“Fucking finally,” Justin breathed, feeling the blast of warm air as he entered the lobby of his building. Outside, it was holding steady in the mid-twenties, and the thin layer of ice covering most of the ground had forced him to make the walk home from the subway much more slowly than he would have preferred. Justin usually loved living in New York City, but every once in awhile, there was a notable exception.

His stomach grumbled as he rode the elevator upstairs, and he belatedly wish he’d thought to call or text Brian to see if he should pick up something for dinner. He hoped Brian had ordered out. There was no way he was setting a foot back outside until he absolutely had to for work the next morning.

The first thing Justin noticed when he entered their apartment was that the kitchen light was on. Normally if Brian got home before him, he’d immediately head upstairs to change his clothes, and usually check emails or get caught up on other random, mundane tasks that took a backseat to his workday. Even if he picked up takeout, he’d just leave it on the counter, knowing Justin wouldn’t be too far behind. None of that required light.

What did require light, evidently, had something to do with the pot and skillet atop the stove, and Justin momentarily tried to recall if he’d made something that morning and forgotten to clean up, but he was pretty sure he’d only grabbed one of Brian’s protein shakes on his way out, figuring he could pick up a muffin or bagel closer to work.

“Brian?” he called out hesitantly, because he realized that not only was there cookware adorning the stove, but said cookware also appeared to be surprisingly aromatic.

At that moment, Brian waltzed back into the kitchen with his iPad in hand, clearly not having heard Justin’s entrance, as he looked up in surprise. His face took on almost a shy smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Justin echoed, taking in the sight before him--Brian’s slightly disheveled hair, what appeared to be a splatter of some sort on his shirt, and a stray leaf of parsley sticking to the back of his hand. “What are you… are you cooking?”

Brian smirked, regaining his faculties. “Don’t sound so fucking surprised.”

“But I am,” Justin countered. “I’m pretty sure I can count on two hands the number of times I’ve seen you in the kitchen for a self-initiated meal more complicated than pouring something into a bowl or cutting fruit.”

Brian shrugged. “Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean it’s an impossibility.”

“You’re a regular Loch Ness Monster, aren’t you,” Justin teased, finally closing the distance between them so he could give Brian a kiss. “Seriously, though, it smells great. What are you making?” He tried to peek into the stainless steel skillet as Brian checked on its contents. He didn’t see much before the lid was promptly slammed back down, but he caught a nice whiff of white wine and the earthy smell of mushrooms.

“Chicken and rice, don’t get too excited.”

Justin laughed. “I’m freezing and starving, I don’t have to go back out into that arctic tundra to pick up takeout, AND my sexy husband is cooking for me. I’ll get fucking excited if I want to.”

A timer went off, and Brian turned to peek into the oven. Satisfied, he pulled out a pan of roasted broccoli. “Does this look done to you?” he asked, setting the pan on the unoccupied side of the range.

“Looks perfect,” Justin confirmed, noting the nicely browned edges. “Can I help with anything?” He started to unwind his scarf and peel off the layers of his winter accoutrements.

“No, just make yourself comfortable.” Brian pulled a bottle of wine out of the refrigerator and poured Justin a glass. “Sauvignon Blanc,” he added, sliding the glass toward where he wanted Justin to sit at the counter. Justin finished hanging up his heavy coat and followed suit.

“What prompted you to cook?” he asked as Brian picked up his own glass from the other side of the counter.

Brian shrugged. “We closed the office early because of the snow, and I figured you’d be working late. I had to run an errand over near Whole Foods on 57th, so I stopped by. Nothing prepared looked good, and I had some time to kill, so….”

“Cheers to that,” Justin said, holding up his wine glass and they toasted.

Another timer went off, and Brian turned off the burner under the pot that Justin presumed contained the rice. “Do you want to eat at the counter?” Brian asked. “This is just about ready.”

Justin nodded, standing to retrieve silverware for them both while Brian plated the food, complete with a parsley garnish. Justin grinned at the effort; though he did have an affinity for food aesthetics, even he rarely garnished their meals when it was just the two of them eating at home.

Once the food was out, they ate leisurely, catching up on each other’s days and finishing off the bottle of wine. “My compliments to the chef,” Justin said once they were finished and he collected their empty plates.

“It was okay?” Brian asked. “The chicken seemed a little overdone.”

“It was still great,” Justin assured him. “The sauce more than made up for it.”

Brian nodded, trying to hide his smile. It was sweet, Justin thought, that a man generally so full of bravado when it came to his public persona could be so bashful about an accomplishment in private. To most couples, something like cooking dinner for the other was fairly mundane and common practice, but since Justin generally took on the task of cooking, and was the one more focused on creating balanced meals, it was rare for Brian to take the reins, especially as a surprise. Justin was more grateful than he could express, given his long day and level of resulting exhaustion.

“Why don’t you let me do the dishes,” Brian offered, which was more normal -- Justin would cook and they would both clean together afterward, just to expedite the task. “You can go take a hot shower,” he added.

“It’s okay,” Justin said, rinsing a plate. “We can get it done faster, and then you can join me in the shower.”

Brian smirked, clearly interested in that idea. “Thought you might be too tired,” he admitted, starting to dry what Justin had already washed.

“An hour ago, I probably was… But seems the sight of you in the kitchen has restored my motivation.”

“Well thank god for small miracles.” Brian leaned toward Justin and nipped his ear then trailed along Justin’s jawline with his lips and tongue, prompting Justin to turn his head enough so that their mouths could meet. They kissed hungrily for a moment, until Brian almost dropped the wine glass still in his hand, temporarily forgetting it was there.

“Hold that thought,” Justin grinned, refocusing on the other wine glass he was washing. He felt a hand cup his hard dick through his pants and give it a gentle squeeze.

“Oh, I’m holding it.”

Justin smirked, and Brian released him so they could finish their respective tasks.

Figuring that the remainder of their evening was only going to involve one area of their apartment, they quickly closed up everything else for the night, and then Brian followed Justin to their master bedroom, pulling Justin back against him and reaching around to work open the buttons of his shirt as soon as they were in the bathroom. He made quick work of the rest of Justin’s clothing, save for his socks, then stepped back so that he could remove his own shirt and pants.

“You turned on the floor,” Justin noticed after reaching down to remove his socks himself and feeling the warmth radiating from the marble. He hadn’t really understood the appeal of heated tile when Brian had initially insisted they should included it in their renovations, but now, during the seemingly endless winter season, he was a believer.

“I thought it would feel nice once you made it up here,” Brian said simply, gathering their discarded clothing into a stack that he tossed into the closet, in the general direction of the laundry basket. He padded back in full naked glory, and Justin just watched, admiring his partner’s physique. At forty-seven, Brian’s body was still in remarkable shape -- long and lean -- a little softer in some areas now, but in fairness, so was Justin’s, and neither of them was lacking where it counted. And really, if Justin was being honest, he found he liked a little more weight on Brian’s frame.

“Do you want to take a bath instead?” Justin asked, gesturing toward their large soaking tub. A shower had been his original thought too, but now that he was feeling warmer and thinking about focusing his attention on Brian for the rest of the evening, it sounded like a nice deviation, and a less hasty prelude to what would inevitably follow.

Brian shrugged. “Up to you, though depending on what you were wanting, the tub is a lot less conducive to fucking…”

“Oh, I want you to fuck me,” Justin assured him, his cock jumping a little at the thought. “But later in our bed. Let’s just enjoy each other now. We haven’t taken the time to just focus on that in awhile.”

Brian pressed his lips together and nodded, wordlessly turning on the faucet. Justin retrieved a few bath products from the cabinet and added them to the water, a pleasant musky scent filling the air soon after.

“Do you want to light the candles?” Brian asked, gesturing to the votives Justin kept scattered around the bathtub ledge.

Justin tried to hide his surprise at the suggestion, and instead kept his tone agreeable, saying, “Sure. That sounds nice.”

Once the water was deep enough, a light froth of bubbles dancing on its surface, Brian climbed in first, and reached out to Justin, helping him settle between Brian’s legs, resting against his chest. Justin leaned back immediately and kissed him gently.

“If your plan was to keep this portion of the evening rated PG-13, I’m not sure how well that’s going to work out for you,” Brian teased when they parted.

Justin laughed, clearly aware of Brian’s semi-erect dick pressing against the side of his hip. Some things were just inherent truths; Justin Taylor’s mere existence would always and forever be incredibly arousing to one Brian Kinney.

“I promise that’ll get plenty of attention,” Justin said, giving Brian’s length a gentle stroke. “But I just want to relax for a little bit first.”

Brian pouted a little at the loss when Justin pulled his hand away, but then he wrapped his arms around Justin’s middle, far enough away from Justin’s groin to prove he wouldn’t cause trouble for now.

They spent the next fifteen minutes lying together in the steaming water, enjoying the press of their skin, and the quiet calm of being together after their hectic days and braving the frigid elements.

“What do you have going on tomorrow?” Brian asked after a while, his fingertips tracing abstract patterns beneath the water, along the soft skin of Justin’s abdomen.

“I keep hoping the gallery will be closed because of the snow,” Justin admitted, huffing out a light laugh. “No one really comes in, which is good for being able to work undisturbed, but when it’s that fucking cold, it’s hard staying inspired if your primary concern is frostbite.”

“Why don’t you take the day off, even if it isn’t?” Brian suggested, tucking his chin against Justin’s shoulder. “I could stay home too. We could be snowed in together.”

Justin snorted. “Whatever would we do?”

Brian squeezed Justin tighter around his middle and nipped playfully at his collarbone, causing Justin to laugh. “I know exactly who I’d be doing.”

“Hmm,” Justin said. “Anyone I know?”

“You’re rather attached to him.”

Justin smiled, his head lolling back against Brian’s shoulder. “I like the sound of that.”

“I thought you might.” Brian paused, then said thoughtfully, “It’s been a long time since we just spent an entire day in bed. Too much shit to do all the time.”

“And we’re not in our respective twenties and thirties anymore.”

Brian toed Justin lightly in the shin. “Are you questioning my stamina?”

Justin laughed. “Brian, I’m thirty-six. How many poundings do you think my ass can take in a day? It’s not you I question!”

“Hey, I didn't say we had to fuck all day. We could also sleep… and suck each other off… then fuck… sleep some more… fuck again… And besides. You’re not the only one with an ass, in case you’d forgotten.” Brian’s grin was evident in his voice. He knew that the prospect of topping -- a fairly rare occurrence -- would likely be enough to seal the deal. He loosened his grip around Justin’s torso and reached his right hand lower to assess the situation, unsurprised to find Justin completely hard now. “You like that idea, Sunshine?”

Justin moaned as Brian’s hand closed around his dick and stroked firmly. He dug his fingernails into Brian’s thighs and pushed his ass as far back into Brian’s groin as he could without the risk of crushing anything important.

“You like the thought of putting this big cock in my ass? Maybe open me up with your tongue first… put those rimming skills to work. You’ve always said it’s been your mission to make me scream while you fuck me. Think you could manage it tomorrow?” Brian’s voice was velvet in Justin’s ear, only further encouraged when Justin wrapped his own hand around Brian and started pulling in tandem with Brian’s ministrations as the older man continued to whisper filthy suggestions.

“Stop,” Justin finally stammered, gripping Brian’s wrist. “I don’t want to come in the water.”

Brian smirked, rolling his eyes, but obliged. “I’d say we’re far beyond the point of propriety insofar as polite bathtub etiquette.”

Justin ignored him, carefully lifting himself up from the tub floor. Brian gazed up at him as he stood, admiring the long line of his cock where it jutted from his body at an obtuse angle, impossibly aroused.

“Shower. Now.”

Justin obliged, stepping out of the tub and over to the shower, hitting the button on the digital display that started their preferred shared setting. Brian was behind him a moment later, and pushed him fully into the stall, immediately dropping to his knees and taking Justin’s dick into his mouth as water cascaded over them. Justin felt himself hit the back of Brian’s throat and he moaned, his fingers tugging at Brian’s hair as his husband quickly -- almost embarrassingly so -- brought him to an orgasm that made his knees weak.

“You alright there, Sunshine?” Brian rasped, clearing his throat as he stood back up, his own still-erect cock brushing light against Justin’s hip. Justin reached out to stroke it, but Brian stopped him. They were both fully rinsed of lingering bubbles, so instead, Brian turned off the water and pointed. “Bed.”

Justin grinned, grabbing a towel as he stepped out of the shower and dried himself as best he could while walking back to the master bedroom. Brian didn’t bother toweling off, his hair dripping haphazardly as he crawled on top of Justin’s body before kissing him deeply, and reaching for a bottle of lube on the bedside table. Without separating their lips, he quickly reached a hand down to ensure Justin was prepared enough to take him and that his own dick was slick, and then pushed Justin’s knees to his chest and entered him in one swift thrust, causing Justin to yell, “Oh fuck!”

As they moved together, Brian couldn’t help but admire Justin’s body, and the fact that, midway through his thirties, his husband was still seemingly every bit as flexible as he’d been at seventeen, likely thanks to the yoga he practiced religiously. It was certainly one of the things that allowed them the freedom to keep things interesting in their intimate ventures, which Brian appreciated. He could now safely admit that he’d been highly mistaken in ever assuming that having the same sex partner would get boring. In their nearly eighteen years together, Justin had ensured that that was never, ever the case.

As it was, Brian didn’t manage to last as long as he wanted this time, already incredibly turned on from their bathtub conversation and Justin’s subsequent reaction, plus his anticipation for what the next day might hold. As he came, shuddering in his husband’s arms, he could only hope that Justin would stay in agreement, and they could both enjoy a day full of mutual pleasure without the rest of the world imposing expectations or responsibilities upon them. Justin had been right earlier; they didn’t have many opportunities to focus just on each other, and while Brian knew he wasn’t referring solely to sex -- because they did have plenty of that quite regularly -- he knew the next day could be so much more than that, if they really used it to the fullest. Because, if Brian was being honest, as much as he wanted the sex, he also wanted the proximity and company of his favorite person -- all to himself -- for more than a few rushed hours at the end of a workday.

Justin had gotten aroused again as Brian fucked him, so Brian gently brought him to completion for a second time, then licked him clean, seeing that Justin was feeling completely boneless and quickly approaching total exhaustion as his day and their evening’s activities fully caught up with him.

As they curled together underneath the mountain of blankets that Justin insisted upon using (“It’s winter, Brian. That’s what blankets are made for. Cranking up the heat so you barely only need to use a sheet completely defeats the purpose of the whole fucking season,” he’d argued), Justin looked up at Brian through sated, heavy eyes.

“So you really want me to call out tomorrow?” he breathed, his voice fading as he slowly drifted off.

Brian shrugged. “Can you?”

“Do I really get to fuck you?” Justin murmured.

“You’re the only one who gets to.”

Justin grinned sleepily. “I love that.”

Figuring he had one last opportunity to seal the deal, Brian took it. “Yeah? Well, I love you.”

Even in his tiredness, Justin’s grin briefly hit full wattage, his brain registering the three words he most loved hearing; words that finally fell easily out of his husband’s mouth on a semi-regular basis, yet still never got old.

“Love you too.”

Brian smiled softly and pressed a kiss to Justin's temple before allowing the beginnings of sleep to lull him as well. And as he dozed off, the last conscious thought to cross his mind was, I definitely need to make dinner more often…