So funny or serendipitous or whatever that you should retread this now because I started re-reading that entire series over the weekend....because it's been a few months since I've done that. :p
Yay for plumy! She rocks my socks.
“Are you going to answer me?” You want to tell him that that tone of voice he’s using is unacceptable. But actually, it’s making you hard. You haven’t been scolded in that, Brian, how could you? way in so long. Now you’re horny and nostalgic.
It’s so fucking fabulous to be in a non-relationship again.
YES, IT IS! :DDD
“You’re beautiful, Justin.” He closes his eyes. Your fingers comb through his hair as his face warms your palm. “I want you to have everything you want.” He smiles into your palm. “And to the extent that anything you want is something that I can give you, you’ll have it.” He opens his eyes and looks up at you.
“You mean like I want world peace, but that’s not your forte?”
“Exactly, but I’ll do what I can. Finance some freedom fighters or whatever.” He laughs a little.
“Okay.”
You’re both quiet for several seconds.
“But I want some things, too.” His eyes open wider.
“You do?” You walk away and pick up a wooden stool and bring it back to the side of the table where you sit, where he looks at you.
“I want you to stay.”
“Is that why you cuffed me to my very own art table?”
“It’s an anvil of a metaphor, but it gets my point across.”
...
“I asked you to marry me before because I wanted to you make you happy, and even though we didn’t go through with it that was okay because you were happy." You stop and look right at him, “I can’t function when you’re not happy.” He scoots closer to you, to the edge of the table, the metal rings clinking on the bars as he moves. You move your stool to be closer to him, offering him the last drag off your cigarette before you kill it and then laying your right hand on his chest.
“That doesn’t make you selfish.”
“Yeah, well, that was then.” His brow furrows. “And this is now. Now, I want things. I’ve never wanted things before.”
His eyebrows heighten, “What do you want, Brian?” He looks almost concerned, like you have a disease. You agree with him, your chin resting on your hand on his chest.
“I want you to smile all the time. I want to come home from work to some fabulous dinner you’ve made, but that we don’t eat because it’s been fifteen and a half hours since I’ve fucked you and you can’t wait any longer so I fuck you on the stairs. Then I want you to show up unannounced at my office the next day and demand that I take you to lunch because we skipped dinner last night, but instead we go to the loft and fuck…”
“I see a theme here.”
“It’s a very thematic fantasy.”
“I can tell.”
“I want to watch a John Wayne movie marathon with you while you bitch and moan the whole time because you hate westerns, but you sit there with me anyway and suck me off at least once an hour.”
“Can I have popcorn with obscene amounts of butter?”
“Yes, as long as you wipe your hands before you blow me.”
“Cool.”
“I want to fuck you while you cook, while you paint, while you use your electric toothbrush. I want to fight with you, break shit, and have to spend a thousand dollars replacing crap just so you’ll calm down. I want to argue with you over how to decorate the five empty rooms in this place that I’ve never touched and then just give in and let you do what you want.”
“You’re asking a lot.”
“I know. And during all of this, I want you to be deliriously happy, completely fulfilled, and insatiably horny.”
“That’s all?”
“Pretty much.”
Oh, Brian. *pets* Plum just gets the OTP-ness of them so much it hurts sometimes and I love her for it.
She is pretty much my all-time favorite fic writer.