NEW FIC - Post-513
Ummmm... hee... Ok, so first off I wrote a new fic. And yes, I'm still working on "Nowhere" and that's going well too, but my muse hit me in the head with a hammer of hotness, and this is part 1 of the result. THAT SAID, this is sort of a Lost crossover fic, but not really. And it's also sort of slashy, given that the crossover character, *points to icon*, is not a canonically gay character. HOWEVER, even though I'm not personally into slash, OR writing fic for other fandoms non-QAF-B/J, this idea just gripped me as the best thing ever, and I had to run with it. I actually quite like it so far, too. I hope you do as well!
Let me know if you'd like to see more, or if it's just like *meep, what the fuck ever, shut up*
And this shouldn't be a long series. I should have it over within a pretty short period of time. I'm thinking between 6 and 10 chapters, all less than 10 pages long.
Oh, and even though this third character IS IN FACT Sawyer, it's kind of a weird mash-up of James/Sawyer/RL Josh Holloway. Think of it as a combination of Sawyerisms + Josh's earlier modeling career + Bad boy side + hot gay sex.
Anyway, here tis... Oh, and the title is purely metaphorical, no one will actually be harmed during the making of this fic... and despite what you may read the first few chapters, I promise that ultimately it IS a B/J fic. It couldn't end any other way. *Iznotcowlipomgkthx*
WARNING: Justin/Other
The Assassination of Brian Kinney By the Model James Ford
By Violet Jones
Justin Taylor never thought he’d be able to escape the memory of Brian Kinney. He wasn’t even trying to, in fact. He’d long ago accepted the idea that despite the man’s considerable flaws, Brian Kinney was made for him, and if they couldn’t be together at that moment in time, then he’d just have to get by on what he could until they could be together at a later a date. And Justin had no doubt in his mind that that day would come. The one thing he did know was that this time he couldn’t make the first move.
And so he lived his life in New York as a Lady In Waiting. At least, that’s what Justin called himself in his head in order to remind him of how ridiculous he was being, in as self-deprecating a way as possible. Sure, part of him wished he could just let go once and for all, but he’d resigned himself to his intense feelings, and that’s all there was to it.
He thought he’d be angrier with Brian for pushing him away yet again, when things didn’t work out in an exact play-by-play laid out according to the Kinney Master Plan, but he just couldn’t be. Aside from occasional bouts of loneliness in the big city he was discovering more and more of everyday, Justin was having a great time.
He lived in a shitty apartment, had a shitty part-time job at a graphics house, was meeting new people entrenched in the art world everyday, and had plenty of time to go on long walks through the city, listening to the iPod Brian had bought him last Christmas, and gazing around in wonder.
He was solitary, but happy. And in his mind’s eye, he could see Brian back in Pittsburgh leading a parallel life, on a slightly larger budget. That gave Justin all the comfort he needed at the moment.
Pittsburgh is only a commuter jet plane ride, or six-hour car ride away from New York City, but for some reason, or perhaps a complicated series of reasons, Brian and Justin haven’t seen each other in 9 months. They’ve exchanged funny little emails, a few brief phone calls that played out far more awkwardly than either could have thought possible, and always commented on the fact that soon they’d visit.
“To see how you’re surviving without me,” either would say with a smile in their voice to mask a heavy heart.
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way, it just kind of… did.
Although Justin was never seen as the sex fiend that Brian was by the Liberty Avenue mainstays, that was mostly due to the fact that Justin had no problem having sex with just Brian, most of the time. Whereas Brian flaunted a parade of tricks day-in, day-out regardless of his relationship or non-relationship status, Justin had always been every bit the sex fiend Brian was, only with his energy and passion reserved mostly for one person. Without the luxury of having Brian Kinney as his boyfriend in New York, Justin had to branch out and experiment with anonymous fucking more than he’d ever let himself previously. It didn’t bother him, really… it actually turned him on quite a lot usually, and he began to see Brian’s insatiable nature in a slightly different light.
The only thing Justin knew for sure was that he didn’t want a boyfriend. In his mind, he still had one, on ice. So even if the hot anonymous fucking never really infiltrated his bloodstream quite the way it had Brian’s, he preferred it greatly to a series of disastrous attempts at dating guys who weren’t Brian.
He really was doing well. Alarmingly well.
Which is why he should never have been surprised at what transpired shortly thereafter.
“Fuck it,” Justin half-yelled over the music to the bartender. “A shot of Patron. Keep ‘em coming.”
Ordinarily he drank the cheap shit, or as cheap as you could get liquor at a bar in the City. That, or he’d wait for someone to buy the drink for him. But he didn’t like doing that all the time, even if he was broke. It was one of those manly pride things, and not appearing weak to would-be predators. Tonight, he was buying himself expensive Tequila shots, because he was finally getting three of his pieces shown in a major gallery.
The Art Forum article had opened up a world of contacts to him, but in the art center of the planet, that meant little more than shit. He still had to work his ass off, not to mention kiss a lot of ass in order to get a shot at something real. From the things he’d heard, seen, and gathered intuitively, he was fucking lucky as hell to get this kind of break after less than a year in NYC. And he didn’t plan on squandering the opportunity.
He threw back three shots as he stood leaning against the bar, before a stool next to him was vacated. He sat down, relieved to be off his feet, and felt truly lonely for the first time in weeks. He supposed that was how it went… something great happens to you, finally, and all you want to do is have someone you love there to share it with; to support you, to celebrate with, to take home and fuck all night.
He hated missing Brian. The moment that he realized how much he really did, he always reached for his cell phone involuntarily, but never brought himself to dial Brian’s number. He just couldn’t do it. Another one of those manly pride things, he supposed.
“Another,” Justin said to the barman.
He could handle it. It’s what he did. It was his new modus operandi... miss Brian every minute of everyday, but suppress it just enough to function, and keep waiting for that fateful day that eventually had to come. There was nothing wrong with celebrating an accomplishment alone, even if it was mildly depressing, and just a tad pathetic. What could he do? He hadn’t made any real friends there yet, and that wasn’t his fault. He’d always been pretty independent, had no problems being on his own, and he was actually very proud of himself for that.
At first he hadn’t been sure he really had the balls to be alone in New York, even though his time alone in LA had been good preparation. That short taste of life as his own person, completely unattached to another, stronger, more stable adult had been more of a thrill than he’d been willing to admit to Brian upon his return to the Pitts. And a big part of him had longed to make some huge overture to Brian about the two of them moving off somewhere extravagant, on their own, and building a whole new life together. It was a deep-seated fantasy that he desperately wanted to make a reality.
But realistically, he knew he could never voice such thoughts to Brian. Despite the man’s claims of wanting to move on to bigger and better things, the fact was that he never really tried hard enough to make that leap. And the implication of such an upheaval in their lives being extremely relationship-centric was the biggest reason for Justin’s silence on the matter. He’d have to live with the fantasy, daydream about it from time to time, and keep on living his normal Pittsburgh life with Brian that never really changed or moved forward much.
And then the explosion at Babylon had happened, and it had shaken everyone on Liberty Avenue to the core, Brian most of all. And Justin had seriously believed for a couple of days that Brian had suffered a psychotic break. He’d finally told Justin that he loved him aloud, proposed twice, put his beloved loft on the market, and bought the most ridiculously extravagant mansion he could find just to prove himself to Justin.
Initially, Justin couldn’t help but be swept up in the fantasy. He’d been holding out for a fucking miracle such as that for years, but the reality ended up getting to him in a way Justin had never thought possible. It was just... too much. It wasn’t Brian. It wasn’t even really him. So, he broke it off.
But that in no way meant that Justin was prepared to give up Brian, or even his fantasy, he just couldn’t let them live someone else’s life and end up hating each other a couple years down the road when they both realized that they were insane, and that they’d never be that couple. Justin just wanted them to be themselves again, maybe with a little more commitment, which he’d already felt he’d gotten just going through the initial motions of a wedding. He knew they’d figure out their way eventually. They didn’t have to rush it just because some fucking psycho dickhead had blown up their stomping ground. For the first time ever, Justin felt like they had all the time in the world, but Brian obviously thought that one of them would drop dead any fucking minute.
And then Justin had gotten the Big Kinney Push. He should’ve fucking seen it coming, but his brain must’ve been too confused at the time to read the signs. Brian had been acting so fucking strange anyway, Justin had no idea what to expect from one day to the next. And it really had all come out of nowhere. One day they were getting married, the next day they weren’t, and the day after that, “You should be in New York, Justin.”
He still didn’t know what the fuck. But he had to get away.
It was a combination of things that made him ultimately decide to accept Brian’s plan for him. It was that taste of freedom he’d felt in LA, it was a fear of his relationship future after all the major things that had happened all at once, it was a genuine desire to see if he could in fact make it as a real artist, and it was a resentment towards Brian for giving up on them so easily, thinking he was the only one who could possibly know what was best for them, and deep-down ultimately wanting to be the lone, tragic figure.
Justin didn’t know why they couldn’t have talked about making a plan to move together. It would’ve been the perfect union of his fantasy, and Brian’s desire to do right by him. They could’ve tied up all the loose ends in Pittsburgh, and made that giant leap together, not into a marriage and a big fancy house, but into a life that would be fitting for them both.
Justin just really didn’t fucking get why Brian had to go and fuck everything up the way he did. He hoped that one day he could berate him for it. In the meantime...
“Why the long face, Sunshine?"
Justin froze. It couldn’t be. The words were all right, but the voice was all wrong, and it just fucking couldn’t be.
He swiveled around to get a look at the speaker, and froze again for all new reasons. This was not Brian Kinney talking to him, but it was the hottest fucking non-Brian guy he’d ever seen talking to him.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, obviously well-toned underneath his shirt, had to be somewhere around Brian’s age, with long blond hair, a perfect tan, sexy three-day stubble, deep blue eyes, and the most killer smile Justin had ever seen, with perfectly white teeth, and full-on dimples.
Justin’s cock took notice immediately.
He vaguely recognized the guy, but was certain he’d never forget meeting someone so drop-dead-gorgeous.
“Do I know you?” Justin quarried.
“I doubt it, Beautiful, but there’s plenty of time to change that,” the man said casually in a Southern accent, never wiping the sexy smirk from his face.
Justin was utterly taken aback. Not only had this mysterious stranger called him Sunshine, a moniker he hadn’t been referred to as since he’d left Pittsburgh, except when speaking to Debbie long-distance, but he’d practically echoed the line that Brian had used on him the night they’d met, that had pretty much sealed the deal on losing his virginity to the unknowing love of his life.
He would’ve freaked out over these bizarre coincidences had the man standing in front of him not been so undeniably appealing in every way. Justin figured he could give it a shot. At the very least, he’d have fun flirting with the hottest guy ever. At most, he’d get to fuck the hottest guy ever at the end of the night, and then brag about it for decades to come. He could take a discreet picture with his camera phone when the guy dozed off, and set it as his desktop to jerk off to for weeks after. Win-win, Justin figured.
And so he plastered on his sexiest smile, uttering, “Sounds like a plan.”
“Damn, boy, if you keep smiling like that I’ll go blind from the exposure.”
Justin suddenly thought he knew the meaning of Southern Charm. He couldn’t remember ever finding a Southern accent sexy before, but now he realized that it granted a certain license to cheese, that while completely full of shit, could charm the pants off damn near anyone.
“You wanna sit?” invited Justin.
“Nah. You wanna dance?” the guy countered.
“Just a sec,” Justin responded, turning back to the bar to grab his shot. He threw it back as he slid off the stool, turned around, and said, “All ready.”
“James,” the guy said, offering his hand.
“Justin,” he replied, shaking it.
The man didn’t let go, just pulled him out onto the dance floor.
One thing about James that didn’t remind Justin of Brian, was his ability to dance. James knew how, and it was hot. He kept a hand on Justin’s lower back, but didn’t insinuate himself into Justin’s space, which he thought gentlemanly. Justin allowed the distance to remain through exactly one and a half songs before he pressed himself up against the other man, his cock tight against James’ right thigh. The man let out a small audible breath at the maneuver, and Justin felt James’ dick press against his pelvic bone. It was obviously a nice size.
Justin knew that a dance floor wasn’t exactly the best place to try and get to know someone, and usually he didn’t give enough of a fuck to make the effort on or off the dance floor, but there was something about this guy. Justin was genuinely curious. James had a commanding presence that did remind him of Brian, coupled with an air of mystery equally Brian, multiplied by a knowing sexual confidence that Justin had never seen in anyone but Brian.
Okay, so maybe he was interested because James did in fact utterly and completely remind him of Brian. And maybe he missed Brian more than he’d consciously been allowing himself to think he was.
In the end, Justin decided he didn’t fucking care. This guy was here, Brian wasn’t. Ultimately that had been Brian’s choice, not Justin’s. He had to continue to make due with what he had, when he couldn’t have what he really wanted. It was fast becoming his favorite mantra.
“So what is it you do for a living?” Justin asked.
“Uh,” James started with a chuckle, “I’d like to call myself an actor, but I haven’t been gettin’ anything other than shit parts, so I’m mostly just a model.”
Justin laughed, “Just a model?”
“Well there are more interesting things to be proud of.”
“You mean you’re not just a pretty face?” Justin kidded, his mind unwittingly flashing back to the time he spent with Ethan when he was 19, which seemed like a lifetime ago. He almost shuddered at the thought.
James laughed again, and Justin got harder.
“I’d like to think that I have hidden depth,” he responded.
“Well at least now I know why you look familiar. I believe you’ve been featured in some of my favorite Calvin Klein underwear ads. My boyfriend would shit!” Justin gushed, smiling bright.
James faltered slightly. “Boyfriend?” he inquired with an arched eyebrow, still smirking.
Goddamnit, Justin thought, he even had Brian’s facial expressions down to a tee.
“Well... ex-boyfriend. Long story. I guess, old habits die hard and all that bullshit.”
“He still around?”
“Not really, no. He lives in another state. I haven’t seen him in nine months.”
“What’d you do, knock him up and run away?” he jested.
Justin laughed deeply at the mental image of Brian preggers with his kid. He’d have to file that one away for a future ‘very short and funny email’.
“Actually, we were engaged briefly, and then all of a sudden somehow, we weren’t, and I was in New York trying to build an art career.”
“Ah, an artist. I should’ve guessed.”
“Why?”
“Mmm,” James shrugged, “I thought I saw some hidden depth in you too.”
Then Justin was pulled impossibly close up against James, and suddenly tilted backward, until he was practically bent in half with his head touching the floor, as the man licked the side of Justin’s neck slowly up from his collarbone to his ear, and then abruptly brought him back to a vertical stance, staring into his eyes unflinchingly.
And Justin knew he was in trouble.
***** ***** ***** *****
Let me know if you'd like to see more, or if it's just like *meep, what the fuck ever, shut up*
And this shouldn't be a long series. I should have it over within a pretty short period of time. I'm thinking between 6 and 10 chapters, all less than 10 pages long.
Oh, and even though this third character IS IN FACT Sawyer, it's kind of a weird mash-up of James/Sawyer/RL Josh Holloway. Think of it as a combination of Sawyerisms + Josh's earlier modeling career + Bad boy side + hot gay sex.
Anyway, here tis... Oh, and the title is purely metaphorical, no one will actually be harmed during the making of this fic... and despite what you may read the first few chapters, I promise that ultimately it IS a B/J fic. It couldn't end any other way. *Iznotcowlipomgkthx*
WARNING: Justin/Other
The Assassination of Brian Kinney By the Model James Ford
By Violet Jones
Justin Taylor never thought he’d be able to escape the memory of Brian Kinney. He wasn’t even trying to, in fact. He’d long ago accepted the idea that despite the man’s considerable flaws, Brian Kinney was made for him, and if they couldn’t be together at that moment in time, then he’d just have to get by on what he could until they could be together at a later a date. And Justin had no doubt in his mind that that day would come. The one thing he did know was that this time he couldn’t make the first move.
And so he lived his life in New York as a Lady In Waiting. At least, that’s what Justin called himself in his head in order to remind him of how ridiculous he was being, in as self-deprecating a way as possible. Sure, part of him wished he could just let go once and for all, but he’d resigned himself to his intense feelings, and that’s all there was to it.
He thought he’d be angrier with Brian for pushing him away yet again, when things didn’t work out in an exact play-by-play laid out according to the Kinney Master Plan, but he just couldn’t be. Aside from occasional bouts of loneliness in the big city he was discovering more and more of everyday, Justin was having a great time.
He lived in a shitty apartment, had a shitty part-time job at a graphics house, was meeting new people entrenched in the art world everyday, and had plenty of time to go on long walks through the city, listening to the iPod Brian had bought him last Christmas, and gazing around in wonder.
He was solitary, but happy. And in his mind’s eye, he could see Brian back in Pittsburgh leading a parallel life, on a slightly larger budget. That gave Justin all the comfort he needed at the moment.
Pittsburgh is only a commuter jet plane ride, or six-hour car ride away from New York City, but for some reason, or perhaps a complicated series of reasons, Brian and Justin haven’t seen each other in 9 months. They’ve exchanged funny little emails, a few brief phone calls that played out far more awkwardly than either could have thought possible, and always commented on the fact that soon they’d visit.
“To see how you’re surviving without me,” either would say with a smile in their voice to mask a heavy heart.
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way, it just kind of… did.
Although Justin was never seen as the sex fiend that Brian was by the Liberty Avenue mainstays, that was mostly due to the fact that Justin had no problem having sex with just Brian, most of the time. Whereas Brian flaunted a parade of tricks day-in, day-out regardless of his relationship or non-relationship status, Justin had always been every bit the sex fiend Brian was, only with his energy and passion reserved mostly for one person. Without the luxury of having Brian Kinney as his boyfriend in New York, Justin had to branch out and experiment with anonymous fucking more than he’d ever let himself previously. It didn’t bother him, really… it actually turned him on quite a lot usually, and he began to see Brian’s insatiable nature in a slightly different light.
The only thing Justin knew for sure was that he didn’t want a boyfriend. In his mind, he still had one, on ice. So even if the hot anonymous fucking never really infiltrated his bloodstream quite the way it had Brian’s, he preferred it greatly to a series of disastrous attempts at dating guys who weren’t Brian.
He really was doing well. Alarmingly well.
Which is why he should never have been surprised at what transpired shortly thereafter.
“Fuck it,” Justin half-yelled over the music to the bartender. “A shot of Patron. Keep ‘em coming.”
Ordinarily he drank the cheap shit, or as cheap as you could get liquor at a bar in the City. That, or he’d wait for someone to buy the drink for him. But he didn’t like doing that all the time, even if he was broke. It was one of those manly pride things, and not appearing weak to would-be predators. Tonight, he was buying himself expensive Tequila shots, because he was finally getting three of his pieces shown in a major gallery.
The Art Forum article had opened up a world of contacts to him, but in the art center of the planet, that meant little more than shit. He still had to work his ass off, not to mention kiss a lot of ass in order to get a shot at something real. From the things he’d heard, seen, and gathered intuitively, he was fucking lucky as hell to get this kind of break after less than a year in NYC. And he didn’t plan on squandering the opportunity.
He threw back three shots as he stood leaning against the bar, before a stool next to him was vacated. He sat down, relieved to be off his feet, and felt truly lonely for the first time in weeks. He supposed that was how it went… something great happens to you, finally, and all you want to do is have someone you love there to share it with; to support you, to celebrate with, to take home and fuck all night.
He hated missing Brian. The moment that he realized how much he really did, he always reached for his cell phone involuntarily, but never brought himself to dial Brian’s number. He just couldn’t do it. Another one of those manly pride things, he supposed.
“Another,” Justin said to the barman.
He could handle it. It’s what he did. It was his new modus operandi... miss Brian every minute of everyday, but suppress it just enough to function, and keep waiting for that fateful day that eventually had to come. There was nothing wrong with celebrating an accomplishment alone, even if it was mildly depressing, and just a tad pathetic. What could he do? He hadn’t made any real friends there yet, and that wasn’t his fault. He’d always been pretty independent, had no problems being on his own, and he was actually very proud of himself for that.
At first he hadn’t been sure he really had the balls to be alone in New York, even though his time alone in LA had been good preparation. That short taste of life as his own person, completely unattached to another, stronger, more stable adult had been more of a thrill than he’d been willing to admit to Brian upon his return to the Pitts. And a big part of him had longed to make some huge overture to Brian about the two of them moving off somewhere extravagant, on their own, and building a whole new life together. It was a deep-seated fantasy that he desperately wanted to make a reality.
But realistically, he knew he could never voice such thoughts to Brian. Despite the man’s claims of wanting to move on to bigger and better things, the fact was that he never really tried hard enough to make that leap. And the implication of such an upheaval in their lives being extremely relationship-centric was the biggest reason for Justin’s silence on the matter. He’d have to live with the fantasy, daydream about it from time to time, and keep on living his normal Pittsburgh life with Brian that never really changed or moved forward much.
And then the explosion at Babylon had happened, and it had shaken everyone on Liberty Avenue to the core, Brian most of all. And Justin had seriously believed for a couple of days that Brian had suffered a psychotic break. He’d finally told Justin that he loved him aloud, proposed twice, put his beloved loft on the market, and bought the most ridiculously extravagant mansion he could find just to prove himself to Justin.
Initially, Justin couldn’t help but be swept up in the fantasy. He’d been holding out for a fucking miracle such as that for years, but the reality ended up getting to him in a way Justin had never thought possible. It was just... too much. It wasn’t Brian. It wasn’t even really him. So, he broke it off.
But that in no way meant that Justin was prepared to give up Brian, or even his fantasy, he just couldn’t let them live someone else’s life and end up hating each other a couple years down the road when they both realized that they were insane, and that they’d never be that couple. Justin just wanted them to be themselves again, maybe with a little more commitment, which he’d already felt he’d gotten just going through the initial motions of a wedding. He knew they’d figure out their way eventually. They didn’t have to rush it just because some fucking psycho dickhead had blown up their stomping ground. For the first time ever, Justin felt like they had all the time in the world, but Brian obviously thought that one of them would drop dead any fucking minute.
And then Justin had gotten the Big Kinney Push. He should’ve fucking seen it coming, but his brain must’ve been too confused at the time to read the signs. Brian had been acting so fucking strange anyway, Justin had no idea what to expect from one day to the next. And it really had all come out of nowhere. One day they were getting married, the next day they weren’t, and the day after that, “You should be in New York, Justin.”
He still didn’t know what the fuck. But he had to get away.
It was a combination of things that made him ultimately decide to accept Brian’s plan for him. It was that taste of freedom he’d felt in LA, it was a fear of his relationship future after all the major things that had happened all at once, it was a genuine desire to see if he could in fact make it as a real artist, and it was a resentment towards Brian for giving up on them so easily, thinking he was the only one who could possibly know what was best for them, and deep-down ultimately wanting to be the lone, tragic figure.
Justin didn’t know why they couldn’t have talked about making a plan to move together. It would’ve been the perfect union of his fantasy, and Brian’s desire to do right by him. They could’ve tied up all the loose ends in Pittsburgh, and made that giant leap together, not into a marriage and a big fancy house, but into a life that would be fitting for them both.
Justin just really didn’t fucking get why Brian had to go and fuck everything up the way he did. He hoped that one day he could berate him for it. In the meantime...
“Why the long face, Sunshine?"
Justin froze. It couldn’t be. The words were all right, but the voice was all wrong, and it just fucking couldn’t be.
He swiveled around to get a look at the speaker, and froze again for all new reasons. This was not Brian Kinney talking to him, but it was the hottest fucking non-Brian guy he’d ever seen talking to him.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, obviously well-toned underneath his shirt, had to be somewhere around Brian’s age, with long blond hair, a perfect tan, sexy three-day stubble, deep blue eyes, and the most killer smile Justin had ever seen, with perfectly white teeth, and full-on dimples.
Justin’s cock took notice immediately.
He vaguely recognized the guy, but was certain he’d never forget meeting someone so drop-dead-gorgeous.
“Do I know you?” Justin quarried.
“I doubt it, Beautiful, but there’s plenty of time to change that,” the man said casually in a Southern accent, never wiping the sexy smirk from his face.
Justin was utterly taken aback. Not only had this mysterious stranger called him Sunshine, a moniker he hadn’t been referred to as since he’d left Pittsburgh, except when speaking to Debbie long-distance, but he’d practically echoed the line that Brian had used on him the night they’d met, that had pretty much sealed the deal on losing his virginity to the unknowing love of his life.
He would’ve freaked out over these bizarre coincidences had the man standing in front of him not been so undeniably appealing in every way. Justin figured he could give it a shot. At the very least, he’d have fun flirting with the hottest guy ever. At most, he’d get to fuck the hottest guy ever at the end of the night, and then brag about it for decades to come. He could take a discreet picture with his camera phone when the guy dozed off, and set it as his desktop to jerk off to for weeks after. Win-win, Justin figured.
And so he plastered on his sexiest smile, uttering, “Sounds like a plan.”
“Damn, boy, if you keep smiling like that I’ll go blind from the exposure.”
Justin suddenly thought he knew the meaning of Southern Charm. He couldn’t remember ever finding a Southern accent sexy before, but now he realized that it granted a certain license to cheese, that while completely full of shit, could charm the pants off damn near anyone.
“You wanna sit?” invited Justin.
“Nah. You wanna dance?” the guy countered.
“Just a sec,” Justin responded, turning back to the bar to grab his shot. He threw it back as he slid off the stool, turned around, and said, “All ready.”
“James,” the guy said, offering his hand.
“Justin,” he replied, shaking it.
The man didn’t let go, just pulled him out onto the dance floor.
One thing about James that didn’t remind Justin of Brian, was his ability to dance. James knew how, and it was hot. He kept a hand on Justin’s lower back, but didn’t insinuate himself into Justin’s space, which he thought gentlemanly. Justin allowed the distance to remain through exactly one and a half songs before he pressed himself up against the other man, his cock tight against James’ right thigh. The man let out a small audible breath at the maneuver, and Justin felt James’ dick press against his pelvic bone. It was obviously a nice size.
Justin knew that a dance floor wasn’t exactly the best place to try and get to know someone, and usually he didn’t give enough of a fuck to make the effort on or off the dance floor, but there was something about this guy. Justin was genuinely curious. James had a commanding presence that did remind him of Brian, coupled with an air of mystery equally Brian, multiplied by a knowing sexual confidence that Justin had never seen in anyone but Brian.
Okay, so maybe he was interested because James did in fact utterly and completely remind him of Brian. And maybe he missed Brian more than he’d consciously been allowing himself to think he was.
In the end, Justin decided he didn’t fucking care. This guy was here, Brian wasn’t. Ultimately that had been Brian’s choice, not Justin’s. He had to continue to make due with what he had, when he couldn’t have what he really wanted. It was fast becoming his favorite mantra.
“So what is it you do for a living?” Justin asked.
“Uh,” James started with a chuckle, “I’d like to call myself an actor, but I haven’t been gettin’ anything other than shit parts, so I’m mostly just a model.”
Justin laughed, “Just a model?”
“Well there are more interesting things to be proud of.”
“You mean you’re not just a pretty face?” Justin kidded, his mind unwittingly flashing back to the time he spent with Ethan when he was 19, which seemed like a lifetime ago. He almost shuddered at the thought.
James laughed again, and Justin got harder.
“I’d like to think that I have hidden depth,” he responded.
“Well at least now I know why you look familiar. I believe you’ve been featured in some of my favorite Calvin Klein underwear ads. My boyfriend would shit!” Justin gushed, smiling bright.
James faltered slightly. “Boyfriend?” he inquired with an arched eyebrow, still smirking.
Goddamnit, Justin thought, he even had Brian’s facial expressions down to a tee.
“Well... ex-boyfriend. Long story. I guess, old habits die hard and all that bullshit.”
“He still around?”
“Not really, no. He lives in another state. I haven’t seen him in nine months.”
“What’d you do, knock him up and run away?” he jested.
Justin laughed deeply at the mental image of Brian preggers with his kid. He’d have to file that one away for a future ‘very short and funny email’.
“Actually, we were engaged briefly, and then all of a sudden somehow, we weren’t, and I was in New York trying to build an art career.”
“Ah, an artist. I should’ve guessed.”
“Why?”
“Mmm,” James shrugged, “I thought I saw some hidden depth in you too.”
Then Justin was pulled impossibly close up against James, and suddenly tilted backward, until he was practically bent in half with his head touching the floor, as the man licked the side of Justin’s neck slowly up from his collarbone to his ear, and then abruptly brought him back to a vertical stance, staring into his eyes unflinchingly.
And Justin knew he was in trouble.
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