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Fuck! Justin threw the magazine across the room and watched it crash into the leg of the white leather sofa. As if life wasn’t hard enough already. Just when he and Brian were getting somewhere. Closer than ever before as partners - geographically, emotionally, financially. Well, maybe not that last one -- after all, Brian had twelve years on him. But in these last five years Justin had made great strides in his attempt to close the gap. He’d paid Brian back all the money he’d loaned him -- plus interest, and he had some small investments of his own thanks to gallery sales and several lucrative commissions.
Back in Pittsburgh less than a month, he and Brian were still working out the details of their relationship and this has to happen. It was the kind of thing that in the old days would sure have sent Brian into a spiral of drugs, booze and total denial, far away from what ever the fuck their unconventional relationship was.
It wasn’t that Justin didn’t trust Brian or the fact that Brian loved him, it was just... Shit!
Brian alighted from the bedroom, all but gliding down the stairs, looking like a million bucks (make that eighteen point three if the numbers on the handy little chart in the article were to be believed) in a summer weight cocoa brown Armani suit with the finest pinstripe of burnished gold.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Brian stooped to pick up the copy of “Out” and blithely flipped through the pages. “Is that any way to treat the sacred scroll of the gay community?” Brian’s tongue pushed at his cheek. He knew what was bugging Justin, but damned if he wasn’t going to have some fun pulling the tiger by the tail.
Brian made a big show of straightening the pages and smoothing out the cover before laying the magazine on the breakfast bar within reaching distance to where Justin sat. Brian’s smiling face beamed back at himself from the collage of some of Out’s Power 50 on the cover.
“I’m really pleased that they ending up using Marco for the photo shoot. Fuck knows what I would have looked like if it has been that queen Jensen. He’s had it out for me since I threw him off the Brown Athletics set two years ago.”
Brian gave the magazine cover one more smooth with his lean fingers. Justin followed the movement noting the neat square nails and their cleanly trimmed cuticles. His mouth pressed into a line that made lips curl, his nose scrunch and his cheeks bunch. Definitely not an attractive look for the younger man.
Brian allowed himself a small smirk as he turned away from Justin to retrieve his briefcase. Turning back, Brian let his free hand thread through Justin’s shaggy mane. He cupped Justin’s head bringing it forward so their lips met. As was often the case, the kiss deepened, Brian stroking Justin’s tongue in a slow caress, smoothing along Justin’s teeth, before ending with a final lick across his lips.
Brian pulled back; Justin’s eyes were still shut as he savored the moment. Brian smiled, ah yes, Justin was back in the Pitts, and all his. Life was good.
Brian cleared his throat and lust-filled blue eyes blinked open slowly.
“Mmm-hmm. Save that thought, Sunshine. I should be back around 6:30 tonight. Don’t forget we have that reception this weekend, I was thinking. Perhaps, we should go to New York a couple of days early. Maybe do a little shopping, let you check out some of your old haunts. Fuck in public places. You know, good times.”
And with that parting shot, Brian exited the loft, leaving Justin in the echoing roll and bang as the metal door closed.
.~.~.~.~.
Brian’s features taunted Justin from the sea of faces on the glossy cover of Out. Justin made a moue, as his fingers walked across counter to bat at the corner of the magazine. He fingered the page corners, before turning to the page.
“Seven-fucking-teen.” Justin scanned the page announcing the Movers and Shakers of Out’s Power 50. He’d memorized every word of the brief bio.
Pittsburgh seems like an unlikely place to find the second coming of the advertising world. Far from Manhattan’s mean streets, Brian Kinney, 39, has built the world’s premier boutique ad agency, Kinnetik, in a former bathhouse of all places. In less than ten years, this power player has amassed a portfolio of loyal customers, along with a small fortune. Spanning divergent verticals -- pharmaceuticals, fashion, retail, health care, transportation and hospitality -- Kinnetik delivers innovative, intriguing and intelligent campaigns. “Kinnetik doesn’t underestimate the intelligence of our clients or their customers. We leave the mediocre to the masses that occupy Madison Avenue. Our clients come to us for something out of the ordinary, that unique presentation that differentiates them from their competitors. At Kinnetik, we don’t live in a box, we don’t think in a box.”
Notorious for his hedonistic lifestyle, Kinney puts his all out there for his clients. Brash, unapologetic, in your face, undeniably brilliant, talented and narcissistic. It’s hard to know where his critics end and his fan club begins. Intensely private about his personal life, he offers only one comment to rumors of fatherhood, partnership and philanthropy in the community. “If I’m not fucking you, it’s none of your business.” In this case, being fucked might not be a bad thing.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The plane ride to LaGuardia was uneventful, if delayed. The cab ride into Manhattan tolerable. The hotel... spectacular!
“Fuck! You must be some mover and shaker to rate this!” Justin torpedoed into the room, pausing only to toe off his shoes before diving onto the bed. Raising himself onto his elbows, Justin watched Brian as he closed the door before crossing more sedately to the bedroom portion of the suite.
Justin wiggled his eyebrows, “Want to move and shake me?”
Brian huffed out a laugh. “That is precisely why you should stick to your paintbrushes and leave the copy to me.” Brian leaned down to kiss Justin, and promptly found himself flipped on his back, caged between Justin’s knees and hands.
“Or, I could make you move and shake.”
Brian rolled his eyes, snorted, and shook his head. But it didn’t stop him from grabbing Justin and wrestling him down to the bed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The cab pulled up to gallery where the reception was being held. Fashionably late, Brian threw some bills at the driver before steering Justin to the etched glass door.
“You didn’t tell me that the reception was being held at fucking bitforms,” Justin hissed at Brian.
Brian looked quizzically at Justin. He was cut off from saying anything as the publicist from Out, a fussy old queen named Richard, came up and looped his arm through Brian’s pulling him further into the gallery.
“Brian! We have been waiting for you to arrive, you naughty boy! Now come over here, we want to get a group portrait of our Power 50!”
The publicist dragged Brian toward a gathering of what Justin supposed to be the other Power 49. Justin looked around, noting the others in the room. A waiter floated by and he snagged two glasses of champagne, before starting a self guided tour of the gallery. He paused in front of a work by Daniel Rozin.
“Like it?”
“It’s amazing.” Justin responded before look to where the question came from.
“Thank you.” The tall man with curling hair took the extra flute of champagne from Justin and joined him in front of the mirrored tiles.
Justin turned to study the man closely. All things are possible. “Yours?”
The man nodded philosophically, “Until someone buys it. You seem to appreciate it, perhaps you’ll buy it.”
Justin smiled and shook his head, “I don’t think I can afford it.”
“Too bad. It’s nice to know when they go home they will be suitably appreciated.” With a shrug he moved to another work on the opposite side of the gallery.
Justin went back to studying the mirrored panels.
“Are you lucky or what?”
“Huh?” Justin turned and this time was face to face with what he could only surmise was a rental unit... high class, but a rental unit, none the less.
“That guy who left... I wasted a half hour on him, but he’s straight, totally. Not even a closet case. I don’t even know how he got in here here.”
“Perhaps because he’s the artist?” Justin’s sarcastic retort was lost on rent boy.
“Whatever! Now that’s what I’m talking about.”
Justin followed the other man’s gaze and just in time to see Brian give him a chin up.
“Mmmm, hmmm, I know who I’m going home with tonight.”
Luckily, rental boy swished away before he saw the daggers in Justin’s eyes.
Brian’s publicist swooped down on Justin. “Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Young man, this is a private function.” Then ‘Dick’ got his hooks into Justin’s right arm so tightly that Justin couldn’t suppress the cry of pain.
The only good that came out of it was that the old bat released Justin’s immediately.
“Shhsh! Shhsh!” Justin was pushed toward the door.
Justin dug in his heals, and the old queen nearly fell on his ass.
Justin stood his ground and in a low whisper stated, “I came here with someone, and I am leaving with him. I have no intention on leaving on my own.”
“Alex? Hmmph! He’s otherwise occupied. Believe me, you’re the last person he plans on going home with tonight. I told him he wasn’t to bring any more of his little friends to these soirees. Absolutely not!”
“Who the hell is Alex?”
“Huh? Why Alex,” he spun around and gestured to the rental unit zeroing in on Brian. Brian, oblivious to the scene that was playing out before him, was deep in conversation with a tall, dark, handsome, and much older gentleman. “Alex.” Giving Justin another shove toward the door, the publicist continued his efforts to evict Justin.
“I didn’t come with Alex. I came with Brian.”
“Brian? Is that what he’s calling himself these days?” There was a bit a tsk-ing before the queen rolled on. “Next week it will be Christopher... and then Dean. I should have never allowed him to talk me into coming here... no matter how delicious he was...” Dick wandered off down memory lane before realizing what he’d said.
“No.” Frustrated, Justin made one more attempt at clearing up the situation. “Not the rental unit; Brian, Brian Kinney. I came here with Brian Kinney and I fucking plan on leaving with him.” Exasperation and frustration punctuated each word in the sentence as Justin struggled to keep voice as low so as not to disturb the guests.
“Brian Kinney?” The publicist made a thin wheezey sound realizing his massive faux pas. A nervous giggle accompanied his chiding, “Well, why didn’t you just say so?” Smoothing Justin’s sweater, Richard grabbed Justin by his other arm. He all but marched Justin over to Brian, presenting him as he might a precious concubine to a king.
Brian stood with his tongue firmly lodged in his cheek. Justin’s face was an unattractive shade of mottled red.
Brian turned to man with whom he had been conversing and with a chuckle made introductions. “Barry, may I introduce my partner Justin Taylor. Justin, this is Barry Sotomeyer. He owns the gallery.”
“Mr. Sotomeyer, a pleasure to meet you once again.” Justin regrouped and called up his privileged upbringing. Once again transformed into a calm and slightly indifferent guest of the gallery. “I am very much enjoying the exhibit.”
“You two know one another?” Brian appeared surprised.
Barry smiled, “Yes, I met Justin several years ago. His agent has been rather intent on trying to get me to hold a solo exhibit for Justin here at bitforms.” Justin’s surprise at the news was genuine. “I take it Scott hasn’t spoken to you recently?”
“Yes, uh, I mean No, I haven’t heard from Scott recently. In fact, I hadn’t realized that Brian’s reception this evening was to be held here.”
“I guess it’s a bit awkward to crash a party where your host is currently in negotiations with your agent.” Barry smiled.
“I did not crash this party...”
“Calm down Sunshine, I believe Barry is yanking your chain.” Brian put an arm around Justin and pulled him close. “You’ll have to forgive him, Barry. He’s a bit temperamental -- you know, the artist gene and all that.”
“Quite all right. Unfortunately, this is a working evening for me. I need to see how Daniel is getting along, I’m hoping he’ll be able to sell out the remainder of his pieces tonight. Brian, I’ll call Cynthia next week and set up an appointment. Justin, let Scott know I’ll be calling him.” Barry moved to a group of men congregated around a wooden sculpture bursting forth from the wall.
People mixed and mingled; Brian and Justin found themselves welcomed into discussions that ranged from finance, to politics, to fashion.
Brian kept a protective arm loosely around Justin’s shoulders. The gesture should have made Justin confident and assured. Yet there seemed to be an endless supply of men who kept cruising his partner, pressing cards into Brian’s hands, not caring that he was right there at Brian’s side. So intent on Brian’s admirers, Justin was oblivious to the many men who eyeing him.
“Don’t they fucking know that you are with me?” he complained.
Brian gave him a ferrel grin and a quick raise of the eyebrows. “Power, my young Justin, the ultimate aphrodisiac. Even amongst the most superficial of fags... power, money, looks. But as you know, with me you get the total package.” Leaning down he gave Justin a peck.
Richard took that moment to swoop in, flirting outrageously. “You naughty Brian! You didn’t let us know you were bringing a guest!” Dick plucked Brian’s empty glass out of his hand and thrust it along with his own at Justin. “Would you be a dear and get us another? I’m drinking white.” He turned back to Brian. “You just must meet Savialetri, he’s shopping for a new agency. Think of what a feather that would be in your cap.”
Justin resisted the urge to stomp over to the bar. Instead, he drew a calming breath and told himself that the old bat had already made enough of an ass out of him this evening. This was his penance. He handed off the glasses to the bartender and placed his order.
“Get used to it.”
“Huh?” Justin turned to find a rather non-descript man standing next to him. Vaguely, he was reminded of Ted.
“He’s on the list now. Kinney, your date. Your boyfriend?”
“Partner.”
“Whatever. He’s made the list, now it will be the next round of parties to the next level. Forbes, BusinessWeek, The Advocate, GQ, E!... they’re always on the lookout for the next hot thing. Your boyfriend has everything they want - young, good looking, wielding money and power.”
The bartender handed filled glasses back to Justin, who looked at the glasses with distaste.
The man next to Justin chuckled. “You’ll get used to being the drink boy as well. It’s our lot in life. Although with your looks and your ass, you could always trade up!”
“Thanks, I’m happy where I am.”
“For now, wait until the men start coming - there will always be someone who is different, better looking, younger. You’ll probably land on your feet.” The man looked into his drink. “It’s too late for me.”
Justin tried not to be bothered by what the man was saying, but something niggled at the back of his brain. “Why do you stay?”
“He needs me -- my money, my connections -- without it, he wouldn’t have the ability to indulge his whims.” The man chuckled. “Without me, he’d have to live within his means.”
“That’s why he stays with you, not why you stay with him,” Justin pointed out.
The man sighed, “I supposed I believe I deserve what I get. After all, look at me -- you’d be the first person tonight. Who’s interested in a nebbish little man with a receding hairline? At least I know who I am.”
“Who are you?” the words were out of Justin’s mouth before he had a chance to think. Really, the last thing he wanted to do was get caught up in conversation with this Ted look-a-like.
He looked down at his empty glass. “What do you say, I find us something to drink and you see if there is anything palatable that passes as food?”
Justin gave a small smile, shrugged his shoulders and lifted the two full glasses. “I think I have my hands full at the moment.”
Justin left the man at the bar. An uncomfortable clammy feeling at the back of his neck made him grateful to vacate the area. As he crossed to where Brian and the publicist stood.
The publicist was too close to Brian for Justin’s liking. Fawning and picking at imaginary lint, Justin had no qualms thrusting the wineglass into old bat’s hand and insinuating himself between Brian and the publicist.
Brian watched with amusement. A jealous Justin could be entertaining. Too often it was Brian who felt the green-eyed monster these days. He could have some fun with this -- if he could ditch the clingy publicist.
“Dick,” Brian moved himself and Justin from the publicist’s invasion of personal space, “I’m sure you have other people to shepherd around. Justin and I will be able to amuse ourselves.”
Richard frowned a bit realizing he was being dismissed. He opened his mouth to say one final...
“Really Dick,” Justin paused almost gleeful at the thought of being free of the man. “Brian’s right, we can’t keep you from your other guests and your duty. After all, this is your work.” Justin gave a cheesey grin, and went so far to bat his eyelashes.
The remainder of the evening passed. Richard kept his distance. Brian kept Justin close. He didn’t discourage admirers, to Justin’s annoyance. But Brian didn’t actively encourage anyone either.
The whole evening kept Justin just a bit off balance. He audibly sighed in relief when Brian leaned in and whispered, “What do you say we go back to the hotel and get our money’s worth out of that $700 a night bed?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Epilogue
A shower helped Justin feel a bit less keyed up. He finished brushing his teeth and joined Brian on the bed. There was a slight awkward moment, as he climbed under the covers.
Brian was propped up against the headboard, sexy reading glasses on, intently studying of a stapled set of papers.
Justin shrugged, it must be something important. He settled himself onto his back and closed his eyes.
A few minutes later Brian put the papers and his glasses aside and extinguished the light.
Justin lay still. And there it was. The whisper of a kiss. The lightest of touches began along his ear. Gentle kisses followed his hairline up his forehead, then journeying down to each eyelid, along his nose, skipping his lips in favor of chin and jaw.
“Brian.”
“Shh...” The assault continued, traveling along the jaw, to Justin’s neck and that unbelievably sensitive point.
Justin shivered. Brian’s lips moved back to his ear.
“Do you know how much I cherish you?”
Brian’s lips grazed Justin’s.
“Do you think for a minute that any of them could compare?”
Brian’s mouth dipped back once again to his. His tongue lightly grazed Justin’s lips.
“After all this time, all these years, don’t you know by now?”
Any comment Justin might have was lost as Brian invaded his mouth. Lips occupied, Brian moved closer, his chest teasing Justin’s. His fingertips trailing lightly the length of Justin’s arms. Nails raked lightly causing gooseflesh to appear and Justin to shudder in anticipation of what was to come.
“Brian!”
“Justin...” the return was a breathed out in a low chuckle.
Justin lost all reason. Each touch, each caress; Brian worshipped his body, skirting the most sensitive of spots.
“Brian, please...”
Brian worked his way back up to Justin’s ear.
“Oh, I’ll please, all right.” Brian dipped his head lower and took Justin into his mouth. Brian’s tongue painted the weeping tip, grazing the slit, tasting Justin.
“Ahhhh...” Justin grasped at Brian’s shoulders, he could feel Brian smile. All too soon was sultry wet of Brian’s mouth was gone, replaced by a dry, warm hand. Different, comforting, but hardly a substitution.
Brian was back at Justin’s side, whispering hoarsely in his ear.
“Do you want me?” The question accompanied by a lick of the smooth flesh of Justin’s neck.
Justin nodded, pushing his body against Brian’s, rubbing his cock against Brian’s hand.
“Uh, uh, uh... answer the question.”
“Yes,” came the breathy reply.
“Good.” There was satisfaction in the word.
Brian’s fingers began to play around Justin’s hard shaft. Smooth pads, stroking lightly, adding pressure. Then he stopped. He kissed the side of Justin’s mouth.
“Do you need me?”
“Fuck! Yes.” Justin smoothed his own hand across Brian’s chest and rutted his hard, leaking cock against Brian’s.
“Do you love me?”
Justin stopped in mid rub. Brian? Since when was he worried about love?
There was a brief, strained silence.
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“You know I do.” What was going on? Why would Brian question his love?
“Then say it.”
“You first.” Justin challenged. What was Brian playing at?
Brian’s hands moved to Justin’s face, smoothing aside his soft hair. He look intent, his eyes met Justin’s.
In a soft, but clear voice, he answered. “Justin Taylor you are the love of my life, and I love you.
“Truly.” Brian brushed staccato kisses along Justin’s jaw.
“Madly.” Brian whispered in his ear.
“Deeply.” Brian captured Justin’s mouth and kissed him ever so deeply.