InsaneJournal

Original poster: _alicesprings

Title: 370 Miles, Give or Take a Few
Written By: bookgirl24
Timeline: post-513
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Methods of Transportation and how they connect Brian and Justin
Author's Notes: Thank you to shadownyc for graciously betaing by my fic.



*****

When Justin left for New York, he took a plane. As it made its way across the sky, taking him to a new life filled with doubt and potential, his heart was at war with itself. The only thing keeping it from breaking apart from the pain of leaving Brian was the anxious excitement about the possibilities that New York held for him.

He took a cab to his apartment, and there, began his life in New York.

*****

He moved into the apartment he was sharing with Daphne’s friend, and on his first day of work in one of the smaller galleries in Chelsea, he took the subway and promptly got lost. He missed his first stop, and then the next two, as he tried desperately to read the map on the wall, hang on to his messenger bag, and avoid the loud, drunken man that had taken the seat next to his. At the fourth stop, Justin got off the subway and made his way to the street. It was with great disgust and personal chagrin that he hailed a cab and gave the address of the gallery to the driver. The next morning, Justin bought a pocket-sized map for the subway, marked the important stops, and committed them to memory. He’d be damned if he was going to be a tourist in this-his-town.

*****

After a few rough weeks, Justin began to acclimate himself to the city. He walked everywhere he could, whenever he could. Slowly, he began to familiarize himself with his new neighborhood, the gallery where he worked, and the small studio he was renting. Every morning, as he got his coffee and bagel for breakfast, he made small talk with the man that ran the deli next to his apartment building. It wasn’t long before he began to tell the man about his family and friends he had left behind in Pittsburgh.

*****

The first time Brian came to New York, he called Justin, told him to answer his door, and there he stood. His shirt was unbuttoned and he was in the process of pulling his tie over his head. Without a word, he stepped into the apartment, kicked the door shut with his foot, and reached for Justin’s pants. When his fingers couldn’t undo the buttons fast enough, he grabbed the material in his hands and pulled, sending buttons flying.

"Jesus Brian," Justin gasped, as Brian pushed him to the floor, followed him down and quickly sheathing himself, sank into Justin. Scrambling for purchase on the throw rug, his knees beginning to burn from the friction, Justin tried to hold on as Brian thrust into him. In what seemed like mere seconds, Justin came all over the rug as Brian pushed into him, his own orgasm spilling from him with a deep, guttural moan.

When they were done, Brian sat on the floor and lit a cigarette. As he blew out a stream of smoke, he looked at Justin and said, "Pack what you need for the weekend. We’re going to my hotel."

With a huge grin on his face, Justin hauled himself up on his feet and as he walked to the bedroom to get his things, Brian barked, "Hurry the fuck up. I’ve got a cab waiting downstairs."

*****

The second time Brian came to visit, he called Justin on Tuesday, giving him time to re-arrange his schedule to suit Brian’s needs.

"Be ready Friday morning and meet me outside your apartment at 9:00 am. Sharp. And bring the red shirt."

Friday morning, at 9:15 am, Justin walked out of his apartment building and found a Lincoln Town Car double-parked at the curb. As he stood there with his bag in hand, the tinted rear window rolled down and Brian yelled out, "You’re late. Get your ass in the car," and then opened the door and hauled Justin into the backseat as the driver got out to put his bag in the trunk. In the time it took the driver to get behind the wheel and begin the drive to the hotel, Brian had managed to relieve Justin of both his pants and underwear.

His hands tightly gripping the chestnut hair that filled his lap, Justin wasn’t sure which would undo him first. Brian’s mouth, hot and greedy as it ravished his cock, or the love he felt for the man of said mouth.

*****

When Justin went home to Pittsburgh to visit, he took a plane. His time was short and he didn’t waste a moment. Between the onslaught of family and friends and dinner obligations and expectations, he and Brian would have to fuck whenever and wherever they could: the elevator in Brian’s building, the loft, Michael’s old bedroom after Thanksgiving dinner, in his Mom’s upstairs bathroom that first Christmas he had come home. Everyone just looked the other way, pretending not to notice the almost frantic desperation that often permeated his brief visits home.

*****

Brian would be in the ‘vette, parked in the Arrivals lot. It had become standard policy that Justin would blow him when Brian met him at the airport.

"It’s the least you can do," Brian would say. "I had to leave work early for this. Kinnetik doesn’t run itself."

Justin rolled his eyes as he leaned across the gearshift, his right hand palming Brian’s cock through his jeans while his lips played along his jaw.

"You know, you don’t have to pick me up," he whispered in Brian’s ear. "I could always ask someone else to come and get me," he said, unzipping Brian’s jeans, and pulling out his cock. He lightly caught Brian’s earlobe between his teeth as his thumb flicked over the slit in Brian’s dick, catching the pre-come. Sitting back in his seat, he brought his thumb to his mouth. Brian watched, eyes dark, his breathing ragged, as Justin slowly licked his thumb, then leaned in, his mouth hovering over Brian’s. A small growl escaped Brian as he brought his hand up, fingers threading through blond hair, his mouth crushing Justin’s. Brian tasted himself, Justin, and all of the time and distance that had separated them since their last visit.

*****

The third time Brian came to visit, he was bearing gifts.

"Wake up Sunshine and get your ass downstairs."

Downstairs was the entrance to his apartment building. After living in New York for almost 16 months, and with three successful shows behind him, Justin got the offer of a sublet in a local artist’s co-op. It was a five-story building, with the first four floors broken up into apartments. The top floor was studio space for all of the artists in residence. Like the first four floors, it too was broken into small spaces, each a home to a varied group of painters, sculptors, even a few performance artists.

By the time Justin had put on his pants and made his way down to the street, two men were unloading the new bed frame and mattress set that was destined for his apartment.

"How ya doin’?" the burly Italian asked, as he rolled the dolly past Justin.

"Uh…okay?"

Standing on the sidewalk, he gaped at the delivery truck: Rocco and Eddie’s Delivery Service. "Just because we’re cheap don’t mean we aren’t good."

"What…" Justin began, as he turned and looked at Brian, his eyes wide and questioning. "You know what? I don’t want to know. I don’t."

Turning to look at the deliverymen, Justin saw for the first time what they were delivering.

"What the fuck Brian? I already have a bed," Justin began, as the men started to load the mattress set into the service elevator.

"You have a used bed. Used Justin. How the hell am I supposed to fuck you in a used bed?"

"Jesus Brian, I don’t know. How about the same way you’ve fucked me in…oh, I don’t know…the backroom at Babylon, various allies around the Pitts, Deb’s bathroom, the corner stall at Woody’s… Michael’s bed…" he said with a pointed look at Brian.

"Enough," barked Brian. "Do you think I don’t remember everywhere I’ve ever fucked you? Because I do. What I don’t remember is fucking you on a used mattress."

Justin had to smile at the memory of Brian’s horrified reaction when he found out that Justin had kept the bed that came with the room in the first apartment he had shared with Daphne’s friend.

"Christ, how do you know heteros haven’t been sleeping, or, God forbid, fucking, on this bed?" Brian has asked.

Justin couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Brian’s face. "You’re serious, aren’t you?"

Brian glared while Justin continued to laugh at him. "At least tell me these are clean sheets? And that they’re your sheets. Not ones that came with the bed." Justin had laughed so hard that he fell on the bed, which had given Brian the perfect opportunity to inspect the sheets himself.

"Grab those bags," Brian said, as he made his way to the elevator.

"What’s in them?" Justin demanded, as he opened one.

"Egyptian sheet sets. Fifteen hundred thread count. There’s a matching duvet in the other bag. I also got you some decent pillows. You don’t expect me to sleep on shitty, low thread count sheets do you? I’ve raised you better than that," Brian said, as he turned and looked at Justin, a smile forming on his mouth.

Justin sat the bags back down on the sidewalk, walked up to Brian, and putting his hand on the back of his neck, gently pulled Brian’s head down to his, their lips meeting in a kiss.

"It’s nice to see you, too, Brian," he said, smiling as he pulled away and bent down to pick up the bags again.

"Come on," Brian said brusquely, as he picked up the other bags. "We don’t want the delivery men to get mugged on the way to your room. That mattress cost more than their truck."

*****

"These sheets smell nice," Justin said, as he stuck his head in the bag and inhaled. "Did you wash them?"

Brian looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. "Do I look like the fucking laundry lady?"

"I’ll take that as a no," Justin said, maneuvering himself around the deliverymen. They had managed to get the mattress into the living area, and were trying to figure out how to get it in the bedroom.

"You now have an account with the dry cleaners at the end of your block. The name’s on the bag. You can take your sheets and the duvet there when they need cleaning. Sheets and duvet only," Brian said, as he looked hard at Justin. "I’m not paying for someone else to wash your clothes."

"Thanks, but I’ve managed so far by myself. I think I can last a little longer," Justin replied sarcastically, as he dumped the bags on the couch.

"No one likes a smart ass Justin," Brian said, as he began to instruct the men on the placement of the bed.

"You realize that there’s only one place and one way it can go," said Justin, trying to see around Brian as the men began to disassemble the old bed to make way for the new one.

"Let me clarify myself," Brian stated, his voice low, as he walked Justin backwards towards the couch. "No one likes to fuck a smartass. Even one with an ass as pretty as yours."

"Like that’s ever stopped you before," taunted Justin, as he reached out and lightly trailed his right index finger over the zipper on Brian’s jeans. Brian’s breath caught as he felt his cock twitch.

Lightly grabbing Justin’s hand, Brian lowered his head and whispered, "While I know you’ve missed me terribly and can not wait to have me fuck you, I don’t think the deliverymen would appreciate the delay and I am NOT paying them to sit around and watch us fuck."

Justin glanced over Brian’s shoulder, leaned in conspiratorially and said, "I don’t know, Brian, the short, hairy one’s kind of hot."

"You little shit," Brian smirked, as he playfully shoved Justin onto the couch. Laughing as he got up, Justin grabbed Brian by the arm and spun him back around. He kissed him, hard, then reached down and grabbed a sketchpad off the table.

"I’m going to my studio. Call me when they leave."

*****

One hour and five hundred dollars later, the old bed and the deliverymen were gone, leaving Brian in the apartment, alone with his purchase. He quickly made the bed, using the cerulean blue sheet set. He was reaching for his cell phone when the door to the apartment opened and Justin, walking in, stopped short.

"Brian…why is my dresser in the living room?" he asked, as he walked over to the bedroom. Standing next to Brian, he looked at his bed, which was the only piece of furniture in the room.

"My bed looks like an ocean," Justin exclaimed. Stepping to the bed, he bent down, and ran his hand over the silky sheets. "They feel incredible."

He stood, pulled his tee shirt over his head, slipped off his pants and underwear and crawled on to the bed.

Brian could feel his cock begin to swell as he watched Justin crawl, then roll on to his back and stretch. "Ahhhhhhh. Brian, this feels fucking amazing."

Raising himself on his arms, he cocked his head at Brian. "You’re wearing too many clothes," he said, his voice matter-of-fact.

"Here, let me fix that," he continued, as he scooted to the end of the bed where Brian stood. He dropped his bare legs over the edge of the bed, one on each side of Brian’s. Reaching out, he quickly undid Brian’s jeans, pushing them down so he could step out of them. He put his hands on Brian’s hips, and pulling him close, laid his head on his stomach. He felt Brian’s hands rest on his head as he sat and breathed in Brian’s scent. Brian’s cock, leaking pre-come, had left a damp spot on his underwear. Justin leaned his head back and looking up at Brian, said,

"I’ve missed you."

"I know."

Placing a kiss on his bare stomach, Justin hooked his thumbs in the elastic band of Brian’s underwear and slid them down, freeing his cock. He buried his face in Brian’s crotch again, nuzzling and rubbing his face against his dick, leaving a trail of pre-come across his cheek. Pulling back, he caught the head in his mouth, and in one swift movement, swallowed Brian’s dick halfway down his throat. Brian’s hands gripped his hair and Justin felt him sway.

"Christ," Brian breathed out, as Justin pulled back and sucked on the head of his cock, his tongue flicking the slit, pre-come mixing with saliva. Brian shuddered as Justin swallowed him again, his hands reaching around and resting on Brian’s ass, pulling him deeper into his throat. Breathing hard, Brian rocked his hips forward, slowly fucking Justin’s mouth. His head dropped back, eyes closed, mouth open, as he let the sensation of Justin’s mouth, hot and wet, wash over him.

Pulling back, Justin let Brian’s cock slip out of his mouth. Brian’s head snapped forward, his eyes glazed, as he opened his mouth to ask what the fuck Justin was doing. He watched as Justin scooted back up the bed and resting his head on one of the pillows, gazed at Brian, his eyes dark. Bringing his left hand up behind his head, Justin let the fingers of his right hand sweep over his cock, his eyes never leaving Brian’s face. Spreading his legs, he let his hand play up the inside of his thigh and then down again. Trailing his fingers over his cock, he smeared the pre-come with his fingertips, and used it to paint a line down the underside of his dick, ending at the base. Cupping his balls, he moaned as he rolled them in his hand.

"Fuck Justin", Brian whispered, as he watched Justin play with himself.

Brian bent, and quickly dug the lube and condom from his pants pocket. Justin watched, his breath hitching in his throat as Brian ripped open the condom and rolled it onto his dick.

Justin breathed out Brian’s name as his body shuddered in anticipation.

Bracing his knees against the mattress, Brian leaned forward, hooked his arms under Justin’s knees and dragged him to the edge of the bed. Justin gasped as Brian’s hand, now coated with lube, touched his cock and slowly ran up its length. "Justin," he murmured again, his eyes focused on Justin’s glistening dick. Sliding his hand down, Brian’s fingers grazed Justin’s hole, smearing it with lube. He quickly slid in a finger, then pulling out, slid two back in as Justin pushed down, his breath leaving him in a loud groan as he ground on Brian’s fingers. He let Justin fuck himself on his fingers as his other hand grasped Justin’s cock, gliding over the lube, and began to jerk him off slowly.

Brian’s dick, rock hard, pulsed as he watched Justin writhe on the bed, the sheets bunched in his fists. A red flush had spread over Justin’s lower body and was blossoming on his chest. "Brian,’ he panted, "Brian, fuck me. I need you to fuck me."

Brian pulled his fingers out and Justin moaned again. "Brian," he pleaded, his voice strained.



Placing his hands on the back of Justin’s thighs, he pushed them back, spreading Justin open. "Jesus," he murmured, "You look so fucking beautiful." Justin’s fingers tangled with Brian’s as he grabbed his legs and held them up. Ghosting his fingers down Justin’s legs, he brushed them over his cock, and felt the heat rising from Justin’s skin. He slid a finger into Justin’s ass, pressing hard on his prostate. Justin let out a strangled cry as he curled into himself

"Fuck Brian," said Justin, his voice harsh, as he struggled to catch his breath. "Quit playing with me and fuck me. Now."

Brian leaned forward, planted his hands on the mattress, and pushed all the way into Justin.

"Christ," Brian thought, "I’ve missed this." Missed the way Justin tasted, the way he moved when he was under Brian and the sounds he made, the way his lips felt as they roamed all over Brian’s body, tasting and touching and leaving wet kisses that burned themselves onto Brian’s skin. It was all he could do not to come as he felt Justin’s warmth envelope him. He rocked into Justin, hard, as Justin pushed up, meeting his thrusts.

Bringing his hands to Brian’s face, Justin pulled him down, his mouth locking on to Brian’s, as their tongues collided. Their bodies, slick with sweat, slid against each other. Justin let himself got lost in the sensation of Brian’s cock filling his ass and his own dick, trapped between them. His orgasm came hard and fast, causing him to cry out in surprise.

Brian felt Justin’s ass clench around his cock, and he thrust once more and came with a strangled cry, his head buried in Justin’s neck, his muscles taut.

They lay tangled and sweaty for several minutes as their breathing began to return to normal. Carefully pulling out of Justin, Brian took off the condom, tied it and tossed it on the floor. He rolled onto his back and lifted up his right arm as Justin curled into him. Laying his arm across Brian’s chest, he worked his leg between Brian’s as he settled in, practically purring in contentment.

"Comfortable?" Brian asked in an amused voice.

"Yeah," Justin said sleepily. "This bed was a good idea."

"Mmmm," said Brian in agreement, as he nuzzled Justin’s hair, and placed a kiss on top of his head.

*****

The week of Justin’s first solo show, Ted and Blake arrived on Monday. They stayed at their usual hotel, making the rounds of Broadway and off-Broadway shows. His mother, Molly and Debbie arrived on Wednesday. Ben, Michael and Emmett arrived on Thursday. Friday night, they all met for dinner at an Italian restaurant near the gallery. The presence of Justin’s family and friends gave him a much-needed sense of calm during his hectic week.

*****

At 7:00 pm on the night of Justin’s showing, Brian walked through the gallery’s front door. "Do you mind if I borrow the artist?" he asked the gallery owner, and without waiting for a reply, took Justin by the arm and led him to the limousine parked at the curb.

"I have something that I want you to see," he told Justin as he opened the rear door.

"What is it?" he asked with a smile.

"Me."

At seven fifty-five, the limousine pulled up to the curb and they got out, skin flushed, their clothing slightly rumpled

"I told you I’d have you back on time." Brian whispered in Justin’s ear as he opened the door to the gallery.

*****



When Justin finally left New York to move back home, he took a plane. He caught a cab from the airport to Kinnetik. As he walked past Cynthia’s desk, she looked up, smiled and asked, "How was your flight?"

"Too long," Justin answered with a grin, as he reached for the knob on Brian’s office door.

Brian was at his desk reviewing a client presentation when the door to his office opened.

"I told you no fucking interruptions," he snapped, as he continued to skim the boards on his desk. "Do I need to find someone …" he stopped mid-sentence, as he looked up and saw Justin standing in the doorway.

"What are you doing here?" asked Brian, his voice a mixture of disbelief and caution.

"I’m home," Justin said, as he kicked the door shut. Dropping his jacket and messenger bag on floor, he walked towards Brian’s desk, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it towards the sofa.

Sitting back in his chair, Brian relaxed for the first time in a long while, and with a smirk on his face, looked at Justin and said, "It’s about fucking time."

*****

Several hours later, Justin reached for his pants, and looking at Brian asked, "You have any plans for Saturday?"

"Why?" Brian asked warily.

"Because we’re supposed to meet Rocco and Eddie at the house so they can drop off the bed."

"Bed? What fucking bed?"

"My bed. The one you bought me in New York. You didn’t think I was going to leave it there, did you?"

"You’re having them bring your bed back here? Why the fuck would you do that?"

"It’s not just the bed. I’m having them bring the rest of my stuff too."

Justin looked at Brian and asked, in all seriousness, "You do know how much that bed cost? I couldn’t leave it there."

"Of course I fucking know how much it fucking cost. I paid for the goddamned thing!" he said, his voice rising as he looked at Justin.

"So you’re not busy on Saturday?"

Brian sighed as he looked up at Justin. "Yes, I am busy this Saturday. Apparently there’s a truckload of shit being dropped off at our house."

Justin’s smile lit up the office.

Shrugging on his jacket, Justin picked up his messenger bag and headed for the door.

"I’m going to meet my mom. She seems to think I need to get my own car," Justin said. "Apparently, public transportation is beneath me now that I’m a successful artist. Well, that and I can’t fit my canvasses on the bus," he laughed as he smiled at Brian. I’ll meet you at the loft for dinner?"

"Yeah," Brian replied, still a little dazed from Justin’s return and the whole bed conversation.

"Oh, and Brian? You might want to go by the bank before Saturday. It’s going to cost a lot more than five hundred dollars this time."

Justin barely made it through the door as the pillow from the sofa made a resounding thump against the back of the door.

"Fucking little twat." Brian mumbled to no one, reaching for a cigarette, unable to keep the smile from his face.