Britin (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} _alicesprings) wrote in ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} qaf_challenges,@ 2008-02-25 19:14:00 |
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THE REALITY OF EMPTY SPACES
Title: The Reality of Empty Spaces
Written By:testdog65
Timeline: Post-306
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst
Summary: This is a gap-filler which picks up directly at the end of 306 when Justin is drinking at Woody's after leaving Ethan's concert. He has had a brief encounter with Brian but ends up sitting alone watching a burning match as the scene fades to black.
Author's Notes: A huge and heartfelt thank you to my beta,xie_xie_xie!
Theme: What If... Challenge
Justin continues to watch the flicker of the match flame as its small pyre of orange light distorts the air in a shimmer of heat. He's been trying to clear his mind all night, but the universe is conspiring against him. The swirl of his thoughts form incongruous patterns as he raises his glass to his lips, remembering too late that it's empty.
Justin imagines the warm weight of a hand on his shoulder before the actual contact. He thinks about not turning around, but only after he's already done it. Brian's expression gives almost nothing away, but there's something in the set of his jaw that creates a rush in Justin's chest, and the cold air and rough scrape of brick against the fabric of his jacket register before he's even aware that he's left the warmth of the bar and the solid reality of his stool.
Brian's lips on his are warm, insistent and urgent in a way that gives Justin all the opportunity he needs for an arguable defense. The rough silk slide of Brian's hair through his fingers grounds him in the moment as Brian presses against him in full body contact. They're fused from knee to groin to chest to mouth, and Justin parts his lips and feels himself shatter and re-form at the familiar taste and touch and sweep of Brian's tongue.
The murky darkness of night surrounds them like a veil, and Justin uses the metaphor as a blanket of protection against the last shred of reticence that he's only now realizing he doesn't feel. Time shifts and doubles back, and Justin isn't sure when the kiss ended, but he loses the thread of the thought as he feels Brian, now behind him, lean the full warm weight of his body against his back. Justin's hands are flat against the coarse surface of the wall and he barely registers the scrape of silver against brick before his focus shifts to the familiar hardness of Brian's cock against the curve of his ass. The only thing that separates them now is denim.
They're both breathing hard, and Justin catches the ghost of an exhale against the skin of his neck just before the brush of Brian's fingers push his hair aside. Brian's lips are surprisingly gentle on his skin, and Justin stretches into the tug of Brian's hand, now entwined in his hair.
Another shift and Brian is sliding Justin's pants below his hips and running his hands along the newly exposed skin. Justin recognizes the need in Brian's touch, and tries to stay with the moment. But it slips away like water, and suddenly he's arching back against the cool slickness of Brian's fingers. And before he can fully appreciate the pressure and stretch, he feels the blunt hardness of Brian's cock pressing forward with unrelenting force. The fullness overtakes him, and there's nothing left in his world except strong arms, gasping breath, hard cock and burning need. Justin rocks back into the urgency of Brian's thrusts and turns to meet his lips for the kiss that completes their connection.
He moans as Brian shortens his thrusts, barely pulling back before pushing deeper still, hitting every one of the tight, hot, needy places that Justin has almost forgotten. Brian's touching all of him now with skin and breath and lips and cock, and Justin can't remember anything else but this moment, this reality, this present tense of need. Everything else in the world is as lost to him as his own name, until he hears the whisper of the word as Brian breathes it out on an exhale of desire. "Justin."
And suddenly it's all too much when he feels the final push and swell of Brian's cock as his arms tighten and his breath hitches and his hips falter. Justin answers with his own shudder and pulse and final gasp as the intense electric need of release uncoils from the core of him in repeating waves. He feels the brush of Brian's fingers through his hair as he turns his head into a kiss that isn't there.
The harsh sting of heat registers a split second before Justin blows sharply on the flame, extinguishing the match as the sounds and sights and stale warm air of the bar abruptly reform his reality. He blinks against the sudden brightness and fights a losing battle to hang onto a moment that's already receded beyond his ability to recall it with any kind of clarity.
Justin gives a final, absentminded clink of silver against glass before he tosses a few bills on the shining surface of the bar and heads out into the cold, still press of night, alone.
Title: The Reality of Empty Spaces
Written By:
testdog65 Timeline: Post-306
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst
Summary: This is a gap-filler which picks up directly at the end of 306 when Justin is drinking at Woody's after leaving Ethan's concert. He has had a brief encounter with Brian but ends up sitting alone watching a burning match as the scene fades to black.
Author's Notes: A huge and heartfelt thank you to my beta,
xie_xie_xie!Theme: What If... Challenge
Justin continues to watch the flicker of the match flame as its small pyre of orange light distorts the air in a shimmer of heat. He's been trying to clear his mind all night, but the universe is conspiring against him. The swirl of his thoughts form incongruous patterns as he raises his glass to his lips, remembering too late that it's empty.
Justin imagines the warm weight of a hand on his shoulder before the actual contact. He thinks about not turning around, but only after he's already done it. Brian's expression gives almost nothing away, but there's something in the set of his jaw that creates a rush in Justin's chest, and the cold air and rough scrape of brick against the fabric of his jacket register before he's even aware that he's left the warmth of the bar and the solid reality of his stool.
Brian's lips on his are warm, insistent and urgent in a way that gives Justin all the opportunity he needs for an arguable defense. The rough silk slide of Brian's hair through his fingers grounds him in the moment as Brian presses against him in full body contact. They're fused from knee to groin to chest to mouth, and Justin parts his lips and feels himself shatter and re-form at the familiar taste and touch and sweep of Brian's tongue.
The murky darkness of night surrounds them like a veil, and Justin uses the metaphor as a blanket of protection against the last shred of reticence that he's only now realizing he doesn't feel. Time shifts and doubles back, and Justin isn't sure when the kiss ended, but he loses the thread of the thought as he feels Brian, now behind him, lean the full warm weight of his body against his back. Justin's hands are flat against the coarse surface of the wall and he barely registers the scrape of silver against brick before his focus shifts to the familiar hardness of Brian's cock against the curve of his ass. The only thing that separates them now is denim.
They're both breathing hard, and Justin catches the ghost of an exhale against the skin of his neck just before the brush of Brian's fingers push his hair aside. Brian's lips are surprisingly gentle on his skin, and Justin stretches into the tug of Brian's hand, now entwined in his hair.
Another shift and Brian is sliding Justin's pants below his hips and running his hands along the newly exposed skin. Justin recognizes the need in Brian's touch, and tries to stay with the moment. But it slips away like water, and suddenly he's arching back against the cool slickness of Brian's fingers. And before he can fully appreciate the pressure and stretch, he feels the blunt hardness of Brian's cock pressing forward with unrelenting force. The fullness overtakes him, and there's nothing left in his world except strong arms, gasping breath, hard cock and burning need. Justin rocks back into the urgency of Brian's thrusts and turns to meet his lips for the kiss that completes their connection.
He moans as Brian shortens his thrusts, barely pulling back before pushing deeper still, hitting every one of the tight, hot, needy places that Justin has almost forgotten. Brian's touching all of him now with skin and breath and lips and cock, and Justin can't remember anything else but this moment, this reality, this present tense of need. Everything else in the world is as lost to him as his own name, until he hears the whisper of the word as Brian breathes it out on an exhale of desire. "Justin."
And suddenly it's all too much when he feels the final push and swell of Brian's cock as his arms tighten and his breath hitches and his hips falter. Justin answers with his own shudder and pulse and final gasp as the intense electric need of release uncoils from the core of him in repeating waves. He feels the brush of Brian's fingers through his hair as he turns his head into a kiss that isn't there.
The harsh sting of heat registers a split second before Justin blows sharply on the flame, extinguishing the match as the sounds and sights and stale warm air of the bar abruptly reform his reality. He blinks against the sudden brightness and fights a losing battle to hang onto a moment that's already receded beyond his ability to recall it with any kind of clarity.
Justin gives a final, absentminded clink of silver against glass before he tosses a few bills on the shining surface of the bar and heads out into the cold, still press of night, alone.
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