A VOCABULARY LESSON Title: A Vocabulary Lesson Written by:u223501 Timeline: 120 Gapfiller Author's Notes: What happened after the diner?
As I slowly crack my eyes open and inhale, I realize I’m wrapped around him. Silky blond hair tickling my face and nose. His warm, soft skin pressed tightly against my chest. My arm draped across his body, hand resting against his stomach. Our legs intimately intertwined. My dick is nestled eagerly in his crack. Hard and demanding attention…as usual. The slow pattern of exhale and inhale tells me he is still fast asleep. I carefully untangle myself and ease away, willing my traitorous cock to behave long enough for me to gather actual thoughts…
“I’ve had you.”
Why the fuck is this kid still here?
“You wanted me and I wanted you. That’s all it was.”
What the fuck is this kid to me?
“Look, I told you. I’m not your lover. I’m not your partner. I’m not even your friend. You’re not anything to me.”
What the fuck am I doing?
Thankful, for once, that he is not a morning person, I sit up, run my fingers through my tangled hair, and light a cigarette. I inhale deeply, desperately needing the calming toxins to permeate my jumbled brain and tense body. After a few minutes, the stress begins to ease, but the events of the day begin filtering beyond the fringes of my memory and into the forefront. He had been so.fucking.hot…
~ 5 hours ago ~
“I told him that he could see me in his dreams.”
The little fucking twat. Genius! Using the bullshit I first used on him. Our eyes lock, silently challenging, and a smile grows on his face. He knows. The little fucker knows that on some level, what happened last night, what I saw, bothered me. I shake my head…fucking lesbionic thoughts.
His confident smirk goes straight to my dick, and all I can think about is pounding into his tight little ass until he forgets the trick and is screaming my name. I vaguely hear Emmett babbling about some abs contest as I stand up to leave.
“You coming?” I throw at him as I head towards the diner door.
I can’t stomach looking back to check, I know they are all smirking…they all fucking know. I hear footsteps behind me, unmistakably his, and breathe a silent sigh of relief.
“Where are we going Brian?” he singsongs in his usual ‘I’m onto you’ tone.
“The loft,” I bite out, concentrating on the sidewalk, the street, any-fucking-where other than his face, his eyes.
He says nothing further, and I don’t know what I would’ve expected to hear.
We get in the Jeep and I still can’t bring myself to look him in the eyes. Afraid he’ll see past the Brian Kinney wall. The one intended to keep people like him out.
As we start driving, I feel his warm palm touch my knee and slowly trail a path up the inside of my thigh. I swallow the moan trying to escape my lips.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“What I wanted to do last night, before you explained our…non-status.”
I’m hard before his hand even reaches my dick. I push my foot down on the accelerator, needing to be free from the torture that is his hand stroking my cock, and his clear blue eyes. Eyes that I know without looking are burning with desire, just as mine are.
Screeching into my parking spot and slamming the Jeep door shut, I stride purposefully to the elevator, my hand gripping his waist band, fingers burning against his cool skin, dragging him with me. As soon as the door is shut, I back him roughly against the wall and raise his vest and shirt up over his head, trapping his arms slightly above him. I stop…we’re both panting, crazed with hunger. And finally, I stare at him, really look in his eyes. But whatever I was afraid of seeing earlier is entirely hidden by pure, raw, want…need.
Looking away, I unbutton his jeans and shove everything down to grab at his dick. His very hard dick. I swallow another moan and flip him around, kissing and biting at his neck, and the sensitive spot behind his ear, fooling myself into a sense of false control.
“Unnnhhhh, fuck me!”
His words almost send me over the edge and I’m scrambling to get a condom on…
“Aaaaaahhhhhhhhh!” he screams, half pain, half pleasure as I suddenly push in allthewayballsdeep.
Punishment. Punishment for the whatever-the-fuck feeling he caused in me last night, watching him top that fucking trick.
“You’re mine Justin,” I whisper, unsure if I actually said the words out loud, or if they were just rushing through my fucking head like an unstoppable fucking muncher train. He moans,
“Fuck me Brian,” and pushes back against me…hard.
It’s fast and furious, angry and rough, leaving no room for relationships and fucking hetero-esque thoughts. I’m biting his neck, shoulder, back…leaving evidence, branding him as mine. I reach around and start stroking his dick, keeping the same rhythm as my cock slamming into his body. His hands are still gripping the wood slats in the elevator, forehead resting against them, and the sounds coming from his mouth are nearly my undoing.
“Mmmmmmmm…”
He lets go first, warm jets of his cum squirting into my hand and all over the wall. As his ass contracts around my dick, I cum into the condom, pulsing, throbbing, but still wanting. I drop my face into his neck, panting, sweating,
“Fuck Justin. That was…” I stop myself and wonder what the fuck is happening here.
This kid. This young, still somewhat innocent kid is…
I grab the base of the condom and pull out, recognizing his ‘empty’ moan, but choosing to ignore it. As much as I love fucking in public, it is time for something a little more private. He turns around and impulsively, I kiss him, deepening it, drawing it out, not really wanting it to end. My dick is already stirring, wanting more, never enough…of him.
Ending the kiss, I pull away and peel the condom off. We yank our clothes back into place as the elevator stills, and I toss the condom into the trash as we make our exit into the loft.
~ Present ~
The cigarette burns my fingers returning me to present time…thoughts of the past five hours having done nothing to deter my persistent hard-on.
After arriving at the loft, we hadn’t managed to come up for air over the next several hours…afternoon fading quickly into early evening without a care other than lips and tongues, skin and spit, dicks, asses, mouths…all blending and merging. Eau de sweat, rimmed ass and cum our new favorite cologne.
I leave him sleeping in the bed and pad over to get a bottle of water. Dusk is starting to set in and I can see traces of streetlights through the sheer curtains. My mind flashes back to the night on Liberty Avenue where we first met…nearly a year ago.
Sitting down at the computer, I let my fingertips drift absentmindedly on the keyboard while my mind continues to replay the night Justin walked into my life…
“Where’re you headed?”
“No place special.”
“I can change that.”
Shaking off the memory, I glance at the screen and realize I’ve Googled ‘friend’…
‘A person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.’
Mmmmm, affection or personal regard. Possible. But my still-hard cock is an unrelenting reminder that he is something more than a friend. I decide to type in ‘lover’…
‘A person who has a sexual or romantic relationship with another.’
Sexual. Nothing particularly difficult there; the dried sweat and cum all over my skin physical proof. Fuck romantic and fuck relationship. No.fucking.way. This is just fucking. Maximum of pleasure, minimum of pain. So why the fuck did it bother me so much to see him top the trick? Frustrated, I shove the keyboard away and stand up, pacing restlessly around the loft.
Nearing the steps to the bed, I stop and look at him. Blond hair spiky with god only knows what combination of bodily fluids, and smooth, pale skin in stark contrast to the dark blue of the duvet. He’s worked it in between his legs, an apparent substitute for me.
I hear him breathe in a deep, peaceful breath, exhaling a quiet moan, and experience a moment of jealously. Jealous of the damn sheets absorbing his warmth, his scent…caressing his skin. In their place, I’d be fucking him senseless. Again.
Knowing his ass will likely be sore for a week and stomach is full of protein, I decide a quick jerk-off in the bathroom might bring much needed relief from these ridiculous, unwanted thoughts. Anything to leave the King of Babylon memory in the past and get back to being the asshole. To being Brian Kinney.
Entering the bathroom, I grab my cock head and he immediately flashes through my mind…face flushed, tongue just touching his teeth, lips full and swollen with desire. Stroking quietly and quickly, I close my eyes and imagine his tongue running up and down my length, tasting and teasing, swirling the head…
“Need some help?”
My heart skips a beat and my eyelids flutter open at the sound of his voice, husky with desire. The flashes of memory now a living, breathing, fucking hot Justin kneeling in front of me. Smirking. Our eyes lock, my hand continuing its unhurried movements on my cock, but slowly bringing it closer to his red lips. Lips that are taunting me, glistening as he slowly licks them, eyes still locked with mine.
The smirk disappears from his face, replaced by naked lust. Never enough. Another memory. Apparently I left out two little words when I originally made the statement…never enough of him.
He grabs my hand and stills it, removing my fingers one by one, licking and sucking them, and finally swipes his tongue along my dick as he drops my hand to my side. His warm mouth is all around me, vibrations from his moans bringing me so close to the edge…my control severely tested.
I grasp my hands in his hair, trying to ground myself, regain some control. But it’s gone, and I’m gone, and sooner than I want I’m shooting down his throat, groans echoing through the quiet expanse of the loft.
He looks up at me, directly meeting my gaze as he slowly slides my cock out of his mouth. Greedily licking the last of my cum off the tip, he rocks back on his heels and smiles. Standing up, he brushes his dick against my leg, painting a circle of pre-cum and leaning in as I bend down for a kiss. Just before our lips make contact, he pulls away and stalks off to the bedroom…
“So, did you figure it out yet?”
I look at him, questioning, unsure when ‘figuring anything out’ became part of our non-conversation.
“What I am.”
Shaking my head, I give him my best ‘what the fuck’ face.
“Friend…”
He slowly strokes his dick up and then down…
“Lover?”
He looks away and playfully shakes his ass at me as he steps onto the mattress and lies down on his back.
Little shit! In my earlier haste to escape my ridiculous thought, I apparently forgot to close the incriminating screens.
Walking over to the bed, I step up onto it and lower myself down on top of him. I bite his shoulder, eliciting a yelp of surprise, and then suck the spot, licking slowly up to his ear. Breathing a hot whisper,
“Well Sunshine, according to Webster’s you are both,” I say planting my tongue in my cheek and rubbing against his hard cock.
He glares at me. Clearly that was not the answer he was looking for.
“You are a person…although sometimes I wonder if you are little more than a walking stomach with an amazing ass attached.”
He swats at my head and just misses as I duck and tickle his ribs.
“Cut it out Brian! I’m serious.”
His hands grab mine to prevent further tickle torture.
“…a person whose ass and mouth are frequently attached to my cock.”
Twisting out of his grip, I lightly run my fingers over his still-lubed pucker eliciting a soft moan from him.
“And, as for last night…”
I push two fingers in and slowly fuck him. His head rolls from side to side, hips arching in the air, fingers turning white as his hands grip the sheets. I roughly pull out and watch as his eyes open in frustration and confusion.
“…you’d better promise the only place he’ll ever see you again is in his fucking dreams.”
I bite his ear lobe to drive my point home and then we begin the silent communication dance we’ve perfected over the past many months.
And though I can’t say it, I hope he hears my body telling him he is so much more than a friend and a lover…something that I am only able to allow my body to whisper to his.