Spin and Fall

Chapter 3: Find

Brian walked into the meeting room at 7:00 exactly, happy to see everyone present and accounted for. In the last month it seemed like everything at Kinnetik had gelled, the team coming together, everyone pulling his or her own weight. The only blight was Carrie York, the head of the art department. Though she had greatly improved her performance, she did not seem to understand Brian's vision for the company. She had worked in academia for a long time, and she seemed to be having a hard time adjusting to the business mode of thinking.

Ted gave the financial report. Brian believed in an open book policy, in paying his employees generously and in offering them profit sharing possibilities. At first, only a few had been interested, but the rapid rise of Kinnetik on the advertising scene, with its accompanying increase in value had made a lot of converts. Ted and Cynthia each owned 5% of the stock, having invested their savings in Brian’s venture early on, and they were now looked upon enviously.

Cynthia held a weird hybrid role as vice president and personal assistant to Brian. She gave the report on new clients and new prospects, and then she commented on each of the four junior ad execs’ efforts at growing the business. So far, Brian had promoted no one to senior ad exec, and that situation would remain the same until he was no longer the one bringing in 75% of the new business. Cynthia listed all the finished campaigns for the week in review. Brian had every reason to be satisfied. Five campaigns, every one of which he could genuinely be proud of. And Conaussy was one of them. Amber Miller was the ad exec who had taken on the account, fleshed it out and troubleshot his campaign design. Then again, she had had no choice but to do a great job, given that Brian had been breathing down her neck the whole time.

There had been some friction with Carrie, who in Brian’s opinion had assigned the art to the wrong person in her department. She did not always know how to play on her team members’ individual strengths. He had gone over her head, and reassigned the work after a week, and things had turned out great. Amber was due to fly out Thursday to Seattle for the final presentation before the launch, and Brian had been working closely with her on her presentation. She was ready.

Sandy Brierson reported on their only city contract, the promotion of public transport. She’d sniffed out the opportunity, earned the contract and was doing a bang up job. She was very, very good, and Brian liked her, though he rode her ass hard because she had a deplorable tendency to procrastinate. Knowing her campaign backwards and forwards, he zoned out for a second.

He had not thought much about his trip to Seattle in the past few weeks, going back to his regular life with no problem. As a matter of fact, he’d been doing great, feeling relaxed and in control. He visited Babylon’s backroom every night, leaving a trail of happy fuckees. He regularly hung out with the guys, only losing patience with their inanities occasionally, and he kept the promise to himself to call Gus in Canada every other night.

But the finished Conaussy campaign brought it all back. Had he really let some little twink fuck him repeatedly? Had he really enjoyed it so much that he had let himself be fucked face to face, had ridden the kid’s cock, had blacked out and screamed in pleasure as he came? Had he really let that kid continue to fuck him even after he’d already satisfied his need for bottoming, merely because he had liked it so much?

The whole thing seemed so utterly fantastic, and JT almost a fantasy himself. He had been smart, articulate, assertive, informed. Brian remembered their conversations with pleasure. He’d also been very beautiful and sexy. Brian’s cock twitched remembering the blowjob on the dance floor at Purr, under the envious eyes of so many men. And finally there had been the fucking. The little blond twink had been the best lover Brian had ever had, as highly sexed as Brian himself, imaginative, uninhibited, and as generous as one could want. They had been extraordinarily compatible. He was amazed at how pleasurable the memory actually was, considering that Brian had been taking it up the ass the whole time. Usually he remembered these trips, if at all, as a need fulfilled. But this one he remembered as one of his most pleasurable weekends…ever. Right up there with the Miami White Party of 2002…

Well, as great as it might have been, it was over. He refocused on the meeting, and was able to concentrate and give it his full attention.

*****

The next day dawned unseasonably warm and sunny. He decided to leave his long camelhair overcoat at home, and just wear his shorter leather coat. Out of habit, he searched the pockets before hanging up the heavy garment. In the inside breast pocket, where he always kept a hundred dollar bill, he also found a business card. It was very succinct, in dark grey twelve-point courier on 18-gram cerulean stock and read JT@gmail.com.

Brian stared at it for the longest time. He laid it on the kitchen counter and left for work. He picked up a latte for Cynthia on the way and, once in the office, started looking at the different ideas that Grant Mead, another of his junior execs, had sent him for the new Brown campaign. Halfway through, he opened his e-mail, and before he could reconsider, he typed in JT’s address and a short message.

In town from March 9th to the 13th. Should I book a hotel?

Then he cancelled it, realizing the message would be from B.Kinney@Kinnetik.com, and quickly opened a gmail account under Aidan157. He rewrote the e-mail and pressed send. He looked at the clock, and arbitrarily gave JT two hours. If there was no response by 11:52, he’d forget the whole thing. He was about to close Firefox when gmail showed one message in the Inbox. His heart started beating hard in his chest. Yep, it was from JT. He opened it.

No. Stay with me. I don’t have room service, but I do have a California king, and 600 count Egyptian cotton sheets. Oh, and a huge boner, thanks to you.

If you get in after 3:00, I can pick you up at the curb, and you can blow me on the way.

Brian actually guffawed out loud. A smile on his lips, he called Amber.

“Amber Miller”

“Amber, Brian. It turns out I have to be in Seattle next weekend. So I’ll go and do the final presentation myself.”

“Oh, that’s great! It’s my daughter’s birthday on Friday, and there was no way I could have gotten back in time. She’s going to be so happy!”

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could have changed the meeting.”

“…”

“Amber?”

“Uh…well, uh…”

“Yes. I see. I’m a fucking ogre… Your kids always come first, Amber. Mine do! Grow a fucking spine already.”

He hung up, annoyed, and called Cynthia into his office.

“Cynthia. Turns out Friday is Amber’s kid’s birthday. So I’ll be going to Seattle.”

“Damnit, Brian! Could you give me a little more notice? I don’t care how late that makes you get there, but you’re not leaving Thursday until after your last appointment. I’ll reschedule Friday, but that’s it.”

Ah, yes... A woman with a spine.

“What time is my last appointment?”

“2 to 3”

“Fine.”

“Like you have a choice! The Edgewater again?”

“No. No hotel. I’m staying with friends.”

“Oh.”

“And don’t book me on United.”

“Brian, how many years have I been making your flight arrangements?”

“…Whatever.”

“How dare United not stock J&B! Barbarians!” she mocked, walking away, her red Louboutin soles flashing at him.

Grinning, he went back to work. After about twenty minutes, he got up and went to his private bathroom, locked it, dropped his pants, and closed his eyes. Resting his left hand on the door, he faced the mirror, pretending it were JT’s mouth wrapped around his cock and not his own right hand. He rolled in his lips to contain a moan at the memory of the first time JT had blown him and of what had followed… and in less than a minute, he sprayed cum all over the sink.

He did not even bother pretending once might be enough, and just kept pumping his dick in his fist, images of his previous time in Seattle vivid in his mind, until he reached a second orgasm, less explosive but no less pleasurable than the first.

He cleaned up, and this time, when he went back to work, he was actually able to concentrate.

 

*****

 

Ted was happily crunching numbers when Cynthia called.

“Ted, can you handle the meeting with the city inspector on Friday? Brian is going out of town.”

“I think so. We are completely up to code. There shouldn’t be any issues. Where is he going?”

“Seattle. It’s Amber’s daughter’s birthday on Friday, so he’s doing the final Conaussy presentation.”

“Amber has known about the meeting for two weeks. Why didn’t she reschedule?”

“No idea.”

“The suite at the Edgewater again I suppose? That bill was pretty steep…”

“No. Brian’s staying with friends.”

“Uh?”

“Don’t ask, Ted. I haven’t got a clue…”

“Curiouser and curiouser…”

“Ted?”

“What?”

“Get a life.”

Ted laughed and hung up. Two trips to Seattle in a little more than a month? What was in Seattle?

 

*****

Ted would have thought that Thursday should have been a stressful day for Brian considering that he had a full day of work and was flying out on business immediately thereafter. Yet when Ted, once again, drove him to the airport, Brian was in an amazingly good mood.

“I cold called a small Seattle company on Tuesday called Benex. They make some of those blood pressure machines you see in large pharmacies. Their product rates really high in accuracy, compared to the average, and yet they only have a 4% share of the market. I’m going to change that.” Brian sounded enthusiastic, excited. He chuckled. “I spent half the night designing a very aggressive campaign on their behalf. It should bring their share up to 15% or higher. I have an appointment with them Friday afternoon.”

Ted wondered if that was what this Seattle thing was all about. A chance for Brian to do what he rarely got to do anymore as a CEO, and which he had loved and had a natural gift for: Designing campaigns from inception to conclusion. Maybe he just needed to challenge himself again, to get back to his roots. Well, last time they’d gotten a $300,000.00 contract out of it. As far as Ted was concerned, Brian could play at being an ad exec any time.

Brian went on to rhapsodize about the beauty of Puget Sound, about this great gym he used there and about his amazement that people had actually acquired a taste for Starbucks coffee considering it was over-roasted to the point of having burned all the smoothness and taste out of the bean.

He was…chatting. Like an excited kid on his way to the fair. At the airport, he grabbed his bag and told Ted, “I’ll take a cab Sunday night. Have a good weekend.” Brian was being… considerate?

“I’ll come get you,” said Ted. “I don’t mind. Blake has to work.” Ted was just too curious. Maybe Sunday he could figure out what the attraction was in Seattle.

“Do you want to get a drink, then?” asked Brian. His flight was getting in at 10:30 p.m. It did make sense. Still. When had Brian ever sought Ted’s company, except in the awkward weeks after he’d pushed Michael off the Kinney cliff and into Dr. Dave’s arms?

“Why not?” said Ted.

Brian smiled and walked away. From the look on his face, he’d already left Pittsburgh behind.

 

*****

Justin had been printing nine copies of his thesis, occasionally stopping the printer to add paper, when he decided to check his regular e-mail to pass the time. He rarely did. His mother and sister used it, and sometimes some prospective trick he’d given his card to, but most of his important stuff came to his Cornish address. He quickly scanned down the pages, most of the entries comments to artwork he had posted online and that he had already read at the site itself. He erased the e-mails en masse.

He saved one from Molly, four days ago, and one from a p.donahue, who could be the cute dark haired guy he’s talked to for a few minutes at the bar at Cuffs. He opened both and answered them.

His sister was fourteen now, incredibly sharp, a gifted actor at the Denver Theater conservatory for years. And she was evidently going through a phase, if the picture of her new purple hair and the nose ring were any indication. He really hoped she would give their father an ulcer. A bleeding ulcer. She was refusing to go to the St. James Academy of Denver for high school and Justin loved her for it.

She had her heart set on the Thatcher School for Performing Arts in Ojai, California, of all places, and had actually applied behind her parents’ back, sending a recording of her performance as Astrid Magnussen in “White Oleander” in lieu of an audition, and she had been accepted. Justin didn’t think she would win that battle, but wanting to give her as much ammunition as he could, he gleefully transferred $50,000.00 to the school for the first year’s tuition and board. The more strife and conflict he could foster in the Taylor household, the happier he was.

Patrick Donahue was the cute guy he remembered. He invited him for a drink at his apartment on Saturday night.

He was about to close up when he noted one message left in his inbox. Had he missed one? No, it was new. From aidan157. He felt a jolt of adrenaline and, trying not to hope for much, opened the mail.

“In town from March 9th to the 13th. Should I book a hotel?”

Aidan was coming into town. And clearly wanted to see him again.

He pushed back from the computer, his face split in a huge uncontrollable grin, got up, took a few steps, and then, fuck being mature, did a little happy dance, whooping like an idiot. He sat back down, his pants binding a little in the front, and typed his answer.

He pressed send and leaned back in his chair, actually remembering blowing Aidan at the club, on the dance floor. Aidan’s crotch smelled so good, and his cum tasted so fucking sweet. Justin undid his fly, and his cock popped out. He started jerking off like he had that night on the dance floor, as Aidan was fucking his mouth and horny guys looked on. He could have sworn it took him less than five minutes to come all over his shirt and hand.

Shit! He had a class at eight. He quickly cleaned up and put on a clean shirt. He slipped eight of the printed and collated theses into the large envelopes, which were addressed and ready to go, along with the rest of his job applications. He would mail them today. He reserved the last copy for his thesis adviser. He had no doubt it would pass muster. It was really good. He saw no point in waiting for the result to start looking for a job. He was ready to move on.

Though he jerked off again twice that day, he had a hell of a time concentrating. That night he went to Cuffs and brought home a tall, slender dark haired guy whom he fucked nonstop for more than an hour. It was good, and he came twice deep in his ass, and once all over it, but it didn’t even compare. As usual, he was gracious, letting the guy shower and driving him home, thanking him for a nice evening, though he ignored the guy’s attempt at getting his number or discussing a repeat performance.

When he got back home, he looked at his apartment with a critical eye. Aidan would see it for the first time in less than three days. Fuck. He had never before been concerned about what someone else would think of his décor. There were some of his paintings sitting against the walls. He had been meaning to hang them for months, but he was hoping to leave Seattle soon, and it seemed almost silly to remedy the situation now. All over the living room a lot of books were stacked everywhere, a huge pile of clean laundry that never really seemed to diminish was sitting on a chair, sketch pads and printouts covered most of the surfaces, and unopened mail from his PO Box sat half a foot high by the door.

There was nothing in the fridge but Perrier and poppers. Not that Aidan ate anyway. And what the fuck was that about?

Justin never used the kitchen, except for the fruit bowl on the counter that was filled with Pink Ladies (his favorite apples) and the trash compactor for take out containers. Hmm. He had no plates and no silverware to speak of. A glass bowl, a wooden spoon and a baking pan for hash brownies, his usual party gift, and one very sharp knife.

His bathroom was spotless because he could not stand it any other way, but the twenty different bottles of shampoo and conditioner had to go, it made him seem like a fucking queen. His medicine cabinet’s top shelf was way too revealing for someone as sharp as Aidan. Zoloft, Xanax, Trazodone… Those and the fact that he never drank alcohol were dead giveaways. His panic attacks were few and far between nowadays, and he slept most nights without help and without nightmares. Moreover, his two nights with Aidan had been the most blissful, deepest sleep he’d had in years. But still. There were times when that wasn’t the case. He’d have to put them somewhere else.

His anti-allergy and asthma meds could stay. He checked the date on his epi-pen stash. Good for six more months. Just like condoms and lube, his inhalers and epi-pens were everywhere - in the apartment, his coats, his messenger bag, his car. He hated the hospital and was not about to go there for a simple reaction to some hidden capsicum.

Were five different kinds of lube too much? He chuckled. What about the box of new toothbrushes and the industrial sized bottle of mouthwash? Too revealing? Fuck it. Aidan and he had been fucking within three hours of meeting. Justin fucked. A lot. He was not ashamed of it. So what if he liked tricks with fresh breath?

The bedroom was fine. He had a collection of thin cotton Ikea bedspreads because he had this thing about clean sheets. He mostly fucked guys, like tonight’s trick, on top of the bed, and just removed and washed the bedspread. If anyone spent the night, he changed the sheets. The giant bed had huge drawers in the base, filled with the best quality sheets money could buy, in deep blue, dark grey, dark purple. All colors his pale, blond body looked fabulous against. One had to play on one’s strengths, after all.

His closet and chest of drawers were half empty since most of his clothes were piled on that living room chair. He should probably also hang his club and dress clothes, which were still in their dry-cleaner’s bags, on the hooks of the bedroom door.

Who knew having Aidan here would be so much work? He grinned, not bothered one bit. Being his slightly anal-retentive self, he sat down and made lists of the things he wanted to get done before Aidan’s visit. Already feeling accomplished, he went to bed and jerked off one more time, slowly, languorously, just like he planned on fucking Aidan on their last round before sleep on Thursday. He totally let himself go, moaning, groaning, and screaming as he came. Fuck. He couldn’t wait…

 

*****
 

It was fully dark and raining steadily when Brian stepped out of the airport. He was prepared, wearing his Prada ankle boots and his Burberry trench coat over his Armani suit, and he was further protected by the ridiculously expensive Kasa umbrella. He chuckled when the Audi TT came out of nowhere, parked in front of him with a skid, the trunk popping open before it was even at a full stop. He put in his garment bag, opened the passenger door, sat down, and pressed the spring-loaded button that collapsed his umbrella from its full size to a minuscule and elegant package before closing the door. He loved the fucking thing.

He turned to JT and was bowled over by that smile. He suddenly realized how much he had missed the man. He reached a hand behind JT’s neck, pulled him towards him and kissed his gorgeous mouth, loving it when JT let out a needy moan as their lips met, loving that flirtatious tongue, JT’s taste, his greedy response. He lost himself in the kiss and jumped a little when a cop tapped their window, saying with a grin, “Move it along, loverboys…” It had just been a normal, friendly reminder. He loved Seattle.

JT moved the car into the busy airport traffic, and Brian took advantage of the fact that he had to concentrate on the crowded, slick road. He looked his fill, even though JT was fully aware of his scrutiny and kept glancing back, a beautiful smile on his lips. At some point in the stop and go traffic, JT opened the refrigerated cup holder in the dash which held a stainless steel travel cup.

“Are you still on your liquid diet?” he asked.

Well. Brian had been cleansing since he’d e-mailed JT on Monday. “Yes, I am.”

“For you, then,” said JT, motioning to the drink.

Brian took a tentative sip. It was a smoothie. A guava smoothie, from Six Seven if he wasn’t mistaken. Fabulous, and very welcome, since he was starving. Six Seven was nowhere near the airport. In Seattle rush hour traffic, from Capitol Hill where he knew JT lived, it was a huge, hour-minimum detour.

“Thank you,” he said, before drinking it with pleasure.

JT smiled to himself, so obviously happy to have pleased him. Brian wanted to kiss him again, right now. But cooler heads prevailed. In the dark, in this weather, with this traffic, driving required all of JT’s attention. Considering, they made good time. They pulled into a paved parking spot carved out of the front lawn of a beautiful pre-war brick building in an old and elegant part of the gay neighborhood that Brian, who had thought Capitol Hill was only Broadway Avenue, would never have guessed even existed.

The rain had stopped. They got out of the car and walked up to an old forged metal and glass door, which required a skeleton key to open and then up one flight of a gorgeous wooden staircase to another old fashioned door, this one solid oak. The corridor smelled of beeswax and the brass fixtures were glowing in the sconce lighting.

JT opened the door, turned on several lights with a flick of an old fashioned switch, threw his keys on a nearby console and dropped his leather jacket on the floor. After closing the door behind Brian, he pushed him against it, dropped to his knees, undid Brian’s belt and fly and went to work on his freed cock. Brian let go of his bag and leaned his weight against the door, tilting his head back, his whole body suddenly basking in blissful sensations.

Though he was looking forward to other things, he really wanted JT to let him come like this. He’d dreamed about this very mouth doing this very thing ever since he’d decided to come back to Seattle, and wasn’t that just a crock of shit? He’d dreamed about JT’s blowjob ever since he had left, less than a month ago. He’d thought about this mouth, this tongue, and oh, fuck, whatever it was he was doing right now every time he’d gotten a blowjob these past few weeks. And none of them compared to this…

Oh, god, oh fucking god! He rolled in his lips, trying to hold in the sounds that threatened to spill forth. Just then JT did some unimaginable thing with his throat and tongue, and Brian gave up all pretense of control, crying out his pleasure. He was lost in ecstasy until he came and came, feeling JT greedily drink him as if he were water in the desert.

JT stood back up, pulling Brian’s pants along and hooking his fly’s metal clasp so they’d stay on though he didn’t bother with the zipper or the belt. Brian was still trying to catch his breath and regain the use of language.

Caressing his face with a cool hand, JT apologized. “Fuck, Aidan, I’m sorry. I didn’t even give you time to take off your coat.” He blushed, actually embarrassed. “I… I’ve just been so looking forward to tasting you again. I… I love your taste, your scent…”

Brian pulled him close and kissed him. He was pretty sure he could talk again, but this was such a better use of his tongue. They made out by the door for what seemed like a long time, hands in each other’s hair, bodies pressed together and Brian enjoyed every second. When they finally parted, they smiled at each other.

“Come in,” said JT. “Let me hang your coat, stay a while…”

Chuckling, Brian did finally take off his Burberry, which JT did hang in a closet by the door, then his suit jacket, which JT also put on a hanger. And why stop there? Brian took off and handed him his tie, toed off his boots and handed him his pants. He took off his socks, shirt and his undershirt, all of which he simply dropped on the floor.

JT was laughing as he watched Brian undress. After hanging up Brian's pants neatly, he pulled his own long sleeve t-shirt over his head, untied and took off his own boots, pulled off his socks and dropped his jeans. With both of them naked he said in a perfect host voice, “Would you like a tour of the place? Let me show you the bedroom…” He grabbed Brian’s garment bag and led the way, laughing again when Brian playfully smacked his naked ass. Brian appreciated that he took the time to hang his bag on a hook behind the bedroom door before turning to him. JT's pale skin glowed in the soft light of a spherical frosted lamp, his amazing cock hard and glistening with pre-cum and his eyes dark with arousal.

“Can I eat your ass?” JT asked, most seriously. “Please, let me eat your ass…” as if Brian would be doing him a favor. Brian, who would have happily begged for the privilege, lay down on the large bed with his head on the pillow and spread his legs in invitation.

“Oh, god,” said JT, a small quiver in his voice. “You are so beautiful. I want you so much…”

He put a pillow under Brian’s hips, elevating his ass off the bed, wrapped his arms around his spread legs and went to it. As his tongue plundered Brian’s ass, licking from his perineum to his twitching entrance, waking and pleasuring the myriad nerve endings around his hole, Brian reconciled himself to the fact that he was going to be fucked again. Though he’d known it intellectually, prepared for it through his usual fasting and had remembered how much he had enjoyed it last time, until this moment, he’d not really accepted it. He was a top through and through, and that he should voluntarily give it up when he didn't desperately yearn for it was just unthinkable.

But that warm tongue was doing things in there, awakening sensations that Brian hadn’t even known existed. Through the haze of his own bliss, he could hear JT moaning in enjoyment as he tongued, licked and sucked his hole, and he knew JT was loving what he was doing to him - loving it. And as a finger joined the tongue, then two very sleek fingers replaced it, Brian started wanting it. Soon, he was wanting so badly, he was asking for it, “Fuck me JT, god, please fuck me…”

At three fingers, there was that maddening soft drumming on his prostate that felt so fucking awesome, and finally, fuck yeah, the stretch of that impressive mushroom head, the sensation of fullness, the milking of his prostate, and JT between his legs, in him, on him, looking at him with something akin to awe, saying, “Aidan, Aidan, Aidan, oh god, Aidan,” making Brian wish hard he’d told him his real name. JT began kissing him, an amazingly passionate kiss, that had Brian reeling even before the pleasure melted his thoughts into colors that exploded behind his lids like fireworks. His body turned into nothing but pure joy that finally, finally pulsed out of his cock, and the sweetest blackness took him.

He woke up to the very nice sensation of a warm cloth cleaning his chest and belly of cum, and another one, almost hot, soothing his hole and rinsing off saliva and lube. It was decadently pleasant.

JT lay down next to him, his blond head on his shoulder, smiling up at him. Brian had to smile back and even lifted his head to deposit a kiss on his lips.

“I finished my thesis,” JT said. “I’m turning it in on Monday.”

“Are you happy with it?” Brian was aching to ask what it was about, what master’s degree JT was going for, but he didn’t want to have to reciprocate and share anything about his life in the Pitts or, even worse, lie to JT. They had kept it vague last time, and that was fine.

“Yeah. It’s really good. I can’t believe I’m almost done. Since you’re back, I assume that meeting last time went well?” It was as if JT understood without being told that Brian did not want to divulge too much information. He wondered a little what JT made of him, but whatever it was, he was grateful JT was willing to respect his privacy.

“Very. We’re in business. We have a final meeting tomorrow. I’m also in contact with another company. I hope to get their business too. I’m going there tomorrow afternoon.”

“You look amazingly hot in your suit. Just because of that, I’m sure you’ll get it,” teased JT.

Brian, who was perfectly cognizant of how hot he looked in business attire, was surprised at how pleased he was by the compliment.

“It’s all part of the plan,” he answered. “If I’m lucky enough that they have a fag influencing the decisions, I can also fuck him against the wall in the john. That works every time.”

JT guffawed, unaware of how often Brian had done exactly that when he worked for Ryder and Vangard. Not anymore, though. Clients chose Kinnetik based solely on the merit of the campaign. He made sure of that.

“I’ll be home by 6:00,” said JT. “Do you want to go out and do something?”

“Do you play pool?” asked Brian.

JT got up on his elbow and looked at him with a cocky grin. “Only like a god…”

“Oh, really…” Brian chuckled. “That sure sounds like a challenge. Tell you what, cocky boy, best of five games gets to top tomorrow night…” That was a shot in the dark. Brian had no idea how JT would react to the suggestion that Brian might want to top.

Because he was paying close attention, he noticed the infinitesimal dimming of the sunshine in JT’s smile, but the man did not hesitate in his answer. “I’m a top only, Aidan. I never bottom, under any circumstances. But I accept your terms, because that’s how much I know I’m going to whoop your ass…”

“Be careful, grasshopper. You might be surprised…” Brian was a pretty damn good pool player if he said so himself, especially sober.

JT rolled his eyes, and said “Pfft!”

Now Brian was really looking forward to it.

“We can go dancing afterwards, if you’re game,” said JT, resting his head on Brian’s shoulder once again.

“Sounds good. Another club in mind?”

“We can go to The Rebar. It’s pretty mixed, but it’s got a fabulous DJ. If you want to dance dance.”

“You mean there won’t be a blowjob on the dance floor?” joked Brian.

“Not a chance. Not that people would give a shit, but I would probably get trampled because they would not notice me, down there, on my knees. Too busy dancing...” JT explained. “But the grinding is good,” he added with a grin, before yawning, hugely.

“Time for bed for the little ones, looks like,” teased Brian, who was getting pretty tired himself. There was a three hour time difference, after all.

Once again, JT got on his elbow. He said quite seriously, “I have to fuck you again, first.” He pressed his groin against Brian’s hip, and indeed, JT’s cock was as hard as a baseball bat. “I want to lie on top of you and do you from behind, deep and long and slow, until I come so hard I feel I’ll never get it up again. Please?”

He was so fucking sweet. Brian kissed his acquiescence on the beautiful lips. Though Brian’s ass was still somewhat relaxed, JT took the time to prepare him to the fullest, gently and thoroughly, peppering his back with kisses, caressing him with his free hand. When he entered him, it was nothing but pleasure, everything sleek and easy. As advertised, he did fuck him long and deep, with perfect control, coming out with that big head through the inner sphincter, which felt delicious, and stopping short of the outer one, which would have been less pleasant, then pushing all the way in, deep, deep inside, and backing away again, the edge of that head running along Brian’s prostate, milking it gently, making him want to scream with pleasure, before stretching that sphincter again.

It was so fucking good. God, yes. Oh god, so perfect, so perfectly perfect. Brian was on the edge, his balls tight, goosebumps everywhere, his toes curled, the hair on the back of his head standing up, and yet he didn’t come, JT keeping him there, at that point of perfection for what seemed like forever. He could feel his body breaking out in a sweat, his heart beating so hard he could hear the blood rush through his body, and he stayed balanced in this… heaven, loving it, loving the cock inside him, loving the man who could make him feel so amazingly good, loving the life that allowed that moment, loving the world for having created him a man.

“Aidan, this is so good, so good… so fucking perfect, oh fuck, I never want it to end, there is nothing like this, nothing like fucking you… But I can’t hold it, I can’t hold it…”

A sleek hand came and long fingers wrapped tightly around Brian’s cock and began fisting him. JT kept the movement slow, in time with his fucking, bringing Brian finally over the edge he’d been dancing on forever, the ecstasy of his release completely mind blowing, the scream leaving his body raw and primal. JT never sped up, even as he came, his dick pulsing again and again in Brian’s ass, crying out the kind of nonsense you say when pleasure overrides everything else and that you forget immediately thereafter, “Aidan, god, Aidan, I love you, I love you, I love you…”

JT collapsed on top of him, and Brian basked in the afterglow, enjoying the weight covering him, the co-mingling of their sweat. After a few minutes, he heard a soft snore and cracked up. He rolled sideways, just enough to dump JT on the bed next to him. Since the move pulled JT’s dick out of Brian’s ass, he checked that the condom had gone with it and was relieved that it had. He couldn’t believe it when he realized the kid was still asleep.

“Sunshine! Wake up! Shower time…” He had no idea where that nickname had come from, but when JT smiled at him, his eyes still closed, he thought it fit him perfectly.

“Carry me,” said JT. “I can’t move, and it’s all your fault. That orgasm severed my spine. I’m going to sue. Your ass should carry a government warning…”

Brian's ass? What about JT's cock? That pernicious instrument had obviously lobotomized Brian, because how else could his decision to tickle the blond be explained? Brian Fucking Kinney did not cuddle, he did not engage in post coital tomfoolery, he did not go out on dates or fuck the same trick twice and certainly did not fly three hours to take it up the ass. That cock was a weapon of mass destruction.

JT was squealing like a girl and begging for mercy, mumbling something about peeing himself, so Brian relented. As JT caught his breath, they looked at each other, grinning like fools. Then they got up, showered in JT’s cool black and white tiled shower, brushed their teeth, flossed, and fell into bed, exhausted, Brian spooning JT’s smaller body.

After a couple of minutes, JT said, “Oh! Before I knew you were coming, I invited this trick over Saturday night. Do you want me to cancel him or would you like a threesome?”

For some reason, the idea of watching JT fuck someone else was totally irksome. But he would love to top a trick with JT watching him. Evidently, though he accepted that he would not be topping JT, Brian wanted JT to see and acknowledge him as a top.

“If you only fuck me, you’re on,” said Brian.

JT chuckled. “Funny. My only stipulation is that only I fuck you.”

Brian laughed. “Believe me. That’s a given.” He kissed JT behind the ear, proving the frontal lobotomy theory, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

 

*****

 

Justin had loved watching the disbelief on Aidan’s face as he had managed to sink three of his striped balls with one shot on his first turn. He almost felt bad. Aidan had won the toss, broken the first game and sunk three in a row. He was a very good player. But Justin had actually been on the professional circuit for three years, using his winnings to pay for his undergraduate degree.

It was his paternal grandfather's legacy; his “Pop” had played professionally and had started teaching little Justin how to play pool when Justin was barely five. Craig, Justin’s father, had hated that Justin had inherited his grandfather’s gift, since Craig himself would only ever be a mediocre player.

During all his vacations from the age of fourteen, Justin had played in professional tournaments under Pop's vigilant eyes. When Fred Taylor had died of a massive stroke in the fall of his junior year in high school, Justin had not only lost his best friend but also the one person who knew that he liked boys.

Justin took the time to chalk his cue before shooting in the final eight ball. Aidan was now watching him with a smile, obviously remembering that he had been warned but had refused to believe it. Just because he could, Justin made the white ball bounce off all four walls before hitting the black eight--ever so softly sending it creeping slowly across the green baize before teetering on the edge of the pocket and finally, almost reluctantly, falling in.

Justin had won three of three, never giving Aidan any hope that it might be otherwise. Aidan grinned and bowed deeply at the waist. Justin laughed joyfully. Aidan wasn’t bothered in the least that he had been bested. His ego apparently could take it. Above and beyond the fact that their sexual relationship was out of this world, Justin really liked Aidan. He was interesting and interested, informed and witty, able to handle differing opinions gracefully, and--despite being naturally competitive--he apparently could accept defeat without taking it personally.

Though they were in an Irish bar on 23rd, far from the gay area of town, Justin walked up to Aidan and pulled him into a long heated kiss. This was Seattle. The worst they would get would be a raised eyebrow or two. When they pulled apart, a man was standing next to them. Justin could feel the sudden tension in Aidan’s body.

The guy just said, “Are you dudes done with the table?”

Justin handed him his cue and answered with a sheepish smile, “Yes… sorry!”

The guy laughed and winked. “Don’t be, you got my girlfriend all hot and bothered…”

They were about to sit at the bar when Aidan stopped Justin. “JT, I’m afraid we’ve got to go back to your place…”

“Are you OK?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Do you need a doctor?”

“No, no. It’s nothing too bad.”

“What is it?”

“A terribly, terribly bruised ego. There’s only one cure: a long, thorough blow job…”

Justin guffawed. God, for half a second he’d actually been concerned. Now the thought of the musky scent of Brian’s balls, of the feel of his large cock down his throat, of the taste of his precum and of his ejaculate had him hard in seconds.

“Bruised egos can fester. This needs immediate attention. Let’s stay calm, but return to the apartment as quickly as possible,” he answered. “Be ready to drop your jeans and sit on the couch as soon as we get there, I’ll take care of the rest…”

They never went dancing.

After the medical crisis was over, Justin somehow ended up handcuffed to the bed, blindfolded, with deliciously cruel nipple clamps torturing him with pleasure. The toys that man brought on business trips! He continued to get thoroughly rimmed and sucked until he begged Aidan to let him, to please, please let him come. He finally felt Aidan’s heat sink onto his throbbing cock, and came screaming as Aidan rode his dick and hot cum splashed on his naked chest.

Next they did it face to face. This had quickly become Justin’s favorite position with Aidan, the man’s knees on his shoulders so he could see his gorgeous lover’s face blush in pleasure, watch his own dick going in and out of him, and Aidan’s magnificent cock sliding through his fist. Justin could never get enough of watching Aidan’s body suddenly wet with perspiration, watching him fight to keep control and trying not to cry out, watching him lose that fight with astonishment at his own pleasure. Justin loved seeing Aidan come apart and getting carried away by his physical self, leaving all thoughts behind.

Later still, they fucked with JT kneeling up, immobile, and Aidan on all fours pumping JT’s cock in and out of his ass. It was amazing to surrender control in that position, to resist grabbing the man’s hips and ramming into him, but Justin was more and more aware of Aidan’s need for control, and it had felt fantastic, an incredible orgasm literally sucked out of him.

When Aidan had announced that the prize for the “Best of Five Challenge” at pool was to top that night, something in Justin had withered a little. Until then he had chosen to hope that Aidan was a bottom only, fully satisfied by their lovemaking, uh… fucking. But it had been too good to be true. He had known--known--that everything about Aidan screamed TOP!! The tricks at Purr had not been fooled for one second. What was the real mystery was why Aidan had not tried to reverse the situation sooner.

When he’d e-mailed and said he was coming back, Justin had not been able to help but hope. Stupid really. Aidan couldn't know, of course, how much Justin had already compromised, how much control he'd already given up. Letting himself be tied up had been huge for Justin, and it was indeed telling of how much Justin had come to care about and trust him.

Between rounds, they held each other, caressing each other’s skin, enjoying the closeness and the intimacy. As before, their conversations were varied, stimulating and deeply enjoyable… They’d discussed iconic books and films and what made them so, the economic impact on the world of the ongoing AIDS pandemic in central Africa, the art of porcelain making in Japan, the meaning of the resurgence of tattooing in the 1990’s and so on. Both of them were able to enjoy their complementary interests and specialties and readily learned from one another. More than that, they were able to debate diverging opinions, broadening their views instead of retrenching in their held beliefs.

In the morning they went to the gym together but worked out separately, Justin joining the wild step class Aidan had peaked in on during his first visit, followed by his usual long stretching session and a lower body circuit. Aidan biked, and worked his upper body again. They both joined an “Abs-buster” session announced over the PA system. Justin never missed those if he had a chance. Twenty minutes, and he was soaking with sweat, his abs burning like mad, groaning like all the other attendees as they stretched their abused mid section, laughing with Brian as they caught each other’s eye. Sandy, the abs-buster “facilitator” was standing there, a little sadistic smile on her face, guiding them through the recuperative stretches.

After mutual, impromptu hand jobs in the public shower, where they were so close to getting caught that Aidan’s cum was still running down the drain when another guy entered the room, they went out to eat. More accurately, Justin went out to eat, and Brian joined him with the weird wheat grass, protein, pineapple concoction he had picked up at a Jamba Juice on the way. When Justin asked him when his fasting was coming to an end, he grinned and answered, “Sunday at 4:00.” That was when he was due to head back to wherever he went back to. Justin let it go, figuring that if Aidan wanted to explain, he would…

Since it was pouring rain, they spent the afternoon at the Experience Music Project, where Aidan read Jimmy Hendrix’s diary with fascination. Justin was not overly keen on the place, but it had its qualities. They ended up at the café talking architecture. Aidan was extremely knowledgeable on that topic, and his critique of Seattle’s examples of well-known architects’ works was not only interesting but also really funny. They both laughed at the Penis tower, as Seattleites called the municipal building, which had served as an icebreaker for them.

Justin's scheduled trick, Patrick Donahue, was due for a drink at eight. Before he arrived, they traded blowjobs in the shower. By the time the downstairs bell rang, Aidan looked incredibly hot and completely relaxed, in a wife beater and a well fitting pair of jeans with the top button open. He was barefoot. Justin looked at his feet and couldn't get over how very sexy they were. With off-white string pants hung low on his hips and an ultrathin, red, long sleeve T, Justin knew he looked very, very good as well. Justin was a little nervous. Patrick was not expecting a threesome, and Patrick’s addition to Aidan and their amazing sexual chemistry might have mixed results.

“I’ll get it,” said Brian. He buzzed Patrick in, opened the front door and waited for him.

“Uh… Hi? I’m looking for JT? Do I have the right place?”

“You do, come in, and let me take your coat.”

Justin took a deep breath. The show was on. He got up from the couch. “Hey Patrick, do you want something to drink?” he asked with a smile. “The choice is somewhat limited. We have Bourbon or...Bourbon. Oh, and Bourbon on the rocks…”

Patrick giggled a little. “I’ll have Bourbon.”

“Excellent choice,” said Aidan, raising his own half full glass. Justin handed Patrick a double.

“Uh, I didn’t realize you lived with someone…” he said to Justin.

“I don’t,” said Justin. “Aidan is a friend, in town for business,” he explained.

“Oh… Uh… I didn’t mean to intrude, I could…”

Aidan smiled at him and added, “I’m in town for business and pleasure.” Then he leaned into Patrick and whispered something in his ear. Patrick looked at him and smiled, suddenly at ease. “Oh, fuck yeah!” was his answer.

Aidan finished his drink in one gulp, and adroitly divested Patrick of his polo shirt before swooping down and kissing him, holding his face. Justin smiled and took away Patrick’s almost empty glass before it fell on the floor, came behind him and started unbuttoning his jeans. Patrick’s moan was muffled in Aidan’s mouth when Justin slipped in his hand and grabbed his cock. Hmm. He was uncut, fun!

Patrick toed off his shoes, and Justin pushed down his pants and underwear. Aidan started to walk him to the bedroom, and Patrick stepped out of his pants, his socks the only remaining item of clothing. While Aidan kissed his mouth, Justin pressed into his body from behind, one hand playing with his cock, the other caressing his torso and tweaking his nipples, all the while biting and sucking at Patrick's neck and shoulders.

Aidan nudged him, and they kissed each other over the trick’s shoulder, Justin’s cock going from firm to hard in seconds. While both caressed the body between them, Aidan’s eyes caught his, and he maintained eye contact for a few seconds before saying, “Take your clothes off, Sunshine, and lie on the bed, all the way up.”

Sunshine. This was the second time Aidan called him that. Why did it please him so much? What had that look been about? Had Aidan been seeking permission to lead? JT was perfectly happy to have him in charge. Aidan had kissed his way around the trick and was holding him from behind, sucking his neck, pumping that uncut prick in his fist, talking in his ear as they watched JT take off his clothes.

“Look how beautiful he is, Patrick, that skin, that hair, that amazing ass, that glorious cock. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen… You can look, my friend, but that cock is mine, that ass is mine. He is not fucking you, and you’re not fucking him.”

Justin was astonished when he met Aidan’s eyes to see a soft proprietary light in them that said that he meant every word. He smiled. Though Patrick was one or two inches shorter than Aidan, his hair darker and his eyes brown and not hazel, their body types were similar, long lean muscles on a perfectly proportioned frame. They looked beautiful together.

“Do you want to suck his cock, Patrick?” asked Aidan.

Patrick’s hard cock twitched and he licked his lips. “Hell yeah!”

“Go to it…”

Patrick got on the bed, and kissed his way up Justin’s legs, spreading them so he could caress the inside of his thighs and take Justin’s heavy balls in his mouth, one after the other. It was good, arousing. Then he kissed and licked his way up his shaft, sucked at the precum oozing out, and took the head in his mouth.

Justin was watching Aidan, who had taken off his clothes and was jerking himself slowly as he observed Patrick’s progress. When Patrick tried to deep throat him too quickly and gagged on the large head of his cock, Aidan’s eyes met JT’s and he smiled. He never gagged deep throating Justin, though JT knew well it was quite a challenge. Patrick was doing his best, and truly, he was pretty good. He had a way of sucking while holding him against his palate that was, hmm, yeah, like that, oh, yeah, very nice.

Aidan came to stand behind Patrick and pulled up on his hips until he was kneeling, his ass up in the air, his mouth still working Justin’s cock. His eyes never leaving Justin, Aidan began to prepare Patrick with an economy of motion denoting a lot of practice. Something in Justin withered a little more.

“Eat his ass,” Aidan said to Patrick. “Fuck him with your tongue.”

His eyes glazed with lust, with three fingers coming in and out of his ass, Patrick still managed to reach for a pillow and elevate Justin’s hips so he could do what he’d been told, and do it well. He obviously had a kink for it, because he attacked Justin’s hole with an enthusiastic moan. Oh, yeah… He was good at that, too… Justin closed his eyes, loving the attention given to his ass and the delicious hand job Patrick provided as well.

“Open your eyes, JT, stay with me,” said Aidan, almost sharply. As soon as Justin’s eyes met his again, Aidan pushed his cock inside Patrick, in one long glide. Patrick made a sound like “Humph” and stopped ministering to Justin’s hole for a minute while he caught his breath. As soon as Aidan started moving in and out of his ass though, he began again tongue fucking Justin’s hole and caressing Justin’s cock in the same rhythm. Aidan was riding Patrick’s ass masterfully if the moans were anything to go by, and Aidan was staring at Justin, showing his pleasure, holding Patrick’s hips hard and fucking the hell out of him.

Though the physical pleasure was acute and Justin was getting close to climaxing, there was bittersweetness in it. Patrick came first, panting as Aidan jerked his cock to bring him off. Then Aidan plunged deep in Patrick’s ass one last time, and let go, his eyes on Justin, calling out “JT…” softly, almost pleadingly as the pleasure took him. Justin closed his eyes on his own completion, Patrick’s mouth taking in the head of his cock at the last moment, and sucking out his orgasm into its warm depths.

Patrick collapsed on him in a heap, then moved over, his sweaty body next to Justin, chuckling. Aidan joined them on the bed, playfully smacking Patrick’s ass, grinning at him. He lay in his usual position next to Justin and pulled him into his arms, until the blond head was on his shoulder. He kissed Justin’s temple, relaxed, happy.

“Shower?” he asked.

“”Yes, please,” said Patrick.

“Go ahead,” said Justin. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

Aidan kissed him, a deep gentle kiss, his tongue soft and caressing. The two dark haired men got up and walked to the bath, shoving playfully at each other, pinching each other’s ass. Justin had to laugh at them. He stretched. It had been good, and fun, though nothing like when he and Aidan made... fucked alone, at least for him. But he knew that when Aidan went away this time, he would not be coming back. He’d understood what Aidan was telling him, asking him, when he had been fucking Patrick while Patrick had fucked him with his tongue. But this was something Justin simply could not give him.

It was still a mystery to Justin why Aidan had bottomed for him before without any hint of hesitation, and why he had come back for more. It was now so obvious where his preferences lay. Because Justin did not think Aidan was even somewhat versatile. After the way he'd just fucked Patrick, it was blatantly obvious that Aidan was a total top.

Whatever strange impulse had pushed him to give in to Justin again and again had almost run its course. No matter how magical sex was between them, Aidan was reverting to his true nature.

They had only spent a few days together. It would be absurd to let the ache in his chest influence his behavior. Once Aidan left, everything would be fine once again, and this … perfection they’d shared would always be a pleasant memory.

He stretched again, got up and walked to his bathroom. In the glass enclosure, Aidan’s dick was once again buried in Patrick, and he was fucking him hard and fast. He looked magnificent; his sinuous motions powerful and smooth, his head tilted back, his mouth open in pleasure. He growled as he came, hard, as Patrick’s milky essence sprayed the glass, and then he rested his chin on Patrick’s shoulder as he caught his breath.

When he opened his eyes and met Justin’s, Justin grinned at him and said, teasingly, “There better still be hot water left…”

A few minutes later, he was in and they were out. There was plenty of hot water, and Justin was in the shower for a long time. Aidan was… he sighed. Aidan was everything he’d ever wanted. And he knew Aidan enjoyed his company, liked his looks and found pleasure from his conversation. He still didn’t know what Aidan’s story was, but he knew he was unable to give Aidan everything he needed--and always would be. If only… No. He would not go down that road again. Nothing good ever came out of it. He had to live with the reality of what was, not the fantasy of what could be…

He was surprised when he came out to find Patrick gone, the lights off save the frosted round light fixture in the bedroom and Aidan sitting with his back against the headboard, naked under clean sheets, looking at his laptop.

As soon as he came in, Aidan closed his computer, and smiled at him, a wonderful warm smile.

“Five more minutes and I was sending in a rescue party,” he joked.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were waiting for me.”

Aidan opened the bed for him in invitation, and as soon as he came in, took him in his arms and turned off the light. A moment of silence, then, “JT, are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

“OK, I’m not, but I will be. I’m allowing unimportant things to get to me. It happens sometimes. I will be fine. I always am.”

“It’s not about… my fucking Patrick?”

Justin chuckled. “No, of course not. I’m glad you had a good time. It just seemed… It seemed that perhaps you were asking me something, though I may have been projecting, and however much I wish it could be otherwise, if you were indeed asking, the answer is no.”

“Oh.”

“Were you asking?”

“JT, sex with you is… amazing. It’s…”

“I know. I’m there too, usually.”

“Twat. But JT… I’m a top. Unbelievably, with you, I find myself willing to… uh…“

“Take it up the ass?”

“Repeatedly. But I know how incredibly good it would be, with the chemistry between us, to… to fuck you. But it’s not just that, JT. I enjoy being with you, talking, just hanging, working side by side with you… holding you. Waking up with you. I… I want to fuck you because… because I want you.”

Justin fought them, but even with his eyes closed tight, the tears of anger escaped. He felt the impotent rage that would eat him alive if he let it roar with the blood in his ears. He took three deep slow breaths, and pushed it back. Even to his own ears his voice sounded too flat as he said, “I’m sorry, Aidan. I cannot give you what you need.”

“Not ever.”

“No.”

Aidan kissed his temple, perhaps acknowledging the inevitable end of what they’d had, even as he kept his arm around Justin. Justin tried in vain to go to sleep. Instead, he memorized the sounds Aidan made, the scent of his skin, the warmth of his touch, the rhythm of his breath. Aidan’s next words almost an hour later were so soft, he didn’t jump or even flinch.

“Then I’ll take what you can give, JT. Please, I want you inside me…”

Justin’s heart was beating so hard that his hand was trembling as he caressed the warm skin of Aidan’s chest, and their kiss was soft and achingly sweet. JT let his own desires guide him as he loved Aidan’s body, and when he entered him, Aidan’s hoarse cry of pleasure almost drove him over the edge. They reached completion together, their fingers intertwined, their bodies bathed in sweat, their minds filled with pleasure with no room for thoughts or concerns. Justin lapped up every bit of Aidan’s cum off his chest and fell asleep immediately after, his head on his lover’s heart

TBC…

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