Disclaimer: I do not own QAF, CowLip and Showtime do. For entertainment only and no infringement is intended.
A/N: This particular oneshot was partly inspired by Predec2's excellent "I Could Have Shagged All Night," in a sense that after losing a bet Brian is thrust into a situation out of his comfort zone. I say partly, because the other part of the inspiration has to do with the title.
So, Predec2, this is dedicated to you for giving me inspiration and friendship when I needed it most (you know what I am talking about)!
Please read and review! Enjoy!
Under me. You.
Part 1
It was a fluke. An unfortunate accident. A horrible mistake. A terrible dream. Punishment from a vengeful God for what-the-fuck-ever, but it happened... he lost a game of pool and, thus, the bet to the rube known as Michael Charles Novotny. In the 19 years that he has known Mikey, they've played thousands of games of pool, occasionally betting on the outcome. Brian has never lost - not once. He played stoned, drunk, sleep-deprived, exhausted, jet-lagged and one notable time sick as a dog and with what turned out to be 101 degree fever. Yet, he has never lost until today and the worst part of it was that he couldn't even blame it on anything. He wasn't even distracted because for once they were at Woody's early enough that there wasn't a single fuckable guy around.
Actually, losing the game wasn't the worst part. There's a first time for everything, so losing a game of pool in almost two decades of friendship wasn't that huge a deal in the grand scheme of things. No, the worst part was losing the bet, which was not only attending a poetry reading at the GLC, but reciting a fucking poem to a roomful of pathetic queers that frequented that place because they couldn't get laid. The absolute worst part, however, was that the rejects of Liberty Avenue gossiped just as much (if not more) than the cream of the crop did, which meant that his reputation as the "stud" and the undisputed King of Liberty was going to nosedive with the speed of a Mach 3 plane as soon as the reading was over.
Brian had no clue how it happened. He took the bet and shook Mikey's hand in agreement while laughing his ass off at the ridiculousness of the latest Novotny idea. Michael, for once, took offense for some unknown reason and proceeded to play pool like a man possessed, sinking more balls in the breaking shot than he usually did in an entire game. Brian's game on the other hand, was off from the very beginning and seemed to get worse with every passing minute. When he lost, he was utterly speechless, as were Mikey, Ben and Ted. The only one who had any power over his body was Emmett, who was jumping in excitement while making weird vocalizations with his throat (it seemed that he hasn't quite regained the power of speech).
While the boys were standing there gawking at the pool table as if it was magic, Brian was in a panic. How the fuck am I going to get out of this, he thought frantically. Then something came to him,
"Will wonders never cease?" he drawled, "How about double or nothing, Mikey?"
"Sure," Michael answered vaguely, obviously still bewildered by his new-found pool prowess.
They shook hands and began to play. Brian broke, but sank only one ball and his game went downhill faster than before. He couldn't do anything right, while Michael played superbly. Barely 15 minutes later the second game was over with Brian's crushing defeat.
In a fit of desperation he asked for a third and final game. Michael agreed and that's when the unthinkable happened - Mikey pocketed the 8 ball on the breaking shot instantly winning the game.
Brian opened his mouth to speak, but Michael interrupted.
"Don't even think about it, Brian! A bet's a bet - you are going to that poetry reading tomorrow and you are reciting a damn poem, if it kills you!" he said with a surprising confidence worthy of his mother, while the rest of his "friends" snickered gleefully.
"Well, fuck!" Brian exclaimed and slammed his pool cue to the ground.
Part 2
When getting ready for the impending torture that is a poetry reading at the GLC, Brian thought of wearing a disguise for about five seconds before dismissing the idea as even more asinine as going there in the first place. Instead, he decided that if he were to crash and burn along with his reputation, he'd do it in style and looking hotter than all the queers at the GLC put together.
Half an hour later he swaggered into an auditorium/gym, usually used for large community events and usually filled to capacity, wearing the tightest pair of designer black jeans and a tight, silky Armani jet-black t-shirt, startling a dozen or so people sitting in a neat circle of fold-out chairs. If Mikey and Ben weren't among the dirty dozen, Brian would have thought he crashed an AA meeting or a support group of some kind by mistake, because except for the terrible twosome, everyone else looked either mournful or like they were facing a firing squad.
Well, that's just beautiful, Brian thought, this is going to be more painful than going to church with St. Joan.
Resigned, he sat down in the chair that Mikey "thoughtfully" saved next to him and glared at the group of stunned faces eying him in disbelief.
"Fucking's not my only talent, you know?" Brian decided to go for broke, "Stop gawking and let's just get on with it, shall we?"
The entire group looked scandalized, except for Mikey who was desperately trying not to laugh, and Ben, who looked like he was meditating thousands of miles away on a Tibetan mountain. Tanis, the sour-faced lesbian and the GLC "queen bee," whom Brian couldn't stand, got up jerkily and firing death glares in Brian's direction began the meeting.
"Hello, everyone! I'm so happy to see you all here again and I'm hap...glad to see some... new and, ah...unexpected... yes, unexpected faces..."
Her attempt at acknowledging his presence without profanity actually impressed Brian; he still hated the bitch, but he decided to play the part of "good Brian" for once and not antagonize her just for the fun of it.
"Looks like we are only missing one person, so let's get started," she continued, "Just to remind everyone of the rules: listen to each other quietly, respectfully, carefully and with all your heart. Please hold the applause and any comments until after the speaker has finished reciting his poem and if any criticism is to be given, please let it be only constructive and respectful in nature. As always, you can read your own poetic work or an actual...I mean, a work by a known poet. And lastly," she said smirking in Brian's direction, "if you are here for the first time, you must recite a poem..."
"For your information, Tanis," Brian interrupted, "I graduated with honors and a minor in English Literature - I can recite a fucking poem!" Then he mentally cursed himself for letting her get to him.
"Well," Tanis continued unfazed, "who wants to go first?"
Her question was suddenly interrupted by the auditorium doors being slammed open, as a young blond man stumbled inside. He quickly made his way toward the circle of chairs, apologizing non-stop for being late and trying to untangle himself from the twisted handles of a leather messenger bag and an art portfolio he wore over his shoulders. In the midst of this he suddenly tripped over his own feet and landed face-down in the center of the circle of chairs, spilling the contents of his bag all over the floor. Everyone except Brian sprang up on their feet in an attempt to help the blond get up, straighten his clothes, untangle him from the nest of bag and portfolio and pick up the various art supplies littering the floor.
Brian watched the spectacle in amusement, as everyone - Mikey, Ben and Tanis included - was fawning over the young man, who was rapidly turning bright red in embarrassment. About five minutes later the blond was put to rights and everyone was getting back to their seats including the blond who turned towards the only empty chair that happened to be directly opposite Brian's. He was about to sit down, when Brian said,
"Hey, Blondie, forget something?"
The blond turned around and looked at the sketchpad in Brian's hand. It flew out of his bag and landed at Brian's feet and was the only object no one else noticed. The young man walked across, took the sketchbook out of Brian's hands and raising his eyes finally met Brian's gaze.
"Thanks," he said quietly and smiled, as Brian's heart skipped a beat at the brilliance of that smile and the shine in a pair of bluest eyes he has ever seen. He's fucking hot, Brian thought. His thoughts were unfortunately interrupted by Tanis's nasal drone once more asking the participants who wanted to humiliate themselves first.
Ben, the good soul that he is, took one for the team and went first. Rather predictably, at least in Brian's mind, he recited Emerson's "Water". Equally predictably Mikey let out a loud sigh of pure adoration. Brian rolled his eyes and then noticed that the blue-eyed blond whose name he didn't quite catch was trying his best to hide a smile. Their eyes met for a briefly - Brian raised his eye brow letting the blond know that he's been caught. The blond lightly blushed and lowered his eyelashes towards his lap, which Brian found oddly sexy.
Ben barely sat down when Mikey sprang up and confidently and with conviction recited Simon Armitage's "Kid." The fact that Michael's poem was super-hero related was not at all surprising in itself, but the passion and heart he put into his delivery made Brian's eyebrows rise for reasons that had nothing to do with amusement - he was genuinely impressed and surprised by his best friend. He glanced at Ben and the obvious pride and love shining in his eyes made Brian realize that Michael's confidence, lack of neediness and whininess of late were due to Ben and Ben's unwavering encouragement, love and support of his childhood best friend.
"Hey, professor, good job!" Brian whispered to Ben sincerely, while Mikey was enjoying a rousing round of applause. Ben just smiled and turned back towards his husband. Their quick exchange didn't go unnoticed by the blond across the room, which he tried to hide when Brian caught him watching their exchange.
While the poetry reading began with a bang, it quickly devolved into a boring and sometimes laughable mess of badly self-penned odes to god-knows what. The only thing stopping Brian from mercilessly making fun of some of the more pathetic attempts at poetry were the glances and the barely suppressed smirks he shared with the blond across the room. Their thoughts and feelings over the goings on were apparently in tune, as was their growing attraction.
Three quarters of the way through what Brian began to think of as a farce of bad rhyme, high school level melodrama and child-like recitation, he finally had enough and stood up. He strolled into the middle of the circle and looking straight at the mesmerizing blond began to recite one of his favorite poems by E.E. Cummings.
"...hate blows a bubble of despair into
hugeness world system universe and bang..." Brian recited looking straight at the blond without breaking eye contact.
"...pleasure and pain are merely surfaces..." he continued, while the young man listened as if hypnotized. His blue eyes stared into Brian's hazel ones barely blinking, wide with surprise.
"...how much more than enough for both of us
darling. And if i sing you are my voice," Brian finished in an utterly silent room.
Oddly, he kept standing in the middle of the circle in the awed silence, rooted to the spot, still looking into fathomless sky-blue eyes - a strange connection tethering them together.
The silence stretched out for several minutes and what finally got Brian out of this weird trance was someone's sigh. He looked around the room and noticed that everyone was obviously in utter shock that he could indeed recite a poem from memory and do it well.
"Told you I had other talents!" Brian sat back down, his signature Kinney smirk firmly in place, as Mikey broke into enthusiastic applause followed by the rest of the group.
Tanis, unsurprisingly, quickly put a stop to the Kinney adulation.
"Justin," she said looking at the blond, "perhaps you could continue?"
So, that's his name...Justin, Brian thought, it suits him.
He watched the blond hesitate for a split second, but then nod and slowly make his way to the center of the circle of chairs. He swept the room with his gaze, looking for something to focus on and passing Brian's face a couple of times. Then Justin sighed and with a slight blush staining his cheeks gave up the battle and focused on Brian anyway. Their gazes locked again as he began,
"i like my body when it is with your, by E.E. Cummings..."
Interesting, Brian thought, can't fault his choice
"i like my body when it is with your
body..."
As Justin continued, his every word uttered in a clear, somewhat soft, yet confident voice went straight to Brian's libido, making him harder and hornier than he ever thought possible from a simple poem reading at an event such as this.
"...It is so quite a new thing..." Justin continued.
Suddenly, Brian had a vision of Justin's body in all its naked glory, standing in his bedroom and illuminated by the orange glow of the light fixture above the bed. What was even more unexpected was what happened next - with every phrase delivered with a sensuous cadence, Brian was bombarded with visions of Justin mid-fuck.
"...Muscles better and nerves more..."
An image of toned thighs and calves, thrown over his shoulders, muscles bunching and straining...
"...i like your body. i like what it does..."
A flash of toes curling...
"...i like its hows..."
A neck bowing gracefully...
"...i like to feel the spine
of your body..."
A vision of a back, arching in pleasure...
"...and its bones..."
Artistic, elegant hands clutching the sheets...
"...and the trembling
-firm-smoothness and which I will
again and again and again
kiss..."
A vision of him, Brian, kissing the hell out of those luscious lips again and again and again...
"...i like kissing this and that of you..."
And kissing Justin's shoulder-blade, spine, lower back, ass...
"...i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur..."
An image of running his hands upwards through surprisingly fine leg hair, then dense, curly pubes, then over almost non-existent chest fuzz and finally, burying them in a messy mane of silken blond strands...
"...and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh..."
A flash of him spreading Justin's cheeks and feeling a joyful anticipation of giving a thorough rim job...
"...And eyes big love-crumbs..."
A vision of staring down at those azure eyes and watching them widen mid-orgasm...
"...and possibly i like the thrill..."
An image of his own spine-tingling climax - head thrown back, back arched, eyes closed and every muscle reaching for that ultimate high...
"...of under me you quite so new"
A vision of collapsing into Justin's waiting arms...
Brian was so lost in these flashing visions - images, hallucinations, dreams, or whatever the hell they were - and in his unusual reaction to the blond, that he didn't notice when the applause for Justin had erupted and then died down, or when Justin went back to his seat, or when Tanis stood in the middle of the circle and started to recite something. He "came to" only when Michael bumped his shoulder and whispered,
"I know he's hot, but can you please stop eye-fucking Justin Taylor and pay attention, Brian?"
"Taylor? He read E.E. Cummings too, did you notice?" Brian whispered, never taking his eyes completely off the man in question.
"What are we, in high school?" Michael hissed, "Will you shut the fuck up and listen?"
"I don't think so," Brian said and abruptly stood up, interrupting Tanis in the middle of her recitation. "Sorry, Tanis, but I have something to say."
Tanis let out a long-suffering sigh, but graciously motioned for Brian to speak.
Brian walked up to Justin and when their eyes met yet again, he said loudly enough for everyone to hear, "Taylor."
"Yes?" Justin answered uncertainly.
"Under me. You."
His eyebrow rising in a question, Brian patiently waited for Justin to react. He wasn't disappointed. After a complete silence of about a minute and a half, Justin sprang up and with a quiet "hell, yeah" offered his hand to Brian.
Brian looked at the hand he had imagined clutching his 1000 thread-count sheets just a few minutes ago.
What the hell, I'm already at a fucking poetry reading, he thought and took Justin's hand without hesitation.
The two walked out of the auditorium, then the GLC building, without looking back and forgetting all about the circle of stunned poetry lovers, along with Justin's portfolio and messenger bag.
~The End~
A/N:
"Water" by Ralph Waldo Emerson
"Kid" by Simon Armitage
"hate blows a bubble of despair into" by E.E. Cummings
"i like my body when it is with your" by E.E. Cummings