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This is the first chapter of Desires, the third story in the series that began
with Plans and continued with Decisions.
The greatest beta evah is gmta_nz. You might say she's the alpha beta. If you were into saying cute shit like that. Which I'm so not. This chapter was additionally beta'd by vlredreign, who brought her big basket of commas and wore a sexy French maid's uniform while she proofed it. OMG. And intensefemme is Justin's acupuncturist. Lucky bitch.
This story is dedicated to vamphile - she knows why.
The first principle of success is desire – knowing what you want. –Robert Collier
Justin’s most annoying quality, after his total inability to take constructive suggestions about how he should live his life, is his refusal to fight with me when I’m in a bad mood. He gets this amused look on his face, like I’m Gus, and goes off to his studio, or suggests I spend some quality time with the treadmill if he doesn’t feel like leaving the room we’re in.
Friday afternoon it became apparent that every single person in the Kinnetik art department needed to be fired or killed, and Cynthia and I both realized we were going to have to work the next day. So when the alarm went off Saturday morning, and Justin just grumbled and pulled the blankets over his head, I was in what some might have called a bad mood.
I was in the bathroom shaving when he stumbled in to piss. I particularly hated the way his hair looked good even when he woke up in the morning. It was very irritating.
“Mmmph?” He didn’t even look at me when he answered.
“I was just wondering why you haven’t been blowing me as regularly as we agreed on in our prenuptial agreement.” I kept my eyes on the mirror and cut a swath through the shaving lotion on my face.
He didn’t say anything so finally I turned and looked at him. He was staring at me with a confused look on his face, and then he rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.
“Because ever since we started doing it raw, every time your dick gets hard you shove it up my ass?”
I rinsed off my razor in the sink and went back to shaving. “Oh. Yeah.”
Justin went back to the bedroom.
When I was done shaving, I pulled the towel off my waist and followed after him. He was lying diagonally across the bed, his face buried in the pillows, with the sheet lying across his legs and barely covering his ass. I was thinking he had to have arranged that. It was very artistic.
I was a little late going in to the office.
After Brian left, I got up, took a shower and got dressed, and went downstairs. One of the things I like best about Brian is that he makes coffee before I get up.
It was really warm for mid-May, and I was sitting out by the pool when I heard a car in the driveway. It was Daphne, trailing through the gate with her hair up in an explosion on top of her head, big pink-framed sunglasses, and a gigantic straw bag. Lime green. Which went really well with her orange dress and purple flip-flops.
“Jesus, Daph, you’re hurting my eyes.”
“It’s almost summer. It’s a theme.”
I needed more coffee.
“He had to work, he’ll be back after lunch.” Or so he swore. I was skeptical.
“Isn’t Emmett coming to talk to you guys about the party?”
“Not until after lunch, although I actually told Em to come early and eat with us.”
“Oh, good, he can paint my toenails, I got this great new polish I want to try. Or… ” She looked at me hopefully.
“I don’t do toenails.”
She threw one of the little pillows from her lounge chair at me. “What good is it being your hag if you won’t do a simple thing like paint my toenails for me?”
I just looked at her.
She pulled a book, a can of diet coke, and some suntan lotion out of her bag and started to oil up her legs. “So, it doesn’t bug you that he works so much?”
“Brian and I have a deal. He only drags me out of my studio at midnight one out of every ten times he wants to, and I only tell him he’s working too hard one out of every ten times I think it.”
“You guys have more bizarre rules than anyone I know.” She stood up and pulled her orange dress off over her head, revealing a bikini in every tropical color and pattern known to the textile industry. I stared at it for a while, trying to figure out how such a small amount of material could have so many different colors in it.
Daphne stretched out on the lounge chair in the full sun, and glanced over at me where I was sitting in the shade of the awning on the back of the house. “It must be tragic being melaninly challenged the way you are.”
I threw her little pillow back at her. “I don’t think melaninly is a word.”
“Are we playing Scrabble and no one told me?”
I stood up and stripped off my t-shirt and then turned my back to her while I bent over and took off my jeans. I was wearing a navy blue bathing suit. A Speedo.
When I turned around she had pushed her sunglasses up and was looking at me. “You win. Your booty beats my melanin. Now shut up.”
I shrugged. “Works for me.”
“You should get a turquoise blue bathing suit.”
“You never wear bright colors anymore. Ever since you went to New York, it’s all dark dark dark. It’s like when you went through your black turtleneck Ethan phase.”
“You can give me fashion advice when you’re not wearing pink sunglasses and reminding me of youthful indiscretions.”
She shifted in her seat and slid her sunglasses back down. “So, what I wanted to talk to you about is, I settled on my thesis topic and I want to know what you think.” Daphne was starting her second year of a Masters in Public Health at Pitt in August.
I waited. She didn’t say anything. “Okay… what is it?”
“It’s ummm, ‘Bullying, Bashing, and Hate-Motivated Violence in High Schools’.”
“Okay.” I didn’t know what to say. It took me totally by surprise.
“Is that okay with you?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
She frowned. “I won’t do it if upsets you.”
I shrugged. “You should do it if you want to.”
“I might want to interview you, if you’d let me.”
I thought about it. “I don’t know.” She looked a little upset, which I didn’t mean for her to be. “It’s all right, Daph, you just surprised me. Let me think about it, okay?”
She bit her lip, nodded, and started to read her book.
A couple hours later, Emmett showed up. He came to the front door, so I went back in the house and let him in, and brought him out to the pool. Daphne was sitting up expectantly when we came outside.
“Daphne! You’re looking bright and colorful and… bright. And colorful.”
“I know, Em, but do you notice something MISSING?” She was holding her legs up and wiggling her toes suggestively.
“Oh my god! You have no toenail polish on! Who let you leave the house like that?” He looked horrified. He actually gasped.
“Justin refused to paint them for me.”
“Justin, it’s your sworn duty as a fag to paint your hag’s toenails.”
I rolled my eyes. “I have a note from my doctor. I have impaired fine motor skills.”
Emmett took the nail polish bottle from Daphne and sat down at the foot of her lounge and immediately started painting her toenails, muttering about the new generation of gay men and all our inadequacies.
I left them bonding over Daphne’s pedicure and headed out to the kitchen. It was a quarter to twelve. I called Brian on his cell.
“Where are you?”
“I’m down at the river disposing of the bodies.”
“Okay, so, things aren’t going well?”
“You won’t be here for lunch. It’s okay, I’ll see you when you get here.”
I got home around 3, and heard laughter from out by the pool. I went in the gate, and saw Emmett and Daphne splashing in the water, and Justin lying upside down on one of the giant lounge chairs, smoking a joint. I walked up to him and stood over his head, looking down.
He lifted up the joint to hand it to me and smiled. “Honey, you’re home.”
I took a drag, held it, and let out the smoke. I bounced my legs against his head where it stuck out over the edge of the lounge cushion. “Honey, you’re stoned.”
He nodded happily.
“Brian!” Daphne and Emmett waved from the pool.
“What is that on her head?”
Justin smiled up at me, still upside down. “Her sunglasses. And a green scrunchy thing in her hair. Why don’t you swim with us?”
I went upstairs and changed into a bathing suit, and went back out to the pool. Emmett and Daphne were standing near Justin, drying off.
“Ummm, hi Brian.” She was trying not to look at my bathing suit. She was blushing.
I smiled. “Daphne. How lovely you look, all wet and tropical.”
Emmett grinned at me. “Note her gorgeous purple toenails. Courtesy of moi.”
I lifted my eyebrows and glanced down at Justin. He was looking up at me. He was still upside down, and his feet were resting flat on the back of the lounge chair.
“I thought you wanted to swim?” He nodded but didn’t move. I sat down next to him and stretched my arm across his body and leaned over him. He stared up at my arm and chest right over his face. He licked his lips. I suddenly thought Emmett and Daphne should leave.
Emmett was always good at reading subtle body language. “Daph, let’s go get something to drink. In the kitchen.” They went giggling away, and I smiled down at Justin.
“What polite and accommodating guests we have.”
Justin just kept looking at my arm, and slowly began to run his hand up and down it. He was in the shade, but it was a hot day and his hand felt warm and dry.
I leaned a little closer and lowered my face down to his, and rubbed my closed lips back and forth over his. He brought his other hand up and rested it on the back of my neck, and I felt his tongue flicking at my mouth, and so I opened my lips and let him in.
He kept stroking my arm from my shoulder to my wrist, and then back up again. I glanced down his body while I was kissing him, and laughed. The head of his cock was peaking out the top of his bathing suit. I put my hand over it and pressed down. “You should probably roll over fast when they come back.”
Justin grinned at me. “What are you going to do?”
“Jump in the pool.” Then I pulled him up into my arms and kissed him hard, my hand slipping inside his Speedo and gathering his balls into my palm and then slowly sliding upward, my fingers closing tightly just under the head of his cock and squeezing. He arched up into my hand and gasped in my mouth.
And then I heard Emmett and Daphne coming back. I got up and dove into the cold water of the pool, and when I surfaced I looked over and saw Daphne and Emmett setting a couple of trays down on the table, and Justin lying on his stomach. I laughed. “Come on in.”
“In a minute.” He was glaring at me.
Emmett was pouring drinks into glasses. “Playtime’s over, boys. We made iced tea and lemonade, well, we didn’t make them, we poured them into pitchers. And we brought glasses. And we went through all your drawers and read your grocery list and talked about you behind your backs, and now we’re back.”
“Iced tea or lemonade, Brian?” Daphne held both pitchers in her hand and looked at me. I shook my head and dove under the cool water again, swimming to the far side of the pool and then surfacing close to where Justin was sitting. I gestured to him with my head, and he took a gulp of his iced tea and stood up, and came over and dove in.
Emmett and Daphne sat at the edge of the pool and dangled their feet in the water. Justin floated in the shady end of the pool, and I swam a few laps, listening to the water pounding in my ears. I finally lifted myself out and sprawled next to Emmett and Daphne.
Emmett and I talked for a while about the party plans, and when it started to get close to dinnertime we went into the kitchen and made burgers, and after we ate, Emmett and Daphne left.
Justin walked them out, and I went back in the pool and swam a few more laps. It wasn’t dark yet, but it was getting there, and the landscape lights had come on. Justin came back in the gate and I looked at him standing there at the edge of the pool. He pulled off his shirt and pants and bathing suit, and slipped into the water and waded over to me. He wrapped his legs around my waist and his arms around my neck, and I moved to where the water was just to my shoulders, deep enough to buoy us both up, but shallow enough that I didn’t have to tread water with an armful of blond.
Justin kissed my jaw. “What did you and Em come up with?”
“Nothing too definite. I told him no red, white, and blue, no flags, no patriotism. He was horrified I thought I had to say it.”
He smiled. “I love Em.”
“So, what did Daphne have to say?”
Justin didn’t answer right away. He had detached his hands from my shoulders and was pushing my swimsuit down under the water. He laughed when I kicked it off and it floated away. “Nothing too much, we just hung out.” He was holding onto my neck with one hand and jerking slowly on my dick with the other. I kissed him and he tasted like chlorine. I loved our pool.
I walked over to the side and lifted him out and set him on the edge, keeping his legs open and standing in between them. I bent over and kissed his stomach and started to lick at the head of his cock, and then I took it in my mouth.
Justin put his hands in my hair and leaned back while I buried my face in his crotch and sucked and licked at his cock until I felt it get incredibly hard. I grabbed the base in my fist and sucked on him, taking him as deep in my throat as I could. I tasted his come on the back of my tongue, and then he filled my mouth, and I swallowed and kept sucking and licking until he was done.
After he caught his breath he slid back into the water and wrapped himself around me again, and kissed me. “You taste like me.”
“I wonder why that is.”
He smiled at me and nuzzled my neck. It was dark now, and the underwater lights were on. I could see his skin all white against mine. “I guess your day is ending better than it started?” He kissed me again.
“It started pretty nice. It’s the middle I’d like to forget.”
“So basically, just, sex, fast forward, sex, the end?”
I smiled. “No, we need more sex.”
“Okay.” He hung there in the water, his arms and legs around me, floating inside my arms.
My cock was hard and standing up between us, and I wanted to fuck him, but I also wanted to stay in that water all night, just floating with him.
I pressed my forehead against his. “I want to fuck you.”
He smiled his most radiant smile. “Okay. I think I already said okay to that.”
“Okay.” We kissed some more.
“I’m pretty sure you said something about fucking me?”
Justin laughed and untangled himself from me, and put his feet down on the bottom of the pool. He took my hand and pulled me over to the edge, and hoisted himself out. He turned around and knelt at the edge, and put his hand down to me. I used it to pull myself out, and then I pulled him up and over to the lounge chair.
My face was buried in the back of his neck while I fucked him. He smelled of sunscreen and chlorine. I fucked him slow and deep, waiting until he was ready to come again, until he started to push back into every thrust and I felt him angling so I’d touch him where he wanted to be touched inside. I started to slide my hand down to grab his cock, but he pushed me away. I kept fucking him, bent over him, the night finally cooling off, a little breeze drying the sweat on my back.
“Justin.” I breathed it into his ear, my hand moving back to his cock, his hand still pushing mine away.
I slowed down a little, and took a deep breath, and kept pushing into him, my forehead resting on his back. I licked at the sweat on his skin. I kept fucking him, slow and then faster, feeling everything starting to build up and burn inside me, uncoiling, and I groaned and started fucking him harder. He was so hot inside, and he made his ass tighten on me, and there was no way I was waiting another minute. I groaned again, “Justin,” and this time he let me grab his cock and start jerking on him in time with my thrusts. He put his hand over mine and moved it faster, and I heard him gasp, and felt him clamp down on me, and that was it. I slammed forward and then just stayed there, crouched over his back, coming into his ass while his come pumped out under him and all over our joined hands.
Brian pulled out of me and I rolled over underneath him, feeling all wet and full. He shifted his weight off me slightly, but stayed mostly covering me. There’s pretty much no time I’m happier than right after he’s fucked me, and his hand starts playing with my hair. He always seems so peaceful.
He kissed my neck. “Hmmm?”
“So, Daphne wants to interview me for her master’s thesis.”
He lifted up his head and looked at me. “Why? What’s it about?”
“High school violence. Hate crimes. Bashing.”
Brian put his head back down and didn’t say anything. I sighed.
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her I’d think about it.”
“Do you want to do it?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Then don’t.” He kissed my neck again, and I curled into him. It was getting cold.
“We should go in.” I started to slide out from under him, and he stood up and we went inside.
He didn’t come up to bed right away, and I hesitated to go down looking for him. I lay there with my eyes open for a long time before I finally heard him coming up the stairs. He went into the bathroom, and then he came back out, and I heard him undressing. He dropped his clothes on the floor, and I knew when he got into the bed I’d smell scotch.
But he gathered me into his arms and held me while I fell asleep.
The next Friday I woke up without the alarm going off. I had to go out to dinner with clients and then take them to Babylon, and I was going to work from home for a few hours that afternoon. When I opened my eyes, Justin wasn’t there, the clock was missing, and he’d pulled the drapes closed. I had no idea what time it was.
I took a shower and went downstairs, and amazingly Justin had remembered how the coffeemaker worked, because he’d left a full pot. I knew there was a reason I’d picked him up under that streetlight. It was only 10, so I poured Justin a cup too and went to his studio.
He was at his computer, and he was chewing on his lower lip and staring at the monitor when I came in. I set down the mug next to his hand and he smiled at me briefly and then went back to his screen. I walked over to the easel, but he hadn’t worked on his current painting since the last time I’d looked at it.
Justin got up and stretched and came over to me, took the mug out of my hand, and put it down on the table. He kissed me. His mouth tasted like coffee and his hair smelled like shampoo. I buried my nose in it for a minute.
“So, this thing tonight – where are we going to dinner?”
I told him and he groaned. “That’s like, four hundred miles away.”
It was less than 80 miles away. “It’s where the clients want to go.”
“Eating in Pittsburgh isn’t good enough for them?”
I just looked at him.
He sighed. “Don’t you have to wear a jacket and tie there?”
“You don’t have to come.”
He reflected. “Will you let me drive?”
“Yeah, that’s gonna happen.”
“Your ego can’t take your clients seeing you let your hot young boyfriend drive your Corvette?”
“My heart can’t take seeing my hot young boyfriend drive my Corvette.”
I was standing in the doorway. I needed more coffee.
“Did you ever think the day would come when the most fucked up part of our relationship was who was going to drive?”
I grinned. “Well, it depends on whether that’s a literal or metaphorical question.”
I checked with Brian at lunchtime to see if he wanted to eat anything, and he was sitting on the sofa with a lot of boards spread out in front of him. I walked over to look. They were ads for Richard Bohling’s club in New York. The one on top was a beautiful graphic, sharp and arty, an inky blue background and hard edges and a single laser-green slash across it. “That’s cool.”
Brian nodded. “Yeah. It is.” Then he pulled the next one out from under it and laid them side by side.
The field was mostly black, and in the lower right hand corner of the ad was a man’s back, not a bodybuilder’s back, but a beautifully muscled back, the kind of musculature every art student loved to draw. Classically beautiful. His arm was resting on a wall, also black, but textured. The light was focused on the man’s skin, and the photo was in color, but it almost seemed like it was in black and white, because there was very little color. His head was tipped back just a little, and his other arm was reaching around in front of him.
And that was it. And it was the fucking sexiest thing I’d ever seen, for no clear or obvious reason, it was just a feeling I got from it.
“Who did that? Not one of the people you had to fire or kill last week?”
“Good thing you didn’t kill this one.”
“I know. It’s really hot.”
“Will he use it?” Sometimes clients were idiots, although Brian’s last ad for Richard’s club was edgy and hot, too.
“I think so.” He looked pretty pleased.
I leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “I’m going to eat lunch, do you want something?” I knew if we were going out to dinner, the most Brian would eat for lunch was a lettuce leaf and three radishes, but it was worth a try.
We ended up eating sandwiches in the kitchen.
“So, the clients tonight, what are they advertising?” I knew they had to be gay, because we were going to Babylon after. Some of his straight clients were a little uncomfortable when I was there. I don’t think it was because I was a man, but because I looked so young. I didn’t fit their image of who Brian was going to walk in with. But I noticed that for any business event that included his clients’ families, I was always invited. Brian had no patience at all for bullshit.
“A resort in Palm Springs.”
“How did they hear about Kinnetik?”
“They liked what we did for Redland-Moss.” That was a national campaign Brian had created himself for a hot furniture designer in Chicago that had run in a lot of gay magazines. I’d noticed how often furniture design ads still somehow merited the master’s touch, involving many hours spent in the designers’ showrooms doing research or, as I called it, shopping.
When we walked into the restaurant, I was ready for the double take followed by suppressed curiosity I usually got from Brian’s gay male clients when they met me. I got the same reaction whenever I did an interview about my art, too. I would sit in the bathroom sometimes watching Brian smearing anti-aging cream on his face and wonder if there was an anti-anti-aging cream I could buy. Brian would just roll his eyes and tell me that in few years I’d look back on this problem and miss having it. But I had a bad feeling I’d still be getting carded when I was 30.
I felt Brian’s hand at my back, and we walked over to a table in the bar where four men were waiting. One of them stood up and shook Brian’s hand. “Brian. Good to see you.”
“Eric, good to see you too. This is Justin Taylor, Justin, this is Eric Rohan.”
Eric introduced us to his partner, Mark, and to the other two men, who were his partners in the resort. I loved watching Brian with clients, and not just because he was sexy as hell in a suit. He was just so smooth.
After we went into the dining room, Eric turned to me with the usual indulgent parental smile on his face. “So, Justin, what do you do?”
I fought back the temptation to tell him I was a go-go boy at Brian’s club, and smiled my most charming smile. “I’m a painter and a comic book artist.” Eric’s smile switched from condescension to real amusement, and Mark leaned forward.
I laughed. I’d seen that look on Michael’s face a thousand times. “Rage, do you know it?”
Mark sat back, stunned. “You draw Rage?”
Brian shifted in his seat, and I grinned. “I do.”
Eric rolled his eyes. “OK, we’ve lost Mark.”
Brian smiled and he, Eric, and his business partners went back to discussing the ad campaign for the resort, while Mark grilled me on the upcoming issue of Rage. Michael would have been proud, because I didn’t divulge one iota of information, despite Mark’s relentless interrogation.
After dinner Brian and I stopped at the loft to change for Babylon while the clients did the same at their hotel. I put on a white gauzy shirt and low-slung blue jeans, and Brian was wearing a black sleeveless shirt and black jeans.
“You always wear the same thing.”
Brian glanced at himself in the mirror. “This is a brand new shirt, I’ve never even worn it before.”
“God, Daphne said I was in a rut, but you’ve got to go shopping, Brian. I’m going to throw all your black shirts out if you don’t go buy something else.”
He went to the closet and took out a red sleeveless shirt. I smiled. Brian looked hot in red.
Of course he also looked hot in black, but I didn’t mention that.
I walked over and slipped my arms around him inside the still-unbuttoned shirt. I kissed his chest. “Hmmmm. Much better.”
When we got to Babylon, Brian told the doorman to have someone find us when his clients showed up. We pushed through the crowd to the bar.
I was leaning with my back on the railing on the second level, and Brian was standing right in front of me, his legs spread wide so we were closer to the same height. I was holding both our beers and he had his hands on my waist under my loose shirt and was kissing me.
Between kisses I asked him something. “Do you think people will ever stop obsessing on how young I look?”
He pulled back and stared at me for a minute. “You know, you don’t look THAT young anymore.”
I snorted. “Yeah, by which you mean I don’t look as young as when we met, when I looked 14?”
“You didn’t look 14. Don’t make me feel like a pervert.” He kissed me again.
“I wouldn’t mind so much if it was just your pervy clients dying to know if I’m old enough to vote. What I mind is, every time I get interviewed about my painting, the interviewer looks surprised to see me, asks about my age, makes a big deal over it.”
Brian looked at me thoughtfully. “This is a marketing problem.”
I laughed. “Yeah. It is, actually.”
“We should talk about ways to fix that.”
I gave him a look, but just then one of the security guys came over and told Brian his clients were here. We went downstairs and met them at the door, and Brian gave them the tour. Well, not the complete tour. He left a few corners for them to discover on their own.
We were all standing at the upstairs bar, and Brian’s arm was around my waist. I leaned into him just a little.
“How long have the two of you known each other?” It was Mark, smiling at us.
I was just glad he hadn’t asked the unanswerable question about how long we’d been together, which would have entailed a long discussion about the inherent limitations of the spoken word, specifically, a treatise on the origins and definitions of the word “together.”
“Six years.” I waited while everyone mentally deducted six years from his idea of how old I was, and then I smiled brightly at no one in particular. I could feel Brian trying not to laugh next to me.
Justin turned around to the bar and asked the bartender for another drink. I leaned my elbows on the bar next to him, biting my lips not to laugh. “Just remember: It’s a marketing problem.”
He glanced over his shoulder, probably checking for Eric and the others. “You’re not ugly, didn’t you ever have this problem?”
I gave him a death glare. “NOT UGLY? I’m drop-dead gorgeous.”
“OK, you’re drop-dead gorgeous, didn’t you ever have this problem?”
“No, because I’m not cute and blond and cuddly.”
“I’m not cuddly.”
I kissed him. “You are completely blond and cuddly.”
Justin was trying out his version of the death glare. He was pretty good at it. “OK, so, we’re not going to have a discussion about the word ‘cuddle,’ right?”
I shook my head. “Dance with me.”
I stopped and told Eric and the others that we were going to dance, and then I followed Justin down the stairs.
He started to dance and I pulled him against me and kissed him. I could feel him smiling against my lips. I wasn’t sure what the song was, something electro and repetitive, the kind of music I like better when I’m on drugs. Justin loved anything with a beat, and he had his eyes closed and was moving against me in time to the music. I felt his hair brush against my face.
“Should I cut my hair?”
“Does the long hair make me look younger?”
Fortunately, I didn’t have to lie. “No, you look younger with short hair.”
He put his hands on my shoulders, and smiled up at me, his hair falling across his eyes. I reached out and pushed it back. And then I kissed him. “You know, I’m not getting any more gay clients.”
Justin laughed. “Why not?”
“They keep wanting to come to Babylon, and then I can’t drag you into the backroom and fuck you against the wall.”
He nodded. “Or even frottage me on the dance floor.”
“Exactly. It’s wrong.”
“We could use the office.”
I shook my head. “The manager is here tonight.”
I sighed. Then I smiled. “On the other hand….”
“The other hand?”
“Fucking in public is, after all, one of my foundational values.”
Justin nodded. “It really is.” Then he started running his hands over my abdomen under my shirt, and tickling my nipples with his fingertips while he kept kissing my neck.
I tipped my head back and let Justin’s tongue trace my throat and jaw. He had one hand on my back and the other on my belly, and he was getting closer with every stroke of his fingers to dipping under my waistband.
“You know, Brian…”
“Hmmmm?” His fingers were back on my nipples, and I had mine in his hair, and I was trying to remember what we’d been talking about.
“You were just complaining the other day I wasn’t blowing you often enough.”
“That’s true. Although as I recall, you offered a compelling defense.”
He slid his hand down between us and pressed his palm against my cock. “Yeah, but like you said, it’s a matter of principle.”
I took his hand and pulled him into the backroom. We went down the hall and around the corner, and I leaned against the wall and smiled at him. He smiled back, leaning against me while his hands unbuttoned my shirt and unfastened my jeans. I started thinking this might be my new favorite shirt.
He was kissing my neck and throat and jaw, biting and licking at me between kisses, and I brought my hands up to the sides of his face and kissed him hard on the mouth. His hands were sliding up from my waist to my chest, then smoothing down over my abs and my belly, and I rested my hands in his hair as he slid down my body, his tongue leaving a wet trail on my skin.
It was strange, because getting sucked off by Justin was definitely one of the sexual wonders of the world, but even at the moment his lips closed over my cock and I felt his tongue start to lap at that one spot that drove me insane, I realized that if Babylon hadn’t had an inviolable “condoms required” policy, I’d have stopped him in a second to get my cock up his ass.
That made me laugh a little, and Justin pulled away from my cock and looked up at me. He was grinning and I figured he probably had a pretty good idea what I’d been thinking. He went back to my cock and after a few minutes of his lips and tongue and hand and throat, I was grabbing onto his hair and not thinking anything at all. I came into his mouth and felt him swallowing, and I stood there panting while he slid back up my body, kissing me all the way, and then nuzzled into my sweaty neck.
I held him close and kissed him, running my hands up under his shirt and then down to his waist. His jeans were open, and I pushed him back a little and laughed. “You little shit.”
He smiled. “I couldn’t wait.”
We buttoned up our jeans and Justin fastened two buttons on my shirt. I started to do the rest but he shook his head, and I left it the way it was.
We danced for a couple more hours, and Justin promised Mark autographed copies of the new issue of Rage as soon as it came out. Eric was leaning against the catwalk railing while the two of them talked about comics, and he shook his head. “Well, this will live forever as Mark’s favorite business trip of all time.”
“I’m glad he enjoyed himself.” Justin looked over at us and smiled, and I felt myself smiling back.
“How did you and Justin meet?” This was the problem with socializing with clients.
“We met here.” It was sort of true.
“Was he old enough to get in here six years ago?”
I didn’t answer right away, and then I shrugged. No wonder Justin was touchy about his age.
After we said goodnight to everyone, Justin and I walked outside to the Corvette. I had my arm around his shoulder. It wasn’t even really summer yet, but the night was hot and sticky. I kissed him before we got in the car, and he leaned into me and kissed me back. His eyes were sleepy and he fell asleep before we got home.
The next day at noon Justin was still sound asleep. I knelt down next to him on the bed and nuzzled his neck. He was lying on his stomach, and he turned towards me and smiled with his eyes closed. I kissed him. He felt warm and open, like he always did.
I stretched out alongside him, on top of the duvet, and he got his arms out from under the covers and put them around my neck. I kissed him for a long time, our tongues sliding around each other’s mouths.
He gave a contented sigh and nestled his head under my chin. “Mmmmm, good morning.”
He just smiled, his eyes still closed. “What time did we get home?”
He opened his eyes. “Why are you dressed?”
“I’ve been up for three hours. You wouldn’t wake up, I had to jerk off in the shower.”
“You jerked off without me?”
He was pouting. I kissed him. “I pretended it was your mouth.”
“You had an imaginary blowjob?”
Justin grinned at me. “Want a real one?”
“Hmmmm?” His mouth was on my belly while his hands unfastened my jeans.
“Justin, have I ever told you no when you …” his lips and fist closed on my cock at the same time and I gasped … “wanted to blow me?”
He didn’t stop what he was doing to answer me. And when he was done, he came up for a kiss, his mouth all red and swollen, looking full of himself. I tasted my come in his mouth, and he put his head down on my shoulder. “You know what?”
“What?” I knew what was coming.
I laughed. “I’m shocked.”
“Let’s eat and then you can fuck me out by the pool.”
“Okay.” I loved the weekend.
Brian and I managed to do nothing but fuck, sleep, and eat on Saturday, but by Sunday we were both twitching so he headed for his computer and I went to my studio. I was still trying to plan all the paintings I needed for the show at the end of the year, so I sat down at my computer.
After a couple of hours, Brian stuck his head in to tell me that Ted was stopping by with some work. Between Ted and Brian, it was hard to say who was the bigger workaholic. So when I came out of the studio and went looking for food, I wasn’t surprised to find them both in the media room, with Ted’s and Brian’s laptops both open on the coffee table.
“Anyone want food?”
Ted looked up. “Hi, Justin. Is it dinnertime?”
“Pretty much. Brian?”
He didn’t move his eyes from the laptop. “Dinner. What do we have?”
“I have no idea. Why don’t we all go out in the kitchen and find out?”
Ted looked at me in surprise, but Brian just said, “Okay, gimme a minute.”
I went into the kitchen, and Ted came along. We stood next to each other looking into the refrigerator.
“How do the two of you survive out here with no one who delivers?” There was nothing but beer, water, and some brown guacamole.
“We buy food.” It was Brian in the doorway. “It’s just that no matter how much we buy, Justin eats it all.”
I smiled. “Pizza.”
“You can get pizza delivered out here?” Ted was skeptical.
I nodded. “Yeah, or we’d have starved a long time ago.”
“Justin won’t cook, he says it makes him the wife.”
“Brian won’t cook, he can’t figure out how to use anything in the kitchen other than the coffeemaker.”
“Which you should be grateful for, or you’d still be staggering around this house mewling for a Starbucks.”
Ted was looking back and forth between us. “God, you both are saving two other people a lifetime of misery and pain.”
Brian and I just grinned at each other. Then we ordered pizza.
I spent the next day working on Rage. Michael and I had agreed to finalize the next issue by the end of June, and I wanted to get it out of the way so I could concentrate on my paintings. It was around 4 when I finished that day’s set of drawings, and I drove out and met him at Red Cape. We were sitting in the back of the store while he looked at them. His cell phone rang after I’d been there about an hour. He mouthed “Brian” as he answered.
“What’s up?” He listened for a minute, gave a short laugh, and then handed me the phone.
“I’ve been calling, where’s your cell?”
I checked my pocket. “I must have left it in the car.”
“Okay, well, I wanted to see if you and Michael wanted to meet me and Ted at Woody’s.”
“How about the diner?”
Brian laughed. “The diner, then Woody’s.”
I looked at Michael. “Diner, than Woody’s? Brian and Ted?” Michael shrugged and nodded.
“Okay. See you there.”
Michael called Ben and left a message on his cell, and then we walked over to the diner. We were having a heated discussion of the finer points of one of Rage’s superpowers when Brian slid in next to me and grabbed the menu out from in front of me without interrupting. Like Brian needed to see the diner menu. Ted sat down next to Michael.
“Hey, Ted.” Michael gave Ted a kiss on the cheek and then turned back to me. We kept arguing for a little while, and then Brian excused himself to go to the bathroom.
Michael was looking a little confused. “You two didn’t even say hello or kiss or anything.”
Ted laughed. “Are you actually saying Justin and Brian don’t engage in enough public displays of affection? You should come to Babylon more often.”
I smiled and then Brian came back out. He stopped and looked at us before he sat down. “What’s so funny?”
Ted answered. “Michael thinks you and Justin don’t kiss in public enough.”
Brian leaned down and pulled me up into his arms and reamed my mouth out with his tongue, and then let me slip back down to my seat. He grinned at Michael. “Can I get you anything else?”
He slid back in next to me, and held my hand. Anything to make Michael happy.
“So, is Rage saving the world, or just Gayopolis? Again?”
Michael started telling Brian the plot of the next issue. I could tell Brian wasn’t really paying attention because his finger was gently circling the inside of my wrist. Or maybe it was that I wasn’t paying attention anymore, because he asked Michael something in what sounded like a normal tone of voice.
The waitress came and took our order, and after she left, Brian still hadn’t let go of my hand. That wasn’t really like him. In fact, he reached across me and took my other hand in his for a second, and then let it go. I was really confused by this and gave him a look, but he was talking with Ted and Michael and didn’t seem to notice.
He let go of my hand when our food came, and we were all joking around when I saw Ben come in the diner door. He leaned across the table to kiss Michael hello and we all burst out laughing. He looked confused. While Ted was explaining it to him, I noticed Brian had picked up my hand again and was looking at it, rubbing at a bluish spot at the base of my thumb. I curled my fingers over and pulled my hand away.
While we were walking to Woody’s, Brian dropped back from where he was walking with Michael and bumped shoulders with me. I bumped him back and then he took my hand again. But instead of just walking holding hands, which would have been bizarre, he held my hand up so I could see it.
“Is this paint?”
I shrugged and looked at it. I rubbed at it with my finger but it didn’t come off. “I’m not sure, I never noticed it before.”
“Were you drawing at the store with Michael?”
I pulled my hand away. “Yeah. Stop it Brian, my hand is fine.” I was talking quietly, not wanting anyone to hear.
“It’s a lot colder than your other hand.”
“Can we talk about this later?”
He frowned but didn’t mention it again. When we got to Woody’s, Ted and Ben and I got a table while Brian and Michael went for drinks.
I was glad we’d driven in separate cars, because I didn’t want to be interrogated about my hand on the way home. I hadn’t noticed that bluish mark before, and scrubbed at it some more before concluding it really wasn’t paint.
Brian was home before me, most likely because he mentally doubled all speed limits when driving the Corvette. He wasn’t lurking in the hall. He was too smart for that. He was lurking in the kitchen.
“Okay, the hand.”
I sat down at the table and held it out to him. He looked at it carefully and held both my hands at the same time. My left hand really was a lot warmer than the right hand.
“I never noticed the blue mark before, I think it just started.”
Brian frowned, and then let both my hands go. “Well, you should ask your doctor about it. Have you been going to acupuncture?”
I nodded. “I’m going Thursday. I’ll ask her about it, too. But honestly, my hand is fine, it’s been much better. I’d have told you if it wasn’t.”
Brian nodded, and then went out to the media room and turned on the TV. I went to my studio, but I stopped at the door and turned and went back out to Brian. I sat down on the sofa next to him, and reached out and took a swallow from his glass. He raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t feel like working.” He put his arm around me and I leaned my head on his shoulder. We channel surfed a little, but after a while I took the remote away and told him to pick something or I was turning it off.
“Turn it off.”
The silence hung for a second. “Brian, please don’t make a big deal over my hand. I probably just banged it on something.”
“I know. It’s not that.” Which meant it was something.
“Well, what, then?”
He shrugged. “That thing of Daphne’s, are you going to do it?”
“I don’t want to.”
“You can’t always have what you want.”
“Thank you, Mick Jagger.”
“I mean it. I don’t want to talk to her about it, but I don’t want to tell her no, either.”
“Because it’s kind of her memory too. I feel like it’s at least partly her business.”
Brian was quiet for a minute, and I could tell he wanted to get up, but he didn’t. “It’s nobody’s business but yours, Justin.”
“And yours.” This time he did get up, and took his empty glass with him. He went and poured another drink. But he didn’t say anything.
I sighed. “Anyway, I haven’t answered her yet. I’m still thinking about it. And I’ll see the acupuncturist Thursday and if this bruise or whatever isn’t gone, I’ll go to the doctor. Now let’s go to bed.”
He just nodded. “I’ll be up in a little while.”
I almost went up without him, but I went over to him instead. I walked right up to him, ignoring the death ray, force field, and electrified wire. “No. Come on up now.” I rested my head against his chest and put my arms around his waist. When he was like this, talking to him was totally useless. So I didn’t bother, just keeping my body pressing against his, and waiting to feel that little release of tension that meant he was going to go with me.
And in a few minutes he relaxed, and I took him upstairs. Most nights I fell asleep before Brian did, but that night I lay there with my eyes closed, waiting to hear his breathing change. And when it finally did, I fell asleep, too.