All that Remains

pic coming soon

One afternoon late in April, Carl Horvath sat at the counter in the Liberty Diner. His girlfriend, Debbie Novotny, was bustling around. He read the sports page and realized that he stood out like a sore thumb in a group full of gay men who didn’t even spare him a glance. He was man enough to realize it and to realize that wasn’t what was bothering him. What was bothering him was Kinney, Brian to be exact. He was young to be dealing with testicular cancer but Carl knew that wasn’t all that was bothering him. He ran a finger around his collar, wondering why it suddenly felt so tight.

“Hey, honey,” Debbie said, finally able to stop to take a breath. It still amazed her she’d fallen in love with a cop, a cop who’d once been a homophobe. She leaned across the counter for a kiss which Carl returned distractedly. When they parted, she asked, with little of her usual probing, “Carl, what’s wrong?”

He smiled. “Deb, did you say that Jack Kinney was Brian’s father?” God, he hoped he was wrong but knew with a cop’s innate intuition that he wasn’t. “John Rory Kinney?” Ironic that JRK when said fast sounded so much like jerk, he thought.

“Yeah, fucking asshole if you ask me,” she said. “Died a few years back of cancer. Good riddance. Why?”

Carl sighed. Damn, he’d really been hoping he was wrong. “I’ll tell you but I’ve got to talk to Brian first. Where’s his new office?”

Debbie rattled off the address, curiosity piqued. “What’s going on?” she asked, an edge in her voice.

He pecked her cheek and said, “I would ask him to come down to the station but the other cops aren’t too fond of him. The boys in blue have long memories, you know.” And the debacle with the unlamented, former police chief Jim Stockwell wasn’t forgotten.

That was an understatement, she thought, watching him exit the diner.

Ten minutes later, he’d pulled up to the front entrance of Kinnetik, formerly a gay bath house. He had to admire the kid’s stones. Bad choice of words, Carl, he thought. He carried two files which he’d grabbed when he’d run by the police station. It simply hadn’t occurred to him in the two years he’d known Kinney that he was Jack Kinney’s son. Holy fucking hell.

He gathered his resolve and opened the door, not sure quite what he was expecting. He was pleasantly surprised to see the renovations Brian had made. Truly classy. A blonde woman sat at a desk, and Carl said, “Is Brian Kinney in?”

He only asked for form’s sake. He’d seen the pristine Corvette Sting Ray out front. “Yes, sir. Do you have an appointment, Mr.---” Her voice was icy professionalism and just a touch of a proprietary air. Jesus, Kinney, he thought. Even straight women worship you. Isn’t fair.

“Lieutenant Carl Horvath. Pittsburgh PD.”

“I see. Are you here on official police business?” Cynthia asked, curiosity peaked.

“No, it’s personal.”

She gestured to a chair and Carl sat, while Cynthia buzzed her boss. Brian didn’t make him wait too long.

As Brian emerged from his office, he had to admit his curiosity had been aroused. “Carl, to what do I owe the honor?”

Cynthia listened, wondering what his connection to the cop was. Ever since Stockwell, Brian had been leery of cops.

Smooth as always. “I have some things I need to talk to you about. Mind if we go into your office?”

Okay, Brian thought. Something’s definitely up. He’s acting quite cop-like. He glanced at his very curious executive assistant/creative director and said, “Hold my calls, Cynthia. Thanks.”

Brian led Carl into his office. Carl was suitably impressed. Brian had certainly done well for himself. “Want coffee? I can guarantee it’s better than the swill they call coffee at the station.” It should be, he thought, as he insisted on grinding fresh beans.

“Sure, black,” he said.

Brian returned with his coffee and sat down beside his desk, pressing the DND button so that his private line wouldn’t ring either. “Okay, what’s up?”

Carl took a sip of coffee and very nearly sighed. There were days when he’d kill for a decent cup of coffee. This wasn’t just decent, it was nearly orgasmic. He knew Brian was a busy man and not long on patience so he decided to cut directly to the point. “Your dad was John Rory Kinney, right?”

Brian nodded, eyes narrowing and tension spiraling through him. He noticed the two files the aging detective had. “You came here to talk about my dad? What the fuck does he have to do with anything?

Okay, I’ve touched a nerve, he thought. He’d been witness to Kinney’s flashfire temper before and knew it was honestly won. “You know he had a sheet, right?”

Another nod. Carl opened the file and handed it to Brian, whose eyes narrowed even as his nostrils flared. He’d known about most of the domestic disturbance calls but hadn’t known about the house calls when Claire was little, not much more than a baby herself. “Jack got arrested their wedding night?” Bastard. That would almost be comical were it not so sad.

Carl nodded. He watched as Brian continued to read. “You were the arresting officer?”

“Yes. Your old man was drunk as shit. Someone heard a crash in their hotel room and called the cops. Your mom was scared, had a black eye, and a bruise that was starting to purple on her cheekbone.”

“You know us Irish guys, Carl. We can drink and like our women barefoot and pregnant and obedient.” He could practically taste the bitterness but he tamped down. “If you have my dad’s sheet, I guess you have mine,” he said. Was that why Carl was here?

“Yeah, I do. When you got arrested last fall it could’ve been really bad for you.” If your young lover hadn’t stepped in, Carl reminded himself.

“I know, Carl,” Brian said, heavily. He didn’t need reminding that Justin had gone to bat for him even when they hadn’t been together.

For the first time, he could see the insecure little boy Brian had been once. But it was just a flicker then it was gone. “Mind if I see it?”

Carl handed over the file marked Brian Aidan Kinney. Brian wasn’t surprised to see the first offense was a PI at 15. His dad beat the shit out of him for that one, but then he’d hit his stride and begun growing. That was one of the last times Jack had laid a hand on him because Brian wouldn’t just take it anymore like a good little victim. Instead, he’d have fought back and at six-three Brian was taller than his dad and so could take Jack on for the first time.

Then he saw the hustling charge at age 19 and fury pumped through him, hot and fluid. Carl looked at Brian and realized he owed him an explanation. The assorted charges hadn’t really surprised him as much as the hustling charge. Somehow he couldn’t picture the man sitting in front of him being desperate enough to sell his body for sex. But we each have our own demons, he admitted. Some are just buried deep and others simmer just below the surface. Looking at Brian, Carl knew that the old axiom about still waters running deep was never truer.

Brian looked up from the file, meeting Carl’s eyes without flinching. “I’m surprised Stockwell didn’t use this against me to impugn my character. He could have when I was deposed. Got a lot of shit on me here, Lieutenant. Why bring it to me now?”

It didn’t escape Carl’s notice that Brian had shifted to formal. He’d wondered about that himself. He’d come to the realization that Brian’s past should remain just that: the past. Better to let sleeping dogs lie than to rouse them, baying and howling. But he owed Brian an honest answer, “ ‘Cause I remember responding to a domestic disturbance call in 1981 at 1906 Franklin. I remember a terrified ten-year-old boy with bruises who insisted he’d fallen down the stairs. My partner and I suspected child abuse but the child wouldn’t confirm. And in those days, DCF didn’t have as much power as they do now. I also remember a call in ’85 when a fourteen-year-old had bruised ribs.” Carl’s voice trembled a bit with emotion. He should have done more. “And had a black eye and assorted bruises of his own.”

Brian stared at the cop sitting in front of him. He remembered being fourteen. It was the year he’d sucked off the coach then was fucked in a stall more narrow than those at Babylon. He’d begun to suspect he preferred dick to pussy but girls were just mysterious enough to intrigue him. It was the year his mom had nearly walked in on him jacking off. Thank God, she hadn’t seen the picture he was stroking his dick to. She’d thought it was the picture of Gia Carides in a purloined issue of People. “Wasn’t your fault. My old man was a son of a bitch, Carl. He hated me, wished I’d never been born. I certainly wasn’t what he thought he wanted from a son.”

Brian handed him both files. Carl looked at him, respect growing. “If these were made public, Brian, they could destroy you.”

“I’d deal. The most damaging charge in my file is the hustling charge. I was nineteen and it was a quick easy way to make $200 bucks. Last time I ever let someone fuck me without a condom.” He wasn’t proud of it. He hadn’t even told Michael. He hadn’t wanted to see the adoration drain out of Michael’s naïve trusting eyes. See the end of the hero worship and adulation.

“Weren’t you---”

“Scared? Yeah, I was fucking terrified. The guy was a bear who didn’t know the meaning of the word gentle.”

Carl didn’t know what to think. He’d known men who returned from Nam with the same blank expression Brian wore. Dispassionate and detached, without emotion. Cold, as if ice flowed through their veins.

“Does your partner know any of this?”

He was startled to hear Brian laugh. “Justin knows bits and pieces. He knows my dad whaled on me as a kid. He knows nothing about me hustling. He doesn’t know that I was busted in a sex club while giving some guy head, that I had jizz on my lips when the cop led me out for indecent behavior or some shit.” He looked at Carl. “I’d like to keep it that way.” Find my own way to tell him as I did about Sabrina.

“He won’t find out from me. Brian, that kid loves you.”

“I know.” And I’m fucking lucky I got him back.

“And you? How do you feel about him?”

“I care about him.”

It was Carl’s turn to laugh. “That’s a good cop’s answer. I think you love him too.” And somehow that didn’t seem wrong to him. Carl would never forget Justin standing up to Claire for Brian, even though they weren’t together. Even when Justin was with some other guy. That was love, no matter which side of the fence you sowed your oats in.

Brian shrugged. “You’d be right, Lieutenant.” Love Justin more than I thought possible, he thought. The two of them had come a long way.

“You told him?”

“Not in so many words, but he knows.”

Sensing it was a topic that Brian wouldn’t expound on, Carl let the subject drop. He’d seen the two of them together. A blind man would know they loved each other.

“I appreciate your seeing me on such short notice, Brian. I know how busy you are.”

“Not a problem, Lieutenant.”

As Carl stood to leave, Brian stood also. “Thank you for your discretion, Carl.”

The older man nodded. Brian wasn’t so bad. A little rough under the façade of sophistication but solid. Decent. He turned back and said, “Brian, I didn’t realize you were Jack Kinney’s kid.” He remembered Brian standing in his office with a condom full of a dirty cop’s spunk. Christ on a stick, he thought. No one could say Brian Kinney didn’t have balls.

“Would it have made a difference?”

“Probably not. No,” Carl admitted, as he and Brian shook hands.

Brian watched him go, sat silently at his desk for ten minutes before he was composed enough to pick up the phone. He dialed a number and was relieved when he didn’t get voice mail. “You at the loft?” Suddenly he was horny as hell and he didn’t want to relieve it in the bathroom at the office. Cynthia would just give him grief though knowing his assistant she’d probably get wet thinking about it. Straight women gave him grief, he thought. Even after Cynthia had nearly gotten a very rare floor show, his life with Justin still intrigued her.

He grabbed his jacket, told Cynthia he might not be back, and reached the loft in record time. He was hot, hard, and leaking pre-cum. Luckily the freight elevator was at the bottom of the shaft, so he didn’t have to wait. When he reached the sixth floor, Brian’s pants were undone, his shirt unbuttoned to the waist. There were benefits to living on the sixth floor. He slid the loft door open and stepped out of his pants, barely pausing to close the loft door behind him. No need to give anyone a free show. At least not at the moment. It wasn’t that they hadn’t done it before. He saw Justin almost immediately. His blond was naked, standing with arms locked around one of the metal support columns. Brian fumbled for a condom, his dick already slick enough with pre-cum that he didn’t bother with finding lube. He came up behind Justin and purred, “You ready for me?”

Justin nodded. God, he loved it when Brian got like this. He knew it was going to be hard, dirty, and fast. Still he felt the slight hesitation as Brian positioned the head of his cock at his hole. Already well-lubricated from playing with himself with his fingers while waiting on Brian to get home, Justin said, in a low tone that said nothing but sex, “Don’t be gentle, Brian. I can take it.” He liked it hard and fast, they both did. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t enjoy a long slow ride on occasion because he did.

Brian slid in, one hand on top of Justin’s, fingers intertwined, as he braced the other one on Justin’s hip. “Baby,” Brian said, as he began to thrust in and out of Justin, waiting as the blond began to buck backward meeting his thrusts.

With each stroke, he drove deeper and deeper. He heard Justin moan slightly, and bent forward to lick the spot behind Justin’s ear, grazing his neck with his teeth. Later there would be time to sample his blond. He knew Justin’s dick was hard and leaking. He eased out until the head of his cock was just barely resting inside, then drove back in, dick hitting Justin’s prostate with deadly accuracy. He felt the tingle at the base of his spine then began to come, seeing colored lights dancing behind his eyelids. He could feel Justin began to come as he pulled on Justin’s shaft, in unison with his thrusts. Justin came until his balls were empty and Brian’s hand was coated with his semen. It had startled Brian the first time they had simultaneous orgasms. It had been rare with his tricks and now it only ever happened with Justin. He figured that had to mean something even if he didn’t know precisely what it was.

Brian slid out of Justin and Justin inhaled, taking a moment to catch his breath. He tossed the condom away then turned Justin to face him, kissing him roughly, tongues sliding over one another. When they finally broke the kiss, Justin said, foreheads touching, voice husky post-fucking, “That was hot.”

Brian smirked. He completely agreed. It had been hot. A little faster than he would have liked but much better than jerking himself off. “Fucking amazing.”

He looked down at Justin, and said, in a wonder-filled voice, “You’re hard.” Again.

Justin smiled at Brian, glancing down at himself, cock at full attention, dancing in front of him. “Yeah, I am. You up for round two?”

That’s my boy, Brian thought. But, Christ, one of these days he’s gonna wear me out. “Mind if we take a shower first?”

A shake of a blond head answered Brian’s question. But it was Justin who said, “You want me to jerk off in the shower?”

Brian laughed. Silly, silly question. He knelt between Justin’s legs. He loved fellating Justin. He’d always tasted good but since he’d begun subtly altering their diet, he tasted even better. They both did and Brian had tasted his cum enough to know the difference. He put his hands on Justin’s hips, a subtle cue to the younger man for him to spread his legs a bit further apart. He turned his attention to Justin’s balls. He took one in his mouth, rolling it slightly in his mouth, then gently, very gently nipped him. Justin yelped and Brian looked up at him, eyes questioning. Baby blue eyes were glazed with lust and arousal so Brian knew it was okay to proceed. He turned his attention to the other ball, giving it the same treatment as his finger found Justin’s hole, still slick with lube and slightly stretched from the recent fucking. Brian curved his finger as he lapped Justin’s sac. When his balls glistened, he turned his attention to Justin’s red and angry dick. Justin bit his lip. How could I have forgotten how good he is at this? He thought then didn’t think anymore as the sensations washed over him.

Brian ran the pad of his thumb across the head of Justin’s dick and was rewarded with another bead of glistening come. Meeting Justin’s eyes deliberately, he raised his thumb to his mouth and slowly, seductively, and very deliberately licked off the bit of seed. He heard Justin hiss.

Then he took Justin into his mouth, mapping the varying textures of his cock with his tongue, enjoying the satin and steel. He alternated licking and sucking with jacking him off, taking the entire length of Justin into his mouth, letting the head rest against the back of his throat. He couldn’t help but remember the first time he’d deep-throated Justin. The then-teen had come hard. In the years since, he’d learned control. Learned to employ Brian’s techniques on Brian himself and discovered a few ways of his own to drive Brian wild. It was no joke that Justin was his sexual equal and their brief forays into exhibitionism had led them both to having spectacular sex.

He looked up at the blond whose eyes were closed. His hands were anchored in Brian’s hair. He let his lover begin to slide out, until just the head of Justin’s dick rested inside his mouth. He hard-sucked and elicited a moan from Justin even as his tongue attacked the piss slit. He knew Justin was close. Come baby, he thought. Just let go. As if they had a telepathic connection, Justin began to shoot, Brian working his balls. Brian swallowed most of it, throat muscles contracting, but towards the end of the orgasm he let Justin slip free a bit more. Even as he did so, he directed the spurts so that Justin came on his torso, white streams of come spattering his upper body, one such spurt landing high near his heart. Rather accurate aim, he thought though he’d never say so aloud. Finally Justin finished, Brian’s name shouted so loudly he felt sure the people down on the street could hear him. When Justin was so vocal it validated his ego. And he rather liked being marked.

Justin’s eyes opened and he saw his lover’s upper body was painted with his cum. He stood, a little wobbly from the force of his orgasm. It was indescribable what Brian did to him. He met Brian’s eyes and helped him to his feet, licking the remnants from Brian’s lips, gently nibbling his lover’s bottom lip, liking how Brian’s eyes went dark. He tilted his head up slightly and Justin licked his throat, then ran his tongue across Brian’s jaw line up to the sensitive spot behind Brian’s ear.

He returned his attention to Brian’s chest, circling one nipple with slow circular strokes before attacking the nub dead-on. He sucked until it stood pebble-rock hard then did the same to the other. He’d often wondered how Brian would look with a bar through his nipple but Brian had said that he preferred Justin’s. “Justin,” he barely got the words out before Justin’s tongue was drawing a wet line down his throat, then the center of his chest, stopping just short of his thatch of chestnut pubic hair. Brian knew he was completely at his partner’s mercy. The semen on his chest glistened as Justin began to lap it up, like a kitten lapping up milk from a saucer. There was something primal about tasting one’s own come, like returning it to the source. When Justin was through, Brian’s chest glistened and all traces were gone, like they’d never been.

Brian kissed Justin, tongues dueling briefly for dominance before sliding together. It drove him wild to think of tasting Justin on himself or tasting himself on Justin. He broke the kiss, breathing heavily. “Wow,” was all he could say. He loved the feel of Justin’s tongue on him.

Justin smirked. Brian returned the look. After all, he’d perfected it. “You know I like tasting myself on you.”

Brian heartily agreed. “All that remains. As much as I enjoy fucking you, I also enjoy going down on you. I kind of miss us jerking each other off. I wouldn’t mind doing a sixty-nine once in a while. But I don’t really miss the orgies or threesomes. I love eating your ass. I love having you come on me. ” Just a few of my favorite things, he thought, rather doubting that Julie Andrews would like that interpretation of the old song.

Justin raised an eyebrow. It was an interesting way of putting things. Seemed Brian realized it too. He took a moment to pause, choosing his words deliberately, knowing that he broached a dangerous subject. “I would like to fuck you raw, come inside you without that barrier. But I won’t risk your life. I care too much about you even if we are both negative.”

He held out his arms and Justin nestled into him. He loved it when Brian held him. “It’s my greatest fantasy,” Justin admitted. “You fucking me bareback. You coming inside my ass without the condom sheathing your dick. I want to feel you come inside me.”

Brian looked down at him. “Really?” It amazed him that someone could trust him that much. Hell, love him that much.

“Yeah really. But until then I have all that remains.”

Justin smiled as Brian gently kissed him. Maybe someday, he thought, closing his eyes. After all, dreams had been known to come true. Look at me and Brian.

Return to WhiteMare