How To: Hitch a Breeder - Step 7/15
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[ previous chapters ]
Step 7: Be Patient / I Want You to Want Me
Thursday morning didn’t start out too well when the alarm went off at what felt like half an hour after Brian had fallen asleep.
On the way to the shower, someone hit replay in his head. Again.
Justin. Justin, in his office, yesterday. Justin, pressed against him, tasting of sugar and of heat.
Brian turned on the water and let it run to muscle-relaxing hot before he stood under the spray.
Justin. The soft hair on the back of his neck, the smooth skin, the moans he tried to hold back but that vibrated through his body anyway.
Fuck, Brian had wanted him. Even now the thought made his fingers itch, his cock fill and his mouth have withdrawal issues.
He groaned and adjusted the water temperature down. Cold turkey it was.
+
A day later, Brian was back at the hospital.
Vic’s new drug cocktail seemed to be failing on the first test round.
Consequently, he was also back on the hunt for coffee. It seemed the coffee vending machine from hell had finally given up service for good and no amount of verbal abuse was going to change that, as a nurse had explained to Brian.
Brian wasn’t proud of himself when he realized he’d gotten lost, but at least he spotted a coffee machine at the end of the corridor. He sighed with relief when the-albeit thin-stream of coffee started flowing and the cup filled slowly.
“Were you looking for me?”
Brian turned around and saw the woman in the hallway corner. “Excuse me?”
“They sent you, didn’t they?”
“Not that I know of.” Brian frowned, then turned away and cursed the coffee machine for taking so long.
“I know that you’re part of this. So just end it already!”
Brian rubbed his forehead. “Look, lady, I’m just here to get some coffee, alright?” He turned and saw that she’d wheeled herself closer to where he was standing. The look in her eyes made him feel like a public enemy.
She scoffed, boney fingers clasping at a bright orange pashmina, eyes still distrustful. “You’re telling me you’re not here to take me?”
“I assure you, I’m not.” He reached for his plastic cup and took a sip. Even this crap tasted good at the moment.
Brian noticed her battered hospital bracelet. The name was upside down but he could still read it. J. Taylor, room 205.
He couldn’t help the snort. Another fricken J. Taylor.
“Jennifer!”
Brian turned to see a nurse hurrying down the corridor.
“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you! You know you shouldn’t be out and about by yourself.” The nurse took hold of the woman’s hand. “I’ve been worried, Jennifer. Don’t do this.”
“I can do whatever I want!” With surprising strength, the frail woman yanked her hand away.
The nurse sighed. “I hope she wasn’t troubling you,” she said, looking up at Brian.
“Uh, no, that’s alright.”
“I don’t want to go back to my room!” came the yell.
The nurse stared at her with intent, voice almost stern now. “If you don’t behave, I’m going to have to tell Justin.”
Jennifer’s lips formed a thin line, but the bellicose look went from her eyes.
The nurse just nodded and wheeled the woman into the direction of the elevators, prattling about dinner and playing cards.
And Brian just knew. They had the exact same eye color.
He threw the lukewarm coffee down his throat and walked.
+
Twenty unnerving minutes later, when he knocked on the door, nobody answered.
“Mrs. Taylor?”
“Who-Who wants to know?”
“I’m- I have your scarf,” Brian said to the grey door. He looked down at the orange cashmere in his hand. He’d found it right at the end of the corridor where they met.
“Come in.”
She was sitting in a stuffy chair by the window and Brian was surprised by how different she looked in this particular setting. The floral patterned decor made her look organic, too.
Leaving the elevator at the psychiatric ward had made Brian feel a little uneasy already and now that he was here, he had no idea what to say. Not that he was here to fucking talk.
He noticed the flower bouquet on the dresser - a couple of petals were wilted and stuck out unnaturally against the rest.
“You like flowers?”
Brian cleared his throat before answering. “Not particularly.”
“My son brings me some every Wednesday. Always daisies.”
The other J. Taylor. Right. “Right. So, I just wanted to give you your scarf.” He stepped forward and laid it on the dresser, right next to the flowers in the vase. Then it was time to leave.
Reaching the door, he told her goodbye and made the mistake of turning back to look at her one last time. Her scrutinizing eyes bore into him. No doubt she had him pegged for some kind of evil henchman.
She took the pachmina from the dresser and her face suddenly cleared. “You know, you might be one of the good ones, after all.”
Brian blinked, gave a faint nod and closed the door.
He had trouble believing that.
+
Brian didn’t tell Michael about his strange encounter when he drove him home later.
Instead, he decided to complain. “You really need to get a car, Mikey.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re always dependent on someone else chauffeuring you! How do you even get around all day? How do you transport your assembled hubby and kids?”
“We usually take our bikes. Or well, the bus.”
“Well, that’s ridiculous.”
“Uh-huh. Why the sudden interest in my mode of transportation?”
“Forget it.”
“Okay.” Michael looked out the window.
They drove in silence for a while.
“You know Justin, right? One of my freelancers?” Brian had never been known for his subtle approach.
“The blond kid? Yeah, I’ve seen him a couple of times. He and Ted were-”
“Yeah, yeah. What do you think about him?”
“Um… he seems… nice, I guess? I barely know him.” Michael turned to look at him and Brian felt caught. “What kind of conversation is this?”
“No, this is not…” Fuck, this was supposed to be casual.
“Do you want to fuck him?”
Yes. “No!? I’m just wonderi-”
“You do! You want to fuck him! And…” Brian watched Michael’s eyes widen. “Oh my god, he’s straight!”
Brian tried to scoff. “That’s what he says.”
“Wait, wait. So, we don’t believe him?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Um, Brian, this doesn’t sound like a good idea.”
“What doesn’t?” He hadn’t even said anything!
“Whatever it is you’re planning to prove that he, that no one, can resist you.”
Why did Mikey have to have one of his clever moments right now? “I don’t necessarily want to fuck him, I just… want him to-”
“Want you? Brian, you can’t fuck with people like that.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You want him to come out of his - possibly nonexistent - closet and mess him up just because you can’t deal with the fact that for once you want a guy that you can’t have. And once that’s settled you’ll cross him off your to-do list - oh, look at that pun - and move on. Did I get that right?”
Living with a professor obviously paid off for Michael. Brian rubbed at a spot on the dashboard.
“So I did,” Michael concluded. “You know, I think that’s the most assholish thing I’ve heard from you in a while.”
“What? It was you who just went ahead on a rant. You didn’t hear any - assholish or not - thing from me.” And what’s more, something about the way Mikey summarized didn’t sound right. “And it’s not like that. I don’t want him to… He just frustrates me, is all. I’m not gonna do anything.” Brian stopped the car in front of Michael’s place.
“Really?”
“Yeah. He’s straight and that’s that. Let’s forget about this, okay?”
“Sure.” Michael didn’t look convinced as he grabbed for the handle and got out.
Brian went home and checked Justin’s restrictedly visible Facebook profile for the fourth time that day. He couldn’t believe Justin had Ted friended. In real life even.
He hated Facebook more than ever.
+
Justin had never particularly cared that his jerk-off fantasies didn’t contain specific pictures. He’d never shared the appeal of FHM wallpapers or Victoria’s Secret catalogues.
But that was okay. He always told himself that he just didn’t need specific images.
At 24, he’d had sex exactly once, and sometimes, when he heard about other friends’ exploits, he did wonder if that was odd. April Johnson was the girl. When they were rolling around on the disgusting carpet of her dorm room after endless shots of Cuervo one night, they vowed that they’d lose their virginity before the end of the semester or they’d have to sleep with each other.
And that’s exactly what they’d done at the end of the semester, during another Cuervo-soaked night on April’s disgusting carpet. It hadn’t been particularly good, but then, they were both very drunk and had no idea what they were doing. Justin only remembered that he’d gotten off alright and that her skin had looked really nice under the faint light from the bedside lamp.
They’d actually managed to stay friends for the rest of college, albeit it was kept a bit shallower than before.
A couple of weeks after his first time with April, things with his mom had started falling apart and Justin started to invest a lot of time in his design work. Not much time to look for getting laid was left.
Adjusting the shower spray to a little colder while his hand continued to slide up and down his dick, he felt a difference. He felt it in every pore. He knew he should stop and get out of the damn shower, but he couldn’t. Turning around, forehead against tile, he just jerked harder. The fog in his head cleared, pictures defined slowly, and he had to brace himself against the tile.
Justin came to sharp angles - strong jaw line, dark hair, skilled hands - and the memory of a warm mouth on his neck.
[ Step 8 ]
[ previous chapters ]
Step 7: Be Patient / I Want You to Want Me
Thursday morning didn’t start out too well when the alarm went off at what felt like half an hour after Brian had fallen asleep.
On the way to the shower, someone hit replay in his head. Again.
Justin. Justin, in his office, yesterday. Justin, pressed against him, tasting of sugar and of heat.
Brian turned on the water and let it run to muscle-relaxing hot before he stood under the spray.
Justin. The soft hair on the back of his neck, the smooth skin, the moans he tried to hold back but that vibrated through his body anyway.
Fuck, Brian had wanted him. Even now the thought made his fingers itch, his cock fill and his mouth have withdrawal issues.
He groaned and adjusted the water temperature down. Cold turkey it was.
+
A day later, Brian was back at the hospital.
Vic’s new drug cocktail seemed to be failing on the first test round.
Consequently, he was also back on the hunt for coffee. It seemed the coffee vending machine from hell had finally given up service for good and no amount of verbal abuse was going to change that, as a nurse had explained to Brian.
Brian wasn’t proud of himself when he realized he’d gotten lost, but at least he spotted a coffee machine at the end of the corridor. He sighed with relief when the-albeit thin-stream of coffee started flowing and the cup filled slowly.
“Were you looking for me?”
Brian turned around and saw the woman in the hallway corner. “Excuse me?”
“They sent you, didn’t they?”
“Not that I know of.” Brian frowned, then turned away and cursed the coffee machine for taking so long.
“I know that you’re part of this. So just end it already!”
Brian rubbed his forehead. “Look, lady, I’m just here to get some coffee, alright?” He turned and saw that she’d wheeled herself closer to where he was standing. The look in her eyes made him feel like a public enemy.
She scoffed, boney fingers clasping at a bright orange pashmina, eyes still distrustful. “You’re telling me you’re not here to take me?”
“I assure you, I’m not.” He reached for his plastic cup and took a sip. Even this crap tasted good at the moment.
Brian noticed her battered hospital bracelet. The name was upside down but he could still read it. J. Taylor, room 205.
He couldn’t help the snort. Another fricken J. Taylor.
“Jennifer!”
Brian turned to see a nurse hurrying down the corridor.
“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you! You know you shouldn’t be out and about by yourself.” The nurse took hold of the woman’s hand. “I’ve been worried, Jennifer. Don’t do this.”
“I can do whatever I want!” With surprising strength, the frail woman yanked her hand away.
The nurse sighed. “I hope she wasn’t troubling you,” she said, looking up at Brian.
“Uh, no, that’s alright.”
“I don’t want to go back to my room!” came the yell.
The nurse stared at her with intent, voice almost stern now. “If you don’t behave, I’m going to have to tell Justin.”
Jennifer’s lips formed a thin line, but the bellicose look went from her eyes.
The nurse just nodded and wheeled the woman into the direction of the elevators, prattling about dinner and playing cards.
And Brian just knew. They had the exact same eye color.
He threw the lukewarm coffee down his throat and walked.
+
Twenty unnerving minutes later, when he knocked on the door, nobody answered.
“Mrs. Taylor?”
“Who-Who wants to know?”
“I’m- I have your scarf,” Brian said to the grey door. He looked down at the orange cashmere in his hand. He’d found it right at the end of the corridor where they met.
“Come in.”
She was sitting in a stuffy chair by the window and Brian was surprised by how different she looked in this particular setting. The floral patterned decor made her look organic, too.
Leaving the elevator at the psychiatric ward had made Brian feel a little uneasy already and now that he was here, he had no idea what to say. Not that he was here to fucking talk.
He noticed the flower bouquet on the dresser - a couple of petals were wilted and stuck out unnaturally against the rest.
“You like flowers?”
Brian cleared his throat before answering. “Not particularly.”
“My son brings me some every Wednesday. Always daisies.”
The other J. Taylor. Right. “Right. So, I just wanted to give you your scarf.” He stepped forward and laid it on the dresser, right next to the flowers in the vase. Then it was time to leave.
Reaching the door, he told her goodbye and made the mistake of turning back to look at her one last time. Her scrutinizing eyes bore into him. No doubt she had him pegged for some kind of evil henchman.
She took the pachmina from the dresser and her face suddenly cleared. “You know, you might be one of the good ones, after all.”
Brian blinked, gave a faint nod and closed the door.
He had trouble believing that.
+
Brian didn’t tell Michael about his strange encounter when he drove him home later.
Instead, he decided to complain. “You really need to get a car, Mikey.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re always dependent on someone else chauffeuring you! How do you even get around all day? How do you transport your assembled hubby and kids?”
“We usually take our bikes. Or well, the bus.”
“Well, that’s ridiculous.”
“Uh-huh. Why the sudden interest in my mode of transportation?”
“Forget it.”
“Okay.” Michael looked out the window.
They drove in silence for a while.
“You know Justin, right? One of my freelancers?” Brian had never been known for his subtle approach.
“The blond kid? Yeah, I’ve seen him a couple of times. He and Ted were-”
“Yeah, yeah. What do you think about him?”
“Um… he seems… nice, I guess? I barely know him.” Michael turned to look at him and Brian felt caught. “What kind of conversation is this?”
“No, this is not…” Fuck, this was supposed to be casual.
“Do you want to fuck him?”
Yes. “No!? I’m just wonderi-”
“You do! You want to fuck him! And…” Brian watched Michael’s eyes widen. “Oh my god, he’s straight!”
Brian tried to scoff. “That’s what he says.”
“Wait, wait. So, we don’t believe him?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Um, Brian, this doesn’t sound like a good idea.”
“What doesn’t?” He hadn’t even said anything!
“Whatever it is you’re planning to prove that he, that no one, can resist you.”
Why did Mikey have to have one of his clever moments right now? “I don’t necessarily want to fuck him, I just… want him to-”
“Want you? Brian, you can’t fuck with people like that.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You want him to come out of his - possibly nonexistent - closet and mess him up just because you can’t deal with the fact that for once you want a guy that you can’t have. And once that’s settled you’ll cross him off your to-do list - oh, look at that pun - and move on. Did I get that right?”
Living with a professor obviously paid off for Michael. Brian rubbed at a spot on the dashboard.
“So I did,” Michael concluded. “You know, I think that’s the most assholish thing I’ve heard from you in a while.”
“What? It was you who just went ahead on a rant. You didn’t hear any - assholish or not - thing from me.” And what’s more, something about the way Mikey summarized didn’t sound right. “And it’s not like that. I don’t want him to… He just frustrates me, is all. I’m not gonna do anything.” Brian stopped the car in front of Michael’s place.
“Really?”
“Yeah. He’s straight and that’s that. Let’s forget about this, okay?”
“Sure.” Michael didn’t look convinced as he grabbed for the handle and got out.
Brian went home and checked Justin’s restrictedly visible Facebook profile for the fourth time that day. He couldn’t believe Justin had Ted friended. In real life even.
He hated Facebook more than ever.
+
Justin had never particularly cared that his jerk-off fantasies didn’t contain specific pictures. He’d never shared the appeal of FHM wallpapers or Victoria’s Secret catalogues.
But that was okay. He always told himself that he just didn’t need specific images.
At 24, he’d had sex exactly once, and sometimes, when he heard about other friends’ exploits, he did wonder if that was odd. April Johnson was the girl. When they were rolling around on the disgusting carpet of her dorm room after endless shots of Cuervo one night, they vowed that they’d lose their virginity before the end of the semester or they’d have to sleep with each other.
And that’s exactly what they’d done at the end of the semester, during another Cuervo-soaked night on April’s disgusting carpet. It hadn’t been particularly good, but then, they were both very drunk and had no idea what they were doing. Justin only remembered that he’d gotten off alright and that her skin had looked really nice under the faint light from the bedside lamp.
They’d actually managed to stay friends for the rest of college, albeit it was kept a bit shallower than before.
A couple of weeks after his first time with April, things with his mom had started falling apart and Justin started to invest a lot of time in his design work. Not much time to look for getting laid was left.
Adjusting the shower spray to a little colder while his hand continued to slide up and down his dick, he felt a difference. He felt it in every pore. He knew he should stop and get out of the damn shower, but he couldn’t. Turning around, forehead against tile, he just jerked harder. The fog in his head cleared, pictures defined slowly, and he had to brace himself against the tile.
Justin came to sharp angles - strong jaw line, dark hair, skilled hands - and the memory of a warm mouth on his neck.
[ Step 8 ]