Willy Woes by Tagsit


Justin is no longer thrilled with his Christmas present... Happy Holidays and hope you enjoy! TAG

Categories: QAF US Characters: Brian Kinney, Justin Taylor
Tags: Christmas
Genres: Could be Canon, Humor
Pairings: Brian/Justin
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 3862 Read: 897 Published: Jan 10, 2019 Updated: Jan 10, 2019
Story Notes:

Written for the 2018 QAF Holiday Gift Exchange

1. Chapter 1 by Tagsit

Chapter 1 by Tagsit

TO  chamilet

FROM: Tagsit

TITLE: Willy Woes

GIFT REQUEST: Fic - angst, hurt/comfort, sexy fun times, porn without plot. Brian's cancer returns? Justin gets ill? Alternatively, sexy funtimes.

NOTES: Justin is no longer thrilled with his Christmas present... Happy Holidays and hope you enjoy! TAG

I blame Emmett. It was his stupid idea to do a ‘Secret Santa’ gift exchange this year. Of course, I refused to participate, but little Sunshine was head over heels excited about the idea. Whatever. I wasn’t going to get involved. I figured I’d just let them all gift themselves into a frenzy while I gave my usual standby holiday gifts of a bottle of scotch for everyone on my list. It was fast, efficient, didn’t cause me to have to go out of my way because I already hit the liquor store at least once a week, and would be enjoyed by all.

Justin’s enthusiasm for the idea, though, was so typically HIM. He always was a little twat about everything to do with the holidays, from shopping, to listening to inane Christmas music 24/7 from Thanksgiving on, and even trying to trick me into putting up decorations at the loft. I only relented enough to let him hang some mistletoe, and that was only because it meant he would be encouraged to kiss me even more than his usual wont. There wasn’t anything bad about that, right? Hell, his Christmas Spirit wasn’t even stymied when he drew Ted in the gift exchange, getting totally gaga over the Opera Lovers’ Magnetic Poetry Kit he found for the staid, old accountant.



However, I ended up being mildly impressed by the gift Vic - that nasty old reprobate - got Justin. It was something that I thought might actually be useful for a change. It was this penis casting kit thing called, ‘Clone-a-Willy’. It was supposed to let the owner make an exact silicone replica of his or her favorite dick, which then slipped onto this vibrator core to create your very own, personalized dildo. Justin was, as expected, ecstatic about the idea, and made me oblige him by offering up my dick for molding that very night. We had a lot of fun getting ready for the casting, I can assure you, and the end result was pretty impressive, even if I do say so myself. The fucking thing looked just like my dick right down to every single vein and ridge. Justin immediately declared it his new favorite toy and demanded that I fuck him with it all night long, which I thought was a great way to spend Christmas Eve.

We spent a relaxing Christmas Day, not doing much except for a trip over to the Munchers’ to hand over presents to Gus, and then headed off to Babylon for the club’s annual Christmas Ball. I was having a ball myself that night, enjoying the balls of several of the club’s patrons well into the wee hours of Boxing Day. Justin, however, started to peter out even before Midnight. I didn’t think much of it at first, because he’d seemed fine earlier, eating roughly his own weight in Christmas Ham when we’d visited Mel & Lindz, followed by enough chocolate candy to send him into a sugar coma that afternoon. So when he said he was going to go on back to the loft and leave me to my wicked holiday ways, I just kissed him goodbye and went back to unwrapping yet another Christmas present for myself - this one a nice, beefy, gym bunny type that came complete with a festive, peppermint-striped butt plug.

When I finally staggered into the loft at five minutes to three, however, I found I was surprised and alarmed by the sight that confronted me.

Justin was crouched in the middle of our bed, naked, hunched over something lying in the sheets, and crying his little blond head off. From the puffy eyes and bubbling snot coming out of the boy’s turned up nose, I gathered the crying had been going on for some time. He was so distraught that he didn’t even seem to notice my arrival. He just kept on with his blubbering, mumbling all the time about how sorry he was.

“What the fuck is going on, Sunshine? Sunshine? JUSTIN!” I had to practically scream to finally get his attention.

“Brian! Oh, Brian, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to break it off. I just . . . I just . . . I love it so mush and I must’ve played with it too mush and now I’ve ruined EVERYTHING!” *Wail!*

“What are you talking about, Justin?” I began to strip out of my club clothes, not really sure what it was the kid was talking about since I couldn’t really see what it was he was hovering over. “So what if you broke something - I’m sure it can be replaced. You don’t have to go all moody lesbian on me. Nut up already, Sunshine.”

“Noooooooo! No. S’not okay, Brian. S’not. I broke it! I BROKE it! And now I won’t get to play wiv it anymore forever and I LOVE IT SO MUSH!” he wailed even louder, initiating an even heavier freshet of tears and more snot and just basically grossing me out.

“Justin, what the fuck has got into you?” I couldn’t comprehend this level of anguish over some broken whatever.

I reached out to put what I hoped would be a consoling hand on the boy’s shoulder and almost jumped back in shock when I felt how hot the skin on his naked shoulder was. He was burning up. And considering the fact that the atmosphere in the loft wasn’t exactly tropical, and he was sitting there without any clothes on at all, it meant that he obviously had a temperature. A temperature that was dangerously high. When I leaned over and looked at him more closely - something that was difficult in the low, blue-neon lighting of my bedroom, I could see there were beads of sweat trickling down his temples and his skin was flushed a sickly red. So I guess he hadn’t been kidding when he said he wasn’t feeling good earlier in the evening.

“Looks like you’ve got yourself a hell of a cold there, Sunshine. Why don’t you get under the covers and I’ll get you one of those cold and flu pills,” I suggested, trying to push the feverish one over towards his pillows. “Come on. Lay down and get some rest.”

“But I can’t, Brian. I CAN’T! Because I BROKE IT! Don’t you see?” he replied, still moaning about whatever it was he’d broken, as yet another spate of tears oozed out of the red-rimmed eyes and trickled down his cheeks. “I’m so SORRY, Brian. So sorry . . .”

Okay, so it was clear that I wasn’t dealing with a rational being here. He was way more upset than he should be by whatever it was he thought he’d broke. Which made me stop and wonder what could have been such a big deal. I didn’t have any priceless works of art in the loft or anything, so what the fuck was he so upset about? Nothing I had was irreplaceable. What was he going on about?

“Whatever it is, Justin, I’m sure it will be fine. We’ll fix it when you’re feeling better. Okay? Just get in bed now. Please?” I tried again to pry him away from whatever it was he was hunched over on the bed but he fought me, his sweat-drenched shoulder easily slipping out of my grip as he sobbed even louder. “Fuck it, Sunshine. What the hell is it you broke anyway?”

“I . . . I’m so s-s-sorry, Brian. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t . . . I know you s-s-said if I didn’t leave you alone and quite playing wiv it, it would break off, but I . . . I . . . I broke it . . .” he continued to rave and blubber and I was getting a little worried; this just wasn’t like Justin, who wasn’t usually THIS emotional.

Because I was getting so alarmed by his behavior, though, I guess I kind of lost it and yelled at him. “What? What the fuck is it, Justin? What’s so important to you that you’re acting like a totally pathetic twat and crying like a fucking baby? What? Show me!” I demanded.

With an almost reverent moan, the boy dug into the wad of crumpled up sheets and unearthed the thing he’d been crying over, offering it up to me in both hands like a tribute to the gods. Even then I didn’t understand what the fuck was going on. He was so obviously upset, the tears literally streaming down his face, that I suppose I just misinterpreted his concern at first. But it quickly became apparent that he was utterly and totally bonkers.

“I’m so, so, so, s-s-s-sorrrrrrrrryyyyyyy!” he blubbered as he held up the Willy we’d cloned from my dick the night before. “You told me to leave it alone and stop playing with it or it would break off, and I . . . I . . . I jus couldn’t stop myself. I-I-I BROKE IT OFF! AND NOW IT’S GONE FOREVER . . .”

“What the fuck?” I looked down on the dildo that my fevered partner was cradling in his hands and it took me a full minute to comprehend what, exactly, the boy was trying to say. “You broke it off . . . My dick? You think you broke off my dick by playing with it too much? Seriously? What the fuck kind of drugs are you on, Sunshine?”

But, of course, the kid was again crying too hard to be able to hear me or answer. He was so distraught that he wasn’t even close to rational. Then it finally dawned on me that I hadn’t seen the kid taking ANY drugs back at the club because he’d said he wasn’t feeling well. And he was ridiculously hot to the touch. Shit! This must be some kind of fever thing, right? And if his temperature was so high that he was delusional, I should probably be freaking out here. Should I call an ambulance or just take him to the hospital myself? Damn it, why didn’t pet twinks come with operating manuals?

I reached out to try and take the dildo out of his hands. “I think we need to get you to a doctor, Sunshine. Let’s get you dressed, okay?”

“NOOOOOOO! Don’t take it away! We have to do somethin’! We have to fix it! I can’t live wiv out your diiiiiiicccccckkkkk!”

“You are fucking delusional, Sunshine. That’s not my dick. MY dick is just fine. Come on, now. Let’s get you to the doctor so you’re not seeing things anymore.”

But that stubborn little shit refused to go anywhere without that damn dildo, continuing to cry and wail and blubber snot all over anything that came near him. I mean, he was seriously freaking out over the thought that he’d somehow played with my dick so much that he’d worn it out or something. He wasn’t listening to anything I was saying either, so I was shit-outta-luck trying to talk him down. Every time I tried to get him out of the bed he would just squirm out of my reach and return to his perch over the remains of my supposedly severed cock, with more whining and moaning.

“Everybody’s gonna HAAATTTTTEEEE MEEEEEE! I broke it! I broke the Stud Of Liberty Avenue! Now nobody’s gonna get to play wiv it ever again. All the poor boys in the backroom are gonna kill me. I won’t . . . I won’t be able to show my face. Ooooohhhhhhh! I’ll never get laid againnnnnnnn!”

It might have been funny if I wasn’t so fucking worried about the kid. I mean, how fucking feverish do you have to be to imagine you broke off your boyfriend’s dick. Yeah, the damn dildo was a pretty remarkable copy of the original, but still . . . I really was getting a little freaked out by how out of it Justin was.

“Justin . . . Justin . . . Justin, Sunshine, you didn’t break my dick off . . . Listen to me, Sunshine . . . . I’m fine. Really. That’s not MY dick. Well, it is, but it’s not my real dick . . . I’m fine, Sunshine. I’m FINE!” I tried to talk him down but he simply refused to let go of that fucking dildo.

“We should have a funeral!” he announced, completely out of the blue, jumping up off the bed and slithering away before I could grab hold of his fevered nakedness. “We’ll . . . Emmy Lou to plan it . . . invite everyone. We can . . . We can . . . mourn it . . . End of an era . . .”

By that point I could barely understand his ramblings but from what I gathered there was going to be a state funeral for my dick, complete with all of Liberty Avenue attending to mourn the passing of everyone’s favorite cock. It was kinda touching, in a way, but in a really crazy way. Although he did have a point about how all of Liberty Avenue WOULD probably go into mourning if something ever happened to my cock. Before I got too caught up in the boy’s delusions myself, though, I decided it was time to take control of the situation.

As my fevered twink continued to wander around the bedroom, the cloned cock held reverently in his hands as his delusional mind jumped from one thing to the next, wailing with sadness as he planned out the funeral in his brain, I shucked off my pants, exposing the real thing for my hallucinatory twink’s edification.

“Hey, Sunshinnnnnneeeee! Lookee what I’ve got! See . . . Your favorite toy is back! I’m all better . . .” I waved my dick around in an artistically enticing circle, catching his attention as he wiped away yet more tears. “It’s not broken. I promise. See?”

“Not . . . Not broke?” He looked down at the imitation dick in his hand and then back at my crotch, so confused, back and forth over and over again, until a new thought dawned on him and he finally smiled through his tears. “It . . . It . . . It growed back! It growed back! Oh, Brian! Thank fuck!”

And the next thing I knew I had feverish twink all over me, slobbering at me and kissing me and stroking my miraculously regenerated roger with wild abandon. It was kinda hot. Well, actually, it was really, really hot, but mostly because his skin literally felt like it was on fire from the damn fever, so wherever he touched me it felt like my skin was catching fire too. And I probably should have stopped him, but all that attention to my regrown dick kinda went to my head, you know, and before I knew it, I was thinking with the wrong head.

The next thing I knew, the crazy delusional twink was crouched on the bed, his ass up in the air, waving his bounteous bubble butt back and forth in the most provocative fucking way, and chanting at me, saying, “Fuck me. Fuck me, Brian. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me!” over and over again pretty insistently.

What was I supposed to do? I knew that I should probably get him to a doctor or at least get some cold meds into him, but he wasn’t cooperating. He was completely irrational by that point. And it's not like I could carry him while he was flailing around like that. Plus, well . . . I mean, he was literally begging me to fuck him, and . . . Well, it seemed a lot more logical at the time, you know?

I reached down and placed both hands on the waggling hips, feeling the sweaty heat of his skin under my palms, and he finally stopped squirming. His moaning became more erotic and less morose. He spread his knees more widely, exposing his puckered hole to the cool air of the loft and tried to thrust his backside closer to me.

“Brian . . . Brian, now . . . Fuck me now! Please, Brian. Please. I NEED it, Brian. I need you to fuck me . . .”

So I did.

I slipped a condom on and slathered some lube along the shaft, fingering a dollop into the heat of his hole for good measure. Judging by the rate of the chanting, my delusional, dick-hungry boy approved. And then I was slipping into him, reveling in the infernal heat surrounding my dick. Shit! I mean, the boy was always hot and tight, but this was exquisite. Plus, my Sunshine was metaphorically on fire as well, giving back even more than usual, meeting my every thrust with a reactive thrust of his own, and animatedly squirming, moaning, chanting, and clenching around me all at the same time. He was a fucking wild man.

I’m not ashamed to admit I loved it!

And then, when things had reached that crescendo level where we were BOTH moaning and chanting in synchrony and I could feel my balls vibrating with the impending explosion, Justin let out this ungodly groan like nothing I’d ever heard before, rearing back as he shot his load in spurts that liberally decorated the wall and headboard of the bed. I suddenly felt cool sweat break out all over his feverish skin. The added slipperiness of his sweat-slicked, cool-hot skin was all it took to push me over the edge of bliss. I sank into the cleft of his cheeks as deep as I could go and my miraculous dick pulsed through my own release. Then we both collapsed into a wet, sticky, cum-drenched heap of sated pleasure.

Twenty seconds later he was snuffling and snoring away, already sound asleep and finally at peace now that his fever had finally broken.

“How are you feeling, Sunshine,” I asked when he finally began to stir sometime after noon on Boxing Day.

“My throat is scratchy, I’ve got the worst headache of my life, and I ache all over,” he whined. “I’ve had better mornings.”

“Make that better afternoons, Sunshine,” I replied, showing him the clock on my phone, which caused him to groan, a noise which soon morphed into an attack of hacking coughs and simultaneous sneezing.

“Ugh! I hate being sick,” he groused as he mopped up the mess he’d made of himself and tried to climb out of bed.

In the process, the boy unwound the wadded up sheets and knocked the forgotten dildo to the floor. He jumped as the silicone phallus bounced off the wooden floorboards before rolling slowly away. I could see him actually shudder as he watched the toy, and I had to smother a chuckle as I remembered the kid’s antics from the night before.

While Justin was getting himself dressed, I dug through the medicine cabinet and found some cold medicine that he wasn’t allergic to and brought that to him along with a glass of water. I found him sitting on the edge of the bed platform, holding the dildo in his two fingers as if it was a dead rat or something equally as odious. When I handed him the meds, he gingerly set the dildo aside, still obviously uncomfortable with it.

“Um, hey, Brian?” he started hesitantly as soon as he’d swallowed the cold capsules.

“What is it, Sunshine?”

“Would you mind if we didn’t keep this new dildo thing?”

“You want to get rid of my dick, Sunshine? I’m devastated,” I teased him. “I thought you said it was your new favorite toy?”

“Well, um . . . that was before . . . I kinda had a really strange dream last night and . . . Um . . . Well, I just . . .”

“Just what, Sunshine?” I asked, feeling kinda devilsh. “I mean, don’t you want to keep my replacement dick around until at least January 6th just to make sure the other one sticks?”


“The new, improved, replacement dick I regrew last night?” I kidded him. “You know, the one that regenerated after you broke the old one off by playing with it? I mean, we have to be sure that the new one will hold and all. It might have been a Christmas miracle, but you don’t know if it’ll last. And, if we keep that one around till at least Epiphany, it might rise again like Lazarus coming back to life?”

“Ha, fucking, ha!” Justin finally cottoned on to the fact that I was giving him a hard time, although he still seemed a little unsure. “It WAS just a dream, right? Your cock didn’t really regenerate like some weird starfish dick or anything. Right?”

“I don’t know, many people HAVE told me that my dick was a wonder of nature. Why wouldn’t it be able to perform astounding feats that border on the miraculous?”

Justin rolled his eyes at me, but didn’t have time to reply because I was totally on a roll by then.

“Lo and behold, it truly IS a thing of wonder and beauty,” I announced, gesturing towards my crotch and beaming at him with a beatific smile. “And on the third day the Kinney Dick rose again from the grave to save all the queers of Liberty Avenue. I haven’t tested it out yet, but I’m thinking maybe it has other powers? Maybe it can change water into wine? Or, at least lube into an orgasm?”

Justin groaned, chucked the dildo at my head and stomped off out of the room.   

“Assuming it is the second coming of the cock, though, I might have to insist you give it up for lent, Sunshine. We could wrap it in a shroud until Easter . . .” The growling was a good sign that my boy was feeling better, so I followed behind him as he retreated into the bathroom.

“Come on, Sunshine. You gotta admit that two cocks are better than one?”

“Yeah, well, if you don’t shut up about your second schlong, I’ll show you where you can shove it, Mr. Miracle Dick,” my poor, sick and unamused twink threatened as he stomped off to the kitchen. “And we’re still getting rid of that creepy, weird, cloned dick toy - I won’t ever be able to use it again. Although, if you want to keep it, I guess it might come in handy when I tell you to go fuck yourself.”

So that was the end of Brian Kinney 2.0. The dick is dead, long live the dick. Maybe I’ll take Sunshine up on those funeral plans, though?

And, yeah, I still blame Emmett.



End Notes:

12/31/18 - Wonderful banner by the amazing Midgardsnake. With a shout out to Saje for writing with me that one night.

This story archived at http://www.kinnetikdreams.com/viewstory.php?sid=1405