A ficlet written for happier_bunny,
who asked for a Brian/Justin Halloween story.
"Clothes make a statement. Costumes tell a story." -Mason Cooley
“Brian, be serious.” I turned so I could see myself sideways in the mirror.
Brian heaved a big sigh from the bed. “I’m being perfectly serious.”
I turned and looked at him. “That’s the most ridiculous criterion for a costume I’ve ever heard in my life.”
He shook his head. “It’s the ONLY criterion.”
“Exactly. If you’re not almost naked, what’s the point of dressing up for Halloween?”
I faced the mirror again and started to take off the costume. “To express your creativity? To let your inner child out to play? To make an artistic statement?”
I saw Brian’s face in the mirror. He looked disgusted. “I thought I’d raised you with better values than that.”
“I think you spent too much time on blow jobs and ass licking and kind of rushed through costuming.”
He nodded glumly. “My past mistakes are coming back to haunt me.”
“So, what do YOU think I should be for Halloween?”
Brian looked thoughtful. “A slave boy.”
“Slave boys wear what, exactly?”
“You want me to go trick or treating with your son wearing nothing but a collar?”
“You could wear a little loin cloth when we go trick or treating, then take it off when we get to Babylon.” He seemed really pleased to have come up with a solution.
I threw the pirate shirt I’d taken off at him. “Guess again.”
“And I’d wear…”
“A loin cloth and a sequined thing around your neck.”
“A sequined collar? I’m sensing a theme here.”
Brian got to his feet and came and stood behind me. I was still wearing the black pants I’d planned on wearing as a pirate, but I’d pulled off my boots and the shirt. Brian put his hands flat against my stomach and slid them under my pants.
“See? Access problem.”
I laughed and reached down and opened my pants. “Problem solved.”
“Too much work.”
“Have you ever unraveled a loin cloth?”
Brian opened his mouth, and I cut him off. “Don’t answer that.”
Brian was kissing my shoulder and his hands were taking advantage of my open pants. I let my head fall back against him.
He trailed his mouth along my shoulder to my neck, and I felt myself flush and my cock get hard in his hand.
“See the advantages of easy access?” He began to nibble on my ear while his hands pushed my pants down around my knees and then went back to my cock. I let more of my weight fall back on him.
“Mmmm hmmm. Keep doing that.”
I turned around in his arms and started kissing his throat. He kept one hand down between us, stroking my cock, and he nestled the other on the back of my neck, under my hair. I wound both my arms around his neck.
Brian started to walk me towards the bed. “Ummm, Brian?”
He sat down on the bed and pulled me into his lap. “Yeah?”
“I thought you were helping me find a Halloween costume?”
He flipped me onto the bed and stretched himself out on top of me. “I came up with two suggestions, both of which you rejected.”
“You came up with one idea, me in a collar, interpreted in two ways.”
“I wanted to give you something with some scope for your, what was it… expression of creativity and artistic statement?”
“And letting my inner child out to play, you’re skipping that part because it interferes with the collar and loincloth theme.”
“Your inner child wants to be a pirate?”
I let him nibble my neck while I wriggled the rest of the way out of my pants. “My inner child wants… mmmmmm …. Ummmmm… let’s have this discussion later. I’m sending my inner child out of the room for a while.”
The next morning, I woke up with a headache pounding behind my eyes and a blond snoring on my chest.
I slid out from under him and took a shower. After three cups of coffee, my headache was almost gone. A little while later, Justin staggered into the kitchen, mumbled in my direction, and poured himself a cup of coffee. He stood there clutching the mug and blowing on the hot liquid in the cup before each sip.
I went back upstairs to get dressed, and he followed me up.
“So, Brian, what are YOU going to be for Halloween?”
I snorted. “The hottest guy in Pittsburgh.”
Justin sat on the bed, cup in hand, and looked at me. “You know….”
Generally when Justin began a sentence with “You know,” it was all downhill from there. So I ignored him and buttoned my shirt.
“You could just wear a white t-shirt and jeans and not shower or shave and tell everyone you’re Marlon Brando playing Stanley Kowalski in Streetcar Named Desire.”
I stopped buttoning my shirt. I turned and looked at Justin. “That’s actually, and I’m wondering even as I say this if this won’t turn out to be a dream, not a bad idea.”
Justin nodded and took another swallow of coffee. “Yeah, but even if it would be easy access, I’m not going as Blanche DuBois.”
“I see you more as Stella.”
Now Justin snorted. “Why, because you want to stand out in the street bellowing my name?”
“You really have to stop hanging out with Emmett.”
“Marlon Brando movies are your thing, not Em’s.”
“Hmmm. Good point.”
Justin got up and set his empty mug down on the bedside table, and came and stood behind me, wrapping his arms around me and resting his head on my back. “Now, if we could only think of a costume for me.”
I smirked at myself in the mirror while I tucked my shirt into my pants. “I’ll call from the office if anything comes to mind.”
I was leaning against the wall of the office at Babylon, my face buried in my arms, Brian’s cock buried in my ass.
“See… what… I mean… by…. easy access?” He was grunting as he thrust into me.
I just arched my back a little more and didn’t answer. I felt him start to move faster, and his hand reach around and grab my cock. He froze and I felt him shooting inside me just as my come spurted out and hit the wall.
We both stood there, my weight on the wall and his on me, gasping for breath. He finally put one hand on my hip and used the other to gently pull out of me, dropping a kiss on my neck. He turned me around and picked up a towel from the stash he’d had put in here after we started using it to fuck without violating Babylon’s “condoms required” rule.
I pulled my kilt down after he cleaned me up, and smiled at him. “Did the blue come off on the wall?”
Brian lifted my chin and examined my face and chest. “No, you look like an extremely terrifying Highland warrior. Blue is your color.”
I rolled my eyes. He grinned at me, and held my hand for a second as we went out the office door, ignoring the security guard.
We went back downstairs and Brian pulled me to the bar. We were standing there drinking our beers when a drunken guy wearing a slave collar and gold lame loincloth staggered up to Brian.
”What are YOU here as?” His breath had more alcohol in it than my beer.
Brian looked at him disdainfully and took a swallow of his beer. “Stanley Kowalski.”
The guy burped and gave Brian a perplexed look. “Huh?”
Brian sighed and turned to me. “Justin, this is exactly the problem with today’s fags. No proper frame of cultural reference. No sense of literary pride. Tennessee Williams, one of the great gay playwrights of our era, and he has no idea. What is this world coming to?”
I shook my head. “Go figure.”
The guy staggered off, still looking confused, and Brian leaned over and clinked on my beer bottle with his. “Happy Halloween.”
I gave him my biggest smile. “Happy Halloween.”
Brian pulled me against him, and I added a few blue smudges to the ones already on his white t-shirt. He looked down at me thoughtfully.
“It’s really the perfect costume for you. You’re expressing your creativity… the kilt gives me easy access….”
I grinned. “And my inner child got to paint himself blue.”