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{\*\generator Msftedit 5.41.21.2509;}\viewkind4\uc1\pard\sa200\sl276\slmult1\lang9\f0\fs22\tab\tab\tab EVERYTHING: BRANDNEW BY DISCOTHEQUEY\par
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EVERYTHING: BRANDNEW BY DISCOTHEQUEY\par
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Time Frame: Two years post-Something Beautiful, directly following The IM Sessions\par
\par
Friday, October 8, 2010\par
My cell phone vibrated against my thigh, sending an uncomfortable shiver down my spine. "Hold on, hold on," I whispered, jerking open the door to the SUV and throwing my messenger bag across the driver's side and into the passenger seat. It bounced once and landed in the floor, pencils and miscellaneous items scattering the floorboard.\par
\par
Sometimes I hated my life.\par
\par
I hopped around and shoved my hand into my pocket, retrieving the small silver cell phone and popping it open so quickly I could've easily broken the thing. "Hello?" I held it against my ear with my shoulder as I climbed up and into the car. I was so antsy I could barely contain myself. My fingers tap, tap, tapped their own unrecognizable pattern on the leather.\par
\par
"Good day, Sunshine." The voice was low, rumbly and laced with what sounded like a smile. It went straight to my cock.\par
\par
"Brian!" My heart fluttered. Even after all this time, his velvety voice still made me weak in the knees. Still made me want to just stop everything and jerk off.\par
\par
"How was your day?"\par
\par
"Okay."\par
\par
"Good."\par
\par
Silence. I heard two girls yelling back and forth at each other across the parking lot - something about Twilight and how Edward was better than Jacob or whatever.\par
\par
"So, what's up? How was your day?" I swallowed loudly over my words, placing my foot on the brake and cranking the vehicle. I felt all shaky and stupid. Like sparkles were shooting through my brain and my stomach and my on the brink of hard cock.\par
\par
"I'm good."\par
\par
"Hm?" I began to pull out of the school parking lot, reaching over to adjust the air conditioner at the stop sign. I don't know why, but I switched on the CD player and scanned the disc until it landed on 'Mint Car.' Definitely one of Brian's influences. I kicked the volume up a notch or two.\par
\par
"I'm good. Completely clear. Completely negative." Brian laughed quietly, sending a smile to my toes. "And the Doc said I'm hung like a horse. I always knew he was a fag..."\par
\par
My heart pounded. If I'd allowed my body to express what I was feeling, I probably would've ended up crashing into a guardrail from taking my hands off the wheel to dance.\par
\par
Not to mention laugh. Brian was full of shit.\par
\par
And I wasn't quite sure why I was feeling so relieved. Brian and I both knew everything was a-okay before we even hit the doctor's office the day before. I mean, unless he'd been tricking when he swore he wasn't, we'd been monogamous for over a year. That, my friend, is unbelievable, but deliciously true.\par
\par
"Seriously? That's great!"\par
\par
"I just got the call." Two beats. "You're good too, right?"\par
\par
"Oh, yeah." I nodded to no one in particular, pulling out onto the interstate. "The clinic called this morning. Sorry I didn't tell you, but we figured I was fine. I mean..."\par
\par
"Yeah."\par
\par
I hadn't so much as touched another guy's dick in so long, that from the average twenty-seven-year-old gay man's point of view, it was embarrassing. But I guess I wasn't the average twenty-seven-year-old gay man, because it wasn't embarrassing to me.\par
\par
I bit my lip so hard with nervous happiness I swore I could almost taste blood. I know I tasted blood. "So, we're doing this?"\par
\par
"We're doing this."\par
\par
"Finally."\par
\par
"Yeah."\par
\par
I drove half a mile in silence, the only sounds the faint crackle of Brian's breath against the phone receiver and The Cure emitting through the speakers.\par
\par
"So, are you home?" I finally asked after a few minutes, turning down the air conditioner. My fingers were freezing on the steering wheel. They were white and the nails were dark pink from gripping so hard.\par
\par
"Almost. I'm about five minutes away. What do you... ?"\par
\par
I waited for him to finish, but he didn't.\par
\par
"Nevermind."\par
\par
"Brian, what?"\par
\par
"Nothing. We'll discuss it when we see each other."\par
\par
I raised an eyebrow. "Okay."\par
\par
"I'll see you at the house?"\par
\par
"Yeah. I'll be there around four-thirty. Maybe sooner." Probably sooner if I kept speeding like a fucking maniac. I gently pressed my foot against the break to bring the car down to sixty-five. I'd been going almost eighty.\par
\par
"Okay."\par
\par
"I love you, Brian."\par
\par
"No sentiments." There was a snicker across the line. "Save them for later."\par
\par
I had a feeling we were going to need them later - when we were wrapped in each other, panting, screaming, biting, sucking, groaning with pleasure. I got hard just thinking about it.\par
\par
"See ya."\par
\par
"Bye."\par
\par
"Bye."\par
\par
Two beats. Breathing.\par
\par
"Brian, hang up."\par
\par
"Why?"\par
\par
"Don't make me hang up first."\par
\par
"Justin, I refuse to have this sixth grade conversation with you."\par
\par
"I love it." I bit at my tongue, trying to keep myself from laughing. There was nothing I liked more than teasing the hell out of him.\par
\par
"You're fucking nuts."\par
\par
"No, I'm not."\par
\par
"You are."\par
\par
I turned left onto a smaller highway. "Whatever you say."\par
\par
"Later."\par
\par
"Later."\par
\par
Radio cranked up. Track restarted.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
"Hey!" I called later, kicking open the front door to Britin, my bag lopsided and leaking various school-related items all over the doorstep. I felt like the biggest klutz in the world. Fucking school shit. Fucking too-small bag with the unreliable buckles. "It'd be nice if I had a little help!" I rolled my eyes good-naturedly, using my feet to push a mechanical pencil across the threshold. A Wite-Out pen, two giant paperclips and whatever the fuck else were still resting on the garage floor, but I really didn't care.\par
\par
"I'm coming, I'm coming," Brian groaned in a mock-annoyed voice, swiftly trudging from the kitchen and into the foyer barefoot, dressed in the standard white t-shirt and jeans. He outstretched his arms as if making a grab for my bag, but instead grasped my arms, pulling me into an embrace.\par
\par
What a wonderful time to be romantic for once, Brian.\par
\par
I mumbled his name against his throat, about to drop my messenger bag along with a week of art history reports. I could feel it straining to stay strong.\par
\par
He tightened his arms around me, ducking his head and kissing my forehead, slowly walking me into the center of the foyer.\par
\par
Not a good time, Brian. Not a good time.\par
\par
"About to drop my fucking bag," I managed to get out, right before the buckle on the strap came loose and the forty pound piece of canvas dropped and hit the floor with a bang, papers scattering everywhere. "Shit." I swallowed, gently pulling away out of Brian's arms and crouching down, snatching up the reports. "Well, this is romantic." I laughed.\par
\par
Brian leaned down and began to help me pick up my things, nodding his head slowly. "Ridiculously." His cheeks were a little pink and I could tell he was embarrassed.\par
\par
That made my broken bag completely worth it. It was adorable.\par
\par
"I'm seriously thinking about running away to like, Zimbabwe."\par
\par
"What?" He laughed, taking the stack of papers I'd collected and combining them with his, dropping them against the hardwood floor to straighten them. He stood up, knees cracking, and handed them to me.\par
\par
"Thanks." I kissed his lips softly. "But honestly, I don't know what I was getting into taking this motherfucking job." So, it wasn't exactly prime time to start ranting about work shit, especially since we'd just gotten the 'all clear' to throw out the condoms. But there was something about being in the safeness of the foyer, right near my partner, breathing in the warmth of the house and Brian's faint cologne that made me spill everything. It couldn't be helped.\par
\par
"You're good at it?"\par
\par
"Well, yeah. I'm a great teacher." I sighed, grabbing the broken bag and dropping the papers in the side pocket before setting it back on the floor and kicking it into a corner. Like I was even going to touch the papers until Sunday night. Please. I wasn't even sure Brian and I would leave the bedroom.\par
\par
"At least you're humble."\par
\par
I gave him a look. "But I'm really getting pissed off with the kids."\par
\par
"The fag-bashers?"\par
\par
"They're assholes!" I took a deep breath, anger building inside of me. If I were big and beefy, I would've totally cracked my knuckles. "I had to take the fucking picture of us off my desk because I kept finding sticky notes with 'faggot' and 'cock sucker' all over everything."\par
\par
Brian rolled his lips into his mouth, reaching his arms out and pulling my body against his chest. "It's alright. Don't worry about it." He held me in his arms for a few minutes, carefully stroking my back and nuzzling his nose against my ear.\par
\par
That always helped, no matter what. And Brian knew that all too well. He wasn't one to sit me down for a long conversation when I was distressed. In most cases, anyway. Usually, he just held me or made love to me, fucked me if the situation called for it, gave me a kiss or simply told me to 'fuck them,' because I was much better than anyone that could ever hurt me. He was far too good to me.\par
\par
But this was something I did need to speak with him about. A hug would console me for the weekend, but come Monday morning at eight, I would be in anguish all over again.\par
\par
Now wasn't the time, though, and I told him that. Now was the time to be happy. Now was the time to be completely, one hundred percent physically free with each other. Or later would be the time to be physically free with each other. If Brian thought he was getting out of the romance aspect of our 'first time,' he was sorely mistaken.\par
\par
"Well..." He smiled, dipping his head and kissing me softly, lovingly. "If you don't want to talk about the school bullies now, what can we do?" His eyes were shining like those of a naughty little boy.\par
\par
I had to laugh. There was no way to stop the giggle from escaping my mouth. "I can't believe we're doing this."\par
\par
Brian placed his hand on my breastbone and pressed me up against the wall, leaning in and attacking my neck.\par
\par
I stood there, frozen, like some fucking innocent little virgin. I guess he just wanted to get on with it. And I did, too. Fuck, there was nothing more in the entire world that I wanted than to feel him inside me completely bare.\par
\par
"So, are we doing it now?" I wrapped an arm around his back and ran my fingers up and down his spine.\par
\par
"Hm?" He raised his head and began planting wet kisses on my mouth. His tongue traced against the seam of my lips, making me moan with gratitude.\par
\par
"Should this be a 'special occasion' or do you want to just jump into it?" I smiled against his mouth, ecstatic that we were even having this conversation. How long had it been since I'd wanted to bareback with him? Ten years. Well, nine years since I'd thought of it seriously. Still, that was a long time. An even longer time as the years passed.\par
\par
"Whatever you want."\par
\par
"I kind of want dinner."\par
\par
"You want me to wine you and dine you first? Sixty-nine you?" Brian pulled away and reached around his back, grasping my hands and interlacing his fingers with mine.\par
\par
"I want this to be perfect."\par
\par
A small smile formed on his lips. He kissed me again. "It will be."\par
\par
God, the romance almost killed me.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
"I ordered chicken fettucini alfredo, breadsticks and a bit of tiramisu from that Italian place in town," Brian said later, slipping into the living room where I was lying, sketching on the couch. "I said I'd be by to pick it up at six. Nobody will fucking deliver, the assholes." He sighed, plopping down beside me. The jolt in the cushions caused me to accidentally shade outside the lines of my drawing. "You better plan on one hell of an active fuck, because I'll have to work off about three thousand calories."\par
\par
I laughed, giving up on my sketch and scooting closer to him. I was having trouble concentrating, anyway. How the hell was I supposed to focus on my drawing when I would soon feel my partner coming inside me for the first time ever? Usually, thoughts like that provided inspiration. But fuck. I couldn't think of anything but Brian's bare cock. He put his arm around me.\par
\par
I puckered my lips and planted a soft kiss below his ear, then tossed my sketchbook onto the coffee table, thinking it would most likely be there for a while. I probably wouldn't have time to sketch for at least the remainder of the weekend.\par
\par
Brian snorted.\par
\par
I gave him a smile, pressing him back against the armrest of the couch and crawling into his lap.\par
\par
He kissed me, reaching a hand behind my head to press my mouth harder against his.\par
\par
"Mmmm."\par
\par
"I'm going to fuck you..."\par
\par
Instant hard-on. I grasped the side of his face with my hands, kissing so roughly I felt as if my lips would bleed. But I honestly didn't give a shit. Brian just did things to me. "Mm."\par
\par
"... and I'm going to come inside you..."\par
\par
"Uh." I felt his hardness pressing against my leg. I felt my hardness pressed against his stomach. Fuck, I could've just had an orgasm right there.\par
\par
"...and you're going to feel..." Deep, aroused breath. "You're going to feel everything."\par
\par
I rutted against him, the crotch of my pants growing incredibly tight. "I want to feel you come inside me." I was so horny I could've exploded like a goddamn volcano at skin-to-skin contact.\par
\par
"You will." Kiss. "Repeatedly."\par
\par
He pushed me backward onto the cushions, lowering his body onto mine and cupping my head in his hands. I could see every little detail of his face, from the follicles of his beard to the pores on the tip of his nose.\par
\par
I puckered my lips, kissing his upper lip softly and lifting my legs, wrapping them around his back. I was so turned on. Touch me and I go. "I've been dreaming about it for years."\par
\par
Brian stroked my hair, running his fingers through the strands, nails lightly massaging my scalp. "I know."\par
\par
Why was he being so romantic? Waiting till after dinner was going to be harder than I thought. Literally. He was going to have to blow me or something. If I didn't release everything I had soon, by the time we began going at it for real, I'd be shooting.\par
\par
"And I just can't believe we're finally doing it." Swallow. Control yourself, boy. "I mean, I always thought we would eventually, but..." I took a deep breath, closing my eyes to the sensation of Brian's lips against my neck. I was glad he hadn't shaved. The scratchiness turned me on even more.\par
\par
We kissed then - softly, slowly, endlessly, lips never seeming to break contact. I don't know who started first or if we just started at the same time. But before I knew it, we were lying on top of one another, head to toe, sucking each other off.\par
\par
I'm pretty sure I almost choked Brian to death with all my cum, but he didn't seem to mind.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
While he'd gone to pick up the food, I mostly laid around and tried to keep myself from throwing up. I'll admit it. I was nervous.\par
\par
Nervous as hell.\par
\par
And I had no idea why.\par
\par
It wasn't as if we hadn't discussed it before. Or almost done it before. There was no telling how many times we'd be lying together, about to make love, and Brian would grab his cock and just sort of press it against my entrance. He wouldn't breach it, wouldn't so much as thrust against it. Just kind if rubbed it around, as if he were imagining pushing inside bare.\par
\par
I'd grabbed the sheets, groaning with pleasure, and as if on cue, he'd pull away and slip on the dreaded condom. Fucking condoms.\par
\par
I was so happy we'd never be dealing with them again.\par
\par
"Knock, knock!" Brian hollered from outside the front door around an hour later. He was gently elbowing the door frame, hands too full to work the doorknob.\par
\par
"Give me two seconds!" I yelled from the living room, striking the last match and holding the flame to a candle wick. I jerked it away once it caught and blew it out with a swift puff of breath.\par
\par
Giving the room a once, then twice-over, I smiled evilly to myself and trudged out into the foyer.\par
\par
For the past half-hour, I'd been meticulously romanticizing the living room - throwing a cloth over the coffee table and setting out the plates and silverware, placing two vanilla-scented candles in the center, dimming the lights, pouring two glasses of wine, lighting the fireplace, tossing pillows haphazardly about...\par
\par
I knew for a fact Brian would basically vomit all over me from the cheesiness of it all, but I didn't care. He was getting into my ass without a condom. He could stand a little romance.\par
\par
"Hey," I whispered with a smile, as I opened the heavy oak door to reveal my partner, styrofoam boxes in his hands, a carton of tirimisu balancing on the very top.\par
\par
"Hey."\par
\par
I plucked the tirimisu off the top along with the container of breadsticks and led him into the living room, smiling secretly to myself. Waiting for it.\par
\par
"Jesus, Sunshine."\par
\par
I could almost feel Brian's eyes rolling about.\par
\par
I wanted to laugh. Hard. "I know you hate the romantic shit, but I figured you could deal for one night."\par
\par
Sigh. "If you bring out some random record player and put on Marvin Gaye, you can forget our little adventure tonight and can go pack your bags."\par
\par
"Oh, shut up." I laughed loudly, gently placing the boxes on the coffee table and plopping down onto one of the oversized pillows. "No record player, but I may sing 'Let's Get it On' for you if you don't behave." Or 'Sexual Healing.' Whichever he wanted.\par
\par
"Oh god, please no!" Brian sat the linguini box down and made a cross with his two index fingers. "Your singing voice will make anyone's dick soft." He grinned at me through a fake wince.\par
\par
"My singing voice is amazing."\par
\par
"Amazingly awful. I swear to God, I don't know how I've put up with your singing in the shower every morning."\par
\par
"I don't sing every morning. Only on the weekends."\par
\par
"Still." Eye roll. "Justin, you don't know how difficult it is to proceed ramming someone's ass while they're humming along to the radio."\par
\par
"Then don't play the radio in the mornings." I stuck out my tongue. "Anyway, you're lying. You have no difficulty."\par
\par
"Whatever."\par
\par
I leaned in and kissed him, grabbing the box of breadsticks and pulling it open. "Did you get marinara sauce?"\par
\par
"Shit."\par
\par
"Damn you." I gave him a teasing grin, pulling a greasy, parmesan cheese-speckled breadstick out of the styrofoam box and taking a bite of the tip. "It's alright."\par
\par
He spread his legs and pulled me between them, against his chest, cradling my body against his. I loved the feel of him. I loved the smell of him. I just loved him. "We don't need it anyway."\par
\par
"Don't give me that crap."\par
\par
"What?" Brian rested his head on my shoulder and gave me a little bump in the face with his cheek. The stubble scratched my skin, but it wasn't unpleasant.\par
\par
"We've been living together for over two years straight and you haven't gained an ounce."\par
\par
"You haven't gained an ounce, asshole. I have, then lost it. I'm down three fucking pounds and I refuse to gain them back."\par
\par
"Oh, shut up!" I smiled brightly with my mouth full, turning my head and kissing him firmly on the mouth. He tasted like salt. "Do you know how skinny you are? You have no ass."\par
\par
"Swallow, please." He rolled his eyes, giving me a slap on the hip. He reached over and pulled open the fettucini box. "And stop with the ass comments. You have enough for both of us."\par
\par
I finished chewing and swallowed, almost choking with laughter. His eyes were laughing. "If I lost my ass, you'd be mortified."\par
\par
"I'll give you that. What else would I sink my massive cock into?"\par
\par
"Massive?" I elbowed him in the stomach. God, he was cocky. Pun intended.\par
\par
"Of course."\par
\par
"Good?"\par
\par
He nodded, spearing another piece and holding it to my mouth. "The chicken's good, too."\par
\par
I took a bite and hummed at the deliciousness of it. God, I loved chicken fettucini alfredo. If I had the choice of making love to any food, it would be that. It was my all-time favorite.\par
\par
"So, tell me about the twelve-year-olds I'm going to be murdering," Brian prompted, slipping out from behind me and scooting up to the table, grabbing a plate to dispense the food. His hands were so tan and strong as they grasped the pale green plate. My mind immediately drifted to thoughts of him opening me up with those fingers, then diving into me raw.\par
\par
I couldn't help it. Barebacking was on my brain.\par
\par
"I don't know what to do with them," I grumbled, scratching at a mosquito bite on my elbow. "Jesse, the worst one, told the class while I was in the storage closet that I probably jerked off to the poster of Michaelangelo's David hanging on the wall between classes. Like I couldn't even hear! He said for everyone to check their papers for jizz."\par
\par
Brian laughed silently, face scrunched up and shoulders shaking violently. That asshole.\par
\par
"It's not funny!"\par
\par
"Is that all?"\par
\par
"No!" I punched him in the shoulder. I hoped it hurt. "I already told you about the sticky notes."\par
\par
"That's not so horrible, Justin. They're just stupid kids."\par
\par
"I know, but it makes me feel like shit." I took the plate filled with food Brian handed me and watched as he grabbed another. "It's like I'm not in control of the situation anymore, and they're all making a big joke about me." I shoved my fork into the plate and scooped up some noodles. "Not only that, but I hate that I can't even talk about my life to them or have pictures out of the people I love because of the assholes." It felt so liberating calling the kids 'assholes.' I didn't care if they were twelve. I didn't care if they were in middle school and all hormonal and pimply and stinky and weird. They were still assholes.\par
\par
Just the homophobic ones. I loved the other kids dearly.\par
\par
"How'd they find out you were gay in the first place? Did you tell them?" Brian rolled his eyes, like he was expecting me to say 'yes.'\par
\par
"No. The only way they could've found out by anything in the classroom was the picture of us I had, but it's not like we were making out or anything. It was the one of us standing by the car Michael took last Christmas."\par
\par
The picture was tame as anything. Brian could've been my brother or best friend. We weren't even touching.\par
\par
"Just don't worry about it. They're not really doing anything awful right now..."\par
\par
"Yeah, right now..."\par
\par
"But, you should probably tell the principal about it when you get the chance. Just so that, should you have any other problems, she can take the proper course of action."\par
\par
I sighed. The kids unnerved me.\par
\par
We ate in silence for a few minutes, the fire crackling soundly behind us. Brian reached out and rubbed at the back of my head for a few seconds, gently sifting his fingers through the strands of hair. That was Kinney Code for 'I love and care about you. Don't worry.'\par
\par
Somewhere in the past two years, I'd finally read the handbook.\par
\par
There was a semi-comfortable silence for a while. Just a whole lot of gentle touches and smiles. Sometimes we were better at not talking. Sometimes that was good.\par
\par
"Did you ever get to sleep last night?" Brian asked me after a bit, grabbing a breadstick from the box and dipping it in his pasta. Lightening the mood. He grinned naughtily.\par
\par
I smiled with an eye roll. Dickhead. "Eventually. No more of that bath shit."\par
\par
He laughed, leaning over and planting an alfredo-laced kiss on my upper lip. It left a sticky kiss mark under my nose. "I was knocked out."\par
\par
"Yeah, and I was about to fucking call the paramedics about the rash on my ass."\par
\par
***\par
\par
The day before, Brian had returned home from work with a sparkly black bottle of bath oil, the subject of his latest ad campaign. It had such a lame name - something like 'Sleepy Suds.' And like the name suggested, it was supposed to cause relaxation and help out with getting a good night's rest. I thought it was pretty fucking ludicrous.\par
\par
Stupidly, I suggested we try it out, so at eleven-thirty that night we piled into the tub, literally having to lay down in a spooning position because the oil made the tub bottom too slippery to sit upright in. There was a lot of fumbling and laughing and splashing. I felt like I was about three years old and sharing a bath with my cousin Matt.\par
\par
We made out and washed each other for a bit, getting dirty while getting clean, until Brian pulled me into his lap and grabbed a condom from the soap dish. Right as I was about to sit down on him, I started getting this intense burning sensation on my ass cheeks. It was like a trillion fucking fire ants were stinging the hell out of me. I started screaming and squirming all around the bathtub, causing Brian to stand up and pull me out of the water, holding me to him and asking repeatedly what was wrong. We climbed out of the tub and I ran to the bedroom, dripping water and soap bubbles everywhere, and checked out my ass in the mirror.\par
\par
Apparently, I had an allergic reaction to the bath oil, and my ass was red with a burning, itching rash. It was embarrassing as hell. I wanted to cry.\par
\par
After Brian had finished laughing, he rubbed ointment and anti-itch cream all over me and we settled in bed. He fell asleep almost immediately, the fucker, and I laid there for hours, squeezing at the sheets in order to keep from scratching. I was miserable.\par
\par
***\par
\par
"That was the funniest fucking thing I've ever seen," Brian laughed, taking a bite of fettucini and reaching over to pat my shoulder. "Your scream was priceless."\par
\par
"It hurt like hell!" I bit my lip, trying to hold in a laugh I did not want to let escape. Yeah, it was funny when I looked back on it, but I totally wasn't going to laugh. "And don't even act like you thought it was funny the whole time." I waved my fork at him accusingly. "You pulled me out of the water, terrified, and kept rubbing me, asking what was wrong." And it was sweet as hell. When I looked back on it.\par
\par
He rolled his eyes. He did that a lot. "Well, after I knew you weren't hurt, it was fucking hilarious."\par
\par
"Did you tell the company it gave me an allergic reaction?"\par
\par
"Yeah, I seriously told the huge account I'm about to land that it gave my partner an itchy rash on his ass."\par
\par
"Well, you should have! They need to put a warning label on it."\par
\par
"Justin, you need a warning label: Allergic To Absolutely Everything."\par
\par
That was funny. But I didn't laugh. "I can't help it."\par
\par
"How did you survive childhood?"\par
\par
"With allergy medication and epinephrin."\par
\par
"Oh my god."\par
\par
I gave him a sunshiny grin, dropping my fork in my plate and scooting up to his body.\par
\par
"I can't wait for tonight." Blood rushed to certain places of my body at the very thought.\par
\par
"Mm." He pulled away for a second so he could swallow his breadstick and then leaned in to nuzzle his lips against my mouth.\par
\par
Be still my heart.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
"Are you ready?" Brian asked me a few hours later, placing a plastic shopping bag on the bedside table and tugging off his t-shirt.\par
\par
"Of course." My heart pounded thickly, solidly against my chest. I couldn't believe we were about to do this. I felt so virginal again, as if I were once more that seventeen-year-old boy standing in the loft of a twenty-nine-year-old stranger. My cock twitched at the memories.\par
\par
We had held off as long as we could, lounging around on the living room floor, eating strawberries in a very lewd fashion and just talking. He talked about his day, I talked about mine.\par
\par
I think we both just wanted to prolong the moment. Make it last. Make it significant.\par
\par
But after a while, we couldn't take it anymore. Brian was hard. I was hard. We almost ran up the stairs.\par
\par
So there we were. About to take a major step. A step we were both totally and completely ready for.\par
\par
Brian smiled, slowly closing the gap between us and wrapping his arms around my body. He felt like warmth and smelled like strawberries mixed with his expensive cologne.\par
\par
I was still fully dressed from work, though disheveled from our earlier activities, and as Brian dipped his head to kiss my neck, he reached down and grasped the hem of my sweater, gently pulling it up to expose my snow white belly. It quivered with nervous excitement.\par
\par
He slid down, burying his lips in my stomach and kissing tenderly, slowly making his way up until he had my sweater bunched around my armpits, lightly licking and sucking at my nipples. It felt like heaven. I could've come from nipple stimulation alone.\par
\par
"Raise up," he whispered, kissing my lips and then pulling away, allowing me time to lift my arms. He tugged my shirt off me.\par
\par
After that, it was all a blur.\par
\par
All I can remember is the frantic removal of clothing. Passionate kisses. High, squeaky, needy sounds emitting from our throats as we made our way to the bed.\par
\par
Our underwear and pants were strewn across the room, as if someone had literally tossed them to and fro, and by the time I was lying, back against the pillows, Brian's body on top of mine, our lips were deep red from kissing and hair disheveled from anxious fingers.\par
\par
"We need to slow down," I whispered, heart hammering against my chest.\par
\par
Brian kissed my chin and nodded. "You're ready for this?"\par
\par
I smiled, resting my hands on his shoulders. "Of course. I've wanted this for so long."\par
\par
"Me too." He rolled his lips inward, sticking his tongue out to lick at them and then, after planting a soft kiss on my mouth, sat up, reaching over to the bedside table for the bag. His arms were all shaky.\par
\par
"What's that?"\par
\par
"Lube."\par
\par
He reached a hand in and pulled out a small, deep purple tube with fancy cursive written all over it in gold font. I could tell it had cost a fortune.\par
\par
"Is it...?"\par
\par
"It's self-heating. It's supposed to feel nice."\par
\par
I smiled, placing both hands on his thighs. His penis was almost fully erect, standing up between his legs like a flagpole. He was already starting to leak.\par
\par
"Are you nervous?" I asked, rubbing at his leg muscles and rolling my lips inward. I had a feeling he was as jittery about the whole thing as I was.\par
\par
Brian lowered his eyebrows. "Why the fuck would I be nervous?"\par
\par
"I don't know, but you are." Smile. "I can tell."\par
\par
"I'm not."\par
\par
I rolled my eyes. Every movement of his body - the way he blinked rapidly, took heavy breaths, had shaky fingers - gave himself away.\par
\par
"I just..." He started again, sitting the lube on the pillow by my head and dropping the bag onto the floor. He looked like he was honest-to-God about to pass out. "I want it to be really good for you."\par
\par
"How could it not be?"\par
\par
"I don't know." He leaned in and kissed me. See? Nervous as hell, he was.\par
\par
"It'll be perfect." Kiss. "Now let's get on with it. I'm tired of waiting."\par
\par
We giggled quietly like little schoolboys, cheeks red and foreheads shiny with apprehensive sweat.\par
\par
Brian reached for the lube, slowly easing off my lap, and popped the top open, breaking the gold heart sticker that acted as a seal.\par
\par
"When d'you buy that?" I asked in a quiet voice, rubbing my hands over my quivering stomach. I tried to shake my shivers, but I couldn't. Everything kept jumping around inside like I was fifteen and about to give a speech in front of my class.\par
\par
"I stopped by a sex shop in town on the way to get the food." He smiled. "The cashier told me she hoped me and my 'lady' enjoy our night."\par
\par
I giggled. "What'd you say?"\par
\par
"I told her we will."\par
\par
My mouth dropped and eyes widened in mock offense. "Asshole." I slapped him across his chest. His skin was warm and damp and the little hairs between his pecs were soft against my fingertips.\par
\par
He leaned in and kissed me, before placing a knee between my legs and separating them.\par
\par
Here we go.\par
\par
The lube made a loud, squirting noise as he squeezed a dollop onto his fingertips, rubbing them together and spreading the gel. It smelled good - like lotion.\par
\par
Brian stared me in the eyes, lips upturned slightly as he placed a finger right at my entrance, gently rubbing the sensitive spot and causing me to gasp, heart pounding, throat contracting, eyes rolling, breath hitching. He slipped a finger inside, slowly working it inside me, rubbing the channel of muscle, sending tingles up my spine and chillbumps straight to my nipples, causing them to harden impossibly. I couldn't move.\par
\par
We'd gone through this thousands of times before, but this was different. It felt different, even though it was exactly the same. Everything was brand new.\par
\par
Two fingers. Gasp. Fluttering eyelashes. Heavy breathing. Three. "Shit."\par
\par
The anticipation of what was to come almost set me off. It took all the strength in my body to keep from grabbing at my cock. My nails dug into the sheets, fingers gripping fabric and pulling. My abs hurt from trying to hold off an explosion.\par
\par
"Brian," I whispered, reaching up to place my hands on his arms, letting him know I was ready. I needed this more than anything in my life. The utter want was enough to kill me. I was sweating and sighing and my eyes were all fluttery. My heart pounded.\par
\par
He took a deep breath, slowly extracting his fingers, and grabbed the tube of lubricant once more, squeezing a bit onto his palm and slicking his penis, coating it so that it was shining in the light of the dim overhead light. He wiped his hand off on the silver duvet before wincing, realizing what he'd done.\par
\par
My breathing was harsh, stomach muscles shaking uncontrollably, but I still managed to laugh a bit. I watched Brian as he leaned over and placed the lube on the bedside table, arms tremoring some more.\par
\par
"I love you," I whispered, placing my hands on his sides, right under his ribs, as I felt his bare penis brush up against my entrance. "I love you so much."\par
\par
"Love you," Brian barely whispered against my lips, breathing loudly, much louder than normal for this stage of the act, as he very gently began to press inside. He waited, just as his cock breached my hole, allowing me to adjust. His eyes were scrunched shut like he was in pain, and he slowly nudged inside me a little more once he felt me relax.\par
\par
The heightened sensation was immediate. And hot, temperature-wise. His penis pulsated warmly against my insides as he began to slowly work his way in, sweating profusely, mouth open, eyes closed, tongue pressed firmly against his bottom lip. I felt him. All the textures and curves and slick, smooth skin. I felt the shape of the head, slightly wider than the rest, as it bumped my inner walls, making its way to my prostate.\par
\par
"Oh god," he whispered, stopping immediately, only half inside me. His eyes were wide, eyelashes fluttering uncontrollably, breath pounding into my face in hot puffs.\par
\par
I tightened my muscles, squeezing against his penis, causing both of us to cry out. It wasn't intentional. Just fucking impossible to prevent.\par
\par
"Justin, you're going to have to..." Deep breath. "...relax...!"\par
\par
"S-sorry." I swallowed loudly, throat squeaking as my saliva slid down. Trying my best to relax my muscles, I grasped hold of Brian's sides, closing my eyes and concentrating on being still. I concentrated on his ribs. I could count four clearly on each side, as opposed to the six or seven I used to be able to feel. Though he was still skinny as hell, he had become a bit more mortal over the years.\par
\par
Brian leaned in and kissed me, ever so slowly pressing deeper inside, and my train of thought switched right back to what was happening.\par
\par
"I'm..." He grumbled, pushing his nose against mine so hard it almost hurt, lips parted against my lips. He was breathing into my mouth, almost making me lightheaded from the rush.\par
\par
His stomach shook against mine, causing me sigh, heart pounding rhythmically. I felt his penis jerk inside me. It felt odd and new but ohsofucking good.\par
\par
"...I'm sorry, I'm..." He began to shudder, lowering his face into the crook of my neck and slowly giving a tiny thrust, barely even moving as he came, opening his mouth against my throat and sending hot, moist breath against my skin.\par
\par
My eyes widened as I felt the new sensation. I felt his penis seem to swell, sending me shaking as hot wetness begin to flood inside me. It was enough to make me gasp. Everywhere was scorching. That sizzling burn hurt so good and sent me into some faraway bliss that could only be reached by Brian.\par
\par
"Fuck," he whispered, raising his head after his orgasm subsided and staring me in the eyes, a look of disappointment on his face. His hazel eyes were watery from exertion. "I ruined it."\par
\par
I smiled at him, soothingly rubbing across his ribcage. God, I loved him. "You did not." Kiss. "We'll go again. But that felt amazing, still."\par
\par
"Yeah, it did."\par
\par
I gave him a naughty grin, sliding my hands across his back as he laid down on my chest, breathing heavily. The sensation of his bare penis inside me, filling me, how it should be, made me want to cry with happiness. "I love you. I'm so glad we're doing this together."\par
\par
He grumbled happily, raising his upper chest and hovering over me, kissing my lips softly, tenderly, lovingly.\par
\par
After about ten minutes, I felt him begin to harden again inside me, causing my blood to boil as I felt the gentle thumping of his cock against my insides.\par
\par
Brian pulled out almost all the way, staring me in the eyes as he pressed back in slowly. One...long...stroke.\par
\par
"Shit," I whispered, rocking my lower body up, needing more.\par
\par
He leaned flush against me, thrusts picking up speed, becoming deeper, harder, more intense, yet never over the threshold of loving and tender. Neither of us could take it. We were squeezing and rocking and breathing and groaning.\par
\par
After only just over two minutes of thrusting, we were already painfully close. I felt him leak inside me, matching the dripping beads slipping out of my own penis, puddling against our chests. We trimbled together.\par
\par
"Brian...!" I whimpered, face red as a beet, lips swollen, eyes glazed over.\par
\par
He pressed his mouth against mine, kissing with so much intensity, so much burning passion that I felt as if I would combust from the inside. An implosion of pleasure.\par
\par
"Jus...tin...!"\par
\par
"I'm...I'm..."\par
\par
"Oh shit, oh shit...!"\par
\par
"I love you...!"\par
\par
My lower body seemed to swell, everything tingling to a degree I'd never experienced in my life. It was as if I was having a full body orgasm. It was almost blinding. All I saw was white and then a burst of color so bright and so intense I was hurdled into some kind of out-of-body experience. Fuck.\par
\par
I squeezed my ass around Brian's penis, causing him to groan loudly, dipping his face into my chest, mouth open, teeth biting at my flesh, thrusting so hard and so fast the headboard of the bed began to bump against the wall, creating a dull thump in time with our movements.\par
\par
I wanted to laugh, but due to my catharsis, that was a bit impossible.\par
\par
"Aah!" He yelled, coming inside me, flooding me, burning me, sending me into oblivion. My warm cum spread across our chests, mixing with the sweat between us, gluing us together in a sticky, warm tangle of limbs. I was hit in the chest and chin and cheek with the hot streams shooting out of me, and I just closed my eyes and rode it out. Rode out the perfection and wholeness and love I was feeling.\par
\par
At some point we were both crying, but I didn't feel stupid and I know he didn't either. They were tears of emotional release and nothing to be ashamed of.\par
\par
Our hearts pounded together, a mixture of tears and sweat trickling from our eyes, chests heaving with both heavy breaths and sobs of happiness. Lips kissing, noses smooshing together, rubbing, nuzzling, arms grasping, bodies quaking with aftershocks as we lay, tangled and twisted, sweaty and sticky. Satisfied, yet filled with this overwhelming feeling that we could never get enough of each other.\par
\par
I held him, he held me.\par
\par
We slept.\par
\par
**\par
\par
\par
2.\par
Saturday, October 9, 2010\par
"Justin...Justin...! Shit!" Brian yelled, grabbing onto my body like he was afraid to let go, slamming into me with such force I almost cried out in pain. It was all sweating and licking and kissing and biting and spit and precum and nooooo condoms, baby. It was downright dirty. He was pounding me into the mattress, breathing the scent of morning coffee all over my tongue, which was out and just licking his mouth, searching for every part of him.\par
\par
I tasted sweat and skin and heat. When he moved in close enough, fumbling around for a sloppy, raunchy-as-hell kiss, I bit his chin and his lips and he laughed against my nose, bumping my forehead with his and moving in me all the harder.\par
\par
"Goddamn, Brian!" I yelled with an almost laugh, wrapping my legs around his back and closing my eyes, taking his thrusts. It was so sexy and so wet and so messy, but god. Sweltering hot. My hair, disheveled from sleep and sex, was soaked at the roots with sweat, stomach shaking with anticipation of our mutual orgasm, toes flexing with each movement of Brian's cock inside me.\par
\par
As I laid there under him, panting, pink and red and shiny, I decided that 'this' was absolutely amazing. This. This was fulfillment. This was some kind of wonderful fucking life I was living.\par
\par
If every gay man knew how good barebacking is, they'd grab a partner of like HIV status, get monogamous and get going with it. The raw, unbridled passion is like a fucking fireworks display. It starts out good, gets better, and by the end, you're seeing nothing but color and hearing nothing but explosions.\par
\par
"Uh...!" Brian groaned, holding tightly to my waist and, in one swift motion, flipping us over so I was on top. We slipped against each other, wet with I don't even know what by this point, and my arms were wobbling like the bones had disappeared as I grabbed onto his cock and lowered myself down.\par
\par
I raised an eyebrow through my utter arousal and surprise, laughing silently through clenched teeth as I placed my palms flat on his sweaty chest, pushing against him as leverage. Moving on him, watching through heavy lids his face as he groaned, sweat pouring from his temples. My fingers left white marks on Brian's chest as I dug them into his reddened skin. He thrust up into me as I rode him, teetering on the edge of insanity, world spinning, arms feeling wobblier and wobblier, back sweating, skin prickling, spine tingling, an orgasm about to rip me in half.\par
\par
"Brian," I forced out through my swollen lips, feeling him seem to grow inside me. Feeling every pulsation, every twitch of his cock against my prostate, sending me over the edge. I was almost crying because it was too much and yet not enough. It hurt and yet felt so motherfucking good I could've died of sensory overload.\par
\par
"Jus...!" Brian moaned as he came, shooting powerfully inside me, causing me to squirm with arousal. I leaned down, lying flat against his chest as I slowly rocked my body, drawing my own orgasm out and through me.\par
\par
I saw every fucking one of those fireworks in the grand finale with amazing clarity. I think my skin was burned.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
After the release of our lives, we lay, drenched in sweat, bunched together on the far right of the bed. I bet we looked like a wad of limbs, olive and pale, wrapped and clutched and wound up in each other, kissing and breathing. We were shiny and hot and covered in sweat and cum, but comfortable.\par
\par
"I can't believe we're doing this," I said with a bashful smile, covering my face with my hand. As wild as I pride myself with being in bed, I occasionally get a little shy in the aftermath. "It's amazing."\par
\par
Brian reached up and tugged my hand away, locking his fingers in mine and leaning in to kiss me tenderly on the lips. "Are you kidding? It's awful."\par
\par
I snorted, told him to shut the fuck up and wriggled a bit out of our knot. "Amazing."\par
\par
He grinned, stroking my hair, and twisted a strand around his finger. Sometimes he kills me with the way he stares and smiles. I must've been the most naive person in the fucking world to have ever wondered if he truly loved me.\par
\par
"Why couldn't we have done this before?" I giggled, pinching at his side. It eventually turned into a tickle war and Brian aaaaalways wins, so I don't know why I let it start. He tickles me in that certain spot under my arm until I'm crying, almost literally. Some couples tickle as a form of affection. Brian tickles so I'll end up with sore armpits for a week.\par
\par
After I somehow pushed him off me and turned over on my side to silently tell him game over, he dropped his hands to the bed and shrugged.\par
\par
"Because you had to be stubborn and insist we continue with the condoms till Babylon was sold..." I rolled my eyes with a smile.\par
\par
"Don't remind me," he groaned, ducking his head and burying his face in the mattress.\par
\par
"I think it's hilarious."\par
\par
"That's because you're fucking nuts."\par
\par
"It's hilarious because the guy that bought it is turning it into a community youth center, one of the things you seem to live your life avoiding." I patted his back, just rubbing it in and laughing about it.\par
\par
"If you say anything about karma, I'll kill you."\par
\par
"I won't." Smile. "But..."\par
\par
"Shut up."\par
\par
"But, I really think..."\par
\par
"Don't talk."\par
\par
"Make me."\par
\par
"I'll get out the gag."\par
\par
"Is that supposed to be a threat? Because you know..." I walked my fingers up his spine and leaned in, gently biting his shoulder.\par
\par
He shrugged me away and rolled over onto his back. "Don't joke about it. I'm serious."\par
\par
"Do we even own one?"\par
\par
"Maaaaaybe."\par
\par
"Yeah, okay." I rolled my eyes, throwing a leg over his waist and climbing on top. I peered down at him. "Where is it, then?"\par
\par
"You see... If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret, would it?"\par
\par
I held both his hands in mine and leaned down for a kiss. "Mmmno. But also." Kiss. "You're full of shit." Kiss.\par
\par
"Don't question the..." Kiss. "...contents of my...." Kiss. "...toybox."\par
\par
I sat up straight again, motioning for him to bend his legs so I could lean back against them. "Why not? Got any Legos?"\par
\par
He pinched the skin above my bellybutton.\par
\par
"Mmmmm... Tonka Trucks? I haven't played those in forever."\par
\par
"I'll whip you." He was biting back a laugh and came so close to succeeding, were it not for the brief shake of his stomach. "Got a whip. Or three."\par
\par
"HORSES. Tell me you have those sweet little stables with the farm animals and shit. I loved those as a kid!"\par
\par
Brian slowly raised an eyebrow.\par
\par
"How about..."\par
\par
"How about you shut the fuck up?" He swatted my cheek with two fingers, pretending like he was annoyed as hell but probably laughing inside.\par
\par
I leaned back down and started to kiss him. Just because, y'know, when all else fails, kiss. He smiled against my lips and responded in kind, straightening his legs and wriggling a bit so I'd move to lie flat against him.\par
\par
I moved to his neck, sucking at the skin and tasting the salty beads of cooling sweat. He smelled warm and kind of like he'd gone running right after taking a shower. The scent of pure male, mixed with Brian's natural smell. If I could bottle it, I'd call it Eroticism. That needs to be a cologne.\par
\par
"You know what I think?"\par
\par
He hummed in response and turned his head, trying to meet my lips once more. I shook my head 'no' and began to plant wet, open-mouthed kisses against his chest.\par
\par
"I think..." My tongue trailed down in between his pecs, then slid horizontally across, stopping to lap at his hardened nipples. I felt all the textures, tasted all the tastes. "I think...I need to..."\par
\par
With my mouth latched around his left nipple, sucking greedily, I slipped a hand down between his thighs and began to stroke my index finger up and down, from his ass to his balls. "I need to fuck you."\par
\par
Brian placed a hand on the back of my head and directed me to go lower. His eyes were closed, lashes whispering against his cheeks in flutters, lips bitten purple.\par
\par
"I need to fuck you so good." I grazed my teeth across the skin of his abdomen and moved to settle myself between his thighs, chest pressing against his quickly hardening cock. I felt it pulsing, warm and damp.\par
\par
"Mmmlet me fuck you," Brian grumbled, trying to move out from under me.\par
\par
I denied him, sliding down a little further and, without warning, placing my lips around the tip of his dick. He stilled his movements and laid back down, breathing slowly. I felt his stomach rise and fall against my hand as I flattened my palm over his bellybutton and grasped his member with my other. Slowly jerking it up and down. Lowering my face to suck, lick and bite at his balls. I breathed him in between ministrations.\par
\par
"Let me..." Brian whispered raggedly, knowing he was breaching the point of no return.\par
\par
"No," I sighed against his inner thigh, placing chaste little kisses along the crease. His pubes tickled my nose and made me smile. "You fucking want this."\par
\par
"Mmm."\par
\par
"Admit it."\par
\par
Brian was silent, save for the strangled groans escaping his lips. That was admission enough, I decided.\par
\par
I continued licking, kissing, jerking, sliding my hands down his parted thighs and lying a bit flatter against the mattress, trying to make my way lower and lower. Make him moan. Make him beg.\par
\par
"Roll over," I grunted, kissing the tip of his cock and licking away the precum from my lips.\par
\par
Brian grumbled like he couldn't believe the predicament he was in, but flipped right over, grabbing a pillow - the only one not on the floor - from the left side of the bed, bunching it in his arms. Burying his head in it.\par
\par
I kissed his lower back tenderly, changing my pace. Brian was tense, nerves wound tightly like a ball of wire, so I wanted to be gentle with him.\par
\par
Like he'd been gentle with me the night before.\par
\par
"Hey," I whispered, running a hand up his spine and giving him an affectionate stroke.\par
\par
"Mm?"\par
\par
I palmed his ass cheeks and started to kiss down his crack, breathing something that sounded a whole lot like 'I love you' against his skin, and gently spread him apart.\par
\par
Starting at Brian's coccyx, I licked a slow - excruciatingly slow - trail down and back up, pressing into his hole with each swipe.\par
\par
At first I barely breached him, simply stiffening my tongue and pushing against the bud. But after a few swipes, I felt him relax, allowing entrance and allowing himself to breathe out a few loud hisses. He tried to cover it, groaning into the pillow, but I nuzzled him affectionately. Encouragingly.\par
\par
"I want to hear you," I whimpered between licks, pulling his cheeks further apart and attacking his hole. He groaned, pushing his ass up into my face and reaching down to jerk his cock in time with the thrusting of my tongue.\par
\par
Everything had its own rhythm. My tongue. Brian's hand. My breath. Brian's breath. Our hearts. Our quivers and shakes.\par
\par
It seemed to go on for ages, but I couldn't get enough. There is no "enough." No such fucking thing as the word. So I went on prodding him, kissing him, licking him, finding his prostate with my tongue and fingers. He panted, quickening his jerks, then stopping altogether once he got close to orgasm.\par
\par
"Mmmdon't come," I breathed, withdrawing my lips from between his cheeks and planting them elsewhere. His spine. The backs of his thighs. Every bit of skin I could reach.\par
\par
"Stop making me," Brian laughed out in that dark, deeply sexual way of his that does nothing but send shockwaves to my balls.\par
\par
"Glad you appreciate my fabulous rimming skills."\par
\par
He grunted, pseudo-annoyed.\par
\par
"Get me the lube," I said, wrapping a hand around my cock and pumping it a few times. Beads of precum seeped out the slit and dripped onto the bedsheet.\par
\par
Brian murmured something about my laziness and leaned over, snatching the already half-empty tube of lubricant from the bedside table and tossing it down to me blindly. It bounced against the mattress and hit me in the face.\par
\par
So of course, I burst out laughing like the stupid little ten-year-old I can sometimes be. I can't control myself.\par
\par
"What...?" Brian breathed out shakily, glancing over his shoulder. His forehead was dripping with sweat and dear God, he looked gorgeous. I wanted to ravish his fucking soul right there.\par
\par
But I just went back to rimming him, more actively this time, penetrating as far as I could with my tongue. Attempting to open both the lube and his asshole simultaneously. Everything was so tight and wet and hot, and fuck, I was about to start humping the mattress.\par
\par
I eventually got the lubricant lid popped and squirted a little too much on the tips of my fingers, snorting when a large drip landed on Brian's ass cheek.\par
\par
"Did you just come on me?"\par
\par
I tried not to laugh. "Yeah. Just one little drop was all I could manage."\par
\par
"Sorry, kid."\par
\par
"We're probably gonna need to invest in more lube pretty soon. I think I just squirted half the bottle in my hand by accident." I slapped his ass, then pulled his cheeks apart and began to prepare him.\par
\par
Brian propped himself up on his elbows and looked back at me. "Is there a more unsexy conversation we could be having while you're sticking your fingers up my ass?"\par
\par
"Mm. We can discuss how my Grammy Palmer's gallbladder surgery went."\par
\par
He kept tightening down on my fingers on purpose. "Poof goes my erection."\par
\par
"Don't worry." I grinned evilly, leaning down to kiss at his ass cheeks, then biting at one of them gently. "We'll get it back."\par
\par
*\par
\par
Five minutes later, Brian rolled onto his back, thoroughly, and I mean thoroughly prepared. I'd prepared him with my tongue several times, then with my fingers, then with my lips, then started spitting into the cum towel after discovering the lube tasted fucking awful.\par
\par
"C'mere," he whispered, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me up to the top of the bed with him. I threw a leg over his waist and snuggled up to his warm, sweaty body.\par
\par
"Do you want me to fuck you?" I asked, kissing his cheek, then his lips, then just holding my face there, breathing hot and heavy against his mouth. "Hm?"\par
\par
Of course, Brian said nothing. Just reached down and began to fondle my cock.\par
\par
"I'm gonna fuck you," I whispered, crawling all the way on top of him, legs dropping down between his. He separated his knees and allowed me to situate myself. "I'm gonna fuck you and..." God, I couldn't breathe.\par
\par
Brian buried his mouth in my hair and started running his hands across my back. I could've sworn I almost heard a 'do it,' but wasn't sure. His cock was rock fucking hard and leaking against my belly.\par
\par
"Want me to fuck you?" I asked again, sitting up and grabbing the lube, squeezing some onto my palm. I started to slick my cock, quickly stroking myself with it, putting on a show. "Tell me."\par
\par
Another hand joined the one on my cock, Brian's, and soon we were just lying there, lubing my dick and sending shivers down my spine.\par
\par
"Do you know how..." I leaned back down and kissed him sloppily. "Fucking horny it makes me when you...tell me to fuck you? Do you know how much it turns me on?" I removed both of our hands from my member and began to gently thrust against him. He groaned.\par
\par
"God."\par
\par
He was shaking and so was I, and frankly, my stomach was hurting a little. I felt like I was going to vomit from either arousal or nerves or both, and when I glanced down, seeing that sexy-as-hell, sweaty, panting man under me, I almost lost it. My body kicked into overdrive.\par
\par
I prepared him a bit more with my fingers and more lube, because he always needs it, and by the time I wrapped my hand around my dick and placed it at his hole, I fucking seriously almost came. Brian was covering his eyes with his hands, getting lube from my cock all over his cheeks, trying to disguise his arousal and want and goddamn need. Because of course he never bottoms and never enjoys it because he's Brian. Fucking. Kinney, and Brian. Fucking. Kinney is a top.\par
\par
"Justin," he groaned, scrubbing his fingers across his face and wrapping a leg around my back. His foot rested right above my ass\par
\par
I was leaning over him, one hand on my dick, the head right at Brian's entrance, and the other bearing all my weight. I was shaking and sweating and probably drooling by this point. "Huh?" Sounded more like "Unngguuhh?"\par
\par
"Just fucking...now."\par
\par
That's all I needed.\par
\par
Brian was lying there all vulnerable and I was ENTERING HIM, coming inside, about to come inside. Raw. No condom. I swear to God, if he'd so much as said the word, I would've imploded.\par
\par
I pushed inside a bit, holding my breath, biting my lip to the point of blood, shaking, grabbing a hold of anything I could...feeling Brian clench his muscles Jesus Christ, too tight, keeping me out, tightening...tense as fucking hell.\par
\par
"Brian," I murmured, holding as still as possible. The look in his eyes was like nothing I'd ever seen. Wide open. Nervous. Trusting me implicitly. He was 'there' for me for the first time, I think, ever. Emotionally, physically open. Letting every wall down and allowing me to fill him. I was almost frightened by it.\par
\par
He understood my murmur, nodding slightly and unclenching. Relaxing. Letting me in.\par
\par
My cock was slick and hot and he was slick and hot and it took exactly ten seconds for me to start teetering on the edge of orgasm. Everything was building, rising, building, rising and I wanted to scream. I placed my hands on either side of Brian and dropped my forehead to his chest, breathing him in as much as I could, trying, fucking trying, not to lose control.\par
\par
Brian started lifting up, wanting more, and I literally had to put a hand to his hip to tell him to stop for a second. The textures were different, the feeling was different, and GOD it was amazing.\par
\par
I leaned down once I'd marginally calmed, hooking my arms around his shoulders and giving a short, quick thrust. My face was buried in Brian's sweaty neck and he just kept groaning against my forehead, both hands rubbing against my back, one leg wrapped around my waist, the other out to the side.\par
\par
We moved together for what was probably a minute at the most, and by this time, I'm pretty sure I started coming. But then again, maybe not, because it all just felt like one big orgasm. Pleasure knew no beginning nor end.\par
\par
I started jerking Brian's cock, kissing his chest and, once it became too difficult, sticking out my tongue and licking. He tried to lower his head to kiss my mouth, but the height difference made things weird, so instead, he latched onto my body with all four limbs and began thrusting up harder and harder.\par
\par
"Brian, Brian, BrianfuckingBrianBrianBrian," I choked out, pounding into him. I tried to lift up some, pushing against the mattress with my hands, needing to raise my upper body in order to move even impossibly faster, but I couldn't. Brian held me against him, giving upward jabs to meet my swift, downward thrusts. FUCK. It was too much. It was too, too, too, too much and I moved faster and faster and Brian started moaning like nothing I'd ever heard and I couldn't breathe properly. I couldn't. fucking. breathe right. My vision became blurry and all of a sudden my head started feeling swimmy and light. I wasn't sure I was exhaling at all. I just sucked in more and more and more and more air and black spots started to form every time I blinked. Waves and waves of electricity and color and sparkles and whateverthefuck else hit me. I shook, going limp and coming and coming and just lying down flat on Brian's chest, emptying into him and feeling his fingernails dig into my back.\par
\par
All I heard was static, occasionally broken by groans, and the next thing I knew I was somehow on my back and Brian was on top of me and I felt fingers smoothing across my eyebrows.\par
\par
*\par
\par
"Earth to Justin," he whispered, kissing my neck and then giving me a smile. His chest was splattered with cum and so was mine and we were goddamn sweaty.\par
\par
"...the fuck?" I grumbled, rubbing my eyes and giving him a shy smile. It took me a second to realize where I was and what had just happened. "Did I just pass out?"\par
\par
"Either that or your orgasm rendered you temporarily brain dead."\par
\par
We breathed out laughs, falling together and kissing a little more.\par
\par
"I guess I can't make fun of you for not being able to hold out last night," I yawned, suddenly wanting to curl up and snooze for a few days. My limbs were wobbly.\par
\par
Brian poked my nose. "You didn't hold out too long yourself." He licked across my lips. "Also, you might want to try exhaling next time."\par
\par
"You came after ten seconds. I came after maybe...seventy. Big difference."\par
\par
"Tell yourself that." Brian climbed half on top of me and closed his eyes. His inner thighs were wet from cum leaking out of his ass. "I didn't faint. Damsel."\par
\par
"You're such a dick."\par
\par
"There's nothing bad about dick."\par
\par
I started laughing at how fucking ridiculous he was. He kissed my lips, then my neck, and rested his head on my shoulder.\par
\par
"So what's our record?" I sifted my fingers through his hair.\par
\par
"What?"\par
\par
"It was six minutes as of this morning. I timed it."\par
\par
"You timed our fuck?"\par
\par
Don't make fun of me. The digital clock is just right there, and after a night of thrust, thrust, shoot, it occurred to me to keep track. "Yeah."\par
\par
"Freak."\par
\par
"We need to practice holding out longer." My stomach was rumbling and I was in grave need of a nap, but hey. I was up for another round if he was.\par
\par
Brian lifted his head and stared at me, fire in his eyes. "Practice, huh?"\par
\par
"Mmmhmm."\par
\par
After a while of silence, he leaned over and snatched the digital alarm clock from the bedside table, tapping his fingers against the yellow '11:33' and allowing me to get a look at the time. I'd thought he was asleep, but apparently not.\par
\par
"So..." He croaked, voice hoarse from - dare I say it? - moaning while I fucked his ass. "Six minutes was our record?"\par
\par
I burst out laughing, grabbing the alarm clock and placing it back on the bedside table. "You have exactly one minute to lube up and start fucking me. I'm timing you."\par
\par
\par
3.\par
Saturday, October 9, 2010\par
Brian and I somehow made it out of bed at around 1 PM, exhausted, over-exerted but still filled with that burning desire to just drop everything and fuck and suck and eat each other up. That desire remains constant. So constant that if we're expected somewhere at noon on a Saturday, we have to set the alarm for 8 AM or else we'll be late. We're often late anyway.\par
\par
The two of us fucked about three-hundred times in the shower, then once more up against the bathroom counter while we were slippery and wet and smelled like expensive oatmeal body wash. My legs were wrapped around Brian's waist and hands tangled in his dripping hair as he thrust into me, laughing against my neck because I kept slipping around on the edge of the marble counter top. It was a silly affair and not the most coordinated, but whatever. It was hot.\par
\par
"That was great," I breathed with a laugh after we'd finished, leaning back against the wall-length mirror above the counter and pulling Brian's upper body against me. He nodded as he panted, pushing his head against my chest and allowing me to hug him. I kissed his hair.\par
\par
"After I can breathe," he grumbled, taking a step backward and grasping the base of his cock so he wouldn't slip out, "I'll give you more commentary." He grabbed a Kleenex from the great, hotel-like tissue dispenser we had installed because boxes were too damn annoying, and began the meticulous process of cleaning up as he withdrew, so as to prevent more mess than necessary.\par
\par
I probably needed to wash off again, because my stomach was streaked with cum, but I was fucking exhausted and content to just fall asleep right where I was. I told Brian half-seriously to give me a sponge-bath while I slept, but he just mussed my hair and started the shower again. This time we were too tired to do anything other than lazily swipe each other with a loofah, play-wrestle under the water and talk about how fucking hungry I was.\par
\par
"I'm sorry I require food," I murmured sarcastically, licking a drop of water off Brian's collarbone. He'd gotten up at four that morning, made coffee that I'm surprised didn't dissolve his teeth, and ate maybe five cornflakes and a spoonful of organic peanut butter. I'd eaten two mini powdered donuts and drank a cup of OJ on the fly at 9 AM when I ran downstairs to check my text messages. I was hungry. No sue.\par
\par
We toweled off and got half-dressed, not putting much effort into actually looking presentable. Brian tugged on a pair of pajama pants, and I pulled on some black boxer briefs and a gray CBGB & OMFUG shirt that was so big on me it hit about mid-thigh. I decided I didn't like pants.\par
\par
"Mmm, just how I like you," Brian breathed against the back of my neck, reaching around to cup me through my underwear. He gave me a quick kiss behind the ear and swatted my ass. "Get the sheets. They smell like old cum."\par
\par
I glanced over at the bed and immediately started laughing, because it was really a ridiculous sight. It was literally stripped down to the mattress, with the fitted sheet barely hanging on by one corner and everything else on the floor.\par
\par
"They smell like old cum because they're covered in old cum." I bumped him with my hip and made my way over to the subject of discussion. "But you're helping me, so grab what you can."\par
\par
Brian pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek and, with much ho and hum, helped me lug the dirty sheets to the laundry chute, which is really the coolest thing ever invented.\par
\par
"Stop staring at it longingly," Brian said with a chuckle, tossing in a balled up sheet. "Take a ride."\par
\par
"Yeah, so I can go splat on the laundry room floor."\par
\par
"I heard you daring Gus to go down it last time he was here."\par
\par
"Gus weighs like, seventy pounds."\par
\par
Brian raised an eyebrow. "And you weigh like, seventy-five."\par
\par
I rolled my eyes and shoved in the last of the sheets, closing the little door. "You're a bad influence on me."\par
\par
"If I was two-foot-three like you, I'd go down it."\par
\par
I leaned over and head-butted him in the stomach.\par
\par
He just pushed me against the wall and gave me a loud, smooch of a kiss meant to do nothing but annoy.\par
\par
*\par
\par
After minutes of mindless wrestling, making out and hurling teasing obscenities at each other, Brian and I eventually made our way down to the kitchen for leftover chicken fettuccine alfredo and the Rolling Stones.\par
\par
"What do you want to do tomorrow?" I asked, spearing a piece of chicken from the styrofoam box we were both eating out of and adjusting my position on the kitchen bar stool.\par
\par
'Gimme Shelter' was playing low in the background and the curtains were tied back, dusting the entire kitchen in a sunny, bright glow. I felt good.\par
\par
"Doesn't matter." Brian swallowed, climbing off his stool and walking over to the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of Guinness and tossing it to me. He grabbed another for him. "But I kind of want to head into Pittsburgh tomorrow afternoon and stay a couple nights at the loft. I'm going to be busy as fucking hell this week and I'll probably be at Kinnetik late Monday and Tuesday night at least."\par
\par
I nodded, taking a sip of my beer. "That's actually really good for me. I have a PTA meeting Tuesday night I'm being forced to attend, and there's an open house afterwards." I mimed cutting my wrists. Didn't sound like such a bad idea, really.\par
\par
"I bet you're excited."\par
\par
"So excited I may need to be shot with a tranquilizer gun." I picked up a noodle I'd dropped on the counter and sucked it off my fingers. "I'm actually kinda nervous about meeting the parents of El Diablo. It's probably irrational and stupid, but when it comes to parents of darling school children, you never know..."\par
\par
Brian gulped down like, half the bottle of Guinness, and stabbed the last piece of chicken with his fork. "Fuck 'em. They're stupid kids like my fucking nephews... Raised by homophobic breeders who smile at queers on the street but go home and bitch about the 'downfall of society.' They need their asses kicked a couple times. I say, make them sit through class after class of those ancient videos on the gayness of Da Vinci. God knows that was the only thing I learned in art class."\par
\par
I snorted, genuinely amused by the man. "You don't get it."\par
\par
"What's there to get?"\par
\par
I took a bite of fettuccine. "It's not all the kids, you know. Just Jesse, mainly. He's the ringleader, and then two other students worship the ground he walks on. It's only that one class, too."\par
\par
We were silent for a few minutes. Simply eating, drinking and staring at each other a little too intensely.\par
\par
"So you think I should tell the principal?"\par
\par
Brian shrugged. "Do what you want."\par
\par
"Help please?"\par
\par
"I'm not going to make decisions for you." He rolled his eyes. "If I were you, I'd draw up some homoerotic sketches and mail them to the fuckers' parents, saying I found them in their art folders."\par
\par
"Because that wouldn't backfire at all."\par
\par
"I'm just saying... Do whatever."\par
\par
Don't you see why I love Brian so much? He's so damn helpful.\par
\par
I reached across the bar and flicked him in the ear. "If the parents bring up any questions about behavioral problems, I'll say something. But otherwise... I just don't like the idea of going to their parents, you know?"\par
\par
"I'm all for gluing this 'Jesse' kid to his chair and making him watch us fuck. Maybe he'll have a change of heart."\par
\par
I leaned over and gave him a teasing kiss. "We'd rot in jail."\par
\par
"Do you know how much butt-fucking goes on in jail?"\par
\par
I leaned my head down on the island top and just started to laugh. I was tired and cranky and my head hurt like hell. Then there was my hunger and sore ass and work predicament and...whatever else. I was pretty much insane at the moment, and when I felt Brian's fingers tangle in my hair, I just laughed all the harder.\par
\par
"Are you on something I should be?"\par
\par
"Mmmno. Just tired and...shit."\par
\par
The fingers in my hair trailed down to the nape of my neck and gave me a quick squeeze. "So how long do you have the assholes?"\par
\par
"Just till December. In January they switch to Spanish."\par
\par
"Well." Fingers in my hair again. "Tuesday night, tell the parents that if their kids mess with you again, you have a big, muscular partner more than willing to beat some seventh-grader ass."\par
\par
I raised my head and gave him a 'what the fuck?' look. As the years go by, I'm getting better and better at those. Living with Brian gives me lots of practice.\par
\par
"Easy, Hulk. What big, muscular partner are you talking about?" I snorted, poking him in the arm. "You're tall and have an amazing body, but I'd hardly call you big or muscular."\par
\par
He kicked me under the island. "Fuck you."\par
\par
"It's okay to dream."\par
\par
Brian snatched my fork from my hand. Fucking asshole. I hate when he does shit like that, because he will not give the object back until I do what he asks. Once, he took away the Sharpie I was using on something for my class because I told him he was losing his edge. I started hitting him, then we ended up wrestling on the couch and having crazy sex and the Sharpie pretty much disappeared. It must be in the cushions.\par
\par
"Hey!" I tried to grab the fork back, but Brian held it just out of my reach. The fact that he's 6'1" and I'm 5'8" didn't help much. "Give it back!"\par
\par
"Not until you apologize."\par
\par
"Give...me...the...fork!" I tried to sound angry, but all I could manage was a stern look and then a laugh. He was smiling at me in a completely evil way, like the cat in all those cartoons when it finally corners a mouse.\par
\par
"Say you're sorry." He was sing-songing. Brian Kinney was sing-songing.\par
\par
"No."\par
\par
"Well, no more fork."\par
\par
I rolled my eyes, climbing off the stool and walking over to the silverware drawer. "I'll just get another." If he wants to play that game, we can play that game.\par
\par
Brian sighed and stuck my fork back in the fettuccine, like it literally pained him to do so. Probably did. "Don't dirty up another fork for no reason..."\par
\par
"Ha." I stuck my tongue out at him and dashed over to the bar, snatching the utensil from the box before he could take it back, all the time whispering childish obscenities.\par
\par
Why yes, we are in elementary school.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
I spent most of the afternoon in my studio, working on a piece for my showing at the Sidney Bloom Gallery in January. Lots of red, lots of black. When I'd showed Brian my rough sketch on the computer, he'd stared at me for a long time, then rolled his lips into his mouth like he didn't know what to say. It was dark, but needed to be done.\par
\par
I had my MacBook Air out, playing my special iTunes playlist and slipping around the room, paintbrush in hand, dressed only in my underwear. I like to paint in my underwear and sometimes nude. Makes me feel free.\par
\par
Brian likes to watch me paint nude, which I'm sure comes as a surprise to maybe one person on the planet.\par
\par
I carefully stroked my brush across the canvas, filling in a plain of black with dots and drips and smears of stark, bright red. I was running on empty, taking everything I could and vomiting it out into some sort of image, some sort of art, but it started to run together into color and brushstrokes and a scent that gave me a headache. Garbled. Like memory or lack thereof. Like bats and blood.\par
\par
I sat my brush down on a cloth and ran my fingers across my eyes, probably smearing my skin with paint but not giving a damn. I needed a break. I needed sex and bad techno music and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.\par
\par
Brian came about then, as if by magic, knocking twice on the half-open door with his knuckle. I waved him in.\par
\par
The music playing was some song I'd expect a stripper to work the pole with, with sirens and all that, and as Brian passed, he gave me a naughty look. Then he saw the beginnings of my painting, and kind of stopped for a second. Just stopped. Stared with this thoughtful expression I wasn't sure how to read.\par
\par
"It's..." He started after a while, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's something."\par
\par
I nodded, coming up behind him and resting my chin on his shoulder.\par
\par
"Are you...?"\par
\par
"Mm. Yeah."\par
\par
Brian turned around and walked into me so his lips pressed against my forehead. Then he just kept them there, not quite kissing, not saying anything, not breathing much. In moments like that, I feel oddly cornered and too vulnerable for comfort. I needed to do something.\par
\par
"Sit," I whispered, pulling a wooden chair with dried paint splatters out from under a desk and positioning it in the center of the room. Brian raised his eyebrows but didn't protest. He went straight to the chair and plopped down, leaning back a bit and outstretching his legs.\par
\par
I felt somehow antsy, like my skin was crawling and it was almost too personal and too fucking weird, so I pulled off my underwear and climbed into Brian's lap because I didn't know what else to do. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling my naked upper body into his, and started kissing the side of my face, my cheeks, my nose, my chin, forehead, eyelids.\par
\par
The track changed, and something slow and quiet by Radiohead filled the room. Brian kissed my mouth and grabbed my ass and started pulling at my cock like he didn't give a shit about his own release. I let him jerk me off and I just sat there, breathing into his face, eyes closed, mouth open, still and silent.\par
\par
After I came, I climbed off his lap and slowly made my way over to the sink to dampen a towel with which to wipe off our stomachs.\par
\par
Brian didn't say anything, I didn't say anything, and I really hoped he'd forget what had just occurred. He usually did. I'd be lying if I said my brief weirdness didn't happen on occasion.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
We went on a walk later, zipped up in the North Face jackets Mom had bought each of us for Christmas, which I'd had to literally beg Brian to wear. It was chilly for October, and the wind was blowing rather forcefully, like something on a movie. Inside, you could hear it howl.\par
\par
"Do you want to have a condom burning ceremony tonight?" I asked with a slight laugh, adjusting the collar of my jacket and following Brian out the back door.\par
\par
"Not unless you want the fire department called because our entire house is smoking." He elbowed me and gave me a look. "Have you ever burned a condom?"\par
\par
I lowered my eyebrows. "No."\par
\par
"Well, don't. Mikey and I set one on fire sophomore year in Chemistry class, and we were sent to the principal's office because the fucking emergency smoke alarm went off. The whole room was soaked from the sprinklers."\par
\par
"I thought you were in Chemistry Club."\par
\par
"Just because I lit a condom on fire doesn't mean I wasn't genius at the subject." Brian ran his fingers through his hair like he was Mr. Stud and sniffed.\par
\par
"What'd you get on your SATs?" I had to ask. Had to knock him down a notch or two with all the love in my heart. I'm smirking.\par
\par
He paused for entirely too long. "I don't remember."\par
\par
"Oh, you so do." I slapped him on the arm, kicking at the gravel under our feet with my Converse. They needed a wash. "I know you didn't get as good as me, so don't try to impress."\par
\par
Brian sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "1375."\par
\par
"That's what Daphne got!"\par
\par
"Hm." He looked like he wanted to punch me, and I could feel him stiffen his muscles.\par
\par
"Ha! I beat you."\par
\par
"You better be glad I choose to look past all your annoying shit, because anyone else..."\par
\par
"I'm only like this with you."\par
\par
"You're only annoying with me? How'd I get the honor?" Brian rolled his eyes with a badly-hidden smile, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket.\par
\par
"Freak occurrence?"\par
\par
"Must've been."\par
\par
We walked around the house, breaking off to the left when we reached the path to the stables. The property was truly gorgeous. Just grass for forever it seemed, then trees and the tips of other houses in the distance. I think I would've liked to have grown up somewhere like the manor and grounds. It seems healthy.\par
\par
"I kind of want to decorate for Halloween," I said after a few minutes, reaching down to fish for Brian's hand in his pocket. His fingers tensed between mine for a second, as if he was fighting the urge to pull away, then relaxed.\par
\par
"The Halloween party's at Deb's." He squeezed our entwined fingers together tightly, causing me to yelp a little as his ring pinched my finger.\par
\par
"I know, but decorations make me feel at home."\par
\par
"You are at home."\par
\par
"You know what I mean. We always decorated the yard when I was a kid." Dad used to compete with the neighbors when it came to holiday decorations. It was a little embarrassing.\par
\par
Brian rolled his eyes. "Our yard, if you want to call a field a yard, is too far away for anyone but us to see."\par
\par
"I'll decorate by the mailbox. I only want to put up some pumpkins and maybe a scarecrow."\par
\par
He sighed, as if the idea caused him physical pain. "Do what you want. Just don't put up anything idiotic, like that fucking fake pumpkin you bought last year that looked more like a hillbilly with two teeth than a jack-o-lantern."\par
\par
"I love that pumpkin!" Daphne bought it for me because it reminded her of an inside joke we had as teenagers.\par
\par
"You have serious problems, Sunshine."\par
\par
I gave him a smack with my free hand. "Did you not do all the fun Halloween stuff when you were a kid?"\par
\par
Brian slowed a bit, taking the time to kick at a stray rock or two along the dirt path. He shrugged. "My mother told Claire and I that Halloween was the Devil's holiday."\par
\par
"Are you serious? So you didn't celebrate it?"\par
\par
"Mom didn't, but she let Ol' Jack take us trick-or-treating, as long as it remained," air quotes, "'harmless,' or whateverthefuck." He gave another shrug. I've noticed he does that a lot when talking about his childhood. "But that only lasted till I was about ten."\par
\par
"How come?"\par
\par
Another shrug. "The same old shit. I remember I dressed up as a vampire and had fake blood everywhere. Y'know, those capsules you bite? Mom got pissed, and started telling me how vampires were Satan worshipers and almost refused to allow me out of the house. Claire and I got all this candy trick-or-treating and sat in the floor and ate it while watching that Charlie Brown pumpkin whatever the fuck when we got back. I think we'd recorded it from TV on the Beta or something." He paused for a second, shaking his head and laughing lightly. Then his face changed into something serious. "And of course, as it always did at our house, shit ensued, one of us got Dad pissed, there was lots of yelling and the promise of no more trick-or-treating, because it apparently made Claire and I rebellious."\par
\par
"Shit." I leaned over and kissed Brian's neck, leaving it at that. Though he now talked about his childhood with me some, it was always best to never push for too much more information. What he told me, he told me, and I was grateful for anything. "I think Halloween was my favorite holiday as a kid. It was like, an event at the Taylor house. Molly and I would spend hours getting ready, then Mom and Dad would take us trick-or-treating. We used to watch It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown too, but I think we had it on VHS." I elbowed him a little to emphasize the age crack.\par
\par
I don't think Brian got it, because he just shrugged again and almost smiled. "I loved that as a kid. I think I watched it every year until I went to college."\par
\par
"I can't imagine you watching that as a teenager."\par
\par
"After fourteen, I was always with Michael. Fucking always. We would sit on the couch at Deb's the night it was on and watch it while eating shit candy." His cheeks colored a little, and I just wanted to hug him to death.\par
\par
I gently squeezed his fingers between mine. "I bet at one point or another, we were watching it at the same time. It's kind of weird to think about."\par
\par
"Sure makes the age difference seem huge."\par
\par
I laughed. "When you were seventeen, I was five. That's frightening, my friend."\par
\par
"I'm ignoring that." He gave a little snort and pulled his hand out of mine for a second to adjust the zipper on his jacket. "So. What'd you dress up as when you were just a wee little Taylor?"\par
\par
"I was a Ninja Turtle three years in a row once. Donatello because I liked his purple bandana."\par
\par
"A born fag."\par
\par
I couldn't argue with that, really, so I just leaned over and bit Brian's chin before kissing him there. He stopped walking for a second and turned to wrap his arms around me, pulling my smaller body into his. He was so fucking warm. I just wanted to climb inside his jacket.\par
\par
"Love you," I whispered a little cautiously, looking up at him.\par
\par
He just kissed me, then pulled away and rested our foreheads together for a second. Stared at me.\par
\par
We began to move again, hands clutched together.\par
\par
"So. What are you going to dress up as for the party?"\par
\par
Brian raised an eyebrow at me, just like I knew he would. "I am not dressing up."\par
\par
"Come on, everyone is! You didn't last year and I made you promise you would."\par
\par
"It's so fucking stupid. It's just us, not some big fancy party with people we don't know."\par
\par
"I know, but you know how Emmett is. He always wants it to be a smash."\par
\par
Brian sighed. "What are you going as?"\par
\par
I licked my bottom lip, pausing for a second to bend down and tie my shoe. "I think I'm going as a devil."\par
\par
"Well, that'll save money."\par
\par
"Fuck off." I socked his knee from where I was squatted. "It'll be hot."\par
\par
After my shoe was tied, I stood back up and began to look Brian up and down. Even crossed my arms and hmmmed a bit for effect.\par
\par
"What?"\par
\par
"I'm trying to think of what you'd look good as..."\par
\par
"The possibilities are endless..."\par
\par
"What about reviving your vampire? You'd be gorgeous. Oh, and you can use my costume from last year."\par
\par
Brian laughed unsmilingly. "I can't wear size munchkin."\par
\par
I flicked him on the jaw. "It's one size fits all, and I'm not a munchkin."\par
\par
"Justin, if you're twenty-seven, still wear a size small in almost everything and have to get your pants hemmed, you're a munchkin."\par
\par
"What I lack in height, I make up for in other places." I stuck my tongue out at him and grinned brightly.\par
\par
He considered my statement. "But you're still a munchkin, so go join the Lollipop Guild."\par
\par
We ended up wrestling all the way to the stables, where we fucked against a wooden post.\par
\par
I don't think I could've frowned if I tried.\par
\par
4.\par
Sunday, October 10, 2010\par
"Get your ass to Woody's," Brian mumbled into his cellphone in a slightly disinterested tone. "I want to see you."\par
\par
He'd been play-arguing with Michael for the past ten minutes, telling him he was apparently going to die of all sorts of horrible things if his best friend didn't show up for a night of drinking and whatever else.\par
\par
We were just leaving the loft in the Corvette, about to make our way to Woody's. The Sunday night crowd is always boring as hell - mostly gay reverends coming in for a drink after service or college students popping by to get a kick start to their week - so it definitely requires a group of friends and somebody buying.\par
\par
"Miiiikey. I miss you."\par
\par
All I could hear was something reminiscent of the teacher in Charlie Brown, but I'm sure Michael was putting up a fight. Sometimes he's hard to randomly pull away. He always gives in because he's a sucker for Brian just like Brian's a sucker for him, but not without a bit of, "I'm tired," "Please," "No," "Yes," "Maybe tomorrow?" "Maybe in fifteen minutes."\par
\par
"Michael. What's the deal?"\par
\par
I just sat back in the seat and began tapping the 'William Tell Overture' on my lap.\par
\par
"I haven't seen you since Friday. That's two days." He purposely gave his voice one of those annoying whines. "And what can you possibly be doing that's more fun than hanging out with me?"\par
\par
Brian pressed the speakerphone button just in time for me to hear, "--in my underwear, watching Wolverine with director's commentary." I didn't need that image.\par
\par
"Justin misses you," Brian said, looking over at me and stifling a laugh. "Don't you?" He pressed the mouthpiece of the cell against my lips.\par
\par
"Truly, madly, deeply," I dramatized. "Truly, madly, deeply."\par
\par
Michael didn't really acknowledge my admission, choosing instead to list reasons why it was important for him to stay home. "Ben's working on his book, I was planning on calling Jenny and I have to get up early for--"\par
\par
After a few seconds, he just stopped. Resistance is fucking futile with a capitol 'F.'\par
\par
Brian wasn't even phased. He knew the drill. "So I'll see you in half an hour?" He pulled into the parking lot of a gas station and killed the engine. Brian needed cigarettes, I needed cigarettes and a Hershey bar.\par
\par
"Yeah, yeah."\par
\par
"Later, Mikey."\par
\par
I had to laugh at Brian's nonchalance. After he hung up, it was like the conversation never happened. He snapped his phone shut, tucked it into his pocket and gave me an affectionate swat on the back of the head.\par
\par
"How do you even have friends?" I asked, crossing my arms.\par
\par
"Just look at me." He raised his eyebrows as he climbed out of the car and strutted into the service station to buy our shit.\par
\par
*\par
\par
We arrived at Woody's twenty minutes, one Hershey bar and three cigs later. Emmett, Robert, Michael and Ben were there, chatting at a table near the back.\par
\par
I just kind of strolled up to the guys and placed a hand on Emmett's shoulder. He was wearing a pink, paisley button-down and orange pants that kind of burned my retinas. I love Emmett, I really do, but sometimes...\par
\par
"Justin, baby!" He cooed, leaning over and planting a loud kiss on my cheek. I wrapped an arm around him and gave his thin frame a squeeze. Michael and Ben spoke their greetings, and I'm pretty sure Robert gave me an odd, squinty glance. He was a mysterious one, that's for sure.\par
\par
Robert was a radiologist. He liked Lana Turner and ice cream sundaes. He dressed conservatively, drank moderately, clubbed rarely, but lusted over club queens. He was tall, dark, handsome as hell and able to cook like a celebrity chef. Fuck, he looked like Rocco DiSpirito. Emmett said he'd practically drooled all over himself when he first saw Robert at a dinner party he'd planned. "It was love at first sight" and apparently fuck at first mutual trip to the restroom.\par
\par
How long had it been? Three years? Two and a half? That was serious for Emmett.\par
\par
"How's it going?" I asked, climbing up on an empty stool and smiling as Ben pushed a bottle of beer across the table to me. Michael was looking around like a lost child for Brian, stretching his spine and craning his neck in order to get a good look around the room. Brian had apparently stopped at the bar to down a couple shots and was currently rolling his eyes at Lou, the bartender.\par
\par
"Fabulous," Emmett squealed, twirling a blue drink umbrella and giving my wrist a squeeze.\par
\par
We jabbered about this and that and Ben started talking about his newest novel in way too much detail while Michael practically fell asleep. At some point, Brian came up behind me, grabbed my ass and asked how much I charged for a blowjob. I elbowed him in the ribs.\par
\par
"What're you ladies talking about?" He asked, kissing Michael and settling himself on a nearby stool. It was then that I noticed the love-bite near his collarbone, peeking out above the neck of his sweater. I smiled to myself.\par
\par
"What have you two been doing this weekend?" Michael asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing rather miserably. He'd asked earlier, while Brian was harassing him on the phone, but never received a straight reply. "You never answered my question. I tried to call about a hundred times Friday night and Saturday morning to see if you guys wanted to have dinner at Ma's, but no one answered."\par
\par
I shot Brian a glance and jumped when I felt him kick my ankle under the table. It was all very childish, but did I get a thrill? Hell yes. "Nothing."\par
\par
"We're planning on getting some horses for the stables and were outside for most of Saturday," Brian lied, grabbing Michael's beer and taking a sip. I was actually a little surprised, because I'd half expected him to say, 'We were fucking messy and raw,' but I guess it was only practical for him to lie. Who knows how Michael would've reacted. I really felt sad about the predicament he and Ben were in.\par
\par
"And Friday night...?" Michael raised an eyebrow, knowing the reason for our lack of phone use had something to do with sex. He'd been Brian's best friend for twenty-five years, after all.\par
\par
"I was fucking him senseless."\par
\par
The table broke into laughter, some laughter more comfortable than others.\par
\par
"It's good to know that even after marriage, the sex is still alive," Emmett said, crossing his arms in front of his chest and smiling when Robert caught his eye. It kind of made me want to puke a little, but then again, it was sweet. They were great together, even if their relationship was soap-opera-exaggerated.\par
\par
"We're not married," Brian corrected, rolling his eyes. His cheeks were red and so were mine and I honestly began to wonder if our friends just wanted us to turn into twin tomatoes.\par
\par
Michael smiled evilly and stole his beer back. "Married without the papers..."\par
\par
"No. Not married at all. We're queers. We fuck, we do shit, I occasionally remove the gag so he can speak. It's efficient."\par
\par
I rolled my eyes, thankful he was making a joke of the whole thing and not turning into some closed-up bastard who just wanted to flee. He's so much easier to deal with when he's acting marginally civilized.\par
\par
"And, you know..." I interjected, wrapping an arm around his shoulders like we were chummy-chums and grinning. "Brian's handcuffs have to come off sometimes. I even let him fuck me when his ass gets too sore."\par
\par
"You're paying for that, Mr. Taylor."\par
\par
"I can't wait."\par
\par
Everybody fooled around for a while, drank, commented on Ted's foray into counseling drug addicts. Brian all of a sudden wanted onion rings, which was fucking weird because I'm positive those things are pretty high on his list of 'Foods to Never Fucking Ever Eat Unless You Want to Die of Obesity.' Someone suggested we go to the diner, but it was eventually shot down when we decided we didn't want to deal with the Sunday night staff.\par
\par
"Oh!" Ben hollered at one point, as if he'd just remembered something important. Michael gave him an 'oh yeah!' look, and they grinned at each other like adoring parents. "Hunter's going to propose to Glory!"\par
\par
"Holy fuck." Brian dropped his head to the table with a loud thump and a groan. "My dick's getting so soft, I can practically feel a future of impotence heading my way."\par
\par
"That's great!" I exclaimed, grinning at Ben and Michael and giving Brian a swift kick in the shin. He gave an exaggerated 'ow!' and returned the kick.\par
\par
Emmett was elated. The ball of energy settling in his stomach and about to explode was practically visible. "I insist on planning the wedding!"\par
\par
He and Ben launched into an active conversation about dates and flowers and patterns, while Brian rolled his eyes like a ten-year-old.\par
\par
"Mikey, get your ass up. We're playing pool," he groaned, grabbing his friend by the shirtsleeve and tugging him away from the table.\par
\par
"So they're engaged? Did he propose yet?" I asked, pulling out my cell phone to idly check the time.\par
\par
Believe it or not, Hunter apparently had the ability to not only grow up, but to grow on you. I actually kind of like him now, as does Brian. He moved to Boston, got a technology degree and is now designing video games. His grown-up self isn't so annoying.\par
\par
Ben smiled, taking a sip of his water. "He was on his way to her house when he called. They'd discussed it before, so the only thing left was the asking part. He never called back and of course, doesn't answer his phone, but what else is new?"\par
\par
"He's still liking Boston?"\par
\par
"Yeah." Ben rubbed a hand over his face in a nostalgic, happy-sad look. "But I wish he'd get his ass back here. Michael and I miss him."\par
\par
"Brian and I do, too." I laughed. "Brian would never say anything, but he likes him. Hunter used to email him hetero porn to piss him off, but he secretly thought it was funny. They have this weird humor connection that I don't exactly get."\par
\par
Hunter once emailed Brian a video labeled, "I Think You'll Like This." It was nasty, straight porn - the kind where the girl is fingering herself and ends up female ejaculating, which is pretty much the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life. I honestly wanted to stab pencils through my eyeballs. I almost puked.\par
\par
Laughter at the memories was interrupted by my ringing cell phone.\par
\par
It was Daphne's landline, which was weird because it was a little after eleven on a Sunday. She was supposed to be at work.\par
\par
"Hey," I answered, climbing off the stool and sauntering toward the entrance to the bar.\par
\par
"Justin," Daphne breathed into the phone, voice shaky and tear-filled. She was hysterically crying, choking on her words and fucking freaking out. Everything was all staticky and wet and I had one of those moments when your heart starts pounding so hard you can feel it in your head.\par
\par
"What, Daph? Are you okay? Tell me you're okay!" I slipped out the door and into the chilly October air. Goosebumps speckled my flesh, feeling like tiny pinpricks all over my arms.\par
\par
"I'm...okay." She sounded unsure. "Can you come over?"\par
\par
"Just tell me what's wrong! Are you hurt or...?"\par
\par
"God, it's...something. Please come over!"\par
\par
I was losing patience and my limbs were all shaky and cold yet hot. My face felt flushed with worry. "I'm on my way. Tell me what the fuck's going on!"\par
\par
I didn't have a car or keys, so I pushed back into Woody's and made a beeline for Brian, who was lining up his pool stick to take a shot.\par
\par
Daphne didn't say anything, which made me want to simultaneously scream at her and give her whatever comfort possible. I just heard her crying in a weird way I'd never heard before. It wasn't like she was in pain. It was like she was frustrated or confused or...something.\par
\par
"Brian!" I yelled, pressing a hand to his lower back to get his attention.\par
\par
He shrugged me off, sticking his ass out so I'd move back. "Hold on, I'm about to kick Michael's a--"\par
\par
"Fucking stop!"\par
\par
He turned to me, eyebrows raised, and studied my face, which was probably a mixture between scared shitless and I don't know what. His expression changed. "Are you alri--"\par
\par
"I need the car. Now."\par
\par
He knew better than to question while I was flustered, so he dug in his pocket and pulled out the Corvette key. "Wreck it and I'll fucking kill you."\par
\par
I just rolled my eyes and left, probably forgetting my shit back at the table and leaving everyone with their eyebrows raised, but I didn't care. Michael could drive Brian home and the gang could wait and wonder because I was going straight to Daphne like an unstoppable force.\par
\par
*\par
\par
She lives in a nice condo outside my childhood neighborhood that probably costs an unbelievable amount of money considering the location. Her job pays well and she started at almost twice my yearly salary, which is a little depressing but whatever. I couldn't work in a hospital.\par
\par
Her silver Prius was parked outside, appearing cold and dark in night shadows, and I accidentally bumped it with my hip as I ran to the front door. It was unlocked, which was good, because I probably would've started attempting to kick it in otherwise.\par
\par
"Daphne?" I called, dropping my keys on the kitchen counter and surveying the area. I heard wet sniffling coming from the living room, where a dim glow was spilling into the hallway.\par
\par
She was sitting in a black beanbag chair, dressed only in a gray t-shirt and a pair of pink underwear. That was the first thing I noticed. The second thing I noticed were the tear tracks on her cheeks and smudged eye makeup. She was hugging herself, head bent and eyes closed, looking scared and overwhelmed.\par
\par
"Hey," I whispered, crossing the living room and climbing onto the beanbag chair with her. That's when I noticed the third thing: a pregnancy test. Not one but four, lined up in a row on the hardwood floors, all reading positive in scary, intimidating pink. My heart stopped.\par
\par
"Fuck!" She grumbled, not quite crying so much as groaning with frustration. Her nose was swollen and red and eyes puffy. There was no telling how long she'd been crying before she called me. "I'm sorry."\par
\par
I wrapped my arms around her body and pulled her close. It felt odd being the big one in the embrace. I was so used to cuddling Brian that I'd gotten accustomed to feeling tiny and fragile against his tough, muscular chest.\par
\par
Daphne was small and thin and soft. She smelled pretty, like flowers, and her hair was all curly and wild against my cheek.\par
\par
"It's okay," I whispered, just holding her. She was sniffling and breathing in a nervous, wavering way. "Tell me what's going on."\par
\par
Of course I knew what positive pregnancy tests meant, but I wanted to give her a chance to talk. I hate it when people put words in my mouth so I made an effort to keep myself from doing it to her.\par
\par
She shook for a minute, saying nothing, arms wrapped tightly around my back. "I think I'm pregnant." It was barely a whisper. "I know I'm pregnant."\par
\par
I just kind of nodded against her shoulder and stroked her hair. Whose baby was it? Daphne and Gregory dated for over two years before breaking up, and I couldn't think of anyone else she'd been with. Was it his? Had they been together recently? Questions, questions, questions.\par
\par
I finally asked, even though it felt a little rude, because it was doing no good bouncing around in my brain.\par
\par
Thankfully, she laughed a little, turning and pulling so we were eventually lying on our backs beside each other. "I'm not a whore, you know." Even though she'd laughed, her lips were fixed in a straight line.\par
\par
"I know that. But sometimes we're not always the most open when it comes to talking about our boyfriends." I remembered back in high school when Daphne would date guys and break up with them before she even told me. A weird friendship, we had.\par
\par
"It has to be Gregory's."\par
\par
I was fucking relieved, because that bit of knowledge made the situation a trillion times better. I didn't even want to think about the possibility that she could've had a one night stand and ended up pregnant. "I thought you guys were broken up?"\par
\par
Daphne hesitated a second before rubbing her eyes and sighing. "No...Yes...I don't know."\par
\par
I leaned our heads together. I definitely knew what it meant to be 'No...Yes...I don't know,' with someone. "Are you two still having sex?"\par
\par
"No. I think he impregnated me with his mind."\par
\par
We laughed shakily for a few seconds, taking the time to look at each other and roll our eyes. Daphne's cheeks were flushed, but at least she wasn't crying.\par
\par
"A couple weeks ago," she breathed, rolling onto her side so we could talk more easily, "Greg came over and we started talking. He told me he loved me and didn't want to let me go and all that clich\f2\'e9, chick flick shit. Boys are so fucking melodramatic."\par
\par
I rolled my eyes, poking her on the forehead.\par
\par
"And the weird thing is that I actually, maybe kindalovehimtoo." She said it just like that - all mashed together. "Except not maybe, but really."\par
\par
Daphne was silent for what felt like forever. Contrary to how she was with me in high school, she's a bit like Brian in the love department except he's five million times worse. She doesn't like allowing herself to be tied down by a guy in any fashion, which includes being in a constant, 'I love you' relationship.\par
\par
"And then I kissed him and we had sex like, right here..." She waved at floor where we were sitting, and I kind of inwardly squirmed. "And the condom broke but he pulled out the second it happened and put on a new one, so we thought we were okay. I stopped taking the Pill a while ago because it was messing me up, but I also kinda hoped I was still at least a little covered by it. But that's stupid."\par
\par
"So what are you guys doing now?"\par
\par
"I think we're trying to work things out. But it's like..." She pushed herself into an upright position and leaned back against the front of the couch. "I don't know. I hate relationships. I think I'm Brian Kinney or something."\par
\par
I started laughing and looked up at her. "He's worse. Believe me."\par
\par
Daphne snorted and pulled on a lock of my hair. "The thing is... It's all me. Greg and I broke up because I was being an asshole and felt all weird about living together. I mean... Alex and I lived together for almost a year, but there was no weirdness. Then when Greg came along, we moved in together and I started having all these personal space issues... Even coming home to find him sitting on my couch made me crazy. But I. love. him. and I didn't love Alex. I need fucking Dr. Phil."\par
\par
"You don't need Dr. Phil when you have Dr. Taylor." I smiled as sweetly as I could. She smiled back. It was a Friendship Smile, and even though it sounds cheesy to give it such a dumb name, that's what it was. "What do you want?"\par
\par
"Huh?"\par
\par
"When you think about your relationship with Greg, what do you want?"\par
\par
Daphne shrugged. "I want to stop being so fucking afraid of loving him as much as I do." She cringed at how girlish it all sounded. "Just get me a barf bag. I never thought I'd have this problem. I love guys and I've had boyfriends nonstop since college, but all of a sudden, Greg makes me into some cynical, Brian clone."\par
\par
"Because you love him. I get you."\par
\par
She rolled her eyes and then sniffed a little. The pregnancy tests were still there and they still read very fucking positive.\par
\par
"You should give him a call."\par
\par
"I will." Her brow was furrowed and eyes a little watery. "Maybe tomorrow. We've been talking, you know. Online. Sometimes on the phone. He came by the hospital last week and brought me lunch."\par
\par
I smiled. They'd be okay. Gregory was a good guy. He was smart, hot, had no problem with gay people whatsoever and had always been kind to Daphne. I can honestly say he received a best friend seal of approval.\par
\par
"So what are you going to do?" I asked cautiously, glancing down at her stomach.\par
\par
Daphne shrugged and lifted up her shirt, revealing her flat belly. "I don't know."\par
\par
"Do you think you want to..."\par
\par
"I'm keeping it," she said quickly, as if finally understanding what I meant by my original question. "I don't think I could ever..."\par
\par
I bit my lip, and we let everything hang in the air. We'd talked about kids before. Daphne and I had talked about everything. I knew she eventually wanted to be a mother, and though I'm sure it wasn't exactly ideal for her to be pregnant with the child of her on-again, off-again boyfriend, it would be okay. Daphne was one of the strongest people I knew, and if I knew Gregory Finch like I thought I did, he'd stand by her the whole way.\par
\par
It was weird thinking there was a living thing growing inside her, and since I obviously don't have any maternal instincts, I couldn't fully comprehend the way she kept staring at her stomach.\par
\par
"My period was late," she said after a while, pulling her shirt back down and then laughing when she seemed to suddenly notice she wasn't wearing pants. "But my boobs have been hurting and my clothes are tight like I'm about to get it, but it was due September 29th and it's what? October 10th?"\par
\par
I closed my eyes and started shaking my head.\par
\par
"Sorry," she giggled, elbowing me in the side. "It's important."\par
\par
I motioned for her to continue.\par
\par
"I freaked out in bed this morning when I remembered the condom thing and started doing the math... So I bought a three pack of pregnancy tests at Walgreen's and they were all positive. I thought maybe they were defective, so I bought another test of a different brand and it was positive too. Fuck."\par
\par
"You're fine, Daphne," I assured her, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Everything's gonna be okay."\par
\par
"I'm going to call first thing in the morning and make a doctor's appointment," she breathed, rubbing furiously at her face.\par
\par
I nodded. "If you need me to do anything...come with you or...whatever, just let me know."\par
\par
Daphne blinked, smiled, and then kissed my cheek. "You're such a good friend."\par
\par
"Not as good as you."\par
\par
We sat there for a while, just hugging and talking about futures and work and Brian. At one point I realized it was almost two in the morning and I needed to get back to the loft because I had work at eight, but I didn't want to leave her.\par
\par
"Come back to the loft?" I asked, standing up and stretching my back. It was killing me.\par
\par
She shook her head 'no.' "I'm fine, Justin. I was... I was a mess earlier, but I think I'm okay now. I mean, I'm not..." Daphne sighed loudly. "It'll work out."\par
\par
"It will." I gave her another hug. "And you're going to trash every bit of alcohol and every cigarette in this condo, because just so you know, you're carrying my little niece or nephew."\par
\par
Daphne laughed through her nods, and suddenly clutched me so tightly I felt as if my head was going to pop off. She was crying. Fuck. Everything just sort of flooded. I think I held her as tight as she held me and I might have cried just a little. We just stood there, hugging like our lives depended on it. We'd been through so fucking much together and I loved Daphne. I loved her so much, and I think that was the moment I realized that she was a part of my family. Just as Brian was my family, Daphne was my family. She was my best friend, and there was nothing I wouldn't do for her.\par
\par
"Thank you," she whispered, hugging me even harder. "I love you."\par
\par
I smiled, pulling away and telling her that I loved her, too. We didn't say it very often to each other - usually only when we gave each other really fucking cool gifts at Christmas or something - and it was nice.\par
\par
"I love you in a completely platonic, non-weird, non-high-school way," she clarified with a laugh, tears still leaking out her eyes.\par
\par
"Really? Because I'm seriously in love with you," I joked, pretending to be offended. "I thought you felt the same way."\par
\par
She rolled her eyes and pushed me. "You're such a dork."\par
\par
"Gee, thanks." I stuck my tongue out at her and started making my way into the kitchen. "But don't even go there. You're the biggest freak in existence, Daphne Chanders. I don't even wanna discuss some of the shit you used to do in high school."\par
\par
"High school shit doesn't count. You weren't exactly the least creepy of creepers, thong-stealer."\par
\par
I started laughing so hard I almost pissed my pants. I'd forgotten about that. "Shut up."\par
\par
I told Brian once about how I stole his thong, and he looked at me oddly for a couple hours.\par
\par
"Ha."\par
\par
"At least I didn't print out a poster-sized picture of Andrew Rice sophomore year and pin it up on my wall. The lips were all faded where you'd made out with it so many times."\par
\par
"Fuck you."\par
\par
We giggled a bit more and then finally said our goodbyes for real. I told her I'd call the next day, and that she'd better text me the second she found out when her doctor's appointment was.\par
\par
*\par
\par
When I told Brian about Daphne later on in bed, he got all weird for a few minutes. You seriously can't discuss babies or marriage or anything resembling babies or marriage around him without getting the weirdness.\par
\par
"I'm not gonna get all baby-crazy, Brian, so breathe easy," I told him, scooching up to his side.\par
\par
"Whatever. It's just strange, you know?"\par
\par
"What?"\par
\par
"That your little girlfriend's knocked up. I didn't know she had it in her."\par
\par
"Neither did she until today." I thought it was funny, but Brian didn't. I apparently have horrible comedic timing.\par
\par
He stared at the ceiling for a bit, and I started wondering what he was thinking about. I kind of wanted to offer a penny for his thoughts, but decided not to. It always bugs me when someone asks what I'm thinking about because I always feel obligated to tell. If I don't tell, it's obviously something secret, but if I do, I feel weird because I don't necessarily want to share every idea or memory I have with the world.\par
\par
So I settled on trying to think of what Brian could be thinking about. My guess was 'time.'\par
\par
I'm pretty sure I was right, because after he turned onto his side to face me, he asked if the wrinkle on his forehead was really getting bigger or if it was just him that thought so.\par
\par
\par
5.\par
\par
Tuesday, October 12, 2010\par
It was the end of a long, tiring school day, and I was attempting to tidy up my desk while the kids talked and got their books together. It was probably three million degrees in the Art room and every person, every surface and everything was coated in a sheen of sweat. Even the laminated print-out of ol' Mona Lisa looked especially flushed.\par
\par
"So, is it roasting in here or am I having hot flashes?" I asked, scrubbing at a blue paint splatter with a sponge. If the parents at Open House that night had seen my desk, they would've had me fired. It was borderline frightening in its level of disorder.\par
\par
"I think it's you, Mr. Taylor," Quinn giggled, giving me a look. I just ignored her and moved on to a series of chalky fingerprints.\par
\par
Brian annoys me to no end about Quinn and her childish affections, and I made a mental note not to fill him in on that particular moment of my day. I really wished Quinn would just...stop, because it made me feel weird, and no matter how much I ignored her, the flirtation never ceased. But whatever. She was just a kid.\par
\par
One person I couldn't ignore was a certain demon child. I just didn't get him. The thing about Jesse was that he really wasn't a bad kid. It was obvious he put a lot of effort into his work - taking the time to research his history papers and plan out his art - and as far as intelligence went, the kid was bright. 'A' student, even. But when it came to me, he was a hellion. He wrote 'cocksucker' and 'faggot' and whatever else on fluorescent Post-Its and stuck them all over my desk. He rolled his eyes whenever I talked to him, and whenever I was explaining something or another to the whole class, it was all whispers and points and giggles coming from his table.\par
\par
And it's not like I'd even told a soul in the class I was gay. Was I that obvious? Was my Queer Button pinned to my forehead?\par
\par
I'd tried to talk to Jesse, but to no avail. I'd ask him to hang around after class, he'd end up bolting the moment the bell rang. It was almost like he was afraid of something, and you know, how do you react to that? How was I supposed to react to a kid going out of his way to offend me without being so lame as to get the parents involved? Homophobia is usually learned, so my chances with getting through to Mr. and Mrs. Yeats, I guessed, weren't too fabulous.\par
\par
After the bell rang, I sent the kids away and told them all the shit about extra credit if their parents came to Open House, then continued scrubbing my desk. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to hang at the school till seven-thirty or head to the loft for nuked macaroni and possible phone sex. On one hand, I needed to straighten up the room and organize some sort of display of my students' artwork while trying to figure out how not to feel completely idiotic talking to the parents, but on the other hand, my stomach was all rumbly and Brian's services were greatly needed.\par
\par
I didn't need to contemplate long, because about twenty minutes later, I received a picture message of a certain cock which certainly made my cock harden instantaneously. It was erect and glistening, with tanned fingers gripping the shaft. Jesus. Below the photo was written: It weeps because it misses you.\par
\par
Every time I see Brian's dick in pictures, my mouth drops, both out of awe and the longing to be filled. It's different when we're in person, because I'm almost always too busy with something or another to sit and just appreciate the fine aesthetics of...penis. Magnificent penis. Brian's cock is perfect. Really.\par
\par
Even though he lies through his teeth when he swears it's nine inches, it doesn't matter. It's about eight and a half, but I'm willing to add on another half while talking about it if only because it's beautiful. It's this great suntanned color when all the blood's pumping through it and veins are thumping like the beat at Babylon. It's almost ironic that my cock turns a deep, sunburned pink when it gets that way.\par
\par
Imagine that.\par
\par
*\par
\par
I made my way into the storage closet, stroked myself to hardness and snapped a shot of my cock with my phone.\par
\par
Call me.\par
\par
*\par
\par
We ended up not doing anything sexy, because by the time I got to the loft and situated myself on the couch with unzipped pants and an arm ready for a workout, Brian was apparently spinning circles in his desk chair, waiting for an "unfuckingbelievably important phone call from some guy named Norm."\par
\par
"I really hate you," I grumbled, zipping up and climbing off the couch. My stomach called out for microwaved Shells & Cheese.\par
\par
"You know, if you're trying to woo me, it's not working."\par
\par
"There's a good chance I hit ten pedestrians - including a granny with her walker - on the way over here. Warp speed for phone sex, and how am I repaid? Denial."\par
\par
Brian snorted, and I could just imagine him turning half-circles in that leather rolling chair in his office, feet propped up on the desk in front of him. "Soooorry."\par
\par
"Whatever. I'd rather have Velveeta than you, anyway."\par
\par
"I'm heartbroken."\par
\par
"You better be."\par
\par
We bantered for a bit while I poured noodles and water into a large, microwave-safe bowl and got them cooking.\par
\par
"Open House tonight?" Brian asked.\par
\par
"Mmmhmm. Working late?"\par
\par
"Until about nine, maybe ten. Whenever. I've got a pitch bright and early tomorrow and the fucking art department fucking fucked up some shit so I'm probably gonna make people cry before the night's over. I hate the art director and her ass is on the line if she does one more thing to fucking piss me off."\par
\par
"Fuck."\par
\par
"Fuck, fuck, fuck."\par
\par
"I'd say 'fuck' again, but it's getting rather redundant." I laughed, jerking open the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of Evian. That was literally the only thing in there besides a tray full of illegal substances. I made a mental note to get Brian to clear it out in case there was a random drug bust in the building while we were in West Virginia.\par
\par
I took a sip of water. "Anything I can do to help? I should be out around nine-ish, so I can fucking stop by and fucking help out your fucking fucked up art department. Dear."\par
\par
"Mmmno. But you can fucking stop by and fucking suck me off or let me fucking fuck you."\par
\par
"And this is the mouth I kiss?" We laughed a little, then got serious. "But really. Need me for anything?"\par
\par
"Go to your Open House and impress the parents of your wittle angels. I expect you naked and waiting when I get home."\par
\par
"Aye aye, Cap'n."\par
\par
After minutes of chatting about stupid shit and being stupid in general, we disconnected and I climbed onto the sofa to watch 'The Doctors.'\par
\par
Daphne called later - while I was eating Shells & Cheese with a too-large spoon like an eight-year-old - to confirm our plans for the next day. Four o'clock gynecologist appointment. I was going to feel super awkward going with her, but hey. I'd do anything.\par
\par
She still hadn't told Greg, which I thought was the Bad Idea of the Year. Daphne said she wanted to find out for sure and 'get her bearings,' whatever that meant, but still. I was actually the only person - besides Brian - aware of her situation. She hadn't even told her mother, and they actually had a great relationship since the end of the teenage years.\par
\par
But it was fine, because she was going to go to the doctor, tell Gregory, tell her parents, and then she'd have the baby and life would be swell. I hoped. Really, really hoped, because I wanted that for her. I wanted her to have her kid and I wanted her kid to have a father, and I inwardly swore that if Gregory Finch did anything even remotely shitty to my best friend, I'd beat his ass or beat his door down.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
Later\par
Have I mentioned that I hate Open Houses?\par
\par
I hated Open House as a kid because Mom and Dad were those parents; the ones who asked my teachers three trillion questions about what I was learning and how I was learning it and how it was preparing me for college at Dartmouth or Brown or fucking Harvard. I'd always grab Daphne - or Nickie Steadman before St. James - and we'd sit in the back with two or three kids we didn't talk to during the day but somehow associated with after hours, turning red and trying to ignore our Front Row Parents.\par
\par
I hate Open House as a teacher because it's fucking annoying. It's not like it used to be, kids. It's really not. Instead of all the teacher presentations with round-table discussions of academia and the cognitive development of children, parents come in, pulling their kids by the hoods of their Billabong sweatshirts and we just stare at each other. They walk in expecting me to tell them how stupid their kid is or how brilliant their kid is or how he or she needs to be grounded for life because they're from a little place I like to call the fiery pits of Hell.\par
\par
It took me exactly nine minutes of, "Your son/daughter's doing great. He/she is well-behaved and blah-fucking-blah..." to reconsider my daytime career. While Mrs. Coleman was going on and on and on and on about how Quinn thinks I'm "the best teacher ever!!!!" I was questioning whether or not I actually enjoyed teaching middle schoolers how to sculpt birds and shit out of Plaster of Paris. Most of the kids cracked me up and made the day go by fast with their antics, and yeah, I did like sharing art with others because it made me feel good. But middle schoolers? Stinky, pubescent, zitty middle schoolers? Some girl got her period for the first time in my class the week before and I'm fairly sure my eyebrows singed from embarrassment when she asked me if I had "...anything for...y'know." Which I obviously didn't, because do I look like a woman here? But then I decided I probably needed something in my storage closet just in case, because I can imagine it's embarrassing for girls, and then I looked at myself in the mirror and said, "Really, Justin? Really?" and decided not to, because shit. Was my life really this crappy? And then I thought it definitely wasn't, because I liked my day-job, and it really was just a day-job. I'm an artist. That's what I do. That's who I am. I was going to open a gallery within the next two years, and then maybe I'd quit teaching at the school and would instead hold art classes at my gallery? Have a special room for people to hang out and...paint for a certain fee per class? I could help them with technique if they needed it, maybe give some tips... And I could have a sound system installed in the room and play all my favorite Music to Paint To, like Radiohead and Bloc Party and Muse and Sigur R\'f3s and Mogwai and Mozart and Debussy and...maybe some Bach? Maybe a little hard techno because I personally like it while painting more dramatic pieces. Which was weird, I thought, because it seems that I like painting angrily while listening to synthesized music that resembles the dance floor at Babylon, and yet my lighter paintings are created while listening to Soundtrack to Suicide. I like to listen to depressing music sometimes while I'm happy because I can somehow appreciate the beauty of it more than I can if I'm a crying, blubbering mess listening to 'Mad World.' And then...\par
\par
...then I decided I needed to shut my fucking brain up and concentrate on whatever Mr. Thayer was saying, because he was looking at me like he just asked a question and yet I didn't hear a word.\par
\par
*\par
\par
At around eight-fifteen, a middle-aged couple made their way over to my room, where I was sitting on a table, texting Ani about helping her at Halcyon that weekend. I knew I was being unprofessional, but the only other people in the classroom were Quinn and her parents, and they'd been there for about thirty minutes, taking pictures of art on the walls with a red digital camera. I probably could've stripped down to my underwear and danced to 'Old Time Rock and Roll' while playing air guitar and they would've just clapped and pointed their camera my way.\par
\par
I tried to guess whose parents the couple were, as I'd been doing all night in between non-linear thinking and stumbling over words. Both were dark brunets, so I canceled out all my blond students, and I was in the middle of climbing off the table and checking out their eye color when Jesse walked in and saddled up to them.\par
\par
Jesse's parents. I should've known.\par
\par
"Hi!" I said in my cheeriest, bullshittiest tone of voice.\par
\par
The kid stared at me like he was going to kill me, then took a step back and almost seemed to hide behind his father. His very large father.\par
\par
"I'm...Justin Taylor."\par
\par
Mrs. Yeats took my hand in hers and gave my palm a squeeze. "Hi, Mr. Taylor. I'm Claudia and this is my husband Jerry. We're...Jesse's parents."\par
\par
The man was - for the most part - blank, lips in a tight line and fingers clenching and unclenching by his sides. He nodded my way and outstretched a pale hand with a sparkling gold college ring.\par
\par
I smiled, shaking hands with Mr. Yeats and giving Jesse a little wave. His face was fixed in this 'I'll smother you in your sleep' expression, and I honestly wanted to check his scalp for the Sign of the Beast. He seemed almost nervous, hands wringing and checkered Vans tapping against the floor, but his face was just plain scary.\par
\par
"Well..." I started, running my fingers through my hair and spinning a slow circle. "This is the Art room, and as you can see, I've placed each student's portfolio in their individual cubbies."\par
\par
I hate the word 'cubby.' It sounds so stupid.\par
\par
"The portfolios include their research papers over the past month, as well as a few small charcoal and pencil drawings we've worked on. But most of their actual art is displayed on the walls and on the back table. I think..."\par
\par
God, I was nervous. It was probably idiotic, but I just kept waiting and anticipating one of them to pounce. I suppose they looked perfectly nice, but I was funnily unnerved.\par
\par
"I think Jesse's sculpture is over here on the counter, if you'd like to look at it. I was going to use it as an example for some of my other classes because it's actually very, very good."\par
\par
And it was. Really. He'd sculpted a human hand out of Plaster of Paris, and though it was a little childishly cut and not as smooth as it could be, it definitely reflected talent. The attention to detail was truly impressive, and it was obvious he'd put a lot of time into it. Hell, some of my students had given me oblong shapes with smiley faces cut into it. One boy even turned in a skinny rectangle and said it was an 'I' because it was his favorite letter.\par
\par
"Mr. Taylor," Claudia said to me, positioning her hands as if praying. She started bouncing her fingertips against each other. "I just wanted to tell you how happy we are to have you teaching our son."\par
\par
...\par
\par
I think my face probably screwed up into some weird expression because Mrs. Yeats nodded encouragingly at me and smiled. "Jesse's been drawing nonstop since September, and all he talks about his how much he loves your class."\par
\par
Loves my class. Huh? Loves it as in, loves making a fool out of me? I glanced in Jesse's direction, but he was on the run, pulling his father by the coat sleeve toward his sculpture. His cheeks were pink.\par
\par
"Really?" I asked disbelievingly. I needed a drink. A half-bottle of Scotch would do.\par
\par
"Mmmhmm. He...he..." She leaned in close, breath smelling of old gum that had long since lost its minty flavor. "He's improved so much, it's almost like he's not even the same child."\par
\par
We both looked over to the counter where Jesse was holding the plaster hand and pretending to claw at his father. Every once in a while, he'd shoot a quick glance toward us, but would look away before any eye contact could be made.\par
\par
"He's given us some trouble over the past few years," Claudia continued, reaching up to tug at the silver chain around her neck. "We moved from Massachusetts in oh-eight when my husband returned from Iraq. He has PTSD, so we tried for a fresh start to get him away from--" She paused and shook her head.\par
\par
I simply nodded at her, because I understood PTSD. No more explanation necessary.\par
\par
"Anyway. Jesse fell into a bad crowd and was having a few social problems, but now... Now he's begging Jerry and I to buy him a paint set and..."\par
\par
Claudia stopped talking and just looked at me like she didn't know what to say. Her eyes were gleaming and appreciative and there I was, flabbergasted to the point of feeling like I was on another planet. And it really was one of those moments where you're sure the worst is coming - you're breathing shallowly, waiting for it - but it never arrives. One of those moments where you're confused and a little weirded out and can barely process what you've just heard, let alone speak.\par
\par
Was she even talking about the same kid? Jesse Yeats? Tiny brunet who pissed me off multiple times a week?\par
\par
"Wow," I managed to whisper, crossing my arms across my chest and doing a little shrug thing with my shoulders. "I... That's great."\par
\par
How fucking weird was this?\par
\par
"Thank you," Claudia murmured, patting my shoulder and stepping backward.\par
\par
I could only nod as she stepped away and joined her family over by the display table I'd set up earlier. Jesse looked proud, picking up his painting of Jupiter, a project we'd completed the day before, and showing it to his parents.\par
\par
They looked proud, too.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
Later on that night, I was untagging various horrible pictures of myself Darling Daphne had scanned and uploaded to Facebook. Someone needed to teach her social networking etiquette. One does not upload teenage photos of one's very drunk best friend, especially if one's very drunk best friend is wearing a bra over his t-shirt.\par
\par
"Jesus Christ," Brian groaned, dropping his laptop case off on the sofa and coming up behind me. He smelled like pizza. "I specifically remember telling you to be naked and waiting, and yet I return home to find you in pajamas, on Faceb-- What the fuck is that?"\par
\par
He pointed at a picture I was untagging, and proceeded to laugh so hard I thought he was going to puke on himself.\par
\par
I was fifteen, maybe just-turned-sixteen, wearing a yellow visor upside down on my head like a tool, one of Daphne's tiny pink bra's - the ones she wore before her boobs grew Sophomore year - and kissing a life-sized cardboard cutout of Justin Timberlake. I honestly don't remember that at all, and I'm sure Daphne doesn't either.\par
\par
I think they were taken the night Daph's parents were out of town and instead of having a teenagery, raving party, we simply raided their alcohol stash and watched The Wizard of Oz on VHS.\par
\par
"Justin Timberlake." Brian snorted loudly - like, geek snort - and flopped over onto the couch. "What the fuck?"\par
\par
"You comment on Justin Timberlake but not the fact that I look like a dumbfuck? Daphne tagged me in a bajillion pictures on Facebook and ninety-five percent of them are embarrassing. I'll kill her."\par
\par
"Am I surprised by your wardrobe? No."\par
\par
"Aaaaasshole."\par
\par
Brian sighed and flopped around on the couch like a fish. He's such a dork sometimes. "Get over here."\par
\par
"I'm not done. Give me a sec."\par
\par
"Get. over. here."\par
\par
"Calm. down."\par
\par
"My dick's gonna fall off. It hasn't been up your ass in twenty-four hours."\par
\par
"Go take a shower or something. I'm not letting me and Daph's non-mutual friends see these pictures!" It totally wasn't that big a deal, but I wanted to make Brian suffer. It's so hot when he begs for me.\par
\par
He sighed, loudly and dramatically like Gus does when he's not getting what he wants. "Fine. I guess I'll have to..."\par
\par
I turned to look at him, wondering why he stopped talking, and almost jumped the fuck outta my skin when I saw he was standing right behind me, face inches from mine. "Jesus Christ!"\par
\par
"I guess I'll have to take a shower aaaaaaall by myself." He pressed his lips to my ear and began to breathe hot puffs into it, sending every kind of shiver and shake down my spine. "Stroke my hard, aching cock. Play with my balls..."\par
\par
Mmmmm.\par
\par
"Finger my asshole."\par
\par
I reached a hand up to his face, stroking his cheek. Feeling the stubble of his beard. Running a fingertip across his lips.\par
\par
It took about five seconds for me to give up, twirl the chair around and lunge at him.\par
\par
*\par
\par
"Christ," Brian breathed against my lips, pushing me onto the couch and practically crushing my body as he fell on top. He was smoky and sweaty and I swear to God he must've eaten an entire box of pizza at Kinnetik because I could practically taste the pepperoni. "You're like, a million degrees. Take off your fucking clothes."\par
\par
"I was... Mmmtoasty."\par
\par
We kissed like we were starved for tongue, breathing erratically, pushing and pulling and thrusting against cloth and skin. Brian pulled off my Pink Spiders t-shirt and started kissing and biting at my nipples.\par
\par
"How'd...your...thing go?"\par
\par
I laughed breathily, thrusting up against the erection poking through Brian's pants and wrapping a leg around his waist. He moved up to my neck, sucking at that bit of skin right above my collarbone, and for a moment I thought we were just going to dry hump till we came.\par
\par
"Okay...actually. Was weird."\par
\par
"Weird?"\par
\par
"Mmmfuck...yeah. Yeah. Weird."\par
\par
Brian somehow got between our bodies, which were practically attached from the waist down, and started tugging at the front of my sleep pants. He always manages to get me completely naked before he's even taken off an article of clothing. Just goes to show how fucking out of it I get when he touches me. I was already panting, sweating like a pig and about to bust, and there he was in full-on work wear.\par
\par
"Bed," I grumbled, wiggling out from under him and making my way toward the bedroom. We would've had to have moved off the couch at one point or another, because barebacking and sofas aren't a good match.\par
\par
I already had the light above the bed switched on. Who's Brian to say I wasn't prepared for our inevitable fuck?\par
\par
"Get everything ready for your meeting tomorrow?" I asked, dropping my pants by the bathroom door and giving my cock a few tugs. "Kill the...art department?"\par
\par
"Not...yet," Brian breathed, pulling off his shirt and pants and shoes and socks and...fuck. I just watched, jerking myself, licking my lips and twisting in place because my skin was crawling in that deeply good way that makes me wanna scream. "But...yeah. We're alright."\par
\par
Once we were on the bed together, kissing and stroking and leaking out of pure lust, Brian asked me about Jesse in as few words as possible and I told him we'd talk about it later because if he didn't fuck me or blow me or something within the next two seconds, I was going to die.\par
\par
"Die, huh?" He grumbled all sexily, leaning down and resting his cheek against my stomach. We just laid there for a few seconds and I petted his hair while he lazily stroked my cock, playing in the tiny drops of precum dripping onto my navel area.\par
\par
"God. Do it." I arched my back a bit, suddenly hit with a spark, and Brian backed off with the stroking.\par
\par
"Do what?"\par
\par
"...something."\par
\par
He laughed against my belly, then slid down a little further to lick the precum off my skin. When he took my cock in his mouth I grabbed at the sheets, pulling upward till they stretched enough for me to fist.\par
\par
Brian may not have been as well known for sucking dick as he was for fucking when he was the Stud of Liberty Avenue, but god. He's unbelievable at it. Un. fucking. believable.\par
\par
But he almost always sucks me for torture. When we're fucking, he likes to suck till I'm right at the edge, where one lick will send me into oblivion, then he stops. He stops and starts kissing my stomach and my thighs and lapping up the precum that has drizzled out into my pubes, giving me time to fall halfway down the mountain. Giving me time to calm myself so I won't shoot the second he enters me.\par
\par
It may be torture, but it makes for one hell of an orgasm. Because even though I've fallen halfway down the mountain, his fucking sends me up another mountain height, so I'm above the peak when I eventually come, and it's the most amazing, fuck everything else in the world orgasm imaginable.\par
\par
"Keep going," I urged Brian once I'd reached the edge. I thrust my hips up toward his mouth, wanting moremoremorefuckingmore, because I was shaky and tingly and burning with the need to come and come hard.\par
\par
"Lube?" He asked, leaning over and kissing my mouth. I tasted my precum on his lips mixed with that sweet, wonderful taste of him. Best taste in the world.\par
\par
Brian pulled away and scanned the bedside table for our trusty bottle, but it wasn't in sight.\par
\par
"I don't...know. Just do it." The lube was...somewhere, but we were there and I wanted his cock up me at that second. Fuck the special lube, even though it was extra slippery and self-heating and made my ass all tingly and warm.\par
\par
Once I was prepared with the regular ol' stuff, which was unscented and more like watery lotion than anything else - Christ, I'm now a lube snob - Brian entered me niiiiiice and slow, which wasn't really nice at all, because I wanted it hard and rough and I clawed at his ass and wrapped my arms around his neck and grunted for him to hurry the fuck up and get inside.\par
\par
We began our dance, moving and breathing and kissing and sucking and god, it was so amazing I could've screamed. Screamed. Just this slow, sensuous, constant push and pull of feeling. I was biting my lip and squealing like a porn star, yet softly, and Brian kept rubbing his nose against my cheek and pushing his forehead against mine and kissing at my throat and chin and mouth.\par
\par
This is the point where Brian usually says the words if he's going to. Right when we're making our way to the mountaintop, almost there, where the tingle starts to build and balls start to draw up and breath starts to quicken and arms start to squeeze and both of us clutch onto each other, chest to chest. Right when those quiet, high pitched sounds start to become lower and louder and stomachs feel like they're turning inside out and legs twitch.\par
\par
"I'm coming," I groaned, closing my eyes and bracing for it. Waiting for it.\par
\par
Brian stopped moving, giving my hand a squeeze and telling me to breathe.\par
\par
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. No. Noooooo. Don't do this now! I was dying.\par
\par
"Let's go again," he said after a few seconds, voice wavery, before giving me a lick across the lips. I opened my eyes and breathed out all the air I was keeping in my lungs.\par
\par
"Fuck you," I mumbled with a laugh, grabbing his face between my palms and kissing him loudly on the lips.\par
\par
"Ready?"\par
\par
I nodded once the wave passed, poking his nose and closing my eyes again. God, I just wanted to come. My cock was so red and veiny it was almost purple.\par
\par
Brian started to thrust again, a little harder this time, then abruptly stopped, squeezing his eyes shut and holding his breath.\par
\par
"What're you thinking about?" I asked with a snort, pulling my knees up a bit so he could lie flatter against my chest. "Lesbians or doing it with a woman?"\par
\par
Don't ask. Don't. even. ask.\par
\par
"God. Are you trying to kill me?"\par
\par
We went to the edge a total of five times before we ended up laughing at the looks on each other's faces while we tried to hold off orgasm. Brian does this thing where his mouth opens at a weird angle and it's a little unattractive. Apparently I breathe really sharply through my teeth and sound like I'm hissing at him.\par
\par
"Meow," he teased, giving me a kiss and receiving a smack on the side of the head. I bit his lip until it hurt and he started growling at me like a dog and I truly wondered if we were rabid.\par
\par
"You're an idiot."\par
\par
"Fuck. you."\par
\par
We kissed a bit more, then I started lifting up against him because I needed to come before an explosion took place. I imagined my cock exploding and started laughing like a psychopath.\par
\par
"Wanna go again?" Brian asked, chuckling and starting to thrust very shallowly. I don't even know why he asked, because there was no chance in the world we could physically hold out any longer.\par
\par
"Just...fuck the shit out of me," I breathed through my teeth, lightly dragging my nails up and down his back and moaning as he started to fucking pound me into the mattress. Hard. So hard I thought I was going to black out and die because the orgasm built so fast I didn't even have time to think about it.\par
\par
It escalated and escalated and kept on escalating until I so goddamn seriously had to yell. Loudly. It wouldn't stop escalating and Brian was fucking me and fucking me and groaning my name and shaking and about to collapse and then I felt hot wetness fill me and I was clenching and clenching and waiting and waiting and finally, fucking finally I started to come.\par
\par
Brian fell, every ounce of his body weight against me, and my ass squeezed around his cock so hard he screamed in what was probably pain, and my head started getting swimmy and I thought I could literally feel the cum making its way through my cock until it shot out so hard I didn't know what to do.\par
\par
Didn't know whether to scream or cry or moan or groan or tell Brian that I fucking loved him, because god, it felt so good.\par
\par
*\par
\par
When we were done, Brian pressed his lips against mine and gave me a soft, chaste kiss. "Alright?"\par
\par
"I think I'm dead."\par
\par
"Really?"\par
\par
"Uh huh."\par
\par
We laid together for a while, partly because we were worn out, partly because there was cum absolutely everywhere and we were too lazy to clean up right at that moment. It was all over my stomach and Brian's, running out my ass, in Brian's pubes, on the bed... God, we were messy.\par
\par
"I think..." I said after a few minutes, groaning in the afterglow of that amazing thing we'd just done. "I think we should do that again...but tomorrow...'cause my brain just imploded and I need time to recover."\par
\par
Brian started laughing. "That was hot."\par
\par
"Let me do it to you."\par
\par
"My ass is off limits tonight." He snorted and started to pull out, which always kills me because...ugh. So empty. I hate it.\par
\par
After we were separated and after we dripped all over each other, Brian leaned down and started cleaning me up with his tongue. And it wasn't this huge, 'Fuck, I'm getting horny!' thing. It was just...relaxing. He licked my stomach and cock and ass and thighs, and I laid there and breathed deep, feeling completely satisfied.\par
\par
"Whose cum is better?" I asked half-seriously once he finished, tugging his hand so he'd lie down beside me. He threw one leg around my waist and pressed his forehead against my temple. I wanted to get under the covers, but that required too much effort and they were messy and wet and disheveled...\par
\par
"They're both good."\par
\par
We kissed briefly, and started stroking each other's arms and chests.\par
\par
Afterglow is weird sometimes. It's weird all the time, I guess, but I only realize when I sit and think about it. Everyone's sweet and quiet and tired and just...content. Content to lie there with a partner and touch them. Not sexually, but for comfort and love and security. And it's so warm and happy it almost feels like the world's perfect.\par
\par
"Love you," I whispered, holding my breath like I always do after I say the words. I cocked my head to look at Brian, and he raised his eyes to mine. Then he smiled.\par
\par
And he stroked my stomach and then my chest and then kissed me so hard it made me crazy.\par
\par
"Yeah," he said. "You too."\par
\par
***\par
6.\par
\par
Wednesday, October 13, 2010\par
"Mr. Taylor?" Quinn asked, clacking up to my desk in her damn high-heels. The girl was eleven or twelve, wearing a pair of Jimmy Choo's and a yellow dress that was eighty-five percent see-through and should've been one hundred percent illegal.\par
\par
"Yep?" I was typing out an email to Sidney Bloom about the art show in January I'd been invited to participate in. He'd contacted me earlier in the day about the possibility of moving me to replace Fitz Howard, which called for eight pieces instead of my allotted five.\par
\par
"I added you on Facebook."\par
\par
This was where I stopped typing and slooooowly looked up at her.\par
\par
My Facebook photo was a picture of me with a Salvador Dal\'ed mustache Brian had drawn on after we watched Little Ashes on DVD.\par
\par
"I mean," Quinn began again, crossing her arms across her chest. Her nails were perfectly manicured and I could just imagine her and her overly-perfumed mother taking weekly trips to the nail salon. "I think it was you. It said 'Justin Taylor' and it kinda looked like you, but kinda not."\par
\par
"Mm."\par
\par
"We can be Facebook friends if you want. I promise I won't be annoying or...anything."\par
\par
Like I was going to add a student of mine on Facebook. Please. If I did that, I might as well have put on a repeat performance of my King of Babylon dance for the school board. I mean, it's not like I had anything up that was particularly scandalous, because hey, I was Facebook friends with my mother, but I tended to have weird friends who enjoyed posting photos of me while I was plastered and doing stupid shit.\par
\par
"It's probably not a good idea," I said slowly, turning back to my email to type a salutation. "I think it's against some rule."\par
\par
I didn't know if it was or not, but it seemed to work because Quinn shrugged and nodded.\par
\par
"That's okay. But you can still add me or whatever if you want. I'm not gonna like, do anything weird."\par
\par
I nodded awkwardly, then sent my email into the realms of cyberspace while Quinn gave me a dreamy smile. She went away about then, skipping over to Haley and giggling like I'd just kissed her cheek and suggested we jet to Paris.\par
\par
School was almost over for the day, and I was worn fucking out. After our crazy sex, Brian and I had showered and ended up watching Late Night With Jimmy Fallon while eating an entire bag of Smart Pop. God, I was slowing down. I was only twenty-seven and already I could barely function on five hours of sleep. What was I going to do once I hit thirty? Rent a power chair and run over teenagers in the grocery store?\par
\par
I wrote it all off on stress and early mornings.\par
\par
When the bell rang, this annoying beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep coming from the intercom system, the kids climbed out of their seats so fast I was surprised not to see sparks and smoke, and darted for the door.\par
\par
Jesse was lagging behind, trying to shove his copy of The Outsiders into his bag as quickly as possible, but failing miserably because the zipper was stuck. He seemed nervous, shooting glances at his friends, who were already halfway out the door.\par
\par
"Hey," I called, stepping out from behind my desk and trying to catch the kid's attention. His dark hair was flopping in his face and he just kept fumblingandfumblingandpushinghischairunderthetable while pullingthestrapofhismessengerbagontohisshoulder. All fast like that. Like he wanted to get the hell out of my presence before I had the chance to do exactly what I was doing. Talking to him. Because he confused me and I wanted to know what was going on before my old, slowing down, stressed, dead-from-only-five-hours-of-sleep, power-chair-needing self gave out.\par
\par
He kind of looked at me for a second once he was all twisted up in the red bag he carried, novel tucked under his arm. All dark and small, he was. I could imagine Michael and Melanie having a son that looked like him, if only because he slightly resembled Jenny Rebecca with the tiny face, short stature and those slightly European features.\par
\par
"Can I talk to you for a minute?" I asked, stomach flopping over like I was a scared child. I was getting one of those nervous, lightheaded feelings that kind of made me wanna sit back down in my squeaky chair and do the whole 'head-palm' thing.\par
\par
Jesse stopped breathing. I know he did, because he froze during an exhale and that faint woosh of breath turned silent. His eyelashes were so dark and long and thick that they completely shielded his eyes when he lowered his head. He almost looked like he was going to cry, and I felt like I was going to cry for no reason other than the fact that I was chicken-shit-scared of a twelve-year-old, so I half expected us to just start bawling and then clutch each other for comfort. Except not.\par
\par
"Jesse, are you o--"\par
\par
"I've gotta go."\par
\par
And then he left.\par
\par
And it was just as it looks. Short, anti-climactic and lame as hell. There was no shouting match, no fireworks, no resolution, no "take that! and that! and get outta here!" Nothing. I started to ask if he was okay, he interrupted about having to leave, and off he went.\par
\par
I should've done the cinematic thing and called his name or ran after him and grabbed his arm or yelled that he could tell me what the heck was wrong with him and I promised I wouldn't be pissed or tell a soul or...whatever he wanted.\par
\par
But I didn't. I just stood there, paint streaks all over my clothes and under my nails and splattered across my Pumas and Jesse ran out of the classroom. And I thought I was probably a crap teacher because I couldn't mentor for shit. Or talk to kids. Or get through to them. And I didn't know what to do other than hurry the fuck up and get going because I was supposed to pick Daphne up at three-thirty and it was already three-oh-five.\par
\par
And just...shit.\par
\par
*\par
\par
Daphne told me he was probably gay and scared. She buckled her seatbelt and propped one of her feet up on the dashboard while checking out her hair in the mirror, discussing the fact that she had puked up her lunch and randomly interjecting a comment about Jesse Yeats. Girls can do that.\par
\par
"You think everybody's gay."\par
\par
"I mean," Daph said with a sigh, flipping the visor back up after she was satisfied her pigtails made her look 'cute' and not like she was attempting to look like a little Lolita. "When did you know you were gay? Like, know know."\par
\par
I cranked the vehicle and fumbled around with the radio and air conditioner. "Mmm. Know know? Seventeen. Have a pretty good idea? Fourteen." That sounded strange, so I clarified. "I mean. Seventeen was when I...truly knew who I was. But at fourteen, I was jerking off to guys."\par
\par
"Maybe Jesse's jerking off to guys and getting a little freaked. Maybe he's jerking off to you."\par
\par
"Daphne..."\par
\par
"Come on. It's not like you haven't thought about it. I bet that was your first..."\par
\par
No. It wasn't. My first and continuing thought was that he was an asshole and just hated me. An asshole with a story. Something was up with him, I just didn't know what.\par
\par
I told Daphne that, pulling out of her drive.\par
\par
"Well, duh. Something's up with him, and I'm willing to bet it's a certain body part for you."\par
\par
And that's when I pretty much closed the conversation, because that so wasn't the issue. If he was gay and had a...thing for me - dear god - then he was gay and had a thing for me. The issue was his weirdness. It was unwanted and uncalled for.\par
\par
Daphne is great to talk with, but sometimes she just has gay on the brain. I once called her, fuming, after getting home and realizing the cashier at Borders had cheated me out of six bucks, and she told me he'd just wanted me to come back for the money and a little somethin' extra. Sigh.\par
\par
Jesse probably wasn't even gay. He probably had something else the matter with him I hadn't even thought of, so even though I ended the conversation, I still planned on getting to the bottom of the situation. I wanted to get through to him, and even if it took a little extra effort and a plan, I was willing to go for it. I was Justin Taylor, after all.\par
\par
*\par
\par
After that was settled, the car ride was quiet. Not the norm for Daphne and I. We were usually loud and laughing and teasingly listening to my old N'Sync album or something. We'd talk about high school, how our friendship was. Our drunken summer nights and high summer afternoons. And it was always like the old days. Before guys and problems and New York took us away from each other. We were free and giddy and young.\par
\par
But this time, we listened to Cat Power's The Covers Record, I lit a cigarette but stubbed it out when I realized second-hand probably wasn't good for Daph, and...nothing.\par
\par
After 'Troubled Waters,' I almost wished for more "He's gay! Nope. He is. No. He wants your bod-ay. You think everyone wants my body. Because they do. True, but not Jesse. Talk to him. I tried. Blah-fucking-blah."\par
\par
By 'Sweedeedee' I was tired of silence.\par
\par
"How's...everything?" I asked, taking a left at a stoplight.\par
\par
"Depends on what I find out in about...fourteen minutes."\par
\par
"You're fine."\par
\par
"I know." She rubbed at her eyes and began tugging at the heart-shaped pendant on the chain around her neck. It was from Gregory, and I was willing to bet money she was more nervous about him than the baby.\par
\par
I looked at her for as long as I could without running off the road, then cleared my throat. "Have you talked to him? About anything?"\par
\par
"I've talked to him about the guy who just got kicked off American Idol. I've talked to him about how I need to see the new Johnny Depp movie."\par
\par
I just kind of nodded and took another left, then slowed the SUV to about ten-point-two miles per hour when we reached the entrance to the doctor's office. Like I was about to say, "Last chance! In or out?" or something. Daphne took a deep breath and grabbed her purse from the floorboard.\par
\par
*\par
\par
Why are doctor's offices always so...gloomy? The one Brian and I go to is all white and silver and makes me shivery and cold.\par
\par
Daphne's gyno is just creepy. The first thing you see when you walk in? A giant poster with a picture of a distraught young woman. Pregnant? Scared? it asks. How encouraging.\par
\par
We tried to pass the waiting time by talking about upcoming Halloween parties and past Halloween parties and that one time I dressed as a masked bandit and forgot my shoes at home, so I had to wear white Adidas sneakers and looked like an idiot.\par
\par
And yet it still took forever. By the time Daphne's name was called, we'd resulted to flipping through a parenting magazine and were reading about home remedies for diaper rash.\par
\par
"I don't wanna go," Daph whispered, snapping the magazine shut and tossing it onto the couch beside her. Her cheeks were flushed and lips looked slightly raw and cracked from where she'd licked them so much out of nervousness.\par
\par
"It's gonna be fine," I said with a smile, embracing her quickly and taking a deep breath. "Go in there and have fun finding out due dates and...whatever."\par
\par
She blinked slowly and gave me a snort. "You mean have fun having blood tests and getting a gloved finger shoved up..." She stopped, noticing about ten pairs of eyes staring at her. "If I'm not out in an hour, come in and save me."\par
\par
"Daphne, I love you, but I refuse to subject myself to spread-eagled women."\par
\par
"It's not like you haven't seen it before."\par
\par
I pretended to puke until Daphne slapped my chest, then teasingly blew me a kiss as she followed the nurse back into the depths of room after room of...gynecological stuff.\par
\par
The waiting room was pretty quiet and I was exhausted, so I plopped down on the couch to 'rest my eyes.'\par
\par
Something inside me kept squirming. It was weird. Why was my life suddenly moving at full-force? For the last two years, it was like everything was even. Level. Brian and I were an exception, of course, but everything else...just a smooth ride. But now? Daphne was having a baby? When did that happen? When did we suddenly become capable of that? It seemed like only months ago when Daph and I were baby sitting Jenny Rebecca and discussing kids. Hell, it seemed like months ago we were kids - giggling fourteen-year-olds, watching R-rated movies on low volume at two in the morning so my parents wouldn't find out.\par
\par
Daphne always had the curliest hair. A million times curlier than it was when she entered her twenties and started going to the stylist.\par
\par
We met on our first day at St. James. I came from Pittsburgh Montessori and she came from Hamilton Academy.\par
\par
I remember being terrified - the smallest, blondest boy in the school, dressed in my little uniform, with floppy hair and a red scrape on my chin from where I'd fallen off my scooter the week before - but then I met Daphne in homeroom and decided she was the coolest person ever.\par
\par
Her parents had recently taken her to see Spice Girls in concert and I wanted to be her. She was a little snotty at first, but so was I, and we warmed up to each other quickly.\par
\par
During Christmas break that year, we smoked our very first cigarettes. Daph stole a pack of Marlboro's from her mom's secret stash and we sat behind her house and smoked them all before throwing up and swearing we'd never do it again.\par
\par
A few months later, on my fifteenth birthday, we sneaked to John Malloy's house in the middle of the night and smoked pot for the first time. John lived across the street from Daphne, and I thought she kinda liked him until she kissed my cheek that night and smiled at me in a weird way. I ignored it.\par
\par
That summer, we did nothing but hang out with each other. Me, Daphne and occasionally Nickie, who was my old best friend from middle school. He had brown hair that was so light, it was almost blond, and pretty green eyes. Daphne thought he was boring because he didn't talk much, and when he did, it was never about anything she found interesting. But I liked him, and when I think back on it now, I think I really liked him.\par
\par
Nickie went to a public high school, and over time, we just drifted apart. I looked him up on Facebook recently. He's married and has twin sons with pretty green eyes and pale brown hair. He goes by 'Nickolas.'\par
\par
Time is weird. It's something you never notice, never really think about, until you're remembering things from your past.\par
\par
Until someone's pregnant and you feel like they're just now old enough to get into a PG-13 movie without a parent.\par
\par
I knew I had nothing to do with Daphne's actual pregnancy, but it almost felt like her having a baby meant that I was suddenly in 'that' area of my life as well. The grown-up stage. Now we were both adults. She was about to become a mom and I was about to become an uncle and our lives were running away with us.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
When I got home that evening after making the trek back to West Virginia, Brian was sifting through a trillion-foot pile of papers on the coffee table and nursing a beer.\par
\par
I kind of leaned against the door frame for a few minutes, just watching. He didn't know I was there, and continued swishing his papers together and occasionally scratching out some words on one of them.\par
\par
It seems creepy, but sometimes I just like to watch him. Watch the little things he does. How he scratches between his eyebrows with his thumb when he's pondering, how his Adam's apple bobs up and down when he guzzles his beer, how he quietly belches after drinking... Just natural, human things.\par
\par
When he finally looked my way, he jumped a bit and made this slightly high-pitched noise with surprise. God, he's adorable. It sounds so lame to say it, and I usually don't like to call him 'adorable' because that's a capitol offense as far as he's concerned, but come on. He is.\par
\par
"Y'scared me," he said under his breath, returning his gaze to the papers and pretending like he hadn't just squealed like a little girl.\par
\par
"Hey to you, too," I said, slipping into the living room and tossing my messenger bag into an arm chair.\par
\par
Brian made a 'come here' motion with his hand and scribbled something with a pen real fast before dropping it in the center of the piles and piles of paper. He looked up at me with a smirk.\par
\par
I collapsed onto the couch, lying across his lap so my lower back rested on his thighs.\par
\par
He drummed at my stomach through my shirt for a second, which was a little funny because I was borderline starved and you could hear that it was hollow.\par
\par
"Hi," I whispered, reaching up to grab at his collar.\par
\par
I wanted to pull him down for a kiss, but he shrugged my hand away and instead, slipped my shirt up to expose my belly.\par
\par
"If it growls," I breathed, tugging his hand down and placing it on my skin, "it's not my fault. My lunch consisted of paintbrush bristles and the dream of margherita pizza."\par
\par
"That's healthy."\par
\par
"I didn't have time for food. Sidney Bloom emailed me this morning and asked if I'd be game to take Fitz Howard's place at the show, which means I need three more paintings and I was stressing so I painted and painted and painted and then I had more class, then I had to take Daph to the doctor and--"\par
\par
Brian leaned down and silenced me with a kiss. It was soft and sweet.\par
\par
I licked my lips when he pulled away and decided he'd been eating something salty, like potato chips. He'd never admit to eating them, because he's Brian Fucking Kinney after all, but he loves chips and fries and anything potatoey and salty. He loves them so much, and yet he won't let me make him fries because he says their mere presence in our home means fifteen minutes on the treadmill, and he will swear to Jesus, Mary and Joseph that woodland elves broke in and ate half the bag of Ruffles and a scarily unhealthy amount of ranch dip before he'll own up.\par
\par
"Have you been eating my Munchos?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow and giving him a teasing, inquisitive look.\par
\par
"Do I look like I'd eat your sodium-filled air pockets?"\par
\par
"You taste like it."\par
\par
He rolled his eyes at me, then I told him that he better not have eaten them all because I'd be pissed to the point of kicking his ass, and that turned into a wrestling match on the couch.\par
\par
"What'd you say?" Brian teased, grabbing my wrists and pinning them above my head. He pushed against me, holding me down, but every once in a while he'd plant a kiss on my face.\par
\par
"I...saaaaid...I'll kick your... Ow!"\par
\par
He slapped my thigh, sending a burning sting dancing across my skin. "You'll do what?"\par
\par
"Kickyourass."\par
\par
We just kept kicking and squeezing and slapping at each other's ass and thighs while we tried to keep from kissing and laughing. I attempted to flip over and pin Brian to the couch, but he was dead weight against my chest and too heavy.\par
\par
"What now, little boy?" He asked with a smirk, breathing against my lips and pulling away when I extended my tongue to lick him. Wrestling always got me hot.\par
\par
I twisted, using my legs to squeeze his hips and elbows to push against his chest. "If you let me on top..."\par
\par
He kissed my lips briefly, leaning back before it got too steamy.\par
\par
"If you...letmeontop, I'll blow you."\par
\par
That's when he loosened his grip on me for a second and raised an eyebrow. "You'll blow me anyway."\par
\par
"Truuuue." He had a point. "But I'll also share my Munchos with you if you haven't eaten them all."\par
\par
Brian dropped his head to my chest and breathed deeply, as if defeated. "Let me tell you about something called dirty talk," he proposed in this instructional, teacher voice.\par
\par
I laughed for a second, then tugged on a strand of his hair until he looked up at me. "We can fuck while we munch."\par
\par
"I'll munch something."\par
\par
Five minutes later, he had my legs pushed up over my head and was eating my ass like nothing I'd ever felt before. I grabbed at the armrest of the couch behind my head, scratching against the surface with my nails and probably making pick-marks but I didn't care.\par
\par
"Mmm," I hummed, knees on either side of my head, toes curling with pleasure. Brian's tongue assaulted my ass, poking in and out and around, lips kissing and sucking when he got the chance.\par
\par
"You're so hot," Brian breathed, reaching up to tug at my cock. I felt like I was dying.\par
\par
"So...are you."\par
\par
We squirmed and rolled and pretty soon Brian had his pants down and was up, knees on the couch, cock hovering over my face. I sucked him and stroked him and it was so wet and he was moaning and I was moaning and it was like heaven.\par
\par
Eventually, we took a break and kissed for a while, then I pushed him on his back and straddled his waist. Our cocks were hard as rocks and bobbing up and down with each movement, the tips wet and leaking.\par
\par
"How was...yourday?" I asked, grabbing his dick and massaging it in my fist.\par
\par
Brian breathed loudly, thrusting up into my hand. "Okay. You?"\par
\par
"Mmmfine."\par
\par
I lowered myself onto his cock, sweating like crazy. Needless to say, conversation became pretty obsolete at that point.\par
\par
*\par
\par
Later, when we were cleaned up and rested and hanging out in the kitchen with the bag of Munchos and a bowl of homemade chip dip, I started telling Brian about Daphne.\par
\par
"So she's knocked up?"\par
\par
I nodded, grabbing a chip and dunking it in what was probably a trillion calories of French onion dip. "Due sometime in June."\par
\par
"Fuck."\par
\par
"I know, right? She's...pregnant. So weird."\par
\par
Brian sighed, pushing the bag of chips away as if to save himself from polishing them off, and heading to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. "Should I have had the infamous Safe Sex Lecture with her?"\par
\par
I elbowed him in the side. "Condom broke."\par
\par
"Mm. Well."\par
\par
He was quiet for a minute, and when I turned to look at him, I almost thought he was going to tell me he loved me. When Brian gets all quiet and starts staring, he's either gonna say the words or say something offensive. Ninety-five percent of the time it's the latter, but whatever.\par
\par
"Huh?" My mouth was full so it sounded like, "Ah?"\par
\par
Brian grabbed the hem of my shirt and gently tugged me to his chest, wrapping an arm around my back and giving me a gentle squeeze.\par
\par
"What's up?" I whispered against the fabric of his t-shirt, breathing in the faint, detergent scent. "You're not pregnant, are you?"\par
\par
He pushed me away and laughed. "If either of us is pregnant, it's you, bottom boy."\par
\par
"Say hello to your son." I poked my stomach out and lifted my shirt.\par
\par
"And I thought your metabolism was slowing."\par
\par
That's when I jerked my shirt back down and started slapping his chest. "You. dickhead. Are you serious? Am I getting fat or--"\par
\par
"Yeah, Justin. You're a cow. Moo."\par
\par
I knew he was joking, but I acted offended anyway, crossing my arms across my chest and sticking my nose in the air. "Brian..."\par
\par
He just stared at me, as if to say, "You've gotta be kidding me," and rolled his eyes.\par
\par
I bumped his hip with mine and pulled my shirt back up. "But I really think I've gained a couple pounds. Not enough to notice, but that one pair of pants I have - the gray jeans with the ripped belt loop - fit differently."\par
\par
"You've had them since like, 1902. They're old."\par
\par
"But they were loose-ish, and now they fit."\par
\par
"I'm not having this conversation with you."\par
\par
"Baaaastard."\par
\par
We kissed for a minute, then Brian gave me that look again.\par
\par
"Spit it out," I said, giving him a little poke in the stomach. "What were you gonna say before when you were giving me the 'I love you' eyes?"\par
\par
Brian groaned, then started fidgeting with the cap of his water bottle. "I was about to say how fucking happy I am you're not a chick."\par
\par
Raised eyebrow.\par
\par
"No matter how many times I fuck you hard...wet...and raw..." He said this real close to my ear, breathing into it and sending shivers down my spine. "No matter how many times I come inside you and leave it running out your ass... Zero chance of pregnancy."\par
\par
"Aren't you romantic," I whispered, turning around and cupping his face in my hands. He was smirking like a naughty little boy, and I just had to press our noses together and kiss him. I love giving him those kinds of kisses - the ones that don't necessarily mean, 'I'm so romantically in love with you I could just scream,' but the ones that are more about loving every little bit of his personality. Thinking he's cute. Just loving him.\par
\par
At some point, Brian decided to show me how he could juggle potatoes, and then I demanded he teach me. We goofed off a bit before making love on the floor in front of the dishwasher and lazying around the kitchen, trying to decide what we wanted for dinner.\par
\par
I knew we always couldn't and wouldn't be deliriously giddy like that.\par
\par
Sometimes we would piss each other off and have days of bad communication and less than mind-blowing sex. Sometimes we would be exhausted and cranky. Sometimes our lives would be thrown for a loop, demanding we put the puzzle pieces together in time to save ourselves.\par
\par
But sometimes - most of the time - we would just be happy, and that was something to hold on for.\par
\par
7.\par
Wednesday, October 20, 2010\par
The first thing happened at around three in the afternoon about a week later, apparently under an umbrella.\par
\par
"It was raining like hell," Daphne noted, tugging a red hair elastic off her wrist and giving herself a ballerina-style bun. She looked like a wet mouse - a cute one - drenched in rain, her eyes dark with smudged makeup and pant cuffs soaked with water.\par
\par
She was sitting on one of the tables in my classroom, feet bare and dangling off the edge. It was after school hours, but I was too busy working on plans for the hall mural I'd been asked to paint, so I told Daphne to bring me coffee and come to the school when she'd called, wanting to meet.\par
\par
"And we were just kinda standing there, squished under Greg's mini-umbrella because mine flipped inside out and broke, and I did it. I told him."\par
\par
"Under such great circumstances." I smiled at her, using my wrist to swipe at an itch on my face because my fingers were still rainbow-colored from earlier.\par
\par
"Shut up."\par
\par
"So. What'd he say?"\par
\par
"He said..." She sighed, looking off into space for a second.\par
\par
I stuck the pencil I was using behind my ear and glanced up at her, waiting for the rest, but it didn't come.\par
\par
"Daph?"\par
\par
She smiled weakly, placing her water on the table beside her and groaning. "It was like he, I don't know, got all strange. Not bad strange, but just... He looked at me and I didn't know what to do so I looked away and we just kind of...didn't say anything."\par
\par
"What?"\par
\par
"We walked the entire rest of the way back to his apartment without saying a word, then I kissed his cheek and left."\par
\par
"Daphne!" I moved away from the desk I was working at and slipped over to where she was sitting. "Are you serious? You just left?"\par
\par
I honestly couldn't believe it. Seriously. Half of me thought she was about to say "gotcha!" and start telling me about the baby names she'd picked out. Because this was Daphne Elizabeth Chanders here, the woman who does not run away from anything. She tackles everything head-on and goes after whatever the hell she wants, even if she knows she can't get it.\par
\par
Daphne bit her lip and sighed loudly. "It's not like I ran or anything. He seemed to be taking it well... I mean, he didn't exactly speak, but he didn't yell or push me away. And we walked for about two minutes without saying a word, got back to the entrance to the apartment building, then I left. Said 'bye' and all that."\par
\par
"Daphne." I tilted my head all the way backward and closed my eyes. "You have four seconds to call him. I'm not even joking."\par
\par
"Why?"\par
\par
Oh my god.\par
\par
"Caaaaaall him. Now. Ass off my table. Call Greg."\par
\par
"Justin." She pretended to cry, but cracked a half-exhausted, half-frowning, half-jesuschristwhatamidoing smile in the midst. "What if he hates me? What if he says he doesn't want the baby? I can't fucking do this alone. I have work and..."\par
\par
I silenced her with a hug, resting my chin on her shoulder. Her perfume smelled like roses.\par
\par
"Call him, okay? Just imagine what he's thinking. You told him you're pregnant and left?" I whispered this against her neck and she laughed sadly, the loose hair from her bun tickling my cheek. "I mean, I'll never have to worry about accidentally getting anyone pregnant, but the thought of being in that situation and having the girl tell me and flee makes my spleen explode."\par
\par
The exploding spleen thing was an inside joke from like, tenth grade. Ask not.\par
\par
Daphne laughed loudly, pushing me away and covering her face with her hands. "So I fucked up?"\par
\par
"Yeah, but it's okay. Fixable."\par
\par
"Call for me?"\par
\par
"As your best friend, I'm telling you to get your ass up and caaaaaall hiiiiiiim."\par
\par
"You're such a good friend, Justin," she sighed with a sarcastic snort, kicking me just to the left of my balls, but close enough to cause me to double over in protective stance. "I think I'll name my kid after you. Justine Assahola."\par
\par
We gently wrestled around for a second, me being super careful even though I knew she wasn't breakable or anything, and eventually, I got her to get up and grab her phone from its resting spot beside her water bottle.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
The next thing happened later on that night.\par
\par
Brian got home late, around eight, which I guess wasn't too late, only I really wanted to talk and was pretty much driving myself crazy watching reruns of "House" and clipping my toenails.\par
\par
"Hey Babe," I said facetiously, placing the nail clippers in the sidetable drawer and holding my feet out in front of me, examining my work. I'm compulsive with my toenails. Fingernails? Bitten and chewed. Toenails? Perfectly clipped, clean and filed. I guess I just like my feet.\par
\par
Brian rolled his eyes and tossed his briefcase onto the couch beside me.\par
\par
Sometimes he doesn't talk at all when he gets home from work. It depends on what kind of day he's had and how much I annoy him with my joking terms of endearment. On occasion, he'll answer with a 'darling' or 'honey,' but sometimes he just rolls his eyes like playing around is not funny, never was funny and never will be funny and he wants me to curl up and die.\par
\par
"For shit day?"\par
\par
"Mmm, you could say that." Brian pulled at his tie, loosening it, and rubbed the corners of his eyes with his fingers. "We lost the Heller account."\par
\par
I bit my lip, pulling my feet up on the couch with me and leaning back against the armrest. "How come?"\par
\par
"Seems they had something a little more 'conservative' in mind. Didn't like the sexual innuendos in our pitch. 'Offended,' or some shit."\par
\par
"Heller's the erectile dysfunction meds guy, right? How the hell do you not use sexual innuendo in an everhard ad?"\par
\par
Brian unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt and flopped down in the armchair adjacent the couch. "By showing hetero couples sipping wine in front of a sunset as if they only intend on holding hands and discussing their grandchildren once their glasses are empty. That's what he suggested, but I said no, because every fucking erectile dysfunction ad in the history of erectile dysfunction ads shows the same. fucking. thing. Told him if he thought Zypro was going to measure up to Cialis or Viagra by putting out the exact same ads in hopes that some poor fucker will choose the obscure meds over the familiar, he's sorely mistaken. Zypro needs something fresh and sexy to draw interest. No 'Viva Viagra' shit."\par
\par
"But 'Viva Viagra' is so damn catchy!" I teased, outstretching one of my legs and resting my foot on Brian's knee.\par
\par
"So are the various creative uses of the word 'hard.'" He grabbed at my foot and started playing with my toes.\par
\par
We were silent for a while, just leaned back in our seats, enjoying the quiet. I could tell Brian was secretly pissed at himself for refusing to do the ad the way Heller wanted, even if he was completely and totally right. He knew he had to stick to his guns and always did without relent, but I think sometimes he questioned whether or not it was better to say, land a huge account by submitting to bland, clich\'e9 as all fuck wishes, or not land the account and keep your pride.\par
\par
"Daph talked to Gregory," I murmured after a while, pulling my foot away from Brian when his strokes started to tickle.\par
\par
"Hm. How'd that go?"\par
\par
"Well, she dropped the bomb and ran at first, but I got her to call him back and they agreed to have dinner at his place tonight. He wanted to cook, so unless he's planning on poisoning her, I can only take that as a good sign."\par
\par
"That guy's a chef, right?"\par
\par
"His dad is. Has his own fancy restaurant in Pittsburgh. Greg helps him run it."\par
\par
"Hm."\par
\par
I could tell Brian was really fucking interested.\par
\par
He leaned over, snatched my foot back and began rubbing my heel absentmindedly while he stared into space.\par
\par
*\par
\par
"I'm gonna take a shower," he said after a while, climbing out of the armchair and gathering his shit. He looked odd - stressed and something else - so while I normally would've followed him upstairs and joined him, I decided to hold back. We all need to be alone sometimes.\par
\par
"I'll go heat up dinner. Leftovers okay?"\par
\par
Brian bit at his lip and kind of looked like he was thinking about declining, but eventually nodded.\par
\par
*\par
\par
The chicken noodle casserole was a little sticky, and the alfredo sauce I'd strayed from the recipe and added was thick from being cooled and reheated, but it was okay. Looked fine, anyway.\par
\par
When Brian made his way back downstairs a half-hour later, dressed in a wife-beater and those black gym shorts that make his ass look good enough to eat, he appeared a bit calmer. Something was behind his eyes, though. Something unreadable. It showed in the way he blinked too many times as he pulled the dining room chair out, in the way he picked up his fork and poked at his food without commenting on the fact that you could practically feel the noodles glide down your throat, they were so rubbery.\par
\par
He didn't say much as we ate. Just hmmed and mmhmmed and gave me a brief smile when I tried to be funny. I was a little worried about him, honestly, because even though he sometimes has shitty days and comes home in a bad mood, he's not usually quiet about it. Dickheaded, assholic, unbelievably annoying, yeah. Not quiet.\par
\par
"Hey," I said softly, catching his eye as he reached to grab the pepper shaker.\par
\par
"Hm?"\par
\par
"You okay?"\par
\par
Brian rolled his eyes, pounding out about ten inches of pepper on his casserole and reluctantly nodded. "Faaaabuloso."\par
\par
"Alright, well..." I took a deep breath, downing the rest of my wine and reaching for the bottle to refill. "Just wondering."\par
\par
He playfully kicked my leg under the table and gave me a look that clearly told me not to go there.\par
\par
Sigh. As long as it wasn't medical or anything that couldn't be fixed, I'd drop it. He had his yearly cancer screening a month and a half before, and I'd recently examined his remaining testicle thoroughly, checking for lumps or abnormalities - which we make a point to do quite often - so it couldn't be that.\par
\par
We finished our dinner in relative silence, then moved to the living room where I made Brian watch the American Idol results show. He rolled onto his stomach on the couch and pretended to be asleep until it was over.\par
\par
"What are you doooooing?" I breathed with a smile against the back of his neck once the show was over. His skin smelled like Irish Spring and was warm and soft against my lips.\par
\par
He kind of grumbled a bit but didn't move.\par
\par
Eventually, after nuzzling the nape of his neck with my nose and mouth for a while, I climbed up, straddled the back of his thighs and started giving him a back massage. Seemed like he needed one.\par
\par
"Take your shirt off," I said gently, reaching to the sidetable and pulling a tube of lotion from the drawer. Brian obliged, removing his top and tossing it onto the coffee table.\par
\par
I squirted the word "fuck" on his back with the lotion and made him guess what I wrote, but he got it on the first try.\par
\par
"You're too easy," he murmured, humming a little in pleasure as I began my massage.\par
\par
"That's what they tell me."\par
\par
God, his back was tense, muscles hard and skin tight in places where they shouldn't be. I could practically feel the tension in his shoulders as I squeezed at them, working my fingers deep and rubbing my thumbs against top vertebrae of his spine.\par
\par
Once I made my way down his back, I tugged the top of his shorts down a bit and started rubbing the upper part of his ass. He laughed and told me not to get any ideas, but I told him not to worry. He gives off clear signals when it's okay to try for that kinda thing, like when he's acting super playful or doesn't immediately climb on top or tell me to roll over. This wasn't the time.\par
\par
But I did end up rimming him a little because I couldn't resist.\par
\par
"Nnng," he moaned, reaching down and grabbing for his cock, which was sandwiched between his stomach and the couch. I gently bit at the tender flesh between his cheeks and then gave him a hard, stiff-tongued lick up and down his crack. He always tastes so good.\par
\par
I remember when Brian first introduced me to rimming, that first night after we got back from the hospital. I'd gotten a little freaked when he started spreading my cheeks with his fingers and touching my hole before licking his way down my back. His tongue there? It made me self-conscious and I thought it was a little gross at first, but god. It was amazing.\par
\par
"You're getting me so hot," I whispered, kissing his lower back once and then flopping down, lying flush against him. I was still dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, but my cock was about to bust through the seams.\par
\par
"Mmm."\par
\par
He twisted, struggling a bit under my weight but eventually turning onto his back so I was now lying on his chest and stomach. I turned my head to the side and didn't move for a bit, just listened to his heartbeat and breathed hot puffs of air against his left nipple. He stroked my hair, sifting his fingers through the strands and making me sigh and blink slowly and feel almost drunk with drowsiness.\par
\par
My cock still strained, pressing against Brian's, but for the moment, I was content to just lie there. It felt good.\par
\par
But Brian wasn't having any of it.\par
\par
"Get your pants off," he mumbled against the top of my head, tugging at my hair so I'd look at him. His eyes were tired, and I almost wanted to tell him to get the fuck in bed or something, but I ended up taking his lower lip between my lips and suckling it while I lifted up a bit. Brian pulled my sweats down to my knees.\par
\par
It's very rare we partake in frottage, generally preferring to shove it in something or be the something it's shoved into, but that night, we didn't bother to get fully undressed. Brian laid there, shorts barely past his balls, and I thrust against him, pressing my open mouth against the sweaty skin of his neck and breathing hot, nonsensical words against his throat.\par
\par
I wanted to comfort him. Wanted to touch him in the way that felt so damn right and take his mind off whatever was bothering him, but I couldn't seem to find that special spot. His body wasn't as open for me, he wasn't as open for me, and I almost felt like I was pushing my cock against a mannequin. Maybe a blowup doll. Gets the job done, but there's nothing there but a shell.\par
\par
At one point, I sat up, placing my hands on his chest and using them to work my body back and forth. It was a little awkward, because my bunched up pants were keeping me from the maximum amount of contact, but it felt nice all the same.\par
\par
"Brian," I gasped out, giving him the aroused version of a concerned look. "I swear to God that if you have...somethingwrongwith...you you're not telling me...I'll...personally stuff your...body in a bag of rocks and throwyouinthe...Susquehanna."\par
\par
He looked at me like, "You've got serious fucking issues, Sunshine," and started thrusting up against me.\par
\par
"I'm so...serious. Ifyou're...justhaving...a shitty day...then whatever, but...ifnot...mmmm..." I had to stop moving for a second, finding myself too close. "Don't...havetotellmewhatitis," I pushed out between my lips, grasping for Brian's hands and holding them in mine. Sweat was puddled in between his pecs and in the dip below his throat, and just wanted to lap it all up like a cat. "But justtellme...you're not sick, in trouble...oranythinglikethat."\par
\par
"I'm fiiiiine, twat. Jesus."\par
\par
"'kay."\par
\par
And that was that.\par
\par
Brian and I are so fucked up. Seriously. It's a good thing the fates threw us both in Pittsburgh and somehow got us weirdly twisted up together, because otherwise...no hope.\par
\par
"I've gotta get these pants off," I grumbled, jerking my sweats off my ankles and reaching down to untangle Brian's shorts from his feet. Then I laid back down and pulled Brian's knees up, coaxing him to wrap them around my waist so we could rut like horny teenagers in the backseat of a car.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
Thursday, October 21, 2010\par
The next day, the third thing happened.\par
\par
The plan had been set in place the Friday before, a wonderful baby formulated by Brian and I one night the previous week while we were stoned out of our minds and rolling around on the floor naked.\par
\par
Student-teacher conferences. A fucking brilliant plan. Jesse would never be able to escape me if it was during the class hour and worked in as a grade.\par
\par
And the best part of it all was that Brian let me fuck him when I told him my idea, like he was letting me in his ass for being such a smarty. I'd fucked him so hard my eyes rolled back in my head and we ended up literally passing out for about eight hours, sweaty and gross, smelling like marijuana and alcohol with a slight twist of cum and drying spit.\par
\par
But anyway. That was a different story.\par
\par
*\par
\par
I'd spent Monday through Wednesday meeting with eight students a day, pulling them one by one into my office for about five minutes each while the rest of the students worked on projects. I went over their current grade, asked if they had any questions, concerns, et cetera. Most of the kids just shook their heads in response to my questions and left, thinking it was the most pointless conference of their life. But some, like Quinn and her little boy-crazy friends, asked about three-hundred questions and inquired about extra credit and shit, even though their grades were in the high nineties.\par
\par
Jesse's turn was Thursday.\par
\par
\par
\par
He looked nervous as hell when I leaned out my office door and called his name, and I half expected him to knock over the jars of paint on his table due to the shakes.\par
\par
Poor kid. I almost felt sorry for him, because I mean, it was just me. I didn't know what his deal was, but what had I ever done to him? I was the most laid-back, non-assholic teacher in the entire school.\par
\par
"Hey," I greeted once he joined me in the office, motioning for him to take a seat. "How's it going?"\par
\par
"Okay." His voice was like a mouse. Maybe quieter.\par
\par
"Good. Is your self-portrait coming along?"\par
\par
"Mmhm."\par
\par
"Everything cool?"\par
\par
"Yep."\par
\par
"Having any trouble?"\par
\par
"No."\par
\par
I almost wanted to ask him something completely off the wall to see if he was even listening to a word I was saying instead of throwing out random yeahs and nopes. He stared at his lap the entire time, twisting the hem of his sweater 'round and 'round his finger, probably stretching it out beyond repair. His dark hair hung in his face so I could barely see him.\par
\par
"Jesse." I gently nudged the half-open door with my foot so it closed a bit more, hopefully shutting out our conversation. I didn't know what I was going to say, but I began with, "What's up?"\par
\par
No answer.\par
\par
"Doing alright? Like...I don't know. How's...school?"\par
\par
No answer.\par
\par
"Can you talk?" I tried to make a joke out of it, giving him a smile and nervously bending my grade book into a nice tubular shape.\par
\par
No answer.\par
\par
"Well." I unbent my notebook and scanned the page 'til I found Yeats, Jesse K. "You're doing great in Art. Ninety-eight percent average. I don't even think I did that well."\par
\par
He looked up at me for a second, and I almost thought I had him, but he glanced down again the moment his eyes met mine.\par
\par
I didn't know what to do. Didn't know what so say. I wanted to do something, say anything to make him talk to me, but I felt stupid and clueless and like a total fucking for shit teacher.\par
\par
"Your mom says you really like painting," I tried, dropping my grade book on the desk in front of me and giving Jesse's sneaker a friendly kick under the table so he'd look at me.\par
\par
"Yeah."\par
\par
"That's awesome. You think Art might be something you wanna study in college?"\par
\par
He shrugged, lifting his head, but focusing on the Warhol prints I had tacked up on the walls.\par
\par
"You can talk to me, you know. It's okay."\par
\par
Head back down.\par
\par
Jesse picked at a loose button on his cardigan, tugging at the thread until the button fell off and landed in his lap.\par
\par
"Right here." I pointed at my face, giving him a goofy smile once he eventually diverted his attention away from the little gray sweater he was slowly but surely destroying in front of my eyes. "You don't have to be afraid of me. I'm just...a teacher."\par
\par
Jesse sat there, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and appearing antsy as hell. His crossed arms shook as if he had the shivers, and I could tell he wanted to explode inside.\par
\par
That's when I started talking to him. Telling him in various forms and fashions that I didn't hate him and had nothing against him and that I hoped he was as cool with me as I was with him. I ignored all thoughts of bringing up how much of an asshole he'd been to me, all the shitty things he'd written and whispered and laughed about.\par
\par
Because he didn't look like he needed to be told all that. He looked well aware.\par
\par
Jesse reminded me so fucking much of Brian in some way that I almost wanted to say something about it. In the way he acted like such a bitter dickhead, but then when you caught him in unguarded moments, he was just a little boy. Twelve-year-old eyes in a tough shell.\par
\par
After I was finished talking, in the afterglow of my red face and sweaty palms and slightly cramping stomach, we just sat there. It had to have been at least three minutes of complete and total silence.\par
\par
I heard the kids in the classroom talking in that loud, adolescent way of theirs, yelling, "My portrait looks like crap! Am I really this ugly?!" and "I hate Mr. Kiester. He needs to die," and "Did you just fart?! Oh my god, you just farted. I'm gonna throw up. I hate you, I hate boys, they're so disgusting! Air freshener! Emma, do you have perfume?! Seriously, Ryan, that's nasty!"\par
\par
I heard my my laptop's fan start to whir because fucking MacBook Air, that's all it does, then it started making this rrr rrr noise like it was searching for a disk in the drive, even though there wasn't one in there.\par
\par
That must've broken the ice a bit, because Jesse glanced over at it and told me it sounded sick.\par
\par
"Does it all the time," I said with a shrug, tapping the touch pad and waking it up from its sleeping state. "No idea what's wrong with it, but I think the Airs are just sh--crappy. I got it for Christmas last year and it's constantly made weird noises ever since."\par
\par
Silence.\par
\par
I thought the silence was going to go on forever again, and silently prayed my computer would start freaking out once more, but surprisingly, this time it was brief.\par
\par
"I like that," Jesse whispered.\par
\par
"What?"\par
\par
"That." He was pointing at the framed poster of 'Before and After' on my wall.\par
\par
\par
\par
"It's by Andy Warhol," I breathed with relief, twisting in my seat to point at it. Was he seriously starting a conversation with me? Score. "Ever heard of him?"\par
\par
"Think so. He does the...the pop art stuff? Got crazy hair?"\par
\par
"Thaaaaat's him. 'Before and After' is one of my favorites, too. It's so simple, yet it tells a whole story."\par
\par
"Yeah."\par
\par
"I've got a..." I scanned my bookshelf for a thick, hardback book on Warhol's art and tugged it out. "...book on him if you wanna look at it or borrow it."\par
\par
For the first time in our entire meeting, Jesse looked up at me for longer than three seconds. He seemed to study my face with a weird expression on his, and it took serious restraint to reach up and feel around to see if I had anything on my lip or hanging out my nose. I rubbed my nose just in case, pretending like it was just itchy or something.\par
\par
But then the next thing just floored me.\par
\par
"Why are you being so nice?" Jesse asked cautiously, wrapping his arms around himself and taking a deep breath.\par
\par
...\par
\par
"What do you mean?"\par
\par
"I'm not...I thought you'd hate me."\par
\par
I hoped my deargodfuckingfinally relief wasn't too apparent on my face. Now we were getting somewhere!\par
\par
"Of course not," I said with a shrug, lowering an eyebrow like I had no idea what he was talking about. "Why would I?"\par
\par
Jesse looked away, biting at his lip.\par
\par
"Come on, what's up?"\par
\par
"I...I need to go work on my portrait." He shook his wrist so his sweater would slide up his arm and checked his watch, like he'd timed our meeting. "I don't know if I'll finish it on time..."\par
\par
I nodded, taking a deep breath and standing up. I wasn't gonna push him. That'd fuck things up even worse, and then our progress would be erased. So I just gave him an exaggerated handshake like I'd done with all my students after their meeting, and smiled faintly.\par
\par
"Y'know," I breathed, "if you ever wanna have a look at my book collection, or if you have any questions about art or...anything," emphasis on the 'anything,' "don't hesitate to ask. That's what I'm here for. I'm your teacher, but I'm also a twenty-seven-year-oldguywho'sbeenthroughalotofcrap and..." I stopped myself, heart pounding for a second because I didn't want to be too friendly and make myself seem like I wasn't an authority figure. "Well. Art, school, life, I'm always up for conversation."\par
\par
Jesse paused for a second, a tiny but genuine smile barely tugging at his lips, and nodded. "Thanks."\par
\par
"No problemo. Oh!" I grabbed the Warhol book and held it out for him. "Take. Peruse. It's pretty interesting."\par
\par
He accepted and held it against his chest. The book was about three-hundred thick pages, and almost bigger than he was. "I'll bring it back."\par
\par
"Take your time."\par
\par
*\par
\par
When Jesse left my office and I called Mari in, I did it with a smile. Maybe I wasn't such a worthless teacher after all.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
"First," I said to Daphne the second she answered, "tell me about last night, then, I'll tell you how deserving I am of one of those Disney awards for awesome teachers." I snorted a laugh and pulled a couple paper towels out of the dispenser.\par
\par
It was a little after four-thirty, and I was just now getting around to cleaning up the room due to the faculty meeting right after school. The faculty meeting during which I sat on my noisy-ass laptop and sent a blanket email to my New York buddies, telling them I missed them and wanted to see them soon and that they better have been getting filthy rich and having as much sex as they could handle.\par
\par
"Somebody's having a good day." Daphne seemed happy, too, which made me even happier, so there was pretty much just a big ball of happiness bouncing back and forth along the phone line.\par
\par
"Tell me. Now."\par
\par
She was silent for a while, but I heard the clanking of what sounded like pots, so I assumed she was just busy cooking.\par
\par
"We're okay."\par
\par
"What part of 'tell me' don't you understand, Daph? Details. Full story."\par
\par
She laughed, then told me to hold on a sec. Her mouth sounded full of food.\par
\par
"Eating macaroni. Yum, yum."\par
\par
"Send me some down the line," I said with a yawn, spraying one of the classroom tables down with Clorox water and rubbing the surface with a paper towel. I swear to God, sometimes being a teacher involves menial labor. The kids are messy as two-year-olds, dripping paint everywhere yet not bothering to wipe it up themselves.\par
\par
"Mmkay." I heard Daphne swallow. "So, I got to Greg's at like, eight, and seriously thought I was gonna puke everywhere. I don't know if it was the baby or the fact that I was so nervous I could've shat myself, but by the time he let me in, I had to run to the bathroom. Didn't barf, but got all sweaty and felt lightheaded."\par
\par
"You okay?"\par
\par
"Yeah. I think it was just the life-form growing inside me mixed with nerves."\par
\par
"Good to know."\par
\par
"Mmmhmm. Anyway, Greg got all worried and from that second, I kinda knew everything was going to be fine. He helped me to the couch and we sat down and just...talked. About everything. God, he was so sweet, Justin. I told him about when it probably happened, and about the visit with the doctor, and he told me he should've been at the gyno with me and all that. And...I don't know. I was just relieved."\par
\par
So was I.\par
\par
"Did you guys discuss what you're gonna do and--"\par
\par
"I think we're gonna play it by ear. We were sort of in the process of getting back together before this whole thing, so we're definitely still working that way. He said he wants to be with me and he wants our baby and...it was like something from a movie. Gregory's so clich\'e9, but he's cute so it's okay."\par
\par
"God, Daphne. That's great. Really." I breathed a sigh of relief, smiling to myself. I had no doubts they'd be fine. Great parents to a beautiful baby.\par
\par
"Oh, oh, oh! And... We had sex all night."\par
\par
"Rawr."\par
\par
"It was hot. Don't know if my horny hormones have kicked into overdrive yet, but it sure felt like it."\par
\par
I told Daphne to just...stop, and we laughed for thirty seconds straight. She sounded so alive, and I wished I was with her so I could've given her a hug and squealed a bit without fear of my colleagues hearing me.\par
\par
"You now! Tellmetellmetellme."\par
\par
I told her all about Jesse and she congratulated me on officially being 'kickass,' which I rolled my eyes at, then we discussed everything from Brian's weirdness the night before, to how good raw sex feels, to Halloween plans, to baby names (I told her I was partial to 'Justin' if it was a boy and 'Taylor' if it was a girl - she told me to fuck off).\par
\par
I could feel a couple layers of stress dripping off my body as we talked, but another - namely Brian-stress - being painted on. One worry replaced with another.\par
\par
*\par
\par
On the way home, I gave him a call disguised as an inquiry about our dinner plans, but really just wanting to check up on him. He seemed fine, snarky and inappropriate as ever.\par
\par
"There are certain things I plan on doing to you tonight, Mr. Taylor."\par
\par
"Oh no! Please, sir, let me live."\par
\par
"I may have just landed myself some free lube samples. Eight different flavors, from Kiwi-Strawberry to Banana-Mango."\par
\par
"I'm allergic to mango."\par
\par
"It's not like they squeezed all-natural mango juice into the lube, dumbfuck. But whatever. Cherry-Almond sound good?"\par
\par
"What else you got? And how the hell'd you score it?"\par
\par
"Peach-Pineapple, Lemon-Lime, Chocolate Mocha, Raspberry Cream, and...gross, Bubblegum. New account I just landed, Sunshine. Fuck Frank Heller and his conservative bullshit. XTC wanted the sexiest we could come up with."\par
\par
I laughed, happy he sounded pleased with himself. Maybe that was his deal? Just feeling like shit after losing the Heller account? I didn't know, but I was hopeful and trying to be optimistic, even though it was going against my instincts.\par
\par
"First of all, the only lube flavor that actually sounds like it may taste good is Raspberry Cream, and only 'cause it hast the word 'cream' in it. Second of all, if any of that gives me an allergic reaction, I'm fucking you every night for the next week. Third, congratulations on the account."\par
\par
"Mmhm."\par
\par
We talked about random shit for a while, but I could tell Brian was busy so I wanted to let him go.\par
\par
"Okay, so. I'll see you at home? I've got lots of shit to tell you."\par
\par
"Yippee."\par
\par
Har har. Isn't he funny?\par
\par
"Good shit."\par
\par
"Thank God. I don't feel like talking you off the ledge tonight."\par
\par
"Wah wah. See you later?"\par
\par
"Yeah."\par
\par
"I love you, Brian Kinney." And I said it in the most obnoxious voice I could, just to piss him off.\par
\par
"Later."\par
\par
"So you're gonna let me go without saying it back? Knowing I could get in a car wreck or be murdered or die of a heart attack or something before you get home tonight?"\par
\par
"Pretty much."\par
\par
We laughed a bit, then I pulled into the parking lot of Whole Foods and told Brian I had to go for real and so did he, because he was being all quiet with his speech and seemed a little distracted.\par
\par
"Alright," he said. "Just don't get in a car wreck or be murdered or die of a heart attack or something before I get home tonight."\par
\par
...\par
\par
Right then, I decided to fuck everything, fuck it all, because Brian Kinney was the most romantic man on the planet.\par
\par
\par
8.\par
Sunday, October 31, 2010\par
"Justin Taylor," Brian grumbled, staring at his reflection in the mirror like he wanted to whip out an ax and smash it. His eyebrows knitted together, and I honestly couldn't tell whether he was about to laugh or yell. "If you think I'm stepping foot out of this building dressed like this, you've got another thing coming."\par
\par
I bit my lip to keep from laughing, but I couldn't help the tiny snort that escaped. "Do you know how hot you look?"\par
\par
I moved over beside him, sharing the mirror, and pulled off the cap to the eyeliner I'd stolen from Daphne.\par
\par
"I look like I did when I was seven."\par
\par
"Everybody's gonna think you're sexy. We're all dressing up." I leaned in close to my reflection and began shading in my lower eyelids and the edges of my upper lids with thick, black liner. "Michael's dressing as Zephyr, Deb's a cat, come on."\par
\par
"Is that supposed to reassure me or something? I'm taking this cape off."\par
\par
"Do and die."\par
\par
Brian was being such a queen. Debbie's Halloween party was a new tradition, third year in the running. Everyone dressed up, ate, played games, and ended up getting drunk in front of the television where The Shining or It or some other Stephen King movie was playing. Not a big deal. Not worth flipping out about.\par
\par
"I should've ordered a costume off the Internet. This is the ugliest bitch I've ever seen."\par
\par
"Thanks, asshole. I only wore that last year."\par
\par
"It looked fine on you because you look twelve. I look like a pedophile."\par
\par
I used my finger to smudge the eyeliner around my eyes and then turned to Brian, rolling the stick up further. "Bend down."\par
\par
"You're not putting that shit on me."\par
\par
"Bend. down."\par
\par
"Suck. my. dick."\par
\par
"I won't suck your dick if you don't behave, Count Sonofabitch."\par
\par
Brian sighed, like the mere idea of wearing eyeliner made him want to barf, and reluctantly leaned down a bit. I outlined his eyes, then smudged a bit in the dips under his bottom lashes to give him a lovely 'undead' look.\par
\par
"I might kill you in your sleep," he murmured, blindly reaching over and grabbing a jar of Vaseline from where it rested on the bedside table.\par
\par
"Are you about to take advantage of me?" I asked, pointing at the petroleum jelly and feigning shock. "And as for the killing thing, not a good idea. I can't say I approve."\par
\par
Brian popped the lid and glazed a finger across the Vaseline, before slicking it onto my eyebrows.\par
\par
"What the fuck are you doing?" I asked, trying to pull away.\par
\par
"Giving you pointy brows, Lucifer."\par
\par
"Only if you get them, too."\par
\par
He completely ignored me, pushing devilish points into my eyebrows and stepping back, admiring his work. "Bathroom. Now. I'm gelling your hair."\par
\par
"Can I gel yours?"\par
\par
"If you want to wake up in the morning with a fabulous dick amputation."\par
\par
"I promise to do good."\par
\par
"Nobody touches this hair," Brian blurted, like I'd just offended his very being. "Nobody but me. And Angelique, my stylist."\par
\par
And then I pushed his chest and started laughing, because Jesus Christ that was probably the gayest thing he'd ever said. Eventually he started laughing, and we ended up wrestling each other into the loft bathroom.\par
\par
*\par
\par
Once we were ready, dressed like Lucifer Gone Gay and Dracula Meets Don Juan, we avoided - with much difficulty - ripping each other's clothes off in a passionate fury and fucking until the zombies and werewolves and ghosts of Halloween were sent back to Hell with raging hard-ons.\par
\par
The ride to Debbie's was mostly silent, because Brian was pissed at me for making him wear the cape and I was pissed at him for not liking the cape. He played The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust the entire way, and I almost asked if he happened to have "Magic Dance" on any form of digital medium so that he might play it and I might sing along and relive my childhood. But I didn't, because I was afraid he'd drink my blood.\par
\par
*\par
\par
Emmett answered the door.\par
\par
"My, my!" He squealed, giving me a hug around the neck.\par
\par
"What the fuck are you?" Brian asked, snorting with laughter. I noticed that he straightened the cape as if it was suddenly the sexiest thing in existence.\par
\par
Emmett looked positively offended. "Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's!"\par
\par
He was wearing a tight, form-fitting black dress, brunette wig, diamonds, sunglasses, and carrying a cigarette holder. Total Emmett. He always makes me smile.\par
\par
I grinned. "You look great!"\par
\par
"Thanks, baby." He looked me up and down. "And you look positively delicious."\par
\par
My cheeks colored.\par
\par
But I did look hot, I'm not gonna deny it.\par
\par
"Sunshine!" Debbie came striding over to me, dressed in a leopard-print outfit, wearing a headband with ears. She hugged me tightly, practically choking me but in the best possible way. She hugs like no other.\par
\par
"Hey, Deb!"\par
\par
"Brian, I can't believe you dressed up." She popped her gum and reached over to squeeze his shoulder with this, "he has you so whipped" look on her face. I half expected her to do the wahhchhh sound effect.\par
\par
"I'm about to take this fucking cape off." Brian tugged at the tied strings around his neck, all "I'm too sexy for this party" attitude gone.\par
\par
"Nope." I pulled his hands off. "Not 'til everyone sees you."\par
\par
"You've got to be kidding me."\par
\par
I shot him an evil grin.\par
\par
*\par
\par
The food was amazing, unsurprisingly. Salad, baked ziti, gnocchi, garlic bread, and never-ending wine that left me warm and fuzzy and ready to rumble.\par
\par
"That's enough wine," Brian said with a laugh, grabbing the bottle out of my hands in order to keep me from refilling my glass for like the...sixth or seventh time. Eighth? Maybe? I had to piss like a race horse, so however many glasses required to fill my bladder to full capacity was how many I had.\par
\par
I didn't protest. Just grabbed Brian's glass and drained it before standing up to dash to the bathroom.\par
\par
*\par
\par
Daphne and Gregory arrived after dinner, and I was pleasantly buzzed and larkishly happy to see them. Daph doesn't usually attend Novotny holiday gatherings, but Debbie insisted I invite her and Greg after finding out they were expecting. Honestly, I kind of suspected she just wanted to claim another grandchild. It'd been a while since she had one, and with the other two growing like weeds, there was a lack of baby.\par
\par
"Daph!" I greeted, hugging her neck so tight she had to pry me loose. I think she gave Brian a "you should've taken the wine away sooner" look, but I'm not sure. Everything was a little fuzzy.\par
\par
Gregory grasped my shoulder for a second in greeting, then slipped past me into the kitchen for wine and food.\par
\par
That's one thing about Greg - he's not shy at all. He fits wonderfully into every situation, no matter how unfamiliar, and he'd just as soon rummage around in a stranger's fridge than politely ask for something. He's ballsy and comfortable. Deb loves him.\par
\par
"So is there a reason neither of you are dressed up?" I asked, pointing to Daphne's simple black dress and pinstriped stirrup-leggings.\par
\par
"I'm pregnant," she answered in dismissal, patting her flat stomach and looking around for the source of the delicious food wafts infiltrating the living room. "Chicks in my predicament don't have to dress up. It's part of the Woman Code."\par
\par
"If you were further along, you could've been one of those pregnant nuns."\par
\par
"And Sunshine could've been the Reverend Mother," Brian piped in, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist.\par
\par
"Back off, Drac." I grumbled, wriggling out of his embrace. "I'll send you straight to Hell."\par
\par
"I'll bite your neck."\par
\par
"Is that a threat?"\par
\par
"It's a promise."\par
\par
"Mmm." I turned to face him and held up my two index fingers in a cross.\par
\par
"I vant to suck your blood," he whispered, pushing me against the staircase railing and performing various acts of questionable appropriateness on my mouth and neck.\par
\par
"You know..." Daphne said after a minute or two, clearing her throat. "If you two knew how tragically cute you were, you'd puke."\par
\par
Brian scoffed loudly, then Debbie told us to "cut it the fuck out" or she'd have us castrated.\par
\par
Ouch.\par
\par
"Do you ever get enough?" Michael asked with a disturbed look on his face, leaning back against Ben on the couch.\par
\par
"Do you ever get any?"\par
\par
I tried so fucking hard not to laugh, but Brian - standing there dressed like a vampire - arguing with Michael - dressed like a comic book character - was goddamn hilarious.\par
\par
"I'll have you know," Ben interjected in that calm, intellectual voice of his, "that Michael and I get plenty."\par
\par
"Yeah. I'm sure you two really steam up the windows."\par
\par
Michael eventually thew a pillow at Brian, who, in return, jumped onto the couch like a five-year-old and started wrestling with him.\par
\par
This is what I deal with.\par
\par
*\par
\par
At around eight, Emmett pulled out the party games and we played Cranium until it eventually got stupid and everyone started cheating and bullshitting for kicks.\par
\par
"Hum. the. song." I urged Brian, elbowing him in the side. "I'll hit you. Really."\par
\par
"I'm not humming. I don't hum. You do it."\par
\par
"You always say I'm tone deaf."\par
\par
"Don't care. Go for it, Sonny Boy."\par
\par
"I don't even know this song, really. It's way more your era."\par
\par
"I wasn't even born, dickhead. I'm not fifty. You know this."\par
\par
"What if I get it wrong?"\par
\par
"Then, God fucking forbid, the other team doesn't get a point."\par
\par
I tried to hum "The Sound of Silence," I really did, but my voice isn't too amazing so the other team kept guessing wrong. Then Emmett declared it didn't count because "it really did sound" like I was singing "People," "right, Teddy?"\par
\par
"This is shit," Brian grumbled, climbing off the couch and leaving me all by my lonesome. We'd originally been a team of five - the two of us plus Daphne, Greg, and Carl - but Daph and Greg had left for the Halloween carnival at the hospital Daphne worked at, and Carl had dropped out early on.\par
\par
It was getting kind of boring, anyway, and most everyone seemed less than amused, so I suggested we ditch Cranium and have more alcohol.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
Gus called while Brian and I were in the car on the way back to West Virginia.\par
\par
We'd planned on staying at the loft that night because it was more convenient than driving almost an hour to the house, then an hour back into Pittsburgh the next morning, but I realized when we climbed in the vehicle, pockets stuffed with Halloween candy Debbie'd shoved at us, that my messenger bag with all my shit for work was still in the foyer of Britin.\par
\par
"Ah, Canada!" I announced when Lindsay's cell number popped up on the screen of Brian's Blackberry. I snapped the device into the dock and switched it on speakerphone.\par
\par
"Hey," Brian said, pressing the 'talk' button.\par
\par
"Hey, Dad!"\par
\par
"Gus! Happy Halloween!" I yelled, unwrapping a mini Snickers bar.\par
\par
"Hi, Jus!"\par
\par
"What's up, Sonny Boy?"\par
\par
Brian's so cute with Gus. I love to just sit back and listen to them chat back and forth.\par
\par
"Just got home. I got soooo much candy that I'll be eating it for forever and ever."\par
\par
"And what did your moms say about that?"\par
\par
"I don't care what they say."\par
\par
"Gus."\par
\par
"I don't. They're not the boss of me."\par
\par
"Uh, yeah. They are."\par
\par
Brian sighed, gripping the steering wheel more tightly and taking a left onto the interstate. Gus was getting a little defiant of Mel and Linds, and I think it worried Brian a little. Kids are like that - I was like that, Brian sure as hell was like that, everyone was like that. I'm sure it was hard on Gus, being the only male in the household, so he was naturally going to snap every once in a while. But Brian worried because, natural or not, his kid unhappy was his kid unhappy.\par
\par
"Hey," he murmured, after Gus huffed a little but didn't respond. "Your moms just want you to...grow up and not weigh five hundred pounds, y'know?"\par
\par
"Whatever."\par
\par
There was a bout of silence, so I tried to lighten the mood, piping in to ask Gus about his costume.\par
\par
"I look sooooo cool right now. I've got all this fake blood on my face that I put on in secret 'cause Mommy told me blood wasn't allowed so I had to smear the paint aaaaalllll over and then run out the door before she could catch me and Jenny tattled on me and I got in trouble but it's okay because I got to wear the blood anyway and I'm the coolest most awesomest zombie in the world. And Jenny was a hula girl and she wore a bikini and a grass skirt thing and Mommy braided her hair when it was wet and when she took it down it was all crinkly and she looked pretty but don't tell her I said that because I don't want her to know because I told her she looked ugly. And my neighbor Mrs. Westmore gave me a toy gun but Mommy took it away and I'm mad at her. Daddy, you have to tell her to give it to me, okay? Okay?"\par
\par
Brian poked my shoulder after Gus's marathon speech like, "that was cute, wasn't it?" and then cleared his throat all manly and pretended it never happened.\par
\par
"I'll see what I can do, Sonny Boy. Did you take pictures?"\par
\par
"Of my gun?"\par
\par
"Of your costume."\par
\par
"Mama took some before we went trick-or-treating but it was before the blood so I look cooler now. I'll make Jenny take a picture of me with Mommy's phone and I'll send it to you and Jus."\par
\par
"Guess what your daddy's dressed as?" I teased, giving Brian a sideways glance.\par
\par
"What're you talking about, Justin?" Brian asked, giving me the finger.\par
\par
"Daddy's dressed up?"\par
\par
"Yup! We just got back from your Gramma Debbie's Halloween party. I'm a devil and your dad's a..." I suddenly tasted the skin of Brian's palm as he pressed it against my mouth to shut me up.\par
\par
"He's a...mmm a...fffaffire!"\par
\par
"Huh? Pacifier?"\par
\par
I licked Brian's hand, then bit at it until he jerked it away.\par
\par
"Vampire!"\par
\par
"Like the Twilight movies?"\par
\par
"Christ, my son's turning into a fifteen-year-old girl. No!" Brian grabbed my horns, pulled them off my head and proceeded to use them as a tool with which to poke my stomach repeatedly. "Like Dracula or Lestat. The ones that kill people."\par
\par
"Awesome!"\par
\par
"Wanna see a picture?" I asked, quickly turning to the side in order to avoid bodily harm. "I've got some good ones on my camera. I can send them to-- Owww! Fuck! Shit. Whoops. Sorry! No cussing."\par
\par
"You can cuss if you want. I'm ten, Justin. Not six like Jenny."\par
\par
"Your dad's killing me, Gus. He's poking me with my horns."\par
\par
"Daddy! You're supposed to bite him!" Then he made this super-loud hissing noise. "Bite him and drink his blood. Or if you bite him just a little bit, he'll turn into a vampire after a few days and then you can be undead together forever!"\par
\par
"Gus, I can promise that once we get home, Justin will most definitely be bitten. Repeatedly."\par
\par
"Y'know," I interjected, jerking the horns out of Brian's possession and making a 'watch the fucking road and try not to kill us!' motion with my hand, "this conversation is beginning to make me uncomfortable."\par
\par
"You should be very uncomfortable. Trust me."\par
\par
I raised my eyebrows flirtatiously, then Brian slowed the car for a second, leaned in, and planted a quick kiss on my upper lip.\par
\par
"Don't be sad, Justin," Gus said. "I'm a zombie, so I'm undead, too. Undead people are the awesomest."\par
\par
"You're aware that 'awesomest' isn't a word...?" Brian asked, reaching over to lock his index finger with mine.\par
\par
"Duh. I don't care."\par
\par
"Of course not."\par
\par
"Guess what?"\par
\par
"What?"\par
\par
"There was this boy who tried to steal my candy when I wasn't looking when we were at Mr. Granger's house, and I caught him before he stole my gummy worms and told him not to do it again or I'd hit him and he said 'okay' and didn't do it again."\par
\par
"Guuuus."\par
\par
"What?"\par
\par
"When is it okay to hit?"\par
\par
Gus was silent for a few seconds, as if thinking.\par
\par
"When do I say it's okay to hit?" Brian added. If Melanie and Lindsay knew all the extra 'morals' Brian instilled in Gus, they'd have a heart attack.\par
\par
"Only when somebody hits me first. But I wasn't really gonna hit him, I promise!"\par
\par
"It's okay. I believe you. Just...watch what you say, alright? I don't wanna have to fly up there because my ten-year-old son's in juvenile detention for beating up some snotty kleptomaniac."\par
\par
"Then maybe you could take me back to your house in West Va-- West Vi-- West Something, and I could live there with you forever and always so I won't beat up any other little kids."\par
\par
Brian bit at his lip so hard I almost expected to see a track of blood appear. "Hey. Maybe when you're..." And then he stopped, shook his head, and switched tracks. "Yeah. But I don't think your moms would like that very much."\par
\par
"I don't care. I have too many women in my life."\par
\par
And then I literally almost pissed myself laughing, which was unfortunate because I was sucking on a super-hard Dot (when are they ever not unnaturally hard?) and I came this close to choking to death.\par
\par
Brian cracked up, too. "Well, next time you're down here, we'll have a Men's Weekend."\par
\par
It was quiet for a moment, and then Gus asked, "Daddy?"\par
\par
My heart melted. Brian's heart melted. We almost drowned in our hearts' goo at that little boy voice.\par
\par
"Hm?"\par
\par
"When?"\par
\par
Brian pulled his hand away from mine and started messing around with the various temperature knobs on the panel - air, heat, high, low.\par
\par
"I want to--" he started, and I almost wanted to get out of the car to give him some privacy. "I really want to...see you, Gus. You're coming for your winter break, right? Staying with me for two whole weeks?"\par
\par
"Uh huh."\par
\par
My heart broke a little. He sounded about two years old.\par
\par
Goddammit, sometimes I'm so pissed at the lesbians for taking Gus away from Brian. It hurts Gus and I know it hurts Brian being at such a distance. They see each other maybe every two months, and that. is. not. enough. A little boy needs his father, and a father needs his son.\par
\par
"Good. Then that's only...however many...six, I think, weeks away? And when you come, we'll hang out and have a Men's Weekend and do whatever you want."\par
\par
"And I can eat as much candy as I'm able to before I throw up and you'll let me stay up late and watch TV with you and Justin and I can play on your computer and we can go to that restaurant where I get to wear a paper pirate hat and we can go see movies every day and you'll let me watch a PG-13 movie if I don't tell Mommy."\par
\par
Brian laughed. "Yeah. Something like that."\par
\par
"I can't wait."\par
\par
Pause. "Me neither, son."\par
\par
Brian pulled into the driveway about this time, and everything was quiet except for the crunch of gravel under the tires.\par
\par
"Six weeks is a long time."\par
\par
"Hey. It'll fly by."\par
\par
I suddenly had the urge to reach over and grab Brian's hand.\par
\par
His fingers were warm between mine once I finally silently coaxed him to let me hold it. His lips were drawn into a thin, straight line.\par
\par
"I've gotta go, Daddy."\par
\par
"Okay. Go take a bath and get in bed. It's getting pretty late."\par
\par
"I don't take baths anymore. I take showers all by myself."\par
\par
For a second, I almost thought Brian was going to cry. He sniffed, and I had to look away because it was awkward.\par
\par
"I forgot, Gus," he murmured, pulling into the dark car garage and killing the engine. It was pitch dark. "You're a little man now, aren't you?"\par
\par
"Who you callin' little?"\par
\par
The two of them laughed, then began saying their goodbyes.\par
\par
"'night, Dad."\par
\par
"Goodnight."\par
\par
"I love you."\par
\par
Brian must've held his breath for a few seconds, because I no longer heard anything at all. Not the faint wheeze of his deviated septum. Nothing.\par
\par
But then I heard something.\par
\par
"Yeah. Loveyoutoo." And it was so quiet and so soft I almost didn't hear it.\par
\par
But Gus heard it loud and clear. He sniffed a little in a childishly happy way, and then said "bye" again before hanging up.\par
\par
I probably should've said "goodbye," but I didn't want to ruin the moment. It was for Brian and Gus only.\par
\par
*\par
\par
"Hey," I whispered, turning to Brian's dark form in the car. Part of his face was illuminated by sparkles from the floodlight outside the garage and he looked almost ethereal. "C'mere."\par
\par
Brian just sat there, staring at me for a few seconds, then he rolled his lips into his mouth and sighed.\par
\par
I leaned over and pressed my forehead against his chest, because there was nothing to say.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
When we finally made it into the house, makeup smudged, various parts of our costumes being carried instead of worn, and pretty much totally fucking exhausted for one reason or another, we showered, changed into pajamas - and by "pajamas" I mean the comfy clothes we wear at night before we end up taking them off and fucking - and settled in front of the television with a bottle of Beam and a bowl of candy.\par
\par
"If someone would've told me that one day I'd be home at midnight on Halloween, watching TV with you" - he said 'you' like I was something disgusting - "and eating the fun-sized candy bars that will send me to Weight Watchers faster than you can say 'fat-ass,' I probably would've asked them for some of their drugs. Jesus Christ."\par
\par
"Don't worry," I grumbled, pulling my legs up to my chest and taking a swig of Jim Beam, "I promise I won't tell anyone you had to spend Halloween eating candy with me."\par
\par
He kicked at my bare feet with his, then grabbed a mini pack of M&Ms out of the orange candy dish. "I'm counting on your loyalty."\par
\par
"Mmhm. Wouldn't betray your trust for the world." I flipped through the channels, but nothing interesting was on. Just a "Ghost Hunters" marathon, which Brian always refuses to watch because he doesn't believe in anything paranormal and thinks it's a load of shit. Maybe it is, but it's entertaining.\par
\par
"Y'know, if you stopped flipping channels and actually left it on a station, maybe we could watch TV instead of the menu."\par
\par
I tossed him the remote and he turned it to something on CNN which made me want to snore.\par
\par
"Hey, Brian?" I asked after a while, munching on a mini-Twix. "Do you ever get bored with it? This?"\par
\par
He raised an eyebrow.\par
\par
"I mean, I'm totally cool with watching TV at night and gaining fifty pounds off chocolate. I don't mind...this." I motioned in between us. "But if you ever get bored or restless or need to just go crazy, then do it. We're monogamous, but that doesn't mean you have to spend quiet evenings at home with me all the time because maybe it's what you think I want or whatever. I mean, I expect to be able to go get drugged up and drunk as hell with my friends when I want, and you can do the same."\par
\par
"Where's this coming from?"\par
\par
"What you said."\par
\par
He rolled his eyes and tossed a Dot at me. "I do what I want, when I want, twat. If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't."\par
\par
I nodded and smiled faintly. I'd just needed to know.\par
\par
"And besides. Babylon's gone, the memory of my youth's gone, my life is pretty much gone. I'm turning into a lesbian. Might as well do it with you, right?" He was totally joking, but he said it in the most serious voice imaginable, and I almost thought he was sincere. My stomach actually started to do the flippy thing it does whenever I know I'm about to enter into a dangerous conversation. Then he smirked and I rolled my eyes.\par
\par
"You ass."\par
\par
We somehow ended up lying against each other, me in the crook of his arm. The dullsville CNN special had gone off and I started flipping channels again, ignoring the sighs in my ear.\par
\par
Then, oh my god.\par
\par
"Oh my god!" I yelled, bouncing a little and slamming the remote down on the coffee table. "It's our television special!"\par
\par
"What?"\par
\par
"Fucking Charlie Brown!" It was a late-night repeat on ABC.\par
\par
I wiggled with excitement.\par
\par
"I can't believe we're watching this," Brian grumbled.\par
\par
"It's fate."\par
\par
"You're a freak."\par
\par
There was only about ten minutes left, but it felt good to watch It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown with Brian. I know it's cheesy and childish, but that television special meant something to both of us...two completely different somethings. But those two completely different somethings were fused into one that night as we were silent as mice, not commenting, just watching, and remembering stupid little things from our childhood that affected us a whole lot in our adulthood.\par
\par
*\par
\par
When it was over, Brian flipped me onto my back and began playing with my stomach. I've noticed he does that for comfort, more often than not. Just runs his hand up under my shirt and rubs at my belly, dips his fingers inside my navel, touches the line of blond hair below.\par
\par
"You're hairier," he noted, leaning down a little to check out my treasure trail. "Than you used to be, I mean."\par
\par
I laughed. "So are you."\par
\par
"But you are, really. I remember that first night. You were so smooth and shiny. A hairless twink."\par
\par
"And now I'm a hairy beast."\par
\par
"Now you're a hairy-ish sorta-twink." He pushed my shirt all the way up and bent down to press kisses to my nipples. "You've got hairs around your nipples now...and between..." He kissed the dip between my pecs.\par
\par
From my lying position, I reached up to pull Brian's wifebeater off, but he shrugged away.\par
\par
"Your legs..." He slid one leg of my plaid PJ pants up to mid-thigh, then carefully stroked his fingers down my skin.\par
\par
I grabbed at his arms and pulled him up, up, until his face was level with mine, then wrapped my exposed leg around his waist. We just stared at each other for a minute, not breathing much. His lips were pink and smooth like silk, chin a bit stubbly, and a bit of eyeliner still remained on his lids. I wanted to kiss him unconscious, kiss him all over, but I couldn't. I just stared.\par
\par
"I love you," I whispered as his lips began to descend on mine. His breath smelled like chocolate and Beam, and it was positively intoxicating.\par
\par
Brian's mouth locked with mine, lips closing around my upper lip, tongue sliding out to lick the underside. I love kissing...love kissing him.\par
\par
Our tongues touched, soft and unhurried, an exploration. I kissed him until I tasted the M&Ms and Dots he'd been eating, kissed him until I confused our tongues...didn't know which was his or which was mine. I wrote love letters against the roof of his mouth, invisible ones, silent ones.\par
\par
At some point, the clothes came off - all of them - but that seemed irrelevant. It was all in the kiss. All in the taste and touch of tongues and lips and teeth.\par
\par
Brian pulled away after a while, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and spreading it out under us to protect the cushions. But then it was like that never happened, because afterward, we were kissing again and the interruption was forgotten.\par
\par
I realized I wanted to love him so hard he felt it in his toes.\par
\par
"Here," Brian whispered, grabbing a hold of the back of my knee and gently pressing it up a little, toward my chest. He crawled between my legs and palmed my thighs, massaging the skin before pulling them up to wrap around him. He kissed me again and again and again and I was dizzy from those kisses.\par
\par
"Look what I've got," he half-laughed, pulling a small red tube of lubricant from the pocket of his pants, which were lying across the coffee table. Cherry-Almond. The only flavor of XTC lube that tasted marginally okay. Marginally.\par
\par
"That lube sucks."\par
\par
"Well, would you like to take a walk upstairs to get the good stuff?"\par
\par
"I'll pass, thanks."\par
\par
"That's what I thought." Brian smirked and pressed my knees against my chest once more, scooting backward so he had a better view of my ass.\par
\par
I closed my eyes, reaching down to pull my cheeks apart. It was so slutty, but we liked it that way. My cock was half-hard, pulsating against my thigh where it curved up, and it immediately began to ooze beads of clear fluid when I felt Brian's lube-coated fingers touch my hole. He did it so softly, little whispers of touches, rubbing around the entrance but not pressing inside.\par
\par
I took hold of my dick and began a slow, steady rhythm, running my fist up and down, up and down, up and down, just enough to feel good, not enough to get me there. Brian's tongue touched my hole - again, not breaching - and licked it with a broad, stiff tongue.\par
\par
"Taste good?"\par
\par
"Like cherry-almond asshole."\par
\par
I made a face, because that actually sounded a little gross. Must've been okay, though, because Brian used his fingers to spread my cheeks, licking up and down from my balls to my coccyx, kissing the skin and making me writhe.\par
\par
He squirted more lube onto his fingers, taking the time to press against my hole, getting the rim nice and slick and ready to stretch. A drop of pre-cum dripped out the head of my cock and slid down my fist.\par
\par
"Use your tongue," I panted, speeding up my strokes a bit.\par
\par
"Patience."\par
\par
"You know I have none of that."\par
\par
"Well, get some."\par
\par
"Give me some."\par
\par
And we went on and on like that as Brian used his fingers to work my asshole. I swear, the two of us have the tightest asses in the entire world. I can be fucked upwards, downwards and sideways, but I always tighten back up within a few hours. Brian's always tight. Ha.\par
\par
By the time I felt a tongue start to work its way inside me, there was already a generous puddle of pre-cum above my navel and my cock was the color of one of Emmett's fabulous pink shirts.\par
\par
"Fucking finally," I whispered with a content sigh, reaching down to pet at Brian's hair. He thrust in and out, twisting his tongue along with one or two fingers round and round, stroking the walls and stretching me.\par
\par
At one point, he pulled away, moving up a bit to capture my dick in his mouth. He sucked, sliding his lips up and down the shaft, swallowing all traces of pre-cum.\par
\par
"Tease," I moaned when he backed off, moving once again to my ass and fucking me with his tongue until I wanted to cry from pleasure.\par
\par
When he finally sat back up on his knees and bent over me, straightening my legs out and pulling them around his waist, I was already at the edge. My muscles were shaky, limbs felt like jelly, and everything was hard yet soft and pliable.\par
\par
He kissed me, lips tasting like cherries and sweat and me, mouth hot and wet, tongue silky smooth, ticking the roof of my mouth like feathers. I felt him align himself, lubed cock pressing against my entrance as he continued to assault my mouth with more and more fervor. My legs squeezed his ribcage harder and harder, body lifting up slightly in encouragement.\par
\par
"Ohfuck," I forced out against his lips, feeling his dick slip inside, little by little. In, out, in farther, out a bit, in more, out a little, "uuuuhfuck," brushing my prostate as it made its way deeper and deeper. I seized up, pulling Brian to me so tightly I was almost impaled. It hurt like hell for a few seconds, always did, but once he began to move, once our juices began to mix and bodies began to open up and swallow each other, the pain backed away and pleasure pushed forward.\par
\par
It was a slow fuck, unhurried, not mushy or romantic or filled with declarations of love, but just good sex, plain and simple. We took our time with each other; felt skin under our hands and mouths; touched where we needed to be touched; kissed; breathed names against lips; chanted "yeah;" and "ahhhyes;" and "moremoremore;" "harder;" "little faster, 'kay?;" "right...there;" "ohmygodohmygodohmygod." It was loving, but not emotionally exhausting; hot, but more arousing and erotic for other reasons.\par
\par
"You're so good at this," I breathed out with a laugh, running my hands up and down Brian's sweaty back as he rocked against me, hands behind my neck and forehead against mine.\par
\par
"The...best there is." He dipped his head and gently bit my earlobe. "But...you're not...sobadyourself."\par
\par
The thrusting picked up after that, and I reached down to tug at my cock, jerking harder and harder and harder and harder, fasterfasterfaster to match Brian's increasing rhythm. He pounded into me so hard it hurt, fucking hurt, but god, the pleasure was extreme.\par
\par
At one point I pressed against his chest, wanting to ride him for a minute, but he shook his head 'no' and locked his fingers with mine, pushing my arms up above my head and leaning down to bite at my shoulder.\par
\par
I smiled through the pain of the bite, thrusting up to meet him, groaning whenever he hit my prostate. "Letmeontop."\par
\par
"Too slow."\par
\par
"I'll...gofast."\par
\par
"No...you won't. You'll...uuuuuh...torture...uuhme."\par
\par
"Please."\par
\par
We were silent for a minute or two, grabbing onto each other like monkeys, moving wildly to the point of me almost getting rug-burn on my back from the blanket. But then, Brian suddenly stopped thrusting and pulled out, wrapping a hand around his wet, shiny dick and motioning for me to get up.\par
\par
I smiled cheekily.\par
\par
He laid down on his back, resting his head on the armrest and holding his cock for me to sit down on. I obliged, groaning loudly at the sensory overload. It was gonna be over fucking soon. My dick leaked all over my stomach and hand, making a mess, and when I began to move, it went into overdrive, bouncing up and down with me, creating a puddle below Brian's bellybutton. He stroked it, yelling out obscenities as I rode faster and faster, wanting to scream and explode into a million, trillion pieces.\par
\par
Brian came first, biting his bottom lip until it literally bled a little, grasping a hold of my arms and holding me still so he could thrust up into me. I felt his hot cum fill my ass in three spurts, each more powerful than the last, and by the fingernail marks pressed into my skin, I could tell it was one hell of an orgasm.\par
\par
"Jesus," he mumbled, pulling me down for a kiss. I opened my mouth immediately, allowing him to plunder every millimeter, slowly working my cock against his stomach.\par
\par
Brian placed his hands on my hips and pulled me up, his flaccid dick slipping from my ass along with a stream of warm cum, and opened his mouth to my cock, closing his lips around it tightly and pushing on my ass 'til I started thrusting. I groaned, straddling his upper chest, fucking his mouth and fucking his mouth and fucking his mouth until I almost fainted, not breathing properly, face red and lips redder. The tingle in my balls grew in intensity, causing me to tighten every muscle in my body and yell out as a flood of pleasure took me over from head to toe.\par
\par
Brian swallowed around my dick, drinking me in as I came and came and cameandcameandcame, crumpling, too tired to move, ass sore and dick even more so. God.\par
\par
"Uuuuuuh," I groaned, collapsing. Brian's nose was smooshed against my belly and I was pretty sure he couldn't breathe, but fuck. Move? Me? I needed a crane.\par
\par
He eventually wiggled his head out of its trap between me and the couch, and wrapped an arm around my lower back. I leaned off the side of the armrest, upside down, blood rushing to the top of my head. "Fuck."\par
\par
"Yeah."\par
\par
There was a series of mmmmms and fucks and uuuhs that lasted a ridiculous amount of time. We were both temporarily out of commission and out of our minds.\par
\par
"So," I whispered, climbing off Brian and pretty much burying myself in the cushions, squished between Brian's body and the back of the couch. He turned to face me and I stroked his hair. "You still disappointed about spending Halloween with, eeew, me?"\par
\par
He laughed, closing his eyes and leaning in to my strokes. "You're growing on me."\par
\par
"Good." I placed a peck of a kiss on his forehead.\par
\par
\par
9.\par
Monday, November 1, 2010\par
We'd been awake for nearly thirty minutes but neither of us had really said much.\par
\par
It was early as hell, the alarm hadn't yet announced for me to pull my unwilling ass out of the oh so wonderfully warm bed, and for the moment, it was just still, happy heat against my back. The soft plane of Brian's chest...the manliness of his arms, wrapped around my hips and holding me close.\par
\par
"How much time do I have left?" I asked groggily, not really wanting to know the answer. Fuck schools and their early hours. I didn't have to report for duty until nine, because eight o'clock was my planning period, but I still had to be out of the house by seven-fifty, which meant that I needed to be up by seven. That's early for me. I tend to sleep like the dead doped up on Ambien and Xanax.\par
\par
"Enough."\par
\par
I laughed. "Enough for what?"\par
\par
"Clearly, you need more schooling." Brian's hand, once splayed flat against my belly, began to slowly slide downward. I gasped once it found its destination around my sleepy cock.\par
\par
"Mmmmteach me."\par
\par
"Well turn around and I will, naughty schoolboy."\par
\par
We fooled around for a while, just touching and kissing, trying to wake up enough to get active, but at one point, I couldn't take it any more. God, I'm always so fucking horny in the morning. I sat up, straddling Brian, knees pressed into the bed on either side of his hips. His stiffening cock bumped the insides of my thighs and I smiled down at him. I could tell we'd be taking this one slow.\par
\par
Sometimes we'd start things off teasing and promising each other a hard, rough, active fuck...often, it didn't end up that way. Somewhere between the kiss and the insertion, things would slow down. We'd smile a lot and place soft, warm kisses on each other's face.\par
\par
"Tell me." I laced my fingers with Brian's and gently rocked against him. Our dicks rubbed together, breath speeding.\par
\par
"Hm?" A faint smiled played at his lips. "Tell you what?"\par
\par
"You know."\par
\par
"I don't think I do."\par
\par
There were faint snorts and a whole lot of lip action. Brian thrust upward, cock pressing into my stomach.\par
\par
"I think you do."\par
\par
"Justin." He gave me a faux-confused look. "I really have no idea." His lips were pink and god, he was just gorgeous. I wanted to eat him up.\par
\par
Slowly, I slid down his body until I was sitting on his feet. "Do you want me to suck you?" I asked in a low voice.\par
\par
"Yeah."\par
\par
I gently grasped his cock, taking my time with it. My fingers slid up and down the shaft, feeling the silky soft hardness and paying special attention to every detail. "Then tell me."\par
\par
"Mm?" Brian's eyes began to look wobbly and unfocused.\par
\par
"Tell me."\par
\par
I pressed my palms against his flat belly, less ripped than years before, but still lean and muscular. He quivered, sending shivers down my spine.\par
\par
"Tell you what?" His mouth twitched.\par
\par
"Tell me what you want."\par
\par
"I want you to suck me." His nipples puckered as he said it.\par
\par
I had to grin. I'm so bad at being a sexy seducer it's laughable. Whereas Brian can practically make me come from his low, grumbly dirty talk alone, I always end up laughing or smiling like a fool.\par
\par
His cock was so hot against my lips as I kissed down the shaft, doing that slurping thing Brian fucking loved and causing him to fist the sheets. He tasted like skin and sweat and salty precum. Every vein vibrated against my tongue as blood rushed through the organ and everything just felt perfect.\par
\par
I always started off kissing his dick. Not chaste, pecks of kisses, but loud, open-mouthed, sucking kisses that were wet and soft and left his cock shining from not only his juices, but my saliva. That's how I did it the very first time. I remember being so fucking scared of doing it wrong. I knew nothing about technique or anything special, so I just gave him slurping kisses and was elated when he seemed to like it. Everything else came later.\par
\par
After I'd thoroughly kissed and licked and bit gently at the shaft, I began to focus on the head.\par
\par
"Mmmm," Brian hummed as I placed my lips around the very tip of his cock, giving him a sound suck. Precum drizzled out and puddled on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to devour him, but I had to wait. I had to wait till he was ready.\par
\par
I opened my mouth a little wider, taking him in bit by bit, inch by inch. I felt him slowly leaking against the roof of my mouth.\par
\par
"Fuck," he groaned, arching his back and biting at his bottom lip. I wrapped my fingers around the base of his dick and began to gently tug as I slurped. Up and down. Up and down. Pull, lick, suck, suck, deep breath, hum. Hum, hum, hum. Swallow, pull, pull, pull, suck. Suck harder. Take in more. Pull back a little and focus on the head now. Lick, lick, gentle kiss. Tug harder and harder. Work the whole shaft.\par
\par
Brian moaned like he was in pain. He covered his eyes with his arm and began to squirm. Sweat broke out on his thighs and I could feel it with my left hand as I rubbed the crease between his leg and pubic area.\par
\par
I was practically deep throating him by now. He thrust up into my mouth, opening his mouth wide and breathing in loud puffs.\par
\par
"Mm." Then a second later, "mmmfuck!" Precum was leaking more profusely and I swallowed every bit.\par
\par
Every time he groaned, I knew I was coming closer to stopping. I wouldn't let him get too far. I'd take him to the edge, have him balancing, about to tip over, and then I'd squeeze the base of his dick and leave him panting, wet, aching and painfully in need of release.\par
\par
By the time I'd held him off, coaxing him to breathe, sitting up on my knees and crawling back up to sit where I'd been before, I was already about to shoot. I swear, I could come just from sucking him off.\par
\par
Brian licked a few drops of precum from the corner of my mouth and swallowed.\par
\par
I leaned up, grabbing his cock once I was sure he was far enough from the edge, and placed it at my hole. I probably needed lube, but fuck. His generous amount of precum and my quickly stretching fingers would have to do. I had no idea where the lube was, and there was no fucking way I was getting up to look for it.\par
\par
And I swear, I almost came. I literally had to stop myself for a second as Brian first breached me. I embarrass myself sometimes.\par
\par
Slowly, slowly ease down. My mouth opened wide and I cried out as I felt the warm thumping of his dick pulsate against the walls of my ass. I almost fisted my cock, but decided against it...I would've been off in less than a second.\par
\par
Brian grasped my thighs with cold fingers and dug his nails into my pale flesh, leaving white marks that would soon turn deep pink. He breathed in and out. In and out.\par
\par
Once I'd lowered as far as I could manage for the moment, I slid my hands around and pressed them, flat, against his chest, feeling hard nipples against my palms and soft chest hairs against the pads of my thumbs. His skin was heated and sweaty and splotched red.\par
\par
"Mm," I hummed, feeling the delicious stretch as Brian filled me.\par
\par
This was the adjusting period. I wouldn't move right off the bat. I'd wait, pushing against my partner's chest as leverage, keeping myself from sitting down all the way until I was stretched and ready.\par
\par
I sucked in the cool air of the room through my teeth. I felt Brian's fingers massage the muscles in my thighs. I heard the low, sexy grumbling noises from his throat.\par
\par
"Ready?" He asked after a bit, unfocused eyes meeting unfocused eyes, rubbing his hands across my skin and ever so gently trailing his fingertips along the base of my cock.\par
\par
I shivered and nodded, slowly allowing myself to press down harder, squeezing my eyes shut and biting at my bottom lip. Once I was there, taking him to the root, feeling the burn like a million tiny prickles in my ass, I smiled, tilting my head back.\par
\par
"Hey," Brian whispered, reaching up to swat at my chin. I looked at him.\par
\par
"Hm?"\par
\par
He breathed heavily, closing his eyes for a second and grasping at my thighs once more - then reaching his hands up to brush against my stomach and lower, playing in my pubic hair. A small smiled touched at his lips.\par
\par
I took a shuddering breath, slowly lowering my upper body so that it rested against Brian's. I grasped the sides of his face with gentle hands and placed my lips against his. Not quite kissing...just holding them there and sharing breath. Then I kissed him - a loud, tight smooch.\par
\par
He rolled his eyes and snorted, then we began to move together in the slowest fashion imaginable.\par
\par
I rocked against him, mouth open, head upturned, hands pushing on his chest to keep me in motion. He thrust up - just a quick, easy, upward jab of the hips - each time I lifted myself.\par
\par
"God." Up, down. Up, down. Breathe, breathe, rock, groan.\par
\par
"Mm? Fuck." Brian reached up to place a hand at the back of my neck. He pulled me down against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around my body and making attempts to flip me over. He wanted to speed things up.\par
\par
I resisted, giving him a sharp slap to the thigh and smiling against his lips. "Nope."\par
\par
God, he looked so fucking sexy. Sweat dripped from his temples, slipping down his cheeks like tears. His hairline was rimmed with matted wisps of hair sticking to his skin.\par
\par
I sat up straight again, sitting on my knees and gently raising and lowering myself, starting that familiar rhythm.\par
\par
We struggled for control, Brian attempting to dump me over onto my back, me grasping at his arms and pushing him further into the mattress.\par
\par
I kissed him hungrily, finally conceding to his wishes and picking up speed. I moved on him like I was riding a mechanical bull, back arched, head tilted back, mouth open and eyelids fluttering.\par
\par
"Justin," he hissed, grabbing my hips and pulling me down on his dick as hard as he could manage. My own cock leaked against my stomach, deep pink and twitching.\par
\par
My eyes widened. He'd hit my prostate, sending chills down my spine and tingles from head to toe.\par
\par
"You like that?" Brian groaned, noting my reaction and thrusting upward, prodding my prostate again and again.\par
\par
The only things escaping my lips were incoherent mumbles. I was on fire.\par
\par
"Yeah," I managed to spit out, not even fucking caring anymore about being on top. I needed more, so I allowed Brian to tip me over. Allowed him to climb on top, cuddling me to his chest, kissing my neck and ears and forehead and cheeks and eyelids and mouth. Tongue. Chin. Nose.\par
\par
He pushed my knees up to my chest, pressing as far into me as he could go, opening his mouth and taking a gentle, wet bite at my red left cheek. He probably left tooth marks but I didn't care.\par
\par
"Please."\par
\par
"Please what?" He began to thrust, swiveling his hips in that annoyingly pleasurable fashion, sending me to every edge there ever was and massaging the hell out of my prostate. I fisted the sheets, wanting badly to fist my dick.\par
\par
"God, just fuck me."\par
\par
Brian leaned down, thrusting into me quickly, almost roughly, giving me hard presses of kisses against my cheeks and lips.\par
\par
"Mmm." Kiss. Thrust, thrust, thrust.\par
\par
My body was fucking electrified, humming with energy and pleasure. He was killing me with his dick, I was quite sure.\par
\par
"Brian." That came out like a hiss, ending with a sharp intake of breath. My chest shook with anticipation and fucking unbridled arousal. My nipples were so hard and tight they almost hurt.\par
\par
Brian stopped moving. Stopped. Moving. I wanted to cry from the stillness.\par
\par
He gave me an angel's grin, sucking on his bottom lip and using his arms to push himself up so he was hovering over my face. I could smell the faint remainder of his cologne from the night before. It was weak but still sweet, mixed with sweat and sex and his natural smell. He stuck out his tongue and gave me a slow, sensuous lick across the lips.\par
\par
I opened my mouth, letting my own tongue slip out between my lips and meet his.\par
\par
Brian sniffed the skin of my cheek and gave me a gentle, affectionate kiss there. He wriggled a bit so my legs slid down from his shoulders and rested in a more comfortable position out to the sides, cradling his body.\par
\par
We were soon in a full-on cuddling position, Brian just lying against me, still inside, running his fingers through the strands of my hair and brushing my lips with his.\par
\par
"I love you," I murmured, wrapping an arm around his back and rubbing my hand up and down the knobs of his spine.\par
\par
Brian nodded, lifting up on his elbows and tugging at my arms so that they rested above my head. He kissed the skin beside my left armpit and entwined his fingers with mine, stretching out and resting all the weight of his upper chest against mine.\par
\par
That's when he started to thrust again. Gently. Not moving so much as to even cause the mattress to squeak.\par
\par
I breathed in, deeply, closing my eyes and allowing him to fuck me. Relishing in it.\par
\par
He kissed my lips, my neck, my chin, hands locked with mine, panting against my skin, thrusting lazily, haphazardly, unevenly. Brian smiled.\par
\par
He took me to the edge, waiting until the very last minute to slip a hand down in between us to stroke my leaking cock.\par
\par
"Mmmyeah," I breathed, crying out and arching into his touch.\par
\par
That's when he stopped thrusting again, driving me absolutely fucking crazy. My skin was on fire, sweating with desire. He looked me in the eye, giving my nose a gentle bump with his, planting a kiss against my upper lip.\par
\par
"Love you," he whispered.\par
\par
God. I smiled, wrapping my legs around his waist and closing my eyes.\par
\par
We took each other to the edge, not stopping once we got there.\par
\par
*\par
\par
When the alarm went off, making me want to shoot something, I was barely over the residual tingle of orgasm. Brian was rubbing the cum into my belly, giving me kisses on the ear when the beeping started.\par
\par
"Fuck my life!" I yelled, pulling my own hair and rolling out of bed.\par
\par
Brian joined me in the shower, joined me for breakfast - which consisted of two Bagelfuls and some Minute Maid - then we each took our separate vehicles and headed to Pittsburgh.\par
\par
Trust me, our mornings aren't usually this domesticated-slash-lesbianic. It was just a different kind of day, and a different kind of day it would remain.\par
\par
At work, Yasmine from my nine o'clock class puked everywhere, causing twenty other kids to scream, run for cover, "eeeew," and threaten to vomit themselves. It was nasty. The puke smelled like meat, and lemme tell you, that is the worst kind of hurl smell there is. I had to call the janitor and send Marco to take the poor girl to the nurse because in all honesty, I couldn't stomach it.\par
\par
At lunch, while I was eating my soup and trying to pretend the meat chunks weren't there, Ani texted me and asked if she could "please, fucking please" photograph me for one of her graduate projects. I trashed my vomit soup, sauntered over to the teachers' lounge and called her.\par
\par
"So, what?" I asked, flopping down on one of the couches. Martin from the Math department walked by, tossed a wrapped Sno-ball cake at me, and I gave him a thumbs up in thanks.\par
\par
"I will love you in fifty crazy ways if you'd pose last minute for my project. I had a time set up with Amber - Amber Logan? Don't know if you know her - and she was supposed to be my bee-yoo-tee-ful model, but she has the stomach flu and can't do it. My project's due Wednesday."\par
\par
"And I'm a 'bee-yoo-tee-ful model?'"\par
\par
"You'll work."\par
\par
I laughed and told her to shut up. "When are you gonna stop procrastinating?"\par
\par
"If you hold my procrastinating ways against me and refuse to pose, I'll cry. I will."\par
\par
"I won't hold it against you, mainly because I'm the same way." I unwrapped the Hostess cake and took a bite. "What kind of photos are these?"\par
\par
"Please stop giving me the third degree and just say 'yes' or 'no.'"\par
\par
"Yes. Now, what kind of photos are these?"\par
\par
"God, thank you. You're my hero." She asked me what I was eating.\par
\par
"Something. Tell me what kind of photos I'm gonna be posing for."\par
\par
"Black and white, indoor-outdoor. There was one shot Amber and I were planning that I'd still like to do, but if you're uncomfortable with it, we won't. It won't be displayed anywhere - just between me and the professor."\par
\par
"Nude?"\par
\par
"Not full-frontal. See, for my project, I'm going for themes, and one shot is 'natural.' I'd sort of wanted to mess up bed sheets, like they'd been slept in, and then have Amber lie on her back like she was sleeping. The frame would cut right before the...business." Ani coughed. "But I do want pubic hair...if you have any."\par
\par
"Well, this may win for Awkward Conversation of 2010."\par
\par
"The pubic hair's essential, really, because if you don't have any, there's no point in taking the picture. Natural equals..."\par
\par
I grumbled, "Yes, I have goddamn pubes" around a bite of marshmallowy coconut, and tried not to laugh when some eighth grade teacher gave me a funny look from the water cooler.\par
\par
Ani snorted. "Alright, well, good." Silence. Deadly silence.\par
\par
"Continue. This is embarrassing." I wadded the plastic wrapper into a ball and tossed it into an overflowing wastebasket in the corner.\par
\par
"Uh. Right." She paused. "So, are you good today?"\par
\par
"I should be this afternoon, around five-ish? We can do it at my place if you want. There's an open field behind the house, a pool, lots of picturesque shit. And...a bed."\par
\par
"Stop being weird."\par
\par
I laughed, climbed off the couch, and began to adjust my attire for class. My shirt was all twisted from lounging. "So, yes? Is that good?"\par
\par
"Mmhm. You're gonna have to give me directions, but it should be fine. My backdrops and cameras are already crammed in the shitmobile, so all I need to do is jump in and go."\par
\par
"Are you in Pittsburgh right now?"\par
\par
"Yeah. Starbucks off Ross."\par
\par
"Well, why don't I just meet you somewhere after work and you can follow me over? If I were to give you directions, you'd end up in Alabama."\par
\par
Ani laughed, that chortling little nineteen fifties laugh of hers, and agreed. "I'll be at Halcyon all the livelong day, so drop by when you're off."\par
\par
We disconnected, and I made my way back to those darling children I was in charge of for excruciating amounts of time, plucking the coconut from my teeth.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
By the end of the day, I was restless.\par
\par
I'd called a free period for my fifth block class, due to the fact that we were significantly ahead of schedule, so everyone was hanging out at the art tables, writing love notes, chewing gum, listening to rap music on their iPods, whatever kids are doing these days... I was digging around in the ancient box of VHS tapes the wonderful school administration supplied my class with for such days, looking for something that wasn't Sister Wendy and yet wasn't Ella Enchanted.\par
\par
"Guys?" I said, finding Napoleon Dynamite and then tossing it back in. Dust clouds puffed up into my face and I almost choked to death on my sinuses. "I have a question."\par
\par
The class sputtered a little bit, some students quieting down while others completely ignoring the blond guy having an allergic reaction at the front of the room. Quinn and her posse jumped to attention, pearl necklaces clacking against prominent collarbones with the movement, and Jesse - oh, mysterious Jesse - gave me an ear.\par
\par
"As most of you know," I said, turning my head briefly away to sneeze into the crook of my arm, "I am in charge of painting the wall mural in the east hall. You've seen my outlines, you know what it looks like, you know what needs to be done. Well, I was wondering if any of you guys would like to volunteer to stay after school a couple times a week to help fill it in with color."\par
\par
Quinn's fingers inched their way across her desk, index lifting, hand raising...\par
\par
"I just need a few people, maybe an hour or two per day. It'll be fun. Free junk food, soda, I'm not against radios and conversation..."\par
\par
The hand lifted a bit more...\par
\par
"Plus, volunteers get a free homework pass."\par
\par
Quinn's hand shot up so quickly I'm sure she pulled a muscle. I tried not to look at her, but she ended up leaning over her desk until she was about to fall in the floor, arm flapping about wildly.\par
\par
"There's a sign-up sheet by the door, so if you're interested, jot down your name and number on your way-"\par
\par
The girl leapt from her desk and dashed to the goddamn clipboard resting on the counter.\par
\par
"-or you can sign up now... No problem."\par
\par
While Quinn was scrawling her name and dotting her I's with hearts, the rest of the students looked at me like, "Are you done?" and then went back to talking about how much of a tool I am. I sighed, pulled the neck of my shirt up to cover my mouth and nose, and then went back to digging in the video box.\par
\par
*\par
\par
By the time class let out, I was more than ready to leave. My stomach was grumbly from lack of proper lunch, I was still exhausted from staying up all night fucking on the couch, and then there was the whole Ani business to tend to. But the good thing was that there was no middle schooler mess to clean up that day, so I quickly shut off the television, wheeled it back into the closet, and gathered my shit to leave.\par
\par
The fluorescent green clipboard had been disturbed, certainly, meaning that the pen was now missing and the paper had a huge tear in the bottom corner. But I took that as a good sign, hoping that there were more names on the list besides Quinn Jailbait Coleman.\par
\par
I snatched the clipboard, and at first my heart fell a little and I began to run through the speech in my head... "Nevermind, I don't need extra help after all." But at the very bottom of the page, in the tiniest handwriting imaginable, there it was: "Jesse."\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
"Ani, Ani, Ani!" I sang, pushing open the door to her office with my shoulder.\par
\par
She was on her laptop, typing furiously, holding a Granny Smith apple to her mouth with her teeth. She nodded her head in recognition, typed even more quickly, and then pressed 'return.' "Hey!" She said, pulling the apple from her mouth and wiping her lips off on the sleeve of her sweater. She climbed from her chair and, on spiky heels, ran over and gave me a quick hug. "You're awesome."\par
\par
I nodded. "I know."\par
\par
"And I can't wait to shoot you."\par
\par
"What everyone wants to hear after a long day..."\par
\par
She grabbed a shoulder bag from the floor beside her desk chair, threw it over her shoulder, and asked if I was ready to go.\par
\par
*\par
\par
When we arrived at the house, it was a quarter till five. Clouds were already blocking out the bit of sun left, and the manor was dusted gray, like before rain.\par
\par
"Hope we don't get washed away," I said, helping Ani carry in her equipment. She had a shitload of bags and contraptions that looked too mechanical for me, so I tried to grab at the rolls of silky backdrops for fear of breaking something.\par
\par
"Oh god, I hope it rains!" She exclaimed, eyes upturning toward the fading white sky. "I could get some spectacular photographs."\par
\par
I looked at her for a second, puzzled, and then went on my merry way toward the front door.\par
\par
The thing about Ani is that she's like one of the broken Froot Loops at the bottom of the box. A perfect half-circle. She's either loopy or strictly serious. There's no other half...no other side to her at a given moment. She looks like Regina Spektor, speaks like someone from an old fifties film, and occasionally reminds me of Luna Lovegood from Harry Potter when she's not reminding me of my mother.\par
\par
She's unconventional, she's not afraid to wipe away apple juice with the sleeve of a brand new sweater, and she swings back and forth between being overtly forward and so reserved you have to draw words from her lips. I suppose that's why I like her.\par
\par
"What do you think?" I asked, leading her into the living room. So it looked a little disheveled from the night before, and I was going to have to warn her about not sitting on the couch, but it wasn't too bad. I grabbed the half-empty Halloween candy dish from coffee table, where I'd placed it the night before, and offered her some chocolate.\par
\par
"I don't eat chocolate," Ani said, moving away toward the armchair, where she placed her camera bag and a case of...something else. "But your house is lovely."\par
\par
I smiled awkwardly, snatched a fun-sized Twix for myself, and ate it as she studied me intently.\par
\par
"So, what should I be wearing?" I asked, finishing up my candy and tossing the wrapper into the wastebasket by the couch.\par
\par
Ani shrugged, used a ribbon to tie back her russet hair, and told me to dress in whatever made me the most comfortable. "Something you feel good in," she said, twirling a stray lock of hair around her finger before tucking it behind her ear. "Colors are unimportant. I can work with you."\par
\par
I nodded, one of those constant nods that, when accompanied by a smile, generally means, "Um. Okay."\par
\par
"Make yourself at home," I murmured, walking toward the staircase. "I'm just gonna run up and get changed real quick. Let me know if you need anything."\par
\par
"And I'll be setting up. Take your time."\par
\par
I dashed up the stairs, threw on some jeans and a black cable knit cardigan to go over my red shirt, and called it an outfit.\par
\par
*\par
\par
The photo shoot went as well as to be expected, I suppose. For one, I'm apparently "a natural," and I have a "great form," which I guess means I have a great ass, but I already knew that. There were a few moments when I thought for sure Ani was going to really lose it, but she remained calm and composed, and other than telling me that I was an uncooperative asshole, was relatively nice about the fact that I could not, on cue, get that spark in my eye like I was looking at a lover.\par
\par
"I'm about to get naked for you," I said, leading my friend up the stairs to one of the guest bedrooms to do the soft porn shots. "Don't tell me I'm being uncooperative."\par
\par
*\par
\par
"Okay, so you're not uncooperative," Ani conceded, climbing up on the bed once I was lying, shirtless with my pants pulled down a bit in the front. She was barefoot, and her black toenails were stark against the white sheets. "Just incorrigible."\par
\par
I laughed, kicked at her lightly, and told her to hurry the fuck up because I felt awkward. "And if these turn out hot, you're sending me and Brian copies."\par
\par
Ani crouched down, testing a setting on her camera, and then snapped a quick shot of me, probably with a double-chin, as I tucked my chin into my neck so I could see her. "I'll make you guys a disc. Jerk off material for Brian."\par
\par
"You've never met him, and yet you know him well."\par
\par
The phone was ringing off the hook at one point, but the damn lady wouldn't let me up, telling me that we'd "lose it" if I moved.\par
\par
"Let me go grab it - it could be important!"\par
\par
"If it's important, they'll call back. Now be still."\par
\par
By the end of the shoot, I was both annoyed and sweaty from the fucking sheets covering my legs, but Ani told me that the sweat added to the picture. That got me really hoping to God that she didn't have any ulterior motives concerning those photos of me looking very well-fucked. This was the girl who'd tried to seduce me once while we were still at PIFA, after all.\par
\par
I also hoped that there really was an Amber Logan.\par
\par
"All done!" Ani shouted, orgasmically perhaps, before she climbed off the bed and replaced the lens cap on her camera.\par
\par
"Hallelujah." I jerked my pants back up under the covers, joined her in standing, and then made my way into the hall to answer the once-again ringing phone. I barely caught it before the answering machine picked up.\par
\par
"Hello?"\par
\par
The line was silent.\par
\par
"Hello?" I repeated. "Anybody there?"\par
\par
"Mm, hi. This is... Is Brian Kinney there, by any chance?" The voice was shattered, weak, slightly upset.\par
\par
My heart sped. "Uh, no. He's at work right now, but this is his partner, Justin. Can I help you with-"\par
\par
"Justin." She said it like she knew it well.\par
\par
I leaned back against the wall, felt the cold plane against my back, and chewed the edge of my fingernail. "Who's this?"\par
\par
The woman coughed - it was almost a hack - and then cleared her throat before murmuring, "Joan Kinney."\par
\par
Cue the orchestra. Beethoven's 5th Symphony was in order.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
Brian arrived home at a little after eight, lugging a bag of takeout chicken and a bottle of wine. His tie was untied and flopping in the air with every stride he took toward the kitchen.\par
\par
"He's hotter in person," Ani said, making her fabulous first impression. She was packing up her shit in the living room, on her way out.\par
\par
"Hey, stay for dinner," I said, tucking a rolled backdrop under my arm and helping her zip a large, black bag that housed her flash. "And this is Brian."\par
\par
He raised an eyebrow as he met us in the foyer, looking around at the pieces of photo shoot lying around everywhere, and shrugged.\par
\par
"Brian, this is Ani Safin."\par
\par
"Nice to meet you," she said, shaking his hand diplomatically and giving me a side-smile. "And I'd love to stay, but I need to get back to Halcyon to see if I can get some work done before I hit the sack. I'll grab dinner on the way."\par
\par
Brian still hadn't said a word, which I thought was strange, even for him. He ran fingers through his wind-blown hair, then trailed a hand down to rub at his stubble.\par
\par
*\par
\par
After I helped Ani repack the shitmobile and gave her a quick hug "goodbye," I went back inside to find Brian piddling around in the kitchen, looking utterly and completely exhausted. The lines on his face seemed more prominent, and the black circles definitely weren't leftover from his Halloween makeup.\par
\par
"What's up?" I asked, deeply concerned.\par
\par
"My mom has cancer," he replied simply, dropping the chicken and wine off on the counter and turning to me. "Seems it\rquote s a family affair."\par
\par
Cancer. Jesus Christ, cancer? Cancer, the Kinney disease. I blinked once, twice, started to say something, but stopped.\par
\par
Brian stared a hole through my eye sockets like he was waiting for me to react, waiting for me to do something other than stand there, stammering like a fool. The tears, the upset woman\rquote s voice as she asked me to please have Brian call her when he got in - as she told me that she knew I wasn\rquote t very fond of her, but to let her son know that she needed to speak with him immediately. It was important. It couldn\rquote t wait.\par
\par
I wrapped my arms around Brian, because I didn\rquote t know what else to do.\par
\par
"She called," I said, stroking the back of his head, even as he pulled away from me like an annoyed child and made his way to the cabinet for a glass. "She wanted to speak with you, but I said you were at work and\'85"\par
\par
"Fucking Claire," Brian murmured, grabbing a glass and then jerking open one of the kitchen drawers in search of the corkscrew. "That cunt. I know she gave her the number."\par
\par
"Did your mom call you at work?"\par
\par
He shook his head, popped open the bottle of wine, and poured himself a healthy portion. "My sister paid me a little visit today." Brian scoffed, and in a high-pitched voice, repeated, "\lquote Oh, Brian, you need to talk to Mom! She\rquote s dying.\rquote  Pfft. I say, good fucking riddance. May she rot in peace."\par
\par
I grabbed my own glass, hands shaking so hard I was afraid I\rquote d drop it, and went to fill it with an obviously very expensive red. Brian moved away when I was at close enough proximity to touch.\par
\par
"What\rquote s her prognosis?"\par
\par
He shrugged, tilting the glass and swallowing until it drained. "Lung cancer, already spread to the adrenal gland, inoperative. That\rquote s all I know."\par
\par
"Fuck," I breathed, leaning back against the counter. Brian nodded, started to refill his glass, but on second thought, grabbed the whole bottle and left with it.\par
\par
I didn\rquote t follow him into the living room, I didn\rquote t follow him up the stairs, and I didn\rquote t follow him into his office, where he proceeded to shut the door.\par
\par
I packed away the chicken for another time, rinsed out my glass, and wondered if I was ready for what was coming.\par
\par
***\par
\par
10.\par
\par
Tuesday, November 2, 2010\par
Brian eased inside me at barely past midnight, keeping the covers up to our shoulders, pressing his nose against the back of my neck, and just carefully pushing in. He was drunk, completely and utterly wasted on wine and whiskey, and his breath felt sticky when he breathed out, hard and heavy, thrusting his hips and gripping at my waist.\par
\par
He moved slowly, gently working the skin of my shoulder with his lips, and as good as it felt, as wonderfully full as I was, I couldn't make myself push back, grab at his arms in wild abandon or scream. Because he was silent, so silent that his quick pants filled the room, and he was drunk and fucked up and I wasn't sure that he even knew what he was doing. His eyes were closed, his sweat tasted like alcohol when I twisted around to lap up a bit from the curve of his neck, and after he came, after I came, he simply rolled away and pulled the covers up over his head.\par
\par
"Hey," I whispered, climbing under the covers with him and wrapping a leg around his hip. I wanted to hold him, wanted to kiss him and tell him everything was going to fucking be okay, but I didn't.\par
\par
Brian sighed, threw an arm over my shoulders, and pulled my head into his chest. He kissed my hair, taking a few seconds to inhale my shampoo before planting another peck right on my crown.\par
\par
"I hate her," he slurred, stroking his fingers up and down the back of my neck. "Fucking bitch. Fucking..." He paused, and I knew it was taking a lot out of him to speak, to drunkenly trip over his words in the darkness of night, under covers that smelled like sex and sweat. I kissed his throat, but he didn't continue.\par
\par
"I know," I said, in as much voice as I could manage. "I know you do."\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
That morning, Brian left for work before I did. He complained of a headache, barely opened his eyes for half of our shared shower, and then left at seven o'clock with a travel mug full of sugar and black coffee and his briefcase tapping against his thigh on his way out the door.\par
\par
I was feeling a little sick as I dressed myself, pulled on jeans and a brown long-sleeved shirt, and later on, my breakfast tasted cold even though it was straight from the microwave.\par
\par
At work, one of my first period students pulled the fire alarm on his way to the bathroom, Mrs. Stuart was pissed at me because I gave her daughter a C on her report card, and some little fucker had drawn a mustache on my Mona Lisa poster - which, okay, probably would've been funny had I not been nauseous. I popped a Zantac after lunch, and Dylan asked me if it was a prescription painkiller and if yes, could I sell him some for ten bucks.\par
\par
"Mr. Taylor, what's wrong?" Quinn asked me in last block, bending over the front of my desk to most likely - most definitely, rather - show me her boobs. Her hair was twisted into a curly ponytail and she had the poof thing going on up top.\par
\par
"Dunno," I said, doing a search for some cheap classroom art supplies online. "Probably ate something funky."\par
\par
"Well, if you need anything, just let me know!" She whispered, whispered, and if my eyes had been looking anywhere within the vicinity of her at that moment, I probably would've caught a wink.\par
\par
My vehicle wouldn't fucking start for five minutes after school, and I had my cell flipped open, getting ready to call AAA when it finally roared to life. Fucking stupid ass thing. I made a point to kick the tire when I arrived at Daphne's condo.\par
\par
"Are you on something?" She asked carefully, pressing a hand to the small of my back and giving me a wary smile.\par
\par
I sighed. "Mm, just moderately hostile at the moment."\par
\par
"Great."\par
\par
"I know, right?"\par
\par
Daphne pulled me into her kitchen and shoved no less than six gourmet dishes in front of me, each more colorful than the next, all reeking of rosemary. "Taste test. Which should I bring to the Finch family dinner?"\par
\par
I swallowed, trying to keep my mouth from watering in preparation for vomit, and clutched my stomach. "No taste test. I'm not feeling so wonderful."\par
\par
"Stomach ache?"\par
\par
I shrugged, moving over to the fridge in search of clear soda. "I've been off and on nauseous all day. Probably something I ate."\par
\par
Daphne spun one of the dishes around in a circle before plucking off a piece of chicken and shoving it in her mouth. "Sorry." She waved toward the plates. "But which one looks better?"\par
\par
I laughed, popping the tab on a mini can of Sprite and bumping the fridge door shut with my hip. "Thanks for your heartfelt concern."\par
\par
"Sorry!" Daph smiled and bounced over to give me a one-armed hug. "I hope you get well very, veeery soon." She paused. "Better?"\par
\par
"Much." I grinned.\par
\par
"Anyway, you've gotta help me. We're telling Greg's parents tonight and I'm freaking!"\par
\par
"So you decided to make ninety-seven meals and force feed them to your best friend?"\par
\par
"So it's a family dinner and I have to bring something. It's a dinner for a family of classy restaurant owners and chefs who're finding out that their precious son has knocked up some chick they've never met. I'm screwed. Help."\par
\par
I shook my head, took a sip of soda, and shrugged. "Go with the chicken...rosemary...green thing. It looks fancy."\par
\par
"Call Brian. I need a taste tester."\par
\par
"Mm, not such a good idea."\par
\par
"Yeah. Fucking health freak."\par
\par
I shook my head, pressing two fingers to my lips to keep from regurgitating something gross. "No, it's not that."\par
\par
"Christ, what's up his ass this time?" Daph began rummaging through random drawers in search of a fork and knife. "I swear, every fucking month it's something di-"\par
\par
"His mom has cancer."\par
\par
I heard the silverware clank back into the drawer before I saw it. Daphne waved her hands around in the air like she didn't know what to say, then settled with them against her chest. "Fuck," she said, giving me her trademark oh shit look and shaking her head to the beat of my nervously tapping foot.\par
\par
I nodded. "Yeah. That's what I said."\par
\par
"So like, how's he taking it? He's got all this residual shit with his mother, right?"\par
\par
"I think he's a little fucked up." I blinked slowly, then braved another sip of Sprite. "I mean," I swallowed, "he drank himself into a stupor last night and had some kind of weird emotional...thing under the covers, and..."\par
\par
Daphne shot me a questioning glance.\par
\par
"So, yeah, in theory he does that a lot, but not...like that. He's internalized a lot of shit over the years, and I'm afraid it's just gonna come out and explode and-"\par
\par
Another glance.\par
\par
"You know what I mean, okay? I'm worried about him. Don't want him to beat himself up."\par
\par
Daphne dug her fork into a hunk of beef and shoveled it into her mouth along with shredded lettuce and salsa. "You know there's nothing you can do, right?"\par
\par
"Thanks."\par
\par
"Not like that." She swiped at her mouth with a napkin before running both hands through her long, curly hair. "It's just... He's Brian. He's destructive."\par
\par
"He's my partner. You're not telling me anything I don't know."\par
\par
Daphne shrugged, took another quick bite of taco salad, then proceeded to cover it with a sheet of aluminum foil and place it in the fridge. "I'm not trying to be a pessimistic bitch."\par
\par
"I know you're not." I began helping her wrap up the rest of the dishes. "You're being realistic. And I tell you fucking everything, so it's not like you don't have anything to draw from."\par
\par
She kissed my cheek on her way to the fridge with the chicken-rosemary-thing and gave me a sad smile. "So what's her prognosis?"\par
\par
"Not good, apparently. Brian doesn't know much, either... Stuff his sister told him. Lung cancer, spread to the adrenal gland, inoperative." I shrugged. "He says he hates her but I know it's just something he's saying."\par
\par
"I feel bad for him."\par
\par
"Never tell him that." I shoved the last dish into the refrigerator and shut the door behind me. "And anyway, you don't know about this. Say a word and I'll never speak to you again."\par
\par
Daphne rolled her eyes. "Who am I gonna tell?"\par
\par
I gave her a look.\par
\par
"I won't. Promise."\par
\par
"Thanks."\par
\par
We migrated into the living room and flopped together on the couch. The TV was on, a showing of Edward Scissorhands, and Daphne and I watched for a while, not really talking much because silence was comfortable.\par
\par
"So how are you doing?" I asked during a commercial break, right after Edward helped break into Jim's house. I kicked one of my sneakered feet gently against Daphne's bare ones.\par
\par
She shrugged and rubbed at her stomach. "Great, I guess. Haven't heard much out of the little guy or girl. Puked like, three times yesterday, but I'm peachy." She smiled. "Greg's adorable. It's fucking nuts."\par
\par
"That he's adorable?"\par
\par
"That this is happening." She pulled up the front of her shirt and poked her gut out as far as she could...and still didn't look pregnant. "This time next year, I'll be waking up seven times a night to a screaming infant just so it can suck my tit. Totally not what I'd envisioned as of a month ago."\par
\par
"You were probably envisioning waking up in order for Greg to suck your tit." I cringed and kicked at her foot once more. "Which really isn't an image I'd like to imagine in any sort of detail, by the way."\par
\par
"Really, now?" Daphne laughed, throwing herself across the couch and into my lap. "What, this?" She pulled down the front of her shirt, exposing her purple bra and causing me to gag and carefully push her off me.\par
\par
She flopped onto her back and laughed childishly. "Aaaahh, ha. You're a shitty gay guy."\par
\par
"And how's that?"\par
\par
"One of the queer nurses at the hospital loves tits. He's asked to see mine before."\par
\par
"Well, grow a dick and maybe I'll ask to see that." I stuck my tongue out at her and climbed off the couch. "Anyway, I've gotta go."\par
\par
She pulled me down again. "Edward's back on."\par
\par
I checked my watch and sighed. "Mm, rain check, okay?"\par
\par
"Don't go."\par
\par
"I've got shit to do."\par
\par
"You don't have shit to do. You just want to get home to check on Brian."\par
\par
"Brian's not home yet."\par
\par
"So stay." She pulled me into a lying position on the couch and curled up around me. "You have to help me pick out something to wear tonight."\par
\par
"That's what your boyfriend's for."\par
\par
"My boyfriend is to fuck and occasionally to talk to, but mostly to fuck. You're for like, everything else."\par
\par
"My stomach hurts."\par
\par
"Join the club. Feel free to puke in my toilet."\par
\par
I laughed. "Daph, I've really gotta go."\par
\par
She rubbed her nose against my shirt, smoothed back my hair, and told me, in her best, most pitiful voice, to stay if I loved her.\par
\par
"Text me a picture of prospective outfits and I'll give a yay or nay. How's that?"\par
\par
"Don't think I'm helping you get dressed next time you have some big event to attend."\par
\par
I shrugged with a grin, getting up to go. "Call me later. Let me know how it goes."\par
\par
Daphne blew a strand of hair out of her face and agreed. "Good luck with Brian," she said, straightening on the couch and lowering the TV volume a few notches.\par
\par
I nodded solemnly and left the condo, keys jangling in my pocket.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
I tried to paint when I got home, but hardly anything came to me and what did was crap. Blue lines on black, something that looked like a face, red, red, red, orange. I moved over to my work table, drew a tree, crumpled it up, threw it away, and finally migrated to the kitchen for alcohol because really, I was being a stupid little twat who obsessed over the woes of his boyfriend and yeah, not me at all.\par
\par
I was a quarter through a bottle of ridiculously expensive wine when Brian came home, finding me on the couch wearing a blue hoody and no pants. The wine had only made my stomach hurt worse, made it ache a little from the very pit, so I ultimately decided to set it on the coffee table and pull my hoody down over my knees because it was fucking freezing.\par
\par
"What the fuck," Brian said - said, didn't question - as he dropped his briefcase off on the couch beside me and picked up the bottle of wine. He took a swift, gulping sip and asked me, with his mouth full of liquid, what the hell I was doing.\par
\par
"Getting sick," I answered, stretching out. "I don't feel good."\par
\par
He eyed the missing wine inquisitively. "This your second bottle?"\par
\par
I shook my head, reaching up to grab at Brian's shirt to pull him down on the couch with me. "I'm not drunk."\par
\par
"You're perfectly sober?"\par
\par
"Just nauseous."\par
\par
"Well, I'm sure this isn't helping a whole hell of a lot." Brian took another swig of wine and swallowed loudly.\par
\par
"Wine's supposed to be good for your stomach. Food poisoning and shit."\par
\par
"Pretty sure that's red wine."\par
\par
I was pretty sure of that, too.\par
\par
The couch shifted as Brian moved off of me, set the wine back on the coffee table, and maneuvered himself into an upright position. He leaned over and pecked my lips. "Been painting?" He asked, noting my lack of pants.\par
\par
"Not so much painting as shitting all over a canvas."\par
\par
"Nice."\par
\par
I sighed, using Brian's arm to help pull myself up until I was standing by the couch, rolling my shoulders and working the kinks out of my back, feeling my muscles stretch like a rubber band. "So how was your day, dear?"\par
\par
"Fabulous, darling. The Joneses invited us to their annual wine and cheese party."\par
\par
I reached for his face and kissed him nice and slow. His lips tasted like white wine and cigarettes, all velvety sweet and mellow like toffee.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
Claire called at around nine and left a three minute message filled with phrases like, "If you care," and "I wanted you to know," and "Mom needs us," all blending into a background of a bunch of rowdy kids yelling at each other. Brian listened to the message four times before deleting it and turning his attention back to the computer screen.\par
\par
"What're you gonna do?" I asked carefully, closing the book I'd been pretending to read and turning to him.\par
\par
He looked up at me over the screen of the iMac and raised his eyebrows. "Nothing."\par
\par
Apparently he should've said, "drink," because an hour later, while I was on the phone with Daphne in the kitchen, Brian came in, grabbed a month's supply of liquor, and retreated upstairs with his mouth fixed in a straight line and eyes seemingly hollow.\par
\par
"He's drinking," I said quietly, leaning back against the countertop. I was drinking too, but Pepto Bismal straight from the bottle.\par
\par
"Let him. That's how he deals."\par
\par
"Stop telling me what I already know."\par
\par
"Then stop acting so worried about it."\par
\par
*\par
\par
Michael showed up on our doorstep at midnight, holding his cell phone to his ear and running his fingers through his hair like he was nervous.\par
\par
"Hey," I greeted, waving him in and shutting the door behind him.\par
\par
Brian stumbled halfway down the stairs, still talking to Michael on his Blackberry, and sat down on one of the steps like he was hiding from the two of us.\par
\par
"Brian," Michael said firmly, then less firmly, then in a whisper as he made his way across the living room. "Brian."\par
\par
I went back into the kitchen to fill out midterm progress reports to keep me from feeling like I needed to do something, even though there was nothing I could do.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
A short knocking came from the far side of the countertop, and I looked up to find Michael standing there, knuckles rapping against the marble. He looked about nine years old and yet all of his almost forty years, and even though I kind of resented him and I know now that I probably always will, I softened.\par
\par
"Hey."\par
\par
Michael nodded my way and began playing with the zipper of his jacket. "He passed out," he said simply, yanking the bottom of his windbreaker with one hand and pulling the zipper up and down with the other, ripping the teeth apart, closing them, annoying me to death with the sound.\par
\par
"Did you talk to him?"\par
\par
"He's fucked up."\par
\par
Like I didn't know that.\par
\par
"His mother, you know?"\par
\par
I nodded and murmured a yeah. "I know."\par
\par
Michael removed his fingers from his zipper, thank God, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "He gets like this for a while when something happens, but he'll be okay. Just give him a while and-"\par
\par
"I fucking know, okay?" I knew I was being an ass, I knew Michael was just trying to help, but godamnit, I was sick and tired of everyone telling me about Brian, like I didn't fucking know him.\par
\par
Michael blanched, but I didn't feel particularly bad. I wanted to feel bad - my conscience wanted me to feel bad - but it wasn't happening. I didn't hate Michael, I didn't not like him. He just pissed me off sometimes in such an irrational way that I felt like I did.\par
\par
"Sorry," I murmured, shaking my head at him and trying not to roll my eyes when his face turned red. "I know, I know. You were just trying to..."\par
\par
He nodded, took a nervous step back, then a shy step forward. "Call me if he does something stupid."\par
\par
"He's known to do that on occasion," I said, climbing off the bar stool and grabbing the glass of Ginger Ale I'd been sipping. I emptied it into the sink.\par
\par
"Yeah, well."\par
\par
"I'll call you. Or he'll call you in a drunken stupor."\par
\par
Michael smiled faintly, waved goodbye, and left.\par
\par
He was such a fucking shit.\par
\par
I was such a fucking shit.\par
\par
I felt like fucking shit.\par
\par
I threw up in the sink.\par
\par
***\par
\par
\par
The sheets smelled like straight alcohol and sweat when I tried to climb in. I itched to change them for fresh ones, but Brian was sprawled half-across them, his underwear twisted and crack showing, and it wasn't worth the effort. I stripped down and slipped under the covers.\par
\par
Brian woke me up puking at a quarter after three. The bathroom door was left open and I could see him on his knees in front of the toilet bowl, violently and loudly vomiting. His hair was stuck to his forehead, and I thought about getting up and helping him, but I knew he'd just tell me to get the fuck back to bed so I didn't.\par
\par
When he came back, face clean and mouth washed out, he took off his underwear and flopped onto the bed.\par
\par
I turned to face him. "Hey," I whispered, touching his bare chest.\par
\par
He grumbled something akin to a reply and buried his head in the pillow.\par
\par
I got up to hurl at five and Brian was already awake, seated cross-legged in bed and on his laptop. I heard him shut it and get up while I was leaned over the toilet, vomiting up everything I'd eaten in the past twelve hours, and then it was like I blinked and he was already behind me at the sink, wetting a face cloth.\par
\par
I coughed, took a deep breath, and reached over to flush to toilet.\par
\par
Brian didn't say anything as he came over, pushed my hair back with his palm, and gently wiped off my mouth with the cloth. I smelled rancid, I think I'd missed a little so there was a splatter of puke on the floor, but he didn't say a word.\par
\par
He went back to bed so I could finish cleaning up on my own, and when I was done, he held the covers back and motioned for me to climb in.\par
\par
"Thanks," I whispered, twisting onto my stomach in attempts to ease the gentle waves of nausea.\par
\par
I watched as he nodded, closed his eyes for a second like they hurt, then rolled over and pulled the sheets up over his head.\par
\par
\par
11.\par
\par
Brian and I laid in bed for another hour, both of us exhausted and nauseous, curled up in stinky, sweaty bed sheets with our stinky, sweaty hair matted and flat.\par
\par
It was scalding in the bedroom, the heat apparently running at full blast, and everything seemed cloudy, foggy through the lenses of my less than rose colored glasses. I sighed, stretching out under the covers, hearing my knees pop and crack and feeling the satisfying burn in my muscles.\par
\par
"Morning," I whispered to Brian, who turned to look at me, eyes half-lidded and dark with sleep. He yawned, mouth opening wide, and then mumbled a low greeting and closed his eyes once more.\par
\par
I scooted in close and kissed his full bottom lip, even though it was a little crusty with dried drool and his breath didn\rquote t smell so nice. He bumped his nose with mine and then wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me tightly against him.\par
\par
"How\rquote re you feeling?" I asked quietly into his neck, twisting one of my legs up in his and closing my eyes. I felt his warm breath against my forehead, then a quick peck of a kiss there.\par
\par
"Bitch of a headache."\par
\par
I smiled, rubbing at his chest, and nodded. "I bet."\par
\par
"You?"\par
\par
"Shitty. So not going to work today."\par
\par
"You better not be contagious," Brian said, not quite with lack of fondness. His hands were warm as they reached out and stroked across my shoulders, then up my neck, finally coming to a stop at my cheeks. "You're fucking burning up," he said, eyes widening a fraction of an inch.\par
\par
I shrugged, reaching up to rub at my itchy nose. "I think I've got some kind of bug. Probably from the walking germs at the school."\par
\par
Brian nodded, smoothing his fingers up to stroke at my eyebrows. His fingers were smoother than you'd think they'd be -- soft, delicate almost, even though Brian was possibly the least soft, least delicate man on the planet. He slid down, leaned in, and began mouthing my neck.\par
\par
We needed to talk about the night before. Needed to talk about relationship roles and trust and y\rquote know, not calling your childhood best friend to drive almost an hour just to hold you while you pass out. But I didn\rquote t know how to approach the subject, didn\rquote t much want to at the moment, either, so I stayed quiet instead, closing my eyes to the feeling of a hot, wet tongue drawing pictures across the skin of my neck and a cock quickly growing hard against my thigh.\par
\par
*****\par
\par
The rest of the morning was spent making phone calls to work, emailing information to the substitute, and lying on the couch, not moving, because my lower abdomen had begun to hurt. It was a sharp, stinging pain, not excruciating, but uncomfortable. Mostly just felt like my organs were sunburned.\par
\par
I pulled my shirt up and began to press around at the area below my navel, wincing when I discovered that it was fucking sore. Christ. I was dying, right? Had some kind of diseased bladder? I pulled my shirt back down and wondered if I should make a doctor's appointment. On one hand, I felt like shit, and on the other...I felt like shit.\par
\par
I didn't particularly feel like moving, let alone driving myself all the way to Pittsburgh, sitting in a germ-ridden waiting room for an entire hour before the doctor can finally see me, and then lying on my back on an examination table while being prodded and listened to and having a fucking light shone up my nose and in my ears.\par
\par
I grabbed hold of a throw pillow and pressed it over my face. Maybe if I could just go to sleep, I could forget all the shit going on. Forget about Brian's mom, Brian's reaction to his mom, the fact that my job was kicking my ass and that it felt like an ass had kicked me in the gut.\par
\par
I closed my eyes, blocking it all out, trying to concentrate on the low hum of the heat switching in, the warmth of my skin beneath my sweats, the slow, in and out of my breath... But then the phone rang, and it was over.\par
\par
*****\par
\par
Claire Kinney Whateverthefuck-Her-Last-Name-Is-Now, to my knowledge, had never called the house. I had never spoken with her on the phone, never cared to, for that matter, and with the exception of the few unfortunate circumstances of years before, we'd never spoken at all. If I saw her at the grocery store in Pittsburgh, which had happened quite a few times, actually, I would pretend I hadn't seen her. If her oldest kid, John -- stupid little fucker -- was at Old Navy with friends and I happened to run into him, I'd turn the other way and just...go. Grab my shit, walk in the opposite direction. I'd seen Mrs. Kinney once at Friday's when I was with Daphne, but she'd ignored me and I'd ignored her right back. Only harder.\par
\par
So speaking with a Kinney that wasn't Brian was a very rare occurrence. The thought alone made me uncomfortable, and I'd never go into it willingly.\par
\par
That morning, while I was lying on the couch with a pillow over my head, if I had thought to glance at the caller I.D., I wouldn't have answered. I would've let the machine pick it up, let Claire drone something weepy into the box, and then probably would've deleted it. I wouldn't have thought twice. Avoid, listen, try not to hurt too much, delete. The end.\par
\par
But, needless to say, I hadn't checked the caller I.D. and I had answered it. And Claire Kinney had proceeded to have a conversation with me.\par
\par
"Hello?" I greeted, throat a little scratchy. I shifted awkwardly on the couch and pressed the cordless phone closer to my ear, because the person on the other end was so obviously on a barely-in-range cell phone.\par
\par
"Hi," the woman said, voice tear-filled, shaky, unstable. She sniffed, and to be honest, I already knew who it was even though I'd hardly ever spoken to her and she hadn't yet announced her name. "This is Justin, right?"\par
\par
I pondered hanging up, but then decided against it when I thought of Brian. Instead, I murmured a "yeah" into the phone and waited for a response.\par
\par
"This is Claire. Brian's sister?"\par
\par
"Yep."\par
\par
"Well, I was just calling..." Pause. "Do you happen to...?" Long, staticky breath. "Well, Mom's sick -- I'm sure Brian told you -- and I've talked to my brother about this, but he won't agree to it."\par
\par
"Agree to what?"\par
\par
"Thanksgiving. At Mom's."\par
\par
I scoffed. "Is that a surprise?"\par
\par
"Not really. I mean, Brian's always been a pain when it comes to-"\par
\par
"Can I help you with something, Claire?" I butted in, chewing at my thumbnail. If she thought she was going to call and badmouth Brian, she had another thing coming. Fucking Kinneys that weren't Brian. Christ.\par
\par
The line was silent for a moment. Then, slowly and quietly, Claire murmured, "I wanted you to talk to him. This may be Mom's last Thanksgiving, and she wanted us all together."\par
\par
"She wanted you all together?" I rolled my eyes, not necessarily trying to be snippy, but also not exactly delaying the inevitable. "She tells Brian he's going to Hell because of his disgusting lifestyle and yet she wants you all together for her last Thanksgiving?"\par
\par
"Mom has tried," Claire said, clearly upset. "She loves Brian, and she's just trying to-"\par
\par
"You know," I felt compelled to say. "You're currently speaking with another queer like your brother right now, so don't spit out any shit about your mom trying to help Brian. He doesn't need to be helped. Homosexuality is not a disease."\par
\par
"Will you talk to him? Please."\par
\par
"What do you think?"\par
\par
"Mom's dying, Justin," Claire choked out, voice wet with tears. "She doesn't want to undergo treatment. What would you do if this were your mom? Now, I don't know what Brian's been telling you, but you know he loves Mom. Even if he doesn't say he does."\par
\par
I knew it was true, in a way. It had to be. You don't just...stop loving a parent. No matter how shitty they've made you feel, no matter how much pain they've caused, there's a part of you -- that stupid, everfeeling part -- that is always waiting for that day that they'll come back. For that day they'll say, "I'm sorry," and, "I love you." But even if they'll never say that, you're still waiting on that day that they'll look at you for one second and you know they're not judging.\par
\par
Maybe Brian didn't have a great childhood like I did. Maybe he never got the bedtime stories and snuggles from his mom like I received from my dad, but I couldn't help but think that maybe...just maybe we felt kind of the same.\par
\par
If I could've closed my eyes right then and clicked my heels together and fucking Craig Taylor would've suddenly been proud of me, I would have. In a spit-second. A heartbeat.\par
\par
You wouldn't do that for people you hate.\par
\par
I listened to Claire talk. I closed my eyes while she pleaded with me. I squeezed the phone tight, almost broke right through the plastic, and then hung up.\par
\par
The clock ticked on and on for a solid hour before I even thought about moving.\par
\par
*****\par
\par
When Brian got home that night, I was napping on the couch, having taken some of my prescription headache pills just in case they were to help my stomach. Which they didn't, of course. They only made me unresponsively sleepy and had me curled up in a ball with my head buried in a stack of pillows.\par
\par
"Sleeping Beauty," Brian whispered against my lips, reaching to feel my forehead and cheeks for a fever.\par
\par
"Am I hot?" I asked, touching my own skin but arriving at no conclusions. I shrugged to myself.\par
\par
"Yes. But you don't have a fever."\par
\par
I grinned, rolling over onto my back and chuckling softly under my breath as Brian climbed onto the couch with me and stretched out over my body. He kissed me.\par
\par
"Okay?" He asked, pushing the hair back off my forehead.\par
\par
"Think I've got some kind of urinary tract thing. I diagnosed myself on WebMD."\par
\par
"Clever."\par
\par
I sighed. "Probably need to make an appointment or something."\par
\par
Brian nodded in agreement. "Call first thing in the morning. They can usually see you if you hit 'em early like that."\par
\par
"Mm," I hummed, looking up into his eyes. They were tired -- exhausted, even -- and I knew for a fact that he needed a good night's rest more than anything in the world. Christ, and I was going to have to tell him about Claire, and that would make sure that he didn't get that good night's rest. I inhaled, exhaling quickly, stressed.\par
\par
"What the fuck's the matter?" Brian asked, adjusting his position on top of me and reaching to loosen his tie. "You're huffing."\par
\par
"I'm not huffing."\par
\par
"You're freaking out about something, then. I can tell."\par
\par
I rolled my eyes, wrapping my legs loosely around his waist. "You don't want to hear this."\par
\par
"Christ," he whispered. "What is it?"\par
\par
"I mean, you reaaaally, don't want to hear this."\par
\par
"Spit it out, already."\par
\par
"Your sister called."\par
\par
I waited, watching his face as it went from calm, to confused, to worried, to pissed, and then back to calm. He rolled his lips inward, blinked twice, and shrugged. "And...?"\par
\par
"And I talked to her for like, five minutes." I paused. "Well, talked doesn't exactly describe it. More like listened while she told me shit."\par
\par
"About...?" He pushed off me and sat up straight, leaning back against the opposite armrest. "Wait, what? What the fuck is that cunt saying, now? And to you?"\par
\par
"Thanksgiving."\par
\par
"Fuck no."\par
\par
"Exactly what I said."\par
\par
"Jesus Christ." Brian closed his eyes tightly, pulling his legs up to his chest and leaning over until his forehead rested against his kneecaps. "I told her I wasn't coming. She want you to talk to me or something?"\par
\par
I nodded, swallowing loudly and reaching to grab the wine bottle I'd been chug-a-lugging before passing out asleep. I took a swift sip and didn't protest when Brian pulled it from my hands and went to work downing it.\par
\par
"Claire's a total cunt. Total cunt. Always has been, always will be. I'm not going to Thanksgiving dinner with my mother, so she can suck it up and get the fuck over it."\par
\par
"You should've heard her," I murmured, relaxing -- if only a little -- in my own skin. "She kept talking about how your mom was just trying to help you, or whatever, like she wasn't talking to another gay man. Like I was supposed to agree with her or something."\par
\par
"Fuck." Brian shook his head in nervous disbelief. He swallowed down a few mouthfuls of wine and said, "Next time she calls, don't fucking answer."\par
\par
"I wouldn't have answered in the first place if I had taken the time to look at the caller I.D." I shrugged. "And how'd she know I was home, anyway?"\par
\par
Brian rolled his eyes. "I'm your sugar daddy, remember?"\par
\par
"Oh, right. I forgot you pay all the bills while I sit at home all day and watch soap operas."\par
\par
"Take note."\par
\par
I smiled, ever so slightly, and kicked at his leg with my bare foot. "So what're you going to do?"\par
\par
"Nothing."\par
\par
"Nothing?"\par
\par
"Nothing."\par
\par
Brian climbed from the couch and began to pull off his jacket and kick off his shoes. Then he stretched out with me again, this time close by, spooning up against my back. "I think we should go off and commit suicide somewhere. You and me."\par
\par
I laughed, twisting around to face him, and pressed my lips against the exposed skin at his collar. "Sounds like a plan."\par
\par
*****\par
\par
When I was seventeen, I used to sit around in class and think about what my life with Brian Kinney would be like. I'd daydream about making love to him in that huge bed at the loft, all tucked away under the covers, warm and safe. He'd fill me, press his face into my neck, and breathe hot moisture out all over my sweaty skin. We'd move together, soft, soft, slow, slow, then harder and harder and eventually the bed would creak under our shifting weight, mixing with the sounds of his balls slapping against my ass and our sharp, needy cries as we screamed for release, begged for it, but never wanted it to end.\par
\par
I'd dream that afterward, we'd lie there kissing, whispering words of love against each other's lips, and then break off into laughter for no apparent reason. Because laughing was great. It was wonderful to happily laugh in bed. And after we'd laugh, we'd settled down and fall asleep, dreaming about each other and only each other. Dreaming about waking up the next morning and making love again, then eating breakfast and going to work or school, stomachs jumping with anticipation. The feeling of waiting. Waiting for more togetherness, more closeness, more us.\par
\par
But I was stupid at seventeen.\par
\par
Not that Brian and I never had nights like that, because we did. Some nights we'd have the slowest, most excruciatingly erotic sex imaginable, and then we'd wake up in the morning for more, not wanting to separate for even the nine or ten hours required at work. We'd laugh all the way to the door those mornings, kissing -- sucking face, more like -- right up until we had to pull ourselves apart in order to get in our own vehicles.\par
\par
But some nights weren't like that at all. Some nights we'd lie in bed together and not touch, because something was bothering one or both of us. Some nights I'd be afraid to touch Brian because he'd be thinking too hard, lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling with a wrinkled brow and taut mouth.\par
\par
Nights like that night, I'd just kind of...watch. I'd lie there, stretched out under the covers, studying the way Brian's chest rose and fell with each of his breaths. How his tongue darted out to sweep across his bottom lip. How his eyes would dull for minutes at a time, until he'd close them and open them again, clear.\par
\par
He caught me staring at him after a while, turning his head to the side to look at me.\par
\par
Christ, he was beautiful. Pained, aching, but beautiful. I scooted closer and kissed him.\par
\par
"Thinking?" I asked carefully, propping my head up on my elbow and sucking my bottom lip between my teeth.\par
\par
He shrugged one elbow, snorting out something akin to a strangled laugh and reaching out to poke my chest with his index finger.\par
\par
I grabbed his finger because I didn't feel like laughing, and rolled over onto my back. Taking a deep breath, I whispered, "Your sister said your mom wasn't going to undergo treatment."\par
\par
Brian pulled his hand away and flipped onto his stomach, bunching the pillow up under his chest until he was practically giving it a hug. "That's what the cunt tells me."\par
\par
"Why wouldn't she do chemo?" I asked.\par
\par
"She's half-dead anyway. Might as well leap." Brian grumbled a curse under his breath. "Christ, she probably doesn't belieeeeve in it."\par
\par
"Well, I can't imagine." And I couldn't. Not trying to live? Just...giving up?\par
\par
Brian snorted. "I can. If I were Joan Kinney, I'd say no to chemo, too."\par
\par
We were silent for a bit. Brian pulled a cigarette from the package on the bedside table and shoved it between his lips. I watched as it ignited at the touch of his lighter's flame, an explosion of orange, then a puff of smoke. He sucked in, tightening his lips around the cigarette and hollowing his cheeks.\par
\par
The lamplight kept flickering, the bulb on its last leg, and for moments at a time, we were bathed in darkness.\par
\par
"Hey, Brian?"\par
\par
"Mm?"\par
\par
I took a deep breath, inhaling the bitter smoke and practically tasting it on my tongue. "Why'd you call Michael last night?"\par
\par
He pulled the cigarette from between his lips and turned to face me.\par
\par
But didn't say anything.\par
\par
"I mean," I continued quietly, "I know he's your best friend. I get that. But couldn't I have maybe...?" I trailed off, trying to keep my face straight, expressionless.\par
\par
Brian sniffed, swiping at his nose with his thumb, and shrugged. "Michael doesn't ask questions."\par
\par
"Sometimes we need people to ask questions. Talk to us."\par
\par
"Just drop it."\par
\par
I sighed, inhaling sharply and blowing out a loud puff of air. "Michael was doing my job last night, you know."\par
\par
"Go to sleep."\par
\par
"I wish you'd stop."\par
\par
Brian groaned. "Stop what?"\par
\par
I shrugged, flipping onto my stomach and rubbing my face into the pillow. "Shutting me out when you get piss drunk."\par
\par
"You weren't exactly trying to talk to me, so shut up about it."\par
\par
"Because I knew you wouldn't have let me. It would've been a waste of time and a fight that I didn't want to have."\par
\par
"Christ. And this is a fight that I don't want to have, so just go to sleep or come over here and let me fuck you."\par
\par
I froze at that, eyes widening, and turned to look at him. "You're such an asshole."\par
\par
Brian rolled over to face the other way and pulled the covers up to his ears. "So I've heard."\par
\par
I laid there for what felt like hours, staring at the flickering light bulb in the lamp and wondering when it was going to burn out.\par
\par
Just after one, it finally did.\par
\par
tbc\f0\par
}