Nowhere We Know
Chapter 2
Alone, Together
By Violet Jones
“We will go nowhere we know, we don’t have to talk at all.”
-Beck
“The world is over, but I don’t care ‘cause I am with you, see I’ve got to explain…
Things they have changed in such a permanent way. Life seems unreal, can we go back to your place?”
-The Strokes
********************
True to his word, Justin was ready to go ten minutes later. The strange thing was, I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. I couldn’t stop looking at him, either. I just watched his face painted with blank resolve, and not a small amount of unease. And there I was feeling light as a feather. Ready for anything. Completely sure of myself, even though I had no fucking idea what I was doing.
We got down to the car, and I threw his bag in the trunk. The small space was practically full with just the two bags occupying it.
Justin snickered, and shook his head. He didn’t say anything, but I knew exactly what he was thinking. “How the fuck is Brian going to manage with one bag of clothes for two months?” I didn’t say anything, because he didn’t ask the question. He only thought it. And I’m not going to volunteer anything. The talking can wait. I didn’t want to answer any questions at that time, even silly ones about clothing.
He got in the passenger’s side, and placed his backpack at his feet, propped up against the door. I got in the driver’s side, and just sat there, staring straight down the road. I leaned over the steering wheel, resting my chin there, trying to make the small decision of which direction to head. Where to go first. Justin just stared at me. He didn’t say anything, he just watched me thinking. He was probably expecting me to call the whole thing off. Just waiting for me to say, “You know what? Forget it. This is stupid. This is crazy. Get the fuck out of the car.” But those thoughts never crossed my mind.
Finally, I made my choice. I revved the engine, and we were off. Off on some completely unknown adventure, to some completely unknown place. I’m pretty sure I was still smiling. And I’m pretty sure he was still in shock.
I thought for sure he’d ask me where we were going. I thought he’d demand to know what I was thinking, so that he could be a part of the decision-making. But he didn’t say a word. It was beautiful. A really good start. Not that I want him to be mute on this trip; quite the contrary. It’s just that at this time, I didn’t need him to say anything. And the fact that he didn’t was proof to me that this was a good idea. If he can still read me, then this can work.
I got on the highway, and before we hit the turnpike, he was out. Not a surprise considering the past two nights he’s had. But that’s a fleeting thought. No need to think about that too much. The boy is tired. Simple as that.
I look over at him, and the smile returns to my face. I can’t fucking help it. This is exciting. I’ve never done anything like this.
When I was in college, I went on a couple of road trips. One was with Mikey, and the other was with a few guys from Penn State. I had a passing interest in one of them. I wouldn’t call it going out, but I definitely fucked him more than once. Christ… I haven’t thought about Brandon in years. Anyway, both trips were fun. But they weren’t very long. They weren’t thrown together. They were planned out, and only lasted a week or two. This is something entirely different. The purpose behind it is way more complex.
“Hmmm…”
I look over at Justin, watching him hum and sigh in his sleep. He’s been out for about five hours now. I wonder what he’s dreaming about.
Tired of the silence, finally, I turn on the radio, and the CD I was listening to earlier continues. David Bowie’s ‘Hunky Dory’. I concentrate on the vast expanse of highway ahead, and mumble some of the words to the songs.
The next time I look over, Justin’s awake, and blinking in the harsh brightness of the sun.
“Hey,” I say, turning down the stereo. As usual, he doesn’t respond. He’s the kind of sleeper who takes a while to adjust before being functional again. It’s cute. His face always looks so soft when he just wakes up.
“There’s an extra pair of sunglasses in the glove box, if you want to wear them.”
He blinks some more and rubs his face, before opening the compartment and pulling out the glasses. They’re one of my smaller pair, and they actually look good on him.
“What are you so smiley about?” he asks with a tinge of bitterness, sinking into the seat, and crossing his arms.
“I’m in a good mood. You should try it. It’s nice.”
He snorts. “Whatever.”
“Don’t be pissy, Sunshine. Cheer up, and think of what’s to come.”
“Yeah. Who the fuck knows what that’ll be. Where are we going?”
“Somewhere fun.”
He looks out the window, searching for a sign to tell him which direction we’re headed. Sure enough, half a mile down he sees one.
“No way! BRIAN! Are you serious?”
“It’s just for a few days. We’re going to get our shit together, figure some things out, and then we’re heading in the completely opposite direction.”
“Oh my god! Brian, this is going to be so much better than last time!”
He leans over and kisses my cheek, as his pissy attitude flies out the window.
*******************
New York City!
I’m so damn excited now. I know that the last time we were here we didn’t exactly get out and do much, but we had an amazing time. Okay, so we were only here together for a few hours doing some serious fucking in a hotel room, but believe me, it was an amazing time. I’m not sure what it was exactly that got us so hot. For me, it was the fact that Brian drove all that way to get me. He looked like death warmed over, and stank like nobody’s business. I know it doesn’t sound attractive, but it was so hot. He came all that way for me, not caring about his appearance for once, and that seemed kind of sweet to me. And I knew I had him in the palm of my hand, even if it was only for a brief moment in time.
We attacked each other with animalistic ferocity, and it was perfect. Fuck, I’m getting hard just thinking about it. I wonder how he remembers it. What makes a fuck stand out in his mind? I mean, he does so goddamn much of it, I know that it has to be something pretty remarkable. I’ll have to ask him about that sometime. Definitely an interesting topic to pick his brain on.
“Feeling all rosy again?”
“You know me,” I say, grinning sweetly. “What are we gonna do first?”
“We’re gonna go to the hotel, and sleep the day away, because I am in no mood for anything else.”
“But, I just woke up from like a 6 hour nap! I don’t wanna sleep.”
“Then I guess you’ll have some fun time to yourself… Unless, of course, you can figure out a way to keep me awake.”
Can I? Please.
“I think I may know a trick or two,” I smile broadly.
We reach the hotel about 20 minutes later. A place called The Melrose in the Upper East Side off Lexington.
We pull up in front, and Brian turns the car over to the valet, as we get our two measly bags out of the trunk.
“Let me help you with those, sirs,” a bellboy says, approaching from behind us.
“No thanks,” Brian replies, and we make our way inside.
It’s nice. Not too overdone like most of the big hotels in the city. It’s not quite trendy-sparse like the places in SoHo, and definitely not decadent like the Plaza. Of course, I’m going mostly on what I’ve seen in movies, and on the Travel Channel. That channel can be strangely addicting.
“Reservation for Kinney,” Brian says to the desk clerk.
While he’s clicking away at the computer, I narrow my eyes at Brian.
“I thought this was all spur of the moment.”
“It was. I called ahead from the Pitts right after you passed out.”
I roll my eyes at him.
“Credit card, please.”
He hands over his Uberplatinum card, and looks over at me with a big dumb grin on his face. Jesus, his enthusiasm is contagious. I smile back at him, thoughts of New York City hotels meshing with hot sexual encounters. Dammit, I’m hard again. And the fucker notices, and his smile gets wider. I turn mine into a frown, and turn to look at the marble walls, pretending to be interested in the detailing of the borders.
“You requested a Deluxe Queen, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Three nights, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Sign here. Here’s you room key. My name is Rob. If you need anything, do not hesitate to call. Enjoy your stay.”
Room 314 is nice. It’s more than nice. The walls, furniture, and carpet are almost all white, and the decor is very minimalist, which I appreciate. I can’t stand gaudy hotel rooms with stiff comforters and cheap furniture. I’m sure we won’t be staying at places like this on the entire trip, however. I know Brian probably would if it were up to him, but once we get to some remote area without five, four, and sometimes even three star hotels, he’ll be forced to rough it. And I’ll enjoy every minute of it.
I drop my bag on the floor and jump on the bed, turning onto my back, and letting out a nice long sigh.
“This is SO comfortable! Mmmm… I could totally fall asleep again.”
“I thought you were going to find a way to keep me up,” Brian grins suggestively, nearing the bed slowly.
“I don’t know,” I tease. “I didn’t realize just how tired I was.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate,” he plays along, lowering himself down next to me.
We stare up at the ceiling.
“How much is this costing you exactly?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“That bad?”
“Not for New York.”
“We could’ve stayed somewhere else. I mean, two months paying for everything we’re going to be doing, Brian. It’s going to be a lot.”
“I told you I can afford it. Besides, any other decent hotel in New York would be just as much, if not more, expensive than this place. You should know. I seem to remember finding you in a big suite at the Grand fucking Hyatt.”
“Ah, so you do remember,” I say turning onto my side, propping my head up with my arm.
I stare at him until he turns to face me, propping his head up in the same manner, and studying me before he answers.
“How the hell could I forget that?”
I feel a familiar jolt of elation run through my body. The kind I get when he does or says something so small, yet so meaningful to me. The kind that gets me thinking that he really loves me.
********************
Is this kid for real? I study his face to see if he’s just fishing for compliments, or if he’s genuinely uncertain. All signs point to uncertainty. What a fucking idiot.
“How the hell could I forget that?”
You don’t easily forget a fuck that intense. It’s hard even attempting to. I used to find myself trying to forget that particular one, among others. Tried to bury the feelings I could remember having at the time. The way I’d never quite felt before. Not necessarily in the physical sense, either. It was deeper than that, and it was truly terrifying.
“So you have fond memories of New York hotels, too, huh?”
“I wouldn’t exactly use the word ‘fond’. I’d probably say ‘fucking hot’.”
He beams at me, and it feels good to be blinded by that smile again. That was one of the things I really missed. It’s one of the few things that makes me feel happy. It takes one hell of a pissy mood for me not to smile when he does. It’s infectious.
“Stop smiling,” I say softly, inching closer to his face.
“You stop.”
“Fuck off,” I say, just before my lips reach his.
I move my hands to either side of his face, running my fingers through his long flaxen hair. It feels better than it did before. Better than I remember. Softer somehow.
I feel his body push itself up against mine, and his right leg hook over my left calf. His hands grasp my neck firmly, gently rubbing my skin, and I feel his straining hard-on against my stomach, while my own presses against his thigh.
“Mmmm… Bri…”
Fuck.
I roll over on top of him, crushing him into the mattress as I continue my oral assault on his perfect mouth. My hands massage his head, as his explore my back, tugging on my tee shirt, pulling it up so he can feel my flesh. Breaking the kiss momentarily, I allow him to pull the shirt over my head, and toss it to the floor. I take the time to hover above him, smiling down, staring directly into his eyes. I missed him so fucking much. But I don’t say it. I don’t have to. He knows.
He draws me back down to him, attempting to swallow me whole. His tongue moves against mine in the expert way I remember. I missed kissing him. I haven’t kissed his or anyone else’s mouth in months. I forgot how great it was. The power of it. The sensuality of it. Better than fucking, almost.
The thought makes me moan into his mouth, and I draw away again, sitting up and pulling him with me, as I straddle his hips. I quickly remove his shirt, attacking his long neck. Sucking hard, raking my fingers across his chest, while he lays there resting his hands lightly on my shoulders, panting openly. I nip, lick, and suck on the same spot until I see a mean red and purple mark on the surface of his pale skin.
“Oh, god, Brian…”
My lips blaze a path across his chest, and I take his left nipple into my mouth laving it, suckling it, biting it softly. I know it drives him wild, and he hisses through his teeth. I continue down to his waistline, and nimbly undo his jeans, kissing around his navel. I pull a condom from my pocket and toss it off to the side. As I raise up to pull the pants off of his legs, he reaches for the buttons on my own jeans, and captures my lips with his own once again. Somehow we manage to rid ourselves of the clothes as we lose ourselves in each other.
I push him back onto the bed, and reach for his throbbing erection, stroking it as I lick around his lips, taunting him. Trying to make him insane with lust. It works.
“Brian… mmm… fuck me…”
“You sure, Sunshine?”
“Yes!”
“Positive?”
“YES!”
“How bad do you want it?” I tease, rubbing my thumb across his leaking slit, while sucking his bottom lip into my mouth.
“Ooohhhhh… bad.”
“What’s that?”
“Bad! I want it bad.”
“How much?” I ask, moving my other hand to cup his balls, squeezing them lightly, as he moans louder.
“Oh, god! So fucking much!”
I move my left hand away from his heavy sac, and place two fingers into my mouth, coating them with saliva. Then I place the same fingers in his mouth.
“Suck.”
He does as he’s told, and the look on his face is fucking amazing. Sheer beauty. Nothing can quite match the look of ecstasy that I put on that face.
I maneuver myself so that I’m kneeling between his legs, and spread his knees apart, planting his feet on the bed. Eyes trained on his face, I move my spit-soaked fingers across his crack, and massage his hole.
“FUCK!” he cries, and I feel him spasm in response.
“You like that?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“I love it.”
“Good answer.”
I swiftly place my hands under his knees and lift his ass in the air, bringing my face toward his tight opening. I hesitate for a fraction of a second, blowing on the tender knot of flesh before assaulting it with my tongue. I push the tip in, and squeeze his thighs as I plunge deeper inside of him.
“Briiiian… fuck… yeah… ooooohhhhhhh…”
I work my tongue in and around his hole, slicking his channel, and loosening him up. His upper body writhes on the bed, and his moans of pleasure fill my head, hazing my senses. I open my eyes to look at his face again from this vantage point, and sweat drips into them causing a stinging sensation. I watch Justin reach for his cock, and take that as my cue to move on.
With one last lick, I lower his hips back to the bed, releasing his thighs from my firm grip. I quickly slap his hand away before he touches himself, and shake my head at him, smirking naughtily. The frantic need is evident on his face. He needs a release. So, I give it to him.
Swooping down once more, I take his thick cock into my mouth, bringing him off in a few short strokes. His cum shoots down my throat and I swallow every drop.
While he lies there gasping for air, I reach over and grab the pre-lubed condom. Tearing open the wrapper with my teeth, I quickly roll it over my dick.
Before Justin can catch his breath, I’m pushing into him again.
“Ooooohhhhhhhh, GOD! Brian!”
I place his legs on my shoulders, and pull out, starting off slow, building up to deep hard thrusts, straight into bliss.
********************
Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t think straight. I’ve waited so long to be in this position again. Beneath Brian. It’s the best place I’ve ever been. I missed it so much. It just… it feels too fucking good for words. Physically, mentally, emotionally, all of it. It’s comforting and satisfying in a way that is indescribable. It’s the only time my mind, body, and soul are completely focused, and immersed in one moment. It’s the greatest feeling in the world. I don’t know how I went without it for so long.
I shove my hands into his hair, and bring him impossibly closer to me, kissing his lips and thrusting my tongue against his with wild abandon. I moan loudly into his mouth. He loves it when I do that. He swallows the sound, and it makes him shudder, and plunge deeper inside of me.
I don’t think he realizes how passionate he is. He thinks of sex as nothing more than carnal desire. Sex is just the fulfillment of a basic human need for him.
I’ve seen him with other guys enough times to see how mechanical he is about the whole thing. But, what I get from him… it’s something entirely different, and fucking amazing. Whatever it is he feels when we have sex, he probably thinks it’s all me. I know him. He would never think about what it is that makes me crazy like this. He’d just assume it’s his superb skill as a lover, and although that of course is a big help, it certainly isn’t what drives me to the point of absolute insanity and back. It isn’t what creates this rapture.
It’s the feeling pouring out of him as he does it that makes me like this. And in turn makes him feel that way. It’s one big give and take, and as simple a concept as that is, I know he’s completely oblivious to it. He never gives himself enough credit.
I feel like I’m on fire, he’s ramming into me so fucking hard and fast. But his mouth is still attached to mine. Still devouring my cries of ecstasy. Feeding the flames.
Then suddenly, he breaks away. His large hands hold my face, pressing my head into the pillow, and I can tell by the look on his face that he’s about to explode.
“Aaaaahhhhhh… Justin… Fuck… Justin.”
I love it when he says my name. He hardly ever does, but every once in a while, I’ll hear it. And it always sends me over the edge.
I shoot for the second time, calling his name, and rise up to meet his last few short frantic jabs inside me. He cums hard, holding onto my thighs, keeping himself in place as he rides the blissful wave.
Collapsing on top of me, he stays inside, and I stroke his wet hair as we lie there entwined, panting heavily. I kiss the top of his head, and revel in the feel of being in his arms like this again. The weight of his body on top of me… The heat radiating from every inch of his body… His hand caressing my hip… His breath blowing against my chest…
I love being underneath Brian. There’s no better feeling in the world.
I wait until my heart rate calms to speak, still stroking his hair, and smoothing my hands over his back. “That was intense… more like, amazing. I really missed that.”
Silence.
At first I think he’s ignoring my post-coital banter, but then I realize he’s fallen asleep. Usually I’m the one to fall asleep right after sex, with his dick still inside me. It’s nice when it happens the other way around.
I smile to myself, and reach down between us to slip his cock out, and dispose of the condom. For a long time, I just lie there running my hands over his body, letting everything sink in. What the fuck are we doing? I giggle at the absurdity of it all.
I think about how good it feels to be back with Brian. I think about what it is that made him pick up and leave. I think about why he brought me. All I have are conjectures, but in the end I decide the answers don’t really matter much. What matters is that this is happening. I never would’ve thought something like this would happen. It’s so fucking random. I know I’ll ask him these questions later, but for now it’s all of little consequence, because it just feels right. And aren’t I supposed to trust my instincts?
Sighing, I roll us over, so that Brian is lying on his back. I look at his face, soft and relaxed, tempting me to kiss him. I do so gently, on his forehead, pulling back to look down at him in awe. He looks so gorgeous when he’s sleeping. So open, and vulnerable. I used to watch him sleep all the time in the early days, when we first met, and I was so blindly enthralled with him. He was such an asshole to me, but it was as if he could do no wrong. I didn’t care what he said or did to spite me, I just kept trying, unwilling to give up on such a beautiful, flawed god. That’s what he was to me back then. A fucking living, breathing god. Now I know he’s just a man. Still beautiful, still flawed, but not divine in nature. Very human. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
So, he would treat me like shit, and then take me home, and fuck me. Occasionally he had a kind word or two, but those words usually had to do with my ass, or something sexual. But then he’d fall asleep, and all of the emotions that clouded his demeanor would drift away. His body, usually wound up with no small degree of tension, would relax, sinking into the dark sheets. His face, forgetting to mask his feelings, would soften with ease.
The state of repose made him seem more real to me. I worshipped him, yes, but I also understood him in those moments. Because back then, I didn’t get why he needed to conceal so much of himself; why he was so hell-bent on closing himself off to anything real. I didn’t get what he was about at first, or why he was that way. Only every so often, when I’d get a chance to study his sleeping form, and draw it over and over, learning every inch of his body better than my own, was I able to look at him and understand. It was the part of him that I related to the most. That is, until I was finally onto him. When I stopped blindly pursuing, and figured him out.
God, he’s changed so much. I suppose it’s pretty subtle, but nonetheless, he’s grown up a little. It’s pretty hard to miss. He’s still stubborn, and doesn’t know what the fuck is good for him, but he’s at least willing to give in to notions he wouldn’t give into before. I’d like to think it’s been my good influence on him, but who knows? I know that’s a part of it, though. I mean, Gus aside, I’m the most significant change in his life in the past few years. I’m the most prominent addition. The one who fucked up his whole philosophy on sex. And to Brian, life is sex, so I guess I fucked up his life’s philosophy.
For a while, I know he thought I’d fucked up his life, period… but then I think he stopped harboring such hostility. He started being my protector, and my mentor, as well as my lover. Our lives became more integrated, and he finally stopped trying to escape. For a while, at least. I don’t really know what happened in the end. I try not to think about it, because it gives me a fucking headache. I can never figure it out completely. Just pieces. And it all seems like a great big mistake on both our parts. And I know I’ve regretted it ever since the day I walked out. Maybe he regretted it too. Maybe that’s why he walked back in.
I ease myself off of the bed, and snatch up my backpack. Removing a sketchbook and a pencil, I move back to the bed, sitting yoga-style on the right side. I get comfortable, settling into the mattress, my eyes roaming over the expanse of his body. Pressing my pencil onto the pad, I begin drawing him again, etching his figure for the first time since I can remember. I had to force myself not to draw him while we were apart. At first, I had no desire to. I was so disappointed, angry, hurt, and a thousand other adjectives, that I just couldn’t think of him like he used to be. Couldn’t think of how to draw him in any nice way. After Ethan and I broke up, the desire started coming back. I mean, Brian was once my greatest inspiration, so it was natural to feel that pull once more. But I denied myself the pleasure and pain of drawing Brian. A few abstract paintings seem to have tinges of Brian in them, but that’s all open to interpretation anyway, so it’s not the same thing.
This is like a drug. It’s so… intimate… private, even… it feels sacred. These secret moments we share like this. It’s an intoxicating rush that I’ve truly missed.
********************
I awake to the familiar sound of pencil scratching against thick drawing paper, and smile at the attention that I’ve missed for so many months. I always catch him in the act. At first, I’d sleep though his intense scrutiny, and discover the evidence later on. Like the first time I saw a sketch he did of me sleeping, over at Lindsay’s. I was really surprised, and completely caught off guard. The little twink had a hidden talent, and it was almost pleasing to think of him drawing me like that. Over time, it became something I enjoyed. Finding the drawings, or waking up and pretending to be annoyed to find him studying me so intently. It made me sort of uncomfortable, but for the most part it made me fucking… happy. But I’d have never admitted it back then. Don’t know if I would now.
“I hear the furious scratch of pencil moving on paper,” I say, keeping my eyes closed, and scrunching up my face. “Could it be? Someone interested once more in the mere aesthetics of my cock? The contours of my sinewy muscles? The glimmering light reflecting off my perfect skin? The way my unruly hair falls against my forehead just right?”
His snorts and snickers of amusement go straight to my dick.
“See!” I exclaim, opening my eyes to take in his naked body, surrounded by sketches, pad and pencil propped in his hands. “Your attention is really getting to me,” I tell him, my gaze fixing pointedly on my cock.
I look back up at his face to find him still staring at it, and I chuckle.
“So… would you like to help me out, or sit back and watch?”
“Fuck you! Just lay there for a little longer,” he requests, gulping noticeably. “I want to finish this first.”
I try to get a peek at his lap, to see how affected he is, but his sketchbook blocks my view.
“You want to watch me suffer… Kinky.”
“Shut up,” he smiles. “The more you distract me, the longer it’ll take to finish.”
“Christ,” I groan, but stay where I am.
I close my eyes again, stretching my arms.
“Don’t move!”
“Sorry,” I grumble, putting my arms back in their former position.
I feel his eyes all over me, and it’s extremely erotic. I rarely ever posed for him when I was awake, but when I did, it always led to amazing sex. Whenever I caught him in the act as I awoke, it also led to amazing sex. It’s like when he’s awake, watching me, capturing me like that, he’s in control. Then I wake up and reclaim it from him. I feel my dick getting harder by the second.
“I give you five minutes to finish. If you’re not done by then, you’re screwed. Literally.”
I feel, rather than see his bright smile, and it makes me feel… fucking content. Content and satisfied.
I hear the shuffling of paper, followed by the thump of something landing on the floor, and suddenly I feel Justin’s weight on top of me.
“What are you smiling about?” he says before I open my eyes.
“What I’m going to do to you,” I reply with a smirk.
In one swift motion, I roll us over, and begin devouring him all over again.
After another round of great sex in the bed, plus an additional session in the shower, we finally set foot outside of the hotel. It’s around 4:30, and the sidewalks are busy. Justin and I make our way up Lexington to a coffee shop, planting ourselves at a small table in the back.
“God, I am fucking starving!” Justin says, grabbing a menu resting against the wall.
“All that fucking will wear you out. How many times have you done it in the past 48 hours?”
“Don’t be a dick,” he orders, eyeing me seriously.
“I’m not being a dick, I’m just asking an honest question,” I shrug.
“You’re trying to stir shit up… Don’t. We’re barely out of the Pitts.”
“Oh, come on… there must be a thousand questions on the tip of your tongue. You just don’t have the balls to come out and ask any of them right now.”
“When the hell did you slip into such a confrontational mood?”
“Does it matter?” I ask, wondering the answer myself. “I’m not confronting you about anything, I’m just talking.”
“Well, you’re not very good at it.”
“What would you rather I say?”
“Something honest.”
“Do I ever lie?”
“All the time.”
He says it, and then gives me this little smirk. This little ‘I’m onto you’ smirk, that grates on my last nerve, and makes me feel relieved at the same time.
“What do you want to know?”
“Well, for starters, where the fuck are we going?”
“I told you, I don’t know.”
“Bullshit. There has to be some place in the back of your mind that you want to end up.”
“Well… Florida’s always nice, but fuck going to the South.”
“Oh, but it’d be cool to go to the Keys. And New Orleans! That’s near Florida!”
“Fuck that. It’s summertime. You would die of asphyxiation from all the damn humidity. It’s ridiculous down there.”
“Okay… so we’re not going south at all?”
“I don’t think so. There’s no way in hell I’m driving through fucking Texas! And we’d have to spend days there if we decided to head to the West Coast after the Southland. And that would be AFTER we drove through Alabama, and probably Mississippi, too. Fuck THAT!”
“Okay… so the West Coast, then?”
“Well… that would make the most sense. It’d be cross-country in the true sense of the words. Plus, there’s a lot to do over there. A lot that I haven’t seen before. And I know you haven’t, either.”
“Oh my god! We’re going to California? San Francisco? LA?” he asks, getting more enthusiastic by the second.
“If you want to,” I smile.
“I SO want to!”
“Okay, then we’ve decided. Head to the West Coast.”
“Well, that’s great, but it’s hardly deciding. I mean, we have a whole fucking country to drive through. It’s not like an airplane ride where you pick one destination. We need to get a map.”
“Christ, calm down. We’ll figure it out later on. Right now, can we get some fucking food, before I fall over?”
“All that fucking…” he lets the words drift away with a sigh, and flashes me that bright smile.
Jesus, I’m glad I brought him with me.
I watch him interact with a middle-aged waitress who finally makes her way to our table, grinning at the way he coaxes a smile to the surface of her decidedly sour face. I’m so caught up in watching him that I don’t even pay attention to what he’s saying, and the waitress walks away before I have a chance to order.
“What?”
“She didn’t take my fucking order.”
“Yeah she did, I told her to get your usual… Turkey on whole wheat, no mayo. Black coffee.”
“Why’d you do that? I might’ve wanted something totally different.”
“Please. You’re so predictable sometimes. And besides, if you had been paying attention, you could’ve stopped me.”
“I am not predictable. I mean, look around, we’re not in the fucking Liberty Diner. We’re in New York City. Did you think at this time yesterday that you’d be here with me today?”
“You have a point,” he concedes, rolling his eyes. “But, you’re still predictable.”
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes back at him, because I really don’t care all that much. I’m still pretty tired. It feels like I haven’t slept in forever. Tonight, I know I’ll be out like a light.
“You look tired.”
“Stop reading my mind.”
“Is that why you weren’t paying attention before?”
“Something like that.”
“Where do you think we can get a map?”
“We’ll get one at the hotel.”
“They’ll have one of the States? Like road maps?”
“They should.”
“It’s going to be so much fun! I can’t fucking wait.”
His smile is so goddamn contagious, like a lethal virus. And he looks so happy just to be with me. I feel inadequate sometimes, when he smiles at me like that. I wish I could give that look back to him. But I know my face can’t light up like that. I’ve never seen anyone’s face light up quite like his does.
“You know there’s going to be a lot of driving involved. It may not be all fun.”
“Yeah right. It’ll be a blast. We’ll find ways to make it interesting.”
I laugh. “Tell me that when you’re grumpy, and falling in and out of sleep from boredom.”
“You are going to let me take turns driving, right?”
“I guess I have to,” I wince.
“You do. You can’t do all the driving yourself. That wouldn’t be right. And I promise not to fuck up your baby.”
“You better not, I’ll murder you.”
“Aw, you’re so sweet.”
“Where’s my sandwich?”
********************
After we eat, we spend some time walking around the city. It’s such an overwhelming place. The buildings are massive, and tall. The sidewalks are constantly crowded with people who know exactly where they’re going. The traffic is insane, and noisy. It’s completely unique. More urban than the word itself. But it definitely has a charm about it. It’s so alive, and in your face… larger than life.
There’s so much that I want to do here, I know I’m not going to get to do even half of it. I’ve been here a few times before. When I was younger, I came with my family, and did all the really touristy stuff. And then there was the last time I was here, and all it really got me was amazing sex. Which is always nice, but I didn’t exactly take advantage of being in the City That Never Sleeps.
“Brian?” I ask sweetly, slipping my arm though his.
“Hmm?”
“How long are we staying here?”
“You mean, how many museums can you fit into our stay?”
“Something like that,” I grin.
“We’re here for three nights only, meaning we leave bright and early on Wednesday.”
“We haven’t even decided where the fuck we’re going, have we? Why can’t we spend more time here?”
“Between now and Wednesday, we’ll have it all figured out. But, we’re not staying here longer than 3 days. The point is to head as far away from the ‘Burgh as we can. We need to get started on that.”
“Fine,” I mumble, looking at the ground as we make our way back to the hotel.
“This isn’t the last time you’ll be in New York. I’ll bring you back here some other time.”
“Really?”
I hate it when my voice goes all high like that, but I can’t help it. I mean, here we are, on this journey, and we haven’t even begun to discuss where we stand with each other, and he’s saying this kind of shit to me. Implying things that he usually makes sure not to imply.
“Maybe,” he says, pulling his arm free of mine, and stretching it across my shoulders. I rest my arm around his waist, and lean into his side, walking the rest of the way in silence.
It’s almost 7 o’clock when we return to the hotel room, and Brian instantly collapses onto the bed.
“Do not tell me you’re going back to sleep.”
“You have no idea how little I’ve been sleeping lately,” he mumbles into the bed.
“So you’re going to bed at seven? How old are you, eighty?”
“Fuck off.”
“No. I’m not going to sit around and watch you sleep.”
“So, don’t. Go out. Be merry. Whatever the fuck.”
God, he doesn’t fucking get it.
“Um, no. I’m not doing that either. You can lay there if you want, but we’re going to talk.”
He lets out the most audibly long sigh that he can possibly muster.
“Save your fucking sighs, ok?”
I go into the bathroom, and splash some water on my face, before heading back to the bed. I toss off my clothes at the foot of the bed, and dig into my bag to find my gray sweatpants. I slip them on, and climb onto the mattress, falling down on the fluffy pillows.
Brian sighs again, lifting himself off of the bed, all the while glowering at me. He strips all of his clothes off, and climbs back into the bed, settling between the covers. He always fucking has to be naked.
“What?” he grumbles.
“What do you mean ‘what’? I don’t even know where to start.”
“Take your pick.”
“Why’d you want to leave Pittsburgh?”
“Boredom.”
I give him a look, letting him know he can’t get off that easy.
“I don’t know. I just wanted to get out of there for a while. It’s been a fucked up year. Work, play, all of it was getting on my nerves. I just needed a change.”
“So why didn’t you go alone? Why’d you bring me?”
He hesitates, looking away from me, and I bring my left hand up to steer his gaze back to mine.
“I… didn’t want to be alone, and you’re the least annoying person I know.”
“Stop fucking around, Brian. Why did you bring me? Your ex… who left you, and who hasn’t had a real conversation with you in months. Surely there were likelier candidates.”
“Not really,” he mutters, wiping at his face. “Fuck, Justin, what do you want to hear, huh? What could I possibly say that you don’t already know? I wanted to bring YOU. So I did. Take it however you want.”
“Why can’t you fucking say anything important? Why do you have to be so goddamn closed off? If you know that you’re not fooling me, then why can’t you just say it! What the hell is it about you and words?”
“They don’t mean anything! Haven’t you figured that one out by now?”
“You are SO full of shit! Words don’t mean everything, but they mean something. There’s a reason that talking is the prime method of communication between human beings on this planet.”
“And what a waste of time it is.”
“You can’t fuck everyone into understanding your twisted points of view.”
“Watch me.”
“No thanks,” I answer sharply, surveying the room.
It’s such a fucking waste of time trying to get answers out of Brian. He always comes up with a way to deflect the truth. He may not lie outright, but he holds back on purpose. He’ll get the message loud and clear, but he won’t fucking say a thing to let you know he gets it.
I look over at one of the tables, and spot the telephone. That’s when I realize that he hasn’t picked up a phone all day. Then again, neither have I.
“Why haven’t you called anyone yet?”
He snorts. “I don’t want anyone on my back about this. I’m not calling anyone.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? You’re not calling anyone?”
“Nope.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little selfish, even for you?”
He gives me a pointed look, and flips me off, before sinking down into the pillows, as if this conversation is over.
********************
“Well if you won’t call anyone, I will.”
Fucking hell. Will he ever shut up?
“No you won’t. For now, let’s just pretend that we’ve dropped off the face of the earth, okay? I mean, why does that idea not appeal to you?”
“It does appeal to me, Brian, but unlike you, I care about other people’s feelings.”
“Jesus, Justin. The world is not going to stop turning just because we’re gone from it for a couple of days. We’ll talk to everyone soon, but not tonight. Now will you please shut up!”
“No.”
I swear I will fucking strangle him before the night is over. For now, there’s only one defense…
I inch my way closer to him, and lay on my side, trailing my right hand down his torso, and under the waistband of his sweats.
“What are you doing? You’re not distracting me with sex,” he proclaims, pulling my hand off of him, and slapping it away.
“You’re no fun.”
He gives an exasperated sigh, and gets off of the bed. Picking up his discarded clothes off the floor, he pushes down his sweats, and begins redressing.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“That is so like you. You don’t hear what you want, so you leave.”
“Fuck you,” he says, looking me in the eye, and really meaning it.
He fumbles with his shoes, and half a second later he’s storming out the door.
What a lovely ending to our first day away.
How do we manage to get into these ridiculous fights, without even trying? I mean, if I’m not ready to talk, I’m not going to. He knows me. Maybe he’s forgotten what it’s like to be in such a dysfunctional relationship.
I heard the Ethan kid cheated on him. I know that’s mainly why they broke up. If it hadn’t happened, who knows where either of us would be right now? But, I know they talked about everything. Their fucking feelings and all that shit. And that really upsets me. Not because they discussed it, but because Justin apparently had those feelings to begin with. He fucking went and fell in love with someone else. That’s something that I could never do. And I honestly didn’t think he could either, but I guess I was wrong.
Fuck, I’m pathetic. I need reassurance. I do. I fucking need to be reassured that I’m important to him. Justin needs to show me that he cares. That’s why I can’t just come out and talk to him. He wants me to prove something to him, but screw that. Until he proves something to me, he can be left hanging for all I care.
I turn over, and bury myself beneath the covers and between the pillows, and I drift to sleep.
At some point I vaguely hear the door opening, and footsteps, and the rustling of papers, and clothes. The sheets are lifted, and I feel the cold air against my back. The left side of the bed sinks, and I’m enveloped in warmth again, as Justin slides against me, putting his arm around my middle, pressing his naked body against mine. His breath is warm against my neck, and his left hand, lightly rubbing my stomach feel really… comfortable. I missed sleeping with him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers in my ear, surprising me.
Then he kisses my shoulder, and buries his head between my shoulder blades.
And I know what he means. He’s sorry he left. Not tonight, but all those months ago. He’s sorry. And maybe he still loves me.
My right hand finds his left one, and I hold his hand, as I slowly turn to face him. I look into his eyes for a few seconds, before laying my head on his pillow, and pulling him closer to me. I close my eyes, and stroke the soft skin of his back, and fall into a fitful sleep.
I awake the next morning to find Justin up, and ready to go. And he’s in the cheeriest of cheery moods. I can tell by the way he’s bouncing around, humming to himself, and grinning foolishly.
“Hey Bri,” he greets brightly.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m getting my stuff together for a day in the city.”
“Uh huh, and what are you going to do exactly?”
“I’m going to walk over to the Guggenheim and the Met, and then I’m going to go hang out in Central Park for a bit. Do you wanna come?”
“In more ways than one.”
“Sorry. I’m fully clothed, and ready to go.”
“That means fuck all to me. Come over here.”
********************
After a blowjob, and a quick shower, Brian is ready to go. I don’t know if I’m surprised that he’s coming with me, but… no, I am surprised. Very fucking surprised. And he looks really good today. Rested, and hot as hell. He’s wearing his tight 501s and a sleeveless dark gray shirt, and he looks like a million bucks. I can’t keep my hands off of him.
“Will you please stop groping me in public,” he teases with a grin.
“I can’t help it. You look too fuckable.”
He immediately grabs my shoulders, and turns us around back in the direction of the hotel.
“Stop!” I laugh, turning us back in the other direction. “We’re not spending all our time in New York fucking in a hotel.”
“You need to sort out your priorities.”
“Have you been watching ‘Harry Potter’ again?” I taunt, recognizing his words as a line from the movie.
“Fucking Gus. Wants to watch it a zillion times every time he’s over at my place.”
“Maybe you should buy him a new DVD.”
“He has like fifty already, but you know kids. They get obsessed with one fucking thing, and then one day they get sick of it, and never look back.”
“I was obsessed with Molly Ringwald movies when I was little.”
“Jesus, and your parents didn’t know you were queer until you told them?”
“Fuck you,” I say hitting him playfully. “I’m sure you did lots of queer stuff when you were little, and your parents didn’t know.”
“My parents never knew much about me, even then.”
Sometimes I forget that he had a horrible family. ‘Had’ being the operative word, because I know that he’s finally written them off completely. And who could blame him, after the shit they pulled when Brian was accused of molesting his asshole nephew? And if his father had been around, I don’t even want to fucking imagine what would’ve happened.
“You must’ve been so cute,” I say, smiling.
“I was alright. Not as cute as Gus.”
“I bet you were.”
“You must’ve been a little blond tornado when you were his age.”
“I was a menace.”
“Still are.”
“Oh yeah,” I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes, “a force to be reckoned with.”
“So when do I get to go shopping?”
“Shopping? Are you insane? There’s no room in your car for more stuff, unless you were planning on strapping your precious purchases to the roof.”
“Actually, I was planning on shipping my precious purchases back to the Pitts. I might as well pick up a few necessary summer pieces, and maybe a new suit, while I’m here.”
“You are so ridiculous.”
“Wanting to look good is not ridiculous. It’s what I do.”
“Please, you look your best in jeans and a tee shirt.”
“Are you trying to convince me to stop spending money on clothes? Because if you are you’re doing a piss poor job, and besides, it’s futile anyway. I will always be a proud label queen.”
“I know you will.”
“Maybe one day my fabulous sense of style will rub off on you.”
“I couldn’t afford to dress stylishly anyway. Besides, there is nothing wrong with my clothes.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Hey… aren’t you the one that’s been wearing all those fugly-ass sweater vests lately? I wouldn’t tease if I were you.”
His mouth drops open in mock shock, and I stick my tongue out at him.
“So you’ve been paying attention.”
“Not really, it’s just that they’re so ugly, my eyes are naturally drawn to…”
He halts my words with a heart-stopping kiss. Right here, in the middle of a busy New York sidewalk. We smile at each other, and keep on walking.
“You didn’t bring any of them with you, did you?” I get in one last dig.
“Fuck off, Old Navy Poster Boy.”
“It’s such a nice day out. Isn’t it?”
“Magnificent. Why would you want to spend hours upon hours in museums? Let’s go to the park.”
“We’ll go to the park later. Right now, be a good boy while we’re visiting the Guggenheim.”
“God, Justin… how long is this gonna take?”
“Not long. I could probably take out the Guggenheim in a couple of hours. The Met is going to be impossible, though. That’s why I’m saving it for later.”
“I have a feeling I’m going to die of boredom before the day is over.”
“Will you quit complaining? I know you like art. You’ll be fine.”
We walk in silence a short distance, still a couple blocks away from our destination.
“So,” Brian says, “where’d you go last night?”
“I just walked around, mostly.”
I was so pissed when I left, but later I realized that I really had no reason to be. Brian has always been hard to communicate with. He’s always prided himself on his actions, rather than his words. I figured that he probably thought bringing me with him away from Pittsburgh was all the explanation I needed. He never gives a damn about the why, only the what. The reasons are of little consequence… actions are everything. Which is why I’m so intrigued by his deciding to take off. And I already know why he brought me. It’s as close to a romantic gesture as he’ll allow. And I guess while I was walking around, I decided that was enough. Especially after the way I treated him when I left him. I don’t think he fully believed I was sorry about it until last night. When I came back. I think he finally got it. I still don’t get a lot of this, but for now, I get enough. That’s the important thing.
“Mostly?”
“I ended up finding a little travel shop, and I bought some maps. A map of Manhattan, and a couple of US maps. Sometime today, I’m going to force you to sit down and discuss our route plans.”
“Don’t think you’re going to dominate this entire trip, cuz if that’s what you think, I’m sending you home.”
“I’m not dominating the trip, I’m just dominating in New York. I should be allowed, because I’m an artist, and this is an artist’s city. Plus, I’m more together than you are, right now. You need a little guidance.”
“If you don’t watch it, I’m gonna kick your ass to the curb.”
“Yeah right. You’d be lost without me!” I tell him in a dramatic voice.
We finally reach the museum, and I pull him inside to buy our tickets. He pays, and I smile at him in thanks. He gives me a knowing look and a half-smile, as we head towards the spiral walkway. My touchy-feely mood from the sidewalk subsides, which is for the best. I don’t know if Brian wants to wander off and do his own thing or what. All I can really hope for is that he doesn’t end up fucking some guy in the bathroom while I’m distracted. I wouldn’t be surprised if he did it out of spite, for me being so “dominating”, and then chalked it up to boredom. He uses sex for everything. It doesn’t surprise me in the least anymore.
I become engrossed in the art, and pay little attention to Brian’s presence, until we reach one of my favorite Monet’s, ‘Le Palais Ducal vu de Saint-Georges Majeur’. It is done so little justice in print, which is true with most works of art, but especially someone like Monet. Because of his technique, and the way he blends colors, using short, abrupt strokes, it’s impossible to get the full effect unless you’re standing right in front of it.
“That’s pretty good,” Brian says beside me.
“Yeah,” I gasp. “The colors are amazing. And the definition he gets without drawing solid lines is incredible.”
I look over at Brian, and smile as he studies the painting. We never do shit like this back home. I mean, we never did when we were together. This feels really nice. I suddenly realize that I’m happy. Really happy for the first time since I can remember. That has to count for something.
********************
Alone, Together
By Violet Jones
“We will go nowhere we know, we don’t have to talk at all.”
-Beck
“The world is over, but I don’t care ‘cause I am with you, see I’ve got to explain…
Things they have changed in such a permanent way. Life seems unreal, can we go back to your place?”
-The Strokes
********************
True to his word, Justin was ready to go ten minutes later. The strange thing was, I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. I couldn’t stop looking at him, either. I just watched his face painted with blank resolve, and not a small amount of unease. And there I was feeling light as a feather. Ready for anything. Completely sure of myself, even though I had no fucking idea what I was doing.
We got down to the car, and I threw his bag in the trunk. The small space was practically full with just the two bags occupying it.
Justin snickered, and shook his head. He didn’t say anything, but I knew exactly what he was thinking. “How the fuck is Brian going to manage with one bag of clothes for two months?” I didn’t say anything, because he didn’t ask the question. He only thought it. And I’m not going to volunteer anything. The talking can wait. I didn’t want to answer any questions at that time, even silly ones about clothing.
He got in the passenger’s side, and placed his backpack at his feet, propped up against the door. I got in the driver’s side, and just sat there, staring straight down the road. I leaned over the steering wheel, resting my chin there, trying to make the small decision of which direction to head. Where to go first. Justin just stared at me. He didn’t say anything, he just watched me thinking. He was probably expecting me to call the whole thing off. Just waiting for me to say, “You know what? Forget it. This is stupid. This is crazy. Get the fuck out of the car.” But those thoughts never crossed my mind.
Finally, I made my choice. I revved the engine, and we were off. Off on some completely unknown adventure, to some completely unknown place. I’m pretty sure I was still smiling. And I’m pretty sure he was still in shock.
I thought for sure he’d ask me where we were going. I thought he’d demand to know what I was thinking, so that he could be a part of the decision-making. But he didn’t say a word. It was beautiful. A really good start. Not that I want him to be mute on this trip; quite the contrary. It’s just that at this time, I didn’t need him to say anything. And the fact that he didn’t was proof to me that this was a good idea. If he can still read me, then this can work.
I got on the highway, and before we hit the turnpike, he was out. Not a surprise considering the past two nights he’s had. But that’s a fleeting thought. No need to think about that too much. The boy is tired. Simple as that.
I look over at him, and the smile returns to my face. I can’t fucking help it. This is exciting. I’ve never done anything like this.
When I was in college, I went on a couple of road trips. One was with Mikey, and the other was with a few guys from Penn State. I had a passing interest in one of them. I wouldn’t call it going out, but I definitely fucked him more than once. Christ… I haven’t thought about Brandon in years. Anyway, both trips were fun. But they weren’t very long. They weren’t thrown together. They were planned out, and only lasted a week or two. This is something entirely different. The purpose behind it is way more complex.
“Hmmm…”
I look over at Justin, watching him hum and sigh in his sleep. He’s been out for about five hours now. I wonder what he’s dreaming about.
Tired of the silence, finally, I turn on the radio, and the CD I was listening to earlier continues. David Bowie’s ‘Hunky Dory’. I concentrate on the vast expanse of highway ahead, and mumble some of the words to the songs.
The next time I look over, Justin’s awake, and blinking in the harsh brightness of the sun.
“Hey,” I say, turning down the stereo. As usual, he doesn’t respond. He’s the kind of sleeper who takes a while to adjust before being functional again. It’s cute. His face always looks so soft when he just wakes up.
“There’s an extra pair of sunglasses in the glove box, if you want to wear them.”
He blinks some more and rubs his face, before opening the compartment and pulling out the glasses. They’re one of my smaller pair, and they actually look good on him.
“What are you so smiley about?” he asks with a tinge of bitterness, sinking into the seat, and crossing his arms.
“I’m in a good mood. You should try it. It’s nice.”
He snorts. “Whatever.”
“Don’t be pissy, Sunshine. Cheer up, and think of what’s to come.”
“Yeah. Who the fuck knows what that’ll be. Where are we going?”
“Somewhere fun.”
He looks out the window, searching for a sign to tell him which direction we’re headed. Sure enough, half a mile down he sees one.
“No way! BRIAN! Are you serious?”
“It’s just for a few days. We’re going to get our shit together, figure some things out, and then we’re heading in the completely opposite direction.”
“Oh my god! Brian, this is going to be so much better than last time!”
He leans over and kisses my cheek, as his pissy attitude flies out the window.
*******************
New York City!
I’m so damn excited now. I know that the last time we were here we didn’t exactly get out and do much, but we had an amazing time. Okay, so we were only here together for a few hours doing some serious fucking in a hotel room, but believe me, it was an amazing time. I’m not sure what it was exactly that got us so hot. For me, it was the fact that Brian drove all that way to get me. He looked like death warmed over, and stank like nobody’s business. I know it doesn’t sound attractive, but it was so hot. He came all that way for me, not caring about his appearance for once, and that seemed kind of sweet to me. And I knew I had him in the palm of my hand, even if it was only for a brief moment in time.
We attacked each other with animalistic ferocity, and it was perfect. Fuck, I’m getting hard just thinking about it. I wonder how he remembers it. What makes a fuck stand out in his mind? I mean, he does so goddamn much of it, I know that it has to be something pretty remarkable. I’ll have to ask him about that sometime. Definitely an interesting topic to pick his brain on.
“Feeling all rosy again?”
“You know me,” I say, grinning sweetly. “What are we gonna do first?”
“We’re gonna go to the hotel, and sleep the day away, because I am in no mood for anything else.”
“But, I just woke up from like a 6 hour nap! I don’t wanna sleep.”
“Then I guess you’ll have some fun time to yourself… Unless, of course, you can figure out a way to keep me awake.”
Can I? Please.
“I think I may know a trick or two,” I smile broadly.
We reach the hotel about 20 minutes later. A place called The Melrose in the Upper East Side off Lexington.
We pull up in front, and Brian turns the car over to the valet, as we get our two measly bags out of the trunk.
“Let me help you with those, sirs,” a bellboy says, approaching from behind us.
“No thanks,” Brian replies, and we make our way inside.
It’s nice. Not too overdone like most of the big hotels in the city. It’s not quite trendy-sparse like the places in SoHo, and definitely not decadent like the Plaza. Of course, I’m going mostly on what I’ve seen in movies, and on the Travel Channel. That channel can be strangely addicting.
“Reservation for Kinney,” Brian says to the desk clerk.
While he’s clicking away at the computer, I narrow my eyes at Brian.
“I thought this was all spur of the moment.”
“It was. I called ahead from the Pitts right after you passed out.”
I roll my eyes at him.
“Credit card, please.”
He hands over his Uberplatinum card, and looks over at me with a big dumb grin on his face. Jesus, his enthusiasm is contagious. I smile back at him, thoughts of New York City hotels meshing with hot sexual encounters. Dammit, I’m hard again. And the fucker notices, and his smile gets wider. I turn mine into a frown, and turn to look at the marble walls, pretending to be interested in the detailing of the borders.
“You requested a Deluxe Queen, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Three nights, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Sign here. Here’s you room key. My name is Rob. If you need anything, do not hesitate to call. Enjoy your stay.”
Room 314 is nice. It’s more than nice. The walls, furniture, and carpet are almost all white, and the decor is very minimalist, which I appreciate. I can’t stand gaudy hotel rooms with stiff comforters and cheap furniture. I’m sure we won’t be staying at places like this on the entire trip, however. I know Brian probably would if it were up to him, but once we get to some remote area without five, four, and sometimes even three star hotels, he’ll be forced to rough it. And I’ll enjoy every minute of it.
I drop my bag on the floor and jump on the bed, turning onto my back, and letting out a nice long sigh.
“This is SO comfortable! Mmmm… I could totally fall asleep again.”
“I thought you were going to find a way to keep me up,” Brian grins suggestively, nearing the bed slowly.
“I don’t know,” I tease. “I didn’t realize just how tired I was.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate,” he plays along, lowering himself down next to me.
We stare up at the ceiling.
“How much is this costing you exactly?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“That bad?”
“Not for New York.”
“We could’ve stayed somewhere else. I mean, two months paying for everything we’re going to be doing, Brian. It’s going to be a lot.”
“I told you I can afford it. Besides, any other decent hotel in New York would be just as much, if not more, expensive than this place. You should know. I seem to remember finding you in a big suite at the Grand fucking Hyatt.”
“Ah, so you do remember,” I say turning onto my side, propping my head up with my arm.
I stare at him until he turns to face me, propping his head up in the same manner, and studying me before he answers.
“How the hell could I forget that?”
I feel a familiar jolt of elation run through my body. The kind I get when he does or says something so small, yet so meaningful to me. The kind that gets me thinking that he really loves me.
********************
Is this kid for real? I study his face to see if he’s just fishing for compliments, or if he’s genuinely uncertain. All signs point to uncertainty. What a fucking idiot.
“How the hell could I forget that?”
You don’t easily forget a fuck that intense. It’s hard even attempting to. I used to find myself trying to forget that particular one, among others. Tried to bury the feelings I could remember having at the time. The way I’d never quite felt before. Not necessarily in the physical sense, either. It was deeper than that, and it was truly terrifying.
“So you have fond memories of New York hotels, too, huh?”
“I wouldn’t exactly use the word ‘fond’. I’d probably say ‘fucking hot’.”
He beams at me, and it feels good to be blinded by that smile again. That was one of the things I really missed. It’s one of the few things that makes me feel happy. It takes one hell of a pissy mood for me not to smile when he does. It’s infectious.
“Stop smiling,” I say softly, inching closer to his face.
“You stop.”
“Fuck off,” I say, just before my lips reach his.
I move my hands to either side of his face, running my fingers through his long flaxen hair. It feels better than it did before. Better than I remember. Softer somehow.
I feel his body push itself up against mine, and his right leg hook over my left calf. His hands grasp my neck firmly, gently rubbing my skin, and I feel his straining hard-on against my stomach, while my own presses against his thigh.
“Mmmm… Bri…”
Fuck.
I roll over on top of him, crushing him into the mattress as I continue my oral assault on his perfect mouth. My hands massage his head, as his explore my back, tugging on my tee shirt, pulling it up so he can feel my flesh. Breaking the kiss momentarily, I allow him to pull the shirt over my head, and toss it to the floor. I take the time to hover above him, smiling down, staring directly into his eyes. I missed him so fucking much. But I don’t say it. I don’t have to. He knows.
He draws me back down to him, attempting to swallow me whole. His tongue moves against mine in the expert way I remember. I missed kissing him. I haven’t kissed his or anyone else’s mouth in months. I forgot how great it was. The power of it. The sensuality of it. Better than fucking, almost.
The thought makes me moan into his mouth, and I draw away again, sitting up and pulling him with me, as I straddle his hips. I quickly remove his shirt, attacking his long neck. Sucking hard, raking my fingers across his chest, while he lays there resting his hands lightly on my shoulders, panting openly. I nip, lick, and suck on the same spot until I see a mean red and purple mark on the surface of his pale skin.
“Oh, god, Brian…”
My lips blaze a path across his chest, and I take his left nipple into my mouth laving it, suckling it, biting it softly. I know it drives him wild, and he hisses through his teeth. I continue down to his waistline, and nimbly undo his jeans, kissing around his navel. I pull a condom from my pocket and toss it off to the side. As I raise up to pull the pants off of his legs, he reaches for the buttons on my own jeans, and captures my lips with his own once again. Somehow we manage to rid ourselves of the clothes as we lose ourselves in each other.
I push him back onto the bed, and reach for his throbbing erection, stroking it as I lick around his lips, taunting him. Trying to make him insane with lust. It works.
“Brian… mmm… fuck me…”
“You sure, Sunshine?”
“Yes!”
“Positive?”
“YES!”
“How bad do you want it?” I tease, rubbing my thumb across his leaking slit, while sucking his bottom lip into my mouth.
“Ooohhhhh… bad.”
“What’s that?”
“Bad! I want it bad.”
“How much?” I ask, moving my other hand to cup his balls, squeezing them lightly, as he moans louder.
“Oh, god! So fucking much!”
I move my left hand away from his heavy sac, and place two fingers into my mouth, coating them with saliva. Then I place the same fingers in his mouth.
“Suck.”
He does as he’s told, and the look on his face is fucking amazing. Sheer beauty. Nothing can quite match the look of ecstasy that I put on that face.
I maneuver myself so that I’m kneeling between his legs, and spread his knees apart, planting his feet on the bed. Eyes trained on his face, I move my spit-soaked fingers across his crack, and massage his hole.
“FUCK!” he cries, and I feel him spasm in response.
“You like that?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“I love it.”
“Good answer.”
I swiftly place my hands under his knees and lift his ass in the air, bringing my face toward his tight opening. I hesitate for a fraction of a second, blowing on the tender knot of flesh before assaulting it with my tongue. I push the tip in, and squeeze his thighs as I plunge deeper inside of him.
“Briiiian… fuck… yeah… ooooohhhhhhh…”
I work my tongue in and around his hole, slicking his channel, and loosening him up. His upper body writhes on the bed, and his moans of pleasure fill my head, hazing my senses. I open my eyes to look at his face again from this vantage point, and sweat drips into them causing a stinging sensation. I watch Justin reach for his cock, and take that as my cue to move on.
With one last lick, I lower his hips back to the bed, releasing his thighs from my firm grip. I quickly slap his hand away before he touches himself, and shake my head at him, smirking naughtily. The frantic need is evident on his face. He needs a release. So, I give it to him.
Swooping down once more, I take his thick cock into my mouth, bringing him off in a few short strokes. His cum shoots down my throat and I swallow every drop.
While he lies there gasping for air, I reach over and grab the pre-lubed condom. Tearing open the wrapper with my teeth, I quickly roll it over my dick.
Before Justin can catch his breath, I’m pushing into him again.
“Ooooohhhhhhhh, GOD! Brian!”
I place his legs on my shoulders, and pull out, starting off slow, building up to deep hard thrusts, straight into bliss.
********************
Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t think straight. I’ve waited so long to be in this position again. Beneath Brian. It’s the best place I’ve ever been. I missed it so much. It just… it feels too fucking good for words. Physically, mentally, emotionally, all of it. It’s comforting and satisfying in a way that is indescribable. It’s the only time my mind, body, and soul are completely focused, and immersed in one moment. It’s the greatest feeling in the world. I don’t know how I went without it for so long.
I shove my hands into his hair, and bring him impossibly closer to me, kissing his lips and thrusting my tongue against his with wild abandon. I moan loudly into his mouth. He loves it when I do that. He swallows the sound, and it makes him shudder, and plunge deeper inside of me.
I don’t think he realizes how passionate he is. He thinks of sex as nothing more than carnal desire. Sex is just the fulfillment of a basic human need for him.
I’ve seen him with other guys enough times to see how mechanical he is about the whole thing. But, what I get from him… it’s something entirely different, and fucking amazing. Whatever it is he feels when we have sex, he probably thinks it’s all me. I know him. He would never think about what it is that makes me crazy like this. He’d just assume it’s his superb skill as a lover, and although that of course is a big help, it certainly isn’t what drives me to the point of absolute insanity and back. It isn’t what creates this rapture.
It’s the feeling pouring out of him as he does it that makes me like this. And in turn makes him feel that way. It’s one big give and take, and as simple a concept as that is, I know he’s completely oblivious to it. He never gives himself enough credit.
I feel like I’m on fire, he’s ramming into me so fucking hard and fast. But his mouth is still attached to mine. Still devouring my cries of ecstasy. Feeding the flames.
Then suddenly, he breaks away. His large hands hold my face, pressing my head into the pillow, and I can tell by the look on his face that he’s about to explode.
“Aaaaahhhhhh… Justin… Fuck… Justin.”
I love it when he says my name. He hardly ever does, but every once in a while, I’ll hear it. And it always sends me over the edge.
I shoot for the second time, calling his name, and rise up to meet his last few short frantic jabs inside me. He cums hard, holding onto my thighs, keeping himself in place as he rides the blissful wave.
Collapsing on top of me, he stays inside, and I stroke his wet hair as we lie there entwined, panting heavily. I kiss the top of his head, and revel in the feel of being in his arms like this again. The weight of his body on top of me… The heat radiating from every inch of his body… His hand caressing my hip… His breath blowing against my chest…
I love being underneath Brian. There’s no better feeling in the world.
I wait until my heart rate calms to speak, still stroking his hair, and smoothing my hands over his back. “That was intense… more like, amazing. I really missed that.”
Silence.
At first I think he’s ignoring my post-coital banter, but then I realize he’s fallen asleep. Usually I’m the one to fall asleep right after sex, with his dick still inside me. It’s nice when it happens the other way around.
I smile to myself, and reach down between us to slip his cock out, and dispose of the condom. For a long time, I just lie there running my hands over his body, letting everything sink in. What the fuck are we doing? I giggle at the absurdity of it all.
I think about how good it feels to be back with Brian. I think about what it is that made him pick up and leave. I think about why he brought me. All I have are conjectures, but in the end I decide the answers don’t really matter much. What matters is that this is happening. I never would’ve thought something like this would happen. It’s so fucking random. I know I’ll ask him these questions later, but for now it’s all of little consequence, because it just feels right. And aren’t I supposed to trust my instincts?
Sighing, I roll us over, so that Brian is lying on his back. I look at his face, soft and relaxed, tempting me to kiss him. I do so gently, on his forehead, pulling back to look down at him in awe. He looks so gorgeous when he’s sleeping. So open, and vulnerable. I used to watch him sleep all the time in the early days, when we first met, and I was so blindly enthralled with him. He was such an asshole to me, but it was as if he could do no wrong. I didn’t care what he said or did to spite me, I just kept trying, unwilling to give up on such a beautiful, flawed god. That’s what he was to me back then. A fucking living, breathing god. Now I know he’s just a man. Still beautiful, still flawed, but not divine in nature. Very human. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
So, he would treat me like shit, and then take me home, and fuck me. Occasionally he had a kind word or two, but those words usually had to do with my ass, or something sexual. But then he’d fall asleep, and all of the emotions that clouded his demeanor would drift away. His body, usually wound up with no small degree of tension, would relax, sinking into the dark sheets. His face, forgetting to mask his feelings, would soften with ease.
The state of repose made him seem more real to me. I worshipped him, yes, but I also understood him in those moments. Because back then, I didn’t get why he needed to conceal so much of himself; why he was so hell-bent on closing himself off to anything real. I didn’t get what he was about at first, or why he was that way. Only every so often, when I’d get a chance to study his sleeping form, and draw it over and over, learning every inch of his body better than my own, was I able to look at him and understand. It was the part of him that I related to the most. That is, until I was finally onto him. When I stopped blindly pursuing, and figured him out.
God, he’s changed so much. I suppose it’s pretty subtle, but nonetheless, he’s grown up a little. It’s pretty hard to miss. He’s still stubborn, and doesn’t know what the fuck is good for him, but he’s at least willing to give in to notions he wouldn’t give into before. I’d like to think it’s been my good influence on him, but who knows? I know that’s a part of it, though. I mean, Gus aside, I’m the most significant change in his life in the past few years. I’m the most prominent addition. The one who fucked up his whole philosophy on sex. And to Brian, life is sex, so I guess I fucked up his life’s philosophy.
For a while, I know he thought I’d fucked up his life, period… but then I think he stopped harboring such hostility. He started being my protector, and my mentor, as well as my lover. Our lives became more integrated, and he finally stopped trying to escape. For a while, at least. I don’t really know what happened in the end. I try not to think about it, because it gives me a fucking headache. I can never figure it out completely. Just pieces. And it all seems like a great big mistake on both our parts. And I know I’ve regretted it ever since the day I walked out. Maybe he regretted it too. Maybe that’s why he walked back in.
I ease myself off of the bed, and snatch up my backpack. Removing a sketchbook and a pencil, I move back to the bed, sitting yoga-style on the right side. I get comfortable, settling into the mattress, my eyes roaming over the expanse of his body. Pressing my pencil onto the pad, I begin drawing him again, etching his figure for the first time since I can remember. I had to force myself not to draw him while we were apart. At first, I had no desire to. I was so disappointed, angry, hurt, and a thousand other adjectives, that I just couldn’t think of him like he used to be. Couldn’t think of how to draw him in any nice way. After Ethan and I broke up, the desire started coming back. I mean, Brian was once my greatest inspiration, so it was natural to feel that pull once more. But I denied myself the pleasure and pain of drawing Brian. A few abstract paintings seem to have tinges of Brian in them, but that’s all open to interpretation anyway, so it’s not the same thing.
This is like a drug. It’s so… intimate… private, even… it feels sacred. These secret moments we share like this. It’s an intoxicating rush that I’ve truly missed.
********************
I awake to the familiar sound of pencil scratching against thick drawing paper, and smile at the attention that I’ve missed for so many months. I always catch him in the act. At first, I’d sleep though his intense scrutiny, and discover the evidence later on. Like the first time I saw a sketch he did of me sleeping, over at Lindsay’s. I was really surprised, and completely caught off guard. The little twink had a hidden talent, and it was almost pleasing to think of him drawing me like that. Over time, it became something I enjoyed. Finding the drawings, or waking up and pretending to be annoyed to find him studying me so intently. It made me sort of uncomfortable, but for the most part it made me fucking… happy. But I’d have never admitted it back then. Don’t know if I would now.
“I hear the furious scratch of pencil moving on paper,” I say, keeping my eyes closed, and scrunching up my face. “Could it be? Someone interested once more in the mere aesthetics of my cock? The contours of my sinewy muscles? The glimmering light reflecting off my perfect skin? The way my unruly hair falls against my forehead just right?”
His snorts and snickers of amusement go straight to my dick.
“See!” I exclaim, opening my eyes to take in his naked body, surrounded by sketches, pad and pencil propped in his hands. “Your attention is really getting to me,” I tell him, my gaze fixing pointedly on my cock.
I look back up at his face to find him still staring at it, and I chuckle.
“So… would you like to help me out, or sit back and watch?”
“Fuck you! Just lay there for a little longer,” he requests, gulping noticeably. “I want to finish this first.”
I try to get a peek at his lap, to see how affected he is, but his sketchbook blocks my view.
“You want to watch me suffer… Kinky.”
“Shut up,” he smiles. “The more you distract me, the longer it’ll take to finish.”
“Christ,” I groan, but stay where I am.
I close my eyes again, stretching my arms.
“Don’t move!”
“Sorry,” I grumble, putting my arms back in their former position.
I feel his eyes all over me, and it’s extremely erotic. I rarely ever posed for him when I was awake, but when I did, it always led to amazing sex. Whenever I caught him in the act as I awoke, it also led to amazing sex. It’s like when he’s awake, watching me, capturing me like that, he’s in control. Then I wake up and reclaim it from him. I feel my dick getting harder by the second.
“I give you five minutes to finish. If you’re not done by then, you’re screwed. Literally.”
I feel, rather than see his bright smile, and it makes me feel… fucking content. Content and satisfied.
I hear the shuffling of paper, followed by the thump of something landing on the floor, and suddenly I feel Justin’s weight on top of me.
“What are you smiling about?” he says before I open my eyes.
“What I’m going to do to you,” I reply with a smirk.
In one swift motion, I roll us over, and begin devouring him all over again.
After another round of great sex in the bed, plus an additional session in the shower, we finally set foot outside of the hotel. It’s around 4:30, and the sidewalks are busy. Justin and I make our way up Lexington to a coffee shop, planting ourselves at a small table in the back.
“God, I am fucking starving!” Justin says, grabbing a menu resting against the wall.
“All that fucking will wear you out. How many times have you done it in the past 48 hours?”
“Don’t be a dick,” he orders, eyeing me seriously.
“I’m not being a dick, I’m just asking an honest question,” I shrug.
“You’re trying to stir shit up… Don’t. We’re barely out of the Pitts.”
“Oh, come on… there must be a thousand questions on the tip of your tongue. You just don’t have the balls to come out and ask any of them right now.”
“When the hell did you slip into such a confrontational mood?”
“Does it matter?” I ask, wondering the answer myself. “I’m not confronting you about anything, I’m just talking.”
“Well, you’re not very good at it.”
“What would you rather I say?”
“Something honest.”
“Do I ever lie?”
“All the time.”
He says it, and then gives me this little smirk. This little ‘I’m onto you’ smirk, that grates on my last nerve, and makes me feel relieved at the same time.
“What do you want to know?”
“Well, for starters, where the fuck are we going?”
“I told you, I don’t know.”
“Bullshit. There has to be some place in the back of your mind that you want to end up.”
“Well… Florida’s always nice, but fuck going to the South.”
“Oh, but it’d be cool to go to the Keys. And New Orleans! That’s near Florida!”
“Fuck that. It’s summertime. You would die of asphyxiation from all the damn humidity. It’s ridiculous down there.”
“Okay… so we’re not going south at all?”
“I don’t think so. There’s no way in hell I’m driving through fucking Texas! And we’d have to spend days there if we decided to head to the West Coast after the Southland. And that would be AFTER we drove through Alabama, and probably Mississippi, too. Fuck THAT!”
“Okay… so the West Coast, then?”
“Well… that would make the most sense. It’d be cross-country in the true sense of the words. Plus, there’s a lot to do over there. A lot that I haven’t seen before. And I know you haven’t, either.”
“Oh my god! We’re going to California? San Francisco? LA?” he asks, getting more enthusiastic by the second.
“If you want to,” I smile.
“I SO want to!”
“Okay, then we’ve decided. Head to the West Coast.”
“Well, that’s great, but it’s hardly deciding. I mean, we have a whole fucking country to drive through. It’s not like an airplane ride where you pick one destination. We need to get a map.”
“Christ, calm down. We’ll figure it out later on. Right now, can we get some fucking food, before I fall over?”
“All that fucking…” he lets the words drift away with a sigh, and flashes me that bright smile.
Jesus, I’m glad I brought him with me.
I watch him interact with a middle-aged waitress who finally makes her way to our table, grinning at the way he coaxes a smile to the surface of her decidedly sour face. I’m so caught up in watching him that I don’t even pay attention to what he’s saying, and the waitress walks away before I have a chance to order.
“What?”
“She didn’t take my fucking order.”
“Yeah she did, I told her to get your usual… Turkey on whole wheat, no mayo. Black coffee.”
“Why’d you do that? I might’ve wanted something totally different.”
“Please. You’re so predictable sometimes. And besides, if you had been paying attention, you could’ve stopped me.”
“I am not predictable. I mean, look around, we’re not in the fucking Liberty Diner. We’re in New York City. Did you think at this time yesterday that you’d be here with me today?”
“You have a point,” he concedes, rolling his eyes. “But, you’re still predictable.”
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes back at him, because I really don’t care all that much. I’m still pretty tired. It feels like I haven’t slept in forever. Tonight, I know I’ll be out like a light.
“You look tired.”
“Stop reading my mind.”
“Is that why you weren’t paying attention before?”
“Something like that.”
“Where do you think we can get a map?”
“We’ll get one at the hotel.”
“They’ll have one of the States? Like road maps?”
“They should.”
“It’s going to be so much fun! I can’t fucking wait.”
His smile is so goddamn contagious, like a lethal virus. And he looks so happy just to be with me. I feel inadequate sometimes, when he smiles at me like that. I wish I could give that look back to him. But I know my face can’t light up like that. I’ve never seen anyone’s face light up quite like his does.
“You know there’s going to be a lot of driving involved. It may not be all fun.”
“Yeah right. It’ll be a blast. We’ll find ways to make it interesting.”
I laugh. “Tell me that when you’re grumpy, and falling in and out of sleep from boredom.”
“You are going to let me take turns driving, right?”
“I guess I have to,” I wince.
“You do. You can’t do all the driving yourself. That wouldn’t be right. And I promise not to fuck up your baby.”
“You better not, I’ll murder you.”
“Aw, you’re so sweet.”
“Where’s my sandwich?”
********************
After we eat, we spend some time walking around the city. It’s such an overwhelming place. The buildings are massive, and tall. The sidewalks are constantly crowded with people who know exactly where they’re going. The traffic is insane, and noisy. It’s completely unique. More urban than the word itself. But it definitely has a charm about it. It’s so alive, and in your face… larger than life.
There’s so much that I want to do here, I know I’m not going to get to do even half of it. I’ve been here a few times before. When I was younger, I came with my family, and did all the really touristy stuff. And then there was the last time I was here, and all it really got me was amazing sex. Which is always nice, but I didn’t exactly take advantage of being in the City That Never Sleeps.
“Brian?” I ask sweetly, slipping my arm though his.
“Hmm?”
“How long are we staying here?”
“You mean, how many museums can you fit into our stay?”
“Something like that,” I grin.
“We’re here for three nights only, meaning we leave bright and early on Wednesday.”
“We haven’t even decided where the fuck we’re going, have we? Why can’t we spend more time here?”
“Between now and Wednesday, we’ll have it all figured out. But, we’re not staying here longer than 3 days. The point is to head as far away from the ‘Burgh as we can. We need to get started on that.”
“Fine,” I mumble, looking at the ground as we make our way back to the hotel.
“This isn’t the last time you’ll be in New York. I’ll bring you back here some other time.”
“Really?”
I hate it when my voice goes all high like that, but I can’t help it. I mean, here we are, on this journey, and we haven’t even begun to discuss where we stand with each other, and he’s saying this kind of shit to me. Implying things that he usually makes sure not to imply.
“Maybe,” he says, pulling his arm free of mine, and stretching it across my shoulders. I rest my arm around his waist, and lean into his side, walking the rest of the way in silence.
It’s almost 7 o’clock when we return to the hotel room, and Brian instantly collapses onto the bed.
“Do not tell me you’re going back to sleep.”
“You have no idea how little I’ve been sleeping lately,” he mumbles into the bed.
“So you’re going to bed at seven? How old are you, eighty?”
“Fuck off.”
“No. I’m not going to sit around and watch you sleep.”
“So, don’t. Go out. Be merry. Whatever the fuck.”
God, he doesn’t fucking get it.
“Um, no. I’m not doing that either. You can lay there if you want, but we’re going to talk.”
He lets out the most audibly long sigh that he can possibly muster.
“Save your fucking sighs, ok?”
I go into the bathroom, and splash some water on my face, before heading back to the bed. I toss off my clothes at the foot of the bed, and dig into my bag to find my gray sweatpants. I slip them on, and climb onto the mattress, falling down on the fluffy pillows.
Brian sighs again, lifting himself off of the bed, all the while glowering at me. He strips all of his clothes off, and climbs back into the bed, settling between the covers. He always fucking has to be naked.
“What?” he grumbles.
“What do you mean ‘what’? I don’t even know where to start.”
“Take your pick.”
“Why’d you want to leave Pittsburgh?”
“Boredom.”
I give him a look, letting him know he can’t get off that easy.
“I don’t know. I just wanted to get out of there for a while. It’s been a fucked up year. Work, play, all of it was getting on my nerves. I just needed a change.”
“So why didn’t you go alone? Why’d you bring me?”
He hesitates, looking away from me, and I bring my left hand up to steer his gaze back to mine.
“I… didn’t want to be alone, and you’re the least annoying person I know.”
“Stop fucking around, Brian. Why did you bring me? Your ex… who left you, and who hasn’t had a real conversation with you in months. Surely there were likelier candidates.”
“Not really,” he mutters, wiping at his face. “Fuck, Justin, what do you want to hear, huh? What could I possibly say that you don’t already know? I wanted to bring YOU. So I did. Take it however you want.”
“Why can’t you fucking say anything important? Why do you have to be so goddamn closed off? If you know that you’re not fooling me, then why can’t you just say it! What the hell is it about you and words?”
“They don’t mean anything! Haven’t you figured that one out by now?”
“You are SO full of shit! Words don’t mean everything, but they mean something. There’s a reason that talking is the prime method of communication between human beings on this planet.”
“And what a waste of time it is.”
“You can’t fuck everyone into understanding your twisted points of view.”
“Watch me.”
“No thanks,” I answer sharply, surveying the room.
It’s such a fucking waste of time trying to get answers out of Brian. He always comes up with a way to deflect the truth. He may not lie outright, but he holds back on purpose. He’ll get the message loud and clear, but he won’t fucking say a thing to let you know he gets it.
I look over at one of the tables, and spot the telephone. That’s when I realize that he hasn’t picked up a phone all day. Then again, neither have I.
“Why haven’t you called anyone yet?”
He snorts. “I don’t want anyone on my back about this. I’m not calling anyone.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? You’re not calling anyone?”
“Nope.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little selfish, even for you?”
He gives me a pointed look, and flips me off, before sinking down into the pillows, as if this conversation is over.
********************
“Well if you won’t call anyone, I will.”
Fucking hell. Will he ever shut up?
“No you won’t. For now, let’s just pretend that we’ve dropped off the face of the earth, okay? I mean, why does that idea not appeal to you?”
“It does appeal to me, Brian, but unlike you, I care about other people’s feelings.”
“Jesus, Justin. The world is not going to stop turning just because we’re gone from it for a couple of days. We’ll talk to everyone soon, but not tonight. Now will you please shut up!”
“No.”
I swear I will fucking strangle him before the night is over. For now, there’s only one defense…
I inch my way closer to him, and lay on my side, trailing my right hand down his torso, and under the waistband of his sweats.
“What are you doing? You’re not distracting me with sex,” he proclaims, pulling my hand off of him, and slapping it away.
“You’re no fun.”
He gives an exasperated sigh, and gets off of the bed. Picking up his discarded clothes off the floor, he pushes down his sweats, and begins redressing.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“That is so like you. You don’t hear what you want, so you leave.”
“Fuck you,” he says, looking me in the eye, and really meaning it.
He fumbles with his shoes, and half a second later he’s storming out the door.
What a lovely ending to our first day away.
How do we manage to get into these ridiculous fights, without even trying? I mean, if I’m not ready to talk, I’m not going to. He knows me. Maybe he’s forgotten what it’s like to be in such a dysfunctional relationship.
I heard the Ethan kid cheated on him. I know that’s mainly why they broke up. If it hadn’t happened, who knows where either of us would be right now? But, I know they talked about everything. Their fucking feelings and all that shit. And that really upsets me. Not because they discussed it, but because Justin apparently had those feelings to begin with. He fucking went and fell in love with someone else. That’s something that I could never do. And I honestly didn’t think he could either, but I guess I was wrong.
Fuck, I’m pathetic. I need reassurance. I do. I fucking need to be reassured that I’m important to him. Justin needs to show me that he cares. That’s why I can’t just come out and talk to him. He wants me to prove something to him, but screw that. Until he proves something to me, he can be left hanging for all I care.
I turn over, and bury myself beneath the covers and between the pillows, and I drift to sleep.
At some point I vaguely hear the door opening, and footsteps, and the rustling of papers, and clothes. The sheets are lifted, and I feel the cold air against my back. The left side of the bed sinks, and I’m enveloped in warmth again, as Justin slides against me, putting his arm around my middle, pressing his naked body against mine. His breath is warm against my neck, and his left hand, lightly rubbing my stomach feel really… comfortable. I missed sleeping with him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers in my ear, surprising me.
Then he kisses my shoulder, and buries his head between my shoulder blades.
And I know what he means. He’s sorry he left. Not tonight, but all those months ago. He’s sorry. And maybe he still loves me.
My right hand finds his left one, and I hold his hand, as I slowly turn to face him. I look into his eyes for a few seconds, before laying my head on his pillow, and pulling him closer to me. I close my eyes, and stroke the soft skin of his back, and fall into a fitful sleep.
I awake the next morning to find Justin up, and ready to go. And he’s in the cheeriest of cheery moods. I can tell by the way he’s bouncing around, humming to himself, and grinning foolishly.
“Hey Bri,” he greets brightly.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m getting my stuff together for a day in the city.”
“Uh huh, and what are you going to do exactly?”
“I’m going to walk over to the Guggenheim and the Met, and then I’m going to go hang out in Central Park for a bit. Do you wanna come?”
“In more ways than one.”
“Sorry. I’m fully clothed, and ready to go.”
“That means fuck all to me. Come over here.”
********************
After a blowjob, and a quick shower, Brian is ready to go. I don’t know if I’m surprised that he’s coming with me, but… no, I am surprised. Very fucking surprised. And he looks really good today. Rested, and hot as hell. He’s wearing his tight 501s and a sleeveless dark gray shirt, and he looks like a million bucks. I can’t keep my hands off of him.
“Will you please stop groping me in public,” he teases with a grin.
“I can’t help it. You look too fuckable.”
He immediately grabs my shoulders, and turns us around back in the direction of the hotel.
“Stop!” I laugh, turning us back in the other direction. “We’re not spending all our time in New York fucking in a hotel.”
“You need to sort out your priorities.”
“Have you been watching ‘Harry Potter’ again?” I taunt, recognizing his words as a line from the movie.
“Fucking Gus. Wants to watch it a zillion times every time he’s over at my place.”
“Maybe you should buy him a new DVD.”
“He has like fifty already, but you know kids. They get obsessed with one fucking thing, and then one day they get sick of it, and never look back.”
“I was obsessed with Molly Ringwald movies when I was little.”
“Jesus, and your parents didn’t know you were queer until you told them?”
“Fuck you,” I say hitting him playfully. “I’m sure you did lots of queer stuff when you were little, and your parents didn’t know.”
“My parents never knew much about me, even then.”
Sometimes I forget that he had a horrible family. ‘Had’ being the operative word, because I know that he’s finally written them off completely. And who could blame him, after the shit they pulled when Brian was accused of molesting his asshole nephew? And if his father had been around, I don’t even want to fucking imagine what would’ve happened.
“You must’ve been so cute,” I say, smiling.
“I was alright. Not as cute as Gus.”
“I bet you were.”
“You must’ve been a little blond tornado when you were his age.”
“I was a menace.”
“Still are.”
“Oh yeah,” I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes, “a force to be reckoned with.”
“So when do I get to go shopping?”
“Shopping? Are you insane? There’s no room in your car for more stuff, unless you were planning on strapping your precious purchases to the roof.”
“Actually, I was planning on shipping my precious purchases back to the Pitts. I might as well pick up a few necessary summer pieces, and maybe a new suit, while I’m here.”
“You are so ridiculous.”
“Wanting to look good is not ridiculous. It’s what I do.”
“Please, you look your best in jeans and a tee shirt.”
“Are you trying to convince me to stop spending money on clothes? Because if you are you’re doing a piss poor job, and besides, it’s futile anyway. I will always be a proud label queen.”
“I know you will.”
“Maybe one day my fabulous sense of style will rub off on you.”
“I couldn’t afford to dress stylishly anyway. Besides, there is nothing wrong with my clothes.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Hey… aren’t you the one that’s been wearing all those fugly-ass sweater vests lately? I wouldn’t tease if I were you.”
His mouth drops open in mock shock, and I stick my tongue out at him.
“So you’ve been paying attention.”
“Not really, it’s just that they’re so ugly, my eyes are naturally drawn to…”
He halts my words with a heart-stopping kiss. Right here, in the middle of a busy New York sidewalk. We smile at each other, and keep on walking.
“You didn’t bring any of them with you, did you?” I get in one last dig.
“Fuck off, Old Navy Poster Boy.”
“It’s such a nice day out. Isn’t it?”
“Magnificent. Why would you want to spend hours upon hours in museums? Let’s go to the park.”
“We’ll go to the park later. Right now, be a good boy while we’re visiting the Guggenheim.”
“God, Justin… how long is this gonna take?”
“Not long. I could probably take out the Guggenheim in a couple of hours. The Met is going to be impossible, though. That’s why I’m saving it for later.”
“I have a feeling I’m going to die of boredom before the day is over.”
“Will you quit complaining? I know you like art. You’ll be fine.”
We walk in silence a short distance, still a couple blocks away from our destination.
“So,” Brian says, “where’d you go last night?”
“I just walked around, mostly.”
I was so pissed when I left, but later I realized that I really had no reason to be. Brian has always been hard to communicate with. He’s always prided himself on his actions, rather than his words. I figured that he probably thought bringing me with him away from Pittsburgh was all the explanation I needed. He never gives a damn about the why, only the what. The reasons are of little consequence… actions are everything. Which is why I’m so intrigued by his deciding to take off. And I already know why he brought me. It’s as close to a romantic gesture as he’ll allow. And I guess while I was walking around, I decided that was enough. Especially after the way I treated him when I left him. I don’t think he fully believed I was sorry about it until last night. When I came back. I think he finally got it. I still don’t get a lot of this, but for now, I get enough. That’s the important thing.
“Mostly?”
“I ended up finding a little travel shop, and I bought some maps. A map of Manhattan, and a couple of US maps. Sometime today, I’m going to force you to sit down and discuss our route plans.”
“Don’t think you’re going to dominate this entire trip, cuz if that’s what you think, I’m sending you home.”
“I’m not dominating the trip, I’m just dominating in New York. I should be allowed, because I’m an artist, and this is an artist’s city. Plus, I’m more together than you are, right now. You need a little guidance.”
“If you don’t watch it, I’m gonna kick your ass to the curb.”
“Yeah right. You’d be lost without me!” I tell him in a dramatic voice.
We finally reach the museum, and I pull him inside to buy our tickets. He pays, and I smile at him in thanks. He gives me a knowing look and a half-smile, as we head towards the spiral walkway. My touchy-feely mood from the sidewalk subsides, which is for the best. I don’t know if Brian wants to wander off and do his own thing or what. All I can really hope for is that he doesn’t end up fucking some guy in the bathroom while I’m distracted. I wouldn’t be surprised if he did it out of spite, for me being so “dominating”, and then chalked it up to boredom. He uses sex for everything. It doesn’t surprise me in the least anymore.
I become engrossed in the art, and pay little attention to Brian’s presence, until we reach one of my favorite Monet’s, ‘Le Palais Ducal vu de Saint-Georges Majeur’. It is done so little justice in print, which is true with most works of art, but especially someone like Monet. Because of his technique, and the way he blends colors, using short, abrupt strokes, it’s impossible to get the full effect unless you’re standing right in front of it.
“That’s pretty good,” Brian says beside me.
“Yeah,” I gasp. “The colors are amazing. And the definition he gets without drawing solid lines is incredible.”
I look over at Brian, and smile as he studies the painting. We never do shit like this back home. I mean, we never did when we were together. This feels really nice. I suddenly realize that I’m happy. Really happy for the first time since I can remember. That has to count for something.
********************