Whatever Makes Him Happy
February 6 is a very important day in history. It is the birthday of the beautiful
_alicesprings . For this momentous occasion,
happier_bunny ,
vamphile , and I have written a story. Because
_alicesprings lives in the future Australia, we are posting it today.
It's basically wall to wall pornography held together by the merest vestige of dialogue, setting, and a premise a beautiful story of the love. It asks a simple "what if":
What if Brian, instead of winning the Academy Award for Best Queen-Out by a Homosexual after he hears Justin will be staying in LA longer than planned, simply acted like a semi-normal person and, you know, went to visit him?
Because it's for
_alicesprings , we thought it would be polite to include her kinks fictional preferences to as great an extent as possible without violating the artistic integrity of the work. There may, therefore, be some completely relevant and probably metaphorical phone sex, rimming, and other important thematic references. Some of these have been illustrated by
silent_seas in her wall of porn lovely banner for the story.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY
_alicesprings ! We hope you enjoy our porn literary effort, darling wife!
Whatever Makes Him Happy
By
happier_bunny,
vamphile, and
xie_xie_xie
Brian’s POV
I slid the loft door shut behind me, and tossed my jacket onto the sofa as I walked by. It had been another boring Thursday night at Babylon, followed by an even more excruciatingly boring blowjob in the backroom. Not that I didn’t know the cure for boring blowjobs. I did.
Justin’s mouth.
Unfortunately, Justin’s mouth, along with the rest of him, was 3000 miles away in Los Angeles, where he was helping turn Rage: The Comic into Rage: The Movie.
I looked at the clock, and thought about calling him. It was almost 2 here, which meant it was almost 11 there. If he’d come straight home, he was probably asleep, and if he’d gone out, he wouldn’t be home yet. Either way, he wasn’t likely to be sitting up waiting for me to call.
The phone rang. The caller ID told me it was Justin. I almost let it go to voice mail, but at the last minute, I answered.
“What the fuck are you doing calling this late?”
He sounded amused. “Shitty night at Babylon?”
I smiled and got a beer from the refrigerator, and went into the bedroom. “They don’t call it the Pitts for nothing. We can’t all be in glamorous Hollywood.” I took a long swallow of my beer, and set it down on the bedside table.
“I have to work tomorrow. Contrary to what everyone believes, Brian, we don’t party seven nights a week here. Some of us actually sleep all night, and work all day.”
“That sounds mind-numbingly, ball-crunchingly boring. I suggest you immediately get up, get dressed in something slutty, and go get your dick sucked.”
He laughed a little. “I had something else in mind.”
“What would that be?” I stretched out on the bed and opened my jeans. I was fairly sure I knew what Justin had in mind.
“I was having trouble sleeping.”
“You know the best cure for that is jerking off.” I pulled my half-hard cock free of my jeans, and felt it getting harder in my hand.
I heard a sound like he was turning in bed. “Yeah… the thing is, I really miss having your dick up my ass.”
I felt my dick give a jerk in my hand when he said that. It seemed to miss being there, too. “Why don’t you get out some lube and your favorite dildo, and rectify that situation? There’s not a lot I can do about it from here.” My hand was stroking my cock lightly.
I heard that note of amusement in his voice again. “My favorite dildo?”
“The blue one.”
He was silent for a minute. “That’s my favorite?”
I rolled my eyes. “Just get it out.”
I heard sounds from the other end of the phone, undoubtedly Justin digging through his bedside drawer. I wondered what color his sheets were, and what his body looked like against them. I imagined for just a minute that he was here, pale and naked on my dark blue sheets, that it was his hand, and not mine, stroking my cock.
“Okay.” He sounded breathless. “The blue one.”
I remembered the last time I’d seen Justin using that dildo. I’d come in from somewhere, I didn’t even remember where anymore. He was on his knees on the bed, one hand flat against the wall, the other behind him, thrusting it into his ass. I hadn’t even taken off my jacket, just walked up the stairs and crawled onto the bed, and asked if he’d needed a hand.
“Put your phone on speaker, you’re going to need both your hands.”
“It’s on.”
“Put the dildo on the bed next to you.”
I heard the slightest breath of resistance, but he just said, “Okay.”
“If I were there, I’d spread you out on your back, with your legs just far enough apart for me to kneel between them.” I could hear his breathing getting faster and shallower. “I’d take my fingers and touch the insides of your thighs, just run them up and down. Do it.”
I imagined Justin touching himself on the smooth, pale skin between his legs. I tried to slow my own breathing down. “Now hold your balls in your other hand… press on them.”
Justin moaned, and I had to make my own hand slow down on my cock when I heard it. “Lift them away from you, Justin, and bend your knees.”
“Brian…” his voice cracked.
“Touch the spot behind your balls, press on it.” I put my phone on speaker, realizing I needed both my hands, too. I cupped my own balls, and lifted them up, and started stroking my perineum.
“Does that feel good, Justin?”
“Uh huh.” His voice was thick.
I reached over and got the lube out of the drawer next to the bed, and drizzled it on my cock and balls and hand. “Justin, stop. Get the lube, put it all over your hand.”
I heard that little sound of resistance again, but he did it. “Okay.”
“Rub it all over your cock, and your balls. Tell me when you’re done.”
I heard him breathing hard, and then he almost whispered, “I’m done.”
“Put more lube on your fingers.”
“Uhh.” I knew what he looked like when he made that sound, his lips parted, his eyes glazed. I pumped my cock a couple of times before I made myself stop, just thinking about his mouth, and his skin, and what his hand looked like covered in lube.
“Put your finger at your hole, but don’t put it in yet.” My voice sounded hoarse, and I put my own wet finger at my hole, and let it play around the opening.
“Brian…”
I knew what his legs looked like, spread open, his heels tucked back under him, his ass lifting just a little, everything glistening with lube. I realized I’d pulled my own legs up, and was fingering myself, my other hand still stroking my cock. “Put your finger inside.” I slid my own in when I said it.
Justin groaned, and I did, too. I drove my finger deep and touched my prostate, and had to pull back when the electricity shot out along my nerves, right to the base of my cock. “Touch your prostate, Justin. Tell me when you’re touching it.”
He was panting. “Touching it.”
“Pull your finger back.”
“No….”
“Do it.” I was fucking myself with my own finger, hard.
He mumbled in protest, but told me he’d done it. “Now put two fingers in, one thrust, all the way in.” When I said it, I did it to myself, too. I arched my back at the stretch, and tried to pull my heels in tighter. I had to let go of my cock, and moved my other hand back to my balls.
I was rubbing my prostate and pulling on my balls, and imagining Justin slowly fucking himself on two wet fingers, panting and lifting his ass up. My eyes were closed so tightly that I was seeing flashes of light against my lids. “Justin, take your fingers out. And get the dildo.”
He didn’t say anything, didn’t even moan.
“Is it lubed enough?”
“Uh huh.” He could hardly talk.
“Press it on your perineum.”
This time he moaned. Loudly.
“Move it back, then stop at your hole.” I had pulled my fingers back from my prostate so I wouldn’t come, but I kept fucking myself with them. I twisted them together, and then spread them apart, thinking about Justin’s asshole quivering with the head of the dildo pressed against it.
“Push it in, just an inch.”
He just said my name, harshly.
“Another inch.”
“Fuck you Brian, hurry up…” I was amazed he could get five words out like that. He was still panting.
“Pull it out an inch.”
He just answered with a moan. “Now back in, as far as you can. Go.”
I knew he’d shoved it in deep from the sound he made. My cock jerked in my hand, and a spurt of pre-come gushed out on my abdomen. I smiled, and let my fingers touch my prostate again.
“Keep stroking it in and out, Justin.” I fucked myself with my fingers, and thought about the blue dildo stretching Justin’s tight hole, and his thigh muscles quivering, and the way he was biting his lip. I knew his eyes were closed, and his throat was arched back.
I knew he was imagining it was me. So was I.
I let myself jerk roughly on my cock, and fucked myself a little harder. But my voice sounded steady. “Harder, Justin. Fuck yourself harder.”
His moan was almost a cry. “Brian.” He sounded desperate. I knew the feeling.
“Grab your cock and fuck yourself… come for me, Justin….” My voice was breaking now, and I threw my head back and tightened my fist around my cock. I let my fingers stroke against my prostate once, twice, and then a third time. My balls pulled up, my cock went rigid in my hand, and I heard myself say his name, almost a shout. “Justin…”
“Brian….” I knew he was coming, heard him moan, but the rush of blood in my ears almost drowned it out, as a hot explosion of come shot out over my hand and chest. I felt the heat boiling up from inside me, up my spine and down my thighs, and out my cock. I had lifted my ass off the bed, my heels digging into the mattress, my breath coming fast and hard.
It finally ended, and I slid my fingers out of my ass and let go of my dick. Every muscle in my body relaxed at once, and I rolled onto my side, panting.
“Fuck.” It was Justin’s voice. He sounded dazed.
I laughed. “I can’t think of a better word.”
He gave a weak laugh, too. “Fuck, Brian.”
I just lay there for a minute, trying to imagine him lying next to me again. It didn’t work.
“Brian?”
“Hmmmm?”
“I wish this was your dick inside me.”
I didn’t say anything for a second. “Me, too.”
Justin’s POV
I wake up the next morning with a sore ass and a big smile on my face.
While I’m making coffee, I remember whimpering something to Brian about wishing the dildo inside me was his dick instead. If anyone’s capable of considering missing someone’s dick to be lesbianic, it’s Brian Kinney. I blow on the surface of the coffee in my mug, and hope it didn’t trigger one of his patented drama queen moments, in which he very gently and firmly shoves me headfirst off the nearest cliff. I love him, but he’s high maintenance.
The studio is buzzing when I get there. Brett was on some talk show that morning, and a caller had criticized him for making a movie “glorifying” homosexuality. Someone’s put it on a repeating loop on the TV monitors, and I get to hear Brett trying not to laugh while he replies to the guy all day long.
By 3 that afternoon, my hand is shaking, and I spend the last couple of hours talking with the designers about Rage’s lair. I don’t have a car in LA, so I usually ride with one of the crew, Andy, who goes past Brett’s house on his way home every night. If he can’t take me, I have to hang out and wait for Brett, and he sometimes doesn’t leave the studio until almost 10.
I’m talking with Andy as we walk through the gate.
“Justin.”
I look up, knowing before I see him that it’s Brian. My brain can’t quite process the information, doesn’t understand exactly what I’m seeing. I stand there, staring.
“Justin. Get in.” He’s standing at the open back door of a limo.
I dimly hear myself telling Andy I’ll see him tomorrow. I walk over to Brian, and pin him against the limo with my body, my mouth on his, my arms wrapping around his neck.
The door closes behind me and I’m almost on top of him. I lean back to ask him what he’s doing here, but realize I’d rather do something else with my mouth. I kiss him, and his hand is on the back of my head, pulling me closer. His other hand is hitting the button; the tinted glass between the driver and us goes up. Both of his hands are on me now.
He’s sliding them under my shirt, across my back, pulling me closer. Kissing me harder. I needed this. He needed this too, apparently. Thank god we don’t have to talk to know what the other needs.
I’m sliding his suit jacket off of him, loosening his tie. Did he have a meeting? Is that why he’s in LA? Doesn’t matter. He’s here. I’m unbuttoning his shirt, and his arms are on my shoulders, his tongue rolling with mine. He’s undoing his cufflinks.
I need him inside me. I’m working the buckle on his pants and he’s working the fly of mine and finally we’re significantly more naked than clothed. He never did get the second cufflink undone, and his shirt is hanging off his arm. I notice this as I roll a condom over his hard cock. His hand is on mine, and then both his hands move to my ass. He’s pulling me forward. I fall back against the soft leather of the long bench seat, my legs around his waist, his cock pressing at my hole. He kisses me again, and I sigh into him as he fills me. He rocks into me, and the rhythm of the road works with us.
I’m angling my body, my cock rubbing against him. He leans up for a moment, looking at me, as if trying to memorize me, or check for changes. His hand is cradling my balls, rolling them, and I’m so fucking close. He pulls back and I reach out, grabbing his head and pulling him in for another kiss. He’s moving inside me again, his hand joining mine on my cock as he strokes my prostate with his own hard-on.
Short sharp thrusts, making me shudder with each movement, bringing me closer and closer and then pulling back again. He’s the only one who can do this to me, and he fucking knows it. I don’t know why he’s playing me right now, but I know that I don’t want him to stop. I don’t want him to stop fucking me, or playing me. I want this to last. We may be heading to the airport. He may be on his way back to Pittsburgh, and if this is the only chance I’ll have to fuck him for the next few months, I want it to last. Hell, if this is the first chance I have to fuck him for the next few months, I still want it to last.
He knows it. He feels it. He’s moving in long languid strokes, and now he’s purposely avoiding letting me come. I moan into his mouth and he speeds up. Angling differently and making my body convulse. When I’m close again he stops, shifts his body. I wrap my legs around his hips tightly, crossing my ankles behind him and holding him there. I arch up and fuck myself on him. My arms around his neck holding him to me. He chuckles in my ear and I graze my teeth along his chin. His mouth is on mine again.
His lips, his teeth, his tongue, all marking, exploring, claiming and caressing. I feel him try to pull away, and I clamp my body down around his. Arms, legs, ass, all of me holding him.
“Ready?” It’s the first word he’s said since the car door closed. I nod. Words are gone. His hand moves to my cock again, his shirt hanging off his hand, crumpled between me and the back of the seat. He’s pistoning into me, and I relax my grip around his waist so that he can move more easily. He’s not planning on stopping now. Every muscle in his body is tense and waiting to explode. So am I.
He comes, his head thrown back, his body covered in a soft sheen of sweat. I come all over both of us while he’s moving inside me. It’s too much. I tighten my ass around his cock, milking him, slowing him down.
He collapses on top of me and I push the sweaty tendrils of hair away from his face.
“Hi.”
He smiles. “Hi.”
I’m about to ask him all the questions that I think a normal person might have asked before ravaging his boyfriend, but the car comes to a stop and the driver announces that we’re here.
I don’t even know where here is.
In a hurried but practiced dance, we get each other dressed. I find his cufflink; I really don’t want to have the argument that comes after he loses one. He nods his thank you, tucks his tie in his jacket pocket and gets out of the car. He holds his hand out and I take it. I’m afraid to look. Christ, I really hope we’re not at the airport. I hope this wasn’t just a layover.
Brian’s POV
I pulled Justin’s hand as he got out of the limo. The driver was getting our bags out of the trunk, and the doorman opened the door for us as we went inside.
The lobby was quiet and cool, and our bags were in our room by the time we got up there. There really is nowhere on earth like LA for seeing the sheer, unadulterated power of money.
Justin still looked kind of adorably confused as he gazed around our suite. He stepped out on the balcony and looked down at the palm trees and the swimming pool, and at the hazy hills in the distance. He came back in, and went into the bedroom.
I followed him. He was sitting on the bed, looking around the room, a little smile on his lips. I started to take off my shirt for second time since arriving in California, and went into the bathroom to start the shower.
Justin followed me into the bathroom. “Brian? I don’t have any clothes, or a toothbrush, or…”
I nodded with my head towards the bedroom. “The black overnight bag? That’s full of your stuff, from the loft. If you need anything from your place, we can drive over there later.”
We washed each other’s hair and leaned against each other. He kissed my chest and throat while the hot water poured over both of us, and when we were finally clean, I turned off the water.
I walked into the bedroom with a big towel, drying my hair and then my body. The terrace doors were open, and the warm California air blew across the bed. I lay down on the bed, and thought about Justin, the soapy water running down his body in little ribbons, the feeling of his skin under my slippery hands. I rolled over onto my stomach, my hand under my cock, humping softly against my palm. A minute later, I heard Justin chuckle, and felt him get onto the bed behind me.
I spread my legs. His tongue trailed down my spine and into the crack of my ass. I kept rocking into my hand underneath me, and then back onto his tongue, a feeling of warmth starting to gather inside me.
Justin flattened his tongue and licked a wide swath from my hole to my perineum. He gripped both my hips in his hands, and started licking my balls, while I buried my moans in the pillow.
My free hand was clutching the sheet, and Justin moved his tongue back to my hole, making it pointed and jabbing it inside me, then flattening it out and tracing every tiny wrinkle on the outside. I felt his name torn out of my throat, and I went up onto my knees. I turned around and grabbed both sides of his face, kissing him, tasting my ass in his mouth.
I pushed him down on the bed, still kissing him. I slid down his body, biting at his throat and chest and belly, licking his cock, burying my face in his pubes.
I slid my arms under his legs, and cupped his ass in my hands. He wrapped his legs around me, letting my shoulders push against the back of his thighs and lift him up. He reached down and cupped his balls, pulling them up, and grasped his cock in his other hand.
Justin was jerking slowly on his cock, and I pressed my tongue against his perineum, burying my nose in his skin, breathing him in. Even under the scent of the shower gel, I could still smell Justin.
I licked him from his balls to his asshole, and back again. I traced every wrinkle and fold, and left a trail of saliva coating him everywhere my tongue touched. I fluttered the tip at his opening, and he groaned and bucked into my mouth. I pressed my flat tongue into his hole, and felt the ring of muscle tighten on me. I made it firmer and pressed harder, rolling it into a point and jabbing inside him.
His thighs were pressing against my ears, and I lifted him more firmly against my mouth. I felt the movement of his hand on his cock speed up, and his ass clenched on my tongue so hard I almost couldn’t move it inside him.
Justin gave a shout and started to come, trapping my tongue inside him, tightening his thighs on my head.
His legs finally fell away from me, and I crawled up between them, nuzzling at the come on his cock and belly and chest, licking up every drop. There was even a long line of semen glistening on his cheek, and I saved that for him on my tongue, and fed it to him. His hands grabbed at either side of my face, and we kissed for a long time.
I lay with my head on Justin’s chest, his hands playing with my hair. He made little happy sounds in his throat. I smiled against his skin, and fell asleep.
Justin’s POV
The next morning, we wake up, the sheets tangled around our legs. I lie in the big hotel bed, smelling lemons from the big glazed pots on the terrace.
Brian looks up at me from where his face is still resting on my chest, and rubs his eyes. Then I realize what woke us up: Someone is in the living room, setting up our breakfast.
I stumble into the bathroom to piss, while Brian pulls on a hotel robe and goes out to sign the room service bill. I put on the robe that hangs on the back of the bathroom door, and follow him out after the waiter’s gone. I start pulling covers off the dishes, and smile. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, sausage, French toast, fruit. And not even one egg white omelet in sight. I sigh happily and start eating, while Brian sucks down coffee and pretends he can’t wake up, even though it’s three hours later for him.
I tuck my foot under me on the chair, and look at him. “Did you have any plans for today?”
He smirks. “You said your ass missed my dick. I thought we’d concentrate on that.”
“I need to still be able to walk on Monday. So we might want to intersperse that with shopping and sightseeing, that kind of thing.” I swallowed some coffee.
Brian’s eyebrow shoots up, but he nods. “Why don’t you take me over to the studio and show me this amazing set you’ve been working on?”
A smile erupts on my face, and from the way he’s smiling back, I guess he knows that’s the thing I most want to do today. Other than having his dick up my ass.
We shower, and get dressed, and when we get downstairs, the car is ready for us. Considering that, as far as I know, Brian had about ten hours to plan this entire weekend, at least half of which was spent on a plane, it’s impressive. I tell the driver to take us to the studio, and use my key card and gate pass to get us in.
Shooting hasn’t started yet. The building is almost empty. I know there are people here, but not on set. I’m showing him Gayopolis. The diner, he smirks. Babylon, he nods. Rage’s lair, he raises an eyebrow. We’re both standing in front of the bed, his bed, well, his bed if he were a superhero. It’s exactly as I drew it. They’ve done an excellent job. It’s an altar. He’s behind me now, his hands around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. His mouth right next to my ear.
“This is how you see it.”
I nod. I lick my lips and swallow. My stomach flutters, which is stupid, but this is how I see it, or how I saw it, not just Rage’s lair but Brian’s bed, an altar, a place of worship, the source of power for a living deity. I’m beyond that, but the memory lingers. I don’t come here often. It makes me hard. I’ve had dreams about him fucking me on this bed. Of all the places we’ve fucked, and the list is pretty long, this is the one place I dream about, the one place we’ve never fucked, but the one place where I feel like we have.
“You want me to fuck you here. You’ve been dreaming of me fucking you here.”
He knows me. It’s scary how onto me he is. He might deny it, but he listens a lot harder than he pretends to. I nod. I’m not going to lie to him. He pulls away from me. Walks around me slowly. He’s facing me now, his back to the set. He holds out a hand, and I take a step towards him. He kisses me. His hands on my waist, turning me until my back is to the set. He presses his hand against my chest, and I fall backwards onto the bed. He’s on top of me in seconds and I don’t care that the mattress isn’t really a mattress or that the stone columns are made of styrofoam; there’s a couple of objects that are rock hard.
He pulls my shirt over my head and I shiver. The place is huge, and it’s weird to feel exposed, but I do. Maybe it’s because this is where I work. Maybe it’s because this is something that I never really thought would happen. Maybe it’s because the look in his eye is pure Rage, predatory. I want him.
He’s pulling at my jeans. And when they’re off he’s on top of me, kissing me, still fully clothed. I’m grinding against him. I want to come. I need to come.
“Roll over.”
I do. I’m on my hands and knees, and I can feel his eyes raking down my body. I hear the sound of his zipper, and my body is covered in goosebumps. The ceiling is about forty feet from us, and the place suddenly feels cavernous as I assess my position. I’m about to say something, but then his hands are on my hips. His cock is pressing between my cheeks and I’m pushing back, trying to get him inside me.
He’s kissing my back, between my shoulder blades. We’re on his altar and he’s worshipping me with his hands, and his mouth, and I want him inside me. He presses in and I open up to him. I move under him, and he slides home… where he belongs, inside me.
“I want to live here.” He whispers it against my ear and I know he doesn’t mean Rage’s lair. I let my head fall forward onto the rough texture of the cheap, low thread count sheets that, I was informed, create less glare. I don’t care. The harsh texture feels good against my cheek and my knees, just like the soft feel of Brian’s skin against the backs of my thighs feels like heaven.
I’m moving with him now. His hand meeting mine on the mattress, his other joining mine on my cock. I buck against him, and he grunts his appreciation. I thrust into the soft tunnel we’ve made with our fingers and I continue to rock, into his hand, onto his cock. Again and again. I no longer care where we are. Rage’s lair, the hotel, the limo, his office at Kinnetik, some dank room at the Gravel Pit. Doesn’t matter. What matters is this, us, together.
I’m close. His forehead is against my back. He moves his body up so that his mouth is against my ear. He’s as deep inside me as he can get and I’m arching towards him, trying to get him deeper. No such thing as enough. “You’re so close. Come for me, Justin. Come with me.”
And I do. We come together, both grunting and moaning, and then his hands are around my waist, splayed against my chest, pulling me up until my back is flush against his chest, and my head falls back on his shoulder. I reach for his head and draw him in for a kiss.
He kisses me back and wipes his hand on the cheap sheets, soaked with my come and his sweat, and laughs. “You need to convince them that Rage would never sleep on a poly cotton blend.”
I laugh too, and figure I’ll tell him about the glare factor of high thread count Egyptian sateen cotton later. Right now, I’m trying to find my sock.
Brian’s POV
I took Justin to his favorite Mexican restaurant, and then we went back to the hotel to change.
I was standing in front of the mirror trying on a shirt, and Justin walked out of the bathroom, rubbing his hair with a towel. He glanced over at me. “That shirt’s hot.”
I pulled it off, and took another one off a hanger. “How about this one?”
Justin tipped his head to the side. “It’s the same shirt.”
I huffed. “It’s not the same at all. This shirt is Armani, the first one was Dolce and Gabbana. Have I taught you nothing?”
“Apparently not.” Justin took a folded black t-shirt out of his bag, which was on the floor of the closet. He pulled it over his head, then pulled on a pair of black jeans. I sighed, and got a third shirt out of the closet.
I took Justin to a club a client had told me about, and we walked past the long line and up the stairs. The walls were washed in turquoise lights, and the dance floor was crowded.
I smiled at Justin and lifted an eyebrow, gesturing with my hand towards my pocket, in the way he’d always understood. He laughed and tipped his head back, his tongue peeking out. I pulled a tab of E out of my pocket, and gave it to him on my tongue. Then I took one myself.
We downed two shots each at the bar, and then we split a bottle of water. Nine dollar a bottle water.
We went out on the dance floor, and after a few minutes, the familiar feeling of Justin dancing against my body made me forget where we were. We could have been at Babylon, or any club anywhere. We could have been in bed, the way he was writhing against me. Justin on E was a beautiful thing.
His hands were up under my shirt, and he was gently rolling my nipples between his fingers. I rested my hands on his shoulders, and just rode the feeling that was erratically shooting down my nerves from my nipples to my cock.
Until he planted his thigh hard against my crotch, and pinched hard on both nipples at once. I hauled him up tight against me, my hands clutching at his shoulders, kissing him with my tongue deep in his mouth.
“You play dirty.” I kept kissing him, and reached down behind him and grabbed the back of his ass, pulling him in tighter.
He tipped his head back. His eyes were dark, and he ground back against my crotch. “I do. I really do. And you love it.”
I smiled. “The men of LA don’t know what they’re up against.”
Justin leaned into me. “No one’s up against me tonight except you.” And he kissed me.
I stroked his tongue with mine, then let it wander all over inside his mouth, licking his teeth and the insides of his lips. I felt dizzy, and horny, and high. I took Justin’s hand and led him to the back of the club, where I’d seen a lot of guys disappearing since we’d arrived.
We pushed through a small group of men around a narrow door, and then around a dividing wall. It was a dark square room, with cinderblock walls set at angles all around, and I pulled Justin into the shadowed side of one of them. I leaned against the wall, and Justin leaned into me, and I kissed him again. My lips were starting to get raw from all the kissing we’d been doing.
Justin’s tongue was tracing the edges of my mouth, and then he dipped his head down and started tonguing my throat. I murmured, and put my hands in his hair, but didn’t press down. I wanted him to blow me, but I didn’t think I was done kissing him yet.
I slid one hand down inside his jeans, opening them with the other hand. His hard cock rested in the curve of my palm. I let him rock against it, almost lazily, and sucked his tongue deep inside my mouth.
Justin knelt in front of me, and I tugged my fly open and let him pull out my cock. He lapped at the head, and stuck his tongue in my slit, and started humming in his throat. I could feel it while I slid between his lips.
I thought about the boring blowjob at Babylon the night before I came to LA. I thought about the fact that Justin had never given a boring blowjob in his life. Then I stopped thinking, because Justin swallowed around my cock and kept that humming thing going, and I threw my head back against the wall and came.
Justin stood up when I was done, and I tasted my come in his mouth. He took my hand and pressed it against his cock. I swept my thumb over the head, bringing the pre-come down over his shaft, jerking him while he set the pace with his hand over mine. I felt his cock go rigid under the silky skin covering it, and then the hot rush of Justin’s come on my skin. I pulled my hand up to my mouth, and tasted his come. Justin brought his face close to mine, and started licking my fingers, too, our tongues touching each other, and then together we licked my hand clean.
We fastened our pants and went back out to the dance floor, and split another bottle of water. We danced some more, tangled together. I barely heard the music at all, taking the beat from the way Justin was moving against me.
Justin’s POV
I love to dance. I love music and going to clubs. I love getting off in a dark place with a hot guy.
But I love it best when that hot guy is Brian.
Brian’s not as high as I am, or maybe I’m just acting higher than I really am. I love doing that, love letting Brian watch over me, give me water, keep me close.
The E is wearing off, and I let myself slow down, sag against Brian just a little. He notices, like he always does, and steers me to the bar with a hand on the small of my back. One more nine dollar bottle of water, and we’re heading for the door, and sliding into the back of the limo.
All the way back to the hotel, we’re all over each other, hands sliding up and down sweaty arms, tongues tangling. I rest against the leather back of the seat, Brian’s hot mouth on my throat, his tongue tracing the curves of my ear.
We get there, and I follow him to the elevator, and then down the hall to our suite. I wrap my arms around his waist from behind while he opens the door.
Once we’re inside, he doesn’t hesitate, just tugs me after him into the bedroom. He doesn’t take his eyes off mine while he strips me, fingers lightly teasing my nipples, the sensitive skin where my neck meets my shoulder, my stomach.
I want to hurtle myself against him when he pushes down my jeans, but he drops to his knees and licks the salty traces of my earlier orgasm off my pubes and thighs, and I feel my knees start to shake.
Brian grabs the back of my thighs, and I sag into him. He nuzzles and licks my cock, and I hear myself whimpering.
He stands up, and walks me backwards to the bed, pushing me down. I wrap my legs around him, every move so familiar. His lubed fingers sliding deep into my ass. The sound of him tearing open the condom wrapper. The feel of his cock pressing against my opening. The head slipping in, stretching me wide, holding still while I burn and ache with the feeling of him filling me.
I tighten my legs around him, and hear my voice begging him to fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, Brian. And he does, hard, deep, over and over, until I feel one more orgasm start to build inside me, right where his cock is stroking me so perfectly, so knowingly.
He doesn’t tease me or make me hold back. He brings me right to the edge and then over it, letting me clutch at him with my ass, my legs, my arms, pulling him deep inside of me, and close to me.
I laugh while I come, feeling it bubbling up out of me like champagne out of a bottle. His hips start moving erratically against me, and then he freezes, and jerks and shudders into me. He’s saying my name, over and over, and he sounds so happy.
We lie there, my legs still around him, but loosely. He starts to pull away, but I stop him with one touch to his arm.
“Stay inside me.” I whisper it against his ear.
He kisses me. “Okay. Just for a little while.”
My eyes are already closed. I feel him softening inside me, and let myself slip all the way down into sleep.
Brian’s POV
I woke to the smell of strong coffee, and soft kisses on my neck and back. It took me a minute to remember I was in LA with Justin, and not in bed with some trick who overstayed his welcome. Justin hasn’t been that in years, and I haven’t let a trick spend the night since he went to LA. He said he’d move in, it’s his side of the bed, they’re not allowed to sleep there. Maybe someday I’ll tell him that. Probably not.
His kisses moved lower. He knew I was awake. He’s been hyperaware of shit like that for a long time now. He always was, but even more so since Ibiza. No reason to pretend. I rolled over, thinking that if he was going to put his mouth on something, it may as well be my cock.
I looked down at him and he looked up through his lashes and smiled. When he leaned in to kiss me, he tasted like coffee. It was 11 in the morning my time, 8 in the morning his. I wondered why the fuck he was up. Then he kissed me again, and I remembered. This was our time.
I sat up, thinking I’d get a cup of coffee, but he pushed me back down. I laughed. Justin didn’t say anything, but he lay between my thighs, sucking intently on a nipple. We both knew where things were going.
I ran my hand through his hair, because I needed to feel it, soft and present between my fingers. I was glad it had grown back. Yeah, it looked hot, but he was an angry little fucker when he cut it.
I looked down at him, and thought, he’s happy. He’s working hard, and he misses me, but he’s happy. He was leaving butterfly kisses across my stomach, and I let that be the reason my muscles tensed. It wasn’t the thought of him being happy in LA. I wanted him to be happy.
I kept watching him, fascinated. Justin has a couple of ways he goes about this, and they’re all pretty well practiced. I think he used to build these elaborate plots, and even though he doesn’t need them anymore, he likes to pretend he does. I like to pretend he does. So he was kissing my cock, just like he’d been kissing my stomach, soft butterfly kisses. There were a lot of ways I could have stopped him, but I didn’t want to.
“Roll over.”
Christ, the way he said it. His voice was low, and he was quiet, like if he said it too loud, I’d notice.
I rolled over, and his hands and lips were on my ass. His tongue was inside me, and he was pushing my thighs apart. He’d make a great director; he always knows where he wants everyone to be, and what they should be doing and feeling. I think he got that from me, I really do.
I could have feigned disinterest, but I don’t lie to him if I can help it, so I spread my legs wider and pressed up onto my knees. His face was buried in me, and we still hadn’t said good morning.
His mouth moved lower. He was sucking on my balls, both of them. He never differentiates just because one’s fake. I was wet and he stroked me, and then moved a wet finger inside me. I gasped; I guess I wasn’t as ready as I had thought. He worked his finger inside me, slowly. He added another one, and I opened up more. He was fucking me with two fingers then, and I was waiting for a third, wanting it. He knew it too, little fucker. He was good at this.
He didn’t add a third finger, though. He pulled out completely and went back to licking me until I was ready to scream, or grab a dildo and do it myself. But then he was on top of me, his mouth biting at my shoulder, hard. Which is good because as he slid into me, I could blame the yelp on the shoulder bite.
He waited. Letting me get used to the feel of him inside me. Wet, hot, hard, and thick. A couple of moments later, I was pressing back against him. His hands on my hips. His mouth working its way across my back. He was fucking me hard, and I wanted it harder.
I drove back onto him, and he slapped my ass. “Cut it out.” He sounded amused. I was kind of amused, too.
I felt him change his angle, and I pushed up against him again as he hit my prostate. He slapped my ass twice in quick succession, and I pushed back even harder.
Then he was riding me. Thrusting into me and pulling out almost completely, before he buried himself balls-deep inside me. He alternated running his hand gently over my ass and thighs, to a few rough slaps that left me gritting my teeth to keep from asking him to do it again.
He was silent. No words, no sounds, just our bodies moving together. The smell of the night before and that morning strong, almost stronger than the scent of coffee, both making me harder, always harder. He was moving deep inside me. He moved his knees, pushing my legs further apart and sliding against my prostate on every slow grinding circle.
We were covered in sweat, and I felt a drop of it fall from his forehead and hit my ass. That undid me, and I came before either one of us had touched my cock. He kept moving inside me, and half a dozen strokes later, I felt him come while I was still twitching and clasping around him. He pulled out slowly and rolled over. Condom gone before I even opened my eyes. I was still on my stomach, knowing we’d have to shower soon, but needing a minute.
He was on his back, his head next to mine. He leaned in to kiss me. “Good morning.”
I smiled a little. “I smell coffee.”
He nodded.
“I need coffee.”
He nodded again and poured me a cup. It was sitting on the nightstand on my side of the bed, and I considered asking for a straw so I didn’t have to move. I slowly pulled myself into an upright position, and took a few more moments to appreciate having a partner who could fuck me like that, without pretense or preamble, and then remember not to bitch when I ask him to get the coffee.
He turned on the TV and tried to find a weather outlook for the day. It’s LA. It’s going to be 71 degrees and sunny with smog. But he insisted on checking. That was fine, as long as he didn’t want to talk until after I showered.
Fifteen minutes later he was leaning against me, and I was done with my coffee. “We should shower.”
I nodded. I was still not in the mood to talk.
“If I don’t get a chance to say it again, thank you for this weekend.”
I stood up and turned the water to a temperature that we could both agree on.
Justin joined me, and we took our time. When we were finally dressed, we stopped for breakfast in the hotel dining room. The bellman still had to get our luggage into the car, and whatever high protein Justin got in the shower wasn’t going to hold him.
An hour later, we were in the limo headed towards LAX.
I was sitting lengthwise along the seat, and he was in between my legs. We were stuck in traffic, and we’d been making out like teenagers for half an hour. I was kissing him and watching for any emotional triggers. He didn’t seem upset. He was kissing me again. We were at a dead stop, and the air conditioning wasn’t on at the moment. The car was heating up quickly, and his thigh against my groin wasn’t helping any. I moved to dislodge him, but he just attached himself more firmly, thrusting up against me.
I ran my hands through his hair, and he pressed harder against my hip while his thigh rubbed roughly against my cock. His tongue was moving in and out of my mouth with the same rhythm as his thigh.
I leaned my head back. “Justin.”
He slid down my body, unbuttoning my jeans and smiling up at me. “You’d kill me if you had to fly covered in come.”
I nodded. His hand was around my shaft, and his lips formed a tight ring as they slid over the head of my cock. His tongue was pressing into the slit hard, and I knew I wouldn’t last long if he kept that up
I should have been sated, but I never am with him. He should have been fucked out, but I’ve never seen him that way for more than an hour or so. It scares me how well suited we are. He moved his hand around to my hip, holding it down to remind me not to just fuck his mouth. He turned his head and I could see his expression and it was … bliss. I couldn’t explain it, but he wasn’t just happy because he was sucking cock, or even because he was sucking my cock. He was happy because we were together. Because he was with me.
Just as that thought crossed my mind, I came. He swallowed it and sucked me dry, and when he carefully tucked me back into my jeans, he patted my crotch. I laughed. He straddled me and kissed me, then, and I thought I should remind him that we’d be at the airport soon, but I didn’t want to.
He was pressing against me, his hard cock making his jeans tight and his eyes dark. His hands were in my hair, sliding down my back. I took two fingers into my mouth, and watched him watch me. He leaned forward, and I slid my hand beneath the waistband of his jeans. He wasn’t wearing underwear; I hadn’t brought him any. He moaned as my first finger found the entrance, and when the second one followed. His head fell back. He was moving, fucking himself on my fingers. My other hand slid between us to cup his balls through his jeans. He gasped, and I still haven’t found anything sexier than his expression when he’s about to come.
His eyes opened. “Brian.” I smiled and watched as he came in his jeans. His expression was peaceful and contented.
The car stopped, and I leaned in to kiss him one last time while the driver got my bags out of the trunk.
Justin sighed. “I’ve really missed you.”
I rested my cheek on his hair. “Me, too.”
Justin moved his head down, and laid it against my chest. “I mean, it’s a lot better than phone sex. Even with my favorite dildo.”
“I’m saving some drawer space for your favorite dildo, since it’s going to be my designated stand-in until you get home.”
He laughed and kissed me one more time before I got out of the car.
I watched the limo drive away, and when I couldn’t see it anymore, I entered the main terminal. It was Sunday afternoon, and I’m sure it was filled with crying babies and weary tourists and aggravated business travelers, but I didn’t notice any of them.
_alicesprings . For this momentous occasion,
happier_bunny ,
vamphile , and I have written a story. Because
_alicesprings lives in the future Australia, we are posting it today.
It's basically wall to wall pornography held together by the merest vestige of dialogue, setting, and a premise a beautiful story of the love. It asks a simple "what if":
What if Brian, instead of winning the Academy Award for Best Queen-Out by a Homosexual after he hears Justin will be staying in LA longer than planned, simply acted like a semi-normal person and, you know, went to visit him?
Because it's for
_alicesprings , we thought it would be polite to include her kinks fictional preferences to as great an extent as possible without violating the artistic integrity of the work. There may, therefore, be some completely relevant and probably metaphorical phone sex, rimming, and other important thematic references. Some of these have been illustrated by
silent_seas in her wall of porn lovely banner for the story.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY
_alicesprings ! We hope you enjoy our porn literary effort, darling wife!
Whatever Makes Him Happy
By
happier_bunny,
vamphile, and
xie_xie_xie
Brian’s POV
I slid the loft door shut behind me, and tossed my jacket onto the sofa as I walked by. It had been another boring Thursday night at Babylon, followed by an even more excruciatingly boring blowjob in the backroom. Not that I didn’t know the cure for boring blowjobs. I did.
Justin’s mouth.
Unfortunately, Justin’s mouth, along with the rest of him, was 3000 miles away in Los Angeles, where he was helping turn Rage: The Comic into Rage: The Movie.
I looked at the clock, and thought about calling him. It was almost 2 here, which meant it was almost 11 there. If he’d come straight home, he was probably asleep, and if he’d gone out, he wouldn’t be home yet. Either way, he wasn’t likely to be sitting up waiting for me to call.
The phone rang. The caller ID told me it was Justin. I almost let it go to voice mail, but at the last minute, I answered.
“What the fuck are you doing calling this late?”
He sounded amused. “Shitty night at Babylon?”
I smiled and got a beer from the refrigerator, and went into the bedroom. “They don’t call it the Pitts for nothing. We can’t all be in glamorous Hollywood.” I took a long swallow of my beer, and set it down on the bedside table.
“I have to work tomorrow. Contrary to what everyone believes, Brian, we don’t party seven nights a week here. Some of us actually sleep all night, and work all day.”
“That sounds mind-numbingly, ball-crunchingly boring. I suggest you immediately get up, get dressed in something slutty, and go get your dick sucked.”
He laughed a little. “I had something else in mind.”
“What would that be?” I stretched out on the bed and opened my jeans. I was fairly sure I knew what Justin had in mind.
“I was having trouble sleeping.”
“You know the best cure for that is jerking off.” I pulled my half-hard cock free of my jeans, and felt it getting harder in my hand.
I heard a sound like he was turning in bed. “Yeah… the thing is, I really miss having your dick up my ass.”
I felt my dick give a jerk in my hand when he said that. It seemed to miss being there, too. “Why don’t you get out some lube and your favorite dildo, and rectify that situation? There’s not a lot I can do about it from here.” My hand was stroking my cock lightly.
I heard that note of amusement in his voice again. “My favorite dildo?”
“The blue one.”
He was silent for a minute. “That’s my favorite?”
I rolled my eyes. “Just get it out.”
I heard sounds from the other end of the phone, undoubtedly Justin digging through his bedside drawer. I wondered what color his sheets were, and what his body looked like against them. I imagined for just a minute that he was here, pale and naked on my dark blue sheets, that it was his hand, and not mine, stroking my cock.
“Okay.” He sounded breathless. “The blue one.”
I remembered the last time I’d seen Justin using that dildo. I’d come in from somewhere, I didn’t even remember where anymore. He was on his knees on the bed, one hand flat against the wall, the other behind him, thrusting it into his ass. I hadn’t even taken off my jacket, just walked up the stairs and crawled onto the bed, and asked if he’d needed a hand.
“Put your phone on speaker, you’re going to need both your hands.”
“It’s on.”
“Put the dildo on the bed next to you.”
I heard the slightest breath of resistance, but he just said, “Okay.”
“If I were there, I’d spread you out on your back, with your legs just far enough apart for me to kneel between them.” I could hear his breathing getting faster and shallower. “I’d take my fingers and touch the insides of your thighs, just run them up and down. Do it.”
I imagined Justin touching himself on the smooth, pale skin between his legs. I tried to slow my own breathing down. “Now hold your balls in your other hand… press on them.”
Justin moaned, and I had to make my own hand slow down on my cock when I heard it. “Lift them away from you, Justin, and bend your knees.”
“Brian…” his voice cracked.
“Touch the spot behind your balls, press on it.” I put my phone on speaker, realizing I needed both my hands, too. I cupped my own balls, and lifted them up, and started stroking my perineum.
“Does that feel good, Justin?”
“Uh huh.” His voice was thick.
I reached over and got the lube out of the drawer next to the bed, and drizzled it on my cock and balls and hand. “Justin, stop. Get the lube, put it all over your hand.”
I heard that little sound of resistance again, but he did it. “Okay.”
“Rub it all over your cock, and your balls. Tell me when you’re done.”
I heard him breathing hard, and then he almost whispered, “I’m done.”
“Put more lube on your fingers.”
“Uhh.” I knew what he looked like when he made that sound, his lips parted, his eyes glazed. I pumped my cock a couple of times before I made myself stop, just thinking about his mouth, and his skin, and what his hand looked like covered in lube.
“Put your finger at your hole, but don’t put it in yet.” My voice sounded hoarse, and I put my own wet finger at my hole, and let it play around the opening.
“Brian…”
I knew what his legs looked like, spread open, his heels tucked back under him, his ass lifting just a little, everything glistening with lube. I realized I’d pulled my own legs up, and was fingering myself, my other hand still stroking my cock. “Put your finger inside.” I slid my own in when I said it.
Justin groaned, and I did, too. I drove my finger deep and touched my prostate, and had to pull back when the electricity shot out along my nerves, right to the base of my cock. “Touch your prostate, Justin. Tell me when you’re touching it.”
He was panting. “Touching it.”
“Pull your finger back.”
“No….”
“Do it.” I was fucking myself with my own finger, hard.
He mumbled in protest, but told me he’d done it. “Now put two fingers in, one thrust, all the way in.” When I said it, I did it to myself, too. I arched my back at the stretch, and tried to pull my heels in tighter. I had to let go of my cock, and moved my other hand back to my balls.
I was rubbing my prostate and pulling on my balls, and imagining Justin slowly fucking himself on two wet fingers, panting and lifting his ass up. My eyes were closed so tightly that I was seeing flashes of light against my lids. “Justin, take your fingers out. And get the dildo.”
He didn’t say anything, didn’t even moan.
“Is it lubed enough?”
“Uh huh.” He could hardly talk.
“Press it on your perineum.”
This time he moaned. Loudly.
“Move it back, then stop at your hole.” I had pulled my fingers back from my prostate so I wouldn’t come, but I kept fucking myself with them. I twisted them together, and then spread them apart, thinking about Justin’s asshole quivering with the head of the dildo pressed against it.
“Push it in, just an inch.”
He just said my name, harshly.
“Another inch.”
“Fuck you Brian, hurry up…” I was amazed he could get five words out like that. He was still panting.
“Pull it out an inch.”
He just answered with a moan. “Now back in, as far as you can. Go.”
I knew he’d shoved it in deep from the sound he made. My cock jerked in my hand, and a spurt of pre-come gushed out on my abdomen. I smiled, and let my fingers touch my prostate again.
“Keep stroking it in and out, Justin.” I fucked myself with my fingers, and thought about the blue dildo stretching Justin’s tight hole, and his thigh muscles quivering, and the way he was biting his lip. I knew his eyes were closed, and his throat was arched back.
I knew he was imagining it was me. So was I.
I let myself jerk roughly on my cock, and fucked myself a little harder. But my voice sounded steady. “Harder, Justin. Fuck yourself harder.”
His moan was almost a cry. “Brian.” He sounded desperate. I knew the feeling.
“Grab your cock and fuck yourself… come for me, Justin….” My voice was breaking now, and I threw my head back and tightened my fist around my cock. I let my fingers stroke against my prostate once, twice, and then a third time. My balls pulled up, my cock went rigid in my hand, and I heard myself say his name, almost a shout. “Justin…”
“Brian….” I knew he was coming, heard him moan, but the rush of blood in my ears almost drowned it out, as a hot explosion of come shot out over my hand and chest. I felt the heat boiling up from inside me, up my spine and down my thighs, and out my cock. I had lifted my ass off the bed, my heels digging into the mattress, my breath coming fast and hard.
It finally ended, and I slid my fingers out of my ass and let go of my dick. Every muscle in my body relaxed at once, and I rolled onto my side, panting.
“Fuck.” It was Justin’s voice. He sounded dazed.
I laughed. “I can’t think of a better word.”
He gave a weak laugh, too. “Fuck, Brian.”
I just lay there for a minute, trying to imagine him lying next to me again. It didn’t work.
“Brian?”
“Hmmmm?”
“I wish this was your dick inside me.”
I didn’t say anything for a second. “Me, too.”
Justin’s POV
I wake up the next morning with a sore ass and a big smile on my face.
While I’m making coffee, I remember whimpering something to Brian about wishing the dildo inside me was his dick instead. If anyone’s capable of considering missing someone’s dick to be lesbianic, it’s Brian Kinney. I blow on the surface of the coffee in my mug, and hope it didn’t trigger one of his patented drama queen moments, in which he very gently and firmly shoves me headfirst off the nearest cliff. I love him, but he’s high maintenance.
The studio is buzzing when I get there. Brett was on some talk show that morning, and a caller had criticized him for making a movie “glorifying” homosexuality. Someone’s put it on a repeating loop on the TV monitors, and I get to hear Brett trying not to laugh while he replies to the guy all day long.
By 3 that afternoon, my hand is shaking, and I spend the last couple of hours talking with the designers about Rage’s lair. I don’t have a car in LA, so I usually ride with one of the crew, Andy, who goes past Brett’s house on his way home every night. If he can’t take me, I have to hang out and wait for Brett, and he sometimes doesn’t leave the studio until almost 10.
I’m talking with Andy as we walk through the gate.
“Justin.”
I look up, knowing before I see him that it’s Brian. My brain can’t quite process the information, doesn’t understand exactly what I’m seeing. I stand there, staring.
“Justin. Get in.” He’s standing at the open back door of a limo.
I dimly hear myself telling Andy I’ll see him tomorrow. I walk over to Brian, and pin him against the limo with my body, my mouth on his, my arms wrapping around his neck.
The door closes behind me and I’m almost on top of him. I lean back to ask him what he’s doing here, but realize I’d rather do something else with my mouth. I kiss him, and his hand is on the back of my head, pulling me closer. His other hand is hitting the button; the tinted glass between the driver and us goes up. Both of his hands are on me now.
He’s sliding them under my shirt, across my back, pulling me closer. Kissing me harder. I needed this. He needed this too, apparently. Thank god we don’t have to talk to know what the other needs.
I’m sliding his suit jacket off of him, loosening his tie. Did he have a meeting? Is that why he’s in LA? Doesn’t matter. He’s here. I’m unbuttoning his shirt, and his arms are on my shoulders, his tongue rolling with mine. He’s undoing his cufflinks.
I need him inside me. I’m working the buckle on his pants and he’s working the fly of mine and finally we’re significantly more naked than clothed. He never did get the second cufflink undone, and his shirt is hanging off his arm. I notice this as I roll a condom over his hard cock. His hand is on mine, and then both his hands move to my ass. He’s pulling me forward. I fall back against the soft leather of the long bench seat, my legs around his waist, his cock pressing at my hole. He kisses me again, and I sigh into him as he fills me. He rocks into me, and the rhythm of the road works with us.
I’m angling my body, my cock rubbing against him. He leans up for a moment, looking at me, as if trying to memorize me, or check for changes. His hand is cradling my balls, rolling them, and I’m so fucking close. He pulls back and I reach out, grabbing his head and pulling him in for another kiss. He’s moving inside me again, his hand joining mine on my cock as he strokes my prostate with his own hard-on.
Short sharp thrusts, making me shudder with each movement, bringing me closer and closer and then pulling back again. He’s the only one who can do this to me, and he fucking knows it. I don’t know why he’s playing me right now, but I know that I don’t want him to stop. I don’t want him to stop fucking me, or playing me. I want this to last. We may be heading to the airport. He may be on his way back to Pittsburgh, and if this is the only chance I’ll have to fuck him for the next few months, I want it to last. Hell, if this is the first chance I have to fuck him for the next few months, I still want it to last.
He knows it. He feels it. He’s moving in long languid strokes, and now he’s purposely avoiding letting me come. I moan into his mouth and he speeds up. Angling differently and making my body convulse. When I’m close again he stops, shifts his body. I wrap my legs around his hips tightly, crossing my ankles behind him and holding him there. I arch up and fuck myself on him. My arms around his neck holding him to me. He chuckles in my ear and I graze my teeth along his chin. His mouth is on mine again.
His lips, his teeth, his tongue, all marking, exploring, claiming and caressing. I feel him try to pull away, and I clamp my body down around his. Arms, legs, ass, all of me holding him.
“Ready?” It’s the first word he’s said since the car door closed. I nod. Words are gone. His hand moves to my cock again, his shirt hanging off his hand, crumpled between me and the back of the seat. He’s pistoning into me, and I relax my grip around his waist so that he can move more easily. He’s not planning on stopping now. Every muscle in his body is tense and waiting to explode. So am I.
He comes, his head thrown back, his body covered in a soft sheen of sweat. I come all over both of us while he’s moving inside me. It’s too much. I tighten my ass around his cock, milking him, slowing him down.
He collapses on top of me and I push the sweaty tendrils of hair away from his face.
“Hi.”
He smiles. “Hi.”
I’m about to ask him all the questions that I think a normal person might have asked before ravaging his boyfriend, but the car comes to a stop and the driver announces that we’re here.
I don’t even know where here is.
In a hurried but practiced dance, we get each other dressed. I find his cufflink; I really don’t want to have the argument that comes after he loses one. He nods his thank you, tucks his tie in his jacket pocket and gets out of the car. He holds his hand out and I take it. I’m afraid to look. Christ, I really hope we’re not at the airport. I hope this wasn’t just a layover.
Brian’s POV
I pulled Justin’s hand as he got out of the limo. The driver was getting our bags out of the trunk, and the doorman opened the door for us as we went inside.
The lobby was quiet and cool, and our bags were in our room by the time we got up there. There really is nowhere on earth like LA for seeing the sheer, unadulterated power of money.
Justin still looked kind of adorably confused as he gazed around our suite. He stepped out on the balcony and looked down at the palm trees and the swimming pool, and at the hazy hills in the distance. He came back in, and went into the bedroom.
I followed him. He was sitting on the bed, looking around the room, a little smile on his lips. I started to take off my shirt for second time since arriving in California, and went into the bathroom to start the shower.
Justin followed me into the bathroom. “Brian? I don’t have any clothes, or a toothbrush, or…”
I nodded with my head towards the bedroom. “The black overnight bag? That’s full of your stuff, from the loft. If you need anything from your place, we can drive over there later.”
We washed each other’s hair and leaned against each other. He kissed my chest and throat while the hot water poured over both of us, and when we were finally clean, I turned off the water.
I walked into the bedroom with a big towel, drying my hair and then my body. The terrace doors were open, and the warm California air blew across the bed. I lay down on the bed, and thought about Justin, the soapy water running down his body in little ribbons, the feeling of his skin under my slippery hands. I rolled over onto my stomach, my hand under my cock, humping softly against my palm. A minute later, I heard Justin chuckle, and felt him get onto the bed behind me.
I spread my legs. His tongue trailed down my spine and into the crack of my ass. I kept rocking into my hand underneath me, and then back onto his tongue, a feeling of warmth starting to gather inside me.
Justin flattened his tongue and licked a wide swath from my hole to my perineum. He gripped both my hips in his hands, and started licking my balls, while I buried my moans in the pillow.
My free hand was clutching the sheet, and Justin moved his tongue back to my hole, making it pointed and jabbing it inside me, then flattening it out and tracing every tiny wrinkle on the outside. I felt his name torn out of my throat, and I went up onto my knees. I turned around and grabbed both sides of his face, kissing him, tasting my ass in his mouth.
I pushed him down on the bed, still kissing him. I slid down his body, biting at his throat and chest and belly, licking his cock, burying my face in his pubes.
I slid my arms under his legs, and cupped his ass in my hands. He wrapped his legs around me, letting my shoulders push against the back of his thighs and lift him up. He reached down and cupped his balls, pulling them up, and grasped his cock in his other hand.
Justin was jerking slowly on his cock, and I pressed my tongue against his perineum, burying my nose in his skin, breathing him in. Even under the scent of the shower gel, I could still smell Justin.
I licked him from his balls to his asshole, and back again. I traced every wrinkle and fold, and left a trail of saliva coating him everywhere my tongue touched. I fluttered the tip at his opening, and he groaned and bucked into my mouth. I pressed my flat tongue into his hole, and felt the ring of muscle tighten on me. I made it firmer and pressed harder, rolling it into a point and jabbing inside him.
His thighs were pressing against my ears, and I lifted him more firmly against my mouth. I felt the movement of his hand on his cock speed up, and his ass clenched on my tongue so hard I almost couldn’t move it inside him.
Justin gave a shout and started to come, trapping my tongue inside him, tightening his thighs on my head.
His legs finally fell away from me, and I crawled up between them, nuzzling at the come on his cock and belly and chest, licking up every drop. There was even a long line of semen glistening on his cheek, and I saved that for him on my tongue, and fed it to him. His hands grabbed at either side of my face, and we kissed for a long time.
I lay with my head on Justin’s chest, his hands playing with my hair. He made little happy sounds in his throat. I smiled against his skin, and fell asleep.
Justin’s POV
The next morning, we wake up, the sheets tangled around our legs. I lie in the big hotel bed, smelling lemons from the big glazed pots on the terrace.
Brian looks up at me from where his face is still resting on my chest, and rubs his eyes. Then I realize what woke us up: Someone is in the living room, setting up our breakfast.
I stumble into the bathroom to piss, while Brian pulls on a hotel robe and goes out to sign the room service bill. I put on the robe that hangs on the back of the bathroom door, and follow him out after the waiter’s gone. I start pulling covers off the dishes, and smile. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, sausage, French toast, fruit. And not even one egg white omelet in sight. I sigh happily and start eating, while Brian sucks down coffee and pretends he can’t wake up, even though it’s three hours later for him.
I tuck my foot under me on the chair, and look at him. “Did you have any plans for today?”
He smirks. “You said your ass missed my dick. I thought we’d concentrate on that.”
“I need to still be able to walk on Monday. So we might want to intersperse that with shopping and sightseeing, that kind of thing.” I swallowed some coffee.
Brian’s eyebrow shoots up, but he nods. “Why don’t you take me over to the studio and show me this amazing set you’ve been working on?”
A smile erupts on my face, and from the way he’s smiling back, I guess he knows that’s the thing I most want to do today. Other than having his dick up my ass.
We shower, and get dressed, and when we get downstairs, the car is ready for us. Considering that, as far as I know, Brian had about ten hours to plan this entire weekend, at least half of which was spent on a plane, it’s impressive. I tell the driver to take us to the studio, and use my key card and gate pass to get us in.
Shooting hasn’t started yet. The building is almost empty. I know there are people here, but not on set. I’m showing him Gayopolis. The diner, he smirks. Babylon, he nods. Rage’s lair, he raises an eyebrow. We’re both standing in front of the bed, his bed, well, his bed if he were a superhero. It’s exactly as I drew it. They’ve done an excellent job. It’s an altar. He’s behind me now, his hands around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. His mouth right next to my ear.
“This is how you see it.”
I nod. I lick my lips and swallow. My stomach flutters, which is stupid, but this is how I see it, or how I saw it, not just Rage’s lair but Brian’s bed, an altar, a place of worship, the source of power for a living deity. I’m beyond that, but the memory lingers. I don’t come here often. It makes me hard. I’ve had dreams about him fucking me on this bed. Of all the places we’ve fucked, and the list is pretty long, this is the one place I dream about, the one place we’ve never fucked, but the one place where I feel like we have.
“You want me to fuck you here. You’ve been dreaming of me fucking you here.”
He knows me. It’s scary how onto me he is. He might deny it, but he listens a lot harder than he pretends to. I nod. I’m not going to lie to him. He pulls away from me. Walks around me slowly. He’s facing me now, his back to the set. He holds out a hand, and I take a step towards him. He kisses me. His hands on my waist, turning me until my back is to the set. He presses his hand against my chest, and I fall backwards onto the bed. He’s on top of me in seconds and I don’t care that the mattress isn’t really a mattress or that the stone columns are made of styrofoam; there’s a couple of objects that are rock hard.
He pulls my shirt over my head and I shiver. The place is huge, and it’s weird to feel exposed, but I do. Maybe it’s because this is where I work. Maybe it’s because this is something that I never really thought would happen. Maybe it’s because the look in his eye is pure Rage, predatory. I want him.
He’s pulling at my jeans. And when they’re off he’s on top of me, kissing me, still fully clothed. I’m grinding against him. I want to come. I need to come.
“Roll over.”
I do. I’m on my hands and knees, and I can feel his eyes raking down my body. I hear the sound of his zipper, and my body is covered in goosebumps. The ceiling is about forty feet from us, and the place suddenly feels cavernous as I assess my position. I’m about to say something, but then his hands are on my hips. His cock is pressing between my cheeks and I’m pushing back, trying to get him inside me.
He’s kissing my back, between my shoulder blades. We’re on his altar and he’s worshipping me with his hands, and his mouth, and I want him inside me. He presses in and I open up to him. I move under him, and he slides home… where he belongs, inside me.
“I want to live here.” He whispers it against my ear and I know he doesn’t mean Rage’s lair. I let my head fall forward onto the rough texture of the cheap, low thread count sheets that, I was informed, create less glare. I don’t care. The harsh texture feels good against my cheek and my knees, just like the soft feel of Brian’s skin against the backs of my thighs feels like heaven.
I’m moving with him now. His hand meeting mine on the mattress, his other joining mine on my cock. I buck against him, and he grunts his appreciation. I thrust into the soft tunnel we’ve made with our fingers and I continue to rock, into his hand, onto his cock. Again and again. I no longer care where we are. Rage’s lair, the hotel, the limo, his office at Kinnetik, some dank room at the Gravel Pit. Doesn’t matter. What matters is this, us, together.
I’m close. His forehead is against my back. He moves his body up so that his mouth is against my ear. He’s as deep inside me as he can get and I’m arching towards him, trying to get him deeper. No such thing as enough. “You’re so close. Come for me, Justin. Come with me.”
And I do. We come together, both grunting and moaning, and then his hands are around my waist, splayed against my chest, pulling me up until my back is flush against his chest, and my head falls back on his shoulder. I reach for his head and draw him in for a kiss.
He kisses me back and wipes his hand on the cheap sheets, soaked with my come and his sweat, and laughs. “You need to convince them that Rage would never sleep on a poly cotton blend.”
I laugh too, and figure I’ll tell him about the glare factor of high thread count Egyptian sateen cotton later. Right now, I’m trying to find my sock.
Brian’s POV
I took Justin to his favorite Mexican restaurant, and then we went back to the hotel to change.
I was standing in front of the mirror trying on a shirt, and Justin walked out of the bathroom, rubbing his hair with a towel. He glanced over at me. “That shirt’s hot.”
I pulled it off, and took another one off a hanger. “How about this one?”
Justin tipped his head to the side. “It’s the same shirt.”
I huffed. “It’s not the same at all. This shirt is Armani, the first one was Dolce and Gabbana. Have I taught you nothing?”
“Apparently not.” Justin took a folded black t-shirt out of his bag, which was on the floor of the closet. He pulled it over his head, then pulled on a pair of black jeans. I sighed, and got a third shirt out of the closet.
I took Justin to a club a client had told me about, and we walked past the long line and up the stairs. The walls were washed in turquoise lights, and the dance floor was crowded.
I smiled at Justin and lifted an eyebrow, gesturing with my hand towards my pocket, in the way he’d always understood. He laughed and tipped his head back, his tongue peeking out. I pulled a tab of E out of my pocket, and gave it to him on my tongue. Then I took one myself.
We downed two shots each at the bar, and then we split a bottle of water. Nine dollar a bottle water.
We went out on the dance floor, and after a few minutes, the familiar feeling of Justin dancing against my body made me forget where we were. We could have been at Babylon, or any club anywhere. We could have been in bed, the way he was writhing against me. Justin on E was a beautiful thing.
His hands were up under my shirt, and he was gently rolling my nipples between his fingers. I rested my hands on his shoulders, and just rode the feeling that was erratically shooting down my nerves from my nipples to my cock.
Until he planted his thigh hard against my crotch, and pinched hard on both nipples at once. I hauled him up tight against me, my hands clutching at his shoulders, kissing him with my tongue deep in his mouth.
“You play dirty.” I kept kissing him, and reached down behind him and grabbed the back of his ass, pulling him in tighter.
He tipped his head back. His eyes were dark, and he ground back against my crotch. “I do. I really do. And you love it.”
I smiled. “The men of LA don’t know what they’re up against.”
Justin leaned into me. “No one’s up against me tonight except you.” And he kissed me.
I stroked his tongue with mine, then let it wander all over inside his mouth, licking his teeth and the insides of his lips. I felt dizzy, and horny, and high. I took Justin’s hand and led him to the back of the club, where I’d seen a lot of guys disappearing since we’d arrived.
We pushed through a small group of men around a narrow door, and then around a dividing wall. It was a dark square room, with cinderblock walls set at angles all around, and I pulled Justin into the shadowed side of one of them. I leaned against the wall, and Justin leaned into me, and I kissed him again. My lips were starting to get raw from all the kissing we’d been doing.
Justin’s tongue was tracing the edges of my mouth, and then he dipped his head down and started tonguing my throat. I murmured, and put my hands in his hair, but didn’t press down. I wanted him to blow me, but I didn’t think I was done kissing him yet.
I slid one hand down inside his jeans, opening them with the other hand. His hard cock rested in the curve of my palm. I let him rock against it, almost lazily, and sucked his tongue deep inside my mouth.
Justin knelt in front of me, and I tugged my fly open and let him pull out my cock. He lapped at the head, and stuck his tongue in my slit, and started humming in his throat. I could feel it while I slid between his lips.
I thought about the boring blowjob at Babylon the night before I came to LA. I thought about the fact that Justin had never given a boring blowjob in his life. Then I stopped thinking, because Justin swallowed around my cock and kept that humming thing going, and I threw my head back against the wall and came.
Justin stood up when I was done, and I tasted my come in his mouth. He took my hand and pressed it against his cock. I swept my thumb over the head, bringing the pre-come down over his shaft, jerking him while he set the pace with his hand over mine. I felt his cock go rigid under the silky skin covering it, and then the hot rush of Justin’s come on my skin. I pulled my hand up to my mouth, and tasted his come. Justin brought his face close to mine, and started licking my fingers, too, our tongues touching each other, and then together we licked my hand clean.
We fastened our pants and went back out to the dance floor, and split another bottle of water. We danced some more, tangled together. I barely heard the music at all, taking the beat from the way Justin was moving against me.
Justin’s POV
I love to dance. I love music and going to clubs. I love getting off in a dark place with a hot guy.
But I love it best when that hot guy is Brian.
Brian’s not as high as I am, or maybe I’m just acting higher than I really am. I love doing that, love letting Brian watch over me, give me water, keep me close.
The E is wearing off, and I let myself slow down, sag against Brian just a little. He notices, like he always does, and steers me to the bar with a hand on the small of my back. One more nine dollar bottle of water, and we’re heading for the door, and sliding into the back of the limo.
All the way back to the hotel, we’re all over each other, hands sliding up and down sweaty arms, tongues tangling. I rest against the leather back of the seat, Brian’s hot mouth on my throat, his tongue tracing the curves of my ear.
We get there, and I follow him to the elevator, and then down the hall to our suite. I wrap my arms around his waist from behind while he opens the door.
Once we’re inside, he doesn’t hesitate, just tugs me after him into the bedroom. He doesn’t take his eyes off mine while he strips me, fingers lightly teasing my nipples, the sensitive skin where my neck meets my shoulder, my stomach.
I want to hurtle myself against him when he pushes down my jeans, but he drops to his knees and licks the salty traces of my earlier orgasm off my pubes and thighs, and I feel my knees start to shake.
Brian grabs the back of my thighs, and I sag into him. He nuzzles and licks my cock, and I hear myself whimpering.
He stands up, and walks me backwards to the bed, pushing me down. I wrap my legs around him, every move so familiar. His lubed fingers sliding deep into my ass. The sound of him tearing open the condom wrapper. The feel of his cock pressing against my opening. The head slipping in, stretching me wide, holding still while I burn and ache with the feeling of him filling me.
I tighten my legs around him, and hear my voice begging him to fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, Brian. And he does, hard, deep, over and over, until I feel one more orgasm start to build inside me, right where his cock is stroking me so perfectly, so knowingly.
He doesn’t tease me or make me hold back. He brings me right to the edge and then over it, letting me clutch at him with my ass, my legs, my arms, pulling him deep inside of me, and close to me.
I laugh while I come, feeling it bubbling up out of me like champagne out of a bottle. His hips start moving erratically against me, and then he freezes, and jerks and shudders into me. He’s saying my name, over and over, and he sounds so happy.
We lie there, my legs still around him, but loosely. He starts to pull away, but I stop him with one touch to his arm.
“Stay inside me.” I whisper it against his ear.
He kisses me. “Okay. Just for a little while.”
My eyes are already closed. I feel him softening inside me, and let myself slip all the way down into sleep.
Brian’s POV
I woke to the smell of strong coffee, and soft kisses on my neck and back. It took me a minute to remember I was in LA with Justin, and not in bed with some trick who overstayed his welcome. Justin hasn’t been that in years, and I haven’t let a trick spend the night since he went to LA. He said he’d move in, it’s his side of the bed, they’re not allowed to sleep there. Maybe someday I’ll tell him that. Probably not.
His kisses moved lower. He knew I was awake. He’s been hyperaware of shit like that for a long time now. He always was, but even more so since Ibiza. No reason to pretend. I rolled over, thinking that if he was going to put his mouth on something, it may as well be my cock.
I looked down at him and he looked up through his lashes and smiled. When he leaned in to kiss me, he tasted like coffee. It was 11 in the morning my time, 8 in the morning his. I wondered why the fuck he was up. Then he kissed me again, and I remembered. This was our time.
I sat up, thinking I’d get a cup of coffee, but he pushed me back down. I laughed. Justin didn’t say anything, but he lay between my thighs, sucking intently on a nipple. We both knew where things were going.
I ran my hand through his hair, because I needed to feel it, soft and present between my fingers. I was glad it had grown back. Yeah, it looked hot, but he was an angry little fucker when he cut it.
I looked down at him, and thought, he’s happy. He’s working hard, and he misses me, but he’s happy. He was leaving butterfly kisses across my stomach, and I let that be the reason my muscles tensed. It wasn’t the thought of him being happy in LA. I wanted him to be happy.
I kept watching him, fascinated. Justin has a couple of ways he goes about this, and they’re all pretty well practiced. I think he used to build these elaborate plots, and even though he doesn’t need them anymore, he likes to pretend he does. I like to pretend he does. So he was kissing my cock, just like he’d been kissing my stomach, soft butterfly kisses. There were a lot of ways I could have stopped him, but I didn’t want to.
“Roll over.”
Christ, the way he said it. His voice was low, and he was quiet, like if he said it too loud, I’d notice.
I rolled over, and his hands and lips were on my ass. His tongue was inside me, and he was pushing my thighs apart. He’d make a great director; he always knows where he wants everyone to be, and what they should be doing and feeling. I think he got that from me, I really do.
I could have feigned disinterest, but I don’t lie to him if I can help it, so I spread my legs wider and pressed up onto my knees. His face was buried in me, and we still hadn’t said good morning.
His mouth moved lower. He was sucking on my balls, both of them. He never differentiates just because one’s fake. I was wet and he stroked me, and then moved a wet finger inside me. I gasped; I guess I wasn’t as ready as I had thought. He worked his finger inside me, slowly. He added another one, and I opened up more. He was fucking me with two fingers then, and I was waiting for a third, wanting it. He knew it too, little fucker. He was good at this.
He didn’t add a third finger, though. He pulled out completely and went back to licking me until I was ready to scream, or grab a dildo and do it myself. But then he was on top of me, his mouth biting at my shoulder, hard. Which is good because as he slid into me, I could blame the yelp on the shoulder bite.
He waited. Letting me get used to the feel of him inside me. Wet, hot, hard, and thick. A couple of moments later, I was pressing back against him. His hands on my hips. His mouth working its way across my back. He was fucking me hard, and I wanted it harder.
I drove back onto him, and he slapped my ass. “Cut it out.” He sounded amused. I was kind of amused, too.
I felt him change his angle, and I pushed up against him again as he hit my prostate. He slapped my ass twice in quick succession, and I pushed back even harder.
Then he was riding me. Thrusting into me and pulling out almost completely, before he buried himself balls-deep inside me. He alternated running his hand gently over my ass and thighs, to a few rough slaps that left me gritting my teeth to keep from asking him to do it again.
He was silent. No words, no sounds, just our bodies moving together. The smell of the night before and that morning strong, almost stronger than the scent of coffee, both making me harder, always harder. He was moving deep inside me. He moved his knees, pushing my legs further apart and sliding against my prostate on every slow grinding circle.
We were covered in sweat, and I felt a drop of it fall from his forehead and hit my ass. That undid me, and I came before either one of us had touched my cock. He kept moving inside me, and half a dozen strokes later, I felt him come while I was still twitching and clasping around him. He pulled out slowly and rolled over. Condom gone before I even opened my eyes. I was still on my stomach, knowing we’d have to shower soon, but needing a minute.
He was on his back, his head next to mine. He leaned in to kiss me. “Good morning.”
I smiled a little. “I smell coffee.”
He nodded.
“I need coffee.”
He nodded again and poured me a cup. It was sitting on the nightstand on my side of the bed, and I considered asking for a straw so I didn’t have to move. I slowly pulled myself into an upright position, and took a few more moments to appreciate having a partner who could fuck me like that, without pretense or preamble, and then remember not to bitch when I ask him to get the coffee.
He turned on the TV and tried to find a weather outlook for the day. It’s LA. It’s going to be 71 degrees and sunny with smog. But he insisted on checking. That was fine, as long as he didn’t want to talk until after I showered.
Fifteen minutes later he was leaning against me, and I was done with my coffee. “We should shower.”
I nodded. I was still not in the mood to talk.
“If I don’t get a chance to say it again, thank you for this weekend.”
I stood up and turned the water to a temperature that we could both agree on.
Justin joined me, and we took our time. When we were finally dressed, we stopped for breakfast in the hotel dining room. The bellman still had to get our luggage into the car, and whatever high protein Justin got in the shower wasn’t going to hold him.
An hour later, we were in the limo headed towards LAX.
I was sitting lengthwise along the seat, and he was in between my legs. We were stuck in traffic, and we’d been making out like teenagers for half an hour. I was kissing him and watching for any emotional triggers. He didn’t seem upset. He was kissing me again. We were at a dead stop, and the air conditioning wasn’t on at the moment. The car was heating up quickly, and his thigh against my groin wasn’t helping any. I moved to dislodge him, but he just attached himself more firmly, thrusting up against me.
I ran my hands through his hair, and he pressed harder against my hip while his thigh rubbed roughly against my cock. His tongue was moving in and out of my mouth with the same rhythm as his thigh.
I leaned my head back. “Justin.”
He slid down my body, unbuttoning my jeans and smiling up at me. “You’d kill me if you had to fly covered in come.”
I nodded. His hand was around my shaft, and his lips formed a tight ring as they slid over the head of my cock. His tongue was pressing into the slit hard, and I knew I wouldn’t last long if he kept that up
I should have been sated, but I never am with him. He should have been fucked out, but I’ve never seen him that way for more than an hour or so. It scares me how well suited we are. He moved his hand around to my hip, holding it down to remind me not to just fuck his mouth. He turned his head and I could see his expression and it was … bliss. I couldn’t explain it, but he wasn’t just happy because he was sucking cock, or even because he was sucking my cock. He was happy because we were together. Because he was with me.
Just as that thought crossed my mind, I came. He swallowed it and sucked me dry, and when he carefully tucked me back into my jeans, he patted my crotch. I laughed. He straddled me and kissed me, then, and I thought I should remind him that we’d be at the airport soon, but I didn’t want to.
He was pressing against me, his hard cock making his jeans tight and his eyes dark. His hands were in my hair, sliding down my back. I took two fingers into my mouth, and watched him watch me. He leaned forward, and I slid my hand beneath the waistband of his jeans. He wasn’t wearing underwear; I hadn’t brought him any. He moaned as my first finger found the entrance, and when the second one followed. His head fell back. He was moving, fucking himself on my fingers. My other hand slid between us to cup his balls through his jeans. He gasped, and I still haven’t found anything sexier than his expression when he’s about to come.
His eyes opened. “Brian.” I smiled and watched as he came in his jeans. His expression was peaceful and contented.
The car stopped, and I leaned in to kiss him one last time while the driver got my bags out of the trunk.
Justin sighed. “I’ve really missed you.”
I rested my cheek on his hair. “Me, too.”
Justin moved his head down, and laid it against my chest. “I mean, it’s a lot better than phone sex. Even with my favorite dildo.”
“I’m saving some drawer space for your favorite dildo, since it’s going to be my designated stand-in until you get home.”
He laughed and kissed me one more time before I got out of the car.
I watched the limo drive away, and when I couldn’t see it anymore, I entered the main terminal. It was Sunday afternoon, and I’m sure it was filled with crying babies and weary tourists and aggravated business travelers, but I didn’t notice any of them.