The airplane we were flying to DC in was basically a beer can with wings. I had to duck while walking down the aisle in search of my seat, which was a single seat next to the window on the left side of the plane. Cynthia and Melissa took the two seats across the aisle from mine. Carrie was seated behind me and Justin was in the seat in front of me.

After arriving in DC about two hours later after a very turbulent flight due to storms in the area, the five of us found a Starbucks and grabbed some coffee and pastries. The assholes on the first plane only gave us tiny bottles of water because of the turbulence, and we all scarfed down our pastries as we made our way to our connecting gate.

I stayed away from Justin while we waited about forty-five minutes for our flight to board. After I got onto the plane, I discovered that Justin and I were seated next to each other in first class while the three ladies were sitting nearby. He was sitting in the window seat and reading his book when I took my aisle seat.

I heard him exhale roughly as he stared at his book. "Eleven hours until we can have our next cigarette."

"That's why I always wear a nicotine patch when I fly," I said as I patted my right shoulder.

He looked at me with his mouth open. "Do... do you have any more of those on you?"

I reached over and lifted his chin to close his mouth. I then opened my briefcase that I had placed under the seat in front of me and pulled out the box of patches. He took off his hoodie, revealing a white t-shirt with a picture of Bart Simpson on the front.

I snickered as I pushed up his sleeve to stick the patch on his upper left arm. "Alright, I've got to ask- what's with all the cartoon shit you wear? I mean, you're a grown-ass man, and I'm sorry, but you dress like a toddler."

"I've always loved cartoons and animated films," he said as he pulled his sleeve back down. "I discovered when I was little that I could replicate my favorite characters in drawings, and for a long time I thought I wanted to be an animator."

"But instead you ended up in the glorious world of advertising," I said.

"The high school I went to, called Lake Forest Academy in the suburb I grew up in, had a great art program. One of my classes dealt with art in advertising. We had to create our own campaigns for real and hypothetical products with storyboard sketches, and I loved it. I earned a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Studio degree from the Art Institute of Chicago, and my focused area of study was in print media. I also took classes in visual communication design and photography. I still love to draw and paint in my free time, but I love my job."

I was staring at his lips the whole time he had been talking. "Uh-huh."

"How did you get involved in advertising?" he asked. "Or was it always your dream to talk people into buying shit they don't need?"

I smiled at his tenacity. "No, actually I was ‘undeclared' when I first started at Penn State. I didn't know what I wanted to do exactly, but I knew I wanted to go to earn a degree so I wouldn't end up working a factory job like my old man did. I took a variety of classes in my freshman year to see what I liked and I found my niche while taking a marketing class. I earned my bachelors in marketing, and then I started working for Ryder part-time while I earned my MBA."

He looked down at his lap. "My dad was hoping I'd get an MBA from Dartmouth like he did. He thought I was wasting my time going to art school, saying that I was going to end up a starving artist bussing tables for the rest of my life."

"But look at you now," I said. "You're making big bucks, sitting in first class on your way to Mexico where you'll be staying at a five-star resort working on a campaign for a world-famous designer. I saw a CLIO Award in the lobby with your name on it, and I bet you'll have many more in the future."

"My dad's not impressed with any of that. He was hoping I'd take over the family business."

"Which is?"

"A chain of electronics stores in northern Illinois and southern Wisconsin."

The flight attendants began the pre-flight safety presentation as we pulled away from the gate and headed out to the runway. "You mean Taylor Electronics? That's your dad?"

He nodded. "You've heard of the store?"

"I flew out to Chicago a few years ago when your dad was shopping for a new advertising firm. I made a pitch to him, but he obviously didn't like it because he never called back and instead signed with another firm."

"That was around the same time I was interning at Vangard. He wouldn't even let Vance make a bid because I was involved with them."

"Yeah, I knew I wasn't mistaking the asshole vibe I had gotten from him."

He snorted. "You certainly weren't. Although he's rolling in dough, he refused to pay for my tuition because he thought it would just be a waste of money. They made too much money for me to get any grants. I was only able to go because my mom got approved for a loan. By then, she and my dad were divorced. I'm paying her back now."

"If it wasn't for grants, I couldn't have gone to college. Pop had horrible credit and the Warden- that's what we called my mom- never had a job in her life. Pop worked sixty hours a week, but we were always broke. I didn't even know that he had taken out a second mortgage, and there's no telling what he had spent that money on. It sure wasn't to send my sister to college, because she never went. They were poor enough for me to get some grants, but that didn't pay for everything. Pop said that even if he had been approved for a student loan for me, he wouldn't have signed the paperwork." I then imitated not-so-dearly departed Pop's gravelly voice: "‘I've been bleeding money for you over the last eighteen years and I ain't doing it no more,' he told me. I had to get emancipated and take some loans out in my name, and I had to work all through school. I just finished paying the loans off a couple years ago."

"Wow, I thought I had it rough," Justin said.

"Pop died last year, and the Warden discovered how far in debt he had really been. Although they sure didn't deserve it, I gave him money over the years to help him make ends meet- probably about ten thousand in all. He always claimed he'd pay me back, but I never saw a cent and knew that I never would. Luckily VA paid his off medical bills and his burial, because he had served in the Army during ‘Nam. The Warden actually had the balls to ask me if I would pay off their house, which was mortgaged beyond its value, and I told her she could go fuck herself. She had always stood by stoically while Pop beat the hell out of me while I was growing up. The abuse only stopped after I got strong enough to fight him back. She now lives off of his pension in a seniors' apartment complex."

I couldn't fathom why I was telling him all of this, since I never talked about my family with anyone. Only Mikey and his mother Debbie knew the gory history of Brian Kinney's upbringing at the hands of Jack and Joan, arguably the shittiest parents on the planet.

Justin grabbed my hand and laced our fingers together as we began bolting down the runway during takeoff.

"Are you scared of flying?" I asked him.

He gave me a tiny grin. "No."

Justin let go of my hand when we reached cruising altitude. He went back to reading his book, which he was about halfway through. I took my black eye mask out of my brief case, adjusted my seat back, and tried to get a little shut-eye.

I had just nodded off when I felt Justin tap me on my arm, startling me awake. I took the mask off and saw that he didn't look so good.

"I'm feeling really queasy all of a sudden," he said.

"Motion sickness?" I asked him.

"No, I never get nauseous on planes, not even during the bumpy ride to DC earlier," he said before gagging a bit and clapping his hand over his mouth. He then stood up and ordered me to get the fuck out of his way before he bolted up the aisle toward one of the bathrooms, which luckily wasn't too far from our seats.

He had been gone for about five minutes when I decided to go check on him. I walked toward the bathroom he had ran to and knocked.

"Justin," I called out. "Are you okay?"

He opened the door a few seconds later, looked at me miserably and shook his head. I pushed my way into the little bathroom and locked the door.

"It occurred to me that the nicotine patch may be causing your problems," I said. "Nausea is a known side effect."

He shot me a death glare in the foggy mirror over the sink. "Well, thanks a lot."

I tried not to chuckle, but failed. "I'm sorry." I then lifted up his sleeve to peel the offending thing off of his arm. I managed to get a corner loose and ripped the rest of it off quickly.

"Ow!" he yelled. "Mother fuck!"

"It would have been worse if I had done it slow," I said.

There was a knock at the door a moment later. "Is everything okay in there?" a woman asked.

"Yeah!" I yelled.

We made our way back to our seats a couple minutes later after Justin was sure he was most likely done throwing up his coffee and cherry Danish. He was still looking sickly, and after pulling the air sick bag out of the seat pocket in front of me and placing it on the tray table for quick access, I put my arm around his shoulders and pulled him close to me.

"Come here," I said as I ran my fingers through his soft hair. "You should feel better soon."

He rested his head against me and relaxed. Cynthia was sitting in the seat behind Justin, and she leaned forward and spoke to us in the space between my and Justin's seats.

"Aww... you two are adorable together," she cooed.

"Shut up or you're fired," I said over my shoulder.

The next three days went by in a blur. We traveled to many different locations around Puerto Vallarta, including the Our Lady of Guadalupe church, the Malecon boardwalk, and the Mercado Isle Cuale public market. The photographer, Raul Stevens, shot thousands of pictures of the four models dressed in the clothes from Monsieur Honeycutt's spring line.

To show off Honeycutt's casual clothes that could double as club wear, we went to a popular gay dance club called Club Paco Paco on Wednesday night. Three out of the four models were straight, but the straight ones warmed up after I reminded them they were being paid, could drink for free, and were allowed to keep the clothes they wore. The shoot wrapped for the day around ten that night, and everyone but Justin, who thankfully was not wearing anything that night featuring a cartoon character, and I were ready to take the van we had rented back to where we were all staying, the Villa Premier Hotel and Spa.

"We'll take a cab, don't worry about us," I yelled to Cynthia over the music.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes, now get the fuck out of here," I said through gritted teeth. I was never one to party with fag hags, and I couldn't wait to get rid of our three female coworkers/traveling companions.

Now that we were done with work for the day, Justin and I were ready for some fun. We both downed a couple of shots of tequila before going out to the dance floor. I pulled him into the middle of the gyrating crowd of sweaty men and put my hands around his narrow waist. He put his hands on my shoulders, and we began dancing to the beat of the Latin dance song that was playing loudly over the sound system.

"I haven't been to a club in forever," he said to me. "I forgot how much fun it could be."

"Really?" I asked. "Not even one back in the Pitts?"

"I haven't had the time since moving there. Back in Chicago, there was a club I often went to with a couple of friends, but then I got with Ethan and he didn't like going clubbing, so I stopped going."

"Who's Ian?" I asked.

"E-than," he corrected. "My last boyfriend. Have you heard of Ethan Gold?"

I shook my head no.

"He's a professional violin player, and he thinks dance music is lame."

I frowned. "Well, I think violin music sounds like a cat getting tortured."

He laughed. "Try living with someone who practices every waking hour for two years, and then tell me how much you hate violin music."

"I'll pass, thanks," I said. "Why did things end with you and Paganini Junior?"

"He cheated on me with a few of his fans," he answered. "After I caught him with another man, he admitted that he wasn't the first. Things hadn't been all that great before then, though. We broke up just before Thanksgiving."

"Well, I'll have to take you to Babylon some night. It's the hottest club in the Pitts."

"Are you asking me on a date, Mr. Kinney?" he asked.

"No," I said, although it sure sounded like I was. "It'll be just two fags going to a club together to drink and dance... like we're doing right now."

He smiled and pulled me closer. "Sounds like fun."

I looked down at him, his skin glowing in the multi-colored flashing lights overhead, and I couldn't remember the last time I had seen anything so beautiful. Before I knew it, we were making out and grinding our crotches together on the dance floor.

We got back to the hotel about an hour later, making out in the cab the whole way and on the elevator. I dragged him down the hall and into my room, nearly ripped off my and his clothes, and shoved him onto the bed.

He eyed my cock as I straddled him and took his very handsome cock in my hand. "Uh..."

"What?"

"Just so you know, I haven't bottomed in a long time," he said.

"I thought you said you and your ex just recently broke up."

"Yeah, but he never once topped me. I offered to bottom for him but he said he preferred to bottom, which was fine with me because I've always been versatile. Even if he ever did top me, his dick wasn't nearly as big as yours is."

I smiled as I proudly looked down at my member. "Few are."

"Actually, the last time I bottomed was with Brandon," he admitted.

I frowned a bit at the mention of the man's name, remembering that we had agreed I would get to top him the Monday after I got back from my trip, which was only five days away.

To distract myself from that, I crawled down between Justin's legs and took the head of his dick into my mouth. I licked away the bit of pre-cum spilling out of his slit.

"I thought you once said that you don't give head," he said after letting out a gasp.

I looked up at him. "I can stop, if-"

"No," he said. "Please, proceed."

I smiled before getting back to business. Although it had been a while since I sucked a dick, I performed every trick I knew and managed to deep throat him like a pro. He was soon pulling my hair and panting like a bitch in heat, and he came down my throat with a loud groan.

"Oh... holy shit," he said as he tried to catch his breath. "That... that was... amazing."

I got up and retrieved the tube of lube and box of condoms I had brought with me in my suitcase. I sat them on the bed and got back into position between his legs.

Before I could do anything else to him, he put his hands around my neck and devoured my mouth. We continued to kiss as I found the lube, squirted some onto my fingers, and dipped one into his tight hole. He gasped and whimpered as I opened him up.

"You okay?" I asked him when he let me come up for a breath of air.

"Yeah... fuck me, Brian."

There is no other combination of words in the English language that is more perfect than that one.

The first fuck was fast and furious, since I hadn't cum yet. I was almost embarrassed by how fast I came, but he came before I did, so I didn't feel too bad. I fucked him doggy-style the second time, much more leisurely than the first time, and he came twice before I did without me even touching his dick, which equaled to him having four orgasms in less than an hour. He said he had never done that in his life. I myself hadn't done that since I was a teenager, and I was impressed by his resiliency.

When I was behind Justin, I found that he had a tattoo on his right shoulder blade depicting Mickey Mouse in Fantasia wearing his blue and white sorcerer's hat and red robe. I later saw that he had Bugs Bunny's smiling, buck-toothed face tattooed on his left ankle. Although the tats were a bit juvenile, they were timeless and fit him well.

The third and final fuck of the night nearly brought me to tears. He told me he wanted to ride me face-to-face, which is something I rarely ever do with tricks. I always prefer to be in control and even though my dick was still in his ass, being on my back like that made me feel a bit vulnerable.

He sat a slow pace as he fucked himself on my dick and stared down into my eyes, his warm breath on my face. I could see him in the soft glow of the wall sconces on each side of the bed, and I felt a connection with him that I had never felt with anyone else before. Just as I felt my eyes well up like I was some kind of lesbian, he gave me a kiss that reverberated down to my toes. We didn't break the kiss until after we came at the same time, my hands tightly gripping his amazing ass.

Normally after me and a trick have both blown our loads, I can't wait to pull out and wipe their cum off of me. This time, I held onto Justin so he couldn't roll away and kissed him again, his warm cum slick between our bellies. My soft dick was starting to slip out of his ass, and we took a long shower where we continued to kiss under the hot spray as we washed each other with my French shampoo and soap. Since my sheets were now covered in our sweat and his cum, we walked down the hallway to his room to sleep on his clean sheets. We fell asleep with me spooning him, and I woke up with my dick in his mouth. Damn, that boy can give one hell of a blowjob...

The next day was spent on the beach, where the models were photographed in Honeycutt's beachwear. There were several people sunbathing or swimming in the ocean, but we had managed to clear an area for us to have to ourselves. The weather was beautiful, the temperature in the mid-eighties and the sun was shining bright. Justin and I stole glances at each other throughout the afternoon. He even blew me a kiss at one point when nobody was looking, which normally would have made me roll my eyes if I saw it happen between another couple, but it made me smile like a fool.

Oh, shit, did I actually just refer to me and Justin as a couple? I must have left my brain and my nuts back in the Pitts... at least I didn't blow him a kiss back.

We wrapped the shoot around four that afternoon, all of us satisfied with the great shots Raul had captured around town over the past four days. Once we got back to the hotel, Justin and I took a shower to wash off the sand and the sunscreen we had slathered on. He had still managed to get sunburned around the nape of his neck, and I kissed and licked the tender skin as I fucked him against the shower wall. He moaned my name as he came, and I had to bite my bottom lip from echoing with his name.

The two of us later went down to have dinner at a fusion restaurant located in the resort. It was quite fancy and the prices certainly reflected it. Since it was all going on my company credit card, Justin and I ate and drank like kings. Oh, how I love business trips.

We debated taking a cab to the gay area of town, but decided to stay in. To give Justin's sore ass a break, we rented American Psycho on Pay Per View in my room. Justin had not seen it yet, but I had gone to see it with Mikey the previous year when it was in theaters. Justin and I both agreed that I was hotter and had a better body than Christian Bale. After it was over we debated the film's confusing ending for a while until he shut me up with a kiss. We jerked each other off before falling asleep, me spooning him like I had the previous night.

The next day was our last full day in Puerto Vallarta, and Justin and I spent the morning in the hotel's spa. After spending some time in the sauna, we got body polishes and side-by-side massages from a couple of very sexy Mexican boys. We then had mani/pedis and facials before going back up to my room. We were both very relaxed by that point and had to hold each other up in the shower. We had barely dried off before collapsing on my bed. Although the spa's employees did all the work, a day at the spa has a wonderful way of making you feel exhausted.

After taking a little nap, we went to the bar downstairs where we had some sushi for a late lunch. We then rented a cabana on the beach in front of the hotel and enjoyed a couple of cocktails that were served to us by another sexy Mexican boy. He wasn't wearing a thong, but he still got a nice tip.

Since we were supposed to get up early for our flight home the next morning, we stayed in my room again that night after eating dinner at the Mexican restaurant in the resort. We stripped and got in bed, and we spent several minutes kissing and fondling each other. After spending the whole day thinking about this, I picked up the tube of lube from the nightstand, and Justin was surprised when I put the tube in his hand.