The 37 Days of Gusmas
Title: Please Come Home For Christmas Author: vl_redreign Prompt: Blizzard image
Notes: There are 8 tonight, but I needed them because...well, you'll see. Much thanks to pfodge for her mad skillz and helping me with my surprise. What surprise, Red? Well, remember when Justin hung up on Brian? Yeah. You get to see why. Oh, and there's sex, too! If you close one eye and squint...
I
Brian didn’t watch much television, but when he did, it was usually the financials. For the past two days, he’d become glued to The Weather Channel. He hoped beyond hope that the storm they’d predicted would shift to the south and bypass Pittsburgh.
It shifted, all right. Right over New York fucking State.
He glanced at the clock. Five am. He got up, started the coffee, then sat waiting for it, lighting a cigarette and grabbing his phone.
“Hi, Sandy, Brian Kinney. Get me Paul, please.” A moment passed, then: “Paul, red alert. I need you to pull some strings.”
II
Justin was ready to go. His flight left at one, but he figured he’d get to the airport as early as he could. That was the plan, anyway.
Mother Nature was a bitch.
He stared out the window at what would be a lovely, unbroken field of white, if it wasn’t fucking with his day. The plows hadn’t reached his street, and by the time it did, he’d miss his flight. He’d wait just a while longer, then call Brian.
He’d been looking forward to this since he left Pittsburgh after Thanksgiving. All he wanted was Brian wrapped around him.
III
It took Brian thirty minutes to get ready, and another hour just to get off of Fuller. Seemed that giving the plow driver a little Christmas cheer in the form of Ben Franklin helped get the road cleared a little faster. Still, he was limited to about 15 miles an hour, and a twenty minute drive turned into ninety. He parked his car (and wished that he’d kept his Jeep; he’d have to remedy that soon) and hurried into the building.
“Mr. Kinney, good morning.”
“Good morning, Sandy, Paul is expecting me.”
“Follow me.” She led him down the hall.
IV
Justin was panicking now. He’d called the airport, and found that, so far, no planes were being delayed. Since the bulk of the storm had landed the night before, and the next front wasn’t due until late afternoon, they planned to get as many flights out of La Guardia as possible.
Perfect.
And no matter how hard he glared, the snow plows still hadn’t reached his block. He called and ranted at Public Works, and the bitch on the phone told him that no matter how loudly he swore at her, the plows were still two hours away.
Just…perfect.
V
It was cold. Damned cold. Brian thought he was used to it, having grown up in western Pennsylvania, but sometimes…fuck. He pulled his collar up and readjusted his scarf. He looked at his hands and wished he’d bought the fur lined gloves. Add that to the list: fur gloves and a new Jeep.
“Mr. Kinney, it’s ready.”
About time. He climbed into the sleek black car and sighed as the heater blew full blast.
Finally, the plows were just finishing up, and Justin could call for a cab. He reached for the phone and stopped.
A black Mercedes limo pulled up.
VI
The door opened and Brian climbed out of the car. Justin was too stunned to move. He watched as Brian entered the building, then raced out of the apartment to meet him two floors down.
He tasted like mint and cigarettes and winter.
“Hey.”
“Why are you here?”
“You want me to leave?”
“No! I just…how?”
“I paid a plowman a hundred bucks to get off my street, then got a contact at Liberty Air to get me a private jet and car, then paid two more plowmen to get here. I tallied it up, you owe me two hundred blowjobs.”
VII
“I need to grab my stuff.”
“Hurry up, the meter’s running.”
“You really chartered a jet?”
“Business was good. Plus, I owe you.”
“For what?”
“Not flying to LA.”
Justin blinked slowly. “You sooo loooove me.”
“Shut up and get your bag.” Brian couldn’t hide his smile. “Twat.”
Justin grabbed his bags, and threw them over his shoulder. Brian took the laptop bag.
“You’re gonna hurt something, and then what good will you be?” Brian glanced at a painting on the easel.
“Is that what you hung up on me for?”
“Yeah. It’s not varnished yet.”
“It’s good.”
VIII
Justin blew Brian in the back of the limo. Brian leaned back into the seat and tried not to groan too loudly. That didn’t work. Justin wouldn’t let Brian return the favor, preferring to save it for the jet.
“It’s only an hour flight,” Brian said.
“Well, we’ll have to be quick, won’t we?”
The plane reached cruising altitude, and Brian dragged Justin into the bathroom. He locked the door and leaned Justin against it, kissed him, prepared him and shoved his cock into him in less than thirty seconds. They fucked fast and furious, and came with muffled moans.