Gap Filler for 310
Brian and Justin's POVs
R/NC17
Justin
When Brian called my cell a few minutes ago, I was cleaning up my last table. As always, his timing is impeccable. He quickly announced that he’d pick me up when my shift was over. I told him I’d be done in 10 minutes and he hung up without another word. Very Brian of him.
Now I’m taking a piss and thinking about what he has in store for me tonight. Life with Brian continues to be interesting every fucking day. After he kicked me out for the trick last week, I thought things would change a little. Meaning, I thought he’d get back into sleeping a different guy each night and making sure I knew it. But, that hasn’t been the case. Every night since then I’ve slept at the loft, so unless he’s being really fucking quiet (and “fucking” and “quiet” are never used in the same sentence where Brian is concerned) there isn’t anyone else around but me. I’m not naïve enough to think things will stay this way. Hell, he lasted all of two weeks before he ordered up Mr. Tall Dark and Not-so Handsome. I’m not a glutton for punishment so I don’t have false hopes about what's to come. I’m going to enjoy him for all the moments he lets me have him. And right now that happens to be a lot of moments.
The Corvette, sleeker every time I see it, screeches to a halt in front of the diner. I jump in, twisting around to throw my backpack into the back of the car. Before I can get settled, Brian reaches over and hooks a hand around the back of my neck, forcefully pulling me into a deep kiss. He slips his tongue into my mouth, pushing deeper and deeper until I pull away, gasping for air. His eyes are wild and his mouth is turned up in a sly little smile. Somebody’s in a mood tonight. This should be fun.
“I wanna fuck you,” he snarls at me, “now.”
I just smile – my patented, ear-to-ear, award-winning grin. It makes him smile back at me. We drive by Babylon and the line to get in is around the block. Even though Brian could pull rank and walk right up to the front of that mass of men if he wanted, he keeps driving. We park at the other end of Liberty and jump out of the car, pulling our gloves on as we go. It’s fucking freezing out tonight.
We’re on our fourth club (every fucking place is closed down) when a cop car pulls up behind us. Assuming I’m too young to be out trolling around, I have to show ID to the asshole in the uniform. We have a little scuffle and he chucks my license to the ground before dismissing us. Brian seems completely unflustered by the whole exchange, but of course he had a hand in creating this police state so I suppose he knows he has to live with it. But I don’t.
Brian
After being harassed by an ugly, middle-aged cop who only wishes he had a hot piece of blond boy ass following him around, we walk back down Liberty toward the car.
About a block before we arrive at our destination, I see an alley. Taking a few steps into the space, I yank Justin by the collar of his jacket, dragging him behind me as he giggles. I throw myself against the nearest wall and tell him what I want by shoving him to the ground. He should be insulted, but I know he’s not.
Gorgeous smile plastered to his disarming face, he settles on his knees and has my half-erect dick out in no time. When it hits the cold night air I gasp, but two seconds later when all I feel is the warmth and wetness of his skilled mouth I just sigh and let my head roll back, perfectly content.
He starts with long, slow pulls. Sucking up and down the shaft with just the right amount of pressure. I arch my back a little and he moves his head so I can pump my dick in and out of his mouth a couple of times. He knows I get off on fucking his face. I look down and meet his eyes. I watch the full length of my dick come nearly all the way out and then slide all the way into his face. When the tip of my dick hits the back of his throat, I watch his eyes roll back in his head. I can tell it's nearly choking him, but the kid loves cock and he’s more than willing to take it.
I start to gasp a little and he takes control again. His gloved hands pushing down on my hips, I shut my eyes tight and will myself not to scream. If we were at home, I mean at the loft, I’d be letting a full-throttle roar rip from my throat right now. He’s got me right at the edge, right where he wants me, and he’s pulling out all the stops to keep me here.
With other men, a blowjob is often just a blowjob. Having someone suck your dick is always pretty good, even when it’s bad. Then, on a good night, you get a guy who really knows how to suck cock. He’s had a great teacher or makes up for lack of skill with enthusiasm. He leaves you panting and reeling from his own excitement. Then sometimes, but not often, you get a guy like Justin. Well-taught and having more natural talent than he knows what to do with. Add the fact that he understands every nuance of my body, specifically my dick, along with the amount of time he's spent using me to hone his skills, and well…it just never gets this good with anyone else. Don’t know that it ever will.
In a blinding moment I’m coming fast and hard. I grunt as I buck twice into his mouth, filling it with the only part of me he gets to keep.
He waits until he knows every last wave has left my body, then he tucks me back in as he holds my waist, knowing my knees are a little shaky. He stands in front of me, his nose almost brushing mine. I can tell he hasn’t swallowed and I’m waiting for him to feed me my own come. He’s done it before. The first time shocked the shit out of me. But that was a million years ago; now there are few things this kid could do that would rattle my cage.
Justin
I made Brian come hard. I’m sure the combination of freezing cold air, mixed
with my hot, eager mouth did a number on his senses. After it’s over I stand up
in front of him; for a moment, I think about kissing him with his seed still
rolling around in my mouth. But at the last minute I see the election posters
for Stockwell lining the building behind us. I lean over Brian’s right shoulder
and spit a stream of milky liquid all over Stockwell’s face. I make a snarky
comment and Brian laughs with me. Then I finally kiss him, letting him taste
himself on me.
He cackles all the way back to the car and I feel proud. Really proud. Maybe I
should tell Brian about what I’m planning to do tomorrow night. I have this
idea for a sort of counter-campaign against Stockwell. I’m going to work on
designing a poster tomorrow. I’m not sure if I’ll go through with it. Well, I
mean I wasn’t sure I’d go through with it because of how it might affect Brian,
but after the way he just laughed with me, it seems like he hates Stockwell as
much as the rest of us. He just happens to work for him. I think I’ll make my
poster after all, but I’ll keep my mouth shut about it.
Once we're in the car, I wait to see where we’re headed. It’s possible Brian
will take me home after our alley activity. When I see we’re headed back to the
loft, I settle back in my seat and feel a little smile sneak onto my face. Then
it fades away when I realize I might be going home on the bus later. I don’t
mind the bus. I just hate it in the middle of the night. Last week I was
harassed by like three different people. Being a young blond kid does little
for me when using the public transportation system in Pittsburgh.
Brian doesn’t say a word to me until we’re in the elevator on the way up to his
place. He tugs my backpack off my shoulder and opens the zipper as I watch in
rapt amazement. He peeks inside the little opening he makes.
He looks up at me, eyebrow raised, “You bring pajamas?”
“I don’t typically need them for my nocturnal activities here.” I smirk at him.
He nods and rolls his lips into his mouth. He re-zips my bag and hands it back
to me, kissing me as he does it. I want to say, “Yes Brian, I’d love to stay
tonight,” but he isn’t asking, not directly, so I won’t answer, not directly.
Brian
The second I see the ‘Hail Stockwell’ posters up all over Liberty Avenue, I
know exactly who did them. I mean, I’ve only seen a thousand works of art that
Justin’s created. I’ve only witnessed the capabilities of his artistic hands on
a thousand different nights. I’d recognize his passion and skill anywhere.
Fucker.
Who the fuck does he think he is to put these up all over town? I’ll admit,
they’re fucking fantastic, but that doesn’t make it okay. I’m going to beat his
ass when I find him, and not in the fun way.
No sooner is the thought out of my head when he strolls up. I think about how
funny it is that nearly every person I care about in this whole god forsaken
city is randomly standing outside of the diner on a Thursday morning. We’re all
so fucking predictable it’s sick. Justin and Lindsay banter back and forth
about the posters and I wait for her to catch on, but she doesn’t. I wonder if
she’s just playing it off or she really doesn’t recognize his work. I’ll have
to talk to her about that later.
I walk off without another word. I’ll catch the little prick in action and then
nail his balls to the wall. Wonder where he made 500 copies of that poster?
Asshole. I’m gonna make him buy me color cartridges for the laser printer at
the office until he goes broke. Of course, then I’d just have to support him.
Asshole.
Justin
I think Brian might be on to me. He was the only one this morning who didn’t
have much to say about the posters. There was just something in the way he
looked at me. Then this afternoon I was setting up the boardroom at Vanguard
for some big meeting Brian was having and he asked me to dinner. That was
strange in itself, but when I declined, he sarcastically asked if I had another
“project” to work on. And I could tell that he wasn’t implying getting fucked
by a stranger.
Now it’s nearly 9 o’clock and I’m standing in the dark and quiet copy room,
running off my next poster. I took the same graphic of Stockwell, put a clown
nose on him and changed the words to “Laughing Stock” – I thought it was pretty
fucking clever. Ironically, he provided the inspiration this morning when he
confronted Brian (right after Brian asked me to dinner, no less.) Just before I
was kicked out of the room, Stockwell was ranting about being the laughing
stock of the entire city. I’m sure if he knew that not only is the kid making
the posters the intern at the agency running his ad campaign, but that I’m
sleeping with his near and dear gay confidant he’d roll over and die. Or kill
someone, namely Brian. That's why I’ve decided to keep all of this to myself.
I’m trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach by reminding myself that no
one is here at this hour except the cleaning crew, but I still feel uneasy. At
that exact moment, I hear someone come through the door. I try to grab all the
posters and flip them face down, but Brian finds the one remaining on the copy
machine. My scared eyes meet his angry ones and I nearly flinch as the verbal
assault begins.
Brian
I kicked him out of my office. That’s new. I didn’t even act surprised when I
pulled his latest wave of Stockwell hate propaganda off the copy machine. I was
actually more pissed about the fact he thinks it’s cool to abuse offices
supplies after the boss has gone home. But five seconds into my argument with
him I realized that as wrong as he is, and he is wrong, he’s kind of right. He
should be at Kinkos, but other than that, I can’t be angry with him. If I want
him to be the person I’ve challenged him to be all along, this is exactly what
he should be doing under the circumstances. It just fucking sucks that I’m the
one who'll have to deal with the aftermath of his renegade behavior. One wave
of posters making Stockwell look like an ass was one thing, I don’t know if he
can take a second.
I’ve
had such a shitty day, and when I get home to an empty loft that doesn’t have a
fucking thing to eat or drink (the latter of which concerns me much more) I
seriously considering kicking something. Instead, I don a good “I’m gonna fuck
you hard” outfit and head for Babylon. I haven’t been yet this week, but if the
buzz is even half true it will be overflowing with every hot, horny man in
Pittsburgh. At least some good things have come out of Stockwell’s new decree.
When I get inside, it's even more packed than I’d imagined. Wall-to-wall
sweaty men pawing each other. I’m glad I came, think I’ll stay and come.
I prowl through the crowd, sliding my eyes over potentials as I go. I get close
to the backroom and nothing's caught my eye. I won’t admit that I’m actually
looking for something...someone...specific. After our earlier tiff I don’t know
that running into him would be a good thing right now.
I turn to face the entrance to the infamous back room. A place I pay homage to,
and even worship in my dreams on occasion. A place of which I should have a
million memories, but thanks to a few good friends (E, GHB, Tina, Coke) I have
just thousands. Thousands of foggy images that I can conjure up and scroll
through at any moment. A visual Rolodex of instant hard-ons.
It hits me like a ton of bricks, some no entry sign and a padlock that’s so big
I know some drama queen was sent out to buy it today.
No. Back. Room. Closed. Shit.
Stockwell.
Justin
Despite Brian’s protest, I’m heading out to do round two of my
down-with-Stockwell campaign tonight. If I don’t draw attention to the
shortcomings of this homophobe, then who the fuck will?
I have my “Laughing Stock” posters rolled in my messenger bag, along with a
fresh can of adhesive and my brush. I should get sainthood for going out
hanging posters all night when it’s this fucking cold. In a way, I want to tell
people who I am, just to get a little credit. But I don’t need my face in the
papers all over again. Once was enough for me.
Hanging these posters is like a religious experience. Something about it takes
me to a higher place. Spreading the glue over the hard, cold surfaces of
Pittsburgh that no one ordinarily bothers to look at. Slicking up my own
artistic creations for the world to see. And unlike the work I'd normally
do for myself or for school, these posters are being used to inspire and ignite
the masses. I just need them to remember every second of the day that doing
nothing to help a cause is as bad as working against it. Society today is too
goddamned apathetic; I know from experience that people too often settle for
what they can get, instead of fighting for something better, fighting for what
they deserve. I’m here to remind everyone that no one should ever settle…for
anything.
Brian
I don’t know how I knew where to find him or why I’m even looking for him. I
guess in both instances it’s just one of those things. I always kinda know
where Justin is and I always am kinda looking for him in one way or another.
I walk up behind him through the frost-bitten night. I watch his hands make big
strokes up and down the wall, spreading the glue that will hold his latest
creation to the wall.
I snag his hand on an upstroke and spin him toward me. His eyes are wide with
surprise and anger. For the second before he realizes it’s me I see fear, then
it dissipates when he realizes I can’t get him into any real trouble.
Right before I lean in to kiss him he stares at me with cold eyes, they scream
‘fuck you, you don’t own me.’ That’s what makes me kiss him. He’s right. He’s
almost always right. He should be making these posters and he should be hanging
them all over this fucking city. He should be fighting for everything he
believes in. If I didn’t believe that myself, and if I didn’t support him I’d
be a fucking hypocrite.
He relaxes against me as my tongue glides over his. He realizes I’m not
stopping him or turning him in or any of the other things that I might possibly
do. Lord knows, I’m capable of any and all of it.
As we part, I take a poster from the bag slung over his shoulder; a bag full of
rolled-up pieces of passion and anger. I open it and stand back, absorbing the
new design. I saw it at the office earlier, but I didn’t really look at it.
Then I look at him...really look at him.
I press the poster into the glue; run my hands over it until it lies flat. I
stand back and we both look, admiring his art and his conviction. Then I kiss
him again.
Justin
Brian scared the hell out of me. He grabbed my arm and spun me around; luckily
I saw his face about two seconds before I screamed. I was ready to punch him
for treating me this way, until he kissed me.
He sinks his tongue into my mouth and covers my lips with his. Slides his right
hand around my waist and pulls me close. I inhale deeply.
When we part, he just stares at me for a second before fishing a poster out of
my bag. He unrolls it, admires it, and hangs it. This isn’t really where I saw
my evening going.
He kisses me again when he’s done. Like he’s sealing his fate. He’s come over
to the dark side and there’s no going back. Looks like Brian Kinney might be
one of the good guys after all.
I knew it.
End
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