Author: DeAnna Zankich
Fandom: Queer as Folk US
E-mail: crissyd33@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17
Status: New/Complete
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Spoilers: Some from Season Three Finale.
Warnings: Other than the sexy stuff, there are mild elements of horror present here. If you get nightmares easily, you might want to give this one a pass.
Disclaimer: Characters are property of Cowlip Productions, Inc. and Showtime Networks. The hotel used in the story is fictitious. Any resemblance it may have to a real hotel in this area of Pennsylvania is completely coincidental.
Summary: Trying to relieve their mutual depression over the recent upheaval in their lives, Justin takes Brian out of town for a few days.
Dedication: For Erin Griffin with great admiration and affection. Thanks for inspiring me, thanks for keeping me from getting bored to death at work, and just . . . thanks for coming along at the perfect time. You’re the bomb, eringee!
He heard the elevator clank and whine as it hefted itself up the shaft from the lobby, but Brian didn’t move. Justin had a key. No need to drag his ass off that cushion and let the kid in. Especially since Brian was far too stoned to remember where his legs were.
Instead, he simply rolled his head to the side and watched the loft door, taking vague mental notes about the state of his living space while he waited. With most of the furniture gone, that damned loft had the distinct feeling of an abandoned warehouse. Not even the bits of clothing and papers and general detritus scattered about helped to absorb the void. The place was barren. Brian sighed.
The door rolled back far too noisily and Justin appeared in the opening dressed in battered jeans and a gray pullover that looked soft from age. He rolled the door closed and Brian watched him shuffle across the huge, empty floor. He stopped right beside the cushion and offered a sympathetic smile.
“Have you been there all day?”
“Wednesday,” Justin said, shaking his head. He stepped over Brian’s prone body and straddled him gently, not putting too much weight on him. Looking down, the blond watched Brian’s face for a while before he said anything. “For an incredibly hot babe, you look like shit, Brian.”
Eyes sliding closed, Brian said “No I don’t. Shit looks better.” He wanted to rub his tired, burning eyes but it took forever for his hands to get to his face. Once they finally made it, his half-numb fingers pressed against his eyelids and rubbed very slowly. God, it felt great. Brian realized he was very sleepy.
“I have a surprise for you,” Justin said softly. Brian was pleased the kid was keeping his voice low.
“Lemme guess,” he mumbled. “You won the lottery and you’re going to buy me back all my furniture, my tv, my suits . . .” Brian couldn’t bring himself to finish. Saying it outloud made it so damned much worse.
“No,” Justin said gently. “But I did win something.”
Still rubbing his dry, tired eyes, Brian let his hands fall back down at his sides. When he looked at Justin again, his vision was all blurry. Somehow, he didn’t give a damn. He knew what the kid looked like. “I really only care what you won if it was the spoils of a massive FBI drug bust.”
Justin laughed and the soft vibration of it moved Brian’s body gently. It felt nice. Very nice.
“You might be happy,” the boy said, raising up on his knees so he could reach into the back pocket of his jeans. He produced what appeared to be some folded papers. Brian squinted at these objects as Justin shifted to sit on the floor beside him, trying hard to make sense of them. Colors on the papers that were probably photos, letters in rows that were most likely words. Justin folded his long legs Indian-style and then he spread out the colorful papers until they made a long rectangle of images and type. Of course, Brian thought, finally recognizing the thing in front of him. A brochure.
Justin held the pamphlet up to Brian’s face and waited while he blinked to clear his vision. Slowly, the images came into focus. He was looking at photos of a very posh hotel and all its very expansive and lovely waterfront views. The words took a little more time to clear up, but once they did, Brian chuckled incredulously.
“Lake Erie?”
Justin’s eyebrows lifted in affirmation. “I won this in a drawing at my favorite art supply store. I guess it’s a reward for all the money I spend in there. Check it out, two days and nights for two at this hotel—The Shadow Pines Inn on Lake Erie—complete with a rental car. I thought it would be a good chance for both of us to get away.” He tried a sweet, encouraging smile. “It would be very good for you to leave this house, Brian. Walk, get some air.”
“I walk,” he sighed wearily, closing his eyes again. “From here to the frig, here to the toilet, here to the bed. I’ve even gone from here to the mailbox . . . at least once.”
“Your mailbox is in the lobby,” Justin stated. “That doesn’t count as a walk. Brian, just look at the brochure. The place is kinda cool—AND, it’s supposed to be haunted. That’s why I even bothered to enter the drawing. It sounded interesting.”
“Haunted?” Brian groaned. “By what, an angry bait fisherman?”
Justin didn’t say anything for a long time and Brian knew the kid was waiting for him to open his eyes again. Finally, he did.
“All right,” he muttered. “Lemme see this.” Reaching for the brochure, Brian forced himself to sit up. It took a very long time. The room spun a little, then steadied, all of which was a clear indication that his buzz was wearing off. Brian figured he’d take care of that momentarily, but for now . . . he was looking at pictures of a sunset over Lake Erie.
The hotel was huge, probably 400 rooms or more, and it sat right on the shore of the big lake. The brochure made good use of the location, taking care to show all the best views from all the most expensive rooms. Brian thought it was a good presentation. The place actually did look kinda cool.
“They’re gonna give you a rental car, too?” he asked.
“Yep.” Justin handed him another slip of paper from a major rental car company. The slip was a receipt for pick up.
Brian frowned. “You got it already?”
“It’s outside.” The young one smiled brightly, playfully. “And I already called the hotel and told them we’d be there by dinner time. So,” he got up again, but that time he shuffled up to the bedroom and opened the closet door. “You need to pack.”
Blinking, Brian watched his lover rummage around in his half empty closet, trying to find something—anything—suitable for a two day trip to a lake resort. A thought occurred to him them and suddenly, Brian was very concerned. “I don’t have to fish, do I?”
Justin threw him a sarcastic glance. “Do you even know how to fish?”
“That’s what I’m saying.” Making himself stand up, he trudged up to the bedroom and flopped on the bed just in time for Justin to throw two clean shirts on his head. Moving the garments away, Brian looked at the kid very seriously. “So, if we don’t fish, what the hell are we gonna do there for two days?”
“Sleep in. Eat. Fuck.”
“We can do all that here.”
Justin ignored him and continued his search through the closet.
Heaving an irritated sigh, Brian said, “I can’t go right now. I’m too busy.”
“Uh huh. Doing what?” Justin never turned around. He’d started investigating the shelves, looking for more things Brian should pack.
“I have to . . .” Trailing off, Brian couldn’t think of a damned thing to say next.
“Exactly,” Justin finished. “You don’t have to do anything right now but come with me to Lake Erie.” Another shirt flew through the air and landed on Brian’s chest. It was a soft blue flannel that he’d had for years. Looking at it closely, he remembered Mikey buying it for him for Christmas one year. Brian love that shirt. He wore it all the time.
Kneeling down, Justin began rooting through the boxes on the floor of the closet. Brian sat up and absently folded the shirts up to be packed, even though he still wasn’t convinced he should go. He was so tired, after all. And so stoned. He should really sleep for awhile before making any big moves.
“You can sleep in the car,” Justin told him, clearly reading his mind like he did sometimes. Brian used to hate it when the kid did that. For some reason, it wasn’t bugging him at all just then. Justin reading his mind meant he didn’t have to talk so much and that talking thing . . . well, it was damned exhausting.
Deciding sitting up was too much trouble, Brian slumped down into the pillows again and closed his eyes. Behind the darkness of his eyelids, he listened to the sounds of Justin getting out his overnight bag and zipping it open. He listened while the kid went into the bathroom and gathered some toiletries, then came back to the bedroom and put them into the bag. He listened to the faint squeak of shoes with rubber soles being tucked into the bottom of the bag. Vaguely he wondered which shoes Justin had selected, but he didn’t care enough to open his eyes and look. Brian just laid there, listening to all the interesting little noises of his things being packed, trying to discern which sound lead to which activity. He amused himself in this manner until the packing sounds stopped and then he heard the bag being zipped up.
“There,” Justin said and Brian heard the bag hit the floor by the bed. “If you need anything else, we’ll just have to buy it at the hotel.”
“With what?” Brian said, really not liking the whiny quality of his voice. He didn’t make that sound very often and it was sickening and foreign to his ear.
“I have some cash,” the younger man said and Brian felt him crawl across the bed to lie beside him.
Finally, he opened his heavy eyes and looked at the handsome young face in front of him. Again, Brian sighed and inside his head, the sound of it was like the sigh of an old woman.
Justin’s blue eyes twinkled like they always did—twinkled like aqua-marine crystals. His smooth cheeks were a little pink from the exertion of packing and Brian was reminded of how this boy looked when he was coming. Beautiful, sexy, wanton and fearless. Brian loved to watch his face when they were fucking. Every little thing the boy felt manifested in an expression. It made Brian feel powerful and strong to watch all the changes he was creating for his lover.
Suddenly, for some reason, Justin looked away from him, his lips struggling with a shy smile. “Stop it,” he said.
“What?”
“You’re staring at me like . . .” The boy shrugged self-consciously. “I don’t know. You’re just giving me a LOOK I don’t know what to do with. Come on.” He sat up and stood beside the bed, reaching back for Brian’s hand. “Let’s get some shoes on you and get outta here. We can be at the hotel in 2 hours.”
Brian extended his hand and let Justin take it but when he did, he pulled the kid back onto the bed. He must have used a bit more force than he intended because the boy literally toppled on him and that made them both laugh. It felt good to laugh and Brian went with it, all the way to the point of giggling. He rolled over on the disheveled bed until he was on top of the blond, then he covered that hot young mouth with a deep kiss.
Like always, Justin inhaled Brian’s scent with his whole body when they kissed. Arms, legs, lips, belly . . . all lifting, pressing, touching, wanting more. Brian closed his eyes again and let himself melt into Justin’s embrace, feeling himself fall a little, fly a little. The boy’s mouth tasted clean and wet and his tongue stroked Brian’s so skillfully, it was almost scary. The kiss went on and on and Brian would have been perfectly happy to stay right there and make out with that boy for the rest of the week, but Justin pulled softly away from him far too soon. They looked at each other for a suspended moment before the kid spoke.
“Brian,” he whispered.
“Hm?” His body burned with desire, but he realized with deepening unease that he wasn’t hard. Probably too much pot. Yeah, that must be it. Way too much pot.
“Let’s go, okay? If we leave now, we won’t get stuck in rush hour traffic.” Justin tried to move out from under him, but Brian didn’t let him just yet. The blond looked at him curiously. “What?”
“We can go after the traffic,” Brian said, lowering his chin seductively. “Let’s amuse ourselves until all those commuter fools get off the road.” He nibbled Justin’s bottom lip, then kissed him again, concentrating on how good it felt to be holding the boy. Normally, Brian’s body would utterly bloom with lust from one or two little smooches with Justin, but that day . . . that moment . . . something was wrong. Then again, something had BEEN wrong for a few days. Brian was totally off his game.
Again, Justin separated the kiss, but he did it gently. “Come on, you’re just stalling cuz you think I’m gonna make you go walleye fishing.” He gave Brian a little tickle in the ribs then he did manage to get up. Once again, he stood at the edge of the bed and reached back for Brian’s hand. “Come on, lazy ass. You can slouch like a slug in the car. I’m doing all the driving.”
“Listen to you,” Brian teased. “All butched up and no one to spank.”
“I’ll spank YOU without any problem. Now, get off the goddamned bed.” Justin stood there with his hand out and his jaw set with staunch authority. Brian chuckled. The kid was fucking adorable.
“All right, all right,” he moaned, dragging himself off the bed and heading for the closet to get his shoes. “Jesus, when did you get so bossy?”
“The minute you became Lifeless Depression Man,” Justin retorted.
Brian flinched inwardly from the remark, but didn’t show it. Or at least he tried not to. He found his tennis shoes in the closet and sat on the bed to put them on. Although his movements were still pretty slow, he was feeling a little more sober. Yes, that would definitely have to be remedied soon. Sober meant the panic would be coming back. And that, in no uncertain terms, was a bad thing.
Once he’d got his shoes on, he stood up and reached for the bag Justin had packed for him. On top of it was an old straw hat that Brian hadn’t seen since it arrived in this house over a year ago. He scowled at it accusingly. “What the fuck is that?”
“It looks like a fishing hat,” Justin said, walking around to pick it up. He placed the hat on his own head and looked at himself in the mirror beside the closet. “I think it’s cool. It’s not yours?”
“Right,” Brian snarked. “I wear that every fucking day. Of course it’s not mine. It’s . . . my father’s. Or it was. My sister brought it over here one day with some more of his shit to see if I wanted it before it went to the Salvation Army.”
“And you kept this?”
“Not intentionally,” Brian said. He picked up the bag and walked out of the bedroom, taking heavy, irritated steps across the floor. He grabbed his keys off the kitchen counter, then stood at the door waiting. The thought of his father had put a sour taste in his mouth and he wanted to get to the nearest bottle of Jim Beam as soon as possible. “Come on,” he barked. “If we’re going, let’s go. I want to stop at Woody’s on the way out.”
Justin crossed the loft still wearing that idiotic hat. The fact that he looked nine kinds of cute in it didn’t soften Brian’s attitude one bit.
“You’re not bringing that fucking thing,” he growled. “Put it in the trash.”
“No,” Justin said. “And we’re not stopping at Woody’s, either. If I let you go in there, I’ll never get you back in the car.” He stepped right up to Brian until their bodies touched and Brian could feel the warmth of the young one’s half erect cock. At least the kisses had worked for him. “Besides,” Justin whispered. “I thought of everything. Don’t worry, you’ll see. Let’s just go . . . out the door . . . go.” He flipped his hands like he was shoo-ing a stray dog.
Brian rolled the door back and they stepped out into the hallway. Locking up, he turned around to see Justin heading down the stairs—still wearing his father’s hat.
“Take it off,” he said, his voice soft but his tone cold and steely. Just like his father used to sound.
Justin stopped on the landing and squinted up at him, tilting his head back so he could see out from under the wide brim of the hat. “What’s your problem, Kinney?” he said. “It’s just a hat. You didn’t even like your dad, what do you care if I wear it?”
“I don’t want to look at it,” Brian said. “Throw it away when we get outside.” He trotted down the stairs then passed Justin on the landing, brushing him with his shoulder. “Please,” he murmured, then continued on down to the lobby. He felt his young lover watching him from behind but he knew Justin wouldn’t ask him anything more about the hat.
He also knew the little fucker wouldn’t throw it away.
****************
Justin:
I swear to God, I never know what to do with him when he gets like this.
I try to be totally patient with him and his ‘my dad hated me’ drama, but whose dad didn’t? I mean, it’s not like he can corner the market on that particular torch song. He needs to get over it already. The old fuck is dead and buried. I wish Brian would move on. I mean, I made peace with my dad—sorta. It can be done.
It’s probably just because he’s depressed about losing his job. And all his stuff. But I keep telling him he should be totally, ridiculously proud of what he did—and why. I know I am. In fact, I’m so proud of him, I could explode. Sometimes I look at him and I can’t believe I actually KNOW him, I’m so impressed with what he did. I know, I know—I’m not gonna go off on my St. Brian kick again, but if any one of us here on Liberty Avenue SHOULD be sainted—hellOH!
Right, so I’m thinking this few days out of the city will do him good. Maybe snap him out of his funk. I’ve never seen him so despondent, so completely flattened. I wonder if he was like this when I left him for Ethan. Michael told me he’d never seen Brian so down, not in their whole lives. Well, if this current mood is anything like how he was then—I feel even worse for leaving.
But that’s the past.
And besides, I had to do it. Leaving him was the only way to get him back.
Hence, here we are. Together. Lovers again. And as part of my duties as his lover, I need to take care of him when his chips are down. Not that my life is a big bed of roses right now, either—but at least . . . yeah, here I go with the stupid wistful shit again . . . at least we have each other.
One thing I must say is really nice about him being all broody and sad—he hugs me constantly. I love that. He’s not really hugging ME as much as he’s taking hugs for himself. Well, not that I wouldn’t just give them, but . . . you know what I mean. He’s hugging me because he needs me to hug him. I fucking love that more than I can explain.
Once we’re in the rental car, he’s all fidgety and shifting around—playing with the seatbelt, looking for his cigarettes, taking his sunglasses off and on. The car isn’t bad, really. It’s a Honda Accord. It’s white, but we can ignore that. At least it’s not red. I wouldn’t have taken it if it was red.
I know he’s gonna be happy when I show him the cooler. He’ll calm down a lot. I get into the driver’s seat and reach back behind his seat, pop open the cooler top and take out the travel tumbler I have in there for him. I fill it up with ice, then hand it to him to hold while I open the fifth of Jim Beam. I pour, he grins. It’s all good. I give him a Coke just in case he wants to mix and then I grab a bottle of water for myself before I close the cooler.
“See?” I say. “I told you I thought of everything.”
“I don’t know,” he teases. “Did you pack my favorite black leather dildo?”
I just give him a sidelong glance as I start the car. He won’t be needing any dildos if I have anything to say about it.
But that doesn’t mean I didn’t pack it.
*******************
Brian:
Looking out the window at the traffic stopped at the light on Cemetery Lane, Brian focused on a homeless woman walking through the cars holding out an empty McDonald’s soda cup. He watched her go from car to car, holding the cup out and looking at the drivers with an expression of silent desperation.
“God,” Justin said softly. “It’s so fucked up that she has to do that.”
Brian said nothing, he just kept watching her as she made her way closer to them. When the woman came to the car in front of them—a battered but functional Toyota Celica—she stopped. The driver was a girl, no older than Justin, and she rolled the window down to put a small stack of change into the woman’s cup. The windows in their car were open and Brian heard the driver say she was sorry it wasn’t more. The woman smiled and told her god would bless her kindness and then she moved on to their car.
Justin put a few bills and some change into her cup and the woman said the same thing to him about god. Brian continued to watch her as she went to the car behind them—a brand new Cadillac SUV. The balding, middle-aged man in the driver’s seat rolled the window up before the woman got near enough to make her inquiry.
“Christ,” Brian hissed. “If anyone should be apologizing . . . I bet he’d never tell what he had to do to get that fucking car.” He turned his attention back to the cool cocktail in his hand and took a deep drink.
Justin watched him for a long moment, his blue eyes squinting discerningly.
“What?” Brian said, feeling strangely defensive. “Like Cadillac Man can’t spare some fucking pocket change? We’re both broke and you gave her money.”
The blond still looked at him, but he was smiling a little. Then he leaned over and gave Brian a soft, sweet kiss on the lips. Brian frowned slightly, wondering what he’d done to get kissed just then.
Justin put the car in gear as the light changed and traffic moved forward toward the onramp to Interstate 279. He was still smiling, but he didn’t say why. Brian decided he didn’t need to know.
**************
Justin:
He cracks me up.
When I first met him, Brian Kinney was the biggest, most selfish asshole on planet Earth. Not that he wouldn’t give money to homeless people, because he did—I saw him do it lots of times. But he would never let anyone say anything to him about it. It embarrassed him. Back then, his natural tendencies toward generosity made him uncomfortable. He wanted to be seen as a hard, conceited jerk who didn’t care about anyone else but himself. I guess he thought that would protect him, sort of like surrounding himself with barbed wire. Fat load o’ good it did. I saw right through him as he was walking toward me under that street lamp and he’s never fooled me for one minute since.
He doesn’t know why I’m smirking at him now and that’s probably just as well. If I told him what I was thinking, he’d just get all grouchy. Well, grouchiER. No, it’s better to just let him sit there and wonder. And I’ll just keep thinking about how awesome he is and about how I seem to fall deeper in love with him every day. Still. Sometimes I wonder if there’s a bottom to this well of emotion I feel for him—and if I keep falling, how am I ever gonna get out?
****************
Brian:
They just missed the afternoon commuters as they got on the Interstate and Brian settled into the comfortable passenger seat with his drink between his legs. The day was sunny, but not too hot. A good day for a drive. Now that he was out of the house, he did actually feel better. Lighter in some way.
They didn’t talk much during the drive. Justin kept changing channels on the radio, sometimes singing softly to the songs. Brian watched the scenery and had his drink, trying to keep his mind blank.
When he’d finished his first drink, he turned around to rummage in the cooler for the JB. That goddamned straw hat was on the back seat, seeming to stare at him accusingly while he refreshed his beverage. Brian tried to ignore it. He remembered the last time he’d seen his father in that thing and, like the majority of his memories of Jack Kinney, it was not a warm and fuzzy recollection.
Brian had been 15 and his parents had dragged him and his sister to a BBQ at the house of one of Joan’s friends. Jack had been wearing that stupid hat to keep the sun off his balding head. The more beer the elder Kinney drank, the more obnoxious he got until his slightly off-color remarks became outright insults—mostly directed at Brian. The comments varied in those days, ranging from cracks about how he spent way too much time with that little fairy boy, Novotny, to the standard diatribe about why Brian didn’t have a girlfriend. Such a good-looking, athletic boy—why wasn’t he bangin’ half the girls in school?
When Brian didn’t take the bait and succeeded in ignoring the old man, he turned his high-powered hatred on Claire. Usually, his verbal assaults on Brian’s sister would jump off from the insults he’d given Brian. Jack would tell her he understood why she didn’t date a lot, SHE was ugly. That was usually the time Brian would try to defend Claire and his father would move on to the next level of play—hitting.
That day, Brian remembered ending up with a split lit and a broken rib—all because he tried to defend his sister. He had the memory of his mother being there through it all, but he had absolutely no recollection of her doing anything about the assault. Brian didn’t even remember her telling Jack to calm down. Vaguely, he did remember her apologizing to her friends for her SON’s temper. Funny how things go.
As the sun moved down the bright blue sky, Brian rubbed the back of his neck. He glanced over at Justin in the driver’s seat and the blond smiled at him, reaching over with his warm fingers to pet Brian’s thigh.
“How are you?” Justin said, glancing at the tumbler. “Feelin’ no pain?”
Brian covered the boy’s hand with his own and gently played with those silky fingers. “No pain,” he said quietly, like a wish. “Are we almost there?”
“According to the map, we should be seeing the place any minute. Are you getting hungry?” Justin’s fingers slinked up the inside of Brian’s thigh, tickling deliciously. He stopped when he reached the ample swelling at the crotch and his fingers rested there, cupping Brian’s balls gently. Heat traveled up his body from the point of contact and Brian sighed gratefully as he felt his cock began to fill with blood. Oh, sweet erection.
Justin grinned. “Well, well. You must be feeling better. See what a little fresh air can do for you?”
Chuckling, Brian leaned over and kissed the soft skin under Justin’s ear. Then he nipped at the tender lobe and whispered, “now that you got me hard, you gotta get me off.”
“Oh, I will . . .” Justin purred. “But, there’s our exit.” He pulled off the Interstate and wound down the off ramp to a quiet, rural road. Lake Erie glimmered before them in the late afternoon sunlight and Justin turned the car toward the water.
About a mile later, the rooftop of the Shadow Pines in came into view. Justin turned at the elaborate Welcome sign and made his way down to the parking lot. A valet took the car and they grabbed the bags out of the trunk. Justin went back for that damned hat.
Brian let his young companion handle checking in since he was the contest winner and all. Besides, he was too drunk to be much good at communicating with strangers. The woman at the counter gave him a few up and down looks after Justin told her they only needed one king size bed in the room. If he were in a different frame of mind, he might have popped off a remark to her, but as it was . . . standing up was taking all his energy.
They got the room key and went up to the 4th floor, emerging from the elevator into an elegantly carpeted hallway.
“We probably got a crappy room cuz it’s a contest,” Justin said as they followed the signs leading to room 413. “I’m sure they’re saving the nice rooms for the paying guests.”
“They should be grateful to have us here decorating their landscape,” Brian muttered. He leaned against the wall outside the room while Justin slid the key card in and unlocked the door.
The room was far from crappy. In fact, it was huge and beautifully appointed with a fireplace and a Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom. There was even a little balcony that overlooked the water. The sliding glass doors were open to air out the room and the white curtains billowed softly in the breeze.
Justin tossed that hat on the dresser, dropped his bag on the enormous bed and turned to Brian with a big smile. “Not bad, huh?”
“Not bad.” Brian put his own bag down then scooped the boy’s lean body up in his arms, tumbling back on the mattress.
Justin grinned at him. “I seem to recall you and I having a really good time in a hotel room once.”
Brian breathed a laugh remembering all the drama from that long ago day in New York, then he moved in to taste that sweet, ripe mouth again. “Good thing you turned out to be worth all the trouble,” he murmured and he felt the boy smile into their kiss.
That one memory triggered a thousand more as he slowly, tenderly removed Justin’s clothing. Brian could see every image so clearly, all the frustration and longing of the years they’d been doing this dance. The image that stood out most to him at that moment was the very first time he saw Justin Taylor—standing like a spontaneously occurring sculpture under that streetlamp on Liberty Avenue. Beautiful beyond words, fragile beyond resistance. Brian had been compelled toward the young blond in a way he’d never really experienced before. He recalled being halfway across the street before he even consciously decided to approach the boy. He remembered hearing Michael and Ted grumbling behind him and he remembered how everything just went away as soon as he and Justin were talking. Brian remembered having to lick his lips over and over because he was salivating. The boy smelled so delicious. His brave attempts to act like a veteran of the scene were painfully endearing. Brian had wanted to kiss him immediately. He could tell what it would be like. It would be . . .
. . . just like kissing him then, in that hotel room at Lake Erie. Hot, wanton, tender, hungry, perfect. In that short span of years, kissing Justin had become one of Brian’s most favorite pastimes.
His body was fully connected to the boy then, on fire and pulsing with lust, just like always. The more they kissed, the warmer Brian’s skin became and then he started to tear at his clothes. Feeling Justin’s tongue stroking his sent shivers all through his body, making his nipples tighten, his balls throb and every inch of his skin ache for his lover’s touch.
Naked finally, Justin’s legs wrapped around his hips, holding on, pressing their hot, swollen cocks together. Brian’s hands slipped under that narrow, silky back and lifted Justin’s body as they kissed harder and harder. He heard the boy moan and tremble against him and that was all he could take.
He opened his mouth against Justin’s throat, just below his chin, biting the flesh, tasting it fiercely, growling like he knew the boy loved.
Justin panted and his hot fingers squeezed Brian’s arms desperately. “Fuck me . . .” he begged. “Brian, please . . . I need you inside me . . .”
Without looking, Brian grabbed for his jeans and fished out the condom in his back pocket. The wrapper came off, the sheath went on, a bit of saliva for lubrication and then . . . they were connected. They both inhaled sharply at first, bodies zinging with the pleasure of the initial penetration. Justin was so hot inside, he felt feverish. They looked at each other for a frozen moment and the entire room seemed to darken around them. Holding their breath, they prolonged the intensity of the moment as long as they could both stand and then they collapsed into a hard, fast rhythm, crushing each other’s mouths with kisses.
Justin panted Brian’s name in a trance-like chant right before he came and Brian watched his beautiful face flush with blood and his eyes slide closed as his body exploded with pleasure. He could feel every contraction surrounding him—his cock pulsed with Justin’s spasms and he moaned deep in his throat as he felt his own balls erupt. He felt like he would burst, the pressure was suddenly so acute. He tingled all over—shuddered, in fact. Justin’s legs tightened around him and he arched his back as his thick young cock sprayed hot semen all over their bellies. Brian lowered his forehead onto Justin’s chest, breathing hard, eyes closing as the last of his orgasm coursed through him.
Their bodies moved together, matching the other’s breathing pattern as they slowly settled down. Outside in the hallway, a child’s voice rang out as she told the end of a story about catching her first fish. Brian’s eyes were heavy and his body was warm, sated, relaxed. On the edge of sleep, he heard that child say something about the ghost of an angry bait fisherman but he was too close to unconsciousness to note the odd coincidence to his partner. It didn’t matter anyway. Weird things like that happened all the time, didn’t they?
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