Bad day, Bad Habits

He was the way I liked him best, still in his work clothes, looking invincible—a power suit, one of the many--a dark gray suit with a burgundy shirt and a monochrome tie, everything almost shiny. He shed his jacket when he entered the loft, but his sleeves were still buttoned. He looked in charge, felt in charge, and I felt at his mercy. He’d only been home for forty-five seconds.

“I expect a kiss when I get home from work,” he darts at my face, taking what he wants while I stand in the kitchen with a colander in my hand, emptying the dishwasher.

I abandon the colander, the dishwasher, and all of the thoughts that're floating in my mind before he walked in. Something has been bothering me all day, and I don’t even know what it is. It happens sometimes, off and on, since the bashing, and it’s probably the hardest thing about Brian and I working in close proximity. He can see it on my face, and it bothers him, which makes it bother me even worse.

I lean back against the kitchen counter and give him what he wants, what I want—to forget this whole day. The force of our kiss pushes me against the counter and his hands are racing up my back, pulling up my shirt, exposing my bare back to the metal countertop.

“Shit, it’s cold, Brian,” I gasp. He slides his warm hands between my back and the counter to provide a warm barrier for me. My body relaxes again. “Thanks for coming home on time.”

“You’re welcome.” He stops kissing me for a minute and tucks my hair behind my ear, looking at me way too seriously. “Do you know what happened today that freaked you out?”

“No.” I have no idea. I really don’t.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Again, I really don’t.

“Did I do something?” He worries about that sometimes, and even though I don’t always know what weirds me out, I am almost positive it has nothing to do with him.

“No. It isn’t you Brian.”

“I’m just asking because you were fine until after eleven-thirty or so and that was when we had that meeting about the Brown Athletics campaign, and there were boards up of sports equipment…..”

“Brian, stop it, okay? You’re driving me nuts. I don’t know what it was. It just happens sometimes. I don’t want to analyze it.”

“Okay. But I’m not letting you work on that campaign anymore, just so you know.”

I'm not going to argue with him about that, but he's making too big a deal out of this. I roll my eyes.

“You're making too big a deal out of this Brian. I don’t like it when you treat me like a child.”

“Come over here for a minute.” He pulls me over to the sofa. I sit down on the far end, and he plops down and puts his head in my lap and kicks off his shoes. I prop my elbow on the end of the sofa and stare off into space. “Justin.”

“What?” I'm counting the number of squares on the floor.

“It’s just that it's really hard for me to do what I need to do at work and be in the same room with you when I know that you are in trouble and you need help. Can you understand that?”

“I’m not in trouble.” I turn my head and look at him now, my hand on his stomach.

“Well, you’re not screaming or yelling or throwing things, but you’re gone. Something happens, and you just check out. And I can’t find you. Fuck, I don’t even know where to look. And it scares the fucking shit out of me.”

“Scares the fucking shit out of you?” I’m the one who’s lost. “At least it doesn’t happen that often anymore.” I try to console myself, well, both of us.

“I know. It’s gotten a lot better, but, please don’t be pissed at me for not wanting to have that in the same room with my production team. I can’t concentrate. I can’t give a shit about paper towels or cereal when I know that you need help—that you need me.”

“I’m not pissed at you. I’m just pissed at myself because it’s still happening Brian. That’s all.”

“Did it happen while you were with---him?” He’s still convinced it has something to do with him.

“Maybe once or twice. I don’t really remember.” I think it happened once, but I don’t feel like thinking about it right now.

“You could talk to somebody. That’s always an option.”

“You fucking hate shrinks and therapy. I can’t believe you would even suggest that.”

“Yeah, well, that was before I ever lived through this Justin. It’s just something to think about.”

“Can you just help me think about something else now?” I shift my legs. “Let me up.”

He follows me to the bedroom and leans in the doorway while I remove everything but my underwear and get into bed, pulling the sheet up and tucking it under my arm.

“Be right back.” I hear him turning off the lights, bolting the door, and walking back to the bedroom. “Do you want the light on or off?” He's referring to the warm light over the bed.

“On is fine.” I like this light so much better than the blue lights of before.

“Okay.” He takes off his work clothes, and I just lie there quietly and watch his methodical actions. He walks back out to the sofa to get his shoes and puts them in the closet. I close my eyes and listen to him in the bathroom brushing his teeth, washing his facing, pissing, and flushing. After a few minutes, he's back in the bedroom. I open my eyes. I have never seen him in pajama bottoms before.

“Where did you get those?” He's standing in front of me bare chested in these long dark blue silky pajama pants that I've never seen. I take it back. This is much sexier than seeing him in a power suit.

“I splurged and ordered them online from some place Emmett told me about. They were expensive as hell, but they're worth it.” He sits on the bed beside me. I run my hand over his thigh, feeling the expensive silk fabric as it moves over his leg muscles.

“These are really hot, Brian. I like them.” I nestle my face in his outer thigh and continue my appreciation of these new pajamas. He runs his left hand through my hair.

“I’ll get you some for Christmas.” His hand covers mine on his thigh and he slides it where he wants it. He’s not wearing anything else under these pants. My dick swells in appreciation.

I can feel his emerging hard on tumbling around beneath the cool silk, and the sensation of the loose material hiding something so hot is making both of us a little crazy. Brian moves down a little on the bed, so he can lay back, and I pull up a little so I can work and remove my underwear. His long leg glides over top of me, securing me where he wants me.

I let my fingers trace the outline of his cock over the silk and can tell that the fabric is starting to stick to him in some places. He likes what I’m doing. My fingers walk down to his balls and toy with them as he moans every time they slip out of my grasp. I bury my face between his legs just to own his scent and feel him bending his knees, hear and feel the rustle of the fabric against my ears.

The musky smell of him, laundry detergent, and his cologne all mixed together chase me as I nip at his balls through the material.

“Oh god, Justin. Christ.” His hips buck underneath me, and his hand covers his face. I smile a little. My index finger roams down below his balls, repetitively stroking the short route from there to the entrance of his hole. The silk begins to bunch up as my strokes become harder and harder. “Please, oh god, please.”

“Please what?” I feel his hand in my hair. God, I love that.

“Please, just please, anything.” God, I want him right now--right now. I skim up his body for a minute and remove his hand from his face, so I can kiss him. He's disappointed that I left his dick unattended, but he's glad to see me. “You’re driving me fucking bananas.”

“You started it with these fucking pajamas.” I kiss his lips briefly and slide back down him. I nudge him to lift his hips up.

“I hate to do this, but these pajamas are coming off.” I really do hate to do this. I’m starting to think that these are magic pajamas. My hands tuck inside the material and they slip effortlessly down his endless legs. Good-bye pajamas. I’m really going to miss you.

I return to the beckoning warmth of his inner thighs and smile to myself as he bends his knees again and mutters something that makes no sense to me. I find the puddle he’s created all over his stomach and swirl my fingers in it.

“You’re soaking wet, Brian.” His hand is in my long hair, and he can't keep still. God, I love that.

My tongue gathers up the rest of the mess he made and starts to suck on his cock for purely selfish reasons. There’s this noise he makes where his voice cracks a little when I do this that makes me quiver. I’m such a moan whore.

I feel his thighs moving in against my face. He’s trying to trap me here. Nice try Kinney; I don’t think so.

“Uh, uh, Brian. Don’t make me tie you down.” He spreads out again and whimpers at me—something about not meaning to do that. Whatever.

My wet lips move down to his balls, soaking them with spit, sucking on them fast and furiously. I hold one in my mouth for a few seconds and feel Brian inhale, feel his fingers grab my hair and freeze. When I release it, his other hand dives for his cock. He's in quite the conundrum. The other one gets the same treatment before I start to lick the space below them, the trail from there to his hole. My focus is narrow; my tongue is wide, warm, and wet.

He tastes just like I remember—incensed, slightly foul, pungent, everywhere. I lose myself here for a minute, but I find my way back. I don’t have to look at him to know what he’s doing. He’s got one hand on his cock, one hand reaching for strands of my hair, one hand repetitively meeting his face and running through his hair in frustrated ecstasy, and one hand trying to give me better access to my strike zone. I love it when he runs out of hands. My tongue blankets his hole a few more times before I join him again at the head of the bed.

I kiss him hard. I want him to taste every bit of himself that I'm sporting on my face. He knows it and complies. His eyes are completely dilated in the warm light of our bedroom; he's the most beautiful man I have ever seen.

“Roll over. I want your ass up.” He cuts his eyes at me for a second, but I see him smile too. He's thoroughly enjoying this. I stay with him as he repositions himself and turns his head on his pillow to look at me. I lie beside him for a minute and twist and untwist his hair between my fingers. He runs his arms underneath the pillow and gets comfortable. “You know I love you, right?” He nods and smirks at me a little when I tell him this, but it's an admission nonetheless.

“My ass loves you too.” Fine. I can handle the truth. Now, let’s see if Brian can.

My trip down his back is short and sweet because he's waiting for me, and I'm greeted by his smooth ass immediately upon my arrival. I stroke and kiss each cheek equally. My tongue begins the journey down his crack, and I feel him lifting up for me.

“Good. I like that Brian.” He moans.

My tongue encircles his hole as I slide my hand underneath him and squeeze his cock. As my hand tightens, my teeth wander over to the delicate skin beside his pucker and bite. That did it.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” I bite and nibble my way all around his hole, while giving him a half-hearted hand job, teasing him into oblivion. He’s in trouble now.

I stop biting his ass for a second to locate the lube, and he collapses a little. I really can’t blame him, but I will. I squeeze his cock a little and push him back up.

“Keep your ass up, Brian.” His knees shift in response to my demand, and my tongue resumes its earlier activity.

His hole's so pink and so tight and so mine right now that I’m afraid I might come if I think about it too much. God, I’m going to fuck him to pieces. My tongue is warm and slippery and darts at his restricted entrance until it is soaked and ready for more. I pull myself up on my knees, so I can see him and hear him and spread him apart a little with one hand. He inhales and closes his eyes. My finger traces his backbone, his crack and taps at his hole until I feel him lean back against me.

“Justin, please.”

I venture inside slowly, keeping my other hand on his waist. He's beyond tight tonight. Oh Christ, it has been awhile.

“Oh god, oh god, go slow.” My hand is well-lubed, and I know to be patient with him. I reassure him.

“It’s okay. Take your time.” I rub his back and wait for him. He's worth waiting for. After a minute or so, I feel him pull on my finger a little, so I give him a little more, and he exhales a little--a much better sign. He’s breathing. I start to withdraw a little, just a little, and slip back in, and there's much less resistance. My cock is screaming at me. I tell it to shut up. I try to read the expression on his face, but it's buried in his pillow.

“Brian, I can’t see your face.” He turns a little, and he looks mostly aroused, maybe a little like he’s in pain. But that’s a part of it, a part of it that he likes. “I think you’re ready.”

When I enter him with two fingers, he cries out, but I know that cry. It’s for me.

“No. Oh god, no.”

“You’re okay.” My fingers are snug in his warm hole, and I begin slowly moving them in and out. I feel him trying so hard to relax, so hard to give me what I want. Ah, there he goes, the blood starts moving in my hand again.

“Christ, Justin. I want you to fuck me.”

“Not yet.” I scissor my fingers inside him and pull his ass against my hand so he can’t move away from me. I lean down and plant kisses all over his cheeks. He’s almost there. I tug on his cock and press on his prostate in one motion.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Oh god.” He almost runs away from me. Almost.

My hand leaves the warmth of his hole, and he sighs a huge sigh of relief. I roll over on the bed and prop myself up on my elbow. Our eyes meet. He speaks first.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting ready to fuck you.” I reach over, locate a condom, and hand it to him.

“All the way over there?” He takes it from me, confused.

I move closer to him. “I want you on top.” We’ve never done it like this before, with him on top, but I have my reasons.

He doesn’t argue with me, but, instead, frees the condom from the wrapper and slowly covers my aching, dripping cock. When he straddles me, I wonder why we haven’t done it like this before. He looks so fucking long, lean, and beautiful like this.

“Come here.” I pull him down to my face and kiss him and eventually start toying with his hold with my impatient cock.

“You think I’m too tight tonight,” he says to me as he tries to line himself up on my cock. He’s not used to being fucked, much less like this. It takes him a little bit. My dick appreciates the attention from his slippery, snug hole.

“Pay attention to what you’re doing.” I feel him hit the jackpot, and I push up a little to seal the deal. I don’t want him to lose his place.

“I think your dick got bigger since the last time we did this.” Flattery will get him everywhere, and he knows it. I plant my hands on his thighs as he tries to take the head of my cock. It takes him a few times, which amounts to an overwhelming teasing sensation for me. My face is on full-tilt arousal now. His face goes from concentration to surprise to pain in a few seconds.

“This hurts like fucking hell, Justin, but I love this.” His chest is hovering over my face. I reach up to suck on his nipple and bite it. I dig my fingers deeper into his thighs.

He sits up a little and accepts the rest of me inch by inch, and I resume my role again. It’s so good to be home.

“Go.” I push up into him a little, knowing that poking him like that will get him moving on the double.

He rises up on me slowly and starts the fuck I want, finally. Our hands intertwine on his upper thighs. I encourage him by propping up my knees and pushing back against him.

“Fuck me, Brian. Fuck me hard.” He releases my hands and leads one of them over to his lonely cock. I oblige him. I love the shadow he creates when he leans forward to give himself leverage to move faster.

My dick is slippery enough, but his ass is like a vice around me tonight—a hot, glove-like vice.

“You’re bottom is so tight tonight Brian. Tighter than it’s ever been. Fuck. Oh my god, fuck.”

He grins when knows he is pleasing me, when he knows that he isn’t just a good top. I feel him clench his muscles in an effort to hold on to me, but his effort is wasted because his stomach muscles are rounding the curve, and he's getting ready to shoot. I’ll be damned if he's going to come before me tonight. My hand abandons his dick, but I'm too late. The incongruous spasms of his lower body set off mine, however, and every last cent, wish, and thought I have rocket into his ass. I squish his skin underneath my fingernails and pound him into my crotch, watching the myriad of expressions that fly across his face every time I fuck him. It’s my favorite movie.

Speaking of movies, there’s some movie coming on TV tonight that I want to watch, but I can’t remember what it is.

“Brian, what time is it?”

“6:47 pm.” I smell the cigarette he just lit.

“I’ve got to stop having desert before dinner. It’s a really bad habit.”

“Here.” He hands me his cigarette and pulls out another.

“And this is just another bad habit.” I take it from him and inhale appreciatively.

“Your dick is a bad habit.” God, I hope so.

“Lucky for me, you’ve never been able to break a habit in your life.”

“Lucky for you, I don’t waste my time trying.” He hands me his cigarette for a minute because he's eyed his pajama bottoms and wants to put them back on. He gathers me back in his arms.

“I hope these pajamas become a bad habit.”

“Sunshine, as long as you’re in my bed, I can pretty much guarantee that.”

You know, now that I think about it, today really wasn’t so bad after all.

The End.