As soon as I saw that tent, the bunnies started hopping. So, this is a gap
filler for 413 (spoilers up to that episode, obviously).
Thanks SO much to everyone for the incredible feedback and support. It's so inspiring! Y'all are the best. :)
This one's dedicated to burnitbackwards and susanderavish. Myloveforthemissocapslocked!
As I sling a towel around my waist and walk into the bedroom after my shower, Justin’s nowhere to be seen. Probably off brooding, although I’m surprised he just left and isn’t angrily drawing in his sketchpad like he usually does.
But he knows damn well that he has to go to L.A. There’s no way he can miss this opportunity to do some bike ride, I don’t care if it is for charity. Besides, who’s going to take their pledge back? It all goes to the hospice whether Justin pedals his pretty ass from Toronto to the Pitts, or not.
And he sure as hell isn’t missing this for me.
He left all the camping crap on the bed and as I’m about to shift the tent onto the floor, I notice that the front flap is done up. I open it and peek in. Justin’s curled up inside, and he’s definitely brooding.
I climb in and zip the flap back up behind me before lying down next to him. The only light in the tent is a gentle glow surrounding us from the lamps in the bedroom, and it takes a second for my eyes to adjust. I run my hand up his arm and my fingers find his hair, like they always seem to. Justin looks at me with sadness and I hate it, because he should be fucking excited right now. Not too many artists get a chance to actually make a living.
I kiss him slowly, sucking his tongue into my mouth. He shifts closer to me and slides his leg between mine, his hand trailing down my chest. We kiss for a few minutes, long and leisurely. It’s nice, being all closed away and secure, surrounded by the smell of fresh nylon that hasn’t had a chance to get wet and musty yet. I’m sure Freud would say something about man’s eternal quest to return to the womb.
Justin pulls away and sighs. “I really wanted us to sleep under the stars.” His fingers trace an unknown pattern over my skin.
“You still can,” I say.
His nose crinkles. “How?”
“You’re going to L.A., there are no shortage of stars to sleep under. I suspect Colin Farrell would be most accommodating.” Justin laughs, and that’s good, because it means he’s definitely going.
“I still wish we could do the ride together.”
“There’s always next year, Sunshine. They’ll still need money then, too.”
He smiles and kisses me again. His hand moves lower and he rubs my cock through the towel, the friction getting me hard in no time. He pulls the towel off and kisses his way down my body, his fingers gently playing with my balls. He’s never once acted differently when we have sex. Never shied away from that piece of fucking plastic.
I don’t think he’ll ever know how grateful I am for that.
The only difference is that he always stops to kiss my scar, and he makes it seem like it’s just a normal part of me now. Which it is, I guess.
He stops right before he reaches my cock. “You think Colin’s a top, or a bottom?”
I grit out, “I think that slut’s whatever you want him to be,” as I lift my hips and nudge his cheek with my dick.
He blinks innocently. “Did you want something?” I open my mouth to bark out a response, but the words become a long moan as he swallows me deeply into his throat. Justin gives head like no one else I’ve ever known. He’s better than me, and I’m pretty fucking good. But he’s a born cocksucker if ever there was one.
When he sits up to catch his breath, I pull him on top of me and kiss him hard, then yank his clothes off. He laughs as I get him tangled in his shirt, and when he’s naked, he rubs his cock against mine. Our tongues wind together and I squeeze his ass in my hands.
God, he has a great ass.
We kiss and nip and slide together as Justin reaches around above my head. Finally, he pulls a strip of condoms and a package of lube out of one of the tent pockets.
“Always prepared,” I laugh.
He smirks. “I was a damn good Boy Scout.”
“I just bet you were.”
“Never had this much fun in a tent before, though.” He smiles and dips his finger into my mouth. I suck it and you’d think I was sucking something else by the look on his face. He moves back down to my cock and licks it hungrily. Then his finger is in my ass and I groan loudly.
That’s it, enough foreplay. I reach for the condoms, but he picks them up first. As he straddles my waist, he rips off one of the packages and grins. I put my hand out, but he shakes his head.
I sigh long-sufferingly, but the truth is, I don’t mind getting fucked once in a while. I’m queer – we all like it up the ass sometimes. And Justin’s damn good at it, or I wouldn’t waste my time. Before him, it had been years since anyone had topped me.
He lifts up so I can roll over and settle in. I hear the lube being opened, then his finger’s back in my hole and I rock my hard cock against the textured surface of the tent. He slips another finger in and fuck, I want it.
He stops and covers my body with his own, his mouth at my ear, teeth pulling. “What do you want?” I give him an incredulous look over my shoulder, but he says it again. “What do you want?”
“Are you new here?”
He ignores me and moves back down, and then his tongue’s in me and shit, I really want it. Now. I lift my ass up towards his mouth, trying to get as much as I can, but he stops and licks his way up my spine.
His mouth is at my ear again. “Say it.”
Jesus Christ. He knows how this goes: I let him top me sometimes, and we don’t make a fuss about it.
“Say it, Brian.” He slips a finger back inside and sucks my neck in just the right place.
I mumble, “Fuck me.”
His breath is hot on my neck. “What did you say?”
Little shit. I speak up a bit. “Fuck me.”
I hear the condom package tear and he says, “Louder.”
Okay, that’s it. I twist around and grab the back of his head, crushing our lips together until we have to come up for air. “I said, FUCK ME!”
He practically growls and hauls me onto my knees, pushing into me hard and fast. It hurts, but I push back and the pain and pleasure fuse together. My fingers slide on the nylon floor, trying to find purchase.
Justin breathes heavily as he slams into me over and over, his fingers tight on my hip, his other hand grasping my shoulder. It sounds like his head is hitting the roof of the tent, a weird scratching kind of noise, over and over.
He leans down and pulls my head back by my hair. “You like my cock in your tight little ass?”
I’m panting and my voice sounds hoarse. “Yes.” He reaches around and strokes me, our bodies slick with sweat.
“Shut up and fuck me harder, Justin.”
He grunts and pistons his hips faster, doing even deeper. Our pants and moans are amplified in the small space, the air hot and thick. My knees start to slip and I can feel him begin to shake. He jerks my cock as he makes his final thrusts, and then we’re both coming long and hard, Justin gasping out my name.
I collapse onto my stomach, Justin heavy on top of me. Our chests heave, and we’re silent for a few minutes as we catch our breath. He kisses my neck softly and runs his fingers through my damp hair, still inside me. Finally, he rolls off, and we lie on our sides, our legs tangled together, faces a few inches apart.
He strokes my cheek with his finger. “Do the ride, Brian.”
“I’m going to.”
He kisses me lightly. “I know.”
“Knock ‘em dead in La La Land.”
“I’m going to.”
I lean my forehead against his. “I know.” He smiles and pillows his head on my outstretched arm, sighing softly as he closes his eyes. I think about how we should get cleaned up and move the tent off the damn bed, but instead I draw him closer and let my own eyes drift shut.
We should really go camping more often.