Perfect

“Justin!”

“Brian!”

He thrusts harder inside of me and I moan when his cock hits my prostate. 

“God!”

He slides in and out, wrapped in my legs.  Our bodies pressed tightly together.  My cock caught between our sweaty, hard stomachs.  I’m close.  I’m so fucking close, and it takes every inch of self-control to let him go on.  Because I don’t want this to end.  Not yet.  Don’t want this connection to be over.  Because the moment he pulls away from me, I feel empty, almost hollow, aching for that connection once again. 

He slows down, giving us a moment to catch our breath and prolonging it just a little longer.  I look up into his open eyes that are staring down at me with such intensity; it feels like he’s looking beyond my skin and bones and straight into my soul. 

He breathes hard, his mouth half open, and the hot air hits my face.  His red swollen lips are only inches away from mine and it’s complete torture not to have them in my mouth.  I reach out with my hand, pulling his head toward me, and the hunger for his mouth, his tongue, for HIM only intensifies.  I want to feel him.  Not his dick in my ass.  Not his tongue in my mouth.  HIM.  All of him.  I wrap my arms around his back, pressing him closer to me, my aching cock sending S.O.S. signals from somewhere beneath him.  And I have to try even harder to mold our bodies together.  So, that just for a fleeting moment, we can become one, not just physically, but all encompassing.

He kisses me again, hard.  And then starts to move inside me again, picking up the rhythm.  I know that I won’t be able to hold out for much longer.  Everything else gets fuzzy, almost non-existent.  It’s just him and me and this feeling of something…something so immensely private and sacred and…and so completely ours. 

We cum only moments later and he collapses on top of me.  And that’s when I feel it.  His heart beating in rhythm with mine, my chest rising as we try to catch our breath, his dick still inside of me.  In this moment, he’s a part of me. 

“I love you,” I say against his forehead.

He pushes himself up just enough to see my face. 

“I love you too, Brian.”

~~~***~~~***~~~

Vacation according to Brian Kinney:  fucking, fucking, fucking, and, oh yeah, more fucking.

Vacation according to Justin Taylor:  parasailing, scuba diving, snorkeling, eating, sleeping, windsurfing, swimming, eating, sleeping, diving, and, oh, yeah, fucking.

I swear, if he comes up with one more thing to do INSTEAD of fucking, I’m going to throw him out the balcony.  Then I’ll fish him out of the pool, bring him back in here, lock the fucking doors, and tie him to the bed for the rest of our stay.  I tell him as much when he barges inside the room.

“Hmmm, kinky,” he smirks, plopping down on the bed next to me.  “Maybe we should give it a try.”

I look him over, tongue in cheek, considering it for a moment.  “Go find a rope and let me finish this up.”  I get back to my laptop, knowing he’s got a frown on his face without even looking at him.

“You said you weren’t going to work while we were here.”

“This isn’t work.  I’m just checking my email.”

He looks over my shoulder.  “Looks like work to me.”  He reaches his hand out and pushes the laptop close.

“Justin,” I warn him.

“Don’t Justin me.  THIS is a vacation.  You’re supposed to RELAX.  NOT work.  That means, no emails, no work related conversations, or thoughts for that matter.”  He pushes me down on the bed and lies on top of me.  And all thoughts of work fly right out my head.  What can I say?  The boy’s persistent.

But first things first.  I push him off me, then prop myself up on my elbow, looking down at him.  “What do you say we pack our stuff and get the fuck out of here tomorrow morning?”

He narrows his eyes at me, obviously confused.  Poor, little boy.  “What the fuck are you talking about?  We’ve got another…”

His voice trails off when I hold two tickets in front of his face. 

“What’s this?”

He takes the tickets from me and reads what it says.  But instead of pouncing on me, ready to thank me for his Christmas gift in all the different ways I’ve imagined ever since I picked up the tickets from my travel agent, he stares daggers at me.  If looks could kill, I’d be a dead man by now.

“It’s for only five days.  That way we have plenty of time to get back home before you have to start school again.” 

He doesn’t say a word.

“Think of all the food you’ll be able to eat.  Those ships are like Old Country Buffet, open twenty-four/seven, only with better food.”  I’m grasping at straws at this point.

But he just glares at me.  NOT a good sign.

I did prepare myself for the possibility of screaming and yelling, since I did the one thing I was NOT allowed to do under any circumstances.  But I figured that as soon as I dangle a five-day cruise in front of his pretty blue eyes, he’d get over it. 

But he doesn’t get over it.  He puts the tickets on the bedside table and without another word gets up and leaves the room.

Well….

Fuck!

~~~***~~~***~~~

Three hours and two packed suitcases later he’s still a no show.  Since his passport and plane tickets are in the room, I assume he’s still on the island, so after preparing myself for the Taylor wrath I am bound to experience, I go down to look for him.

He’s sitting on the steps leading down to the beach, watching the sunset.  I watch him from behind, hating not being able to see his face at this moment.  I can only imagine how he’d look with pinks and reds dancing on his face. 

I take a deep breath and make myself move forward to face the music.  He doesn’t even look up at me when I sit next to him.  I look at him and a smile creeps across my face.  I was right.  He looks fucking incredible during sunset. 

The minute we stepped off the plane, we were assaulted from all sides by guys wanting to fuck him, me, both of us.  Mostly Justin, though.  I can see them practically drooling every time he passes them by the pool.  But he doesn’t even look.  That’s not why we’re here, he said.  It was another thing that we weren’t going to do here.  THIS was about us, so no tricking. Which was fine by me, since I’d have a willing and more than able partner in bed every night.  Justin was right, though.  This was…IS…about us. 

“Well, that’s one way of getting me to watch a sunset with you.”  I try my luck. 

Shit.  He doesn’t even crack a smile.  Just sighs, loudly.

“Justin…”

“You promised.”

I stare down at my feet.  I did. 

He stands up and walks down the stairs.

“I don’t get it.  What’s the big fucking deal?”  The best defense is offense, right? 

Justin throws his hands up in the air.  “Of course you don’t.  You just DON’T get it, Brian.  You NEVER get it.  This is all just one big fucking joke to you, isn’t?!  It doesn’t matter that there’s two of us in this relationship.  No!  You still make all the decisions yourself and I’m supposed to just go along with whatever it is Lord Kinney comes up with this week.  Well, I’m not some kept boy who has no opinions or thoughts of his own.”

“I never said you were!”  I stand up and make my way down the stairs as well. 

“Well, that’s what you imply every time you pull shit like this.”  He sighs and looks away.  I just stand quietly waiting for the next part to follow.  He finally turns around.  “Don’t you get it?  This wasn’t about a five-star hotel or having the most expensive suite or any of that shit.  This was me doing something for you, for us.  Me finally giving something back to you.”

“Giving something back to me?”  What the fuck?  “Justin, you don’t owe me anything.”

He studies my face carefully, then laughs, as if I just said the dumbest thing in the world.  “Of course I do.  I owe you everything.  My art.  My education.  My life, literally.”

What?  Where the fuck is this coming from?  Yes, we’d joke about this occasionally.  But I never thought he’d take it seriously. 

“This was my chance to do something for you for once,” he continues with his rant.  “But you, you just had to do what you always do, whatever YOU want.  To hell with everybody else.  Well, that’s not how it works, Brian.  There are two of us in this relationship.  TWO.  There are TWO votes for any decision that needs to be made, not ONE.  I’m your lover, your…partner.  I have a say in this too.”

He’s actually serious about this? 

“Are you finished?”

He looks at me, as if suddenly realizing that I’m actually standing there.

“Can I speak now?”

He huffs, not happy in the least with the nonchalant look on my face, but nods and gives me the go-ahead.

I take a step toward him.  I need him to hear this, to hear ME.

“This is such a load of crap,” I practically laugh.

Ok, not the best start, but I had to get that out of the way first.  His eyebrows go up, almost amused at my reaction.  He thought he’d backed me into a corner and I’d get down on my knees and beg his highness for forgiveness for being such a bad boy.  Well, he has something else coming. 

“You think I wake up in the morning and think of ways to make you OWE me?  I didn’t do this so you’d OWE me, Justin.  I didn’t do any of it to make you owe me.  I have money, you don’t.  So what?  I can afford this, you can’t.  Who gives a shit?  You feel less of a man when I do it?  Well, you’re just going to have to live with it.  I’m not going to apologize for wanting to do something for you, for us.”

I know I’ve said too much already, but if I don’t make it clear now, I never will.  And I have to make sure he understands.

“Do you think I came here for my own health?  If I want a tan, I’ll go to a tanning salon.  If I want to get laid, I’ll go to the baths.  If I want to rest, I’ll go to bed.  I’m HERE because of YOU.  Because I want to be with you.  Because I want to make YOU happy.  And if you don’t like that, well, tough shit.”

Ok, so that was a little too clear for my taste.  The next thing I know, he’s going to talk me into a commitment ceremony, God forbid.

He stares at me.  Through me.  And all I can do is stand there and wait.  Wait for him to see for himself that what I just said is the actual truth and not some lame attempt to get him in bed. 

“Ok,” he finally says.

Excuse me?  Did I just not pour my heart and soul out to him?  And all he says is ‘ok?’

“Ok,” I say for the lack of anything better I can muster from my vocabulary at the moment.

 

I finally see that gorgeous mouth turn up in a small smile.  “Would it be really corny if I kissed you right now?” he asks.

I snort.  There’s white sand, blue water, and the most incredible sunset surrounding us.  I just finished telling my lover exactly how much he has me wrapped around his pretty little finger.  “I don’t think it can get any cornier than this.”

He grins.  “Good,” he says and leaps into my arms. 

Now this…this I can handle.  I cover his lips with mine, wrapping my arms around his body. 

“You’re still going to be punished,” he murmurs into my ear as I start exploring his neck with my tongue.

“I counted on that,” I reply, returning my attention back to his pink mouth.  “But, not before we pack.”

He pulls away a little, cocks an eyebrow at me and smirks.  “I figured you’d have us all packed and checked out by now.” 

Smart little fucker. 

“Yeah, well, I needed to do something with my hands while you were basking in the glory of your drama queen moment.”

He scoffs.  “I’m sure you could have found a way to keep your hands busy if you put your mind to it.”

“I thought about that.”

He gives me the ‘oh, really’ look.

“But nobody measured up.”

He smiles at me with one of his patented Sunshine smiles.  Who needs to watch a fucking sunset when they’ve got the most beautiful smile in front of him?

“Oh, my poor little abandoned baby.”

“Hey, I resent “the little” part.”

The little shit laughs out loud as he hops up the stairs, taking two steps at the time.  “Prove it.”

I stare up at him, taking in the way his hair looks during dusk, the way his eyes shine, reflecting the setting sun and the sparkling water, storing it in my memory for later.  Then follow him up the stairs.

~~~***~~~***~~~

Caribbean cruise according to Brian Kinney:  fucking, fucking, fucking, fucking, and, oh, yeah, more fucking.

Caribbean cruise according to Justin Taylor:  swimming, lying on the sun, swimming, eating, sleeping, swimming, eating, sleeping, and, oh, yeah, fucking.

I thought that with the limited options that came with being stuck on the boat for five days, even if the boat is bigger than the size of a city block, would make the boy realize what he’s SUPPOSED to be doing on vacation instead of doing everything else and neglecting his loving partner.  Yeah, right.  Justin’s been running all over the ship, getting involved in every fucking ridiculous activity they have on this damn tugboat.  And let me tell you, they’re really good at keeping little gay boys occupied at all times.  What the fuck did I expect with three pools, two whirlpools, and an all you can eat buffet that’s open ALL day long.

On top of which, the shower is barely big enough for one person, so any ideas I had about fucking my little red lobster after he finally found his way back to our room had to be put on hold ‘till we got back on land. 

“What are you reading?” 

I look up from the paper listing all of our fun and exciting activities for the next day that they push under our door every night and take in the sight before me.  A towel loosely wrapped around his hips, his body covered in tiny droplets of water, his wet hair sticking out in different directions.  My cock immediately stands up in salute to the mothership. 

“They’ve got strip bingo tomorrow at two,” I say, putting the paper down on the nightstand.

He snickers as he flops on top of me, soaking my shirt with parts of his body that are still wet from the shower.  “They do not.”

“You don’t believe me?  Read it for yourself.” 

I pretend to reach for the paper, but he catches my hand and brings it back to my chest.  I can feel his hard on rubbing against mine.  Well, well, well, guess who’s ready to come out and have some real fun.

He looks me in the eye, serious expression on his face, then leans down and kisses me.  Not a hungry, lust-filled kiss.  No.  It’s so soft and tender; you’re left wondering if your lips felt it at all, while every inch of your body screams for more. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. 

I don’t ask what he’s thanking me for.  Don’t need to.  He’s having the time of his life, and as much as I bitch and whine about him being a busy bee on this trip, I wouldn’t have it any other way.  And he knows it. 

I cup his face with my hand, running my thumb along his cheek, still amazed at the smoothness of his skin.  It’s dead quiet, the only sound in the room are our two heartbeats, as we stare into each other’s eyes, content for a moment to just lie here, arms around each other.

It doesn’t take long, though, before the urge, the need for more becomes impossible to contain.  I roll him over on his back, sprawling on top of him, blanketing his body with mine. 

“Brian,” he whispers, letting me know that he needs me just as much as I need him.

I cover his lips with mine, my tongue moving slowly inside his mouth, as my hands massage his chest.  He reaches out to run his hands against my sides, but I push his hands away.  This is about him.  Tonight’s about him.  The whole trip is about him.  I pin his arms to the bed, kissing him once again, more powerfully this time.  Then I sit up, while straddling his legs, and quickly remove my shirt.  Now, it’s his turn.  I open the towel slowly, as if unwrapping a gift.  And what a gift it is.  I’m greeted with his hard on thanking me for being set free from under the rough surface of the towel. 

I move my hands up and down his thighs, careful not to touch Justin’s cock.  I smile when I hear a slight whimper from the top of the bed.  You’d think after dealing with me for the past three years he’d learn some patience. 

I sprawl on top of him again, rubbing his hard on with mine, still caged inside my jeans.  His breathing is already jagged, but I’m not done yet.  I kiss him, softly, fighting the urge to devour him whole.  He groans as I move away again.

“Brian.”

My lips find his neck once again, while my hands rummage around for his cock, wet with precum. 

“Brian,” he moans again as I move down his body slowly, until my mouth replaces my hand and covers the head of his leaking cock. 

~~~***~~~***~~~

“Can you believe it’s already New Year?” Justin asks as he takes one last drag of his cigarette, then throws it overboard.  “Time just flies by.”

I shudder at that notion.  “Don’t remind me.”

He turns, a smile on his face.  “Oh, my poor OLD man.”

Old?  Fucking twat.  “You know, it won’t be too hard to convince everybody that you just slipped and fell overboard.”

He gives me another one of his shit-eating grins.

“Champagne?” A waiter comes over, carrying a tray with glasses filled with the bubbly.

“Thank you,” Justin, always the polite one, takes two, handing me one.  “It’s almost time.”

I nod, not saying anything.  Instead, I watch him, staring out into the darkness of the ocean, while listening to the crowd inside.  And at that moment, the instance when the clock starts counting down another year I realize it.  This is the only place I want to be.  Standing next to him, staring out in the darkness, ready for whatever’s to come next; not afraid, not running anymore.  Because this…this is perfect.

“Happy New Year, Brian.”

I smile, as I lean down to kiss him.

The End.

Happy New Year!

Go to the next installment called Reach

HOME