Everything at Once, Chapter 9-Denial-Brian POV-NC-17
Here is the next installment of Everything at Once.
Title: Everything at Once-Chapter 9-Denial-Brian POV
Warnings: NC-17 & this is an intense chapter.
Disclaimer: the usual suspects
Appreciation: You all need to hug my beta-girl kinneytay after you read this. She gets all of my unedited erotic angst. Feel her pain, and then go download her vid to A Little Less Conversation. If you are still, um, needy, at the end of this chapter, it will, um, fix that. Thank you to everyone who reads and/or comments.
Feedback:: Your comments mean the world to me. I take them seriously. I appreciate them, and they improve my writing. They also make me type faster for some reason.
If you need a refresher course: Memories.
Everything at Once-Chapter 9-Denial--Brian’s POV
We're caught in a trap
I can't walk out
Because I love you too much baby
1:41 a.m. Saturday morning
My last cigarette. Justin’s last cigarette, I think. I don’t know; I can’t find mine.
The window is ice cold, but it feels good against my skin. I like this view from the living room, hot smoke filling my lungs, cool glass against my shoulder, a car driving past once in a while. Not much going on out there tonight, way too much going on inside my head.
My cold shoulder. The only part of my body I can even feel right now-that and my hand every time it brings this cigarette back to my face-otherwise nothing-naked and numb.
It’s always the same, but always different. This thing that makes sleep a joke, that makes the morning start at two a.m., that makes two a.m a good time to pedal miles away from here on a stationary bike. This thing that makes me know that I love him, and that I hate him for loving me. I fucking hate it.
It’s nothing to love someone.
And it’s always the same, but always different. And I fucking hate it because I can’t control it. I tell myself every night that I can change it, but I can’t, at least not the way I want. I’m so fucking tired of this. Tired of waking up exhausted because I’m busier in my sleep than I am during the day. Tired of waking up in the morning thinking "Thank God. Now I can get some fucking sleep.”
These fucking dreams need to stop.
“In the first phase of the campaign, Mr. Kinney, we’re going to use some of these images you see here to familiarize the customer with your product, to give them a sense of what it’s about. I think you can see from what we are showing you what direction we’re headed in.”
I can see it all right. This part of the dream is always the same. I can’t even look at what they are showing me. I don’t have to. I know what it is. I don’t even fucking want to think about it.
I look at my watch. Justin is late. He’s never late. Why the fuck is he late today? This is important. He should be here. Why the fuck isn’t he here?
Apparently we are business partners.
“So, Mr. Kinney, as I was saying, after this, we’ll move into the second phase of the campaign. In this phase, we plan on taking a few more risks---“
“Sorry, I’m late.”
He takes a seat beside me. I don’t even realize he’s walked in the door. He sees everything when he walks into the room; he sees everything that I can see-even my thoughts, and it doesn’t even phase him. He doesn’t even flinch. I start to wonder if he really sees what I see-something that is obviously such a fascade, but if he does, he doesn’t care.
“Mr. Taylor.” Mr. ShutTheFuckUp stops his presentation. Time stops. Everything stops. For some reason everyone leaves the room; they politely excuse themselves. I get excited for a minute because I think I’m back in my office, that I’m going to get to fuck him. I hate this part of the dream. It always goes too slow. It’s like fucking torture.
So I look at him sitting next to me. He looks beautiful in his gray suit; it’s always something different. He smiles at me. He kisses me, running his hand down the back of my head.
“Sorry, I’m late.” Again.
“Where were you?”
I hate the way I sound when I ask him this. I try to change it every night, but it always comes out sounding the same. This is where it gets really fucked up. This is where it’s always the same but different, the same, but different. Sometimes he’s just come from the prom in his tuxedo, sometimes art class, sometimes the diner, sometimes he’s dripping wet from my shower with only a towel around him, sometimes straight from Babylon high on some shit and covered in glitter, and once he was dripping with blood. Tonight, it was different again.
“I was in L.A. Remember? Making the movie?”
“Oh yeah. I forgot.”
“You always forget.” His hand rubs my thigh. I keep thinking that those people are going to walk back in any minute and that if they do, I’m going to hurt them because I need time to remember where he was. I can’t think very fast, and that’s not my fault.
This part of the dream moves in slow motion. My mind feels like it’s swimming in jell-o.
“I don’t know why I can’t remember where you are.” He’s looks at me and smiles. I’m looking at my lap.
“Because you don’t want to.” He just sits beside me and reassures me. He holds my hand.
“I don’t?” The blue of his eyes goes on forever when I look at him. He shakes his head at me like I’m a small child who just doesn’t understand things.
“No, you don’t. You don’t want to remember. You tried, though. That’s the important thing.”
I tell him that I’m going to try again tomorrow. I’m going to keep trying until I can remember.
Somehow the people know that it’s okay to come back in. The presentation starts up again. I don’t want to be there. I want to leave, but I look over at him, and he’s calm and peaceful and happy and relaxed, so I try to be. I try to be the beautiful, confident, self-possessed man that he is, that some part of me is telling me that I taught him to be. But I can’t. Or I won’t. Or something.
So Mr. ShutTheFuckUp starts up again. “In Phase Three of our campaign Mr. Kinney-Mr. Taylor-this will be the phase where we’ll really drive your message home, where we’ll make our----excuse me-your product will make it’s strongest impress---“
“Your ideas are for shit.” I get up and start putting my shit in my briefcase.
Mr. ShutTheFuckUp keeps right on talking. My behavior bothers Justin.
“Brian, sit down. You’re being rude.”
“Justin, are you coming?” He ignores me. I walk to the door with my briefcase. “Justin, I asked you a question.”
Always the gentleman, he asks Mr. ShutTheFuckUp to excuse him for a second. He joins me in the hallway.
“Brian, what the fuck is wrong with you?” He’s really pissed. I’ve embarrassed him. “Why are you walking out in the middle of this? This could be a good thing here. And why are you talking to me like that?”
He doesn’t get mad at me like this that often, but I’ve pissed him off. And now I’m mad too. “Because, Justin, that guy’s a fucking idiot. He doesn’t know what we want. He hasn’t listened to one fucking thing I’ve said, or given me one thing I asked for, and this is a total waste of my fucking time. That’s why.”
“You just don’t want to listen to him because he’s my father. Because you think you know what’s best for me.”
I glance back in the room, and Mr. ShutTheFuckUp has his back to me, but I believe Justin. I believe him when he says that it’s his father. I tell myself that I won’t go back in that room again for the rest of dream. I feel like there are other fathers in there. I close the door. I always forget to lock it. I should have locked it.
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. And it’s all just fucking screwed up in your head Brian. That’s your whole fucking problem.”
“How could I possibly know what’s best for you when I don’t even know where the fuck you are? Have you even thought about that?”
That’s the only part of the dream where I feel confident. It makes no sense. And then I just keep yelling at him.
“I can’t remember from one minute to the next where you are or when you’ll be back, or where or when I get to fuck you, or when I’m just paying for shit and not fucking you, OR…”
“Or what, Brian? Or what?” He’s still yelling at me.
And then we’re not in Mr. ShutTheFuckUp’s office or building anymore. I don’t know where we are. Some place dark. Some place inside. I can’t tell. I’m still yelling at him.
“Or why it feels just as good to me to take care of you, to put you through school, to worry about whether or not you get home safe at night as it does for me to have you in my bed waiting to be fucked every single night! THAT is my fucking problem Justin!”
He just looks at me, and I can’t stop. Nothing will stop.
“SO, ARE YOU COMING OR NOT? I’m not going to ask you again.”
“Okay. Just let me get my stuff.”
“Fine.” And I’m relieved that we’re done arguing, that we can get the fuck out of here, and I’m not even bothered by the fact that we’re back in front of Mr. ShutTheFuckUp’s office again. I lean back against the wall to wait for him.
A cold blast of air hits me when he opens the door, and right when he does, he turns around and smiles at me and says, “I’ll just be a minute. I’ll meet you at the elevator. Just let me tell them good-bye.”
Mr. ShutTheFuckUp’s office is full of people that weren’t there before and full of stuff. It’s all Justin’s stuff. I can’t see it, but I know that it is.
I walk down the hall and press the ‘down’ button. The moment the elevator door opens, I hear Stockwell’s voice.
“If you say it, mean it. Right boys?” And the unmistakable crack of a bat.
I drop my briefcase. I try to run. I try to say his name. I can’t move. My legs are cement. They won’t budge. The hallway stretches out farther and farther in front of me. I open my mouth again and again, but nothing comes out. Absolutely nothing.
Gus is standing in the elevator smoking a cigarette.
“Come on Daddy. Let’s go. He’s gone.”
For some reason, I can pick up my brief case now, and I can get on the elevator. Gus isn’t smoking anymore.
“Daddy, hold me up so I can push the button.” I lift him up and show him which one to push, and we descend.
This is where I always wake up.
It’s nothing to love someone. It’s letting them love you back that’s unwarranted.
*******************************************************************************
2:23 a.m.
Justin’s up. I can hear him in the bathroom. It’s probably just as well. I’m fucking freezing.
“Brian?” He sees me. I don’t feel like saying anything. I’m sure he’ll drag half the bed with him when he walks over here. “Did you smoke my last cigarette?” He folds me in his arms, me and the blanket, as I laugh a little and nod.
“Yeah.”
“Fucker.”
I turn around so I can pull him in front of me, so we can both look out the window, so I can bury my nose in his hair. I just stop thinking. We stand there for several minutes, both of us, not saying anything. Eventually, he turns around and looks at my face. I’d rather he didn’t.
“What are you looking at?”
He lays his head against my chest, and I re-adjust the blanket. His body warms mine. He gives me more space than I deserve sometimes-most of the time. I lift his chin off of my chest and bring my face to his. I almost don’t want to kiss him because once I do, the rest of me will thaw, but I do it anyway. I don’t even know what I want from this kiss--everything-I guess. I want the innocent part of him that kisses me like he really doesn’t know what’s coming next, that relies on me, the tease in him that wants to entice me and please me, and the aroused, surrendering part of him that fits my body like a glove. I want everything at once. The light coming in from the window makes streaks in his hair, making it seem lighter than it is. Our mouths part long enough for me to answer him, for his arms to find their way around my neck.
“Street lights.”
I’m not sure how long we stood at the window, it couldn’t have been very long, or whose idea it was to finally go back to bed, but he fell asleep facing me. I think I fell asleep watching him.
It’s nothing to love someone.
*******************************************************************************
Cause your kisses lift me higher
Like a sweet song of a choir
And you light my morning sky
With burning love
8:17 am
Morning has broken. Justin is deep in thought. I am deep in Justin-almost.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Captain Astro.” He never ceases to amaze me.
“Captain Astro? Why would you be thinking about Captain Astro when I’m almost in your ass?”
“Yeah, do you mind?”
This is one of those mornings that I almost couldn’t resist the cardinal sin. It took everything in my power to briefly unravel myself from him, to make myself adhere to my own rules. I should have fucked him when we got back into bed last night, at least then he would slept more soundly. I toss the condom on the bed; I hadn’t even opened it yet.
“I should have fucked you last night when we came back to bed. You drove me nuts all night pushing your ass against me and hogging all the covers.” He can do that ass-pushing thing now if he wants, though. I’m all for that now.
“You are one to talk Mr. Kinney. Sleeping with you is a nightmare, no pun intended, between all of your thrashing and kicking and talking in your sleep.”
“I don’t talk in my sleep.”
“Like hell you don’t. You said my name four or five times last night after we came back to bed.”
“I must have been dreaming about fucking you.” Which is what I want to be doing right now. I’d appreciate some cooperation. He keeps his gaze on the window.
“I don’t think so. That’s not the way you were saying it. You were giving me the creeps.” He doesn’t want my hand on his dick right now. Fine. We’ll just spoon. “I tried to wake you up.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“I’m not surprised. You opened your eyes, sucked in this huge breath, and grabbed my arm. You scared the shit out of me Brian.” Fuck. I did?
“Did I hurt you?” I try to look at his arm, but he’s laying on it. “Let me see.”
“No, you didn’t hurt me. You just scared me. You were looking at me, but you really weren’t.”
“Let me see your arm Justin.” I roll over onto my back, and he rolls onto my chest. I look at his left arm. “I don’t see anything. Does it hurt?”
“No, not really.”
“What did I do after I grabbed you?” I’ve never had the benefit or curse of someone sleeping with me. I guess I don’t know my own sleep habits.
“I told you to let go of me--that you were hurting me--but you didn’t hear me, at least I don’t think you did. It was weird. You just let go and kind of threw me back on the bed.”
I rub his arm. I can’t believe I did that. Shit. “I’m sorry. I guess I was just having a really bad dream.”
“You have them a lot Brian.” He wraps his fingers over mine. “Do you remember it?”
“No. I never remember them. Never have.” Neither of us say anything for a minute or so. Let’s just drop this.
“You’re lying. That’s why you were standing at the window last night, wasn’t it? Because something woke you up?”
“Don’t worry about it, okay?” I pull him tight against me. I don’t want to talk about this.
“How can I worry about it when I don’t know what it is?” I can feel him starting to get upset in my arms. This is not the kind of morning I want to have.
“Justin.”
“Brian, if there’s something bothering you, you can tell me, no matter what it is-even if it’s me.” He lets go of my hand and tucks his hand under his chin.
“It’s not you.”
“So you do remember them?”
“I remember enough to know that it’s not you. I promise.” I stare at the ceiling my hand passing over his head. He feels less upset, less tense now, I think.
“At least you’re telling me the truth now. I can feel it.” He lets out this sigh, and I feel him relax a little. For once I’m relieved that he can read me. I’m lost in my own thoughts before I even realize that his head is no longer on my chest; it’s in a much more useful location.
For some reason I don’t even feel right having him suck me after all that. I feel like I should stop him. “Justin, it’s okay.” I stop him for a second, and he just looks at me like I’m crazy.
“Whatever’s bothering you, just forget about it for now.” And I do. I lie back on our bed, my hand lodged in the crook of his shoulder and forget about last night’s nightmare, hurting him, everything. I can’t think about anything when he sucks me off, especially first thing in the morning. I flood his mouth in no time, something completely idiotic coming out of my mouth, and he is back in my arms, lying with me while I regroup.
“So, anyway, back to what I was saying about Captain Astro?”
“Jesus, can’t you wait at least sixty seconds after you swallow before you start talking?”
“Just listen.” He kisses me. “I was thinking that all of this is Captain Astro’s fault.”
“How do you figure that?” He lies back down on my chest again, oblivious to how destroyed I truly am after he blows me.
“Because if Captain Astro hadn’t fucking died in the first place, Michael would have never wanted to make this stupid comic book, and I wouldn’t be leaving. I think he should just kill Rage off in the next issue.”
No wonder I have bad dreams. “Well, I hate to tell you this but ‘major character death’ is considered very poor taste in the fandom.” He moves up and off of me a little, onto his side, propping his head on his elbow.
“How would you know? You’re not part of the ‘fandom’” He makes little quotation marks in the air. I fucking hate it when people do that. Although when he does it, it’s kind of cute.
“Well, for one thing I ‘grew up with Michael Novotny’”, I add my ‘air quotes’, “and I am ‘Rage’, thank you very much.” And I don’t appreciate being killed off without any warning. So there.
“Okay, well, it’s just that I just don’t want to have to make Rage two, three, four, five and six. I don’t want to be gone all the time.” His voice gets quiet as he lies back on his pillow again. I slide over to him, propping my head on my elbow this time, putting my arm around him.
“I think you’re jumping the gun a little. You haven’t even sold one ticket to Rage I yet.” His imagination works overtime.
“Yeah, but you know people are going to love it. Watching Rage rescue JT, and watching JT suck Rage off. It’ll be so hot. I can’t wait.” His face lights up again. There’s my Sunshine.
“Me either. If I actually see that onscreen, I really will celebrate. I might suck somebody off.” He turns back toward me, all smiles.
“It better be me.” I go crazy when he runs his fingers up and down my chest like this, tracing little circles around my nipples. I don’t know how he expects me to carry on a conversation like this, but I’ll give it the ol’ college try.
“Oh, it’ll be you. And it will probably be in a movie theatre while you’ve got a mouthful of popcorn.”
“And you can time it so that I come right during a loud action scene, so when I yell out, nobody will know it’s because you’re sucking me off.”
Justin Taylor-The President of Imagination Nation. “Yeah, and you can yell out “RAGE” instead of “BRIAN,” so everybody will think that you’re really watching the movie…” I pull him closer to me.
“That’ll be perfect. Oh my god, I can’t wait for that. We have to do that. Promise me we’ll really do that.”
He is more excited right now than Gus was about that cat last night. “We’ll do it.” I climb on top of him, pushing him on his back and study his face, play with his hair and think about how much I love Saturday mornings in bed, how this will be our last one for a while.
His eyes are still far away. “This is off the subject, but”
“Your middle name is ‘off the subject.’” I kiss him slowly; he doesn’t even stop talking. Maybe I need to work on my technique…
“Mmmmm. Cut it out. This is off the subject, but you know when you fell asleep last night while I was reading to Gus?” Cut it out. He means the teasing, not the kissing. He loves the kissing.
“Yes.”
“He looked at me and said, ‘Uh oh, Mr. Justin, look at Daddy.’ I just can’t get over how fast he’s growing up. It’s amazing.”
“It’s terrifying. What’s amazing is that all three of us managed to squeeze into his twin bed.”
“All four of us. You forgot Twink.”
“I don’t count pussy.”
“You know what? I’m not even sure she’s a girl. It’s really hard to tell when they’re that young.” He’s so animated. He might as well be a cartoon character.
“Well, if it turns out to be a boy, he can still call it ‘Twink.’ Boys can be twinks.”
“Very funny.” He sticks his tongue out at me. I eat it.
“You were a twink.”
“That you picked up and brought home….an annoying stray that just wouldn’t leave you alone.”
“Well, that’s what happens when you feed them. They just keep…coming… back.” I don’t think I’ve ever kissed him as much during one sentence as I did during that one.
“And weasel their way into your heart.” He gives as good as he gets.
“Only the intelligent, well-bred, extremely-fuckable, candy-ass ones.”
“You forgot unbelievably beautiful.” Such a modest twink.
“That’s a given. I wouldn’t pick one up in the first place if that weren’t true.” He grins at me and stops running his fingers through my hair for a second.
“You’re so sweet and romantic in your own twisted, fucked-up way.”
“Was that a compliment?”
“More like an observation.”
“Well then, I’ll take it under advisement-as soon as I’m done taking you under advisement.” My lips spend an inordinate amount of time behind his ear and down his neck.
“You’re not taking me anywhere.”
“That’s what you think. You better quit being such a smart ass. You know what’s gonna happen if you don’t cut it out.” He whispers in my ear. “That’s right. You better settle down.” He moans in my arms. This time when I kiss him, he stays with me for the duration. It’s about damn time-my ego was starting to bruise. God, I need more mornings like this.
“So anyway, about Gus…” I should have bought him a muzzle at the pet store. “Wasn’t he so cute last night dancing in the car? We should take him to Babylon with us the next time we go.”
When will that be?
“I’m sure the munchers would really go for that.” I give up for awhile because he just needs to get this out of his system. He just needs to think out loud. His eyes are so blue this morning.
“Couldn’t you just see it? We could put Gus up on the bar or on one of those risers, and he could dance with Emmett.” He thinks this is a great idea. I bust out laughing.
“Yeah, and then four hours later when it’s time to go, and we can’t find him anywhere….”
“He’ll be in the backroom.” The realization that comes over his face when he says this is priceless. The world doesn’t need another Brian Kinney.
“Maybe I’ll talk to Debbie and see if he can spend some time with Horvath and just put the kibosh on this dancing fettish he has.” These thoughts of Gus ending up like me are making me sicker than watching dykes play tonsil hockey.
He scrunches up his nose. “Yeah, I see what you mean. What got me off on that subject anyway? What was I talking about?” His eyes look off to the right, and I give him a few second because he’ll remember, he almost always does. “Oh yeah, Gus, reading to Gus, and you fell asleep while I was reading.”
“I fell asleep because of the way you read Dr. Seuss. You get this sing-songy rhythmic thing going with your voice that just lulls me into dreamland.” I imitate him.
“That’s not the only rhythmic thing I had going last night.” God I’m hard.
“Now see, you thought you were off the subject. Turns out you were dead on.” Sometimes if you leave Justin to his own devices, he’ll end up exactly where you want him.
“I really enjoyed it. Did you?” His sultry voice and the way he moves underneath me when he says that gives me chills. He can go from being so sweet to so seductive in no time flat. It makes my head spin.
“Um, yeah. You could say that.”
“Good, because so did I. It was hot.” He slides beneath me so he can kiss my chest, suck on my nipples. “I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t have any intention of seducing you last night. It just sort of happened.”
“I think it was that lotion you were massaging me with. That stuff smelled incredible. It made my skin so smooth.” Which he can clearly tell since his hands all over it right now. Fuck, I love watching him doing this. He starts laughing.
“You can thank Emmett for that. It was this cream he gave me yesterday-called ‘Butt Butter.’” I rise up off of him, yank him back up by his hair, look at him like he’s crazy. “Brian.”
“What?”
“Calm down. It’s just called that. It’s just lotion. It’s not really for your butt. I read the container. They just sell it in one of those faggy boutiques that Emmett goes to.” I don’t believe him. “I’m being serious. It’s a huge container, and it smells really good, so I just thought I’d use it. I’m going to leave it here anyway. I’m not going to go through airport security with a tub of Butt Butter in my suitcase.”
“You can leave it at your Mom’s.”
“Fuck no, I’m not leaving it my Mom’s, you asshole. Get over it.” He hooks his arms around my neck, pulls up, and kisses me hard, pushing his tongue into my mouth. I swear he’s going to make me see stars. I guess I’m over it. I take advantage of him hanging off me and slide my left hand inside his pillowcase. I’m taking charge of this now. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for your offering to the ‘Topping Fairy’.” Bingo. “Don’t think I don’t know about your little nightly ritual.”
“It’s not a ritual, and I don’t do it every night.” He puts his head back down as I slide my hand out. I flash the condom in his face.
“You put a brand new condom inside your pillow case every night before you go to sleep-your offering to the ‘Topping Fairy.’” I tease him while I open the wrapper. “I guess it worked last night, huh? Your wish came true.”
“It’s not my offering to the ‘Topping Fairy’ you jerk; it’s just because I don’t like to reach all the way over to your stupid ‘party favor condom basket’ every time we fuck.”
“Condoms make perfect party favors.” Don’t they?
“If you’re going to give out party favors, you should be a little more creative.”
“Like what?” I open the wrapper. I guess I’m putting this thing on myself.
“Like you could take that Butt Butter and put it into containers and give it to your tricks when they leave, you know. Sort of like: ‘We hope you’ve enjoyed your one and only visit to The House that Fuck Built. Here’s a lovely parting gift.’”
“That’s cute. Very creative. I might just do that. You’ve never complained about my condom basket before.”
“That’s because it’s not polite to insult the furnishings when you’re just a guest in someone’s home. Do you want me to roll over?”
“No, you’re fine. Point taken. Can you bend your knees, please?”
“Sorry.” He yawns and stretches his arms over his head, his body arching into mine. He lets out this irresistible sleepy moan. “Mmmmmm.“
That was fucking spectacular. He hands me the lube. I know he doesn’t keep that under his pillow.
There isn’t a bad position to fuck Justin in. There are only degrees of ecstasy-depending on my mood, but watching him like this is almost poetic. And I don’t think he has any idea. This view of his body strewn on our bed is a work of art-especially on these white sheets. That alone's driving me fucking nuts.
“Is there anything in particular you’d like this morning?” I’m in a generous mood all of a sudden.
“Um, let me think.” I suck on his neck while he ponders my question. He better hurry up, or I’ll decide for him. I may be generous, but I’m not very patient. “Come here.” He whispers in my ear. Little devil.
“Oh no-not this morning. We’ll never get out of bed. Later, though, I promise.” We’ve got a schedule to keep today.
“Okay. Well, then I’ll just have whatever’s on special.” Leave it to Justin to think of breakfast during foreplay.
“I knew you were hungry.”
“For you.”
“For pancakes.” I smile at him as he strokes himself. God, that's so hot. “I can get you some maple syrup if you want.”
“Stop talking about pancakes when your fingers are in my ass. I’ll come too quick.” He’s not kidding. He will.
“I could talk about sausage.” That’s making me harder. Maybe I’m hungry.
“Only if you want to hear my stomach growl through this entire fuck. I think I’m ready.”
“See all that talk about sausage paid off.”
“Shut up and fuck me.” This is what I’m really going to miss. Saturday morning specials.
He looks at me as I hover over him. “Close your eyes Justin.” I wrap my arms around him and nudge my way into the sweetest, most claustrophobic place I have ever been. There's nothing more overwhelming than the first few seconds inside of him. My push to get inside defeating his to get me out. Fuck, I could hang off the edge of this cliff all day. I can’t describe this.
“Justin.”
Oh fuck, it's so hot in here, so narrow. My private, little tunnel for one. God, I almost forget he’s underneath me. I haven’t even moved yet. I’m not even all the way in.
I am now.
“Oh. Oh. Fuck, that feels good Brian.” My rhythm starts, slow. I just watch him and go with it. Nobody looks more beautiful at a moment like this than Justin Taylor. I’m honored just to be here, really. I keep him calm, so we can enjoy this, at least for a while. Fuck him slowly, kiss him slowly, get him to look at me, instead of all over the place, to focus on this fuck. Get his eyes back on mine. “So what do you want to do today?”
That figures. He wasn’t done talking. Wishful thinking.
“Oh, I don’t know. Do a little dance, make a little love, get down tonight?”
“I’m being serious. Brian.”
“So am I. Wrap your legs around me.” His hips tilt upward for me so I can slide in deeper.
“Do you want me to put my legs up?”
“Up to you. If you want. I’m fine like this.”
“Maybe in a minute.” He arches into my arms again as I hit something wonderful inside him. It makes me smile. “Ah, do that again, that was amazing. Fuck, Brian. I don’t know how you do that.” His fingers dig into my skin.
“It’s pretty simple. Put Brian Kinney and Justin Taylor in a bed and stir. The directions are on the….back….of….the…box.”
“And people say you can’t cook.” Our kissing should render him speechless for awhile. I can’t ever fuck him without kissing him. The closer I get to Grand Central Orgasm the stronger that desire becomes. I swear if he doesn’t shut up, though, I’m going to spank the shit out of him.
“Okay, little less conversation, for a minute, if you don’t mind.” My lips meet his every time my dick sinks back into his ass.
“Can I just say one more thing?” This is it.
“Fine. One more thing.” I stop for just a second and give him my attention.
“I love it when you fuck me like this.” I guess that was worth stopping for.
“Get your legs up.” His legs are on my shoulders in a heart beat, and I fuck him hard now. I can get to all of him like this. His eyes pop open so wide when I hit his prostate again and again-once, twice, I’ve lost track.
I feel him shift in my arms, feel his warm breath in my ear, that fucking hot thing he does with his voice. “Tell me.”
“Tell you what?” He clings to me, our foreheads pressed together.
“You know what. Tell me, Brian, please.”
“Oh, so now you want me to talk?”
“Brian, please.” He tightens his grip around my neck and starts licking my ear. He’ll bite me.
“What? That I’m going to fuck your sweet little ass?”
“Yes.” He brings his lips to mine and slides his tongue in my mouth. “Keep going.”
“That you’re my little bottom boy?” He purrs, practically growls, in my arms.
“Yes.” His moaning sends me into orbit. “More.” He bit me. Fuck, I love that.
“That all little bottom boys get their asses fucked like this? Is that what you want to hear?” God, I love it when he makes that “fuck me” face.
“Yes. God. Yes. Fuck. Yes.”
“And you know it, don’t you? That you’re my little bottom boy, and you'l always get your tight little ass fucked like this -no matter where you are? Right?….Right?”
“Right. Fuck. Oh my god. Fuck.”
Jesus Christ, I haven’t fucked him this hard...since……….the last time I fucked him this hard. His ass is so tight, and warm, and slippery, holy fuck, this is nirvana.
“And you know that this is nothing compared to how I’m going to fuck you this afternoon……….and tonight?” His hand slaps the mattress. “Get your hands back on me.”
“Brian. Fuck. Stop. Oh my god.” His face looks like the first time. I could come from that alone.
“No.”
He’s about to come, but he doesn’t want to, or maybe he does. He has no control. I do. I love this part.
“Please, oh fuck, please, Brian.” His head thrashes on his pillow. He’s almost there.
“No.”
I don’t even need to think about my release. As soon as he goes, I’ll be right behind him. No one could watch him come like this and not spontaneously erupt. It’s fucking beautiful.
His fingers dig into my biceps, and then my hair, behind my ears, and down my back. He’s everywhere. He manages to grab his cock again and jerk it a few more times. I’d do it for him, but I’m holding him, my arms wrapped around his head and shoulders, his head tucked tightly against my chest-our unspoken agreement. His eyes are closed again. It won’t be long now. I can feel him tightening around me. Christ, that’s like heaven.
“Aaaaaaah. Brian. Now. Now. Oh please. Oh my god. I love you.” And Justin springs eternal. I am maybe ten seconds behind him. I feel myself rush into him, rush to catch up, my experience paling in comparison to his. His body begins to collapse in my arms. Fucking Justin is like skydiving. It’s not the plane ride. It’s the jump and the fall.
His body peels off of mine after a minute or so, and we sink into the sheets.
“You okay?” I ask him as I realize that we are back at the beginning again, me lying on top of him, kissing him, playing with his hair.
“Yeah. Just hold me for a minute, okay?”
“As long as you want.”
Go to: Everything at Once-Chapter 10-Intentions-Brian's POV-NC-17
Title: Everything at Once-Chapter 9-Denial-Brian POV
Warnings: NC-17 & this is an intense chapter.
Disclaimer: the usual suspects
Appreciation: You all need to hug my beta-girl kinneytay after you read this. She gets all of my unedited erotic angst. Feel her pain, and then go download her vid to A Little Less Conversation. If you are still, um, needy, at the end of this chapter, it will, um, fix that. Thank you to everyone who reads and/or comments.
Feedback:: Your comments mean the world to me. I take them seriously. I appreciate them, and they improve my writing. They also make me type faster for some reason.
If you need a refresher course: Memories.
Everything at Once-Chapter 9-Denial--Brian’s POV
We're caught in a trap
I can't walk out
Because I love you too much baby
1:41 a.m. Saturday morning
My last cigarette. Justin’s last cigarette, I think. I don’t know; I can’t find mine.
The window is ice cold, but it feels good against my skin. I like this view from the living room, hot smoke filling my lungs, cool glass against my shoulder, a car driving past once in a while. Not much going on out there tonight, way too much going on inside my head.
My cold shoulder. The only part of my body I can even feel right now-that and my hand every time it brings this cigarette back to my face-otherwise nothing-naked and numb.
It’s always the same, but always different. This thing that makes sleep a joke, that makes the morning start at two a.m., that makes two a.m a good time to pedal miles away from here on a stationary bike. This thing that makes me know that I love him, and that I hate him for loving me. I fucking hate it.
It’s nothing to love someone.
And it’s always the same, but always different. And I fucking hate it because I can’t control it. I tell myself every night that I can change it, but I can’t, at least not the way I want. I’m so fucking tired of this. Tired of waking up exhausted because I’m busier in my sleep than I am during the day. Tired of waking up in the morning thinking "Thank God. Now I can get some fucking sleep.”
These fucking dreams need to stop.
“In the first phase of the campaign, Mr. Kinney, we’re going to use some of these images you see here to familiarize the customer with your product, to give them a sense of what it’s about. I think you can see from what we are showing you what direction we’re headed in.”
I can see it all right. This part of the dream is always the same. I can’t even look at what they are showing me. I don’t have to. I know what it is. I don’t even fucking want to think about it.
I look at my watch. Justin is late. He’s never late. Why the fuck is he late today? This is important. He should be here. Why the fuck isn’t he here?
Apparently we are business partners.
“So, Mr. Kinney, as I was saying, after this, we’ll move into the second phase of the campaign. In this phase, we plan on taking a few more risks---“
“Sorry, I’m late.”
He takes a seat beside me. I don’t even realize he’s walked in the door. He sees everything when he walks into the room; he sees everything that I can see-even my thoughts, and it doesn’t even phase him. He doesn’t even flinch. I start to wonder if he really sees what I see-something that is obviously such a fascade, but if he does, he doesn’t care.
“Mr. Taylor.” Mr. ShutTheFuckUp stops his presentation. Time stops. Everything stops. For some reason everyone leaves the room; they politely excuse themselves. I get excited for a minute because I think I’m back in my office, that I’m going to get to fuck him. I hate this part of the dream. It always goes too slow. It’s like fucking torture.
So I look at him sitting next to me. He looks beautiful in his gray suit; it’s always something different. He smiles at me. He kisses me, running his hand down the back of my head.
“Sorry, I’m late.” Again.
“Where were you?”
I hate the way I sound when I ask him this. I try to change it every night, but it always comes out sounding the same. This is where it gets really fucked up. This is where it’s always the same but different, the same, but different. Sometimes he’s just come from the prom in his tuxedo, sometimes art class, sometimes the diner, sometimes he’s dripping wet from my shower with only a towel around him, sometimes straight from Babylon high on some shit and covered in glitter, and once he was dripping with blood. Tonight, it was different again.
“I was in L.A. Remember? Making the movie?”
“Oh yeah. I forgot.”
“You always forget.” His hand rubs my thigh. I keep thinking that those people are going to walk back in any minute and that if they do, I’m going to hurt them because I need time to remember where he was. I can’t think very fast, and that’s not my fault.
This part of the dream moves in slow motion. My mind feels like it’s swimming in jell-o.
“I don’t know why I can’t remember where you are.” He’s looks at me and smiles. I’m looking at my lap.
“Because you don’t want to.” He just sits beside me and reassures me. He holds my hand.
“I don’t?” The blue of his eyes goes on forever when I look at him. He shakes his head at me like I’m a small child who just doesn’t understand things.
“No, you don’t. You don’t want to remember. You tried, though. That’s the important thing.”
I tell him that I’m going to try again tomorrow. I’m going to keep trying until I can remember.
Somehow the people know that it’s okay to come back in. The presentation starts up again. I don’t want to be there. I want to leave, but I look over at him, and he’s calm and peaceful and happy and relaxed, so I try to be. I try to be the beautiful, confident, self-possessed man that he is, that some part of me is telling me that I taught him to be. But I can’t. Or I won’t. Or something.
So Mr. ShutTheFuckUp starts up again. “In Phase Three of our campaign Mr. Kinney-Mr. Taylor-this will be the phase where we’ll really drive your message home, where we’ll make our----excuse me-your product will make it’s strongest impress---“
“Your ideas are for shit.” I get up and start putting my shit in my briefcase.
Mr. ShutTheFuckUp keeps right on talking. My behavior bothers Justin.
“Brian, sit down. You’re being rude.”
“Justin, are you coming?” He ignores me. I walk to the door with my briefcase. “Justin, I asked you a question.”
Always the gentleman, he asks Mr. ShutTheFuckUp to excuse him for a second. He joins me in the hallway.
“Brian, what the fuck is wrong with you?” He’s really pissed. I’ve embarrassed him. “Why are you walking out in the middle of this? This could be a good thing here. And why are you talking to me like that?”
He doesn’t get mad at me like this that often, but I’ve pissed him off. And now I’m mad too. “Because, Justin, that guy’s a fucking idiot. He doesn’t know what we want. He hasn’t listened to one fucking thing I’ve said, or given me one thing I asked for, and this is a total waste of my fucking time. That’s why.”
“You just don’t want to listen to him because he’s my father. Because you think you know what’s best for me.”
I glance back in the room, and Mr. ShutTheFuckUp has his back to me, but I believe Justin. I believe him when he says that it’s his father. I tell myself that I won’t go back in that room again for the rest of dream. I feel like there are other fathers in there. I close the door. I always forget to lock it. I should have locked it.
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. And it’s all just fucking screwed up in your head Brian. That’s your whole fucking problem.”
“How could I possibly know what’s best for you when I don’t even know where the fuck you are? Have you even thought about that?”
That’s the only part of the dream where I feel confident. It makes no sense. And then I just keep yelling at him.
“I can’t remember from one minute to the next where you are or when you’ll be back, or where or when I get to fuck you, or when I’m just paying for shit and not fucking you, OR…”
“Or what, Brian? Or what?” He’s still yelling at me.
And then we’re not in Mr. ShutTheFuckUp’s office or building anymore. I don’t know where we are. Some place dark. Some place inside. I can’t tell. I’m still yelling at him.
“Or why it feels just as good to me to take care of you, to put you through school, to worry about whether or not you get home safe at night as it does for me to have you in my bed waiting to be fucked every single night! THAT is my fucking problem Justin!”
He just looks at me, and I can’t stop. Nothing will stop.
“SO, ARE YOU COMING OR NOT? I’m not going to ask you again.”
“Okay. Just let me get my stuff.”
“Fine.” And I’m relieved that we’re done arguing, that we can get the fuck out of here, and I’m not even bothered by the fact that we’re back in front of Mr. ShutTheFuckUp’s office again. I lean back against the wall to wait for him.
A cold blast of air hits me when he opens the door, and right when he does, he turns around and smiles at me and says, “I’ll just be a minute. I’ll meet you at the elevator. Just let me tell them good-bye.”
Mr. ShutTheFuckUp’s office is full of people that weren’t there before and full of stuff. It’s all Justin’s stuff. I can’t see it, but I know that it is.
I walk down the hall and press the ‘down’ button. The moment the elevator door opens, I hear Stockwell’s voice.
“If you say it, mean it. Right boys?” And the unmistakable crack of a bat.
I drop my briefcase. I try to run. I try to say his name. I can’t move. My legs are cement. They won’t budge. The hallway stretches out farther and farther in front of me. I open my mouth again and again, but nothing comes out. Absolutely nothing.
Gus is standing in the elevator smoking a cigarette.
“Come on Daddy. Let’s go. He’s gone.”
For some reason, I can pick up my brief case now, and I can get on the elevator. Gus isn’t smoking anymore.
“Daddy, hold me up so I can push the button.” I lift him up and show him which one to push, and we descend.
This is where I always wake up.
It’s nothing to love someone. It’s letting them love you back that’s unwarranted.
*******************************************************************************
2:23 a.m.
Justin’s up. I can hear him in the bathroom. It’s probably just as well. I’m fucking freezing.
“Brian?” He sees me. I don’t feel like saying anything. I’m sure he’ll drag half the bed with him when he walks over here. “Did you smoke my last cigarette?” He folds me in his arms, me and the blanket, as I laugh a little and nod.
“Yeah.”
“Fucker.”
I turn around so I can pull him in front of me, so we can both look out the window, so I can bury my nose in his hair. I just stop thinking. We stand there for several minutes, both of us, not saying anything. Eventually, he turns around and looks at my face. I’d rather he didn’t.
“What are you looking at?”
He lays his head against my chest, and I re-adjust the blanket. His body warms mine. He gives me more space than I deserve sometimes-most of the time. I lift his chin off of my chest and bring my face to his. I almost don’t want to kiss him because once I do, the rest of me will thaw, but I do it anyway. I don’t even know what I want from this kiss--everything-I guess. I want the innocent part of him that kisses me like he really doesn’t know what’s coming next, that relies on me, the tease in him that wants to entice me and please me, and the aroused, surrendering part of him that fits my body like a glove. I want everything at once. The light coming in from the window makes streaks in his hair, making it seem lighter than it is. Our mouths part long enough for me to answer him, for his arms to find their way around my neck.
“Street lights.”
I’m not sure how long we stood at the window, it couldn’t have been very long, or whose idea it was to finally go back to bed, but he fell asleep facing me. I think I fell asleep watching him.
It’s nothing to love someone.
*******************************************************************************
Cause your kisses lift me higher
Like a sweet song of a choir
And you light my morning sky
With burning love
8:17 am
Morning has broken. Justin is deep in thought. I am deep in Justin-almost.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Captain Astro.” He never ceases to amaze me.
“Captain Astro? Why would you be thinking about Captain Astro when I’m almost in your ass?”
“Yeah, do you mind?”
This is one of those mornings that I almost couldn’t resist the cardinal sin. It took everything in my power to briefly unravel myself from him, to make myself adhere to my own rules. I should have fucked him when we got back into bed last night, at least then he would slept more soundly. I toss the condom on the bed; I hadn’t even opened it yet.
“I should have fucked you last night when we came back to bed. You drove me nuts all night pushing your ass against me and hogging all the covers.” He can do that ass-pushing thing now if he wants, though. I’m all for that now.
“You are one to talk Mr. Kinney. Sleeping with you is a nightmare, no pun intended, between all of your thrashing and kicking and talking in your sleep.”
“I don’t talk in my sleep.”
“Like hell you don’t. You said my name four or five times last night after we came back to bed.”
“I must have been dreaming about fucking you.” Which is what I want to be doing right now. I’d appreciate some cooperation. He keeps his gaze on the window.
“I don’t think so. That’s not the way you were saying it. You were giving me the creeps.” He doesn’t want my hand on his dick right now. Fine. We’ll just spoon. “I tried to wake you up.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“I’m not surprised. You opened your eyes, sucked in this huge breath, and grabbed my arm. You scared the shit out of me Brian.” Fuck. I did?
“Did I hurt you?” I try to look at his arm, but he’s laying on it. “Let me see.”
“No, you didn’t hurt me. You just scared me. You were looking at me, but you really weren’t.”
“Let me see your arm Justin.” I roll over onto my back, and he rolls onto my chest. I look at his left arm. “I don’t see anything. Does it hurt?”
“No, not really.”
“What did I do after I grabbed you?” I’ve never had the benefit or curse of someone sleeping with me. I guess I don’t know my own sleep habits.
“I told you to let go of me--that you were hurting me--but you didn’t hear me, at least I don’t think you did. It was weird. You just let go and kind of threw me back on the bed.”
I rub his arm. I can’t believe I did that. Shit. “I’m sorry. I guess I was just having a really bad dream.”
“You have them a lot Brian.” He wraps his fingers over mine. “Do you remember it?”
“No. I never remember them. Never have.” Neither of us say anything for a minute or so. Let’s just drop this.
“You’re lying. That’s why you were standing at the window last night, wasn’t it? Because something woke you up?”
“Don’t worry about it, okay?” I pull him tight against me. I don’t want to talk about this.
“How can I worry about it when I don’t know what it is?” I can feel him starting to get upset in my arms. This is not the kind of morning I want to have.
“Justin.”
“Brian, if there’s something bothering you, you can tell me, no matter what it is-even if it’s me.” He lets go of my hand and tucks his hand under his chin.
“It’s not you.”
“So you do remember them?”
“I remember enough to know that it’s not you. I promise.” I stare at the ceiling my hand passing over his head. He feels less upset, less tense now, I think.
“At least you’re telling me the truth now. I can feel it.” He lets out this sigh, and I feel him relax a little. For once I’m relieved that he can read me. I’m lost in my own thoughts before I even realize that his head is no longer on my chest; it’s in a much more useful location.
For some reason I don’t even feel right having him suck me after all that. I feel like I should stop him. “Justin, it’s okay.” I stop him for a second, and he just looks at me like I’m crazy.
“Whatever’s bothering you, just forget about it for now.” And I do. I lie back on our bed, my hand lodged in the crook of his shoulder and forget about last night’s nightmare, hurting him, everything. I can’t think about anything when he sucks me off, especially first thing in the morning. I flood his mouth in no time, something completely idiotic coming out of my mouth, and he is back in my arms, lying with me while I regroup.
“So, anyway, back to what I was saying about Captain Astro?”
“Jesus, can’t you wait at least sixty seconds after you swallow before you start talking?”
“Just listen.” He kisses me. “I was thinking that all of this is Captain Astro’s fault.”
“How do you figure that?” He lies back down on my chest again, oblivious to how destroyed I truly am after he blows me.
“Because if Captain Astro hadn’t fucking died in the first place, Michael would have never wanted to make this stupid comic book, and I wouldn’t be leaving. I think he should just kill Rage off in the next issue.”
No wonder I have bad dreams. “Well, I hate to tell you this but ‘major character death’ is considered very poor taste in the fandom.” He moves up and off of me a little, onto his side, propping his head on his elbow.
“How would you know? You’re not part of the ‘fandom’” He makes little quotation marks in the air. I fucking hate it when people do that. Although when he does it, it’s kind of cute.
“Well, for one thing I ‘grew up with Michael Novotny’”, I add my ‘air quotes’, “and I am ‘Rage’, thank you very much.” And I don’t appreciate being killed off without any warning. So there.
“Okay, well, it’s just that I just don’t want to have to make Rage two, three, four, five and six. I don’t want to be gone all the time.” His voice gets quiet as he lies back on his pillow again. I slide over to him, propping my head on my elbow this time, putting my arm around him.
“I think you’re jumping the gun a little. You haven’t even sold one ticket to Rage I yet.” His imagination works overtime.
“Yeah, but you know people are going to love it. Watching Rage rescue JT, and watching JT suck Rage off. It’ll be so hot. I can’t wait.” His face lights up again. There’s my Sunshine.
“Me either. If I actually see that onscreen, I really will celebrate. I might suck somebody off.” He turns back toward me, all smiles.
“It better be me.” I go crazy when he runs his fingers up and down my chest like this, tracing little circles around my nipples. I don’t know how he expects me to carry on a conversation like this, but I’ll give it the ol’ college try.
“Oh, it’ll be you. And it will probably be in a movie theatre while you’ve got a mouthful of popcorn.”
“And you can time it so that I come right during a loud action scene, so when I yell out, nobody will know it’s because you’re sucking me off.”
Justin Taylor-The President of Imagination Nation. “Yeah, and you can yell out “RAGE” instead of “BRIAN,” so everybody will think that you’re really watching the movie…” I pull him closer to me.
“That’ll be perfect. Oh my god, I can’t wait for that. We have to do that. Promise me we’ll really do that.”
He is more excited right now than Gus was about that cat last night. “We’ll do it.” I climb on top of him, pushing him on his back and study his face, play with his hair and think about how much I love Saturday mornings in bed, how this will be our last one for a while.
His eyes are still far away. “This is off the subject, but”
“Your middle name is ‘off the subject.’” I kiss him slowly; he doesn’t even stop talking. Maybe I need to work on my technique…
“Mmmmm. Cut it out. This is off the subject, but you know when you fell asleep last night while I was reading to Gus?” Cut it out. He means the teasing, not the kissing. He loves the kissing.
“Yes.”
“He looked at me and said, ‘Uh oh, Mr. Justin, look at Daddy.’ I just can’t get over how fast he’s growing up. It’s amazing.”
“It’s terrifying. What’s amazing is that all three of us managed to squeeze into his twin bed.”
“All four of us. You forgot Twink.”
“I don’t count pussy.”
“You know what? I’m not even sure she’s a girl. It’s really hard to tell when they’re that young.” He’s so animated. He might as well be a cartoon character.
“Well, if it turns out to be a boy, he can still call it ‘Twink.’ Boys can be twinks.”
“Very funny.” He sticks his tongue out at me. I eat it.
“You were a twink.”
“That you picked up and brought home….an annoying stray that just wouldn’t leave you alone.”
“Well, that’s what happens when you feed them. They just keep…coming… back.” I don’t think I’ve ever kissed him as much during one sentence as I did during that one.
“And weasel their way into your heart.” He gives as good as he gets.
“Only the intelligent, well-bred, extremely-fuckable, candy-ass ones.”
“You forgot unbelievably beautiful.” Such a modest twink.
“That’s a given. I wouldn’t pick one up in the first place if that weren’t true.” He grins at me and stops running his fingers through my hair for a second.
“You’re so sweet and romantic in your own twisted, fucked-up way.”
“Was that a compliment?”
“More like an observation.”
“Well then, I’ll take it under advisement-as soon as I’m done taking you under advisement.” My lips spend an inordinate amount of time behind his ear and down his neck.
“You’re not taking me anywhere.”
“That’s what you think. You better quit being such a smart ass. You know what’s gonna happen if you don’t cut it out.” He whispers in my ear. “That’s right. You better settle down.” He moans in my arms. This time when I kiss him, he stays with me for the duration. It’s about damn time-my ego was starting to bruise. God, I need more mornings like this.
“So anyway, about Gus…” I should have bought him a muzzle at the pet store. “Wasn’t he so cute last night dancing in the car? We should take him to Babylon with us the next time we go.”
When will that be?
“I’m sure the munchers would really go for that.” I give up for awhile because he just needs to get this out of his system. He just needs to think out loud. His eyes are so blue this morning.
“Couldn’t you just see it? We could put Gus up on the bar or on one of those risers, and he could dance with Emmett.” He thinks this is a great idea. I bust out laughing.
“Yeah, and then four hours later when it’s time to go, and we can’t find him anywhere….”
“He’ll be in the backroom.” The realization that comes over his face when he says this is priceless. The world doesn’t need another Brian Kinney.
“Maybe I’ll talk to Debbie and see if he can spend some time with Horvath and just put the kibosh on this dancing fettish he has.” These thoughts of Gus ending up like me are making me sicker than watching dykes play tonsil hockey.
He scrunches up his nose. “Yeah, I see what you mean. What got me off on that subject anyway? What was I talking about?” His eyes look off to the right, and I give him a few second because he’ll remember, he almost always does. “Oh yeah, Gus, reading to Gus, and you fell asleep while I was reading.”
“I fell asleep because of the way you read Dr. Seuss. You get this sing-songy rhythmic thing going with your voice that just lulls me into dreamland.” I imitate him.
“That’s not the only rhythmic thing I had going last night.” God I’m hard.
“Now see, you thought you were off the subject. Turns out you were dead on.” Sometimes if you leave Justin to his own devices, he’ll end up exactly where you want him.
“I really enjoyed it. Did you?” His sultry voice and the way he moves underneath me when he says that gives me chills. He can go from being so sweet to so seductive in no time flat. It makes my head spin.
“Um, yeah. You could say that.”
“Good, because so did I. It was hot.” He slides beneath me so he can kiss my chest, suck on my nipples. “I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t have any intention of seducing you last night. It just sort of happened.”
“I think it was that lotion you were massaging me with. That stuff smelled incredible. It made my skin so smooth.” Which he can clearly tell since his hands all over it right now. Fuck, I love watching him doing this. He starts laughing.
“You can thank Emmett for that. It was this cream he gave me yesterday-called ‘Butt Butter.’” I rise up off of him, yank him back up by his hair, look at him like he’s crazy. “Brian.”
“What?”
“Calm down. It’s just called that. It’s just lotion. It’s not really for your butt. I read the container. They just sell it in one of those faggy boutiques that Emmett goes to.” I don’t believe him. “I’m being serious. It’s a huge container, and it smells really good, so I just thought I’d use it. I’m going to leave it here anyway. I’m not going to go through airport security with a tub of Butt Butter in my suitcase.”
“You can leave it at your Mom’s.”
“Fuck no, I’m not leaving it my Mom’s, you asshole. Get over it.” He hooks his arms around my neck, pulls up, and kisses me hard, pushing his tongue into my mouth. I swear he’s going to make me see stars. I guess I’m over it. I take advantage of him hanging off me and slide my left hand inside his pillowcase. I’m taking charge of this now. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for your offering to the ‘Topping Fairy’.” Bingo. “Don’t think I don’t know about your little nightly ritual.”
“It’s not a ritual, and I don’t do it every night.” He puts his head back down as I slide my hand out. I flash the condom in his face.
“You put a brand new condom inside your pillow case every night before you go to sleep-your offering to the ‘Topping Fairy.’” I tease him while I open the wrapper. “I guess it worked last night, huh? Your wish came true.”
“It’s not my offering to the ‘Topping Fairy’ you jerk; it’s just because I don’t like to reach all the way over to your stupid ‘party favor condom basket’ every time we fuck.”
“Condoms make perfect party favors.” Don’t they?
“If you’re going to give out party favors, you should be a little more creative.”
“Like what?” I open the wrapper. I guess I’m putting this thing on myself.
“Like you could take that Butt Butter and put it into containers and give it to your tricks when they leave, you know. Sort of like: ‘We hope you’ve enjoyed your one and only visit to The House that Fuck Built. Here’s a lovely parting gift.’”
“That’s cute. Very creative. I might just do that. You’ve never complained about my condom basket before.”
“That’s because it’s not polite to insult the furnishings when you’re just a guest in someone’s home. Do you want me to roll over?”
“No, you’re fine. Point taken. Can you bend your knees, please?”
“Sorry.” He yawns and stretches his arms over his head, his body arching into mine. He lets out this irresistible sleepy moan. “Mmmmmm.“
That was fucking spectacular. He hands me the lube. I know he doesn’t keep that under his pillow.
There isn’t a bad position to fuck Justin in. There are only degrees of ecstasy-depending on my mood, but watching him like this is almost poetic. And I don’t think he has any idea. This view of his body strewn on our bed is a work of art-especially on these white sheets. That alone's driving me fucking nuts.
“Is there anything in particular you’d like this morning?” I’m in a generous mood all of a sudden.
“Um, let me think.” I suck on his neck while he ponders my question. He better hurry up, or I’ll decide for him. I may be generous, but I’m not very patient. “Come here.” He whispers in my ear. Little devil.
“Oh no-not this morning. We’ll never get out of bed. Later, though, I promise.” We’ve got a schedule to keep today.
“Okay. Well, then I’ll just have whatever’s on special.” Leave it to Justin to think of breakfast during foreplay.
“I knew you were hungry.”
“For you.”
“For pancakes.” I smile at him as he strokes himself. God, that's so hot. “I can get you some maple syrup if you want.”
“Stop talking about pancakes when your fingers are in my ass. I’ll come too quick.” He’s not kidding. He will.
“I could talk about sausage.” That’s making me harder. Maybe I’m hungry.
“Only if you want to hear my stomach growl through this entire fuck. I think I’m ready.”
“See all that talk about sausage paid off.”
“Shut up and fuck me.” This is what I’m really going to miss. Saturday morning specials.
He looks at me as I hover over him. “Close your eyes Justin.” I wrap my arms around him and nudge my way into the sweetest, most claustrophobic place I have ever been. There's nothing more overwhelming than the first few seconds inside of him. My push to get inside defeating his to get me out. Fuck, I could hang off the edge of this cliff all day. I can’t describe this.
“Justin.”
Oh fuck, it's so hot in here, so narrow. My private, little tunnel for one. God, I almost forget he’s underneath me. I haven’t even moved yet. I’m not even all the way in.
I am now.
“Oh. Oh. Fuck, that feels good Brian.” My rhythm starts, slow. I just watch him and go with it. Nobody looks more beautiful at a moment like this than Justin Taylor. I’m honored just to be here, really. I keep him calm, so we can enjoy this, at least for a while. Fuck him slowly, kiss him slowly, get him to look at me, instead of all over the place, to focus on this fuck. Get his eyes back on mine. “So what do you want to do today?”
That figures. He wasn’t done talking. Wishful thinking.
“Oh, I don’t know. Do a little dance, make a little love, get down tonight?”
“I’m being serious. Brian.”
“So am I. Wrap your legs around me.” His hips tilt upward for me so I can slide in deeper.
“Do you want me to put my legs up?”
“Up to you. If you want. I’m fine like this.”
“Maybe in a minute.” He arches into my arms again as I hit something wonderful inside him. It makes me smile. “Ah, do that again, that was amazing. Fuck, Brian. I don’t know how you do that.” His fingers dig into my skin.
“It’s pretty simple. Put Brian Kinney and Justin Taylor in a bed and stir. The directions are on the….back….of….the…box.”
“And people say you can’t cook.” Our kissing should render him speechless for awhile. I can’t ever fuck him without kissing him. The closer I get to Grand Central Orgasm the stronger that desire becomes. I swear if he doesn’t shut up, though, I’m going to spank the shit out of him.
“Okay, little less conversation, for a minute, if you don’t mind.” My lips meet his every time my dick sinks back into his ass.
“Can I just say one more thing?” This is it.
“Fine. One more thing.” I stop for just a second and give him my attention.
“I love it when you fuck me like this.” I guess that was worth stopping for.
“Get your legs up.” His legs are on my shoulders in a heart beat, and I fuck him hard now. I can get to all of him like this. His eyes pop open so wide when I hit his prostate again and again-once, twice, I’ve lost track.
I feel him shift in my arms, feel his warm breath in my ear, that fucking hot thing he does with his voice. “Tell me.”
“Tell you what?” He clings to me, our foreheads pressed together.
“You know what. Tell me, Brian, please.”
“Oh, so now you want me to talk?”
“Brian, please.” He tightens his grip around my neck and starts licking my ear. He’ll bite me.
“What? That I’m going to fuck your sweet little ass?”
“Yes.” He brings his lips to mine and slides his tongue in my mouth. “Keep going.”
“That you’re my little bottom boy?” He purrs, practically growls, in my arms.
“Yes.” His moaning sends me into orbit. “More.” He bit me. Fuck, I love that.
“That all little bottom boys get their asses fucked like this? Is that what you want to hear?” God, I love it when he makes that “fuck me” face.
“Yes. God. Yes. Fuck. Yes.”
“And you know it, don’t you? That you’re my little bottom boy, and you'l always get your tight little ass fucked like this -no matter where you are? Right?….Right?”
“Right. Fuck. Oh my god. Fuck.”
Jesus Christ, I haven’t fucked him this hard...since……….the last time I fucked him this hard. His ass is so tight, and warm, and slippery, holy fuck, this is nirvana.
“And you know that this is nothing compared to how I’m going to fuck you this afternoon……….and tonight?” His hand slaps the mattress. “Get your hands back on me.”
“Brian. Fuck. Stop. Oh my god.” His face looks like the first time. I could come from that alone.
“No.”
He’s about to come, but he doesn’t want to, or maybe he does. He has no control. I do. I love this part.
“Please, oh fuck, please, Brian.” His head thrashes on his pillow. He’s almost there.
“No.”
I don’t even need to think about my release. As soon as he goes, I’ll be right behind him. No one could watch him come like this and not spontaneously erupt. It’s fucking beautiful.
His fingers dig into my biceps, and then my hair, behind my ears, and down my back. He’s everywhere. He manages to grab his cock again and jerk it a few more times. I’d do it for him, but I’m holding him, my arms wrapped around his head and shoulders, his head tucked tightly against my chest-our unspoken agreement. His eyes are closed again. It won’t be long now. I can feel him tightening around me. Christ, that’s like heaven.
“Aaaaaaah. Brian. Now. Now. Oh please. Oh my god. I love you.” And Justin springs eternal. I am maybe ten seconds behind him. I feel myself rush into him, rush to catch up, my experience paling in comparison to his. His body begins to collapse in my arms. Fucking Justin is like skydiving. It’s not the plane ride. It’s the jump and the fall.
His body peels off of mine after a minute or so, and we sink into the sheets.
“You okay?” I ask him as I realize that we are back at the beginning again, me lying on top of him, kissing him, playing with his hair.
“Yeah. Just hold me for a minute, okay?”
“As long as you want.”
Go to: Everything at Once-Chapter 10-Intentions-Brian's POV-NC-17