Summary: Methods of Transportation and how they connect Brian and Justin
Author's Notes: Thank you to shadownyc for graciously betaing by my fic.
When Justin left for New York, he took a plane. As it made its way across the sky, taking him to a new life filled with doubt and potential, his heart was at war with itself. The only thing keeping it from breaking apart from the pain of leaving Brian was the anxious excitement about the possibilities that New York held for him.
He took a cab to his apartment, and there, began his life in New York.
He moved into the apartment he was sharing with Daphneís friend, and on his first day of work in one of the smaller galleries in Chelsea, he took the subway and promptly got lost. He missed his first stop, and then the next two, as he tried desperately to read the map on the wall, hang on to his messenger bag, and avoid the loud, drunken man that had taken the seat next to his. At the fourth stop, Justin got off the subway and made his way to the street. It was with great disgust and personal chagrin that he hailed a cab and gave the address of the gallery to the driver. The next morning, Justin bought a pocket-sized map for the subway, marked the important stops, and committed them to memory. Heíd be damned if he was going to be a tourist in this-his-town.
After a few rough weeks, Justin began to acclimate himself to the city. He walked everywhere he could, whenever he could. Slowly, he began to familiarize himself with his new neighborhood, the gallery where he worked, and the small studio he was renting. Every morning, as he got his coffee and bagel for breakfast, he made small talk with the man that ran the deli next to his apartment building. It wasnít long before he began to tell the man about his family and friends he had left behind in Pittsburgh.
The first time Brian came to New York, he called Justin, told him to answer his door, and there he stood. His shirt was unbuttoned and he was in the process of pulling his tie over his head. Without a word, he stepped into the apartment, kicked the door shut with his foot, and reached for Justinís pants. When his fingers couldnít undo the buttons fast enough, he grabbed the material in his hands and pulled, sending buttons flying.
"Jesus Brian," Justin gasped, as Brian pushed him to the floor, followed him down and quickly sheathing himself, sank into Justin. Scrambling for purchase on the throw rug, his knees beginning to burn from the friction, Justin tried to hold on as Brian thrust into him. In what seemed like mere seconds, Justin came all over the rug as Brian pushed into him, his own orgasm spilling from him with a deep, guttural moan.
When they were done, Brian sat on the floor and lit a cigarette. As he blew out a stream of smoke, he looked at Justin and said, "Pack what you need for the weekend. Weíre going to my hotel."
With a huge grin on his face, Justin hauled himself up on his feet and as he walked to the bedroom to get his things, Brian barked, "Hurry the fuck up. Iíve got a cab waiting downstairs."
The second time Brian came to visit, he called Justin on Tuesday, giving him time to re-arrange his schedule to suit Brianís needs.
"Be ready Friday morning and meet me outside your apartment at 9:00 am. Sharp. And bring the red shirt."
Friday morning, at 9:15 am, Justin walked out of his apartment building and found a Lincoln Town Car double-parked at the curb. As he stood there with his bag in hand, the tinted rear window rolled down and Brian yelled out, "Youíre late. Get your ass in the car," and then opened the door and hauled Justin into the backseat as the driver got out to put his bag in the trunk. In the time it took the driver to get behind the wheel and begin the drive to the hotel, Brian had managed to relieve Justin of both his pants and underwear.
His hands tightly gripping the chestnut hair that filled his lap, Justin wasnít sure which would undo him first. Brianís mouth, hot and greedy as it ravished his cock, or the love he felt for the man of said mouth.
When Justin went home to Pittsburgh to visit, he took a plane. His time was short and he didnít waste a moment. Between the onslaught of family and friends and dinner obligations and expectations, he and Brian would have to fuck whenever and wherever they could: the elevator in Brianís building, the loft, Michaelís old bedroom after Thanksgiving dinner, in his Momís upstairs bathroom that first Christmas he had come home. Everyone just looked the other way, pretending not to notice the almost frantic desperation that often permeated his brief visits home.
Brian would be in the Ďvette, parked in the Arrivals lot. It had become standard policy that Justin would blow him when Brian met him at the airport.
"Itís the least you can do," Brian would say. "I had to leave work early for this. Kinnetik doesnít run itself."
Justin rolled his eyes as he leaned across the gearshift, his right hand palming Brianís cock through his jeans while his lips played along his jaw.
"You know, you donít have to pick me up," he whispered in Brianís ear. "I could always ask someone else to come and get me," he said, unzipping Brianís jeans, and pulling out his cock. He lightly caught Brianís earlobe between his teeth as his thumb flicked over the slit in Brianís dick, catching the pre-come. Sitting back in his seat, he brought his thumb to his mouth. Brian watched, eyes dark, his breathing ragged, as Justin slowly licked his thumb, then leaned in, his mouth hovering over Brianís. A small growl escaped Brian as he brought his hand up, fingers threading through blond hair, his mouth crushing Justinís. Brian tasted himself, Justin, and all of the time and distance that had separated them since their last visit.
The third time Brian came to visit, he was bearing gifts.
"Wake up Sunshine and get your ass downstairs."
Downstairs was the entrance to his apartment building. After living in New York for almost 16 months, and with three successful shows behind him, Justin got the offer of a sublet in a local artistís co-op. It was a five-story building, with the first four floors broken up into apartments. The top floor was studio space for all of the artists in residence. Like the first four floors, it too was broken into small spaces, each a home to a varied group of painters, sculptors, even a few performance artists.
By the time Justin had put on his pants and made his way down to the street, two men were unloading the new bed frame and mattress set that was destined for his apartment.
"How ya doiní?" the burly Italian asked, as he rolled the dolly past Justin.
Standing on the sidewalk, he gaped at the delivery truck: Rocco and Eddieís Delivery Service. "Just because weíre cheap donít mean we arenít good."
"WhatÖ" Justin began, as he turned and looked at Brian, his eyes wide and questioning. "You know what? I donít want to know. I donít."
Turning to look at the deliverymen, Justin saw for the first time what they were delivering.
"What the fuck Brian? I already have a bed," Justin began, as the men started to load the mattress set into the service elevator.
"You have a used bed. Used Justin. How the hell am I supposed to fuck you in a used bed?"
"Jesus Brian, I donít know. How about the same way youíve fucked me inÖoh, I donít knowÖthe backroom at Babylon, various allies around the Pitts, Debís bathroom, the corner stall at WoodyísÖ Michaelís bedÖ" he said with a pointed look at Brian.
"Enough," barked Brian. "Do you think I donít remember everywhere Iíve ever fucked you? Because I do. What I donít remember is fucking you on a used mattress."
Justin had to smile at the memory of Brianís horrified reaction when he found out that Justin had kept the bed that came with the room in the first apartment he had shared with Daphneís friend.
"Christ, how do you know heteros havenít been sleeping, or, God forbid, fucking, on this bed?" Brian has asked.
Justin couldnít help but laugh at the look on Brianís face. "Youíre serious, arenít you?"
Brian glared while Justin continued to laugh at him. "At least tell me these are clean sheets? And that theyíre your sheets. Not ones that came with the bed." Justin had laughed so hard that he fell on the bed, which had given Brian the perfect opportunity to inspect the sheets himself.
"Grab those bags," Brian said, as he made his way to the elevator.
"Whatís in them?" Justin demanded, as he opened one.
"Egyptian sheet sets. Fifteen hundred thread count. Thereís a matching duvet in the other bag. I also got you some decent pillows. You donít expect me to sleep on shitty, low thread count sheets do you? Iíve raised you better than that," Brian said, as he turned and looked at Justin, a smile forming on his mouth.
Justin sat the bags back down on the sidewalk, walked up to Brian, and putting his hand on the back of his neck, gently pulled Brianís head down to his, their lips meeting in a kiss.
"Itís nice to see you, too, Brian," he said, smiling as he pulled away and bent down to pick up the bags again.
"Come on," Brian said brusquely, as he picked up the other bags. "We donít want the delivery men to get mugged on the way to your room. That mattress cost more than their truck."
"These sheets smell nice," Justin said, as he stuck his head in the bag and inhaled. "Did you wash them?"
Brian looked at him as if heíd lost his mind. "Do I look like the fucking laundry lady?"
"Iíll take that as a no," Justin said, maneuvering himself around the deliverymen. They had managed to get the mattress into the living area, and were trying to figure out how to get it in the bedroom.
"You now have an account with the dry cleaners at the end of your block. The nameís on the bag. You can take your sheets and the duvet there when they need cleaning. Sheets and duvet only," Brian said, as he looked hard at Justin. "Iím not paying for someone else to wash your clothes."
"Thanks, but Iíve managed so far by myself. I think I can last a little longer," Justin replied sarcastically, as he dumped the bags on the couch.
"No one likes a smart ass Justin," Brian said, as he began to instruct the men on the placement of the bed.
"You realize that thereís only one place and one way it can go," said Justin, trying to see around Brian as the men began to disassemble the old bed to make way for the new one.
"Let me clarify myself," Brian stated, his voice low, as he walked Justin backwards towards the couch. "No one likes to fuck a smartass. Even one with an ass as pretty as yours."
"Like thatís ever stopped you before," taunted Justin, as he reached out and lightly trailed his right index finger over the zipper on Brianís jeans. Brianís breath caught as he felt his cock twitch.
Lightly grabbing Justinís hand, Brian lowered his head and whispered, "While I know youíve missed me terribly and can not wait to have me fuck you, I donít think the deliverymen would appreciate the delay and I am NOT paying them to sit around and watch us fuck."
Justin glanced over Brianís shoulder, leaned in conspiratorially and said, "I donít know, Brian, the short, hairy oneís kind of hot."
"You little shit," Brian smirked, as he playfully shoved Justin onto the couch. Laughing as he got up, Justin grabbed Brian by the arm and spun him back around. He kissed him, hard, then reached down and grabbed a sketchpad off the table.
"Iím going to my studio. Call me when they leave."
One hour and five hundred dollars later, the old bed and the deliverymen were gone, leaving Brian in the apartment, alone with his purchase. He quickly made the bed, using the cerulean blue sheet set. He was reaching for his cell phone when the door to the apartment opened and Justin, walking in, stopped short.
"BrianÖwhy is my dresser in the living room?" he asked, as he walked over to the bedroom. Standing next to Brian, he looked at his bed, which was the only piece of furniture in the room.
"My bed looks like an ocean," Justin exclaimed. Stepping to the bed, he bent down, and ran his hand over the silky sheets. "They feel incredible."
He stood, pulled his tee shirt over his head, slipped off his pants and underwear and crawled on to the bed.
Brian could feel his cock begin to swell as he watched Justin crawl, then roll on to his back and stretch. "Ahhhhhhh. Brian, this feels fucking amazing."
Raising himself on his arms, he cocked his head at Brian. "Youíre wearing too many clothes," he said, his voice matter-of-fact.
"Here, let me fix that," he continued, as he scooted to the end of the bed where Brian stood. He dropped his bare legs over the edge of the bed, one on each side of Brianís. Reaching out, he quickly undid Brianís jeans, pushing them down so he could step out of them. He put his hands on Brianís hips, and pulling him close, laid his head on his stomach. He felt Brianís hands rest on his head as he sat and breathed in Brianís scent. Brianís cock, leaking pre-come, had left a damp spot on his underwear. Justin leaned his head back and looking up at Brian, said,
"Iíve missed you."
Placing a kiss on his bare stomach, Justin hooked his thumbs in the elastic band of Brianís underwear and slid them down, freeing his cock. He buried his face in Brianís crotch again, nuzzling and rubbing his face against his dick, leaving a trail of pre-come across his cheek. Pulling back, he caught the head in his mouth, and in one swift movement, swallowed Brianís dick halfway down his throat. Brianís hands gripped his hair and Justin felt him sway.
"Christ," Brian breathed out, as Justin pulled back and sucked on the head of his cock, his tongue flicking the slit, pre-come mixing with saliva. Brian shuddered as Justin swallowed him again, his hands reaching around and resting on Brianís ass, pulling him deeper into his throat. Breathing hard, Brian rocked his hips forward, slowly fucking Justinís mouth. His head dropped back, eyes closed, mouth open, as he let the sensation of Justinís mouth, hot and wet, wash over him.
Pulling back, Justin let Brianís cock slip out of his mouth. Brianís head snapped forward, his eyes glazed, as he opened his mouth to ask what the fuck Justin was doing. He watched as Justin scooted back up the bed and resting his head on one of the pillows, gazed at Brian, his eyes dark. Bringing his left hand up behind his head, Justin let the fingers of his right hand sweep over his cock, his eyes never leaving Brianís face. Spreading his legs, he let his hand play up the inside of his thigh and then down again. Trailing his fingers over his cock, he smeared the pre-come with his fingertips, and used it to paint a line down the underside of his dick, ending at the base. Cupping his balls, he moaned as he rolled them in his hand.
"Fuck Justin", Brian whispered, as he watched Justin play with himself.
Brian bent, and quickly dug the lube and condom from his pants pocket. Justin watched, his breath hitching in his throat as Brian ripped open the condom and rolled it onto his dick.
Justin breathed out Brianís name as his body shuddered in anticipation.
Bracing his knees against the mattress, Brian leaned forward, hooked his arms under Justinís knees and dragged him to the edge of the bed. Justin gasped as Brianís hand, now coated with lube, touched his cock and slowly ran up its length. "Justin," he murmured again, his eyes focused on Justinís glistening dick. Sliding his hand down, Brianís fingers grazed Justinís hole, smearing it with lube. He quickly slid in a finger, then pulling out, slid two back in as Justin pushed down, his breath leaving him in a loud groan as he ground on Brianís fingers. He let Justin fuck himself on his fingers as his other hand grasped Justinís cock, gliding over the lube, and began to jerk him off slowly.
Brianís dick, rock hard, pulsed as he watched Justin writhe on the bed, the sheets bunched in his fists. A red flush had spread over Justinís lower body and was blossoming on his chest. "Brian,í he panted, "Brian, fuck me. I need you to fuck me."
Brian pulled his fingers out and Justin moaned again. "Brian," he pleaded, his voice strained.
Placing his hands on the back of Justinís thighs, he pushed them back, spreading Justin open. "Jesus," he murmured, "You look so fucking beautiful." Justinís fingers tangled with Brianís as he grabbed his legs and held them up. Ghosting his fingers down Justinís legs, he brushed them over his cock, and felt the heat rising from Justinís skin. He slid a finger into Justinís ass, pressing hard on his prostate. Justin let out a strangled cry as he curled into himself
"Fuck Brian," said Justin, his voice harsh, as he struggled to catch his breath. "Quit playing with me and fuck me. Now."
Brian leaned forward, planted his hands on the mattress, and pushed all the way into Justin.
"Christ," Brian thought, "Iíve missed this." Missed the way Justin tasted, the way he moved when he was under Brian and the sounds he made, the way his lips felt as they roamed all over Brianís body, tasting and touching and leaving wet kisses that burned themselves onto Brianís skin. It was all he could do not to come as he felt Justinís warmth envelope him. He rocked into Justin, hard, as Justin pushed up, meeting his thrusts.
Bringing his hands to Brianís face, Justin pulled him down, his mouth locking on to Brianís, as their tongues collided. Their bodies, slick with sweat, slid against each other. Justin let himself got lost in the sensation of Brianís cock filling his ass and his own dick, trapped between them. His orgasm came hard and fast, causing him to cry out in surprise.
Brian felt Justinís ass clench around his cock, and he thrust once more and came with a strangled cry, his head buried in Justinís neck, his muscles taut.
They lay tangled and sweaty for several minutes as their breathing began to return to normal. Carefully pulling out of Justin, Brian took off the condom, tied it and tossed it on the floor. He rolled onto his back and lifted up his right arm as Justin curled into him. Laying his arm across Brianís chest, he worked his leg between Brianís as he settled in, practically purring in contentment.
"Comfortable?" Brian asked in an amused voice.
"Yeah," Justin said sleepily. "This bed was a good idea."
"Mmmm," said Brian in agreement, as he nuzzled Justinís hair, and placed a kiss on top of his head.
The week of Justinís first solo show, Ted and Blake arrived on Monday. They stayed at their usual hotel, making the rounds of Broadway and off-Broadway shows. His mother, Molly and Debbie arrived on Wednesday. Ben, Michael and Emmett arrived on Thursday. Friday night, they all met for dinner at an Italian restaurant near the gallery. The presence of Justinís family and friends gave him a much-needed sense of calm during his hectic week.
At 7:00 pm on the night of Justinís showing, Brian walked through the galleryís front door. "Do you mind if I borrow the artist?" he asked the gallery owner, and without waiting for a reply, took Justin by the arm and led him to the limousine parked at the curb.
"I have something that I want you to see," he told Justin as he opened the rear door.
"What is it?" he asked with a smile.
At seven fifty-five, the limousine pulled up to the curb and they got out, skin flushed, their clothing slightly rumpled
"I told you Iíd have you back on time." Brian whispered in Justinís ear as he opened the door to the gallery.
When Justin finally left New York to move back home, he took a plane. He caught a cab from the airport to Kinnetik. As he walked past Cynthiaís desk, she looked up, smiled and asked, "How was your flight?"
"Too long," Justin answered with a grin, as he reached for the knob on Brianís office door.
Brian was at his desk reviewing a client presentation when the door to his office opened.
"I told you no fucking interruptions," he snapped, as he continued to skim the boards on his desk. "Do I need to find someone Ö" he stopped mid-sentence, as he looked up and saw Justin standing in the doorway.
"What are you doing here?" asked Brian, his voice a mixture of disbelief and caution.
"Iím home," Justin said, as he kicked the door shut. Dropping his jacket and messenger bag on floor, he walked towards Brianís desk, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it towards the sofa.
Sitting back in his chair, Brian relaxed for the first time in a long while, and with a smirk on his face, looked at Justin and said, "Itís about fucking time."
Several hours later, Justin reached for his pants, and looking at Brian asked, "You have any plans for Saturday?"
"Why?" Brian asked warily.
"Because weíre supposed to meet Rocco and Eddie at the house so they can drop off the bed."
"Bed? What fucking bed?"
"My bed. The one you bought me in New York. You didnít think I was going to leave it there, did you?"
"Youíre having them bring your bed back here? Why the fuck would you do that?"
"Itís not just the bed. Iím having them bring the rest of my stuff too."
Justin looked at Brian and asked, in all seriousness, "You do know how much that bed cost? I couldnít leave it there."
"Of course I fucking know how much it fucking cost. I paid for the goddamned thing!" he said, his voice rising as he looked at Justin.
"So youíre not busy on Saturday?"
Brian sighed as he looked up at Justin. "Yes, I am busy this Saturday. Apparently thereís a truckload of shit being dropped off at our house."
Justinís smile lit up the office.
Shrugging on his jacket, Justin picked up his messenger bag and headed for the door.
"Iím going to meet my mom. She seems to think I need to get my own car," Justin said. "Apparently, public transportation is beneath me now that Iím a successful artist. Well, that and I canít fit my canvasses on the bus," he laughed as he smiled at Brian. Iíll meet you at the loft for dinner?"
"Yeah," Brian replied, still a little dazed from Justinís return and the whole bed conversation.
"Oh, and Brian? You might want to go by the bank before Saturday. Itís going to cost a lot more than five hundred dollars this time."
Justin barely made it through the door as the pillow from the sofa made a resounding thump against the back of the door.
"Fucking little twat." Brian mumbled to no one, reaching for a cigarette, unable to keep the smile from his face.