Return
You dont think his first night homes going to be anything special.
Its not like he was gone for ten years, it was only six and a half months,
and he came home for Christmas. There was pretty spectacular phone sex on the
average of once a week. And you visited in early spring, purely because Justin
had raved about the men. It wasnt specifically to see him, although the
sex then had been a bonus.
Michael thought he was on to you. Its okay to miss him, Brian,
he had said one night over dinner that Ben cooked. Out of the corner of your
eye, you saw Ben nod in agreement at the stove.
I miss having my dick sucked at a moments notice, youd
replied, and you only felt a tiny bit guilty for lying.
You can have your dick sucked in Pittsburgh, Michael pointed out,
and sometimes Michaels observance of your behavior really got on your
fucking nerves. Its okay to go and visit him because you miss him.
Whatever, you had shrugged. If Justin didnt expect to hear
that you missed him, you sure as hell werent admitting it to Michael.
So really, you dont expect much from Justins first night back except
a lot of Oh Brian, I missed you, oh Brian, I adore you, oh Brian, no one
can fuck like you.
Its only appropriate.
* * *
Deb has some fucking welcome back dinner planned that you know hell love
and youll hate. Your only regret is that as soon as you pick him up, you
have to go straight to her place from the goddamned airport and theres
no time for a quick screw in the back seat.
You say as much to Lindsay that morning when you go to visit Gus. She is properly
horrified, which you think might be the reason you said it in the first place.
You dont want to have sex in the back seat of the car for his first
night home! she says sanctimoniously, and holds out her hand for Gus to
give her his Thomas the Tank Engine pajamas.
You would roll your eyes but she isnt looking at you. Hes
not returning from war, you inform her.
Oh, right, right, she says. I forgot how abhorrent a little
romance was to you.
Romance? you spit. What the fuck, Lindsay? Dont
confuse me with you.
Never, she says dryly, and you leave her wrestling your son into
his pants.
* * *
No, you say abruptly, when Cynthia tries to schedule a last minute
meeting at five-fifteen.
She blinks and looks at you curiously. But its for Hayden Plastics,
she says. You said do whatever it takes to get some face time. Theyre
giving you face time.
Tell them Ill meet them Monday at the ass-crack of dawn if they
want to, you say by way of explanation. But nothing after five today.
She purses her lips and you see her do a quick scan of your desk. Her eyes light
on your day planner with the flight number and arrival time scrawled in the
corner. Aw, she says in a syrupy voice, is Brians long-lost
finally coming home?
Schedule the fucking meeting, Cindy, you reply, using her most hated
nickname, and then get the fuck out.
Justins coming home, she sings on her way out the door, and
youd fire her ass if she werent so shit-stinking good at her job.
* * *
He had emailed and said he would take a cab. You emailed him back with one word:
No.
The airport is crowded and heavy with the smell of jet fuel. It gives you a
headache that sits behind your eyes and presses down. The rush and pull of passengers
and luggage makes you wish for a minute that youd have let him take the
goddamned taxi, because Jesus. Humanity just bugs the piss out of you.
But then, right after your eyes stray to the monitor with the flight number
and arrived flashing intermittently, hes standing there in
front of you, dropping his carry-on and laughing and clutching you tightly around
the neck. Hey, he says, with a voice full of warmth and feeling,
hey. Im so glad to see you.
You should be, you say, and close your eyes just for a second, just
long enough to breathe him in without him noticing, and then hes kissing
you right in the middle of Pittsburgh International Airport and you dont
think either of you care who sees.
* * *
You werent really serious about fucking him in the car, but you debate
it briefly when he heaves his suitcase in the trunk and you catch a flash of
his tanned lower back.
Been sunbathing naked? you ask, picturing it, but he just laughs
at you and blushes.
No. But I did go to the beach a lot. I burned bad the first two times.
You grab his arm before he gets in and realize then that youve been touching
him a lot in the past thirty minutes. Poor Sunshine, you murmur
into his hair, and swat his ass.
He watches out the window as you swing onto the turnpike. So green,
Justin says quietly. I forgot how green everything is.
The fact that he forgot anything about Pittsburgh at all makes you irrationally
angry. Well, while you were gadding about the Golden State, the rest of
us blue-collar working stiffs were living through the rainiest fucking winter
ever.
You think hes about to pout, but he doesnt. He just looks at you
with a half-smile and says, Youre as far from blue-collar as they
come. Then, with a glance at your crotch, he finishes, But youre
stiff, thats for sure.
You apologize by taking his hand and placing it on your dick. Hes right.
Youre stiff.
* * *
Debs is raucous and warm and filled with squeals for Justin. The smile
doesnt leave his face through all of it, even though he recounts the Rage
premiere three times for three different people, including Michael. You know
damn well that Michael knows what happened because Keller flew Michael out there
for it, just the way he flew you out too, but Michael claims he likes the way
Justin tells it better. So you lounge on the ratty old couch and listen to them
both, and feel sort of like an indulgent parent.
Daphne comes to sit on the couch at one point and looks sideways at you. So,
hes home, she says casually, and youre automatically amused.
Yes, Daphne, you reply carefully. I picked him up.
Well, arent you happy? she giggles, turning to face
you and tucking one leg under her like a little girl.
Thrilled, you say, and take a sip of the purple beverage that Emmett
mixed her.
Oh, whatever, she huffs, and dismisses you. You chuck her under
the chin and hand back her vile drink.
No big deal, you tell her. I just saw him two months ago.
Okay, Brian, she says with a coy smile. I believe you.
You nudge her knee with your booted foot and wink at her. She blushes, so youre
pleased.
* * *
You let him have his time for another two hours until you can see the fatigue
setting in. When he turns his face into his shoulder and yawns so widely that
his eyes water, you turn no-nonsense and push your way into the small crowd
surrounding him at the kitchen table. Here, you say, handing him
his jacket.
Its early, he protests, but belies his words with another
yawn.
Oh, go on, Sunshine, Debbie smiles, and presses a kiss to his cheek.
Tall, dark, and hornys practically chomping at the bit to get you
home.
Jennifer clears her throat and shifts uncomfortably, then puts her hand on Justins
shoulder. Its fine, sweetheart, she says. Can you come
by tomorrow? Molly wants to hear about California.
Yeah, he promises, like a good little boy. Sure. Around ten?
You make a noise and he amends it. Um. Maybe eleven.
Sometime tomorrow, she says, and hugs him tightly when he rises.
I missed you.
Missed you too, Mom, he grins at her, doing his best aw, shucks
impression, and you exhale noisily through your nose. You dont mean to,
but the whole night is wearing you thin.
Better go, Melanie snorts, and shifts Jenny to her other hip. Before
Brian drags you out by your hair.
Youd flip her the bird but Michaels daughter blinks at you with
enormous brown eyes, so you refrain and content yourself with knowing Melanies
just bitter at Lindsays marked absence. Youll never figure out the
mystery that is Dykeville.
He finally makes a move toward the door, flanked on either side by people that
seem unintentionally determined to keep him out of your bed tonight, until you
at last get fed up. With a firm hand on his back, you open Debs front
door and push him through it, ignoring the idiotic titters and the isnt
that sweet? that you know comes from Emmett.
Okay, he grumbles as you practically shove him toward the
car, okay, Brian, you can quit steering me, jeez.
You cant wait any more, you grab his arm and spin him to face you. You
curl your fingers into his waistband and haul him up against you, kissing him
hard and relentlessly until hes panting into your mouth and you can feel
him smiling against your lips.
Why didnt you just say so? he purrs at you, and gives the
bulge in your pants a squeeze before sliding into the passenger seat.
* * *
You watch him surreptitiously when you slide the door open and kick his luggage
through it. He steps over his bags and you can see his eyes roam the loft, searching
and memorizing, making sure nothings changed. It takes him three seconds,
maybe less, but the corner of his mouth lifts in a barely perceptible smile
and you know hes done with his inventory.
Hows it look? you cant help asking, and for some reason,
the answer really matters.
Same, he shrugs, but you can tell hes happy about it.
The same! Bullshit. I have a new coffee table and new duvet cover.
He looks at the coffee table. Nice. Thats a popular one in Los Angeles.
You smack the back of his head for being a smartass because you know the table
is one of a kind, but somehow the chastisement turns into a caress and your
fingers end up tangled in his hair. And what about the bedding? All the
stars you fucked have the same kind as I do?
I dont know, he murmurs against your mouth. Show it
to me and Ill tell you.
You shoulder him in the direction of the bedroom, yanking his shirt over his
head while he walks backwards, his hands at your waist, tongue sweeping over
your adams apple and causing gooseflesh to rise on your skin. You find
yourself closing your eyes and lifting your face to the ceiling to grant him
more access to your throat, forgetting where you are until his heels hit the
stairs and he muffles an ouch.
No time for apologies; you take hold of his belt loop and haul him up the steps
and he laughs as his hands fumble with his fly. Brian, let go. Let go,
I cant get the button undone oh, whoops, he remarks, as you
wrench it open and the button goes flying.
Crappy workmanship, you tell him, reaching a hand into his pants
and finding him hard and ready.
Buy me another pair, he demands. He arches into your touch, and
his skin is velvety smooth.
Im not buying you shit. You make your own damn living now, movie
star. You say it before you realize that youre proud of him for
doing it, youre so fucking proud of him for picking up his life and moving
across the country for half a year. And when he smiles up at you because he
hears it in your voice, you feel something else besides pride.
I guess I could buy you something, huh? What do you want?
You, you say abruptly, dropping to the bed and tumbling him down
on top of you. He fucking beams at you then, his eyes brilliant and blue, and
puts both hands on the sides of your face.
Brian, he says warmly. Just your name, just once, and then he kisses
you, tugging at your clothes impatiently.
You roll away to discard clothing and turn back to find him naked too, waiting
for you on his back and his dick so hard it nearly touches his stomach. You
slide one leg on top of his and run your hand appreciatively over his flat abdomen.
You find a gym out there?
On every corner, he snorts. God forbid the beautiful people
dont get their lunchtime workout in.
It did you good, you observe, feeling the slight ridges of muscle.
You take time to explore his body with just your fingers, tracing planes and
angles that are new and yet familiar. You draw a finger over the tan line at
his waist, making him squirm and twist away.
Dont tickle, he whispers, reaching for your cock, and when
his fingers close around it, it sends a shudder through you. But he doesnt
stroke you, he just holds you gently, his thumb brushing the tip and his eyes
fluttering closed. You watch his eyelashes quiver while he talks. It was
so fucking busy all the time, he says quietly, his forehead against your
shoulder. I barely had time to breathe during the day.
Thats a good thing. Have you seen the air quality reports?
He smiles faintly and continues. But the night was different.
Different how, you ask, and you really want to know. Your hand travels
to his hip, urging him to his side, bringing him closer so your bodies are touching
from chest to thigh.
Okay, I was so busy all day long, right? And then at night, I always thought
Id be so exhausted that I would fall asleep right away. But I didnt.
It was like I was too tired to sleep and my brain would just go a thousand miles
an hour.
Like your mouth right now? you say, but he knows you dont
mean it because he nods and chuffs a laugh against your throat.
I would miss you so bad, he goes on, and the honesty shuts you up
and makes you hold him tighter, his head resting on your arm and your other
hand splayed across his ass. It was so quiet, and that didnt help.
I mean, it was great for the neighborhood and stuff that there was no noise
from the street, people paid a shitload of money to live there just for that.
But I didnt like it. It wasnt like home.
A faint railway whistle sounds as if to punctuate his point. You wait for him
to keep going because you know theres more, with him theres always
more, but he stops there. He settles further into your embrace with a deep sigh,
one hand still wrapped protectively around your dick. Your cock twitches involuntarily
in his hold, and he gives you a squeeze. You were home at Christmas,
you remind him, and I came out for the premiere.
Yeah, he says wistfully, I know. And being with you those
times was the best thing I could have asked for, but then I had to leave. Or
you had to leave. So the amazing time we had was always brought down a little
by that. You know?
Such a pessimist.
I guess. Hes blue all of a sudden, withdrawn and quiet, and
you nudge him questioningly.
Hey, you drawl, its okay. The lack of me in your life
for that long would make anyone depressed. Dont fight it.
He grins and pokes a finger in the soft spot under your ribs. Shut up.
I just feel like maybe I should have enjoyed my time there more, or something.
It was so hectic.
You can sense his descent into moodiness, so you stop that train before it derails.
Can we stop talking now? you ask, and slide your fingers along the
soft crack of his ass.
Okay, he agrees, parting his legs for you and nipping at your neck.
The lube is behind you in the same drawer its been in since December;
not the cheap stuff you use with any old trick. Justins skin is too sensitive
for the crap you can buy at Eckerd. You have to go online and scour the net
for hypoallergenic, fragrance-free, water-based, water-soluble, non-staining,
long-lasting, bacteriostatic, pH-balanced personal anal lubricant thats
made at an FDA-approved facility, because God forbid he should have something
in his ass thats not organic.
But you buy it, and use the crappy shit for the tricks.
A quarter-sized drop is enough for now, and you slick him with it, coating your
hand too. His breathing deepens slightly as you put a finger in, exploring the
warm tight space, and then slide it out again to make him whimper. Again, two
fingers this time, and he arches his hips backward to meet your touch, his hand
still firmly around your dick. Missed you, he murmurs against your
chest.
I know, you whisper into his hair, sliding one finger back inside
and pushing at the hard ridge of muscle that sits up behind his balls. He squeezes
and releases your cock over and over again, and you dont think hes
following a rhythm so much as just reacting to the things youre doing
to him with your fingers.
His cheeks have pinkened slightly and a light flush appears on his chest and
neck. Youre reminded of how he looks when he comes, eyes squeezed shut
and teeth clenched, and its no wonder you like to see his face while youre
having sex. Everything he feels is reflected in his expression, and its
always so fucking beautiful to watch the physical manifestation of what you
do to him.
He parts his legs further still; hes almost completely flat on his stomach
by now, and he arches his back like a cat as you continue to work your fingers
inside him. Your cock is aching, its so hard, and you dont think
you could possibly get any more turned on. But then he starts making soft groans
in the back of his throat and you get even harder.
Hed probably be content to lie there all night while you fuck him with
your hand, but your dicks reminding you that he hasnt been in your
bed for months. You push him to his back and he goes willingly, your arms sliding
underneath him to lift him closer to you. He rubs his cock against yours and
kisses you over and over until hes practically writhing against the sheets.
Come on, he begs, motioning in the direction of the condom drawer.
Youre thankful for his impatience because it masks your own, even though
youre still telling yourself that this is no big deal, his first night
back isnt anything spectacular, why should this be special or different
or remarkable. Youve fucked him a thousand times.
Except none of those times were after a six-month hiatus, and fuck the two times
you visited each other because he wasnt home and it wasnt
for good, and fuck the bad dreams you had about him moving to California permanently.
Fuck the bad dreams, because he didnt move there. Hes home,
and you missed him a fuck of a lot, and maybe tomorrow youll broach the
subject again of him sharing the loft with you. But not tonight, because you
cant think that clearly while hes naked and panting beneath you
and begging to be fucked.
You might be just a little more impatient than you first thought, because one
hard push inside makes his eyes fly open and his fingers clench tightly around
your biceps. Whoa, hold on for a second, he says, and rolls his
bottom lip between his teeth.
Whats the matter, you ask, freezing your whole body and searching
his face.
Nothing, he assures, and you can see him force his own muscles to
unclench. Its just
um. This is the first time since
well, last time.
Youre telling me you havent had sex since Christmas?
The thought of it is sort of unbelievable.
He laughs at you. Yeah, right. You think thats true?
Then what?
Ive fucked plenty. But I havent been fucked. You know?
He looks oddly shy while he says it, one shoulder coming up in an apologetic
shrug, and you get it all at once.
The fact that Justin wont bottom for anyone but you makes you fiercely
possessive and slightly remorseful that you might have hurt him without thinking.
You wait, feeling him adjust to your cock and praying that you dont come
just from the soft clenching of his muscles around you, and finally with a huge
breath he says, Okay.
You relax enough to mutter, Christ, this is like doing a virgin,
and he laughs. You take one stroke and arch an eyebrow at him. Still okay?
Still okay, he nods, and you put your head down into the crook of
his neck and breathe the first breath youve taken in months.
It makes you go more slowly than usual. He seems to like the pace, his cock
straining in between both of you and his hands still clutching your arms. The
light sheen of sweat gives him lubrication and he starts to shudder, but the
pressure must not be exactly right because after a minute he starts to whimper
and toss his head back and forth on the pillow. Brian, please, he
grinds out, and thats all he ever needs to say.
You rest yourself even more securely between his bent legs, rubbing your abdomen
on him. Two more deep thrusts and you still watch his face; his brow wrinkles
slightly and his nostrils flare. He barely moves, but a second later your stomach
is soaked with warm fluid and youre satisfied that you can finally come.
Your balls tighten and you feel your cock swell, and you just pour into him
like its been forever. Your blood rushes in your ears and you can hear
your own heartbeat over his muffled gasp, and you realize all at once that you
couldnt have been more wrong about his first night back.
* * *
You wake later to find his side of the covers in disarray and the bed empty.
He stands in the dining room at one of the tall windows, his forehead against
the pane. You watch the ceiling for a while and wait for him, but when he doesnt
return after ten minutes, you figure youd better fetch him.
He doesnt turn at the sound of your footfalls, but he leans his head back
against your shoulder when you step up behind him. Its cold out
here, you say. And your ass is freezing. Its true, you
can feel how chilled his skin is when he nestles it against yours.
I didnt notice, he says absently, and continues to stare out
the window. You doubt hes looking at the view.
I can warm you up, you offer generously, sure that it will convince
him to quit standing naked and alone in the dining room.
Did you miss me? he asks suddenly.
He knows you did; there must be something else hes getting at, because
the Justin of three years ago would have fished for affection but the Justin
of now doesnt have to.
You answer him honestly. Yes.
I dreamed you would change your mind about me moving in. He isnt
being whiny or needy. He says it matter-of-factly, just a simple statement.
I dreamed youd find some rich old fag to take care of you and move
there for good, you tell him. You did dream that, at least part of it.
The moving there for good part. The part about finding someone else,
well. How could he, after having you?
Your hands are loosely linked at his stomach and he puts his own on top of them.
I already have a rich old fag, he says with affection. And
move there for good? No way. Californias not my thing.
You didnt know youd be relieved to hear it, but you are. You rest
your chin on top of his head and he sighs. Brian?
Hmm.
It wasnt that I was afraid you would change your mind about me being
here. Thats not why I dreamed it.
Did you go see one of those quack shrinks out there? You narrow
your eyes at him in the reflection of the glass. Youre getting awfully
self-analytical. Thats dangerous.
He smiles ruefully and gives you an elbow in the stomach. No. But theres
so many fucking self-help books on everyones coffee table! I looked through
one or two when I was at a really boring dinner party.
He chews on the side of his thumbnail and you watch him in the window. So
tell me, Freud junior, what revelations about yourself did you discover?
I was so sure that you would change your mind about me moving in because
you were afraid of loving me. His voice is low and rushed, like hes
embarrassed for saying it and even more embarrassed for thinking it.
Hes quiet for a long time; the only sounds you hear are the cars on the
street and the crazy downstairs neighbor yelling at her cat, and you wonder
what hes thinking about. Justin, you say quietly.
He turns in your embrace to gaze up at you, looking impossibly young. What?
Im not afraid of that.
~End