Everything at Once- Epilogue 3.1-Extended Scene-Frenzy-Brian's POV-NC-17

a little reunion sex....


Everything at Once-Epilogue 3-Accomplished-Part 1 in case you haven't read it. You may be a little lost in some sections.

EPILOGUE 3.1-EXTENDED SCENE-FRENZY
BRIAN’S POV

what a nice surprise

He smells like he should smell, enough like what I remember and enough like something brand new, our voices hushed as I undress him.

“Gus is asleep in the next room.”

The look on his face.

I’m full of surprises today.

“And I should spank the shit out of you for wearing a smock over a five hundred dollar ensemble.” It’s in the trash can now. His eyes glance over at the door separating us from my sleeping son as he slides my hands down over his ass. I shake my head. I know the way his mind works. I trained it.

“Guess you’ll have to wait, Picasso.”

“You and your bright ideas.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll more than make it up to you later. Get in bed.”

The introductions are over.

He pulls the sheets back and waits for me as I undress, moaning softly as I slide into bed beside him and take him in my arms. I feel like I’m inside his skin when I touch him.

It’s been way too long.

I don’t take anything for granted.

Nothing…

…not the way he touches me, his fingers on the back of my neck, not how overwhelming it is to have him underneath me again, his skin soft beneath my hands, his cock hardening as it presses against mine. His tongue tastes sweet in my mouth as he wraps his fingers around my dick and his, his thumb skimming over top of both. Wet and warm.

I don’t know how my body can be so excited and so relaxed at the same time, but that’s the way I feel as I hold him, eventually adding a little lube to the mix. His hand tightens around my neck. ”Brian.” He comes when I finger him. “Oh shit.”

“I love you, too.”

My little blond frenzy.

“Fuck me.”

Jesus, I wish we were doing it raw, but the barrier’s probably a blessing right now because it gives me a second to regroup and push him on his back and slide my cock back and forth at the entrance of his little ass until his whispered begging undoes me.

I’ve been waiting for this for so long. Wanting it, to feel his hands as they trail up and down my chest as I push inside him, easy, to watch his face as he takes me, his eyes pleading with me to kiss him, to fill him, all of him open for me. Ready. Mine.

He lets out a deep breath when my balls brush against his bottom, his legs on my shoulders, my arms encircling him.

He’s trembling. “Need me to fuck you?” The skin behind his ear's so warm.

“I love you.”

His fingernails dig into my biceps as I move inside him. “My little bottom boy.”

“Brian, I can’t believe you’re really here.”

I raise my eyebrows at him and grin, “I’m not. I’m a figment of your imagination.” He has a lot of figments. He’s very creative.

“That’s what it feels like. It’s surreal.”

“Never been fucked by a figment before, have you?”

“This is one hell of a figment.”

“The figment of all figments.”

“Please stop saying figment.”

“Figment.” He rolls his eyes at me.

“I knew you were going to say that.”

“I’m so predictable.” I wink at him. “Haven’t changed a bit.”

“Kiss me before I moan really loud and wake up Gus.”

He’s not kidding, he will.

I kiss him, but he moans anyway.

“Shhh, Justin.” I try to muffle his voice by pressing his face to my chest. “Be quiet.” His fingers dig into my lower back. Ouch.

“Mmm, I’m trying. Harder.”

“I can’t. The bed. It’s antique.”

“Fuck the bed.”

Beds can be fixed.

I hope.

“You’re a bossy little bottom boy.” I don’t remember him being this demanding. He grabs my ass. “Justin.”

”Brian.”

Fuck it.

I smother him and fuck the shit out of him.

He bites the shit out of my shoulder when he comes. Hurts like fuck, but it keeps him quiet. I come so hard I feel like I’m breaking him in half.

“Oh god, fuck, Christ.”

He can stay in L.A. as long as he wants, but this perfect piece of ass is going home with me. I let him unfold, relieved that he can.

Now he can whisper, “I left a huge mark on your shoulder.”

“No shit, Vampira.” He covers his face.

“Do not embarrass me. I can’t help that I get a little…….carried away.”

“I need a leash to keep you in bed with me.”

“Stop it. Don’t make fun of me.” I know he’s wondering if I really have a leash.

“Yeah, well, put your fangs away. It’s time for you to suck some cock.” He does his Dracula impression which is so dead on, no pun intended, that it terrifies me.

“Enter. At. Your. Own. Risk.”

“Oh yeah, Dracula with a lisp. That’s tho thexy.”

“You shithead!”

“Shhhh. At least you can say that.”

“Just for that, I’m gonna blow you with my fangs in.” I lean down and kiss the determined look off his little face.

“I missed you, Sunshine.”

“Welcome to the Hotel California.”

************************
You had the Dom Perignon in your hand
And a spoon up your nose.

Sitting in a posh L.A. restaurant at a table for nine for two and half hours watching Gus and Jake fight over which way Justin’s head was turned was an eye opening experience to say the least. When I heard the words, “You know guys, there’s plenty of Justin to go around,” come out of my mouth, I realized I’ve been right all along.

It’s only a lie if they make you lie.

There’s not nearly enough of Justin to go around.

Besides, he needs to be paying attention to me.

My spontaneously-planned diversion-for-two to the men’s room after the soup was thwarted by my own son, his second successful attempt to abort my mojo since we’d gotten here this afternoon. First, he wakes up crying from his nap at Matt’s, an instant maternal moment for Justin, and then he ruins my post-soup/salad signal to Justin.

Gus apparently thought my signal was for him.

“I have to go potty.”

Shit.

“All right, come on, Gus.”

“Mr. Justin, come with us.”

“Yes, Mr. Justin. Come with us.”

“I can pee like Daddy. I did it on the plane, but Daddy had to hold me.” I stuffed a piece of bread in Gus’ mouth and pretended he was Justin’s son all the way to the men’s room.

The bathroom was a three ring circus. Literally. The urinals in Gus’ school are these tiny little things about twelve inches off the ground. He took one glance at the ones in the restaurant and looked at me like they were only there to swallow little boys. He grabbed himself and ran into a stall.

“I want Mr. Justin to watch me.” My son has now decided that each and every act of urinating is made more pleasurable by having an audience. I refuse to acknowledge the implications of that mindset.

“Gus, just use the bathroom.” Justin was fucking with his hair in the mirror. I had two divas in the bathroom all of a sudden.

“I want him to.”

“Fine. Justin, you’re up.” No response. I looked back over my shoulder and rolled my eyes. Justin was fucking with his hair because he was trying to think of something to say to Orlando Bloom. I don’t give a shit how hot Justin thinks I am, the man has a deadly weakness for any man with dark, wavy hair. Just ask Ian. “Sunshine, you’re needed in stall number three.”

His ‘oh, it’s so nice to meet you, and no, that’s not my boyfriend/partner/lover/etc. standing over there’ smile deflated instantly. I smirked at him. “Your services are needed, urgently.” I know he thought I meant a blow job. He rolled his eyes and titled his head at me, his standard, ‘gimme a break, Brian. I don’t blow people in public. I’m so above that’ look. I pointed to Gus. His face turned beet red and he right came over. I watched Mr. Daffodil walk out the door.

“Yeah, you don’t blow people in public, Mr. ‘I’m too snobby for my dick.’”

“Shut up. That’s the first time I’ve ever seen him.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s gonna call you. Like, right away.”

“Jealous.”

“Snob.”

“Mr. Justin, watch!”

Justin took my place, and Gus smiled up at him proudly as he peed all over the wall. If you want anything done right, do it your goddamn self.

“You kind of have to give him some ‘direction,’ Justin. You have to remind him where the boundaries are when he’s in an unfamiliar place.”

“Well, I didn’t know, Brian. Shit. You’re standing right here, too.” He was irritable because he was starving. I was irritable because I was horny. And Gus, well…..

“Shit, Daddy. I peed on the wall.”

“I can see that.”

I didn’t really want a blow job after that. Although before we left, Justin asked me if I wanted to sneak back in there and just come all over the wall.

“Why don’t you, in case Orlando Rosebush pops back in?”

“You are such a jealous cunt.”

“Oh, you want to be spanked. That’s just all there is to it.”

“You’re so easy, Brian.”

It’s true. I am.

************************
I know tonight she comes

Gus and Jake can fight all night over who gets to sit next to Justin at dinner as long as I get this for dessert: a lit cigarette and his undivided attention. He gives me the thirty second ‘I’m sorry it’s such a mess but I didn’t know you were coming’ tour of Brett’s guest house, and apologizes for the size of the bed.

“It’s not as big as ours.”

“Let’s just get in it.”

“I have whiskey. You want some whiskey?”

“I want you, but, sure, whiskey’s good.”

He pours it for me, and I drink it in one swallow, watching as he turns off the lights in his house, turns on some music, jazz or something, and closes the blinds. He lights a few candles, telling me his bedroom lights don’t dim.

“Drives me crazy. I can’t wait to get back to your place where there’s intelligent lighting.” He’s such a fag. I love that. I wait for him to come stand beside me on the far side of the bed near the window. He takes my glass out of my hand and sits it on his nightstand. “More?”

“No. I’m fine. Come here.” I pull him to me, and he lays his head against my chest, his arms around my waist. “Three months is a long time.”

“It’s too long.”

“Yeah.”

We stand here for awhile, almost swaying, and I remember to tell him that he doesn’t have to go to work tomorrow, that I worked all of that out with Brett, and that I’m staying through Sunday.

“And we’re taking Gus to Disneyland on Saturday, in the morning, but just for a few hours. He won’t last too long.”

“Okay.” And then he’s quiet again, eventually taking my hand that’s stroking his hair and putting it on his face. It means something, to us, his way of telling me what he wants. I lift his face, my thumb smoothing over his cheekbone as I kiss him and tell him he can undress.

He takes his clothes off slowly, removing the clothes I’ve bought for him and laying them on the chair beside the bed. He untucks my shirt and starts to unbutton it as I reach down to feel how hard he is. He slides my shirt off my shoulders and unbuckles my belt, pulling it through the belt loops. He winds it and puts it on the nightstand. The buckle clinks against my empty glass of whiskey.

He folds my pants and lays them with the rest of my clothes as I lean against the headboard of his bed. I nod toward the nightstand. He pulls out one my cigarettes and lights it for me as I spread my legs. He takes a drag off of it, hands it to me, and settles between them. He’s a little blonder, a little tanner, and absence makes the boy suck harder.

Christ.

Nicotine, whiskey, and a name-brand blow job. If this is life in the fast lane, I’m gonna set the cruise control. It really doesn’t get any better than this.

But it will.

This is what being a fag’s all about. Sucking on a cigarette while his beautiful, blond head sucks on my balls and licks my cock like he can’t survive if there isn’t something in his mouth for him to work his little tongue around, while his perfectly round ass stays just out of reach.

For now.

And I love knowing that he knows what a talented little cocksucker he is.

He knows everything.

“Put it out, Brian.”

That’s his way of telling me that he’s about to stick something up my ass. I almost set the bed on fire once. I don’t need to have a lit cigarette in my hand during anal activities.

“You’re so romantic.”

“You can’t be trusted. I don’t own this house.”

True. He tells me I can have another one after I come, but I could give a shit because it’s been three months since I’ve had this. My cock in his mouth and his wet fingers teasing me, and he waits until I’m begging him…

“Justin,” until he pushes inside me, “Oh fuck.” And I know he’s going so slowly, but it doesn’t feel that way, it feels like so much, too much, too good, but too much, and then—

“I wanna fuck you.”

That did it. Hot come down his hot throat.

“Uh, Justin.” His mouth is so hot and so sweet as I fuck it and then it’s all over mine as he kisses me, letting my come run over my tongue.

“Mmm, you taste the same.”

“East coast,” my eyebrows play with him as he sheaths himself, and I start to roll over for him, but he stops me.

“On your back, okay?”

“You’re the big star.”

He tells me to shut up, and I close my eyes, my thighs burning before I even feel him inside me.

But then I do. Jesus Christ.

“You okay? Your face? I can’t tell.”

“I’m fine. Goddamn. This feels-- Holy shit.”

“I know.” He smiles, and I kiss him as I feel him sink all the way inside me. It’s never felt like this before. He starts to move, and I just want him to hold onto me. This is the most submissive position on the planet. “You feel….this is amazing, Brian.” He fucks me slowly at first, both of us trying to get used to this. “You have a funny look on your face.”

“This is just such a vulnerable position.” His eyes light up.

“I know. Isn’t it wonderful?” He makes me laugh. Opposite sides of a coin.

“Show me how wonderful it is.”

“Just remember, you asked for it.” No wonder he fell in love with me that first night, if this is how I fucked him. The man knows what he’s doing. "Brian, god." It's beautiful, watching him try so hard to rein this in. He can do it. In fact, he plays with it. Lets it go, lets it run free, and then yanks it back at the last minute. I can usually tell when it's about to slip through his fingers, his breathing gives him away, or sometimes it's just something completely obvious, like him pulling the ever-loving fuck out of my hair.




"Ow."

"Fuck, sorry, jesus, fuck."

The second he feels my body start to tighten, his does, too. We come within seconds of each other, his damp forehead pressed hard against mine, his tongue pushing into my mouth. I love the smile on his face after he comes, after he tops; I love they way he hovers over me, strong, sated, and proud. He tucks my hair behind my ear, leaning down to warn me,

“Remember, you only bottom for me.”

Gee, you think?

I want to tell him that after being fucked like that, I really don’t feel like topping ever again, that I was about ten seconds from rolling over and telling him to fuck me again. But there’s only enough room for one unchecked ego in this relationship, so I don’t.

“I’m extremely honored to be your piece of ass, Mr. Taylor.”

“Same here.”

Relationships are all about the three A’s: attention, appreciation, and ass.

************************
Just open up, I'm gonna come inside
I wanna fill you up, I wanna make you cry.....

Justin’s dominant streak always reminds me of one of those cheap-ass fourth of July sparkers, the only ones my dad would ever let me light all by myself—full of brilliance and height and snap, crackle, dive—right into the ground. I could never get enough of those fucking things, the one day of the year my dad let me set the yard on fire. And not Claire.

Just me.

Justin’s the same way-full of sound, flame, and fury and just for me.

He returns to bed wearing my red dress shirt from today and lies next to me, his words quiet but matter-of-fact, “I’m keeping this.” His tongue waits on the edge of my lips for an objection he knows he won’t get. His kiss is wet and soft and hard and purposeful, all at the same time.

Just like him.

It ends when he wants it to, his mouth moving along my jaw as he turns around in my arms. His body feels tired. He guides my hand under my shirt and presses it against his stomach, an appreciative sound escaping from him as I hold him. And then a request, “Mmm, fondle me.”

“I wish you wouldn’t be so vague.”

“Fondle me now.”

“Much better.”

It’s times like these when it pays to be a secret agent, to be able to put him in hiding, so that we’re not in L.A. or Pittsburgh, we’re just in bed, where we should be. His willing suspension of disbelief has already taken him there, I can tell. His imagination’s so much more powerful than mine. And once we’re there, he may be smaller than me, younger than me, and, more often than not, underneath me, but the cues are his to give and mine to follow. I’m no fool. I’m always at his mercy.

Granting me the privilege of being in charge, never really wanting it any other way, that’s the true artist in him.

His eyes close as I hold him, my hand smoothing over his chest, his nipples hardening beneath my fingertips.

“I’m sleepy, just a few minutes.”

“It’s fine.”

I rest my lips behind his ear. He stirs about ten minutes later when my hand brushes past his cock, pulling him tighter against me.

“You’re hard, Brian.”

“Just for that, you can keep my pants, too.”

He turns around in my arms, a seductively innocent look on his face, “I don’t want your pants. I want your belt.”

The smile on my face is the only answer he needs. I don’t say anything, just sit up. He sits up after I do, reaches over to his nightstand, picks up my belt, and lays it beside me as he lies across my lap. I smooth my right hand from his shoulder blades down the back of his legs, my shirt covering his ass as he watches me, his eyes never leaving my face.

“You have no idea how beautiful you look like this, Justin.” He smiles, sort of embarrassed.

“I thought of something funny the other day about one of your ad campaigns when I was thinking about this.” I roll my lips in, raise my eyebrows.

“You mean ‘jerking off about this.’”

“Whatever. Like you don’t. I was thinking that you could take your Endovir campaign and sell it to some BDSM people and call it Bendoverdear.”

“You’re a fucking genius.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me. He’s so proud of himself.

“I know. You totally have to let me do the art, though.”

“Of course. You’re so uniquely qualified.”

“Exactly.”

“Maybe I could talk Remson into developing a tiny, little pill that you could give beautiful, blond, bottom boys that will make them automatically lose their pants and strike this very perfect position over your lap.”

“If he does, it will only work on me.”

“And over my knee.”

“It won’t make very much money then.”

“The fuck it won’t. You’ll be taking one three times a day for the rest of your life.”

He laughs as I run my fingers through his hair and then down the side of his face. He holds my hand for a second before letting go, reaching back, and pulling my shirt up. The fabric pools around his shoulders as he lays his hand back on the bed by his face. I trace the outline of his figure with my index finger. Seeing him like this, his perfect ass, perfectly presented, his legs firm and together, all of him waiting for me, after three months—

Christ, it’s almost more than I can take.

“You’re giving me chills, Brian.” His voice brings me out of my reverie. “What’re you thinking about?”

“You. This. Coming all over everything.” Somebody must be putting truth serum in the water here. “The arch of your back. How badly I wanna stick something big, like the Space Shuttle, up your ass.”

“Brian.” He arches his back a little more. It’s subtle, but I notice it and it feels wonderful under my hand. It almost breathtaking.

“Nice, Justin.”

When my hand slides under his shirt, firm pressure on his upper back, he stops breathing. I feel myself get wet. My right hand smoothes over his ass as he moans and exhales at the same time, reaching for my cock, his fingers skimming over the top. The look on my face reminds him that he needs to be still. He licks his fingers and lays his hand back by his face, the expression on his face an apology. The muscles in his body tense as he feels my hands on his thighs. Foreshadowing for him, I guess.

“Relax.”

I slide him closer to me, almost cradling him in my arms. It surprises him at first, he thinks he’s done something wrong, but then he puts his arm around my waist, burying his face against my hip. It feels good. I bend my knees to keep him still, to take the burden off of him, my fingers stroking his hair.

“Better?” I whisper.

“Yes,” his far hand pets the side of my body, and then presses flat against my chest when I lube my fingers and push him open. “Oh god.” He’s virtually helpless in this position. I think he just figured that out. “Please don’t make me come.”

Yeah, he just figured that out.

“You won’t. I won’t let you. Don’t worry.”

The anticipation of submitting to me and of being fucked afterwards and all of him opens up to me every single time. It’s flattering, it’s arousing as fuck, and it’s a responsibility. The pleasure he gets from this goes far beyond the boundaries of his skin, and he won’t be able to get there safely, ride the waves as they come for him, or be able to enjoy a peaceful trip back if I don’t pay attention to everything he’s feeling the entire time, physically and emotionally. When he chooses to submit, when he’s open, all of him is open, not just his body. It goes far beyond that; he trusts me to enhance his experience, to free him to enjoy it, and to protect his escalating fragility at the same time.

He’s such a bottom boy. I love to watch his face when I’m fingering him, the way he gasps for each ecstatic breath. I stop moving inside him and just pause, knowing he’ll come, knowing he wants to, my thumb rubbing gently over his balls. He waits, anxious, squeezing my fingers.

……

……

He grips my waist hard when I pull out and spank him. “Uh god.” The only leverage he has involves pushing against me, which he doesn’t want to do. It frustrates him. My hand’s tingling in no time. He clenches his bottom, his legs. He’s panting. “Uh, Brian.”

I stop and comfort him, my hot hand rubbing the back of his legs. He loves the way that feels, his body relaxing under my touch. He reaches back and feels how warm his ass is and smiles at me. I smile back.

“You okay?” I stroke between his thighs and he purrs.

“Very.”

“I want you back in your regular position.”

“Why?” He stops touching himself. His voice changes.

“It’ll give you more control.” There’s a difference between submissive and helpless. He nods against my hip, relieved that he didn’t make me unhappy.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” He runs his hand over my chest for a minute or so, playing with my nipples, kissing the parts of my body he can reach. I stop him after a few minutes, my voice soft, but firm, “Okay, let’s go.”

He readies himself for me, his eyes on mine, dark and focused. His body is beautifully obedient as he soaks up every bit of stinging heat my hand brings him, the pleasure he feels at being humiliated like this making him hard and vulnerable at the same time. It’s the amazing, perilous place he wants to be. The skin on his face is so soft; he clutches my hand when I touch it, grounding himself because he’s spinning. That’s the way it feels to me when I watch him go. He’s spins like an old metal top, like the ones I had as a kid that if you spun them just right, they’d spin forever. But only if you knew what you were doing. It took a lot of practice, but once you got it just right, you could do it for hours, and it would go and go and go.

He can spin like that. I just have to keep an eye on him so he doesn’t get out of my reach.

God, I’m so hard.

His tongue peeks out between his teeth, he doesn’t realize it, when I press between his shoulder blades for the second time tonight, holding him down. I rub the back of his thighs and right below his bottom a couple of times before I bring my hand down in the same places. I can feel him trying to move away from me.

“Justin.”

I raise my left leg underneath him, brushing his cock. He gasps my name.

“Wet, wet boy.”

He whimpers.

“And so hard for me.”

He licks his lips.

“You’re going to do something for me in a few minutes, Justin.”

“Brian,” he begs.

The longer I spank the back of his legs, the sweet edge of his ass, the louder he gets, my name over and over.

“Brian……Brian, Brian, please.”

I stop, and he catches his breath, reaching for me, his hand stroking my leg. I wind my belt in my hand and he stops breathing. It’s what he wants, but he’ll resist, heightens the experience for him, and for me. I take his hand off my leg and place it back on the bed. He won’t look at me.

“Won’t take long. I’ll be quick,” I reassure him, stroking his face. He moans, a tear rolling down his cheek. He wipes it away. “Look at me, Justin.” He refuses, shakes his head. ”Look at me.” He does, finally, that tear joined by another. “Come here.”

He gets up, straddling me, his head on my shoulder. Doesn’t want me to see his face? I wrap him in my arms, worried that I’ve hurt him, that something went too far, that I missed a signal.

“What’s wrong? I hurt you?”

“No. No. God, no.”

“Okay. It’s okay.” He breathes heavy against me. “Justin, what? You’re freaking me out. Please tell me.” He doesn’t say anything for almost two minutes, not with words anyway, his hand smoothing from my jaw down my neck and back again.

“I miss you.” He misses me. “I just miss you.” More vulnerable than hard now.

“I miss you, too. You have no idea.”

“I can’t believe you’re really here. I just can’t believe it. I’ve missed you so much. I can’t stand it, being away from you—"

“I can’t stand it either.” He smiles when I say that.

“It’s like you forget what it’s like, you make yourself forget, and then you just show up all of a sudden? You know?”

“I know.” I hold my belt up. “I take it we’re done with this?” It makes him laugh.

“Yeah. Just fuck me.” I toss it on the floor, and he takes my face in his hands and kisses me. “I don’t want to drive.”

“That’s okay. I do.” His fingers wrap around the rungs in his headboard after he lies face down on the bed. I lie on top of him, pulling his hands off the headboard and back to his body, my cock lodged comfortably between his firm little cheeks.

“I want you, Brian.” I break the bad news to him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Please remain seated. We appear to be having a few minor technical difficulties, but the flight crew assures me that we should be underway in no time.”

“Uh oh.”

“Please enjoy this complimentary molestation in the meantime.” He starts to rise up.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to.”

“Please put your tray table back in the prone position.” He laughs.

“Retard.” And lies back down. I kiss his shoulders, the top of his back. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“I know. It’s just gonna take a second.”

“I scared you.”

“It’s okay.” I brush his hair off of his face. “Don’t get upset. It happens. It’s fine.”

“It just happened really fast, that I felt that way.” And he’s getting upset.

“Justin, we’ve been apart for three months. It’s understandable. It’s okay to be emotional when we’re fucking. That just means that we’re like normal people.”

“Oh my god. We are.”

“Perish the thought.”

“We’re not normal.”

“Well, you’re not. You’re a little kink-mister. You spend more time on your knees than—"

“Shut up, Brian.” I laugh at him. “You’re one to talk. You’re hard as a rock.” Son of a bitch.

“I was imagining you on your knees.”

“Fuck me.”

“I need a little bit of foreplay, thank you very much. Jesus.”

“You can have as much as you want, as long as you don’t lose your erection.” Bossy little thing, isn’t he?

He smiles when I whisper in his ear, “You don’t run this show, Sunshine,” and closes his eyes, moaning quietly as I press my now-ready cock against him. I slide my arms underneath him, making sure there’s no space between us. “You feel so good.”

“Mmmm.” He turns his head to the other side, so I can kiss the other side of his face. “Kiss my neck next.” I love to kiss the back of his neck, where his hairline is. I love to run my nose through his hair. It always smells so good. And the little groove where his neck meets his shoulder, I could kiss that for an hour, and then switch sides. I live to slide my tongue inside it. He always laughs because it tickles. I could care less, I do it anyway. He reaches behind him, into my hair, “I don’t wanna wait anymore,” spreads his legs, pushing up underneath me.

He takes me, tight and quick, exactly the way I like. It almost makes me come.

“Justin, fuck.”

He tightens around my cock, pushing and pushing against me as I fuck him. Doesn’t wanna drive, my ass. I’m the one who’s supposed to have jet lag.

He wants to be fucked.

I pull out, slap him on the hip, “Get up. On your knees.” He looks back and up at me, giving me a coy smile when he sees that it’s not a request and pushes up on his knees. “This is what you need,” I tell him as I slide back inside him.

“Uh, fuck.” A heavy sigh comes out of him as I push his head down. It changes the angle of my thrusts, making him moan and actually shake for a second. “God, oh god, Brian.”

I fuck him nice…and slow.

He pushes against me, tries to set the pace, and I warn him to stop, “Justin, I’m fucking you. I’ve had enough of that.” His moaning’s going to fucking destroy me. He protests when I press right above his pretty ass, a signal for him to arch more for me, my cock bumping his prostate over and over. But he does what I tell him to do, whimpering that he’s about to come because he knows I’m not. I could if I wanted to, but not just yet.

When I am ready, when I speed up, my thighs pushing hard against him, he pants into the sheets, his fingers wrapping around the iron headboard again.

“One hand, Justin. The other on your cock.” His moan’s part trepidation and part relief as he starts to stroke, my hand running in between his thighs as I watch him.

“This is where I really wanted to spank you tonight, Justin.” My hand wanders up to his balls. “So close to your heavy, warm balls.” I squeeze them.

He cries out for me and comes everywhere. I grab his hips and pound him hard. “Oh god, damn, fuck Brian. That hurts.” And spill inside him so hard I see firecrackers, one after the other.

“Hold still, Justin. Hold still.” I want to enjoy this, coming like this. Goddamn, mother fuck, this is beautiful. I just need him to be still and be quiet and be still and be quiet and be still—

But he doesn’t.

“Fuck.” He collapses onto the bed. And then so do I, right on top of him. I tie off the condom and send it flying the friendly skies, jet lagged little swimmers and all. “Brian, you’re smooshing me.” I roll off and he turns right around and tells me to hold him.

“You’re confusing, you know that?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. ‘I’m tired. Fuck me, Brian. No wait, I’m tired again. I want this. No, I want that. No wait, I want both—’”

“Shut. Up. I can’t help I want what I want when I want it.” I agree.

“Oh, you clearly can’t. It’s completely beyond your control.” His head rises off my chest.

“I feel like I should be really mad at you right now, but I can’t be.”

"That's because you know I’m right.”

“No, because you just made love to me. And so the fuck what anyway, it’s why you love me.”

I kiss the top of his head, a smile on my face, “You’re right.”

“Really?”

“Yep,” the truth serum has been re-activated. “I love every stubborn, idealistic, idiosyncratic little inch of you from the top of your blond little head to the bottom of your cute little toes.” Honest to god, he has the most adorable toes I’ve ever seen. He looks at me like I’m crazy.

“Are you on something?” I have to think about it for a minute. I don’t think I am.

Nope, I’m not.

“Nope.”

“Then what the fuck?” I think about it some more and then I think I figure it out.

“I think I’m just not horny for the first time in ninety-some days. That must be it.”

He purses his lips in thought, “That’s gotta be it. We’ll just be quiet for like ten minutes, and you’ll be back to normal.” He kisses me on the cheek and lies back down.

“Whatever you say. You’re the boss.”

“Seriously, cut that out. Just be quiet.”

“I really do think you have cute toes. I mean they’re not as perfect as your ass, but they’re pretty cute.” I’m trying not to laugh.

“Stop it. If you can just be quiet, I’ll blow you when the ten minutes are up.”

“I love you.”

“Starting now, Brian.”

“Really, really a lot.”

“One more word and no blow job.”

“Okay.”

“Brian.”

Okay. But I really do.

I use my ten minutes to ponder the fact that if you spend your life being an asshole and then decide to quit being an asshole, no one’s gonna go for that.

People hate change.

Maybe I should create an ad campaign to prepare people for The Change.

Hmmm.

He uses his ten minutes to toss and turn, get up and blow out the last remaining candle, turn off the music, come back to bed with a bottle of water, wrinkle my shirt all to hell, drink half the bottle of water, and then make me all hard again by kissing me while his leg is hung over my hip. He’s hard, I’m hard, and then he’s asleep, breathing his warm breath in my ear, making those little sleepy noises he makes that sound like moans but aren’t, at nine minutes and thirty seconds, and I don’t get fellated.

“I love you, you adorable, sound asleep, little asshole.”

I kept up my end of the deal.


Go on to: Everything at Once-Epilogue 3.2-Extended Scene-Exposed



Lyrics are from The Eagles, Hotel California, Billy Joel, Big Shot, The Cars, Tonight She Comes, and Sophie B. Hawkins Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover