A Hard Night's Work
I went back to work fighting to keep the smile off my face. Its okay. Were gonna be okay. Another fucking crisis averted. And of course, its just when Im feeling relaxed and okay, happy, that something happens.
I walkd in to the conference room where the team were putting together this fucking pitch, and came face to face with the hottest thing Id seen since well, since I left the loft, but Im not thinking that right then. Face it, Kinney, you werent thinking anything, except with your dick.
Turns out hes been doing some freelance work for us in the art department since were short one intern. Hed seen the layouts and had made some suggestions that everyone thought I should hear. So theyd brought him along.
He doesnt look like an artist. Hes tall and tanned and taut, just the way I like them. And, by the way he was looking at me, he liked what he saw, too.
So I listened to his ideas, and, of course, I had to stand real close to him, brushing against his ass, while he pointed out the things that hed change with the fucking pitch. And he brushed back, just enough to let me know he was interested, without it being all that obvious to the dickheads I work with. And fuck me if Im not seriously considering a toilet break so I can fucking drag him off and feed my dick down his throat - at least as a first course, with more to follow later back at
I am such a fucking twat.
And what really makes that clear to me - later, at least - is that the first fucking thing that came into my mind then was, Fuck Justin. Hell just have to put up with it.
Its been less than two weeks since I told him okay, promised him that I would never do that to him again. And the first time
I am an asshole. A total fucking asshole.
I moved away from the guy so fast that there were damn near skid marks on the fucking carpet.
It was fucking weird when I got home. I felt fucking weird. I felt like I was some cheating fucking husband. Im not a husband. And Im free to fuck who I want, so how can I fucking cheat?
But I feel so fucking bad about what I was thinking - or not thinking. And I dont want him to know what a shit I am.
Except that he already does know, God help him. Better than anyone. And for some reason he still fucking stays. He still fucking loves me. And I dont I cant lose that. I cant. And I dont fucking know what to do.
Once I would have gone to
And partly the reason I dont is that Im afraid he wont. Im so fucking afraid hell leave again. But you know what? If it was just that, Id go ahead and do it. Id make fucking sure that he left. Left now. Left on my terms.
But its not that. Thats not the main thing driving me anymore.
What drives me now is that I dont want to disappoint him.
Hell, I dont want to disappoint myself.
See, last time round Justin loved me, but he didnt like me very much. He had no fucking reason to. But I did. Like him, I mean. From the first night. I didnt fucking fall in love with him that night. But I guess I did fall in like.
Thats why I took him to the hospital. Asked him to name Gus. Let him stay the night. Hell, even told him about the most famous shower scene since Psycho.
Because I sort of wanted him to like me too. How fucking pathetic is that?
I got over it. Well, I made myself get over it.
The night down by the car I burned my bridges. I couldnt have some silly kid hanging around, thinking that we could be lovers; couldnt let myself think that we could be friends. No matter how cute and smart and funny he was.
And after that it was all a fucking mess, and I gave him so many fucking mixed messages that his mind must have been like a fucking salad sometimes.
But this time round its different. This time hes starting to like me. Hes starting to feel like he can trust me. Hes starting to believe in me. In a way that no one else does. No one else ever has. Not Mikey, not Lindz. No one.
And I dont want to lose that. Thats why
I didnt go to
Im fucked if I know. God, I hate this relationship crap.
It wasnt all that late when Brian got home. Maybe eleven. He was in a weird mood, too, when he did. Very quiet and thoughtful.
I guess Id expected that wed pick up where we left off. I mean, Id studied hard all the time hed been gone so that when he got home we could fuck our brains out, but he seemed
He came in and seemed to sort of hesitate when he saw me. Then he came over and kissed me really quickly on the cheek and said, I need a shower.
And I guess thats when it hit me. Because I knew that look, then. Id seen it in the mirror after the frat boy incident, after the first time with Ethan. A sort of what have I done? look. And part of me wants to sit and cry like the stupid little faggot I used to be, and part of me wants to sit out here and not react, not do anything, until he tells me. Because he promised, he fucking promised hed tell me.
But mostly I just want to go to him and make sure that its alright, that were alright. And the only thing that stops me is that I dont know how to do that.
And all of that goes through my head in about half a minute, and then he stops on the steps and looks down at me and I try to look at him ,look him straight in the eye; I am so determined I am not going to fucking cry because it doesnt matter. Some meaningless fucking trick doesnt matter and I am not going to let it matter. Not going to let it fuck this up for us. And I dont know how much he saw in my face, but suddenly he smiled and said, You going to come and scrub my back?
And all I could do was stare at him. At least, I thought thats all I could do, but my body seemed to have other ideas because it was up the steps to him and then we were kissing and his arms were tight around me and there was only him and me and the feel of us, of our bodies and our hearts thumping against each others skin and somehow were out of our clothes and in the shower and I dont remember how we got here.
But it doesnt matter.
Because suddenly hes not quiet or thoughtful or sad or anything even remotely like that. Suddenly hes laughing and teasing and looks like the man he was meant to be. The man Ive always known he was. Hes happy and loving and for some stupid fucking reason that makes me really want to cry. Because hes those things because hes with me. I do that for him. Me.
It only took till I got as far as the bedroom steps to know that I was fucking up. He had gone really quiet and was sitting at the computer with a look on his face that said, I know youve got something to tell me, so are you going to fucking spit it out, or are you going to fucking pretend that nothings wrong, everythings fine and you havent been dicking around like some useless fucking asshole who doesnt have a clue what hes got right here at home waiting for him?
Well, okay, maybe I was projecting a bit there. But he was onto me, just the same.
So that made it easy. Now I had to tell him. And once I knew that, I suddenly felt like like it was okay. I might have come close to fucking up in the worst possible way, but I hadnt. Id seen what I was doing and fucking stopped myself. And then Id avoided the whole go out and get yourself wasted so you dont have to deal trap. Id come home. Id come home to him. And he was here. And
Just like that I could feel this big goofy smile on my face. I asked him if he was going to come and scrub my back and he was up the steps so fast I only just had time to open my arms to catch him, grab him, hold him against me.
I dont remember our clothes coming off. I dont remember getting into the bathroom or turning on the shower, but somehow we were there and it was all warm and wet and clean and happy. Suddenly we were happy. I felt like a little kid.
Well, okay, a little kid with a big fucking dick that hasnt had nearly enough action this week. But then his mouth was all over it, and I just leaned back and thanked someone, something that it was his mouth. That somehow Id actually managed to keep my fucking dick in my pants for once, till I could put it in the place it belongs. Well, one of the places, because once hes got me hard and dripping he stands up and turns around, and braces himself and the condoms are just where I need them and the lube and then Im inside him and this is even better.
I want to tease him, to take it slow, but hell! we can do that later. Hes rocking back hard against me, practically jamming his ass onto my cock and hes so tight and hot and for some reason Im suddenly aware of the amazing texture of the skin on his back. Its like no one elses that Ive ever known. Its milky pale; even when, like now, hes aroused and the skin of his neck and the side of his face are flushed and hot, his back is still smooth and white and so fucking beautiful it takes my breath away.
So beautiful that I cant stand it and I come.
And then I pull out of him and hes making this mewling noise of frustration and disappointment, till I spin him round and drop to my knees in front of him, jamming my fingers hard up his ass and deep throating his cock so that before he can even finish shouting my name, hes there and my mouth is filled with the salty sweetness of his cum.
We kiss then, long and deep, and I know, I fucking know, that when we dry off and climb into bed I can fucking tell him what happened tonight and he wont be disappointed. Hell understand. And hell understand what it means for us. And hell go on loving me. Hell go on liking me.
Hell, he might even be sort of proud of me.
Fuck! Dont get carried away, Kinney.
You havent fucked up. And you havent lost him. And you havent lost his respect. Or your own.
Thats pretty much enough, dont you think?
Id say that makes it a pretty fucking good nights work.