Race to the finish

Justin was eating his bowl of Grapenuts in nonfat milk at the bar in the loft’s kitchen, thinking how much better 6:30 AM felt if you made love first thing in the morning and had someone else wash your back in the shower.

Brian had asked him to live here. He could have this every morning. He could have Brian’s warm body (smelling wonderfully of hints of that Decleor lotion he put on after his showers and of his own Brian salty burnt scent) next to his, Brian's possessive arm across Justin’s chest, or his leg slipped between Justin’s, or his hand holding on loosely to Justin’s wrist, every night.

He felt he had a fairly good handle on Brian ‘The Asshole’ ‘Rage’ ‘God’ Kinney, the brilliant ad exec. He had seen Brian the Club Boy in action, had watched Brian, Gus’s Dad, play with the boy, and Brian the friend interact with the Pittsburgh contingent in mysterious ways that told of a shared past Justin did not know. Brian, his sex partner, he understood best of all, and he had been for ten days learning about Brian, his lover.

But what he knew full well was that it was only the tip of the iceberg. He was vaguely aware, from glimpses he had seen, from comments he had heard, from stories he’d been told, of a man who drank like a fish, who used and abused controlled substances, who brooded in silence and wallowed in self disgust, who denied his homosexuality when around his parents, who fucked strangers relentlessly, who said and did hurtful things just because he could.

Brian lived in a showplace that revealed nothing about him except that he indulged his taste in expensive Italian furnishings and did not like clutter. There were no photographs, no visible bookshelves, no knick-knacks or mementos of any kind in sight. All the clothes in the closet were of this season’s collection from expansive designers. No old beloved sweatshirts here, worn out jeans or t-shirt collections from college days.

Behind the man dressed for success, who just now bent to kiss the back of his neck, offered him coffee with a gesture and, once turned down, poured a massive amount of sugar directly into the carafe and started to drink from it, there was a man he did not know at all, and to deny that this man existed, to ignore him or pretend he had disappeared forever was just plain stupid. What happened when he was faced with that unknown Brian? The belligerent drunk, the insensitive, stoned Brian? The Brian who would close him out, ignore him? The Brian who would come home smelling of sex with someone else? Who might strike out at him where it hurt the most because he could? The Brian who was so unattached, or pretended to be, that nothing in his living space reminded him of anyone, or anything?

So many questions. Justin was watching Brian speculatively when he walked to a closet full of linens and towel, and from the top shelf removed three packages wrapped expertly in Christmas paper. He brought them to the bar and sat them without comment in front of Justin.

“Christmas presents? For me?”

Brian shrugged, rolling in his lips, his entire expression telling Justin not to make a fuss, that it meant nothing.

“When did you buy these?” Justin asked, nonetheless.

“Same day as all the others” Brian replied, bending down, apparently needing to retie his shoe.

So. Several weeks ago. When Justin had only been a one night stand ‘on hold’, whom Brian emphatically did not have any attachment to, and whom he had no expectation or desire of seeing again after the night of the eighteenth of December, a whole week before Christmas…

Smiling, Justin tore open the first package.

Brushes. A full set of outrageously expensive, exquisite sable brushes that any student at Pratt would die for. He stared at them in wonder before putting them down reverently and opened the second one.

Beautiful supple leather gloves, lined with soft, soft wool. He slipped one on. Brian had gotten Mikey a pair of these. It felt like a second skin, and no doubt these were much warmer than his knitted ones.

He’d kept the biggest package for last and he tore into it excitedly. A gorgeous cashmere hoody, from Christian Dior, in a blue shade that would make his eyes stand out. He immediately stripped off the old grey one he was wearing, and put his new one on. It felt like heaven, even against the bare skin of his arms that usually revolted at the touch of any wool, be it of the finest merino lamb.

Brian was collecting the torn paper, balling it tight and putting it in the compactor. He put the empty coffee carafe and Justin’s bowl and spoon in the dishwasher.

He picked up the phone, called a cab, and after hanging up, finally looked at Justin.

“Ready? We should go down, the cab will be here any minute…”

“Brian?”

“What?”

“Can you come closer?” Justin was still sitting on the bar stool, which was tall enough that it compensated for their difference in height.

With a last look at the door, and, no doubt, an argument on his lips, Brian seemed to realize the futility of fighting Justin and came to stand in front of him.

Justin softly kissed his lips, his hand behind his neck, and kissed them again, for good measure.

“I know it sounds cliché, but I fell in love with you the first time I saw you. I painted “The face of God” the next day. You were so beautiful, and I was so scared of you, but I hoped so much that you would let me love you. Did you feel it, when you saw the painting? My yearning for you?” Brian looked taken aback, probably because he hadn’t known “The Face of God” was about him, but nodded. “I thought so. No one else does, Brian. Everyone else sees the beauty and feels the threat, but no one else feels my love for you in it. I cannot hide these things from you. I cannot hide from you at all.”

Brian’s eyes had been on his lips as he spoke, on the locks of hair on his forehead. Now he looked into his eyes, and Justin went on.

“You have been wanting to give me these ever since we came back, I think,” he said. “You were excited to see my reaction as I opened them, even though you ignored me the whole time, and you want to hear how much I like them, though you pretend not to care one way or the other.” Brian looked away. Justin touched his cheek until Brian was looking at him once more. “Please don’t hide from me, Brian. Let me see you. Let me love you.”

Brian rolled in his lips and closed his eyes for a few seconds. Then he opened them again, took a deep breath.

“That color looks as good on you as I’d hoped, Sunshine. It’s a hoody, just like you always wear… I got the gloves because I thought how hard it is to get cold fingers to move, how clumsy they are, and I want you to be able to paint without having to wait for them to thaw, and I don’t know anything about art supplies, but as expensive as these were, I thought for sure they must be good brushes, and I knew you could not afford them.”

Justin smiled at him gratefully. “I have drooled over brushes like these for years. They’re fantastic. I’m painting a portrait right now, that I’m really excited about, and I cannot wait to try them. The gloves are fabulous. I hate having cold hands and since I was bashed, my right hand aches in the cold and takes twice as long as the left one to warm up. But my favorite is this hoody. It’s so soft. The color is gorgeous, and I can feel how warm it is, though it’s so light. I didn’t even know they made hoodies like this. I might never take it off it feels so good on. I love my gifts, Brian. Thank you. I love that you chose them so carefully, and I love you.”

Brian smiled and kissed him, gently because Justin’s lip was tender, but it was an amazing kiss all the same. Brian’s phone vibrated between their bodies. The cab was here. They parted, and Justin came down from the tall stool. He grabbed his jacket and his new gloves, and they went downstairs.

In the cab, Brian held Justin in a warm embrace. They rode in silence for a while. Then, Brian whispered in his hair, hardly loud enough to be heard, “It’s not easy, Sunshine. I’ve given you the power to break me. A small part of me wants it back, wants to hurt you first, and so badly you’ll leave, just so I can feel safe again. The rest of me… the rest of me would rather die than lose you.”

Justin wondered how hard it would be, after a lifetime of being impervious, to suddenly feel vulnerable. There were so many ways Justin could hurt him, not only by his actions, but by just existing. He could have been raped in that damn elevator. He could betray Brian’s trust. He could walk away.

“Do you still want me to move in, Brian?”

“Yes.” No hesitation.

“There is so much about you I don’t know. What should I do, if I move in, when the Brian Kinney I don’t know comes knocking?”

“You deal with it, Sunshine. Why should I be only one taking a chance?” He kissed Justin’s hair.

“Then it’s all good, Brian. Because I left a message on Rory’s cell phone this morning before I had breakfast, telling him that if he wants it, his brother can have my bed permanently.”

Brian was quiet for a second, worrying him, and then, tightening his embrace, started laughing, and Justin joined him happily, though with a slight edge of hysteria. God. They were nuts. There was so much that could go wrong, so many things they should have discussed first.

“It will be all right, Justin,” said Brian, as if he could sense his misgivings. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

Justin wished they had more time to talk, but the cab pulled up in front of Plexus. There were about thirty hours left before they had to get the commercial to CBS if it was to take its allotted slot in the line up during the Rose Bowl’s half time break, and there was still so much to do. They smiled at each other, and went in.

They were amongst the first one there. Chris was about to start matching the music mix to the images already “in the can”, but before joining him, Justin went to Erica’s transformed makeup room to see Brandon’s ‘changing room’ set.

It was great, cliché all the way, including the Japanese screen with The Nutcracker’s costumes thrown over the top, the large bouquet of red roses, and the mostly obstructed mirror. Taped on, or wedged under the frame, were all the sketches Justin had made of Brandon dancing and of his Russian ballet teacher. His profile, the portrait where he looked amused, the drawing of him sitting on the couch laughing and the older sketch of him as the Club Boy had been framed and hung on the wall. It looked really cool.

There were Clearlife supplements, boxes opened, and a half bottle of Clearlife vitamin water with BRANDON written on it in indelible marker on the makeup table. It gave the impression that so many of the dancers used Clearlife products that they had to label the bottles with their names not to mix them up.

“Can you think of anything else?” asked Brian.

“No,” said Justin. “It looks good. His name on the bottle is a great touch.”

The way Brian smiled, Justin realized it had been his idea.

“I’m going to check out what Chris is doing,” said Justin. “Film editing is really cool.” They smiled at each other before he left.

Chris was busy, but had no problems doing a running commentary of everything he was doing and why, as he went about adding the music to the images they had selected the previous night. It was a tight mix of the trademark Clearlife theme, simple piano music, and Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker, not an easy thing to pull off. They had changed the tones and rhythm to give all three some coherence while still keeping their distinctive features. They were using a sped up, rhythm enhanced version of the Clearlife theme for the workout sequences. Justin started laughing.

“What?” said Chris.

“Sorry. I just now paid attention to the workout takes. Brandon’s workout Buddy is Brian Kinney.”

“Really?”

Chris replayed the run/ high five/ walk away sequence. “Yeah.” He chuckled. “I think you’re right. You never see his face though, so it’s hard to be sure.”

Justin did not need the face. He knew that body, definitely recognized that ass, as Brandon and Brian were filmed walking away.

“The lighting makes it look like he has a huge boner while he’s running,” said Chris, cracking up.

Justin smirked. Lighting, my ass. Brandon was laughing on the take, even though they were running all out. Justin wondered what they had been talking about that could have been both so arousing to Brian and so funny to Brandon.

Chris was still tying the music to that bit when Brandon and Jessica walked in. She stopped to talk to Erica, and Brandon came to look over their shoulders. Seeing the sequence with the music added, Brandon said, “This is really cool! Man, we really look as if we’ve been running for an hour, you know?” Chris got up to plug in the big screen now that people were arriving, so they could observe without crowding him.

Brandon took advantage of his departure to say in Justin’s ear, “And that boner is Brian thinking about the taste of your ass, Justin. That’s why I’m laughing. All it took was Erica mentioning that fake sweat didn’t smell. How he made the leap from fake sweat to eating your ass is anyone’s guess.” He chuckled and walked away, leaving behind a crimson-faced Justin.

Chris and he were still working when new footage starting arriving, sent through the ethernet by Spaz, in the makeup room. The amount of material was overwhelming to Justin. Only a few bits stuck in his mind.

There was a small take of Jessica, in full dance teacher regalia, saying: “Brrrandon is always a flirrrt. The firrrst time I meet him,” there, she looked away from the camera dreamily, shaking her head a little with a wistful smile, “it seems like only yesterrrday,” she looked back at the camera, “the firrrst thing he says to me: You cerrrtainly arrre a most beautiful woman. Can you believe it? What a flirrrt!”

Justin cracked up. The way she said it, it sounded as if Brandon must have been thirteen or fourteen at the time, when indeed it was only yesterday. She was amazing.

Then footage of Brandon, in his Nutcracker costume, the makeup had run a little bit, as if he just came off the performance. “My mother danced in the Chicago ballet. It’s in my blood. It is what I always wanted to do. I’ve been dancing in Pittsburgh for three years. I love it. I am one of a lucky few; I am living my dream. If I take care of myself, I can continue to do so for years to come.” He had made a subtle gesture toward the makeup table, cuing the shot of the supplements.

In the next shot that stayed with Justin, his makeup was removed, and he was taking off his costume top, as if completely unaware of being filmed during some casual conversation, his perfect torso casually displayed. “It’s the quest for perfection that keeps dancers going. It can always be higher, better, more graceful. You never stop trying.”

The last shot that came through was of him leaving the room, looking Brandon-hot in tight jeans and a leather jacket, grabbing the vitamin water bottle on his way out.

Chris went to work scraping almost ten seconds off of yesterday’s ‘Finalized’ version when he realized how well the ‘quest for perfection’ bit matched the footage of the practice session, with Jessica saying, “Nonononono, Brandon!” and then her smiling at the next Jete, colorized, matched then to the colorized jete on stage. “You never stop trying” was inserted behind the fouette en tournant and its constant changes from practice to stage to practice to stage, the continuous color changes suggesting different days, and constant striving for improvement.

Justin was blown away. Chris was amazing, remembering dozens of sequences, and picking the exact one to best match what his vision was. Adam arrived, looked at what he was doing and laughed. “That’s exactly what I was coming to tell you to do.”

Brian came up and sat down with them, making suggestions that would further plug in the product, which was after all the goal of the whole thing. Jessica and Brandon had come up with him. She had returned to the spot she’d occupied the night before, but Brandon was standing, staring out the window looking down on Madison Avenue, seeming a bit unhappy. Justin got up and went to stand next to him, wondering what had caused his change in mood.

“Hey! The interview is really good, Brandon. They are re-cutting almost the whole thing to fit your words.”

“That’s great,” Brandon said, looking at him with a forced smile, his eyes full of pain.

“Brandon, what’s up?” asked Justin, concerned.

“Nothing… Everything… Fuck. Can we take a walk?”

“Sure. Let’s go down to the lobby.”

They walked to the elevators, Brandon looking dejected. On the way down, he hid his face in his hands for a moment, then rubbed it up and down with his palms before combing his hair back with his fingers, taking a deep breath and giving Justin a weak smile.

In the lobby, they went to sit on one of the couches in a sitting area, which was almost never used.

“I tried to call Daphne,” said Brandon, “but she’s not answering.” He looked at Justin. “And talking to you… God, can I talk to you, Justin? Even if it makes you uncomfortable for a minute, even though I said I wouldn’t hint at how I feel about you anymore?”

“Will it help?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Go for it.”

“I like Brian. He is a great guy. I think he and I are becoming friends. I can totally see what you see in him, aside from the obvious, and I was fine with it, really fine, until…”

“Until?”

“God, Justin. Now I’m so fucking jealous of him. After the interview… Fuck. You fucked him, didn’t you. Last night, maybe even this morning? You fucked him. When he was getting up from the chair after the interview, he flinched and then smiled to himself. He flinched because his ass is hurting. Because you fucked him. He’s just like me, isn’t he? Mr. Brutal Top who never, ever bottoms, but cannot get enough of your cock up his ass.”

It was true. That morning, before the alarm went off, Brian, who had been spooning him, had whispered in ear, “Wake up, Justin. Wake up and fuck me.” Nibbling on his neck and shoulders he had lightly stroked Justin’s morning erection before unrolling a condom on it. Justin had smiled and had suddenly felt very wide-awake.

He had rolled into Brian’s hold to face him and kiss him, reminded by a twinge not to overdo the kissing, that his lip was still healing. Kneeling between Brian’s knees, smiling at him, he had taken his time preparing him, pleasing him along the way by caressing his prostate, rolling his balls, and bending down to suck on the tip of his cock.

Justin had slicked the condom with lube and added some at Brian's entrance. Putting Brian's ankles on his shoulders, he had pushed himself inside his tight warm hole slowly, gently, caressing Brian’s thighs encouragingly, running a loving hand on his perfect stomach, telling him, “You look so hot, Brian… you feel so fucking good… your ass is so tight… feels so warm… God, your ass was made for my cock.” Brian had let out the most arousing moan as Justin had gone as deep as he could go, and had started moving.

He loved the feeling of Brian’s hole as it squeezed the head of his cock when he came almost all the way out and then pushed back in fast and deep. He had fucked him long and hard, their fingers interlaced, looking at each other, Brian’s cock twitching and leaking on his belly, the ridge of Justin’s large cock head caressing Brian’s prostate with every stroke, until Brian had said, his voice beautifully deep in his arousal, “Justin, Justin, here I come…” and he had, completely untouched, just from Justin’s cock in his ass. The thought of it had been too much, and Justin, pushing his cock all the way in one last time, had come with a guttural cry.

Brandon was pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t mind that he fucks you. I mean I don’t dwell on it, obviously, but I don’t mind. But that you fuck him… Justin, I want you to be fucking me, not him. You were so… loving when you fucked me, so gentle. I can still feel your hands caressing my back, your lips kissing my spine as you pushed inside. And when you moved, it was so fucking good, so, so good, after hating it so much when I was a kid.

“I actually thought that maybe, now that I was older, I’d acquired a taste for it. I took this guy home, Marvin. He is a top, older, experienced, and I told him, ‘Take it slow, be sweet, make it good’. And he did take it slow and he was sweet and patient and warm and I fucking hated it, just like when I was younger.”

He got up and paced back and forth a couple of time.

“And then your drawings, Justin. All those drawing you did of me. You make me look so beautiful. I can tell how much you fucking care about me, I can see it in those drawings, and if it weren’t for Brian Fucking Kinney, you might even... But he walks in the room, like he did just now, and though there were fifty people coming in and out that door, you know it’s him. And you turn around, and your eyes meet and you glow, like somebody just lit a candle inside of you. And I’m so fucking jealous…”

Brandon looked at Justin, with so much love and sorrow it took Justin’s breath away. He sat down again, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. Justin got up and knelt in front of him, taking him in his arms. Brandon hugged him back, tightly, as Justin’s hand made slow circles between Brandon’s shoulder blades. And that’s how Brian found them, when he came looking for Brandon who was needed for a voice over.

He stopped in his tracks and took in the scene, his jaw tight. Then Justin caught his eye and stared at him, not moving, until he was sure Brian understood exactly what was going on. Brian walked over and after a second of hesitation, he squeezed Brandon’s shoulder. Brandon looked up, horrified, and got to his feet immediately. He started apologizing.

“I’m sorry Brian, it’s my fault, it’s not how it looks…”

“Oh,” Brian said, interrupting. “So Justin wasn’t comforting you because you are upset about something?” He raised his eyebrows. “What was it, then?”

Brandon just looked at him and after a few seconds, started laughing. He ran his hand through his long blond hair, and said, “Ok, then. It’s exactly how it looks.”

“Don’t be an ass, Brandon. I know Justin is your friend. He cares about you.” Brian smirked. “But he‘s a little touchy feely, isn’t he? Tell him your woes and next thing you know, he gets all huggy on your ass… If you want a little more manly restraint in your listener’s response, I’m available. And I can promise you, you’ll get no fucking hugs from me…“

Brandon was chuckling, looking relieved, and Justin thought Brandon was realizing he still liked Brian a lot.

“Now, both of you are needed upstairs for work. You know, that pesky obligation for which we get paid a huge chunk of cash?”

“Speak for Brandon and yourself,” complained Justin. “Mine is more in the realm of smallish chunk of cash."

“Interesting,” said Brian. “I’d not realized they calibrated the size of our checks to the size of our dicks.”

Brandon burst out laughing.

“Pay back will be forthcoming for that cheap shot, Mr. Kinney, sir. And, I may add, it will be painful,” promised Justin.

*****

Steve had Brandon repeat, “You never stop trying,” what seemed like a hundred times, in different intonations, until he got exactly what he wanted. He and Chris sat together and worked, Chris’s fingers flying on the keyboard.

Steve got a “five, six, seven-eight…” out of Jessica, coached by Brandon to get the right rhythm, and changed it’s speed until it matched the images perfectly.

They broke for lunch for an hour. Brian and Justin took a cab to the Police station, Brian scribbling something on a legal pad the whole way. Officer Hamill was there, and gave Justin his deposition to read and sign, and was very impressed when Brian dictated his extremely detailed testimony from what he’d written in the cab.

Phil would be charged with drunk and disorderly, illegal entry, aggravated assault (the simple assault becoming aggravated because of its homophobic motivation), attempted rape, reckless endangerment (for blocking the means of egress of the people present at Plexus at the time), assault (on Dwayne), and, really scraping the bottom of the barrel, behavior unbecoming an officer of the court (since he was, after all, an attorney). The district attorney expected he would get three to five years, and would push to lock in the maximum.

In the cab on the way back, Brian asked Justin how he felt about it. Justin answered honestly, “I don’t care all that much. I put him in the hospital. I’d be fine with that, if they could guarantee I never saw him again… But I guess it’s a nice step up from five hundred hours of community service for trying to kill me and fucking up my right hand for life…”

Brian was holding him, and kissing his temple. Justin took a deep breath, and let it out, and with it any concern about the entire episode. He had a life to live.

The lunch break seemed to have gotten everyone’s creative juices flowing. They decided the piano music was a distraction, and removed the shot of the grade school teacher-looking extra playing it, gaining a second and a half. Instead, they added what sounded like an old fashioned tape recording of The Nutcracker with clicks to denote when ‘play’ was pressed, giving the impression Jessica was turning it on and off. That way they only had two different tunes to mesh together, and it sounded a lot better.

There were about twelve people sitting in the room now, following the progress on the big screen. Some of them, like Erica, Spaz, or Justin really didn’t have much reason to be there, but it had been a team effort, and they all wanted to see it through. Time seemed to skip forward every time Justin looked at the clock. Only twenty-six hours left when the feed had started coming in from the makeup room, only twenty-two hours left when they scrapped the ten seconds, only nineteen hours when they removed the piano…

He was drawing random images on the sketchpad on his lap, and his mind would wander a bit, but the sound engineer, the editor, the director and Brian were intently focused. There were debates about shots, when Justin had thought the choices that had been made were immutable, but Brian did not want more than four seconds to go by without some reminder of the product either through the sound, or through the images.

They added flashes, so quick that one hardly noticed them but that apparently the brain registered, of Brandon drinking the Energy drink, of the open boxes of supplements, of the vitamin water at the foot of the workout machine.

They cut down the last ballet sequence, originally of seven seconds, first to five, then to four seconds, Brandon making them rethink their choice to a different four seconds that was more action packed than the four seconds they had left, cut from the original seven they had chosen.

During that sequence, at Justin’s suggestion, they ended up colorizing his costume the turquoise of the Clearlife logo and containers, another subtle reminder of the product. Brian smiled at him. Almost hidden in the sound tract was Jessica’s comment “He is… Poetrrry in Motion…”

It was amazing how much attention was paid to the smallest detail. They had Jessica back in costume, because they loved the graceful hand movements complementing her Flirt speech, but didn’t want her diamond ring in it. Instead, they borrowed rings from Erica, and one from Spaz, and a couple of bracelets, and reshot just her hand, moving up in the air, a ring on each finger, the bracelets clinking together. They added the rings digitally to the only other shot of her, during practice, that showed that same hand.

They digitally darkened Brian’s hair a couple of shades, and lightened Brandon just a bit during the workout scenes, increasing the contrast between them.

Finally, weirdest of all, they asked Brandon if he was ticklish (his ribs were) and had Erica, who volunteered loudly and excitedly, tickle him while they filmed a close up of his laughing face, and taped his laughter. They spliced a quarter of a second of his real face while he laughed, with the expression that best matched Justin’s drawing, inside the second where they showed the framed picture of him laughing, sitting on the couch. The digitalized sound of his laughter, hardly loud enough to be noticed was added in the background of the whole second, as well as in several other places: Jessica’s flirt speech, the running scene, and the final view of him leaving his changing room. Each second of sound had several layers, each sequence of images had two foci, one of them a Clearlife product. It was truly fascinating to witness.

When the two-minute commercial was finished, with thirteen hours to go, they played and replayed it about twelve times before calling it good. It was 11:00PM. The day had just flown by, and everybody was still there.

A break was declared, and a few people actually left for home, including Jessica. Brandon went to the lobby with Erica to accompany her, but would be returning, just as fascinated as Justin by the whole process.

The technical team would not stop until the thirty-second commercial was finalized as well. Thirteen hours was plenty of time, but none of them felt they could sleep comfortably knowing the noon CBS deadline was non-negotiable.

Justin and Brian were getting water bottles from the buffet that had once again been set up at the back of the room, when Justin became aware of Brian’s arousal, through nothing more than his eyes, as they commented on the complex process of finalizing the project.

Justin said, casually, “I am going to walk up the stairs one floor now, and go to your office. I’m going to remove my pants and underwear and bend over the back of your couch,” and he just left.

He ran up the stairs, getting hard in anticipation, and once in Brian’s office, did just what he’d said, deciding at the last minute to keep his socks on before bending down and fingering himself with lube.

When the door slammed shut and the lock went on, he looked over his shoulder at Brian, who had stopped, apparently hypnotized by the sight of Justin’s finger sliding in and out of his ass.

“Fuck, Justin… You look so hot.”

Justin smiled at him. His lip was much better, there was not even a twinge. In three steps, Brian was behind him, taking down his pants. He rolled on a condom and lubed it, still mesmerized by the motion of Justin’s finger.

He looked at Justin. “I am going to fuck you hard,” he warned.

Justin’s cock jumped in approval. “Yes, please,” said Justin. He stopped fingering himself and concentrated on relaxing for Brian cock. Brian was massaging Justin's cheeks, then running the head of his cock up and down his crack.

“Ready?” he asked.

“For you, always,” said Justin, meaning it.

The head of Brian’s cock breached him, and slid in, slowly but relentlessly, filling him, stretching him. God, it was so good. When he was in all the way, one of his hands grabbed Justin’s left hip, and the other came to rest at the base of his neck, on his right shoulder.

Justin tightened around him and Brian growled as he started to move, fast, deep and hard. Justin took his cock in his slicked hand and let the force of Brian’s thrusts move his cock inside his fist. This was the hardest he’s ever been fucked, and he started seeing stars each time Brian’s cock stroked his prostate. Brian’s grunts, the sound of his hips slapping against Justin’s ass, Justin’s own involuntary cries were incredibly arousing. He could feel Brian’s balls bouncing against him, Brian’s fingers pressing into his flesh, the ridges of his own fingers along his cock, Brian's thick cock stretching him, and he felt the room spin around him it was so good. His whole body was shaking, overwhelmed, having apparently forgotten how to conclude the pleasure attack on his senses, teetering at the edge, removing all coherent thought. It wasn’t until Brian stilled, deep inside him, his cock pulsing that Justin’s orgasm hit him like a shock wave, his come hitting the leather of the couch so hard it sounded like handfuls of pebbles.

He rested his cheek on the couch, and Brian collapsed on top of him, breathing hard in the crook of his neck, his heart beat and Justin’s both resonating in Justin’s ribcage.

“God, Justin… I love fucking you. I love it.” Then Brian laughed. “I can’t move.”

Justin laughed too. “I can’t move either. And not just because you’re on top of me… I can hardly blink…”

They both laughed again. Finally, Brian pushed himself up, and Justin took a deep breath, his chest no longer crushed. He pushed himself up too, Brian’s arms coming around him and holding him, kissing behind his ear.

“I loved the socks,” he said.

Justin turned in his arms and said with a smile, “My lip is better,” and the kiss was heaven. Finally, Justin backed up a little and said, “Go back. I’ll stay a while longer.”

Smiling at him the whole time, Brian put himself back together. “Later,” he said.

“Later,” agreed Justin.

After Brian left, he put his underwear, pants and boots back on and went into Brian’s private bathroom to get a washcloth and clean the back of the couch.

While he was erasing the evidence, his phone gave a short vibration, signaling a message. He wondered who could have called this late at night. After throwing the washcloth in the small laundry bin, he checked his phone. The call had come at 11:17PM, from Todd. Wow. It seemed a lifetime ago since he’d given Todd his number, though it was only a couple of weeks.

He decided to return the call, but first took the elevator back to the lobby. Taylor had no excuse whatsoever for loitering in Mr. Kinney’s office.

Todd answered after a couple of rings.

“Hey! Justin! Thanks for calling back.”

“Todd. What’s up?”

“I’m bored. I’m babysitting again. I thought since you were on vacation, maybe you’d be up. You’re still in Pittsburgh, right?”

“No. Actually, I’m in New York. I got a permanent position in the firm where I was interning, and there’s been kind of an emergency, so I came back and we’ve been working a lot. I’m calling you from there, actually. We're taking a break.”

Justin was pretty sure the break was over, but it didn’t really matter, he was not really needed.

“Are you going to be here for New Year's? Do you want to go to Essengy?”

“Uh… Todd. I’m dating someone.”

“You are? Oh. Wow. That was…quick.”

“It’s kind of a long story. He’s from Pittsburgh as well. And he’s my boss. Shit. That sounds bad. We couldn’t date before, because he was my boss, but then we met up in Pittsburgh, after my internship was over, totally by chance, and well… They wanted me back at work, but we didn’t think I could work here because of the no-fraternization thing that had kept us from going out in the first place, but apparently it doesn’t apply to pre-existing relationships, so they hired me back, and… well, we’re together now.”

“OK.”

“Sorry. Too much information?”

“No. I’m just a little…bummed, I guess. I thought we hit it off.”

“We did, but…”

“Yeah. Anyway. So…”

“Todd? Listen. Brian and I are going to Essengy for New Year's. We have this friend here with us, also from Pittsburgh, and he really wants to go, so all three of us are going. I didn’t mention it before, because it’s another long boring story, but I have a lifetime membership there, which is why I can afford to go so often. It includes a guest. Brian has a VIP membership, and can bring a guest too. You could come with us. New Year's is what? $150.00? Save yourself some money.”

“It’s $200.00, actually. I would have only sprung it because I knew you liked it there, otherwise I wouldn’t spend that kind of cash.”

“Well? Do you want to come?”

“Are you trying to set me up with your friend or something?”

“No, no, I swear. Believe me: He doesn’t need any setting up, he can take care of himself. I just thought, I mean, we’re going, right? You could come along. You don’t even have to stick with us once we get there, though it’d be really nice to see you again. What do you say?”

“What the hell. Why not? I don’t have any other plans. And I’m curious about that boss of yours.” He laughed. “My boss is like, sixty and bald. That’s who I pictured you with when you said you’re dating your boss. Please tell me I’m wrong.”

“Brian’s fifty-seven with a comb-over…” Justin couldn’t keep it up. He had to laugh. “No. He’s gorgeous, thirty something, and I’m so in love with him, it’s ridiculous.”

“Phew!” Todd cracked up. “You scared me for a second. Where do we meet?”

“How about I call you back with the details. We don’t have a plan yet.”

“OK.”

“Hey, sorry to abandon you to your babysitting, but I got to go back and check if I’m needed. I’ll talk to you soon, OK?”

“Yeah. Bye, Justin.”

Justin rode the elevator back up to the Art Department, smiling to himself. Todd was nice. It was good to be able to save him some money. Fifty-seven with a comb-over. He laughed to himself.

In the Art Department, everyone was back at work. Brandon was at the buffet, eating grapes. Justin joined him.

“What are you smiling about?” asked Brandon.

“I spent the break talking to my friend Todd.” A white lie, but the last thing Brandon needed was to think about Brian and him together. This was a good explanation for his absence.

“Yeah?”

“He is a true New Yorker. His whole family is in the Bronx. Get this: He has never been out of New York state… He’s babysitting his nieces, so he’s up and bored. Anyway, he’s saving his money to buy a place, and he was planning on going to Essengy for New Year’s, so I told him we were going, and offered to take him for free as my guest. You’ll be going as Brian’s. He has a VIP membership. Todd made me laugh. When I told him I was going out with my boss, he pictured his sixty year old bald boss. So I told him Brian was fifty-seven with a comb-over.”

Brandon cracked up. “Oh, Brian would love that! Did you tell him the truth?”

“Yes, I did. I couldn’t stay serious. It'll be nice to see him. He really likes dancing. He has this hip swivel thing going that’s sexy as hell.”

“Oh, yeah? Is he hot?”

“Yes, he is. I mean he’s like, normal human hot. Not God like hot, like you and Brian.”

“God like hot?” Brandon laughed.

“As if you didn’t know…” said Justin, grinning. “Todd is probably six foot tall, with a really nice body. He works with paraplegics. He does a lot of lifting them in and out of bed, out of chairs and stuff. He has a nice smile, with really nice teeth, really white, and short dark hair, curly. Well, at least you can tell that if it ever got long it would be all curly, you know what I mean? And he looks tanned. But I think that’s just his normal skin color. I forget what you call it.”

“Olive,” supplied Brandon.

“Which is why I forget, because it makes no sense whatsoever. Olives are green, or black. He is neither. He’s tanned.”

Brandon chuckled. “What does he do with paraplegics?”

“He's a physical therapist. I think he helps them get the maximum out of whatever movement they have left, helps them adjust when they first get hurt.”

“That must be intense.”

“I think so. It’s probably half physical therapy, half psychology.”

Their attention went back to the screen. There was an intense discussion about what to cut and what to keep between Adam and Brian.

“You guys have got to decide. We can’t keep both as they are and we can’t cut them any shorter, neither would make any sense,” insisted Chris.

Brian wanted to keep “If I take care of myself” with Brandon’s gesture towards the table, and “I can continue to do so for years to come” with the camera on the supplements. Adam was defending “You never stop trying” with the Fouette en tournant, saying that it was gorgeous, and though it didn’t plug the product, it would stay in people’s minds and increase their retention of the whole commercial’s message.

Justin hated to admit it, but he agreed with Adam. He knew that in the end, it was Brian’s decision, but so far, Brian had not pulled that card, just trying to convince Adam, which showed how much he respected the man. Brian turned to Sam.

“Sam? What do you think?”

“It’s a toss up.”

“Spaz?”

“The fouette is great, but for product plug, it doesn’t get better than that ‘If I take care of myself’ bit.” He shrugged.

“Phil?”

“It’s the longest shot on the product. Very good plug.”

“Chris?”

“Don’t ask me, man. I just cut and paste.”

“Bullshit. What do you think?”

“The fouette.”

“Steve?”

“Both are excellent sound bites. From my point of view, it doesn’t matter.”

“Taylor?”

Fuck. “I agree with Adam. Visually, the fouette will stay in people’s mind. Following as it is the image of Brandon and his workout buddy with their Clearlife towels and their Clearlife drinks, and just before the shot of Brandon grabbing his Clearlife bottle as he leaves, the dance sequence is kind of a nice break actually, so people don’t feel you’re shoving Clearlife down their throat, and it will spark their imagination.”

Brian sighed. “OK, fine. The majority wins. We keep the fouette.”

Adam couldn’t hide his satisfaction. “Yes!” he said, emphasizing the word with his fist.

Brian laughed. “If you felt that strongly about it, you should have just said something,” he joked.

Adam let out a bark of laughter, considering they had been arguing vehemently about it for over ten minutes. “Oh, OK. Next time I’ll make sure to express my opinion.”

It was late, and everyone had been expecting ‘The Asshole’ to pull rank very soon, so there was general laughter at the relief of tension.

“Do you think he’s pissed at you for not supporting him?” asked Brandon, curious.

“I hope not. I think he was genuinely asking my opinion. I gave it.” Justin smirked. “If he just wants me to kiss his ass, he should wait until we get home.”

Brandon burst out laughing, and a couple of people turned around. Once he calmed down, he said, “Thanks, Justin.”

“What for?”

Brandon shrugged. “For not walking on eggshells around me after earlier. I appreciate it.”

Justin smiled at him and then yawned an enormous yawn, making Brandon laugh again. It was almost one. Eleven hours to go, twelve seconds of the commercial to lock in. He was tired and wanted to go home.

“Brandon? Are you going to stick around till the bitter end?”

“Yeah. It’s fascinating, and I’ll probably never get to be part of something like that again.”

“I’m going to go. I'm really tired. See you tomorrow.”

“See you, Justin. Good night.”

Justin walked toward the elevators and once out of sight, called Brian’s cell.

“Kinney.”

“Hey. I’m bushed. Do you have any major objection to my heading home?”

“None.”

“You’re not pissed that I gave my opinion, right? I figured if you asked, you wanted to know.”

“Absolutely”

“Thought so. How much longer do you think it will take?

“Two or three hours.”

“You are an amazing fuck. I had a totally mind blowing orgasm earlier. I love the feel of your cock inside me. I could feel you pulse in my heat when you came.”

“…”

“It was so good, I’m getting hard just thinking about it. I’m taking out my cock right now and playing with myself. Hmmm. I know how much you like watching when I jerk off. The head of my cock is moving in and out of my slick fist. It feels gooood. Not as good as when I’m in your ass though. When the head of my cock runs over your sweet spot again and again…”

“This…” Brian cleared his throat. His voice had sounded a little funny. “This is regarding my mention of the firm’s pay scale, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Well done.”

“Thank you. See you at home.”

Justin closed his phone, chuckling.

*****

It felt as if he had been asleep for hours when Brian’s body molded itself against his, and Brian kissed his neck.

“Done?” he asked sleepily.

“All done.”

“zit ‘ny good?”

“It’s great. Better than Raines.”

“Good” and Justin was asleep again.

To be continued...