Have I posted this? I don't think so. Well, that I can find.
In Which I Wanted to Do Light, Then Justin Got Weird, and I Stopped, Because It Was Supposed to Be Porn, Dammit.
He's too young and too pretty to be alone on Liberty, a lot like someone Justin used to know. Justin ducks before anyone can see him grin. This kid who stares around him with huge brown eyes, like a lost puppy in a kennel, and there's something wrong with that comparison, but Justin's not sure what it is.
He's very, very high.
High or drunk, though, he knows men and he knows twinks, and he knows how to coax them, taste the kid's mouth, cigarette ash and a furtive beer, and really, Justin's got to wonder what it says about him that cute innocence isn't the turn-on it should be.
Justin pushes him onto his knees in the backroom, though, and enthusiasm is good, and it's kinda hot, the way the kid can't quite swallow, choking around the cock in his mouth, but so *desperate* to get it right that Justin can't find it in himself to push him away.
And it's kinda funny, the *shocked* look on the kid's face when Justin comes, a little bored, a little high, and maybe a little tired. It's been a long day.
The kid stands up unsteadily, wiping a hand uncertainly over his mouth, and Justin has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. "Not bad." Because it's just polite, and it's obviously the kid's first time.
"Uh. Thanks." Wiping his mouth again, his nose wrinkles, and that's just too cute. Justin has this vague urge to pinch his cheek.
The kid doesn't know enough to wander off, and Justin doesnt' really feel like moving, so touching him doesn't seem like that bad an idea. Soft skin on his cheek; he's just barely started shaving. The kid leans into the touch like he's starving for it. Eyes fluttering closed, breath catching between swollen pink lips. So fucking *pretty*.
All that blond hair. Justin slides an arm around the kid's shoulder. "Come on."
The big eyes look up at him warily, but he moves when Justin pushes, flushing a little when he gets a good look around. Justin can't remember being that innocent, though he had to have been.
Innocent enough to just follow along and go where he's told, even into the passenger seat of a black corvette, putting on his seatbelt like his mother taught him, licking his lips whenever he looks at Justin. "Where--where are we going?"
Justin grins and puts it into gear. "I know someone."
The kid stiffens. "What?"
A glance over, and the kid's not sprawling out the door yet, more curious than scared. "You'll like him."
Hitting the gas, Justin giggles all the way to the loft.
They've done everything, Justin said it once, and it's mostly true, they *have*, at least once, apart if not together, but Justin's not sure they've done this specific thing. Brian looks at him like he's lost his mind when his eyes focus on the slim boy lingering by the door. He looks twelve right now, but Justin checked his ID in the car, so he's as legal as boys who want to fuck boys ever get. Just barely.
"You are fucking kidding me."
"He's cute," Justin offers, getting a bottle of water from the fridge, and the giggles are going to have to stop soon, because giggling during sex is a turn-off for everyone involved. Turning, he waves the kid over. "Want something?" He's not sure what to offer--he can count on one hand the number of virgins he's had, and few of them ever came home with him.
"I'm good." Awkward in too-big jeans, hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweatshirt. His hair hangs in his eyes, and Justin likes the way he peers out from under it. It's a good look for him. It works on Brian, too--Brian can say anything he likes about experience and boring twinks who know shit, but the truth is, and Justin knows it, innocence turns him on.
And pretty blond virgins are far and between on Liberty.
Justin leans into the counter, letting Brian look his fill, amused at the slow flush of the kid's cheeks, the way he shifts, but he's getting hard for it, and who the hell wouldn't?
When Brian looks back at Justin, he's hooked, even if he doesn't say it, just ducks by Justin for a beer. Like there's any chance in hell that this kid is getting out of here cherry intact.
"These are the rules," Justins says, leaning his elbows into the counter and focusing on the kid. "You stay, we play, you go home, no staying, no calling, no stalking after." Because God knows, and Justin knows, the notions kids get. He used to get those kinds of thoughts himself.
The brown eyes glaze a little, and Justin watches them focus behind him, staring at Brian. Pink lips part as he swallows hard and nods quickly. Circling the small kitchen island, Justin lets the kid retreat a few steps, getting his bearings. He wants it, no question--the way his eyes fix on Brian tells Justin everything he needs to know on that score--but he's dealing. Fair enough.
Justin kisses him because it's the easiest thing to do--that soft, perfect mouth that tastes like him now, and Justin has to give him credit, he swallowed, no problem. Tentative, fingers flutter on his shoulders, brushing Justin's jaw, opening for Justin's tongue like a flower in the sun.
He's hard when Justin pushes a knee between his legs, making soft, uncertain sounds, like he's not entirely sure he's supposed to be this excited this fast. Smoothing his hands through the soft hair, Justin licks over the silky line of his jaw, letting the kid ride his thigh. He could come from this, Justin thinks a little clinically, leaning back enough to see dilated pupils and flushed skin, eyes closing as he works himself up. Just like this.
Big eyes open wide and surprised when Brian's hand slides down the front of his jeans, almost trying to turn, but Justin holds his head still, kissing away the shocked groan, lifting his head to grin when Brian rolls his eyes at him. I knew you couldn't resist, Justin almost says, but he just lets his eyes say it, and Brian smirks and ducks his head, grazing the kid's throat with his teeth.
And if they keep this up any amount of time, the kid will be coming *right now*. Backing off a step, he fingers the edges of the sweatshirt, and the look on the kid's face is permission enough. Golden skin beneath, as perfect as his face. It's almost annoying. And funny again, the way the kid's eyes are rolling back in his head when Brian bites his shoulder, reaching down for the button of his own jeans, probably too tight by now, shaky hands working them off as quickly as he can, turning and stepping out when Brian moves him, and Justin has this strange urge to just watch.
He knows what it feels like, being touched like that for the first time, but he's never watched it, felt memory run so close to reality. He's seen Brian seduce, stalk, fuck, but never coax, avoiding that prettysoft mouth, playing the kid slow and easy. It's a kind of art, Justin thinks, almost able to feel those sharp, swift touches that make the kid lean into him, feel Brian's hand around that kid's cock like it's around his own.
Justin runs a curious hand up the kid's bare back, feeling the ripple of muscle beneath perfect skin, catching Brian's eyes when he looks up, smoky dark and beyond interested, but wary, too.
Was I like this, he wants to ask, wrapping an arm around the kid's waist. He needs it--swaying into Brian like he can't get enough, head slipping backward until it's resting on Justin's shoulder. A long, exposed throat to lick, and Justin tastes him, smoke and sweat and clean, hot skin. Sweet.
It's so easy to get the kid to the bed--stretched out, long golden limbs and huge brown eyes following every movement Brian makes. Justin sits beside him, running the heel of his hand down his own cock, just watching Brian play. It's hot, always has been, to watch Brian, but it's different now. He's *teaching*.