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Undone
Chapter 14 of "Where There's Heat"
“Oh,” I finally say it out loud. At least I think I did.
Brian sits on the edge of his desk and crosses his arms over his chest, he stares
so intently at me I have to look away.
His voice cuts through the silence, “I’m asking.”
I raise my eyes to his. I stand stock still, my hand still on the door knob.
My mind has completely come undone. If I said this wasn’t what I was hoping
for I’d be lying. But if I said that I’d expected it I’d be naive. It’s been
weeks and nothing. Just days full of nonchalance and glances that communicated
anything but emotion. Nothing for weeks and now he’s asking me…what?
“Asking me what?”
“Don’t be coy,” he shakes his head and moves the lamp behind him further back
so he can fully sit down. “I won’t beg, Justin.”
When he looks up at me he’s smiling. It washes over me and shifts something
inside of me. I smile back, clarity unveiling itself like sunlight cracking
through a gray day. “So you’re asking me to stay, with you?”
He nods.
“You want me back?”
His eyes narrow a bit, but he nods again.
“You can’t live without me?”
“Justin,” his voice is low with lust and a warning.
“You’re lost in the world without me?”
“Listen fucker,” he can’t finish his sentence before my tongue is in his mouth.
I wedge myself between his thighs and push a kiss into him that is so hard he
nearly topples backwards onto his desk. He catches his balance just in time
and pushes back into me, hard. His hands come up to the back of my neck and
his fingers thread through some of my hair, he pulls and my face is jerked a
few inches from his.
“I’m not promising you anything,” he pants hot and wet over my face.
“I never asked you to,” I pant back, “just be honest with me.”
“I can try,” he leans in to kiss me again. But this time my hands grip his hair
and yank his head back.
”Try really, really hard. I’m not taking your bullshit. We’re better together
than apart, but I won’t suffer through your commitment phobia every three months
for the rest of our lives.”
“Rest of our lives?” He laughs and kisses me.
“Or until I’m fucking tired of you,” I kiss him back.
He unbuttons his jacket and slides it off, “We’ll see who gets tired of who
first.”
I start to unbutton his crisp white dress shirt, “You’ll never get tired of
me.”
He rolls his eyes and slides my sweater over my head, “Probably not.” He says
it quietly and then meets me eyes tentatively. With a single look he makes me
come undone.
I lean forward and suck at the soft spot on his neck that drives him crazy.
“Fuck me,” I whisper in his ear.
He growls and starts to unbutton my pants. When he shoves them down to my ankles
he barks, “Take them off.” He stands up and takes off his own. I turn around
and lock the door.
“The blinds are closed,” I say to him.
“Good,” He turns around.
I narrow my eyes, “They’re never closed.”
We stare at each other for a minute and I finally laugh, “You asshole.”
He smiles at me and then turns to his desk, with one huge sweep over the top
he sends the contents to the ground. Mock ups and foam core and hundreds of
files go flying, such a drama queen. He grabs my arms and pushes me down onto
the now empty desktop.
“I figured I had a 50-50 shot this would go my way,” he says and then runs his
tongue down the center of my chest.
I arch my back and moan, I can’t really argue with those odds.
He pushes me up further on the desk and puts a firm hand on each thigh. He spreads
my legs and breathes over the sensitive skin there. He lays his tongue on the
crease that forms where my crotch and my leg meet, he licks up and down. He’s
so close to my dick that I swear it reaches for him.
I run my hands through his hair, feeling it get slick from my fingers sliding
through it over and over. I mutter his name and he raises his head.
I look down at him, “Please.”
He smiles and takes the head of my dick in his mouth, I’m such a whore for a
good blow job. A great one. The best one.
His lips seal around the head of my cock and he sucks hard until I moan. I want
to remember to be quiet, but it’s a futile effort.
I bring my feet up onto the surface of the desk and plant them firmly so I can
raise my hips toward him. I want to hold his face and fuck his mouth and lose
control.
He understands and holds still while I move up and down beneath him. I see the
hollow in his cheeks out of the corner of my eye and it nearly drives me over
the edge. I turn my head away and shut my eyes tight, I never could watch Brian
suck me off.
He cups my balls and moans around my dick, he knows the vibrations always get
to me. He wants me to come, he’s ready to move on.
I drive into his mouth with a few more sharp thrusts and then pull back quickly
so he doesn’t choke on my come. He holds the tip of my dick gently between his
lips and swallows almost all of it. Some spills out the corner of his mouth
and slides down my shaft. It’s fitting that he can’t quite handle all of me…but
almost.
Before I’m ready, he drags me off the desk by my hips and when my feet are planted
on the floor he turns me around and bends me over and pushes my face down to
the sweat-slicked wood. He bites my neck and he tears at the condom wrapper.
I hear him struggle with the plastic and say ‘fuck’ in frustration a few times.
Suddenly the package is in front of my face, “Deal with that.” He pants and
starts to drag his teeth down my spine. He slides a finger into my hole suddenly.
I bark out a laugh and arch back as I try to open the condom myself. I get it
on the first tear and turn around to roll it onto Brian’s dick.
I meet his eyes and I slide it on, painfully slow. I smirk, he knows what I’m
thinking. Since when does Brian Kinney have trouble with a condom? I feel accomplished
somehow.
The second my fingers hit the base of his cock he spins me around again. That
was enough vulnerability to last Brian the rest of the year.
He adds a second finger and scissors them back and forth, moving around roughly
and stretching me out as best as he can inside of three seconds. I moan and
he covers my mouth, must have been pretty loud.
He thrusts in completely on the first go, it takes my breath away. It always
has.
I feel every muscle in my body wind up so tight I might crack and then, with
a tiny push and a hushed whisper in my ear, “Let go,” I completely relax.
By the time Brian pulls out the first time and plunges back in I’m putty in
his hands. He has one hand on my left shoulder and the other on my right hip.
I’m letting the desk support my weight, only my toes touch the floor.
My dick is already hard again, trapped between my stomach and the warm, hard
wood. I want to stick a hand down there and stroke it, but I know I come harder
if I leave it alone.
He finds the rhythm immediately; with us it’s always easy. There are some people
you fuck and even though you think it’ll be great with them (good chemistry,
lots of attraction, big dick, whatever) it ends up being awful because you can’t
get it together. You have no rhythm. But Brian and I…we have rhythm to spare.
He pulls at my hair and whispers things to me, he knows I love it when he talks
while he fucks me.
So tight…
So hot…
So perfect…
So beautiful…
Get me off…
Make me come…
And so I do, I clench my muscles down on his in-stroke and push back hard onto
him until he grabs my shoulders and lays his head on my back. He barely moves,
just lets me take us the rest of the way. The moment I start to come he follows.
He tenses suddenly and pushes deeper. He moans my name and collapses onto my
back when he’s done.
It’s late in the afternoon and I turn my face to the windows that overlook 6th
Avenue. I can see the setting sun filter through the tiny slits in the blinds,
leaving a geometric pattern on the carpeted floor.
When he pulls out I wince and we both sigh. I turn around and lean against the
edge of the desk, I don’t quite trust my legs yet.
I watch him pick up our clothes and place them in piles on each of the chairs
that sit opposite his desk. He carefully smoothes my sweater out and folds my
pants. Every move he makes is methodical. I watch until he’s done, a smile creeping
onto my face. Brian can be so strange.
When he finally looks at me his face is unsettling. He walks over and puts his
hands on my thighs. He leans close to my face and kisses me softly. Then he
pulls back and says, “You can’t quit, because you’re fired.”
To the Epilogue: There's Fire
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