~**~**~**~**~**~

Chapter 22 - Furtherance.

Brian wrestled the big, beefy, brute he’d brought home from the gym in through the Loft’s door and immediately pinned the guy to the wall. He loved when the big ones were easily dominated. It made him feel, for that moment at least, even more in control of his life and his world. And this guy might be big, but he was turning out to be a total marshmallow in Brian’s capable and experienced hands.

“Hmmm. Not bad,” a dismissive tenor voice pronounced judgment from over Brian’s right shoulder. “Doesn’t look too bright though. But, then again, that’s not what you tend to look for in a trick, is it, Brian?”

Brian groaned aloud, causing the beefy trick to look up at him in confusion. That confusion was probably echoed on his own face as he tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore the insane sprite who was leaning against the wall only two inches away from beefy boy, smiling inanely back at Brian. The annoyed Stud wished he could simply tell the annoying blond ghost who’d been haunting him for the past two weeks to fuck off, but then the trick would think HE was nuts. Although, maybe that wasn't too far from the truth. After two weeks of non-stop Justin, Brian's sanity was, at best, questionable these days.

Needless to say, it was very disconcerting to have Justin watching him day in and day out. The kid was indefatigable. No matter what time of the day or night Brian looked around him, Justin would be there. Nothing Brian did or said could persuade the guardian spirit to leave. Even for a short period of time.

And it wasn't only in the Loft. The kid was following him everywhere. To work. To the gym. To the bars and clubs Brian frequented. Even to the Baths. Brian couldn't get even ten minutes peace. Everywhere Brian went, that pesky kid would pop up and offer irritating comments and observations, ask nosy questions or make cutting jokes. And, while Brian could definitely appreciate the boy’s sharp wit and wicked sense of humor, he didn't need the constantly running commentary on his lifestyle.

Not that Justin was at all judgmental - or at least not overtly so. He never once said that Brian shouldn’t do something. Even when Brian was doing something borderline destructive - which he had done a few times just to test Justin. Instead, the annoying little twat would simply demand that Brian be honest with himself and acknowledge WHY he was doing what he was doing. And the prat was insightful enough that he seemed to always see right through any lame excuse or half-assed, thoughtless explanation Brian tried to foist off on him. Which meant that Brian was forced to rethink his actions far more often than was comfortable for the man who’d prefer to carry on with his ‘No Apologies - No Regrets’ philosophy.

And, worst of all, it was seriously affecting Brian’s sex life.

Justin wisely said nothing at all about the numbers of men Brian fucked. No, that would have been too easy - Brian would have simply fucked even more guys just to spite the brat. Instead, the boy had settled on a course of action that made Brian have to actually THINK about the tricks.

Justin simply insisted that Brian know each and every trick’s name.

At first, Brian thought that wasn’t such a big deal. All he had to do was ask each guy his name before he fucked them. It was just one little question. And if he did that, then Justin would back away and let Brian do his thing without any further comments. It’s not like Brian intended to actually remember any of their names or anything. He planned to forget the name right along with the face and, except for those rare few exceptional fucks that he actually cared to remember, everything else about the fuck as soon as he came. Only, it never seemed to work out that way.

See, when you asked a guy his name, he thought you actually cared. He would think that Brian actually wanted to know something about him. Especially since everyone on Liberty Avenue knew that Brian Kinney never took an interest in his tricks. So, if he was actually asking about YOU, then you must be special, right? And that assumption would inevitably lead to an outpouring of more information than Brian wanted or needed.

So, even just that one innocuous question - What’s your name - would spawn a whole spate of data, like where the guy worked, what he did for a living or for fun, where the guy had first seen Brian or where he thought Brian had first seen him, how excited he was to hook up with Brian, how long he’d been trying to hook up with Brian, why he thought that he and Brian were meant for each other, the names and professions of every one of the trick’s friends who he had ever discussed Brian with, so on and so forth, devolving eventually into speculation about when they’d be getting together again.

It was fucking exhausting. It was also very distracting. And it usually caused a huge delay in the actual fucking. If Brian tried to cut the guy off, explaining that he honestly didn’t give a fuck about the man’s life story, the trick often got offended and would even, occasionally, leave. Sometimes Brian was so disgusted by the whole experience that he ended up just walking away from the trick altogether. Which was why that one little question was not at all good for Brian’s sex life.

Take Brian’s current trick, for instance. Just looking at the big marshmallow, Brian could tell he was the talkative kind. The kind who craved love and romance. The kind who would give his eyeteeth for even a scrap of attention from a Stud like Brian Kinney. Which was precisely why Brian didn’t want to go there. He just wanted to get laid. It was that simple. But one more sideways glance at the hovering blond boy and Brian knew he was lost. Justin was a stubborn little fucker and wasn’t about to back down on this. And if Brian didn’t ask the guy his name, the kid would just keep hovering and heckling the beefcake and making it practically impossible for Brian to concentrate on what he was doing to the point that Brian would scream and chase the trick out just to get the kid to finally shut up.

“You realize that I fucking HATE you right now,” Brian stated aloud, eliciting only a shrug and another annoying smile from the ubiquitous blond. Then, with a resigned sigh, Brian turned his attention back to the trick, who was looking more bemused than ever after Brian’s odd statement. “Fine. What’s your name?” He asked the trick in a voice that betrayed exactly how irked he was.

The enamored smile that bloomed on the trick’s face caused Brian to groan yet again. “It’s Thomas,” the trick disclosed. “But everyone always calls me ‘Taffy’. I know - it’s a horrible nickname, but I’ve had it since I was a kid and I just can’t seem to shake it. I could kill my cousin Matt - he’s the one who gave it to me. See, when we were ten, we were at this County Fair and I signed up for the taffy pull contest and, well, I got knocked down and got taffy everywhere, including in my hair, and the only way to get it all out was to shave my head, so . . .”

“Fuck me!” Brian mumbled, leaning over to pull the loft door open again and then promptly pushing the still babbling Taffy back out onto the landing.

The trick looked back at him in total disbelief. Brian waggled his fingers in a facetious little wave before slamming the door in Taffy’s face. When he turned around to scowl at his blond shadow, the boy was still leaning nonchalantly against the wall smiling back at him unconcernedly.

“You're fucking evil. You know that, right?” Brian announced with venom.

“I'm not evil. I'm sweet. You'll see. Someday you'll thank me for this,” Justin stated with undiluted conviction.

Brian didn’t waste time trying to argue with the interfering twat. He stalked right past the gloating apparition and headed straight into the bathroom, stripping off his clothing along the way. Thanks to Justin, he was now going to have to relieve his hard on himself instead of taking care of it in the trick’s nice fat ass.

Suffice it to say that Brian wasn’t feeling very fond of his incorporeal houseguest the rest of that afternoon.

~**~**~**~**~**~

Brian was standing at the urinal next to the client’s VP of Marketing and trying to figure out which of his favorite lines he'd use as a lure for this latest victim. The way the guy had been nervously playing with his wedding ring all through the presentation, while at the same time giving Brian those secret lustfilled looks, told him that the guy was probably deeply closeted. Brian knew the type far too well. It meant he'd be easy pickings for the likes of Brian Kinney. No need to bring out the ‘A’ material this time. Brian could probably just grunt at the guy and he'd be falling all over himself at the mere prospect of getting fucked by a Stud like Brian.

Brian finished pissing and was just about to make his move when, out of nowhere, a mischievous blond teen appeared, leaning against the wall on the far side of Mr. VP.

“He's got a tragically tiny dick,” the blond sprite commented, staring down his nose at what Mr. VP was tucking away into his pants. “I really feel sorry for his wife if that’s all he’s got. Poor woman. Hope she’s got a really good dildo as a backup.”

If Brian wasn’t afraid of looking like a crazy man talking to someone who wasn’t there, he would have told Justin off. He would have also advised the boy that, since he only had plans for his own dick, the size of Mr. VP’s endowment wouldn’t matter much. As it was, Justin’s appearance only served to egg Brian on.

“Wait a minute,” Brian barked with a hand on the VP’s wrist before the man could zip up. “I'm not done with my FULL presentation yet.” Mr. VP blinked up at Brian but didn't pull away or seem at all disinterested and he didn't zip his pants. “Yep. I'm never wrong,” Brian snorted a little laugh and then bodily pushed VP Man into the closest toilet stall. “Let me show you ALL the benefits I've got to offer.”

VP Dude smiled a bit bashfully but didn't put up even a token resistance. So much for the allegedly married guy with kids. Brian seriously wondered if anybody was really straight these days. Then again, why would it matter? If this is what it took to seal a deal, it was definitely to Brian's advantage if every single one of his clients was secretly gay.

“You know that you don't really need to do this to win accounts, right?” Justin's annoyingly persistent voice interrupted Brian's thoughts just as he was shoving VP Guy's face into the metal divider between the stalls. Brian growled at the recurring annoyance, but it didn't shut the boy up. “You and I both know you already had that account in the bag BEFORE you followed this guy in here,” Justin stated, materializing from nowhere, his body now seemingly perched atop the metal divider over VP Guy’s head. “It cheapens you as well as downplaying your marketing skills to tell yourself that this is what you have to do to win an account. So why don't you just admit the real reason you're doing this, Brian?”

Brian was trying desperately to ignore the prating paranormality but he did let himself give Justin one really good death-stare before he yanked VP Man’s pants down below his ass and proceeded to roll on a condom.

“Fine. So, if you won’t be honest with yourself about why you're really doing this, I'll tell you why. You're fucking this guy because you like to be in control. You're doing it to prove to the world that you control him and all he stands for. It's just another way for you to manipulate those who perceive themselves to be better than you. It's not about the account. It's certainly not about getting pleasure from the act itself. It’s about pure, cold-hearted, bottomless hostility. This is the way the hurt little boy inside you proves to the world he's got the power to control his world.” Brian vented his displeasure at being lectured in this manner by ramming into Mr. VP even harder right as Justin paused in his little speech. Of course, it didn’t stop Justin even for an instant. “I'm not trying to judge you, Brian. I'm not saying what you're doing is wrong. I get why you're like this - I’m the last person you'd ever have to explain yourself to, you know - but I won't let you lie to yourself about your motives.”

“Fuck!” Brian screamed, beyond his endurance limit for nosy blond brats - although the trick he was plowing seemed to think that the exclamation was due to his superlative ass and moaned back encouragingly.

“I don’t want to see you demeaning yourself by rationalizing that THIS is about the account. You’re really great at what you do, Brian. You don’t need to fuck every client that comes through the door to prove your worth in the world of advertising. This is only to prove yourself to YOU. And as long as you’re okay with that, and understand it, then go for it,” Justin popped out of sight momentarily and then reappeared standing behind Brian’s right shoulder. “But the truth of the matter is that you don’t need to do this if you don’t want to.

Thankfully, Justin’s psychology lesson was cut short right then when the trick blew his load all over the wall of the toilet cubicle. Brian smirked at the blond, shoved in once more and then came himself with a grim little grunt. He did have to admit that the orgasm itself was pathetic and eminently forgettable. The only part of this particular fuck that Brian would likely remember was Justin’s speech.

“Yeah . . . Really, REALLY, tiny dick. Poor guy,” Justin shook his head sadly at the sight as the VP Dude turned around and tried to kiss Brian.

Brian shoved the loser’s face away from him. Justin was right about the size of the guy’s schlong. And now that he’d had his way with the guy, Brian didn’t want anything further to do with him outside of the marketing contract that he knew he’d be getting. Justin was probably right about that too - Brian knew that his presentation earlier in the conference room had wowed the rest of the client’s representatives more than enough to win him this account. Of course, now that he’d fucked the guy, there was just that much more incentive to give him the win. But it WAS probably overkill. And now he had the added problem of having to be at least nice to a rather below-par past-fuck. If this guy was anything other than a potential client, Brian probably wouldn’t have given him a second look and, once it was over, would surely have kicked him to the curb forthwith. Now, though, he had to be nice to the wee-willy-wonder.

Maybe Justin actually had a point about not fucking his clients anymore.

“I’ll see you at home later, Stud,” Justin left Brian with a kiss on his check before dematerializing, leaving Brian alone in the bathroom with the now too-friendly VP Guy.

~**~**~**~**~**~

“Hey, Brian!”

Justin popped into Brian's office in that annoying way he had of just materializing out of thin air and gradually solidifying. It always scared the shit out of Brian. And being scared pissed him off, which inevitably resulted in Brian yelling at the boy. Luckily Justin had an apparently bottomless supply of patience and never once returned fire.

“Fuck, Justin!” This time Brian had been so startled that he'd jumped and spilled his coffee all over the Johnson Meyers file. “Could you please just use the door and knock for a change? Or at least make some noise before you fucking appear like that? Maybe ring a bell. Or politely cough. Or something!”

*Hehehehe* “Sorry, Brian,” Justin laughed then apologized and waited for Brian to grab some paper towels out of the cupboard in order to clean off the coffee-spattered files, before he climbed into Brian's lap. “I keep forgetting how jumpy you are these days. You probably should cut back on your caffeine intake, you know. You do know that excessive caffeine consumption increases your blood pressure, causes insomnia and other sleeping problems and can even affect your sexual performance. And considering how much coffee YOU drink, I'm surprised you can even get it up anymore.”

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation, but really didn't want to get into this particular subject with the boy right now. "Justin, what exactly is it that you came here to talk to me about? I doubt it was about my caffeine consumption levels. You did have an actual purpose, other than annoying me, right? Especially after we agreed you were going to try and leave me alone while I was at work from now on.”

"Of course I have a reason, Brian,” Justin smiled that gorgeous, blindingly bright smile of his at Brian - the one that melted a little bit more of the cold ice around the man's heart each time it was directed at him. “I came to tell you to pick up a cat litter box and related supplies on your way home tonight.”

“Justinnnnnn . . .” Brian stopped himself just in time, right before the whining tone took over his voice completely. “Okay . . . Do I want to know why you think I need a cat litter box? I don't own a cat Justin.”

“Yes, you do, Brian. You haven't forgotten Josélito have you?”

"No, Justin, I have not forgotten about Josélito. But he’s not really MY cat. He's his own cat. We just hang out sometimes together. Besides Joselito lives outside at the cemetery. He doesn't need a litter box.” Brian was trying to keep his voice at a reasonable volume and not devolve into yelling at the infuriating little blond imp - it wasn't easy though.

"Well, he's an indoor cat now, which means he needs a litter box,” Justin sounded so matter-of-fact as he said this that, if you didn't know him better, you would think he was being perfectly reasonable.

Brian, of course, knew better. "Why is he an indoor cat now?”

"The new caretaker at the cemetery apparently got rid of Joselito's box. He had no shelter and nowhere else to go. And he’s getting a little old to be fending for himself outside. So I brought him home to the loft with me,” Justin stated unequivocally.

"Fuck, Justin! I don't WANT a cat at the loft. What the fuck do I need a pet cat for anyway? He’ll just poop and pee all over and get hair on everything . . .” Brian ran an exasperated hand through his hair. "You have to get rid of him. Find him another home or take him to the SPCA or something. He can't stay at the loft, and that's final.”

"No.” Justin looked up at Brian with guileless blue eyes and clearly wasn't about to back down. "He's your cat, Brian, even though you haven't been a very responsible pet owner in the past. You need to step up to the plate and take care of him the right way from now on. Besides, it'll be good for both you and Joselito. You both could use a friend.”

"Has anyone ever told you how absolutely, unquestionably, and irredeemably annoying you are Justin?” Brian asked, seriously wondering if anyone had ever explained this fact to the little blond pixie.

Of course Justin merely smiled at him even more brightly.

"Would it do me any good to try and argue about this?" Brian asked, not really expecting to win this argument since he hadn't yet won any other dispute with Justin.

"Nope. Joselito is at the loft to stay. If you don't bring home a litter box, all it means is that he'll be peeing and pooping in the corner on your nicely finished hardwood floors. So, just be a good boy, do as I ask and pick up that litter box. Okay?”

"Fine. But YOU will be cleaning the fucking litter box -  not me - do you understand? And no getting out of it by claiming that incorporeal beings can't touch cat litter. I'm not buying it.”

For about thirty seconds, Justin looked like he was going to argue even that small point. Brian just sat there and gave the boy a gimlet stare. Figuring that he'd won on all the important points, though, Justin decided to give in graciously.

"Deal. Now, you better get back to work and I'll see you at home later . . . with a cat box in hand.” Justin smiled, winked at Brian, then leaned forward and left a quick peck on a surprised Brian's cheek, before simply fading away right before Brian's eyes.

"Damn annoying, intransigent, bratty blond twat . . . I should kick his incorporeal ass . . . Taking over my loft, invading my life, and NOW I've apparently got a fucking cat . . .” Brian spent at least the next ten minutes ranting, raving, and complaining about his new roommate as he paced around and around his office.

However, when Brian showed up that night at the loft, he not only had a brand-new cat litter pan and a large bag of litter, but also a set of spanking-new designer label food and water bowls, several tins of gourmet cat food, a large bag of dry cat-kibble, three canisters of cat treats, and enough kitty toys to start his own pet supply store. Joselito immediately padded up to greet his human, sinuously weaving between Brian’s ankles and purring extra loudly. Justin tried not to smile too smugly as Brian bent over, laid his bags full of supplies on the ground, picked up the cat and proceeded to spend the next half hour petting and cuddling the furry little brown fuzzball.

Brian never made it to Babylon that night.

~**~**~**~**~**~