Yeah, I finally got another chapter out. Gotta love life getting in the way of writing/reading time. I love hearing what people think so please give me feed-back. Enjoy. ************************************************************************ Chapter 3 Justin’s POV I know I scared Brian the other day with my little freak-out. Bren still gives me glances every once in a while when she thinks I’m not looking. Hell, I scared myself. I haven’t had an attack that bad since my Pink Posse days. Not even the bombing at Babylon affected me this badly. I haven’t looked at the painting since the morning I finished it. After I got off the phone with Brian, Bren insisted on helping me back to my apartment. After tucking me into bed, she made me promise I wouldn’t go back to the studio for a day or so to give myself time to recover. She didn’t ask questions and for that I was grateful. I wasn’t sure how to explain that my panic was caused by my painting. Since I didn’t have class that day, or work, I indulged the drama princess in me and slept most of the day. I was roused from slumber by Brian’s phone call. I had meant to call him after I was sure he was home from work. I was a bit surprised when I realized it was after nine. Guess I was more drained than I thought. I can chuckle now about the call as I trudge into my Friday afternoon class, but it wasn’t quite so funny that night. “Hey, Bri.” I said groggily as I answer the phone. “Damn-it, Justin. What took you so long to answer the phone?” Irritation and worry seep through the phone lines. “Sorry. I was sleeping. Guess I didn’t hear the phone.” “Well, I’ve been calling for the last two hours. What the hell happened this morning?” Sighing, I settle against the wall that serves as my headboard. I debate for a while on how much to tell him. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to lie to him, but revealing that I remember the prom should be done face to face. I needed to be there to help him deal with it. I guess I was taking too long to answer because I heard a frustrated, “Out with it, Sunshine.” With a dramatic sigh I decided to go with a half truth. “I was working last night on a project for one of my classes. You know how I get sometimes, in a zone and not sure what is developing. After cleaning up this morning I really looked at it and was surprised with what I created. You know I get overemotional when a project is especially personal.” “I know my cock can be overwhelming, but you have to try and keep it together.” Brian chuckled at his joke, trying to diffuse the bubbling fear just below the surface. “Something like that. It just took me by surprise.” An understatement if ever there was one. “It’s just been an overwhelming time. Moving here, getting the studio set up and settled. Starting classes so quickly. I guess I was just more drained than I realized.” Again, not a lie, but not the complete truth either. “I told you that you should have waited until the fall to start classes. You try to do too damn much too soon. You need to take better care of yourself.” “Yes, mother.” I say in a little boy voice. “Twat.” Brian uttered and I could hear him settling into our bed. “You scared the fuck out of me this morning. Now how are you going to make it up to me for taking a few years off of my life?” “No more years than you’ve taken off your own life by living your decadent lifestyle.” I shoot back, secretly glad for the change in topic. “What did you have in mind old man?” “A special Sunshine blowjob, followed by an hour or so of you rimming my ass, and then a nice loooonnnggg fuck into the mattress would be nice. Baring that, some down and dirty phone sex will do for now.” I hear him growl deep in his chest and imagine him sprawled naked on the bed stroking his lovely cock. My breath hitches in my chest as I stroke my own dick through my jeans. “Go to the toy chest. Pick your favorite…” I’m pulled rudely out of my memories by my Art History professor. “Mr. Taylor. Could you answer the question please?” I flush because I know he knows that I wasn’t paying attention. “Perhaps it would behoove you to keep your mind out of the clouds while in class.” His condescending voice grates on my last nerve and it takes all of my willpower not to reply with a Kinneyesque ‘fuck you’. “Class, you have to learn the history if you ever hope to become part of it.” Pretentious asshole, I think as I settle back for the last ten minutes of his boring-ass lecture. I keep my gaze focused on Zighield’s. After class, several classmates give me sympathetic looks as they leave. Terri, who sits behind me, pats my shoulder as she leaves. “I’ll wait for you in the hall.” Ten minutes later, I meet up with Terri and we begin the slow walk to the subway. “So what did Ziggy want?” Terri asks as we head down the steps. “The usual. He wanted to ream me out, again, for spacing out during class. I also asked him if it would be possible for me to take our final early.” We were trudging toward the entrance to the subway when I realized Terri was no longer beside me. Turning, I saw her about ten steps back, mouth hanging open like a landed fish. Slowly I made my way back to where she stood. “Damn, man, you have some brass balls to ask Ziggy that. Everyone knows what a hard ass he is about ‘no exceptions’ where his syllabus is concerned.” “Yeah, well, I had already asked to speak to him after class before my little space-out. Needless to say, he turned me down and proceeded to blather on about youth today and how no one had respect for authority anymore.” Finally, we made our way onto the train platform and began the wait for our respective trains. “Well,” Terri said as her train approached, “I hope your reason for asking was/is worth the hell Ziggy is going to put you through for daring to have a life outside his class.” Terri waved jauntily as she stepped through the open doors. Before they closed she said a quick, “See ya next week.” As the doors slid shut, I answered her question. “Brian’s worth any hell a pretentious ass could fling my way.” Ten minutes later I board my own train and steel myself to face my studio. ************************ Three hours, two trains, and several delays later, I trudge up the two flights of stairs toward my apartment. The trek up is slow and awkward because my hands are full of my cloth covered painting. I finally get to my door and lean the canvas against the wall as I fumble for my keys. As I slide the key into the lock, a chill races up my spine and I suddenly realize I’m not alone in the hallway. A gruff voice confirms my suspicions and my knees go weak. “It’s about damn time you go home. Your fucking neighbor has been threatening to call the cops for the past hour.” Brian’s POV I can’t help smirking as I watch the range of emotions play across Justin’s face. Fear gives way to confusion to finally end with happiness. I catch a brief glimpse of his famous smile before my blond boy launches himself into my arms. We both sigh contentedly as he starts kissing my lips, chin, cheek, eyelids, any skin that his lips can reach as he burrows closer. I kiss him back with all the pent up emotion of the last few days seeping through my pores and enveloping us in a mist of need and desire. Before our hallway reunion can get too out of control I whisper into his ear, “Let’s continue this inside before this old bitty really does call the police.” I try to shake off the loss of contact as he unwraps himself from my body and turns toward the door. After opening the door, he turns back to me. “How? Why?” He seems unable to complete a though so I push him toward the door. “Inside, Sunshine. We will not have this conversation in this dank hallway of the hovel you call home.” He struggles for a moment or two, but finally allows me to push him inside. “My painting,” he begins but I silence him with a brief kiss before turning back to the open door. I bring the wrapped painting into the living room and prop it against the counter that separates this room from the kitchen. “So, is this the dick doodle that sent you into a tizzy the other day?” I start to remove the protective cloth, but his hands covering my stop me. “We’ll get to that, but first I want to know what the hell you’re doing here, Brian. I told you on the phone, several times every night, that I’m fine.” “Can’t I come see my partner without getting the third degree?” I attempt to play down my arrival, but the thunderous look on his face lets me know evasive maneuvers are pointless. “Fine, you win. I came to check up on you.” Before he can go off on a rant worthy of any harpy, I continue. “That phone call scared me. Look at it from my perspective, Justin. Some female, whom I don’t know, calls me from your phone and tells me she’s found you on the floor. I have no idea how long you’ve been there, whether you’re hurt, or if you’ve hit your head and are unconscious.” I pace the living room as I talk. His apartment is so small it only takes me about five strides before I’m at his window. I turn and pace back to the door. “Cynthia already had me booked on the first flight out of the Pitts before I even talked to you. It’s a testament to my faith in your ability to handle things on your own and know when to ask for help that I waited until the weekend to get here.” I stop in front of him and cup his face with my hands, letting my fingers stroke his cheek. “I had to see for myself that my partner was okay. Call me a dyke or dick-less fag if you must, but next to Gus, you are my top priority and if something happens to you, I’m gonna do every fucking thing in my power to make sure you’re okay.” I stare deep into his eyes, making sure he fully grasps what I’ve just said. “Got it?” I see the fight leave him as his shoulders slum and his eyes, filling with a week’s worth of tears, let me know he got all that my spiel entailed. The next thing I know, I’m covered with blond boy as he pushes me onto his dingy couch. Make that man, all man, if the erection pushing against my thigh is any indication. He crushes his lips to mine, briefly, before weaving a path of hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses from the corner of my mouth, along my jaw-line and down my neck and throat. Justin begins to unbutton my shirt, having already-magically?-gotten rid of my tie. We both make quick work of the other’s remaining clothes and he straddles me again as our cocks bounce and bobble, straining towards the other. My hands grope and knead his ass while he trails kisses from my chest up to my ear. His breath singes the inner flesh of my ear as he whispers, “Fuck me, Brian. I can’t wait. My ass has been lonely waiting for your long, hard cock to fill it.” Growling with six weeks of pent-up desire I stutter the only coherent words rattling around in my lust fogged brain. “Lube. Condom. Now.” I command the necessary ingredients to continue and he leans over the edge of the couch, reaching for my discarded pants. Only then, as he’s about to reach into the front pocket, is it that I realize what’s not in my pants. “Jus…I don’t…” I can’t complete the sentence. I lay my head back against the couch closing my eyes. “Bri?” He’s gone completely still and as I slit my eyes open I notice the confused expression on his face. “You always…” He doesn’t let that thought finish as realization hits. His eyes get as big as saucers and I see the corners of his mouth twitch. I could be a total ass right now and make some snide comment about using my supply at the airport, or on the plane even, but seeing the cherished look on his face, I know I can’t lie to him. That doesn’t mean I have to tell him the truth either, though. “So, perhaps you can supply the protection this round?” “Uh, sure. Give me a sec. I know I have supplies around her somewhere.” He gives me his own sheepish grin as he scrambles to a couple of moving boxes he hasn’t quite gotten to yet. My heart thumps a little faster with the knowledge that he evidently hasn’t been getting “lucky” either. Moments later, he’s back straddling my thighs, hypoallergenic lube and our own personal favorite condoms in hand. Noting the number of condoms, I can’t help but smirk. “Optimistic aren’t we, Sunshine?” “Confident more like. Now are we going to chit-chat all day or are you going to fuck me into the couch?” As I smack his ass, his cheeky grin just gets wider. “Such a bossy bottom aren’t we? Perhaps I should punish you instead?” As I was talking, I began to tweak his nipples and work my way down to his delicious bubble butt. Slowly, I massage his ass crack, working the lube into his tight hole. “God I’ve missed this. Please, Brian, don’t stop. Yeah. More.” He begins making low keening sounds as he works his ass over my fingers. His pucker sucks greedily at my teasing fingers, until finally, slowly, I let one digit slide in. “Mmmm. So good.” Greedily I add another finger and begin scissoring them to loosen him. “Please, Brian. No more teasing. Just do it already.” I still his bucking by placing my hands on his hios and guide him onto my prepared cock. We both hiss as his ass slowly works its way down. Finally, he’s sitting on my lap and we both hold still while he adjusts to the fullness. I groan with pleasure and hear him sigh his contentment. He stares into my eyes and slowly begins to nibble at my lips, teasing me with his tongue. As his teasing kisses become more desperate, he begins lifting himself slowly, mewling as the friction begins to build. When just the condom-covered head of my dick is left inside, he slams back down, impaling himself on my cock. “Fuck me.” I scream as he sets a brutal pace, working his tight ass up and down my cock, like he’s trying to force my dick through him and out his mouth. My own hips begin to piston up, meeting each of his downward thrusts. I keep my hands on his hips to steady him. His own cock is trapped between us and the friction has him moaning with pleasure. I feel the familiar tingling up my spine and the tightening in my balls, or ball rather, and I know that my orgasm is immanent. I slap his thigh and being making short jabbing thrusts. He throws his head back and lets loose a growl of satisfaction while his come splatters between us. His climax triggers my own and I make one final thrust, filling the condom. “That was fucking intense.” I smirk at his obvious statement. It’s several minutes before I’m able to move or string words together in a coherent fashion. Justin is draped over my chest, his come sticking us together. I slowly begin to rub his back, working my fingers up and down his spine. Every so often I let my fingers tangle into the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling the softness of his shaggy hair. I feel a shiver run down his body. He burrows deeper into my neck, cuddling into my body. I hate to do it, but we should really clean up a bit. “Justin.” The only response to his name is his wiggling to get even closer. My dick slips out and he gives a whine from the loss. “Justin, we need to clean up and move this to some place more comfortable.” He mumbles a protest, but lifts off me. I quickly dispose of the condom and wipe up with the towel he tosses toward me. My original thought was to get horizontal again as quickly as possible but, as I pick up my discarded clothes, my gaze falls on the still covered painting and I’m reminded of the reason for my visit. I pull on my pants and turn to see Justin coming from what I assume is his bedroom tying the drawstring on a pair of seats. “So, show me this dick-doodle. Let me see why my cock should make you cry, when it’s not pounding your ass that is.” I turn, giving him my patented tongue-in-cheek smile, but frown at the pensive look on his face. “Come on, Sunshine. It can’t be that bad. You know how much I fucking love your work.” “It’s not that. There’s something I need to tell you. About the painting…” His voice trails off and I feel my gut clinch at what he’s going to say. Perhaps the painting isn’t of me. Perhaps it’s of something else. Someone...I clamp down on that thought, refusing to believe he would have such an intense reaction to someone else. Letting my anger rule me, I spat out, “Out with it. What’s so fucking special about this canvas?” I see him blanch at my harsh words, but his trepidation and my own insecurities are taking over. I watch him walk to the canvas and pause. Heaving a dramatic sigh, he turns and pulls the protective cover off. “Here. Tell me what you see.” He steps to the side, giving me my first unobstructed view of the piece. I take my time studying his use of color. Though it’s an abstract, with swirls of color instead of hard lines defining it, an image begins to take shape. As I narrow my eyes and tilt my head, I can suddenly see what he’s painted. “Oh Fuck!” “BRIAN!!”