Sometimes You Just Know
Brian/Justin
R
Disclaimer: Queer as Folk and its characters belong to Showtime Networks Inc., CowLip Productions, Russell T. Davies, and others. I claim no ownership over anything but this drabble.
Summary: A doodle I did a couple of months ago while lying awake in bed, mind filled with paranoia and panic thoughts and lots of tension due to real life matters, and I had absolute no access to YouTube nor my prized QaF box set. It was also one of those days when the idea of Ethan Gold just simply makes me retch. Inspired by the ending of Episode 307. The whole scene with Michael never took place and THIS happened instead. Feedback and reviews are greatly appreciated.
Sometimes you just know. You see him standing across the room, and you know. He's looking back at you, a tiny smirk playing in the corner of his mouth, and his eyes taunt you, challenge you to cross the room over to him and do the one thing you know you want to do.
And it's hard not to want, when he's staring at you like that and smiling like that and cocking his hips in a come-hither way like that... He leans against the counter at the bar, offhandedly ordering a drink, all the while keeping his eyes on you. Guys try to hit on him, get physical and brush against him, seemingly accidentally. They try to make conversations with him... but he just looks at you.
And you know you want to go to him, so bad. You're reminded of his smell, his taste, his fingers and the way he touches and kisses you and slides his tongue into your mouth. You remember how intoxicating it feels. A dozen of memories suddenly rush through you, from the first time you met him to the night not too long ago, the night he found out. From the bedroom to the hard wood floor to the backroom.… And you remember each time so vividly like it only happened yesterday. You won't forget these moments; you'll be forever haunted by them. And you realize that you don't mind. In fact, you want to be reminded of them forever.
He receives his drink from the bartender and takes a sip; his eyes remain locked with yours. His tongue flicks out a little and runs across his bottom lip to pick up a drop of whiskey. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small plastic bag full of tiny white tablets.
You remember what those tablets taste like, how they used to make you feel, made you not THINK and just FEEL. You stopped taking them a while ago. You would only take them if they came from him, after all. Because he made you feel safe; you trust him that much.
He pops one tiny pill into his mouth and takes another swig of the golden liquid. The smirk widens. You look away.
People are trying to have a conversation with you, asking you things. You ignore them and order a glass of beer. You're such a regular at Babylon now they stop asking for your ID.
Suddenly a comment passed on casually by Ted worms itself through the labyrinth of your ear and shoots into your brain, and your senses come alive and you realize what might be happening.
"He's trying to win you over."
What could be happening. What MAY be happening.
What actually... IS happening.
Your head snaps around to where he's standing. He's picked up a guy now, tall, slender, nice abs, brown hair. And his eyes no longer care for you. They're glued to the trick's face and slide up and down the trick's body, admiring the catch of the day. You believe that soon enough they'll be heading down to the bathrooms or into the backroom.
You return to your drink and take a big gulp, swallow, and then snicker.
"Yeah, sure he is," you hear yourself say.
"Trust me, he wants you back," Ted maintains stubbornly. You glance at Ted to make sure he's not too high or too wasted to be talking nonsense. Because deep inside you want him to be right. But hell, honesty usually comes out at full force when people are drunk or stoned out of their mind anyway, so it doesn't matter if Ted was drunk.
But he isn't. He's lucid and looks reliable, trustworthy enough that your heart gives a little thud at the idea he presented, and your stomach lurches in a funny way.
You excuse yourself and head out to the dance floor, grabbing a random guy along the way, someone good enough to dance and flirt with.
He's watching you dance from across the room, the gorgeous brunette momentarily neglected. For a moment you wonder if this is déjà vu, that history might repeat itself and he'll be cutting through the dance floor and push guys aside to get to you and claim you his for the night.
Wonder turns into hope and hope turns into longing. Subconsciously you glance over to him. Your eyes meet.
He looks away, slinging one hand over the brunette's shoulders and whispers something into the trick's ear. The trick smiles, nods, and they stalk off towards the bathrooms.
You're not angry. You're not disappointed. You kind of almost expect this to happen, after all. But you can't help but feel annoyed when it really does happen, right in your face, straightforward and blunt.
The guy you're dancing with closes in on you and wraps his hands around your hips. You grab him by the belt and pull him into the backroom. You're going to fuck him like you never fucked anyone before. And when you climax you'll release all the pain and heartache and mistrust that Ethan has caused you, which Brian doesn't even seem to care about. And you'll be done with it. You'll move on. You'll be alright.
You whirl the trick around so that he faces the wall, jerk his pants all the way down to his ankles, unzip your own pants, and position yourself at his entrance. You rip off the condom wrapper and slide the sticky rubber on you.
You're letting go frustration, anguish, disappointment. You're letting it all go with every thrust and every pound into the trick's ass. You hear his moans and gasps and hisses. You hear your own labored breathing. You hear the beat of the music lulling you into ecstasy. You are drenched in the bluish hue of the backroom. And you know that after tonight, you'll be free, relieved. You'll be a new man. A better man.
From the corner of your eye you notice someone striding towards the far wall. You recognize the stride, you recognize the figure, the height, the brown hair. You turn your head a little to the side and see him with a new trick already sliding down on his front.
He sees you. His eyes dart to the guy you're fucking against the wall. He looks surprised. Puzzled. Amazed. Then he understands.
His hand rests on the trick's head, guiding him to his dick. But his eyes are on you. Unblinking. Never falter.
You hold on to your guy, dig your fingers into his shoulder and pound harder, faster. Forget. The pain. Forget. The cuts. In your hands. The wounds. In your heart. Forget. Everything.
Your eyes slither back to where he stands with his back against the wall, in the darker part of the backroom, where his face is half hidden in the shadows. He looks mysterious, dangerous, alluring. Intoxicating.
Forget everything but Brian Kinney.
He tosses his head back a little, closes his eyes, his mouth hangs open as he lets out a sharp gasp. And he starts swaying back and forth a little as his trick works his magic down south. Your dick twitches inside your trick's ass from watching Brian getting aroused, knowing exactly how large his dick was growing, remembering the feeling of it inside you, fantasizing feeling it inside you right now. You twitch and hump and make your trick whimper and beg loudly for more.
He opens his eyes and looks at you. You hold his gaze.
And suddenly you believe that you're inside HIM. Inside Brian. You're feeling the breadth of his chest against your palms, his taut abs, the soft hair on the back of his neck, the silky strands of his hair. You're gazing into the hazel eyes. Soothing, comforting eyes, making you feel safe and sound, making you sigh in contentment.
You're home.
Your mouth hangs open a little as you suck in a breath, and you see stars so blinding white when you cum. Your forehead falls forward and rests on the trick's shoulder. You pant for oxygen as you ride out the orgasm.
You glance to the side and see Brian crying out as he reaches his climax. His eyes close for a moment, then they open. And they're on you.
He's panting heavily, mouth hanging open, hair stuck to his forehead. He looks at you.
And you just KNOW. The way you knew you aced or failed an exam as you walked out of the classroom. The way you know you're getting sick after that one certain sneeze.
The biggest mistake in your life. The stupidity. The ignorance.
The realization.
You know.
He's the one you want. Always has been. He never stopped caring for you. He's been nothing but honest to you.
You know that he...
...loved you.
You pull out of the trick and toss the condom carelessly on the floor. You pull up your pants and zip them tight. You ignore the trick's yells asking for your number and if he can see you again.
You step out into the crowded aisle, feeling a pair of hazel eyes boring into your back. Willing to hear his voice calling you, feeling the ghost of his hand tapping on your shoulder and whirling you around.
But he lets you go. The brightness and blaring music outside of the backroom awaken your senses. He's not there with you. He's let you go.
And you want him back.
You just know this.
I don't need no one, to push me around
I don't need no one holding me down
Would you release yourself
Step into my parlor
I could please myself
But I want you
To make me feel alive
But I want you
I wanna feel you from the inside
-FIN-