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Schmoopy, too, a bit
“The art gallery?” Brian’s smirk lifted his eyebrow high.
“Yes - you know, big building, high ceilings, pretty pictures on the walls?” Justin was not interested in the smirk.
“Why the fuck would I want to go to the art gallery?” Brian leaned over Justin, picking up his drink.
“You don’t have to go, Brian. I’m going. But I think you’d like his work. Brian Jungen* has done some really amazing pieces – he makes sculptures out of everyday materials. He’s done whales out of plastic chairs, and Aboriginal masks out of Nike shoes – they’re really wild, actually.” Justin paused, noting Brian’s slightly higher attention level. “But it would probably bore you. Modern art, and all that.”
“Hmph. It’s not that modern art bores me,” Brian brushed the lint off his black sweater. “But I can think of any number of other things I’d rather do with my time.”
“There are always the other things one can do in a gallery,” Justin prompted, smiling.
“Like what?” Brian snorted.
Justin got up, walking to the kitchen to drop off his plate. “Like having sex…” He busied himself with loading the dishwasher.
Brian snorted again. “We can have sex anywhere. Why the fuck would I want to have sex there?”
Justin stopped, dripping plate in hand, as he mused. “Did you know the third time I had sex was in an art gallery?” He grinned to himself at the memory as he slotted the plate into the rack.
“No it wasn’t. We never had sex in an art gallery.” Brian lifted his feet to the coffee table, reaching for the remote.
Justin walked to the bedroom, climbing the steps and heading into the bathroom. It was a good thing Brian couldn’t see the look on his face.
Justin bit back his laugh as Brian appeared in the doorway. “What are you talking about?”
Justin smiled wider as Brian moved closer, wrapping his arms around Justin’s waist from behind. He looked at both of their faces in the mirror.
“I never fucked you in a gallery, Sunshine.” Brian kissed Justin’s now bare shoulder.
“I know,” Justin grinned. He moved out of Brian’s grasp and reached for the shower door. “It wasn’t you.”
He stepped into the enclosure, turning the water on. Justin turned to face the stream of water, letting it wash the smirk off his face. The room was quiet for a moment, then he heard the snick of the door opening.
Brian said nothing, just pushed Justin against the glass and fucked the shit out of him.
“Why are we here again?”
Justin was going to smack him if he asked again.
“For Christ’s sake, Brian. You aren’t twelve. If you’re bored, go do something else. You didn’t have to be here.”
Brian stood quietly for a few minutes, pretending to be interested in the pieces Justin was clearly enjoying.
“I thought you said we’d have sex in the art gallery,” Brian tried.
“I said we could have sex in an art gallery, not that we would.” Justin pushed him away slightly. It made him uncomfortable that the security guard was starting to notice them.
“Mmm, I see.” Brian sidled closer.
His breath was almost touching Justin’s neck.
“Brian, stop,” Justin whispered.
Brian just turned and looked at him, face innocent and questioning. “Sorry, am I bothering you?”
Justin shook his head, then nodded. “Yes. Don’t fuck around, Brian. We haven’t even gotten to the Jungen exhibit yet.”
Brian nodded, face contrite. Justin turned back to the watercolor in front of him.
Justin shivered when Brian’s lips touched the edge of his ear suddenly. “I haven’t begun to fuck around, Justin,” he drawled. Justin’s legs twitched slightly when Brian’s tongue pushed warm and wet into the center of his ear.
Time to move on to the next painting.
They passed through another small room, Justin studiously ignoring Brian’s hand resting in the center of his back, sending warm little shockwaves every time his fingers moved.
When Brian’s hand casually slipped under the knit of his shirt, Justin willed himself not to respond. He turned his head towards Brian, only to see his lover carefully examining a painting that consisted entirely of one blue square.
The rooms with Jungen’s work in them were a little more crowded, but still pretty empty given that it was the middle of a Tuesday afternoon. They’d moved away from the beady-eyed security guard to one who seemed both deaf and blind, given the amount of attention he was paying to anyone.
“Fuck, that’s cool,” Brian murmured, eyeing one of the Nike-crafted Aboriginal masks. Justin moved closer, marveling at the way you didn’t realize you recognized the materials while your brain still told you something was familiar, and off-setting.
“Ok, but that’s modern art that just doesn’t work for me,” Justin sighed, looking at the sculpture made entirely of cafeteria trays.
“Mmhmm.” Brian stepped closer again, the spice of his cologne wafting under Justin’s nose.
“So who’d you fuck in an art gallery?” Brian’s voice was carefully neutral. “And when exactly was that? I thought you were pining away for me, following me around like a lost puppy.”
Justin looked down at the wood floor, a small grin on his face.
“Look at this one, Brian – how cool is that?” Justin moved them over to another exhibit.
Justin’s smile got swallowed up by a shaky breath when Brian pressed up against the back of his body, his cock a hard ridge between them. His head fell back when Brian’s hands began to move under the waist of his pants.
“Brian!” Justin whispered harshly, pulling away with difficulty.
When he turned around, straightening his shirt, Brian was again studying a painting, nothing in his demeanor giving anything away.
They were looking at a sculpture of a whale skeleton when Justin said, “It wasn’t like having sex with you.”
“No shit,” Brian murmured, moving to the next room.
Justin watched him walk over to the tufted leather ottoman in the middle of the room, his long body folding as he sat down, his legs sprawling out in front of him. Justin told himself to look back at the work on the walls, not at the sharp lines of Brian’s body.
He even managed to do it for a while, the colors of an abstract landscape catching his attention.
When he looked back at Brian to point out the faint traces of a man in the shadows of the painting, he started at the sight of Brian sliding his hand down the inside of his thigh. Casually, of course, his eyes still scanning the artwork in the room.
Justin was determined to ignore him, and yet he found himself shifting to a spot where he could appear to be looking at the art but still be able to see Brian. He wasn’t even sure if Brian knew he was watching.
Brian leaned his shoulders back slightly, his legs spreading wider as his hand rubbed casually over his thigh. When Brian’s long fingers splayed wide across the cord of muscle in his upper leg, Justin stopped pretending he was paying any attention to the paintings. He watched Brian’s hand inch higher, his eyes only lifting to meet Brian’s when he realized he was being watched too. Justin laughed at the slow, lazy smile on Brian’s face.
A subtle shake of Brian’s head stopped him when he started to close the distance between them. He paused, then positioned himself so he was standing in front of a different group of art work, Brian still in the middle of his view.
Then raised his eyebrow at his lover, waiting.
He could almost hear Brian’s chuckle from where he stood.
* Brian Jungen is a real artist. May he forgive me for using him in a fanfic! If you’re interested in seeing his work, it really is very cool: http://www.vanartgallery.bc.ca/exhibiti