Fic: QAF "Blade and Scabbard" 4
Title: Blade and Scabbard (part 4.1 of 4)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A medical breakthrough changes Brian's life in more ways than one.
Disclaimer: It belongs to CowLip and Showtime. They have all the luck.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Author’s Note: seanmegansean, this one's for you.
Earlier Installments: Part One, Part Two, Part Three
ETA Warning: No HIV vaccine exists, sadly. Safe sex practices should continue, and the medically inclined should read this for more information on vaccines.
Title: Blade and Scabbard (part 4.1 of 4)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A medical breakthrough changes Brian's life in more ways than one.
Disclaimer: It belongs to CowLip and Showtime. They have all the luck.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Author’s Note: seanmegansean, this one's for you.
Earlier Installments: Part One, Part Two, Part Three
ETA Warning: No HIV vaccine exists, sadly. Safe sex practices should continue, and the medically inclined should read this for more information on vaccines.
February 13, 2015
From the start, they knew they’d do it together.
Getting the shots would change everything, and they want to be together when it happens. The nurse takes the two men into the same tiny cubicle, and Justin watches Brian glance away when she injects the needle into his bicep, a new piece of knowledge slotting into his picture of Brian’s quirks-who would have guessed that a man who would pop virtually any pill would shy away from needles? Brian doesn’t watch when Justin’s turn comes, though he never lets go of Justin’s other hand, conveying silent comfort when the sting comes, then the burn of withdrawal, a swab, bandage, and a quick smile from the departing nurse.
They step out into a bitter downtown wind that Brian shrugs against in his thick black overcoat, while Justin pulls his muffler a little tighter around his collar. Their noses and cheeks are turning pinkish red by the time they flag down a taxi and take the short ride home.
Home’s a brownstone they found in December, over on 12th Street, not the walkup apartment on Prince that Justin used to have. They looked at a lot of places in Manhattan before they found one with all the right features. It isn’t finished being decorated, but the basics-enough light to paint by, enough rooms to fuck in-are all there.
Justin moved in by Christmas, but it took longer to get Brian’s things transferred from Pittsburgh. They’ve shared New Year’s together in the house, in a bedroom that still needs paint, lamps, and a bigger closet. Given how busy they both are with commissions and Kinnetik’s expansion, they might still be needing closet space come 2020, since neither of them can find time to hire a designer to draft a new second floor plan for the house.
Brian’s content in his huge first floor office with its bay windows that mean he can lean back and cruise the good-looking men who walk by. Where they live, there are a few every hour, though a lot move in couples; it’s the kind of neighborhood that contains a mix of young single studs and older men who have paired off. He’s still choosing the right space on Madison Avenue for the opening of Kinnetik’s main office: first impressions count for everything in his business, so he isn’t going to rush it.
Justin’s happy with the brownstone’s third floor gallery, with its generous double-height ceiling for exceptionally large canvases, and natural lighting from the east in the morning and overhead through a skylight at midday.
Neither of these rooms are the ones they’re thinking about in the cab ride home.
The bedroom, with its chipped paint and inadequate closet, is first and foremost on their minds. The bedroom with its recently replenished supply of lube, that Justin restocked yesterday, not knowing that Brian had done the same thing the day before.
This last week has been a bit strained, both men eager, going through condoms at a double rate, as if there were a prize for using the last one in the bowl beside the bed. Would they need to keep buying in bulk? Would they need to buy any more, ever?
It was a topic they talked about reluctantly, even after November’s news, because it violated a basic tenet of their lives together-and-apart. The assumption had been that they’d need a steady condom supply forever, like bottled water and color printer cartridges. The need would always be there.
Maybe not.
When Justin came to Pittsburgh for Thanksgiving, he brought it up as they were watching an old movie, partly stoned and definitely drunk. He’s not sure he remembers what Brian said, afterwards.
When Brian came to New York for New Year’s, he mentioned it while they were out in a loud club, sometime after 2 or possibly 3am, with music blaring so loudly, it could hardly be called a real conversation.
Neither man had to say anything, though the silence spoke for both of them, more eloquent each morning they fucked, with every condom wrapper opened. Every night when Brian looked at his supply in the bowl, shrinking steadily, not being topped up. Every time Justin rolled a condom onto Brian’s cock, when he’d look up into Brian’s eyes and see the unspoken words hanging there, mirroring his own thoughts.
Not much longer. February.
Now the day is here, and the moment nearly upon them. A latex-free moment.
As their cab turns the corner onto 12th Street, Brian glances over at Justin, who can’t seem to meet his partner’s eyes. He keeps staring out the cab window, at the random buildings blurring past them. Brian says nothing, gets out a twenty and tosses it over the divider to the driver as the taxi pulls up in front of their stoop; he’s in too much of a hurry to wait for something as trivial as change. The two men take the stairs quickly to their front door, and they’re inside before the cold has enough time to chill them again.
There’s an easy, relaxed air to how they’re moving which is completely at odds with how both of them are feeling. Justin’s good hand is shaking as he tries to get his coat buttons undone, and Brian nearly forgets to take his keys out of the front door.
Inside, now. Soon.
Brian reaches for Justin’s buttons at the same time Justin gives up on them, choosing instead to unwind the scarf that was warming his neck. Even this becomes a challenge; it seems to take Justin twice as long to get his muffler off, and his fingers don’t want to cooperate, to come out of the gloves. Between the two of them, though, they get Justin freed from his outer clothing and Brian dumps his heavy black overcoat onto an empty hook.
Somewhere in the midst of this, Justin’s hand finds Brian’s waist, and he slips an arm around Brian, seeking strength, as they climb the stairs to their bedroom. Brian leans over and puts a comforting kiss into Justin’s hair when they’re halfway up, then his hand stretches up to curve around Justin’s shoulder as they reach the second floor.
A little in front, Justin’s tugging them both forward into their bedroom, even as he says, “I don’t know how you can be so calm.” His fingers are pulling Brian towards their bed at the same time that they’re digging under the waistband to pull up shirt and sweater together, lofting them over Brian’s shoulders and head, into a pile on the floor.
“I’m not.”
Brian stops moving forward, forcing Justin to look away from the bed and turn around to focus on him, even as the removal of clothing continues, more layers of cotton or wool landing in a circle at their feet.
“What?”
“I’m not calm.”
Justin looks into a face he knows better than his own, and sees a flicker of anxiety pass across Brian’s eyes. They’re down to their briefs, both with evident hard-ons that press outward against matching black cotton. Normally there’s no stopping now but they have, which is weird. Something else about today that’s unsettling, abnormal.
“Talk to me, Brian.” The insistent tone is uneven, the faintest hint of his voice cracking. Justin’s nerves are coming through.
A pause, then two, before Brian answers. “I’m fucking terrified. That it’ll be different. Not as good.”
Another pause before he admits, “That I’ll come too fast. ”
His hands pull Justin to him, arms curling around Justin’s shoulders in the same way that they dance together at Babylon, Brian’s awkward sway wrapped around Justin’s confident hip-shake. Justin leans into the taller man’s chest, his head coming to rest against Brian’s collarbone. Their bodies find comfort in the familiar resting places, and it grounds them, gives Justin a renewal of certainty that he wasn’t feeling five minutes ago.
“If you do, you do. It’s not like this will be the only time, right?”
“Not good enough.”
“Bri-annnn.”
Justin tilts his head back in time to meet Brian’s lips as they descend and catch him. The familiar tang of cigarettes, gum, and Brian drifts into his mouth, as a tongue slips between his lips and sweeps sideways across his teeth. Brian pulls him closer as Justin’s tongue curls and moves to one side, letting Brian’s tongue pass, giving way to his urgent need. He could sense that Brian has to take his time, gain the confidence to do this the way that he wants to. He is, after all, Brian, and he’s got to meet his own demanding standards, even if nobody else expects it from him.
Justin could care less whether the first time is pyrotechnic explosions and Roman candles lighting up the world in every direction, or a slow burning fuse that takes the whole day and half the night to reach the keg of dynamite buried deep inside him, the long, brain-frying fuck that will turn his whole body to jelly by the end. He’s only ever wanted Brian, and being together for this is all his fantasies made complete.
But it isn’t the same for Brian, and he knows it. Somehow, this once, it’s not easy to be the one on top and in control. Brian’s sense of perfection won’t allow Justin to have anything less than the best, his best.
Justin’s fingers curve around Brian’s neck, pulling him down, fingers threaded into his hair so that Brian can’t draw back. One kiss becomes two, then three-four-five, and he does all that he can to make Brian forget, make them both forget that this isn’t how they’ve done it a few thousand times before. For once in his life, Justin hopes that Brian will develop amnesia, so he can relax.
Justin ought to remember he’s one of Brian’s hopeless addictions, memorized and never to be forgotten. Brian remembers everything, how Justin tastes, how he smells, and Brian’s hands have mapped his body with a thoroughness that would let him pick Justin out in a pitch black room solely by touch. Sometimes in Babylon, he has. Today, with sunlight streaming in through high windows, Brian’s walking Justin slowly backwards in the only direction that matters: towards the bed.
Brian’s pushing him down, his weight following Justin’s easily, like a magnet draws iron filings to itself and holds them, forever. Justin’s body has always been his north, the thing he couldn’t leave alone even when he knew he should. Blond hair spreads against a pale grey background, making one of the most beautiful sights Brian has ever seen. Full, red lips find pale skin at the curve of Justin’s neck, renewing their paired submission, each man giving in to something stronger, something irresistible. Justin’s head rolls back, over to one side, Brian’s kisses soon making his skin glow hot, fiery, every drop of blood in his veins bursting to reach the outside.
Slender fingers run down Justin’s ribs, coaxing him to lie still, to give in, to follow Brian’s lead. But while cool fingertips say ‘relax, calm down,’ lips insist on the opposite: ‘more, give me more.’ Justin’s body is the crucible, the nexus where crossed signals meet and repel, his nervous system confused and still sorting out the problem, even as Brian’s mouth moves lower, his tongue lapping at skin that’s starting to sweat from the heat of two bodies rubbing against each other.
Justin’s hand meets one of Brian’s, both men reaching for waistbands and cotton fabric that needs to disappear-now-and in silent accord, two sets of fingers work together, pushing away black briefs in a mock struggle of skin against cloth. Tangled legs and knees and ankles make things difficult, then feet join the battle and tug down the last barriers that divide them, two scraps of black hitting the floor together as Justin’s leg works its way around Brian’s waist, pulling him closer.
Thinner, leaner than the man above him, Justin rubs his cock into Brian’s stomach, taut muscles there providing friction, but not enough. He’ll need more to get where he wants to be. Brian’s dick is pressed against his groin, nestled against a thin shock of dark blond hair that would tickle if the man weren’t so desperate to get off. They squirm together, flesh against flesh, two cocks with but a single thought: come.
Come as hard and as fast and as soon as humanly possible. Sooner, if it can be done.
“Fuck me,” Justin mutters, his mouth next to Brian’s ear, even as Brian’s hands reach up and catch two pale wrists, pulling them over Justin’s head and holding them there, pinned against grey sheets. He leans up, his head lifting from Justin’s collarbone, and he looks down into sparkling blue sincerity that drifts from sapphire to indigo dark as Justin says the words again.
“Fuck me. The way you’ve always wanted to. Raw.”
Brian’s throat goes dry. Seeing Justin when he says the word makes Brian go still, knowing that this is the last barrier between them. After this, nothing’s left; there won’t be anything that divides them. He nods, not trusting his voice to reply without breaking.
Brian’s long arm reaches towards the nightstand, knocks an alarm clock to the floor in his haste, fingers wrapping around familiar plastic that gives him what he needs: enough lube to be comfortable, but not so much that he’ll miss the tightness when it grips him. Wetness on his fingers slips between them, finding the gaps between hips and crotch as Justin shifts his leg, then Brian’s there, sliding two slick fingers inside, the warmth around them flexing then relenting, letting him in.
Now both men work together, Justin rolling back so his shoulders take the weight, Brian lifting the smaller man’s thighs until they press backwards against his stomach, calves and ankles rising to find Brian’s shoulders. Familiar. Easy.
Brian inches towards him on the bed, his knees bent and his cock sprung forward, brushing against the bottom of a full red sac that rests just above the opening Brian begins massaging with the pads of his thumbs, spreading it open.
Waiting.
The hard fullness of Brian’s cock is intense; he’s rarely this ready unless he hasn’t seen Justin for weeks, and never when they’ve been together night and day for months, like they’ve been since New Year’s. But today is different, and his cock knows it too. The blood’s already thickened it so that the cockhead feels ready to burst.
He nudges forward, long practice giving him deadly aim where Justin’s concerned, and the wet tip finds an entrance it’s well-acquainted with. But not this way. Brian’s felt that hole with fingers, with tongue, with lips, but never with a bare dick, and ten thousand nerve endings begin firing simultaneously as he slides in the crown, making it as far as the ridge before his entire nervous system starts melting down.
Around that inch of skin to skin, he feels Justin clench, and Brian bites out, “Stop. Don’t” as their eyes meet again, lock on and hold tight.
“Okay.” He can see the gulp, Justin swallowing, trying to be patient. The muscles straining, pulling the skin tight across his neck, that’s plain to see. Brian knows that inside, it’s worse: Justin wanting him all the way in, desperate for it. Close, but not nearly close enough.
Another inch, and he feels the pure burn of flesh on flesh searing through him. Is it possible he went a whole lifetime without feeling this? He’s never felt so much, felt so much Justin before this instant. Hazel eyes move down his partner’s chest, stomach, to the gap between his thighs where a cock rests, full and ready. And beneath that, below Justin’s shaved reddish ballsac, he sees his own dick, halfway in.
That’s when it hits him. The latex ring he can always see, the milky white edge of the condom that rolls up around the flared base of his cock, that isn’t where it should be. What’s not there, and what is.
Nothing but thick ruddy cock, primed to blow, not nearly done yet.
Another inch, and Justin can’t hold it in anymore. He groans and the shockwave of sound rolls right through his diaphragm, to his ass, and Brian’s dick. Brian’s eyes flick up to look at Justin, whose eyelids are threatening to shut but won’t because Justin has to watch, has to know, has to see Brian’s face when he gets there.
Another inch, and another. Brian’s nerves have fused together with sensory overload: it’s too much. The heat from Justin, the rub of skin against skin, too fierce even through a pale coating of lube, and the feeling, Christ, the feeling!
“Is it…how is it?” Justin pants out.
“Tight. Tighter than…nnnggh. Fuck it, just tight.”
“Yeah. You feel…huge.”
Brian nudges forward, nearing full depth, leaning his weight against Justin’s thighs for a moment as he reaches down with one hand to grip his lover’s cock with lube-covered fingers. Firm grasp, and he moves downward only a little before Justin gasps again, “Like that? Tight like that?”
Brian pushes in the last bit and the fullness of Justin’s balls rests against his crotch before he answers.
“Tighter.”
He squeezes, gently, then tugs up once, twice, keeping the pressure wrapped around the crown, the way he knows Justin likes it.
“Uuhhhhhnn. Fuck. Oh fuck. Brian, please…please. You’ve gotta fuck me.”
He tilts back, ever so slightly, cock pulling out the littlest bit, and then Brian begins rocking on his knees, forward and back, forward and back, moving the tip of his dick inside Justin at the deepest point. For a few moments, his eyelids shut out a rush of pleasure, blood flooding through him on a highspeed trip to his groin, one he can feel through the vein of his cock, rubbing against the bottom of Justin’s much-too-hot ass.
The possibility that he may combust when he finally climaxes occurs to him, and he doesn’t care. If he only gets one fuck like this in a lifetime, at least it’s with Justin. Somebody else can pick up the pieces tomorrow.
When he starts pulling out a little more, Brian feels the round fullness of his cockhead slide against Justin’s invisible bulge of hard flesh inside, at the same time he hears a moan. In all the years he’s fucked Justin, he’s never felt the thickness of his prostate pressing down like he does now-Brian could tell when he hit it by watching Justin’s face, feeling how his body shook-but for the first time now, the nerve endings in his cock can tell they’ve made contact.
He loosens his grip around Justin’s dick as he decides to test out some newfound knowledge. He bumps the top of his cock against the bottom of the bulge, and Justin cries aloud. “Brian!”
When he thrusts beyond and then drags his cock back slowly, over the rounded lump, Justin moans. Loudly.
When Brian circles his hips, moving crosswise over Justin’s inner spot with the whole length of his dick, there are softer cries. Whimpers, almost.
It’s like the last time Brian fingerfucked Justin’s prostate, only this time he’s got the same degree of sensitivity built into his cock, and it’s like a brand-new toy: Brian loves it.
While he’s rubbing back and forth, his hips are flexing hard enough now that Justin starts lifting his hips, trying to meet him halfway. Then Brian feels the hard constriction of every muscle in Justin’s ass, the circle around him clamping shut. That gets his attention, too. Too much friction, too fast, a quick flash of light behind his eyes and he doesn’t want things to end like this.
“Stop that,” he hisses.
“Why?” Justin’s being a smartass, now that he knows Brian isn’t going to come instantaneously. Brian can see the tiny smirk threatening to take over his smile.
“’cause I’m driving and you’re along for the ride. That’s why,” Brian answers sharply, though he softens his words by stroking his hand up to Justin’s face. He cradles his lover’s cheek and adds, “Talk to me. Tell me how it feels. But don’t…try to help.”
He knows how hard it will be for Justin to lie there, not to respond, and he gives a thrust to emphasize his words. Flesh sliding past flesh and he hopes Justin can feel how good this is, how utterly intense it is.
“There’s…nothing there. Usually I…feel resistance…under the lube. A stiffness of…GodyeahBrianmore…plastic that…separates us.” He takes a few panting breaths in between Brian’s shallow pushes. “Now it’s….only you. I feel you…nothing in the way.”
Brian picks up the pace a little, giving his hips a snap every once in a while to drive himself deeper, how Justin likes it. With the lube wearing thin around him, the friction’s getting better, and this isn’t going to last much longer-at this point, he can’t stop. The shallow thrusting is giving way to Brian plunging hard, and he’s got one hand holding Justin’s shoulder to give him leverage as he drives himself forward.
The cock in his other hand has swollen, stiff and even wetter than before. Precome has joined lube on his fingers, and Brian’s having to concentrate on jerking Justin while the rest of his body wants only to feel with his dick, the pleasure of cock-in-ass that’s getting hotter with every passing second.
He feels Justin’s hand slide on top of his, take over the motion, and Brian relents, letting him take command there. Justin knows how to jerk himself off; he doesn’t need Brian to show him how. Besides, this way he can focus entirely on…fuck, how good his cock feels, inside Justin’s incredible bottom.
His thighs are burning, back beginning to complain from how hard he’s been working, but Brian’s cock is in charge, and it gets what it wants, always. Brian’s huffing breaths of air now, eyes slammed shut as his body increases the rhythm, faster, impossibly, incredibly poundingpoundingpounding almost as fast as his heart, until suddenly-
Brian’s head snaps back, a groan rips out of his chest, and he’s home, well and truly home. Cockdeep inside, balls jammed into his lover’s ass, and Brian’s finally done it, the ultimate, unliveable fantasy, fulfilled.
Everything. Brian can feel everything.
His eyes are still closed, his hands at Justin’s shoulders, and his knees desperately want him to unbend them, but he’s too busy feeling. Those ten thousand nerve endings are still sending out signals, only now he’s getting a new kind of report.
He’s used to come with all the wetness jammed into the tip, too much fluid in the condom’s end that had to be gotten rid of before it drives his overly-sensitive nerves crazy. Now it’s all around him, his fluid mixed with Justin’s moist hot muscles that seem to be shivering. Or maybe Brian’s the one shaking. He can't tell which but it doesn’t matter.
He can stay. The come is a second layer of lube, miraculously appearing like magic, and Brian's dick loves it.
Christ, he’s never felt that before.
He could do what Justin always asked him to but condoms made impossible. He can stay. Brian’s mind sends the order to his knees: you’ll stay bent and like it. Or else.
He hadn’t counted on his blond wanting something different.
“You ready for more, stud?” Brian’s eyes flick open, and he looks into Justin’s face, confused for a moment, then he glances down, and sees that Justin’s hand has dropped from his cock, handjob abandoned.
He’s still hard.
Brian looks back up, into blue eyes that have a devilish glint.
“What do you think?”
++++++++++++
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A medical breakthrough changes Brian's life in more ways than one.
Disclaimer: It belongs to CowLip and Showtime. They have all the luck.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Author’s Note: seanmegansean, this one's for you.
Earlier Installments: Part One, Part Two, Part Three
ETA Warning: No HIV vaccine exists, sadly. Safe sex practices should continue, and the medically inclined should read this for more information on vaccines.
Title: Blade and Scabbard (part 4.1 of 4)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A medical breakthrough changes Brian's life in more ways than one.
Disclaimer: It belongs to CowLip and Showtime. They have all the luck.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Author’s Note: seanmegansean, this one's for you.
Earlier Installments: Part One, Part Two, Part Three
ETA Warning: No HIV vaccine exists, sadly. Safe sex practices should continue, and the medically inclined should read this for more information on vaccines.
February 13, 2015
From the start, they knew they’d do it together.
Getting the shots would change everything, and they want to be together when it happens. The nurse takes the two men into the same tiny cubicle, and Justin watches Brian glance away when she injects the needle into his bicep, a new piece of knowledge slotting into his picture of Brian’s quirks-who would have guessed that a man who would pop virtually any pill would shy away from needles? Brian doesn’t watch when Justin’s turn comes, though he never lets go of Justin’s other hand, conveying silent comfort when the sting comes, then the burn of withdrawal, a swab, bandage, and a quick smile from the departing nurse.
They step out into a bitter downtown wind that Brian shrugs against in his thick black overcoat, while Justin pulls his muffler a little tighter around his collar. Their noses and cheeks are turning pinkish red by the time they flag down a taxi and take the short ride home.
Home’s a brownstone they found in December, over on 12th Street, not the walkup apartment on Prince that Justin used to have. They looked at a lot of places in Manhattan before they found one with all the right features. It isn’t finished being decorated, but the basics-enough light to paint by, enough rooms to fuck in-are all there.
Justin moved in by Christmas, but it took longer to get Brian’s things transferred from Pittsburgh. They’ve shared New Year’s together in the house, in a bedroom that still needs paint, lamps, and a bigger closet. Given how busy they both are with commissions and Kinnetik’s expansion, they might still be needing closet space come 2020, since neither of them can find time to hire a designer to draft a new second floor plan for the house.
Brian’s content in his huge first floor office with its bay windows that mean he can lean back and cruise the good-looking men who walk by. Where they live, there are a few every hour, though a lot move in couples; it’s the kind of neighborhood that contains a mix of young single studs and older men who have paired off. He’s still choosing the right space on Madison Avenue for the opening of Kinnetik’s main office: first impressions count for everything in his business, so he isn’t going to rush it.
Justin’s happy with the brownstone’s third floor gallery, with its generous double-height ceiling for exceptionally large canvases, and natural lighting from the east in the morning and overhead through a skylight at midday.
Neither of these rooms are the ones they’re thinking about in the cab ride home.
The bedroom, with its chipped paint and inadequate closet, is first and foremost on their minds. The bedroom with its recently replenished supply of lube, that Justin restocked yesterday, not knowing that Brian had done the same thing the day before.
This last week has been a bit strained, both men eager, going through condoms at a double rate, as if there were a prize for using the last one in the bowl beside the bed. Would they need to keep buying in bulk? Would they need to buy any more, ever?
It was a topic they talked about reluctantly, even after November’s news, because it violated a basic tenet of their lives together-and-apart. The assumption had been that they’d need a steady condom supply forever, like bottled water and color printer cartridges. The need would always be there.
Maybe not.
When Justin came to Pittsburgh for Thanksgiving, he brought it up as they were watching an old movie, partly stoned and definitely drunk. He’s not sure he remembers what Brian said, afterwards.
When Brian came to New York for New Year’s, he mentioned it while they were out in a loud club, sometime after 2 or possibly 3am, with music blaring so loudly, it could hardly be called a real conversation.
Neither man had to say anything, though the silence spoke for both of them, more eloquent each morning they fucked, with every condom wrapper opened. Every night when Brian looked at his supply in the bowl, shrinking steadily, not being topped up. Every time Justin rolled a condom onto Brian’s cock, when he’d look up into Brian’s eyes and see the unspoken words hanging there, mirroring his own thoughts.
Not much longer. February.
Now the day is here, and the moment nearly upon them. A latex-free moment.
As their cab turns the corner onto 12th Street, Brian glances over at Justin, who can’t seem to meet his partner’s eyes. He keeps staring out the cab window, at the random buildings blurring past them. Brian says nothing, gets out a twenty and tosses it over the divider to the driver as the taxi pulls up in front of their stoop; he’s in too much of a hurry to wait for something as trivial as change. The two men take the stairs quickly to their front door, and they’re inside before the cold has enough time to chill them again.
There’s an easy, relaxed air to how they’re moving which is completely at odds with how both of them are feeling. Justin’s good hand is shaking as he tries to get his coat buttons undone, and Brian nearly forgets to take his keys out of the front door.
Inside, now. Soon.
Brian reaches for Justin’s buttons at the same time Justin gives up on them, choosing instead to unwind the scarf that was warming his neck. Even this becomes a challenge; it seems to take Justin twice as long to get his muffler off, and his fingers don’t want to cooperate, to come out of the gloves. Between the two of them, though, they get Justin freed from his outer clothing and Brian dumps his heavy black overcoat onto an empty hook.
Somewhere in the midst of this, Justin’s hand finds Brian’s waist, and he slips an arm around Brian, seeking strength, as they climb the stairs to their bedroom. Brian leans over and puts a comforting kiss into Justin’s hair when they’re halfway up, then his hand stretches up to curve around Justin’s shoulder as they reach the second floor.
A little in front, Justin’s tugging them both forward into their bedroom, even as he says, “I don’t know how you can be so calm.” His fingers are pulling Brian towards their bed at the same time that they’re digging under the waistband to pull up shirt and sweater together, lofting them over Brian’s shoulders and head, into a pile on the floor.
“I’m not.”
Brian stops moving forward, forcing Justin to look away from the bed and turn around to focus on him, even as the removal of clothing continues, more layers of cotton or wool landing in a circle at their feet.
“What?”
“I’m not calm.”
Justin looks into a face he knows better than his own, and sees a flicker of anxiety pass across Brian’s eyes. They’re down to their briefs, both with evident hard-ons that press outward against matching black cotton. Normally there’s no stopping now but they have, which is weird. Something else about today that’s unsettling, abnormal.
“Talk to me, Brian.” The insistent tone is uneven, the faintest hint of his voice cracking. Justin’s nerves are coming through.
A pause, then two, before Brian answers. “I’m fucking terrified. That it’ll be different. Not as good.”
Another pause before he admits, “That I’ll come too fast. ”
His hands pull Justin to him, arms curling around Justin’s shoulders in the same way that they dance together at Babylon, Brian’s awkward sway wrapped around Justin’s confident hip-shake. Justin leans into the taller man’s chest, his head coming to rest against Brian’s collarbone. Their bodies find comfort in the familiar resting places, and it grounds them, gives Justin a renewal of certainty that he wasn’t feeling five minutes ago.
“If you do, you do. It’s not like this will be the only time, right?”
“Not good enough.”
“Bri-annnn.”
Justin tilts his head back in time to meet Brian’s lips as they descend and catch him. The familiar tang of cigarettes, gum, and Brian drifts into his mouth, as a tongue slips between his lips and sweeps sideways across his teeth. Brian pulls him closer as Justin’s tongue curls and moves to one side, letting Brian’s tongue pass, giving way to his urgent need. He could sense that Brian has to take his time, gain the confidence to do this the way that he wants to. He is, after all, Brian, and he’s got to meet his own demanding standards, even if nobody else expects it from him.
Justin could care less whether the first time is pyrotechnic explosions and Roman candles lighting up the world in every direction, or a slow burning fuse that takes the whole day and half the night to reach the keg of dynamite buried deep inside him, the long, brain-frying fuck that will turn his whole body to jelly by the end. He’s only ever wanted Brian, and being together for this is all his fantasies made complete.
But it isn’t the same for Brian, and he knows it. Somehow, this once, it’s not easy to be the one on top and in control. Brian’s sense of perfection won’t allow Justin to have anything less than the best, his best.
Justin’s fingers curve around Brian’s neck, pulling him down, fingers threaded into his hair so that Brian can’t draw back. One kiss becomes two, then three-four-five, and he does all that he can to make Brian forget, make them both forget that this isn’t how they’ve done it a few thousand times before. For once in his life, Justin hopes that Brian will develop amnesia, so he can relax.
Justin ought to remember he’s one of Brian’s hopeless addictions, memorized and never to be forgotten. Brian remembers everything, how Justin tastes, how he smells, and Brian’s hands have mapped his body with a thoroughness that would let him pick Justin out in a pitch black room solely by touch. Sometimes in Babylon, he has. Today, with sunlight streaming in through high windows, Brian’s walking Justin slowly backwards in the only direction that matters: towards the bed.
Brian’s pushing him down, his weight following Justin’s easily, like a magnet draws iron filings to itself and holds them, forever. Justin’s body has always been his north, the thing he couldn’t leave alone even when he knew he should. Blond hair spreads against a pale grey background, making one of the most beautiful sights Brian has ever seen. Full, red lips find pale skin at the curve of Justin’s neck, renewing their paired submission, each man giving in to something stronger, something irresistible. Justin’s head rolls back, over to one side, Brian’s kisses soon making his skin glow hot, fiery, every drop of blood in his veins bursting to reach the outside.
Slender fingers run down Justin’s ribs, coaxing him to lie still, to give in, to follow Brian’s lead. But while cool fingertips say ‘relax, calm down,’ lips insist on the opposite: ‘more, give me more.’ Justin’s body is the crucible, the nexus where crossed signals meet and repel, his nervous system confused and still sorting out the problem, even as Brian’s mouth moves lower, his tongue lapping at skin that’s starting to sweat from the heat of two bodies rubbing against each other.
Justin’s hand meets one of Brian’s, both men reaching for waistbands and cotton fabric that needs to disappear-now-and in silent accord, two sets of fingers work together, pushing away black briefs in a mock struggle of skin against cloth. Tangled legs and knees and ankles make things difficult, then feet join the battle and tug down the last barriers that divide them, two scraps of black hitting the floor together as Justin’s leg works its way around Brian’s waist, pulling him closer.
Thinner, leaner than the man above him, Justin rubs his cock into Brian’s stomach, taut muscles there providing friction, but not enough. He’ll need more to get where he wants to be. Brian’s dick is pressed against his groin, nestled against a thin shock of dark blond hair that would tickle if the man weren’t so desperate to get off. They squirm together, flesh against flesh, two cocks with but a single thought: come.
Come as hard and as fast and as soon as humanly possible. Sooner, if it can be done.
“Fuck me,” Justin mutters, his mouth next to Brian’s ear, even as Brian’s hands reach up and catch two pale wrists, pulling them over Justin’s head and holding them there, pinned against grey sheets. He leans up, his head lifting from Justin’s collarbone, and he looks down into sparkling blue sincerity that drifts from sapphire to indigo dark as Justin says the words again.
“Fuck me. The way you’ve always wanted to. Raw.”
Brian’s throat goes dry. Seeing Justin when he says the word makes Brian go still, knowing that this is the last barrier between them. After this, nothing’s left; there won’t be anything that divides them. He nods, not trusting his voice to reply without breaking.
Brian’s long arm reaches towards the nightstand, knocks an alarm clock to the floor in his haste, fingers wrapping around familiar plastic that gives him what he needs: enough lube to be comfortable, but not so much that he’ll miss the tightness when it grips him. Wetness on his fingers slips between them, finding the gaps between hips and crotch as Justin shifts his leg, then Brian’s there, sliding two slick fingers inside, the warmth around them flexing then relenting, letting him in.
Now both men work together, Justin rolling back so his shoulders take the weight, Brian lifting the smaller man’s thighs until they press backwards against his stomach, calves and ankles rising to find Brian’s shoulders. Familiar. Easy.
Brian inches towards him on the bed, his knees bent and his cock sprung forward, brushing against the bottom of a full red sac that rests just above the opening Brian begins massaging with the pads of his thumbs, spreading it open.
Waiting.
The hard fullness of Brian’s cock is intense; he’s rarely this ready unless he hasn’t seen Justin for weeks, and never when they’ve been together night and day for months, like they’ve been since New Year’s. But today is different, and his cock knows it too. The blood’s already thickened it so that the cockhead feels ready to burst.
He nudges forward, long practice giving him deadly aim where Justin’s concerned, and the wet tip finds an entrance it’s well-acquainted with. But not this way. Brian’s felt that hole with fingers, with tongue, with lips, but never with a bare dick, and ten thousand nerve endings begin firing simultaneously as he slides in the crown, making it as far as the ridge before his entire nervous system starts melting down.
Around that inch of skin to skin, he feels Justin clench, and Brian bites out, “Stop. Don’t” as their eyes meet again, lock on and hold tight.
“Okay.” He can see the gulp, Justin swallowing, trying to be patient. The muscles straining, pulling the skin tight across his neck, that’s plain to see. Brian knows that inside, it’s worse: Justin wanting him all the way in, desperate for it. Close, but not nearly close enough.
Another inch, and he feels the pure burn of flesh on flesh searing through him. Is it possible he went a whole lifetime without feeling this? He’s never felt so much, felt so much Justin before this instant. Hazel eyes move down his partner’s chest, stomach, to the gap between his thighs where a cock rests, full and ready. And beneath that, below Justin’s shaved reddish ballsac, he sees his own dick, halfway in.
That’s when it hits him. The latex ring he can always see, the milky white edge of the condom that rolls up around the flared base of his cock, that isn’t where it should be. What’s not there, and what is.
Nothing but thick ruddy cock, primed to blow, not nearly done yet.
Another inch, and Justin can’t hold it in anymore. He groans and the shockwave of sound rolls right through his diaphragm, to his ass, and Brian’s dick. Brian’s eyes flick up to look at Justin, whose eyelids are threatening to shut but won’t because Justin has to watch, has to know, has to see Brian’s face when he gets there.
Another inch, and another. Brian’s nerves have fused together with sensory overload: it’s too much. The heat from Justin, the rub of skin against skin, too fierce even through a pale coating of lube, and the feeling, Christ, the feeling!
“Is it…how is it?” Justin pants out.
“Tight. Tighter than…nnnggh. Fuck it, just tight.”
“Yeah. You feel…huge.”
Brian nudges forward, nearing full depth, leaning his weight against Justin’s thighs for a moment as he reaches down with one hand to grip his lover’s cock with lube-covered fingers. Firm grasp, and he moves downward only a little before Justin gasps again, “Like that? Tight like that?”
Brian pushes in the last bit and the fullness of Justin’s balls rests against his crotch before he answers.
“Tighter.”
He squeezes, gently, then tugs up once, twice, keeping the pressure wrapped around the crown, the way he knows Justin likes it.
“Uuhhhhhnn. Fuck. Oh fuck. Brian, please…please. You’ve gotta fuck me.”
He tilts back, ever so slightly, cock pulling out the littlest bit, and then Brian begins rocking on his knees, forward and back, forward and back, moving the tip of his dick inside Justin at the deepest point. For a few moments, his eyelids shut out a rush of pleasure, blood flooding through him on a highspeed trip to his groin, one he can feel through the vein of his cock, rubbing against the bottom of Justin’s much-too-hot ass.
The possibility that he may combust when he finally climaxes occurs to him, and he doesn’t care. If he only gets one fuck like this in a lifetime, at least it’s with Justin. Somebody else can pick up the pieces tomorrow.
When he starts pulling out a little more, Brian feels the round fullness of his cockhead slide against Justin’s invisible bulge of hard flesh inside, at the same time he hears a moan. In all the years he’s fucked Justin, he’s never felt the thickness of his prostate pressing down like he does now-Brian could tell when he hit it by watching Justin’s face, feeling how his body shook-but for the first time now, the nerve endings in his cock can tell they’ve made contact.
He loosens his grip around Justin’s dick as he decides to test out some newfound knowledge. He bumps the top of his cock against the bottom of the bulge, and Justin cries aloud. “Brian!”
When he thrusts beyond and then drags his cock back slowly, over the rounded lump, Justin moans. Loudly.
When Brian circles his hips, moving crosswise over Justin’s inner spot with the whole length of his dick, there are softer cries. Whimpers, almost.
It’s like the last time Brian fingerfucked Justin’s prostate, only this time he’s got the same degree of sensitivity built into his cock, and it’s like a brand-new toy: Brian loves it.
While he’s rubbing back and forth, his hips are flexing hard enough now that Justin starts lifting his hips, trying to meet him halfway. Then Brian feels the hard constriction of every muscle in Justin’s ass, the circle around him clamping shut. That gets his attention, too. Too much friction, too fast, a quick flash of light behind his eyes and he doesn’t want things to end like this.
“Stop that,” he hisses.
“Why?” Justin’s being a smartass, now that he knows Brian isn’t going to come instantaneously. Brian can see the tiny smirk threatening to take over his smile.
“’cause I’m driving and you’re along for the ride. That’s why,” Brian answers sharply, though he softens his words by stroking his hand up to Justin’s face. He cradles his lover’s cheek and adds, “Talk to me. Tell me how it feels. But don’t…try to help.”
He knows how hard it will be for Justin to lie there, not to respond, and he gives a thrust to emphasize his words. Flesh sliding past flesh and he hopes Justin can feel how good this is, how utterly intense it is.
“There’s…nothing there. Usually I…feel resistance…under the lube. A stiffness of…GodyeahBrianmore…plastic that…separates us.” He takes a few panting breaths in between Brian’s shallow pushes. “Now it’s….only you. I feel you…nothing in the way.”
Brian picks up the pace a little, giving his hips a snap every once in a while to drive himself deeper, how Justin likes it. With the lube wearing thin around him, the friction’s getting better, and this isn’t going to last much longer-at this point, he can’t stop. The shallow thrusting is giving way to Brian plunging hard, and he’s got one hand holding Justin’s shoulder to give him leverage as he drives himself forward.
The cock in his other hand has swollen, stiff and even wetter than before. Precome has joined lube on his fingers, and Brian’s having to concentrate on jerking Justin while the rest of his body wants only to feel with his dick, the pleasure of cock-in-ass that’s getting hotter with every passing second.
He feels Justin’s hand slide on top of his, take over the motion, and Brian relents, letting him take command there. Justin knows how to jerk himself off; he doesn’t need Brian to show him how. Besides, this way he can focus entirely on…fuck, how good his cock feels, inside Justin’s incredible bottom.
His thighs are burning, back beginning to complain from how hard he’s been working, but Brian’s cock is in charge, and it gets what it wants, always. Brian’s huffing breaths of air now, eyes slammed shut as his body increases the rhythm, faster, impossibly, incredibly poundingpoundingpounding almost as fast as his heart, until suddenly-
Brian’s head snaps back, a groan rips out of his chest, and he’s home, well and truly home. Cockdeep inside, balls jammed into his lover’s ass, and Brian’s finally done it, the ultimate, unliveable fantasy, fulfilled.
Everything. Brian can feel everything.
His eyes are still closed, his hands at Justin’s shoulders, and his knees desperately want him to unbend them, but he’s too busy feeling. Those ten thousand nerve endings are still sending out signals, only now he’s getting a new kind of report.
He’s used to come with all the wetness jammed into the tip, too much fluid in the condom’s end that had to be gotten rid of before it drives his overly-sensitive nerves crazy. Now it’s all around him, his fluid mixed with Justin’s moist hot muscles that seem to be shivering. Or maybe Brian’s the one shaking. He can't tell which but it doesn’t matter.
He can stay. The come is a second layer of lube, miraculously appearing like magic, and Brian's dick loves it.
Christ, he’s never felt that before.
He could do what Justin always asked him to but condoms made impossible. He can stay. Brian’s mind sends the order to his knees: you’ll stay bent and like it. Or else.
He hadn’t counted on his blond wanting something different.
“You ready for more, stud?” Brian’s eyes flick open, and he looks into Justin’s face, confused for a moment, then he glances down, and sees that Justin’s hand has dropped from his cock, handjob abandoned.
He’s still hard.
Brian looks back up, into blue eyes that have a devilish glint.
“What do you think?”
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