Chapter 39 - Brian’s Burden and Winston’s Woes

Brian was finally starting to relax. It had been a very, VERY, stressful evening, but he was now ensconced in his bed, lying on his left side with his right arm - the one still handcuffed to Justin’s left arm - draped over the smaller blond body of his once-and-hopefully-future boyfriend. After struggling through several aborted attempts - lying on their backs side-by-side, lying on their stomachs next to one another, trying to lay back-to-back angrily ignoring each other and various other equally uncomfortable arrangements - this seemed to be the only sleeping position that actually worked. Brian wasn’t complaining though. Lying together like this meant that he was spooned up behind Justin’s plump little ass, his left arm curled under their joint pillow and Justin’s arms curled into his chest while Brian’s right arm protectively encompassed all of the smaller blond. Lying this way, he could at last breathe easily. Shit, he’d really missed sleeping with Justin in his bed every night. Maybe he’d even get a good night’s sleep for a change.

Of course, it would be better if they were lying together like this naked. But, as they were trying to get ready for bed together, Justin wisely pointed out that the only way to get their respective clothing off while they were still handcuffed together was to cut the garments away. Brian was all in favor of that idea, even though it meant ruining one of his $350 Dolce Gabbana dress shirts, until Justin also pointed out the fact that once they had removed the shirts they were wearing, they wouldn’t be able to put other shirts back on. Which wouldn’t be bad, except that they did have that video conference call with Bryce Kennedy tomorrow morning, and Brian didn’t think he could get away with doing the call topless. Brian was a tad bit frustrated insofar as he didn’t have thorough skin-on-skin contact with the boy in his arms, but it was better than nothing.

The only problem he had now was that, the more Brian's mind relaxed, the more certain other parts of his anatomy became alerted to the situation. Fuck, it just felt so incredibly right to be holding Justin in his arms. The younger man's body seemed to fit just perfectly against his own. Justin was soft in all the right spots and yet hard where a man should be hard. Every single aspect of the pliant youthful frame seemed crafted specifically to arouse Brian's desire.

And his cock. His cock was certainly aroused. So much for the hope that he'd get some sleep finally.

In addition to still wearing their shirts, Justin had insisted that they both keep their briefs on. He’d even made Brian swear on his favorite Armani suit that he would be a gentleman and not take advantage of the situation. However, even the double layer of Justin's thin cotton tidy-whities and Brian's silk-rayon-blend boxer briefs barely muted the delicious warmth Brian felt emanating from the spot where his groin was pressed up against Justin's tempting ass. If anything, the gentle rub of the soft silky fabric against the sensitive tip of his cock added even more to the stimulation. It felt like, every single time Justin so much as took a breath, his ass would slightly caress Brian’s now achingly hard dick. It was the most exquisite torture Brian had ever encountered.

When Justin sighed in his sleep and unconsciously wriggled just enough so that Brian’s dick aligned itself perfectly along the warm length of Justin’s ass crack, Brian didn’t even try to stifle his involuntary guttural moan. It was almost like their bodies were subliminally trying to tell them something - that they were meant to be fucking. If it wasn’t true, then why did they fit together so well? Why was it that Justin’s ass unconsciously gravitated to his dick even when the boy was sound asleep? Why did Brian’s dick twitch and strain, trying to get into that ass, even while Brian’s conscious mind was trying desperately to tell it to behave? Brian had never in his entire life regretted anything more than the promise he’d given not to try any funny business during the night.

Resigned to a night of not sleeping, and expecting to suffer through the world’s worst ever case of blue balls come morning, Brian simply lay there through the rest of the night, trying to enjoy the feel of Justin next to him without giving into his puerile desires. He concentrated on listening to the sounds of silence in the apartment: Justin’s soft, raspy almost-snoring; the wall clock in the living room ticking away loudly; the mysterious intermittent clicking and whirring of his laptop computer, which he’d left open on the top of his dresser nearby; the random wooden noises of the building settling around him; the occasional buzzing of a fly over by the window; the rush of water through the pipes as other residents flushed a toilet or turned on a tap; and, eventually, the comforting low rumbling purr of the cat once Winston unlatched the bedroom door for himself and made a snug nest at the foot of the bed. The homey noises and the feel of his warm bed companion near to him at least kept Brian from completely losing it as he waited out the night.

Then, in the small hours just before dawn, fate rewarded Brian for his patience, his chivalry and his long, solitary, sexless vigil.

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While Brian was suffering his own form of torment, Winston had also been restless for most of the night. He wasn’t sleeping his normal, happy, contented, kitty sleep. He’d felt pretty uncomfortable the entire night. It seemed like the fuzzy kitty toy he’d consumed earlier wasn’t agreeing with him.

Winston was sure it had something to do with his trip to that horrible place where the curly-haired human had put him on the cold metal table and held him still while the evil-smelling human - the one they called ‘The Vet’ - had prodded and poked at him. Winston despised The Vet. Nothing good ever came from a visit to The Vet. It was a bad place. It was a place of pain and terror. The home of The Vet was basically a pussy-cat’s version of Hell.

Luckily, this time, Winston had not been subjected to any of the long, sharp, metal slivers that were often poked into his body by The Vet. However he had been forced to swallow an inordinate amount of foul-tasting goop which had been injected into his mouth by The Vet even while he struggled valiantly to claw and bite the hand that was force feeding him the concoction. Winston did not like the goop at all. It made him want to vomit. But Winston simply refused to give in to The Vet. He suspected that The Vet wanted to somehow get back Winston’s new fuzzy cat toy - the one he’d swallowed earlier in order to keep it adequately subdued - and he would not let The Vet have it. It was HIS toy and he would not let someone like The Vet play with it. Knowing The Vet, the evil git might try to take his toy away, and Winston would have none of that.

The brave and resolute cat had fought all night to hold back on the urge to upchuck the icky goop. He was a cat, after all. He didn’t simply succumb to the manipulations of people like The Vet. It was really a matter of principle. No cat with any strength of character would ever give in to the likes of The Vet.

But even the most morally courageous of cats must sometimes admit defeat when faced with overwhelming odds. Winston had put up a heroic struggle. He had tried not to succumb to the effects of the goop. He really had. But after fighting the good fight for several hours, Winston had to finally admit that his traitorous body wasn’t as strong as his kitty willpower would have hoped.

Leaping down off the bed where his people were slumbering, Winston made it as far as the closet before he finally gave in to the effects of The Vet’s goop. Finding the closest available leather boot, Winston ceded defeat and let his body’s natural physical reactions take over. Hacking and wheezing away, Winston relinquished all control and eventually coughed up an exceptionally large and gooey hairball, along with the now partially digested fuzzy cat toy - i.e. the handcuff key chain - into the new person’s wonderfully smelling shoes.

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From his place on the bed where he was wrapped around the body of the boy he was forbidden to ravish - at least for the time being - Brian had heard the distinct sounds of the little Fuzz Monster spitting, coughing and finally hawking up what he suspected would be a horrendously gross vomitous mass of hair, cat food and, hopefully, the handcuff key. Brian could tell from the direction whence the sounds were emanating, that the cat was probably doing whatever he was doing in the depths of his closet. He knew that his shoes were once again at risk - why the fuck did that cat have it in for his Pradas?

Brian really hated the idea that Winston was probably once again depositing his latest installment of foulness somewhere in his closet - probably a shoe, but he wasn’t about to relinquish his ultra-comfy spot wrapped around a heavenly blond boy in order to fend off the vomiting cat. He made a note to check it out later - and throw out any clothing that had been contaminated in the process. But the prospect of looking at yet another furrball wasn’t enticing enough to get Brian out of bed, in spite of the dull ache in his crotch from the long night of unrequited desire.

As soon as the sky outside the bedroom window started to turn a muted winter gold, however, Brian was ready to rouse his bedmate and get the day started. He was more than ready to shift positions - at least long enough to get Justin’s ass far enough away from his throbbing dick to let his boner subside.

Craning his neck around so that he could reach the softly stubbled cheek, Brian began leaving tiny, soft-lipped kisses along the side of Justin's face. The youth sighed in his sleep and unconsciously arched his back so that his rear ground even more snugly into Brian's groin. Brian's resulting moan sounded almost like a sob. It hurt so good.

"You're fucking killing me here, Sunshine," Brian groaned. He didn't even try to stop himself this time when his hips almost involuntarily tilted forward so that his cock rubbed deliciously against that full, tempting bubble butt. "I'm warning you now, Justin, if we don't get out of this bed in the next thirty seconds, my promise not to take advantage of our enforced closeness won't be worth fucking squat. I'm not made out of steel, you know."

"You might not be, but it sure as hell feels like your dick is," Justin teased in his typical low, sleepy morning voice.

Justin's teasing and seductive tone was far too erotic for Brian this morning. He bit his bottom lip, trying desperately to stem the rising tide of desire he wasn't sure he could control any longer. Justin, that little scamp, had meanwhile twisted around just enough to get a good view of the pained expression on his bedmate's face. Brian looked like he was about to explode. Justin giggled at the almost pathetic sight.  

Unfortunately, Brian was simply no match for that sweet, melodious giggle. It was too much. With a creaky, wheezing, inarticulate and pain-filled cry, the poor tortured man squeezed his arms where they were already circled around Justin's middle, thrust his hips once hard against the boy's ass and then let go completely. While his body shook and spasmed, a flood of cum drenched the front of Brian's boxer briefs. Panting, his body finally sagging with relief, Brian ignored the seeping wetness and let himself collapse as he draped halfway across Justin's smaller body. The younger man broke out into peals of laughter.

"Don't fucking laugh, you twat," Brian rasped out as soon as he caught his breath. "This is all your fault. Fucking perfect ass rubbing up against me all fucking night long . . . " Brian's complaints only engendered more laughter from the young blond. "Probably planned this all along, didn't you? Is this just your way of getting back at me? Huh?" Brian added, sheepishly smiling now - Justin's laughter infecting him enough so that he was unwillingly able to see the humor in the situation after all.

"My fault? Need I remind you who resorted to using handcuffs?" Justin shot back, although his voice had lost much of its accusatory tone. "I'd say it serves you right, Mr. Kinney. Next time you try and take some innocent boy hostage, you should think of the consequences first."

"Innocent my ass, Brat!" was Brian's only reply, although his words were tempered with a conciliatory kiss to Justin's cheek. "Whatever. Now though, Sunshine, if you can quit laughing at me for a minute or two, I'd really like to untangle ourselves enough to move out of this wet cum puddle your too-hot ass caused and get cleaned up before our teleconference. Do you think you can hold back on your amusement for at least that long?"

Justin gave one last amused snort before he consented. He rolled out from under Brian's enveloping right arm and managed to awkwardly sit up with his body facing the headboard of the bed and his cuffed left arm stretched across towards Brian. However, right as Justin started to move away towards the far edge of the bed, Brian tried to sit up himself. Since Brian was facing the foot of the bed, getting up the same way he normally would by sitting up and then twisting his body to the right so he could stand, it caused him to jerk Justin's left arm violently. The boy was off balance enough that the tug upended him and pulled him down so he ended up in an inelegant face plant on the mattress. Brian tittered at the sight, feeling just a bit of vengeful glee at Justin's predicament.

Brian sense of superiority only lasted a few briefs moments, though. Justin, who decidedly did NOT like being laughed at so early in the morning, casually rolled onto his back and used both his arm muscles and his body mass to unceremoniously yank Brian down onto the bed next to him. Brian's laughter was cut off by the surprised yelp he let out as he felt himself falling just as ungracefully. When Brian opened his mouth to angrily protest, Justin simply smirked at him and all Brian's complaints evaporated.

"Shall we try this again, Brian," Justin asked in his most saccharine sweet voice. "And this time, how about I lead?"

"Fine. Just lead me by way of my dresser and my closet first so I can grab some clean pants, okay?" Brian snarked back, although he didn't put up any further fight and docilely followed Justin's lead as they maneuvered their way off the bed and around the room to gather clothing.

Brian grabbed a clean pair of briefs out of his dresser and found a pair of comfy jeans in the closet. While he was there, he also snuck a peek at the pair of brand new Prada half-boots he'd carelessly tossed on the closet floor the night before. Sure enough, one of the shoes was tipped over on its side and he easily caught a glimpse of something green, gooey and gloppy trickling out from inside. Bending over slightly, pretending to look through the rack of his dress slacks, Brian surreptitiously took a closer look and wasn't surprised to see bits of fuzzy black faux-fur and even a hint of silver metal amid the rest of the mass. Quickly calculating what he could get away with, Brian made the call to leave this little treasure where it was for the time being.

After that, the two men struggled through the everyday chores of washing up, brushing their teeth and hair and the other necessary morning rituals needed to get ready for the day, all the while having their movements seriously hampered because of the cuffs. They did get tangled up in each others' arms a couple times. Brian was not used to doing anything with his left hand and seemed to regularly forget his right hand was attached to Justin's left. Their cuffed wrists kept getting twisted around and slightly chafed in the process, but all-in-all it was manageable.

The only truly awkward part came when they had to stand side by side to take a morning piss and then had to help each other put on their pants. Justin, of course, courteously just slipped his jeans on as unobtrusively as possible. Brian did not. Justin blushed furiously as Brian bent to remove his still damp briefs, making quite a show of wiggling his naked ass in Justin's direction. He then proceeded to shamelessly wash himself - with just enough fondling and stroking to tease the watching Justin - clearly enjoying how uncomfortable his nudity made the younger man. Although, from the size of the bulge in Justin's jeans, Brian could tell his boy was probably more aroused than anything else. And the way Justin's breath was coming in short little gasps by the time Brian finally zipped up his fly was very encouraging.

'Yes. Things were certainly looking up', Brian thought to himself.

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"Excellent! The Board of the Met is going to love this campaign. You wouldn't believe what a bunch of dirty old men and women they really are at heart. And my aunt, well let's just say this will be right up her alley," Bryce Kennedy gushed, once again, over the campaign idea that Brian and Justin had just finished presenting.

"Thank you, Sir. Justin and I were hoping you'd like it as much as we did. It's going to be a fun one to shoot," Brian agreed, thrilled that his boss was thrilled with the proposal - that executive floor office was practically his, provided he successfully pulled this off.

"Just have everything ready for the full presentation to the Board next week, and I'm certain we'll have a winner," Kennedy agreed. "Now, are you heading back to the office right away? If so, I'll have a team from the art department waiting for you to get this thing finalized."

"I don't think so, Sir," Brian quickly cut off his boss before he got too far. "I think I'll stick close to Taylor here for the rest of the day. We can get a lot more done here - away from all the distractions of the office. Plus, I'm thinking I shouldn't let our newest star out of my sight until this campaign is 100% ready. Taylor's already becoming a hot commodity and I don't want him losing his focus. Don't worry, though, I'll have my assistant, Cynthia, pick up anything we need the art department to work on and courrier it back to the office as needed."

"All right. Sounds doable. Great work Kinney, Taylor."

The computer screen went blank as the boss logged off. Brian breathed a sigh of relief that the crisis at work was dealt with. Now to get down to the REAL work - winning back his Sunshine for good. Somehow, Brian didn’t think that would be as clear cut and easy as putting together an award winning Ad campaign. However, he was determined to try.