THE LITTLE THINGS
author vamphile


AN: This story is set in my Superstar/Visible 'verse, written for a challenge by paddies in which Brian is a porn star and Justin is the virgin he deflowers in a film. Blue Light Special is the name of the porn film they made together. It is the only porn film Justin ever made.

In Visible, Brian has become a legitimate actor. After having starred on Passions he moved on to Movies of the Week and eventually to a television show called Vanished, then to Broadway, and finally to star in a play in London for six months.

Justin has become an assistant art director and had been working in LA for the past two years. Brian and Justin have been together, but not monogamous, for all of this time. Justin went with Brian to London.

So now you’re caught up and this is what happens when they get back from London.

You do not have to have read Superstar or Visible for this to make sense. Now shoo… read.

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Post Visible

The Little Things

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From Chapter Seven of Superstar:

… Justin whimpered as Brian lightly ran a hand along Justin's aching hard on and then removed himself from the bed again. Reaching down into a box next to the bed he pulled out a dildo. It was black, and large, bigger than anything Justin could imagine inside him. His eyes widened with fear.

“You don’t think you can take it?”

Justin shook his head, and Brian kissed him again. “I’ll bet you could.”

Justin shook his head more adamantly and Brian smiled again. “Good boy, know when to say no…”

Seven years later…

The jet lag had them both off kilter. Justin was awake before Brian. Brian hadn’t bothered to unpack his bags when they’d arrived last night. Justin tripped on Brian’s suitcase while he stumbled to the kitchen to make coffee. The scent of the strong brew brought Brian back from the seemingly dead. He sat up and took the mug Justin offered.

“It’s after four?”

“AM.”

“Fuck, why are we drinking coffee?”

Justin shrugged and took a large gulp. “I woke up. I made coffee. That’s what I do at nine in the morning.”

Brian snorted. “You’re never awake by nine.”

“I’m awake now, and we should both stay that way. Then we can make it an early night and be back on Eastern Time tomorrow.”

Brian took another healthy gulp of his coffee. “In which case, I should unpack.”

“And clean out some space for me in the closet.”

Brian was unfolding several shirts and putting them on hangers. He turned to look over his shoulder at Justin. “Can’t you just…”

Justin glared. “It was your idea for me to stay in Pittsburgh, at the loft, and focus on my own art instead of just throwing myself back into the sitcom grind.”

“Well, the writer’s strike leaves us both without a pilot season, or new shows. It makes sense.” Brian decided not to add the part about Justin having no issue saying no when he wanted to. It just led to that smug grin and then a dangerous game of who’s going to say no first. Brian usually lost that game, so he said nothing.

“And if it makes sense,” Justin wrapped his arms around Brian’s waist, pressing himself against Brian’s ass, “then I get my half of the closet back.”

“Half?”

Justin kissed Brian’s back and nodded against it. “You’re fucked if you think I’m living out of a suitcase for six months.”

“I can give you a drawer.”

“You can give me three drawers, and half the closet.”

Brian sighed and pushed some of his clothes over, turning on the overhead light. He flipped through seven black shirts before Justin stopped him. “Are those staying or going?”

“Staying.”

“All of them?”

“Justin…”

Justin pulled out one with roses embroidered into it. “Really?”

Brian nodded and Justin tossed the shirt onto the bed. “That’s the ‘going’ pile.”

Brian had flipped through two more shirts when Justin stopped him. “This one hits your arms in a bad place, and it’s shiny.”

When Brian didn’t say anything Justin tossed it into the going pile. Brian voluntarily sent a few items, mostly old clothes that Justin hadn’t taken with him to LA and had forgotten about, into the growing pile.

Eventually Justin sat on the floor and started pulling a few boxes out of the way. “What’s in these?”

“Just stuff.”

Justin opened one slowly, waiting to see if Brian was going to protest. He didn’t. Brian’s two daytime Emmys were there. Justin laughed. “I’d always wondered what you’d done with them.”

“I put them in that box with my seven golden dildos and…”

Justin held up the DVD case. “The original cut of Blue Light Special.”

Brian nodded. “I got that from Chaz when he died. Somewhere in there is the paperwork giving me the copyright.”

“So shouldn’t all those people who used clips and caps to make graphics and stuff be paying you?”

Brian shrugged. “Do you care?”

“Not anymore.”

“Yeah, I’m not going to miss your fanboard addiction.”

“I think most people are over it now anyway.”

“Most?”

“There’s still a fandom, it’s just died down a bit. Well, a lot, but you know the shows in New York and London sold out in part because of the fangirls.”

Brian tossed an old pair of Justin’s cargo pants to the going pile.

“Hey! I need clothes that I can get paint on.” Justin grabbed the cargos and put them to the side while Brian continued to comb through his own clothes. “So, what’s in the other box?”

Brian shrugged and pushed a dozen hangers over at once. “No skipping stuff, Brian. Unless you want to get one of those hanging racks and we could put it next to the…”

Brian pushed the hangers back in the other direction and went through each one individually. Justin smiled and opened the second box. “Oh my god. I forgot what a perv you are.”

Brian glanced down. The chest was filled with DVDs. One of each movie he’d ever made, and a few choice items with which to remember particularly interesting scenes. Justin pulled out what looked like a medieval torture device. He frowned at it.

Brian laughed. “It looks worse than it is. It’s from You Bet Your Ass."

Justin put it down carefully, holding it with only two fingers as though excessive contact alone would send it flying from his hands directly onto his cock.

“What the hell are these?”

Brian sighed. “Use your imagination.”

Justin did and put the item on top of his cargos. They’d do a little research with it later.



Brian concentrated on thinning out his wardrobe because it was easier than concentrating on how much he didn’t want to. Besides, fewer black shirts and six months off with Justin vs. keeping his wardrobe intact… no contest.

He got to the end of the rack when he realized he hadn’t heard Justin say anything in a while. He glanced down to make sure Justin hadn’t fallen back asleep. He wouldn’t put it past the twat to wake him up, ply him with coffee and then just crash.

Justin wasn’t asleep. He was poring through a vast collection of toys that Brian had stashed in away. He smirked; Justin had put most of them back in the chest, but a few were placed carefully on the clothing Justin had rescued from the “going” pile. His current state of silence was due to a gag prop that Justin suddenly seemed enamored of.

Brian remembered the last time Justin had seen it, even if Justin had been too drunk to remember it. He seemed to have a different reaction to it now. Justin tried to wrap his fingers around the largest bulb, but they didn’t meet. His finger traced the lines of each ridge, unconsciously licking his lips.

Brian laughed. “It won’t get any bigger if you stroke it.”

Justin’s eyes followed his finger as it outlined the four distinct ridges of the widening ripples of silicone. He was mesmerized. Brian shook his head. Justin nodded and Brian tried to ease Justin’s disappointment by throwing out a shirt that was probably perfectly fine. It made no difference. Justin was packing away the other items, his glance shifting occasionally back to the enormous black toy.

When Brian had unpacked his suitcases, started a load of laundry and cleaned up the now-cold coffee in the kitchen, he reached a hand out to Justin who was sitting on the sofa, sketchbook in hand.

Justin put his work down and let himself be pulled up.

Brian kissed him, letting his finger slide between Justin’s cheeks, his other hand snaked between Justin’s legs, feeling his cock grow in his hand.

He laid Justin down on top of the discarded clothing and kissed his way down Justin’s body, sucking on Justin’s nipples and then moving lower. Teasing the sensitive flesh of Justin’s belly and then bypassing his cock completely to taste the soft skin of Justin’s inner thighs.

Justin’s moans egged Brian on as he sucked Justin’s cock slowly, hollowing out his cheeks and using his tongue to play with the head before pulling off completely and then licking from the base to the tip before taking all of it into his mouth again.

One hand rolled Justin’s balls while his other hand stroked his own cock with a faster pace than Brian was using to move his lips along Justin’s shaft. Justin’s legs draped over Brian’s shoulders, his thighs tightening around Brian’s head as they both came.

Brian sprawled his body across Justin’s, nuzzling his neck.

“Brian, don’t fall back asleep.”

“I won’t.” Brian didn’t open his eyes.



Justin’s POV

He’s falling back asleep. I wriggle out from under him and go to make more coffee, and there, on the kitchen counter, right next to the coffee maker, is that monster. I start the coffee and wait for it to finish brewing without taking my eyes off of it. I wonder what it would feel like inside me. I have to know. I have to keep Brian awake. I think I can kill two birds with one stone.

I tuck the monster, which is the only thing I can think of calling it, under my arm and carry two mugs of coffee to the bed. Brian is actually distracted enough not to grab for the coffee immediately.

I put it between us as we sit and recaffeinate. He looks down at it and shakes his head. I know part of that means no, as if I actually respond to that word well. The other part of the headshake is simply his amusement.

So he’s reluctant, and amused, but when I put my empty coffee cup on my nightstand and reach over him for the lube, I can tell from the way he lets his palm, warm from cupping the mug, slide over my back, that he’s also turned on.

When I really hold it in my hand, I’m suddenly a little unsure. I want it, but can I actually do this? I consider it for a minute and decide nothing ventured, nothing gained. I don’t so much drizzle as pour the lube over the first ridge, and then coat each one liberally. Brian’s eyes have not left my hand since I started.

I wonder if he’s planning on participating or just watching. I couldn’t say which I really want. I don’t think either of us can think beyond the monster that’s now glistening, and I swear, in this low light, seemingly throbbing between us.

I lean over so that I’m on my knees and, holding the base at a somewhat awkward angle, push the blunt head against my hole.

Brian seems to break out of his reverie. He moves behind me and slaps my ass once. “You really want this?”

I’m going to pretend he didn’t just ask that and push back against the head, feeling it slip in a little. He sighs.

“You’ll hurt yourself.”

My grasp on the base tightens. Not an easy task when both of my hands are slick with lube, but he will not take this from me.

He wraps his hand around mine. Leaning his body over me and whispering across my ear. “Let me help.”

I relax my grip and feel the cool lube slide down my crack and then drip onto my balls. He strokes them and then runs a finger around my hole, spreading the lube, pushing it inside me. He’s got a second and then a third finger in me, stretching me out. I whimper and he kisses my back while I ride his hand. “Don’t worry. I promise you’ll still feel this.”

I was holding my torso up on one elbow. I let it drop, giving my body over to Brian completely. He knows the moment I’ve let go and begins to move his fingers in and out, pushing to the left and then right, opening me up. For a moment I forget about the monster and focus on just riding out the pulsing waves of pleasure that Brian’s hands send crashing through me.

I pull back a little when I’m too close. He slaps my ass again, and I feel more cool lube on his fingers as he works a fourth inside me. I’m riding him hard now, pushing back and feeling the considerable stretch of his knuckles pumping in and out of me. I grasp the monster and practically wave it at him, in case he’s forgotten. He chuckles, but takes it from me and works his fingers out. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

I nod.

“Justin.”

“Brian, I’ll tell you. Just fuck me. I want it inside me.”

He slaps my ass again. “Such a pain slut.”

“Duh”

“And a size queen.”

“It’s one of the things that makes me love you.” Stroking his ego is always a good way to get things moving.

“Up.”

I had collapsed with the intensity of his fingers. I struggle back up onto my knees. Keeping my face pressed against the pillows. I turn my head and he moves so that I can see him while he focuses his attention entirely on me. I feel the stretch of the blunt head, and no matter how stretched and lubed I am, this is going to be amazing. My body is shaking in anticipation and maybe a little fear. Brian strokes my cock once with his wet fingers and then grasps my shaft while he pushes the wide head slowly inside me.

“Bear down.”

I do, opening myself up, moaning and bucking as the first wide triangle takes me to my outermost limits. There’s a moment when I’m sure I can’t do it, when no matter how hard I push back, how hard Brian pushes in, it just won’t fit, but then it’s inside me, my ass closing around it, my body shaking and Brian’s voice telling me how amazing I am, how hot I look.

His hand is no longer on my cock. I don’t need it there. He’s rock hard, but he’s not stroking himself, although his voice, the hitch in his breathing and the way it’s thick and low, sounds like he is. He’s turned on and his desire fuels mine.

“More.”

His strong palm rests on the small of my back, holding me, centering me, keeping me from pushing back as he presses it further into me. The heads narrow down to a reasonable size before flaring out again, each one wider than the last. As he keeps pushing I grunt and close my eyes while my body stretches to accommodate it. It’s different from the last time because this time it’s going deeper too. The first ridge slides against my prostate, a solid steady pressure making me buck and moan.

I feel myself tighten around it and Brian stops pushing. “Justin.”

“I’m fine, keep going.”

He waits though, and my breathing slows, my legs spread wider again, and I feel myself relax. He presses it in further and I feel myself break out in a cold sweat; it starts on my upper lip and then prickles down my back. Brian’s running his free hand up my back and telling me how amazing I am, how beautiful I look when I’m spread so wide under him.

I close my eyes, and focus on the sound of his voice and the ever-present pressure and stretch. I let myself float.



He’s gone, in the best possible way. I’ve known from the moment he saw the thing that it would be up his ass before we left the loft today. What I forgot was how hot he looks when his focus is on nothing but his own pleasure, and his own pleasure is making an appearance in a manner just the other side of more than he thinks he can take.

This one may actually be more than he can take. Each bulbous head narrows and the next becomes larger than the one before. At its widest point I can’t even get my fingers around it completely. It’s rigid, which makes it easy to handle, but also makes it easy to hurt him. This might take a while; the damn thing is as long as my forearm.

I can’t count on him to stop me. He gives himself over to it completely, riding the sensations. He told me once it’s about letting go of the silly differentiation between pleasure and pain. That statement scared the shit out of me, because if he’s not paying attention, then who is? Right, me. So I push in and watch his body freeze and resist.

He complains when I stop, but sometimes I know his body better than he does. When he relaxes and starts to simply give up all control, my attention doubles, if that’s even possible, and now I’m pressing the third enormous flare into him. He’s whimpering, and turns his head. His body is shaking with the feelings, and it’s a strain for him just to stay up on his knees. I grab a couple of pillows and pile them on top of the clothes already bunched under his hips. He lets his body collapse completely.

His asshole is stretched tightly around the widest part now. I can’t imagine what kind of pressure he’s feeling inside as the ridges massage and stroke his anal walls. I swear to Christ he mewls.

And then it’s in. He’s gasping and chanting my name. I know what he wants but he’s not ready. He raises his hips, trying to take it before I think he can. A steadying hand on his hip slows him down, but doesn’t stop him. A sharp slap makes him cry out and stop moving. He’s ready; I push forward just a few millimeters and then pull it back.

He gasps and comes, his body sweating and shaking. My name has apparently been changed to “again.” I do it a few more times, enjoying the way his body is no longer under any control but my own. Enjoying the way he lets me have that. I thank him for it by moving it forward and back twice more in quick succession while he lets out a sound that I barely recognize.

He’s mumbling a string of thank yous, and when his body has almost adjusted, but is still working on acclimating to the enormous stretch and total fullness, he starts moving. I wait. He’s not ready and knowing when he is, well, that’s my job. I take my job seriously.



I can’t breathe. All I can do is mumble a few thank yous to Brian and let the shaking subside. I didn’t know orgasms could be that intense. A few minutes later, with Brian’s hands still on my ass, I arch back, telling him I’m ready. I’m not stupid enough to think he’s not paying attention, but he clearly disagrees because he doesn’t move, and the tight grip on my hip tells me that he’d prefer if I didn’t either.

I wait but he’s taking too long. I reach my own hand back, ready to do it myself, but his hand blocks mine. “Greedy.”

I nod. I am, I want more, I want it all.

I hear the lube open again, and hope we remember that we’re out the next time we leave the loft, which, from the way my knees are shaking, may be days from now.

He starts pushing. I bear down, ready, and wanting, amazed that I could still want more, I’m so full that movement is painful, that every shift of his knee on the bed makes me feel like I’m about to explode. There’s fire behind my eyes and my skin can’t decide if it’s too warm or too cold. My teeth chatter while my tongue licks my dry hot lips. I press back and feel my body respond. Every nerve ending, every thought, everything is focused on this one sensation. I expand, stretching to encompass the universe, whishing I could pull Brian inside me, whole, realizing it feels like I have.

Then it stops. He’s pulled back out. I want to tell him I can take it but when I try to form words nothing happens.

I know it’s too much now. I realize why he stopped. No one can accept this, it’s more than… it’s… I can’t…

He strokes my hip. “It’s okay Justin, no more. I won’t hurt you. You’re unbelievable.” He whispers it to me and the fact that I can’t take all four is no longer a disappointment. He shifts my hips and I can feel how very full I am.

The feeling as my body clamps down is heady, and then there’s nothing but that feeling. It’s pressing against me, everywhere, so deep inside me, nothing has ever been inside me so deeply, it’s touching every part of me. It has wrapped itself around me and in me, and when he pulls it back, just a bit, my body and heart both become molten lava, oozing and flowing, a never ending stream of hot magma spreading over everything. I am weightless and hovering over myself watching my body become nothing more than dying charred embers. Hoping Brian can remember where everything goes when he has to put me back together.

The feeling subsides and he pushes again. The hot wet molten lava of my orgasm is mixed with the salt of my tears and the sweet taste of my tangible love for Brian. I can taste it, see it, smell it, and of course, feel it, with every single cell of my body. He’s inside me; part of me, and nothing will ever be able to cleanse my system of him. I would never even try.

He moves it one more time and now I know it’s too much, more than I can take. It pulls me back from my floating melting world of reds and oranges and brings me back to the cool blue of the sheets under me, and the warm hazel of Brian’s eyes. He’s lying next to me. I turn on my side, facing him. My body still full, painfully full.

“Out.”

He nods. “Relax, I can’t yet.”

I’m shaking and he hands me a joint. I don’t know when he lit it. How long was I gone?

I take a deep inhale, but that sets off another round of over-sensation. I cough and cling to Brian as I do. He wraps his arms around me, holding me still as he breathes the smoke into my mouth for me.

I concentrate on not moving.

When I feel him adding more lube I want to protest, but I’m too sleepy. I realize from my position that I must have actually passed out, but I’m feeling more relaxed now.

He pulls it out, slowly, and it hurts. I shudder and come in one more intense, almost too-intense, orgasm as I am stretched and opened three times in quick succession. He disappears, and when he comes back, he’s cleaning me up. And then he’s beside me again. “Good thing we weren’t going to keep those clothes.”

I turn to see where they went but I’m a little sore. He hugs me, holding me to him. I feel empty. Not just my ass, it wasn’t just filling my ass, and now all of me feels like a rag doll that lost its stuffing.

He slowly turns me until my back is to him and he presses three fingers inside me.

I sigh around them. Needing that.

“Let me know when you think you can handle some water and a couple of pain killers.”

I shake my head, but only barely. Movement seems like a bad idea just now. “We’re supposed to stay up, fix the jet lag,” I remind him.

He laughs and moves off the bed gently, packing the discarded clothes into a trash bag and coming back with a couple of pills and some juice.

When I look at the clock again it’s almost seven pm, and we’ve slept all day. I roll over, resting my head on Brian’s shoulder. He kisses the top of my head. “Chinese, pizza or Thai?”

I shrug, “Your call.”

He nods. “Thai.”

I make a face.

We order pizza.