Late morning at Britin…

Justin placed two full plastic grocery bags on the counter and emptied the first.  Skinless chicken breasts, celery hearts and six green apples.  In the other, two bottles of wine and a blue legal pad.  He put the need-chill items in the fridge, arranged the apples in a bowl on the table then grabbed his pad and headed for the studio.

Anxious to get started, he set a canvas on the easel and combed the tables for the right supplies.  Large can of gesso…definitely titanium black, titanium white, marine blue and cadmium scarlet.  He stopped and stared at a familiar shoebox under a tray of paints.  Slid it out with a smile.  Shit.  I forgot all about this.  Exactly what I need.

He lifted the lid and ran his fingertips over its row of zip lock sandwich bags – his personal Brian-and-Me file of ups and downs.  Pieces of cloth, paper, glass, items that had been pulverized or pulped and dried to colored powders.  For one someday project.  He’d drawn Brian countless times.  Himself only once for a class assignment.  But he’d never painted them together.

His phone rang.  Justin whipped it from his pocket and smiled at the ID as he opened a French door, sauntered onto the balcony and ho-hum answered.  “Yes, I made it here in one piece, locked the burglars in a closet and scared off the bear by waving one of your ads at him.”

Standing beside the Vette parked in front of a Drugstore, Brian opened the car door, tossed a bag on the passenger seat and slid in.  Little Fucker.  “I figured you’d get bored out there, so I picked up a couple items to liven up dessert.”

“Oh?” Justin raised a brow.  “What’d you get?”

Brian switched his phone to his left ear, dumped the bag contents on the seat.  A box of allergy meds and a bee-sting kit. “X-otic strawberry douche and a hot Stud I met at the Club.  I can’t wait to show you how much fun you’ll have hosting a double anal.”  Silence.  Brian’s grin almost hit his ears.  My ad…your ass.

Justin leaned back on the balcony rail.  Is he serious?  Fuck…he’s been into so much.  “Sure,” he curtly iced.  “Who could resist prolapse, tearing, infection, disease transmission or anything else that may take days or even WEEKS -” and he bluntly enunciated, “- of  IN-AC-TIVE recovery.”  Hit him where it hurts.

“Still the Public Service announcer,” Brian warmed.  “Pathetic as it sounds, I’d much rather have vanilla ice cream.”

Justin lightly brushed a hand through his hair, quietly chuckled, “Okay.  I’ll give you that round.  But the next one’s definitely mine.”

“Whatever gets you through your day,” Brian flipped back, shut his phone, started the car and pulled into traffic.  You may be a vanilla hybrid, but there isn’t a fucker around that’s even half as exciting as you.

Justin shook his head, closed and pocketed his phone and took a moment to view the grounds.  Quiet and peaceful with a light breeze warm enough to suggest a hot day on the rise.  Better turn on the air, Justin decided then went inside to prime a frame.

Double-Anal.  In your dreams, Perv.      

At his Kinnetik office…

Brian took a break from his stat sheets, removed his business phone earpiece, rubbed a spot behind his ear and pressed his com button.  “Cynthia.”

“Yes?”

“Catch the next person going over to Starbucks…I know for a fact someone always is…and ask them to get me a large mocha latte.”

On the com, Cynthia’s background, “Hey, Dean?  One more. Large mocha latte, no whipped cream,” was followed by a more direct, “Be here in a few minutes.  Anything else?”

“I’ll pay him when he gets back.”  Brian released the talk key and smiled at the small advantage of his decision to keep Kinnetik loose and user-friendly.  In return, his crew often worked like fiends in a pinch and tended to run off dead wood, freeing him to manage, not police.

Which reminded him about some legal research.  He pulled his cell, scrolled and hit Send then waited.  “Is Detective Horvath available?  Brian Kinney.”  Why waste time when a first-hand expert and trusted family member was just a few blocks away.

It the Police Station, at a desk swamped with paperwork, Horvath on his phone answered the desk clerk, “Go ahead.  Put him through,” waited for a click.  “Brian.  What’s up?”

Brian wandered to a corner of the office for more privacy and a view of his door. “Can we meet later?  There’s a P I nosing around my business and I want to be clear on my rights before I confront the bastard.”

Horvath pursed his lips, ran a hand over his neck.  “Meet me at Michael’s house after nine tomorrow night.  I told him I’d check it while they’re gone.  We can talk there.  And Brian?” he lowered his voice, “Don’t go after him.  Just leave him alone for now, got that?”

Brian paused, wondering.  “You’re the expert.”  He shut his phone and stood in furrow-brow analysis for a moment before he saw Cynthia, latte in hand, appear outside his door.

She walked in with a mock-cordial,  “Your latte, Sir.”

“How much?” Brian reached for his back pocket.

“Dean said to tell you it’s on him,” Cynthia smiled, looked off,  “And…he needs an hour off.”

Brian mulled it over a second.  “We’re caught up for today.  Tell him to go ahead.”  Then he took the coffee with light afterthought.  “In fact, I think I’ll take a couple myself.”

“Come to think of it…I -”

“-do such a fabulous job covering for everyone who leaves early.  I don’t know what we’d do without you,” he patted her shoulder and headed for the door.  Then he turned back and eyed her, standing with her flat look of frustration. “Whatever you need WITH at least a day’s advance notice.  You know you’re not as easy to cover as the rest of us.”  And he left her smiling as he disappeared down the hall.

By late afternoon, Britin had its own storm brewing.

In olive camouflage, backpack weighing heavy, Leo approached the side of the house.  Stopped on the lawn and surveyed the huge mansion.  He didn’t expect that, and it both awed and intimidated him.  Wrong place?  He heard a car engine and stole into the shadowy safety of tall junipers on the side of the house, watched the Corvette pull up and stop.  Saw Brian get out and lope up the front steps.  Of all the mutherfucking…this HAD to be the wrong place.

Justin already had the door open.  And there he stood with a big welcome smile and a thin, white sheet wrapped from neck to ankle.

Brian stepped in with the drug store bag, shut the door.  “A Toga party?  And I wasn’t invited?”

“I was just going out in the back yard and I didn’t want to answer the door like this.”  Justin flashed a frontal and pulled the sheet closed again.  “It can’t be more than three.  What’re you doing here so early?”

“Bare hunting.”  Brian closed in, wrapped his arms around his catch.

Justin stretched up on his toes, met the kiss and dropped back.  “Good.  While you’re getting bare, you can grab the wine and meet me out back.  What’s in the bag?”

Brian opened it and let Justin peer in while freeing one hand.  “Douche ‘n Stud.”

“Your pragmatism amazes me almost as much as your warped humor.”

Brian smiled showy proud, handed over the bag and unbuttoned his shirt.

Justin dropped the bag on the end table, almost knocked his keys off the edge but caught them just in time.  Then he gathered a stack off the coffee table – sketchpad, FineLine magazines, pencil case. Left the glass and chilled towel-wrapped wine bottle for Brian.

Brian tossed his shirt on the sofa, unzipped his pants.  “I see you’re learning to appreciate nature,” dropped and retrieved his trousers, searched a pocket.  “Sure you won’t burn?”

“It’s shady back there right now.”

His own frontal half-full, Brian watched Justin disappear through the dining room doorway, flung shorts and socks on the couch then grabbed the wine bottle and glass.  He passed through the dining room, out the open French doors onto the covered porch and paused to watch Justin – the flexes, changes and poses as Justin spread the sheet on the grass.  Fuck, he was beautiful.

Justin tugged a sheet corner, noticed Brian moving almost in slow motion, long legs, hip twists giving ample cock a lazy arc, shadows and highlights of his chest – jesus christ was he ever gorgeous - wine bottle.  One glass? “There’s an extra glass in the kitchen,” he offered, plopped onto the sheet.

Brian sat cross-legged beside him, pulled the loosened cork, poured a half-glass of merlot and handed it to Justin.  “We don’t need it.  Cheers.”  He tapped the bottleneck to Justin’s glass and swigged from the bottle.

“You are so crude,” Justin smiled low, sipped from his glass.

Brian leaned an inch from his face, “You asked me not to change,” and kissed his nose.

“Since you’re so compliant, maybe I can ask you to take a look at these magazines and help me figure out what they might ask me.”  Justin set his glass safely off the sheet, shifted onto his stomach and reached for the fanned stack in the grass.

“The things I have to do for a fuck.”  Brian swiveled on a hip and with his longer reach, took the sketchpad and one magazine.

They were stretched out close, Justin on his stomach and propped on his elbows as he paged for an interview; Brian on his side and braced on one elbow as he opened the sketchbook.  And saw the stashed copy of Leo’s drawing.

“Is this the famous Taylor Nude?”

“What?” Justin glanced at the drawing as Brian turned it his way, “Yeah.  Thought I’d show you what I was talking about,” then went back to his magazine.

“What’s his name again?”

“Leo.”

Brian studied the drawing.  “I guess it’s safe to say we can all get the significance of the beast.”  He shut the book, leaned his head down on a raised hand. “You better be careful if you plan on fucking teenagers.  You may get one like you.”

Still reading, Justin dead-panned, “Not a chance.  I’m into older men,” and without looking dryly added, “Touch it and die.”

Brian, hand half-raised for the customary retort, considered the threat.  Then smacked Justin’s ass anyway.

“Ow!  I KNEW you’d do that!”  Justin swung an open hand back, but Brian was already out of reach, on his feet and devil-eye grinning.  So Justin bolted up, advanced with both arms out and lightly punched Brian’s chest, driving him backward.  “So you wanna play rough?” he grinned back.  “Go ahead.  Try it.  Come on…”

“With all these rocks and -”  Brian clipped short, eyes catching a rhododendron branch move at the corner of the house.  No breeze.  Nothing else moving beside it.

“What?” Justin swiveled back.  Didn’t see anything unusual.

Brian started past him to the suspect spot.  “Is there somebody else here?”

“I didn’t hear a car pull up.”

Leo, ready to head back up the road, had stalled when he’d heard Justin’s voice.  Couldn’t make out the words but just had to see him.  So he had crept toward the back corner of the house, peered through the branches of a rhododendron and gotten a real eyeful.  Two men naked, smiling, ready to wrestle.  The tall darker one facing him was more than fine.  But Justin.  The reality of what Leo had only imagined pumped him to a near blaze.  And he’d moved a branch for a better view.  Saw the tall man’s face snap his way and knew he’d fucked up.

Now Leo flattened against the bricks behind the large rhododendron.  If he ran, Justin would surely recognize him and that would be the end.  If he stayed cool, they might ignore him.  And he’d have time to devise a more dignified appearance.  One that would leave him at least a chance.

Brian was walking along the hosta hedge beside the house when one plant erupted in a fury of rattling leaves.  Something large and furry tore right for him.

“Fucking…shit!”  Brian backpeddled so fast he lost his balance, fell backward and caught himself on an outstretched arm, eyes wide and chest pounding like a sledge.

Seeing the thing whiz into the bushes across the lawn, Justin laughed so hard he fell to his knees, arms tight around his gut.  “It’s a rabbit!” he barely got out,  “Some BEAR hunter,” he kept up, eyes tearing, “christ…I hafta piss.”

Not as ego-bruised as aroused, Brian stood up, brushed grass off his hands.  He watched Justin, near breathless from laughter, stagger to the bushes and take a relief stance.  Strolled up behind him and waited for his stream to die.  “Are you finished yet?”

Justin giggled, turned to Brian, “Yeah. That was the best show I ever – ahh!” had a shoulder slam into his waist and was suddenly hoisted high, looking down at lawn and Brian’s ass.

Arm tight around Justin’s thighs, Brian hiked him higher over his shoulder and marched back to the sheet.  “Okay…you’ve had your fun.  Now it’s MY turn.”

Brian gently set Justin down, gripped the back of one knee and pulled.

Justin read the signal and let himself sink back, hands laced around the back of Brian’s neck as they eased down together - Justin on his back, Brian on a hip and overlapped so that his face hovered inches away and his top leg nestled between Justin’s.

Their kisses began soft and brief.  Soon escalated with hot breaths, moans, arms and hands traveling.  Justin clamped a leg over Brian’s, let it venture up and down in sensual massage.

From the corner, Leo risked another look but stayed careful to take what views the branches gave.  His heart raced at a side view of Justin.  And that tall man behind him.  Doing things he himself was bursting to do.  Kissing his lips.  Biting his neck.  Gliding his hand slowly down the length of Justin’s body.  Hints of hard cocks peeking from the shadows behind Justin’s raised leg.  And Justin’s fine, artistic hands, flowing down the sheen of the tall man’s back, the dip of his waist, crest of his ass then thigh then back.  How fucking lucky you are to feel that, Big Guy.  How fucking lucky.

One more kiss, then Brian pushed up to his knees, grabbed Justin’s shoulders and guided him over.  Reached for the open wine bottle and dribbled a stream on Justin’s crack.

Justin sucked a breath when the tiny chill hit, closed his eyes, smiled and waited. 

Brian set the bottle aside, dove down to the purple-red trickle pooling on Justin’s lower back and slowly let his tongue sweep it up.  Strayed to kiss and lick the dimples of his hips.  Then traced the red line to the top of Justin’s crack and lingered.  Ready to go deeper, Brian pulled on Justin’s hip and coaxed him onto his side.  Pressed a palm under the top thigh until Justin bent the leg to a comfortable brace and all those places the wine had found would be easier to reach.

Chest down, Justin pillowed his head on his arms, arched his back, cock hard and free.  This is the best, he exhaled hard, smiled knowing that he’d thought that every time.

Leo’s own shallow breaths and pulse drummed fiercely.  The tall guy’s face was moving down Justin’s ass all the way to his balls, his stringy hair hanging and wisping against Justin’s skin.  A glimpse of tongue.  Taking the wine.  Then his head backed up a little and pressed in.  Justin groaned loud, clenched the sheet.  I could do that, Leo panted.  He’s got his tongue up your ass and you love it.  I could do that.

Brian sat up and lightly caressed Justin’s heaving shoulders.

“Oh god,” Justin breathed out, “I almost lost it,” rolled onto his back and smiled up. “Why don’t you take a break,” he started to rise, “I hafta get a condom.”

Brian held him down with a hand on his chest, “I’ll get it.”  He undid the towel on the wine bottle and the necessary items fell out.  Then he handed a packet to Justin.

“I should’ve guessed,” Justin chuckled as he ripped the packet open.

Leo was dick-hard.  Head spinning.  You’re playing safe.  I knew you would be safe.  Leo watched the tall guy spread Justin’s legs and kneel between them.  Watched Justin curl his supple body up and roll the condom down one fucking hard dick while tall guy’s hand wove through Justin’s locks.

Justin eased back, slowly raised his legs to settle on Brian’s shoulders as he watched Brian lube up, framed by tall trees, blue sky, vapory clouds.  Like some kind of dream he’d had a million times that never got old or boring.

Brian leaned forward and braced on one stiff arm, the other hand finding Justin’s hole to add some slick, guide his cock.  All the while he marveled at Justin’s eyes.  Were they that blue?  Or was it the sky?  Or was it what they were saying. 

Leo was puzzled by the position.  But from his angle there was no mistake.  He could see the cock start its entry, Justin’s mouth open and face tighten, his hands gripping the other’s arms.  The increasing thrusts made Leo ache.  Face to face.  They’re doing it face to face.

Leo didn’t see the finish.  He was burning and swollen, had to free his cock, bite his lip and dig his nails hard into his clenched fist to keep from crying out as he pulsed his load against the brick.  He’d seen enough.  Done enough.  It was never like this.  No, this was different.  Something right.

Something wrong.

Leo clamped his eyes shut and pressed his forehead to the brick, his mind flooding with dark anguish.  Struggling to figure out why what he knew about himself refused to match what he felt.

On a disheveled wine-stained sheet, Brian and Justin comfortably hold each other close.  On the side of the house, Leo sits back against the brick and stares at nothing.   

Song: “True To Form” by Hybrid

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