Chapter 31 - Go Figger! (Sunday In The Sun: Round Two - Sunday, June 12th)

"Hey, Teddy!" Emmett came skipping out of the back of the unfinished warehouse used as both the offices and the sound stage for Jerk@work.net. He was wearing a lovely combo of camo-print boy shorts, only partway laced up the front, and a skimpy green canvas vest over his naked chest. His face was adorned with streaks of drab-green make up under each eye. In his hand he held a plastic toy machine gun. "Did you catch my last performance? I call it, 'Rambone: First Cum'? I was fabulous, even if I do say so myself!"

"Huh?" A distracted looking Ted barely looked up from the computer screen he was staring at. "Oh, hey, Em."

"Teddy? Oh, Sweetie, what's wrong?" Emmett rushed over to his friend, concerned by Ted's distracted air and worried brow.

"Um, it's nothing, I guess. I just think . . . Well, I might have screwed something up a bit and . . ." Ted's soulful eyes gave away the fact that he was more upset than he wanted to let on.

"What happened, Teddy?" Emmett gently prodded.

"It's just . . . I went over to the Residence this morning, you know, to make sure everything was set up for the Pittsburgh Out interviews and all that . . ."

"That's right! Didn't the filming go well? I know how much you were counting on that going well," Em could see how a screw up with the coveted media coverage WOULD have made his friend upset.

"No. No, that part went great. They got video footage of the first couple events, which I understand will air on their website - with all the boys' juicy parts appropriately blurred out, of course - plus lots of stills. And the interviews all went pretty well too. No, that all went fine . . ."

"Well, if the Pittsburgh Out thing was ok, then why the long face, Teddy?" Emmett sat himself down on the edge of Ted's desk, patiently waiting until his buddy was ready to explain fully.

Ted blanched a bit under Em's direct gaze but sighed and decided to just admit what he'd done. "I think I may have screwed things up for Brian and his little twink." At Emmett's horrified expression, Ted rushed on to explain. "I didn't mean to, really. I just thought I should give Brian a heads up about Michael, you know? So I told him about all the crap Michael's been spouting, and of course Brian got pissed off. And then, that's when Justin came over to Brian and Brian sort of lashed out at the kid - completely in reaction to what I'd been telling him, which was totally understandable, really - but the kid had no idea what was going down and he got pissed off back at Brian and . . . Well, see for yourself."

Ted swiveled the computer monitor around so Emmett could see the view of the Residence that Ted had been watching. The picture showed the patio area near the hot tub, and it looked like the boys had just finished up another Challenge. Justin was seated all alone on a patio chair off to the side, his arms and legs both crossed forbiddingly, while he glared furiously across the patio at the knot of whispering House Boys huddled together by the showers. Every time one of them would dart a glance in Justin's direction, he'd shoot the most withering look at the guy and whoever it was would flinch and look away immediately. Meanwhile, Brian was huddled dejectedly on a patio lounger, his legs straddling the seat and his shoulders hunched over with his head propped in one hand as his fingers rubbed slowly at his temples. Emmett had never seen Brian look so defeated before.

"Oh, Teddy!" Em didn't know what to say. He knew that Ted had only been trying to help but it looked like things were really fucked up at this point. "Poor Brian! He looks so . . . so devastated. And he and Justin were getting on so well before, too. They looked so cute together - acting all sweet and cuddly all the time . . ."

"Exactly. But then in comes bumbling, socially inept Ted Schmidt who instigates a fight between them and now look." Ted looked almost as upset as Brian at this stage.

"Oh, Teddy! Hush now! This isn't your fault . . . Well, it's not ALL your fault," Emmett tried to console his friend. "You can't help it if Brian Kinney is a grade 'A' drama queen. And, from the look of things, our little Justin is quite the drama princess himself. This was just a little argument - a lovers' spat - and they're both completely overreacting. But I'm sure they'll work things out. Give Justin time to burn through all that self-righteous anger and he'll forgive Brian eventually . . . I hope . . . Teddy, um, Brian DOES know he's going to have to actually apologize to Justin, right?"

"Yeah, right! Have you met Mr. No-Excuses-No-Apologies-No-Regrets Kinney? Brian apologizing is about as likely as snow in the Sahara."

"Oh, pish!" Emmett dismissed Ted's negativity with a wave of one hand. "He's also always claimed he didn't do boyfriends or relationships but that certainly hasn't stopped him the past couple of weeks, now has it? I think our Brian is capable of a LOT more than the likes of Michael Novotny - or you, apparently - give him credit for. Trust me, Honey! Brian will come around. You'll see. Who wouldn't for that sweet smile and bodacious bubble butt!"

Emmett gestured toward the screen and the still simmering but oh-so-luscious blond boy. Both Ted and Emmett sighed dreamily. Ted started to feel just a little bit better. Em was probably right. Not even Brian Kinney could resist that beautiful bundle of blond for long. Right?

But, maybe he SHOULD mention the apology thing to Brian?

"Oh no you don't, Teddy," Em had apparently divined Ted's intentions telepathically. "You are not going to interfere again. You'll just make things worse. You let Brian figure this one out all on his own. He'll be fine. He's a smart boy. It might take him a while but he'll get there in the end. Trust me. And trust Brian, too.”

‘Just exactly what the hell had happened?’ Brian wondered.

He needed to get a grip on what had happened and why the stellar mood he’d been in when he got up this morning had disappeared. It had all happened so fast. He hadn’t had even a second to sit and figure it all out. He needed to regroup. He needed to think this all through and make a plan. Brian liked plans. He did well when he had a plan. He didn’t like feeling lost or unsure of himself. A plan would be good.

Brian looked up and noted that the rest of the gang was still busy with the inane Bobbing for Cock game. Justin was still sitting on the edge of the hot tub at one corner, glowering at anyone who came near him and purposely refusing to even look in Brian’s direction. The others were politely ignoring him and doing their thing in the tub, with Dane now blindfolded and bobbing around trying to find a random cock to suck. Brian figured he had plenty of time to think while they were all busy.

Going back over the past couple of days, Brian was amazed at how truly happy he had been. He couldn’t remember being that fucking happy in a long time . . . maybe not ever. Friday - shit, Friday had been phenomenal. His two hour long edging session with Justin had probably been the best sex he’d ever had in his long and very promiscuous life. And afterwards, that long slow quiet fuck, well that had been pretty amazing too. Then yesterday, their shower sessions and all that laughter. Brian couldn’t remember ever having laughed while fucking with anyone before Justin. It was so strange but . . . well, he’d had so much FUN with the boy and he really didn’t want that to end.

So what happened this morning? They’d fucked again first thing this morning in the shower, goofing off and acting like a couple of pathetic silly fags, but it was all good. Then at breakfast that fat guy had annoyed him and all the Pittsburgh Out people invading their space had kind of put him in a bad mood, but Justin had seemed okay still - the blond had beamed at him when he’d told the fat guy off, so that wasn’t it.

Then Ted had shown up . . . Yeah, that was when it all went to hell. It was like Ted’s mere presence had caused Brian’s hackles to go up. He felt more exposed just talking to his friend than he had the entire past few weeks when he’d been walking around naked all day. Why the fuck was that? But the worst was when Ted had brought up Michael’s ridiculous idea about Justin brainwashing him. Fucking Michael. That was just so stupid it didn’t even deserve a response. Just because Brian was enjoying himself for once, Mikey thought he was fucking brainwashed? Acting all out of character? What? Wasn’t he allowed to fucking have fun once in a while? Fucking Mikey! And fucking Ted for even bringing that shit up! As long as he was playing by the rules of Ted’s stupid Summer of Sin game, the fucker didn’t have any right to comment on Brian’s actions, let alone who he was fucking or how. Ted needed to get a fucking life of his own and stop worrying about Brian’s life. And Mikey too. What the fuck gave either of them the idea that they had a right to interfere in his life?

Besides, Brian had already thought this through the other morning, right? He’d decided that he wasn’t going to listen to Michael or anyone else. He wasn’t going to give up whatever the fuck this thing with the blond was - at least not until it had run its course. Fuck them all if they thought they could control him or dictate who he spent time with.

So, then, why had he let what Ted had said about Mikey get to him so bad? Why had he snapped at the kid like that? Brian was self-aware enough to know that it was wrong to bark at Justin and that he’d acted badly. He hadn’t meant to, he was just reacting to what Ted had said. The kid hadn’t done anything to deserve getting his head bit off like that. Of course, Justin didn’t need to queen out the way he had either. It was bad enough that the little fucker had been giving him the cold shoulder all morning, but fucking screaming at him in front of everyone like he had a couple of minutes ago in the hot tub - that was fucking nutso. And practically throwing his ass at Kerek's dick? Total overreaction! Completely fucking insane, really. But precisely the thing that he knew would hurt Brian the most. No wonder Brian had been feeling so fucking anxious all morning - the wicked wittle Twinkie certainly hadn't been pulling his punches.

Brian looked up again and saw the outraged little blond perched on the hot tub so imperiously. It made Brian want to smile even though he was still upset himself. The little fucker WAS magnificent in his anger. He was so sure of himself. So fucking confident. And you had to respect him for not taking anyone’s shit. Sitting there like he fucking ruled the world and looking down his nose at everyone like he owned them.

He was fucking beautiful!

No matter how pissed off or hurt Brian might be, he was still so fucking attracted to Justin it was almost physically painful. He had to stop himself from getting up, running over to the boy, taking him in his arms and kissing the living daylights out of him. Of course, that would probably result in the enraged little twink chewing him a new asshole, but it might be worth it . . .

So, where the fuck did that leave Brian? He still wanted the kid. He could admit that, right? Maybe he wanted him even more now that he thought he could actually lose him. And Brian wasn’t going to listen to Mikey or take any shit from Ted or anybody else. So, he just needed to figure out how to placate the seething blond and get the lad back into his arms where the boy belonged . . . Which might be a bit of a problem, what with the boy looking like he would explode if ANYBODY so much as talked to him . . . Besides, what was Brian supposed to do? What could he say? ‘Quit acting like a fucking princess and let me fuck you already?’ Nah, Brian didn’t think that was the best way to approach this.

But, then again, what the fuck did Brian know about blond boys anyway.

So much for putting together a plan . . .

When the Bobbing for Cock event ended, Brian still hadn’t come up with a cunning plan for restoring himself to the blond’s good graces. Justin had won the competition by default - nobody had balls enough to go near him in his volatile state, which meant he was the last man in the tub. He seemed a little chagrined when he realized this fact and looked around at the others a little guiltily but still didn’t make any move towards Brian.

The next event for the Sunday In The Sun was supposed to take place in the pool so, after a short break, the boys reassembled near the shallow end and were given their directions by one of the ubiquitous masked servants. This game - appropriately called, ‘Suck Me, Fuck Me’ - seemed to be a bastardized version of ‘Marco Polo’. The team leaders flipped to see which team would be ‘It’ first, and Brian’s team won the toss. Brian, Dane and Paal were all given a pair of the same blacked out goggles used in the hot tub. They were also each given a small tapered butt plug with a ring affixed to the end and a long bright orange cord attached to the ring which would dangle behind them like a tail. All three of the ‘It’ guys cringed when handed those particular game pieces but didn’t really have much choice other than to accept the lube which was offered to them next in order to help insert their required equipment.

The idea behind the game was simple but wicked. The blindfolded, butt-plugged team were led into the pool and Justin’s team followed them. The ‘It’ guys were supposed to yell out “Suck Me!” at intervals and the prey would respond by yelling back “Fuck Me!”. If one of the blindfolded guys managed to catch a member of the other team, they would be ‘out' and they'd get fucked by whoever caught them. But, if one of the prey somehow managed to yank one of the ‘It’ guys’ plugs without getting tagged himself, then the predator was 'out', although he'd get sucked off before he left.

Brian thought it might be more apt to name this game 'Chaos' because that's what it ended up becoming. The pool at the Residence was rather large so it wasn't easy to find any of the 'Fuck Me!'s while swimming around blind using only your sense of hearing. Meanwhile, Brian's team was too afraid to leave the edges of the pool for fear they'd have their plugs pulled. Accordingly, they all skirted around each other for what felt like hours without anyone getting 'out'. It seemed to Brian that the game would never end at the rate they were going. So Brian made an executive decision, yelled his head off until he'd found Paal and Dane, and then ordered his team to start getting more aggressive.

Unfortunately, this plan had mixed results. They did get a couple of the prey out, but lost just as many. Dane tagged Malik about half a minute before Justin swam up stealthily underwater and yanked his cord. In retaliation, Brian and Paal teamed up to find and capture Justin, which almost worked, except that Kerek came to his Captain's rescue and pulled Brian's plug before he could get to the seal-like blond boy. Kerek paid for his gallantry though, getting tagged by Paal as he tried to swim away. Which left poor Paal all alone and blind and totally at the mercy of the little blond who swam circles around him like an otter. Paal only lasted a meager six minutes before Justin pulled his plug too. Daniel, meanwhile - who wasn't going to risk getting fucked again that day for ANYTHING - spent the whole game treading water in the deep end, his responsive 'Fuck Me!'s so quiet as to be virtually inaudible and doing nothing except evading capture at all costs. The only good thing about this game, as far as Brian was concerned, was all the poolside fucking and sucking - it was just a pity they had to muck about blindly in the pool first before they got to that part.

All through the Suck Me/Fuck Me game, Brian had been subconsciously working on the problem of how to appease the furious fair-haired fellow that continued to fume every time Brian so much as glanced his way. What the fuck was the kid’s problem anyway? Brian knew he’d been an ass, but this was blowing things WAY out of proportion, wasn’t it? What did the boy want him to do - get down on his knees and grovel? Fuck that! Brian Kinney didn’t do groveling. Of course he’d always said he didn’t do regrets either, but . . . well, there was still that weird feeling of . . . what? . . . fear, hurt, anger . . . taking up way too much space in his chest. Was that regret? If so, he wasn’t sure he really wanted anything more to do with blond boys or their stupid temper tantrums . . . But, fuck it, he just couldn’t stop thinking about the damned golden boy, even when he was pissed off as hell at the kid. Shit! Why was this so hard?

The only thing Brian could think of at the moment was that he needed to stay close to the aggravatingly attractive and at the same time absolutely annoying adolescent. He couldn’t bear the thought of NOT being near him. He'd stay as close as possible - even though the kid seemed determined to shun Brian - and maybe being close by would help Brian get some idea of what he could do to fix things. Maybe some opportunity to make it right and win back his blond would appear. There had to be something he could do. He wasn’t a complete idiot. He’d figure something out. Right?

While Brian was determining this quasi-plan-of-action, the break between events ended and the boys were hustled off to their last event of the day. Thanks Be to the Gods of Gay Porn! This Sunday in the Sun seemed interminable.

The final event of the day - and the tie breaker to see which team would win the day’s title - was the Pentathlon of Passion. The name alone almost made Brian want to retch! And, if that wasn’t bad enough, the description of the event was even worse. It was supposed to be an actual pentathlon, with five separate activities, although the various legs of this race were far different from anything an Olympian might see. As explained by the most recent masked servant, this pentathlon was comprised of the following: jerk, bike, suck, swim, and fuck!

Seven stationary bikes had been positioned at one end of the pool. Between them and the water’s edge there were four of the big leather chaise lounge chairs that had been used before for other events. On the far end of the pool, there awaited another four chaises. As explained to the House Boys, the race was to be a free-for-all, with whoever won gaining victory for his entire team. The first man to jerk off, bike five miles on the stationary bike, suck off the first competitor he found at the chairs, swim twenty five lengths of the pool and then fuck another contestant to completion, would be the winner. Brian wasn’t sure about the ‘Passion’ part of the game - maybe it would be better named the Pentathlon of Panting, since he wasn’t sure how exactly you were expected to be able to suck someone off while still catching your breath after a five mile bike sprint. But, whatever.

This was probably the first Challenge that would require any real athleticism. As such, there were a couple of definite favorites for winning this event. Brian himself was actually in quite good shape and figured he’d do well. But, on the other side, there were Daniel and Malik, both of whose professions relied on their fitness. It was likely to be a very close race.

They were given a minute to strategize before the race began and Justin's team immediately huddled. Brian wasn't sure exactly what part would require any strategy. He looked at Dane and Paal, told them to go as fast as they could, and that was that. It took Justin's team another full minute of sneaky glances, whispers and giggles before they had finished. Since all the sneaky glances had been aimed directly at Brian himself, he got an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, which matched the weight in his chest nicely. When would this day finally be over?

Eventually everything was ready. The boys lined up beside their bikes, palms full of lube, and the servant blew a whistle to signal the start of the game. Seven hands flew to seven dicks which were all furiously pumped.

Brian, whose mind was still only halfway on what he was doing at the moment and half on his blond dilemma, wasn't by any means the fastest to get hard. He tried to concentrate only on his dick, but wasn't all that successful. Finally, he turned his body slightly to the side so he could just see the infuriating blond who was positioned a few guys over and that seemed to help immensely. But he was still stroking away when the blond imp in question came in gloriously long sticky streams that glistened in the bright sunlight. The sight was quite inspirational.

However, just as Brian thought he was about to come himself, a nasty voice beside his ear whispered, "what's wrong, Stud? Getting too old to get off? Might wanna have that prostate checked at your age, you know?" Brian's pace faltered a bit and Daniel trotted off towards his own bike with an evil grin on his handsome face.

By the time Brian managed to get himself off, he was one of the last to reach his bike. Kerek, who didn’t seem to be in that much of a hurry despite this event being a ‘race’, sauntered over to the bike next to Brian’s just as the grumbling stud was starting to pedal. Kerek waited next to his own bike for several seconds, looking around him furtively until he saw that the servant observing this part of the event had turned his back. Then Kerek dashed over to Brian’s bike carrying one of the large bottles of lube that was always sitting around the house and squirted out a huge dollop of the slick stuff on the wheel of the stationary bike Brian was using. Brian yelled out a loud “What the Fuck!” as Kerek darted away giving Brian a half-apologetic shrug and grin as he mounted his own bike.

Since this style of stationary bike used a belt mechanism rather than a chain, the lubricant Kerek had added caused havoc with Brian’s ability to keep up a good pace. The belt was constantly slipping - not enough to break or cause any serious problems, but enough so that Brian couldn’t go as fast as he’d like. It was so aggravating. So much for his thought that he could pull ahead during the bike leg of the race.

Brian jumped off the bike as soon as he reached the five mile mark and trotted over to the chairs, arriving just after Malik. Brian vaguely wondered why Mal wasn’t much farther ahead in the race, considering he was one of the fittest of the group. A quick glance at the pool showed three heads already working away at the swimming segment. Since Brian was a strong swimmer, he knew he could catch up and possibly even pull ahead as soon as he got there. But, first, he needed to suck Malik off as fast as he could.

He and Malik agreed to 69 - the most efficient means to accomplish this part of the race - so they could both get off and then get on with the rest of the game. Brian settled Malik on his back and then crawled over the top of the lithe, stocky black man. And all was going along swimmingly for the first couple of minutes until Brian was torn abruptly from his happy blow job haze with a painful jolt.

Malik, the kid who normally had superb blow job technique, had used his TEETH!

“Oops! Sorry about that!” Malik mumbled insincerely from his position near Brian’s balls. “Guess I got a little carried away!”

“What the FUCK!” Brian complained, as his erection flagged. “If you do that again, you’ll be a dead chocolate twinkie!”

Malik didn’t respond since his mouth was already once again full of Brian’s dick. Of course, after that it took Brian a while before he was back in the blow job groove and even longer before he managed to get a resistant Malik to finally come. By then he and Malik were the last two to leave the couches.

Brian now strongly suspected that the entirety of Justin’s team strategy discussion was about how to sabotage HIM.

When he finally dove into the pool, he thought it would be over. He was sure that, at this point, he couldn’t make up enough time to win. He hoped that either Dane or Paal was faring better. At least there was no need for the little fuckers on Justin’s team to keep up their campaign of distraction. Brian decided just to enjoy the swim and treat it like he would any other workout.

He was unfortunately wrong about the other team leaving him alone, though. Just as he neared the far end of the pool and was about to go under the water to effect a smooth turn, his momentum was completely thrown off when two water-filled condom bombs hit him square on the top of his head!  He paused in his stroke and brought his head up out of the water to see Justin and Kerek standing there at the end of the pool, their hands full of more of the offensive condom water balloons, grinning maliciously at him.

“Plan on finishing this race any time this century, old man?” Kerek yelled teasingly before the pair bombarded him with the rest of their ammunition and then dove back into the pool to finish their own swimming segments.

“Fuckers!” Brian muttered bitterly and returned to his swim, but with a renewed desire to at least beat out the two mad bombers.

Justin, Kerek and Malik all took turns haranguing him and lobbing additional condom bombs at Brian every few lengths of the pool, but he ignored them. He swam determinedly. He wasn’t going to let the little saboteurs make him look bad. He might not win, but he certainly wasn’t going to let any of THEM finish ahead of him. And, even with all the distractions, Brian managed to finish all 25 lengths in just under 10 minutes. Now all Brian had to do was fuck someone and he was good to go.

Brian looked around quickly as he climbed out of the pool. It seemed like most of Justin’s team was taking their time at this particular competition - except for Daniel who was already more than halfway through fucking Dane on the first chaise. Justin was just starting to fuck Paal on the next couch over. But both Malik and Kerek were loitering around the edge of the pool where they’d climbed out just after Brian. Brian didn’t really care why they were lollygagging, though. He thought he might still have a chance at this thing, since all he had to do was fuck someone till he got off and he was done. He shied away from Malik - still a little pissed off about the teeth from earlier - grabbed Kerek and tossed him haphazardly on the third couch. Twenty seconds later he had a condom on and was fucking away, happy as a pig getting a poke.

Fucking Kerek felt good. It was something he was good at and wasn’t in the least bit confusing or frustrating. It didn’t require any deep thoughts or complicated decisions. It was just fucking. And it was the first time Brian had felt in control since breakfast, which was very reassuring and comforting. So Brian just let himself go, enjoying the moment and not really thinking, for the moment at least, about obstreperous blonds or interfering friends or stupid water games or anything else for that matter, except the nice little jolts of pleasure caused by the friction of his cock plowing into a nice tight asshole.

In no time at all, he was right there on the cusp of coming. He could feel those delicious flickers of electricity licking at his balls. There was a sensation of gathering in all the pleasure into a glowing ball of energy based at the bottom of his spine which was growing and pulsing and just about to explode with that lovely flood of endorphins that would wash over him and, for at least a few moments, make everything perfect in his world. Just a few more thrusts and he’d be there. Almost. Almost. Almost.

*Aaarrrgggghhhhhh!*

Five seconds before he was about to come, Brian felt the cushion of the chaise dip under his knees and then a thick, cold, lube-slippery, blunt object slithered up between his thighs with the apparent intention of inserting itself into his own nice tight asshole. He screeched like a little girl and twisted about violently, trying to free himself of the weight on his back. With a little bucking and a sideways wriggle, he was finally free of the heavy mass. In the process, however, he’d also fallen off the side of the couch. From his new vantage point lying on his back on the grass with his arms and legs splayed out every which way, Brian could see Kerek and Malik sitting side by side on the couch and laughing their fucking heads off at Brian’s shocked expression.

The view changed pretty quickly as Brian’s expression mutated from hurt vulnerability to mad as a hornet in only a heartbeat. The cackling pair stopped laughing and looked at each other with trepidation. By mutual consent, they silently agreed to get ready to run for their lives. Brian was panting with rage, his fists already clenched tighter than his asshole in response to the perceived threat to its sanctity. The boys slowly backed off the chaise like frightened rabbits preparing to run from a ravening wolf . . .

The masked servant in charge blowing his whistle to indicate that Daniel had finished fucking Dane and the competition was officially over was the only thing that saved Kerek and Malik from imminent destruction. The two pranksters were able to flee with their tails between their legs as Brian looked over at the happy winner doing a disgustingly ostentatious victory dance. Behind Daniel, Justin and the remains of Brian’s own team were standing there laughing at Brian’s predicament. If anything, that sight made Brian even more incensed.

By the time Brian turned back to take out his attackers, the foolishly bold boys were gone. But they were NOT forgotten. No fucking way. Their punishment would come - Brian promised himself that. Oh yes, they would be soundly punished and he could promise they would NOT enjoy the experience.

Forget trying to figure out how to make up with the scheming little blond! How dare Justin and his little band of tricky twinks try to take out Brian Kinney. There was nothing Brian hated more than being made fun of. Fuck Justin and his whole merry band of buffoons. Here he’d been, feverishly thinking all day about how to make up with the terrible twink, and meanwhile the kid was busy coming up with new ways to humiliate him? Well, at least he didn’t need to worry about fixing things with the beastly blond anymore.

Brian decided to concentrate instead on figuring out how to get back at all of them.