Title: Empty Chamber
Author: dirtylttlescret
Warnings: Dirty, dirty smut.
A/N: Thanks to tweedygal for the beta. Prompts: Midnight/Office/Finger Fucking


Rougher. Since Justin had joined the Pink Posse, sex with him had become exponentially rougher. There was an angry edge to it, coupled with a false bravado and uneasiness that had never been there during the Stockwell campaign. Because this time, what he was doing was darker - less untouchable superhero and more self-righteous vigilante.

But Justin had never been a self-righteous person, and so to justify the violence and the bitter words against those "mother fucking asshole straight guys," he'd tapped into pain that had opened inside him like a newly formed fissure. And if he used that and yelled loud enough, he could convince himself that everything he did with Cody was for a better cause. That it wasn't about vengeance or retribution; it was about justice.

~~~

"Oh and Theodore? If you fuck up, I'll have you murdered," said Brian, not even glancing up from his desk.

Ted chuckled nervously, then swallowed hard when Brian lifted his head and caught his gaze, indicating that he wasn't joking. He disappeared out of the building, leaving Brian alone in the newly remodeled bathhouse with only the sound of the pen scrawling across the page to accompany him. A few minutes later, his cell phone buzzed, vibrating violently on the desk. He reached for it, hoping it was Justin telling him he was done for the night, that he was on his way to Daphne's and that he'd see him tomorrow. But it was Michael.

"You'll never guess what happened," he said excitedly.

"The social worker deemed your house worthy for the next made for TV after school special."

"How'd you know?"

"Michael, you and the professor are the epitome of everything a county worker looks for in a home for teen prostitutes: boring, normal, and completely predictable."

"Former teen prostitute, and we are not boring. I'll have you know that yesterday, Ed Piskor, the guy who wrote Deviant Funnies and Isolation Chamber came into the store and-"

"Later Mikey," said Brian, closing the phone with a click.

He settled back into his work, scarcely losing focus except to take a sip from the glass of Beam on his desk every now and then. It was nearly 11:45 when his hand finally cramped up so much he had to put down the pen and stretch for a minute. He flexed his fingers over his head, leaning back he took a deep breath and surveyed the dimly lit bathhouse. His office. His company. His business.

None of it was going to matter if Justin and the Magenta Marauders didn't get some fucking common sense knocked into them. Before some asshole with a gun called them on their bullshit.

The phone buzzed again.

"Speak of the devil."

"Where are you?" Justin asked.

"Still at work. Are you with Cody?"

"No. He went home," he said breathlessly. There was something anxious yet electric in his voice, like someone who'd just jumped out of a plane and hadn't yet pulled the cord on their parachute. "Do you still want to christen your new office?" he asked.

"I already beat you to it. The delivery guy from Medici's certainly fulfilled his promise of coming in thirty minutes or less," he teased.

"Uh huh. I'll be there in ten."

He walked in at five to midnight, using the key Brian had given him a few days before, his body charged with a chaotic energy that seemed to permeate his actions more and more these days. Brian walked around from the desk and kissed him, pulling his shorter frame against his own body. The smell of sex hung on him.

"Somebody got lucky tonight," said Brian, pulling him by his belt toward the desk. "I thought you were out on your super secret mission to avenge queers everywhere."

"I was," said Justin. "Liberty Avenue was quiet, so we decided to have a little fun," he said as he unbuttoned Brian's shirt and slipped his cold hands inside. He ran his palms over his skin, feeling his muscles flex under his fingertips as he grabbed at his torso with a needy urgency.

"This kind of fun wouldn't involve poking a hetero-hornet nest with a stick, would it?"

"I already told you, we're protecting the community," Justin said. "And I don't want to talk about this anymore. Cody and I are both adults and we can take care of ourselves."

"If you're both such grownups, then act like it," Brian said, stopping him from slipping the now unbuttoned shirt off of his shoulders. Justin seemed surprised by the gesture. He bit his lip and set his jaw, searching his face as though there was something he didn't want to tell him.

"Brian-" he started, but didn't finish.

Brian lowered his head and softened his voice. "I want you safe," he said simply.

"Safe? Darren got bashed in a parking lot near Woody's. I got my head split open at prom. None of us are safe," he said pulling away angrily.

Brian was silent. There was nothing in his statement that he could refute, because it was all true. As true as the words Justin had reiterated back to him verbatim when they had wrestled the other night on the floor: "The ones that hate you to your face, and the ones that hate you behind your back." And as twisted as those words had become in his pretty little mouth, he had been the one to put them there first.

"I want you to fuck me," said Justin, tapping back into that jittery rush of adrenaline which had been there just a moment before. He grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss, hard and wild, a kiss more full of tongue than lip. "Hard," he said, rolling Brian's bottom lip between his teeth.

Brian felt as though he'd suddenly been lit on fire. He grabbed Justin's arm, pressed him face first on the desk, and pulled his pants and underwear down with one rough move. He sucked on two of his own fingers, keeping the palm of his other hand firmly in the dip of his back.

"Like this?" he asked as he shoved a finger up his hole.

"More," moaned Justin, and Brian obliged him by adding the second an instant later. The friction was hot and tight, and he rammed his fingers in deeper as he began to fuck Justin steadily with his hand, replacing words and commands with grunts and moans.

Justin spread his legs as much as he could with his pants hanging around his ankles, and as Brian thrust forward, using his leverage to pin him to the desk, he pushed back into the motions, demanding more and more as the fuck got more erratic.

Brian reached into his back pocket for a packet of lube. He quickly ripped it open with his teeth and drizzled it onto his hand, slipping in a third finger as Justin clenched back around the digit. He groaned when Brian immediately pushed to the knuckle and followed with the added pressure of his pinkie just outside, not giving him a chance to adjust to the tightness.

Heavy breathing filled the room. Brian's cock strained against the soft material of his pants, but instead of unzipping and shoving himself in Justin's tight ass, he rubbed himself against his solid thigh, savoring the muted friction between skins and layers of fabric. The hand on his back found it's way under Justin's jacket and shirt to find smooth skin underneath, while Justin clutched at the edge of the desk tightly when Brian slipped the fourth finger inside. He grunted a sling of obscenities, his body shaking under the added pressure and stretch of his hole.

Brian leaned over and whispered in his ear as he stroked his prostate, "I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you across this desk until you make a mess all over it. And every time I come to work in the morning, I'm going to be sitting down at a desk that's smeared all over with your come."

Justin moaned, turning his head so that his short and fuzzy hair brushed against Brian's cheek. He was seconds away from dissolving into a puddle of frantic nerves and want. His skin was flushed and hot with lust, his mouth open and parted. He was desperate to come.

"Ungh, please," he swallowed hard, barely able to speak as he writhed on the desk. Brian nudged his hip with his free hand so that he lifted up off of the sweaty surface, allowing him a few inches of clearance to reach around and fist his leaking cock beneath him. He jerked rapidly, making sure to catch the sensitive spot just under the head with every upstroke. A moment later Justin was coming, shooting onto his hand and all over the table. He groaned as he shuddered through his orgasm, falling into the sticky mess as Brian pulled out of him and wiped his hand with a napkin left over from lunch.

"Don't move," he commanded as he removed Justin's clothes and shoes. Justin was limp against the desk, the words unnecessary as Brian unzipped his pants and slipped on a condom, pushing in easily. He went slow, thrusting in and out with a patience Justin had been unwilling to use fifteen minutes earlier. He stroked his back and leaned in to kiss him at the dip between his shoulder blades, bringing him back from the edge of oblivion.

"Don't," he whispered into his ear, twining their fingers together as he stirred his hips, causing Justin to shiver under his touch. "Don't do it anymore," he pleaded.

"I have to," was the only thing Justin said back.