Thank you to lenajill
for the ahhhh-mazing beta; anything remotely redeeming about this fic is all
due to her. Thanks also to a bunch of various people for the inspiring conversations
about Brian's season three schmoopiness, if Justin really is tall enough to
top Brian, and how Brian definitely makes Justin call him Mr. Kinney in bed.
Also also, thanks ragingpixie
for the top!Justin inspiration. :) However, this is offically dedicated to the
anonymous person who bought me FIFTY ICONS, whoever you are. <33!
Feedback is adored. But please be nice to me. *wibbles* <3
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“Good morning, Mr. Kinney.”
Brian’s morning starts with a teasing voice in his ear, breath scented like apples puffing warmly over his cheek, and the fucking unbelievable sensation of Justin’s warm, naked body pressing against his back. It’s familiar, it’s normal, they’ve probably lain like this a hundred thousand times in this bed, and yet every single time Brian feels the oddest tingle run down his spine upon that first second of contact, the sweet invasion of his personal bubble. A shiver, then the slight arching of his back as he involuntarily presses against Justin. He wonders if Justin ever notices
“Hey, Taylor.” Brian turns his head to allow for a small kiss, just bumping their lips together.
“What are you still doing in bed at ten o’clock on a Saturday? I thought you were going to the gym this morning.”
Brian’s in a good mood. It’s funny, but he can already tell it’s going to be a good day. Justin and a little late-morning sex? Yeah, a good day. “I was waiting for my wake-up call,” he says, bringing Justin’s hand around to his cock pointedly. Justin snickers.
“That’s lame, Brian.”
“Now, now, Taylor. If you want to get ahead in the workplace, how about sucking up to the boss?”
Justin huffs in exasperation but rolls Brian onto his back, kneeling between his spread legs. His hand reaches for Brian’s cock and Brian closes his eyes, anticipating what’s to come – so to speak – but...nothing.
Brian cracks open one eye and glares. “Well? Get to it.”
But Justin is smiling, in a weird, calculating sort of way – the way he smiles when he’s about to open his mouth to make some sort of really dumb statement. The we-need-to-have-a-conversation smile. “How come you never wake me up with a blowjob anymore?” His tone is light, teasing, but Brian catches his meaning.
Fuck me, a “relationship” conversation even before I’ve had my breakfast. Brian opens the other eye, peeved. “Well, maybe I would if we were actually waking up together every morning.”
Justin blinks. So does Brian. Where the fuck did that come from?
“What are you saying, you want me to move back in with you?” Justin asks carefully.
“No, I’m saying I want you to suck my cock.”
Justin just looks at him for a long moment. Tilts his head to the side and bites his bottom lip, contemplating Brian with an all-too-knowing glint in his eyes.
Brian throws an arm over his eyes and groans. “Justin, let’s not do this.” He tosses the duvet aside and gets out of bed, heading for the bathroom. Justin follows him right into the shower and stands under the spray with his arms crossed, blinking up at him with wet eyelashes.
“You know, if you keep staring at me like that your face will get stuck that way.”
“Brian...do you want us to live together?”
Brian winces in exaggerated disgust as he runs soap over Justin’s chest. “Christ, don’t say it like that.”
Justin grins, slowly. “Okay...do you want your loft to be a place where you eat and sleep and hang out and I’m there too?”
Brian rolls his eyes. “And where you can spread your art shit all over the living room and fill the fridge with crappy junk food and watch cartoons on my TV? Nothing would make me happier.” Said sarcastically, too sarcastically even for Brian. But Justin knows. He practically fucking beams up at Brian, and then laughs when he says, “Turn around, Taylor.”
Justin assumes the familiar position – face pressed against the glass, hands braced, but instead of the good old rip spit slip of Brian putting on a condom, Brian just kisses him for awhile. Easy, wet kisses over his cheeks and neck, letting the hot water soothe them both. Justin presses into Brian with a grunt as Brian’s hand finds his cock, first running his fingertips lightly over the head, then stroking it sure and smooth and slow in time with the kisses on his neck. And Brian’s hard, he’s so fucking hard, but suddenly that doesn’t seem to matter that much, as long as he can get Justin to make that sound again, arch his pretty white throat just like that.
“Mmm,” Justin moans, thrusting his hips into Brian’s hand, and a little shiver runs up Brian’s spine for the second time. Finally, Brian reaches for a condom in the soap dish. Justin turns to watch as he contemplates the condom, tongue pressed in his cheek thoughtfully. Then he hands it to Justin.
“How about...you show your boss how much you’ve learned, Taylor?”
Justin looks at the condom for a surprised moment. Brian raises his eyebrow. Justin laughs and snatches the condom from him, and then takes Brian by the shoulders and shoves him against the shower wall.
“Turn around, Kinney,” he says mockingly.
Brian chuckles but turns his head to watch Justin, because it really is pretty fucking sexy to watch him get ready to fuck him. He takes Brian’s cock with one hand, mimicking Brian’s own slow fisting earlier, and quickly tears open and slides the condom on himself one-handed without missing a beat.
“Pretty slick,” Brian grunts.
Justin leans forward, draping himself over Brian’s angled back. “It’s not my first time,” he murmurs in a ridiculously sexy voice in his ear, which makes Brian laugh out loud despite himself. They sort of giggle together for a minute as Justin continues to stroke Brian’s cock, his other hand smoothing over his ass, between his cheeks, cupping his balls briefly, and up again. Brian doesn’t want to appear desperate, doesn’t want to whine or moan or be reduced to fucking begging, but suddenly his voice leaves his throat and he has to admit he spreads his legs just a bit.
One of Justin’s fingers works into his hole, twisting slowly, stretching it open. The kid obviously thinks he needs a lot of foreplay or something, which is ridiculous, and finally Brian snaps, “Taylor, time is money.”
Justin smacks him on the shoulder. “Mr. Taylor.” He removes his finger, pressing the head of his cock there instead. Brian bends his knees a little so Justin can get a better angle, and then all he can do is close his eyes and arch his neck as Justin pushes himself in, quick and steady and hard.
“Shit,” Justin grunts quietly to himself. He raises himself on his toes and gives another thrust, and Brian wants to fucking whimper. He’d rather die than whimper, of course, but fuck, what this kid can do to him.
Justin braces one hand on the shower wall, the other on Brian’s hip, as he starts to drive into him in earnest. Brian is tight, he can’t even remember the last time he let Justin do this, but the water flows down around them, aiding Justin. He hears Justin suck in a deep breath with each thrust, knows he’s concentrating so hard. Brian lets him work, soaks in the pleasure and allows his mind to drift. He imagines what Justin must look like – eyes half-closed, mouth open, all that gorgeous hair dripping around his face like dark honey. He loves watching Justin fuck, almost wishes for a beat that they could be face-to-face, so he could see him. Almost.
Justin’s rhythm gets jerkier; he’s starting to lose it. Shit, he can’t last a minute fucking me. Brian feels him gain more leverage, raising himself a little higher, and rest his forehead between Brian’s shoulder blades as he pumps into him. Justin’s crying out now with each thrust – he’s never been afraid to be vocal during sex - open-mouthed moans that are muffled against Brian’s back. Feeling his lips there, Brian wants to kiss him so badly. He takes the hand that is gripping the shower wall in his own and kisses it instead, then brings it down to his cock. Together they stroke Brian, fast and hard, and if it was any other time Brian would be snapping at Justin to slow down, but he’s been sucked into the whirlwind too. The water, Justin’s cock, Justin’s hand, Justin’s body pressed so desperately into his own. Shit, shit. Justin’s not the only one who’s losing it.
Rocking with the momentum of the thrusts, he reaches back and slaps Justin’s thigh. Normally it’s Justin’s own signal to finish and Brian knows it will drive him crazy. Sure enough he gets even more excited, gripping the shit out of Brian’s shoulder as he speeds up. Christ, the kid’s so easy. He thrusts hard, once, twice, three times, finally coming with a wordless shout. His hand squeezes around Brian’s cock and embarrassingly enough that’s all it takes to set Brian off, too. He hears hoarse grunting coming from somewhere and he realizes it’s his own voice.
For a moment he just sees black, then faint colours, trailing away and fading into the blue of his bathroom tile.
He blinks a couple times, relaxes his spine, and becomes aware of a panting, slack Justin collapsed against him. He takes a few deep breaths to calm himself, then glances at Justin over his shoulder.
“You alive, Sunshine?”
Justin revives slowly, mumbling incoherently against Brian’s skin, eventually meeting his gaze. “Yup.” Then damn if the kid doesn’t pull out, shake his head and stretch his arms like he’s just run a marathon, smiling far too smugly to be allowed. “Damn, I’m good.”
Brian turns and shuts off the water. “You’ll do.”
Justin stays in the bathroom to clean up and Brian gets right back into bed. A dried-off Justin joins him a few minutes later, rubbing his hair with a towel.
“Did I wear you out?” he smirks, tossing the towel aside and jumping into bed with him.
Brian just slants him a look.
Justin is like a three-year-old who’s been given too much sugar, straddling Brian’s torso and smirking. “How did I do, boss?”
“Wipe that grin off your face. It was just a fuck.”
“Mm.” Justin leans down and starts kissing Brian’s chest, trailing his tongue over his nipples. “The best fuck you’ll ever have.”
“Christ, now I’m remembering why I don’t let you do that more often.”
Justin kisses his chin, cheeks. “So when can I move in?”
He levels Justin with a sardonic glare. “You didn’t actually believe that crap, did you? I would have said anything to get some blond boy ass.” His hand snakes down and smacks him.
Justin wriggles. “Oh, Mr. Kinney, don’t hurt me too bad!” he breathes in a falsetto.
Brian just looks up and him and laughs. Funny how a million years ago, lying in bed with Justin and just laughing would have been considered a really dumb activity. A million years ago, a lot of things were different. Now he thinks that this isn’t so bad, after all.
Justin stops laughing and peers at him suspiciously. “What?”
Brian realizes he must look like the goofiest idiot who ever lived. He ruffles Justin’s damp hair and smiles. And he kisses him, just because. “Nothing.”