Author’s Note: Assume several years post-513 with Brian & Justin in a *gasp* monogamous relationship. Not really my idea of a likely post-canon scenario, but its PWP so what the hell.
I caught his eye across the crowded room, jerking my head to the right, in the general direction of the stairs that led to a loft area that housed the private studio of the Taylor West Gallery’s owner and sometime resident artist.</p>
It had been eight weeks since I’d had my dick in his ass, and the timing of the grand opening of his West Coast gallery had threatened to turn an already unacceptable situation into a fucking catastrophe.
I watched him head toward the spiral staircase letting my eyes feast on the ass I would soon be mounting, as its owner mounted the stairs slowly enough that I knew that he knew I was leering at his assets.
Deciding that two could play the teasing game, I waited until he reached the top before I stalked across the room, giving him a good view of my long legs encased in perfectly fitted Prada slacks, knowing full well he would be watching me hungrily from the shadows of the studio that was to be his home away from home.
I reached the landing and grabbed him by the arms, pushing him swiftly backward until his back was to the wall; a darkly tinted glass wall that gave a panoramic view of the crowded gallery below us, while almost completely hiding us from sight. To anyone with extremely sharp eyesight, we would appear to be abstract shapes moving behind the nearly opaque glass.
“I like your new gallery, Sunshine.” I praised his newest endeavor as I slammed my lips down upon his without waiting for a reply. His hands reached for me, grabbing the back of my neck, forcing my lips to stay joined with his, pushing his entire body against mine until he was able to spin me around, so that my back was now to the wall.
He released my head, and we pulled apart to catch a gasping breath, eyeing each other warily, unsure for the moment just who was going to take control.
“I’d give you a private tour,” he said with an evil grin as he ground his hard cock against mine, “but something came up.”
I reached between us and slid my hand beneath his waistband, smearing the pre-cum I found on his tip across the head before giving his dick a few firm strokes. “I can see that you are otherwise occupied, Taylor, so I’ll just leave you my calling card.” He moaned out a shaky breath as my fingers dipped lower to caress his balls.
The time for conversation was officially done as far as I was concerned, and the only place I was interested in touring at the moment was his sweet, hot, tight ass. I loosened his belt and opened his fly, totally approving of his lack of briefs as I slid the soft material of his pants below his ass, and urged him to face forward against the glass once again.
He arched his neck gracefully and I was predictably distracted, pausing to bury my face into his neck as I released my own erection and shrugged off my jacket. I reached around him and cupped his balls in one hand, his leaking dick in the other, pressing my own cock into his crack, rutting myself against him mindlessly, totally consumed by the touch, and smell, and taste of him.
I took a generous amount of his pre-cum and pushed two slickened fingers into his hole, his muffled shout no doubt causing a few heads to turn curiously in the gallery beneath us. I could tell he was just as ready to blow as I was; his need for a good stiff dick equal to my own desperate desire to provide one for him.
I guided myself into him as slowly as I could, since I was in take-no-fucking-prisoners mode after our several month dry spell. He whispered that he loved me as I began to thrust; the heat and the smoothness of my naked cock sliding within him nearly causing me to shoot my wad after only a few strokes.
He urged me to fuck him harder and faster, tightening his ass and squeezing my cock, grunting in satisfaction as he felt my dick pulsing, filling his hole with my jizz. I found myself repeating his name, my hand full of his warm come as he shot his own load into my palm, with enough excess spunk to paint the glass before him with a very unique Justin Taylor original.
We took a moment to catch our breath before I pulled out and dropped to my knees, needing to taste my seed as it dripped slowly from his ass. He reached behind to gently pet my hair, letting out a tired moan as I continued to rim him.
“That was so fucking hot, Brian!” He pulled me up and wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his head on my chest contentedly. “I can’t believe you fucked me over there.” He gestured to the glass wall and the come that was slowly dripping toward the floor.
“It’s bad luck if you don’t christen a new business venture with a delicious and expensive liquid.” I smirked at him as he rolled his eyes at my pathetic attempt at humor.
“That’s champagne, you freak.” He couldn’t help but add, in his eternal need to provide useless information to a person who would just end up punishing his perfect ass for it later. Come to think of it, that’s probably exactly why he continued to do it after all these years.
“So, it would appear your West Coast debut is a big, fat, fucking success, Sunshine.” I wrapped my fingers gently around the nape of his neck, pulling him close enough that I could press a kiss to his temple. “I’m fucking proud of you.”
He beamed up at me, trying not to look too smug, but I had trained him well, and a little arrogance never hurt anybody anyway.
His smile dimmed slightly, and he caressed my cheek as we shared a look that spoke volumes between us. “I really missed you, you know. No more long term separations?” He fluttered his lashes at me before pressing his lips to mine and whispering, “Please?”
He was a shameless twat, but he was mine, and I proceeded to seal my end of our little deal by fucking him all night long.
It was the ultimate binding Kinney contract.