New story, just an interlude
This was supposed to happen for Halloween but it didn't. Oh well. BTW - happy birthday Randy Harrison!
Just a brief break from the never ending story.
And now...
“This is fucked.”
“Just shut up and drive, will you? I want to get the fuck home already.” Justin busied himself picking at imagined nubs on his ratty Goodwill jeans purchased for this exact occasion. He refused to do Salvation Army on principle.
“And you dressed that way because, once again?”
“Look, asshole, it’s Halloween, people dress up - you know, like in costumes?”
Brian glanced over at his partner and groaned, wondering just how and when it was that he had been roped into this lame ass costume party thing. Justin had pouted and grumped at Brian’s refusal to play dress up, pursing his lips at Brian’s claim that the leather jacket, wife beater and jeans he insisted on wearing actually was his homage to the great gay icon that was James Dean.
“I’m the dumb ass blond in Leather Jacket Love Story!” was what Justin had said in explanation of his own attire which, truth be told, was pretty damn close to what he wore everyday so Brian didn’t exactly get the bitching about his own sartorial choices.
“No, you’re a fucking moron all on your own.”had been Brian's response after which he fucked Justin into the mattress, later claiming he was helping his lover achieve the perfect twink bed head, freshly fucked look. Justin didn’t buy it but blew him afterwards anyway.
“I’m not a moron when it comes to your cock,” Justin smirked, reminding Brian of their earlier conversation as he grabbed Brian’s crotch to make his point. Anything to divert attention from his crappy, threadbare yellow plaid shirt that Brian kept furtively tossing and Justin equally surreptitiously kept retrieving.
Brian swatted his hand away and was about to make a snide retort when the brand fucking thank you very much new Lexus SUV started doing the automotive equivalent of a cat hacking up a hair ball.
“Fuck!” Brian snarled as he scanned the dash.
“Um, Brian? Shouldn’t a new car at least work for a day or two?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Justin snickered because really, there was nothing better than a pissy Brian with a broken toy.
“Fuck!” Suddenly the black behemoth lost all power and Brian struggled to maneuver it to the side of the unlit road. Justin flipped open his cell and groaned.
“No fucking signal - you?”
“Nothing! Fuck!” Brian slammed the phone shut and whacked his forehead against his palm. He was in the middle of nowhere on a moonless night without any chance of contact with the outside world.
This was all Justin’s fault. “This is all your fault!”
“Excuse me?” Justin was already halfway out of the car but paused to glare at his partner. “And you have arrived at this conclusion how?”
“Because if that asshole hadn’t been so hot to get into your ass, we would never have been out here in the middle of who the fuck knows where in the first place!” Brian flung the car door shut for emphasis and refused to acknowledge even to himself that he was pissed that the rich old perv had obviously wanted a piece of his blond boy’s ass. South bank gallery be damned, Brian didn’t share. Not anymore.
“Riight. Because it’s not as though you haven’t sampled every fag in the western hemisphere. Not that I did Nigel any favors tonight, by the way. Not that I plan to, either, just to let you know. But that could change, especially if he showed up right about now with a heated car that actually ran. Unlike, you know, yours.” Justin kicked at the front quarter panel and tugged his thin shirt closer.
“Look,” Brian sighed as he crossed over to Justin. “This isn’t Bumfuck, Iowa we’re stuck in.”
“Wouldn’t be bad, by the sound of it,” Justin snickered into Brian’s chest as Brian tugged him close and wrapped his arms around him against the chill and fog of the night.
“Blow your nose, would you? Snot makes my dick shrivel. Here.” Brian shifted to open the car and reach in the glove box. “Blow,” he demanded, shoving travel pack of Puffs at Justin who took them while mentally adding yet another reason why he loved the asshole. Even if they were stranded in the middle of fucking gated hell with no signal and a brand fucking new luxury SUV that just shit the bed.
“Look!”
“At what, your snotty tissue? I don’t think so.” Brian’s mind was already busy plotting ways they could escape the semi wilds of effete PA.
“Brian!” Justin punched his lover’s side. “See? Over there! Lights!” Brian followed Justin’s pointy, stubby digit and saw that there was, in fact a vague glow to be seen.
“Fucking wonderful. That’s at least a quarter mile away.”
“Brian,” Justin sighed. The cold damp air wasn’t helping his sinuses and he wasn’t all that sure that Brian had any more tissues, his extracurricular activities being what they were. “Your onboard is dead and our phones can’t even talk to each other. Start fucking walking!”
Brian slid one arm out of his lined jacket and wrapped what he could around Justin. Granted, leather wasn’t all that warm but fucking punt when it’s all you’ve got, was his attitude. “Told you that was a stupid costume,” he smiled into blond hair as they followed the fog diffused light.
“Fuck off,” Justin elbowed Brian as he fit himself more closely against Brian’s body. Brian was a natural furnace, his body so warm that Justin would often toss off the bedclothes in an attempt to get some comfort. Tonight, he was glad of Brian’s high end metabolism.
They walked on in a comfortable silence, never a car or soul crossing their path, and finally arrived at the end of a long, curving driveway.
“At last.” Justin smiled up at Brian.
“Yeah,” was Brian’s response. “Sorry.”
“For?” Justin was busy disengaging himself, pulling his arm from Brian’s jacket where he’d snaked it into a sleeve. He’d never admit it, at least not to him, but leather and Brian always felt to him to be one and the same. It was with regret that he tugged his arm free.
“Getting us into this, you know.”
“Oh, Brian! Your new fucking car broke down! Kick the dealership’s ass, not your own! We’re here, we haven’t been hacked to death, and whoever lives here will call someone for us and in an hour or two we will be back in our warm bed.” Justin wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “And maybe I’ll finally let you absent this shirt.”
Brian laughed. “Maybe, if I get to defenestrate that shirt, tonight, even including Nigel ‘but my dear lad London is a must for any serious artist’ Thorpson, was worth it! Okay, we’re here, I hope they fucking have heat!”
The house was, Brian noticed, the only one in the area not gated like a fortress; then again, it was rather isolated. It seemed, as far as he could tell in an increasingly choking fog, oddly…something. He lifted his hand but before he touched the knocker the door opened.
ETA: Yes, this is a series - a short series. We think. Hell, War and Peace is shorter than that other thing!
Just a brief break from the never ending story.
And now...
“This is fucked.”
“Just shut up and drive, will you? I want to get the fuck home already.” Justin busied himself picking at imagined nubs on his ratty Goodwill jeans purchased for this exact occasion. He refused to do Salvation Army on principle.
“And you dressed that way because, once again?”
“Look, asshole, it’s Halloween, people dress up - you know, like in costumes?”
Brian glanced over at his partner and groaned, wondering just how and when it was that he had been roped into this lame ass costume party thing. Justin had pouted and grumped at Brian’s refusal to play dress up, pursing his lips at Brian’s claim that the leather jacket, wife beater and jeans he insisted on wearing actually was his homage to the great gay icon that was James Dean.
“I’m the dumb ass blond in Leather Jacket Love Story!” was what Justin had said in explanation of his own attire which, truth be told, was pretty damn close to what he wore everyday so Brian didn’t exactly get the bitching about his own sartorial choices.
“No, you’re a fucking moron all on your own.”had been Brian's response after which he fucked Justin into the mattress, later claiming he was helping his lover achieve the perfect twink bed head, freshly fucked look. Justin didn’t buy it but blew him afterwards anyway.
“I’m not a moron when it comes to your cock,” Justin smirked, reminding Brian of their earlier conversation as he grabbed Brian’s crotch to make his point. Anything to divert attention from his crappy, threadbare yellow plaid shirt that Brian kept furtively tossing and Justin equally surreptitiously kept retrieving.
Brian swatted his hand away and was about to make a snide retort when the brand fucking thank you very much new Lexus SUV started doing the automotive equivalent of a cat hacking up a hair ball.
“Fuck!” Brian snarled as he scanned the dash.
“Um, Brian? Shouldn’t a new car at least work for a day or two?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Justin snickered because really, there was nothing better than a pissy Brian with a broken toy.
“Fuck!” Suddenly the black behemoth lost all power and Brian struggled to maneuver it to the side of the unlit road. Justin flipped open his cell and groaned.
“No fucking signal - you?”
“Nothing! Fuck!” Brian slammed the phone shut and whacked his forehead against his palm. He was in the middle of nowhere on a moonless night without any chance of contact with the outside world.
This was all Justin’s fault. “This is all your fault!”
“Excuse me?” Justin was already halfway out of the car but paused to glare at his partner. “And you have arrived at this conclusion how?”
“Because if that asshole hadn’t been so hot to get into your ass, we would never have been out here in the middle of who the fuck knows where in the first place!” Brian flung the car door shut for emphasis and refused to acknowledge even to himself that he was pissed that the rich old perv had obviously wanted a piece of his blond boy’s ass. South bank gallery be damned, Brian didn’t share. Not anymore.
“Riight. Because it’s not as though you haven’t sampled every fag in the western hemisphere. Not that I did Nigel any favors tonight, by the way. Not that I plan to, either, just to let you know. But that could change, especially if he showed up right about now with a heated car that actually ran. Unlike, you know, yours.” Justin kicked at the front quarter panel and tugged his thin shirt closer.
“Look,” Brian sighed as he crossed over to Justin. “This isn’t Bumfuck, Iowa we’re stuck in.”
“Wouldn’t be bad, by the sound of it,” Justin snickered into Brian’s chest as Brian tugged him close and wrapped his arms around him against the chill and fog of the night.
“Blow your nose, would you? Snot makes my dick shrivel. Here.” Brian shifted to open the car and reach in the glove box. “Blow,” he demanded, shoving travel pack of Puffs at Justin who took them while mentally adding yet another reason why he loved the asshole. Even if they were stranded in the middle of fucking gated hell with no signal and a brand fucking new luxury SUV that just shit the bed.
“Look!”
“At what, your snotty tissue? I don’t think so.” Brian’s mind was already busy plotting ways they could escape the semi wilds of effete PA.
“Brian!” Justin punched his lover’s side. “See? Over there! Lights!” Brian followed Justin’s pointy, stubby digit and saw that there was, in fact a vague glow to be seen.
“Fucking wonderful. That’s at least a quarter mile away.”
“Brian,” Justin sighed. The cold damp air wasn’t helping his sinuses and he wasn’t all that sure that Brian had any more tissues, his extracurricular activities being what they were. “Your onboard is dead and our phones can’t even talk to each other. Start fucking walking!”
Brian slid one arm out of his lined jacket and wrapped what he could around Justin. Granted, leather wasn’t all that warm but fucking punt when it’s all you’ve got, was his attitude. “Told you that was a stupid costume,” he smiled into blond hair as they followed the fog diffused light.
“Fuck off,” Justin elbowed Brian as he fit himself more closely against Brian’s body. Brian was a natural furnace, his body so warm that Justin would often toss off the bedclothes in an attempt to get some comfort. Tonight, he was glad of Brian’s high end metabolism.
They walked on in a comfortable silence, never a car or soul crossing their path, and finally arrived at the end of a long, curving driveway.
“At last.” Justin smiled up at Brian.
“Yeah,” was Brian’s response. “Sorry.”
“For?” Justin was busy disengaging himself, pulling his arm from Brian’s jacket where he’d snaked it into a sleeve. He’d never admit it, at least not to him, but leather and Brian always felt to him to be one and the same. It was with regret that he tugged his arm free.
“Getting us into this, you know.”
“Oh, Brian! Your new fucking car broke down! Kick the dealership’s ass, not your own! We’re here, we haven’t been hacked to death, and whoever lives here will call someone for us and in an hour or two we will be back in our warm bed.” Justin wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “And maybe I’ll finally let you absent this shirt.”
Brian laughed. “Maybe, if I get to defenestrate that shirt, tonight, even including Nigel ‘but my dear lad London is a must for any serious artist’ Thorpson, was worth it! Okay, we’re here, I hope they fucking have heat!”
The house was, Brian noticed, the only one in the area not gated like a fortress; then again, it was rather isolated. It seemed, as far as he could tell in an increasingly choking fog, oddly…something. He lifted his hand but before he touched the knocker the door opened.
ETA: Yes, this is a series - a short series. We think. Hell, War and Peace is shorter than that other thing!