Author's notes: Another post-220, has nothing to do with my other fics. Brian's POV (seems to work best!)
Now, I kind of like this one. How about you? Tell me! There will be at least 2 more chapters.
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Justin's Choice part I: Shouting Justin's Name
Actually, I *had* been faithful to Justin for a long time. Because, no matter whom I was fucking, or who was sucking me off, in my head... for Christ's sake, in my head it was always Justin. That's what I thought. It was automatic; I didn't plan it or want it to be so. So if I really thought, sometimes even truly *believed*, that I was with Justin, I wasn't really cheating on him, was I?
I could have been monogamous, probably. If I had really wanted and needed to, I could have done it. But with Justin, fucking other guys had been the only thing I had had. The only way to tell him I was still independent. The only way to tell him he didn't own me, that he shouldn't expect anything from me. The only way to keep him from hurting me. Shit, even *that* hadn't worked, had it?
And now, he was gone. If I had stopped tricking when he had first got himself into my life, what would I have done now? But I hadn't stopped tricking. And I had been perfectly happy with that once, so why wouldn't I be able to go back to my old life? I still had my friends, my job, and my tricks. A little bit of E every once in a while made me a new man.
As I let my newest fuck unbutton my pants, I wished I had been high. I was so tired. It would've made me feel better. But, it was too late now; I'd just fuck this guy and get on with it.
This guy, like so many guys I had had lately, was dark-haired and muscular. He was almost as tall as me. A few days earlier I had realized I had been picking up dark-haired guys a lot lately. Even if I knew it was because I wanted to get over Justin and had guys who were as far from him as possible, I wouldn't admit it to myself.
As far from Justin as possible, yes, definitely. But not all of that was just a good thing. This guy, he was clumsy, low-voiced and didn't probably even know what 'fuck' meant. Even in his middle-twenties, he seemed inexperienced, or maybe just not talented. Maybe he just didn't care and was a lousy fuck because of that.
I tore his clothes off and pushed him on the bed. I had only one thing in my mind; I had to get off. I practically chanted that in my head, so that the *other* thought would stay as far away from my consciousness as possible.
Sometimes I would get lost in the feeling of fucking so completely that I'd do my normal things, touch the spots I had learned to touch, and be surprised not to hear the moans I had gotten so used to. Then, when I realized I wasn't with my usual fuck, I'd feel down again. My usual fuck, yeah, that was it. My usual fuck. Nothing more, nothing less.
This guy was awfully quiet. Fuck! Say something, goddamn it! This doesn't feel good? You don't feel good? Well fuck you! I bit the skin of his neck. To hell with it, I don't feel good either.
I decided he had had his bit of foreplay and told him to turn around. After preparing us both I just grabbed his hips. It wasn't much of a warning but it was all he got before I thrust into him, feeling the heat but not the usual tightness. I almost cried out as I again thought this wasn't Justin. I wasn't sure if the moan was because of the physical pleasure I was experiencing or the pain. What pain? This wasn't Justin and it would never be Justin again. Not Justin, not Justin, not Justin...
My movements became quicker and quicker with each thrust. But somehow I also felt sick to my stomach at the same time. I tried to concentrate on the good feelings, just the good ones. I was close, I knew it, so I just closed my eyes and let it happen, hoping it would all be over soon. I lost everything around myself as I came, and for a second, I felt okay. As the waves of pleasure left me, I let myself fall on the bed, breathing hard. I realized I hadn't done anything to get my trick off, but I just didn't give a fuck.
I felt him get off the bed and heard him start dressing again. I was glad I didn't need to tell him to. He walked out without another word.
Shortly after he had left, I got up and went to check on the alarm. I leaned on a wall, just trying to calm down. I couldn't fucking believe it. I had shouted Justin's name when I had come. That's why I hadn't started wondering what was wrong when the trick had got quiet; he had just been so confused. I had shouted Justin's name...
I started back towards the bedroom but then stopped. Even the thought of the bed felt dirty. How could I go back into our... *my* bed after fucking some trick? Fuck, it was my bed, *my* bed, *mine*! For fuck's sake... I was totally losing it.
So there was only one option. The couch. I'd sleep on the fucking couch. Just because I was a fucking weak-minded pervert who couldn't sleep in his own goddamn bed!
This was the only time I was going to sleep on the couch. I'd get over it. I'd get over Justin. I'd be able to fuck again without feeling restless and shitty afterwards... Wouldn't I?
Shit...
Sleep finally came to take me. I surrendered myself to it. I wanted to get the fuck out of this world, and sleep was now the best way to do it. Tomorrow I'd get my hands on some E, I promised myself. When I was half-asleep already, I unconsciously let the name slip from my lips one more time. The name of the blond one. The blond who had once loved me.
~Feedback more than appreciated~
Now, I kind of like this one. How about you? Tell me! There will be at least 2 more chapters.
~~~~~~
Justin's Choice part I: Shouting Justin's Name
Actually, I *had* been faithful to Justin for a long time. Because, no matter whom I was fucking, or who was sucking me off, in my head... for Christ's sake, in my head it was always Justin. That's what I thought. It was automatic; I didn't plan it or want it to be so. So if I really thought, sometimes even truly *believed*, that I was with Justin, I wasn't really cheating on him, was I?
I could have been monogamous, probably. If I had really wanted and needed to, I could have done it. But with Justin, fucking other guys had been the only thing I had had. The only way to tell him I was still independent. The only way to tell him he didn't own me, that he shouldn't expect anything from me. The only way to keep him from hurting me. Shit, even *that* hadn't worked, had it?
And now, he was gone. If I had stopped tricking when he had first got himself into my life, what would I have done now? But I hadn't stopped tricking. And I had been perfectly happy with that once, so why wouldn't I be able to go back to my old life? I still had my friends, my job, and my tricks. A little bit of E every once in a while made me a new man.
As I let my newest fuck unbutton my pants, I wished I had been high. I was so tired. It would've made me feel better. But, it was too late now; I'd just fuck this guy and get on with it.
This guy, like so many guys I had had lately, was dark-haired and muscular. He was almost as tall as me. A few days earlier I had realized I had been picking up dark-haired guys a lot lately. Even if I knew it was because I wanted to get over Justin and had guys who were as far from him as possible, I wouldn't admit it to myself.
As far from Justin as possible, yes, definitely. But not all of that was just a good thing. This guy, he was clumsy, low-voiced and didn't probably even know what 'fuck' meant. Even in his middle-twenties, he seemed inexperienced, or maybe just not talented. Maybe he just didn't care and was a lousy fuck because of that.
I tore his clothes off and pushed him on the bed. I had only one thing in my mind; I had to get off. I practically chanted that in my head, so that the *other* thought would stay as far away from my consciousness as possible.
Sometimes I would get lost in the feeling of fucking so completely that I'd do my normal things, touch the spots I had learned to touch, and be surprised not to hear the moans I had gotten so used to. Then, when I realized I wasn't with my usual fuck, I'd feel down again. My usual fuck, yeah, that was it. My usual fuck. Nothing more, nothing less.
This guy was awfully quiet. Fuck! Say something, goddamn it! This doesn't feel good? You don't feel good? Well fuck you! I bit the skin of his neck. To hell with it, I don't feel good either.
I decided he had had his bit of foreplay and told him to turn around. After preparing us both I just grabbed his hips. It wasn't much of a warning but it was all he got before I thrust into him, feeling the heat but not the usual tightness. I almost cried out as I again thought this wasn't Justin. I wasn't sure if the moan was because of the physical pleasure I was experiencing or the pain. What pain? This wasn't Justin and it would never be Justin again. Not Justin, not Justin, not Justin...
My movements became quicker and quicker with each thrust. But somehow I also felt sick to my stomach at the same time. I tried to concentrate on the good feelings, just the good ones. I was close, I knew it, so I just closed my eyes and let it happen, hoping it would all be over soon. I lost everything around myself as I came, and for a second, I felt okay. As the waves of pleasure left me, I let myself fall on the bed, breathing hard. I realized I hadn't done anything to get my trick off, but I just didn't give a fuck.
I felt him get off the bed and heard him start dressing again. I was glad I didn't need to tell him to. He walked out without another word.
Shortly after he had left, I got up and went to check on the alarm. I leaned on a wall, just trying to calm down. I couldn't fucking believe it. I had shouted Justin's name when I had come. That's why I hadn't started wondering what was wrong when the trick had got quiet; he had just been so confused. I had shouted Justin's name...
I started back towards the bedroom but then stopped. Even the thought of the bed felt dirty. How could I go back into our... *my* bed after fucking some trick? Fuck, it was my bed, *my* bed, *mine*! For fuck's sake... I was totally losing it.
So there was only one option. The couch. I'd sleep on the fucking couch. Just because I was a fucking weak-minded pervert who couldn't sleep in his own goddamn bed!
This was the only time I was going to sleep on the couch. I'd get over it. I'd get over Justin. I'd be able to fuck again without feeling restless and shitty afterwards... Wouldn't I?
Shit...
Sleep finally came to take me. I surrendered myself to it. I wanted to get the fuck out of this world, and sleep was now the best way to do it. Tomorrow I'd get my hands on some E, I promised myself. When I was half-asleep already, I unconsciously let the name slip from my lips one more time. The name of the blond one. The blond who had once loved me.
~Feedback more than appreciated~