Shickel You on the Spot, pt. 2

Justin moaned, barely focusing on the canvas in front of him. A large splash of violet exploded over the swirls of red and orange as Brian’s wet thumb continued to tease a hardened nipple.

Brian nuzzled the blond's neck and struggled to keep from throwing him down on the tarp and finishing them off. Sure he knew Justin sitting on his dick would be sweet torture, but actually watching the artist interpret their lovemaking was more erotic than he expected. Fuck, best laid plans...

Justin leaned back against Brian's chest again, his hand dripping paint over their thighs as he tried to rinse it in the bowl of water. The dark water splashed on the table as he lurched in the older man's arms. Brian was moving again, just rocking his hips a little, but it was enough to draw the blond's complete attention back to the sensations inside him. His eyes fluttered shut and Brian's mouth was next to his ear again. The bastard wouldn't stop.

"Show me..." the detective rasped hoarsely as he tightened his hold on the slim waist, "how it feels..." His hand slid between Justin’s thighs and kneaded his balls.

Justin bit his lip, muffling his frustrated groan as the gentle squeeze tormented him.

Brian felt the vibrations reverberate through him, deep into his core, but he rallied his composure, ignoring the temptation to give in to his cock. He smoothed the artist's furrowed brow, kissing a closed eyelid. "What do you see?"

The older man suddenly shifted, his cock grinding against a sensitive bundle of nerves and a kaleidoscope exploded behind Justin’s eyes. "Oh, god..." His hand shot out, knocking the palette of paint to the floor. Disregarding it, he grabbed a tube and flattened it against the table, yellow dye covering the finish. Brian tried to stop it from running onto the floor, but Justin thrust his lover's hand into it, coating his fingers.

Brian let Justin guide his hand back to the painting, their fingers entwined as he smeared jaunty streaks across the surface. The tactile stimulation, slick and warm, combined with the intense connection forged by actually taking part in the creation of their art destroyed the last of Brian’s control. "Justin..."

The artist’s eye regarded the picture and nodded. Perfect. "Yes…now…"

They began to move in complete unison. Brian fisted Justin’s cock, stroking fast and tight and the blond’s hand skittered across the canvas, mimicking every sensation as he pulled the detective along. Their fingers separated for a moment, but just as the younger man cried out and came, they managed to link together again. As the pleasure wracked the blond’s slight frame, his body jerked and the force toppled the easel, but not before the joined impression was forever set.

Overcome by the tight heat engulfing his cock, Brian tightly gripped the artist’s hips, digging his nails in to hold onto the slick skin as he yanked the blond up and down his shaft. Once…twice…

Justin twisted his arms back around Brian’s neck and clung to him. "Brian…"

The detective felt his name spill from the artist lips and burn onto his neck. He thrust once more, buried to the hilt as his orgasm ripped through him.

Justin melted against Brian's chest as the tremors subsided. He finally loosened his grip, smiling to himself as the older man still panted hotly against his shoulder. He turned and kissed his lover's damp cheek. "That was--"

"Inspirational?" Brian smirked weakly.

The artist grinned, blushing slightly. "Yeah."

Justin carefully stood, reluctantly severing their connection. Brian steadied his shaking legs. The condom was discarded and he used a damp rag to clean them up the best he could since the rinse water had been spilled.

"Oh shit," Brian uttered in surprise as he surveyed the damage. There was paint and water slopped everywhere, themselves included. Justin’s waist was streaked with cum and paint and Brian had paint in his hair and smeared across his neck and shoulders. And the easel was broken. Luckily the painting had been thrown clear of the wreckage and he carefully propped it against the wall. "Christ, I've never had so much property damage fucking anyone else," he teased.

"They must've been pretty lame fucks then," the blond retorted cockily.

Brian was surprised and pleased by the younger man's growing confidence. He wrapped his arms around Justin's waist and pulled him close for a kiss. "I don't remember."

The blond shook his head and laughed. "Good answer."

"I thought so."

Justin couldn’t help but kiss him again. "What do you have planned for an encore?"


"Another good answer."

"I’m full of them."

Justin raised an eyebrow. "Really? Then tell me, what am I going to do next?" he asked, his hands leisurely kneading Brian’s ass.

Brian’s response was interrupted by the ringing phone. "You’re gonna answer the phone," he replied smugly.

"Wrong answer," Justin said curtly.

Brian frowned. "Justin--"

"I’m not supposed to be here, remember? They can leave a message."

The answering machine had picked up and they both looked at it expectantly as it beeped.

"Justin, it’s Aaron." Brian felt the blond tense, but obviously for a different reason. "You missed your therapy appointment today and I know I don’t have to remind you how important it is for you to reschedule as soon as possible. Call me back when you get this, at home if you have to."

"Shit. I totally forgot."

Brian doubted that, but let it go. "So call him back."

"But we’re--"

"Justin, this is more important than--"

Justin’s eyes narrowed and he pushed Brian away. "Stop talking to me like I’m a fucking child!"

Brian pushed down an angry retort. "I’m going to start the shower," he replied evenly and nodded to the phone. "Make it quick."

Justin glared at his retreating back until the older man disappeared into the bathroom. Then he angrily pushed the end table over, sending the phone and answering machine crashing to the floor.


It took a lot of control for Brian to stay in the bathroom when he heard the crash. He hoped Justin hadn’t hurt himself, but he fought the urge to rush out and check. Justin needed to know that Brian didn’t think he was an invalid. He started the shower, waited for it to heat up, and then stepped inside. He soaped himself, trying to get as much of the paint off as he could. A few minutes later he heard the door open and he assumed Justin came in. When the blond didn’t join him, he kept his back to the door, but called out, "Can you help me get this shit out of my hair?"

A moment later the shower door opened and Justin stepped in behind him. Brian turned and kissed him before handing him the shampoo and tipping his head back. Justin scrubbed silently for a few minutes before he directed the spray back over the older man’s head, rinsing his hair out.

Brian opened his eyes and pulled Justin under the water with him. He washed the blond hair, and then started scrubbing the paint from the artist’s pale skin. Justin gasped when Brian cleaned the dark smudges on his hip. The older man frowned when he looked closer and saw the bruised fingerprints, edged with angry red crescents where his nails had broken the skin. "Shit."

Justin looked down, a strange thrill coursing through him when he saw he’d been marked. He rubbed his fingers over the welts, the little sting making him gasp again.

Brian pulled his hand away. "Let’s get some salve--"

"It’s fine, the soap stung a little, that’s all."

"I didn’t mean to--"

"What?" Justin glowered. "Hurt me? You didn’t fucking hurt me. You’ve never hurt me. Stop treating me like I’m going to break!"

"I don’t! Stop being so fucking defensive!" Brian snapped back. He saw Justin’s eyes pop open in shock, but he wasn’t backing down again. He’d had enough. "You think I’m holding back with you?"

"Yes," Justin hissed.

Brian grabbed a fistful of blond hair. "I couldn’t if I wanted to, Angel." He yanked Justin’s head back, eyes flashing as their gazes locked. "You’ve been driving me insane since the day we met," he ground out before swooping down and raping Justin’s mouth in a punishing kiss. He pushed the blond back until he was against the glass and had nowhere else to go.

The artist struggled against him, pulling hard at Brian’s hair. The detective gasped from the pain and Justin took the opportunity to turn his head and press Brian’s mouth to his neck. "Don’t stop."

Brian snorted against the wet skin. Like he’d ever considered it. His lips were still brutal as he pinched the soft skin, then rubbed it between his teeth until Justin yelped and batted him away and he resettled on the next patch. It was what seemed like hundreds of bites later, as the anger faded, that he realized Justin was guiding him. The artist’s hands twined in his hair would lift him away from the current mark and nudge him to the next spot.

He reluctantly pulled away, despite Justin’s grunt in protest. Suddenly aware that he was on his knees, he looked up and groaned softly at the sight before him. Justin’s milk-white torso was covered in a haphazard zigzag from neck to abdomen with reddish-purple stains.

The artist’s heavy lids were barely open as he gazed down, his red swollen lips moving with some unheard plea. Brian reached up and turned the taps off, the sudden silence only broken by their panting breaths and the hypnotic drip of the last water down the drain. He still couldn’t hear the blond’s mumblings, but he thought he understood, especially when Justin tried to pull his head back. To finish what he’d started.

Brian caught Justin’s hands, pressing them against the glass. "Don’t move." Justin barely nodded and he let go, moving his hands across Justin’s wet skin until his fingertips grazed the bites around his navel. "Want me to continue? Put my mark all over until you can’t remember ever being with anyone else?"

"Yes," Justin finally forced aloud with a ragged breath.

Brian stood up and held the blond’s face in his hands. "Justin, if you ever try and trump me with the cripple card again, I’ll fold my hand and that’s it. Do you understand me? I’m not playing this game anymore." The older man waited in the deafening silence for Justin to respond. He felt the blond shiver and he didn’t know if it was from nerves or cold, but he wasn’t backing down. He wasn’t bluffing.

Finally, Justin nodded.

"Say it," Brian prodded, not letting him off the hook.

"I understand."


Brian spread Justin’s legs, and knelt between them. He gently pulled the blond’s right leg up over his shoulder, fingertips lightly brushing over rough scar tissue as his lips followed. From the inside of his thigh to the ankle, then he shifted so the limb crossed his torso and set on the opposite shoulder as he worked his way back down the other side to his hip. They rolled fluidly to their sides and Brian slid inside, gathering the smaller frame in his arms. He turned the blond’s head so he couldn’t hide anymore and kissed away the last of the tears that streaked his face. ‘I love you,’ was silently mouthed against the warm skin as he started to move.

Each thrust, harder and faster than the last, pounded the headboard against the wall. Louder and louder…

Brian’s eyes popped open and he blinked at the harsh sunlight blinding him. He groaned as he rolled over and his erection rubbed against the sheets. He heard more banging from the kitchen and realized that was the noise that woke him from his dream. No, not a dream, a memory from the night before. He briefly wondered why the blond hadn’t woken him when he stretched and felt paper on the other pillow.

It was a note from Justin saying he was going to therapy and would be back at eight. Brian looked at the clock and saw it was only seven-thirty. So, who was in the fucking house? An unbidden image of Michael making eggs and bacon filled his head and he cringed.

Bacon? He sniffed again and was sure he could smell bacon.


On cue, she rapped on the open door and shuffled in without waiting for a reply, thrusting a steaming cup of coffee in his hand as he grappled with the sheet to cover himself. "You police man?" she grumbled. "Sleep all day everyday? No wonder."

Brian didn’t feel like having the world’s problems blamed on him so early in the morning so he wisely avoided her innuendo. "Good morning, Cookie. Is breakfast ready?"

"Yah," she grunted as she shuffled back out of the room.

Brian slipped on his robe and followed her to the kitchen. Justin had said the staff pretty much avoided his place unless he asked them for something so the detective was wondering what the woman was doing making him breakfast this early on a Saturday morning.

His eye caught the painting from the night before as he sunk into a chair. He hadn’t mentioned it the night before, but he wanted to take it home and hang it in his bedroom, if Justin didn’t have any objections. The man was still studying the blend of color, remembering each as it was applied when Cookie slammed a plate of food in front of him.

"Thank you," he replied politely.

She scowled at him. "You eat. Now, now," she goaded. He picked up a piece of toast and bit into it. "Then you get your boy," she ordered.

Brian swallowed. "Excuse me?"

"You lay around while another takes him?" She snorted. "Not good police man."

"Cookie, sit," the man barked. He suddenly had a bad feeling and he wasn’t fucking around being nice anymore. She did as she was told and stared at him. "Who’s trying to take Justin?"

"In the pool. The doctor for his leg. I see him touch…" She shook her head. "You get rid of him. He’s no good."

"He’s here? They’re in the pool now?" He had just assumed Justin went to a clinic somewhere. How common was it for a physical therapist to make house calls? On a Saturday.

The woman nodded. "How long has this been going on? Is it always the same guy?" he asked.

"Since he came home from the hospital. Always the same one, but he looks…wrong."

Brian got up and pulled the picture of Eric from his pocket. "Is this the guy?" He knew it wasn’t, but he needed to open the door.

Her face clouded angrily and she started shouting in German.

He put his hand on her shoulder. "It’s okay, Cookie, just take a deep breath and tell me what you know about him."

She just glowered at him, obviously not trusting his abilities as a lover or a policeman.

He tightened his grip and leaned close to her ear. "I’m not a flat-foot patrolman, woman, I’m a detective, a damn good one, and I’m here to protect Justin. He’s my boy now, so help me and tell me what you know," he said evenly.

She glared at him. "It’s not the man in the pool. You should go--"

"Who is he?" he asked, tapping the picture.

She pushed the picture away. "The one before you. He hurt him."

Brian saw her eyes tear up and he patted her hand. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"Thanksgiving. He came to the house."

Fuck. "Did Justin see him?"

"No, he was removed. Never allowed on grounds again."

"By Emmett?"

She nodded.

"Okay, Cookie, thank you. Clean this up and go back to the house. I’ll bring Justin over for breakfast in a little bit."

The woman stood and picked up his untouched plate. "You good pol—detective," she acknowledged as he headed to the bedroom to get dressed.

"Yes, I am."


When Brian got to the pool, it looked like Justin was finishing his therapy. The blond was lying on a massage table the detective assumed the therapist brought with him. The older man was wondering why Aaron was massaging the artist’s upper body when he was supposed to be concentrating on his leg. Brian let the door shut loudly behind him when he saw the therapist’s hands wander under the waistband of Justin’s suit.

Both men looked up. One was smiling, the other wasn’t. Aaron patted Justin’s shoulder, saying something Brian couldn’t hear and the blond head lay back down. The therapist wiped the oil from his hands and walked over to the detective.

Brian immediately sized him up as he moved. The other man was several inches shorter, but had twice the mass, particularly in his arms. His hair was buzzed short, Brian assumed to give the illusion of a military background, but the detective instinctively knew he was as queer as a three-dollar bill. He didn’t know what the guy was up to, but he had to agree with Cookie, something wasn’t right.

"Brian, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you," the man said, although his smile was obviously forced. "Look, uh, I don’t think you should be here right now. Justin can be very defensive about his vulnerability, especially when he’s been through a session."

"He looks alright to me," Brian said as Justin sat up and waved him over. He stepped around the other man, but Aaron grabbed his arm, holding up a hand to Justin.

The artist frowned. "Aaron?"

"Just a minute, J."

Brian blatantly rolled his eyes to let the other man know he’d heard the implied intimacy and wasn’t impressed.

The therapist’s response was to puff his chest. His face said he didn’t want to do it this way, but Brian had asked for it. The detective bit his cheek to keep from laughing.


Although Brian was curious about why this guy was trying to keep him from Justin, he didn’t want the blond to get agitated if they cut him out of the discussion so he went to him. "Hey," he said before giving him a kiss.

"Hey," Justin smiled. "I thought you’d still be sleeping."

"I woke up alone and stiff," the detective smirked, "so I thought I’d come get some relief…in the hot tub. I didn’t realize you meant you had therapy here."

"Aaron was kind enough to come out here when I couldn’t travel very comfortably, and we’ve just kept it up. I really appreciate him being so accommodating," he added, flashing the therapist a smile, "especially today."

"So are you done? I don’t want to interrupt."

"Yeah," Justin replied, then changed his mind. He promised Brian he wouldn’t push him away anymore so this was as good a time as any to prove it. He glanced at Aaron. "Actually, if you don’t mind--"

"We really should finish your rubdown," Aaron insisted.

"I’m fine, I’ll soak in the tub with Brian instead. But if you don’t mind staying for a few minutes, can we go over those exercises? The ones you said I could do at home with a partner? I-I…" he took a shaky breath and looked at Brian. "I want Brian to help me."

Brian knew that was a huge step for the other man, but forced his face to remain expressionless as he shrugged. "Sure, I can do that."

"They really should be done with someone more…qualified," Aaron objected.

"I’m a quick study," Brian replied coolly.

The other man backed down. "Of course, I just… you know, our time is up today. Why don’t we have Brian join us for your session next week and we can go over them then."

Justin looked back and forth between the two men and wondered what the fuck was going on. "Okay," he agreed sliding off the table so Aaron could pack it up. "Thanks, Aaron. We’ll see you Monday evening then. Is that okay, Bri?"

"Should be." Brian handed Justin his cane and they walked arm in arm to the hot tub. He helped the blond sink in before quickly discarding his own clothes. He just dropped them on the bench instead of taking them to the changing room.

"Brian," Justin giggled as the man removed his suit as well and stepped in naked.

"What?" Brian asked, following the artist’s eyes to the therapist’s hastily turned back. "So? Unless he’s blind, he got a good idea of what we’ve been up to," he teased as he kissed one of the remaining love bites on Justin’s shoulder. Although the blond had been covered from head to toe, front and back, with red nips the previous evening, most hadn’t been hard enough to leave a lasting mark. Except for the first ones on his shoulder and the more exuberant ones on the inside of his thighs.

Justin couldn’t argue with that, and didn’t protest when Brian pulled his suit off and tossed it aside. Brian saw Aaron turn and look when the wet fabric slapped the concrete. He pulled Justin close and devoured his mouth, watching Aaron gawk for a moment, then gather his bags and leave.


As Aaron drove through the gate and turned onto the access road outside the estate, he flipped open his cell phone and dialed his lover.

"It’s me. I’m leaving right now…yeah, they’re at the house, together. I told you that bitch didn’t know what she was talking about…how the fuck do you expect me to get closer to him now… I did suggest more time, and Justin wants Kinney to do it instead…I told you, I can’t just fucking grope him. I’m his therapist, it’s a conflict of interest… He could fire me on the spot if he wanted, especially since he’s interested in that cop now…well, she got that much right, they’re definitely not just fucking. Kinney’s emotionally involved with the little prick and he’s going to be a problem."

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