The Copy Room (Brian/Justin; NC-17)
Title: The Copy Room
Author: Etharei
Characters: Brian/Justin, various minor OCs
Timeline: post-308
Theme: #3 - Frottage with hair play
Rating: NC-17
Summary: All right, so maybe it’s not exactly work that’s clearly driven him bat-shit insane.
Disclaimer: Queer as Folk and all the characters and situations featured therein are the property of Showtime, Cowlip Productions and their affiliates. I’m only borrowing them for purely non-profit, recreational purposes, and promise to replenish the condom and lube supply when I’m done.
Author's Notes: This is an entry to bj-action Theme #3: Frottage with hair play. I should also make clear that this is not the promised sister-fic of 'Have a Nice Day (Justin)'. That fic is still in the works, I'm afraid.
Putting down the report from the test groups that he has been reviewing for he last hour, Brian briefly passes a hand over his eyes and considers stopping for the night. The rest of the floor outside is dark, and there’s barely any traffic over the roads outside, so everything is quiet.
The sound of approaching footsteps makes him look up. Because of the dim light, he can’t really see the figure walking on the other side of the glass panels along one wall of my office, but he has a fairly good idea of who it is.
Justin stops just outside the door, waiting for permission to enter. Brian nods. Nobody’s around, but Brian is glad that Justin keeps up the businesslike behavior. Then again, Justin is a professional when it comes to work.
“Here are the proofs you asked for, Mr. Kinney,” he says, handing Brian a stack of sheets.
Which are due noon tomorrow.
“Thank you,” Brian says, acknowledging the good prompt work with a controlled smile and an approving nod of the head. Justin’s work is always impeccable, but Brian glances through the sheets anyway, out of habit. He did tell Justin that he won’t be getting any special treatment from me. “Everything seems to be in order. Why don’t you retire for the night, Taylor?”
He nods, longish blond hair bobbing. Brian has the sudden urge to grab something. Settles for a pen, rolling it between his fingers. “Thanks, Mr. Kinney. I will, once I photocopy these. Murph wants them in the morning.” Brian notices that there are still a few sheets of paper in Justin’s hand, but what immediately distracts him is the look that grows in Justin’s eyes. He’s seen it many times before, the most recent one being this morning, when Justin had woken up to Brian coming out of the shower with only a towel. Around his head.
Shifting in his seat, Brian makes a vague dismissive gesture. Justin nods, but Brian can see the muscles around his mouth working to keep his lips level. He turns, heading for the door -
- and somehow the sheets slip his hand and flutter down to the floor. He says something like “Oops” that Brian doesn’t really hear, because a second later Justin is bending down to retrieve the papers. Not like decent, self-respecting, professional people who crouch down to get fallen items, but bending only at the waist, knees mostly straight, so that a certain body part is prominently raised into the air while the upper body has a brief meeting with the lower body.
In other words, Justin is bent over, with that plump, sweet ass bobbing in the air. Right at Brian.
The little shit. He takes an unusually long time collecting the papers, too. Clearly they make them quite slippery these days.
Brian is sure that Justin gives it a teasing little shake as he rights himself. The twat is grinning. “Sorry, I can be really clumsy sometimes.” He makes a show of dusting himself off. Except that, as far as Brian knows, people don’t usually brush down the crotch area quite that much. “Off to the copy room, then.” At the door, Justin looks back over his shoulder. Sticks the tip of his tongue out between his teeth. “Good night, Mr. Kinney,” he sing-songs before disappearing down the hallway.
Brian stares at his hands. Has a very good feeling that he won’t be making any more progress with the report, at least for tonight.
He probably should check to make sure that Justin gets to the copy room all right. Who knows what might be lying in wait in the dark building? You hear things about janitors. It’s late enough that even Cynthia has gone home.
Very bad idea, Brian Kinney. It had been a bad idea the first time. And the second. And the third. He can lose his job, and he’ll bet that there’ll be repercussions at PIFA, too. Plus, it’s a fucking cliché. Handsome, rich partner of the best advertising agency in the city fucking one of the art interns in the crazy hours of the night. Cynthia has always said the his workload and late hours will drive him mad eventually..
He finds himself on his feet, powering down his computer and putting the report in his briefcase and turning his office lights off. Leaving the building, by way of the copy room.
All right, so maybe it’s not exactly work that’s clearly driven him bat-shit insane.
#
To his credit, Justin really is photocopying something when Brian walks in. He doesn’t turn around, but his posture stiffens ever so slightly when Brian locks the door. Brian’s breathing does its own dramatic pause when he notices the way the moving light from the scanner reflects off the gold on Justin’s head.
He steps forward, presses himself onto Justin’s back, trapping Justin against the copy machine. The warmth and hum and vibration of the equipment sends a flash of heat through him, even as his nose is lost in soft silky gold.
“Is this appropriate office behavior, Mr. Kinney?” Justin whispers, tilting his head back to rest it on Brian’s shoulder.
Brian swoops down on the pale neck being offered to him, lips wide, sucking in the skin. One hand reaches around to the front of Justin’s pants, pulling down the zipper and slipping inside. No underwear, only hot, smooth skin.
“Is this appropriate office attire, Mr. Taylor?” Brian growls. Wraps his fingers around Justin’s dick, the touch taking it from half-mast to full hard-on. Strokes it slowly, his grip tight.
Justin tries to talk between shuddering breaths. “I do believe… that is your… doing, sir…this morning… you said there was… no time to… get new clothes?”
Oh. Right. He’d made Justin come in his only piece of spare underwear, and then they were both in danger of being late at the office.
“Nevertheless.” Justin’s neck is wet and warm and marked in red under his mouth. “This is potentially disruptive to the working environment. You’re a good worker, Taylor, so I’ll let you off with a small disciplinary action.”
“Not too small, sir, I hope,” Justin moans, rubbing his ass over Brian’s crotch. Brian sucks in a breath. He thinks Justin probably expects to have his pants pulled down and being fucked right there against the copy machine, which is what they always end up doing..
But Brian turns Justin around, his hand still inside Justin’s pants. Kisses him hard while his fingers continue working his dick. Justin’s arms come up to Brian’s shoulders, pulling their bodies close together. The mostly empty office had been cold, but now all Brian can feel is warmth. When Justin starts thrusting into his hand, trying to speed up the pace, Brian reluctantly lets him go. He winds his arms around Justin’s hips, just kissing him for a minute or two, hot and wet and searching.
It’s good, doing just this, but soon their hands are roaming and Justin is grinding against him while unbuttoning his shirt. He waits until the front of his shirt is completely open, then pulls away, bringing both hands up to the back of Justin’s head, enjoying the feel of soft cool hair between his fingers. He tightens his grip, looking Justin right in the eyes.
Justin waits, wondering why Brian’s got such a firm hold on his hair. He knows that Brian really, really likes how his hair is now, especially when Justin is on all fours, his ass being plowed like there’s no tomorrow, Brian’s hand using his hair like reins. In fact, that’s a really good idea.
But Brian isn’t letting him move, so Justin waits. Brian’s already teased him to raging horniness, and he needs to do something, anything, now, and why the fuck is Brian still holding on to him?
Finally Brian kisses him again, his tongue slow as it reaches all the way to the back of Justin’s throat. It leaves him a little breathless. Then there’s pressure on his head, where Brian is gently pulling him downwards by means of his hair. “Mouth only, no hands,” Brian orders in that stern, uncompromising voice that never fails to turn Justin on. Justin thinks he knows where this is going, and happily obeys.
Only Brian doesn’t let him sink to his knees just yet. Using his grip on Justin’s hair, he brings Justin down slowly over his body. Justin eagerly licks, nips, sucks on any skin he can reach. He realizes that Brian is controlling his mouth, dictating where Justin goes. It makes him feel a little wanton and dirty, being used only as a mouth, and he moans into Brian’s skin.
Brian moves Justin’s head down the center of his chest, Justin’s mouth leaving a wet trail between his pecs. Takes Justin to one nipple, groaning a little when Justin works the hardened nub with all he’s got. Then the other nipple, and down to Brian’s navel. Justin uses his tongue to follow the treasure trail down, and finally, finally, he’s an inch away from a very obvious bulge in Brian’s pants.
Brian pushes his head back, making him look up. “I hear that everyone thinks you’re the perfect little worker bee. Guess they don’t know what you get up to after hours.”
“I’m always happy to provide whatever service my superiors require of me.” Justin licks his lips, sees Brian’s eyes following the movement of his tongue.
Brian cocks his head. “Is this how you spend your lunch breaks, then?”
Justin shakes his head, his smile genuine. “Only if I’m with you, Mr. Kinney.”
“Good.” One hand lets go, leaving only one hand in Justin’s hair. Brian deftly unbuckles his own belt, Gucci falling to the floor, and undoes his fly. Justin’s mouth waters at the sight of the hard cock pushing against expensive black cotton. Unable to resist, he reaches for it with his hands, pulls down Brian’s briefs. There’s a hiss from above when the beautiful, darkly throbbing length springs free.
Brian’s free hand traces Justin’s jaw, lips. Justin smirks and opens his mouth, sucking in the thumb tracing his lips. Demonstrates on it what he wants to do to Brian’s dick. He looks up, sees Brian’s eyes widening. He knows Brian loves it when he acts the slut.
When he finally releases the thumb, Brian brings it to his cock, smearing the saliva in a line down the pulsing vein. He wraps his hand around the length, and uses his other hand to pull Justin close. Understanding, Justin loosens his jaw, opening his mouth wide.
Brian feeds Justin his cock, one slow inch at a time. Sensing that Brian intends to push all the way in, Justin breathes through his nose and relaxes his throat as much as he can. Finally his nose hits the wiry tangle of Brian’s pubes. He looks up, sees Brian waiting for his signal. He nods.
The second hand returns to his hair. Justin focuses on keeping everything loose and relaxed, as Brian slowly starts thrusting. Fucking Justin’s mouth. Once Justin gets a hang of his pace, he starts constricting his throat when Brian pulls out, making Brian moan. The small room is filled with the sound of their heavy, irregular breathing.
“So hot, Taylor,” Brian breathes. “So fucking hot.”
Justin hums in response, which elicits out a loud groan from Brian. He loves the taste of Brian, the feel of Brian in his mouth. Brian once said that he’s a born cocksucker, but Justin rather thinks that the fact that the first cock he ever sucked was Brian’s was what sealed his fate for good. Maybe that’s why, when it comes to Brian, he doesn’t need to think about technique or gauging the other person’s reactions. His body understands Brian’s better than he can ever put into words or conscious thought.
He gives it all he has. Constricting his throat when Brian pulls out, stretching and pushing his lips around the cock passing between them, sucking down when the head is pushing that last inch down his throat. The continuous stream of moans and gasps and groans of “Justin, fuck, Justin” from Brian tell him how well he’s doing. He brings up his hands to grip Brian’s ass, because Brian isn’t looking too steady on his feet.
Right before he expects to feel warm, bitter-salty flood in his mouth, Brian pulls out completely. Abruptly tugs Justin to his feet. Justin opens his mouth to ask what Brian is doing and ends up just moaning loudly, pants around his thighs and Brian’s cock rubbing against his. He stumbles backwards, his ass hitting the copy machine, but Brian just keeps thrusting into him. The delicious friction from their cocks makes Justin groan, so Brian quiets him by sticking his tongue into Justin’s mouth.
Somehow the copy machine withstands Brian furiously grinding against him, hips connecting, Justin being pushed almost on top of the copy machine. Justin clumsily pushes down his pants, steps out of them, opening his legs wide to give Brian better access. The clasp and zip of Brian’s open pants rub against his skin, but he doesn’t care. He wonders if Brian intends to fuck him properly, but then Brian’s hand is squeezing on his dick, and it’s too late.
Justin’s back arches as he comes, causing him to slip off the machine and stumble into Brian. He holds onto Brian, feeling heated spurts below hitting his shirt, soaking the fabric, a few drops landing on the skin above his pubes. He looks down, sees Brian’s bare stomach glistening. The scent of sex fills the small space.
The two of them just stand there, holding on to each other for several minutes, while their breathing slows. Brian kisses him, presses their foreheads together.
“That was hot,” Brian says, his voice subtly rougher.
“Yeah.”
Another quiet minute passes. Then Brian lets out a laugh. “I don’t think Murph asked you to make 50 copies of whatever you were photocopying, did he?”
“Shit.”
Author: Etharei
Characters: Brian/Justin, various minor OCs
Timeline: post-308
Theme: #3 - Frottage with hair play
Rating: NC-17
Summary: All right, so maybe it’s not exactly work that’s clearly driven him bat-shit insane.
Disclaimer: Queer as Folk and all the characters and situations featured therein are the property of Showtime, Cowlip Productions and their affiliates. I’m only borrowing them for purely non-profit, recreational purposes, and promise to replenish the condom and lube supply when I’m done.
Author's Notes: This is an entry to bj-action Theme #3: Frottage with hair play. I should also make clear that this is not the promised sister-fic of 'Have a Nice Day (Justin)'. That fic is still in the works, I'm afraid.
Putting down the report from the test groups that he has been reviewing for he last hour, Brian briefly passes a hand over his eyes and considers stopping for the night. The rest of the floor outside is dark, and there’s barely any traffic over the roads outside, so everything is quiet.
The sound of approaching footsteps makes him look up. Because of the dim light, he can’t really see the figure walking on the other side of the glass panels along one wall of my office, but he has a fairly good idea of who it is.
Justin stops just outside the door, waiting for permission to enter. Brian nods. Nobody’s around, but Brian is glad that Justin keeps up the businesslike behavior. Then again, Justin is a professional when it comes to work.
“Here are the proofs you asked for, Mr. Kinney,” he says, handing Brian a stack of sheets.
Which are due noon tomorrow.
“Thank you,” Brian says, acknowledging the good prompt work with a controlled smile and an approving nod of the head. Justin’s work is always impeccable, but Brian glances through the sheets anyway, out of habit. He did tell Justin that he won’t be getting any special treatment from me. “Everything seems to be in order. Why don’t you retire for the night, Taylor?”
He nods, longish blond hair bobbing. Brian has the sudden urge to grab something. Settles for a pen, rolling it between his fingers. “Thanks, Mr. Kinney. I will, once I photocopy these. Murph wants them in the morning.” Brian notices that there are still a few sheets of paper in Justin’s hand, but what immediately distracts him is the look that grows in Justin’s eyes. He’s seen it many times before, the most recent one being this morning, when Justin had woken up to Brian coming out of the shower with only a towel. Around his head.
Shifting in his seat, Brian makes a vague dismissive gesture. Justin nods, but Brian can see the muscles around his mouth working to keep his lips level. He turns, heading for the door -
- and somehow the sheets slip his hand and flutter down to the floor. He says something like “Oops” that Brian doesn’t really hear, because a second later Justin is bending down to retrieve the papers. Not like decent, self-respecting, professional people who crouch down to get fallen items, but bending only at the waist, knees mostly straight, so that a certain body part is prominently raised into the air while the upper body has a brief meeting with the lower body.
In other words, Justin is bent over, with that plump, sweet ass bobbing in the air. Right at Brian.
The little shit. He takes an unusually long time collecting the papers, too. Clearly they make them quite slippery these days.
Brian is sure that Justin gives it a teasing little shake as he rights himself. The twat is grinning. “Sorry, I can be really clumsy sometimes.” He makes a show of dusting himself off. Except that, as far as Brian knows, people don’t usually brush down the crotch area quite that much. “Off to the copy room, then.” At the door, Justin looks back over his shoulder. Sticks the tip of his tongue out between his teeth. “Good night, Mr. Kinney,” he sing-songs before disappearing down the hallway.
Brian stares at his hands. Has a very good feeling that he won’t be making any more progress with the report, at least for tonight.
He probably should check to make sure that Justin gets to the copy room all right. Who knows what might be lying in wait in the dark building? You hear things about janitors. It’s late enough that even Cynthia has gone home.
Very bad idea, Brian Kinney. It had been a bad idea the first time. And the second. And the third. He can lose his job, and he’ll bet that there’ll be repercussions at PIFA, too. Plus, it’s a fucking cliché. Handsome, rich partner of the best advertising agency in the city fucking one of the art interns in the crazy hours of the night. Cynthia has always said the his workload and late hours will drive him mad eventually..
He finds himself on his feet, powering down his computer and putting the report in his briefcase and turning his office lights off. Leaving the building, by way of the copy room.
All right, so maybe it’s not exactly work that’s clearly driven him bat-shit insane.
#
To his credit, Justin really is photocopying something when Brian walks in. He doesn’t turn around, but his posture stiffens ever so slightly when Brian locks the door. Brian’s breathing does its own dramatic pause when he notices the way the moving light from the scanner reflects off the gold on Justin’s head.
He steps forward, presses himself onto Justin’s back, trapping Justin against the copy machine. The warmth and hum and vibration of the equipment sends a flash of heat through him, even as his nose is lost in soft silky gold.
“Is this appropriate office behavior, Mr. Kinney?” Justin whispers, tilting his head back to rest it on Brian’s shoulder.
Brian swoops down on the pale neck being offered to him, lips wide, sucking in the skin. One hand reaches around to the front of Justin’s pants, pulling down the zipper and slipping inside. No underwear, only hot, smooth skin.
“Is this appropriate office attire, Mr. Taylor?” Brian growls. Wraps his fingers around Justin’s dick, the touch taking it from half-mast to full hard-on. Strokes it slowly, his grip tight.
Justin tries to talk between shuddering breaths. “I do believe… that is your… doing, sir…this morning… you said there was… no time to… get new clothes?”
Oh. Right. He’d made Justin come in his only piece of spare underwear, and then they were both in danger of being late at the office.
“Nevertheless.” Justin’s neck is wet and warm and marked in red under his mouth. “This is potentially disruptive to the working environment. You’re a good worker, Taylor, so I’ll let you off with a small disciplinary action.”
“Not too small, sir, I hope,” Justin moans, rubbing his ass over Brian’s crotch. Brian sucks in a breath. He thinks Justin probably expects to have his pants pulled down and being fucked right there against the copy machine, which is what they always end up doing..
But Brian turns Justin around, his hand still inside Justin’s pants. Kisses him hard while his fingers continue working his dick. Justin’s arms come up to Brian’s shoulders, pulling their bodies close together. The mostly empty office had been cold, but now all Brian can feel is warmth. When Justin starts thrusting into his hand, trying to speed up the pace, Brian reluctantly lets him go. He winds his arms around Justin’s hips, just kissing him for a minute or two, hot and wet and searching.
It’s good, doing just this, but soon their hands are roaming and Justin is grinding against him while unbuttoning his shirt. He waits until the front of his shirt is completely open, then pulls away, bringing both hands up to the back of Justin’s head, enjoying the feel of soft cool hair between his fingers. He tightens his grip, looking Justin right in the eyes.
Justin waits, wondering why Brian’s got such a firm hold on his hair. He knows that Brian really, really likes how his hair is now, especially when Justin is on all fours, his ass being plowed like there’s no tomorrow, Brian’s hand using his hair like reins. In fact, that’s a really good idea.
But Brian isn’t letting him move, so Justin waits. Brian’s already teased him to raging horniness, and he needs to do something, anything, now, and why the fuck is Brian still holding on to him?
Finally Brian kisses him again, his tongue slow as it reaches all the way to the back of Justin’s throat. It leaves him a little breathless. Then there’s pressure on his head, where Brian is gently pulling him downwards by means of his hair. “Mouth only, no hands,” Brian orders in that stern, uncompromising voice that never fails to turn Justin on. Justin thinks he knows where this is going, and happily obeys.
Only Brian doesn’t let him sink to his knees just yet. Using his grip on Justin’s hair, he brings Justin down slowly over his body. Justin eagerly licks, nips, sucks on any skin he can reach. He realizes that Brian is controlling his mouth, dictating where Justin goes. It makes him feel a little wanton and dirty, being used only as a mouth, and he moans into Brian’s skin.
Brian moves Justin’s head down the center of his chest, Justin’s mouth leaving a wet trail between his pecs. Takes Justin to one nipple, groaning a little when Justin works the hardened nub with all he’s got. Then the other nipple, and down to Brian’s navel. Justin uses his tongue to follow the treasure trail down, and finally, finally, he’s an inch away from a very obvious bulge in Brian’s pants.
Brian pushes his head back, making him look up. “I hear that everyone thinks you’re the perfect little worker bee. Guess they don’t know what you get up to after hours.”
“I’m always happy to provide whatever service my superiors require of me.” Justin licks his lips, sees Brian’s eyes following the movement of his tongue.
Brian cocks his head. “Is this how you spend your lunch breaks, then?”
Justin shakes his head, his smile genuine. “Only if I’m with you, Mr. Kinney.”
“Good.” One hand lets go, leaving only one hand in Justin’s hair. Brian deftly unbuckles his own belt, Gucci falling to the floor, and undoes his fly. Justin’s mouth waters at the sight of the hard cock pushing against expensive black cotton. Unable to resist, he reaches for it with his hands, pulls down Brian’s briefs. There’s a hiss from above when the beautiful, darkly throbbing length springs free.
Brian’s free hand traces Justin’s jaw, lips. Justin smirks and opens his mouth, sucking in the thumb tracing his lips. Demonstrates on it what he wants to do to Brian’s dick. He looks up, sees Brian’s eyes widening. He knows Brian loves it when he acts the slut.
When he finally releases the thumb, Brian brings it to his cock, smearing the saliva in a line down the pulsing vein. He wraps his hand around the length, and uses his other hand to pull Justin close. Understanding, Justin loosens his jaw, opening his mouth wide.
Brian feeds Justin his cock, one slow inch at a time. Sensing that Brian intends to push all the way in, Justin breathes through his nose and relaxes his throat as much as he can. Finally his nose hits the wiry tangle of Brian’s pubes. He looks up, sees Brian waiting for his signal. He nods.
The second hand returns to his hair. Justin focuses on keeping everything loose and relaxed, as Brian slowly starts thrusting. Fucking Justin’s mouth. Once Justin gets a hang of his pace, he starts constricting his throat when Brian pulls out, making Brian moan. The small room is filled with the sound of their heavy, irregular breathing.
“So hot, Taylor,” Brian breathes. “So fucking hot.”
Justin hums in response, which elicits out a loud groan from Brian. He loves the taste of Brian, the feel of Brian in his mouth. Brian once said that he’s a born cocksucker, but Justin rather thinks that the fact that the first cock he ever sucked was Brian’s was what sealed his fate for good. Maybe that’s why, when it comes to Brian, he doesn’t need to think about technique or gauging the other person’s reactions. His body understands Brian’s better than he can ever put into words or conscious thought.
He gives it all he has. Constricting his throat when Brian pulls out, stretching and pushing his lips around the cock passing between them, sucking down when the head is pushing that last inch down his throat. The continuous stream of moans and gasps and groans of “Justin, fuck, Justin” from Brian tell him how well he’s doing. He brings up his hands to grip Brian’s ass, because Brian isn’t looking too steady on his feet.
Right before he expects to feel warm, bitter-salty flood in his mouth, Brian pulls out completely. Abruptly tugs Justin to his feet. Justin opens his mouth to ask what Brian is doing and ends up just moaning loudly, pants around his thighs and Brian’s cock rubbing against his. He stumbles backwards, his ass hitting the copy machine, but Brian just keeps thrusting into him. The delicious friction from their cocks makes Justin groan, so Brian quiets him by sticking his tongue into Justin’s mouth.
Somehow the copy machine withstands Brian furiously grinding against him, hips connecting, Justin being pushed almost on top of the copy machine. Justin clumsily pushes down his pants, steps out of them, opening his legs wide to give Brian better access. The clasp and zip of Brian’s open pants rub against his skin, but he doesn’t care. He wonders if Brian intends to fuck him properly, but then Brian’s hand is squeezing on his dick, and it’s too late.
Justin’s back arches as he comes, causing him to slip off the machine and stumble into Brian. He holds onto Brian, feeling heated spurts below hitting his shirt, soaking the fabric, a few drops landing on the skin above his pubes. He looks down, sees Brian’s bare stomach glistening. The scent of sex fills the small space.
The two of them just stand there, holding on to each other for several minutes, while their breathing slows. Brian kisses him, presses their foreheads together.
“That was hot,” Brian says, his voice subtly rougher.
“Yeah.”
Another quiet minute passes. Then Brian lets out a laugh. “I don’t think Murph asked you to make 50 copies of whatever you were photocopying, did he?”
“Shit.”