Bags under her eyes and wig askew, Debbie groused, "Fucking daylight savings," as she plunked a stack of plates down on the kitchen table. The silverware on top of the dishes rattled and clunked, emphasizing her ire. "I want that hour of sleep back."

"‘Fucking' is right," Ted chortled, glancing over the top of the Sunday edition of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. "Looks like someone in the Channel 5 newsroom didn't do a very good job proofing before flashing a message on the TV screen to remind viewers about the time change today."

Blake, who had yet to take a seat, was reading the article over his husband's shoulder. With a sly smile, he insinuated, "The guy was probably too busy jerking off."

"What exactly happened?" Emmett asked impatiently from across the table.

Justin grinned at the eager look on his southern friend's face. Em was always agog to hear about his former colleagues messing up and getting caught.

Taking the Gazette out of Ted's hands, Blake folded the paper in half and turned it around so they could all see a large announcement about the upcoming change to daylight savings.

Almost everyone burst out laughing. Talk about a major blunder, Justin thought, chuckling some more as he looked at the message, which was printed in orange lettering and read, ‘Turn your cocks forward one hour tonight.' The ‘C' in the middle of ‘cocks' served as the clock, with numbers in white around the rim and an arrow showing forward movement from two to three o'clock. Just so you couldn't miss who was providing the helpful message, the Channel 5 logo was prominently displayed in the middle.

Brian snarked, "What a cock-up - and not the good kind." Evidently figuring Justin was too busy goggling at the paper to notice, he snitched a piece of bacon the blond had just set on his plate and shoved it into his mouth.

Amused, Justin turned his head, slanting an eyebrow at his lover.

Brian shrugged and grinned unrepentantly, the end of the slice sticking out between his teeth.

Justin leaned over to press a kiss to Brian's lips before biting down and getting a sliver of the bacon back. Hmm, it really did taste better this way. He'd just pushed his tongue past Brian's teeth, aiming for another taste of both the bacon and his lover, when someone spoke up. 

Michael, who had apparently been too busy helping himself to pancakes and drizzling syrup on them to take more than a quick look at the paper, asked, "What's wrong with that? They're just letting people know to move their clocks ahead. That reminds me" - he looked at his Rage wristwatch - "I need to-"

The group burst into a fresh spate of laughter.

Carl, who'd just taken a swallow of his coffee, couldn't quite contain his laughter and snorted loudly, sending brown liquid across the tablecloth. That made the rest of the group laugh harder, drowning out the rest of what Michael was saying...

Caught unaware, Justin and Brian both coughed, Justin losing the sliver of bacon he hadn't yet swallowed, and Brian spitting into his mouth in return. 

"That gives a whole new meaning to swapping spit," the blond giggle-coughed as his lips separated from Brian's, a strand of saliva snaking down his chin.

"Hmm," Brian hummed, sticking out his tongue and licking it up.

"Sorry," Carl choked out an apology, looking sheepishly at Debbie.

Debbie waved away the apology. Her blue eyes dancing with merriment as she wiped up the coffee with a napkin, she teased her son, "How does that work, honey?"

"Huh?" Michael stared at his mother in consternation. "You know how to set a clock, Ma."

"Take another look, babe," Ben recommended between bursts of laughter. "She's not talking about setting a c- c-" The built man gave up on saying the word, letting his hilarity run free.

"Lemme see that," Michael demanded, reaching over and snatching the Gazette from Blake. His cheeks reddened, and he looked remarkably like a goldfish, his mouth opening and closing a few times. "Oh," finally came out in a small voice as he let go of the newspaper, which landed on his syrup-drenched pancakes.

Emmett flapped a hand in front of his face. "Ooh, I think Bud just took a bath."

Justin giggled at Em's cattiness, guessing that Bud must be one of his former colleagues on the Channel 5 news team.

Drew laughed sardonically. "A syrup bath is far too good for Bud. I always suspected the dude secretly liked cock. Fucking closet case."

Justin couldn't blame Drew for sounding pissed off. Whether or not Bud was queer - Justin wasn't even sure which one Bud was - he still remembered the entire Channel 5 crew acting like Drew had suddenly become a leper. Every time they mentioned the quarterback after he came out, it was as the butt of a crude joke.

"Really? Are you sure, sweetie?" Em queried. "I got a strange vibe from Bud, but I always thought it was Jake who was a secret fag."

"I'm sure," Drew declared. "He always had his eyes on your ass."

Emmett grinned. "Well, it is a fabulous hiney. You can hardly blame him."

"Mmm, and it's all mine," the footballer noted, reaching down to give Em's derriere a possessive squeeze.

Her face screwed up in distaste, Lindsay primly asked, "Do you have to do that at the breakfast table?"

"Since we're supposed to turn our cocks ahead, he should squeeze something else," Brian recommended. He reached down and fondled Justin's manhood through his cargo pants, smiling in obvious satisfaction when it plumped up.

Justin was giving his partner a naughty smile in return when Ted wisecracked, "Mysterious Marilyn probably saw this and has appropriated it as her own. I bet she's at the diner, doomsaying about a warped cock and lost assignations that can never be recovered." 

The blond grinned at the rather good imitation of what could well be one of Marilyn's prophecies. But then, even though he knew it was ludicrous, he started fretting. Frowning, he looked at Brian and mused aloud, "Is that possible? Can you lose a fuck?"

Emmett elbowed him, teasing, "Aw, did you lose a chance to add to your top one hundred, Baby?"  

Before Justin could respond, Melanie lamented, her eyes at half mast as she inhaled a cup of coffee, "Is that all anyone cares about? I'm with Deb. All I want is to sleep for another hour. Thank fuck the kids are with the neighbors." She looked at her wife. "How does a nap sound, hon?"

"Christ, talk about dullsville," Brian mocked the bulldyke. "You could enjoy a little afternoon nookie instead, muncher style." He gave an exaggerated shudder as he said that, doubtless to make it clear he didn't want any details.

Ben put in his two cents' worth, allowing, "I, for one, wouldn't mind a nap. My early morning weightlifting session just isn't helping me adjust like it usually does."

"Wrong kind of workout," Brian deadpanned, seizing the opportunity to take a syrup-saturated bite of flapjack from Justin's plate.

"The time change disrupts one's circadian rhythm," Linds observed, looking chidingly at Brian. "That's the-"

"-reason," Justin finished for her, returning to the point he wanted to make. "Fucking is part of our circadian rhythm. We ushered in daylight savings properly and don't want to lose the fucks from that hour." Not that he and Brian were even thinking about the time change at two a.m. - they'd just been engaging in their usual nighttime activity - but the gang didn't need to know that.

Having recovered from his faux pas, Michael asked as he used his hand to wipe up droplets of syrup from the table next to his plate, "What's the big deal?" He paused to suck the sticky stuff off his fingers before continuing, "It's not like you can't go home - or somewhere else - and fuck some more. You haven't lost anything."

"Besides," the professor commented mildly, alluding to what Emmett had said a couple minutes earlier, "it's not like anyone remembers their top one hundred. Especially not after ten years of fucking."

"Wanna bet?" Justin and Brian's voices overlapped, the brunet half a second later in asking the same question.

Debbie chortled, proclaiming, "Even the two of you can't have kept count of your best fucks. Christ, the way you go at it, the total must be..." She trailed off, her eyes crossing, obviously stumped as she tried to calculate how many times Brian and Justin had had sex.

Michael laughed, his effort to sound unbothered falling a little flat. "Jesus, Ma, don't bother counting. It must be in the thousands by now."

"Try ten thousands," Brian smugly commented. "We're working on a hundred thousand."

Carl huffed out a laugh. "Don't bullshit me, son. Even if you're, uh, doing it four times a day, er, night-"

"Day's good," Brian interjected, tongue in cheek. "Night's a different matter entirely."

The detective rolled his eyes. "Okay, even if you're doing it eight times in every twenty-four hours, it still doesn't add up."

"He's right," Ted corroborated.

A muffled "No shit" came from someone else - Mel, Justin thought - and scoffing noises from around the table indicated agreement with the veteran cop.

"Why not?" Brian asked reasonably. "I said we're ‘working on it.'" 

The way he stressed the last word, a teasing glint in his eyes, made Justin certain that he was ribbing Carl about the unease the cop still suffered during their raunchy family get-togethers. It was kind of funny that after living with Debbie for years and constant exposure to the rest of the family, Horvath was sometimes still uncomfortable with blatant sex talk.

Carl shrugged good-naturedly, a blush staining his cheeks. 

"Give us another twenty or thirty years, and we'll get there," Brian reckoned.

Lindsay gasped, "Twenty years? B- but, Brian, you'll be six-"

"Fucking like I'm sixteen?" Brian cut in, altering what his blonde friend was about to say. "You bet I will."

While Lindsay gaped at Brian, Debbie doggedly pursued the ‘top one hundred' issue. "Four thousand fucks-"

Brian looked appalled at the low number.

The redhead flapped a hand at him. "-or eight thousand-"

The crease between his brows lessened a little, but Brian still didn't look happy. It was still an underestimation, Justin silently acknowledged. 

"-or whatever." Debbie sighed. "The point, asshole, is that there's no way you and Sunshine can remember all those fucks well enough to select the top one hundred. Top twenty maybe, but not more than that."

Brian arched an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? The one hundredth was in the VIP room at Babylon. Justin and I were kissing while two tricks blew us. The tricks were mediocre, but the kiss was fuckin' hot."

The two men took turns with the countdown, Justin smirking as he recalled the ninety-ninth. "A short, wiry dude with a six-pack was boasting about how he could suck his own dick, so Brian told him it would be more impressive if he could deep throat both of us."

"At the same time?" Lindsay interjected, eyes rounded in horror, or maybe that was awe?

"Hardly," Brian scoffed. "It wouldn't be deep-throating then."

Justin provided more details, ending proudly, "The guy could hardly talk when we were done with him."

"Or walk," Brian added, "since we took turns fucking him while he was sucking us off."

Picking and choosing which ones to share - he didn't want to be here all afternoon - Justin revealed a few minutes later, "Number seventy-two was when we were in New York for my third solo show. We screwed in one of the storage rooms. I, uh" - Justin paused, a little embarrassed - "came on a statue of some nude guy."

Brian chuckled. "It added a nicely realistic touch... considering where it landed."

"Geez, that was only seventy-two?" Michael commented in an awe-struck tone. "I'd think that would be tough to beat."

"More," demanded Emmett, who was listening avidly. "Drewsie and I hardly need inspiration, but it never hurts to get new ideas."

"I'm just gonna..." Carl floundered for a moment before finishing, "...go watch the TV. The one in our bedroom upstairs."

Justin grinned when Horvath gave the redhead a meaningful look before clomping toward the staircase. He knew Carl would rather not hear about gay sex, especially not in such explicit detail, but he also suspected the detective might be willing to take advantage of the titillating effect their narrative was having on Debbie.

Unfortunately for him, Deb didn't notice, her eyes switching from Brian to Justin and back again, waiting to hear the next ‘fuck tale.'

"Twenty-five or twenty-six for our date night fuck with Father Tom?" Brian asked a bit later, sending an inquiring glance at Justin.

Justin was impressed. Brian had said ‘date night' without stumbling. Of course, the brunet always found it much easier to admit to dating when it involved a vigorous tumble. "Hmm, twenty-five," he decided after a moment's thought. "Twenty-six was also at the baths, but with the two brothers who play for the Pirates."

"Ah, right," Brian acknowledged, nodding at Justin to give the spiel about the baseball-playing siblings.

After Justin was done, the brunet then glossed over number twenty-five with, "You've all already heard about Father Tom, so we'll move on to-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Emmett interposed. "Drew's never heard the story. Neither has Blake."

"God," Melanie groaned, objecting, "not again."

"Go ahead," Justin urged. "It was totally hot." He giggled as he recalled saying the exact same thing at Linds and Mel's house ages ago.

As Brian regaled everyone with their tandem fuck at the baths, Justin thought that it would probably be number thirty-five or thirty-six if it wasn't for the aftermath. Brian still got a charge out of his mother's favorite priest cum counselor being a fag, partly because all these years later Joan still doted on the man.

"Nuh-uh," Brian corrected when they were finally into their top ten and Justin started describing one of their fucks at the loft. "We were on the Corbusier chair, right? That should be number four."

"Er, which time? We've done it on the Corbusier loads more than once."

"Riding lessons, huh?" Ted surmised.

Justin shrugged nonchalantly, not confirming or denying.

"Yee-haw!" Emmett whooped. He cracked a strip of bacon through the air like it was a whip. The ‘whip' wasn't quite up to the challenge and broke in half, the released piece landing in Brian's coffee.

Brian fished it out and chewed thoughtfully. "Not bad," he assessed. "Wanna taste, Sunshine?"

"Sure," Justin replied agreeably, leaning in and taking a nibble from Brian's lips as well as the bacon. "Mmm, coffee-flavored bacon should be a thing," he decided.

Debbie guffawed. "I'll have to try that. Back to Sunshine's question, though," she reminded Brian, an eager gleam in her eyes. "Which time on the chair?"

"The first time," Brian answered, as if that explained everything.

It did... for Justin. He grinned at his lover. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, those ice cream kisses were kinda hot."

Debbie gasped, "You ate ice cream?"

Ted assumed, "It must have been before seven."

"Or the ice cream was low-fat," Michael offered.

"Nope." Brian popped the ‘P', smirking at his friends.

"While you were-" Michael broke off, grinding his teeth so hard that Justin could hear him from across the table.

Politely ignoring Michael's disgruntlement, Justin concentrated on his lover. He couldn't believe Brian had just admitted to eating ice cream - ice cream - in front of everyone. As part of a fuck, for God's sake. How ridiculously romantic that Brian was talking about something that had happened almost ten years ago. 

Presumably in an effort to distract his husband, Ben suggested, "Maybe we should look into getting one of those chairs, babe."

"Yeah, right," Michael grumbled. "It probably costs, like-"

Before Michael could guess at the sticker price, Carl could be heard calling from upstairs, "Red, get up here! We don't want to lose that hour!"

"Man's got the right idea," Brian commented approvingly. "Let's get a move on, Sunshine."

"Coming, honey!" Debbie yelled back, pushing back her chair and standing up. "I can hear the rest of your top ten some other time; Carl and I are gonna work on our own now."

Gross. Sex between old people who were parental figures to boot. Justin's features squinched up, and he glanced at Brian, who was also starting to look appalled as Deb got a little too specific. 

"On that note, we're outta here," Ted declared, looking a little pale.

Everyone else agreed and got up from the table, varying looks of disgust on their faces.

Debbie, who was already halfway up the stairs, called out, "Just leave everything on the table; I'll clean up later." A second later, her voice floated down the stairs again, "Oh, Justin?"

Justin moved to where he could see the redhead. "Yeah, Deb?"

"There's ice cream in the freezer - your favorite flavor. Why don't you take it home with you?" She let out a bawdy laugh as she started up the steps again. "You can tell me all about it later."

Much later in the day, Brian sagged back into the pillows on their bed, a sated look on his face. "Was that everything?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Justin answered as he slowly pulled out and removed the condom. He tossed it in the direction of the trashcan, not looking to see whether he'd made a ‘basket' or not. It could just join the others littering the floor as far as he was concerned. Since the two men weren't entirely certain which bout they'd been in the middle of at two in the morning, they'd decided to replicate the entire night. 

The condom taken care of, he half-heartedly swiped at the mess on Brian's torso with his tongue and then gazed down at his partner. They both desperately needed a shower, but it could wait until they'd recovered from the last round. After a moment's consideration, he commented, "Definitely a few good fucks in there."

"Last one, top ten," Brian mumbled wearily, his voice coming out garbled.

Justin wasn't so sure of that. Top twenty, maybe. The normally faint, mulish frown line across the bridge of his nose - a wrinkle Brian insisted existed only in Justin's imagination - was deepening, a sure sign that the brunet intended to argue if Justin disagreed. To distract his lover, Justin began massaging Brian's shoulders and neck, digging into the muscles with deft fingers. They could debate whether their last bout of lovemaking belonged among their topmost sexual exploits some other time.

As Justin expected, his lover dropped the subject, instead rumbling, "Mmm, more, Jus." 

The blond complied, his hands moving from Brian's shoulders to his arms, kneading his biceps. "Thash right," Brian slurred as Justin gradually turned him into a purring pile of mush.

Long minutes had passed, Brian starting to fall asleep and Justin thinking of joining him in slumber, when the younger man suddenly remembered the gift from Debbie. A Sunday afternoon was the perfect time to use it, he thought, his energy returning. Getting up, he tugged on his lover's hands.

"Wha?" Brian complained sluggishly.

"C'mon, Bri." Justin smiled down at his lover. 

Brian slitted his eyes open and raised a questioning eyebrow. "What?" he repeated, this time more distinctly.

Justin tugged on his hands again, not shifting Brian over so much as an inch. He'd have to persuade his lover. Sitting back down on the bed, he picked up Brian's right hand and sucked on the index finger, taking his time, and finally letting go of it with an obscene pop before moving on to Brian's favorite finger - the ‘fuck you' one. 

A glint of interest entered the hazel eyes as he licked that finger, so speaking around it, Justin essayed, "Now that we've for sure recovered our lost hour, I thought we could do something just for us."

Brian evidently wasn't quite ready to concede. "Just now wasn't for us?" He gave Justin a significant look before glancing down at himself. "You especially."

Justin translated that as, ‘You just topped, Twat.' Like that was some big deal, the blond mused, rolling his eyes. He didn't keep a count like he had back at the beginning - when it was rarer than hen's teeth - but he certainly topped often enough now to keep both of them satisfied.

"Well, yeah," he belatedly acknowledged, putting aside his ruminations for the moment. "But there was this weird pressure to get it right so we didn't lose anything. It kind of-" He shrugged helplessly before finishing, "I dunno. Made it less... special and organic, I guess."

"Huh," Brian grunted. 

Justin sensed victory. If Brian hadn't felt the same way, he would've made his disagreement known. He sucked on the tip of Brian's middle finger a little more, then stood up again, giving the brunet a come-hither look. 

In response, Brian ran his tongue over his lips and gave Justin's naked body a slow perusal. "What did you have in mind?"

Justin crooked a finger at his lover and took one step backward and then another. He kept walking backward until he'd nearly reached the Corbusier chair, making sure to keep himself in Brian's line of sight. Turning around so his back was to his lover, he took a couple more steps, his rear end swaying temptingly to and fro. Then he patted the black leather surface, calling out, "All you have to do is-"

He jumped when Brian remarked from right behind him, "I'm not deaf." Brian quirked an inquiring eyebrow at Justin when he spun around. "Now what is it I have to do?"

Justin giggled, knowing from the amused gleam in his eyes and the twitch of his lips that his lover wasn't upset. He pointed at the chair. "Just lie there... and relax."

The brunet quipped, "You want me to take a nap here instead of on the bed?"

"Not exactly," Justin responded as he trotted over to the fridge, removed the Häagen-Dazs ice cream from the freezer, stuck a spoon in the small container, and carried it over to Brian, who was now reclining on the lounge chair.

Justin stopped for a moment, drinking in his lover's long, lean body. Brian was on display for his enjoyment, his arms held slightly away from his sides, his legs spread, and his manhood again becoming tumescent.

Brian looked exactly like he had all those years ago. Every word and every moment from that evening was imprinted on his brain. If he hadn't wanted to get Brian and Michael back together, he probably wouldn't remember in such detail, Justin mused. He'd known how much Brian missed his oldest friend though and even felt sorry for Michael. Too excited to concentrate - Brian had invited him over without Justin seducing him into it first - he'd tried out what he should say on Daphne, his best friend giving him pointers.

Giving himself a pat on the back for that long ago, successful intervention, he shook off the memory and moved closer, until he was right next to the chair. The tub of ice cream in his left hand, he looked down at Brian.

"Vanilla?" Brian's eyebrow arched again.

Justin blushed. Cursing his fair complexion, he shrugged one shoulder. "It, uh, takes on the flavor of your skin," he divulged. He'd already liked vanilla before the first time they shared ice cream on the Corbusier lounge, but since then, no other flavor compared.

"Hmm." Brian gave him a wicked smile, and Justin shivered, goosebumps rising on his arms as he anticipated that Brian would soon be lapping it up from his skin too.

Swinging a leg over the brunet, he settled down astride Brian's thighs.

The older man playfully teased, "Think you can ride me without tipping us over, Sunshine? You're not as young and flexible as you used to be."

"Me?" Momentarily outraged, Justin made himself calm down. It was simple enough to get even. "I'm not the one approaching the big four-"

"Fuck." Brian's voice took on a half pleading, half threatening edge, "Don't say it, Twat."

Detecting a hint of uncertainty, Justin forwent teasing his lover any further about his ‘advanced' age. "You're just as sexy now as when I met you, Bri," he said sincerely. That was the God's honest truth; Justin couldn't keep his hands off his lover any more now than when he'd first met Brian.

Brian scoffed and rolled his eyes.

Digging into the ice cream with the spoon, Justin purposely dropped a large dollop on Brian's chest. He then leaned down and licked it up with broad swipes of his tongue, taking his time and tracing a path between his ribs.

Brian shivered beneath him, the hardness pressing into Justin's stomach attesting that it wasn't from the cold treat. He attempted to play it off, though, as if he were unaffected, giving Justin a challenging stare.

Scooping another spoonful of the ice cream from the container, Justin lifted the spoon to his own lips, gazing into Brian's eyes the whole time. He could tell from the tension in his lover's muscles and the increasing girth of the body part digging into him that Brian was anything but indifferent. The blond hollowed his cheeks and sucked the ice cream off the spoon, making an obscene slurping sound.

Brian twitched beneath him but maintained an impassive expression.

Justin bent down and swallowed Brian whole, some of the ice cream dribbling out of the sides of his mouth.

Brian bucked upward, his left hand coming to rest on the blond's shoulder. He bucked again when Justin hummed around him.

Strange... he hadn't tried this kind of ice cream kiss before, Justin realized in surprise. Pulling off just a little, he swirled his tongue around the spongy tip, enjoying the burst of added flavor from a bit of pre-come.

Gripping his shoulder hard, Brian growled, "Fuck, Jus." He emitted a soft, wheezing sound, almost like when he was snoring, before warning in a guttural tone, "Stop or-"

His lover tasted so good that Justin considered finishing the ice cream blowjob and letting Brian come now. Since they both had short refractory periods, he'd normally just keep going, but it was probably best to stop. They'd been going at it hot and heavy for hours and were going to need a break soon.

Reluctantly, after sucking gently at the head one last time, Justin drew back, licking at the mixture of ice cream, saliva, and pre-come that now decorated his lips and chin.

"C'mere," Brian ordered, moving his hand so it cupped Justin's neck and tugging the blond down to meet his lips.

He thoroughly explored Justin's mouth with his tongue - twining it around the tip of Justin's and then sliding it underneath, dancing along the blond's gums and across the ridges of his teeth, finally pushing it inside the warm cavern as deep as he could go.

His mouth plastered against his lover's, Justin's tongue played with Brian's. Sucking firmly but gently, he helped Brian reach just a little deeper into his mouth before letting go. He didn't want to give the brunet a tongue ache, he thought, giggling at the notion as their lips parted.

"What?" asked Brian, smiling fondly as he traced Justin's lower lip with his thumb.

Not about to mention a possible ‘tongue ache,' he thought back to what he'd said years ago. "Just as skinny too," Justin declared with an impish smile as he looked at Brian through thick blond eyelashes.

"Huh?" Brian's eyes laughed up at him, flecks of green and gold among the brown.

"Sexy and skinny," he elaborated. "You should eat more, you know. My mom says that you're too skinny."

Brian's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Your mom?" he asked skeptically.

Did his lover remember this too? Justin speculated. Brian'd worn that same expression back then. "Mhmm. She doesn't completely hate you, you know."

Brian smirked at him. "We've come to an understanding." He quieted, his brow furrowing in thought and the crinkle across the bridge of his nose returning.

Justin had to bite his lip to keep from saying how cute he looked. 

After a couple of beats, Brian asked, "Does Mother Taylor really think I'm too skinny?"

Justin nodded in affirmation. Digging into the vanilla in the bucket, he stated direfully, "There's only one solution."

Eyeing the Häagen-Dazs askance, Brian asked, "Is the ice cream really necessary?"

"You can't have ice cream kisses without the ice cream," Justin observed mildly, knowing the reasonableness of his tone would get under Brian's skin.

"It's after seven," came Brian's next attempt to get out of eating ice cream.

Given the way the brunet was running his tongue across his lips, Justin figured it was just a pro forma protest - one Brian would harken back to when complaining about the ounce he'd gained, even if it was a month from now.

In the same reasonable tone as before, he noted, "It was after seven the first time too."

Brian sighed. "It means a heckuva lot more than ten minutes on the StairMaster now."

He did remember, thought Justin joyfully. That was the exact length of time Brian had mentioned before and the same piece of exercise equipment, even though the StairMaster had since been replaced by a horrendously expensive Harison elliptical machine.

It couldn't hurt to test Brian's memory a little further... "One spoonful left," he hedged as he lifted some of the gooey goodness from the carton. That wasn't true, but since he wanted to replicate what he'd said years ago, he pretended the container wasn't still half full. "You want it?"

His eyes fixed on the spoon, Brian moistened his lips again.

Justin prodded, "C'mon, I wanna see you lick it off the spoon."

He smiled when his lover obligingly parted his lips, and leaning forward, fed him the ice cream, some of it dripping onto Brian's chest and chin.

Justin grinned to himself at how easily the brunet was persuaded to drop his ‘no carbs after seven' rule. Removing the spoon that Brian had sucked clean, Justin dropped it into the Häagen-Dazs carton and leaned in for another kiss, rubbing against the other man's chin and accidentally transferring some of the ice cream to his cheek.

No one tasted as good as Brian, he mused, half-dazed by another lingering, tongue-filled kiss. Thank fuck neither of them kissed anyone else, even if the rule was technically no longer in place. He didn't get jealous easily - he'd long since accepted that tricks were just fucks that added variety to their sex life - but Brian kissing someone else the way he did Justin would be something else entirely.

"Mmm, ice cream kiss," he murmured, smiling at his lover when they finally came up for air. He outstretched a hand, planning to wipe off Brian's chin, but collided with Brian's arm. The two men chuckled, Brian lowering his arm so Justin could clean off his chin.

The ice cream was already adhering to Brian's skin, so he ended up using his tongue instead of his fingers, which naturally led to another lengthy kiss. Brian then captured his chin in his hand and tilted Justin's head to the side so he could return the favor and clean off the blond's cheek.

"Messy boy," he grumbled, no real complaint in his voice.

Placing a hand on his chest, right over Brian's heart, Justin endeavored to wipe up the splotch of ice cream that had landed there.

Brian gave him a lopsided shrug. "Might as well leave it. That's what showers..." He paused, giving Justin a suggestive smile. "...or tongue baths are for."

Justin giggled, more than happy to comply with the latter option. Leaning down, he did his best to time his swipes at the sticky stuff to the beat of Brian's heart.

"Mmm," his lover hummed in pleasure.

It was time to rev his partner's heart up again, Justin decided, his own heart starting to race as he put two fingers in his mouth and got them good and wet. Reaching behind him, he fingered his opening to make sure he was ready for Brian. At the same time, he scattered kisses from one side of Brian chest to the other, sucking his right nipple into his mouth and biting down gently.

Brian groaned, "Fuck, Jus. More."

Looking up, Justin tried to memorize every detail, storing up the image of his lover, who currently had his right arm bent at the elbow behind his head, his fingers curling into a fist as he watched. Brian's left hand gripped the lounge chair, his perfectly manicured nails leaving crescents in the leather. His eyes were closed, his mouth part way open, a wordless moan flowing over his lips.

This would be the perfect inspiration for a new series of paintings for his next show, the blond artist reflected. The pictures would be abstract of course, so that only he and Brian would know who had modeled for them. He'd have to think about titles, he thought a bit hazily, having trouble concentrating. If he called them ‘Le Corbusier' or ‘Ice Cream Kisses,' he'd very likely be giving the ‘subjects' away to the family, and he wasn't sure he trusted them not to blab to a snoopy art reporter.

Later. He'd think about it later, Justin determined, unable to reach his prostate with his fingers and a yearning to be filled overtaking him. He fumbled around on the floor next to the tub of Häagen-Dazs, knocking it over as he searched for the condom and lube he'd left there. He'd have to clean it up before Brian had a hissy fit about ice cream on his hardwood floor, but that would also have to wait till... later.

He was about to halt his attentions to Brian's torso so he could hang his head over the edge of the chair to look for the necessities, but then his fingers finally closed around the condom packet and the lube, which was right next to it.

Wedging the lube in between the chrome rail and the leather on the left side, he hurriedly tore open the rubber, letting the empty packet drift down to the floor. With one last pull at Brian's nipple, he then sat upright, preparing to sheathe his lover's straining member, which was a glorious purplish-blue and proudly erect.

His nipple distended and the flesh around it pebbling in the cool air of the loft, Brian instantly complained, his voice slurring, "Nngh, don' schtop."

"You'll like this," Justin promised hoarsely, too far gone to laugh at his lover's plight.

He quickly unrolled the condom onto Brian's dick and applied an unintentionally large handful of lube, the bottle pumping out a larger dollop than expected.

"'s cold," Brian bellyached, cracking his eyes open to glare at Justin.

This time, there was no way Justin could refrain from giggling. "It'll warm up," he assured the older man as he lined Brian up at his entrance and then slowly sank down on the turgid flesh.

Both men moaned. "Fuck," Brian entreated, snapping his hips.

"Yeah," Justin agreed. Bracing his bare feet on the floor, he set his hands behind him atop the brunet's thighs and levered his body up and then back down. Fuck, that felt good. He repeated the motion again and again, his eyes going half lidded as he reveled in the sensations his movements were producing. Nothing matched the feeling of Brian's perfectly shaped phallus stroking his sweet spot. He'd ride Brian all day if he could, he thought giddily.

Brian's hands came up to grasp Justin's quadriceps, his hands rasping lightly against the fine blond hair on his thighs.

"That's not helping," Justin gasped out what seemed like half an hour later, although it was probably a few minutes at the most.

Brian gave him a devious look. "No? How about this?" He moved his right hand over a few inches and wrapped it around Justin's dick. As Justin raised himself up again, he let his fingers travel up to the cockhead, brushing his thumb across the sensitive slit. Then when Justin lowered himself, Brian's hand slid down to his pubes.

"Nngh," Justin panted. 

Brian threw his head back, the fingers of his left hand jabbing into Justin's skin. There'd doubtless be finger-shaped bruises, not that the blond minded. They could just join the others decorating his body.

Each of Brian's ribs was clearly delineated against his skin, Justin noted hazily, doing his best to take a snapshot of the moment so he'd be able to recreate it in paint later on.

He wasn't gonna last, Justin realized, his rhythm becoming choppy. He tightened his muscles around Brian as he descended, wanting his lover to come with him. He lifted up once more, squeezing as tight as he could and maintaining the grip as he slid down.

"Fuuuck!" Brian shouted, his muscles seizing up as he emptied into the condom.

Justin groaned as Brian's cock hit his prostate again, the brunet's hand firmly gripping his erection. His seed streamed out onto Brian's stomach and chest - once, twice, and then a third time.

"Christ." Justin sat there, dragging in deep breaths as he tried to recover.

Brian grunted in agreement.

Several long beats later, his legs wobbly, Justin managed to push himself up just far enough that he could grab the condom and take it off Brian's cock. Too exhausted to bother tying it off, he tossed it at the knocked-over carton of ice cream, where it landed with a wet splat.

Finally, he half keeled over on top of Brian, his head resting on the other man's sternum.

"Solid construction," Brian mumbled.

That was a strange comment. "Hmm?" Justin hummed, too replete with satisfaction to lift his head from Brian's chest.

"Solid construction," Brian reiterated before grousing, "but this fuckin' expensive chair has a major defect."

Although he couldn't care less about the fucking chair right now, Justin nevertheless made an effort to find out what was making his lover so grouchy. He lifted his head and looked at Brian through bleary eyes. "Yeah?" 

Brian griped, "We can't fucking cud-" before abruptly stopping, looking as if he'd been about to utter the most reprehensibly awful word ever.

"Relax together," Justin filled in for him, resisting the urge to laugh and pretending Brian hadn't almost uttered the dreaded C-word.

Brian rolled his eyes. "Couldn't you have come up with something that starts with the same sound as cud- you know?"   

Justin just laughed.