testdog65 (testdog65) wrote in qaf_challenges, @ 2007-06-03 18:08:00 |
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Original poster: _alicesprings
Title: Home
Written By: not_yet_defined
Timeline: Future
Rating: R for language and minor sexual content
Summary: Shameless Schmoopy Fluff
Justin was wired. He should have been exhausted, it was almost 2 am and He’d been busy non-stop, sleeping little, and trying to prepare for the show that had opened earlier in the evening. It was his third solo, but his first at a gallery of this caliber.
It had been a huge fucking success. The buzz had been great, the critics had raved and 8 of the pieces had sold before the show even opened. It wasn’t an opening night sell-out, neither he, nor his agent, nor the owner gallery had expected it to be, but by the time the evening was over, all three of them had a good feeling everything would sell by the time the show closed.
Usually, after a successful opening all Justin wanted to do was hit the clubs, fucking fly on some E, dance with Brian if he’d made it to the show, dance with strangers if he hadn’t, and finish off the evening with someone getting the shit fucked out of them. Exactly who that someone was also sort of depended on the presence of Brian as well, but Justin preferred not to dwell on that. Tonight he had admitted to himself that his mind had already moved past that sequence of events and was already sharply focused on the plans for the morning. He’d had zero fucking desire to spend what was left of this evening in a noisy club where you couldn’t hear yourself, much less what anyone else had to say, cruising strangers, and lost in an illegal substance induced haze.
He had realized several sets of eyes were trained on him waiting for an answer. He shook his head, and was met with a chorus of protests from all but two.
One of the two, Jack, had finally spoken up, “The show was awesome Justin, you’ve gotta at least let us buy you one celebratory drink.” He’d given Justin his pouty, puppy dog look, which had never really worked on Justin before, and pleaded, “Come on. It’s still early. I know you; you are all ready set for tomorrow. Besides you have the whole fucking day. Leaving at 10 instead of 8 won’t kill you guys.”
“It’s true. We don’t have to rush,” the other formerly silent party had agreed.
Justin caved, “I’m willing to consider options that contain food. I’m fucking starving.”
Brian rolled his eyes, “Shocking.”
Justin had seemed intent on lingering as long as possible at the restaurant, and Brian did his best not to focus on how fucking bored out of his mind he was after sitting there listening to old stories in which he was not involved, and sentimental bullshit for two hours. When everyone had left except for Justin, Jack, and himself, Brian excused himself for a cigarette and pointedly announced he’d wait for Justin outside.
Back at the hotel Brian glanced at the clock, 1:52am. Justin was practically vibrating with energy, and Brian frowned a bit unable to determine if it was from excitement or nerves. They needed to get some fucking sleep, and Brian briefly had the crazy thought that he might not actually have enough energy to wear the kid out, then pushed that insane line of thinking from his mind.
“Let’s go.”
“Huh?”
“Let’s go. Now.”
“If by ‘Let’s go’ you mean, ‘let’s go to bed so I can fuck you into the mattress’, then yes.”
“Brian. I mean let’s go, let’s go.”
“Sunshine, it’s two fucking am. What’s the rush?”
“I’m too energized to sleep, I might as well be driving if I’m this awake.”
“I can think of much better ways to expend your energy. And there is no fucking way I’m letting you drive in the city.”
“It’s after 2, by the time we hit the road it’ll be nearly 3, very little traffic, I think I can handle it. Which is also why it’s a good reason to leave now regardless of whose driving, no traffic. You fucking hate traffic. And I’ll blow you in the car.”
“How are you going to blow me if you’re driving?”
“Chances are you aren’t actually going to let me drive, regardless of my logic or clean driving record. But I have enough energy to keep you awake with my incessant chatter and blow jobs.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Brian stalked towards Justin, and slid one arm around his waist and one behind his back, pulling Justin tightly against him. He paused a moment before kissing him when Justin leaned backwards as far as he could and stated, “You can’t dissuade me with sex,” with such firmness and sincerity that Brian had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out right. He kissed him lightly, and dragged his tongue along Justin’s lower lip. Then, just before he began his full-on attack and frenzied search for Justin’s tonsils, Brian whispered against his mouth, “Yes. I. Can.”
As Brian’s tongue slipped between his lips, and rhythmically stroked his own, Justin silently repeated to himself, “Do not succumb to his Ragian powers of mind control, do not succumb to his Ragian powers of mind control, do not succumb….” But the thought was lost in a moan, as Brian’s fingertips brushed against Justin’s hole, and Justin idly wondered how he’d neglected to notice Brian sliding his hand into his pants.
Brian grinned when he felt Justin moan into his mouth and pulled back, using his teeth to briefly take Justin’s lower lip with him before letting it go. He gazed at him with a questioningly raised eyebrow.
Justin sighed in defeat, but somehow managed to look not at all unhappy about his unwilling surrender. “Yeah…you can.”
Brian laughed and commenced walking Justin backwards towards the bed as his lips and tongue navigated their way along Justin’s jaw and neck. Justin was muttering something about his Ragian manipulations and superhumanly talented tongue, but he was also unbuttoning Brian’s shirt, and since they were clearly headed towards the destination Brian had in mind, he ignored the mutters. They were stroking his ego in a nice way, but he decided pointing this out to Justin might be counterproductive at this juncture.
An hour or so later Brian was trying to sink into much needed sleep, but even with his own eyes closed he could feel the intensity emanating from the blue ones currently affixed in his direction.
“Go to sleep.”
“Can’t.”
“Yes. You. Can.”
“Your mind control powers only work when they are trying to get me to do things I actually want to do.”
“Go sketch.”
“Not in the mood.”
“Jesus fucking Christ Justin. We are not leaving at fucking 3am or whatever the fuck time it is. So go find something else to do other then staring at me so I can get some goddamn sleep.”
“How ‘bout if I go drive. And you can sleep…in the car.”
“How ‘bout you just stay here in New York and I drive back without you?”
Justin sighed and got out of bed while Brian rolled over on to his stomach and buried his head in his pillow.
Far too short a time later he woke up to the whisper of his name, the feel of a kiss on his shoulder and the scent of coffee in the air. He squinted up at a fully clothed Justin sitting next to him on the bed with a pair of jeans and one of Brian’s white t-shirts folded on his lap.
“The car is out front, everything is ready to go. We are already checked out. I have a latte for you, if you want it. All you have to do is put these and your shoes on, stumble down to the lobby, crawl into the passenger seat and pass out.”
Brian glared at Justin, grabbed his clothes without a word and disappeared into the bathroom.
Twenty-five minutes later Brian was finishing his second latte and exiting the Holland tunnel into Jersey, while Justin snored quietly from the passenger seat.
He had to admit it was kind of nice to get out of the city at this time of night or morning or whatever the fuck time it was…very little traffic.
* * * * *
They hit Easton, PA in less then an hour and Brian stopped to get another coffee and piss. Fucking pain in my ass little twat, Brian thought when Justin didn’t even stir. As he got back into Justin’s recently acquired, ugly as shit, suv-wannabe he felt tightness in his chest that he wanted to believe was caused by apprehension or at least annoyance, but it really wasn’t. As he glanced at a sleeping Justin drooling on the interior, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards in spite of himself and he reached over and ran his fingers through the soft blond hair.
Two hours later Justin stretched, rubbed his eyes and smiled brightly at Brian.
“Where are we?”
“Middle of fucking nowhere…about 45 miles west of Harrisburg.”
“Shit, how long have I been asleep?”
“I don’t know, three hours or so.”
“Fuck, sorry.”
Brian shrugged, “Whatever, saved me three hours of listening to your incessant chatter. Although, you owe me at least 6 blow jobs.”
“You like it when I ramble on and on. Six?“
“One every half hour.”
Justin snorted, “Yeah right old man.”
“Fuck. You.”
“K,” Justin glanced at a passing road sign and grinned, “Wasn’t there a diner just before Hustontown with a fairly clean and spacious men’s room?”
Brian nodded, “Mmm, surprisingly sturdy sink too if I recall.”
“And killer waffles,” Justin sighed happily.
Brian rolled his eyes, and directed the car on to the exit ramp. Justin thoughts flashed back 8 years ago to the first time Brian had driven him home from New York. No, not home. Debbie’s. This was the first time he was going home, not to Debbie’s, not to Brian’s, but to his fucking home, his and Brian’s. His stomach did a little flip and he reminded himself that unlike last time he didn’t need to be nervous about what was coming next.
Inside the diner Justin started for the nearest open booth, changed his mind before Brian could do it for him, grabbed Brian’s hand and headed towards the men’s room instead.
Occupied
“Fuck.”
Brian tilted his head towards the ladies’ room and raised an eyebrow.
“I think we can wait 30 seconds.”
“What if the guy inside is taking a giant dump?”
“Oh. My. God. Way to kill the mood.”
Brian pulled Justin against him with one hand and ran the palm of his other hand over Justin’s almost fully hard cock. “I’m pretty sure I can revive it.”
The door opened and a big burly man emerged, Justin blushed, and Brian felt no desire to stop cupping Justin’s dick, so he didn’t. The man smirked at them but continued past without comment.
Ten minutes later Justin and Brian had determined that although 8 years older, both the sink and the countertop surrounding it were still structurally sound. As Brian ate a bite of whipped cream and strawberry covered waffle off of Justin’s plate, he admitted that the waffles were still pretty fucking good too.
Brian fought the urge to yawn as they exited the diner, took one look at the hideous Subaru Outback that Justin had bought because, “it’s big enough to fit most of my pieces but gets decent gas mileage too, and I can afford it,” and decided he didn’t particularly care if Justin crashed it. He tossed the keys at Justin, realizing after he watched them bounce off Justin’ chest and hit the ground that he probably should have verbalized the decision.
Justin briefly rubbed the spot where they hit, but laughed out an “ow,” and asked, “what the fuck?” as he bent over to pick them up.
“Meant to say ‘catch’.”
“You want me to drive?”
Brian shrugged, “Some demented twink took advantage of me until 3am and then woke me up at 4 to drive six hours. Tired.”
“Not a twink, but the rest is loosely accurate.”
“Besides maybe we’ll get lucky and you’ll crash the soccer-mom-mobile.”
“Brian! It’s not a soccer mom car.”
“It so is.”
With that Brian leaned the seat back and closed his eyes.
Justin plugged his ipod in, set it on shuffle and felt the nervous flutter in the pit of his stomach again.
It might possibly be a soccer mom car, Justin thought while trying to ignore the flutter, but fuck it - he liked his car.
He’d bought it on impulse a few weeks ago. The day after he had told Brian he was coming home and Brian had just said “Ok” and asked when. They both agreed it didn’t make sense to go before the show. Justin was going to have the break the lease as it was, so it didn’t really matter when he gave up the apartment, and he sure as shit wasn’t going to wait five months until it expired. He’d started packing the moment he’d decided he was ready to go back. There were a few pieces not in the show or not finished that he didn’t particularly want packed in a moving van, and he was going to need a car once he got home anyway. This one would do for what he needed, and the price was right, so he bought it. He hadn’t heard the end of it since.
He let his thoughts wander while he drove and lingered on why he had been so anxious about getting home. Right. Now.
It was like once the decision had been made, waiting even one second more had become excruciating. He’d grown to love his life in New York, but he loved Brian more, and five years of snatched moments was fucking enough. So he’d spent the last week in his apartment digging through boxes for shit, and counting the minutes. He had an agent, he wasn’t exactly an “established” artist, but he was known well enough that he could paint from home and get away with spending a couple weeks here and there in New York when it was necessary.
It wasn’t until the boxes were gone, the Outback was packed and he checked into the hotel that he started to feel a little nervous. If the show went badly, moving right now might not be the greatest idea ever.
But Brian had just said, “Ok, when?” So he thought it was the right time. And Justin thought it was the right time. And the show had not gone badly, so it was the right time, right?
He’d declared he was coming home twice before, when things were hard, when he was tired of the struggle, when he was fucking lonely. The first time was less then a year after he’d moved. Brian told him, “No fucking way, you’re just tired and lonely and I’ll be there in two weeks so get some sleep and get the fuck over it.”
The second time was a little over a year ago. As Justin remembered the conversation he still felt a twinge of guilt. Brian had said nothing when Justin told him. Literally. Justin said, “I’m coming home,” and waited. And nothing. Finally after a couple minutes of listening to each other breathing Justin broke the silence, “It’s really not fair of me to ask you to tell me not to come home, is it?”
“It’s really not.”
“Sorry.”
“Sorry’s bullshit.”
“Still coming this weekend?”
“Yeah.”
“Later.”
“Later.”
This time was different. This time they both knew it was right. “So stop being a freak and looking for drama where there isn’t any,” Justin told himself.
He listened to Brian’s wheeze for a few minutes and relaxed. He turned up the volume a bit and sang along quietly with the music.
Justin was surprised when he crossed the border into West Virginia. He had to have been driving for a couple of hours, felt like minutes. He stopped the car and Brian stretched and raised the seat back into an upright position.
Justin’s mouth involuntarily broke into a huge fucking grin. His stomach flipped again. He’d forgotten that deliriously giddy could feel oddly similar to nervous as shit.
Brian laughed at Justin’s not even remotely concealed joy and graced Justin with a rare full-on eye-crinkling smile of his own.
Brian leaned over to kiss Justin, pausing just a moment to whisper against his lips, “Welcome home.”