Chapter 5 - Come As You Are

Brian was waiting for Justin in the foyer with Mr. and Mrs. Dennison, wondering why it was taking the kid so long to come down from their room. It was almost time for all of them to head into the Banquet Room for the rehearsal dinner and, as far as Brian was concerned, the sooner the dog and pony show was over, the better. He was starting to worry a bit at how tardy Justin was, and was just about to head upstairs to find him, when the young man in question started to make his way down the ostentatious staircase.

Despite Brian’s inherent understanding that Justin was a little different than most other people, he still wasn’t prepared for the sight of his delinquent date’s choice of dinner attire. To start with, Justin was, of course, shoeless, That, in and of itself, wasn’t so bad. Brian could even deal with the rather tight, cock-defining black leather pants that hugged Justin’s obviously well proportioned package and showed off his perky bubble butt to excellent advantage. But what he wasn’t prepared for was the barely there, two-sizes-too-small, indigo button down shirt woven with shimmering threads, which in the bright light of the huge chandelier that hung over the staircase was almost completely see through. Brian could definitely see the definition of the boy’s pecs and the dusky colored nipples that peaked through the thin material.

Justin himself was undeniably aware that his clothing was a little on the risque side, since he was trying to cover his nipples with the palms of his hands as he minced his way down the stairs in the overly tight pants. Unfortunately, none of this helped Justin to keep his balance, and as he neared the bottom of the stairs he tripped and unceremoniously tumbled the rest of the way down. Brian sprang forward to help him up with the assistance of Alfred the Butler and another guest that Brian hadn’t yet been introduced to.

The Dennisons, trying to be polite hosts, averted their eyes and said nothing about the ensemble or the kid’s baseball slide to the floor. Luckily, one of the maids entered right at that moment and announced that dinner was served. Everyone pulled their attention from the more than mortified boy and filed their way into the Banquet Room to take their seats.

“Justin, are you okay?” Brian asked with concern as he noticed that the blue eyes were welling up with unshed tears.

Brian quickly checked the kid over for open wounds or broken bones but didn't find any serious injury. Normally, Brian Kinney wouldn't have acted so solicitous, especially not towards someone who'd just made a total fool of himself - in front of a potential client no less. On top of that, they hadn’t even known each other for a full twenty-four hours. But there was just something about this kid that made Brian act uncharacteristically protective.

And the weirdest part was that they hadn't done anything more than share that one chaste kiss before they showered earlier in the day. After that, Justin had reverted to his usual shy self, and Brian had respected the kid’s space. Yeah, they had both lain down together in the same bed with Brian taking a nap while the kid doodled in his sketchbook, but other than the kid snuggling up against Brian's side, nothing had happened. So, why it was that Brian felt so enthralled over the silly little twat was a complete mystery to him.

“I'm okay, Just Brian. I'm just . . . I just don't know how to pretend right, I guess. I-I’ve never been anywhere and this place and these people - they're so fancy. I don't know how to act around them. And these clothes you borrowed for me . . . They don't seem to fit right, Just Brian. I don't want to mess up your plan though . . .”

“Shhhh. It's okay, Justin. I know you're doing your best,” Brian rose to his feet and pulled Justin up with him. “About the clothes - we didn't have time last night to get you anything better, and right now I'm afraid I can't afford to go out and buy you something more appropriate, but we’ll figure something out. Okay? In the meantime, try not to worry so much because even though the outfit isn’t quite right for this affair you are stunning. Just be yourself and don't let all the ‘fancy’ people intimidate you. Remember, for this weekend, you're the artist boyfriend of a really gorgeous, super-successful advertising genius. None of these other losers can say that, so you're already way cooler than them right from the start! Just go in there, walk straight and tall, with your head held high like you belong here.”

Justin sniffled a little but nodded his head, squared his shoulders and let Brian pull his shirt straight. When he was as presentable as he was gonna get considering his choice of apparel, Brian placed Justin’s hand into the crook of his arm and led him into the large dining hall where the evening’s events were supposed to take place. Most of the guests had already arrived and were seated around a huge table that appeared to seat at least twenty, if not more. Alfred gingerly showed them to a pair of vacant seats on the far side of the table just a few seats down from the head of the table where Dennison was holding court. Simone was seated at Adam’s right hand. To her right was a young man that Brian hadn’t yet been introduced to, but judging from the resemblance, Brian figured that was probably the Dennison’s son, Marvin.

Brian nodded affably to his hosts as he politely pulled out Justin’s chair for the boy and then assumed his own seat. No sooner was he seated though, when the man sitting next to Marvin, uttered a strangled little squeak and promptly began to choke on the sip of champagne he’d just taken. The coughing and sputtering of course drew everyone’s attention to the gasping Groom Number Two. Groom Two got himself under control and downed the rest of the glass in one gulp, but not before Brian Kinney had gotten a good look at the man and realized that Marv’s intended was a former trick of his. Brian didn’t remember the guy’s name - he NEVER bothered to remember names - but he did remember the really memorable time he and the guy had enjoyed at the Chicago White Party about three months ago. Brian remembered this trick particularly well since they’d had a rather wild night together involving handcuffs and a leather riding crop. It really WAS a small world after all . . .

Brian immediately looked away from the guy, thankfully distracted by the glass of champagne that a waiter served him right at that moment. He wasn’t usually one to let a former trick cause him any awkwardness. Not even a former trick who was apparently slated to marry the son of a potentially ass-saving client. Brian decided he’d just ignore the guy and hope he returned the favor. That was always the best way to handle these things.

“Oh My Word! It’s like drinking perfume!” Justin exclaimed, his happy voice ringing loudly through the clamor of the table. “I’ve never had champagne before . . . This . . . this is wonderful,” he smiled at his seat neighbor to his left, still marvelling at his first taste of champagne, and easily providing the table with a distraction while Groom Two mopped himself up.

“Well, I would hope so considering how much this stuff costs per bottle!” Mr. Dennison chuckled, as did the rest of the guests, while Justin took another approving sip from his glass and grinned at everyone.

That seemed to be the signal for the usual round of toasts to begin. Mr. Dennison stood up and gave the first speech welcoming all the guests and saying how thrilled he was to have them join in the celebration of the marriage between Marvin and Allistaire. Everyone raised their glasses to the soon-to-be-shackled pair. Next, Simone joined her husband and they jointly went into a little speech all about the sweeping legal changes that allowed same sex couples to be legally married and thanked all their guests for joining them in supporting such a wonderful cause. Dennison even made a point of singling out several of the guests who were particularly generous supporters to their ongoing political work in this area, and included Brian in that number based, apparently, on the donation that Cynthia had promised on his behalf. Brian demurred with grace and a charming Kinney smile.

After the requisite toasts and well wishes had been doled out, the first course of dinner was announced and the formally attired waiters butled around the large table making sure to serve each guest quickly and efficiently. Justin was in the process of animatedly telling the older gentleman on his right all about how he was an Artist at Brian’s company and that they had a plan, when one of the waiters came up on Justin’s right and placed a large crystal plate in front of him decorated with a garnish of lettuce and sprigs of parsley and some kind of unidentifiable light-brown, gelatinous, molded substance placed dead center.

At first Justin flinched away from his plate with an almost horrified expression. Then he bent forward and took one long, very audible sniff before exclaiming, “It smells like cat food! Just Brian, I can’t eat this. I THINK it’s ‘Fancy Feast’. That’s cat food!” Justin again turned to the elderly gentleman on his right and reiterated, “I think it’s cat food!” Then, looking down the table to where Simone Dennison was sitting looking offended, Justin raised his voice even louder and asked, “Are you really going to eat this, ‘cause I think it’s cat food.” Brian slid down an inch or two in his chair before leaning in to Justin and attempting to quiet him down.

“I’ll have you know that’s $300 a serving imported French pate de foie gras,” Simone answered in her snootiest society voice. “And, it’s Marvin’s favorite.”

“Actually, it’s really NOT!” Marvin answered from his seat as he too pushed away the plate full of pate.

“You know, they force feed the geese until their livers distend. It’s so sad,” piped in Allistaire, who seemed happy to be able to insinuate himself into the conversation. “I saw a documentary on it one time. I actually cried.”

“Oh, damn it all! Alfred, take this crap away and bring in the salads!” Dennison ordered.

“I’m sorry, I did it again didn’t I, Just Brian? I keep messing everything up.” Justin leaned in and whispered to Brian, his voice sounding worried.

“No, Justin. You didn’t mess anything up. If anything, your timely intervention prevented us from having to eat cat food and then pretend like we enjoyed it. We should all thank you.” Brian reassured his date with a surreptitious squeeze to Justin’s thigh under the cover of the table cloth. Justin’s cheeks turned a bright shade of pink because of both the gentle touch as well as the note of approval in Brian’s voice.

As soon as the pate was removed and the salad course was served, the conversation around the table drifted into more normal topics. Brian found himself caught up in a discussion with the middle aged woman seated on his left about the democratic party and its chances in the next election cycle. He still kept one hand on Justin’s thigh though, being mindful to keep his hand from roaming further. With half an ear, he was also listening in on Justin’s conversation with the gentleman who had turned out to be an art dealer from Seattle. And, to Brian’s utter amazement, he noted that Justin was more than holding up his end of the discussion - talking coherently about modern art and abstract impressionism in the twentieth century. Apparently the little blond Pretend Picasso actually DID know quite a bit about art and artists. Which only added to the enigma about who Justin Taylor really was and spurred on Brian’s curiosity. There was clearly a lot more than met the eye to this crazy little imp.

“So, Kinney, tell us about this new advertising agency you’ve started,” the booming voice of Adam Dennison broke into Brian’s moment of reverie and essentially put Brian back into the spotlight for the whole table. “Considering the economic downturn we’re in right now, isn’t it a bit risky to be starting up a new agency?”

“Well, I know that some people may say it’s the wrong time to start a new business and that it’s an economic death sentence,” Brian straightened his tie and continued. “But I say . . . Don’t believe a fucking word of it. This is probably the absolute best time to go into business.”

Brian’s comment, stated so succinctly, shut up both Dennison and most of the rest of the gathering, although their host was still looking at him a bit doubtfully.

“Actually, Adam,” Justin burst into the lull in the conversation, eager to back up his boyfriend, “Just Brian and I have a plan. And it’s a very good plan. But since I don’t want you to be castrated with Simone’s rose garden shears - which would be very messy and painful and ruin this nice dinner - we can’t tell you about it until Sunday.”

Justin’s comment earned him a round of tittering laughter and several smiles. Even Simone now seemed appeased and ready to forgive him for the pate incident. It was rare that anyone listened to her when she tried to curb her husband’s penchant for conducting business at every possible opportunity - including social events where she thought his business acumen wasn’t totally appropriate. So Justin’s little reminder to her Adam went a long way towards the eccentric young blond artist ingratiating himself with her.  

“Thank you, Justin, dear. At least someone around here listens to me,” Simone cooed and gave the boy a huge smile.

The rest of dinner thankfully passed uneventfully. Afterwards, the entire assembly was ushered into an adjoining sitting room for after dinner drinks and conversation. Brian and Justin were formally introduced to Marvin and his fiance as well as several of the younger members of the wedding party. Initially Brian figured that Allistaire would be the only familiar face among the crowd, but unfortunately, once some of the grooms’ other friends joined them, Brian realized he recognized at least two other faces from that notorious White Party.

The conversation, as always at this type of event, circled back around to the happy couple; how they met, when they realized they were in love and all the sappy things the couple had ever done together. Brian felt like he was about ready to throw up. However Justin seemed enthralled by the conversation. As soon as there was a break in the ongoing Marvie/Allikins Lovefest, Justin piped in cheerfully about his own relationship.

“Just Brian is MY boyfriend,” Justin crowed. “I’m the artist boyfriend of a really gorgeous, super-successful advertising genius. Isn’t that cool! My mother said I’d never be anyone’s boyfriend and now look at me! Oh, and I’m an artist!”

Nobody really knew WHAT to say to that, until one of the grooms stepped in to save the conversation. “So, how long have you two been together?” Marvin asked Justin.

“Going on two days now!” the bouncing boy enthusiastically claimed. “Brian saved me from this bad guy who was pretending to be a doctor. Then he took me out to this dancing place where I almost got a hand job, which is when we decided on our plan and then came here.”

The room had gone deathly silent with everyone more befuddled than ever. Brian just opened and closed his mouth like a guppie struggling for air as he wracked his brain for a plausible explanation. Justin looked just as glowingly happy though as always.

“Justin can be so literal sometimes . . . what he means is that we’ve been together for the last two days traveling.” Brian clarified, hoping that this would satisfy the guests. And to further distract them he looked over to one of the other guests and said, “Do I know you from somewhere? Your face is very familiar.”

The man he addressed was one of those he’d recognized earlier. This guy had been staring at him pretty much nonstop ever since they’d left the dining room. Not that Brian really wanted to confront any of these guys or raise the specter of old fucks, but he wanted even less to take a chance that someone would push Justin for more information. If anyone were to ask the kid questions about his family or pry for details on how they met, Brian’s little charade would be uncovered. Brian therefore chose the lesser of two evils and opted to take on the White Party contingent.

“I was in Chicago a few months ago and you could be this guy’s twin . . .” Brian speculated, raising that Kinney eyebrow and looking the dude directly in the eyes.

“Well I’m surprised you would remember ME, but now that you mention it, I was in Chi-Town on business not that long ago and happened to stumble into this club on the Eastside of the city where YOUR name was being bandied about quite frequently. From what everyone was saying, you have a certain . . . reputation, Mr. Kinney.”

“I have a reputation with regard to a number of things. You’ll have to be a bit more specific,” Brian let the words drip like venom from the fangs of a deadly snake. He really didn’t know this fuckwad and he’d be damned if he was going to sit idly by and be subjected to the fucking inquisition.

“I was talking about your reputation as a total slut who’d fuck anything that moved and damn the consequences . . .” the guy stated with a nasty grin as his eyes shifted sideways, alighted on Allistaire briefly and then refocused on Brian with a heated glare. “I just hope I’m wrong and that your sense of discretion is stronger than your self-restraint.”

“I’m a little more discerning than that. I didn’t fuck you after all . . . So, what’s this? Sour grapes? But, whatever. And, on that note, if nobody minds, I would really like to take my vociferous little boyfriend here and turn in for the night. I’m sure Allistaire and Marvin understand . . . young love and all you know.”

Brian didn’t wait for a reply from the room’s occupants as he swiftly pulled Justin to his feet and escorted him toward their temporary quarters. Justin was just a bit tipsy after indulging in the freely flowing champagne during dinner, and he tripped along at Brian's side, ogling more of the gaudy decorations and art on the walls of the mansion as they went. Once they finally got into the Sunset Suite, the kid was still so wired up, that Brian worried it would take a lot more effort to get him settled down.

Once they entered their room, Justin did this little spin and pulled Brian along. “Let’s dance, Just Brian!” Justin rose up on his toes and laced his hands around Brian’s neck swaying his body softly from side to side.

“Not right now, Justin,” Brian was worn out not only from the red eye flight the night before but also because he’d been traipsing after Justin all evening. “Aren’t you tired? I mean, I took a nap but you didn’t sleep at all, I don’t think. You’ve got to be about ready to drop.”

“No! I’m not a bit tired and I couldn’t possibly sleep,” Justin let go of Brian’s neck and spun around and around again until he got dizzy and had to stop, although he didn’t stop giggling. “Don’t you understand? I never did any of this before. Before I met you I never went anywhere or did ANYTHING! My mother said it wasn’t safe to go outside so we never left the house. NEVER! And now that I’m here, I don’t want it to ever stop. I want to dance and drink more perfume and talk about art with old men who smell like burnt wood and beer. And I want to play games on telephones that look like miniature televisions and fly in airplanes that have scary loud toilets and endless supplies of peanuts. I want to ride in limos and cars and taxis. I don’t want to go to sleep. I don’t want to miss anything!”

Justin looked over at Brian, his face glowing with passionate enthusiasm. Brian realized that someone acting as Justin was would normally set his teeth on edge and make him want to run. But even Justin's most annoying behavior was accompanied by such innocence and exuberance; an exuberance that Brian, even as a child, was never allowed to show. Somehow, that made Brian happy and let him see things that he had missed. He felt like he was seeing the wonders of the world through Justin's unsullied eyes for the very first time.

At the same time, Brian felt overwhelmed by how incredibly beautiful this crazy wild child was. He couldn’t help himself. That zeal was not only infectious but also downright captivating. Brian felt the stupor and tiredness melt away as he walked over and took the boy in his arms, spinning them both around this time. He even caught himself laughing along in a complementary way, his glee matching the boy’s joyous mirth.  And he didn’t even bother worrying that this was all completely out of character for Brian Kinney.

Before he could stop himself, Brian took another look at that sweet laughing face and then pulled the boy into his arms for a delightful, tender, yet chaste kiss. The so-soft lips were intoxicating. Brian felt himself harden with the innocent passion the kiss invoked. However, while he would have been content to keep the kiss brief and light, Brian was pleasantly surprised when the tip of Justin’s tongue brushed against his lips instinctively requesting entry before deepening the kiss and letting his tongue explore the wet heat of Brian’s mouth. The kissing went on and on and on. Strangely, though, Brian was not feeling at all pressed to move things along. For once, he was perfectly happy to just make out like a randy teen for some indeterminate period of time. It wasn’t until the boy’s inexperienced but intrepid hand snaked it’s way under his shirt and the agile fingers started to caress the skin of his belly that Brian started to seriously overheat.

“Fuck, Justin . . . If I don’t stop now . . .” Brian pulled away and huffed a breath trying to clear his head - both of them. “I . . . I . . . I think I need another shower.”

Brian abruptly turned on his heel, practically fleeing from the hot young blond that was too innocent and far too inexperienced for all the things that had already popped into Brian’s mind. For now, Brian would have to curb his wanton desires for his blond traveling companion. Brian secretly hoped though, that some day in the not so distant future he could introduce Justin to a broader range of the pleasures of the flesh. But, until such time, a cold shower and a visit from Rosy Palmer would have to do.

Brian was so involved with his relief methods that he didn’t even realize that he’d left the bathroom door ajar. Pretty much all of his grey matter was concentrated on his hard and throbbing dick to the exclusion of all else. He vaguely realized that he was probably moaning a bit loudly. He might have even been aware through his lust-filled haze that he was repetitively panting out Justin’s name. He really didn’t care though. It just felt so good and he was so incredibly turned on that he couldn’t be bothered to care.

“Justin . . . Justin . . .”

Justin had been a little disappointed when Brian had basically run away from him so abruptly without any real explanation. He was still standing there in the middle of the floor of the guest room and looking around him, savoring the way his lips were still tingling. He was also surprised by the fact that his willy felt hot and was doing stuff that his mother would probably tell him was evil or sinful. It didn’t feel evil though. It felt wonderful. And, while he was still standing there trying to make sense of all these new feelings and experiences, he heard Just Brian calling out his name. So, of course Justin went to the bathroom door to see what Just Brian wanted. Through the crack of the door, Justin could see Just Brian under the shower with his head thrown back and his hand on THAT part of his body, with his fingers curled around IT and his arm moving rapidly.

“Um . . . Just Brian,” Justin called out through the partially opened door. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be doing THAT. My mother always said not to play with my willy for two reasons. One, because it’s not a toy like a doll or a train set. And two, it can lead to pregnancy.”

Hearing those words in Justin’s voice was as good as a cold shower. Brian’s erection withered to flaccidity in record breaking time. “Right . . . Thanks for the warning, Justin.”