********
Chapter 12 - Fed Up Being PC.
When Brian walked in the door that evening after work, he wasn’t at all surprised to find Justin seated in ‘his’ spot on the far end of the couch, curled up in a ball so as to make himself as small as possible, and quietly staring at the floor. It was like the boy thought he’d be in trouble if he was caught having moved at all during the day. Brian shook his head, pulled the door closed behind him and walked over to the desk to offload his briefcase. The lump of boy on the couch pretended not to even notice Brian’s entry. If possible, he seemed to be trying to make himself even smaller, the closer Brian came. Brian hoped that this wasn’t a new trend. He hated the idea of having to re-establish the existing level of trust with the kid every time they’d been apart for any length of time.
“Hey, Brat,” Brian teased as he neared the couch, plopping down playfully next to the boy, the momentum of his fall causing the kid to bounce out of his seat and lean into Brian’s side. “Miss me?” he asked with a chuckle as he draped an arm casually around the boy’s shoulders, ignoring the instant tension caused by the touch. “Soooooo. How was your day, dear? Did you have fun playing computer games with Cynthia this morning? She said you’d have all sorts of fun things to show me when I got home.”
The boy apparently took this as an order to produce the work he’d done on the ad campaign that Brian had given him to look over. Justin leapt to his feet, trotted over to the desk and gathered together some materials that had been waiting there. Then he zipped back, came to a halt directly in front of where Brian was seated on the couch, dropped to his knees and held the files up in his hands as if making an offering to the gods. Brian huffed out an aggravated sigh and shook his head at the servile behavior. He didn’t want to be treated with such veneration. He was just a man - nothing more and nothing less - and the subservience that Justin insisted on showing him really made him uncomfortable. He wondered how much longer he’d have to put up with that shit before he could finally convince the boy that it wasn’t expected.
“Get up, Justin,” Brian grabbed the kneeling man by the arm and physically pulled him up until the boy was once again seated on the couch next to him. “You don’t have to kneel at my feet, you know.” The boy didn’t acknowledge the words at all, and Brian decided to let it slide, hoping that time alone would make things easier for them both. Instead, Brian took the file that Justin was still holding out to him and flipped it open. “So, show me what fabulous creations you’ve come up with for this account.”
And just like Cynthia had predicted, Brian was blown away by how truly great the kid’s work was. Brian really hadn't expected anything as comprehensive as what the kid handed him. He hadn’t given the boy much in terms of guidance - all Brian had wanted was to see what the younger man could do. He’d thought that maybe he’d get some drawings or computer graphics that went along with the vague ideas he’d jotted down in passing. What he got back, however, was an almost complete and photo-ready ad campaign that was practically perfect.
Brian was so stunned that it took him a couple of minutes just to think of something to say. During that small interval, though, the kid must have taken his silence as disapproval. When Brian hadn’t commented right away, the boy’s submissive yet joyful eagerness rapidly dissipated. Brian could almost feel him shutting down and the enthusiasm fading away, leaving Justin once again blank and emotionless. As soon as he realized what was happening, though, Brian rushed to correct the boy’s misapprehension.
He quickly set the file aside and gathered the boy’s hands in his own, pulling slightly until the seemingly defeated young man was facing him. “Justin, this is incredible. It’s so good, I’m literally speechless. I didn’t expect anything this extensive. But you’ve done pretty much all the artwork, incorporating all my sales ideas, in only one afternoon. It’s amazing. It would take the art department at work upwards of a week to get anything back and it wouldn’t be anywhere near this good. This is . . . it’s good. Really. Really. Fucking good.”
At first, Brian could tell that Justin didn’t quite believe him. Maybe he thought that Brian was just humoring him? There was still so little trust there, that the boy probably didn’t want to believe his pretty words. But, slowly, the impassive expression on the youth’s face morphed into proud acceptance. And then, for the first time in the three days since Brian had met the young man, Justin finally let himself smile. It was only a very little smile - really just the beginnings of a smile, if you will - but the corners of those plump pink lips actually turned up and, for once, the boy didn’t try to hide it.
Brian decided right then and there that he rather liked the kid’s smile and wouldn’t mind seeing it a lot more often.
Brian began to go over the work in detail, pointing out some small things that Justin could change or adjust. The boy didn’t actually speak in response to Brian’s comments, but he would point to sections of the work or pull out documentation from the file and show these to Brian. All in all, they were communicating quite well. After they’d finished going through things, Justin seemed keen to jump right up and go make the small revisions. He would have sprinted over to the computer and got right on it, if Brian hadn’t stopped him.
“You don’t have to do it tonight, Justin,” Brian grabbed his wrist to prevent the boy’s exodus. “It’ll wait until tomorrow morning. I don’t actually have to do the presentation on this account until the end of next week. Like I said, if I’d had to use the VanGuard art department this would have taken a lot longer, so I usually start on it far in advance. But you’re so speedy that we don’t have to worry about it. Tomorrow will be soon enough though. You should relax for the rest of the evening.”
Justin’s spirits seemed a bit dampened by this directive. Brian shook his head tolerantly. But he didn’t want Justin overdoing it or working his hand till it cramped up again. Not until they’d met with the doctor and found out exactly what was going on or how to treat it. So, for now, the kid would just have to chill. Besides, it was probably good for him to learn how to relax. He didn’t imagine the young man had been afforded that opportunity much in the recent past.
In part to distract them both, Brian sent the PC to go select a takeout menu for their dinner. That was enough of a stretch for the boy that it demanded his full attention. The older man watched with amusement as the kid stood at the kitchen counter, shuffling through the huge stack of menus, pausing every so often when he came across a likely option and then surreptitiously eyeing Brian as if to divine his Master’s input on the selection process via telepathy. It was a fairly humorous scene, and Brian just sat back and let the boy have at it while he watched.
Finally, after a good ten minutes, Justin seemed to have arrived at some decision. With the winning menu clutched firmly in his hand, the nervous boy sidled back around the end of the couch and then offered it to Brian with lowered head and downcast eyes.
At least he didn't drop to his knees again, Brian thought as he accepted the proffered menu. “Greek, huh?” Brian was surprised by the boy’s selection. “Excellent choice. I haven't had Greek in weeks . . . Well, except for that hot Greek guy I met in the baths last Wednesday. I think he said his name was Niko,” Brian teased with a wink. “Now, he was spicy.” Unfortunately, all that earned him was another uncommunicative pause. “Guess I need to work on my material, eh? Oh well, Stand Up probably wouldn't be a good career choice for me anyway. I don't actually like people enough to care about making them happy.” Brian related, before picking up the phone and preparing to dial. “So, Brat, you got a preference for what you want me to order or should I just surprise you?” And when there was no answer, probably because Justin had used up his entire day’s worth of boldness with that one smile, Brian simply called in two orders of souvlaki, a large greek salad for them to share and, at the last minute, an order of baklava for the kid’s dessert.
While they were waiting for the food to arrive, Brian gathered up the campaign materials Justin had created and put it away on the desk where it would be waiting for Justin in the morning. Then he got two beers out of the fridge, turned on the television and pulled Justin down onto the couch with him. By the time their dinner was delivered twenty minutes later, they were thoroughly up to date on the latest newsworthy happenings in The Pitts, thanks to the local news. But, since the quality of the local news was questionable at best, Brian was more than happy to switch off the idiot box as soon as there was any other distraction. In other words, dinner was more than welcome when it did appear.
“So, you like Greek food, huh?” Brian initiated the conversation as soon as they were both seated at the table. “See, I wouldn’t have pegged you for the exotic food type. You look more like a typical, greasy hamburger and fries teenager to me.” Justin continued to fork his souvlaki into his mouth without comment. “You know, I think I could get used to these conversations of ours. I like talking to somebody that never contradicts me or talks back. I should have you give Mikey some lessons.”
Right on cue, the phone rang, and Brian hopped up to get it. “What a surprise, Mikey! I didn’t think you’d be calling for at least another three minutes!” Brian said into the phone without any other greeting. “Yes, Mikey . . . Yes . . . I already said I’d go out with you tonight, didn’t I? So, then, why the fuck are you calling and asking me again? . . . Yes, he’s here. Where the fuck else would he be, Mikey? . . . Fine . . . Fine! Yes, I’ll be ready, mother!” Brian pushed the button to end the call and tossed the phone onto the couch in consternation at his friend’s smothering.
“Yep. I definitely think you need to give Mikey some convo lessons, J!” Brian laughed, and then traipsed up to the bedroom to get changed, glad that he’d pretty much finished his dinner before Mikey called. “So, the guys want me to go out with them tonight,” Brian yelled to his silent companion as he was stripping out of his work attire. “We’re meeting at a local bar called ‘Woody’s’ and then we’ll probably go to a dance club after. You’re welcome to come, of course, but if you’d rather stay here, that’s fine too,” Brian pulled on a pair of skin tight jeans and then took a detour to the bathroom to make sure his hair was good before he selected which sleeveless black shirt he would be wearing.
By the time he emerged from the bedroom, adorned in his typical club-wear finery, ready to see and be seen, the remains of their dinner had miraculously cleaned themselves up, the kitchen was once again immaculate and the boy was seated - again - on the far end of the couch staring into space like he’d never moved. Rather than please him, though, Brian found himself pissed off. The kid’s whole self-effacing, obedience thing was really getting to him. Here was a bright, intelligent, well-educated kid, who clearly had a lot of potential, and it annoyed the fuck out of him that instead of using all that innate talent, the boy was running around debasing himself at Brian’s feet, trying his damnedest to become invisible, and pretending to be the maid. It was just wrong on so many levels. And the subservient thing made Brian feel like he was in some way perpetuating all this wrongness. He would really have to do something about this.
But all such reforms would have to wait for another night because, right then, the buzzer for the downstairs door went off, signaling Michael’s arrival. Brian hit the release for the front door and pulled the big metal loft door open. Then he started loading up his pockets with the essentials - wallet, phone, keys, a ribbon of condoms and a pocket-sized tube of high-quality lube. Everything a boy needed to enjoy himself out on the town. By the time Michael had clambered up the stairs, Brian was pulling on his favorite brown leather bomber jacket.
“Hey, Brian!” Michael offered his characteristic greeting with a typical Mikey grin. “You ready to go? The guys are probably already waiting for us. I told Em to go ahead without me cause I wanted to stop by here and drop off some more stuff for J.” He held up a shopping bag full of more hand-me-downs. “Hey, J. Hope these are okay. I figured you'd need more than just the few outfits I brought you the other day. And I threw in some socks and briefs and other shit I got at the Big Q today too. If you need anything else, just let me know, and I can get it for you with my employee discount.”
Justin got up off the couch, accepted the bag and then stood there in the same submissive stance that just annoyed Brian further.
“He doesn’t need more shit from the Big Crap Emporium, Mikey,” Brian groused. “Not everyone wants to look like their clothing is mass produced by Chinese prison labor.”
“Well, when you’ve got the money to shop on Fifth Avenue again, Brian, then you can buy him what you want,” Michael snapped back. “But in the meantime, the kid needs clothes and you need to save your money to pay for his contract.”
Brian lowered his brows and frowned, ready to argue. Only, he couldn’t actually refute anything his friend said. Which made him even more pissed off than he’d already been. Fucking ridiculous damned PC contract!
“Whatever. Can we get the fuck out of here already? You two girls can chat about the latest Big Q fashions some other time. I need a drink and a fuck - not necessarily in that order.” Brian swept aside any further thought of PCs or PC contracts, ready to get away from it all for at least one night.
Then, looking over at Justin, Brian noted that the boy had resumed his exact same docile posture in the usual position on the fucking couch. The sight made Brian feel like he was about to blow a gasket. He really needed to get the hell out of there.
“So, I’m assuming from your lack of interest that you’re not joining us tonight?” No answer, of course. “Fine. Your choice. But I’m not going to have you sitting there all fucking night on the damned sofa, either. So, consider this a direct order,” he declared, moving around to stand in the boy’s direct line of vision where there would be no question about whether or not he heard Brian’s instructions. “Go drink a beer or two and watch some fucking porn on the computer. Or read a fucking book. Or, hell, help yourself to some weed and get fucking wasted if you want. Do anything you like, only DON’T be sitting there on the fucking couch staring into space when I get home. You hear me?” Brian waited until he received the almost imperceptible nod of acceptance. “Good.”
Brian strode towards the door - happy that the kid would obey at least that one order - leaving with a, “Later, Brat,” thrown over his shoulder as he pulled the door shut in his wake.
********
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Pittsburgh’s latest inductee into the exotic and titillating PC Lifestyle,” Ted welcomed Brian upon his arrival at Woody’s that evening. “Come to mingle with the rest of us peons and rub your good fortune in our noses?” he teased.
“Fuck off, Theodore,” Brian growled without even a hint of his usual sarcastic humor underlying the vitriol. “Give me a double shot of Beam and an Iron City Beer,” he yelled at the bartender and then tapped impatiently on the bar till he was served. “Another!” he demanded after slamming the first shot as soon as it was served. Only then, sufficiently lubricated with alcohol, did Brian deign to bestow any attention on his friends.
“What the fuck are you all staring at?” Brian growled in lieu of greeting.
“Hell, Brian. You’d think somebody with a hot little Twinkie lover as tasty as our J would be in a lot better mood,” Emmett commented, looking down his nose at the grumpy stud. “And where, pray tell, is our sweet little PC baby tonight? You’re not trying to keep him holed up in the loft all by his lonesome again, are you? You have to let him out for air every so often, you know.”
“His name is ‘Justin’, not ‘J’,” Brian corrected, downing his second double shot and then moving on to his beer. “And he doesn’t like crowds, so he’s back at the loft. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“They’re just teasing you, Brian,” Michael tried to placate his grouchy friend.
“Ooooo! You gave him a name already? How'd you decide on ‘Justin’?” Emmett asked with his typical friendly nosiness. “I thought you were going to wait until you found out his real name?”
“That is his real name. Or, at least I think it is,” Brian turned around, leaned back against the bar and sipped at his beer while he scoped out the evening’s possibilities. “Either way, the kid told me that’s what he wanted to be called. So, Justin, it is!” Brian shook his head at the first likely to walk by and cruise him, assured he could do better. “Why do you guys all care anyway? It’s like the first thing anyone asks me as soon as they see me anymore - how’s your PC? You losers need to get a life, you know.”
“You can’t help it if we’re all a little curious, Bri,” Ted broke in. “I’ve never known anyone who owned a PC before. Well, at least not personally. So, tell us . . . What’s it like? Huh? I hear they teach them all kinds of crazy, kinky shit. I bet it’s wild, right?”
“Yeah . . . crazy. That’s exactly what it is, Theodore. Fucking crazy,” Brian rejoined with his most sarcastic smirk. “Now, if you don’t mind, I did NOT come here tonight to talk about Justin. I came because I needed a break from all the PC shit,” Brian chugged the rest of his beer and then slammed the bottle back onto the bar top. “I also need to get into THAT ass as soon as humanly possible. So, if you’ll all excuse me, I'm off to get my needs met.” He then strutted away in rapid pursuit of the beefy, muscle queen ass that had just sauntered temptingly by.
“Shit! What’s his fucking problem,” Ted complained as soon as Brian was out of earshot. “You’d think a guy who just bought himself a beautiful young PC would be in a lot better mood than that. And what’s with this closed-mouthed shit? He’s never been bashful about sharing tales of his sexual conquests in the past, so why now?”
“It IS a bit odd,” Emmett added his opinion. “Plus, you wouldn’t think someone with a live-in hottie like that sweet little Twink would act quite so desperate to find a fuck, would you? I mean, the way he shot off after that guy, you’d think he hadn’t gotten any action in days. What’s up with that?”
“Lay off Brian, guys,” Michael pleaded, sticking up for his friend. “I think this whole PC thing has been really hard on him. I mean, the money thing is bad enough, but I get the impression that there’s a lot of shit going on that we don't know about. The more I see of that kid, the more he seems . . . Well, a bit off, I guess. Dealing with all that and the money thing too can’t be easy on Brian. I'm a little worried about both of them, actually.”
“We all agree that Brian did a good thing taking in that kid, Michael,” Ted added. “It’s plain to see how traumatized he is. And I’m sure that Brian’s having a bit of trouble adjusting to things, too. Having someone else moving into his loft with him has got to be tough on a dedicated loner like Brian. But still, it can’t be all that bad. Face it, that kid is fucking beautiful. Even a lone wolf like Brian Kinney couldn’t object to having a gorgeous, hot twink with a delicious bubble butt like that around all the time. Hell - not that I support the PC trade - but if I were in Brian’s shoes and had the chance to spend some time with a fully trained, sexual companion, you sure as fuck wouldn’t hear me objecting.” They all paused in their conversation to watch as Brian reemerged from the backroom and immediately headed off down the bar after his next conquest of the night. “And you wouldn’t see me wasting my time going after random fucks here at Woody’s when I had somebody like Justin waiting for me at home, either.”
As Brian traipsed past them with yet another victim in tow, they all had the same thought.
********
“Shhhhh! You’re gonna wake him up. Gotta be more quiet! Shhhhh!” Brian ordered the trick, who had spent the entire elevator ride up to the loft moaning at ridiculously loud levels.
The trick just moaned again in the affirmative. Brian rolled his eyes, but didn’t really say more because he was too busy enjoying the way the guy was mouthing his cock through his jeans to bother. It took a couple minutes after the elevator stopped before he realized they had arrived. Then he had to seriously think about it before he decided that he’d rather go into the loft to fuck than do it there in the lift. If the guy hadn’t been so fucking tall, Brian might not have cared. But, since the large, well-built hispanic guy he’d opted to end the night with was maybe an inch taller than him, Brian figured it would all go more easily if they moved this inside. So, before the trick could do more than unzip his fly, Brian batted him away, lifted the gate on the elevator and then started to drag the guy along after him towards the loft’s door.
Brian was drunk enough that it took him three tries to actually get the key into the lock. It didn’t help matters that Joselito was dry humping his back while Brian was fumbling around with the keys. You couldn’t fault the guy for a lack of enthusiasm, at least. As soon as the door slid open, ‘Lito was tumbling through it, so eager to get Brian on top of him that he seemed willing to pull him down right there in the doorway and fuck on the hardwood floor. Brian might even have complied if he hadn't been distracted by a flash of movement over to his right.
“Hey, Justin! You're not on the couch! Good boy! That means we can fuck on it instead!” Brian announced as soon as he'd registered that it was indeed the PC who had caught his attention by jumping up out of the chair behind the computer. “Venga, ‘Lito. We're moving this party over to the couch.” Brian stood up, wobbled a bit until his sloshing head reached equilibrium again and then looked down at the man still lying on the floor at his feet. “Why aren’t you naked yet?” Brian asked, sure that this step should have already been accomplished.
The big butch brute slowly clambered to his feet, stipping off his t-shirt to reveal olive-toned skin, six-pack abs and a slightly furry chest that was sufficient to make Brian’s mouth water. ‘Lito shot a sexy smile the stud’s way, winking and adding in a one-two flex of his pecs as further enticement. Brian reached out with one hand, grabbed hold of the guy’s belt and started walking him backwards in the direction of the couch, already envisioning all the things he was going to do with and to that tanned and toned body.
“Who’s that?” ‘Lito asked, looking over Brian’s shoulder at the little blond shadow hovering in the distance as if unsure what was expected of him in this strange new situation. “I don’t mind a threesome. But he is kinda young.”
“Never mind him. He just likes to watch. Don’t you, J?” Brian chuckled as he caught the blond’s eye and then pushed ‘Lito over so that the big guy tumbled back onto the couch. “Now, get those fucking pants off already. You’re keeping our audience waiting.” The amiable trick scrambled to follow orders, while Brian stood there towering over him, eyeing the proceedings with a smirk, until he all of a sudden realized that it had been upwards of fifteen minutes since he’d had a drink. That state of affairs really was unacceptable. “Hey, Justin - get me that bottle of Beam, will you?”
The boy scurried over to the drinks cart in the corner and then hurried back with the mostly-full fifth of bourbon. Brian managed to swipe the bottle out of Justin’s hand before the kid could fall to his knees. Which left the PC standing there, not sure what he was supposed to do next, while Brian upended the bottle and took a huge swig.
By this point, ‘Lito had managed to get his jeans off and then squirm around so that he was kneeling on the seat of the couch, with his body draped over the back and his hungry ass stuck out right at the level of Brian’s cock. Brian approved. He slapped the guy’s right ass cheek with an audible whack, pleased with the white handprint his action left on the dark skin. He was also pleased that the trick du jour had come prepared with a butt plug already in place, which meant that Brian wouldn’t be obliged to engage in any annoying prep work. Nice!
“Here, hold this, J!” Brian passed the bottle of Beam back to his handy household minion.
He hooked one finger through the pull-ring at the bottom of the trick’s plug and jerked it out with a firm tug. ‘Lito moaned with the pleasure/pain, shoving his ass out further towards Brian in mute supplication. Who was Brian to deny the poor boy? He unzipped his own jeans, reaching into the pocket to get a condom before he shoved them all the way down . . . only to find that he was out. He must have been busier than he remembered at Woody’s and Babylon that night because he’d had a whole string of them when he left the loft earlier.
Oh, well. No worries. There were a lot more where those came from. “Justin, run upstairs and grab me a condom out of the bowl in the bedroom, will ya. Oh, and don’t forget the lube,” he ordered, taking back the bottle of Beam before the kid could remove it from his reach.
Justin hesitated a second. That, in and of itself, was so out of character that it caused Brian to look up. Even through his half-drunken haze, Brian could see the jumble of fear and confusion and uncertainty on the younger man’s face. But he didn’t want to think about that right then. He didn’t want to think about any of it. For just a little while longer, Brian wanted to escape from his own sense of turmoil. From the burden of his responsibility for this scared, abused young man who he had so unwittingly become fettered with. That had been the whole purpose behind going out, getting drunk and fucking his way through the night. And Brian just wasn’t ready to deal with panicky teenaged PCs right at that moment. Right then, he really just wanted to plow into hot hunky hispanic ass and then go pass out in his bed.
He would deal with distrustful, uptight, voiceless, subservient dependants tomorrow. Tonight he just wanted to fuck his brains out. He gave the hesitant boy a curt nod and a twist of his head in the direction of the bedroom, causing Justin to drop his gaze and hustle to obey. It only took a few seconds for him to retrieve the requested items and hand them off to his master. Brian took the condom without a word, ripped open the packaging, and quickly rolled it down his dick. Then he squirted a palmful of lube out of the bottle and immediately handed it back to the hovering blond.
“That’s all I needed, Justin. You don’t have to stay or anything if you don’t want to,” Brian conceded, willing to give the boy at least that much consideration before he turned his attention back to the trick and wiped the rest of his troubles from his mind by sinking his dick into the waiting ass with as much force as he could manage.