To:sfscarlet From:0corona0 Title: Time Gift Request: B/J New Year Eve Story, Fluff, Post-513, R to NC-17 Rating: NC-17 Summary: Justin comes home during Christmas break, only to see that his memories are slipping away from him. Is it only time? (the quote in the lj-cut is a quote from the song “Ich Sang die Ganze Zeit von Dir” by Tomte, roughly translated)
Justin opens the buttons of Brian’s shirt with no haste. He feels like this is the first slow fuck they are going to have in… in a year.
One year ago he moved to New York. And on their far too few weekend-visits and Thanksgiving break, they barely had time to soothe their bodies’ yearning for each other.
He closes his eyes and presses a soft kiss to the revealed stripe of bronze skin. And another one. And another one. Slowly, ever so slowly, Justin covers the skin of Brian’s upper body with his lips, deliberately taking his time. He tastes the skin, swiping his tongue around Brian’s navel in broad swipes. He smells the skin, his nose rubbing gentle circles around Brian’s pecks, catching that special scent. He feels the skin, Brian’s muscles twitching lightly when he kisses them, a shiver running through the body he’s caressing. He hears Brian’s hitching breath and a low moan, and Justin realizes that it’s not nearly enough – because as soon as he raises his head to look into Brian’s face, he forgets taste, smell, feel and smell of Brian’s skin. And as soon as he moves to recapture them by covering Brian’s lips with his, he forgets Brian’s face.
Justin is suddenly afraid, while Brian pushes him backwards, against the kitchen’s pillar, both hands firmly planted on Justin’s waist, his tongue softly licking the inside of Justin’s lips. And Justin remembers times when he could draw Brian in all his glorious details by heart, when he could think of the smell of his cum and get horny in the middle of a class, when the memory of the look on Brian’s face during an orgasm enabled him to finish yet another critically acclaimed painting. He pulls the shirt gently off Brian’s shoulders and watches it fall, separating the kiss for a moment. He wants to remember its shape, lying huddled on the floor, forgotten, ignored, like his memories…
Two fingers under his chin lift Justin’s head up so that he is looking into Brian’s face, tall above him, and softer than usual, a line of worry on his forehead, a sultry glimmering in his dark eyes.
His voice barely carries above a whisper, but his thumb gently stroking Justin’s cheek says all that’s left unsaid: a movement of concern, care and appreciation. Justin puts his own hands onto Brian’s naked shoulders, and lets them, one after the other, run slowly down his arms. His eyes follow, wandering above those lines he once knew, wondering if they changed, and has to admit to himself that he couldn’t say for sure.
Justin looks up into Brian’s face again and catches the hazel eyes tracing the outlines of Justin’s hands.
We’re losing each other.
Fear overwhelms him, and Brian notices, notices quickly how Justin’s right hand starts shaking, how his face changes, the tiny difference in his breathing. He puts one hand onto Justin’s neck and pulls him into a tight embrace with the other, his lips on Justin’s temple, not saying anything. He can smell Justin’s hair. Did Justin change his shampoo? Is that why the smell seems unfamiliar?
They both have dealt with the effects of a long-distance-relationship. But it never hit neither of them as badly as it does now, hugging in the dark, dead-silent Loft, hearing nothing but each other’s breathing. Suddenly it seems so fragile – they seem so fragile.
Brian loosens his grip, takes Justin’s hand, intertwines their fingers, and then pulls him over the hardwood floor, up the stairs; three steps, three slow, small steps, walking backwards, looking into Justin’s eyes. Until they reach the bed. Brian guides Justin backwards onto the mattress and kisses him only when their bodies are lined up perfectly, fabric touching fabric touching naked skin.
The kiss is gentle, and soothing, Brian’s lips barely moving. He kisses Justin’s forehead, then rests his own against it. “It’s only time”, Brian finally whispers, because Justin still looks scared, and continues to do so. It’s because he really is scared. Justin doesn’t want to start the new year with a fading memory of Brian. He doesn’t want to start the new year any other way but happy and fulfilled, and that’s what he should be feeling, but…
“It may make us forget.”
The voice isn’t Justin’s. It doesn’t sound like him, too timid, too dry and too different. Has Brian forgotten Justin’s voice when he whispers? When he’s emotional, frightened or upset? May time really beat them in the end?
Brian doesn’t want to face all those questions, not on New Year’s Eve, not during their precious time together. So he does what he does best: Brush it off.
“Feel free to refresh your memory, then”, he says, cocking his eyebrow to challenge Justin, a tongue-in-cheek smirk already firmly in place. And suddenly, Justin laughs, because he can well remember Brian’s dubious comments, his sarcasm, his quick wit, his complicated uncomplicatedness. There are things he will never forget. The rest, he will claim back.
Justin seizes Brian’s arms and flips him onto his back, grinning brightly, his fingers popping open button after button of Brian’s jeans. He’s taking his time, pulls down pants and underwear separately, only his fingertips touching the edge of the waistband. His hands stroke up Brian’s inner thigh after he has discarded the clothing and he leans down. He can hear Brian’s expectant intake of breath, but instead of swallowing his cock whole, Justin buries his nose in Brian’s pubes. Smell comes first.
He breathes in Brian’s scent with delight, letting his nose fill up with it until Brian is trembling because he’s forcing himself not to whimper, or beg. Justin smiles, you’ll be speaking, but now is not the time. Now it’s time for taste.
His lips cover Brian’s cock, inch by inch it slides down his throat while Justin relaxes his muscles, takes Brian down so deep that the tip of his nose is touching skin, and Brian lets out a pressed moan. But that’s just the beginning.
Justin starts bobbing his head slowly, steadily, his tongue running from top to base. Brian’s fingers grip his long blond strands tighter and tighter as he continues his torture, swirling his wet tongue over and around the tip and into the slit, lapping up the precum, only to run it downwards again, savouring the taste, the taste that makes him hornier even than that of Jambalaya. And Brian grips tighter, holds his breath, bites his lips, but in vain, for the name escapes his lips in the end, anyway:
Hearing. Justin smiles, high on smell, taste and sound. He lets go off Brian’s cock and stills the protest by a finger on Brian’s lips and a request of his own:
“I want you inside me.”
It echos, bringing back one distinct memory back to both of them, and Justin is for the first time fully-aware of the fact that Brian re-installed the blue lights. But there’s no time to ponder that, for Brian gently turns Justin onto his side. His knuckles graze Justin’s skin as he takes off the shirt and pants, and, last, the socks. Brian rests one hand on Justin’s hip, the other one reaching for lube and a condom. Two slick fingers enter him, Justin closes his eyes and moans. He knows this is nothing compared to what is going to follow. He’s been through it countless times, the scissoring, Brian’s fingertip deliberately brushing his prostate, making him gasp. He feels Brian grin against his hair and turns his head, reaching for a kiss. Brian’s lips cover his, tongues tasting each other, while he opens the condom, the unmistakable sound of the wrapper tearing making Justin moan.
Brian is inside him, pain and coldness mingling with a foreboding of pleasure and the intensity of love and gentleness – and the timelessness of this moment hits Justin along with growing lust. This is when they own, control and dominate time.