The Fine Art of the Drunk
Brian shoved Justin against one of the posts in the loft. He draped his long body over his lover, nipping at Justin’s ear as he groped the young man through his jeans.
“Mm,” Justin reacted, immediately getting hard.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be walking bow-legged for a month,” Brian whispered in Justin’s ear.
Justin groaned. “Month,” he gasped.
“Yeah.”
Just then someone started pounding on the loft door.
“Who the fuck is that?” Brian said through gritted teeth.
“Michael … Deb … Emmett…” Justin ventured.
“Why do you always list my friends?” Brian queried.
“When does Daphne ever come pounding on your door?”
Brian thought for a moment. He couldn’t argue with that. “Point taken,” he replied. “Answer it.”
“Me?” Justin asked as the pounding on the door resumed.
“Yes, you! I need a drink.”
“Great! You get me hard and then you send me to deal with the public.”
“They’re not the public – just…misfits of humanity,” Brian answered with a mock shudder.
Justin shook his head as he walked to the loft door.
“Hey, Justin,” Michael said as he came through the door as soon as Justin opened it. “Brian, I just bought a mint in-original-box Adam West Batman,” he enthused as he approached Brian who was throwing back a glass of Beam.
“Whoopee!” Brian replied unenthusiastically.
“Hey!” Michael protested. “You know how long I’ve wanted one of those.”
“I’m sure the world will be a safer, kinder place now that you have your heart’s desire.”
“What the fuck is your problem?” Michael demanded. “I came over to see if you wanted to celebrate with me,”
“Can’t you see I’m already celebrating?” Brian tipped his refilled glass in Michael’s direction and took another swig.
“How many of those have you had?”
“Several, but not nearly enough.” Brian took another drink and filled his glass once more.
“There’s no talking to you when you get like this,” Michael protested.
“Then perhaps you should run along home and celebrate with the good professor.”
“Perhaps I should,” Michael said sarcastically. “At least he appreciates me.”
Brian raised his glass once more to his old friend as Michael turned and headed for the door.
“You shouldn’t let him drink so much,” Michael said to Justin as he passed him.
“Like I have any say in what Brian does,” Justin replied before closing the door after Michael. “You weren’t very nice to him,” Justin chastised Brian.
“He’s gone, isn’t he?” Brian asked, like that explained everything. “Now where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?” He grabbed Justin and pulled him against his body. “I seem to remember something about hard.”
Justin had barely time to groan before Brian’s lips claimed his mouth. Brian’s hands roamed freely over Justin’s body as the kiss continued. Justin wrapped his arms around his lover and let the passion take him away.
Brian began to pull Justin’s T-shirt up his torso when there was another round of pounding on the loft door.
“Fuck!” Brian exclaimed. “I’m going to kill him.”
“Kill who?”
“Mikey.”
“He wouldn’t come back, would he?” Justin asked as the pounding continued.
“Open the fucking door and see,” Brian commanded.
“Why me?” Justin asked, involuntarily covering his bulging crotch.
“Just answer the fucking door.”
Justin groaned again, this time for a totally different reason, but he headed to the door. “Deb!” he said in surprise when he pulled back the loft door.
“Where’s that son of mine?” Debbie demanded as she brushed past Justin.
“The little tyke left a few…a few minish ago,” Brian said slurring his words.
Justin gave him a look but decided not to say anything.
“What the fuck are minish?”’ Debbie asked loudly.
“You know, seconds, hours, minish,” Brian said by way of explanation.
“Isn’t it a little early for you to be so drunk?”
“Never too early.”
Debbie made a disgusted face and smacked Brian upside the head.
“Ow!” Brian objected rubbing his cheek.
“When was Michael here?”
“A few minutes ago, Deb,” Justin informed her. “You just missed him.”
“Fuck!” Debbie reacted. “I need to find him.”
“I sent him home to the good professhor,” Brian interjected,
“I just came from Ben’s,” Debbie said shaking her head.
“Then you should go back.”
“I will … and you should sober up.”
Brian scowled. “Not bloody likely.”
“Asshole,” Debbie stated before she swept out of the loft.
Justin closed the door. “What the fuck was that?” he asked.
“What?” Brian asked all innocence and sobriety.
“You aren’t drunk at all,” Justin observed.
“Of course not. There’s not enough alcohol in the good old U S of A to get me drunk,” Brian bragged.
“Asshole.”
“Most assuredly,” Brian grinned.
“You’re proud of tricking your friends.”
“Of course. Over the years I have learned that’s the best way to deal with them. They seem to have mastered ignoring me when I tell them to get out, so I turn into a drunken asshole and they go away.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“But necessary.”
“Debbie was right when she called you an asshole.”
“I have asshole down to a fine art,” Brian said proudly.
“And I guess it’s lucky for us that you do.”
“About time that you realized it,” Brian said as he nuzzled Justin’s neck.
“Mm. Care to show me some of your other asshole skills … up in the bedroom.”
Brian laughed. “It’s only your asshole that I’m interested in at the moment,” Brian said with a feral grin and a raised eyebrow.
“Then what are we waiting for?”
“Not a thing,” Brian said as he took Justin’s hand and they ran up the steps to the bedroom.
or email to thymewriter@gmail.com