Denial

Brian had lost track of Justin. Except he wasn't keeping track of Justin, he was just perceptive. He noticed these things, was all, and Justin was no longer on the dance floor grinding against the wiry guy with the nice ass. He'd probably just gone to take a piss. Or maybe Emmett was getting the baby another drink. Whatever, Brian was done thinking about it. Justin was not his responsibility. Subject closed

And another one opened. The poster-boy for bodybuilders was giving him come-get-me looks and it had been a while since Brian had fucked anyone that built. Variety was the spice of life, etc, etc. There was something almost poetic about fucking Arnold Schwarzenegger types -- if fucking could be poetic, which was about the furthest thing from Brian's mind while performing said action.

So Brian sauntered over to him, carefully divested him of his glass, and actually had to lean up a little in order to murmur in his ear, "You're hot. How'd you like a long, rough ride?"

"Sounds interesting," he said. "Tell me more."

Brian smiled a slow smile, and the fuck had already begun. "I'd rather show you...how far up your ass I can get before I make you cum, screaming about divinity."

"Arrogant, aren't you?"

"It's not arrogance when you've got a nine-inch dick to back it up." Brian was enjoying the banter a little, but he was also just on the edge of bored with it. He didn't come to Babylon to flirt. He came to cum, and there were plenty of other prospects. Luckily, Mr. Built seemed to realize he was walking the edge; he pushed away from the counter and followed Brian toward the back room.

Brian picked the wall he wanted almost without conscious thought -- he'd been back here so often that he already knew which wall was too cum-stained and which wall had that weird groove in it that tricks didn't like. And which spot had the best lighting, because if he was going to fuck a guy with this many muscles, there had better be some light to set them off for the rest of the queers to get a real show.

He put a hand flat on the guy's chest and shoved him into the wall. He kissed him once, hard, and then turned him over, hands already at the trick's pants. He loosened his own jeans, pulled out a condom and lube and was pushing into the tight ass in front of him only a few seconds later. Practice made perfect. The trick moaned through his teeth and the muscles in his back clenched, making interesting patterns in the dim blue light.

Brian started to set a pace, when a gasping moan from just a few feet away caught his attention. He glanced over to see what sort of activity was going on over there. It was a darker corner, but the wall was smooth plaster instead of brick and it was an excellent place to lean against for a blowjob -- or a fuck -- but sucking was clearly the activity of the moment.

The guy on his knees had good technique, but it was the one leaning against the wall that caught Brian's eye. The light made Justin's hair blue, his skin looked flawless -- or more flawless than usual -- and his chest was bare. He just couldn't seem to keep track of his shirt once he started dancing, but he always miraculously managed to find it before leaving.

Justin had one hand knotted in the guy's hair, and the other was clenched in a fist at his side. His head was tilted back against the wall, exposing the skin of his neck and Brian mentally bit into it as he thrust a little faster. The bodybuilder moaned and pushed back.

As Brian watched, Justin arched his body and came, thrusting slightly into his trick's mouth. While he caught his breath, Justin opened his eyes and gave the trick a mischievous smile. The trick stood up and started to coax Justin to turn over.

"No," was the word Justin's mouth formed, and although Brian could barely hear it, he felt it. Justin planted a hand on the guy's chest and pushed him back against the wall. He smiled lasciviously and dropped to his knees, unzipping and taking out the trick's cock. Justin had good taste -- and an eye for what he wanted. The guy was hung.

He took it all the way in to his mouth at once, and Brian nearly moaned along with Justin's trick. Shit, when had he gotten so good at deep-throating? Brian had only shown him how to do it a week ago. And what a delightful week it had been.

Justin started taking the trick fast and hard; not bothering with the leisurely licking like he enjoyed with Brian's cock, and it was a good thing because neither Brian nor the tricks were going to last long at this rate. The bodybuilder was stroking himself in time with the increase in Brian's thrusts, and this was also fortunate because Brian could hardly pay attention to his technique when most of his attention was taken up with the motion of Justin's head, moving up and down the long cock, his mouth bright and hungry, his hands firm and assured on the trick's hips.

Then he did something with his mouth, something that Brian wasn't even entirely sure he could mimic that involved twisting and swallowing and sucking all at once. It apparently felt just as good as it looked because the trick shot hard. And loudly. Quite a few of the other men had observed and were probably making plans to try Justin themselves.

The thought gave Brian an odd, nameless twinge in his stomach but it also caused him cum. Thankfully, that dragged his attention back to the present and his own trick, who was shooting all over the wall with a 'Jesus Christ!'

Brian was still breathing hard as he pulled out and disposed of the condom, zipping up his pants as fast as he could without hurting himself. He wanted to catch Justin. Fucked if he knew why, but he'd already decided to do it.

When he looked around, however, Justin was gone. Justin's trick was still there, recovering against the wall. Jesus, Justin got out even faster than Brian did.

"Hey," said the bodybuilder. "That was fucking awesome."

"Yeah, I know," replied Brian disinterestedly.

"Here's my number," he said, shoving a piece of paper into Brian's hand.

"Whatever," he said, and wandered out.

He spotted Justin leaning against the bar next to Ted, taking a long pull off of a bottle of beer. He took the bottle out of Justin's hands and finished it off.

"Hey! That was my beer, you two!" protested Ted.

"Brian will buy you another one," said Justin, grinning cockily at him. Brian shrugged and threw a five on the bar in the general direction of the hovering bartender.

"Since when do you go looking for cock in the backroom?" asked Brian casually.

"Since it's a free country and Babylon is the least sketchy place in town to get my dick sucked," said Justin. "I followed you to the baths once, but they looked totally dank." Brian couldn't decide whether to be angry or to pretend not to care. Two weeks ago he wouldn't have cared, but now there was definitely this option to be angry, to let whatever had been disturbed by watching Justin suck and get sucked float up and become conscious.

"That's the point of the baths, Einstein," said Brian. Justin just shrugged.

He wasn't ready to think about -- whatever it was -- yet. And he couldn't think of anything to say to Justin about it that wouldn't sound hypocritical, wouldn't expose him in the act of giving a shit, because he wanted to give him a condom lecture, or forbid him from getting fucked by strangers, or something else ridiculously lezzie.

Instead, he grabbed the belt loops in Justin's jeans and towed him to the dance floor. He planted one hand on each slip him, and pulled Justin in tight enough that Brian could put his mouth close to Justin's ear, and say, "You're coming home with me, young man, so you can demonstrate on my cock whatever it was you just did to that guy's cock."

"Okay," said Justin, grinning up at him with abandon. How could Brian possibly not kiss that mouth? So he did.


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Story written by Leah Claire 2005
Characters belong to showtime and CowLip
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