Brian left Justin on the couch, cradling Brian's laptop, and typing away at his homework. Brian had covertly scrutinized him for any hint of sulking, but had ultimately decided that he wasn't. Not that Brian cared. Okay, at least not much, and only because a non-sulking Justin gave a better blow job. And smiled a lot more.

He slid the door shut and went to meet the guys at Woody's. It was a small crowd for a Wednesday, and pickings were annoyingly slim. There was the business suit who looked a little depressed, but had a nice body underneath the Men's Warehouse ensemble. There was the slightly younger guy in the muscle shirt. That was really the extent of his options unless he wanted to branch into past fucks, but that inevitably got messy, no matter how clear he was about the fact that they were just fucking and that everything thing else was out of the question on pain of extreme boredom.

He shot pool with Ted, who was surprisingly good at it. Brian still won. He always won. It was the natural order. Then, nicely whiskey'd up, he slung an arm around Mikey (who was goofily drunk, but blessedly David-free) and led the whole gang to Babylon, where it was drag night.

"Honey! That dress is fabulous," Emmett shouted at one queen, over the music. He sloshed his cosmo a little and Ted neatly divested him of it. Brian smiled into his fourth whiskey. His eyes slid around the room, an almost unconscious sweep for anybody fuckable. He zeroed in on someone with possibility--nothing real unique, but well-shaped arms and a hard stomach really never got old. He started to straighten away from the bar, only to have someone brush by his chest and lean over the bar next to him.

"A Hoeggarden, please," Justin said, and then turned around. "Hi guys."

"No Hoeggarden," Brian told the bartender. He jabbed a finger at Justin. "What happened to your homework?" And then he inwardly cringed a little. He sounded like his fucking mother. Justin batted the finger out of the way.

"I finished."

"All three essays?"

"And my math homework."

"Impressive," said Ted.

"Cinderfella gets to go to the ball, after all," said Emmett. "Magenta is so your color!" he called to another passing queen, who waved regally back.

Brian supposed if he were any kind of responsible guardian, he'd send Justin home to sleep so that he could be bright and perky for school tomorrow. But Brian didn't really believe in the necessity of sleep, and Justin was bright and perky no matter what time of day it was, except for a very brief pre-shower-fuck period that Brian had managed to cut down to nothing by shoving Justin into the hot water while he was still half asleep, and taking him from there to well-fucked with very little inbetween.

"Whatever," he told Justin. "Stay for all I care. Just don't get in my way," and he shoved himself away from the bar to go get his trick.

Twenty minutes later, Brian emerged from the back room to find all three of his original companions leaning against the bar and watching the dancefloor. Brian came to stand beside them and followed their gaze to Justin, who had formed his very own Justin-sandwich-triangle show.

"Can he handle all three of them?" asked Ted, incredulousness dripping from his voice.

"No," said Michael scornfully.

"Oh, to be a young lad." Emmett smiled. "Don't underestimate a teenager's quick recovery."

"Either his eyes are bigger than his dick, or his dick is really..." started Ted.

"Why, Brian, back so soon?" said Emmett.

Brian wondered whether that was meant to be an attack on his powers of stamina. It was hard to tell with Emmett. He played the role of silly queen so well that it always surprised him when Emmett sprouted a mean streak.

"I was finished. And so was he." Brian flagged the bartender. "Too soon, and he almost got it on my sleeve."

"Another man down, millions to go," said Ted. Everybody took a sip of whatever drink they had in order to pretend Ted hadn't just said that.

"I'm going to go shake my thang," said Emmett, then he muttered, "And get a closer look at the hottie on Justin's right."

"And as fascinating as this is, I've got to use the bathroom," said Ted. He put down his empty beer bottle and wove away from them. Michael stood next to Brian, sipping his beer and looking sullen.

"So, Mikey, see anyone you like?"

"I have a boyfriend, remember?"

"Yeah, and I wasn't asking about him." Brian paused. "How is the old Doc, anyway?"

"He's fine, not that you care. And he's not old."

"I'm hurt, Mikey. Of course I care about the well-being of my best friend's boyfriend."

"Bullshit," he said. "It doesn't matter anyway. Aren't you going to do something about your little protegé?"

"Why?"

"Because he's seventeen, Brian, and even though he's a pain in the ass, he's in over his head."

"He's not my fucking responsibility," Brian said, and regretted it as soon as it was out of his mouth, especially with the look of reproach from Mikey, but so the fuck what? It was true. "If he wants to pretend he's a big boy, then he can get fucked like one, too,"

"Fucked over, you mean," said Michael.

"He says he can take care of himself." Silence reigned. Brian watched Justin, smooth white skin sinuously sliding over the darker, tighter, older skin of his tricks.

"Who cares what he says?"

"Shouldn't you be getting home to the good doctor?" Brian said, irritated that they were still having this conversation.

"Yeah. You gave me a ride, asshole."

"Well, I suppose we musn't keep David waiting. Wouldn't want to show up past his bedtime."

"Fuck you, what about your boy toy's bed time?"

"It's now," said Brian, and shoved off the bar to go get Justin.

Justin was sweaty and smiling, his eyes open, dilated, and flirting with the two tricks he was facing, while the third held his hips and moved in time. His eyes met Brian's as he traced a hand down trick # 1's chest. He smoothed his tongue over his lips, amped up the smile until it was a clear invitation. Trick # 2 licked a pattern on Justin's collarbone and Brian followed it with his eyes. As soon as the trick pulled back, Brian moved in, enjoying the brief look of wide-eyed suprise before he finessed his way into Justin's mouth.

He felt the speculation, the lust of the three other men, even with his eyes closed. He moved his hands to the small of Justin's back and then Justin was grinding against him, his dick evident, and the fingers of one hand digging into Brian's bicep.

Another hand that wasn't Justin's slid speculatively over his ass. Some tricks had such high hopes. If he hadn't already gotten blown fifteen minutes ago, and if he didn't have a hot blond school boy to fuck and then tuck in, he might have stopped to correct that confused notion with a hard fuck against the backroom wall. But there was always tomorrow. He broke away from Justin's mouth. "We're leaving," he said, and turned around to get Mikey on the way out.