Forging Family Ties

The fucking Warhol Museum!

As I start the car, I find it hard to keep the smile off my face.

I remember saying to him, years ago, something about him being the next Andy Warhol.  Even then, I knew I wasn’t saying it entirely to be a smart ass.  I knew he had fucking bucket loads of talent and potential; and I was coming to know something about just how much passion and conviction he had to drive that talent.  But what I didn’t really know then was how amazingly fucking strong he is; so strong that he’s been able to take everything that’s happened to him since, pour it all into his art, and use it to make something … incredible.  He’s incredible.

Hopefully this thing at the Warhol will give everyone who thinks they know “little Sunshine” the chance to see who he really is.  And help them see what a huge fucking success he can become without having to give up one fucking part of what he wants to do it.

One thing is for fucking sure, I’m not going to let anyone railroad us again into thinking that he’d be better off in New York - or London or Paris or Rome for that matter.  He was fucking miserable in New York.  I couldn’t recognize it at the time, was too busy fighting off my own misery to be able to see his clearly.  But the night he came home …

When he stood there practically begging me to understand how unhappy he’d been … I fucking saw then alright.  Saw exactly what we’d done to him between us; between Lindsay and Melanie telling me I couldn’t stand in his way, and me being so fucking terrified of holding him back that I damned near shoved him onto the plane …

I saw how close to the brink of fucking despair we’d pushed him.

Well, no more.

I promised him I won’t do that to him again and I meant it.  If he decides he needs to go away for a while to do this, that, or the fucking other … I’ll be here when he gets back.  But I won’t be forcing him away again; I won’t be standing aside while anyone else tries; and I’m sure as Hell not going to let any other asshole play on my pathetic fucking insecurities to convince me that he’ll be better off somewhere else, doing something else, with maybe someone else.

He’s a big boy.  He can make his own decisions.

I’m about to try to find a way to tell him that when my cell rings.  I let him drag it out of my jacket pocket and motion for him to answer it.

“Oh, hi, Mom!”  He sounds surprised.  But I’m not.  Not really.  Jenn knew that we had the meetings about Gus today.  It figures that she’d call to get the results.  And she’s classy enough to call me directly, rather than talking to Justin about it behind my back.

I don’t want to think too much about how that makes me feel, because it seems to say that she cares about how the whole thing with Gus affects me.  That she’s not just concerned about how her little boy is going to be impacted, but about how I’m feeling.  And that …

Well, no matter.  It shouldn’t matter.

It just shows she’s got class … and balls.

Obviously that’s where he gets it from; sure as fuck isn’t from his asshole father.

Anyway, he’s telling her all about how Ms. Hershell wiped the floor with Mel’s lawyer, and about how we’ve been given permanent access rights, and the visitation schedule and shit. 

But suddenly I realize that I want to see her face when we tell her the punch line, and he tells her his own news, so I pull over and take the phone from him.

“You free to join us for a celebratory cup of coffee?” I ask her.

“Now?” she asks, all amazed, like I’m asking her to head off into the Amazon to pick the damned beans.

“Sure,” I say. 

He pulls a face.  Too bad, Sunshine.  I want to fuck too, but some things are more important.

Fuck!  Did I even think that?

She gobbles a little - why the fuck women can’t come up with a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ without verbalizing all the damned details is beyond me - but agrees that we can meet her at a mall near here in around fifteen minutes.

He’s pouting at me, of course, but when we get to the mall I haul him into the bathroom and show him what the term “quickie” means.  It’s surprisingly satisfying, and when we stroll up to the coffee shop where Jenn is waiting, we’re both grinning like fools. 

I bend over to kiss her cheek and murmur, “Hi, Mom,” in a greeting that’s only halfway mocking.  She blushes and gives me a strange look, like she actually likes that title, or something.

Justin gives her a quick kiss, and is talking a mile a minute before he’s even sat down at the table, laughing at how cool the guy from the court was, and demanding that I tell her how awesome the judge was and how she dealt with Mel’s lawyer - like I could get a word in edgeways to say anything.

Jenn waits till he stops to draw breath, and then says, God help me, sincerely, “I’m glad it went well, Brian.  Glad for you, and even more glad for Gus.”

I find myself tongue-tied, or something perilously like it, at that, but Justin is beaming; a genuine fucking Sunshine smile.  He nods enthusiastically and starts off again, “It’s great.  Gus is going to be so much better off, and …”

He takes a breath, and says, quieter and more serious, “And if something ever happened to Brian … well, I’ll still have rights to see Gus, and stuff, so he’ll never be left without a father.”

His voice drops a little on those last few words, and Jenn and I both react - she reaches out to pat his hand, and I find myself rubbing my knee against his under the table.

Fucking Craig!

He shakes it off and says, “No, I just mean … I guess it’s kind of official that I’m Gus’ Dad, too.  Or at least his ‘Dus’.”

Then he turns to her, his face all innocent, but his eyes full of fucking devilry, and says, “So I guess you’ve just become a grandma.”

It was absolutely worth this little excursion to see the look on her face.  At first she looks like she’s about to have a cow; I guess she’s not ready to think of herself among the blue hair and pearls brigade yet, and I can’t fucking blame her for that.  But then suddenly she smiles (and again I see how strongly Justin takes after her), and says, “I would be very honored to be Gus’ grandma.”

It hits me then that this morning’s exercise has given Gus more than just the chance to see his Dad and Dus occasionally and get to know us; it’s given him something he would never otherwise have had - a loving grandmother that I’d actually trust to do the right thing by the kid.  God knows neither Linds nor I have mothers that I’d ever willingly let near Gus; Debbie’s okay, but she blows hot and cold, and anyway, for her now, it’s all about JR; but Jenn ...

If Jenn takes on being Grandma to Gus, then he’s going to get a damned good deal.  She won’t blow hot and cold on him - she learned that lesson with her own son and won’t make that mistake again.  I feel like I can trust her not to punish Gus for my fuck ups; which is more than most of the other adults in his life can manage.  And she won’t try to poison his mind against his parents’ “lifestyle” - she’s a hell of a lot more open and accepting in all kinds of ways than any other candidate for the role. 

“Gus will be lucky to have you,” I somehow hear myself saying.  “But he’s a demanding little shit, so don’t let him take you for a ride.”

She laughs then, and looks at Justin.

“Sounds just like his ‘Dus’,” she says.

Justin pouts, but he can’t stay pouty for too long, he’s too excited. “We’ve got some other news,” he says.

She looks at him inquiringly.

He’s glowing with pride, fucking radiant with it, although he’s struggling not to show it when he says, “The Warhol Museum have asked for one of my pieces for an exhibition in July.”

She gasps, and then jumps up to hug him.  By the time she sits down they’re both looking a little teary-eyed, but she’s glowing nearly as brightly as he is.

“Oh, Justin!” she says, “oh, that’s so wonderful.  I’m so proud of you. No wonder you both look so happy.”

Her voice seems to choke then, and she reaches out both hands; her left one grabs Justin’s and her right clasps mine and she just sits there squeezing them.

I should be feeling like a total dyke, because I engineered this scene.  But I don’t.

I feel …

I feel proud.

And somehow fucking vindicated.

Mainly though, I just feel fucking happy.

*****

Justin

I’m not sure why he wanted to meet up with my Mom, but I’m totally glad we did.  It was awesome that I got to see Mom’s reaction over the Warhol Museum thing.  She’s so thrilled and excited - and not just for me, for Brian too.  Because she gets it that this is the perfect way to show everyone that I’m not giving up anything by coming back here to Pittsburgh to be with him; an opportunity to show the whole fucking world that I can be a successful artist and have a successful and happy relationship with Brian as well.

Also, she loves the idea of being “Grandma”.  After the first shock, anyway.  I mean, I thought for a moment she was going to have heart attack or something, but then she lit up, her whole face shiny and happy, the way she used to look when I was a kid and I gave her something I’d made, or a drawing I’d done for her; it was like we’d just given her this amazing present.  Which made me feel really happy, because it feels like we’re becoming a real family - me and Brian, and Gus, and my Mom - and Molly, I guess.  I think Molly’ll think it’s kind of cool to be an auntie.  I bet she tries to boss Gus around.  That might actually be funny, because when he turns those mini-Brian eyes of his on her, and does the whole quivery lip thing, she won’t know what hit her.   She’ll totally cave.  I’m kind of looking forward to introducing them. 

Anyway, telling Mom about this stuff face to face was so much better than over the phone.  It was great seeing her reaction.  And it was even better that Brian got to see it too. 

Maybe that’s why he …

He doesn’t usually want to be around to share the happy times with people; even the ones he brought about, like the munchers’ wedding.  I used to think it was because he … not that he envied other people their happiness, Brian’s not like that; but that he somehow felt that him being a part of it might make it go away, or at least lessen it in some way.  Brian would say that’s bullshit, but that’s what I used to think.

But this time, he’s let himself be part of the moment, and that … that makes me feel amazing - like he really is starting to believe that he can have a share of the happiness, that we can be happy together. 

Which makes me think of the house, because, while I really wish Dan wasn’t going away tomorrow, I can hardly wait to get started on the house; I’ve got some ideas on what we might do with it, and I know Brian does too.  I can so picture us living in that house; and thinking of the house reminds me of Lindsay. 

I’m not sure if I should bring this up, or wait for Brian, because I don’t want him to feel like I’m … I don’t know … intruding or something.  But then I realize that I can’t walk on eggshells around him.  I tried that after the bashing, and it didn’t make either of us happy.  I just have to go ahead and do what I’m going to do, and if he reacts badly, we’ll deal with it; just like we’ll have to deal if he does something that pisses me off.

So I turn to Mom who’s saying something about maybe having us and Gus over on the weekend, so that he can get to know her and Molly, and say, “Actually, Mom, there’s something that we hope you’ll be able to do for us.”

They both look at me and Brian raises one eyebrow, but I go on regardless, “It’s about Lindsay.  She and Gus need somewhere to live.”

Mom says, “Oh?” and waits, while Brian does that pulled in lips thing. 

Then he says, “They’re staying in a hotel at the moment, and we’d like to get them out of there before Gus wrecks the place.”

I hope Mom knows that’s Kinney-speak for ‘it’s not a good environment for my son’, and it seems like she does because she says, “Oh, yes.  Hotels aren’t a great idea for children - not for more than a few days, anyway.  I’m just not sure how fast …”

She breaks off, looking a little bit worried, like she thinks we expect to find them a house this afternoon.

Brian nibbles on one thumb nail for a moment, and then says, “We thought you could look around for something long term, and in the meantime you might have some short term lease places on the books.  Even a serviced apartment would be better than where they are now.”

Her faces lightens up and she says, “Oh, yes.  I’m sure we can find something like that.  And that would give us time to find just the right place for them.”

She says she’ll go right back to the office and start looking, so we all stand up, and I help her into her coat, and she hugs me, and then Brian - without him even flinching, he just stands there looking kind of … well, kind of like he almost might conceivably have liked it.

We see her to her car, which is actually parked just near ours, then she heads off and we still have two hours before we’d arranged to collect Dan from the house to take him to his hotel.  So …

“Your cock is mine,” I tell him as I get in the car.

*****

Brian

He apparently decides he can’t wait to make good on his “threat”, because by the time we’re halfway home, I’m trying to drive with a hot, wet and very skillful mouth wrapped around my cock.

Fuck!

Mercifully, we get home safely.  He’s all over me as we stumble into the lift, and by the time I manage to get the door of the loft open, he’s toed off his shoes, has both his jeans and his briefs down round his ankles and is hopping around trying to free his feet.  I’m too impatient to wait till he manages that so I scoop him up over my shoulder, giving his bare ass a slap when he grunts a protest, slide the loft door closed, then carry him over and drop him, ass up, on the chaise.

“Jesus, Brian,” he protests, but I ignore that, pushing him forward so that his knees are on the seat and he’s half-draped over the back.  Then for a moment I just stand admiring the view.  God I love his ass.  Especially when it’s presented to me like that, all ripe and ready, with a nice red handprint on one cheek.

While I’m fumbling in my pocket for a condom with my right hand, I use my left to slap his other cheek, just to even them up.  He swears at me, but it doesn’t discourage him from jutting his ass further back towards me, and making some wiseass comment about whether I’ve gone soft in my old age because I’m not usually so slow to get the message.  I don’t think either of us wants to waste time looking round for some lube, so I stick one finger into my mouth till it’s good and wet, and then push it firmly into him.  He hisses and arches his back.  I pull it out, then suck two fingers into my mouth, catching a slight taste of him when I do.  I slather them with saliva and then slide them into him, first one, then both together.

He moans and I finger-fuck him for few moments, mesmerized by the sight of them disappearing into his ass, and his hole clenching around them.

“Will you get the fuck on with it!” he bitches, so I pull them out, roll the condom onto my cock, and push into him.

The condom’s pre-lubed, thank Christ, because he’s not really ready enough, but I know sometimes he likes it like this; likes to feel the burn and the stretch. I hear him gasp, and feel his struggles to adjust, while at the same time he’s bitching me out for not going harder, so I slap his ass again.  He bucks, and I pull out a little, taking a moment to even him up again, with another smack to the other cheek.

He grunts and pushes back, and I can feel him start to open up, ready to take me deep, so I thrust fully in and rest a moment.  He’s still bitching, so when I pull out, I spank him again and we keep going like that for a while, deep thrusts, followed by hard smacks on alternating cheeks every time I pull back. 

He’s really into it now, clenching his muscles around my cock each time I withdraw, and arching into my hand as it lands on his ass.  He’s getting close so he moves his own hand from the back of the chaise, heading for his cock, but I grab it.  “Not until I tell you,” I order.

He huffs something that sounds like a laugh, so I slap him harder, and thrust deeper.

By now I’m having trouble keeping that rhythm, though, so instead, I lean forward, wrapping my arm around his waist and pulling him up and back.  He comes right up and leans back against me, so I wrap my other hand round his cock, stroking it in time with my thrusts and, then after a few deep hard jabs, my whole body seems to explode with white light and when he spills over my hand I’m not sure if it’s really his come, or if mine has just poured right out through him.

I can feel myself sagging against him, so I don’t resist when he turns in my arms and wraps his around me, falling back onto the chaise and taking me with him.  His face is flushed and his eyes are glowing like some feral animal, but his lips are soft on my face and neck, and, when he breathes my name, his voice is hushed and full of something that sounds like awe or love or some shit.

I try to ignore the fact that mine sounds pretty much the same as I murmur his name back to him.

Instead I just lie there for a while, letting my senses swim in the touch and the taste and the smell of him.

Who needs a house?  This is home.  This.  Right here.

*****

Justin

I love it that he totally gets it when I need it fast and hard and kind of animalistic.

Ethan never did get that, and it made sex with him not just unsatisfying on some levels, but actually kind of boring sometimes. 

The thing about Brian that most people wouldn’t believe is that he’s an incredibly generous lover.  At least, he is with me.  I mean, he always manages to match his sexual acts to what I need at the time.  I guess I try to meet him halfway about that.  Like, if he’s all wound up sometimes, and I really don’t mind how we have sex, I’ll let him know that hard and fast is okay; or if he needs to mellow out, I’ll slow things down and take the time to get him feeling so good he just about melts all over me when he comes.  But when I have an urge to get off just a certain way, he certainly knows how to help me scratch the itch.

The other thing is that he actually kind of does like to cuddle after sex.  I mean, not all the time.  But sometimes, he just drapes himself all over me; or, even if he doesn’t go that far, he at least sort of lets it be known that he wouldn’t absolutely hate it if I rested my head on his shoulder; and when I do, his arm just sort of falls down to fold around me. 

Right now, he’s doing the draping all over thing.  We’re sprawled on the chaise longue and he’s just about lying on top of me. 

I’m not surprised, because that fuck was fantastic, so it's no wonder that he’s more or less collapsed after it; I feel pretty much boneless myself.  Another one to store in the memory banks to jerk off to sometime when I’m alone and horny.

But, even if he’s still pretty skinny, right now it feels like he weighs a ton.  I don’t dare tell him that, though.  He’d have a major queen out.

So instead I resort to other tactics, and start wondering out loud whether we should take Dan out to dinner, and if so, where, and what I should wear; and just like I expect, Brian gives a huge put upon sigh and says, “If you can shut up for five minutes you can join me in the shower.”

Then he peels himself off me and heads for the bathroom.

I take a moment to wipe the smug grin off my face before I follow him.  I so know how to work him.

But I’ll totally make it up to him later.  I never did get to finish that blow job in the car.

Meanwhile, we can share a shower, and I know he’ll shampoo my hair the way I like and let me wash his back and sneak in a bit of a shoulder massage, and I realize again that it wasn’t just the hot sex I missed when I was in New York.  That the sex wasn’t even the thing I missed most.  What I missed most was just him, being with him.

It’s the way it feels so fucking good just being with him that makes me know that I was right to come home.  It’s what home is, really.