracted by how happy he looked thinking about his big studio here and being glad he wasn’t in New York.
“Brian? Justin?” And there went any residual hope. That was Lindsay’s voice. She came into the studio, still in her coat and scarf, her cheeks and nose red from the cold, her knit cap in her hands. I heard a door slam in the front hall and the sound of Gus laughing. “We were wondering if you’d ever get up. We took the kids to the park.”
Justin set down his mug and jumped off the table. “Lindz, do you know how I can get a scaffold in here? I want to do a really big thing. Over there.” He nodded towards the blank wall he’d been staring at. I wandered out. The two of them could be at this for hours. I went upstairs and jerked off in the shower.
Last night was the first time Justin and I had been at Babylon together since the club re-opened, at least, other than a quick look during the daytime, when no one was around and all the lights were on. This was the first time I’d walked in there with him since before the bombing, with the lights flashing and glitter falling and the music thumping, and all my employees acting like Justin walked into that club every night of his life, saying “Good evening, Mr. Taylor” when we walked by. Even the ones who’d never laid eyes on him before.
I was particularly surprised at everyone’s ability to recognize Justin, since he was wearing the New York club clothes I’d bought him on my last visit, and not his usual pants four sizes too big and a baggy sweater. When I’d tossed them at him while he was getting dressed he’d actually blushed. Which made me have to fuck him before we could go out, but really, it didn’t take much to get me to do that lately.
I was just about to go up the stairs with Justin when a brightly glittered creature in black eyeliner came dancing over to us.
“Sweeties! Happy New Year!”
Justin stood on his toes and kissed Emmett on his cheek. I caught sight of the head of security talking agitatedly on his headset, and excused myself for a minute. Emmett dragged Justin out on the dance floor.
After I checked with security and got myself a drink, I didn’t feel like dancing, so I went upstairs to the office. Ted was there with one of the sound guys, looking at some paperwork.
“I realize you can’t drink or fuck, Theodore, but do you have to work on New Year’s Eve?”
Ted looked up and raised his chin in my direction. “We’re just finishing up, anything else we need to go over, Ron?” There wasn’t, so Ron, or as I thought of him, the sound guy, left. I went and sat at the desk and leaned back in the chair. Ted was watching me. I had the unnerving sensation he was laughing at me.
“What’s up, Brian? You’re not dancing, drinking, drugging, or dragging someone into the back room? Has the sky fallen? Hell frozen over? Will I look out the door and see little pigs flying around?”
I shrugged and turned the chair around to look at the shelves behind the desk. “Justin’s dancing with Emmett.”
Ted nodded. “Yeah, I try not to be seen dancing with the two of them, it can really destroy what little self-confidence I have.”
I turned my chair back around to face him. “So, did you give everyone photos of Justin or just a general description?”
He didn’t even pretend not to know what I was talking about. “We showed a fifteen-minute instructional video.”
“Theodore?”
Ted still looked smug. I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“You know, I can fire you. I could have you replaced in about ten minutes by any number of people glad to work for half what I pay you.”
“Yeah, I can see that now. I go to apply for a new job, they ask why I left Kinnetik, and I tell them, Brian Kinney fired me because I wouldn’t stop teasing him about his boyfriend.”
“Fine. Then I’ll have you killed instead of just fired.”
Ted walked over to the door. “You know what else, Brian? It would be worth getting fired, and maybe even killed, just to have the inestimable joy of seeing you slide ever-further into the pit of fire, kicking and screaming and grabbing at branches all the way down. Have a great time with Justin in New York.” And he walked out of the room.
I was sure I must have fucked a hit man or two, I was going to have to find one who owed me a favor.
I went back downstairs and saw Justin where I’d left him, dancing with Emmett. I came up behind him and scooped him up close to me, and he didn’t even open his eyes, just leaned back into me and smiled. I met Emmett’s eyes over his head and raised an eyebrow. He grinned and said, “Just one little tab of E. He asked so pretty.” Then Justin turned around in my arms and started kissing me and I had no fucking idea where Emmett went after that.
After making out with Justin on the dance floor like I was in high school, undoubtedly to the glee of all my employees who were probably preparing blackmail video footage at that very moment, I dragged him over to the bar and got him a bottle of water. He never seemed to want to drink enough water when he was high, and I always had to make him. He usually had no aversion to anything else I wanted to put in his mouth at times like that, so I kissed him and got a mouthful of cold water for it. And then he giggled. And then he went up on his toes and kissed me again, this time without the water surprise. And then I looked up and saw Ted leaning on the bar behind Justin, looking remarkably happy for a man who was going to be out of work, or possibly dead, the next day. And standing next to him, looking even happier, if by “happy” you mean “gloating,” was Melanie.
“So, Justin.” It was Ted. “Mel tells me Santa was very good to you this Christmas. You must have been an awfully good boy.” Melanie laughed and spewed beer out her nose.
Justin turned around in my arms and gave Ted a blissful look. “Yeah, Ted, he brought me an iPod and a car and ummm, a bottle of water, and I think some other stuff. He bought me this, too.” And he held out a corner of his shirt, exposing his flat stomach. I forgot what I was going to say to Ted. “Only not for Christmas. He got me that in New York when he visited me. Because otherwise he has to be all embarrassed at my pants. But he just took them off anyway, so I don’t know why…” I got my hand over his mouth and turned him around and pushed his face into my shoulder. I’d remembered that doing drugs made Justin horny, I’d forgotten they also disconnected the filter between his brain and his mouth.
“Hey, guys! Happy New Year!” It was Mikey and the Professor. It suddenly struck me that, after his abdominal muscles, Ben’s total lack of a sense of humor was his finest quality.
Justin had pulled away from me to hug Michael and Ben, and then Ben said, “So, Justin, I heard you got a new car for Christmas,” with a big dopey grin on his face.
I put down my drink and headed for the stairs. I felt a hand on my arm. Mikey.
“Hey! I just got here, where ya going?” I shook off his hand.
“Where do you think I’m going?”
“I think you’re going to get your dick sucked.”
“Are you volunteering, or did you just want to watch?”
“No, what I had in mind is more of an intervention.”
I didn’t mean to but I laughed. I cut it off fast, though. “Save it for Ted and his 12-step losers.”
“Come on, Brian… let’s dance.”
“Michael, I thought you were the one who wanted me to stay the poster child for a life of hedonism. What’s your problem tonight?”
“What, just because I didn’t want fucking terrorists to shut down a place where we’ve spent half our lives, it means I think you need to spend Justin’s first night back here getting your dick sucked in the back room?”
“If Justin doesn’t want me to go back there, Justin can ask me. It’s none of your business.” And I left. But I just went upstairs and got another drink. Michael’d killed my mood.
Three shots later I was looking down from the catwalk, watching the lights and glitter and Justin dancing with Emmett again. And Ben. And Michael. And Lindsay and Mel and Ted. Blake wasn’t there. Ted had said he’d gone skiing for the week. Good. There were enough blonds here already. Justin had his arms up in the air and he and Emmett were shimmying back to back, laughing like it was the silliest thing they’d ever done, which believe me, it wasn’t. Melanie started doing the same thing with Ted, who freaked out and backed away, and then Lindsay doubled over laughing at whatever Melanie said to him.
Michael had his arms around Ben’s neck and they were laughing too, but privately, and not really paying attention to the Justin and Emmett show. It was twenty minutes to midnight. But I’d had enough of symbolic gestures and sentiment and family to last me until next New Year’s.
I turned around to get another drink, and practically fell on top of Ted.
“Dancing with Melanie bad enough to drive you off the dance floor?” I realized too late he’d know I’d been watching. Plus I was seriously drunk and he was sober, which as I recalled was not a good combination for me and him. But he just shrugged.
“They’re having a good time. I wasn’t in the same mood.”
“Meaning they’re all drunk and you’re not. Plus the hubby’s out of town and everyone down there is dancing two by two.”
“OK, so I know you’re not jealous of Emmett and Justin, because that’s the least likely thing in the universe.” Then he shut up, even though I kept waiting for either a question or a snide comment. But he just stood there. I hated him when he was patient. I waved the bartender over for another drink and waited Ted out.
He cracked first. “Getting itchy, Brian?”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Things going too well? Justin’s back, Gus is coming back, the club is back, Kinnetik’s doing great, you and Michael made up, things going too well, you need to fuck them up now so you can feel normal?” I was seriously wondering if you could sue a twelve step program.
“If I suddenly get the urge to be psychoanalyzed, trust me, it won’t be by you and it won’t be at Babylon.” I looked back down at the floor, and couldn’t see Justin anymore. Emmett was gone, too, but Mel and Lindz and Michael and Ben were still dancing. Then I saw Emmett dancing on the other side of the club, but I still didn’t see Justin’s blond head. I knew all I had to do was ask any one of the people working here and I’d probably be able to get his GSP coordinates, Ted had probably had a transponder sewn into Justin’s pants.
And then I glanced away from Ted, to my right, and Justin was leaning with his back on the railing, a bottle of water in his hand. He smiled. “I thought you might be thirsty.” And he took a big gulp of water and then put his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me in and pushed it into my mouth. He kept kissing me after I swallowed it, nuzzling his hand into my hair. Then he pulled away. “Everyone misses you. Come dance with us, it’s almost midnight.”
Justin’s POV
I realized at some point Brian had left me and Lindsay talking in my studio. She was sitting on the floor, her legs pulled up to her chest, speculating on how much scaffolding I’d need and trying to figure out the best way to work with a piece the size I had in mind. She’d taken off her coat and scarf, but she was still playing with her knit cap. I realized how long it had been since I felt like I was with the old Lindsay instead of serious art gallery Lindsay. It reminded me of Kalli, how when she would work at Armand’s gallery she’d pull her hair back in a tight knot with just one glossy curl hanging down on her neck and wear a slinky black dress and high heels, but when she was at the studio her hair just bushed out all over the place and she wore a mini skirt over her jeans and boots.
Lindsay was wearing jeans and a sweater and her hair was curly. I remembered the first time she’d told me I had talent, and let me draw her and Gus. And how she got Brian to come to that first art show.
She stood up and sat at the table near me. “This is a beautiful studio, you’re going to love working here.”
“Yeah, it’s a big change.”
“He built this for you.” I just nodded. He did.
“I’m still so sorry for what I said on Christmas, Justin. I never, ever wanted to hurt you or Brian. And I’m so sorry that I did.” She’d already apologized, she didn’t have to do it over and over. I told her that.
She shook her head. “I know, I’ll shut up about it. But Justin, you’re absolutely, positively sure, New York doesn’t have anything for you?”
“I am absolutely, positively sure New York does have things for me.”
“Then why are you coming back here? To be with Brian? There are opportunities in New York, in the galleries there, you just can’t get in Pittsburgh.”
“I know, Lindz. I really do know. But in the end, is that about art, or is it about money? Are you telling me I can’t be an artist and be in Pittsburgh, or are you telling me I can’t be a rich and famous artist and be in Pittsburgh? Because that’s not about art, it’s about ambition.”
“But you’re acting like you have to choose between success in the art world, and Brian. Don’t you know he’d wait for you?”
I didn’t know that, or at least, not in the way she meant. And I wasn’t sure if, despite her apologies for the scene at Deb’s on Christmas, I was ready to trust her again. But she seemed genuinely concerned about me. I took a deep breath.
“Yeah, Lindz, I know he won’t go off after someone else. It’s just, I don’t want to have to do the work of cutting through the protective outer layers all over again.” I didn’t tell her the rest, that I needed him to rub my hand when it got stiff. That getting fucked three times a day kept me feeling creative. That sometimes I felt like a kid drawing pictures at school because he knew his mom was going to put them on the fridge, so I just made more and more art so Brian could look at it and tell me it was good, and make me believe it because I knew he’d never lie about it.
I’d stopped answering her and she stopped talking and looked at me until she had my attention again. “I can have the scaffolding set up while you’re in New York if you want.” She was smiling. I took the olive branch.
“That would be great, thanks.” She smiled even more, and then Melanie knocked on the door, even though it was open.
“Hey, guys, Gus wanted to see Justin’s studio, is it OK?” Gus came flying in the door and raced for where I was sitting on the table again, and I helped him climb up. It was huge, almost more like a stage than a table, and he must have thought so too because he decided to start stomping around acting out his favorite scenes from every cartoon he’d ever seen. It suddenly struck me that scaffolding and a six-year-old in the house wasn’t the greatest combination ever.
The same thought must have occurred to Lindsay because she suddenly said, “You’re going to need to get a lock on this door when the scaffolding is up.”
Melanie shook her head. “Lindz, we’re not going to be here that long. We need to get out of their hair.”
I objected.“You can stay as long as you want, Brian loves having Gus here. And you guys and JR, too, I mean.”
Lindsay laughed. “Don’t worry, Justin, I think Mel and I both know we’re here on Gus’ ticket. It’s OK.”
Melanie snorted. “Yeah, well, I might possibly have gotten my ticket revoked last night. Did Brian mention anything about hit men to you, Justin, and has anyone actually heard from Ted today?”
Lindsay burst out laughing and I felt my face getting red. My memories of last night were a little bit hazy in parts, but I did seem to remember something about Ted’s prospects for a long and healthy life not being the best, and possibly the evisceration of Melanie too. I had to stop Brian from playing those violent video games with Gus.
And then Gus decided to switch from marching around the table to flying off it, and Lindsay and I dove for him at the same time. We both missed, but it wasn’t really that high off the ground and he just jumped up laughing and went tearing off out the door and down the hall. Lindsay heaved a big sigh and took off after him.
“Brian really will miss him.” It was Mel. I looked at her in surprise.
“Yeah, but at least he’ll be here and not in Toronto. I’m really glad you guys are coming back.”
“And you’ll be here.”
I smiled. “Yup.” She looked at me for a minute with a curious expression on her face.
“I’m really happy for you, Justin. Brian’s luckier than shit you put up with him.”
There was a paint rag lying next to me and I threw it at her, and she caught it laughing. “You know what I mean. Admit it, he’s a dick sometimes.”
“Justin likes my dick.” It was Brian, standing in the doorway. I regretted having thrown away my only weapon. “Did you solve the great scaffolding crisis or do I need to get the studio remodeled again?”
Brian’s POV
Justin stuck his tongue out at me and then announced he was hungry. What a shock. Mel laughed and headed for the kitchen, and Justin followed her out, but I grabbed him as he went past and pulled him in for a kiss. He molded himself right up against me and I started thinking maybe I could get him to blow me before lunch. Then his stomach growled. This really wasn’t my day. He must have read my mind because he burst out laughing. He slipped his hand down and cupped it round my dick, and pulled my hand down to his ass, and whispered against my throat, “After lunch, I promise. Now it’s a major holiday, remember, you have to be sweet and sentimental to me in front of people. We have a deal.”
“Yeah, but you’re supposed to blow me whenever I want. And uh, wasn’t there something about me fucking you into the mattress? When do we get to that part?”
“Blow you whenever I want, and you fuck me into the mattress after lunch and after you tell me you love me.”
“God, what are you, a lawyer?”
He stuck his tongue out again so I sucked on it. I still had my hand on his ass and he still had his on my dick, so I thought things were looking up, until his stomach growled again. People always think having a young lover is so hot, they should really walk a mile in my shoes sometime.
“OK, I get it, lunch. Then fucking.”
“Lunch, then you tell me you love me, then you fuck me.”
“Or you can just blow me.”
“If I feel like it. Depends on what you make me for lunch.”
Fortunately Lindsay had already made grilled cheese sandwiches for the kids and pasta and salad for us. It was remotely possible there were some things about her being here I was going to miss.
Justin’s POV
The day after New Year’s, Brian and I went to New York to get my stuff. He wanted to fly and have everything shipped, I wanted to drive my new car and bring home as much as possible ourselves. I won.
He got to pick the hotel, pack for me, and insult my driving, so he was happy.
When we got to New York, he learned the major difference between trying to get somewhere in your own car as opposed to giving an address to a driver and then just sitting back while he or she got you there. It involved maps, yelling, slammed glove compartment doors, and threats of death. Plus more yelling. By the time we got to my apartment, I was really glad we’d never gotten married because I would have so been getting a divorce. He sulked in the car while I gathered up my clothes and CDs and books. He’d told me in no uncertain terms that if so much as one cockroach egg found it’s way to the house he was going to have it fumigated with me inside it, so I left everything else.
When I got back down to the car, he was in the driver’s seat. Like I was surprised at that. I decided to pick my battles and put my bags in the back and got in the passenger side door. “Let’s go.”
He pulled out into traffic. He must have been studying the map while I was upstairs, because he didn’t ask for directions. In fact, he got us to the studio without either one of us saying another word. I really hated him.
We double-parked and went inside and I unlocked the gate to my space. Brian was right behind me, and just before I walked in he put his hands on my shoulders and turned me around. I looked up at him, not sure what he wanted, and he touched his forehead to mine. I smiled at him.
“What is it?” He shook his head.
“Just wondering if you were really sure about this.” Oh god, here we went again. I really wasn’t sure what was more annoying, his backseat driving or his total inability to let me decide for myself how I wanted to live my life. Although on second thought, they were the same problem.
“Are you kidding? I’ll get lots more work done in Pittsburgh. And better work.”
He wrinkled up his forehead. He shouldn’t do that, botox was expensive and if he lost his ability to lift his eyebrows he might have to speak or something.
“Yeah, I’m better living with you, otherwise it’s too much of a distraction from my art to have to go out and find sex.”
“So you just want me around for convenience.”
“You knew that, though, didn’t you?” I bit his ear lobe. “That I was only with you for the sex?”
“I actually thought it was something like that. It’s why I keep you around, so I don’t have to get up and go out, I can just roll over on top of someone.”
“Yeah. It’s worth all the other shit.”
“Other shit?” He didn’t like that.
“Yeah, the telling me how to drive and ridiculing my clothes and trying to find blowjob loopholes in our prenuptial agreement.” He swatted me on the ass and then we started packing up my stuff and taking it out to the car.
While I was stacking small canvases near the doorway, Kalli walked in. “Justin! I’m glad I was here when you came, Armand came and got your big pieces on Friday. He told me you’re going to be working in Pennsylvania now.”
“Yeah, I am. You remember Brian?”
Kalli smiled at Brian and then winked at him. “Yeah, I vaguely remember him sweeping you off in a limo last time, everybody down here talked about it for like a month.” Brian liked that. He always seemed to like my female friends who thought he was hot.
Kalli tore her eyes away from Brian and smiled back in my direction. “That’s good, Armand loves shows like ‘Emerging Artists of Wyeth Country.’ Or maybe something about the Amish, he’d love that.”
I laughed. “Well, better try selling him on something more along the lines of ‘Emerging Artists of the Dying Industrial East,’ because we live in Pittsburgh.”
Kalli helped us bring the last load of stuff out to the Range Rover. “No limo this time?”
Brian smiled, a little evil. “No, Justin wanted to drive his new car.” I blushed. Kalli looked at me with her eyebrow raised. I slammed the hatch shut at the back; we’d gotten everything in.
Brian got into the passenger seat and I turned to say goodbye to Kalli. She was still laughing. When she had me in a goodbye hug, she whispered in my ear, “Justin? I want to share with you some wisdom about the art world and talent and human nature that I’ve learned over the years.”
I pulled back and looked at her. She had a serious look on her face but her eyes were sparkling.
“Just remember, having a hot guy shoving his dick up your ass and buying you expensive things doesn’t make you less of an artist.” And she laughed again and kissed me on the cheek and went back inside.
Brian’s POV
Justin didn’t explain his bright red face when he got in the car, and I didn’t ask. We drove to the hotel without my having to look at the map again, and without Justin’s input on the best route. Still, I was glad to hand the keys to the parking attendant, our suitcases to the bellman, and my credit card to the front desk, just so we could get into a room without cockroaches, dust, paint fumes, and seventy-five layers of grime. I was starting to think Justin really did come home for the showers.
He was busy sorting through his suitcase looking for something, so I went and took a shower by myself. When I got out he had his sketchbook out. I was wrapped in a towel and my hair was wet. Justin seemed kind of restless.
“Something you can’t find?”
He looked over at me, and shook his head. “Nah, I found everything, just feel weird, feel like painting. I don’t suppose we can go home tonight?”
“Tell me you’re kidding. I don’t want to see that car again until tomorrow. If then.”
He laughed a little. “Yeah, I’m kidding, I’m fucking exhausted. All I want to do is get into bed and sleep until morning. If you even suggest anything more strenuous than room service I will so not blow you for a week.”
I’d planned on going out, having fond memories of our last night in New York, but at that point room service and bed sounded perfect, although the sleep part wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. We called in our dinner order and I pulled him down on the sofa with me so he could thank me for giving in so graciously. It appeared, though, that he was in a talkative mood. I thought back to the happy days of his not-talking phase. My “no regrets” policy might need some revision.
“Brian?”
I reluctantly hauled my mind back to the present and answered him. “Yeah?”
“Why are you always, always second guessing me on this shit?”
“Ummm, I think I know better than you how you should live your life? Because I’m an arrogant, controlling asshole with an ego the size of Pennsylvania?”
“Wow. That just cut out a whole big chunk of this discussion.”
“I wanted to get it over with before dinner got here.”
“But now what are we going to do?”
“Well, you could blow me like you promised.”
“When exactly did I promise that?”
“Prenuptial agreement. Page 15. I drove, you blow.”
There was really nothing he could say to that except “OK.” And even Justin can’t keep chattering with a dick in his mouth. And since room service took forever, I picked him up after and carried him to the bed and returned the favor. Conversation is really a totally over-rated form of communication.
But after dinner Justin still seemed restless, and I asked if he was sure he didn’t want to go out. “We could just go get a drink, we don’t have to go dancing or anything. You seem a little wired.”
He pointed at the minibar. “There’s like, forty different kinds of booze right here in the room, we can get totally plastered without going out the door.” Sounded good to me, so I made us both a drink. I sat down on the couch and he took his drink and sat on the ottoman. “Can I draw you?”
I shrugged. “As long as I can watch TV. Sure.” He’d been drawing me for years, I hardly noticed anymore. But there was nothing on and after surfing for a while I turned the TV off and shut my eyes. It had been a long fucking day.
It suddenly seemed too quiet to me. I didn’t want to move when Justin was drawing me, so I waited a little longer, and then I opened my eyes. He was sitting on the ottoman still, his right hand cradled in his left. His pencil was on the floor, and his sketchbook was half off his lap. His eyes were closed. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed.
“Justin.” He opened his eyes, and I couldn’t for even one second stand to look at the bleakness in them. I got up and went over and knelt down in front of him and wrapped myself around him. I knew it wouldn’t help. I did it for me, not him. I really am the most selfish asshole sometimes.
After a few minutes he relaxed. Maybe he was a little better. Maybe there’s just so long you can hold your muscles rigid like that. I don’t know. But I took it. And I pulled him up, gently, and brought him over to the sofa and sat down with him. He was resisting me but I ignored it. He was tense all over again. I really didn’t care.
And then we went through the same thing again, him sitting rigid and then finally softening, and I just kept my arms around him and he eventually started breathing and let his back touch my arm and then the back of the sofa, and then he put his head on my shoulder and then I relaxed too. And put my head down on his soft hair.
His right hand was lying on his thigh, and I could see it was still half-cramped up. I was afraid if I touched it he’d tense up again. I didn’t know what to do. I know people think sometimes that I’m being stubborn or cold when people need things from me, but most of the time I just feel like my mind is a blank and my instincts go quiet and the only safe thing to do is nothing. To not give the answer or read the script. And for Justin there are times I’ve tried to push past that and find the words or actions he’s asking for. But right then he wasn’t asking for anything. And I had to figure out what he needed, when he had no idea, and neither did I. Because I’m selfish and I couldn’t stand seeing him like that.
I tried to imagine what I could lose that would be like this is for him, and I couldn’t. Not even when I was sick and couldn’t fuck, not when I was totally dead in the water on a campaign, not when everything in my life was going to shit, not when I was broke and unemployed, not the night he went over and picked up those packed bags and left, not even when I heard that a bomb had gone off at Babylon and went looking for him, none of it was helping me understand what he must feel right now. Because I knew it wasn’t just a skill or even a need or desire that was being thwarted. It was more like not being able to breathe. Or maybe I really didn’t know what it was. Maybe I couldn’t.
But sitting on the outside looking in at it was killing me. And so I had to make it stop somehow. And there was nothing I could do.
So I just sat there with him and waited for inspiration. But nothing came to me.
Justin’s POV
I could tell how upset Brian was, and it made me feel worse. I think the most helpless feeling I’ve ever had is seeing Brian helpless. You’d think between him worrying about me and me worrying about him and the two of us worrying about the other one worrying about him, we’d be fine. But instead I sat there feeling like an idiot for letting the shit with my hand get to me, when it didn’t really matter. Even when I couldn’t draw I could paint. I could usually paint for hours at a time. And I could use my computer, too.
But I didn’t have my computer that night, and I had no way to paint. And fuck, there are just some times when I have to do something, get some kind of images out there, or I feel like I’m going to explode. And all I wanted was to sketch Brian for a little while. And I think I got like ten minutes. I can almost always get at least twice that. I never really know what sets my hand off. Maybe it was driving or moving boxes or maybe I was just fucked.
I wished Brian would rub my hand but it seemed like he was afraid to move. I didn’t want to cry so I didn’t say anything, but I kind of picked up my right hand and slid it over onto his thigh, and he grabbed it and started massaging it. He was probably relieved that he could do something. And then after a little while I really did feel better. Not just my hand, which didn’t really hurt all that much, it just stopped working. The cramping and pain were from my trying to use my muscles to do what my brain wouldn’t do, tell my hand to move and hold a pencil. If I stopped the minute things started getting fucked, there wouldn’t really be any pain and cramping. And I’d get about five minutes instead of twenty.
Brian surprised me. He smiled at me and held my hand in both of his and said, “Better?” But I could tell from his eyes his smile was bullshit.
I nodded. “Yeah, thanks. That’s the only thing that helps.”
He sighed. “What happened?”
“What always happens, after a while I just can’t control my hand anymore. Sometimes I get more time than that.” I kind of shrugged.
“What does it feel like?”
“It doesn’t hurt, really, I just can’t control it. Then I try to use my muscles and that’s when it gets all cramped up.” He knew this.
“That’s not what I meant, what I meant is, what does it feel like, for you.”
OK, that was weird. I thought Brian Kinney was asking me about my feelings. I wasn’t sure, though. That seemed kind of unlikely.
“Ummm, what do you mean?”
“I mean, what does it feel like when you’re drawing and then you can’t?”
I was about to make some kind of crack about him freaking me out, but I caught myself at the last minute. It looked like he really wanted to know, and all of a sudden I wanted him to. I thought about it a little before I thought of how to put it.
“It’s like having sex, and you’re in the middle of it, and it’s really good, and then it just stops. Like the other person just… evaporated or something. And you’re still in the middle of all the feelings and it’s all still pouring through you but there’s just nowhere for it to go. There’s no one there.”
I guess when I look back on that night in ten years, it might turn out to be the most number of words Brian ever spent asking me about my feelings. Or maybe it’ll start a new trend. But either way, he was done talking. He was holding my hand and kind of playing with my fingers, and he put one in his mouth and started licking and sucking it, and playing with it with his tongue. And it felt really good.
Brian’s POV
Justin was up on his knees with his hands braced on the wall behind the bed. I had my hands on his hips and I was fucking him, pulling him back down hard onto my cock as I slammed up and forward. I had started out fucking him slow but he kept asking for it harder, and he didn’t seem to want me to touch his cock. He didn’t seem to even want to come, but he was shoving himself down on me, and I gave up fighting it and wrapped my arms around his chest and thrust up into him just when he drove himself down and tightened on me, and I came, shouting his name and biting hard at his shoulder.
I was still gasping when Justin pushed off the wall and fell back onto me. I wrapped my hand around his cock and started to jerk on it. He was dripping all over my hand. I was still buried inside him, and I could feel him getting closer, and I whispered into his ear, “Justin, I wanted to come inside you, I wanted to fill you up with my come and let it run down out of you and all over your thighs and then push you down on the bed and lick it up, lick all my come off the insides of your thighs and then lick it out of your asshole, suck all my come out of you.”
And Justin just exploded all over my hand and the bed and the wall behind the bed, his ass clamping down so hard on my cock it hurt like fucking hell, and his head thrown back on my shoulder and his hands gripping my forearms so hard he was going to leave bruises. And when he was finally lying under me on the bed, his sides heaving, trying to get his breath, I whispered into his ear again. “It’s not just you who wants it, Justin.”
Continued here...