Justin woke up with a big smile on his face and a song on his lips. He kept humming Let the Sunshine In and Don't Worry, Be Happy alternatively, feeling like he was in a Folgers coffee commercial.

"Hello, Harley," he greeted the blue budgie as he lifted the cover off the cage.

"Hello, Baby," the parakeet chirped at the teen.

Justin quickly checked the paper towel lining the bottom of the cage to make sure it wasn't too soiled, and also that the little guy had plenty of food and water for the day.

"Don't worry," Vic reassured him from the kitchen table, "Harley and I will get along famously, and I'll make sure he's well taken care of."

Justin nodded in thanks, humming a few more bars about letting the sunshine in.

"What's with the jolly mood?" Debbie asked him.

Justin grinned. "No school," he carrolled, "not for an entire week."

"You only realized that just now?" Vic joked. "How're you going to manage the SAT you told us is coming up in a few weeks?"

"Plenty of time to ‘bone up' before then," the teen retorted, stressing the sexual innuendo and earning identical grins from the siblings.

"They should have been testing for that in my day," Debbie reflected. "I'd have been the first Grassi to ace the aptitude exam."

"Mmm, what is that?" Justin inquired, rubbing his growling stomach and following the enticing aroma to Debbie, who was stirring something on the cooker.

"A potato, egg, and cheese scramble," the motherly redhead replied, grinning when the blond's tummy emitted a particularly loud rumble. "Pour yourself a cup of coffee and sit yourself down at the table. It'll be ready soon."

"Hurry it up, Sis," Vic requested when his belly started a competitive duet with Justin's. "That smells delish."

"Here it is, boys," Deb announced moments later, carrying the cast-iron skillet over to the table and placing it on a colorful rooster trivet. "Dig in."

There was no conversation for the next fifteen minutes, just moans of appreciation, slurping sounds as they drank their coffee, and the clanking of silverware against plates.

"Fuck, Debs, that really hit the spot," Vic praised, folding his hands over his slightly distended belly.

"It sure did," Justin concurred. "Now I'll have the energy to deal with any hair-pulling queens at the diner," he jested, recalling the Great Wig Debate from the previous day.

"So who won?" Vic asked after they'd filled him in on the wig contretemps. "Beckham or Bardot?"

"It was a draw," Deb chortled, "although I won't be surprised if they take a poll to determine who's right."

As Justin was carrying the dishes over to the sink, Vic ordered, "Leave 'em there, Sunshine. I'll take care of the washing-up."

"Have fun with our Harley," the redhead directed, bussing Vic on the cheek as she and Justin headed out the door for their shift at the diner.

"I'll work on his trash talk," the older man assured them, a devilish twinkle in his eyes.

When eleven-thirty arrived, Debbie suggested, "Take a load off, Kiddo. The diner's not nearly as insane today as it was over the weekend, and you must need to refuel by now. After all, it's been nearly five hours since breakfast."

"I am feeling a bit peckish," Justin admitted, a telltale rumbling from his stomach underscoring his statement. 

"Pour yourself something to drink, and I'll see what Fahad has ready to dish up," his surrogate mother encouraged.

After glancing around to make sure the redhead wouldn't be left shorthanded if he took a break, Justin trotted to the breakroom and dug his sketchbook out of his bag, before pouring himself a glass of Coke and settling into an empty booth. His pencil flew across the page, the antagonists from the Great Wig Debate rapidly coming to life.

"Fahad just finished grilling some chenje - Iranian shish kebab - and tomatoes," Deb announced, setting a plate next to the teen. "So put away your sketchpad and eat while it's nice and hot."

As Justin started to close the pad, she requested, "Wait a sec and lemme see that." Eyeing the drawing, she began laughing at the caricatures. "You sure pegged those two queens, Honey. Why, you ought to submit this to a magazine like The New Yorker."

"Maybe I'll be good enough for that someday," Justin shrugged off her suggestion. "I'm just having a bit of fun."

"Out magazine then," the redhead laughed. "I could supply the captions, and we'd soon have an entire series of cartoons about life on Liberty Avenue."

"Where the fuck's my lunch?" an irate customer shouted at that moment, interrupting Deb's pitch. "I just had a shave, but I can already feel the stubble, I've been waiting so long."

"Then you can wait till your beard reaches the floor," Debbie yelled back, before trotting over to the kitchen window.

"Fahad, where's Stubble Cheeks' food?" the redhead called out.

"Is that the dickwad who wanted his steak well done, his green beans ever-so-slightly steamed, and his lettuce crisp?" the chef asked, coming up to the pass-through and glaring at the man. "He's been issuing new instructions on how he wants his meal prepared every five minutes." Fahad then grinned conspiratorially at Deb and whispered something in her ear.

Justin watched avidly as she carried the plate over to Mr Stubble's table, where she loudly proclaimed, "Bessie says, ‘Moo!'" The man jumped back as blood dripped from the very rare steak, gazing in disbelief at the limp, overcooked beans and wilted lettuce.

"I'm not paying for this... garbage," Stubble Cheeks snarled, before stomping toward the door in high dudgeon.

Everyone burst out laughing, with comments like, "Good riddance!" and "Come back when you've grown a beard!" yelled after the man as he exited the eatery.

Fahad shook his clasped hands over his head like a winning prizefighter, as Deb made her way back to a giggling Justin.

"Here, Sunshine, this is for you," she declared, pulling a white envelope out of her apron and handing it to the teen.

"What is it?" the puzzled blond asked.

"Open it and find out," Debbie suggested, smiling fondly at Justin.

"Oh, this is brill!" Justin exclaimed, after tearing open the envelope. "My first paycheck!" He jumped up and gave Debs an exuberant hug.

"For your first two weeks of work," Deb confirmed, planting a lipsticky kiss on the teen's forehead.

The blond could feel excitement thrumming through his veins. As Deb had indicated when she'd hired him, he earned far more in tips than from his hourly pay, but this was tangible proof that he was inching toward his goal of repaying Brian. "If I endorse the check over to you - like Mel advised - can you deposit it today?" Justin excitedly questioned.

"You betcha," Deb instantly replied, before teasing, "Take a moment to breathe, Sunshine, or you're gonna hyperventilate."

Justin grinned at his surrogate mother as he re-seated himself in the booth, absently chewing a chunk of kebab. "Make sure you keep fifty dollars from the check," he instructed, "since that's the amount you lent me on my first day."

"Okay, Kiddo," Deb responded.

"Oh, I need to give you the bulk of my tip money for you to deposit, too," the teen jabbered, again forgetting about his lunch.

"Eat," the waitress laughingly chastised him; "you can give me your tip money later. I won't go to the bank till my shift is over."

The afternoon flew by after that, both Justin and Debbie chatting with the customers as they processed their orders. The teen was becoming familiar with some of the regulars and knew exactly how they wanted their coffee, tea, milkshake, or soda prepared. When he handed them their drinks with one of his trademark grins, he almost always earned a smile - and then a large tip - in return.

"Hey up!" Daphne greeted her bestie when she breezed into the diner at fifteen past three that afternoon.

Justin looked up from the table he was busing, smiling and calling out, "I'll be with you now in a minute, Daph."

"Sorry, I'm late," she apologized when he bustled over moments later. "I had to wait till my mum could drop me off. Why're you still working anyway? I thought you were off at three o'clock."

"Harry's running late, so I agreed to help Kiki till he gets here," Justin explained. "No biggie."

"Such a responsible and reliable young man," Daph solemnly intoned, causing Justin to swipe at her with the dishrag he was holding. The girl giggled, asking, "Can I get a bite before we go anywhere? I'm famished."

"Sure thing," Justin responded. "It's been a while since I ate, so I could do with a snack myself."

"What, all of an hour?" Daph teased, archly raising her eyebrows.

"At least three hours!" the blond protested.

Harry rushed through the door right then, apologizing profusely and thanking Justin for covering for him.

A bit later, as they munched on the fried cod and onion rings Harry had just delivered to their table, Daphne inquired, "So what's the plan for this afternoon?"

"Mmm," Justin moaned, biting down and then sucking the onion out of one of the rings before crunching the crispy covering. 

"That looks..." his friend trailed off, at a rare loss for words as she watched him.

"Was I being gross?" Justin asked, somewhat concerned. "I wouldn't want to be accused of eating like Michael again."

"N- no, not gross," Daphne muttered, flushing and averting her eyes. "It was just kinda... obscene, in a really intriguing way," she admitted.

Justin stared at his friend, flummoxed. How could eating an onion ring be obscene? he wondered. Then he considered how he'd sucked the onion out and turned red himself. Too bad it was too late to see what effect that would have on Brian... "Um, well, speaking of obscene. I've set aside a bit of cash to shop for toys," the blond ventured, "and one of the places I want to go is sorta a combo of both sexy and obscene."

"Count me in!" Daph enthused, not waiting for Justin to say where they'd be heading.

"Ehm, are you sure?" Justin queried, "I'm going to visit The Promised Land here on Liberty Avenue."

"Eww," Daphne sat back, a look of disgust on her face. "That sounds like the headquarters for some kind of fundamentalist religious cult."

Justin snorted the Coke he'd just sipped out of his nose - something that was becoming a habit around his bestie. "No, you numbskull, it's a sex store. Remember that red dildo I got as a tip my first day as a busboy?"

When Daphne nodded, he elucidated, "I was able to return it to The Promised Land because it still had the store sticker on it and was encased in the original factory packaging, netting me forty dollars. Together with my other tips and the remainder of the money Debbie lent me that morning, I was able to buy my makeshift uniform and some other necessities. I really hated having to return the dildo..." He grinned wickedly as he eyed his fascinated friend, who was hanging on every word, finishing with a flourish, "...because a dildo is a gay boy's best friend."

"You're gonna replace it today?" Daphne squealed, blushing furiously.

"Yep. You still want to come with me?" Justin asked, an amused glint in his blue eyes.

"Heck, yeah," Daph insisted, although he could tell it was partly bravado.

"Then, I want to buy a toy for Harley," he declared.

"Harley? Who's that? You've never mentioned him before. Did you go on a date - without telling me?" The girl didn't even take a breath as she bombarded her friend with questions.

Once he'd stopped laughing, Justin clarified, "Harley is a budgie, the second bearer of that name. When Vic, Deb, and I were cleaning out their attic, we uncovered a really neat birdcage, and the two of them reminisced about the blue budgie Debbie used to have. I never had a pet growing up, so I thought a parakeet - one I could name after Deb's - would be a perfect first pet.

"Aw, that's so sweet," Daphne interjected.

It was kinda sweet, but rather than say that, the blond simply continued, "Yesterday, Debbie and I went to the Sequoia Humane Society and - Voila! - there was Harley II."

"You don't even have a photo to show me, do you?" pouted Daphne. 

"Tell you what... why don't you come with me after we finish shopping?" Justin suggested. "You can meet Harley, have dinner with us, and be properly introduced to Vic."

"You mean for longer than it takes him to hand you his Babylon ID?" joked Daph. "I still can't believe the bouncer let both of us in, based solely on that."

Justin revealed, "I've discovered they're pretty relaxed about letting underage teens into the club - better than having them go elsewhere and get into serious trouble - but they do card rigorously when it comes to alcohol."

"You haven't had any problem getting drinks," his friend countered.

Justin nodded in acknowledgement, "Not when someone else buys for me. So, whaddya say... want to have dinner at Deb and Vic's house?"

"Are you sure Debbie won't mind you inviting me?" Daphne asked dubiously.

"No worries. She always cooks more than we can eat," the blond reassured her. "You'd better be prepared for a ribald conversation, though, since the two of them are bound to quiz me about my new dildo. Heck, they'll probably want to know what I've named it."

"I'd still feel better if you gave Debbie a quick jingle," Daph insisted. "Here, use my mobile."

Justin obligingly dialed Deb's house, grinning when he heard Harley chirping, "Hello," in the background as Vic picked up. "Hey, Vic," he cheerfully greeted the older man. "I was thinking of bringing Daphne over for dinner tonight and wanted to check with Deb that it would be okay."

"Sis is running errands, but I know she'll give you hell if you don't bring your friend home with you," Vic jested. "You know how she likes nothing better than having people over."

"Yeah, that's what I told Daph," Justin chuckled, "but she wouldn't agree to accompany me until I checked in." When the teen heard Harley squawk again, he teased, "Is Harley taking good care of you?"

"He's teaching me to talk," Vic replied in a deadly serious tone. "Go have fun, you rascal, and we'll see you around six for dinner?"

"We'll be there," Justin promised. "Later."

After ending the call and sliding the cell phone across the table, he reported, "See? They're putting out the welcome mat."

"I just wanted to be sure," Daphne chided, "since, unlike someone whose name I won't mention, I wasn't raised in a barn."

Justin threw an onion ring at his bestie, which she deftly caught in her hand before gulping it down.

"Fuck, it's cold," Daph groused as they scurried along the sidewalk from the diner, a few snowflakes swirling in the air. "How much farther is it to that shop?"

"We're here," Justin announced in a muffled voice, his face buried in the folds of his scarf as he waved toward their right.

The girl's jaw dropped, and she stopped in her tracks, gaping at the items displayed in The Promised Land's window.

"Daphne?" Justin looked around for his friend after opening the door to the shop. "I thought you wanted to get in where it's warm."

"Uh, yeah," she responded, trotting over to him, her gaze skittering away from the blond's. "Um, some of those things are really big... and wide... Do they fit... you know, up there?" she inquired as she followed Justin inside.

They realized Daph's voice had carried when the clerk, a tattooed chick with multiple piercings who was dressed in black leather, drawled, "It's not just fags who like to put things ‘up there,' ya know?"

"Oh, right, of course, lesbians too." Daphne tried to act all casual, but failed miserably.

"Honey, straight girls use them too," the salesgirl chided, shaking her head at the clueless teen.

"Oh, you're, uh, straight..." Daph floundered helplessly, elbowing Justin in the ribs in a plea to be rescued.

"I'm bi, little virgin, and could I ever teach you a thing or two," the woman offered, winking at Daph lasciviously.

Justin's lips twitched at how flustered his friend was getting. It was fun to be the cool, confident one for a change. "C'mon," he urged Daphne, "let's take a look around."

"Fuck, Jus, I feel like such a muppet," Daph hissed as they started to browse the shelves.

"You just need a learner's permit," joked the blond.

"Ouch!" his friend winced, surreptitiously rubbing her chest, as she examined a package of nipple clamps, with an image on the front depicting how to apply them. "Doesn't that hurt?"

"Sure it does," the blond replied, feeling worldly-wise, "but that's kind of the point. Like with my nipple ring - it feels really good when it's tugged."

"Um, I'll pass," Daphne stated, hurriedly putting the packet back on the rack.

"Wow!" she exclaimed moments later as they began browsing the dildos at the back of the shop. "There's a whole wall dedicated to these."

"Like the salesperson said, everyone uses them," Justin absently muttered as he scanned his options. "They're the best toy ever invented."

"Hey, check this one out." Daphne directed Justin's attention to an electric blue dildo. "It's a nice color."

Justin chuckled at the notion of buying a phallic toy based on color, but then again, not only would it almost match his eyes, it would also look erotic against his skin. He took the package off the shelf, checking out the size of the phallus as well as its features. "Hmm," he mused aloud, "it's as long as Brian's cock and just about as wide as mine... Plus, it vibrates at different speeds." 

"What effect does the vibration have?" Daphne inquired, glancing quizzically at him.

"It stimulates a man's prostate," Justin answered frankly, "producing indescribable pleasure."

"Huh," Daphne mumbled, her face bright red, before turning to an end cap on a shelf behind them. "Hey, what's this?" she eyed the image of a thin steel rod next to a penis in bewilderment.

"It's a sound," Justin explained. "It's inserted in the urethra to produce erotic sensation."

Daphne's face scrunched up in horror. "No way. That must be dangerous. You haven't tried that, have you, Jus?"

"No..." the blond replied slowly, mostly repelled but also a little intrigued, "but I might with just the right partner. I'd really need to trust the other person."

"If you ever do try it, talk to a doctor first, okay?" Daphne begged. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Okay, I will," Justin reassured his bestie. It wasn't as if he had anyone he'd want to try sounding with in any case.

After looking at the other dildos, Justin didn't see anything that he liked more than the one Daphne had spotted. "Let's check out," he told his friend, "I'm going with this one, even though it costs more than what I planned to spend."

Glancing at the price tag for the first time as they made their way to the cash register, Daph objected, "Fifty dollars for a sex toy?"

"It's high quality," the tattooed salesgirl stated in an offended tone. "You'll get years of use out of this," she earnestly informed Justin.

"Yeah..." Justin beamed at the clerk, already looking forward to trying it out before he went to sleep.

"You should try a good starter dildo and give yourself some much-needed relief... and practice for the real deal," the clerk recommended to Daphne as she rang up Justin's purchase. She pointed to a slender lavender-hued wand that was about one inch in diameter and five inches long.

"That's not at all realistic," Justin propounded.

"Yeah, but she's a virgin," the salesgirl declared.

"I'll be outside," Daph squeaked, fleeing the shop.

"You should give her a sex ed lesson," the biker chick advised, chuckling lightly at Daphne's obvious consternation.

"What? No," Justin hastily rejected that idea. "I'm gay. She needs a straight boy."

"She needs someone experienced who'll be understanding," the woman called after him.

Justin dismissed her advice. No way would Daphne want that.

As they walked along Liberty Avenue, stirring up puffs of white powder with their shoes, Justin's mind drifted to his new dildo. He imagined it freshly lubed, glinting in the moonlight streaming in through the bedroom window as he teased his entrance with the vibrating tip... Then, however, he was jolted out of his musings by his best friend and scrambled to catch up with what she'd been saying.

"...ow, Jus, I was thinking..." Daphne's voice petered out as they neared Woof and Tweet, the local pet store.

"Hmm?" Justin inquired, a trifle embarrassed that he'd been daydreaming about using his new toy.

"Ehm, I'll tell you later," Daphne mumbled as they were swept into the pet store along with a collie and her owners.

The two men were noisily arguing the merits of the best dog food. "Iams is fucking boring," one of the fags declared. "Look at that - the dog on the packaging must have mange."

"Ooh, gross, you're right," his companion shuddered as he looked at a bag of Iams. "We don't want to be all itchy, do we girl?" he asked, patting their dog on the head.

"I'd like to have a dog someday," Justin commented. "It would be good company for Harley."

"Can I help you?" a deep voice inquired.

When Justin turned around, he was faced with a balding giant of a man, who topped Justin's height by at least a foot.

"I'm looking for a toy for my new budgie," the teen proudly revealed. "The folks over at the Sequoia Humane Society estimated he's one to two years old."

"His owners abandoned him?" the giant queried. 

"No," Justin quickly replied, "they moved to Nepal and couldn't take the little guy with them."

"Ah, you came along at just the right time," the man smiled at Justin. "Follow me," he requested, chattering away as he led them toward the back of the store. "I'm Tweet. My husband, Woof, and I own this fine establishment." He gestured toward a tiny man, who was ringing up a sale, "That's Woof."

Daphne poked her bestie, raising her eyebrows, causing Justin to nod in amused agreement. It did seem like this man should be Woof and his husband Tweet.

"Do you have a particular toy in mind?" Tweet asked.

"Not really, just something special," Justin answered. "Harley II is my first pet."

"You're fond of motorcycles then?" Tweet guessed.

"My surrogate mum's an aficionado," the blond clarified, "and she once had a budgie named Harley."

"Aw, how sweet," Tweet cooed, Daphne's head bobbing up and down in agreement. "You're a good lad to acquire another Harley for the two of you to enjoy."

Justin forwent mentioning Vic, embarrassed enough to receive praise for doing something which benefited him at least as much as Debbie.

"What do you think of this?" the giant asked, dangling a package containing a green mirror lantern, with a bell at the bottom, in front of Justin. "Parakeets love mirrors and bells, curious little critters that they are."

The blond chuckled. "Yeah, Harley's already been ringing the ones on the bars of his cage."

"The more, the merrier, right?" Daph jested.

"Exactly!" Tweet beamed at the teens.

"This looks perfect," Justin decided. He worried at his bottom lip and shuffled his feet as he diffidently inquired, "What's the cost? I don't have that much ready cash at the moment."

"Can you swing six dollars fifty?" Tweet asked.

"That's a lot less than you just spent on that dil-" Daphne suddenly broke off, mortified at what she'd been about to disclose.

Tweet merely laughed as he led them toward the register, echoing Justin's assertion to Daphne earlier that afternoon, "That's a requirement for every gay boy..."

Brian had completely forgotten that he had invited Theodore over for drinks by the time the man rang his doorbell. His mind was constantly going over the events of the previous night, preventing him from concentrating on anything - be it his job or otherwise. Waking up in the morning, sobered up, the weight of the situation had finally really hit him and ever since then, his traitorous brain insisted on coming up with scenarios of what could've happened had that nosy redhead not interfered.

He felt a bit stupid, since nothing had really happened to him, but he couldn't help the feeling of nausea that arrived every time he remembered that asshole of a trick. What sort of self-respecting fag wouldn't take no for an answer?  

The bell sounded again, startling Brian out of his thoughts. The brunet sighed. What the hell had he been thinking, inviting Theodore for drinks like that? The guy was going to think he was coming onto him or something. Well, it was too late to cancel now, he thought in exasperation, since the boring man was already downstairs.

Buzzing his friend up, Brian rubbed a hand across his face, trying to pull himself together. He didn't want the other man to notice something was amiss. When the expected knock on the door came, Brian steeled himself and went to open it, greeting his friend with a grunted, "Hey, Theodore."

Ted blinked at him for a few seconds before answering, "Hi." He paused, the two men staring at each other. "Uh, can I come in then?"

Brian snapped out of it. "Yeah," he answered, stepping aside to let the older man through.

A brief silence ensued as Ted stepped inside, shrugging off his coat. "Um," he muttered, "where should I put this?"

Brian waved his arm in the general direction of the coat hangers, giving Ted a look.

Ted shot an exasperated glare at him in return. "I've only ever been here for Michael's birthday bash, and all sorts of balloons and streamers covered these pegs at the time. How'd you expect me to know this was your notion of a coat rack?"

The younger brunet shrugged. "You have eyes," he snarked. "You see a coat hanger - it shouldn't take a genius to figure out you hang coats on it."

"Listen, if you invited me here just to make fun of me, I think I'll leave," Ted declared, starting to back out through the open door.

Brian caught him by his lapel, tugging him back inside. "Don't be a fucking girl, Theodore," he muttered, though he did give his friend a half-apologetic look.

"First time I've been mistaken for a gal," Ted chuckled, accepting the quasi apology.

The adman raised his eyebrows. "A ‘gal'?" he questioned, scrunching up his nose. "Is this also your first time in this century?"

"I thought I'd test out a new three-letter word for Michael," Ted quipped. "He'll need all the help he can get the next time we play Scrabble."

Walking over to his liquor bar, Brian smirked. "That's not nearly as funny as it would be had you had the balls to say it in front of Mikey," he commented. Raising a bottle of Beam Black Label, he lifted an eyebrow at Ted in question.

Ted shook his head up and down in approval of Brian's choice of whiskey, while professing, "I couldn't say something like that to Michael. It would just hurt his feelings without affecting his Scrabble skills."

"He has to grow thick skin," Brian shrugged. "He's fucking thirty years old now, after all."

"Uh-huh," Ted rebutted, "I haven't exactly noticed you driving that point home."

"I'm not his mother."

"And you think I am?" Ted interjected in disbelief. "No thanks. I don't want the job."

Brian's brow furrowed in confusion. "When the hell did I say that?" he asked. Had he missed something? Awkward conversations like this were exactly why he usually avoided inviting anyone over for some one-on-one. Now if he could only remember what had prompted him to ask Theodore over... 

"You seemed to be implying that although you're not Michael's mother, I should take on that task," Ted stated in a resigned tone. "Just because I once had a crush on Mikey, it doesn't mean I want to parent him."

Brian stared at his friend, the bottle of bourbon still in his hand. What the fuck were they even talking about? he wondered, his brain scrambling to catch up. Unsure as to how their conversation had ended up on the topic of Michael, he shook his head. "Whatever. You want Beam?" he asked, raising the bottle again.

"Uh, yeah, that's why I was imitating a bobble-head doll," Ted jested before his tone turned earnest. "Are you okay, Brian? You seem a little out of it."

Quickly pouring the glasses of the amber liquid, the younger man scoffed, "I'm fine."

Ted glanced at him doubtfully as he accepted one of the tumblers from Brian, murmuring, "If you say so, Bri. I'm glad to listen, if there's something you want to talk about... Speaking of which, why did you want me to stop by tonight?"

Brian scrambled for something to say. He suspected that the reason he had asked Ted over was because he had enjoyed the man's banter during the Scrabble game and had wanted to spend some time with him again. Pathetic, really. "Um," he paused. "I think Ryder's gonna fire me," he finally blurted out, mentioning the first thing that came to mind. It wasn't actually a completely bad idea to talk about it, he figured; Ted might even have some advice to offer regarding Brian's plans to open his own company.

Also, the conversation might take his mind off of what was really bothering him - last night's trick fiasco. The whole thing had him acting like a fucking lesbian - he had planned on stopping by the Armani shop on his way home from work, but as he'd been driving by, he'd caught a glimpse of someone from the corner of his eye that could have been last night's assailant. He'd floored the gas pedal, burning rubber in his hurry to get away and had still been recovering - from what was surely a case of mistaken identity - when he'd walked into the loft, not long before Ted's arrival. Unsurprisingly, his friend was far too observant not to have noticed that something was amiss.

"Whatever for?" Ted prompted, clearly shocked by Brian's revelation. "Aren't you his big rainmaker?"

And once again, Brian found himself floundering. Trying to summon all of his improvisation skills, he took a sip from his tumbler. "It's not that I think he's gonna do it," he explained vaguely. "It's that I got an echo - Ryder's legal team advised him to fire me."

"If you've heard that, surely you must've also sussed out why he'd be considering that sort of unsound business strategy," Ted probed. "You may be an egotistical bastard, but from what you've said, you're the one acquiring most of the new accounts for the firm. I can't imagine Ryder would ever want to be in a situation where he'd be competing with you for clients."

"Sexual harassment!" Brian yelled, startling both himself and the older man. Forcing himself to speak more calmly, he informed Ted, "One of the junior staff has accused me of sexually harassing him. Even though Ryder caught him in the act of trying to manipulate me, in my office no less, he's running scared from the potential scandal. His legal beagles," the adman sneered, "apparently believe the easiest way to avoid that is to give me the ax."

Ted stared at him. "That's ridiculous," he commented. "I mean, I understand where he's coming from, but getting rid of you is pretty stupid. Does your legal department even know how valuable you are?"

Brian shrugged wearily. "If they do know, they don't give a rat's ass. They're blinkered by my sudden liability - and by Ryder being such a chickenshit."

"And what do you want?" Ted asked, tilting his head. "What would you prefer?"

"Are you kidding? Do you think I want to get fired?" Brian questioned sardonically.

"Don't you?" Ted raised his eyebrow. "You always complain about Ryder and how he's holding you back anyway."

"That's not the same as getting fired," Brian spoke slowly, as if to an imbecile.

"Don't be obtuse," Ted demanded. "If Ryder is such a schmuck that he actually fires you, then the non-competition clause would be null and void." Quirking an eyebrow at Brian, he pled, "Please tell me that Melanie worked that in when she vetted your contract."

"She did," Brian affirmed, his interest in a topic about which he would normally be enthusiastic flagging. He distractedly ran a hand through his hair, reflecting that the fucking trick from the night before was making it difficult to think about anything else.

"Brian," Ted spoke gently, "Are you really okay?"

"Why do you keep asking that? I told you I was fine!" Brian remonstrated.

"I saw you at Babylon last night," Ted explained.

"Fuck!" Brian shouted, panicking internally. Pacing toward the window, he pounded one fist against the glass and blindly stared down onto the darkened street.

"No one else saw you," Ted quickly reassured him, "but I thought you looked distraught. Did something happen?"

"Just a really lousy blow job," Brian shrugged off his friend's concern. He quickly composed himself and sauntered back to the bar, where he poured another healthy measure of Beam into his glass, adding some to Ted's as well. He fervently hoped Ted hadn't noticed his little meltdown. Christ, he was turning into a fucking girl, obsessing over that trick. 

Ted eyed him skeptically, but didn't call Brian on his bullshit. Instead, he moved over to the sofa, where he made himself comfortable. "You know, Brian," he disclosed, "I've been wanting to get your opinion about this guy I've been seeing. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't tell anyone else, though, since the gang might scare him off."

Brian eyed him suspiciously. "You want my opinion on a relationship?" he asked in disbelief.

"Why not?" Ted inquired in a reasonable tone. "You're a good judge of character."

Quirking a dubious eyebrow at the older man, Brian queried, "You have heard the tale of how I've only ever gone on one date..."

"...where you ended up fucking the waiter," Ted recited. "Yeah, I've heard."

"That didn't clue you in that I'm the last person who should give relationship advice?" Brian asked.

"Let me tell you how we met," Ted suggested. "We were at a bookstore on Liberty Avenue, the one a couple storefronts down from Buzzy's Comics, and almost bumped heads when we reached for the same book. So, we got to talking..."

"What an exciting life you lead, Theodore," Brian interposed, rolling his eyes. "Did anything actually happen on this momentous occasion?" The adman refused to admit he was in the least interested in hearing more, even though he had now taken a seat at the other end of the couch.

"We ended up talking for hours, first over coffee and then dinner," Ted continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted. "Since then, we've been on two dates."

"Sounds like all is proceeding smoothly, if very dully," Brian yawned. "I don't see that you need my advice."

"The guy is way out of my league," Ted confessed. "I mean, on top of being a brainiac - he's a professor at Carnegie Mellon - he's absolutely built, with muscles on top of muscles." An uncertain expression crossing his face, the accountant mumbled, "I can't figure out what he's doing with me."

Brian stared at his friend, flabbergasted. Did the man need him to explain sexual attraction?

Ted forestalled Brian by raising a hand, claiming, "You must think I don't stand a chance with the guy. After all, I'm just ‘boring old Ted'. But if you could withhold the scathing commentary, I'd be grateful."

"Well," Brian drawled, a teasing lilt in his voice, "I was going to offer to take a look at the guy and make sure he's good enough for you." His tone became more serious as he added, "I'd like to be sure he'll treat you right and not just use you."

"You're the last one I want Ben to meet," Ted retorted. "You'd probably steal him from me."

The adman rolled his eyes, asserting, "I'm not interested, Theodore." He hoped the older man didn't believe Brian was so lacking in knowledge of gay etiquette that he'd fuck a friend's date. 

"We're here," Justin called out, alerting Deb and Vic to their arrival as he ushered Daphne into the house that evening.

"Come on, Baby!" Harley chirped, while Debbie yelled, "We're in the kitchen!"

Justin grinned happily at the budgie's new greeting as he hung up his and Daphne's coats. "C'mon," he urged; "come meet our sassy little budgie."

When they entered the kitchen, Harley chirped, "Come on, Baby!" again, swinging to and fro on his perch.

"Are you some kind of budgie whisperer?" Justin asked Vic, who was beaming proudly at the parakeet.

"It's all clear to me now, how Harley the First learned so many curse words, while I was working all day," Debbie teased.

Vic shot her an unrepentant grin. "I thought you would've twigged to that long before now, Sis," he bantered.

Daphne poked her friend in the ribs as she listened to the raillery between the siblings, hissing, "You're so bloody lucky to live here, Jus."

"I know." The blond smiled smugly.

"Oh! Where are my manners?" Vic chided himself, turning to their guest. "You're Daphne, right? The girl who accompanied our Sunshine to Babylon when he didn't have quite enough bravado to go by himself."

This time it was Daphne who smiled smugly at her bestie. "That's right," she confirmed, before admitting, "I wanted to go anyway, so it was no hardship."

"Babylon would be quite the eye opener for anyone who's never been to a gay club before," Deb chuckled from her station at the cooker. 

Another "Hello" from Harley directed their attention back to the preening budgie, who cocked his head at Daphne as if to inquire, ‘Who're you?'

"I think he likes you, Daph," Justin enthused, leading his friend over to the birdcage. "He has good taste," he whispered, winking at his friend and Harley.

Harley's head bobbed up and down as he let out a few clacking sounds, seemingly agreeing with the blond and thus eliciting a round of laughter.

"A budgie for a boyfriend," the girl jested. "I could do worse than this handsome little fellow."

"A good-looking gal like you must have the boys tripping over themselves to get your attention," the older man opined.

"The ones who aren't gay," the redhead cackled.

"Even those," Justin warmly averred, making Daphne flush with pleasure as he pulled out a chair for her to take a seat.

"You see, Vic, that's how to use those manners Mama tried to drill into you," Debbie claimed, nudging her brother as she carried a pan over to the table.

"Too late for an old reprobate like me to change," Vic stated. "Old dog, new tricks, and all that."

"You mean you don't want to change," Deb admonished.

"That too," Vic complacently admitted.

"You okay with milk?" Justin asked Daphne as he grabbed the carton from the fridge.

"Is it from those happy cows out in California?" the girl quipped.

The blond pretended to study the carton before dissenting, "Nope. It's an ordinary Pennsylvania cow juice."

"Fuck, I love those commercials," Deb interjected as she sat down. "It's almost like an animated version of The Far Side."

At the identical blank looks from the teens, Vic prompted, "Gary Larson?"

"Um, no..." Justin muttered, with Daph echoing him.

"Jesus, what are they teaching you kids these days?" Debbie chided. "Larson's cartoons are classics. I'll have to dig out the book I have around here somewhere; as an artist, I'm sure you'd get a kick out of his designs, Kiddo."

"Okay." Justin shrugged. The old cartoons could be worth a laugh, he supposed.

"It's nothing special tonight, I'm afraid," Debbie apologized as she cut up the eggy dish and gave everybody a goodly portion. "I just threw together leftovers and made a frittata."

"It's scrumptious," Daphne moaned after she took a bite. "I wouldn't dare throw together ingredients helter-skelter. I'd end up with a soggy mess."

"I guess I have learned a thing or two after thirty-odd years in front of a stove," the redhead cackled. "You ever want lessons, just let me know. I can teach you along with Sunshine."

"I'd like that." The girl smiled at Debbie. "Like I was telling Justin, he's lucky to live here with the two of you."

"Huh. I think we're the ones who're lucky, having a good lad like Justin brighten this old house," Vic proclaimed sincerely.

"Allergies," Justin mumbled as he swiped at reddened eyes.

"Yeah, I'm having an attack too," Deb claimed, mimicking the blond's motion.

"So what did you kids get up to this afternoon?" the redhead asked a few minutes later, wanting to steer the conversation towards a more lighthearted topic. 

"Oh!" the blond exclaimed. "I got a new toy for Harley. Let me grab my bag."

"Don't forget your other new toy," Daphne slyly reminded Justin as he jumped up.

As he returned, Debs ordered him to "Sit and eat." ladling another portion onto the blond's plate. 

Justin passed the green mirror lantern to Vic, who chuckled, "Our Harley's gonna love this."

"He'll spend all his time admiring himself in those mirrors," the redhead mused, "and ringing the bells on his cage. You're going to be on call 24/7, Victor Grassi," she joked.

"Harley and I have an understanding," the older man retorted. "That budgie and I are already the best of buddies; we keep each other from getting bored. So, he'll listen when I tell him to wait with the bells till you get home, Sis."

"He'd better not," Debs playfully swatted at Vic. "I hear bells all day long at the diner, and so does Sunshine - between the diner and school."

"No mentioning school," Justin protested. "I have almost a full week of freedom left, and I'm determined to enjoy it." Smothering a yawn, he added, "Even if it kills me..."

"Sheer bliss," Daphne sighed; "no physics tests or nasty calculus revision exams..."

"Just think how much you've already improved in Dickhead's class and the probabilities of earning a B for your final grade," Justin encouraged his friend, dredging up a bright smile even as his eyelids drooped.

"How about we just calculate for how long you'll use your new playmate every day?" Daph mischievously suggested, flourishing the bright blue object in the air before setting the package down on the table.

"I'm gonna get you for that," Justin groaned. He should've known his bestie would fish his new dildo out of his bag.

"Will not," the girl taunted, sticking her tongue out at the blond.

"Brat," Justin elbowed his friend.

"Nimrod," Daphne retorted.

Vic and Debbie couldn't stop laughing at their antics, the redhead finally gasping, "You two remind me of me and Vic when we were younger. We were constantly trying to one-up each other."

Justin's eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline as he muttered in disbelief, "When you were younger..."

"He's got us there, Sis," Vic chuckled. "We haven't changed much at all in that respect."

"Thank fuck," Deb nodded vigorously, making everyone laugh.

"So, Sunshine, whatcha going to name this handsome bloke?" Vic inquired as he examined the plastic-encased dildo.

"Ooh, it's got a vibrating function," Deb announced, peering over Vic's shoulder. "How about ‘earthshaker'?"

"I feel the earth move under my feet," Vic sang in a pleasing tenor.

"I feel the sky tumblin' down," Deb warbled.

Vic stood up, pulling Debbie to her feet and dancing her around the room as they crooned, "I feel my heart start to tremblin', whenever you're around!"

"You were right," Daphne hissed, while the siblings were dancing. "They do want to name your toy."

"You couldn't keep your trap shut, could'ya?" the blond fondly mocked.

"Of course not," the girl huffed. "You needed taking down a peg, Mr Know-it-all Clever Clogs."

Vic returned Deb to the table as the siblings repeated the chorus a final time. "That Carole King had one fine voice," he opined, grinning at the teens.

"Uh, I think my mum's mentioned her," Daph uncertainly replied.

"Why, she was huge in the seventies," Debbie declared, hands on her hips.

"Ehm, we weren't born yet," Justin interposed, sticking up for his best friend.

"Holy fuck, you really weren't," the discombobulated redhead exclaimed. "Well then," she decided, rubbing her hands together briskly, "we old fogies will just have to provide you young'uns with a musical education."

"Not till we come up with a name for Justin's new best friend," Vic reminded her.

"Have all of you, like, used one of these before?" a rather pink-faced Daphne stuttered. "I've been wondering if I should get one for myself."

"Honey, dildos are the greatest," Deb proclaimed. "They don't run out of steam just when you're getting to the good part."

Justin blanched. "TMI, Debs! I didn't need to know that!"

The redhead guffawed. "That's exactly right, Kiddo. TMI!" At Justin's baffled look, she spelled out, "TMI stands for The Mighty Intruder. Fuck," she recalled fondly, "that first dildo of mine really was mighty."

"Ew, Debs!" Justin stuck fingers in his ears. "I don't want to hear all that. It's like that time Mum wanted to talk to me about erections when I was seven."

Daphne was now blushing furiously, but she also looked completely intrigued. "The next time we go shopping, we're looking for an Intruder for me, Jus."

"Fuck, no," the beleaguered teen begged. "I can't cope with more chatter about hetero sex."

"Sweetie," Debbie suggested, "we girls will go shopping together. We'll get you one of those little red vibes." 

"Oh!" Daphne tittered, her face now crimson, "It'll be Little Red Riding Hood."

"Yep, you'll definitely ride it," Deb chortled.

"Are you ‘ladies' quite done?" Vic inquired, a pained look on his face. "Justin and I are in danger of never getting hard ever again."

The blond nodded vehemently in agreement, suppressing another yawn. "The next thing I know, one of you will suggest I should name my dildo. I don't want to fuck myself with something called Willy Wonka's Wanker or something equally ridiculous."

"What about the Staff of Zeus?" Daphne eagerly proposed, most likely recalling last week's lesson on the influence of Greek gods in literature during their creative writing class.

"If I were going to name it after a god, it would be Eros, the god of love," Justin claimed. At the look of approval on his bestie's face, he hastily added, "Not that I'm gonna call it anything."

"I've got it!" Vic snapped his fingers, ignoring the blond's declaration. "I christen this dildo B.O.B., otherwise known as-"

"Vic," his sibling interrupted, "we need something catchier than ‘Battery Operated Boyfriend'."

"If you'd just let me finish," Vic huffed, "I was going to say Battery Operated Brian. From what I've heard the man does keep going and going, just like the Energizer Bunny."

The blond began giggling helplessly. He could just imagine the fit Brian would pitch if he heard that name. "Okay," he assented between bursts of laughter, "B.O.B. it is."

"So," Debbie revealed as Justin cleared away the dinner dishes, "I held back some struffoli from last night's dinner. Who wants some?"

"You've gotta try these, Daph," Justin insisted, placing a plate with two of the dough balls in front of his friend. "They're to die for."

Vic chuckled, "Even Brian ate a few last night, sneaking them off Justin's plate and breaking his ‘no carbs after seven' rule."

"He didn't even know he was doing it," Deb interjected, her eyes twinkling. "It was a good thing though. The boy's far too thin, needs fattening up."

"Everyone knows carbs don't count if you eat them off someone else's plate - or if you stand up while you eat," Daphne giggled, snatching a third sweet from Justin's plate.

His energy suddenly flagging, Justin rested his chin in his hand, not even trying to fend off the struffoli thief.

"That go-go dancing from last night catching up with you, Kiddo?" Vic queried. "Maybe not as easy as you thought?"

"I can handle it," the younger man insisted, even as his elbow slipped off the table, causing him to jerk upright.

"Oh! I forgot you were shaking your tail in front of all those horny men for the first time," Daphne babbled. "How'd it go? When do you dance again? I want to come watch."

"Whoa," Justin tried to slow down his enthusiastic friend. "I made pretty good tips, but I'm hoping I'll get to dance on the bar soon. That's where a go-go boy really rakes it in. The fags stuff cash underneath the bands of our underwear when they order drinks - until it looks like we're sprouting money."

"How long is your shift?" Daphne asked, eyeing her friend more closely. "You do look absolutely knackered, Jus."

"Only six hours, but the dancing really does take a lot of energy," the blond admitted as his elbow began to slide off the table again.

"Are you sure you can handle a couple shifts a week, what with school and the diner job?" Daph queried dubiously. "It sounds like too much to me."

"I can handle it," Justin stubbornly reiterated. "I'll just have to go to bed a little earlier."

"Maybe we should all hit the hay early tonight," Vic diplomatically suggested. "I could use some extra rest myself."

"Let me just call my mum and see if she can come pick me up," Daphne stated, reaching into her pocket for her cell phone.

"No need, Honey. I'll give you a ride home," Debbie offered. "I can put Vincent away when I get back."

"Her car," Justin mouthed at Daph when she looked at him in bewilderment. "Do you want me to come with?" he asked the motherly woman, torn between accompanying his friend and trying out his new toy.

"No, you'd better keep that date with B.O.B.," Deb teased. 

Justin grinned, feeling a bit of his energy return. After waving Daphne on her way, he cleaned up the last of the dishes with Vic, before calling goodnight and taking the stairs two at a time, B.O.B. firmly clasped in his hand.

Ted and Brian had almost drained the bottle of Beam by the time twilight fell, having downed glass after glass of the expensive liquid as they chatted. It wasn't really the way you were supposed to drink a label like that - if you just wanted to get pissed, there was always vodka - but Brian was way past caring.

"Man, I'm mothered," Ted complained after finishing off another glass and then having trouble putting it back on the table.

Brian snorted. "Wimp."

The older man shot him a look. "Not everyone can have lead lev- liver," he snarked, stumbling over his words.

"It's called ‘high alcohol tolerance', Schmidt," Brian informed his friend, enunciating clearly.

Ted shrugged. "You didn't look vel- very tolerant yesterday," he muttered. "You almost fell on your face as you stumbled out of the backroom."

Brian's stomach sank, bile rising in his throat. Maybe drinking almost half a bottle of Beam so soon after his Babylon escapade wasn't a good idea after all. "Shut up," he grunted after he managed to suppress the regurgitation of his stomach's contents.

Ted seemed to sober up a little. "Brian, I didn't mean-"

"Just shut up, Theodore!" the younger man spat back. "That's not what I invited you here to talk about."

"What then?" Ted wondered.

Brian faltered for a second but managed to come up with something before it could look suspicious. "I told you I might get fired," he began, "and you mentioned the non-compete clause. Now, if I give you a hypothetical situation, would you give me your opinion?"

The other man nodded, pouring himself another glass. "Sure, just don't expect rocket science out of me now, since I'm slaughtered."

The adman rolled his eyes. "I don't expect rocket science out of you even when you're sober," he assured his friend. "Just tell me what you think, okay?"

Ted nodded again.

"So, hypothetically, if I did get fired and the NCC became void, I could start my own ad company here in Pittsburgh, right?"

"Yes," the accountant agreed.

"And Ryder wouldn't be able to do anything about it?" Brian asked to make sure.

"No. Once the NCC's void, he has no say over any of your future business attempts," Ted assured him.

Brian bit his lip. "But my clients would stay at Ryder, right?"

Theodore cleared his throat, putting down his glass. "Yes, they sign contracts with Ryder, not you. However, from what you've mentioned, they do sign because of you, so there is a good chance they would follow you."

Brian motioned for Ted to elaborate.

"You should talk with your clients and ask them, hypothetically, if they would be amenable to switching agencies if you left Ryder. Be careful, though, to do it on your own time, outside of work hours, using your private phone number - you can't conduct your own business at Ryder."

The adman nodded in understanding. "Then what?"

"Then, when you've set up the new company, you talk to them again. Not all of them will actually follow you, no matter what they promised before, but you should gain a couple good accounts out of it. You might just have to wait for their contracts with Ryder to run their course," he warned. "Not everyone will be willing to pay the early termination fee."

Brian hmmed, mulling over Ted's answers. The man hadn't really said anything different than what Brian had already thought. Clients weren't going to be a problem, he decided confidently, he never had trouble schmoozing for new accounts. The challenge was going to be running the new agency by himself - he didn't have any experience.

"If I may ask," Ted interrupted his thoughts. "Have you spoken to anyone else about this? Hypothetically, of course."

Brian shook his head, before pausing and nodding instead. "Yeah, I talked with Cynthia. She's willing to leave with me."

"Be careful," Ted urged him. "You don't want Ryder to get wind of this. If you want to approach some of Ryder's employees, do it after he fires you - if he fires you, that is."

The adman narrowed his eyes at his friend. He hadn't considered that someone might warn Ryder about his intentions, in which case Brian's enterprise would fail before it even really started...

"Theodore," he drawled. "You seem to really know what you're talking about."

The other man shrugged. "Common sense and a couple law school classes," he explained.

Brian contemplated him, head tilted. "How happy are you with your job?" he asked.

Ted's face rearranged itself in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Brian enunciated slowly, "would you be willing to work for me? Hypothetically speaking."

The accountant stared at him in shock for a few minutes, before composing himself. "I am way too drunk for this conversation, Brian," he admitted. "I want to say ‘yes,' but I don't know if that's the Beam or me speaking."

The ad exec sighed. "I understand. How about we meet some other time - sans booze - and talk it over again? Sometime this week?"

"Sure," Ted agreed. "How's Wednesday do you?"

The younger man searched his brain for any prior engagements, coming up empty. "Sure, that works. I'll call-" he paused, remembering. "No, I can't; I'm babysitting Gus. The lesbians wanted to have a night out and they asked me to look after the little tyke."

"That's okay; we'll figure it out later," Ted offered.

"Yeah," sighed Brian, closing his eyes. It was getting late and he was exhausted.

"Brian?" Ted's quiet voice filtered through the haze.

"Hmm," the younger brunet hmmed, not bothering to open his eyes. 

Soon enough, all you could hear in the loft were soft wheezing snores and breathy exhalations as both men succumbed to sleep. 

Justin made his way upstairs after Daphne and Debbie left, while Vic was nodding off in his armchair with Harley II chirping away quietly. The budgie had called something that sounded like ‘Nah nah' after him, which Vic had insisted meant ‘Night night', but which Justin was sure was just unintelligible bird chatter.

Now, as he was getting ready for bed, his thoughts turned to his new toy - he couldn't wait to try it out. After stepping out of the shower and toweling himself dry, he pulled the dildo out of the soapy bath he had prepared beforehand, washed it off, and slathered it with lube. Then he laid a towel across his bed - not wanting to change the sheets afterwards - and lay down.

Feeling a bit awkward at how clinical the preparation had felt until then, Justin tried to get in the mood by tuning the old radio in his room to a jazz station. Brian would've scoffed at the cliché, he imagined, but it worked and that's all that mattered. That and the fact that Vic might not actually hear him over the seductive sounds of saxophone.

Taking hold of his new friend, Justin turned the vibration to the lowest setting, circling the rim of his hole with the dildo. Sighing in pleasure, he tried to call up some of his favourite jerk-off fantasies, most of which, naturally, involved a certain brunet. As he teased himself with the toy, his thoughts drifted back to a time Brian came home late from work, the dinner Justin had prepared ruined.  

Where the fuck was the stud? Justin had fumed, glaring at the wilted salad greens. He'd given up and turned off the heat under the jambalaya half an hour ago. It might theoretically taste better the second day, but not when it had congealed into a lumpy mess.

Right then, the teen heard the heavy metal door sliding open, the noise soon followed by Brian sardonically announcing, "Honey, I'm home!"

"So soon?" Justin had snarked, arms folded across his chest.

Either not noticing the blond's mood or not caring, Brian sniffed at the air and commented appreciatively, "Something smells good. What're we having?"

"We were having jambalaya," the teenager had stressed the change in tense, "but as it has since become a sloppy mess, it's probably not worth it anymore." 

"I could order Thai," Brian offered, apparently still oblivious to Justin's mood.

"Or you could go fuck yourself," the blond had countered angrily. "If I'd wanted Thai, I would've ordered it in the first place, dontcha think?"

Brian raised his eyebrows in confusion, querying, "What's got your knickers in a twist?"

The teen had stared at Brian in disbelief. "Have you heard a word I've said?"

"Sure," the adman shrugged, "you said I could go fuck myself, but I'd much rather fuck you." Tossing his suit jacket over the arm of the couch, he had sauntered toward Justin.

"Well, you should've thought of that before you decided to blow off dinner," the blond had snarled. "You know, the one you said you'd be home for - an hour ago."

"I had work to do, Sunshine," Brian reminded him in a placating tone, before continuing with a sly smirk, "I'm sure I can make it up to you somehow, though."

Justin could still remember the anger that had overtaken him at that point. Brian thought, as usual, that everything could be fixed with sex. Justin had decided to give him a taste of his own medicine - he'd follow the brunet's example and use sex to teach him a lesson. As he recalled what had happened next, he slid the tip of his dildo inside of himself, breath hitching at the slight discomfort. He could see himself stalking predatorily towards Brian, who had been leaning against the loft's support column, and growling, "Get your kit off."

Seeing the glint in Justin's eye, the brunet balked, "Listen, Jus, I didn't do it on purpose."

"Is that your idea of an apology?" the blond had sneered. "You said you'd make it up to me, so don't be going back on your word now."

"I didn't know you'd go all dominatrix on me, did I?" Brian puffed out, breathing more rapidly.

Justin had snorted. "Please, you love it."

The blue dildo hit his prostate, causing the teenager to jerk back into the present. The vibrations against the sensitive bundle of nerves sent shivers up his spine, and moaning softly at the stimulation, Justin succumbed fully to the memory...

In his mind, Brian was slowly sliding his trousers down his thighs, his hard cock jumping up once it was free of the material. "The shirt too?" he asked cheekily. 

"You can leave it if you want," Justin responded calmly. "I can always tie your hands with it."

"Fuck no, it's Rubinacci," Brian protested, hastily letting his shirt drop to the floor, not yet so far gone that he was willing to neglect his designer clothing.

"Good choice," Justin taunted, pressing Brian against the post - chest first - and kicking his legs further apart.

Although the grunt he let out sounded miffed, the brunet voluntarily moved even closer to the column, his eagerness apparent.

"You're going to have to do more than that if you truly want to apologize," Justin whispered into Brian's ear. He then stepped back, breaking all contact.

A shiver of anticipation coursed down the brunet's spine as he waited. "Justin," he moaned, when nothing happened for several seconds.

"Patience," Justin teased, "gets rewarded." He then kissed his lover's shoulder blade, pressing fingers slick with lube lightly against the brunet's hole.

"More," Brian groaned, pushing back against the tantalizing fingers.

"Uh-uh," the blond chided, "I'm setting the pace."

The brunet swallowed convulsively and rested his forehead against the post, uncertain how much of this ‘torture' he could take. Justin was rarely ever this dominating, but when the mood struck him, he went all out. 

"Good boy," Justin teased, slowly probing at Brian's opening, barely dipping a fingertip inside before removing it again.

"Mmpfh," the brunet garbled, shaking as he tried to hold still. It took a real effort not to rub his cock against the surface in front of him as the teen repeated the same action over and over, until Brian thought he might spontaneously combust.

Justin removed his fingers again, before tugging on Brian's hand. "Let's move this somewhere more comfortable," he whispered, squeezing the brunet's ass cheek.

"Fine by me," the brunet readily agreed, giving the younger man a shove as they approached the bed. He'd intended for Justin to land on his back on the mattress, but it didn't work out that way, the blond barely budging an inch. Damn the lad's fucking core strength.

"I'm in charge," Justin growled the reminder. "You've only just started to apologise."

"Fuck," Brian muttered before he could stop himself. "That's hot. Annoying, but hot." 

"It looks like you need a bit of assistance to keep yourself under control," Justin mused, walking over to the closet. After sorting through the ties, he held up a couple, asking, "What about these?"

"Have you no sense of fashion?" the aghast brunet retorted. "Take the Davidoff ones; they'll be out of fashion soon."

"How am I supposed to tell them from your other labels?" Justin queried. "They all look alike to me."

"Philistine," Brian muttered, before indicating, "Take the two on the left. The far left," he clarified when the teen reached for this season's Battistoni, making him despair that the lad would never learn.

"You're such a fucking queen," Justin declared when he returned with the nearly passé ties. The first one was a navy blue necktie with a horrid horse polo motif, while the other one was a plain red. How a plain red tie could go out of fashion, Justin didn't know, but he didn't want to start a long-winded discussion with Brian, so he just went with it.

"Lie down," he commanded. "No, you idiot," he said fondly when he saw his lover lowering himself onto his stomach; "on your back - I want to see your face as you beg me for it."

Brian barely refrained from squirming at the authoritative note in Justin's voice. What had happened to his vaunted control? he wondered. Fuck, nothing had even happened yet, and he was already acting like a bloody virgin.

"Arms above your head," Justin instructed, crawling between his partner's spread legs. "And hold onto the headboard." He carefully secured Brian's wrists in place, checking that he hadn't pulled the ties too tight.

The brunet grunted in assent when Justin asked, "Does that feel okay?"

While his lover watched, Justin reached into the bedside table, pulling out the man's favourite glass dildo. It wasn't overly thick or long but it had a large head that stimulated one's prostate if used right. 

A droplet of sweat trailed down Brian's temple as he watched the teen grease the object before simply resting the tip against the older man's perineum. Brian squirmed again, trying to dislodge the fake cock and shift it to where he wanted it most urgently. 

Justin tilted his head in curiosity, commenting, "You look like you could come just from this little bit of stimulation, Brian."

The brunet snorted. "Hardly, Sunshine. That wouldn't be enough to make any gay man come."

"Really?" the blond quirked an eyebrow, rubbing the dildo a bit more firmly against the sensitive spot. "Because it looks to me like you're about to blow like Mount Vesuvius."

Even as Brian scoffed, "I've never come untouched, and it's not gonna happen now," he couldn't keep himself from wriggling some more.

"You'd better learn how to do it fast then," Justin recommended, "because you're not coming otherwise." He maintained a steady pressure against the brunet's perineum, rubbing the dildo back and forth slightly to ratchet Brian's arousal up even higher.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," the brunet moaned, writhing against the sheets and panting, "What is this supposed to prove anyway?"

"Hmm," Justin mused, tapping his unoccupied index finger against his lips, "two things. One, that you truly are apologetic for being so inconsiderate - you didn't even call to let me know you would be late. And two, that you can get off untouched, no matter what you've believed till now."

When the blond trailed the dildo upward, circling it around his ball sac, Brian moaned loudly, tugging fruitlessly at the ties which bound his wrists, his back arching as his dick jerked. Unfortunately for him, Justin withdrew the toy before he could get any kind of actual stimulation out of it, only succeeding in riling him up more. When he'd calmed down enough to form words again, the brunet demanded, "Just fuck me already. Now. With the dildo or with your cock. I don't care which."

Justin grinned impishly as he returned the wand to Brian's perineum, tapping it against the same spot, then exerting the same easy force as before. "That's not how you ask for relief," he chastised the brunet.

Although he knew he was doing himself a disservice, Brian clammed up. No way was he actually going to beg like some sort of girl. Bad enough that he'd pleaded with his tormentor as much as he already had.

The teen chuckled as Brian ground his molars together. "Don't worry," he mocked, "I can keep this up for hours."

The brunet lost all track of time as Justin slowly brought him closer to the brink with the glass dildo - rimming his hole with it, pressing it against his perineum, swirling it around his balls, sliding it along the inside of his thighs. Never once, though, did the blond touch Brian's cock, which was now a deep reddish-purple, bobbing about forlornly and occasionally slapping against the brunet's belly as he squirmed.

"Fuck. Please. Okay? Please, just fuck me and let me come," Brian finally begged in a voice made hoarse by screaming and moaning. Fuck being manly. He was sure he was going to die of a stroke if he didn't come soon.

"What are the magic words?" Justin inquired.

"Huh?" the frantic brunet grunted. "I don't know what- Just tell me; I'll say anything you want."

"I'm sorry, Justin," the teen enunciated slowly. "I promise it will never happen again."

Brian honestly couldn't remember what he was supposed to be apologizing for, but he readily regurgitated the blond imp's words, "I'm sorry. I promise whateverthefuck it was won't happen again."

"That'll do," Justin decided, obligingly pressing the tip of the dildo against the muscle guarding Brian's hole, exerting steady pressure until it penetrated inside by a couple of millimetres.

"More. Please. Now," Brian beseeched.

"You don't need more," the blond assured his sweating, writhing victim, sliding the toy over to the brunet's perineum and massaging the spot with it. "You look so hot, Brian," he declared huskily. "Once you come, I'm going to lap up every last drop. Then I'm going to slide up your torso, pinching and tweaking your nipples until they're sore from the abuse. Then, when I reach your lips, I'll share the last of your cream with you. Finally, I'll feed my cock into your ass and give you the pounding you've been beg-"

The teen stopped speaking as Brian yelled out a desperate, "Justin!", his whole body jerking in frustration. "Please," he begged again.

Justin smirked, sliding the dildo back inside Brian, this time delving deeper. "Like this?" he teased, pumping the toy in and out a couple of times.

The brunet panted. "More," he sighed, sweat dripping off his hairline. His tanned body was glistening as it undulated underneath the blue lights in their bedroom, inspiring the desire to paint in the blond artist.

"Beautiful," Justin murmured, grazing the wide head of the dildo against his lover's prostate lightly, causing Brian to jerk violently.

"Come on, Sunshine," the brunet urged him breathlessly. "I can't come like this; just touch my cock."

Justin bumped the bundle of nerves again. "Yes, you can," he whispered.

"No, I-" Another tap against his prostate punched the breath out of him. "Jus!"

"Come on, Brian," the blond husked, pressing against the gland more firmly. "You can do it."

Tears were beginning to pool in the older man's eyes as his body trembled in exertion. He opened and closed his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but words were eluding him. Justin pressed even harder, vibrating the dildo inside of Brian with his hand, prompting a loud moan out of the man.

"Clench," he instructed his lover, wanting to concentrate Brian's focus on the way the smooth surface of the glass felt inside him.

Brian clenched his inner muscles around the invading object, Justin increasing both the pressure and the vibrations against the brunet's prostate. His lover's body shook, wound so tightly Justin knew his muscles were going to be killing him the next day. Then, finally, the dam broke and Brian screamed an endless, "Aaaah," his body bowing off the bed as his dick geysered all over his chest.

Then, the brunet suddenly slumped to the bed and lay still, causing Justin to worry for a moment that he'd hurt his lover. He hurriedly checked for a pulse, relaxing when he felt it beating steadily under his fingers. 

Grinning proudly that he'd caused the stud to come so hard that he blacked out, Justin dampened a washcloth and tenderly cleaned Brian off, before carefully removing the Davidoff ties - which had been stretched out of any kind of recognizable shape - and tossing them in the general direction of the wastebasket. Then he proceeded to kiss Brian awake, nibbling at his raspberry lips and breathing into his mouth.

Brian was so befuddled at first that he thought he was waking up from an erotic dream. Gradually, he became aware that Justin was feathering kisses all over his face - and that the teen had given him one of the most intense orgasms he'd ever experienced. "Christ," he croaked, "where the fuck did you learn that?"

"Hmm," Justin teased, "I learned from the master..."

The blond was suddenly catapulted back into reality as he came, shaking and screaming Brian's name. Fuck, that had been intense - Battery Operated Brian, indeed. A few long moments elapsed before he was able to summon the energy to remove and turn off the dildo, mumbling, "Money well spent," before rolling onto his stomach and passing out on top of the toy. He'd clean up in the morning.