elwinglyre | Ain't No Sunshine Part 2

Title: Ain't No Sunshine
Author:

el_wing
Rating: NC/17
Warning: graphic sex and language
Timeline: One plus years post 513
Disclaimer: QAF is owned by Showtime. I'm just taking creative license.
Summary: Brian visits Justin in NYC and finds that something is very wrong there.
Author note: I'm new to this fandom but not to writing fanfic. Comments and criticism welcome. This is a WIP that should run 10-12 parts, and I will finish it: I have a good track record finishing fics. The link leads to the chapter. Thanks to

shopinchickcas for the beta; I appreciate the time you take catching the errors of my way.

New: Part 2

Previous chapters: Part 1

Part 2

I dropped my bag at the door.

Justin's apartment was a real shit hole. Rats lived in cleaner places.

I knew I should have gotten a room. At the Trump International. Or nice five star hotel. Even a four star. A motel would have been better than this. When Justin flipped on the light switch, I could have sworn I saw roaches scurrying for cover. Justin blue eyes dared me to say something. Anything. For once, I kept my mouth shut. Instead I slammed him into the wall, devoured his mouth, ignored the state of the room and concentrated on his wicked little tongue flicking against the roof of my mouth. Talking is highly over-rated. We stumbled across the living area into his bedroom, the whole while groping and kissing like horny teens. I was so hot for him that I didn't give a shit where we fucked-- at least his bed looked semi-sanitary.

For a flea motel.

The upside was his roommate was away for the weekend. The downside was her cat wasn't. I hate Siamese cats. Their yowl is like fingernails down a chalkboard, and they scratch like cross-dressing hookers. And the thing was all sprawled out on his bed. Like it owned the place. The cat opened one eye, then the other. Justin scratched the thing behind the ear. I wondered if he had any hand sanitizer in this place. Or soap. Or water.

"Her name's Pyewacket--" Justin said, sitting down next to it. "You know, from the movie Bell, Book and Candle?"

The fucking thing stood up, stretched, looked me in the eyes, then hissed. At me. "Ah, yes," I said. "I've seen the movie. Isn't the cat possessed by the devil?"

"No, it's a familiar. This cat is nothing like that although she does have a spark of evil in her. She pisses in Jill's shoes when she leaves her alone during the day."

Jill. The roommate. Another aspiring, starving actress in NYC with a fixation on gay men and old black and white films starring Kim Novak or Marilyn Monroe. Justin should introduce her to Emmett.

The cat hissed again. I gave her my eat-me look, and the cat froze, then ran under the bed to hide.

"So," Justin whispered, then licked my ear, "are you going to put me under your spell too?"

"Thought you already were." I made a production out of unbuttoning his shirt. One. Button. At. A. Time.

"Ah, yes, the Kinney charm. Curse or cure?" He licked my lips. "Now do the voodoo that you do so well."

I took his shirt off half way, letting it trap his wrists behind him and pushed him flat on his back. I let my hand float over the soft skin on his shoulders as I kissed his chest and nibbled on his nipples. "My hot little captive." I saved his lips for last.

I shucked off my $900 John Lobb shoes.

"She won't piss in my shoes, will she?"

Justin shook his head. "Nah, the cat has to like you to do that."

I pushed the palm of my hand hard in to his cock just to watch his back arc up into it. I rolled on top of him and ground our cocks together. God, he was beautiful under me: lips wet and red from my mouth, pupils wide and dark. He bucked into me and moaned my name as I unzipped his pants.

I seriously wanted to take my time with him. I pulled a packet of lube and some condoms out of my pocket and set them on the pillow next to Justin's head.

"Turn over." The corners of his mouth turned up a little and his eyes got wider. His hands were still trapped behind him, so I helped him over, then took his shirt off the rest of the way. I straddled his legs and let myself look at him. Fuck, I've missed him.

It was my fucking turn to moan.

"You want my ass. You so want my ass."

I grinned to myself. When do I not want his ass? I shimmied his pants over his hips and down those firm thighs while I admired the view. A classic work of art, that's what he was. Michelangelo's David had nothing on him.

I added his pants to the pile of dirty clothes in the corner.

"You want to lick my ass. You want to kiss my ass. You want to bite my ass. You want to stick your tongue up my ass."

I unfastened my jeans and threw them next to Justin's and hoped I wouldn't have to fumigate them later.

"You forgot one," I added. "You want to spank my ass."

I smacked his left cheek good. Then again with a whack. He squealed like a girl, then giggled.

I gave the other cheek a matching set. He kicked and squirmed while I did it, but he didn't really want to get away.

He never did.

"Oh, kiss my ass," he groaned and ground himself into the mattress. "You so love my bubble butt."

I leaned over and put my mouth right next to his ear. "You're right, Sunshine. I do." Then I slid down his back again, kissing his dimples, then the bright red hand prints, tracing the outline of each with my tongue and slowly, slowly spreading his ass cheeks. I propped myself up on my elbows to for the spectacular view while he whimpered in disappointment that my tongue had left him. I soothed his back with my hands, then kissed my favorite part of his ass. He got all breathless and blotchy as I alternated tonguing his pucker and blowing on it. I really knew he was turned on when he started to hiccup between moans of "Please, Brian, please."

I could never get enough of looking and hearing him. Never. Especially when he teased me by wiggling that perfect ass to get my tongue deeper inside. I played with his hole, flicking my tongue and skewering him with it. He was getting desperate, trying to reach underneath him for his dick; I pulled his hands out each time. Finally, I reached for the lube, squirting some on my fingers. He writhed and begged for me to fuck him and fuck him now, but I toyed with him a while longer, sticking my tongue inside him along with two of my fingers, opening him up good so could take my big dick. After all, it'd been awhile.

"Turn over," I said at last. He rolled over fast for me, our eyes locked. I liked him best that way. I loved pounding him with his legs over my shoulders and watching those blue eyes turn black as he came. I slid in slow and steady. He licked his kiss-swollen lips and thrust his hips into me in shaky, desperate jerks. I rocked into him, leaning forward and into that sweet spot of his. I moved over it, again and again. I felt the heat rising from my balls as Justin clenched his ass muscles. It wouldn't be much longer for me. He kept his hands off his dick and knotted in the sheets, his eyes on mine. Then he said, "Brian..." Shit, he was going to come. He clamped down tight on my entire length that was buried to the balls inside him. I watched as ribbon of come shot on his chest. I was gone.

I pulled us apart only long enough to toss the condom in the wastebasket, then I hugged him close to me, letting my fingers slip through his shiny hair. I let Justin sleep. Now that the edge was off with the preliminary fuck, I looked at the place closer. It was worse than I first realized. The windows had a grime on the outside that can only come from years of neglect. Inside, peeling layers of paint revealed decades of color trends from olive green to orange to black, most likely lead-base paint. The ceiling was water stained and buckled from bad plumbing. The floor's saving grace was that it was hardwood not carpet, but it didn't look like it seen a coat of varnish since the 1950s.

I closed my eyes. Fuck it. There was something better here that needed my attention. Warm feet, smooth back with fine soft hairs and a neck with a dip in it for nibbling. I nestled closer.

What a mess.

"I'm a mess," he mumbled.

Sometimes I could swear he could read my mind. I ruffled his hair. "Yes, but you're my mess."

"Why, Brian! That's actually sweet."

Sweet. I don't do sweet. I sat up. "I've got to piss. Is there a bathroom in this..." Now, Brian, be nice."...place?"

"Yeah, down the hall to the left."

I tread carefully into the bathroom, lifted the toilet lid. At least it was clean. Then I noticed.

"You don't have a shower," I yelled out.

I walked back down the hall and into the bedroom. Justin was sprawled out petting the cat.

"That's it," I said. I'd kept my mouth long enough. "I can't let you live like this."

"Oh yes you can. Every artist needs to suffer for their art."

"Well I'm not an artist." I crossed my arms and frowned.

"Bri, you can be such a queen."

"What do I do to get clean?"

"I could lick you all over," he said, as he rolled suggestively on the bed.

"While that has a certain appeal, there are times when a man needs deeper cleansing."

"Like this?" Justin flicked his tongue at me and waggled his eyebrows.

I laughed.

"Or you could take a bath. Didn't you see that big claw-foot tub?" he asked as he sat up, legs crossed on the bed. His face glowed, and he smiled like he does when he has one of those twinky-blond light-bulb-above-the-head ideas. "I bet two could fit in the tub!"

I had my doubts. I continued to frown, hoping I'd get through to him. This place was unacceptable. I should have known that it wouldn't work. Justin bit his lip, then did what he usually did when I picked on him with my Brian Kinney-knows-best attitude.

Changed the subject.

"I'm hungry, let's go out and get something to eat."

I hated it when he did that-- got all happy and bouncy. Ok, I didn't really hate it. I liked it. I missed his impersonation of a fucking blond bunny rabbit.

"Aren't you all cuddly-wuddly?" I said sarcastically. "Next thing you're going to go hip hopping down the bunny trail."

He clamored off the bed and into my arms.

"Come on, Bri," he said. "There's a great cafe around the corner that serves these wonderful artery-clogging delicacies. You can watch me cream my pants while I eat it."

"How can I refuse. You make it sound sooo irresistible."

"No, it's me who's irresistible." He gave me one of those 500 watt smiles and kissed my cheek. "I'll get cleaned up, and you get dressed. Then we can go eat, come back and fuck for the rest of the night."

I knew he was a genius.

Sunshine disappeared down the hall, and I went out to get my bag, then changed. I could hear the water running in the tub and wondered if there was room in there for two.

While he was bathing, I walked around the apartment, checking out Justin's work. He had sketches taped to the walls and paintings propped against every surface. My, my. My little Picasso had been very busy. At least the place had lots of light and room where he worked. An artsy-fartsy screensaver ran on his computer. I jiggled the mouse. Although it was only a rough draft, I could see that this piece was something special, something different. My Sunshine was taking chances. A mass of leading lines of diametric colors. I wondered what the scale would be.

I noticed that, along with his art program, he had his e-mail open. The bathwater wasn't running anymore, but I could hear splashing. Ok, so I'm nosey: I eavesdrop behind giant penises, follow friends on clandestine meetings, stalk fiddle-playing boyfriends. I clicked on the damn e-mail. I read it. Then I sat down. I read it again. It was short. It was sweet. It was intimate.

Too intimate.

It wasn't like we'd made promises. I'd let more than a few tricks suck my dick over the last year. But I never fucked one, never took one back to the loft. Not once. I'd kept the rings. I'd kept the country manor.

I heard water going down the drain. I got up. I didn't have to read it again-- it was burned in my mind: "I hoped you liked my gift. I picked out something special that we could share. Can't wait to see you on your knees. Until then, luverboy316."

I walked to the other side of the room and put on my best blank face. All Justin had to do was walk into the room and look at me to know something was up-- I saw his eyebrow lift, questioning. But he didn't say a word. I figured I could come clean, tell him I read the e-mail, or I could do the typical Brian Kinney way-- find out who luverboy316 is, find his weakness and annihilate him.

TBC

Part 3

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

poppieshaze.livejournal.com

Annihilation sounds good to me...

From:

my fanfic and me

Ain't No Sunshine Part 2

Page Summary

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags