Switching off the shower with a flick of his wrist, he stepped out of the stall, grabbed a fluffy bath sheet, and began toweling off, oblivious to the teenager standing in the doorway.
Brian jumped. "Fuck!" Caught his breath and the towel which he had very nearly dropped. "Shit."
"Sorry," grinned Justin. "I thought you heard me."
"How'd you get in?" he demanded.
Justin dug into his pocket. "Key. You never asked for it back." He paused. "You want it back?"
Brian didn't reply or reach for the key; instead he snatched his robe from a peg. His hair was still damp although he had run the towel over it. Whatever his vague plans for the evening had been, they had changed with Justin's arrival. He wouldn't have just come over without calling unless it was important. At least, to him. Brian had no doubt that this latest crisis would prove to be a mirage but to a teenager everything loomed menacingly and he knew he would get no rest until they tackled it. Together.
Robe clinging to his moist skin, he led Justin to the kitchen where he poured himself a glass of Jim Beam and retrieved a can of soda for his guest. Looking quite perturbed, Justin took the soda and followed Brian to the living room.
As Brian had perched in an armchair, Justin took the sofa, hoping this was not a sign of the man's displeasure. Brian ran hot and cold more than any person he had ever known. During the time he had known the ad exec, Justin had been in the doghouse more times than in his entire seventeen years previous to their meeting. On the other hand, he had experienced greater pleasure than ever before as well. He didn't know what to make of it. Perhaps nothing. He had been given ample evidence to suggest that this was just the way Brian was, that if you took the beautiful body, the handsome face, the charm, and the incredible lovemaking skills, you also took the anger, the self-destructive streak, the confusion, and the pain. That Brian felt pain, Justin was certain; sometimes his hazel eyes would cloud over in agony as he desperately tried to conceal it but couldn't. Consequently, he behaved the nastiest, the most hateful when he was in the greatest pain, unable-or unwilling-to deal with it in any other fashion.
Brian sipped his whiskey. "So."
It was all the opening Justin would get, all he needed. "Were you going out?"
"Go directly to the point, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars," Brian replied aborting any meaningless digressions and futile lines of inquiry.
Justin squirmed and hunted for signs of extreme annoyance in Brian's features. He was difficult to read sometimes; when he was in control neither his expression nor his body language would betray him. Justin opened his soda and took a swig to buy a few precious seconds. Then he focused his attention on the can as he spoke. "I just had a really shitty day, that's all." When no witty riposte greeted his confession, he continued. "We had to write this essay about true love and the thing we loved the most, and when I got mine back, Mr. Bradshaw, my English teacher, had written across the top of it: 'Essay not appropriate for topic. Rewrite and resubmit by Friday.' "
Not that he needed to ask, but he did anyway. "What did you write about?"
Justin peeked at Brian from beneath thick, blond eyelashes. "You."
Rising from his chair, Brian commented, "Your teacher's an asshole but he's right. That's not appropriate."
As Brian passed by him, Justin caught hold of his sleeve which fluttered as he walked. "Why?"
Brian allowed himself to be held. "Because I'm not your true love. You don't love me. How could you? You don't know me. You don't have the slightest idea who I am."
Because you won't let me find out," Justin shot back.
Pulling away at last, Brian glared down at the teen. "Because I don't need you to love me."
They stared at one another and this time Justin refused to back down, to be the first to look away. If Brian wanted to lie to himself about what he needed, what he felt, that was fine, but he couldn't. "Even if you say I can't possibly love you because I don't know you, I know how I feel. That's all I'm certain of. And you can't tell me how I feel, what to feel. Nobody has that right."
At last Brian broke their gaze and mumbled, "I have to get dressed."
But before he could take three steps, Justin's voice stopped him, ringing out strong and clear. "You're such a fucking coward." Brian's lips narrowed in an effort not to answer. "You want to run away from it, from me, you go ahead. Run all you want. It's not gonna change how I feel. And I won't let you forget. No matter how much you want me to disappear, so that you can slink away and fuck somebody else, I won't do it. Even if you forbid me from coming over, even if you ignore me, my feelings for you won't go away, and they'll be there, every time you hit the clubs, or the baths, or bring some trick back here." He stood. "So do what you want."
Brian was livid. His lips formed a hard, straight line and his eyes flashed in anger. But Justin ignored those signs because Brian hadn't moved, and his gaze hadn't left Justin's face. The teenager still commanded his complete attention. Instead of leaving as Brian would have wanted, Justin removed his jacket and kicked off his shoes. Used his toes to pull off his socks. When Brian showed no signs of stopping him or walking away, he proceeded with his disrobing, dragging his sweater over his head.
Brian watched as the teen's rosy nipples came into view. Unconsciously, the tip of his tongue peeped from between his lips, which had relaxed and parted slightly. He could taste Justin's flesh, knew how he would feel as he lapped at the stiffening buds.
Aware of Brian's heightened interest, Justin unsnapped and unzipped his jeans and pulled them off in one smooth, practiced motion. Before he could take off his briefs, Brian struck, bringing his mouth down hard upon Justin's, laving his lips with his tongue. He licked the boundaries of his mouth before engaging in a series of deep, arousing kisses.
His hand cupped Justin's crotch, stroking his meat through the cotton fabric of his underwear. The head of his cock was visible and it was upon that feature that Brian concentrated most of his efforts, the pad of his thumb repeatedly pressing against the most sensitive area, the sensations only heightened by the barrier between them.
Feeling Justin's breath in his mouth as he gasped, Brian pulled away slightly and whispered, "Tell me something. Now that I've got you all hot and bothered, what if I told you to take your twink ass home? Could you do it? Would you have the strength to do it? The courage to walk away from something you want? Because I could. And you call me a coward." Brian let go of him and started to back away but Justin reached out and cupped his dick through the silk robe.
"But you don't have to walk away if you want me. I'm right here."
Too late, much to Brian's chagrin, he realized the error of his word choice. Much, much too late, as his cock stirred beneath Justin's expert manipulations, the smooth silk fabric sliding along his shaft sending shivers up his spine. Easing Justin's hand away, Brian ordered him to fetch the condoms and the lube. Meanwhile, he took off his robe, spread it over the sofa, and sat down upon it. Thighs open wide, he wrapped his hand around the base of his cock. Justin returned and, without instruction, knelt between his knees.
Like a little kid presented with a bounteous cone of ice cream, he began to lick wherever he could, assured that there would be plenty more where that came from. After a while, Brian released his cock and gripped the cushions in an effort to keep himself grounded. His toes curled on the rug beneath his feet while Justin feasted on him, never quite getting his fill. He worked the entire shaft, coating it with spit from base to tip, then devoted his attention to one spot, sucking on the bump below the head until Brian cried out and arched his back, cock sliding deeper into the recesses of Justin's mouth.
Finally, the teen released him and wiped his mouth. Saliva ran down his chin and his lips and tongue were exhausted, but Brian was hard and a haze of lust darkened his hazel eyes assuring Justin that he had done well.
Rising from a partially supine position, Brian urged Justin to his feet and worked his briefs down over his hips to drop on the floor. Holding onto his plump buttocks, he proceeded to devour his erection, using only his mouth to coax the hard flesh into the proper position before sliding up the shaft. He hissed through his teeth as Brian tugged on his cock, lips tight around the head. The tip of his cock flopped free as Brian turned to his sac, taking first one ball and then the other into his mouth, his cheek filled with the teen's firm flesh. Justin whimpered while Brian fed on his testicles and allowed him to maneuver him onto the couch, his legs spread wide open, Brian's head between his thighs, still gnawing on his balls. Loosening his grip, Brian made his way up Justin's body and they wrestled about, engrossed in the act of kissing, of tongues entwining, probing, teasing.
Justin pushed Brian back and reached for the condom. Unrolled it over his erection and squeezed a generous amount of lube over the tip. Used his palm to spread it over the entire surface. Then, he crawled onto Brian and knelt over him, facing away from him. One hand around his cock and the other resting on Justin's hip, Brian guided his partner over and down upon his dick. Justin's mouth opened in a silent cry as he stretched around his lover's turgid member. The lube eased the way, as did his enthusiasm and desire, and within a few moments he was thoroughly impaled.
He remained as he was, enjoying the feel of Brian inside him, the feel of Brian's hands upon his belly and chest, fingers rubbing his nipples, stroking the smooth flesh of his stomach, his throat, his arms, as the lips kissed the nape of his neck, his shoulders, and down his spine.
Then, slowly, Justin rose up on his knees, Brian's cock sliding out of him. But only as far as the head before Justin was back down again, relaxing his lips to take every inch. Brian gripped the Justin's thighs as they moved against one another, the teen bouncing up and down, the man thrusting upwards. Their motions were so violent that they began to slip off the couch due to the silk robe beneath them; Brian finally lifted them both and worked it from underneath his hips.
Brian licked Justin's shoulder and then bit down upon the fleshy part of his neck. God, he wanted to eat him, to taste his flesh, rip into his muscles with his teeth. He was so hot, so fuckin horny, so hard that he could barely think straight. And the way Justin's hole kept opening up for him and tightening around him… Groaning between Justin's shoulder blades, Brian reached around and tugged on the teenager's cock. Justin cried out and his lips tensed, sending a wave of dizzying pleasure throughout Brian's groin. Flattening his hand against the belly of Justin's cock, he gave him a rub down the teen wouldn't soon forget. When Brian finally removed his hand, Justin's cock was hard against his stomach and dripping.
Biting his lip, Justin rose up as far as he could, Brian's dick slipping free. Then he turned around and, reaching behind him, fed his lover's cock back into his ravenous hole. As the underside of his dick dragged along Brian's skin, the entire member trapped between their straining bodies, Justin held onto Brian's neck and moaned. He was so wet, his dick trailed precum as it traveled the length of Brian's belly, each thrust, each jolt causing the head to expand, the hole to widen, the precum to flow heavier. Brian, mouth glued to Justin's, reached between them and wrapped his fingers around the teen's shaft, just below the head, and pressed it harder against his skin. Justin cried out each time the tender tip brushed over Brian's belly. Giving a shout, he began pumping his hips forward, driving his cock against Brian's muscles and working his hole around Brian's dick. Feeling the head of Brian's cock bump against his prostate for about the hundredth time, feeling his cock head gape open, weeping clear tears, feeling Brian's fingers around his cock, Justin buried his face in Brian's shoulder and screamed.
A warm gush of cum wet Brian's fingers, joining the precum that was already there. Although the shaft had become slipperier, Brian held on to the spitting organ. When Justin was at last finished, Brian's hand and belly were soaked with his spunk.
Without giving him time to recover, Brian tumbled him onto the sofa,
onto his back and, still joined, began to thrust against him with greater
force. Justin's legs gaped open, one along the back of the sofa, the other
hanging off the front, and Brian moved like a shark between his thighs,
cock raiding his ass hole, devouring every thing in sight. Brian gripped
the arm of the sofa in one hand, the other pressed down into the seat
cushions, and plunged inside him. Justin shuddered, still aroused by the
delectable motions of his lover's pelvis. He cupped Brian's buttocks and
urged him on, whispering, "Fuck me. Come on. Yeah. Oh yeah. Oh God… I can
feel it. I can feel you." He gave a cry and tightened his hole, feeling
Brian's cock expand again. And then Brian stiffened and grunted, his teeth
clamped tight, feeling the flood of creamy juice splash against the inner
surface of the condom and flow back over his cock. Justin held him tight
as he came, collapsing against the teen's chest when the paroxysm had
Looking down at Justin sleeping, Brian walked away from the bedroom and returned to the sofa, where he sat for a few minutes, staring out of the window at the buildings across the street, not really seeing them. There was absolute silence in the loft, except for the sound of Justin lightly snoring.
In the silence, he ruminated on the evening's main event and, by his own count, he had lost the bout to Justin, KO in the first round. What did it mean that he couldn't send the teen away? He remembered all the things he had said to Justin when he was still living with him, all the compromises he had made, telling himself that it made life easier, that he could always go so far and then no further. But tonight, tonight he had folded, there was no other way to describe it. And for what? A fuck? That was all it was, fucking.
The snoring stopped and he heard Justin call, "Brian?"
Turning, he paused, eyes seeing nothing, then replied, "What?"
"It's cold. Come to bed."
He could feel the warm sheets against his skin, the even greater warmth of Justin's body against his, yet he resisted the urge to return to the comfort of his bed and of Justin's arms. "Go back to sleep." When he didn't hear Justin coming down the steps, he assumed that the teen had done just that, had gone back to sleep without a fuss. He should have known better. On cat's paws Justin approached him. It was only the sound of the sheet brushing against the arm of the chair that gave him away.
Brian, irritated that once more he had been disobeyed, barked, "What? Can't I sit in my own fucking apartment, on my own fucking sofa without being interrogated about it?"
A hurt expression on his face, Justin turned to go back.
"Wait." Brian took a deep breath. "What?"
"Nothing." He faltered. "I just… I just wanted you to come back to bed. You look tired."
"It's one o'clock in the morning. Of course, I'm tired," snapped Brian. Justin started towards him but Brian held out a warning hand. "Go back to sleep," he said wearily.
Reluctantly, Justin complied. With Brian in the mood he was in, he could strike out at the teenager and really hurt him and tomorrow he wouldn't remember, would expect Justin to pick up where they had left off as if nothing had happened. So Justin schlepped back to bed, though he lay awake, surrounded by the almost palpable sense of malaise emanating from the man in the next room. Although he listened carefully, he didn't hear Brian stirring which meant he was still sitting on the sofa brooding. And why? Because he enjoyed being with Justin? It didn't make any sense to him and yet he could imagine that to Brian it probably felt as if the walls of a tiny cage were being erected around him, confining him to a limited space, constricting his movements, while he paced in an every decreasing radius until he couldn't move at all. For Brian, to stand still was paramount to death. To let time catch up with you was the first step onto a slippery slope that led to the grave. How to convince him that love would not confine him but free him? That was something Justin didn't know the answer to; and as time went on, he wasn't sure that he ever would.
He could sense that Justin was still awake, waiting for him to quit it and come back to bed. And as he had told Justin, he was tired, tired of feeling as though he was not in control of his life, that he was just a spectator watching an accident about to happen. And that a seventeen year old boy could precipitate such self-doubt and self-examination where there had been none, made him angry and more than a little afraid. Glancing at the clock on the DVD player, he accepted the fact that morning would arrive all too soon bringing with it challenges that had nothing to do with his current problem; and he decided that staying up all night wouldn't bring him any closer to finding a solution to the Justin Question than he was at this moment. Closing his eyes, he laid to rest his demons. For the night. Then, silently, he made his way to bed and lay down beside Justin to sleep until morning.
Almost imperceptibly, he felt the bed shift and Justin moved closer to him without coming in contact. Nevertheless, he could feel the heat generated by their proximity. He could hear Justin breathing. And although he had his back to the teenager, he could see his face in his mind, a look of desperate desire reconfiguring his features. For a moment, he almost turned over but, in the end, he didn't, because that small gesture would have promised more than he was able to deliver.
At least for now.
Charles Bukowski now I am sitting on the edge of the couch
now I am sitting on the edge of the couch