Justin steered his jeep down Liberty Avenue, roof retracted and hair blowing back from his face. With Pittsburgh experiencing unusually warm, muggy November weather, the cool air was a welcome change from the oppressive humidity.

There was no more bumper-to-bumper traffic either, which made another pleasant change. Even with the clubs starting to empty out, the streets weren't very congested and were much easier to navigate than during the day.

A loud "Yo! Justin!" had him slowing down for a second and glancing over at a knot of people who'd just spilled out of Babylon, but when he didn't recognize anyone, he shrugged it off and sped back up. 

Now that he was gaining a measure of fame as an artist, he got hailed by strangers more frequently, although that might not necessarily be the cause this time. Justin chuckled, taking a look at the clubbers in his rearview mirror, one of whom, torso bared, was enthusiastically waving his shirt in the air. In this part of town, he was more likely to hear a halloo from a wannabe trick - or someone he'd already had, hoping for a repeat that was never going to happen.

Despite checking, Justin hadn't really expected it to be anyone he knew. Most of his friends and family were doubtless already tucked in bed, even if Saturday had just turned into Sunday a little over an hour ago. One thirty in the morning, especially on the weekend, wasn't that late. He had to agree with Brian - their friends had become predictably boring.

Justin and Brian were the only ones who still went clubbing regularly, although the rest of the gang, which had expanded to include Blake and Drew, would occasionally venture out for a ‘wild' Friday night. The girls couldn't be counted on to keep their eyes open past eleven, and of the guys, Emmett was the only one - besides him and Brian - who ever got at least a little wild. Drew was usually willing to play along, which meant they had to be somewhere ‘safe,' and whatever they did got toned down and ended up being more on the tame side. Even though the former quarterback and current football coach had been out for years, he still got his picture splashed across the tabloids at regular intervals, which understandably made him wary of getting photographed engaging in public sex. Never mind something that could be considered ‘wild.'

Babylon's VIP lounge was the one exception. All members and guests were aware of the rule against taking photos or recordings. It was rare that the rule was broken since anyone who was caught ended up persona non grata - for life.

While he empathized with Drew, Justin thought equating wild with fucking in Babylon's VIP lounge, or even the backroom, was pretty lame. Wild was freezing your ass off in Altoona - or the outskirts of Pittsburgh - in a fucking freight container, giving your partner the blowjob of his life. 

Sure, having sex at Babylon was always hot - and fuck knew that Brian was always on the lookout for ways to spice things up at the club - but he and Brian could get plenty wild and inventive even in the comfort of their loft. With or without company.

Justin snorted as he recalled the ‘married and monogamous with children phase' he'd gone through five years ago, when he'd barely been twenty-one. What had he been thinking? He hadn't been ready to settle down then - still wasn't - and in any case, it had been a shitty thing to try and pressure his partner into.

With nights at home together, just the two of them, occurring more frequently ten years after they met, they might reach that point someday. Eventually, if it was what they both wanted. 

Regardless of how often it was only them, they also had plenty of fun with one, two or more other men. There was no point in counting the number of ‘guests' on the occasions Brian hosted one of his famous orgies, usually at Babylon, to prevent sticky fingers getting into, or walking away with, their personal possessions. Brian somehow always managed to organize the whole thing, no matter how stoned or drunk, even directing some of the action. Not that Brian ever complained about him lending a ‘helping hand,' Justin mused, smirking.

Besides that, both of them got the occasional blow job on the side or fucked someone else, especially if Brian or Justin was out of town. They'd always - it was practically a rule - have hot phone sex as a result. Sometimes during, sometimes after. Over the years they'd been together, phone sex had become one of Justin's favorite things. He usually preferred it sans video, the suggestive whispers and the grunts and groans from his partner then even more arousing for whatever reason.

He didn't like to go without Brian for too long - he'd had enough of that in New York, when they'd sometimes be apart for over a month - but the occasional week was bearable. In fact, a short separation left them hornier than ever and invariably led to a hot and heavy fuckathon, during which they'd shut out the world - aka their buttinski family and friends - for as long as they could. It had only taken once for them to learn their lesson about not only locking the door but also slotting the keyless deadbolt home. Just in case.

Halting at a traffic light, one that was always slow to change, Justin drummed the palms of his hands against the steering wheel in his jeep, keeping time to Ain't No Sunshine. 

As he hummed along, he was catapulted back five years. He'd surprised Brian by turning up at the loft, and after weeks apart, they'd been tearing at each other's clothes, frantic to be skin to skin, when Buddy Guy's remix of Bill Withers' classic song suddenly came on the radio.

Ceasing his efforts to open his fly, Brian had stroked his hands up Justin's sides, making him shiver. Both their shirts had already been gone by that point, likely getting trampled underfoot. Brian's arms draped over his shoulders, they'd swayed to the music, the brunet following the rhythm that Justin established.

"Ain't no sunshine when he's gone," Brian had crooned, altering the lyrics slightly. He'd then hummed along for a bit, looking Justin directly in the eye as he picked up with, "And this house just ain't no home, anytime he goes away."

Pinned in place by Brian's earnest gaze, Justin had thought his heart might stop. And that was before Brian added in a whisper, a sweet, shy smile on his face, "It's true, Sunshine. Every word."

Up till then, Justin had been sure it would take some doing to convince his lover to let him come home - for good. Suddenly, though, the almost insurmountable had seemed possible. He'd decided to push his advantage and started babbling about how, just shy of seven months after he'd left, the profits from his paintings made a nice lump in his savings account, allowing him to return to the Burgh.

Brian had barely opened his mouth to chide him about giving up the exposure that being in New York provided before Justin was telling him about his contract with a Pittsburgh-based agent. Meeting William, who'd driven to New York specifically to view his paintings and see him, was the best thing that had happened to Justin his entire time in the city. He'd been working two jobs - one at a diner and one at an art supply store, which was also willing to display some of his work - when a stranger breezed into the art shop, purple-streaked hair corkscrewing in every direction, and headed to where six of his works were hung.

After ascertaining that he was the JT whose initials were displayed in the corner of his artwork, William had introduced himself. The next thing out of his mouth was a demand to know why Justin had left Pittsburgh for New York City. He had chastised him about how fucking expensive the city was and insisted that Justin could do just as well from the Burgh - and save a lot of money in the process.

A little later, once he'd reassured his lover that he wasn't just fast-talking him and that he wasn't giving up anything to be with Brian, they'd gotten rid of the rest of their clothes and started celebrating. They'd been making good use of their swing and the extra hour that the return to standard time offered - when there'd come a loud banging on the loft door, accompanied by hoots and hollers.

Being barged in on hadn't been funny at the time - talk about wilting erections - but in hindsight, it was hilarious. 

Two more stoplights later, hitting both of them just as they turned to red, Justin was still chuckling at the appreciative expression on Ted's face back then - and the way it had made Brian all possessive. 

Calling him ‘Jus' hadn't helped. Normally it was Emmett who caused a jealous reaction, but not that time; it had been all Ted and the way the man's eyes were fixed on his ass.

He not so secretly liked it when Brian went a little caveman on him, even if it was totally absurd. Like Ted would ever cheat on Blake. He might look - like any gay man with a pulse - but that was it. 

Well, Ted also liked to tease, but that was one of Brian's traits too, so the man could hardly complain about it from his CFO and friend. Best friend really, even if neither Brian nor Ted would ever define it that way, too wary of Michael's tender feelings to say anything. 

Bringing the jeep to a stop in front of Kinnetik, the engine idling, Justin grabbed his cell from the passenger seat and thumbed a quick text to Brian.

Your ride's here.

He was about to toss the phone back on the seat - there was no need to wait for the familiar ‘that's not the ride I want...' followed a few beats later by ‘...to give you,' which always made Justin laugh.

His phone pinged, a little too fast for it to be the expected response. Lifting it up so he could see the screen, he was surprised to read a terse, two-word reply: Come in.

Weird... and a skosh disappointing. It was almost two in the morning, and Justin had been hoping for a little slap and tickle - a hinted-at blowie at the very least - on the way home, before they got down to more serious business at the loft. With a sigh, he pocketed his cell and turned off the engine before hopping out of the jeep.

The front door wasn't locked and there was no evidence of the nighttime security guard. Strange. Brian wasn't one to leave the premises unguarded, especially in the middle of the night, whether or not he was working late. Even though the area had improved a bit since Brian repurposed the former baths, it still wasn't the best. The advertising agency housed a lot of expensive equipment that would make it a tempting target for thieves, particularly if they had a fence ready to accept the stolen goods.

Shaking his head - he'd have to make Brian aware of the guard's absence - Justin started across the open space that used to be the orgy room, his loafers echoing as he crossed the tiles. Kinnetik was deserted, not that he'd expect anyone else except his workaholic partner to be there at this hour. 

His right shoe slipped on the slick floor, making him wonder if the cleaners had just been through here. The tile had a wet sheen, just like when it was a functioning bathhouse, he noted in amusement.

The cleaners worked odd hours and could still be in the building, which might explain where the security guard was. If Max was on duty, she was likely chatting up Fadhili; Justin was sure Max had a crush on the cleaning crew lead since she took every opportunity to talk with him.

He slipped again, although this time it was his left shoe that was the culprit. "Dammit," he cursed, narrowly avoiding falling on his ass. He should've swapped out his loafers for the sneakers he had in the jeep, but he hadn't intended to get out from behind the wheel - or to contend with a wet, slippery floor.

Justin'd had a show tonight and was still dressed in what Brian called his ‘artsy-fartsy' attire; it wasn't all that dissimilar to how he'd dressed as an intern at Vangard or for his first ‘Emerging Artists' show at the Bloom Gallery. Preppy clothing made Brian horny - not that this was news to Justin after the way Brian had salivated over him in his high school uniform - which was why Justin wore it anytime he had an opportunity. You couldn't get much preppier than his St. James uniform, but his artistic camouflage came close enough, Justin mused, chuckling. 

Tonight, Brian had barely been able to keep his hands off Justin while he was talking to the critic from the Post-Gazette, going over to the drinks table to help him resist temptation and coming back with tumblers of Bulleit bourbon for both of them.

Talking with the guy from the Gazette was always a pleasure; he was straight as an arrow but genuinely appreciated Justin's art, and the way he played up his name - Art Masters - for all it was worth made him even more likeable. Still, Justin had been grateful for the alcohol because as soon as Art moved on, the next to approach him had been Simon Caswell, who almost invariably turned up at his shows. 

Justin had been right that the guy was a total cunt, one who still wanted in his pants. Granted, he did write the occasional flattering column about him for the Artforum magazine, but that was it. He'd never helped Justin get a show or make contacts or anything else.

Lindsay hadn't been able to make it tonight, thank fuck - some kind of snafu with the babysitter - so he wasn't stuck watching the inevitable lovefest between her and Simon. Art world bigwigs made Linds hot and she always fell for whatever line of bullshit they were selling. He hadn't wanted to be the recipient - again - of a ‘well-meaning' push toward New York.

After the show, Justin celebrated with Daph as planned, bingeing on the original V miniseries - with plenty of on-screen hotties for both of them - junk food and weed. He'd been more than a little surprised when Brian declined to join them, especially after being so handsy. Brian and Daphne got along famously, and Justin's best friend never objected to an eyeful of man-on-man action. She'd prefer the whole shebang but would definitely settle for a little bit of flirting, frottage and Frenching. 

Instead of joining them however, Brian had begged off, insisting that he needed to go to Kinnetik. It was a bit odd since Brian hadn't mentioned it before, but he could be like that when hit with inspiration for a campaign. He'd been stuck on the ad Brown Athletics wanted for the Thanksgiving Day TV lineup; he must've had a breakthrough, Justin reckoned. 

The Vette was out of commission again, with the mechanic unable to look at it till later in the week, so they'd dropped him off at the erstwhile baths with the promise to pick him up again before heading to Daph's place. No matter how much Brian babied the cantankerous piece of machinery, it periodically refused to start and needed to go to the shop again. Worst of all, the expensive toy was useless to fuck in - unless you wanted the gearshift digging into you.

When he got out of the jeep, Brian had emphasized that Justin needed to pick him up no later than1:45, the older man repeating himself twice. It wasn't like Justin was hard of hearing, for fuck's sake, although Brian had just laughed when he snapped at him about it.

It also wasn't like he'd been about to break their time-honored three o'clock deadline, which hardly applied if they both knew where their partner was anyway. When Justin tried - and failed - to suss out what was going on, Brian had just chuckled again, his hazel eyes glinting with amusement. He had, however, hinted at a blowjob in Justin's near future, and picturing Brian going down on him in the jeep was enough to get him to give in.

The deadline had meant he and Daph couldn't finish the original miniseries, much less get started on the remake, on top of which Justin had to limit his alcohol and pot intake. While his bestie knocked back four beers and plowed through most of two reefers, he'd sipped at a single Roundabout and refrained from taking more than a couple of shallow drags from the first joint.

He had at least been able to pack away plenty of the pizza, although he'd kind of missed listening to his lover bitch about all the carbs, all while snitching slices from Justin's plate. Brian was such a drama queen, he thought fondly, navigating his way around the wall of opaque glass blocks and peering through the open door of his partner's office.

His brow furrowed, Brian was leaning back in his chair, engrossed in something on the screen of his laptop, rubbing at his chin with one hand. 

Justin tipped his head to the side, studying what Brian had on. He'd changed out of the more casual shirt and slacks he'd had on earlier tonight and was now dressed in a suit. Weird. Why would he put on a suit in the middle of the night, with no one around to impress?

The suit jacket, he noted, was an almost monochrome black, with hints of a gray undertone, the shirt a crisp white. It would have been too severe a look for most men, but on Brian, it just accentuated his long, lean build. The fine purple lines in his navy blue windowpane tie provided the only color and saved the neckwear from being rather boring and conservative...

His thoughts grinding to a halt, Justin stared at the tie, a feeling of déjà vu overwhelming him. He had to look around to be sure Brian's sleek glass and chrome desk - the newest look for Kinnetik's furnishings - hadn't been replaced by the wood desk he once sat behind at Vangard, and that familiar glass block walls still surrounded him.

Justin grinned, deciding to have a bit of fun. Rapping his knuckles against the door jamb, he announced himself. "Mr. Kinney?" 

He saw an answering gleam in Brian's eyes as the man looked up; it always revved him up when Justin called him that.

"Taylor. Come in," Brian replied, motioning with his fingers to underscore the invitation.

Justin covered the short distance to Brian's desk and then stopped, tapping his fingers against the glass surface.

"Sit down," Brian murmured.

A vague feeling of anxiety washed over Justin as he sat down in a chair across from Brian. A flicker of light from his left almost drew his attention away from the brunet, but he dismissed it as unimportant; it was probably just a fluorescent tube that needed replacing.

His gaze focused on Brian, he couldn't help but recall how he'd had to nerve himself up to confront Brian after he'd abruptly fired him, ending his internship at Vangard. He'd come off cocky and self-assured, as intended, but the palms of his hands had been clammy and his stomach flip-flopping. For some reason, it was almost as intense now.

Brian flipped down the lid of the laptop and pushed it to one side before placing his elbows on the desk. He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the desk and lifted his brows slightly. "You wanted to see me, Taylor?" he asked coolly, heightening Justin's sense of déjà vu.

Was that what Brian had asked at the start of that fateful meeting? He couldn't remember verbatim what they'd said to each other, but it sounded familiar. 

Brian looked right too, he thought, his eyes fastening on the tie again. It was the same tie - he was suddenly sure of it. He was amazed that Brian had hung onto it, the fashion-conscious brunet usually cycling what he dubbed last season's clothes out of his wardrobe before the season had even ended.

Not that Justin was any kind of expert; despite the ten years that had passed since their first encounter, Brian's fashion-consciousness somehow failed to rub off on him. It made Brian despair about how he didn't follow the change in styles, or even worse, care to distinguish one designer from another. That didn't stop him from salivating over the way Brian looked in a tailored suit though. He looked good enough to eat, Justin mused, lust clouding his thoughts.

"Taylor?" Brian prompted, his eyebrows still raised and the gleam in his hazel eyes daring him to respond.

About to lick his lips at how fucking hot Brian looked, Justin stopped himself just in time, a flush rising on his cheeks. He might not be able to recall exactly what he'd said back then, but he could always extemporize, he decided. He was eager to proceed with the roleplaying - and reach the part where they ended up naked and fucking each other's brains out.

He lifted blond eyebrows in return. "I gave it some thought," he commented in the confident, matter-of-fact tone that he knew turned Brian on. "I decided you should take me back."

"Oh?" Brian hitched his eyebrows a smidge higher on his forehead and somehow managed to infuse his short, single-word reply with both doubt and challenge.

Fucker, Justin thought, Brian's nonchalance having a predictable effect on him, his trousers becoming uncomfortably tight at the crotch. His lover might be a master of the game, but he was no slouch, he reminded himself. 

Casting about for what he'd said back then, he countered Brian with his own brand of insouciance. "I may have made mistakes, but you wouldn't want to make an even bigger one," he stated confidently. "Which you will definitely be doing if you don't give me another chance." Widening his eyes a little, he smirked at the older man.

He could tell his words had hit home when Brian pressed his lips together, hiding a smile. It only lasted a moment though before he shook his head once, frowned and muttered, "I see."

Another surge of lust coursing through him, Justin hurried to add to his argument before he lost the ability to think. "I know now what you want of me," he rushed out, following it up with, "What you need."

Brian blinked at the deviation from the script. "What I need."

"Mmm," Justin hummed suggestively. "Me, working... under you." Incredibly turned on, he was more than ready to start christening the new furniture. 

"It'll require long, hard hours," Brian warned him, eyes glinting wickedly.

With a slow swipe of his tongue across his upper lip, Justin questioned, "Deep into the night... sir?"

Brian didn't restrain his smile this time. "We can start immediately," he suggested. "Make good use of the extra hour."

Justin's bright smile dimmed as he blinked, a confused "Wha?" tumbling out of his mouth. A beat too late, it dawned on him that this was the first Sunday in November, which meant a return to standard time.

Shaking his head chidingly, Brian teased, "Artists. Heads in the clouds all the time. Can't keep track of important dates."

It was a pretty bad blunder, Justin thought sheepishly, especially considering how excited he'd been to have the opening night of his show coincide with gaining an hour. He really had lost track in the flurry of getting ready for the show, or he never would have scheduled a movie and junk food fest with Daphne for tonight. Ever since that memorable occasion in 2005, he and Brian had tried to come up with something a little different - and always steamy - for the twice yearly time change.

"Um," he belatedly said, flustered.

Brian sauntered around his desk and leaned against the edge, studying Justin, a maddening smirk on his face.

Justin rose from his chair, eager to kiss the smirk off his lover's face, but then remembered that way back when, his next step had been to close the office door. It hadn't been nearly this late at night - there were still people wandering the corridors at Vangard - but still. It was only when he turned toward the entrance to Brian's office that he realized shutting the door wouldn't serve the same purpose; he'd momentarily forgotten that the door was a pane of clear glass.

The cleaners could be in the building, and the security guard had to be around someplace. That reminded him the front door to the building wasn't locked, and he muttered, "Um," again, looking uncertainly at Brian. "The door's unlocked. No one's going to walk in on us, are they?"

Brian blinked, looking discombobulated for a beat before pushing himself off the desk. He took a couple of long strides to a shelf behind his desk and pressed a button on a remote.

Justin immediately heard the rumble of the metal grate lowering and locking into place over the front door.

"There won't be any interruptions," he assured Justin. "Max is in the back with Fadhili. Besides" - he shrugged, a look of bafflement on his face - "she's one of those rare human beings who doesn't want a look at my dick. She read me the riot act that time I was changing my trousers in here after Gus spilled orange juice all over me. Told me that's what bathrooms were for."

"Yeah, well," Justin noted rather unsympathetically, "it might not have been a problem if you hadn't been going commando."

"I was expecting you!" an outraged Brian replied. "For an afternoon... appointment."

Justin giggled. "Like it's so hard for me to pull down your jocks."

"It would've been," Brian asserted firmly. "I was hard enough to pound nails."

Another giggle erupted. "I'm surprised you didn't burst your zipper then."

"Me too," Brian deadpanned. His serious mien only lasted for a moment before he gave up, one snicker and then another escaping him until he was full out laughing.

The juvenile boasting made Justin smile.

"C'mere, brat," Brian ordered as his hilarity wound down. He flicked a couple switches as he spoke, the lights going off and the radio coming on.

Justin, who'd just started to make his way around Brian's desk, paused for a moment, not wanting to ram a hipbone into glass or chrome in the dark. To his surprise, he could still see fairly well. He knew it wouldn't get completely pitch black - a couple of overhead light panels in the outer offices were always on - but it was much brighter than Justin expected. He glanced around in astonishment at what must've been two dozen tea lights flickering away on every available surface. There were even a couple nestled together on the other side of Brian's full-size computer monitor.

That explained the guttering light from before, but... He stopped in his tracks, lifting his eyebrows in question.

Brian rolled his lips in and gave him a shy smile. "It's kind of an anni-" he began before stopping, looking appalled.

Justin somehow managed to keep a straight face, despite almost hearing a word he never expected to cross his lover's lips.

"-ritual," Brian found his voice again, substituting a more acceptable word. "You know." He shrugged doing his best to play off his slip of the tongue. "Fucking in the time change."

This was obviously more than just a fuck; Brian wouldn't have gone through the effort of setting out so many tea light candles otherwise. Pointing out the romance inherent in his actions would just have Brian retreating and acting all macho though - his lover was still skittish even if he'd gotten less so over the years - so Justin didn't say anything.

He doubted the brunet had any idea of where to look for tea lights in a store, so he took a moment to speculate on where Brian had gotten them before settling on the employee kitchen. He grinned, imagining a loud scream of protest coming from the kitchen when someone discovered Kinnetik's entire stock of tea lights was gone... 

Discarding his speculations about the tea lights - it didn't really matter where they'd come from - he stalked over to Brian and crowded him up against the shelf behind him. Then, aiming a sultry smile at the brunet, he rasped, "You're right."

"I usually am," Brian replied congenially. He smiled down at Justin as he reached for the bottom of the brown cashmere pullover that had recently appeared in Justin's section of their shared bureau. "Care to tell me which of the many times you're referring to?"

Smug bastard, Justin thought, his glance following Brian's busy fingers, which were inching the mocha brown garment up. He still had no idea how Brian had known that color would suit him. Before now, he'd usually avoided earth tones, thinking they'd make him look washed out. But this rich, earthy shade of brown made his hair look more golden and his skin tone less chalky white.

"Well?" Brian prompted, his tone going from congenial to a little irritated as he guided both Justin's sweater and undershirt up to his armpits. "Cat got your tongue?"

Justin realized Brian must want his ego stroked a little even if he'd never admit it. "Mmm," he murmured, his voice a little muffled as he lifted his arms so Brian could pull both garments over his head in one fell swoop.

Freed from the constricting material, he gave his lover a flirty look from under his eyelashes. "That it's the right time to ‘break in' your new desk." 

Tossing the clothing over toward the couch, Brian nodded approvingly. "Exactly. The new furniture was installed five days ago, and you haven't so much as sucked my cock." He took Justin's hand and placed it over the erection that was straining against Brian's zipper, emphasizing his point.

What did Brian expect him to have done? Justin wondered. Between Leo Brown and Kellie McQuaid, there'd been an outsider traipsing in and out of Brian's office every fucking day. He'd bet Kellie would just pull up a chair, perch the latest Eyeconics' eyewear on her nose and watch avidly if she ever caught them at it. Leo Brown, though... Even something as tame as a blowjob, with Brian all the way down his throat so you couldn't see so much as a hint of pubes or privates, would probably give the CEO of Brown Athletics a stroke.

An image of the white-haired, distinguished-looking man falling over, clutching at his chest, was so disturbing that Justin yelped in shock.

"What?" asked Brian, sounding more exasperated than before at his abnormal reaction. 

Palming Brian's impressive hard-on through the fabric of his slacks, Justin questioned, "Do you think Leo Brown would appreciate that? Watching me go down on you?"

"It might be a bit much," Brian acknowledged, leaning into Justin's hand. "He didn't seem too freaked out when he walked in on us kissing though."

Leo Brown had never been outright homophobic - he never held being gay against the adman, although that probably had more to do with his bottom line than anything else - but he'd never seemed all that comfortable on his visits to Kinnetik either. He tended to avoid eye contact other than with Brian and Ted and was careful not to stand too close to anyone. He was probably afraid of catching gay cooties.

Then again, Brian was right. The man had seemed more at ease this time around. Almost interested in his and Brian's personal-

"You in there, twat?" Brian rapped his knuckles against Justin's forehead, breaking into his musings.

Jesus. What the heck was wrong with him? He could be fucking Brian and was instead woolgathering about Leo Brown.

Fortunately, Brian didn't seem all that upset, a look of fond, knowing amusement in his eyes as he peered down at Justin.

Gathering his wits, he made an effort to cover up his blunder, outright lying, "Uh, just thinking about what else to christen besides the desk."

"Uh-huh." Brian rightly sounded skeptical.

Justin went for a different tack to distract Brian from his faux pas. His fingers hooked through Brian's belt loops, he started to sink to his knees, dragging the trousers down with him.

As he'd guessed, Brian was once again free-balling.

Brian's breathing hitched as Justin nuzzled the sensitive skin that was exposed, but he retained the presence of mind to tease, "Floor's not new, brat." He twined the fingers of one hand in blond hair and tugged, guiding Justin back to his feet.

"Are you sure we've initiated this exact spot?" Justin pertly riposted, grinning at the older man.

That sally earned him a chuckle. "Maybe not, twat, but this particular piece of flooring can wait. Let's try out my desk, the sofa, the conference table, the-"

"-coffee table?" Justin threw in, halting the spate of words. "Your new desk chair?"

"Hmm." Brian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Sounds reasonable."

Justin backed away a few steps, Brian letting go of his blond strands with obvious reluctance, until he bumped against the desk. "Wanna start here?" he asked coyly, hastily shucking off his trousers and toeing off his shoes before kicking everything out of the way. He held his arms out to the sides, putting himself on display for his lover. "How do you want me?"

Arching an eyebrow, he made as if to lift himself onto the surface. "Me on my back?" Then he flipped around and bent over, placing his torso flat on the desk, arms akimbo and palms also on the desk. Swiveling his hips, he questioned in a throaty voice, "Or like this?"

Harsh breathing and the sound of clothes and shoes hitting the floor - one Zegna loafer flying past the desk to hit the glass bricks on the other side of the office - was all the answer he got. A few beats later, Brian was on him, hands on his wrists, pressing him into the surface.

"Fuckin' hot," Brian growled, rubbing against him.

Justin worried he was gonna combust. Geesh, you'd think he was a teenager again, ready to explode at the slightest touch.

Matters got dire moments later as Brian nipped at the skin behind his left ear - a hot spot that the brunet knew exactly how to exploit. Justin's right foot twitched in response, and he accidentally kicked Brian in the shin.

Brian chuckled. "So predictable," he breathed into Justin's ear before biting at the skin again and worrying it between his teeth.

"Chriiist," Justin groaned.

"Right here," Brian joked. "At your service."

Fucking Daphne, Justin protested in the recesses of his mind. His bestie couldn't keep her trap shut after he returned from New York and had let slip his adoration for the ‘Face of God.' It wasn't like Brian objected to the comparison, but he couldn't resist needling Justin whenever a good opportunity arose.

Any desire to retract the ‘Face of God' comment - it was way too late anyhow - vanished when Brian began dropping kisses across his shoulder blade, making his way toward his spine. Please, please, please, he silently begged his personal sex god.

Whether Brian heard him or whether that had been his plan all along, the brunet gradually made his way down Justin's spine, running his tongue around each bony protrusion before making his way to the next one.

Justin simultaneously wanted it never to end and for Brian to stop teasing and fuck him right fucking now.

It seemed like hours later when he finally reached Justin's crack. "Gah," Justin protested when those delicious lips lifted away from his skin.

Brian chuckled darkly. Removing his hands from Justin's wrists, he then gave a firm slap to one ass cheek.

"Mmm," Justin hummed in pleasure and wriggled around, soliciting another slap.

"Best ass I've ever seen," Brian rasped, smacking the same spot again before smoothing a hand over Justin's skin.

"More," Justin moaned, proud of himself for getting out an entire word.

"Fuck," Brian grunted. He spread Justin's cheeks apart and then began lapping at his hole. He got a nice rhythm going, squeezing Justin's ass in time to the strokes of his tongue.

Weird, Justin thought distantly, waves of pleasure cascading over him. How could the brunet be so good at keeping the beat like this and so lousy on the dance floor?

He soon stopped thinking as Brian's tongue circled one direction and then the other, going around and around, and leaving Justin dizzy with desire.

Brian moved one hand over until it rested next to where his tongue was swirling around his hole and stroked the damp skin, tantalizing Justin and making his skin tingle.

Every single moment was a mixture of bliss and torture. Justin's muscles clenched and released as he became desperate to capture that devilish tongue or at least a couple of fingers.

Unfortunately for him, Brian didn't seem inclined to give him either of those. He simply continued to torture him - on and on and on. When Justin tried to buck up, he lifted his head away while also pressing down on his right buttock. He waited till Justin was lying down flat again, and then resumed the same maddening, tantalizing motions.

"Bri," Justin gasped, unable to get anything else out. His body covered in a sheen of sweat, he strained to reach the finish line - like he'd been running a marathon.

Brian hmmed in response but didn't let up. Except for the occasional hum of pleasure or a slight variation in speed, nothing changed. Justin was still hanging on the precipice, waiting to tip over.

Fuck. You'd think Brian also would be getting desperate for relief. Justin could imagine his hard-on on bobbing up and down, looking for a warm place to lodge...

Brian's tongue flicked at his opening again and again and again.

Justin whined wordlessly, tears leaking out from beneath his closed eyelids. Floating, totally at Brian's mercy, he barely realized he was crying.

Then, what could've been hours, days or weeks later, Brian speared into Justin's hole with his tongue.

At the unexpected intrusion, Justin convulsed, unable to hold out any longer. Only half aware of where he was, he fruitlessly scrabbled at the smooth surface of the desk and came, spurting his seed all over the underside of the desk and onto the floor.

One final surge and he went limp, his limbs trembling.

He had no idea how long it took to come back to himself, but when he did, Brian was running a soothing hand across his back.

He must've seen his eyelids flutter because he leaned over Justin, blanketing his smaller body, and placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "So fucking gorgeous," he whispered.

Justin couldn't find his voice yet, so he hummed, "Mmm."

Self-satisfaction lacing his voice, Brian asked, "Liked that, did you?"

Brian had earned the right to be smug, Justin mused dazedly. That had been a fucking stellar rim job.

A manic edge to his voice, Brian inquired eagerly, "Ready for the next round?"

Justin wanted to reciprocate, but... "Dunno if I can get it up," he croaked, slitting an eye open to look at the brunet. Maybe he could just lie here and let Brian roger him? That hardly seemed fair - especially with the brunet's untended erection poking him in the ass - but he wasn't sure when he'd be able to move.

"You doubting my ability to get you up again?"

"Mm-mm," Justin hmmed. He meant to indicate he didn't doubt his lover - he knew better than to doubt Brian's powers - but Brian apparently took it as the opposite. 

He commanded, "Turn around."

Or it could just be that he liked a challenge.

Justin tried to comply but barely managed to prop himself up on his forearms before sliding bonelessly back down again. "S'rry," he slurred. 

"Young'uns," Brian sighed. "No stamina."

The next thing Justin knew, Brian had hooked his arms under his armpits and was dragging him to his feet. "C'mon, Sunshine. Upsy-daisy."

Justin locked his knees in place, trying to still trembling legs that weren't yet ready to hold him upright. 

Swinging Justin around, Brian propped him up against the desk and curled the blond's fingers around the edge. "Hold on," he warned as he dropped to his knees and began sucking.

"Wha?" he asked dazedly. It was supposed to be Brian's turn. His lover might be twelve years older, but it was no secret that he had incredible stamina; there was no need to prove a point. 

As Brian slurped and sucked, giving every evidence of enjoyment, Justin gave a mental shrug and decided to just go along for the ride. It wouldn't take Brian long to bring him back to life at this rate; in fact, he could already feel a stirring in his nether regions.

Indeed, he was at full mast when Brian took a final swipe a few minutes later and stood, a cocky smile on his face.

"C'mere, stud." His hands around his lover's neck, Justin tugged the brunet closer and sealed their mouths together. 

Fuck, there was nothing like tasting himself on his lover's lips, he thought a moment later, smiling into hazel eyes, Brian's erection bobbing and rubbing against his.

"Mmm," Brian husked. Leaning down, he licked up a strand of saliva that had trailed down Justin's chin before indulging in another kiss.

As they swayed, tongues twining, Justin recognized the music that was playing. "Think they wrote that just for us?" he murmured when their lips parted.

The corners of Brian's eyes crinkled in amusement. "Who else?" he asked, reworking the lyrics and singing, "Don't ever wanna stop drinking my lover's spit."

"Listen to teeth and never quit," Justin chimed in with his own modification.

"C'mon, stud." Brian shifted them around so he was the one leaning against the desk.

Pleasure bloomed in Justin's cheeks. Brian might've called him ‘stud' the first time more to reassure him than because he meant it, but over the years it had become clear that he was just as much of a stud to Brian as Brian was to him.

"Yeah, stud?" he returned.

Brian lay down, scooting back on the desk until his ass was even with the edge. Then he brought his feet up and set them flat on the surface, splaying his legs open.

Justin's mouth went dry. This was... daunting. He might fuck Brian regularly but they'd never done it like this - not on Brian's desk at Kinnetik anyway. Nonplussed, he worried at his lip, unsure how to proceed.

"Fuckin' desk is cold," Brian kvetched, rescuing Justin from his worries.

"Yeah?" He grinned mischievously. "I'll warm you up."

"Then get to-" 

Justin didn't let Brian finish. Laying his body on top of the brunet's, he claimed his mouth in a long, bruising, tongue-filled kiss. Then, standing back up, he slid open the drawer that, just like its predecessor, contained lube and condoms. He could tell Brian didn't want a lot of foreplay, that he was ready now.

"Christ, get the condom on," Brian demanded, confirming what Justin already knew.

Already rolling on the rubber and slicking it up, Justin teased, "Bossy bottom."

Brian gave him an abashed smile. "Maybe. For you."

Justin's heart lurched. He wouldn't have thought it possible to be more in love with this man, but Brian kept giving him reasons to fall deeper.

He rubbed the lube between his hands to warm it up and then coated Brian's opening, slowly inserting one finger and then another, darting quick glances at Brian to make sure he was okay.

"Get on with it," his bossy bottom ordered, pushing down on his fingers.

If it hadn't been for their bout in bed before they left the loft for his show - Brian always insisted it was the best way to dispel his nerves - Justin wouldn't have given in quite this quickly. But, Brian did feel ready.

Gently brushing the tip of one finger against Brian's prostate, he withdrew, replacing his fingers with his shaft. He glided in slowly but steadily.

"Fuck, Jus," Brian moaned.

Taking it for a command, he pulled back until only the head of his cock was inside Brian and then plunged forward into his lover.

Brian raised one leg and braced it over Justin's shoulder, the other wrapping around his waist and bringing them even closer together. His heel digging into Justin's buttocks, he urged, "Harder."

It was a good thing he'd come earlier or he'd never last. Even now, it was a near thing. He was determined not to lose control however. This was for Brian, not him. 

Skin slapping against skin, he established a smooth rhythm. In and out, in and out. In and out.

He clasped Brian's hands in his, their knuckles white as they strained against each other.

"Fuck. Jus," Brian groaned, throwing his head back, the tendons in his neck drawn taut.

Fluid splashed onto his stomach and up across his chest. His ass clamping down on Justin ensured he followed a beat later.

Justin collapsed on top of Brian, heaving in air, their skin sticking together.

A little later, having done a cursory clean-up, they were relaxing on the couch together, sharing a post-coital cigarette and snifters of bourbon.

"That was-" Justin halted, not sure how to classify what they'd just done.

"Off the charts," Brian murmured. "Our best ones always are."

Another one they'd never tell the family about, Justin mused. They might share the so-called top one hundred, all of which were hot and exciting and titillated their avid audience. But times like tonight were just for the two of them.

Not wanting to get all mushy, he grinned at his lover. "It was the most incredible fu-"

The cigarette dangling from one hand, Brian stopped him with a finger to his lips. "Sometimes," he said softly, "it's making love."