Work Text:
Pink or blue?
Pink or blue what?
Guess :-)
Paint? Shirt? Something for Gus? You’re not pregnant, are you?
“Brian. Earth to Brian!” Emmett waves his hands in front of Brian and then criss-crosses them over the screen of his phone. “We’re having a conversation here.”
“Knock it off, Honeycutt! I’m texting a client,” Brian says. He glances at Ted and lies, “It’s Samuel.”
There’s a trace of something in Ted’s responding gaze that hints that he knows it’s not actually Samuel. Yet, at ever, Ted is unflinchingly loyal. He nods and then informs the group, “Big client. Big deal.”
“Fine,” Emmett says, rolling his eyes. “Go ahead.”
Brian returns his focus to his phone, which is buzzing in the palm of his hand. He suppresses a smile as another text from Justin pops up.
Such uninspired guesses. And that last one is downright nauseating :-P
I’m just glad we’re not discussing clothing. Pink wouldn’t suit you.
Excuse you, everything suits me. That aside… the question remains: pink or blue?
Pink or blue what?
Just as Brian clicks ‘send’, another text pops up on the screen:
I mean… I’d try both, but I don’t think I can fit both of them inside me without you here to help...
As Brian fumbles his phone, it slips from his grasp and almost ends up in his salad.
“Butter fingers,” Emmett teases, nudging him. “What are you and Samuel discussing, exactly?”
“That’s confidential,” Brian replies distantly as he regains his grasp on his phone. “Highly confidential.”
Is that where my blue dildo went??!!
I borrowed it
Like how you ‘borrowed’ those beads and I have yet to see them back?
Do you want to discuss that or do you want to help me choose a toy to fuck myself with later tonight?
Where did the pink one come from? Are you stealing toys from some other poor soul?
A new club opened last night in Brooklyn. There were freebies :-)
How big?
The club or the dildo?
Justin…
7 inches
You’re never satisfied with 7 inches.
True… maybe I need something else…
Such as?
“You know, you’re not at work right now.”
Brian glances up. “Sorry, Mikey?”
“It’s Friday night!” Michael gazes imploringly at Brian and insists, “Your clients can’t expect you to be on call every minute of every day - especially not after hours.”
“Except they do.” Brian shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not ‘worried’, it would just be nice if you were actually present instead of tied to your phone because of some asshole client!”
“Amen to that,” Emmett snarks. He elbows Brian. “Return to the world of the living and ditch that stuffy old nitwit.”
“Yeah,” Michael agrees. “At least finish your meal so we can head over to Babylon.”
“Yes, mother,” Brian mutters. “Right away!”
Well, since you’re not here, I’ll have to get creative.
Who says I’m not there?
???????
Turn around, Sunshine.
Brian smirks to himself as he waits for Justin to reply. He almost bursts out laughing when the text finally pops up.
You’re such an asshole!
I’m there in spirit. Was that not clear?
That’s not funny!! >:-(
Let’s get back to the issue at hand.
Let’s not
“Brian,” Michael calls. “Come on.”
Brian glances up and finds Ted and Michael standing next to him and pulling on their jackets. Somehow, things have progressed from ‘eat your dinner’ to ‘let’s go’.
“Are we going somewhere?”
“Yes!” Emmett pushes at him. “I’ve only said it to you twenty or so times now! Move it!”
“Patience, Honeycutt!” Brian jams his phone in his pocket and stands up to let Emmett out of the booth. He tugs on his leather jacket and then gives Ted a look.
Ted gives a damn near imperceptible nod and then rallies the troops. “Let’s get out of here. Babylon awaits!”
As he leads Michael out of the diner with Emmett following eagerly, Brian grabs his phone out of his pocket and checks for any further communications from Justin. Finding none, he sends another text of his own.
Sulking, are we?
I seriously thought you were here. I almost dropped a tray of drinks, I spun around so fast. So now I look like a total moron AND you’re not here!!!
It’s not my fault you were texting AND carrying a tray of drinks.
It’s your fault that you’re being an asshole!
You may have a point. Can I make it up to you?
For a while, there’s no reply. Brian is almost halfway to Babylon when his phone finally buzzes again.
No
There must be something…
I don’t think so
For the record, I think you should try the pink one.
That’s nice
I doubt it’s going to be enough for you, but it’s something new. You’ve had the blue one countless times.
Whatever
Come on… it was a joke.
It wasn’t particularly amusing
“Oh, for goodness’ sakes!” Emmett grabs Brian by the arm and yanks him from his spot on the sidewalk, through the front doors of Babylon. “Will you put that damn thing away already? It’s dancing time!”
“Uh huh. Sure.” Brian shakes Emmett off and makes like he’s following him towards the dancefloor. As soon as Emmett has slipped into the writhing crowd, Brian absconds. He holes up in a distant corner to check his phone.
What he discovers makes his jaw drop.
Maybe I’ll go with pink AND blue and I’ll just find someone else to help me!
He hits the speed dial for Justin’s number and brings the phone to his ear. It takes about fifty goddamned rings for Justin to pick up. By the time he does, Brian is seething.
“Don’t you goddamned dare,” he warns, right off the bat.
Justin snorts softly. In the background, conversation is roaring. there's also the sound of glassware clinking; it conjures the visual of alcohol being sloshed into glasses by bartenders and out by customers. The only discernible difference between there and Babylon is the music - a tedious rock song is playing there, while something techno is throbbing throughout Babylon.
Oh, and he’s stuck here while Justin is there.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck.
With a vicious edge, Justin retorts, “Why shouldn't I? As you just so cruelly shoved in my face, you’re not here.”
Brian sighs and turns in towards the wall. As softly as he can whilst still hoping to be heard, he says, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s bad enough missing you all the time,” Justin sulks, “You don’t have to rub it in.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” Brian promises. “Just don’t go doing that with anyone else.”
“Jealous, are we?”
“Maybe. Or maybe I don’t want you fucking around with that kind of stuff with some random trick. You need to be careful.”
“I need to be fucked.” Justin pauses, and Brian can just imagine him grinning wickedly to himself like the cunning little shit he is. “I need to be fucked hard. Preferably with both of those toys.”
“You don’t say,” Brian replies casually. He smiles and leans against the wall, then gazes up at the mirrored ceiling. His reflection gazes back at him, illuminated by the glittering lights that have consumed Babylon. “Whatever are we going to do with you, Sunshine?”
“I don’t know… maybe- ah, fuck. Brian, sorry, I’ve gotta go. Talk later.”
“Justin?” Brian straightens up as the line goes dead. “Justin?!”
He stares down at his phone helplessly. It doesn’t ring, nor do any more texts pop up. The damn thing stays eerily silent.
“Fucking hell,” Brian spits. He shoves the phone back in his pocket and then turns around to make his way towards the bar. As he navigates through the crowd, he spies Ted alone at one end of the bar. Brian joins him and asks the bartender for a glass of whiskey.
Ted smiles at him and queries, “How’s Samuel?”
“Samuel had to go back to work.” Brian scowls down at the glossy surface of the bar. A vague, blurred impression of his reflection scowls back. “That’s probably the last I’ll hear of him until… well, until.”
“Ah.”
Ted’s smile turns sympathetic and - well-intentioned though it may be - Brian can’t stand it. He looks away and focuses on downing the drink that’s just been set in front of him. The strong smack of the whiskey helps, so he chases that feeling with haste and takes another swig.
“You know… Samuel is one of our most important clients.”
“Hmm?”
“Our best and brightest, you might say…”
Brian finishes his drink and then meets Ted’s gaze with intrigue. There’s a keen sense of cunning in Ted’s tone which Brian soon sees matched in his expression.
“Perhaps a meeting would help with, well,” Ted shrugs, “Meeting his needs. After all, we need to ensure the security of the account.”
“Oh,” Brian laughs a little, “We do, do we?”
Ted raises his eyebrows. “Don’t we?”
Then, after a beat: “It’s one of our most important accounts… wouldn’t you agree?”
Brian glances towards the dancefloor, which is full to bursting with half-naked men dancing. All around him, Babylon is glistening under an array of lights and throbbing with lively activity. There’s a sudden tug within him; it’s as though the club is beckoning him.
Then his phone vibrates in his pocket. Brian can’t reach for it fast enough.
Sorry… customer threw up all over the bar :-s
Don’t worry about what I said before. Certain things are for you & you alone…
A smile spreads over Brian’s face as a series of texts pop up one by one:
Kissing…
Staying the night....
Saying ‘I love you’...
… and double penetration >:-)
“Right,” Brian says. He grins at Ted. “‘Samuel’ is calling.”
“I’m sure he is.” Ted grins back. “Go on, get out of here. I’ll cover for you with the boys.”
“Thanks, Theodore.” Brian grasps his shoulder and squeezes it. “See you on Monday.”
He throws one more grateful grin Ted’s way and then hurries out of Babylon. There’s still a mild tug in his gut, calling him back to the club and all it has to offer… but there’s something much stronger luring him elsewhere.
*
Hours pass by in a vaguely tedious blur. The process of flying from Pittsburgh to New York has become oh-so-familiar, so much so that it doesn’t seem as grating as it once did. Brian has learnt to tolerate all the bullshit by developing tunnel vision. He doesn’t think about the queues, the waiting, the bumpy path down the runway, the stale scent of the airplane, nor the time spent in transit.
He only thinks about the end result: Justin. Another weekend with Justin.
That’s more than worth all the hassle. And really, it’s not so bad - it’s like connecting the dots. Loft to cab to airport to plane to cab to bar. Six simple dots. That’s it.
When Brian arrives at the bar, his tunnel vision persists. He’s blind to the surrounding neighbourhood and its pecularities; he ignores the scungy interior of the bar and the smiling boy behind the bar. He focuses on his smiling boy - well, actually, his scowling boy. Justin is hunched over a communal table at the back, wielding a spray bottle of cleaning fluid and a grimy looking sponge. As he scrubs and huffs to himself, Brian approaches slowly and carefully. He sets his travel bag down on a nearby seat and then goes to stand directly behind Justin.
“Turn around, Sunshine.”
Justin whips around with a grin blossoming across his face. Sounding astonished, he exclaims, “Shut the fuck up.”
Brian grins back. “Deal.”
He grabs Justin by his apron and tugs him in for a kiss, and not just any kiss - Brian isn’t satisfied until they’re touching from top to toe, with their arms coiled impossibly tight around one another, and their mouths fused together. He practically attacks Justin’s mouth and doesn’t let up until he manages to wrangle that lovely little moan from Justin that he always craves to hear.
He’d never admit it, but most of the time it’s kissing that he misses the most.
When Justin pulls back, he beams at Brian and asks, “How long do I have you for?”
“‘Til Monday.” Brian kisses Justin’s cheek and embraces him tighter. “I managed to find us a room, but it won’t be available for a few hours yet.”
“You managed to find a room?” Justin eyeballs him and chuckles. “You managed to find a room, at the last minute, at the height of tourist season… what, did you sell your soul to the devil?”
Brian draws back with faux incredulity and demands, “Have we met? I am the devil.”
With a wicked smile, Justin teases, “Then how come you’re such a sweetheart?”
Brian grabs a handful of his hair and tugs it lightly. “Don’t you dare call me a ‘sweet-”
“J?”
They’re both abruptly reminded that they’re not alone. Brian huffs under his breath as Justin worms out of their embrace to head over to the bar to talk to the smiling boy. “What’s up?”
“I can close up on my own,” the smiling boy says. He runs his hand through his curly blonde hair and yawns a little. “I owe you for last week. You guys should head out.”
Justin grins even bigger. “Thanks, Cor. Brian, this is Corey.”
“Hey,” Brian says, whilst eyeing the boy up and down. He seems nice enough - if not slightly too friendly with Justin for Brian’s liking.
Corey continues smiling. “Hi. J’s told me a lot about you.”
“I’ll tell you a lot more on Monday,” Justin chuckles. Then he grabs Brian’s hand and leads him out of the bar. Before the door closes behind them, he shouts a quick goodbye to Corey.
“So, ‘J’,” Brian teases as they make their way over to Lexington Ave. to find the subway station. “What have you been telling ‘Cor’?”
“Stuff,” Justin shrugs. Then he drops the nonchalant act and smiles up at Brian wickedly. “Lots and lots of stuff. He came to the club with me last night and the train took for-fucking-ever, so we had plenty of time to talk.”
“Uh-huh.” Brian wraps his arm around Justin’s waist as they descend the steps into the station. “And did Corey pick up a freebie, too?”
Justin stops at the bottom of the stairwell and rolls his eyes at Brian. “Corey’s straight. And totally uninterested in prostate stimulation, for whatever reason. Honestly, what guys like him are missing out on-”
“And what was a straight boy doing at a gay club?”
“What does straight have to do with it? Daphne’s straight and she hits up clubs with us all the time.”
“Daphne is… Daphne.”
“And Corey is Corey.” Justin laughs and tugs Brian through the gate and towards the platform. “He’s a struggling actor with no money. Gay clubs offer free drinks and shitloads of attention. What more could he want?”
Brian nods and continues to hold Justin close as the train arrives with a resounding screech. They step aboard together and find the carriage abandoned. As Brian slides into one of the seats, Justin grabs onto the pole and hangs from it with a knowing smile. “He’s a friend.”
“I can see that,” Brian says, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge what Justin is actually trying to say.
Justin watches him for a little while, then relents and collapses into the seat one over from Brian’s. He wriggles around until he’s lying down, then throws his feet into Brian’s lap. “Fuck, that shift was long.”
Brian grabs Justin’s left ankle and massages it gently as the 6 rushes them downtown. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” is all Justin says, in that sly way of his.
Brian gives his ankle a light squeeze. “Can’t wait.”
*
“Where are we and why the fuck does it smell like rancid piss?”
Since he’s been ordered to keep his eyes shut, Brian only hears Justin laugh. Not very helpfully, Justin replies, “Keep your eyes closed. The smell is probably worse if you have a visual referent.”
Brian tries to comply with that instruction, but his curiosity soon wins out. He opens his eyes and sees that they’re in the deepest point of a lengthy alleyway. It’s filthy, too, with garbage piled all around them.
“Let me guess,” he drawls, “You’re going to knock me out and harvest my organs to make rent.”
“Yeah,” Justin retorts drily. “That’s my plan. I’m actually a black market organ harvester - I simply posed as a seventeen-year-old virgin and lulled you into a sense of false security over the past five years. They call it the ‘long con’.”
Brian snorts and shoves Justin lightly. Justin grins and shoves him right back. Then, suddenly, a door opens to their left.
A guy comes out to greet them with a grin. He quickly grabs Justin away from Brian - which doesn’t please Brian at all - and yanks him into a bear hug. “Hey!”
“Hey,” Justin mumbles into the guy’s tattooed shoulder. “How are you?”
“You know,” the guy says quietly, “Not so bad.”
The guy seems to be tattooed all over, as far as the eye can see. He’s only wearing a loose black tank and leather pants, so there’s quite a bit to see. His arms, chest, neck, and back are all inked - hell, even his fingers are inked. His hair is styled with what appears to be a gallon of gel; it’s been pulled into an Elvis do that adds almost half a foot to the guy’s height. He’s already tall as it is, and quite lean, but with a decent amount of muscle. He’s not Brian’s type, but he’s undeniably gorgeous.
Brian looks away when the guy notices him looking.
“Is this…?”
“Yeah,” Justin says, “This is Brian.”
The guy smirks and releases Justin. “Hi, Brian. I’ve heard… a lot… about you. Like, this one never shuts up about you.”
“Liam,” Justin hisses. He turns around and gives Brian a look. “Don’t let that go to your head.”
Brian grins at him. “Too late.”
Liam laughs and kicks the door open a little wider. “Here, come on in. I’ve kept the booth waiting for you.”
He turns and strides down the corridor, which is plush and crimson. There are lights laced all over the ceiling, giving the space a soft glow. Brian grabs Justin and holds him close as they follow Liam through a series of labyrinthine corridors. All they see along the way is doorways that are obscured by silky red curtains. There’s faint sounds of eating, drinking, and chatter coming from the rooms, but it’s mostly drowned out by the music that’s flowing through the… club? Restaurant? What is this place?
“Here you go,” Liam says as he leads them to the furthest end of a very skinny corridor. He pushes back the curtain, revealing a private booth. There’s a circular table with a leather booth wrapped around it. Pendant lights are hanging from the ceiling, spilling golden light throughout the space. Liam leans over the table and straightens the menus that are placed in the centre, then steps back. “Welcome to Lovers’ Lane, Brian. Justin’s been dying to- ow!”
“Play nice, Sunshine,” Brian warns, since Justin has just poked Liam in the ribs.
“‘Sunshine’…” Liam sighs and clasps his hand to his chest. “That’s too dreamy.”
Well, fuck. ‘Too dreamy’ is definitely not a descriptor that Brian is comfortable with. He almost tells Justin to poke Liam again, but then Liam steps out into the corridor, well out of Justin’s reach.
With a smile, he inquires, “Drinks? Nibbles?”
“Two whiskey sours,” Justin says, “And the bread platter.”
“Coming right up.”
As Liam leaves, Brian slips into the booth and scans the small space again with intrigue.
“Nice, right?”
“Yeah.” He grins at Justin. “So are you going to get up on the table and dance for me, or…?”
“Maybe later,” Justin laughs. “For now, I need to sit down…”
He approaches the booth and slips into Brian’s lap. As he straddles Brian eagerly, Justin continues, “... and I want the best seat in the house.”
Brian smiles and slips his hands into Justin’s back pockets. As he presses a kiss to Justin’s neck, Justin eases in closer and murmurs, “Just for the record, Liam’s a friend. He used to work with me and Corey, but then he got a spot here.”
“You should be working in a place like this,” Brian says. “This is a hell of a lot nicer than your shithole bar.”
“Thanks.” Justin rolls his eyes. “But there’s a wait-list a mile long to work at this place. Liam applied two years ago and only just got in.”
Without really thinking, Brian remarks, “You two seem awfully friendly.”
He winces inwardly as Justin’s forehead creases. Brian hates the look Justin is giving him - it’s hurt and concern and confusion all rolled into one. It makes him feel like shit.
It’s not like he’s trying to be a jealous asshole. Brian wishes that envy weren’t eating him up inside; after all, there’s really no reason for it. Except… up until about an hour ago, he hadn’t been able to touch Justin for weeks. Meanwhile, Corey and Liam get to put their hands all over him whenever they damn well please.
“We are close,” Justin admits. “He had a really bad break-up with his boyfriend… like, the fucker beat the shit out of him. So I let Liam crash on my floor for a week or two until he found a new place. I told you, remember?”
Brian nods. He does remember - how could he not? He got a call from Justin about a month ago, where Justin was rambling down the phone with distress perforating every word. He split Liam’s lip open in three places, he said, sounding close to tears, and his wrists are all bruised… Brian, it’s so awful, you should see him…
“He’s lucky to have you,” Brian says. He touches his hand to Justin’s chest and feels for the thump of Justin’s heart. “You’re a good friend.”
“I hope so. Liam’s a nice guy.” Justin leans in and kisses Brian. “You, though… you’re my one and only.”
“Your one and only, huh?”
“Yeah. My almost-husband.”
“Your almost-husband, huh?”
“Yeah. I mean…” Justin grins and laughs, “I may fuck other guys, but like hell would I take any of them to Lovers’ Lane.”
“Right,” Brian chuckles.
“And I may get on really well with Corey and Liam, but they’re like male Daphnes.”
“Well-”
“And before you say it! Yes, I fucked Daphne, but that was one time and it was a very special set of circumstances. I’m sure as shit not going to repeat it with either of them. I fuck random guys, not workmates slash friends.”
“Okay.” Brian slips his hands deeper into Justin’s pockets and gropes him. “I get it.”
“Good.” Justin beams. Then, all of a sudden, he pales and his smile fades. “Uh, except… you know how I said they’re ‘male Daphnes’? They’re not. They’re comparable in that they’re my friends, but they’re not… my best friend, you know?”
“I know.”
“I just wanted to make that clear.” Justin shudders a little. “Daphne is notoriously territorial and she’s not afraid to show it. And I know how you love gossiping with her… I don’t want her thinking I’m making new best friends here. I don’t like to think what she’d do.”
With a laugh, Brian promises, “I’d protect you.”
“You would not.” Justin pulls a face at Brian. “You two are thick as thieves these days… I know you’d side with each other.”
Brian shrugs and grins. “Well, probably…”
“Ugh.” Justin pokes Brian in the stomach. “You’re lucky I love you both so much.”
There’s a light jingle as the curtains slide open, revealing Liam carrying a tray of their drinks and food. As he sets it down carefully, Brian nuzzles against Justin’s neck and whispers, “We are.”
This brings another smile to Justin’s face - the biggest that Brian has seen yet. As Liam leaves and closes the curtains with another jingle, Brian reaches around Justin and grabs one of the tumblers of whiskey. Justin reaches for his own and for some time, they drink silently and contentedly.
After a while, Justin speaks up. As he stares into his drink, he says, “You know you can trust me, right?”
“I know.”
“Like, you know that I would never-”
“Sunshine – I know.”
“Okay.” Justin takes another sip of his drink and then sets it aside. “Because there’s really nothing to worry about with Corey or Liam. Or anyone.”
“I know,” Brian says again. He sets his drink aside and grasps Justin’s hips in his hands. As he leans in to kiss the silky skin of Justin’s neck, he murmurs, “I trust you.”
“So why were you getting all weird?”
“Because…” Brian pulls Justin closer and nuzzles the hollow of his throat, “… they’re here and I’m not. They get to see you. They get to be near you.”
“You’re here now.” Justin slides his hands up Brian’s chest, over his shoulders, and then combs his fingers through his hair. “So let’s make the most of it. I did bring you to Lovers’ Lane… it feels like forever that I’ve been waiting to show you this place.”
As Justin dips down and presses kisses all along Brian’s jaw, Brian closes his eyes. He focuses on the gentle touch of Justin’s lips as they dot kisses here, there, everywhere.
“I come here sometimes to work,” Justin explains. “Since I let Liam crash at mine, he saves this booth for me whenever I want it. I love it here… I knew you would, too.”
“What have you been working on?”
“Well… I don’t have my sketchbook with me, but-” Justin’s hands leave him and there’s a soft rustling sound “-here, look at these.”
Brian opens his eyes and finds Justin presenting him with a handful of napkins. With a smile, Brian accepts them and starts to flick through the stack.
“It’s mostly touristy shit… but goddamn, the touristy shit here is so goddamned fascinating.”
There’s feet rushing along a street; the Chrysler building; a couple of kids chasing a dog in the park; and, lastly, one that steals Brian’s breath away. It’s elements of the city – streets, lights, subway signage, details of buildings, cabs – all twisted and contorted into the shape of a human heart. Like the others, it’s merely an ink illustration – black ink on white paper napkin – but even though it’s devoid of colour, it’s alive. The heart almost looks like it’s pulsing, it’s so vivid.
Brian touches his fingers to a spot where the ink has blotted and then traces it along one of the arteries. “This is brilliant.”
Justin grins and takes it from Brian. He peers at it and nods. “I’m going to work on adapting it… you know, so it’s something more than a napkin draft.”
Then he folds it up and slips it into the front left pocket of Brian’s jeans.
“Something for while we’re apart,” he says. Then, with a smirk, he adds, “As for now, while we’re together…”
As his hand moves to Brian’s fly, Brian chuckles and gives Justin a look. “You really do have a one-track mind, don’t you?”
“You’re one to talk,” Justin snickers. He reaches in, releases Brian’s cock, and starts stroking it from half-hard to fully-hard. “Admittedly, though… lately all I can think about is this. You. Us.”
“Mmm…” Brian closes his eyes and leans back. “What’s been going on in that filthy mind of yours, Sunshine?”
For a moment, Justin’s hand slips away. Then it returns, slick with something. Brian peeks one eye open and sees that Justin’s palm is covered with oil - specifically, the olive oil that came with the bread platter.
“You never actually wanted that bread, did you?”
“No,” Justin says, shaking a little with laughter. “It was the only thing I could think of that would come with makeshift lube.”
Brian bursts out laughing, too - although it’s quickly cut short when Justin squeezes the base of his cock and then gives it a good tug.
“I’ve missed your cock so much,” Justin whispers, his lips pressed to Brian’s cheek, the words flowing into his ear in a hot rush. “I think about what I want to do to it - to you - constantly.”
A groan slips from Brian’s mouth as Justin starts pumping his cock with firm, fast strokes.
“I had this dream last night… that there were two of you in bed with me. Two Brian Kinneys - can you imagine?” Justin buries his face against Brian’s neck and kisses it, licks it, bites it. “It may have been the filthiest fucking dream I’ve ever had. I sucked both of you at the same time, both of your huge cocks were choking me, but I kept going ‘cause I wanted it so fucking bad… one of you sucked me while the other one fucked me… I watched the two of you fuck each other… and then…”
Desperately, Brian demands, “And then?”
“And then…” Justin grasps his hand around Brian’s shaft and uses his thumb to massage the head intensely, “And then, defying obvious physical constraints, both of you fucked me. Both of your cocks, buried inside me, pounding me… fuck, it was so hot…”
Brian grabs the hem of Justin’s shirt and pushes it up so that he can slide his hand up Justin’s stomach and to his chest. As he palms Justin’s warm skin, Justin moans into his neck and confesses, “The dream ended the same way I woke up… with me covered in come.”
That does it - that visual matched with the dirty talk, plus Justin’s talented touch - it sends Brian over the edge. He almost shouts out as he comes, but Justin silences him with a bruising kiss. It’s the greediest of kisses, really, complete with tongues tangling and Justin grabbing and groping at him.
And just when Brian thinks it can’t get any better, Justin breaks away from the kiss, leans down, and takes his cock in his mouth to clean it. Brian slides his fingers into Justin’s hair and caresses it appreciatively.
Once he’s clean, Justin pulls away and licks his lips.
“Filthy,” Brian teases, as he tucks his dick back into his jeans and zips them up.
Justin grins. “Will the room be ready soon?”
After sparing a glance at his watch, Brian confirms, “Not long now.”
“We should get moving,” Justin suggests. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, which soon twist into a smirk. That coupled with the heat flickering in his eyes says it all.
“We should,” Brian agrees.
He can’t keep from smiling as Justin jumps up, grabs his hands, and pulls him up and out of the booth. Brian follows Justin back through the winding crimson corridors, only this time he barely takes any of it in. His tunnel vision is back with a vengeance – all he can see is Justin, and the only thing on his mind is how fucking great their weekend is bound to be.
The End