 Me, I keep watching from the corner of my eye "You what?" He could still hear Michael's question ringing in his ears. In fact, it had been everyone's question. No one, not even Lindz, had believed him when he'd told them the latest. But, he thought, grinning from ear to ear, his arms weighed down with a crate of art books, they'll believe me now. The loft was a mess. But a controlled and organized mess. Luckily for him, Jennifer still had an empty room and a basement at her townhouse where Justin could leave some of his stuff. Only the things he loved the most and couldn't do without did he bring to Brian's. Good thing they had curious friends. Together with the guys, and the Munchers, and Xavier and Rennie, and Deb and Vic, the two lovers made quick work of moving Justin's belongings up to the loft from the U-Haul. Granted, it was one of the small tow trailers and not a van or a truck, but it was enough and when they were done, the drafted workmen plopped down around the apartment and gazed in amazement at the sight of Brian and Justin amidst the boxes, smiling like village idiots. Brian knew that's what they all thought, that he and Justin were in over their heads and completely unprepared for the rigors of cohabitation. Even Michael had given him a lecture on how hard it was to merge two lives and make a home together and he'd dutifully listened while making a mental note to look into getting a Kohler storage case for the bathroom and maybe having an overhead pots and pans rack installed in the kitchen. Of course, the ideal solution would be to sell the loft and find a bigger place, maybe even go shopping for a house but he really couldn't see himself cutting grass or planting rose bushes and he didn't think he could afford both a cleaning lady and a gardener. Especially since he was paying for everything. Not that he minded. He was just being realistic. He'd definitely have to cut back on his designer menswear purchases if he got a house and he shuddered at the thought. He liked looking good. It was vanity but he could afford it. Besides, he thought of it as helping to beautify the world. Or, at least, fuckin' ugly Pittsburgh. "All right," announced Deb. "What's next?" He peered at her. "You go home?" he suggested hopefully. "Uh-uh," she replied, shaking her head. "We want payment for all our hard work." He waited. "We want food." So he ordered Chinese take-out and threw the Jeep keys to Justin who left with Xavier and Rennie to pick it up. After they'd gone, Michael looked at him, astonished. "You let him drive the Jeep without you?" "Mel and Lindz let him baby-sit Gus, I figure the Jeep's in good hands." No one said anything because they all knew how much he loved his Jeep and he added, "Trust me, he knows if he gets a scratch on it, I'll kill him." "When's his mom coming over?" asked Em. "Tomorrow. Dinner. She's bringing his little sister." "Least Molly's not as bad as Claire," Michael pointed out. Mel groaned, remembering the scene at Jack's funeral fiasco. "No one is as bad as that meshuggener." Lindz frowned. "Mel," she scolded. Brian held up his beer in tribute to Mel. "It's true. She's a total cunt." All the women said at once, "Brian!" From where he sat holding Gus between his knees, Vic asked, "Any more info on Justin's friend, Xavier?" "Justin thinks he's bi but…" "But what?" He thought a moment. "There's something else. I just don't know what." Ted asked the obvious. "You think he's got a thing for Justin?" "Definitely. But it won't do him any good. Justin's mine." Brian waited while Gus got away from Vic and then tottered over to his papa. "Isn't that right, Gus? Pooh's mine, isn't he?" The baby looked around, calling, "Pooh!" Face aglow, Deb exclaimed, "Oh! That is too precious." Emmett cackled. "So if Justin's Pooh, does that make you Christopher Robin? Or Piglet? I could never figure that out in the stories." "Maybe they were part of some kinky menage a trois," suggested Ted. Lindsay covered her face, laughing. "Oh, stop it. I'll never be able to read The House at Pooh Corner again." Brian raised an eyebrow. "Personally, I like Tigger. But Tiggers don't like honey and I love honey." He said slowly, seductively, "Sweet… sticky… and straight from the source. Dripping down from-" "Would you stop it?" she cried, laughing harder than ever and Brian licked his lips. "You are so nasty." He held Gus up. "I can't wait until you start dating. The things I could teach you." Mel rolled her eyes. "Just what the world needs: two Brian Kinneys." "You can never get too much of a good thing." Deb patted him on his arm as she went past him to the fridge to find some fizzy. "Tell me that about six weeks from now," and he knew exactly what she was talking about. They all did. Justin and Company returned with the food and everyone grabbed chopsticks and dug in, careful not to spill anything on the furniture, especially the sofa. Brian and Justin tried to be good hosts and not throw everybody out so they could be alone but their friends knew how anxious they were to have their place to themselves and they hurried and finished eating in record time. Deb and Vic headed out with Xavier and Rennie; Ted, Em, and Michael left together; and Lindz and Mel, with Gus wobbling in front, took off too leaving the two men alone at last. Brian embraced Justin from behind and whispered, "Where did you pack the vibrator I bought you?" "I don't know." Releasing him, Brian grabbed one of Justin's art books and flipped through it. "Too bad. I thought we could play." Justin went over and took the book away from him. Dropped it back in the crate. "We don't need it. Trust me." He waited until Brian lowered his head for a kiss to say softly, "I love you." "Do you?" Brian leaned back against the table. "Yeah." "Maybe I need proof." Justin drew Brian's tee-shirt over his head, then unsnapped all of the buttons on his jeans and eased them down. Took hold of his cock and tugged on it until Brian's hard-on pressed against his underwear and a wet spot appeared. Pulling the briefs down, Justin got to his knees and looked up at his lover. Wrapped his hand around the base of Brian's dick and angled it down. Kissed the tip. By the time he'd finished licking the head like a lollipop, Brian was dripping wet and Justin was in heaven. As each new bead of pre-cum appeared, Justin bided his time until the bead became a strand and stretched towards the floor before sticking out his tongue and lapping it up, the clear liquid sometimes missing his mouth and falling on his face and neck and chest. Soon he was wet with Brian's juice and hungry for more. Then the buzzer sounded. "Oh, fuck," groaned Brian. "Maybe they'll go away," Justin said, licking pre-cum from the corner of his mouth and hoping they would because he was far from done with Brian's cock. The buzzer sounded again. Brian pulled away from Justin, kicked off his pants and underwear, and went to answer the door, his erection leading the way. "What?" he grumbled, a lot harsher than he'd intended. He took a deep breath and asked again, this time less antagonistic. "What?" "It's Xavier. I left something upstairs." "Yeah. Hold on." He let the teenager into the building and went to find his robe. Justin met Brian with the black silk garment and closed it around him. Tied the belt, feeling his dick in the process. Brian moaned. "That's not helping." Justin had managed to strip and put on his robe as well. He rubbed his groin against Brian's thigh, the front of his robe falling open and his cock peeping out. "I hope it won't take long." Giving him a quick kiss, Brian said, "Count on it." He opened the door to the loft just as Xavier arrived. Looking sheepish, Xavier entered the apartment and went to where he'd been sitting. There was his bag. "I don't know how I forgot this." "Me neither," Brian agreed. "Now, if you don't mind…" Attempting not to show that he'd noticed their raging hard-ons, Xavier said goodbye and left. Justin nearly cracked up. Brian dropped off his robe and waited for Justin to come to him. The teen pushed him back against the column and stroked him until his hand became wet. Then he raised it and licked the pre-cum from his palm and fingers. "Mmmm…" Took off his robe and got on his knees. Brian sighed as the teen went down on him, sucking his swollen cock until he thought his nuts would explode. Justin sucked them as well and slowly let go of each one, Brian's balls slipping from his mouth wet and shiny and flushed. Pressing down on Brian's dick, he released it and watched it slap against his belly hard, pre-cum flung on both their skins. Brian moaned and gripped the column behind him as Justin repeated the motion twice more. "Fuck," he whispered and drew Justin up for a kiss, rubbing his dick against the teenager's belly, feeling Justin's erection slide between his thighs. He wrapped his arms around the boy's waist and lifted him. Justin gripped him between his knees and crossed his feet behind Brian's back. Held onto the man's shoulders and raised up. Positioning his cock at the opening of Justin's anus, Brian pushed up and Justin pushed down and he entered him. Joined like this, he carried Justin to the door and leaned the teen against it. The cool metal of the door contrasted sharply with the feel of Brian's hot flesh as it thrust up inside him. Holding onto his lover's broad shoulders, Justin didn't attempt to do anything more than to just hang on and enjoy the ride, head bumping against the door softly at first and then harder as they continued. His cock was trapped between their bodies and the muscles of Brian's stomach provided a nice ridged surface for it work against as his man pumped his hole. They kissed as they fucked, mouths open and wet, saliva smearing their faces. Justin sucked Brian's tongue until the ad exec pulled away, breathing hard, and moaned. Justin felt his cock swell inside his asshole and he clamped down on it, fighting to keep Brian in place as the man came. But Brian continued to pump his hole, precum and sweat and mucus making it hard for Justin to get a grip on him with his muscles. Cum dripped from Justin's hole down the length of Brian's shaft and over his balls. Without touching his cock, Justin came between them, spunk splattering their bellies and chests, one squirt reaching Brian's chin to hang from his skin until Justin wiped it away and sucked it off his finger. They didn't bother to shower, just wet a cloth and cleaned up a little,
and fell into bed. The afternoon was only half over and the evening was
still so far away… "Do you have any pictures of the loft?" "Yeah. I took some one day when I was bored." "You should take some pictures of it now while I'm moving in and then after we're done. Before, during, and after." Not really caring one way or the other, Brian replied, "Um hmm," which was what he said when he didn't really care one way or the other. And Justin knew it. He got up and grabbed Brian by the hand and pulled him from the bed. "Come on, while I get something to eat." Not bothering to say the obvious, which was that they'd just eaten, Brian went and got the camera from on top the desk. He couldn't imagine what it was going to cost to feed Justin on a full-time basis. Maybe Jen would appear once a month with one of those magical checks. Somehow he doubted it. They were officially a couple and, as such, were responsible for one another. He guessed he'd have to cut back on clothes shopping after all. And it would have chaffed him except that he turned and saw Justin, naked, bending over to get something from a box and, distracted from his thoughts as usual by the sight, snapped a picture of his perfect ass. Justin stood upright and looked over his shoulder. "Pictures of the loft," he reminded him. "That was my ass." "You're in the loft," he explained as he crossed to the teen. Justin moved into his arms. "You sure about this?" "Too late now. You're here. And your stuff's here. No turning back, remember?" But he said it in such a way as to let Justin know that he wouldn't have it any other way. Justin kissed him, nuzzling the smooth skin at the base of his throat then went to check on the roasted chicken he'd found in the refrigerator. Not wanting it cold, he'd popped it into the microwave whose timer had just gone off. "You want some?" he asked as Brian continued to document the moving-in process. "Nope." He wished now he'd gotten a few shots of the guys carrying in stuff, and he shook his head. What the fuck? Pictures of friends… Looking around, he wondered where they'd put Justin's pictures and then he remembered the sketch he'd bought at the art show. How would he explain it to Justin? What it had meant at the time, why he'd bought it after repeatedly telling Justin that he meant nothing to him. Why had he bought the sketch? He'd been flattered, sure, but that wasn't all. Flattered and impressed with Justin's skill. Impressed by the artist himself and not willing to admit it right then to anyone. Yet he hadn't been able to hide it from himself and he'd purchased the sketch and stared at it while the guy from the comic book store gave him the world's worst blow job and he'd been dissatisfied and angry and disappointed and more than a little bitter that things had turned out that way, that he'd made it impossible for him to ask Justin to come home with him and, surprise of surprises, the teen hadn't asked him. So he'd lain there hoping the guy would bring him off and go. Now, Justin's body coming into view again, he put down his camera and went to the closet and removed the print and the portfolio he'd put it in. He brought it out and laid it on the table and opened it up. Justin, carrying a chicken sandwich on a plate, came to investigate. "What's that…" Stared at the sketch. "You bought it?" "Yeah," he replied, not sure if Justin would bitch at him or not. "You never said anything." Brian shook his head. No, he hadn't. "Why not?" "I don't know." And Justin put down his plate and came to him and
hugged him and Brian tightened his arms around his little boy and laid his
cheek against his soft, blond hair because of all the people who claimed
they understood him, Justin was the only one who understood that when he
said he didn't know what he really meant was that there was too much to
explain. They sat on the sofa and ate, Justin having cut his sandwich in two halves, and planned where they would hang the sketch and Justin's other work and where the pictures that Brian had taken would go. And Justin asked him, "Are you sure my stuff won't mess up your color scheme?" "What color scheme? Everything's either black or white." "That's what I mean." "I guess the place could stand a little brightening up." He paused. "Just, no rainbow flags okay?" Justin laughed. "Okay." Unlike Justin, Brian's appetite was an unpredictable thing so as soon as he'd taken a couple of bites out of his sandwich, he found that he wasn't really hungry. Pushing his half over to Justin, he settled down with his beer and asked as casually as he could, "So what are you going to do about Xavier?" "What about him?" Brian studied the teen to see if he was being sincere or playing him and decided he was dodging the issue. "About the fact that he's got a hard-on for you." "That isn't true," replied Justin when, in fact, he knew that it was true. He'd known ever since he and Xavier had talked in the studio. He hadn't pushed his friend to say anything more after his confession but he'd known that there was more. A lot more. He just wasn't sure if wanted to hear it. "Justin," Brian began, his voice even and low, "what do you think? That I blame you?" And maybe he did because of the way he'd taken to Xavier and hung out with Xavier as a Daphne surrogate and maybe he'd done something or said something to make him think there was a possibility of them starting something. He didn't know. He was just too confused about the whole thing. And Xavier still hadn't said anything to him about it, still hadn't even admitted that he was bi, just that he'd slept with a guy before. "I don't know what to think about anything." "Well, I don't. I know from first-hand experience that you can't control how someone feels about you." He grinned and Justin pushed him. Stuck out his tongue. And Brian leaned into him and kissed him and gently sucked on the tip. Pulled away. "Mmmm, mustard." After they'd finished eating, they unpacked Justin's books and added them to the bookcase by the chaise lounge. Decided maybe the sketch could go there as well. Interfiled his CDs with Brian's collection. "How will we know which ones are yours and which ones are mine?" "Planning on leaving so soon are we?" "You know what I mean." Brian picked up Justin's copy of an 'N Sync CD and raised an eyebrow. "I don't think it'll be a problem." He looked around. "I don't know where we're gonna put the art supplies." "I can take most of it to school," Justin said shrugging. "Maybe we can put up a couple shelves." Not committing to anything, Justin said, "Maybe." Then they turned to the teenager's prodigious wardrobe. "Do you actually wear all this?" Brian asked and Justin gave him a look. "I have to keep up with the seasons," Brian said in answer to his unasked question. An hour later they'd succeeded in putting away most of Justin's clothes except for a few sweaters that Justin said he rarely wore. Brian emptied out a drawer in one of the other two chest of drawers, one of the two he'd reserved for his own clothes. Justin hesitated. "You sure?" Brian took the sweaters from him and put them in the drawers himself. "All done?" "All done," smiled Justin. "Good. I'm bushed." He fell back on the bed and Justin crawled next to him, slipping his hand inside Brian's robe and stroking his chest. He leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips. "I love you." And Brian drew him over on top of him and held him. "Do you think…?" he began to ask and then stopped. "Nothing." Brian turned onto his side so that they faced one another. "Do I think what?" Figuring Brian wouldn't let it go, he finished his thought. "Do you think that we'll ever have a house like Mel and Lindsay?" He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe after you graduate and get a job." A frown appeared on his face. "I'm probably never going to make as much money as you." "You don't know. You might be the next David Hockney." Looking in surprise at Brian, Justin asked, "What do you know about David Hockney?" although he shouldn't have been shocked. Brian knew a lot more than he let on about a lot of things. "Saw a show once. Pretty good. If you're into pastels." "And pretty boys," added Justin. "And pretty boys." "I think I'm more like Lucian Freud," he said and this time he didn't expect Brian to know who that was. Most people didn't unless they were really into art. When Brian showed no name recognition, he explained, "He was a painter. Hung out with Francis Bacon." "Oh." "Bacon even did a portrait of him." "You're not going to paint in here, are you?" Justin raised up on one elbow. "Why?" he asked, thinking Brian would object on the grounds that his beautiful-and expensive-Italian furniture might be imperiled. But he replied, "The smell. Makes me queasy. I hated helping my old man paint the house." Despite the possibility that Brian might actually be sensitive to the paint fumes, Justin believed it probably had more to do with his father. "No. I'm not really good at it. Besides, that's what the studio's for." Justin's reassurances aside, Brian still felt a little bad. After all, it was their place now. "Maybe if you opened all the windows…" The teenager grinned. "Will the real Brian Kinney please get in bed with me?" "What?" "You're being mighty accommodating." "Don't worry. It won't last." Brian reached over and got his cigarettes. "You mind?" Justin shook his head. "Good." Lit one and took a puff. "So, what would your dream house look like?" Justin pondered the question. "It'd have a studio with big windows to let in lots of sunlight. Maybe a skylight in the ceiling too. And a master bedroom suite with a huge bathroom and a sunken tub so we could take baths together." "Among other things." "Among other things," agreed Justin. "And there'd be a room for Gus. And a room for our other kid." Brian paused in the act of raising his cigarette. "What other kid?" "The one I would have with Daphne." Amused, he asked, "You think she'd do it?" "She loves me." He laughed. "Awfully sure of yourself, little boy." Justin smirked. "That's cause I'm loveable." Not addressing that comment, he asked instead, "And you would raise him?" "Or her," he pointed out quite reasonably. "We both would." Musing over the idea, Brian said, "You and me, raising a kid. You'd have to be a successful artist then." "Why?" "You'd be the stay-at-home dad." Justin took Brian's cigarette and inhaled briefly. "Why me?" And Brian retrieved his cigarette and leaned back against the pillows. "We do want this kid to survive to adulthood, don't we?" "You'd actually do it? Have a kid with me?" "Hypothetically, yes." He stubbed out his cigarette. "But maybe we'd better get a dog first. See how that goes." Justin punched him in the arm and then curled up in his arms. "Nope. Didn't last long at all," he said. "What about you? What would your dream house look like?" Brian's face took on a sober cast. "Nothing like my parents' house, that's for sure." "No," Justin said firmly. "We're not talking about them. We're talking about you and your dream house. So what would it look like?" He looked around. "This used to be my dream place." "And it's beautiful," said Justin. "Yeah, but Lindsay says it's not bright enough, not enough bright colors for Gus. She says he needs bright colors to stimulate him. I don't know. Seems pretty stimulated to me. I told her I think I should repaint the loft a color that sedates kids." He paused. "She was not amused." "You would do that? Repaint the loft for Gus?" Brian replied, "The place could use redecorating. It's been this way since I moved in. Styles change." "And people," added Justin and he kissed Brian on the chest and laid
his head upon his torso. After a brief rest and a little fooling around, they unpacked Justin's toiletries and decided to take a shower. Brian opened a bottle of the shampoo Justin had brought with him and sniffed it. Smelled slightly botanical. Squirting some on the teen's head, he worked it into a lather and shampooed his little boy's hair. Justin couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe that Brian would wash his hair, couldn't believe how turned-on he was getting in the process. How turned on they were both getting. Hands sliding down over the teen's chest and belly, Brian lathered the sparse hair on both areas, then continued to his groin where the hair grew thick, luxuriant. Ran his hands over the boy's buttocks which were covered in a fine down, and fingered his hole with its wispy strands that tickled his lips when he rimmed him. Opening up around the probing digit, Justin leaned against the wet wall of the shower and slowly worked his hips back and forth, his slippery lips sliding over Brian's soapy index finger. The man removed his finger and pulled down the shower head, extending the hose to its fullest length. Then, parting Justin's buttocks, he sprayed warm water over his hole. Gasping as thousands of tiny fingers played over his ass, Justin
couldn't believe he'd never experienced this before. Brian changed the
setting and the water sprayed over him in a series of steady pulses.
Justin cried out and bit his lip as his lover brought the shower head
closer to his asshole. His cock was hard as steel. Brian held the shower
head directly against his hole and Justin began to shout as the needles of
water massaged his hole and his lips began to spasm in response. Drawing
the shower head away, Brian sprayed his balls and then turned him around
and gave his dick the same treatment. By the time he was done, Justin was
begging him to fuck him. Hanging up the shower head, Brian made him
promise to stay put. He disappeared for a moment, then returned. Holding a
seven-inch latex cock. It was shiny with lube and slid up his hole with
ease. As the water beat down upon them, Brian's flexed his muscles and
worked the dildo in and out of his little boy's hole, listening to the
teenager moan and gasp. Then Brian flipped the switch on the base of the
dildo and Justin gave a shout. Burying it deep inside him, Brian held it
in place and watched as the boy's entire body shook. Kneeling at Justin's
feet, Brian turned him around so that he faced the teenager's cock. One
hand on the dildo to keep it tight against Justin's hole, Brian began
licking his meat. Jerking as the toy vibrated against his prostate, Justin
shrieked when Brian's mouth closed around the head of his cock and the man
began to suck him off. It didn't take much for the teen to dump his load.
Brian pulled back and the boy's cum splashed on his face to be washed away
by the warm water showering down upon them. Laying in bed, completely satiated, Justin asked, "Is it always gonna be like this?" "Like what?" asked Brian even though he knew what the teenager meant. "Perfect, like this." And Brian shook his head. "Nope. We're gonna fight like cats and dogs, and scream at each other, and storm out, and be ready to kill each other. If we're lucky. But I would rather fight with you and then make up than be bored. Than to come home every night and have everything be perfect. I'd rather miss a few meals than to have you here every night to fix dinner. I'd rather go to bed horny one or two nights a week than to be sick of you." "Then," said Justin, grinning, "in that case, I'll be sure to hold out on you at least two or three times a week." "I said one or two." Looking at the clock, Justin said, "It's almost over." "What?" "Our first day of living together." Both hands were almost in sync over the number twelve. Brian glanced at the clock face. "Then it's just starting," he said. "What?" "Our second day of living together." Sliding over on top of Brian, Justin kissed him hard. "Happy Second Day." Time to celebrate. The next morning Brian went out in the hallway to get the paper and laughed out loud. From the kitchen where he was putting on the coffee, Justin asked, "What?" Brian brought in the paper and laid it on the counter. Showed Justin the note that had been taped to the door. Read, " 'Dear Mr. Kinney, Perhaps you should look into soundproofing your apartment. Or charging admission. Thomas Bailey, Building Superintendent.' " Laughing, he opened the paper to see what had happened in the world. Blushing a deep red, Justin went back to fixing the coffee and hoped
his face would stop burning by the time it was ready--and that he never
had the occasion to meet the sharp-eared Mr. Bailey. "From the Station" written by Marc Cohen, The Rainy Season,
Wea/Atlantic, 1993. |
