Just a Reminder


_alicesprings wanted to know what Justin did the first time Brian got weird after he left for New York. I told her what I thought, and she said, "You must write me this fic."

So I did.

Unbeta'd because it's, you know, 1 AM. And I should mention it's porn. You probably guessed that, right? Brian/Justin, post-513, NC-17.


When I first got to New York, Brian and I talked every night. And just like when I was in LA, right before the first weekend he was coming to visit, he got weird on me.

I don’t know what I said. Something about the weather or Christmas or the price of a latte in the Village, I have no fucking idea. One minute he was fine and the next minute, I heard that drama queen thing in his voice.

And I didn’t have the time and I didn’t have the money to deal with it, but he’d sworn to me, promised me, when we called off the wedding, that he wouldn’t get weird on me. I should have remembered, from fucking Daphne, that people can’t promise that.

So I got a ride to Pittsburgh with the friend of a guy at work, and stopped by the loft to drop off my stuff, shower, change, and take care of a few things. And then I went to Kinnetik.

I pushed open the door, and the receptionist looked at me blankly. I didn’t recognize her, and I didn’t want Brian to have any advance notice I was there, so I asked for Ted. He came out, a surprised look on his face.

“Justin? Brian didn’t….”

I cut him off. “Brian doesn’t know. Will you tell her…” I nodded at the new receptionist… “to let me go back there?”

Ted looked at the woman, and nodded. “Let him in. Always.”

She nodded, looking confused. She wouldn’t last if that’s all it took to confuse her. I went back, and pushed open the door to Brian’s office and went in.

He looked up and I was happy to see him look absolutely shocked - for about ten seconds. That was probably some kind of record for me. Good to know I hadn’t lost my touch.


“Hey.” He still looked a little stunned, but he rapidly covered it up, and leaned back, one eyebrow raised in typical Kinney-esque fashion. “To what do I…”

I didn’t really feel like having this conversation. I walked up to him, straddled his legs, gripped his head in my hands, and kissed him so hard it was entirely possible I did permanent damage to my tongue.

He tried to stand up, but I dropped onto his lap, and let my entire weight rest on him. I could feel his cock hardening under me, and I let my hands leave his face, and my arms wrap around his neck.

It was always easy to get Brian with sex. For a guy with the self-discipline of a Tibetan monk, he never could tell me no when I had my tongue in his mouth and was grinding my ass into his crotch.

His hands were on my waist, and he slid them up under my jacket and shirt, flat on the bare skin of my back. I ground down a little harder, and sucked his tongue into my mouth. I felt his breath catch.

He shifted his hands to grip the backs of my thighs, and stood up abruptly. He settled my ass on the desk, and then pulled me forward, and yanked my jeans down roughly. I wasn’t wearing any underwear.

My hands were frantically working at his belt, but he shoved them away, and opened his belt and pants himself. He’d had even more practice doing that than I had, which was saying a lot.

And then he leaned over me and kissed me again. I had my legs wrapped around him, and he started running his hands down my thighs, wrapping them around so his fingers were pressing my legs further apart. He slipped his hands under my ass, and started to trace my crack. He touched my hole, and brushed against the lube I’d put there when I was at the loft.

Of course I knew it would drive him insane. I was lucky he remembered to get a condom on, lucky he didn’t flip me over and fuck me so hard the desk broke. He pressed into me with his finger and moaned against my throat. “Fuck, Justin, why fucking get you ready, you were ready when you walked in here.”

I arched my back, and tightened my legs. “Fuck me. Shut up.”

He rammed into me so hard I slid halfway across the desk, and I heard something hit the floor. He yanked me back, and I got my legs back around him, and this time he held onto my hips while he pushed in. But he still fucked me hard.

I was trying to adjust to him being inside me after so long, and took a deep breath, and then he was leaning over me again, curving around me, grabbing my shoulders and pulling me hard onto his cock. I could barely keep my legs around him, and then he shifted his angle just a little, and I felt his cock slide against my prostate. I think I yelped.

He did it again.

And then again and again, and I suddenly thought, payback really is a bitch. Because he didn’t let up or stop or slow down, not once, until I was grabbing his hair and biting his neck and moaning, “Fuck, Brian fuck fuck fuck” and shooting big bursts of come all over his suit and my jacket and probably the ceiling.

I felt his teeth close hard on my neck just as the jackhammer of his hips into me stopped, and I knew he was coming as hard as I had. I held him, breathing hard, feeling him jerk and shudder, listening to him saying my name, over and over. “Justin, Justin, Justin.”

I lay there, sore and full of cock and smeared with come, and felt happier than I had since that weird phone call. Since before that, to be honest.

I felt the pulse of his dick throbbing inside me, and his heart hammering against me. I finally let my legs drop down on either side of him, but they didn’t reach the floor, so I sat up.

He helped me sit up, and then went to the bathroom and got towels, and cleaned me off as best he could.

He, of course, had clean clothes in the bathroom closet. I may have mentioned he’s an asshole.

After he changed, he came out carrying two bottles of water, and handed me one. He drained half of his, and then stood there, looking at me.

“So, you missed my dick enough to drive from New York?” He took another swallow.

I shrugged. “I missed your dick, which was supposed to be inside my ass in New York this weekend. You got weird, after promising you wouldn’t. So I came.”

He looked at me. “This is punishment, then?”

“No. It’s a reminder.”

“That if I get weird again, you’ll show up with no underwear and an ass full of lube and let me fuck you on the desk?”

I smiled, jumped off the desk, and set down my water bottle.

“No. It's a reminder that even though we didn’t need rings and vows to know we love each other, there are times when we do need a hard, wet fuck.” And then I kissed him.

The End