Title: The Tactile Nature of Things

Author: testdog65 aka Ellen

Warnings: NC-17

Timeline: Season 3

A/N: For not_yet_defined in an attempt to remove one of her horriblies.




Some nights when Brian returns home late from work, he finds Justin drawing, wide-awake, inspired and wound up too tight to sleep. They’ll fuck then, hard and demanding. And when Justin comes, he’ll be as beautiful, to Brian, as all the artwork Justin’s ever created.


Other nights when Brian gets back late, he finds Justin sleeping. At those times, he’s warm and quiet. All soft skin and messy hair. On those nights, Brian will undress quietly and slip in next to Justin. He’ll pull him close, and in the minutes before Justin wakes, he’ll run his hands over thigh and waist and chest, up into that mop of hair where his fingers will tangle in the almost too long strands. Justin will stir then, and move closer to Brian, still sleeping, but consciousness returning. The sex will be slow and languid, and Brian will refuse to think of it as making love. But fucking’s not an adequate description, not when Justin’s warm and sleepy, and Brian feels that closeness that he still won’t name, but hides from less these days.


Then there are the nights when Brian comes home and Justin’s not there. And really, that shouldn’t bother him, he thinks. After all, they don’t live together, and Justin’s free to go and be and fuck whomever he wants. And Brian’s free to exist in his own space for awhile, colder and grayer perhaps than he’s willing to admit that it feels.


This is one of those nights. The loft is quiet, and Brian knows, before he has the door shut all the way, that Justin’s not there. He finds the note, sitting alone on the gleaming countertop, and Brian’s annoyed for a moment that Justin even left one. But he reads it anyway, just because it’s there.

WENT TO STUDIO. MEET YOU AT BABYLON. LATER. – J

And Brian thinks of Babylon, the noise and lights, the half naked bodies glistening with sweat and glitter. He thinks of dancing, moving, grinding against an unfamiliar curve of ass, of running his hands over hardened muscle covered with taught skin not quite soft enough or smooth enough. He thinks, too, of running his fingers through hair, gripping and twisting as he gets off, the wave and curl too coarse, not quite right. He thinks of that time just after coming, when he’s momentarily spent, and the constant energy that drives him has quieted for a moment. He thinks of unfamiliar brown, green, gray, not blue eyes shining in their own sated afterglow.


He thinks of all this as he readies himself for the evening’s activities, transforming from professional to sensual. He thinks of this as he retrieves his keys and exits the loft. And he thinks of this as he turns the ‘vette in the opposite direction of Babylon.


The campus is still active, even at this late hour, and Brian notices the occasional loudness of laughter or a broken phrase cutting through the cold nighttime air. The door into the space that houses the student studios should be locked, but Brian catches it as a punk-goth-notice me girl exits, paying more attention to the voice emanating from the cell phone attached to her ear than to the man who clearly isn’t a student.


Justin has studio space on the second floor at the end of a long hallway that remains brightly lit, even now. Creativity can strike at any hour, and the building stays open and at least semi-occupied at all times.


Brian nears the large room that Justin shares with several other art students. The door is half open, and he enters the room quietly, an innate reflex takes in the fact that Justin is alone. His back is to the door as he manipulates something laid out across the large worktable that dominates the center of the room. He’s not dressed for Babylon, instead wearing the thin and loose black sweats and faded t-shirt that he keeps here in deference to Brian and his previous complaints that a constantly paint-covered Justin was taking his artistic aspirations a bit too far.


Brian watches now as Justin reaches across the table to the top of the canvas that he’s stretching. His t-shirt rides up, exposing a sliver of pale skin, just above the waistband of the low slung pants. The thin material of the pants clings and stretches over Justin’s ass, and Brian’s eyes scan the view in appreciation. The studio lights are bright, and the blond strands of Justin’s hair, longer now than Brian ever remembers it being, catch and play against each other. Brian’s fingers twitch, wanting to touch and stroke and intertwine.


Justin continues to work, the muscles of his arms are taught with the effort of stretching the canvas as he pulls it across the frame and fastens it into place. His movements are practical and quick. He’s not creating, just preparing the things he’ll need for a later time, and so his energy is different. It’s filled with anticipation and impatience. Brian recognizes it as the frustration that Justin feels when he’s itching to create, but is being held back by the practical tasks required of an artist. It’s similar to the way Justin is when Brian draws out the foreplay a little too long, teasing, but not giving in. And he knows that Justin’s body reacts in a similar manner, anticipating the art like he’ll anticipate a good, hard fuck or a desperately needed orgasm. Brian already knows that the sensations are transferable, and he suddenly wants to take advantage of that.


“Going to be much longer?” he asks, his voice breaking the quiet and making Justin jump at the unexpected interruption.


“Jesus, Brian,” Justin half laughs. “You scared the hell out of me.” He’s breathing heavily and his heart is pounding from the sudden scare.


Brian has crossed the space between them, and stands in front of Justin now, very close, but not touching. Not yet. Justin’s still breathing heavily, but from a different kind of adrenaline rush as he looks up at Brian through his lashes. They stand unmoving for a moment, staring, but still not touching, letting the anticipation of the inevitable envelop them.


Brian moves first, lifting his hand to the back of Justin’s head, tangling his fingers through Justin’s hair, straight and smooth and right. His other hand is on Justin’s hip, fingers grazing the skin between shirt and pants before he grips hard with both hands, drags Justin against him and kisses him, mouth open, tongue already pushing between the softness of Justin’s lips.


Justin returns the ferocity of the kiss, hands on Brian’s shoulders to steady himself in order to give back with his own brand of aggressive intensity. They’re both hard, their bodies touching from chest to thigh.


Brian pushes Justin backwards now, still gripping at his waist with one hand and using his other hand on the back of Justin’s head to angle and guide him as he refuses to stop the kiss. Justin’s ass bumps against the edge of the worktable and he grunts, but only clutches Brian’s shoulders harder, not allowing the kiss to end as Brian’s fingers continue to twist and twine the handful of hair he can’t let go of.


Brian thinks about breaking the embrace to turn Justin around, push the loose pants over his slim hips, part his ass and sink into him. But instead, he grinds himself against Justin’s hardness, as they continue to kiss, mouths open wide and tongues sliding.


Justin uses the support of the table for balance as he lifts one leg slightly, circles it around Brian’s calf, tying them together tighter, pushing his erection harder into Brian’s. Brian pumps his hips then, starting a friction for both of them that has Justin returning the movement and building the heat. They haven’t stopped kissing.


Brian momentarily removes his hand from Justin’s hair, and slides it down as both hands now cup Justin’s ass, smoothing over the clinging material of his sweats. Brian knows he isn’t wearing anything underneath. He takes a firmer hold of Justin’s ass and lifts slightly, bringing him to rest his weight fully on the surface of the worktable as Brian takes a step forward to ensure that their cocks continue to rub and glide against each other through their clothes.


Brian moves his left hand up, fingers working their way back into Justin’s hair, snaking through and entwining. His right hand smoothes down Justin’s thigh to just above his knee, pulling his leg up, widening the angle of Justin’s hips and causing Justin’s balls to graze against Brian’s crotch. The resulting gasp from Justin makes Brian’s dick leak.


Justin’s hands find their way to the waistband of Brian’s pants where he dips his fingers inside, trying to push lower, wanting to feel the smooth skin of Brian’s ass. It takes some effort. Brian’s jeans aren’t overly tight, but they’re not loose either. Finally, Justin is able to wiggle his hands all the way in, curving his fingers over the muscular swell. Brian’s jeans are tighter now, thanks to the position of Justin’s hands, and the material at the front is pulled more firmly over his rigid cock, only serving to increase the sensations as he rubs and grinds against Justin’s hardness.


Brian releases his hold on Justin’s leg, while at the same time, Justin wraps it and his other leg high around the back of Brian’s thighs, just under his ass where Justin’s hands continue to rub and squeeze. The new position angles their cocks together perfectly, and Brian finally breaks the kiss as he gasps at the increased stimulation.


Brian buries his face at the side of Justin’s neck as he continues to rock his hips against Justin’s. Both hands have found their way into Justin’s hair where he lets his fingers play through the softness, stroking and snarling. He turns his head slightly then, his face now rubbing against the same hair he can’t stop touching. It’s been a thing for him lately. As Justin lets it grow longer, Brian has trouble keeping his hands out of it. Justin hasn’t said anything about the extra attention, and Brian thinks he would deny it if Justin ever brought it up. But recognizing that he’s doing it hasn’t deterred Brian in the least.


Justin’s hands remain inside of Brian’s pants, palming his ass and slowly sliding his fingers together, closer to his hole. Brian’s resulting moan tells him he’s on the right track, as if there was any doubt, and he slides the tips of his fingers closer together, letting them play near Brian’s entrance, just teasing without entering.


Justin thinks about asking Brian if he wants to fuck, but he decides not to. Sometimes they do this, rubbing and grinding, letting the foreplay become the act and the finish. He remembers the first time that Brian got him off like this. They were at Babylon, dancing – if you could call it that. Justin was a little drunk and a little high and a lot uninhibited. Brian was gripping his hips hard, his mouth pressed against Justin’s ear, breathing heavily and thrusting into him. The moment built so quickly, and Justin knew he was going to come. He struggled to say something, to stop Brian so they could go fuck like adults. But before he could get the words out, he heard Brian’s voice, low and muffled over the sound of the music.


“Let go, Justin. Don’t fight it.”


Using Brian’s words as permission, he let the pleasure overtake him, coming hard just a few seconds later. He half expected Brian to tease him about his lack of self-control. But Brian didn’t. Instead, he waited for Justin to calm down a bit, and then dragged him to the back room, where Justin dropped to his knees and made quick work of Brian’s own hard-on.


Justin’s momentary head-trip to the past has only served to increase the level of his current desire as he pushes and rubs his cock against Brian’s in a rhythm that perfectly compliments the one that Brian is using on him. The thin material of his work pants only slightly muffles the sensations, and he knows that Brian feels more than just pressure, feels the outline, shape and detail of Justin’s cock as he strokes his own dick against every curve and ridge.


Brian moves his head slightly, bringing his mouth to Justin’s ear where his tongue darts out, licking and teasing in that way that just magnifies everything Justin is feeling. His hot breath blows across the surface making Justin arch his back and rub harder into Brian.


Brian’s fingers continue to grasp at the handfuls of hair as his hips work hard, increasing the pace and pressure of his cock against Justin’s. Brian idly thinks about letting one hand wander down to Justin’s ass, slip inside his pants and finger fuck him, just to add that extra edge. But the thought is only fleeting, and it fades quickly as his fingers tangle further into Justin’s hair. Justin’s increased panting tells him that he won’t need the extra stimulation anyway. And then Brian groans as Justin’s fingers push more firmly against his own hole.


“I’m close, Brian,” Justin gasps as he licks and nips at the salty damp skin of Brian’s neck.


“Mmmm, fuck. You’re not… the only one.” Brian’s voice is tense with his growing need to come. His fingers remain entwined in Justin’s hair as his grip there tightens. He’s panting heavily into Justin’s ear as he continues to rub his face against the soft silkiness.


Justin feels it then. That tingling sensation that starts in his balls and spreads, signaling that he’s gone too far to hold back now. He pushes hard into Brian, increasing the movement of his hips and tensing his legs around Brian’s thighs. At the same time, his fingers push harder into Brian’s crack, putting more pressure on his hole and pulling another low moan from Brian.


Brian feels the inevitability now, too, as he increases his thrusts in time with Justin’s, his fingers curling harder, and making a tangled mess of Justin’s blond mane. The tactile sensations only serve to increase the mounting need to come as he gives in, and lets go. His orgasm hits him hard, spiraling out from his tightening balls in wave after wave of intense pleasure, his entire body shaking as he buries his face further, rubbing into Justin’s hair.


Justin’s coming now, too, the feel of Brian’s hands as they clutch and knot his hair, pulling him over the edge as his cock pulses inside his pants.


Brian sags against him slightly as Justin drops his legs and slowly pulls his hands from Brian’s jeans. He softly caresses the skin as he slides them out. Brian’s hands remain curled in Justin’s hair as he struggles to catch his breath.


They stay quiet for a minute, not really needing to say anything. Justin finally looks down, and idly brings his fingers to the wetness on the front of Brian’s pants. He smiles as he rubs across the damp stain. Brian snorts out a small laugh, and wonders for a moment why it is he didn’t just turn Justin around and fuck him. But he knows there are far more ways to get off than just fucking, and he idly admits to taking great pleasure in exploring that variety with Justin.


“Looks like we’ll need to stop back at the loft before hitting Babylon, unless you feel like advertising the details of our pre-clubbing activities.”


Brian glances down then and watches Justin’s fingers circle the evidence, playing over the wet bulge that represents his softening dick. “Yeah,” he says. “We’ll go back.” A stray thought escapes that maybe they won’t head out again after returning to the loft.


He’s loosened his grip on Justin’s hair and pulls back so that he can bring their lips together. He realizes that they haven’t kissed since this started, and he spends a few minutes making up for that fact. But he continues to card his fingers through Justin’s soft and slightly dampened mop.


“What are you going to do when I get it cut?” Justin’s voice sounds gently amused.


Brian laughs quietly, ready to feign ignorance if not voice an outright denial that he cares at all, and then his expression softens as he looks at Justin, the moment unwinding between them before Brian answers.


“Don’t,” he says. “Not yet.”


Brian’s eyes follow the play of his fingers through Justin’s hair, watching as the color shimmers and changes under the glow of the studio lighting.


“OK,” Justin murmurs, rubbing into Brian’s touch. “Not yet.” His soft smile accompanies the promise, and Brian smiles back.