SIX MONTHS
Part 8: Silences and Sighs
Brian
“Where are you going?” I’m more asleep than awake when I feel Justin get out of
bed and I rise up on my elbows, blinking my eyes to focus on him.
“Can I have a glass of milk?” He pauses at the foot of the bed. “My stomach’s
kind of jumpy.”
“Of course.” I throw back the covers and follow him to the kitchen. I yawn and
rub my eyes as he pulls open the fridge. “It was probably the lobster, or all
that butter you slurped with it. Do you want some bicarbonate?”
“No thanks.” He pulls a glass from the cupboard and fills it halfway, then looks
at me over the rim as he takes a drink. “I think the milk will hold me till I
get home.”
“You’re going home?”
“Well yeah. I was invited for a date not a sleepover.”
Justin takes a couple swallows of milk and offhandedly I say, “You don’t want to
stay?”
“Brian, do you want me to stay?”
I stare at him for a moment then shrug my shoulders. “It’s your call.” Fuck me,
I can’t believe I just said that.
Justin turns away to rinse his glass in the sink. Then he comes around the end
of the counter and stands right in front of me, toe to toe. Looking me in the
eye he demands, “Say ‘Justin, I want you to stay.’”
Reaching out quickly with both hands, I grab Justin around the waist and lift
him off his feet, throw him over my shoulder and carry him up the steps to the
bed. I feint like I’m going to throw him but instead I carefully lower him onto
the bed and then step back and point a finger at him. “Stay!”
Justin rises up to his knees and I can see that he’s struggling not to laugh. Or
maybe he’s struggling not to tell me to fuck myself. “If your next command is
‘Roll over and beg,’ I’m out of here,” he threatens.
“You don’t have to beg,” I whisper, sliding onto the bed beside him, pulling him
into my arms, “Just roll over.”
“Brian – “
I kiss him.
“Brian – “
I kiss him again.
“Why can't you just – “
I kiss him again, and he shuts up, he stops talking finally and instead we lose
ourselves in kissing.
I’ve kissed thousands of men and nobody tastes like Justin. I’ve memorized the
shape and length of his tongue, I know every crevice in his teeth, I know
perfectly the surface of the roof of his mouth like I was a scientist memorizing
the surface of the moon. I know every nuance of flavor in the crease of his lips
as I suck them into my mouth.
Our bodies slide together and every inch of him fits perfectly against every
inch of me. We move together like synchronized swimmers, I know when he’s going
to moan, I know how to make him gasp for breath, I know how to make him sigh and
whisper ‘Brian.’ And he knows how to slide his hands down my back just so, how
to lick and suck my left nipple until I almost come just from his mouth so hot
there, he knows when to murmur ‘now-now-now’ to jolt me into an orgasm way, way
beyond any pleasure I can ever remember.
It’s only sex, and yet. . .
It’s only sex. You’d think that it would be boring with the same person over and
over. Stale. Routine. So why isn’t it? Why isn’t – oh God, his mouth pulls away
from mine and traces a slippery path down to my nipple, I can’t –
Justin
I can almost make Brian come just by sucking his left nipple, it’s one of only a
couple places on his body that he can’t control by sheer will power. He loves to
be rimmed but he won’t let me do it very often, he says it makes him a pushover
for fucking and he’s right. Or nearly. Brian’s so good at rimming because he
knows exactly what feels the hottest, I learned from him how to pleasure him and
two of the times I’ve fucked him, I got him to agree by rimming him first till
he was almost begging for it.
Well, Brian doesn’t beg for anything. But he makes these sighing murmuring
sounds that let me know it’s okay to go ahead. No words are necessary. Brian
doesn’t like words.
Dragging my head away from his nipple, Brian pulls me up again so he can kiss
me. Nobody kisses like Brian – well nobody I’ve ever kissed. Gently but firmly
he pushes me down on my back on the bed till he's crouched over me, and I feel
his knee slide between my legs, opening them wide. In one swift movement he's
poised to enter me, and almost of their own volition my legs lift up to rest on
his shoulders. He's still kissing me and my eyes are closed but I hear the
rustle of his hand fumbling in the condom bowl, then I hear his teeth tearing
the package open and my breath quickens when I feel his fingers begin to open me
up. He's being gentle now, but earlier tonight he was rough. I love it both ways
with Brian.
We both gasp as he pushes just that last little bit and he's inside me, and our
mouths move apart as we sputter a laugh, then I gasp again when he begins to
move in rhythm, and his lips capture mine again and then I'm lost in sensation,
my hands moving all over his chest and his hips and his thighs, his knees
digging into the mattress with each thrust. He's taking it slow, making it last,
and a light film of sweat moistens our bodies all the places they rub together.
"Brian," I murmur, "Brian."
Brian
We're taking it slow, no hurry, just smooth and gentle pleasure, for a while
anyway. Soon we pick up the pace, we're both getting hot and hotter, I can tell
he's getting close right before he murmurs, "Now!" and I let go and he lets go
and we come together, the first wave of pleasure jolting our bodies like an
electric shock. Then another gentler wave, and my body collapses above him,
careful to roll sideways so I don't crush him with my weight. Justin hangs on
tight and moves with me, not letting go. He never wants to let go, right from
the beginning he has always hung on to me as long as he can.
And I wonder, not for the first time, why I ever let him hang onto me. Right
from the beginning I let him, and I'm still letting him - only now I’m hanging
on to him, too. Now I don't want to let him go either. So we lie in each other's
arms, catching our breath, relaxing into the mattress, and within moments we're
both falling back to sleep. Right before I go completely out, I pull off the
condom and throw it over the side of the bed, then I reach for the duvet and
pull it over us, Justin sometimes gets cold in the night. His face is pressed
into my neck and I feel more than hear him murmur "Mmmmm."
When we wake up it's morning, in fact it's almost ten o'clock, usually I don't
sleep that long even when I'm up late. Justin's still hanging on to me, our
bodies have turned into spoons sometime during the night and he's holding onto
me from behind. As I begin to open my eyes I feel his lips kiss me lightly on
the shoulder and almost I turn around and pull him into my arms. Almost. Instead
I feel myself moving away from him, slipping out of bed, standing up and
stretching. I turn around and glance at Justin, as if I'm surprised to see him
there. He's not letting me get away with that though.
"Brian, don't."
That's all he says but I know what he means, so quickly I counter, as if it was
all I meant to say, "I can't believe we slept so long. It's ten o'clock." Then I
turn away and move into the bathroom, desperately needing to take a piss. A
half-second later Justin’s beside me and silently we piss together into the
toilet. I finish first so I move into the shower enclosure and a moment later
Justin joins me. He stands off to one side while I adjust the temperature - his
skin burns easily, then he meets me in the middle. We pick up bars of soap and
begin to wash each other, a habit we formed when he lived with me.
"I had a great time last night," Justin says, running the soap across my chest.
"Your stomach okay now?"
"Yeah. Mostly."
I'm washing his shoulders, enjoying watching his pale skin turn pink in the hot
water. "Still queasy?"
"Yeah, but - I don't think it's from the lobster." He turns around and lets me
wash his back.
"Too much champagne." I'm not done with his back but he turns around and grabs
my hands, holding them still.
"No." That's all he says, but he's looking at me now. I can't read the
expression on his face, but for some reason I don't want him to explain. If he's
going to start talking about 'us' or something, I don't want to hear it. I just
don't.
"I wanted to talk to you last night but we fell asleep too fast."
"Fucking'll do that," I reply lightly, pulling away and turning around so he'll
wash my back. And maybe so he'll stop talking. I just don't want to go there.
I hear him sigh and I hope that's an end to it though he's tenacious as hell so
I doubt it. To forestall him further I duck my head under the water and begin to
wash my hair. He gives up for the time being and we don't speak any more until
we're stepping out and drying ourselves off.
"Would you like me to cook you breakfast?" Justin asks, "I saw a carton of eggs
in the fridge."
If he does that I'll be trapped in the loft, giving him plenty of time to work
me over. It was bad enough that having an actual date opened the door, maybe
giving Justin ideas that I don't even want to think about. I still haven't
figured out why I started this whole business. "Thanks, but there's no time. I
need to go into the office this morning." That's not really untrue, it's
Saturday but there's a ton of work waiting for me, I can put in a couple hours
and get a jump-start on next week.
I feel Justin's eyes on me as I pull out my shaving gear, then he just says
"Okay" and goes into the bedroom to get dressed. I'm finishing up my shave when
he comes back and stands in the doorway. He's put on his khakis and sweater and
when I glance at him he shoves his hands into his pockets.
"Well, I'll be going then I guess, so you can get to work. Thanks for the dinner
- it was great. I had a good time."
"Me too." It's true. I wipe my face with a hand towel and walk over to Justin,
slip my arms around his shoulders. "We survived a date. Imagine that." I bend
down and kiss him lightly, then let go and step back.
"Brian - maybe you could call me, when you have time to talk?"
Christ, I knew it. He's not going to let it go. "Talk about what?"
Justin doesn’t answer, just looks at me for a moment, then he turns away and
heads down the steps. I move outside the bathroom door and wait, watching him
grab his jacket from the sofa and open the door. I’m expecting him to look over
his shoulder and give me a wave and when he doesn’t, merely shuts the door
without a glance, I feel let down somehow.
Shaking my head, I go into the kitchen and pull a jar of grapefruit juice out of
the fridge, twist off the cap and take a drink. I’m annoyed at Justin for
pushing me and I’m annoyed at myself for backing away from him. Like I’ve always
backed away from him, from anyone really who's ever tried to corner me, push me
up against the wall, coerce me into some kind of fucking declaration or –
whatever.
I remember last night, when he wanted me to ask him to stay. And I wouldn’t say
it. I wouldn’t say, “Justin, I want you to stay.” I shake my head again. Fuck
me.
Cynthia
Usually Brian hides his smiles from me but when he came back from Gardner
Vance's office this morning he was practically exploding with what I soon found
out was suppressed glee. Not exactly happiness - I've seldom seen Brian let down
his guard enough to appear happy - but some kind of obvious satisfaction.
When my phone rang at precisely nine-oh-one and the display showed Vance's
number, I took a deep breath before picking up. Just as I was doing my
‘Mister-Kinney's-office’ spiel, Brian surged out of the elevator and passed my
desk with his usual Monday-morning frown of acknowledgment. I pointed at the
phone and mouthed 'Vance' and Brian's frown deepened as he went into his office
and threw his raincoat on a chair. A moment later I followed him in and
announced that Vance wanted to see him right away.
Brian just looked at me and nodded and I couldn't resist asking, "Something
wrong? He sounds mad."
I didn’t really expect an answer, I know Brian too well, so I wasn't surprised
when all he said was, "You'll be the first one I confide in after the meeting."
Luckily Brian's sarcasm became tolerable a long time ago. I hazarded a guess:
"Haven't had coffee yet, hmm?" Brian adjusted his tie and straightened his
shoulders before moving past me out the door and down the hall.
It’s not even ten minutes later and here he comes striding back and he almost
smiles at me until he catches himself in time. Pausing at my desk he says, "If
you can bribe somebody to bring me real coffee from Starbucks, I promise not to
fire you."
"Wow, thanks." Brian fires me at least once a week. "I've already sent Jeffrey,
he should be back in ten minutes."
"Ah," Brian says, then pauses to ask, "Who's Jeffrey?"
"The new copy assistant Amelia hired last week. And forget it, he's got pimples
and bad breath."
Then Brian does laugh, and goes into his office, grabs his coat from the chair
and throws it toward the coat rack; it misses and falls to the floor. He’s
picking it up as I follow him into his office and shut the door. "Tell me?"
Brian unbuttons his suit jacket and sits down behind his desk. "You know Vance
has been wooing the Girard-Chambord conglomerate?" When I nod, he goes on. "He
took them to dinner Friday night, at the Poseidon. I ran into them there, I was
with - somebody." He hesitates and his brow furrows slightly for a moment, then
quickly he goes on: "Details aren't important, but anyway, it was made clear to
the Frenchmen that I'm gay. Vance was furious."
"Why should that matter?" I interject, though of course I can guess.
Brian snorts. "I'm sure he thought it might spike his deal somehow. 'These damn
degenerate Americans' type of thing."
Leaning back in his chair, Brian picks up the little green ball he plays with
when he's thinking. "Anyway, when he called me to his office this morning, I was
expecting him to blow up at me. Or something."
"And he didn't?"
Brian finally smiles. He has the most beautiful smile when he allows himself the
privilege of a moment's happiness. "Nope. He said - and Cynthia, it nearly
choked him! He said, Girard and Chambord have asked him to include me in the
consultations. Seems they heard about my reputation - shut up! Stop laughing! My
ADVERTISING reputation. And they've asked to have me on board."
I'm laughing so hard I have to sit in a chair by the desk. "Oh God, no wonder
he's so angry! Vance wanted to keep that deal all to himself. Everyone's been
whispering about it the past two weeks."
"Yeah." Then Brian turns serious. "Now we'd better get to work, I have to prove
my brilliance all over again so the Frenchmen don't back out of negotiations and
leave my ass hanging out to dry."
"Okay." Declining to make any remarks about Brian's ass, I stand up and turn to
go but pause before opening the door. "Brian," I dare to ask, "Was the
'somebody' you were with at the Poseidon - Justin?"
Expecting a growled order to mind my own fucking business, I'm surprised when
Brian just looks back at me, his face expressionless but his voice mild when he
says, "Yes. Now get to work."
I can't resist a smile then. "Say hi to him for me, will you?"
"Hunh," he grumps, turning to log onto his computer and not looking at me again.
"Tell him yourself next time he calls to exchange recipes. Now go away."
Michael
I hardly ever get to see Brian lately, with his partnership in the agency he's
working all the time. Then after the accident Justin monopolized him, he was
always at the loft, it was no fun going over there with that kid eavesdropping
and interrupting. So when Brian called and wanted me to shoot pool with him at
Woody's Tuesday night I leaped at the chance. Probably I should have called Ted
and Emmett but I really wanted just this best-friends time alone with him.
So we stroll into Woody's, it's after ten, I know the tables will be full but we
can have a couple drinks while we're waiting. Inside the door we're pulling off
our jackets and glancing around and who should be prancing around one of the
pool tables but that damned kid. And he's with a guy. I look quickly at Brian to
see his reaction, his face shows nothing at all. Which either means he feels
nothing at all or that he's angry or he's upset or feeling any of a dozen other
emotions. I've always been able to read Brian better than anybody else, but if
he doesn't want you to see inside then you just plain can't.
Brian turns toward the bar and sits on a stool with his back to the room. I'd
rather sit at a table but of course I don't suggest it, obviously he doesn't
want to watch Justin, so instead I sit next to him and we order our drinks. I
start telling him about a new comics distributor who's hiking up shipping
charges and I can tell he's not hearing a word I say. So I stop talking, and
it's at least three minutes later before Brian turns to me and says, "What?"
"Look," I set down my glass and put a hand on Brian's arm. "Why don't we go
somewhere else?"
"Why?" he raises his eyebrows at me. "Don't you like Woody's?"
"Brian, obviously it's bugging you that Justin's here. Let's just go, okay?"
"Justin's here?" he asks, but he doesn't turn around to look. Of course he
knows.
"Never mind." I wave at the bartender and he comes over to refill our glasses.
We drink silently for a minute, then I start talking about the shop again. It
takes a while before I notice that Brian is making eyes at a guy standing at the
end of the bar. "Look," I say exasperatedly, "If you're going to take off
tricking, why'd you even ask me to come?"
"We have to wait for a table anyway," Brian tells me, "Can't you hang on a few
minutes while I take this guy out back and get blown? It's never bothered you
before."
It's like I always say, Brian will never change. "All right," I agree
resignedly, "But if you're not back in ten minutes, I'm out of here."
"Thanks Mikey." Brian leans down as if to kiss me then turns his head and blows
hot air into my ear, which tickles and which he knows I hate. He signals the
trick with just a jerk of his head then moves toward the back door, the trick
hot on his heels. In a way I'm pissed and yet in another way I'm glad - Brian's
finally getting back to normal.
Justin
When Brian comes into Woody's I have to force myself not to stare at him. I
haven't let myself call him since we parted Saturday morning. If Brian's not
ever going to talk to me, what's the point? He asked me on a real date. I
thought that meant he was ready to think about a relationship again, but he's
not. In the end all he wanted to do was fuck.
So okay, he wants me to date for six months? I'm going to date every guy I can
get my hands on for the next six months and after that I'm giving up on Brian.
Again.
Probably.
Lawrence was really happy when I phoned him. I picked up the phone and put it
down about eight times before calling, remembering what Debbie said about not
hurting him. But he's an older man, he's not going to get all silly about love
and stuff, in fact he told me so. He says we're just friends having a good time,
so why shouldn't I call him? Why shouldn't I go out with him? It's no big deal.
We went to dinner, just for pizza; it was my turn again and he told me before
that pizza's just about his favorite food. We were going to a movie but we'd
just missed all the starting times at the cineplex so playing pool was his
suggestion. Woody's was his suggestion too and I said okay, although if Brian's
jeep had been parked outside I would've asked to go someplace else. How could I
know Brian would show up later? It's not like I planned to flaunt Lawrence in
his face.
Then Brian comes in and pretends not to see me, he and Michael sit at the bar
with their backs turned. Lawrence sees him too and he goes, "There's your friend
from the diner, want to ask him to join us?" I say no really fast, he looks at
me intently but lets it drop.
So we're all just ignoring each other, and Lawrence is beating the crap out of
me because my concentration is completely gone, in fact he's teasing me about
it, and then suddenly from the corner of my eye I see Brian going out the back
door - with a trick. That is just somehow too much. I tell Lawrence I'm not
feeling well, he grabs our jackets and we get the hell out of there.
Lawrence is so sweet, helping me put on my jacket in the chill night air,
putting his arm around me, asking if I want to go home. And I do want to go
home, just go home and get in bed and pull the covers over my head. But instead
I go home with Lawrence. I want to fuck and fuck and fuck till I forget all
about Brian Kinney. At least for a few hours.
Brian
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's me," I tell Justin; of course he knows it's me, my number shows up on
his cell phone. I wondered if he'd even answer my call so in a way I'm not
prepared when he does.
"Hey," he says, not very enthusiastically.
"Are you at school?" It's early afternoon, he should be at school. Unless he's
still with that guy.
After Michael dropped me at home last night, I got in the jeep and drove over by
Jennifer's condo. It was nothing but curiosity, wondering if Justin's car was
there. Of course it wasn't, I didn't expect it to be. I didn't hang around, I'd
just been curious to know if he was with the teacher. They left Woody's while I
was in the alley getting what was probably the most boring blowjob of my entire
life. When I came back in they were gone. Michael didn't comment and as luck
would have it, we got the pool table they'd just abandoned. We played a couple
games and I let Michael beat me.
"I'm in the school parking lot actually," Justin tells me, "I'm just leaving."
"You working tonight?"
He hesitates a moment, then says, "I'm on my way there now."
"You have plans after work?"
"Yeah, sort of," he says. There's a long pause, then he adds, "I have a lot of
homework."
"Okay."
"Brian - "
"Hey, it's okay," I tell him and laugh. "I’ll let you go now."
"Brian - wait."
I don't want to wait, I want to hang up the phone. I'm busy, I have a meeting in
ten minutes. I've got a presentation at two o'clock. I don't have time to be
hanging around on the telephone. Yet I’m still holding the receiver to my ear.
Finally I say, "What?"
"Were you wanting to do another date or something?"
Christ. "Justin, let's cut the bullshit." When he says nothing I go on. "I
thought you might want to come over. That's all. Fuck dating, okay? Just come
over after work. If you want to."
"Well okay," Justin says slowly. "But - "
"But what?" I'm getting impatient now, I'm a busy man, I need to get off the
fucking telephone and get to work. I have a meeting in five minutes.
"Brian, if I come over, will you at least TRY to talk to me? A little?"
I don't answer. He's pushing me again, damn it.
"Brian, will you?"
"I don't know."
There's a long silence, and then I hear him sigh heavily. And then I hear myself
sigh heavily. Two drama queens waging a battle of silences and sighs.
Finally I say, "Maybe."
"Okay." His voice sounds way too happy. I didn't make any fucking promises, he
shouldn't sound so fucking happy. "Would you like me to bring dinner, something
from the diner? I get off at seven. I could wait and eat with you."
Cynthia's at the door pointing at her watch. "All right," I concede. "See you
then." I hang up quickly, before either of us can change our minds. Especially
me.
Justin
I'm not letting myself think about seeing Brian tonight. I can't get my hopes up
- maybe all he really wants is another fuck. And if he does, what then? What
will I do? I don't know, so there's no point in thinking about it.
The hours go slowly, I hate the afternoon shift, I'd rather work in the morning
or at night when it's super busy, I like the bustle and the noise and the fast
pace and the tips are better too. Tonight's special is chicken marsala, Tony put
some aside for me. Finally the hours drag by and I'm on my way at last, the
take-out bags are on the seat beside me. When he knows I'm coming over, Brian
parks on the street so I can have his place in the garage, the streets get
filled up at night and it's hard to find a spot anywhere close to his place.
Brian buzzes me up immediately and I take the elevator since my hands are full.
The door's already open and Brian grabs one of the bags from me and I follow him
into the kitchen. I'm starving so I hope he wants to eat right away, and I see
that he's set out dishes and silverware on the counter, and he's already working
on a glass of wine, he's holding it in his other hand. "Hey," he says as I set
down the rest of the bags and take off my jacket. "Smells good."
Throwing my jacket over a barstool, I start to open up the bags. He sets down
his glass and moves in on me from behind, pulling me away from the counter,
turning me around and pushing my back up against the refrigerator.
"Hey," he says again, his voice barely audible, then he lowers his head and
kisses my mouth. I can taste musky red wine and I slide my arms around his neck.
Brian presses his body against me, the surface of the refrigerator cold on my
back, Brian's body warm where he's pushing himself hard against me. He pulls his
mouth away briefly to whisper, "Dessert first," then continues kissing.
I put both hands on his chest and push him away an inch. We're eyeball to
eyeball. A little breathlessly I insist, "Dinner first, talking second, dessert
third."
"Hunh," Brian snorts, dropping his arms, backing up and releasing me. He
pretends to be angry but I can tell that he's not. "Your priorities are fucked,
you know that?" he asks, before turning away and picking up one of the paper
bags, pulling it open and peeking inside. "What's this stuff?"
11/21/02