|happier_bunny (happier_bunny) wrote in qaf_scavenger,|
@ 2009-10-30 16:39:00
|Entry tags:||2009 fall contest|
Post # 6
Title: Sunset On The Ground
Special thanks to florida_minxie for word-warring, hand-holding and encouragement. And as always to my Bitches, zaipixie and firehead30 for cheerleading. Last, but not least, to happier_bunny for the bunny that got me started.
I thanked my ride and turned to the outer door. I dug around in my messenger bag for the key, finding it near the bottom.
That should have been my first clue.
I took the elevator up, reminding myself to tell Brian to tell the super to fix the fucking thing before I died a screaming, horrible death. Mangled twink at the bottom of the shaft. Okay, that was pretty gruesome.
I turned the lock and shoved the door open to the loft, stepped inside and took a deep breath.
Then, I began coughing from the dust that I’d inadvertently stirred up coming in.
The loft was empty. Like, totally empty.
Even the bed was gone.
What the fuck?
I immediately went to the fridge; why, I’ll never know. It’s not like there was ever anything in there, but I had to start somewhere, and that usually meant starting with my stomach.
I ran to the bathroom.
Okay, obviously, Brian was redecorating. Or something. But that didn’t explain why everything was gone. Like the bed.
Justin, get your brain off the bed.
I snatched my cell out of my pocket and called Brian.
“Where the fuck is the bed?!?!”
I was actually having a fairly productive day. I’d pissed off Cynthia when she came in with only one triple-shot latte. She told me to fuck off and send one of the lackeys for it.
She actually growled at me when I asked her if that wasn’t what I’d hired her for.
Then, I scared Theodore, which always made my day. Well, who the fuck told him that I’d want to see the financials before coffee?
The only thing I do before coffee is fuck.
Only if Justin is around. Because at least he’ll get up and make me coffee first. I guess all those years working at the diner paid off, changing his body clock, so that he actually wakes up before noon.
I was feeling restless, and decided to go take it out on the art department. They’d managed to turn out two really good campaigns, and I didn’t want them becoming complacent. My cell vibrated in my pocket, which always gave me a thrill. I looked at the display: Justin.
“Where the fuck is the bed??”
“Ummm…is this a trick question?”
“I’m standing in the middle of an empty loft. The bed is gone, and the fridge is empty!”
“The fridge is always emp…wait, what are you doing in the loft?”
I closed my eyes and rubbed the bridge of my nose. I could feel a headache coming, and it had Justin’s name written all over it.
“Justin…you weren’t supposed to be here until the day after tomorrow.”
“I know. But a guy from the Artist’s Studio was coming here, so I came with him.”
“Is he hot?” I asked, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Justin was here, in Pittsburgh. Two days early.
“He’s forty, Brian!”
“He’s not hot. And he’s straight.”
“That’s what they all say.”
“Brian, will you focus for a second? There’s no furniture or food here! Where is everything?”
“Look, I was just about to go into a meeting. Why don’t you head over to the diner, fill your left leg, and I’ll meet you there, say, an hour or so?”
“Fine. But you got some ‘splainin’ to do, Lucy.”
“You been talking to Emmett again?”
Justin laughed. “Later.”
I snapped the phone closed and sat down heavily.
Fuck. This was gonna cost me a fortune.
I quickly dialed the diner.
“Liberty Diner, Debbie speaking.”
“Deb, it’s Brian.”
“Nothing’s wrong, just…look, Justin showed up two days early. He’s headed your way. Feed him the menu and don’t tell him anything.”
“He doesn’t know about the house?”
“No, and I need it to stay that way.”
“Fine. But this is gonna cost you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I hung up, and screamed for Cynthia and Theodore.
After enduring the indignity of having Deb scrub her lipstick off my face, I sat down and began to order.
“Never mind, baby, I already got it. Double bacon cheeseburger, fries and a large Coke, right?”
“Uh oh, am I becoming predictable like Ted?”
“No, I heard your stomach growling when you walked in. Don’t you eat in New York?”
“When I get a chance. I’ve been really busy.”
“Hold that thought, let me get this in.” Deb turned and yelled my order to the cook, then sat across from me. “Okay, now. How are you? Really?”
“Fine, really. I’ve been working, and-“
“DEB!” someone shouted. “I need cream!”
“What, you milk your boyfriend dry? On the counter!” she hollered back. “Go ahead, baby, what were you saying?”
“Just that I’m working, and I found stu-“
“DEB! Where’s my order?”
“It’s gonna be up your ass if you yell at me one more time!” Debbie rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you’d think they’d know by now how this place works!”
“You should go, we can talk later.”
“How long are you in town for?”
“Sunday. Dinner. Lasagna.”
“I don’t know if…” I trailed off as the look of future ass-kicking shone from her eyes. “Okay. Dinner. Sunday. But I don’t know if Brian-“
“He’ll be there. You think he’s gonna let your ass wander that far without him?”
I laughed. “True.” I heard the bell ding at the window, and Deb went to grab my food.
“Here you go, baby. Does your mom know you’re here?”
“Not yet, don’t tell her, okay? I want to see Brian first.”
“Of course you do. Tell me something…how can you look your mother in the eye with a sore ass?”
She cackled her way back to the counter.
Cynthia was taking her sweet time getting her ass into my office; Theodore, on the other hand, was beating a path to my door. I could hear his shoes slapping the tiles.
It’s good to the king.
I flipped my phone open and called Emmett.
“Brian, hi! I was just about to call you, the –“
“Emmett, shut up. We have an emergency.”
“Did…did you just tell me to shut up?”
“Here…where? In Pittsburgh??”
“Yes, Honeycutt, in Pittsburgh. He went to the loft.”
“Yes, you grasp the severity of the situation. Get your minions to hit the grocery store and stock that fridge ASAP.”
“You’re lucky I’m good in a crisis.”
“No, you’re not. Right now you’re standing in Deb’s kitchen, rummaging around for a pen and paper. It’s in the second drawer next to the stove, by the way.”
“You’re really scary sometimes, you know that?”
“I’m calling the caretaker, get your ass out to the house and supervise.”
“How long do I have, Master Kinney?”
“Two hours, tops.”
“You can do it, I have faith in you.”
“My fee just went up twenty-five percent.”
“What the fuck ever.”
“Oh, and Brian? Don’t call me Honeycutt.”
I turned to my minions.
“Okay. Cynthia, get the caretaker out to the house, tell him to make sure there’s firewood in the hod, and get the landscapers out to leaf blow the grounds-“
“Ummm, Bri, if you’re taking Justin there, don’t you want him to see the grounds all leaf-strewn? He’s an artist, they get off on that kind of thing.”
I started to berate Theodore for daring to usurp my orders, but he had a point. In fact, I was rather impressed. “Theodore, I’m impressed.”
“Well, I just figured that seeing the house in its natural state might deflect from the fact that you moved in there full time without telling him.” He actually patted my shoulder. “Just trying to help, boss.”
I looked at him for a second, wondering when Theodore became so…smart. I shook my head a little, then turned to Cynthia.
“This is gonna cost you, I’m just saying,” she growled.
“Justin always costs me, why should this be any different?”
“Yeah, but this is gonna cost you the price of a pair of Louboutins.”
“Ted can find a way to write them off, can’t you?” She turned that shark smile his way.
“Well, I suppose I can finagle them into the expense account.”
“Theodore, if I get audited –“
“Brian, remember, I know where the bodies are buried.”
Fuck. That was my number one threat with him.
“Cynthia, can you just get this done? Like, yesterday?”
“I’m on it. Come on, Ted, I need the company account numbers.”
Theodore followed her like all men do when they encounter the force that is Cynthia.
Fuck, I’m glad I’m gay. I’d have fallen for her, and she’d have my balls for life. Well, the one I have left, anyway. And she’d only let me have it for pitches.
I love that woman.
What’s a pair of fifteen hundred dollar shoes between friends?
A call from Emmett ten minutes later calmed my nerves even better than the finger of scotch I’d just knocked back. Now, all I needed was my dick buried in Justin’s ass. I grabbed my coat and told Cynthia to hold the fort.
After fending off Debbie’s third offer of lemon bars, Brian finally walked through the door. He looked amazing, long leather coat and shiny black boots. I was hard the second I saw him. He leaned over and kissed me. “Hey.”
I smiled. “Hey.”
“Deb, can I get some service over here?” he yelled over the roar of the lunch crowd.
“Why, are the baths closed?” she sent back.
Brian leaned closer. “So, you couldn’t even wait two days for me to fuck you?”
“It’s been three weeks, Brian. There’s only so much mediocre sex I can take.”
“Well, quit going to that dive that you think it’s so cool.”
“The drinks are cheap and the music’s good.”
“The drinks are watered down and the music’s…okay, the music’s pretty good.”
Debbie made her way to the booth. “Turkey on whole wheat, hold the mayo, and coffee to go? I already sent it back.”
“Sometimes being predictable is a good thing.”
“Yeah, it gets you served faster. Sunshine, sure you don’t want those lemon bars to go?”
“I’m sure, Deb, thanks.”
She pinched my cheek and yelled at some poor shmuck that asked for a spoon. “What, too tired from fucking that you can’t get up and get it yourself?”
I shook my head. “I missed this place.”
“You mean she’s not sending you care packages anymore?”
“Yes, but lemon bars don’t taste very good after three days with the US mail.”
“I’ll get her to FedEx them next time.”
Debbie brought over Brian’s bag, and a bag for me. “For later. You know you’re going to want them.”
Sometimes, there’s no point to arguing with Debbie. “Yes, mother.”
She left more lipstick on me. “Little smart ass.”
“We done? Good.” Brian grabbed my arm and I grabbed my duffle and messenger bags.
I was able to wave briefly to Cynthia, who was yelling at someone on the phone about a liquor delivery. Ted saw me, waved, and ran off to do…something. Brian shoved me ahead of him, closed and locked his office doors, and herded me into his private bathroom.
“Brian, there’s a perfectly good sofa out there.”
“And it’s white. Don’t have time to get the come stains out.”
“Then why did you get a white sofa?” I asked.
He shut me up by shoving his tongue into my mouth. He followed that with shoving my pants down, his lubed fingers into my ass, then his cock. My forehead was protected from bouncing off the wall by his forearm as he pounded inside of me. I reached down to jerk myself, and he slapped my hand away. “Mine,” he growled.
“’Kay,” I panted. He hit my prostate and the only thing that came out of my mouth was “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckBrianFUCK!” That was shorthand for “more, harder, faster.” Luckily, Brian had mastered that class.
I will never get over how tight Justin’s ass is. It’s like…unnaturally tight. Which is why I’d continued fucking it for the last five years. And he hadn’t gotten a haircut since he left, so it was finally getting longer, long enough to twine my fingers into. I never told him, but when he got that buzz cut, I’d get hard from rubbing the stubble. Especially when he was blowing me, and the stubble rubbed the insides of my thighs.
Fuck, that was hot.
I started stroking his cock, and he moaned and dropped his head on my shoulder. I kissed him, and thrust into him harder, his orgasm triggering mine. I leaned my forehead against the nape of his neck, and tried to remember how to breathe. Fuck, I loved his ass. Now, if only I could keep him from asking the wrong questions-
“Seriously, Brian, why is the loft empty?”
-Like those. Sometimes, I wished I could just take his ass with me, and leave the rest of him someplace else.
He’s up to something, I know it. And Cynthia and Ted are in on it. Dammit, I knew I should have stopped by Red Cape first. Michael would have told me everything. He can’t keep a secret to save his life. Maybe I’ll get lucky and Cynthia will need him for something, and I can call Michael.
I can hear him thinking. This is not good. Okay, I need a cover story, something that he’ll…got it.
“Well, if you’d shown up when you were supposed to, you would have walked into a newly decorated loft. New bed, new everything. But no, you had to come early, so now you’ll just have to put up with staying in the hotel with me until it’s done.”
Damn, that was good.
What utter bullshit.
“Brian, more importantly than the bed, your clothes are gone. All of them. You’re telling me that you have your entire wardrobe at the hotel with you?”
Okay, maybe not so good. That’s what I get for falling for a genius. I couldn’t find someone with less than stellar powers of reasoning, oh, no. I had to go and find a twink with a tight ass, a spectacular mouth, and an IQ off the charts. Time for the heavy artillery: the truth.
“Look, I wanted to…surprise you, okay? So stop with the inquisition, you’ll see later.”
Well, part of the truth.
I blinked at him.
There. Now he’ll think that I’m letting it go.
He’s lying. Little fucker. Oh, shit…I forgot to call Michael. Please, God, let Debbie have called him…wait. He would have called me already. He’s nosier than his mother. And twice as annoying. I wonder if I can get Cyn to call him. That is, without Justin knowing what I’m doing. I finished cleaning up and walked into the office. I paged Cynthia. Gotta make this obvious, or he’ll be even more suspicious. Quick, before he finishes in the bathroom.
“Ha ha. I need you to call that vendor over on Liberty, the one we used for the Carnegie Mellon work. Tell him that we found a better price, so if he wants to keep our business, he’d better come up with something.”
Silence for about five seconds.
“Okay. If he asks why?”
“Tell him because I said so.”
“I’m on it.”
I’d better find out if Louboutin has accessories.
Damn, that was brilliant.
Okay, that was the strangest exchange ever. Since when does Brian turn down a chance to terrorize vendors personally? And when did he do brochures for Carnegie Mellon? I’m sure I would have remembered that. And Michael would have mentioned it.
He wants Cynthia to call Michael. Probably to tell him to not tell me anything.
Also, Brian would die before he stayed in a hotel, away from his creature comforts. First, there’s not a hotel in existence that would hold all of his clothes. Second, he’s refurbished the loft several times, and he never had everything taken out. I could see it if he were having the floors refinished; he wouldn’t want the dust getting into the computer, his clothes, his lungs…
And that would have been the perfect cover story. Which means…he’s not living there.
He kept the house.
He’s living in the house.
Maybe not so brilliant.
Justin’s wearing that “the light just came on” look.
Don’t say it, don’t…just don’t…
“Where can I plug in my laptop? I need to check my messages.”
Thank you, God.
“Just use mine, I need to find Theodore.”
“Thanks.” He comes around the desk and logs in. I just have to pray that he doesn’t email Michael. I trust to Fate, which usually saves my ass, and leave to get a status report.
After berating Ted and cajoling Cynthia, I call Emmett.
“You’ll be happy to know that the fridge is full, the firewood has been delivered, your liquor cabinet is stocked, and there’s a surprise on the stove.”
“What kind of surprise?”
“The one you wanted for Friday. You’re lucky I had all of the ingredients. You don’t have to do anything, it’s on a timer.”
“What do I owe you?”
“Wait until you get my bill.” Emmett laughed. “I still have a few things to do, give me one more hour.”
“If I can hold Justin off for that long. I think he’s figured it out.”
“I should hope so, he’s smarter than all of us. Just…fuck him or something.”
“Already did. Though I’m sure he wouldn’t mind another round.”
“Or you could take him shopping.”
“Emmett, shopping with Justin is like shopping with Gus. He gets whiplash from the shiny.”
“Well, keep him entertained. I’ll be done here shortly.”
I hung up and sighed. The bitch of it was, I actually had work to do.
I amused myself on my laptop, trying out some new software, and listening to Brian tear apart the art department, approve two ads, negotiate ad space, and deny two additional ads, with my help. Not my fault the font and colors clashed. Ironically, it was for Eye-Conics. I knew what that woman would like. Brian pouted for five minutes afterwards.
“You told me that she had your balls, I figured you might want to keep the one you still have.”
Even he couldn’t keep a straight face.
Especially after I crawled under the desk and blew him in apology.
Finally, finally, it was time to go. I stowed my laptop away, said goodbye to Cynthia and Ted, and tried not to bounce off the walls in anticipation.
I was going to see Britin for the first time since Brian bought it. I decided to wait until he hit the highway, then, once our destination became apparent, I’d ask him about it.