InsaneJournal

Original poster: _alicesprings

Title: Tastefully Incorrect
Written By: tigbit
Timeline: happy post-513
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Generally dirty language
Summary: “According to this article,” Justin said, “you should have a significantly smaller dick.”



***

“According to this article,” Justin said, “you should have a significantly smaller dick.”

“And what article would that be?” Brian’s voice was low from behind the computer screen. Justin was surprised he couldn’t hear the scorn dripping onto the desk from his perch on the sofa.

Holding the magazine up in the air, Justin shook it once and said, “‘Rev up the Truth: What Your Car Says About You’ by Mister Jacob Weathers. He says anyone with a Corvette is seriously overcompensating for something.”

This, of course, was enough to send Brian out of his chair with a definite and purposeful stride. Leaning over Justin’s back, he snatched the magazine and flipped to the appropriate page.

Justin watched as Brian’s narrowed eyes scanned the page. He could tell when Brian got to his favorite part (“…gay men, especially, enjoy the sports-car package. As far as I can tell, they believe it improves their own…”) because the magazine shook a little with rage.

“Trash,” Brian spit, still flipping back and forth through the slick pages, “Definite trash.” He threw the magazine back at Justin. “Why are you even wasting your time reading something like that when it is so obviously full of shit?”

Truthfully, Justin didn’t even like the magazine. He’d picked it up at Daphne’s earlier while she was on the phone; he wasn’t even sure how it’d gotten in his bag. But somehow he felt like he needed to defend its honor.

“Apart from a few minor discrepancies, it’s not trash,” he said, unable to meet Brian’s eyes.

Brian raised an eyebrow and pointed at his dick. “Minor, huh? I’ll remember that the next time you want me to fuck you.”

Justin ignored him. “It’s not trash,” he said again, adamant.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Sunshine, but anything with the word ‘Sugartastic’ in its title does not deserve to be read, much less trusted as a credible news source.” Making his point, Brian lightly slapped the back of Justin’s head and padded back over to his desk.

Well, he had to try. “You’re just being disagreeable because it said your dick should be three sizes too small.”

“They have no right to make such a claim,” was all Brian said before sitting down and stretching his hands over the keyboard. Apparently, the subject was dropped.

Turning back and picking up the magazine once more, Justin could faintly hear the sound of furious typing over the drone of the TV. He halfheartedly flipped to a different article (“What Do Your Bed Sheets Say About You?”) before spreading out on the couch, resting his chin on cupped hands.

The article wasn’t as bad as he thought. Very close to gaining some very deep, personal insight about his affinity for silk bedding, Justin didn’t notice when the typing stopped. Or when a voice called his name. Repeatedly.

He was just about to take the quiz on page 32 when an empty water bottle hit his head.

“Ouch!” Justin yelled, “What the fuck was that for?”

Brian crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “How the fuck do you do that?”

Justin glared and tried to rub away the pain. “Do what?”

“Read some plebian article with the TV barely on and manage not to hear me.”

Justin wanted to say ‘years of practice in the name of self-preservation’ but he bit his tongue. “Brian,” he said instead, “The magazine is not plebian. Let it go.”

Brian raised his hands in mock defeat. “It’s gone,” he said, and stood up. Turning around, he began to shuffle papers back into his briefcase. He never had put on a shirt after their morning shower, and the filtered sunlight was enough to highlight every curve and dip of muscle as he bent over again and again to organize his work. Any anger in the room quickly disappeared.

Justin was just truly beginning to appreciate Brian’s back – as long as they’d been together, he never got tired of looking at Brian’s body – when he heard a cough and looked up sharply. Caught.

He bit the edge of his lip and smiled; all of a sudden, that early morning fuck they shared seemed a long way away. And judging from the faint stirring in his pants, his dick agreed.

Dragging his eyes over Brian’s torso, Justin sat up and palmed himself through his cargoes, waiting patiently. It never took long.

“Hmm,” Brian said, walking over and stopping just before Justin on the end of the sofa. “I’m surprised you’re still interested – what with my taste in cars and all.”

“Shut up,” Justin growled, half-laughing. “The magazine was for shit and you know it.”

“I don’t know,” Brian pretended to look concerned, “Mister Weathers seems to be an expert. I’m not sure if I can live up to your expectations anymore - my small package might not be able to keep up.”

What a liar. Justin could see Brian’s (definitely not small, most definitely able to live up to expectations) cock expand inside his jeans.

Keeping eye contact, Justin sat back on his heels. He let one leg fall off the edge of the couch as he fully lay back, sliding one hand down to unzip his fly. Resting his head on the sofa’s arm, he looked down at Brian and smiled. “Come over here.”

Through his bangs, Justin could see Brian walk along the outside of the couch – dragging a single finger along the high back - until he was behind Justin’s head resting on the arm.

Since he couldn’t see anything anyway, Justin closed his eyes and concentrated on Brian’s slow, deep breaths by his ear and the feel of his own hand on his cock. He guessed that Brian had knelt down, watching him jerk off.

Strong, sure hands ran over his shoulders, and Justin let out a small breath in shock and pleasure. He sighed as they continued down his chest, rubbing each nipple roughly and slowly before pulling up the material of his shirt. Once his tee shirt had been bunched up around the top of his chest, Brian pulled back his hands. They came back wet - massaging some kind of oil onto any reachable skin.

“You look hot, Sunshine,” Brian said, still rubbing.

“Mmm,” was all Justin was capable of saying. Speeding up his right hand on his dick, he used his left to reach around and grab Brian’s neck. He pushed and maneuvered until Brian got the idea; he leaned over and slowly dragged his lips across Justin’s.

“You want me to kiss you like this?” Justin still couldn’t see a thing, but he could practically feel Brian ask the question – ghosting the words with heavy breath. “Upside down?”

What a stupid thing to ask.

Before Justin could answer, Brian brought his lips down. It was awkward – definitely more spit involved than usual – but exciting and new and very, very hot. Justin abandoned his dick in favor of holding Brian’s face in the right position, but after a few minutes of serious kissing, they both broke away, panting.

“Fuck me now,” Justin ordered. Somehow, he’d pushed his pants and briefs down far enough that his cock was brushing against his stomach. He panted with the effort of not reaching down and finishing himself off.

“I think you’re doing just fine on your own.” With a short kiss to Justin’s nose, Brian disappeared again, kneeling on the floor.

Justin held his breath before sharply letting it out. “No.”

“Yes.”

“C’mon, Brian.” Justin hated it. He was practically pouting.

“Do you ever do this on your own?” Brian had moved his lips right next to Justin’s ear, sometimes flicking out his tongue between words. “Do you ever sit here and think of my cock when I’m not around?”

Justin groaned. Of course he did.

“I bet you’ve done it here before, haven’t you? Right here, where you are. Thinking of me.” Justin couldn’t help it – he stopped clutching the sides of the sofa next to his hips and grabbed his dick. His other hand raked across his stomach, frustrated, before moving down to brush past his balls. Brian noticed, of course; Justin heard a short snicker before that voice returned.

“So how do you do it, Justin? Do you only use your hands? Or maybe,” Brian licked a broad swipe to Justin’s shoulder before returning, “you use something else. Maybe jerking yourself off isn’t enough.”

“Brian. God.”

“Maybe you plug yourself,” Justin started to rub his ass against the sofa in time with his strokes; the fingers weren’t nearly enough. “I bet you sit here and imagine it’s me. Pushing in, touching you where you want it the most.”

When Justin pushed his fingers in as far as they would go, he arched his back.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Justin whimpered at that. “So close to coming.” He was. He really, really was.

It didn’t matter that the slap of skin on skin or his moans filled the loft – Brian’s voice was the only thing that Justin could hear. Low and rumbly. Incredibly close. “You know I love that the thought of me gets,” Justin’s body tightened, “you,” his toes curled, “off.”

Justin cried out as he came, pulling up the hand that wasn’t on his dick to grab his own hair. His body shook – abs clenching and legs trembling with little lighting shocks of pleasure. Little puffs of air left his mouth during the aftershocks until he released one long, shaky breath, letting his bones sink into the sofa. And through it all, the feeling of Brian rubbing his shoulders.

With another quick kiss to his nose, Brian left and returned with a towel. And wearing a new pair of pants.

Justin laughed when he noticed. “It’s nice to know that the sight of me is enough to get. you. off.” He playfully poked Brian’s side and grinned.

“Right, well.” Brian couldn’t help biting back a grin as he wiped Justin off. “You are quite the pretty picture when you’re all hot and bothered.”

Finished cleaning up, Brian threw the towel across the room and motioned for Justin to scoot over. With a bit of rearranging, Justin ended up partially laying on Brian with his back against the sofa’s. He could tell Brian was just about to fall asleep when he remembered.

“Hey,” he said, lightly hitting Brian’s arm, “what were you going to tell me?”

“Huh?” Brian didn’t even bother to open his eyes.

“When I wasn’t listening and you threw a water bottle at me, what were you going to say?”

Brian’s eyes flew open. “Shit!”

“What?!”

“Shit,” Brian said, quieter. He ran a hand over his face and sighed. “I was going to say that we had ten minutes until we needed to be at your mother’s.”

Oh, fuck! The dinner! Justin fought back a wave of panic. “You were going to say that we had ten minutes in which to take a shower, pick out clothes, get dressed, stop to pick up a bottle of wine, and drive the 20 minutes to her house?” He couldn’t help it – his voice got squeaky pre-queen out.

“Yeah.”

“And,” he almost didn’t want to think about it, “how long ago did you say this?”

Brian craned his head backward to look at the clock. “About 20 minutes. Give or take.”

“So, we should have been there ten minutes ago?”

“Right.”

“And we haven’t done any of the stuff I just talked about.”

Bless his heart. Brian almost sounded guilty. “Definitely right.”

“Brian! You fuck!” Justin scrambled off of the couch, not caring when he jabbed Brian in the stomach with a flying limb. “What the hell are we going to do?”

“Call it off?” Brian said, sounding hopeful.

“She’s been planning this for weeks, Brian, I can’t tell her that we’re not coming.” Well, there was nothing to it. “I’ll call and say we’re in a traffic jam or something. Maybe she can keep whatever she cooked warm.”

Having a renewed sense of purpose, Justin flew across the short distance to his cell phone. He was just about to dial when he noticed that Brian was still sitting on the couch, looking dazed. “What are you doing?” he screeched, “Get up! Go! Pick out your clothes and take a shower! We’re leaving here in 20 minutes.”

Brian looked affronted. “Twen—”

“NOW!”

Brian narrowed his eyes, but bit his tongue. A million times slower than Justin would have liked, he lumbered off into the bedroom.

Justin waited until he heard faint drawer-opening sounds before pressing the green button. Two short rings followed by a prompt ‘Hello, Jennifer speaking’ and he opened his mouth.

“Hey Mom,” he said, “You wouldn’t believe what kind of traffic we’re stuck in. I mean, I think I see fire.”

***

One hour and 12 minutes, five thrown shoes, two near car wrecks, and a set of screeching tires later, the Corvette pulled up to Mother Taylor’s humble home.

Justin knew he shouldn’t blame it all on Brian. The truth was they both forgot, but that didn’t stop him from turning to Brian on the doorstep and poking him with one, sharp finger. “Be nice,” he warned.

“Come now, when am I anything less than a perfect angel around your mother?” Brian grinned. Well, at least one of them was in a good mood.

Before Justin could open his mouth to start a very long, very detailed list, a lock clicked and the door opened. He immediately turned forward with his best, forgive-me-please smile. “Hey, Mom. Sorry we’re late.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” she said, inviting them inside with a warm smile, “That must have been quite an accident. Where was it, exactly? I didn’t see anything on the news.”

“Oh, uh. Well you know. They fixed it up so fast and all, I don’t think the news station would have had time to cover it. It was just some debris on the road.”

Jennifer stopped taking their coats, looking confused. “I thought you said you saw a fire.”

Brian snorted.

“That too,” Justin said quickly, “That happened too.”

“Hmm,” If Jennifer knew or cared that her son was lying, she didn’t show it. “Well, all that matters is that you’re here. Come sit down. Tucker!” she called, “Will you bring out the plates, please? They’re here.” Giving them both a quick kiss and turning down any help, Jennifer shooed them into the dining room and bustled back into the kitchen.

“A fire?” Brian looked far too amused.

“Shut up.”

“I’m just surprised you weren’t a little more creative. Why stop with fire when we could have been held up by a hurricane? Or man-eating sloths. Or angry pixies with little rainbow hats. Or ki—”

“Shut. Up.” Justin kicked Brian under the table, feeling his face turn red. “Don’t be ridiculous.” And then, a small smile. “We couldn’t have been attacked by man-eating sloths, anyway.”

“Oh?”

“They’re herbivores.”

Brian laughed, showing off his crooked tooth. “Such a clever devil.”

Justin felt a foot lightly smack his own under the table. Silently, he wondered what Brian would say if he pointed out they were playing footsie. Probably act like he was being attacked by little gay pixies, no doubt. He smiled, instead.

“I do what I can.”

***

It wasn’t that Justin didn’t approve of Tucker, it was just that he couldn’t stand him. He wasn’t sure how Brian felt (they’d never really talked about it), but he took no small amount of joy out of the fact that every time Tucker moved to speak, Brian gripped his silverware just a little bit tighter.

Happy for his mother as he might be, there was no denying it. Tucker was an annoying, quasi-intellectual idiot.

The present conversation was an excellent example.

“I just love being around children,” Tucker gushed, “In fact, I watched over my sister’s kids the other day. Maria, the oldest,” he stopped to swallow a mouthful of wine, “she’s something of a rebel. Perhaps you can relate, Justin?” He paused to flash a grin at his girlfriend’s son before bumping shoulders with Jennifer, who nearly giggled.

Justin squirmed.

“And anyway, you should see the kinds of magazines this girl has. Teeny Bop this, Sugartastic that. After the kids went to bed I picked one of them – just for fun, you know – and it had the most amusing articles I’d ever seen. My favorite was this one about cars, I forget who wrote it. Jacob something.”

No, Justin thought. No way.

“It had a whole listing of any car you could think of, and then what that car ‘said’ about the person who owned it. I wrote down a few of the more memorable ones. Jen was happy to know that she’s ‘reliable and independent’, weren’t you?” He turned to smile at Jennifer. “Brian, you drive a Corvette, right?”

Justin saw Brian stiffen up and wanted to shake Tucker by the throat – Brian’s ego could only take so much in one day. Frankly, he was surprised he’d gotten away with it earlier. There was no way that would happen now. Brian and Tucker definitely couldn’t fuck away their problems.

“Yes.” If Tucker knew anything about Brian’s personality, he’d know that it wasn’t safe to continue this conversation. Then again, he was a quasi-intellectual idiot.

“I’m sure Justin doesn’t mind,” Tucker said, clearly pleased with himself, “but judging by your taste in cars, Jacob the author believes you have an under-whelming package.”

…

Oh my god.

Jennifer clapped a hand over her mouth before she could spit out any food. Looking over at Brian, Justin wondered if he should run across the table to prevent Tucker from sustaining any bodily harm.

Brian was clearly holding himself back from murder. “Is that so?”

Jennifer, ever the WASP, cleared her throat. “Tucker, would you help me clear the plates, please?”

Tucker turned. “But we haven’t finis—”

“Please.” Quickly swallowing the rest of her wine before grabbing random dishes, Jennifer shot an apologetic look over to Brian and pushed Tucker out of the room. From the table, Justin could hear the beginnings of a quiet reprimanding in the kitchen.

Brian was still sitting in his chair, grinding his teeth.

Justin sighed. It figured that he would be the one to clean up Tucker’s mess.

“He’s an idiot, Brian,” he tried. “You know that.”

No response.

“If he wasn’t my mother’s boyfriend, I’d castrate him for you. I’d make it really, really painful and everything. Lots of blood.”

Still nothing.

“That magaz—”

“I never want to hear about that fucking magazine again, got that? Never.” Patting the pockets of his pants, Justin knew that Brian was looking for the cigarettes he’d hidden in the car. It was a sign.

Justin got up to tell his mother goodbye.

***

“I wish you’d calm down.”

Brian passed another car, down-shifting for more speed on the hill. “I am calm.”

“Brian, you’re driving like a maniac. You’re not even paying attention.” Proving his point, Brian had to slam on the brakes to avoid rear-ending a slow car. Justin gripped the edge of his seat before biting out, “And if you keep it up, you can pull over and let me out. I’ll call a cab.”

Taking in a big breath, Justin could see Brian forcibly relax. His hands on the steering wheel released their death-grip and the Corvette slowed down.

“Sorry,” Brian grinded out. “I just…I fucking hate Tucker.”

Justin let out a mirthless laugh. “We are in complete agreement,” he said, before swiveling around in his seat. “Hey! You just missed the exit. Where are we going?”

“To the diner.”

What? “Brian, we just ate.”

Brian glanced at him sideways before changing lanes. “Maybe you did. Your mother is nice and all, but her chicken parmesan is for shit. Plus,” he added, quieter, “Ted said everyone was meeting up there after dinner.”

Ah. An ego-booster, then. A chance to be around people who knew his reputation, despite his taste in cars. Typical Brian, Justin thought, although he had a hard time blaming him.

Really, the chicken wasn’t that good.

***

Sure enough, everyone except Michael was at the diner when they hurried in; it had started to rain as soon as they parked the car. By some miracle, Justin had remembered the weather report earlier and brought an umbrella.

Emmett, his new boy-toy, and Ted waved from the corner booth. It didn’t look like anyone had ordered anything; the table was only littered with drinks.

Grabbing Brian’s hand, Justin led them over, feeling some kind of weight lift away. The diner was safe territory, probably one of the best places for Brian to forget about Tucker and the dinner. Knowing that Brian would be calm helped Justin relax, and he smiled at everyone as they slid into an empty side. And kept smiling when Brian didn’t let go of his hand.

“My, my,” said Emmett, eyeing them both, “You two are back early. Couldn’t wait to leave?”

“Couldn’t wait to fuck, is more like it,” groused Ted.

“Don’t be jealous, Theodore. It’s not becoming. Especially on a fine, upstanding gentleman such as yourself.” Brian’s words were harsh, but his lips curled up a bit. Not even a grin, but close.

“Hey guys!”

Looking up from the booth, Justin wearily joined in the chorus of hellos for Michael. Brian stayed silent.

Not that Michael noticed; peppy as ever, he bounced over to the table and slid in. Next to Brian, of course. Not even six years with Ben could break him of that habit.

“What’s up?” Michael chirped. “And no dick jokes.”

Justin wanted to slap a piece of duct tape over Michael’s mouth. Or maybe just slap him in general. He just didn’t have the energy for this.

“Nothing much, baby, but why are you late?” Slinging his arm off of (Chris? Tim? Justin couldn’t remember), Emmett reached for his milkshake.

From the look on Michael’s face, he’d been waiting for someone to ask him that.

“Well,” he said, sounding excited, “you wouldn’t believe who I ran into.”

Closing his eyes, Justin leaned his head on Brian’s shoulder. He didn’t necessarily want to stay awake for this.

He faintly heard bits of the conversation. Michael was blabbering on about running into a high-school formerly-in-the-closet buddy that had just moved back to Pittsburgh. Justin could care less, so he happily let himself tune out the story.

Until he heard it.

“…called ‘Sugartastic’. He said he picked it up and flipped to some page about cars…”

Justin’s head shot up, suddenly very much awake. “Michael,” he warned. Not again. This couldn’t happen again. He was sick of it.

“…and then I told him what you drove, Brian, and he couldn’t believe it. He said he never would have imagined that one of the best fucks in Pittsburgh would have such a,” he paused for dramatics, “revealing taste in cars.”

“Motherfuck!” Justin thought Brian looked like he was about to implode. Or be forced to eat a bag of Cheetoes. It was hard to say. “Has everyone and their dead grandmother read that stupid fucking article?”

The table was quiet. Justin hoped everyone was smart enough to keep their mouths closed, at least until he got Brian out of the diner. He was just deciding whether it would be best to push Brian out of the booth with a lame excuse about needing to leave, or grab his dick when he heard someone clear their voice. Oh god, no.

“Technically, Brian,” Ted piped up, “a dead grandmother wouldn’t be able to read said article. And considering the sheer amount of material it would take to produce enough copies for absolutely everyone to read, not to mention the cost of distribution, well. It just couldn’t happen. Therefore your comparison is…” he slowed down, finally realizing his error but somehow unable to stop, “…uh, implausible.”

Emmett wisely hid behind two manicured hands. “Oh, Teddy,” he breathed.

For one wild, delusional second, Justin thought maybe Brian hadn’t been listening. Then he shifted, sat up straighter, and placed both of his hands on the table, eerily calm. Justin recognized that position. He hid behind his hands, too.

“My comparison is what, Theodore?”

“You know what?” Ted sputtered, slipping on his words, “it doesn’t matter. A joke! I was joking, I don’t even know why I ca—”

“No really. Say it again.” Justin could hear Brian grinding his teeth. “Enlighten me.”

Ted looked like he was ready to piss in his pants. If he hadn’t already. “Im-implausable?”

“Hmm,” said Brian, smoothly leaning back a bit in the booth. “I hope you enjoyed your life Theodore. Even if it was a rather pitiful one.”

“En-enjoyed my life?”

“Yes,” said Brian darkly, “because it’s about to end.”

Before Brian could do any damage with the sharp, shiny objects sitting on the table, Justin pushed him out of his seat. “Okay, Brian. Time to go home. Put the pepper down, we’re leaving.”

The peppershaker clattered on the table, but Brian – stumbling and twisting towards the door – still pointed a finger at Ted.

“Be afraid, Theodore,” said Brian, “I know where you work.”

Justin rolled his eyes and reached for his umbrella, keeping one hand on Brian’s back. “Bye guys,” he said, before stepping into the storm.

***

“What a day.” Justin’s voice echoed in the dark loft. He flipped on the switch for the lights above the kitchen island and went over to the desk to check their messages, waiting to see what Brian would do.

“What an understatement,” Brian grumbled. His coat smacked against the floor when he missed the stool he was aiming for. “I don’t think this day could have been any fucking worse.”

Justin kept silent, giving Brian his space. He stayed at the desk, pretending to move papers around until Brian stomped into the bathroom and flicked on the water for the shower.

There’d been no more spastic driving on the way home, but that didn’t mean Brian wasn’t pissed off. It was a wonder he was still functioning, Justin thought, considering how many times his cock had been insulted that day.

Too exhausted to take a shower, Justin stripped off his pants and changed into a tee shirt before crawling into bed. He could hear Brian rummaging around in the shower (probably inspecting the state of his package, no doubt) until the water shut off with a squeak.

He emerged ten minutes later, wearing pajama bottoms. Justin had never seen Brian wear pajama bottoms.

“What the fuck?” he said, pointing in the general direction of Brian’s ass.

With one sharp glare, Brian ignored him and quickly slid under the covers.

Justin couldn’t go to sleep like this, so he thought of something to say. “You do realize that Ted is going to walk around with heart palpitations at work from now on.”

Brian ran a hand through his wet hair, wiping the moisture off on his pillow. “As he should.”

Justin rolled on his side and propped his arm up to support his head. He looked down at Brian, who’d crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. With one small finger, he traced the outline of Brian’s nipple.

Brian batted his hand away.

This was ridiculous. “Can we skip to the part where you’re not pissed off, again?”

Brian didn’t say anything

Fine. Grumbling only a little, Justin pulled back the covers and grabbed one of his sketchpads. He found a pen and began to furiously write.

Brian couldn’t pretend he wasn’t interested for long. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Writing a letter.”

The covers rustled as Brian turned to get a better view. “For what?”

“To the editors of a certain magazine. I’m letting them know how I feel about printing false information. Especially when it pertains to my partner’s cock size.”

That made Brian perk up. “Oh?”

“Mm-hmm. And that if they insist on making any claims, they must contact me for approval.”

“Because you’re the expert?”

“Seven years and counting.”

A short laugh. “I see,” Brian said. Had Brian been a bird, Justin thought, he’d be preening his feathers. “Be sure to add words like ‘life-threateningly huge’ and ‘devastatingly handsome’.”

“Of course,” said Justin, pretending to write that down. Brian did not need to know he was only scribbling.

“You know, you’re pretty hot when you’re defending my honor.” Justin smiled when he felt long fingers trace the curve of his hip. It was really, really hard not to feel smug.

“I am?” Justin stopped writing to lean into Brian’s hand, wriggling his hips.

“Yes,” Brian said, grabbing the sketch pad and throwing it across the bed, “you are.” He reached up for Justin’s head and pulled him down for a kiss. Now this was much better.

Justin let out a soft ‘oh’ of surprise when he was pushed on his back. He angled his hips up to start rubbing, but could barely feel Brian through those stupid pants.

He let out a frustrated moan. “Get these fucking things off,” he said, trying to pull them down himself.

Brian laughed and then complied, sitting up for a moment to take off the pants. As soon as he leaned back down, Justin surged up for an open-mouthed kiss. Hands rubbing, petting, and pulling, they lay there kissing until Brian pulled away.

“Sunshine, there’s something you should know.”

Wetting his lips again, Justin looked up. “Yeah?”

“While you were in the shower before we left, I picked up that magazine.”

Okay? “That’s nice,” Justin said, not really caring.

Brian could barely hold back his grin. Trapping Justin’s hands above his head, he leaned down and whispered.

“According to your taste in footwear, your ass is three sizes too big.”

“Well then,” Justin laughed, rubbing said ass into the sheets, “it’s a good thing you love me anyway.”

“Definitely,” Brian smiled.