THE LIST
Title: The List
Written By: cindybaby
Timeline: 507
Rating: NC-17
What If: Brandon had chosen Justin as one of his ten hottest guys?
Author’s Notes: Plot bunny by Sra Black. Thank you!
Brian feels his heart jack-hammering away in his chest the moment his eyes land on number three.
“The fuck?” he practically gasps, but Brandon’s not paying attention, so he doesn’t acknowledge the uncharacteristic outburst, that is until Brian grabs his arm, pulling him around to face him and barks, “What the fuck?” again. Louder. Practically spitting fire.
“What?” Brandon asks, his face hard and blank, trying desperately to keep his body from trembling.
“Number three? What the fuck’s with that?” Brian demands.
Brandon pulls back his list, his eyes raking down the crumpled sheet until they land on the obviously problematic number scratched at the side. “Yeah?” he dares.
But Brian’s answer is a silent glare.
Brandon shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot and reads the name out loud. “Justin Taylor. He’s my number three.”
Brian’s stunned at how foolishly unaware Brandon seems. Realizes that maybe someone in their little godforsaken burg must’ve somehow been left out of the loop, so he decides it’s his task to enlighten him.
“You know who he is?”
For the first time since he’s been in Brian’s presence, Brandon smiles. “Sure.”
Brian fumes.
Obviously the loop hasn’t lapsed.
The fucker knows exactly who and what his number three is.
Brian stands, pulling himself to full height, empowered by the advantage he has over Brandon, and whispers, eerily, “So if you’re not as tragically stupid as you look, tell me, why the fuck is he on your list?”
Brandon twists his lips nervously, but decides, fuck it. “The guy’s hot as hell. And I hear he’s a great fuck. One of the top ten, so, obviously, he’s on my list.”
Brian feels deflated by the blatant display of balls by this Brandon, but doesn’t back down. He takes a step forward, menacingly, but feels as if a sucker punch has hit its target, straight in his gut, the moment Brandon speaks.
“I’m just wondering though,” Brandon asks, softly, twisting Brian even further, “why isn’t he on yours?”
***************
“You hear the rumor that’s winding its way through Liberty?” Emmett asks as they take their seats, sliding across the worn vinyl to the far side of the booth.
Justin purses his lips, shakes his head as he plays with a packet of sugar.
Emmett waits until Justin meets his eyes and shrugs. “No biggie. Just Brian and that new little tasty morsel, Brandon. Well, actually,” Emmett conspires with a huge grin, leaning forward, “not so little. At least that’s what Todd said, but…”
“What about Brian?” Justin interrupts, impatiently.
Emmett’s smile wanes, his eyes sympathetic. “It seems that both have come up with a top-ten-fuckee’s list. And sweetie, you’re on it.”
Justin can’t decide whether to blush or blanch.
“Each of their lists has the ten hottest guys in Pittsburgh on it, and the one to complete the fuck-list first, wins.”
Justin swallows, audibly, finding his voice, but barely. “And which one am I on?”
Emmett’s glance flitters around the room before finding its way back to Justin. He smiles, or at least tries to before answering, “Brandon’s.”
Justin nods, continuously, the pain in his obliterated heart unwilling to stop prodding his mind with the single thought pouring through it on loop, “But not Brian’s.”
***************
“What’re you gonna do?” Daphne asks in best-friend mode, her feet twisted with Justin’s on the sofa cushion between them.
“Don’t know,” Justin shrugs, taking the last hit off the joint burning dangerously close to his fingers.
“Well,” Daphne sighs, “the way I see it, you’ve got two choices.”
Justin urges her on with a tap of his foot as he drops the roach into a discarded cup of Coke.
“You can either fuck ‘em both, figuratively, not literally,” she smiles, pleased with herself, then adds, “Or…” She lingers, her smile turning devious. “You can fuck Brandon, figuratively, literally and with as much of that natural-born talent as you can muster, and make sure Brian knows all about it.”
Justin’s shocked, his mouth agape. But as the idea settles in, burrowing its way into his twisted little mind he smiles, tapping her once again with his foot, affectionately, both of them laughing out loud as the brilliant idea sinks in further, cementing itself into place.
***************
Justin walks into Woody’s. The place’s packed for a Wednesday night, but he doesn’t care. He’s on a mission.
He grabs a beer at the bar then takes a seat at a small table off to the side, making sure to face the room. His eyes scan the crowd and he can’t help but feel a little jolt of power as countless eyes lock on his, sending out an unmistakable invitation. But he’s not interested, at least not tonight. Tonight he wants only one thing.
He hears a wave of whispers permeate the room and looks toward the door.
Brandon.
He watches the crowd as their eyes rake him in, the drool practically spilling out of their salivating mouths, but Brandon’s oblivious.
Justin knows that look of complete disinterest. He’s spent years under a master’s tutelage.
He sees Brandon’s eyes travel the room, leaving a trail of broken hearts in their wake, and catches the exact moment they land on him, the mask slipping slightly. Justin knows that Brian would never have made that mistake.
He smiles coyly as Brandon approaches and pulls out a vacant chair.
“Maybe I was saving that for someone.”
Justin doesn’t miss the second of hesitation before Brandon sits down. Another slip.
“I’m sure you were,” Brandon nods. “Me.”
Justin laughs.
“How can you be sure?” he asks, batting his eyes slowly.
Brandon licks his lips, his gaze shifting down to Justin’s full, pouty mouth before meeting his stare. “I’m sure,” he answers arrogantly.
Justin smiles and Brandon mistakes it for surrender. Figuring he’s won his prize for the night he mentally crosses number three off his list. But Justin’s neither innocent nor naïve, and he’s played the game with a much tougher opponent.
“You wanna get outta here?”
“Sure,” Justin replies, downing the rest of his beer before following Brandon out.
They walk the block in silence. “This is me,” Brandon points out as they reach his car.
“Nice,” Justin says politely.
Brandon smiles, pushing Justin up against its frame. “I think what would be nicer is if you climbed in the back, got outta these jeans,” he says, his palms wrapped firmly around Justin’s ass, “and let me fuck you.”
Justin thinks he’s trying to be seductive. He’s failing, miserably.
He wonders if he’s like this with all his tricks or if he’s getting the special lines.
He can’t help but play along.
“You do, huh?” he asks, practically purring.
Brandon presses in firmly, letting Justin feel the length of his erection against his stomach. “Now would be good.”
Justin’s mind is racing, desperate to remember exactly why he thought that Daphne’s plan was a good idea and decides to rework it.
“Justin.”
Brows furrowed, Justin asks, “How d’you know my name?”
He can feel the lie weaving itself through Brandon’s body as he stiffens then says, “Uh, I asked the bartender.”
Justin shakes his head. “No, you came into Woody’s and headed right to me.”
Brandon pulls back slightly. “Yeah, right. No, another time. I asked another time.”
Justin nods. “Oh, okay. I guess it doesn’t have anything to do with that lame-assed bet you made.”
Brandon steps back fully. “What bet?” he asks, pissed.
Sure of himself, Justin pulls away from the car, standing tall. “You know, the one with Brian. Whoever fucks their list away first, wins.”
Brandon’s shocked.
“Did you think I didn’t know?” Justin asks.
“I guess. I…”
“Good luck,” Justin calls as he turns to walk away. “I mean, with the other nine.”
Brandon snaps to attention, grabbing Justin’s arm. “What the fuck?”
Justin tries to pull away, but Brandon’s strong.
“Get your ass in that fucking car now,” Brandon barks.
“Fuck off!”
Brandon tugs him sharply. “I’m not about to lose this fucking thing. Get in!”
Justin’s grin turns feral, another thing he’s learned from the best.
“Do you think I’m some weak little faggot?” he practically hisses.
“I think…” Brandon tries, slightly taken aback.
“I think you’d better fucking let go now if you wanna leave here with your balls intact,” Justin warns.
Brandon’s startled, loosening his grip slightly and Justin pulls away.
“I just wanted…”
“I know what you wanted,” Justin smirks, backing away again, but this time still facing Brandon. “But you can’t have it.”
Justin turns and runs, his adrenaline pumping. He doesn’t stop until he reaches Brian’s building, tries to keep his hand steady as he opens the front door.
He runs up the stairs to Brian’s landing and takes out his key. His hands are still shaking, along with his legs, and he can’t help but slide down to the floor, banging his head back against the cool metal, closing his eyes tightly.
He hears the lock catch on the other side of the door then feels the metal slide against him as it’s pulled open.
“Justin?”
Justin takes a deep breath and stands.
“What’s wrong?” Brian demands, reaching out to him, but Justin pulls back.
“I know about your bet,” he states.
Brian has the decency to look ashamed, but only momentarily. “And?”
Justin smiles. “And he won.”
“What?!”
“He won. I was his last. You know what they say,” Justin laughs. “Always save the best for last.”
“You fucked him?” Brian whispers, and Justin feels both sickened and triumphant at the painful expression plastered across Brian’s face.
“Actually, I guess, you could say he fucked me. Technically.”
Justin doesn’t miss the way Brian’s suddenly gripping the wall. How his knuckles are twisted bright white along with his lips.
“I also know that I wasn’t on your list,” Justin confides.
“True,” Brian croaks, watching Justin’s face fall.
“Why?”
Justin sounds broken. Brian can’t handle it. He looks up, meeting Justin’s gaze straight on. “Do you really think I would put you on a list with a bunch of meaningless tricks?”
“I...”
“I may be a heartless asshole, but even I wouldn’t do that.”
“What number were you on?”
Brian shrugs, looking everywhere but at Justin.
“Brian.”
Brian looks back into Justin eyes. “Four.” They both recognize it as a lame attempt, knowing he could’ve knocked the entire ten out in one night if wanted.
“I didn’t fuck him,” Justin confesses.
Before he knows what’s happening Brian’s pulled him into the loft, shut the door, and is dragging him up toward the bedroom.
“Brian?” Justin gasps, his clothes disappearing left and right before he’s tossed onto the bed.
A sense of déjà vu washes over him from earlier that night, but this time it feels completely different.
While he wanted to rip the balls off Brandon he wants to feel Brian inside him more than he’s wanted anything ever before.
“Brian,” Justin moans as he lies out on top of him, covering him fully.
Trailing nips and kisses down Justin’s flawless neck Brian grinds down, their erections rubbing together.
“Fuck me,” Justin demands.
Brian growls, grabbing a condom and the lube, suiting up hastily, his fingers shaking with the need to get inside.
“Come on, hurry,” Justin pants then moans as Brian, slick and ready, pushes hard until his balls slap Justin’s ass.
“Fuck!” Brian grunts, “so tight. So fuckin’ tight.”
Justin’s way past the point of coherent thought as Brian pulls out then thrusts in deep and hard. He finds himself moaning a constant string of words with an occasional ‘Brian’ thrown in and he can’t wait to get off.
“Harder, fuck, yeah, oh shit, there…god, Brian, right there…”
“Mmm, missed you, fucking missed you,” Brian groans, unable to keep it all inside, and it pushes Justin over the edge.
With a piercing shriek, that he’ll swear later never came from him, Justin comes, his dick bouncing fiercely between them with every shot. And the warmth that spreads out along their stomachs together with Justin’s spasming ass pulls Brian right down with him.
“Jesus Christ!” Brian hisses as his dick swells, pulsing inside Justin, pushing another pleasing moan out of him.
Boneless and sated Brian rolls to the side, stripping the condom off and tossing it away. “That was incredible,” he pants, his chest still heaving.
“It was,” Justin smiles, curling up against him.
Lying in silence, save their rapid breathing, Brian begins to drift.
“So you missed me, huh?” Justin prods, slinking up so they’re face to face.
Brian startles, opening his eyes to a smiling pair of sparkling baby blues.
He knows he can go either way.
He can deny what he said, claiming he’s not responsible for something that may have slipped out mid-fuck.
Or he can tell the truth, something he’s always believed in but not always delivered, especially to Justin.
Wrapping his long fingers around the back of Justin’s neck, sliding them through the silky threads with a gentle tug, Brian confesses, “I’ve never missed anyone more.”
And if Justin’s smile turns watery, a single tear slipping down his rosy cheek, neither one mentions it.
As they move in for a tender kiss, Brian makes a mental note to toss out his list, folded neatly in his jeans pocket now strewn across the bedroom floor.
Let Brandon think he won.
Slipping his tongue inside the sweet warmth of Justin’s mouth, he realizes, he doesn’t give a fuck.
Written By: cindybaby
Timeline: 507
Rating: NC-17
What If: Brandon had chosen Justin as one of his ten hottest guys?
Author’s Notes: Plot bunny by Sra Black. Thank you!
Brian feels his heart jack-hammering away in his chest the moment his eyes land on number three.
“The fuck?” he practically gasps, but Brandon’s not paying attention, so he doesn’t acknowledge the uncharacteristic outburst, that is until Brian grabs his arm, pulling him around to face him and barks, “What the fuck?” again. Louder. Practically spitting fire.
“What?” Brandon asks, his face hard and blank, trying desperately to keep his body from trembling.
“Number three? What the fuck’s with that?” Brian demands.
Brandon pulls back his list, his eyes raking down the crumpled sheet until they land on the obviously problematic number scratched at the side. “Yeah?” he dares.
But Brian’s answer is a silent glare.
Brandon shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot and reads the name out loud. “Justin Taylor. He’s my number three.”
Brian’s stunned at how foolishly unaware Brandon seems. Realizes that maybe someone in their little godforsaken burg must’ve somehow been left out of the loop, so he decides it’s his task to enlighten him.
“You know who he is?”
For the first time since he’s been in Brian’s presence, Brandon smiles. “Sure.”
Brian fumes.
Obviously the loop hasn’t lapsed.
The fucker knows exactly who and what his number three is.
Brian stands, pulling himself to full height, empowered by the advantage he has over Brandon, and whispers, eerily, “So if you’re not as tragically stupid as you look, tell me, why the fuck is he on your list?”
Brandon twists his lips nervously, but decides, fuck it. “The guy’s hot as hell. And I hear he’s a great fuck. One of the top ten, so, obviously, he’s on my list.”
Brian feels deflated by the blatant display of balls by this Brandon, but doesn’t back down. He takes a step forward, menacingly, but feels as if a sucker punch has hit its target, straight in his gut, the moment Brandon speaks.
“I’m just wondering though,” Brandon asks, softly, twisting Brian even further, “why isn’t he on yours?”
***************
“You hear the rumor that’s winding its way through Liberty?” Emmett asks as they take their seats, sliding across the worn vinyl to the far side of the booth.
Justin purses his lips, shakes his head as he plays with a packet of sugar.
Emmett waits until Justin meets his eyes and shrugs. “No biggie. Just Brian and that new little tasty morsel, Brandon. Well, actually,” Emmett conspires with a huge grin, leaning forward, “not so little. At least that’s what Todd said, but…”
“What about Brian?” Justin interrupts, impatiently.
Emmett’s smile wanes, his eyes sympathetic. “It seems that both have come up with a top-ten-fuckee’s list. And sweetie, you’re on it.”
Justin can’t decide whether to blush or blanch.
“Each of their lists has the ten hottest guys in Pittsburgh on it, and the one to complete the fuck-list first, wins.”
Justin swallows, audibly, finding his voice, but barely. “And which one am I on?”
Emmett’s glance flitters around the room before finding its way back to Justin. He smiles, or at least tries to before answering, “Brandon’s.”
Justin nods, continuously, the pain in his obliterated heart unwilling to stop prodding his mind with the single thought pouring through it on loop, “But not Brian’s.”
***************
“What’re you gonna do?” Daphne asks in best-friend mode, her feet twisted with Justin’s on the sofa cushion between them.
“Don’t know,” Justin shrugs, taking the last hit off the joint burning dangerously close to his fingers.
“Well,” Daphne sighs, “the way I see it, you’ve got two choices.”
Justin urges her on with a tap of his foot as he drops the roach into a discarded cup of Coke.
“You can either fuck ‘em both, figuratively, not literally,” she smiles, pleased with herself, then adds, “Or…” She lingers, her smile turning devious. “You can fuck Brandon, figuratively, literally and with as much of that natural-born talent as you can muster, and make sure Brian knows all about it.”
Justin’s shocked, his mouth agape. But as the idea settles in, burrowing its way into his twisted little mind he smiles, tapping her once again with his foot, affectionately, both of them laughing out loud as the brilliant idea sinks in further, cementing itself into place.
***************
Justin walks into Woody’s. The place’s packed for a Wednesday night, but he doesn’t care. He’s on a mission.
He grabs a beer at the bar then takes a seat at a small table off to the side, making sure to face the room. His eyes scan the crowd and he can’t help but feel a little jolt of power as countless eyes lock on his, sending out an unmistakable invitation. But he’s not interested, at least not tonight. Tonight he wants only one thing.
He hears a wave of whispers permeate the room and looks toward the door.
Brandon.
He watches the crowd as their eyes rake him in, the drool practically spilling out of their salivating mouths, but Brandon’s oblivious.
Justin knows that look of complete disinterest. He’s spent years under a master’s tutelage.
He sees Brandon’s eyes travel the room, leaving a trail of broken hearts in their wake, and catches the exact moment they land on him, the mask slipping slightly. Justin knows that Brian would never have made that mistake.
He smiles coyly as Brandon approaches and pulls out a vacant chair.
“Maybe I was saving that for someone.”
Justin doesn’t miss the second of hesitation before Brandon sits down. Another slip.
“I’m sure you were,” Brandon nods. “Me.”
Justin laughs.
“How can you be sure?” he asks, batting his eyes slowly.
Brandon licks his lips, his gaze shifting down to Justin’s full, pouty mouth before meeting his stare. “I’m sure,” he answers arrogantly.
Justin smiles and Brandon mistakes it for surrender. Figuring he’s won his prize for the night he mentally crosses number three off his list. But Justin’s neither innocent nor naïve, and he’s played the game with a much tougher opponent.
“You wanna get outta here?”
“Sure,” Justin replies, downing the rest of his beer before following Brandon out.
They walk the block in silence. “This is me,” Brandon points out as they reach his car.
“Nice,” Justin says politely.
Brandon smiles, pushing Justin up against its frame. “I think what would be nicer is if you climbed in the back, got outta these jeans,” he says, his palms wrapped firmly around Justin’s ass, “and let me fuck you.”
Justin thinks he’s trying to be seductive. He’s failing, miserably.
He wonders if he’s like this with all his tricks or if he’s getting the special lines.
He can’t help but play along.
“You do, huh?” he asks, practically purring.
Brandon presses in firmly, letting Justin feel the length of his erection against his stomach. “Now would be good.”
Justin’s mind is racing, desperate to remember exactly why he thought that Daphne’s plan was a good idea and decides to rework it.
“Justin.”
Brows furrowed, Justin asks, “How d’you know my name?”
He can feel the lie weaving itself through Brandon’s body as he stiffens then says, “Uh, I asked the bartender.”
Justin shakes his head. “No, you came into Woody’s and headed right to me.”
Brandon pulls back slightly. “Yeah, right. No, another time. I asked another time.”
Justin nods. “Oh, okay. I guess it doesn’t have anything to do with that lame-assed bet you made.”
Brandon steps back fully. “What bet?” he asks, pissed.
Sure of himself, Justin pulls away from the car, standing tall. “You know, the one with Brian. Whoever fucks their list away first, wins.”
Brandon’s shocked.
“Did you think I didn’t know?” Justin asks.
“I guess. I…”
“Good luck,” Justin calls as he turns to walk away. “I mean, with the other nine.”
Brandon snaps to attention, grabbing Justin’s arm. “What the fuck?”
Justin tries to pull away, but Brandon’s strong.
“Get your ass in that fucking car now,” Brandon barks.
“Fuck off!”
Brandon tugs him sharply. “I’m not about to lose this fucking thing. Get in!”
Justin’s grin turns feral, another thing he’s learned from the best.
“Do you think I’m some weak little faggot?” he practically hisses.
“I think…” Brandon tries, slightly taken aback.
“I think you’d better fucking let go now if you wanna leave here with your balls intact,” Justin warns.
Brandon’s startled, loosening his grip slightly and Justin pulls away.
“I just wanted…”
“I know what you wanted,” Justin smirks, backing away again, but this time still facing Brandon. “But you can’t have it.”
Justin turns and runs, his adrenaline pumping. He doesn’t stop until he reaches Brian’s building, tries to keep his hand steady as he opens the front door.
He runs up the stairs to Brian’s landing and takes out his key. His hands are still shaking, along with his legs, and he can’t help but slide down to the floor, banging his head back against the cool metal, closing his eyes tightly.
He hears the lock catch on the other side of the door then feels the metal slide against him as it’s pulled open.
“Justin?”
Justin takes a deep breath and stands.
“What’s wrong?” Brian demands, reaching out to him, but Justin pulls back.
“I know about your bet,” he states.
Brian has the decency to look ashamed, but only momentarily. “And?”
Justin smiles. “And he won.”
“What?!”
“He won. I was his last. You know what they say,” Justin laughs. “Always save the best for last.”
“You fucked him?” Brian whispers, and Justin feels both sickened and triumphant at the painful expression plastered across Brian’s face.
“Actually, I guess, you could say he fucked me. Technically.”
Justin doesn’t miss the way Brian’s suddenly gripping the wall. How his knuckles are twisted bright white along with his lips.
“I also know that I wasn’t on your list,” Justin confides.
“True,” Brian croaks, watching Justin’s face fall.
“Why?”
Justin sounds broken. Brian can’t handle it. He looks up, meeting Justin’s gaze straight on. “Do you really think I would put you on a list with a bunch of meaningless tricks?”
“I...”
“I may be a heartless asshole, but even I wouldn’t do that.”
“What number were you on?”
Brian shrugs, looking everywhere but at Justin.
“Brian.”
Brian looks back into Justin eyes. “Four.” They both recognize it as a lame attempt, knowing he could’ve knocked the entire ten out in one night if wanted.
“I didn’t fuck him,” Justin confesses.
Before he knows what’s happening Brian’s pulled him into the loft, shut the door, and is dragging him up toward the bedroom.
“Brian?” Justin gasps, his clothes disappearing left and right before he’s tossed onto the bed.
A sense of déjà vu washes over him from earlier that night, but this time it feels completely different.
While he wanted to rip the balls off Brandon he wants to feel Brian inside him more than he’s wanted anything ever before.
“Brian,” Justin moans as he lies out on top of him, covering him fully.
Trailing nips and kisses down Justin’s flawless neck Brian grinds down, their erections rubbing together.
“Fuck me,” Justin demands.
Brian growls, grabbing a condom and the lube, suiting up hastily, his fingers shaking with the need to get inside.
“Come on, hurry,” Justin pants then moans as Brian, slick and ready, pushes hard until his balls slap Justin’s ass.
“Fuck!” Brian grunts, “so tight. So fuckin’ tight.”
Justin’s way past the point of coherent thought as Brian pulls out then thrusts in deep and hard. He finds himself moaning a constant string of words with an occasional ‘Brian’ thrown in and he can’t wait to get off.
“Harder, fuck, yeah, oh shit, there…god, Brian, right there…”
“Mmm, missed you, fucking missed you,” Brian groans, unable to keep it all inside, and it pushes Justin over the edge.
With a piercing shriek, that he’ll swear later never came from him, Justin comes, his dick bouncing fiercely between them with every shot. And the warmth that spreads out along their stomachs together with Justin’s spasming ass pulls Brian right down with him.
“Jesus Christ!” Brian hisses as his dick swells, pulsing inside Justin, pushing another pleasing moan out of him.
Boneless and sated Brian rolls to the side, stripping the condom off and tossing it away. “That was incredible,” he pants, his chest still heaving.
“It was,” Justin smiles, curling up against him.
Lying in silence, save their rapid breathing, Brian begins to drift.
“So you missed me, huh?” Justin prods, slinking up so they’re face to face.
Brian startles, opening his eyes to a smiling pair of sparkling baby blues.
He knows he can go either way.
He can deny what he said, claiming he’s not responsible for something that may have slipped out mid-fuck.
Or he can tell the truth, something he’s always believed in but not always delivered, especially to Justin.
Wrapping his long fingers around the back of Justin’s neck, sliding them through the silky threads with a gentle tug, Brian confesses, “I’ve never missed anyone more.”
And if Justin’s smile turns watery, a single tear slipping down his rosy cheek, neither one mentions it.
As they move in for a tender kiss, Brian makes a mental note to toss out his list, folded neatly in his jeans pocket now strewn across the bedroom floor.
Let Brandon think he won.
Slipping his tongue inside the sweet warmth of Justin’s mouth, he realizes, he doesn’t give a fuck.