Phenomena (Named) Ch 3/?
I got a new puppy. On accident. She found me. She has kept me BUSY. Come to find out she's actually sick and is spending the night at the vet. *sigh* I'm such a sucker for animals of any kind.
When Justin finally got to his new apartment after dealing with the Greyhound station and a taxi (both of which he seriously considered never doing again), he found Brian perched on the front door step. He was smoking a cigarette, looked exhausted, angry, sad, and Justin wondered how he got more fucking beautiful every day.
"Sunshine," Brian drawled out, looking at him with heavily lidded-tired eyes.
Justin just eyed him, and kept his mouth closed. He had the feeling that he was in for a strong berating, at the least. And then he blinked...twice. A slow, dangerous smile spread over his face. Brian felt distinctly nervous.
"Well. Brian Kinney gives a shit," he said, drawing Brian's attention back to a time when Justin still wore uniforms, "You soooo care about me. You love me soooo much." He was positively giddy. He was tired and punch drunk and had been stuck on a bus. Now his lover was standing directly in front of him, and really, what's a man to do but act like a 6 year old that has just ODed on pixie stix?
Brian kept his stoic mask in place. Inside, for some reason, he had just warmed at least 5 degrees. Whatever it was that had kept him driving like the hounds of hell were following him had morphed into nervous energy while sitting on Justin's steps waiting for him. He had smoked...more than he should have. And tapped his foot. A lot. But in the face of Justin's welcome it all disappeared into a warm calm. It was the kind of feeling that he had on Sundays when he and Justin would just lay in bed, maybe fuck, maybe chat, maybe just be. It was likely to be all three at some point during the morning, and inevitably Justin's stomach would get them up and out of bed, but in those first minutes Brian thought that he may have discovered true Nirvana.
Now, looking at Justin, he was certain.
He stood up slowly, and brushed off his jeans just to draw the moment out. Brian Kinney was nothing if not a drama queen. He took the two steps to Justin slowly, invaded his space, invaded his senses but didn't make contact.
"Yeah, I do" he answered with a cocky smirk, "a whole fucking lot actually. Now, give me my fucking gold card back, you little shit."
Justin wasn't sure if it was the fact that he was exhausted or the fact that he was running on pure adrenaline but for a brief second he thought he might be hallucinating. What better way to discover whether or not Brian was real than to push him up against the wall and kiss him like there was no tomorrow? And maybe there wasn't.
Justin was pretty sure in that moment-when his lips connected to Brian's, when his body slammed into him, feeling him instantly harden-that every tomorrow from then on would be different. They evolved in that kiss, on a street, outside of a shitty apartment building in Brooklyn. As they kissed Justin let Brian's words roll around in his head, he let the fact that Brian was no longer simply acting out his feelings seep into every one of his pores. He realized that the changes he had begun to fear weren't actually Brian slipping away, they were Brian feeling safe. And it made him horny, but it also made him want to grab Brian's hand, race up the stairs to the roof and scream to the world how in love he was.
Brian was on fire. He never really understood why Justin intoxicated him. In the beginning he thought that if he dwelt on it he would be admitting something...that he just couldn't. After a while it became second nature to such an extent that he forgot to care. But it was never this. Never. Not after the fucking prom, not last night, this was something else. Brian felt like he should dwell on this feeling, take the time to analyze it, seek out what it meant. Because this feeling was good and real and he felt...fucking free. After hate and violence and cancer and near marriage Brian and Justin just stood and touched, and Brian felt free. He couldn't prevent the groan that escaped his throat as he ran his fingers into Justin's hair and grabbed a handful of his ass.
"Well Sunshine, we need to take one more ride."
Justin simply huffed at him. He had developed a distinct hatred for all things motored recently (buses do that) and he really just wanted to find the nearest bed...or ally...and feel Brian slam into him for as long as they both shall...fuck.
Brian led Justin to the car, hefting one of his duffel bags onto his shoulder. He threw the bags into the trunk of the car and pushed Justin unceremoniously into the passenger seat.
"I was recently informed that I had changed," Brian began as he slid into his seat. Justin just cringed, "Said individual was correct. I have. And I feel like I need a vacation to deal with all this shit." Justin glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't really sure if he should talk, he might start saying "I love you" and never stop. "It will take a long time for me to figure out how to deal with New York, Justin. I'm not moving here and you're not coming home until you fucking try this on. But we'll make those more banal decisions later, right now I'm going to find the nearest *decent* bed and fuck you for a week."
"Yaye," Justin purred, pulling out Brian's gold card and wiggling it in front of his face, "I'll treat."
"Twat," Brian spat out, grinning like a fool. On the evolutionary scale, Brian decided that this was going to be very, very good.
When Justin finally got to his new apartment after dealing with the Greyhound station and a taxi (both of which he seriously considered never doing again), he found Brian perched on the front door step. He was smoking a cigarette, looked exhausted, angry, sad, and Justin wondered how he got more fucking beautiful every day.
"Sunshine," Brian drawled out, looking at him with heavily lidded-tired eyes.
Justin just eyed him, and kept his mouth closed. He had the feeling that he was in for a strong berating, at the least. And then he blinked...twice. A slow, dangerous smile spread over his face. Brian felt distinctly nervous.
"Well. Brian Kinney gives a shit," he said, drawing Brian's attention back to a time when Justin still wore uniforms, "You soooo care about me. You love me soooo much." He was positively giddy. He was tired and punch drunk and had been stuck on a bus. Now his lover was standing directly in front of him, and really, what's a man to do but act like a 6 year old that has just ODed on pixie stix?
Brian kept his stoic mask in place. Inside, for some reason, he had just warmed at least 5 degrees. Whatever it was that had kept him driving like the hounds of hell were following him had morphed into nervous energy while sitting on Justin's steps waiting for him. He had smoked...more than he should have. And tapped his foot. A lot. But in the face of Justin's welcome it all disappeared into a warm calm. It was the kind of feeling that he had on Sundays when he and Justin would just lay in bed, maybe fuck, maybe chat, maybe just be. It was likely to be all three at some point during the morning, and inevitably Justin's stomach would get them up and out of bed, but in those first minutes Brian thought that he may have discovered true Nirvana.
Now, looking at Justin, he was certain.
He stood up slowly, and brushed off his jeans just to draw the moment out. Brian Kinney was nothing if not a drama queen. He took the two steps to Justin slowly, invaded his space, invaded his senses but didn't make contact.
"Yeah, I do" he answered with a cocky smirk, "a whole fucking lot actually. Now, give me my fucking gold card back, you little shit."
Justin wasn't sure if it was the fact that he was exhausted or the fact that he was running on pure adrenaline but for a brief second he thought he might be hallucinating. What better way to discover whether or not Brian was real than to push him up against the wall and kiss him like there was no tomorrow? And maybe there wasn't.
Justin was pretty sure in that moment-when his lips connected to Brian's, when his body slammed into him, feeling him instantly harden-that every tomorrow from then on would be different. They evolved in that kiss, on a street, outside of a shitty apartment building in Brooklyn. As they kissed Justin let Brian's words roll around in his head, he let the fact that Brian was no longer simply acting out his feelings seep into every one of his pores. He realized that the changes he had begun to fear weren't actually Brian slipping away, they were Brian feeling safe. And it made him horny, but it also made him want to grab Brian's hand, race up the stairs to the roof and scream to the world how in love he was.
Brian was on fire. He never really understood why Justin intoxicated him. In the beginning he thought that if he dwelt on it he would be admitting something...that he just couldn't. After a while it became second nature to such an extent that he forgot to care. But it was never this. Never. Not after the fucking prom, not last night, this was something else. Brian felt like he should dwell on this feeling, take the time to analyze it, seek out what it meant. Because this feeling was good and real and he felt...fucking free. After hate and violence and cancer and near marriage Brian and Justin just stood and touched, and Brian felt free. He couldn't prevent the groan that escaped his throat as he ran his fingers into Justin's hair and grabbed a handful of his ass.
"Well Sunshine, we need to take one more ride."
Justin simply huffed at him. He had developed a distinct hatred for all things motored recently (buses do that) and he really just wanted to find the nearest bed...or ally...and feel Brian slam into him for as long as they both shall...fuck.
Brian led Justin to the car, hefting one of his duffel bags onto his shoulder. He threw the bags into the trunk of the car and pushed Justin unceremoniously into the passenger seat.
"I was recently informed that I had changed," Brian began as he slid into his seat. Justin just cringed, "Said individual was correct. I have. And I feel like I need a vacation to deal with all this shit." Justin glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't really sure if he should talk, he might start saying "I love you" and never stop. "It will take a long time for me to figure out how to deal with New York, Justin. I'm not moving here and you're not coming home until you fucking try this on. But we'll make those more banal decisions later, right now I'm going to find the nearest *decent* bed and fuck you for a week."
"Yaye," Justin purred, pulling out Brian's gold card and wiggling it in front of his face, "I'll treat."
"Twat," Brian spat out, grinning like a fool. On the evolutionary scale, Brian decided that this was going to be very, very good.