In His Kiss

Chapter 22

Two facets of Brian.


After dropping a sleepy Justin at his house, Brian enjoyed his ride home, reliving some of the best moments of the evening: Justin whispering to him about the end of his internship while palming his cock, their little duel of dirty talk on the dance floor and the frotting in the lounge. He loved the way Justin’s body fit against his, loved the scent of his skin, loved the way he moved and the way words of desire just tumbled out of his mouth as the pleasure built.

“Brian, fuck, want you, Brian, inside…”

As their crotches rubbed against one another, he had pictured Justin’s gorgeous cock in his mind and how the large head had felt between his tongue and palate when jet after jet of come had filled his mouth.

Everything, everything about Justin and him together was pure heat. The thought that in less than a week he would get to slide his cock into that perfect ass was enough to make his already stiffening cock hard and throbbing.

He paid for the ride, got in his building and took his jacket and scarf off in the elevator. As soon as he closed the door to the loft, he dropped them and his gym bag to the floor, released his cock from his pants and, after slicking his hand with spit, started to jerk himself off.

Justin’s smile… his soft yielding mouth…the taste of his cock… the scent of his crotch…the trembling of his body before orgasm… and he was coming, his back against the door, spraying jets of come all over the hardwood floor. He wanted Justin so fucking much it felt like a hollow in his gut. He cleaned up his mess and decided that work would be the best way to clear his head of Justin Taylor.

He sat at his desk and opened his laptop. He needed to find a new approach for the Secton campaign. The boards were for shit, but that wasn’t the problem. The whole thing was completely uninspired. It had been seen, used and reused a million times over. It was what was expected.

He was pissed about the male model. He was an expensive little prick that Secton Inc. insisted they had to use because their CEO, Maurice Secton, liked his looks. The model was a prima donna, and his wrists were too thick. They made the watch look like a cheap toy.

He couldn’t even suck dick properly. The blowjob he had given Brian the day of the shoot had been so sub par as to be almost more trouble than it was worth. He gagged and slobbered, and then acted as if he had rocked Brian’s world. Jackass. Brian gave better head when he was fourteen.

They would have to use someone else’s arm. Brian picked up the watch he’d brought home and tried it on. He was not exactly fine-boned, yet it already looked 100% better on him than on what’s his face.

Secton’s CEO was the worst kind of heterosexual. The kind that had so little imagination it did not even occur to him that not everyone was straight. After an invitation to dinner post shoot that Brian could not refuse, he’d actually introduced Brian to his divorced daughter Celia, who had spend the evening flirting with him, apparently thinking herself irresistible. Though she probably gave better head than their model, Brian was not about to find out.

The entire afternoon and evening of the shoot had been a complete disaster. It was almost three months ago, and they were already working on a deadline extension, because no matter what they did, nothing could make the damn pictures look appealing.

Brian had to find a new angle.

Then it came to him. They would use the prick’s head, and reshoot the scene. Instead of Mr. Preppy sitting with his legs crossed sipping brandy, some blond woman sitting on the arm of his chair, looking at him adoringly, the new Secton man would do exactly what Brian was doing right now.

Work on his laptop, in the middle of the night. And he would be on his cell phone too, probably doing business with Asia. And he would be in bed, obviously naked though covered with a sheet. And the blonde woman would be asleep in bed next to him, her hair spilling on the pillow.

Because, Secton was going to be the watch for the man who fucked half the night, and worked the other half, and probably would fuck again in the morning when he was finished with business and his blonde woke up.

Brian smiled, stretched and went to bed. They would have to call the modeling agency in the morning. And have Devon come in to shoot the photos. They could use a hotel room and the only requirement for the male model was that he be thin boned, and have a nice torso. The girl didn’t matter at all. They did not even need to see her face, just her hair, and her shape under the sheets. They could do this in a couple of hours, and then leave the photo manipulation to Sam.

Now he wished Cynthia was coming in. She could have set all this up in her sleep. Maybe he could call her in the morning and pick her brain. Or better yet, guilt her into coming in after all. Brian fell asleep with a smile on his face.

***

At 7:30, when he stopped in front of Justin’s brownstone, he had already accomplished his first goal. He had sweet-talked Cynthia into coming in, and all he had to give up was that stupid Secton watch. She was going to give it to her dad for Christmas. Apparently, he had always dreamed of owning a fancy timepiece.

Brian welcomed Justin with a Starbucks latte and a muffin, figuring no one in his house would have been up to make his breakfast so early on a weekend. From Justin’s grateful smile, he could tell he’d been right. He drank his triple espresso, trying not to let the bit of foam at the corner of Justin’s mouth and the way he licked the drizzled icing off his muffin drive him to ravish him right there and then. There was no reason to advertise how everything about Justin was a turn on, these days.

The taxi dropped them off in front, and they made their way to the elevator. Once again, Brian reflected on how amazing Justin’s painting looked in the lobby. Sadly, there were other people in the elevator, coming up from the parking garage, when they stepped on. No chance to lick off that foam.

Justin knew better than to acknowledge him as he left the elevator with most of the other people on the Art Department’s floor. Brian rode up to the 3rd floor, and put a single-tall, nonfat, decaf, sugar-free vanilla latte on Cynthia’s desk, just to let her know he cared. She still gave him the look that kills as she continued speaking on the phone. Her hair was in a ponytail, and she was wearing jeans, a sweatshirt, and flat heeled boots, an attire that clearly stated that Brian was not important enough for her to bother dressing up, since no clients were expected.

He wore his usual Armani suit. He could not stand dressing down at work. He sat behind his desk, and called Sam on the phone to explain his new plan for Secton. Sam was silent. That meant he thought it was a bad idea.

“What’s your objection, Sam? Will you have problems switching heads digitally to make it look right?”

“No. Piece of cake.”

“So what is it?”

“Maurice is not going to like it. The sex angle. He’s a prude. And it won’t be dignified enough for his taste.”

“You worry about the art, and let me worry about Maurice, OK?”

“Sure Brian. No problem.”

The meeting with Secton was scheduled for Monday morning. Brian did a search for Celia Secton’s phone number, since she had been so kind as to slip it to him that evening, three months ago. He dialed.

“Hello?” What kind of moron answered the phone with ‘hello’?

“Celia?”

“Yes…”

“Celia, this is Brian Kinney. I’m sorry to call you so early, but I wanted to make sure to catch you in.”

“Oh. Hi, Brian. How are you?” Bingo. She didn’t even need to be reminded who Brian Kinney was.

“Fine, thanks. Listen, I’m not sure your Father told you, but he is meeting with me Monday morning about the ad. I was… Well, I thought… I thought maybe you’d like to join us?”

“Huh… I don’t usually…”

“Yes, of course… Sorry. I know you’re not involved with the company. I’d just thought… Never mind. Sorry to have bothered you.”

“What did you think, Brian?”

“Well, I was hoping… maybe I could take you to lunch afterward?”

“With Daddy?” Dear God. The woman was thirty years old going on seven.

“Well, no, actually. I was thinking… just you and I.”

“Yes… I would like that. I would like that very much.”

“Oh, good. Great. That’s fantastic. I’ll see you Monday then. The meeting is at ten.”

“All right, Brian. I’ll be there.”

“Fantastic.”

“Bye.”

He would take her to Spaggo. She would actually enjoy that. And tell her how much he had enjoyed meeting her three months ago and how refreshing it was to meet a woman who could so readily accept to be friends with a homosexual male. Good friends are so hard to find…

At 9:00, Brian and Cynthia took her car to the hotel where the shoot was taking place. Devon was already there with Erica, his favorite make-up and hair girl, finishing his set up. The models, charming, unpretentious and grateful for the gig, showed up on time.

The girl had a gorgeous head of hair, and though far less rail thin than the more prized models were, she also had a very cute face. The guy had a nice cut torso, and delicate bone structure, not quite manly enough for the big times, but perfect for this job.

The pictures were taken with a minimum of bullshit, everybody being cooperative and pleasant. By eleven, Brian and Cynthia were heading back to the office. She dropped Brian off, accepted the watch in its brown leather box with a smile and drove off. Brian walked the memory card to Sam who started the manipulation right away.

Justin’s workstation was empty.

“I thought Taylor was coming in this morning.” Brian said.

“Come and gone,” answered Sam. “Got here at 8:00 if you can believe that. He left not ten minutes ago. I still can’t believe he came on a Saturday. Good kid.”

Brian knew Justin had some studio time that afternoon and that he was probably heading home to eat lunch before going, having put in his three hours at Plexus. So why was he so disappointed to have missed him?

By the time Brian left at 4:00, the boards looked fabulous. The manip was flawless, and dickhead’s face now was attached to a body on which the watch, beautifully displayed on the arm holding the cell phone, looked fantastic. The cute girl model looked adorable in sleep.

They had ended up turning her toward her hard working lover, her face resting on her palm, like a child, and her hair gloriously displayed. It was sweet and sexy all at once, because he was not looking at his computer screen, but at her, with the smallest hint of a smile.

Brian went to Gillian’s and worked out, then got a massage. He played pool until eight, and headed home. At nine, the male model from that morning’s shoot showed up, right on time again, and Brian repeatedly showed him his appreciation for a job well done.

When his phone vibrated, at ten, his cock was deep inside the model’s ass and whatever twinge of regret he may have felt at the thought of Justin alone at Essengy was relatively short lived.

Of course, Sunday night, when he waited for the damn thing to ring while talking to Mikey on the hard line till one in the morning, it didn’t…

***

Celia Secton loved the campaign for the watch. She gushed about how romantic it looked, and how beautiful, and how just wonderfully it displayed the watch before Brian had even opened his mouth.

Once Maurice Secton was thus softened to the idea, Brian pitched it perfectly, emphasizing the association it made between the timepiece and professional success, how it fit perfectly with the image men in their demographic liked to project: Driven, on the go, ahead of the pack, able to handle it all.

“And see, Daddy, how lovingly he looks at her? She’s the reason he works so hard!”

Maurice was thrilled. Brian was as well. The campaign was going to be markedly different than the usual watch ads, and it really was beautiful. Celia was very excited to go to Spaggo, and when Brian explained to her how hard it was for homosexual men to find nonjudgmental people like herself with whom they could feel comfortable not hiding their sexuality, she was very touched, and actually reached for his hand on the table.

She could see how impossible it would for a gay male to have male friends, who would misunderstand overtures of friendship for come-ons, and she knew how petty some women could be. Obviously she had known all along that he was gay! A woman can always tell. She was sorry her father was so narrow minded and of course Brian's secret was safe with her.

She left, after giving him a hug and a peck on the cheek, feeling very good about herself. And Brian even made his two o’clock on time.

A little after five, he headed to the art department. He had not yet had a chance to tell Sam how well the Secton presentation had gone. He ordinarily would have called him but why not go down and tell him in person? He might have checked his reflection in the elevator’s mirror panel (he looked hot) but that was only because… whatever.

Though everyone else was still hard at work, Justin’s station was empty again.

“Where is Taylor?” asked Brian, surprised.

“I talked to Marcus this morning about giving him a bonus, and he wouldn’t hear of it. It’s bullshit. The kid has worked his tail off and has pulled way more than his weight. So from now on, I’m sending him home at 5:00 on the dot. He’s only got four more days to go anyway.”

Sam took advantage of Brian’s presence downstairs to have him take a look at a few projects in the making, so that Brian did not get back upstairs until 6:15. He took a couple of files with him, called a cab and headed home.

He dressed to go out, ate some Thai takeout and started working, waiting for the phone to ring. He was a little surprised when it did at 8:30. That was awfully early. Stupid. It was his hard line, not his cell. It was Lindsay. Apparently Gus had been asking everyday if she was sure that Daddy was coming for Christmas, and she was both tired of reassuring him and afraid Brian would pull another disappearing act and that Gus would blame her, again, “just like he did at Thanksgiving…”

Brian spent half an hour reassuring her he was coming, and then talked to his son. It had been a long time, and the little boy had a lot to say, most of which was about things and people Brian knew nothing about. He made the right enthusiastic noises as he listened with only half an ear and worked at the same time.

It was past Gus’s bedtime, and Gus wanted Daddy to tell him his bedtime story. Of course Brian was a little rusty and had to get a quick refresher on “Jack and the Beanstalk” from Mel, which was accompanied by a few snide side remarks he could have done without, as Lindsay brushed the boy’s teeth.

The Ogre had just smelled the blood of an Englishman when Brian’s cell vibrated. He checked the number but did not answer. It was Jeremy. He tried to shorten the story a little, but it was Gus’s favorite, and he was not about to let that happen. “You forgot about the magic harp, Daddy!” so it was another twenty minutes before he could actually say goodnight.

Then Lindsay came back on, to tell him how much it meant to the boy, while Mel put him to bed. Just when he thought he was home free, Mel was back on, trying to set up a time for them to come visit Brian in the Spring, as a surprise for Gus and Lindz for Christmas. He was not going to pass a chance to have his boy in New York, but just coordinating all three of the adult’s schedules without one of them being party to it took another fifteen minutes. They ended up with a tentative plan and he was finally able to get off.

He checked the time. Jeremy had called 45 minutes ago. Ordinarily, he would already have been at the club for twenty-five minutes. He called a taxi, brushed and flossed and went downstairs. Of course the cab was late, the driver some recent immigrant who could not have found his own ass with a map and got lost before Brian realized they were heading north instead of south. He had the hardest time keeping his cool, because he knew perfectly well screaming at the cabbie would only make things worse. By the time he entered Essengy, Justin had been there for an hour and a half.

The place was packed. He went to the third floor bar, had a double shot of Beam and started scanning the dance floors for a blond head. Justin was nowhere to be found. Brian made his way to the john and then, with a twinge of annoyance, walked through the VIP lounge. He didn’t know whether to be glad or frustrated that Justin wasn’t there either.

He was leaving the lounge when he finally found Justin, at the second floor bar, drinking a bottle of water and chatting with the bartender, Mark. He saw Justin’s face fall a little when he realized Brian was coming out of the VIP room and his welcoming smile did not have its usual brightness. Brian’s first reflex was to reassure him that he had just been looking for him in the lounge, but then why should he? He certainly didn’t owe anyone any explanation.

He joined Justin at the bar and had another J&B, listening to his and Mark’s conversation about art education in kindergarten, of all things. Then Justin turned to him.

“I was going to head out pretty soon. You want to dance?”

What Brian wanted was to drag him to the VIP room for a blowjob and then back to the loft for a long night of fucking, but he followed Justin to the dance floor anyway. Justin was still wearing his shirt, it was even tucked in, and he was keeping his distance. Brain stepped up to him and brought their bodies together. Though Justin rested his head on his chest, he still felt stiff and not in a good way. Brian had gotten used to him melting into his embrace and it did not feel quite right.

As he rested his chin on Justin’s head and took a breath, his own body reacted to Justin’s scent, his prick suddenly hard. Feeling it, Justin looked up at him with a smile. “Such impressive power of recuperation,” he said, and Brian wondered why he did not just tell him the truth. But it would set a bad precedent. And Justin could think whatever the hell he wanted. Whatever Brian did or did not do with his dick was none of his business.

He leaned down and kissed him, licking Justin’s lower lip and biting it lightly. Justin’s mouth opened for him and he tasted great, their tongues caressing each other, exploring. It was very nice, but it didn’t feel quite right, like Justin was thinking about it instead of just letting the kiss take him away to the pure sensuous place where Brian liked to send him.

He knew Justin was mad, or hurt, or both. But he just could not bring himself to fix it, to admit he cared more about how Justin felt than about the principle of the thing. Because he didn’t. He didn’t fucking care. His heart started beating faster than it had any call to, and he felt… he didn’t like how he felt. At all.

Brian stopped dancing, and ran the fingers of both hands through Justin’s hair, combing it back. “Fuck, Justin, kiss me. Just kiss me, OK?”

At least, Justin didn’t try to act as if he didn’t know what Brian was talking about. He got on his toes, and staring into Brian’s eyes, brought their mouths together.

One of Brian’s hands found its way to his neck, and the other to his lower back as he dove into Justin’s mouth, kissing him with everything he had. And there it was, that sensation of Justin melting into him, opening himself to the kiss, that feeling he loved and craved. He was so glad, he ignored their aligned erections and everything else, just enjoying the gift of Justin’s abandon in his arms.

He lost the notion of time for a while, and when Justin started trembling in his arms, he could have sworn that the whole room was spinning. But Justin surprised him and stepped back so suddenly he was not able to keep him against his body to the completion he knew the trembling preceded by only moments.

“Justin!”

Justin took a deep breath, and regained control.

“I’ve got to go Brian,” he said. “It’s getting late.“

Fuck! Fuck Lindsay, and Fuck Mel, and that fucking taxi driver!

“I’ll take you home.”

“No, it’s OK, I brought a book. I’ll take the subway.” And Justin headed for the coat check, getting a thick sweater, his jacket, two wool scarves, wool gloves, and a funny wool hat with ear protectors like the ones you could get from Peru, way more clothing than he usually brought. Apparently he had planned on taking the subway back all along. Maybe he had frozen his ass off going home, on Saturday, when Brian hadn’t shown up, busy boning the model. Fuck.

Brian got his things as well, and Jeremy whistled for a taxi as soon as they stepped out.

“See you tomorrow,” said Justin, starting to walk away.

Brian grabbed his arm. “Justin, come on. Get in.”

Justin shook his head. “Brian, you live in Manhattan. Taking me home makes no sense whatsoever.” He stopped, and looked Brian in the eye. “It has nothing to do with tonight. I swear. It’s just a waste of your time and money, and that bothers me.”

“OK. Fine. Take the subway next time.” Fuck. He wasn’t going to beg, but he wanted to hold Justin in his arms. “Tonight, I really want to take you home.”

Justin looked at him for a second, and started peeling off layers, starting with his funny hat, his scarves, his gloves, and finally his jacket.

“All right,” he said.

Brian couldn’t believe how stupidly happy that made him. He got in the cab, and Justin followed, moving towards him and dumping all the extra clothing next to the door. He leaned against Brian, and Brian put his arms around him and his cheek against his hair. It felt really good, even better than normal because Justin was only wearing a sweater, and not his stiff jacket. He pulled off one of his leather gloves, and slid his hand under the sweater, on top of Justin’s t-shirt, and just left it there.

Justin sighed and cuddled closer, and Brian knew he had a stupid smile on his face but could not help it. They stayed like that, not talking, all the way to Brooklyn. At his door, Justin leaned back in.

“Thanks for the ride home.” And he gave Brian his first real smile of the night, before climbing the stairs.

Brian gave the cabbie his address in Tribecca, and picked up the scarf Justin had dropped on the floor. Justin was still unlocking his door when the cab pulled away. The scarf smelled of cold, wool, and Justin, and Brian held it to his nose a couple of times on the way home.
 

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