Two bodies writhed across the king-size bed- entangled, sweat pouring off of them acting as glue holding them together. Gasps and moans filled the air as the men wrestled their way to climax.   

"Yeah, fuck me," the man on the bottom as he continued to be pounded into the mattress. There wasn't anything tame, mild or gentle about their coupling. It was raw and dirty with only one purpose: to get off by any means necessary.   

A slight yelp came from the man on the mattress as Justin said forcefully, "You like that." It wasn't a question. Justin knew exactly what he was doing. He had practically begged to be fucked hard and fast and Justin was never one to disappoint.   

"Yes," his partner groaned. "Don't stop. I'm close. Don't fucking stop."     

Justin kept moving in strong, sure strokes, his dick constantly jabbing against the walnut shaped gland in nameless guy's ass. His blue eyes watched the man beneath him as he pushed even deeper into Sir Trick. Keeping a rhythm of two shallow, one deep, the gutteral moan which ripped from the guy was all Justin needed to hear. Yeah, he was close, a fact Justin was almost too happy with. He wouldn't have been there at all, except Justin's body needed sex.

Badly!

He had already gotten off once, and damn it Justin was going to get the guy off again so he could finally take his own pleasure. The thought spurred him on as he redoubled his efforts, looking for a very particular euphoric high. He was close to falling over the edge himself, but his teacher had always told him to make sure his meal of the evening was the first to blow his load. After all, it kept the Sir Tricks addicted and was considered gracious. Fuck gracious! he thought even while trying to banish the lessons imparted by Professor Promiscuity. 

Justin kept pumping, while focusing on his pelvic floor muscle to keep from cumming. Admittedly, this Sir Trick had a great ass, but he was sick of fucking. Justin let go of Trick's hips, which he'd gripped to keep him at the perfect angle. Using his knee to lock down the tightest ass he'd had in weeks in place, Justin reached up to squeeze a nipple, while filling his other hand with his balls. Justin rolled the latter in his hand gently at first, then pulled firmly but not enough to hurt... well, at least not much.

He twisted the nipple in his other hand, while keeping up the pulse-pounding rhythm of his hips. After only a few moments, Justin heard the tell-tale hitch of breath, issuing little warning before "nameless" announced, "Fuck I'm cumming!" And he did...and did. Justin was finally free to do the same, and felt relaxed for the first time in days.      

Justin released the bonds at the younger man's wrists and left the bed, while Trick laid there insensate, trying to catch his breath. Heading into the bathroom, Justin rolled off the condom, tossed it in the trash, peed and stepped immediately into the shower. As the water cascaded over his hair and body, he fought back the memories which had chosen to intrude on his post-coital bliss. Mental images bombarded him of a shower- just like the one he was in- with a person he had been doing his best not to think of since returning from Toronto a little less than a year ago. After Canada, he and Brian had agreed not to see each other for the next two years, a long standing habit of theirs since Justin left Pittsburgh ten years ago.    

Grabbing the soap, Justin busied himself washing his hair and body hurriedly, needing to escape the enclosed space as soon as possible. The thoughts served no purpose, and just put him in a place mentally it wasn't safe for him to dwell in too long. As he was rinsing the soap out of his hair, he heard the shower door click open and felt the strong gust of cooler air. He lowered his head to stare into the eyes of the guy, whose name he couldn't remember. Didn't care to remember was more like it.

It was a one-time thing anyway.

The hot water felt good caressing his lithe five-foot-eight frame, as Justin brushed his shoulder-length hair back from his forehead. Closing his eyes, he dipped his head in the water once more to ensure it stayed where he put it. Then reopening his eyes and lowering them, Justin followed nameless guy's movements as he dropped before him. Never one to turn down getting his dick sucked, he let him give him a blow job. The guy was damned good at it even though Justin once again zoned out, reflecting on another blow job where he was the one on his knees in the shower stall.

It had become a normal occurrence to think about those times, and ultimately left Justin dissatisfied for the long-term.    

After he'd come for the third time that night, he calmly said, "Hurry up and shower. I have things to do." He languidly strolled toward the left door of the two entrances to the decadent shower stall, and grabbed a towel from the rack. Without another word, or regard for the guy showering, Justin began to dry himself off vigorously, while standing in front of the built in vanity.     

"Wait. What? You're just kicking me out? I thought--" the guy let his sentence trail off at Justin's smirk.     

"You didn't think I was going to ask you to stay, did you?" At the trick's continued silence, Justin chuckled slightly and shook his head. It always continued to surprise him how it was automatically implied he would offer anything beyond his bed for the duration of a fuck. He guessed something could be said for still looking innocent, even at his age. "Sorry to disappoint you, but no one stays here but me and I don't do overnight guests. So if you don't mind..." Justin gestured his hand toward the shower.      

As soon as the disgruntled trick left the warehouse, Justin climbed the stairs toward the roof since it was August and an overly warm night. The fact that he lived close to the East River made no difference; it was still hot and humid. But it was peaceful and exactly what Justin needed in that moment. With his mind in turmoil, he stripped out of the lounge pants he'd recently donned and dived into his pool. The deck during inclement weather could be closed off so he never had to be without it if he didn't want to.

That was another advantage of loving and living with Brian Kinney off and on, for five years. He had taught Justin to never settle for less than what he wanted, and it was a lesson Justin had learned well. He swam to the farthest end of the pool where the Empire State Building was lit up in red, white and blue in honor of Labor Day- the last official holiday of the summer. It had taken three years to get his home the exact way he's wanted it. A lot of time was spent with him living in his rented art studio, until it was decorated to his specifications. His patience had paid off, even beyond what he thought it could.     

At thirty-three, Justin Taylor was successful, rich and still young enough to enjoy it. Although he started out as a "starving artist" thanks to the article of some cunty art critic whose name he couldn't remember, it didn't take long for his work to get noticed and that was thanks in large part to both Lindsey and Brian. All of his paintings sold out at art shows which helped keep his studio afloat while he was traveling. He debuted in Milan, Paris, London and Venice all in the course of his first four years as a New Yorker. He'd also done shows domestically in Los Angeles and of course New York each year since relocating.

So when he decided to stay put for a while, he logically started his own Art Firm based in Dumbo- a section of Brooklyn bordering the East River with a gorgeous view of the New York Skyline. His operation was mostly geared toward businesses which were just starting out, but couldn't afford a huge advertising budget. When Brian heard what Justin was involved in during one of their every-two-year-sex-a-tons, he contracted Justin's services for a few of his minor clients who he saw potential in but they couldn't afford the usual fee. The strategy paid off. Because of Justin's designs and Brian's backing, those small companies became major clients. It was a win-win for both of them and gave Justin the residual income he needed since he retained all the copyrights to his artwork and the companies paid him yearly to use it.

Even major corporations had taken note of his work, and many had hired him to redesign their company logos. He was in business for himself, no longer starving but he still wasn't satisfied.       

There was no doubt he loved New York City and all its boroughs. The sights, smells and sounds called to his artistic soul. There was no shortage of inspiration even in the quiet, upscale neighborhood where he lived in Dumbo. Going through the city- or escaping from it- was as easy as a train ride away. "The City that Never Sleeps" described it perfectly.

There was always something to do or someone, but he was bored. The men were not as exciting as they once were to him. Oh sure...they were good looking enough and book smart. They were either masculine and gorgeous, or a cute little twink like the one who had left after Justin fucked him but they didn't excite him. Once again his mind conjured the image of the one man who did.

Brian Kinney.

Six-foot-two with auburn hair and hazel eyes, which sometimes looked green. Brian Kinney. Utterly kissable lips, a man who got sexier and more refined through the passing of the years. And the one man on the damn planet, who could make Justin scream in both anger and ecstasy by turns. Brian-motherfucking-Kinney! 

He was the root cause of the heaviness Justin always felt every time they separated for another two years. It routinely took a year to bounce back from the experience, only to have it happen all over again. Justin huffed out a large breath in annoyance at Brian, but mostly himself. Their time in Canada was unscheduled, but worth every second. It was as if they had never split up- the shared jokes, secret looks, obvious flirting which always led to A-fucking-mazing sex- all of it was fucking perfect.

And that was the problem.      

Watching the Empire State Building as if it held the answers of the universe, his body reacted strongly to thoughts of the last time they'd seen each other. The tight hugs and prolonged kiss goodbye, where it could never be determined when one kiss stopped and the next began was the sweetest most addictive brand of agony. He could still hear Brian's raspy voice close to his ear saying, "You take care of yourself and keep in touch when you can." He could still see him as he headed toward the boarding gate, turn and give a quick final wave, mouthing the word "Later," as he handed the ticket agent his boarding pass. 

Reflecting on it all, Justin knew the only way anything would change was if he did it. This situation had turned him into an emotional masochist. It had been many years since he had to reevaluate his life, and what he wanted. So decision made, Justin climbed out of the pool and headed into his house not bothering to dry off. It was time to do it again.