A nice Hunter ficlet for your reading pleasure.
Thanks to my little Mary-Sunshine, zoisite84 for being a wonderful beta & going through, and helping me :">
Summary: Hunter does not believe in privacy.
He half pushes, half drags you up the four flights of stairs, while repeating, again, why you’re being forced to go over Brian and Justin’s place. You tell Michael you’d rather be home doing your Spanish homework, rather than go into their threshold so Michael could drop off a storyboard for the next issue of Rage. It’s not that you hate going over, it’s just getting boring going wherever Michael goes and you’re beginning to feel like a tag-along. How can Brian fuck you when you're constantly under Ben and Michael's wing?
Sure, you still think Brian is the hottest guy you’ve ever seen, and even though, at the moment you prefer a more feminine touch, you wouldn’t think twice if Brian offered his cock to you. You start to muse over the fact that while you were forced into sleeping with guys at the age of twelve, you’re not completely repulsed at the idea of having sex, at will, with another man. Then you hear Michael’s voice break your thoughts, his obnoxious, high-pitched “BRIAN!” being yelled into the door, accompanied by his ruthless banging.
“You know, there's these things called keys, now.”
You tell him with a smug grin and roll your eyes in Michael’s direction and laugh at his anal tendencies over Rage. Michael nods and does so, producing a key. He inserts, and turns while pulling the door open he turns and tells you, ‘It’ll only take a minute wait outsides.’ You do so with little argument. You watch Michael’s back retreat to the kitchen, while you lean against the cool brick wall, peering into the open door and looking straight ahead.
You’ve always admired Brian’s taste in style. His loft is no exception. You make a mental note to tell Brian so. You see the frosted pane glass doors closing off the bedroom and notice a slight movement. You look over to Michael who is busying himself with something, apparently writing a note for Justin. You slip inside and Michael looks up and shakes his head, while he continues on with the note. You busy yourself by slowly walking along the back of the white sofa dragging a finger. You enjoy the feeling of the material while you keep your eyes locked on the glass. You see movement and hear a small gasp coming from behind the glass and A ghost smile appears and a wicked thought comes into mind. Never been one to deny your voyeuristic tendencies, especially where Brian is concerned, you walk closer to the glass to watch and listen for anymore proof of life other than you and Michael in the loft. You turn to Michael one last time to make sure he is still busy and you slowly crack open the window to the bedroom. The first thing you notice is a flash of glistening skin and peering further into the bedroom you notice that annoying bright, blonde hair belonging to Justin. You still think Brian could do better, but you won’t lie, they look hot together and from what you’re currently staring at, just make’s you agree with that thought even more.
Brian and Justin have practiced and probably perfected the art of sex. And from Michael’s constant complaining of Brian always being too busy with ‘other engagements’ you’ll agree. Watching them right now, you feel sort of bad peering into their private lives but then you get that chill running down your spine. That feeling you always got that accompanies the act of doing something dangerous or dirty. You have a fleeting thought of clearing your throat, or coughing, something to make them realize they’re not alone. But you continue to watch them move together and you suddenly feel really privileged to be able to watch this act go on. You’ve heard countless stories from Michael and Ben; along with half of the Liberty Avenue’s population talk about one time or another, seeing Brian and Justin having sex in the backroom or the baths. But seeing and hearing are two completely different things and you’ve always wanted to see for yourself, why everyone busies themselves with Brian and Justin's private lives instead of their own. And it suddenly makes sense.
You're not an artist, like Justin, but you'd have to be dead not to appreciate the aesthetic beauty of the act taking place in front of you. You watch Brian's fingers intently, the firm grip they have on Justin’s lower hip and thigh. You allow your eyes to follow Brian’s other hand that is dragging along Justin’s spine, into his hair. Justin’s eyes are closed tightly as he leans down to kiss Brian. You notice how Brian’s eyes are also shut, and how well they work off each other. Brian appears to be a very considerate, giving, partner, slowing down when Justin puts his hand down on Brian’s chest, and speeding up when he grabs Brian behind the neck, forcing him to push up quicker.
You find it weird that they’re being so quiet, holding back in their own home, but then you start to realize the only reason they aren’t screaming until their throats are raw is because they barely stop kissing each other enough to let a gasp pass through, much less to breathe. You’re sure if that was not the case, the whole building would be evacuated, due the false impression that someone was being killed behind the door.
You feel a tight grip on your shoulder, and you’re suddenly facing Michael, who, by the look on his face, and the sudden blush creeping into his neck and face, had no idea Brian and Justin were here either. You feel like you should say sorry, or shrug and act like you didn’t mean to peer in on their activities, but Michael is staring at them as well and you find this much more uncomfortable than what you were just doing so you quickly walk off, but not before faux sneezing to get their attention. Michael twists around and stares daggers at you but it’s too late. You see a blonde head emerge from the bedroom with a pair of sweatpants on and Brian walking out right after him, in less.
Michael covers his face and walks to the kitchen island where Justin is now standing, looking over the storyboards. Brian grins and winks at you, and then pats Michael sympathetically on the back. You begin to think this isn’t the first time he’s interrupted their sex lives and you’re almost certain it won’t be the last.