“Justin? Have you lost your goddamn mind?” Brian snarked down the phone, as he warily eyed the large box decorated with a pink (fucking pink!!) bow which was currently plonked on the dining table.
He’d been so excited when he’d spied the box sitting on the landing outside the loft door when he’d returned home from work. He knew immediately that it was another care package from Justin. The little shit had taken to sending him ‘care packages’ from New York.
The first package to arrive was a shoe box full of ticket stubs and programs for every museum or gallery Justin had visited, and every show he’d gone to. There were napkins and bottle wrappers adorned with sketches of Brian and the family in Pittsburgh. Brian had not been touched at all by the sentimental drivel enclosed in the shoe box and had made this very clear to Justin when he had flown to New York on the next plane out and fucked him unconscious. When he came home, Brian gave all the bits and pieces Justin had sent him to his art department and told them he needed a framed collage for an ‘idea’ he was working on. The ‘idea’ was currently hanging in his bedroom.
He’d received another package about a month later. That one had included one of Justin’s paint splattered sweaters with a hole in the armpit which they had used as a cum rag at their last encounter, enclosed in a resealable clear plastic bag. Brian looked for a note to explain what the fuck Justin was up to but…nothing. Brian opened and then quickly closed the bag once again, wondering why the fuck Justin was sending him stinky sweaters. Brian had to immediately call the little shit for an explanation.
“Taylor, here”
“Hello, Taylor there. Kinney here. Care to explain why you’re doing an impression of Monica Lewinsky?”
“Who?”
“Monica Lewinsky? Bill Clinton? Blue dress? Any of this ringing a bell in that blond head of yours?”
“If I were doing an impression of her, I would’ve let you stick a cigar up my ass while I blew you in your office”
“Actually, that sounds kinda fun. Why don’t….”
“Not happening, asshole. You got the package then?”
“Yes, I got the package. I’m beginning to think you’re using Kinnetik’s UPS account to send your shitty clothes here so that they might actually have a chance of being laundered”
“Ha fucking ha. Seriously, don’t launder it. Just leave it in the bag in the storage room”
“Why?”
“Just do it”
“I don’t want to touch it”
“You’ve had your entire fist in my ass, Brian. You’re not fucking squeamish. Now put the god damn sweater in the storage room”
“Fair point, I’ll put the bodily-fluid-covered, paint splattered crime against fashion into the storage room”
“Goodbye Brian”
“Later, Twat”.
The next couple of packages had been relatively harmless. Brian had particularly enjoyed the Fleshlight and the prostate massager. He’d been a little confused about the collar and leash, as neither he or Justin were particularly into that shit, but it was all becoming clear now.
Eyeing the box that had begun to move perilously close to the edge of the table, Brian returned his attention to his call with Justin. “I’m not keeping it, Justin. No fucking way”
Justin sighed and just let Brian continue his rant letting him tire himself out a little before he interjected.
“Look, Brian. It’s very simple. I really, really want a dog, and Daphne’s parents’ dog had pups, and I saw them and they are just adorable, but I can’t have pets in the apartment I’m in at the moment so, while I’m looking for a new place to rent, I need to you to look after him for me”
As Justin paused to draw breath, he waited for Mount Brian to erupt once again. He did not have to wait for long.
“OK, No problem Sunshine. Here’s an idea. I’ll watch the dog if you shove a cigar up your ass and blow me in my office while wearing a blue dress”
“Deal”
Brian’s jaw dropped. “I was fucking joking, Justin”
“I wasn’t so I accept your terms. See you in a month”
“Justin. Justin. JUSTIN” Brian shouted, but all he heard was the dial tone.
Sighing in defeat, Brian moved hesitantly toward the box that was about to teeter off the table at any minute. Reluctantly opening the lid, he was instantly assaulted by a wet, slobbering tongue which was attached to a gangly legged chocolate Labrador.