vamphile (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} vamphile) wrote in ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} qaf_drabbles,@ 2007-12-23 15:18:00 |
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| Entry tags: | author: vamphile, challenge #44: crack fic, epic series: hustler!j/whore in a hoody |
Whore In A Hoody
Title: Hustler!Justin XXXIII (Whore in a Hoody)
Author: Vamphile
Condom(s): 7 To Justin 4 To Brian
|Hustler!Justin | II | III | IV| V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV | XVI | XVII | XVIII | XIX | XX | XXI | XXII | XXIII | XXIV | XXV | XXVI | XXVII | XXVIII | XXIX | XXX | XXXI | XXXII |
Hustler Justin XXXIII
Whore In A Hoody
I wake up and he’s wrapped around me. Occasionally he whimpers in his sleep but he doesn’t fully wake up 'til almost noon. He smiles at me sheepishly, pulling away. I just keep my arm around him. “He hated when I was too clingy.”
“Did he?”
He nods against my chest. “Sometimes I slept in the practice room so that he wouldn’t have to deal with me.”
“You chose to?”
His forehead wrinkles. “Not really, it just seemed…”
I kiss his forehead. “Let’s get showered and get something to eat.”
It’s a while before we get out of the shower.
~~~352~~~
When I’m getting dressed I think about what he said. It’s weird. I remember a lot of things being my decision but when he asks me about them I realize that maybe they were Isaac’s. There must be something wrong with my memory. Writing it all down might be a good idea. I keep getting confused about how things happened. He kisses the back of my neck. My hair’s still wet. “What are you thinking about?”
I smile. “You.”
He rolls his eyes and we go to the diner.
Debbie smiles at us when we sit down. “I knew it!”
~~~353~~~
Debbie doesn’t know a fucking thing. I grimace and shake my head. She just fills our coffee cups and laughs. Maybe she knows more than I think. Michael comes in and pushes me over to sit next to me.
“Michael, Justin, Justin, Michael.”
He nods. “Treating them to breakfast too? You’re getting soft in your old age.”
I shake my head and Debbie kisses Michael. He’s too busy complaining about the lipstick to want any more details on Justin.
Michael’s chatter fills the booth. He’s talking about fat Marcie from work. Justin is inhaling his pancakes. I drink my coffee.
~~~354~~~
Michael is talking to Brian; he barely seems to notice me, which is fine. When I finish I get up to leave. Brian reaches his hand out, stopping me. “We’ve got things to do.”
“We do?”
He nods and drops money on the table, prodding Michael who looks at him oddly but lets him out of the booth. “Will I see you later?”
Brian kisses Michael on the lips. “Of course.”
Debbie brings Michael his eggs and we slip out, avoiding further commentary.
“Where are we going?”
Brian shrugs. “Anywhere you want.”
“You won’t want to go there.”
“Try me.”
~~~355~~~
A museum? I shake my head but I did leave it up to him.
He’s captivated. “I’ve wanted to come back here for so long.”
“Come back?”
He nods, engrossed by the paintings in a new exhibit. “We came here on a sixth grade field trip.”
He’s lived in the city his whole life and never been back? He keeps moving, as if he has to see everything today.
“Justin. Slow down. We can come back. you can come back.”
He flashes that smile when he realizes it’s true. “Whenever I want.”
I nod. “Anytime it’s open. Don’t break in.”
~~~356~~~
We move on to a new photo exhibit. ”Picturing Childhood: Pictorialist Family Photography” I freeze.
They don’t all look happy. Some of them look downright miserable. I wonder what happened to them. I reach out to touch a photo of a boy who looks about twelve. Brian touches my hand and I pull away. When we’re finally in another room I feign interest in the impressionists. Brian faces me. His finger under my chin, so our eyes meet.
“Okay?” I nod but I know he’s not buying it.
“Want to get out of here?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
~~~357~~~
It wasn’t my favorite show either. Pictures of families, little kids. You either feel bad for them, wonder why they’re so fucking happy, or realize they’re probably dead now. Something hit him harder than that though. I sit next to him and he just stares at the Monet, zoning out. “My mom had a framed print of this. I used to stare at it for hours. I bought one and put it in the practice room, but Isaac took it down. He said it was a crutch.”
I pull him to me. “We’ll buy one today.”
He shakes his head.
~~~358~~~
He means well but he doesn’t understand. “Let’s go.”
Brian nods and we leave. “I still want to come back.”
He stops me at the front desk and buys me a membership. “Now you can, whenever you want.”
I smile and refuse to cry. We head back to my apartment. Once we’re there I sit on the floor and look up at him. “It’s like, all of a sudden, nothing makes any sense.”
He nods. “Reality hurts.”
“But my reality made sense.”
“But it wasn’t reality.”
“I want it back.”
“I know.”
He pulls me onto the sofa with him.
~~~359~~~
He needs to talk to Peter, maybe every day, or twice a week, or at least once. He’s starting to break down and that’s good, but I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.
He shakes his head when I mention it. “I’m not crazy.”
“You’re not sane.”
“Brian.”
“You’re not. And this new reality, he can help you process it.”
“I don’t want to process it. I want it to go away.”
“It won’t. It’s real. There will be things that remind of that every day.”
“Not if I don’t leave the apartment.”
“Is that really what you want?”
~~~360~~~
I have to think about his question for a minute. When I lived with Isaac I only left to see clients. It wasn’t so bad. I had what I needed. Isaac loved me. He did. His way of showing it may not have been conventional but he wouldn’t spend the kind of time with me if he didn’t love me. He helped me practice so I could do my best, be the best that I could be. Brian’s hugging me and I close my eyes. I just wish he’d stop asking me to be so independent. “Brian, fuck me. Please."
~~~361~~~
I pull back to see his eyes. He’s here, present, hurting. I remove his clothes slowly, checking at every step to make sure he hasn’t disappeared. He doesn’t. He clings to me like a lifeline but he doesn’t go blank. I lean back on the sofa and let him ride me. He’s less hesitant about it now. He puts the condom on with his mouth. Leaving my cock spit slicked and ready. He lowers himself onto me and moves my hand to his cock. He’s so beautiful when he’s like this. His focus is on nothing but his own pleasure.
Cont...