CHAPTER FOUR:  AIN’T NO SUNSHINE...

BRIAN:

One of my guiltiest pleasures has always been watching him sleep. It’s quite reassuring, considering that just over two and a half years ago I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to do so again. I can’t help but think back to what he said last night about how the incident rocked his self-image. Somehow I wonder how I didn’t realize that meaning behind all the ‘I’m fine’ phrases that he’d uttered during that time meant that he was anything but. I could blame it on the fact that so much was going on during that time, like the threat of losing my job, which I’d ultimately lost anyway, but that would be doing a disservice to both Justin and me.

The fact is that it was just easier to pretend that we both were fine than to admit we were suffering in silence. When we imploded, there wasn’t a way for me to hide from it anymore. Yes, I bought tricks in from the outside to cure the loneliness for a little while, but before they came and after they went, I sat in this very loft reliving the waking nightmare that had become mine and Justin’s second year together. I’ve never been good at self-reflecting, but it was definitely a necessary evil at the time, and has now led me to this moment. It feels like we we’ve come full circle, and even though the journey was a difficult one, I think we both can be grateful for it in our own ways.

As he lays there on his back, sprawled out, his morning wood tenting the sheets, I can’t resist the allure of him. From his longer hair, to his full lips, to the creamy and smooth skin that is always so responsive to my touch, Justin is not only perfect to me… he’s perfect for me. People always tend to get lost in the stereotype when they look at him. They overlook the intelligence within those oh-so-blue eyes in favor of their preconceived notions. But if they would just have a conversation with him, they would find out just how wrong they are.

They would know that he’s incredibly funny, wise, strong-minded, and very, very opinionated when he needs to be. And he’s my angel. The man who has kept me sane more days than not, just by knowing him. The man who can drive me insane with a look or just a well placed, cutting remark. The man who inspires lust within me like no other ever could or would.

He said that he wondered what he’d given to me; the answer is simple. It’s all those things and more that keeps me enthralled by him. Moving closer to him, I begin to kiss the spot on his neck that makes him gasp, letting my tongue roll languidly over the spot. I smile as he starts to squirm, sifting his fingers through my hair holding me there.

“Mmm… good morning to me,” Justin mumbles as he tilts his head, allowing me more access.

There is nothing sexier to me than sleep-warmed Justin. His feel and taste is addictive. I know that sounds a little weird, but it’s the truth. It’s when his natural scent is most prevalent on his skin. The slight saltiness of his skin slightly stings my tongue in the most delicious of ways as I pull gasps, moans, and sighs from him.

Stopping at his nipples, I lick one repeatedly as I roll the the other between my thumb and forefinger. I know if I keep at it long enough, he’ll cum. He’s so sensitive there, after all. But that’s not how I want us to start this morning off. So after I give the same attention to his other nub, I continue my downward foray to the treasure I’m really seeking.

What can I say about Justin except that he’s been gifted with an abundance of cock. Many men- and yes, I have been with many- his height don’t compare. Not only does he have length, but girth, which is like steel beneath velvet both in my mouth and in my ass when I choose to let him top me. Letting him scratch the faint bottoming itch I get from time to time is never a problem. I suck him down until he reaches the back of my throat and hold him there, giving his head the throat massage of my life.

If we’re going to be monogamous, I might as well begin as I mean for us to go on. As he begs for me to speed up, I do just the opposite. I slow down and slurp my way back up his dick before hurriedly sucking him down again. By the time I’ve finished giving my throat a much needed workout, he’s a quivering mess. Which is absolutely perfect for what I have in mind this morning...

I sit up, grabbing the requisite items of condoms and lube. I can feel his eyes watching me, devouring me as I take my time. Building up Justin’s anticipation has always been a secret vice of mine, but it also gives him a chance to calm down. I want this to last. I don’t want it quick right now.

I need him in a way I don’t think I ever have before.

Taking the condom in one hand, I roll it down his length, enjoying the surprise and the wealth of other emotions gracing his face. My other hand is opening me up to receive him, even as I resume jacking him back to full hardness. Once I’m sure that I can take all of him with very little to no crippling pain, I sit astride his hips. Lowering myself ever so slowly, I relish in every moan Justin gives me. I don’t bottom often, so I know just how tight I am.

I can see him fighting the urge to grab my hips and ram, but I’m holding him completely still. This is my ride until I say otherwise. Once I’m fully seated, I take the time to adjust to the sensation by plunging my tongue into his mouth. I love hearing the sounds he makes when he’s being ravished. As I start to move on him, the tempo of his breathing changes.

I know he’s going to have to fight hard not to cum until I’m ready, but he’ll do it. I have every confidence in him in this arena. No one else has ever been able to match my stamina, except Justin. I increase the pace, still holding his hands down to the bed even as I detach our lips. His groan is both one of gratification and loss, and I love it.

“Bri… let me. I have to move,” he begs.

“Don’t cum until I say.”

“I promise.”

I let go of his hands, and immediately he’s up on his elbows, lifting his pelvis and driving into me deeply. Ordinarily, I would try to control the depth of penetration, but fuck! I want it! I want to be pounded into even as I’m riding his dick for all I’m worth. I feel Justin shift his torso even higher, and then feel his arms wrap around me.

One hand is pulling at my hair while the other is on my ass, squeezing tightly. It’s taking all that’s in me not to lose my rhythm as he says the most filthy things into my ear. See, most people look at him and see an angel, but in reality Justin is a horny little devil; a veritable beast in bed. And before I know what is happening, I find myself being shifted onto my back, and he’s fucking pounding into me. His mouth is at my nipples, sucking and biting and yes! He’s fucking growling.

DAMN! I have missed this side of him in ways I can never explain. It’s the primitive part that only I know exists within him. He has me clawing and biting and fucking chanting for him to fuck me harder and faster. He complies even as I grab ahold of his shoulders to give me the leverage to meet his deep thrusts.

“I’m…”

“You ready, Bri?” He pants out, and I know just how close he is.

He redoubles his efforts and commands me to cum as he swipes my prostate in a staccato rhythm again and again. My body has no choice but to obey and I revel in it. It’s then that I realize that I could never have this with anyone else. My trust in him is infinite. I know he would never hurt me, not physically anyway.

And unlike the rest of Gay P.A., beyond what he and I have ever done publicly, I know that Justin has never divulged what we do here… not even to Daphne. I don’t know how I know that, I just do. And knowing that, I don’t know how I ever found the strength to let him go. After he dismounts and disposes of the condom, he turns to face me.

“What brought that on? Not that I’m complaining or anything, but why now?”

I would say that I just wanted something different, but it wouldn’t be the whole truth. So I might as well tell him. “You’re my partner, my equal in all things… including this. I can’t promise that it will happen all the time, but…”

“Well, I’m glad it happened now. The first time was to teach me. The second, third, and fourth times was because I was terrified of bottoming again, and the last time was to seal a deal. This time was just for me.”

“For us, Sunshine. It was for us.”

He nods, and then sighs deeply. "I suppose we should get up now in order to be at Mel’s office by nine.”

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“But I want to, Brian. Call it clinginess, call it nosiness, or whatever else you have to. I just want… I want to be there with you.”

And how could I argue with that? We alighted from the bed and headed into the bathroom after Justin put the soiled bed linens into the hamper. He’s so fucking proper sometimes, never one to let the cumstains stay on the bed until we get ready to get back in it. I used to find it annoying, but now it’s just another of those endearing qualities that makes Justin who he is. After showering and grabbing a bagel, we’re out the door.

As always, I’m wearing one of my many suits, but Justin surprised me and put one of his on, too. He coupled it with a white oxford shirt and a cardigan to match his eyes. Very preppy indeed...well until you get down to his feet. I lifted my eyebrow at his choice of footwear, but he just smirked.

“You go for style, I go for comfort. And my Converse sneakers are very comfortable.”

I laughed. “Let’s go, twat.”

We hailed a cab and arrived at Mel’s downtown office with a few minutes to spare. She came into the lobby and stopped short. It was obvious she was surprised to see us. “Good morning, gentlemen. Baby, you look very well put together this morning.” She nodded in approval.

“Well, I figured I’d have to get used to it sooner or later. Wearing a suit, I mean. I’ll never have as many as Brian but...”

“Honey, Fifth Avenue in New York doesn’t have as many suits as Brian. It really puts all of us professional women to shame.”

“With the amount of your fees once this mess with Gardner is over with, I’m sure you too will up your wardrobe game. My motto is dress for the life you want, not the life you have,” I say sagely.

“Yes, oh wise Glamor Guru. Now get in here!” Mel ushers us into her office, where there is a lady about our age sitting there. “I’ve invited my colleague, Jenean Peters, to sit in on this meeting since it is of a two-fold purpose. She specializes in Corporate law and will be my co-counsel on this.”

“I have been reviewing Melanie’s notes on your case, Mr. Kinney…”

“Brian. And this is Justin.”

She nods acceptance of doing away with formality within the confines of the office. “Very well Brian. I have been reviewing the case and I have to admit that I’m very surprised you didn’t seek restitution sooner.”

“Does that affect my case?”

“It does. But in both good and bad ways. Depending on the judge it could look like you were withholding litigation to increase the payout.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“I know. Melanie explained to me all of the ins and outs which made it impossible to bring this lawsuit to light sooner. We had about a three-month window before the statute of limitations would have run out.”

“Wait a minute…” Justin interrupts. “You said something about increasing the payout. Why?”

“Well in this case it’s also a matter of interest being owed on said money. Depending on when we decide to sue Vance from, be it the partnership date or the date of termination of employment, the payout can range from eight to ten thousand dollars in interest alone. That doesn’t include the bonuses that you gave up to solidify your place within Vanguard, or the accounts that suffered when you were ousted from the company. The bottom line is that you did the work and should have been paid accordingly.”

“So what do you want to do, Brian?” Mel asks me.

I look to Justin, my business partner and really, my best friend. “Well, Sunshine. What would you do if you were me?”

He wrinkles is nose in that way he has when he’s looking at things from every possible angle. Finally coming to a decision, he says, “If it were me, I would go from the partnership date. Honestly, that money is owed to you, and regardless of everything else, Gardner is still going to have to pay. That said, I would ask for the bigger amount and if necessary, seem to negotiate down to the lesser amount, but not go a penny beneath that.” He smiles. “It’s the WASP way.”

I smile back at him, and turn back to Mel and Janean, who were nodding their heads in approval. “Well, you heard the man. Gouge his balls until he pleads for mercy, and then give it to him Taylor-Kinney style.”

I heard Justin gasp at that. “Brian?”

“What? We’re about to become a corporation. Not married, but in partnership in all the ways that matter. It is what you want, right?”

“Of course, but…”

“Me too. Mel, make it so please.” I hold her stunned but happy gaze, knowing that she knows exactly what I’m asking for without me having to voice it.

“I’ll get right on it. You know there’s going to be a bunch of brick-shitting, right?”

I smirk back at her. “That’s what I’m- what we’re- counting on.”

The relief on her face tells me multitude of stories, but most of all, it tells me that she no longer feels insecure. I guess Justin was right. Mel didn’t hate me; just the pedestal Lindsay continuously placed me on. I suppose I can understand, since Lindsay, as a WASP princess, was taught from the crib to fantasize about Prince Charming- the perfect one who would always take care of her.

Well it’s time to climb out of her fantasy world and face the reality she refuses to see. I’m not her husband. I’m never going to be her husband, and I will never be into pussy- especially hers- ever again. There is only one twat I want to look at, and his name is Justin Taylor.  

EMMETT:

Child, one would think that Michael never heard of a dust mop or fucking broom. This place probably makes the tombs of Egypt look like the Taj Ma-fucking-hal! As I cough from moving yet another shelving unit out of my way to chase the dust bunnies from behind it, I notice a series of coated books marked The Real Rage behind it. At first, I didn’t think much of it. Michael definitely isn’t known for his housekeeping abilities.

But then I remembered the call from Mel this morning, saying that she, Baby, and Big Bad would be stopping by and asked if I could locate the accounting books for her. I called Ben, who was gracious enough to tell me the code to the safe so that I could pull them out, along with the books for Red Cape Comics. I don’t know why I did, but it felt right to do. And honestly, who am I to ignore my inner-diva screaming for me to do something? Nope, my diva- who I choose to call Lana after the great Lana Turner- has never steered me wrong.

So after lugging all six of the books in the safe to the counter, I decided to do a little sprucing up, since this joint ain’t jumping. If I’m honest, it hasn’t been jumping in the two months, but hey, who am I to judge. Maybe they just come in to commune with their favorite and most knowledgeable comic book geek, Michael. Well HELLOOOOOOO, I am certainly NOT he! I’m just too tall, too queenly, and too much for living in reality to be Captain Comic, thank you very much!

I decide to log into the accounts for HoneyGrass Elegant Creations, which is doing very well by the way, to check on our upcoming soirees. Vic and I decided that in addition to our actual planners, this would be a great way to keep up with what’s left to do on an account. I update the spreadsheet and then email it to Vic and vice versa so that we always know when the other has to jump in and help. I’ve been working from Michael’s computer because if I’m going to sit here taking care of his failing business, I might as well work on my successful one while doing it.”

“FUCK!” I yell out as that damn password protected bullshit dialogue box comes up again.

“Not at work, Honeycutt!” Big Bad yells as he comes in.

“Oh you! And don’t call me Honeycutt,” I retort then sigh. “It’s just, I swear, every time I get a roll going on this computer while updating my accounts, this damn password protected dialogue box pops up. It’s like every five minutes or so. It’s really annoying.”

“They usually have some kind of timer attached to them. Maybe go into the control panel and shut it off,” Justin suggests.

“I tried, and it says that unless I’m an administrator I can’t make changes. I’ve been trying to reach Michael, but it just rolls over to voicemail. Brian, maybe you should try. Lord knows if you call, he’d probably knock his two front teeth out to answer the call and not complain about it.”

“Why? He hasn’t contacted me once since…”

“Bri, that’s not the point, this time. Can’t you see that Em is about to break the damn thing if it keeps interrupting him.”

I watch Brian roll his eyes and can tell he really doesn’t want to make the call, but he just has to suck it up and do it. “Please, Brian. I can’t even save my docs without that fucking box popping up and then it keeps doing it every time I hit cancel. It’s like it has Michael’s persistence embedded.”

“Damn! Fine! I’ll make the fucking call,” he grumbles as he reaches in his pocket for his cell phone. I resist the urge to jump and clap that between Baby and I, our appeals worked. He puts the call on speaker.

“Brian! How are you?! I miss you!” Michael’s voice comes loud and clear over the line.

Justin mouths told ya, even as Brian goes to speak. “I’m fine, Mikey. How’s my car?”

“It’s doing okay, I suppose. Takes a lot of gas though. I’m going to need a loan when I get back to cover the cost.”

“Ask your husband. But that’s not why I’m calling. As you know, Emmett’s been watching the shop for you while you’re on the lam. The trouble is that while he’s using this computer, the dialogue box keeps popping up preventing him from doing what he needs to do for his own business.”

“Well technically he should be looking after my business, not working his own.”

“Well if you had any business I would, Michael,” I sneer. “But that’s beside the point. I need the password so that I can change the timer setting which keeps this box popping up every five fucking minutes.” I mean seriously! The nerve of that ungrateful little imp!

“No!”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Brian asks.

“No, I’m not giving up my code. Emmett should be able to deal with it since he’s using my computer and service.”

“Well if you feel that way, Michael, I have no problem NOT using your computer and service and just leave your shop right now… with the doors open!” I yell at him.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me!”

“Okay boys and boys, let’s just rein it in. So let me understand this, Michael, you’re not going to give us the code.”

“I just said I wasn’t.” He huffs.

“Okay. So when are you coming back with my car? The one that will be insurance less by tomorrow afternoon?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’m going to call the insurance company tomorrow and tell them to let my insurance lapse on it.”

“You wouldn’t! Brian, you wouldn’t!”

‘Why not? It’s my car and I’m not using it. Bye now!” Brian hangs up, only for his phone to ring back immediately. He lets it roll over to voicemail. I do the same with the store phone and my cell.

“So what now?” Mel asks.

“There’s a reason Michael doesn’t want to give up the code, and I doubt it has anything to do with privacy,” Justin says. “Besides, it’s probably some lame shit like Michael Charles Kinney or some shit like that.”

“Eww, creepy!” Mel shuddered.

“Seriously!”

Brian scrunched his face up in distaste. “Sunshine, why would you say some bogus shit like that?”

“Ah, maybe because it’s true. Look, Brian, I don’t know why, but if this is the only way Michael can live out his fantasy without anyone knowing it, don’t you think he would do it?”

“But this Michael we’re talking about,” Mel says.

“True. But Baby does have a point. For the longest time my password was Jon Bon Jovi until I found out he married his high school sweetheart and that killed that. But anyway, would you have guess that if I hadn’t told you?”

“Emmett, seriously, you are such a queen.”

“Well then, Brian, prove me wrong. Type it in and see what happens.”

“Michael Charles Novotny-Kinney?”

“No. Michael Charles Kinney. No way he would ever want to associate his real life to his fantasy one. Michael is, if nothing else, predictable where you’re concerned,” Justin tells him wryly.

Brian shrugs and does as Justin says, ever thankful at this moment that he can type without looking. I can tell that just the idea that Justin could be right makes him want to hurl buckets. Hell, I’m right there with him. But Michael’s obsession with Brian is well-known. It’s the stuff of legends… urban legends, that is.

“Well I’ll be damned!” Mel exclaims, as sure enough, the dialogue box opens to reveal a title page called The Real Rage. It has a cropped picture of Brian and Michael in tuxes, looking like a happy couple, and beneath it a series of numbers on a spreadsheet.

“HOLY SHIT! That fucker’s been cheating me since the beginning!” Justin growls. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so pissed!