In His Kiss

Chapter 24

Fixing it


Brian woke up on Tuesday before his alarm, and reviewed his schedule for the day. He only had eight working days left before he left for Pittsburgh, and there was so much to do. He got into the shower. There was no way he was working past five on Thursday, Justin’s last day. He thought back to their conversation on the subway and got hard instantly under the hot water.

Then he thought back to the night before, and how screwed up things had felt for a while there. Maybe he should have said… But no. In the end, Justin and he had been OK, he thought. But still. Why had Justin stepped back from his orgasm? Had there really been nothing more than his concern for the cost and waste of time it represented, behind his refusal of a ride back?

He didn’t like the fact that Justin, who had always seemed straightforward and easy going, was suddenly reacting in ways he could not predict. As he had known he would all along, he had eroded Justin’s resistance to a one off. Come Thursday, Justin would give it up, and if Brian had any say they would fuck all night long, until they just couldn’t fuck anymore. He had never waited this long, or put this much effort into getting into someone’s ass, and he was going to make it worth his while.

After last night, and that first kiss, he knew that for it to be as good as it could be, Justin had to more than just a willing participant. He had to give himself over. Until last night, Brian had taken that wondrous surrender for granted, but now he realized it was not automatic, that he could fuck it up. Fucking him would still be good, great even, but not the perfection he knew it had the potential to be.

That’s why he had to make sure things were really good again between them, to fix things. For that reason and no other.

He got to work even earlier than usual, and worked with the single-minded intensity, which coupled with his natural talent, made him such a master at what he did. Cynthia was thrilled. Brian was always good, but on days like this, everything he touched turned to gold and she could cram his schedule with things she had kept on the back burner for a while, sit back, and watch him work his magic.

At six-thirty that evening, he came and sat on the corner of her desk, having been on the phone with their three most unreasonable clients in a row, smoothing ruffled feathers and hanging up with them eating out of his hand. He even got Montrose Linens, who had been sitting on the fence for over a month about changing agencies, to sign up and courier a retainer. A true miracle.

When she looked at him, he just raised his eyebrows in that way he had, giving her a “Is that really the best you can do?” She just laughed, shaking her head.

“If you’re that bored,” she said, “why don’t you cold call St Blanche winery, in Washington State? It’s only four-thirty there, and you’ve been saying for months how much better their marketing could be, since their wine is so good.”

He had tasted their wines at a dinner with a client while in Seattle, and had loved it. He had researched them a little and ordered a couple of cases for himself, only to criticize everything from their labels, their pallid ads and their terrible customer relations. He harped about it every time he opened a bottle and enjoyed their amazing product.

He held out his hand, and she quickly googled them, handing him their phone number on a post-it. He disappeared back into his office, as she continued to plan his next day’s schedule, making sure to keep it tight, and have plenty of extras just in case tomorrow was another of those days.

At five to seven, her fax machine spat out the confirmation for an appointment at the St Blanche winery on January sixteenth, as well as two first class e-ticket and overnight reservations to a Snoqualmie Lodge. Seeing her name on one of the tickets, she grinned. She’d never been to Washington State, and January was the slowest month for the company.

Brian came out of his office again, dressed to leave, and said with the little smile she loved. “If that’s all for tonight, I’ll be off.”

“That’s all ‘Mr. Kinney’,” she smiled, all 1950’s deferential secretary.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then, Cynthia. Good night.” And he stole the last two wrapped chocolates in the small Godiva box on her desk, knowing full well she kept her favorites for last. He easily ducked her flying ballpoint pen before stepping in the elevator.

Brian ate one of the chocolates on his way down but put the other one in his briefcase to return it the next day. God, it was good. Worth the extra 20 minutes on the treadmill.

He got home and ran seven miles watching CNN, ate Indian food takeout standing in the kitchen, took a shower and dressed for the club. He got there at nine-thirty, slipped Jeremy his usual hundred and told him to call if Justin came, and went to have a double J&B at the bar closest to the coat check. Forty minutes later, his phone vibrated.

“He’s here, Mr. Kinney.”

“Thanks, Jeremy.”

Brian walked around the corner in time to see Justin peel off an impressive number of layers. At the end, he was left with cargo pants, and a tight blue on white striped long sleeve shirt, short enough to show some belly. He’d gotten a haircut, and looked about seventeen, totally adorable.

He was sliding his coat check token in his pocket when Brian stepped behind him, wrapped him in his arms, and nuzzled the newly exposed skin behind his ear. Justin relaxed in his arms, resting his head against his shoulder for a moment then turned towards him, smiling.

“What are you doing here so early?” he asked, looking happy.

“Waiting for you,” and Brian kissed the gorgeous mouth, an arm around Justin’s shoulders and a hand on the side of his face, running a thumb along a cheekbone made more prominent by the new hair cut. Justin’s face was still cold from the outside, but the inside of his mouth was warm and soft.

Brian pulled back and looked at him. “I love your new cut. You look beautiful.”

“I do?” Justin smiled delightedly.

“Beautiful and hot,” answered Brian, taking Justin’s hand and pressing it to his full erection.

“My,” said Justin, chuckling, “what a big boner…”

Brian kissed him again, holding him tight, pressing their bodies together. Justin’s answer was all he’d hoped for, enthusiastic and yielding at the same time. Brian surprised himself when he let out a needy moan that ended almost in a growl. It obviously went straight to Justin’s cock, as it was suddenly fully hard against his thigh.

He looked again at Justin’s beautiful face and ran his hand through the hair, which was still long enough to grip on top. Justin’s blue irises were only a thin layer around pupils dilated by arousal. God. Brian wanted him so fucking much.

He kissed him again, his desire at the forefront, biting his lower lip, plundering his mouth and Justin responded, his tongue suddenly in Brian’s mouth, his hands at the nape of his neck, holding his head, thrusting his left hip rhythmically against Brian’s erection. Holy fucking shit! Brian was moaning in need again, unable to hold it, so turned on by Justin’s sudden aggressive stance he actually felt dizzy.

“Lounge,” he said, hardly recognizing his own voice.

“Fuck that,” answered Justin who just pushed him against the wall, under the staircase to the second floor, not ten meters from the coat check, and popping the button of his flies, dropped to his knees and took Brian’s entire length into his mouth.

The pleasure of it was so sudden, so unexpected and so welcome, Brian almost came right there and then. He leaned his head against the wall, his eyes closed, his mouth open on a silent scream, trying to rally years of self control to not shoot his load down Justin’s throat within the first minute.

Where the fuck had he learned to give head like this?

Justin’s tongue titillated his slit just as he liked it, twirled on his favorite spot right under the rim just right, and widened to press the vein underneath as he took the whole length in again and again as if he could read Brian’s mind. Then Justin fucking hummed with the head in the back of his throat while the tip of his tongue danced at he base of his cock like a snake’s and sucked, making Brian come so hard he saw stars behind his lids, let out an uncontrolled cry, and buckled at the knees.

He slid down the wall and out of Justin’s mouth at the same time and found himself face to face with a grinning blond, who was licking his reddened lips. A little late, he released the death grip he had on the freshly shorn hair, put his arms around Justin’s neck and rested his forehead against his.

“Fuck, Justin,” he said, meaningfully.

“Not ‘till Thursday,” replied that smart ass.

“That was hot.” Brian smiled. Considering the smug smile on Justin’s face, he really shouldn’t be stoking his ego, but a performance like that deserved some kind of acknowledgment.

Justin got to his feet and helped him up, tucking him back in his jeans and buttoning him back up. The whole thing had been so quick, they had only attracted a little attention, which was good. The management would probably have frowned at them getting it on so close to the front door when they had a perfectly nice lounge only a staircase away.

Brian wrapped Justin in his arms and held him close, resting his cheek on his hair, just for the hell of it. He loved the way Justin’s body tucked so perfectly into his. He kissed the top of his head, and Justin looked up at him, with a heart-melting smile.

“Take me to the dance floor,” he said, “and kiss me ‘till I come.”

Brian got this funny feeling somewhere in his stomach or maybe his throat, and with his arm on Justin’s shoulder, and Justin’s arm around his waist, they walked to the dance floor.

As was often the case, their dancing was succinct, an excuse to be close and move against one another, with much nuzzling and licking and a lot of staring, and finally kissing, deep and soulful. Brian just couldn’t get enough of holding Justin, of his mouth, of his hot breath, of his sighs.

His eyes closed, he mapped every recess with his tongue, drank his spit, bit his lower lip delicately, and gently sucked his tongue. Justin’s body was molded to his, the back of his head resting in the crook of Brian’s elbow, his mouth opened to the hungry caresses, his eyelids fluttering.

And as their tongues were languorously wrapping and sliding around each other, Justin’s body trembled. Brian felt warmth blooming in his chest when this time, Justin did not pull away, but seemed to melt even closer into his arms, coming in long gentle pulses Brian felt against his hip, in his heart, in his soul, mewling his pleasure into Brian’s mouth.

Again, Brian held him close, his nose and mouth in the soft blond hair, bodies swaying to the thumpa-thumpa of the beat. It felt so good. If he had known Justin would ride with him in a taxi, he would have taken him home now, holding him all the way to Brooklyn, but he was pretty sure that was not going to happen anymore.

He wished he could make Justin see that he didn’t give a shit about the money, that he loved that ride holding him close through the City’s night, that after Justin walked up the brownstone’s stairs, he enjoyed the Zen like ride home, his head leaning back on the seat, the evening’s best moments running back through his mind.

But Justin might misunderstand, might think it meant something it didn’t. Because it didn’t mean anything. Nothing at all. It just felt good. And in two days it would be over, and Brian could move on to many other things that felt just as good. Maybe even better. Better than holding Justin’s small body tightly against his like he did now, better than burying his nose in the sweet smelling hair.

Like the satisfaction of picking the hottest looking guy in the club and of having him on his knees worshiping his cock or taking his nine inch boner up the ass and being grateful for the honor. The pleasure of new flesh under his hands, of new skin texture, or new smell, of the feel of a different mouth every night, or the discovery of how tight, or deep, or welcoming some new ass would feel.

Thursday, he would acquaint himself with Justin’s, finally, and Friday with another, without all the headaches he’d had to put up with this time around. Life would be back to normal. No complications, no cares. Just in and out, with the maximum of pleasure, and a minimum of bullshit. Because Brian did not believe in love. He believed in fucking. No apologies, no regrets.

Justin interrupted his thoughts. “I’m going to head out, Brian. I’ve got a long ride home.”

“All right.” Fuck… Fuck.

They walked to the coat check, and Justin retrieved his ridiculous pile of clothing. Brian was ready to go and Justin was still piling on layers. Finally, he was done, looking like Nanook of the North. They stepped out into the frigid night and Jeremy whistled for a cab. Brian got out the scarf he had picked up off the floor of the taxi the night before, and wrapped it around Justin, pulling him in for a kiss, really not wanting to let him go.

“You’re sure?”

“Yep. I’m sure. Stop trying to tempt me. My ride in the subway is shorter than your taxi ride there and back.”

“All right.” He pulled Justin to him again and held him tight for a moment. Reluctantly he let him go.

“Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

Justin started walking. Brian gave the taxi his address, and they passed him walking in the frozen snow on the way to the subway entrance.

Fifteen minutes later, Brian was home. Justin would be sitting down in the subway right now, reading his book. He sighed. He took off his coat, drank some water, and sat at his laptop.

He put down all the ideas he had had in his head about possible campaigns for St Blanche in the past months, as he enjoyed their wine, and printed them, adding details by hand as they came to him. They needed new labels for their bottles. He wondered what Justin would come up with if given a chance. He knew it would be amazing… But Sam, Julie, and Randy would come up with something just as good, surely.

He had a cigarette and a glass of whiskey, stripped naked and went to bed.

As soon as his eyes were closed, he remembered Justin taking over their kiss, pushing him against the closest wall, and making him come down his throat, screaming, in less than two minutes.

It had been the shock. The shock of Justin throwing one of his rules out of the window, and in full view of anyone who cared to watch. Nothing more. A blowjob was a blowjob. Some better, some worse. This one had been… pretty good. It had been the shock. It meant nothing. Brian went to sleep.

He dreamt of holding Justin, as he pulsed his pleasure in his pants at their kiss, and of trying to kiss him again, but there was nothing in his arms but coats, sweaters, and wool scarves. He could smell Justin on the scarf, but then, it unraveled and was gone. He tried to find him in the crowded club and saw his blond head, but guys kept trying to distract him, rubbing themselves on him, kissing him, pulling him toward the Lounge, as Justin got further and further away. “I just want to give him a ride home,” Brian kept explaining, again and again, pushing his way through. “I just want to give him a ride home!”

The dream dissipated and when he woke up, hours later, he did not remember dreaming, but something felt off. He took a hot shower, had his coffee and bagel, rode to work and still he felt weirdly unsettled.

When he got to the office, he stopped at Cynthia’s desk, and made a show of opening his briefcase and returning her chocolate, as well as a ballpoint pen. She laughed, and handed Brian a triple espresso with two tablespoons of sugar in exchange. He went into his office, and got to work.
 

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