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It
took us three days to get from Pittsburgh to Chicago. Looking at the
map, I'm not sure how that's even possible, but somehow we managed to
stretch a six or seven hour drive into a seventy-eight hour wilderness
odyssey. By the time we got there, I was really really glad to be back
in a city. Big buildings, lots of people, traffic, noise- it felt like
home, but better. There was so much I wanted to do, I thought we could
stay for weeks and I'd never get bored. But then I saw the hotel room
Brian had booked for us, and wondered if we'd even be able to stay the
night.
A fucking suite. At the goddamn Four Seasons. It was huge. It was
ridiculous. I didn't know what to say, seeing him standing in the middle
of that with his arms wide open, like he thought I should be impressed.
I was afraid I might have a brain hemorrhage if I tried to figure out
how much it had to be costing him. I didn't even want to put down
my bag. It felt like somebody else's room.
"Um...can we afford this?" I asked him, knowing the answer,
but hoping maybe he had another "surprise" for me. Like
winning the lottery.
It was the first of many times I'd be asking that question, and he gave
me his first annoying, evasive answer as he flopped onto the enormous
bed.
"The only WE here is me and my one remaining credit card," he
said, fishing around in his jeans pocket for a joint. "And we do
whatever we want. Whatever feels good. And this feels fucking
great."
I didn't know how to respond to that without sounding like a horrible,
nagging wife, so I didn't say anything. He stretched out on the
mattress, and lit up his joint, and I sat in one of the fluffy,
ridiculously expensive sofas (the room had fucking *sofas*) and started
digging through my backpack for the travel guide.
"C'mere," he said eventually, patting his belly. "Take
those stinky clothes off and join me."
"I was gonna look around," I told him.
"Around?" He was bewildered- stripped down to his underwear by
then, and probably unable to conceive of someone wanting to look at
anything else. I was having trouble remembering why I wanted to,
honestly.
"There's lots of museums and stuff right near here," I said.
"So? They'll still be there in an hour. Or two..."
"But they'll be closed."
"So, go tomorrow," he suggested.
"Tomorrow...How long are we gonna stay here, anyway?" I was
truly afraid of the answer. If he was thinking any more than two days, I
was gonna have to stage some sort of intervention. Take away his credit
card. Something.
"Depends," he said.
"On what?"
"On how long it takes us to get through every gay bar in
Chicago."
I wasn't sure what he meant by "through", but my mind was
immediately filled with images of random men fucking all over our hotel
room, and me spending lots and lots of time at museums.
When I looked at him again, his hand was inside his briefs, moving
slowly, and he was staring at me intently. I realized then that it might
be the last time I'd have him all to myself for awhile, and that maybe I
shouldn't let it go to waste. I couldn't really resist him like that
anyway, the bastard. It's so unfair. He's just too fucking beautiful for
his own good. For my own good. He could tempt me away from anything with
those hands, and that mouth. That cock.
Sometimes it makes me feel so weak, even a little pathetic, but then I
remember that I've got the same power over him, in a way. He's just a
little less obvious about it.
I put the travel book to the side, and climbed onto the bed. Straddled
his hips and pulled off my shirt. Kissed him. And kissed him some more.
"See, now isn't this better?" he asked as he was working on
getting my jeans open. "Won't get this at any museum."
"Mmm...I dunno about that. I fucked a guy at a museum once."
"Really?" He raised an eyebrow and pulled my dick out.
"Really..."
"Always lots of pretty queers to be found at the museum," I
said, then gasped and dropped my head when he started stroking me. He
ran his tongue over my upper lip, and I pushed into his hand needily.
"But none of them would be as satisfying as me." He grabbed
both of my wrists, hard and sudden, and pushed me onto my back. Ground
himself down between my legs, and licked up my neck. Whispered in my
ear, "Now would they?"
"I...yes...n-no. Fuck." I was getting confused. Dizzy.
Couldn't really breathe, let alone have a conversation anymore, so I
just shook my head.
He got my jeans off quick, and got inside me even quicker, and I forgot
about everything- the hotel and the money and the museum and the bars.
None of it mattered with Brian inside me.
"Still the best, huh?" he grunted. I made some loud, keening
noise in response, and nodded enthusiastically. It was true,
obviously. No one's better.
He fucked me hard and slow, with a deeply serious expression. With eyes
blazing, watching me. I reached above my head to grab onto whatever I
could reach, to give myself enough leverage to push back against him,
and when I came it was with a yell and a very loud snapping sound. After
the spasms had passed, I realized I was holding a piece of the headboard
in my fist.
"Holy shit," I said, laughing. "I think I broke the
hotel."
Brian was panting and sweaty, collapsed on top of me. I poked his
shoulder with the hunk of wood, then let it fall to the carpet.
Once he caught his breath, he laughed a little, too.
"Looks like your supercock gave me superstrength," I told him.
"Sounds like something for your comic," he murmured against my
neck.
I wrapped my arms around him and held him against me for awhile,
enjoying the feel of his weight on me, his cock still in me, his breath
evening out in time with mine. Sometimes I think that's how I wanna die.
It's when I feel the safest- the most content.
But then I glanced at the clock and noticed it was still fairly early.
We hadn't taken very long at all.
"I should probably go," I said, and he groaned in protest.
"What do you wanna go to a stanky old museum for, anyway?"
"Uh, I dunno... for the art? They have one of the best collections
in the country!"
He groaned again and rolled off me. I was covered in all kinds of
fluids, but didn't really have time for a shower so I just grabbed a
towel from the bathroom and wiped myself down, then started getting
dressed. Brian watched me from the bed with a bemused smirk.
"You wanna come with me?" I asked him.
"Mmno, I think I'm gonna go check out the man collection on Clark
Street. I hear it's one of the best in the country."
"Well then, how 'bout I meet you later? Nine-ish?"
"Sure you don't wanna come with *me*?"
It was becoming clear that he did not want me to go to the freaking
museum for some reason, but I couldn't figure out why, and I didn't
really have time to talk about it anymore.
"I'll come with you. Later," I said, and leaned over the bed
to kiss him good-bye. We agreed on a place to meet, and I left in a
hurry.
I only had an hour at the museum, and I got at least one weird look-
most likely because of my very strong odor- but it was totally worth it.
So much better than any of the second rate places in Pittsburgh. I
almost hoped we would wind up staying a few days so I could go back and
linger. Maybe I could talk Brian into moving to a cheaper room at some
point.
They locked the doors at eight, and I think I was the last person out of
the place, which made me feel vaguely guilty for some reason. I hate
being the last one to leave. But everyone was very nice, and I bought a
poster.
I went back to the hotel for a much needed shower before going to meet
Brian, and got to the club at, I think, something like 9:15. But
apparently, Brian was experiencing a time warp.
"It's almost ten-thirty," he said when I found him at the bar.
"And I almost got laid."
"It's not even nine-thirty," I told him. "And why
almost?"
He grabbed me by the waist and kissed me hard. His face was sweaty, and
there were little bits of confetti stuck to his shoulders. He'd been
dancing already, and I couldn't help wondering who with. Fucking was one
thing, but dancing...sometimes that was something else.
"You distracted me," he said, and kissed me again. Softer this
time, but hungry. Like I was a good bag of candy. If he ever actually
ate candy.
"Distracted you with my lateness?" I asked. "Or with my
sexiness when I finally arrived, fashionably pretty much on time."
He laughed and brushed his nose against my cheek.
"How was the museum?"
"It was great! I got a poster."
He gave me a weird smile, and sat down in one of the barstools. Pulled
me between his legs and squeezed my ass.
"Neat," he said. "But how were the...exhibits?"
"They had an amazing Mapplethorpe retrospective. And, like, the
biggest Post-Impressionist collection I've ever seen. It was so
cool."
"And...?"
He was still giving me that look, and I really had no idea what he was
getting at.
"And...what?"
His eyebrows shot up, and he leaned in to sniff my neck, and I finally
caught the clue train. Dumbass actually thought I'd ditched him to go
get some hot museum action or something.
"I was there for the ART, you perv," I said, shoving him away
playfully. "Not everyone has to make random sexual encounters a
part of every life experience."
"Well, that's too bad for them, isn't it."
We kissed again, and he bought me something big, tasty and blue to
drink, and eventually we wound up on the dance floor. It was really a
lot like Babylon. Same kind of music, same kind of guys, even the layout
was essentially the same, and I wondered if they'd all be like this,
everywhere we went. I couldn't decide if the sameness was
comforting or irritating.
After three or four of the blue drinks I settled on comforting, and also
sort of irrelevant. The important thing was that Brian's arms were
around my neck, and Brian's cock was hard and sliding against my body in
time with the music, and soon enough Brian would be fucking me again.
Sometimes it seems like that's the only reason we go anywhere-
every outing turns into foreplay, sooner or later, and that's probably a
good thing. I don't know if we'd ever leave the loft, otherwise.
But then, just as I was getting ready to suggest we find the back room
equivalent, we were approached and molested, respectively, by two of the
hottest guys in the place. A tag-team. Just like us. Except, not. Cause
I left.
It was all right. He'd have fun with them, and come back to me even
hornier than before. I told him I was going to the pizza place next
door, to come and get me when he was done, and kissed him good-bye. I
could feel his eyes on my back as I walked out of the place, and hoped
this wouldn't turn into a whole big issue.
I dunno what the big deal is about Chigaco style pizza, cause the one I
had was pretty gross, but the place was cool enough. Full of freaks and
fags and crusty old drag queens singing karaoke. It was fun. Then Brian
showed up.
He slid into the booth across from me, looking irritated and confused
and not nearly as horny as I'd expected.
"That was quick," I said. I'd only been gone for about twenty
minutes.
"Why'd you turn it down?"
"I was hungry." I held up the slice I was working on for
emphasis. He pulled it out of my hand and took a bite.
"So was tank top boy," he said, when he was done chewing.
"And you made the poor guy go away starving."
"I figured you could handle them both."
He raised an eyebrow, lit a cigarette, took two drags, put it out. I
begged him silently to let it go. We so did not need to have this
conversation. But of course, the one time I *don't* want to talk...
"What's the deal with you anyway?" he asked. "We used to
have so much fun together."
"You're not having fun?"
"I mean with other boys..."
And there it was. I knew this would happen eventually. I'd just been
hoping it would be, I don't know, in ten or twenty years maybe.
I sighed and picked at my food, looking anywhere but into his eyes.
Tried to think of a way to explain, in words that he could understand.
In words that wouldn't piss him off, or bring up terrible memories, or
ruin things forever.
"I guess...I've sort of decided that- that I don't really want to
be with...other boys." I stared down at the table, started pulling
my crust to bits, and prayed he'd just leave it alone now. No such luck.
"What the fuck ever," he said. "What the hell does that
mean?"
"It means exactly what I said. I haven't been with anyone else
since we got back together, and I haven't wanted to, so...that's all it
means."
I took a cautious glance at him, and almost laughed at his expression.
It was so comical. Rage dumbfounded, his mouth gaping wide enough for
bugs to fly in. I couldn't remember ever seeing him look so completely
mystified.
"Is that gonna be a problem for you?" I asked.
"Uh, it's not a problem for me, but I would think it'd be one for
you."
"Well if it was, I wouldn't be doing it."
"It's hardly fair," he said. "And besides, we're not some
married fag couple. You don't have to..."
"It's not about that," I interrupted him. "I just don't
want to."
He kept staring at me, waiting for more of an explanation, but how could
I tell him the whole truth? That I wasn't him, never could be, and that
when I'd tried it had only led to disaster. That I always fucked it up,
and broke the rules, and wound up hurting him because I just don't have
it in me to do what he does. That when I looked at that part of his life
now, sometimes it made me feel sick- not jealous, or even turned on like
I sometimes used to be, just queasy and sort of sad for him. That I
still hoped he might stop someday, but not for me. For him.
"Look, it-it's not as easy for me," I said, finally.
"What's not?"
"To just...fuck random people with no feeling."
"Well, aren't you a fucking saint," he snorted.
"No, that's not...I just don't enjoy it that much. It isn't fun for
me. In fact, it's kind of depressing, and isn't fucking supposed to be
fun? I mean, isn't that your whole....thing, or whatever?"
"Well, yeah, but...you didn't have fun?"
He looked sort of hurt, and I knew he was thinking of the good old days,
wondering if I'd been going along just to please him. Which I guess I
had, a little bit, but I was also a really horny kid who wanted to get
laid.
"I had fun sometimes," I told him, and it was true. "I
just have more fun when it's just us."
He sat there silently for what seemed like hours, and I picked another
slice of pizza apart. One of the drag queens got on stage and started
singing Xanadu.
"I didn't wanna tell you," I said, eventually. "I knew
you'd be weird."
"I'm not weird."
"You look weird."
"I'm not, I'm just...thinking about our day tomorrow. We should
probably get an early start. See all the sights."
"You wanna see sights?"
"Isn't that why we're here?"
I distinctly remembered reading from the travel guide when we were in
the car, and hearing a variety of derogatory comments as I listed the
tourist attractions to him, culminating in "Fuck the aquarium,
we're gonna get laid," but hey, I wasn't about to complain.
"S'only midnight," he said, and I felt his legs intertwining
with mine under the table. "We could go back now, get our beauty
sleep, and be ready to hit the big ball of twine first thing in the
morning."
"The big ball of twine is in Kansas."
"Whatever. Let's go."
He took my hand and led me back to the hotel and wound up fucking me
till three o'clock in the morning, which sort of defeated the whole
purpose of leaving early, but again, not complaining.
"Fuck
me!"
It sounded like a great idea; just not at whatever ungodly hour it was
at the moment. I pulled the pillow over my head to block out his
voice.
"Brian, are you awake? Look at this!"
I groaned and forced the pillow more tightly to my ears. I wasn't
really ready to do the opening of the eyes portion of waking up.
Or the getting out of bed. Or the forming of coherent thoughts.
"Brian, don't you want to know that we almost died last
night?"
I thought that's what he asked, at any rate. Then he was quiet,
thankfully, and I felt myself drifting back to sleep. That was
until I felt a nice soft, warm hand wrapped around my cock.
I moaned and moved the pillow away from my face. This was
definitely a nicer way to wake up.
He jerked me nice and slow and before I knew it I was planting my feet
on the bed to raise my hips. He started to go faster and I was
definitely more than awake at that point. I opened my eyes finally
and smiled when they'd focused on his face.
Then the little twat fucking stopped.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I grunted through
my panting.
His smile disappeared and he whipped the goddamn newspaper into my
lap. "Trying to get your fucking attention," he scowled,
pointing at a story on the front page.
"Whaddya know, Kate Hepburn died. Maybe we should call Emmett
and see how he's doing." I grabbed his hand and tried to pull
it back to my aching dick.
"No! Brian-"
He poked at the paper, pointing directly at the story I knew he'd been
referring to in the first place. Seems about an hour and a half
after we'd left the bar last night, some lunatic bombed the place.
It was certainly a coincidence, but only three people were killed out of
the at least four hundred drunken fags that were there that night.
"THREE people died, Brian!" he shrieked. "That
could've been us."
When I looked up at him and saw the illogical fear in his face, I
groaned. "This was almost two fucking hours after we left, it
doesn't mean we avoided certain death. Now stop with the melodrama
already and finish what you started."
He gave me a nasty look and ripped the paper out of my hands.
"Finish it yourself," he grumbled and plopped down in a chair
with his back to me.
Here we go again, I thought, and dragged my ass to the shower. I
never know what he's expecting me to do or say. He expects me to
have a reaction, some emotion or feeling that I just don't have in me
and then gets pissed when I don't. Like I'm supposed to think
about how Justin would want me respond and then make damn sure that I
give that to him. Fuck that shit, he ought to know better by now.
I watched the load I yanked out myself -no thanks to Justin - wash down
the drain. Little fucker. But after I stood there awhile,
leaning my head into the wall and letting the water beat down my back, I
couldn't help but appreciate his tactic. I started to wonder if
why he was so upset had little to do with the fact that we'd been in
that bar and more about what had happened to him. The fact that
he'd gotten whacked in the head with a fucking bat just because some
insecure twat couldn't deal with the fact that fags exist, and God
forbid, what if he was one too. Better to kill them all off than
to ask the hard questions.
"So, what's on the agenda for today, Mister Taylor?" I
asked him as I walked back into the room. He was still in
that chair, in the same position. I saw him pinch the bridge of
his nose between his fingers and I looked away quick. I did not
even want know if he'd been crying all this time. I walked over to
the closet and pulled out something to wear.
He must have shrugged because I didn't hear anything.
"Well, you're welcome to sit in this room all goddamn day," I
said, pulling my blue sleeveless shirt over my head, "but I thought
I'd wander around the city. Maybe take in a museum, get some
lunch, shop for clothing we can't afford..."
"I know what you're trying to do, asshole, and it's not going to
work."
"Oh, he has a voice," I teased. "And the only thing
I'm trying to do is offer to take you somewhere I thought you'd like to
go. Now get your skanky ass in the shower and get ready.
We're going to the aquarium."
He turned around finally. Dammit all, his fucking eyes were
red. I was afraid I was going to see more pissiness, but, thank
God, he was smiling a little. He hopped out of the chair and
bounded into the bathroom.
--------
So we checked out the Shedd Aquarium and we looked at some fish.
It really was cool, but I know he was way more into it than I was, and
that was just fine because I love to watch him just watch things.
His eyes are wide open and aware, and it seems as though he looks at
everything with constant wonder and total amazement. Actually, I
guess it's a lot like the way Gus watches the world: everything a new
stimulus, something new to view, to study, to swallow up and make it a
part of him. For Justin it has everything to do with his being an
artist. I am certain he sees the world through different eyes, in
ways that I won't ever see it. In the same way that I'll never see
things the way a colorblind person does, or the way a dog's eyes
see. We're just genetically different.
"Now THERE's a fine specimen of nature," I said, snaking my
arm around his waist and pressing my cheek into his, guiding his gaze to
what had caught my attention in the tank where we were looking.
"We came here to observe the aquatics, you know," he giggled
turned his head to kiss me, "not the staff..."
His avowal from last night was still really fresh in my memory. I
think I even recreated the conversation in my dreams the night before,
perhaps in a vain attempt to handle what he said with more finesse than
I had actually displayed. I'm not really sure why it should
have surprised me that he'd feel that way. I knew from the moment
on the street in front of my building when I sent him away with my make
orgasms, not love speech that's exactly what he was after. The
happily ever after. With one person, just like the hetero's.
I tried to tell him it didn't exist in our world. I don't think he
ever really believed me. And now he was changing the rules
again. I really didn't know what to make of it.
What I did know was that he needed to realize that even though he'd made
this grand decision for himself, it wasn't going to magically make me
change my own life. I'd meet him half way - I cared about him
enough to give him at least that - but he had to know that my ways were
still my ways.
"Well yes, he may just be an obviously well chiseled male form in
an extremely fitting wetsuit, but he is "swimming", is he
not?" I asked.
He shook his head, then took my face in both of his hands and kissed me
a long time. We were cut off by a woman clearing her throat; a
veiled request for us to stop, I guess. I looked up to a very
homely and dried out middle-aged woman giving me her best look of
disgust. Or maybe that's how she always looked. Justin
turned and looked at her too, at which moment she huffed, shaking her
head.
Justin turned back and rolled his eyes. "Sorry," he
apologized sarcastically to the bitch, who had already walked off,
presumably to go heave into that enormous ugly Wal-Mart purse she had
slung over her neck like a yoke.
"Well, you have to cut her a little slack, being around all of
these microcosms of "nature", we're bound to look especially
unnatural." I leaned in for another kiss.
He interrupted it, pulling his head back and replacing his smile with an
odd look. "You don't...really mean that, do you?"
It had been an off-handed remark, really, but I was finding it difficult
at that moment to come up with a decent explanation for making it, one
that would make him shut up. He reached for my face and I pulled
away from it, letting him go from my embrace. I held his hand as a
compromise and dragged him to another exhibit, hoping it would distract
him from the fact that I didn't want to look into his face at that
particular moment.
"Brian..."
"Yyyyes..." I stared into one of the tanks intently, but I
couldn't for the life of me say what the hell was even in it.
"You don't really think that we're...freaks...do you?"
I could feel his gaze boring into my temple and I shifted my face the
slightest bit further away, still not answering. It wasn't
something I tried to think about often, and if that feeling did creep
up, I'd press it right back down. And go get laid.
"'Cause we're not, you know. It's not unnatural, at all. I
mean...there are instances of gay behavior all over the animal
kingdom."
Apparently now I had incited an impromptu biology lesson. "I
know. I've been in the back room of Babylon, in case you
forgot." I moved on to the next exhibit.
"I mean," he said with exasperation, "animals, besides
'homos.' There are documented cases of same sex relations between
like, seagulls and mountain goats, and sea lions."
"Oh my!" I scoffed. "Is that the kind of thing I
was paying for you to learn at that school?"
He laughed and clutched on to my bicep with his other hand.
"Anyway, I'm just saying that we're just as natural as anything or
anyone else in this world."
I wondered if he had any idea how loaded that statement was.
"Well, right now, my natural instincts are telling me I'm fucking
starving," I said, carefully avoiding anymore iconoclastic
discussion.
--------
We wandered around Grant Park for a while. Justin took pictures
with the digital camera and I pointed out hot guys. I wanted to
find a really good place to park before I went back to the car to get
the boxed lunches I'd ordered from the hotel. Once I'd spotted it,
I told him to sit on a nearby bench.
"Why? Where are you going? I thought you were ravenous."
"Back to the car. Won't take me thirty minutes, so sit here
like a nice queen and don't talk to strangers."
"Unless they're hot, right?" He winked.
I only looked at him with a half smile before walking away.
When I returned, I found him entranced, drawing in his sketchbook.
I set the stuff on the ground and sat behind him, resting my chin on his
shoulder. He was working on an especially sexy likeness of the
male form, from the neck down, shirtless and a wearing a nicely filled
out pair of tight biking shorts. "Like this better than
the sick kitties?" he asked, still drawing.
"It's beautiful, except you chopped off his head. Which would
be all right if you hadn't drawn him with his shorts on so we could see
at least one of them..."
He laughed through his nose. "It's not supposed to be any
particular guy, it's just "guy". But it's that guy by
the fountain, if you're interested."
I lifted my head and focused in on the male in question.
"Excellent subject matter choice, Mister Taylor." He
smiled and rested his head back in the crook of my neck. I twisted
my head around and pushed my tongue into his mouth. He latched
right onto it with his own and I let him stroke it with his
awhile. I opened my eyes to see if anyone else was enjoying our
kiss as much as us. Unfortunately it seemed no one gave a
shit. No one, except for Justin, whose eyes were shut tight and
brows pinched in concentration.
He whimpered and pulled away. "Mmmmmyou taste sweet."
"Had the rest of your Toblerone when I went to the car..."
"Brian, you what?" he whined.
"It was melting. It was an act of mercy," I told him and
got off the bench. I grabbed the stuff I'd brought from the car
and smacked him on the back. "C'mon."
I led him toward the tree I'd picked out and handed him the blanket I'd
swiped from the room.
"Is this from the hotel?" he laughed.
"Oh, is it? I must have packed it by
mistake." I grabbed one end of it and helped him spread it
out.
"Smells like we had sex on it."
"That's not going to be a problem, is it?"
He plopped down onto the blanket and kicked off his shoes. "S'one
of my favorite fragrances."
I sat down and started pulling stuff out of my backpack. I know he
was staring at me, but I didn't look. I poured him a drink from a
bottle of scotch wrapped in a paper bag into a Styrofoam cup.
"If you see a cop, dump this the fuck out."
He took the cup and giggled. "Oooh, my boyfriend is such a
rebel..."
I smirked and smacked him in the back of the head.
"Boyfriend..." I rolled my eyes.
He only smiled at me with his eyes as he sipped his drink. That
stupid look that says he think he knows so much more than I do about
myself. He's always acted like I'm such a freaking open book to
him, and now more than ever before. I've got no fucking place to
hide anymore. Somewhere he can't reach me, if even for a couple
seconds so I can get my goddamn bearings again. And if I do manage
that, he's right around the corner with that fucking look.
But they used to call me the magic man at the agency, so I was
determined to find a way to throw him.
I pulled the boxes out of my backpack and set them out in front of us,
and used my switchblade to cut the gold strings off them.
"Hope you're hungry," I said and leaned in to kiss the small
smile he had on his lips, "...still." I kept my forehead
pressed to his.
"Mmmm...starved," he replied. "What're we
having?"
I opened both our boxes. "Cracked pepper turkey sandwich with
apple-cranberry chutney and double cream Brie on pain rustique, fresh
bits of mango, and broccoli salad," I announced into his ear.
"Is that to your liking, Mister Taylor?"
"It looks fucking fantastic. Is it from the hotel?"
For a minute I thought he was going to give me more shit about the money
issue, but after seeing him dig into his sandwich like a starvation
victim, I was pretty sure he wasn't nagging. "Ordered it
while you were in the shower," I told him and kissed him under the
ear before starting on my own food. "Hope you like it."
"I love it," he said with a mouth full, "thank
you!" He leaned over and kissed me quick on the corner of my
mouth.
I stuffed a couple slices of mango into my mouth and pulled out the iPod
I'd set up especially for our road trip, downloading a boatload of music
I knew Justin liked, stuff we'd danced to at Babylon, mostly stuff I
liked. The five hundred dollar thing was actually something I'd
ordered as an incentive gift for a client I'd be courting. I was
supposed to have met with them the day after I'd gotten shit
canned. Now the fucking thing was mine.
Once I had it playing I looked over at Justin and he was looking at me
weird again, peering up from his sandwich with a half smile as he
chewed. "Are you waiting for something more? 'Cause
this is about all I've got."
"More?" he said, mouth full again.
"Yeah you keep looking at me like you're waiting for something
else."
"No, I...," he laughed through his nose and ducked his head.
I know he thinks because of what happened that I don't have the ability,
or the slightest inkling about how to be thoughtful. To do things
purely because I know Justin would like it. What he didn't
understand before was that I did always think of him. Somehow,
where ever and when ever the fuck it happened, I don't know, but somehow
he became such an integral part of...me...that I found that I couldn't
meet my own personal needs without thoughts of him intruding in on the
process.
"Did you think that Brian Kinney couldn't do romance?"
He shook his head and set aside his box. "I always knew you
could."
I smirked and took a big swig of scotch. "Just not the way
you'd want?"
"In ways I wasn't smart enough to recognize."
Oh, so maybe he did know. At least now. I swallowed a smile
that threatened to creep up. Then I felt his hand on mine.
He squeezed it. "And sometimes in ways I forgot because of
amnesia."
I looked away from his gaze and used my other hand to rub my neck.
"Actually, when you come right down to it, you're probably the most
romantic bastard I've ever met."
Oh God, someone shut this kid up. I kept looking toward the lake,
trying to pretend I wasn't listening.
"But don't worry," he assured me, not falling for my pretense,
"I won't tell anyone." He got up on his knees and took
my face with his hands, then kissed me very gently.
Taking the cue, and hoping it would stave off any more of this romance
discussion, I took him by the shoulders and pushed him down flat on the
blanket, climbing over on top of him for good measure. He was rock
hard already and I couldn't help grinding myself into him. He
inhaled to say something else but I put my tongue into his open mouth
instead. He sucked on it and let the air out through his nose as I
continued to move over him.
"Mmmmmmmm...somebody's got a big hard on," I said as I rubbed
my nose over his face.
He laughed a little. "Two somebodys," he pointed out and
ran his hands down my back and onto my ass.
I rubbed down on him again, even harder, and wished our jeans weren't in
the way. He closed his eyes and moaned.
"Are you having a nice time?" I asked, continuing to grind
into him. "Or are you ready to go back home to
Mama's?"
He groaned and laughed. "I'm having a fucking amazing
time," he said through a grunt, opening his eyes as much as he
could. "The best. Ughh...ever."
I smiled. "Sure there's nothing else you'd rather be
doing?" I kissed the corner of his mouth.
"No one else?" I kissed the other corner and rubbed the
tip of my nose on his. "No place else?"
I'm not quite sure why I was compelled to ask him these stupid assed
questions. Maybe I just wanted to make sure he was really serious
last night. Maybe I wanted to give him a chance to back out
of his statements.
But he grabbed onto the sides of my face and looked into my eyes.
"There's no one in the world I want more than you," he said,
with as much seriousness as he had last night, "there never has
been."
I gave him a half a smile and called him a sucker. He smiled back
knowing full well I didn't really mean it, and I leaned in and kissed
him slowly. For a long time.
He moaned and ran his hands all through my hair, rocking his hips up to
meet mine. "Mmmm...and I cant think of anyplace I'd rather be right
now. It's perfect here."
I had to nod in agreement to that. "It is a fucking gorgeous
day."
He smiled brightly and nodded. His face was flushed and his
breath quick, and I could feel his heart pounding heavily in his
chest. "Gorgeous park. Gorgeous man on top of me.
You'll get no complaints from me." He pulled my head back
down to his neck and rocked his hips again. "I like this
music too."
I smiled into his neck and licked the skin there. "Thought
you might."
"Ughmmm...what is it?"
"Just a bunch of stuff I pulled off the internet. Stuff I
figured you'd like." I took a hold of his earlobe and sucked
and bit at it. "Stuff we've danced to at Babylon.
At least I think we have, s'hard to remember sometimes."
He gasped and laughed and pulled my head away from him. "Oh
my god, it's the apocalypse isn't it?" He was beaming.
"You made me a mix!"
I knit my brow. "What the fuck are you talking about? I did
not make you a mix."
"A mix, you made it, yes you did!" He insisted.
"No I didn't!! It's for me. It's on MY player."
But he was giggling so much I don't think he really was listening.
"Uh huh..."
I twisted my mouth. "Look, it's not like I'm giving it to
you. I'll probably erase it all in a few days and put new
shit on there. So, no."
"Right, okay..."
"It's not like you can KEEP it. It's not on your very own
CD. I just threw it down. Took five minutes - what?"
He was laughing so hard he started to snort. "You...loooooooove
me," he whispered and pulled my head down for a kiss.
"Shut up, fucker," I said gently into his mouth while grinding
into him hard, over and over. "There's not one actual LOVE
song on there."
He gasped and grabbed onto my shoulders, the both of us laughing between
grunting and panting, getting nearer and nearer to the edge.
"You're adorable. I adore you." He kissed my
eyelids.
I smiled down on him with my panting mouth open. "I
know."
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