For Sale

Chapter 5 - BRIAN

I opened the door to find Justin standing in front of me holding a newspaper in front of him. His stance reminded me of years earlier when he was showing me, with pride, his newest campaign-destroying poster against Jim Stockwell.

This time, realizing what he was holding and seeing the look on his face, I had a feeling that I was the one in trouble. He certainly did NOT look celebratory.

“Brian Kinney, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, hello to you, too, Sunshine.” I stood there, not even taking my laptop off my shoulder or putting my overcoat on a nearby chair.

In less than 10 seconds Justin finally approached. He placed the paper, spread out across the back of the sofa, put his arms around me and kissed me. “I think you need to see something,” he whispered in my ear.

Now I was intrigued. First I thought he’d be angry until he heard my surprise, but then he almost seemed amused.

“Look, Justin, I was going to tell you as soon as I arrived. I never expected you to even see this section of the...” He put his hand gently over my mouth.

“Just look at the paper.”

I decided to humor him. I finally unloaded my coat and laptop. I’d been leaving more and more clothing and toiletries at his apartment so there was no longer a need to pack a suitcase when I visited. It made the travel to and from New York City little more than an elongated commute.

“I know about the ad for Britin. I admit it -- I placed it with...”

“Brian, will you shut up for just a minute and look.” He pointed to the opposite page from the one that revealed the ad for Britin. I started scanning the page and then I saw it.

“What the fuck!” I stared at Justin and then back at the opened newspaper. He had a smirk on his face and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what was going on.

“Let’s sit down and talk, before we go to the bedroom, for a change.” I must admit that while the thought of getting my hands all over Justin was paramount at all times, my curiosity was winning out.

“Okay.” Justin took my hand and guided me to the sofa. He placed the paper, still spread out, in front of us on the coffee table. Then, he leaned in and gave me a proper welcome home kiss.

It’s interesting, but no matter where we are, when Justin kisses me like that, I do feel at home. I’m quite sure I’ve never really felt that way anywhere else, or with anyone else. Not even Michael and Deb could make chez Novotny feel like home, although it was significantly closer than the farce of an imitation home I was living in with Joanie and Jack all those years.

“Brian, you first.”

I took Justin’s hands in mine and knew this was the time. This far-from-romantic scene was the moment I’d been waiting for. “Justin, it’s time that I admitted a few things -- to you, to me, to the fucking world if necessary.” He nodded so I could continue, uninterrupted.

“I love you, and I’m fucking sick of this commuter relationship.” His eyes opened a bit wider. “Yes, I said relationship. I’m trying to add complete honesty with myself, to my policy about always being honest.” I brushed the hair from his forehead. He was so angelic at that moment. There was sun shining through the windows and the way it hit his blond hair shed an incredible aura of light around his face.

“It’s time that you and I were together seven days a week. It’s time that we made a life in one location. The weekdays when we’re separated suck, and not in a positive, life-affirming way.” I looked into his eyes, “It’s time you and I finally got married. We could do it up big, if that’s what you want, although I prefer the concept of taking a short vacation to the great state of Massachusetts and tying the knot, followed by a honeymoon to wherever we choose.”

I paused. He had a tear running down his face. I leaned in and kissed it away. He placed his hands around the sides and back of my head and drew me in for a deep, loving kiss. When he pulled back we looked at each other. He brushed his hand across my cheek, “That’s exactly what I want. All of it. Yes, I’ll marry you and I can guarantee you won’t have to ever ask me again.”

“Well, that’s good. Because I think three’s probably my limit.” We both laughed.

“But, if you want to marry me why put Britin up for sale?”

I stood up and faced the mirror. “Your life is here. Your art is here. I can open a branch of Kinnetik anywhere.” I turned to face him, “Ted assured me that we have the money to start a second branch if I really want to. Although New York City will be a challenge, it’s a challenge I’m willing to go for.”

Justin was smiling, “But you see this ad.” He pointed to the one that listed his apartment/studio combo for rent.

“Yes. Did you find a bigger place? A better location?”

“Yes, on both counts.” Then, he picked up the paper and folded it until the only thing showing was the picture of Britin. “This is the home of my dreams. This is the home my prince gifted me with when he was finally able to admit the depth of his love for me. This is the location where I can paint, be near my family, and most importantly, share a life with the man I want to marry.”

Justin looked at me waiting for a response. I wasn’t sure I had one to offer. None of this was making sense. How could he leave New York? He’d acquired name recognition for himself in the art world. Were we back to a place where we were sacrificing more than compromising again?

He must have been reading my mind. “Painting, art, is subject to the artist’s inspiration. You have always been my inspiration. I paint better and more after each of our visits. Imagine how much I could produce in a peaceful setting, living with you seven days a week. New York was great for the contacts. It wasn’t a mistake, but it was just a step.

“Every advisor I’ve spoken to, including my agent, agrees that I can paint on the moon as long as I can get a truck to deliver my art safely back to them, for placement in the galleries.”

I looked at Justin and walked back to the window, not quite believing what I was hearing. Were we both on the same exact page at the same exact time? “Is that the reason for your ad?”

“I want to come home. Home to you, IN the home you bought for us. I want to create the studio of my dreams, in the manor of my dreams.” He looked at me with a slightly nervous blink of his eyes. “Are you mad?”

I began to approach him, “No.” The time for talking was over. Justin was mine and he was going to know it. From here on in, seven days a week -- or as close to it as we could manage.

I held him tight and hoisted him off the ground. He wrapped his legs around my waist and I carried him straight into the bedroom.

I placed Justin on the end of the bed and undressed rapidly. I stood before him, naked. Holding out my hand silently, he stood up and joined me. Painfully slowly for both of us, I began to remove his clothing. After each portion of his skin was revealed I kissed the area, followed by a whispered, “Mine.”

He smiled and leaned his head slightly back. It was as if he was already nearing ecstasy with just my kisses and my words. I knew how he felt. This time was different. This time we weren’t parting -- it was the beginning.

After finally stepping out of his underwear, I guided Justin to stretch out on the bed. I held him close at first and then he began to kiss his way down my chest. He paid special attention to sucking on my nipples and I could feel myself getting harder and harder and wanting him more and more.

I rolled Justin onto his back and leaned over him. We couldn’t stop kissing and touching. It was all new and so intense. I grabbed the lube that Justin always left conveniently on his nightstand when I was visiting and put it on my fingers.

I placed one finger at the entrance of his hole and pressed it in. Justin’s eyes widened, “It’s cold.”

I smiled at the recognition, “It’ll heat up.”

“Only with you.”

Why had he said that? I shoved all thoughts aside and pressed another finger inside. He was warm and willing and began to moan and arch his back.

“More -- more now.”

“Justin, I...”

“More Brian, you, I want you.”

I removed my fingers and wiped the remainder of the lube over the entrance to his hole. He moaned at the loss, and I felt it, too.

I took the condom that was also on the nightstand and he took it from me. “No more, just you, just you.”

“But Justin, you’ve been...”

“No, not once since you proposed at Britin.”

“That’s over two years ago.” I looked at him, shocked by his confession.

“I always knew we’d get here and I wanted it to be perfect when we did.”

“But, what about me? You don’t know if...”

“I know.”

“How?”

“It’s written all over your face. It has been with every visit. I wasn’t 100% sure, but I felt it, hoped it.” He held me close and kissed me hard, “Tell me I’m wrong and we’ll wait. It’s okay.”

I took the condom back from him and turned it in my hand, over and over, three times and then tossed it, intact, on the floor.

His smile renewed my reason for waiting for him to be ready.

I placed his legs over my shoulders and quickly lubed my very hard cock. He kept touching me and kissing me as I placed my cock at his entrance and, for the first time in my life, entered someone, the one, raw.

“Oh fuck, Justin, it’s, I won’t last.”

“Neither will I, but there’ll be more, many more.”

I pressed in all the way and when I hit Justin’s beautiful sweet spot he arched and yelled, “Brian, I love you,” as he began to shoot between us.

I followed with two more thrusts and my orgasm hit. I hadn’t had that intense an orgasm in ages. I felt like a teenager, overwhelmed by the passion and the intensity of sex. But this wasn’t about sex, it was about something more.

“Justin.”

“Yes, Brian?”

“I love you.”

I felt him smile against my chest and wondered if he realized I was smiling too. He probably did. Justin knew more about me than anyone else, sometimes more than I knew about myself.

“Brian?”

“Uh huh.”

“Can we do that again?”

“For the rest of our lives.” Then I looked at him. “Starting now.”

 

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