A/N: In this story, Brian and Justin live in a loft similar to Brian's on the show, though not as nice, and it has two bedrooms. In addition, I changed Daphne's orientation. I borrowed the story's name from an advertisement for the L-Word.
I woke up to the sound of Justin's voice, as I did every morning, warmly greeting whatever trick I'd fucked the night before and offering him coffee. I waited until I heard Rob…Rick…whatever the fuck his name was politely refusing and the loft door close. Then I started to get up, but, before I had, Justin was in bed with me, handing me a cup of coffee.
He teased, "So…tell me…was he a good fuck? He has a great ass!"
I chuckled, set my coffee mug on the end table, and flipped Justin onto his stomach. I slapped his ass and commented wryly, "Yours is better."
Then I climbed on top of him and drawled, "If you want to know what it would be like to be with me, all you need do is ask. I'd gladly give you a test drive."
Justin wriggled out from under me and sat up. He laughed. "No, thanks. You're not my type."
I scoffed, "I'm everyone's type."
I let myself fall back onto the bed. "But you aren't really mine. I don't generally do virgins."
Justin blushed, as I hoped he would. I loved making him blush. He complained, "I am not a virgin!"
"Blow jobs don't count."
Justin turned a deeper shade of red. He snapped defensively, "Fuck you, Brian! Just because I don't whore around like you do doesn't mean that I'm celibate. Now get your ass up. Mikey's probably already waiting for us at the diner."
In a falsetto, I replied, "Yes, dear…"
Justin rolled his eyes and left the room, shutting the door softly behind him.
I nearly ran to the shower, so eager was I to relieve myself of the hard on Justin had inspired. I'd already lost my morning wood when Justin climbed into bed with me, but slapping his ass and climbing on top of him had reawakened my cock. I remembered his plump cherry-red lips, his luscious ass, and his sparkling blue eyes, flashing with anger and annoyance in response to my teasing. Soon I was cumming in long white spurts, biting my lip to stifle the full body moan dying to escape and shuddering as my orgasm ripped through me. I'd never admit it to any living being, but these morning masturbation sessions, always spurred by contact with Justin, were much more intense and fulfilling than sex of any kind with anyone else.
Justin was the person I wanted more than anyone else in the world, and the one person I could never have. He was my roommate and best friend. We'd been inseparable since we were 10, when he moved into my neighborhood. We'd met at a playground at the end of his street the day he arrived. Soon after, in that silly way kids do, we'd promised we'd be best friends forever. I had no doubt we always would be.
When we were 14 and just realizing that we were gay, Justin was the first boy to give me a hard on. I jerked off to thoughts of him almost every morning that year. That was around the time we met Mikey. We'd heard about Liberty Avenue and had snuck away from our group on a field trip to a nearby museum to check it out. We'd wandered for hours, watching the strange people walking along the street and staring at the strange clothes and objects in the store windows. We'd finally ended up at the Liberty Diner, sharing fries slathered in gravy (just the way Justin liked them). That's where we'd met Mikey. He'd been our third "musketeer" ever since.
We'd both grown close to Mikey, but we were never as close to him as we were to each other. When we were 16, Justin had begged me to run away with him. He could no longer stand seeing me come to school with black eyes and bruises. Every time, his eyes filled with tears he never let fall, though he always claimed his watery eyes were just an allergic reaction to some thing or another. And truly, pollen, dust, dander, you name it, he was allergic to it. So when we'd decided to leave home, we'd never thought to invite Mikey, a fact Mikey later lamented, though he begrudgingly agreed that he'd had the best home life of the three of us. Justin and I had been roommates ever since.
It was summer when we ran away. We'd started working at the diner full time during the day and had slept huddled together in a park near Liberty Avenue at night. Debbie, Mikey's mom and owner of the diner, had let us shower at her house every morning and had even offered to let us stay with her. We'd declined her offer. We'd never told Mikey about it. He would have been so hurt if he knew. Fortunately, we'd met Lindsay and her partner Mel that same summer. Mel had just passed the bar and offered to help us become emancipated. So come fall, we'd been able to enroll in Mikey's high school.
In August of that summer, knowing that it would soon grow too cold for us to sleep in the park, I'd begun looking for a second job. That's when I met Brandon. He was a hustler. When he'd told me that he regularly brought in three hundred bucks a night, I'd started going with him. In very short order, Justin and I had saved enough money for an apartment. After we'd started school, Justin'd switched to nights at the diner, and I'd quit. Justin'd had no idea that I'd been hustling before then. He'd only realized after I quit the diner. We'd never talked about it, but I knew he'd figured it out because he crawled into bed with me every night after that, holding me in his arms, nuzzling my neck, and trying not to cry.
In November, Mel'd suddenly offered me a paid internship at her law firm. This was a huge surprise because she was never very fond of me, but she claimed that she thought I had great potential and wanted to help me achieve it. It was a shit job; I was a glorified errand boy, but it paid as well as hustling, so I quit. Justin was beaming when she asked me and quickly looked away when my eyes met his. I later learned that Justin had asked Mel to find me a job and had written an incredible letter of interest on my behalf stating that I'd always been fascinated by the law and was filled with the altruistic urge to promote justice everywhere and defend those who could not defend themselves. A beautifully written piece of bullshit.
I'd later returned the favor by showing Lindsay some of Justin's artwork. She'd offered him a job at her gallery, and he'd quit the diner. He still worked there, and I still worked at Mel's law firm, though I'd become a paralegal since then. Now 21, Justin was attending the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts on a scholarship, and I was attending Carnegie Mellon, preparing for law school. Mel's law firm was even footing the bill.
Justin tapped his foot impatiently as I began tying my tie. After a minute watching me fumble with it, he swung me around so that I was facing him and dexterously maneuvered the two ends until he'd formed a perfect Windsor knot. Then he helped me into the jacket of my only Armani suit, a present he'd given me after he'd sold his first painting, and pushed me out the door.
When we entered the Liberty Diner, we were greeted by a pouting Mikey and an impassive and disheveled, but still very attractive Brandon, who had clearly come directly from work, as he wore skin-tight black leather pants and a slightly loose, half-buttoned-down red silk shirt. He'd graduated from street walker to high-class hustler, now servicing only the very wealthy. They were sitting across from each other, but when Mikey saw us come in, he moved to sit next to Brandon. Justin and I always sat next to each other at the diner, and everyone knew it.
Mikey complained, "You guys are late! I've been here for an hour already."
I just shrugged, but Justin gave him a compassionate look and replied, "Sorry, Mikey." Then he laughed and nudged me. "Studly here didn't want to get out of bed."
I quirked an eyebrow and mouthed, "Studly?"
Justin just giggled and slid into the booth. I joined him.
Debbie gave our orders to the cook (we ordered the same thing every day; I always had raisin toast, and Justin, two eggs, bacon, wheat toast, and home fries, well done with extra onions) and then brought us coffee.
Mikey asked excitedly, "Did you have a hot trick in your bed distracting you?"
I glanced over at Justin, who was engrossed in adding milk and sugar to his coffee. He looked a little like a mad scientist. I couldn't help but smile. When he was done with the sugar, he absentmindedly slid it my way. "A hot guy, but not a trick," I thought. I took the dispenser and added sugar to my coffee as I replied, "You should ask Brandon about his tricks. His may be trolls, but, sometimes, they're famous."
Mikey turned to Brandon expectantly.
Brandon countered, "They aren't always trolls. Some of the closet cases are hot and famous."
Mikey rubbed his hands together. "Any of those last night?"
I chuckled. Mikey had to be one of the horniest guys I knew (well, besides me). The difference, of course, was that I could get laid any time I wanted. Mikey, on the other hand, lived vicariously through Brandon and me and sometimes Emmett. Speaking of the devil, Emmett walked in. Swished in was more like it. I'd never met a more effeminate gay man. He was wearing a hot pink crop top and tight blue jeans. His shirt hung off one shoulder, giving him a Jennifer Beals Flashdance look.
He slid into an adjacent booth (on Mikey and Brandon's side) so that his back was against the wall and his legs on the seat and leaned his head on his arm, which was resting on the top of the booth.
Seeing Emmett, Justin asked eagerly, "So what happened last night with that beefy hunk you were talking to at Babylon?"
Emmett smiled mysteriously and declared, "Ladies don't kiss and tell."
Just then, Debbie arrived with our food. She laughed. "Ladies don't suck one man's dick while being fucked in the ass by another man, either. Especially not in a bathroom stall. What's your point?"
Emmett blushed. "Oh you heard about that?"
Debbie scoffed, "Heard about it? No. I heard it. I heard all that moaning and grunting with my own ears. Hell, I think people in Timbuktu heard it."
Everyone but Emmett burst out laughing, even nearby patrons who didn't know him.
Ted, who'd entered the diner in the middle of Debbie and Emmett's exchange, slid into the booth opposite Emmett.
He prodded, "So what did happen between you and muscleman?"
Before Emmett answered, Justin whispered to me, "This bacon is fan-fucking-tastic! You have to try some!" and moved to feed me a piece. I smiled and opened my mouth. Only Justin could take such liberties.
Emmett smiled. "He fucked me all night with his 3-inch thick, 8-inch-long cock. I'm so sore!"
Suddenly, Daphne emerged from the throng of people milling about. She wrinkled her nose and cried, "Yuck! Do you have to give such graphic detail? Maybe I should talk about my lovers' clits when they are all slick with saliva and slightly swollen…or how soft and warm my lovers feel inside when I'm fingering them…"
All of us, me, Justin, Brandon, Mikey, Emmett, and Ted closed our eyes and turned away (in one quick motion), making an "Oh!" sound (indicating that Daphne's description was gross and just wrong).
Daphne giggled and took the chair Debbie had brought over for her, placing it at the front of the booth with me, Justin, Brandon, and Mikey in it.
Emmett threw up his hands in defeat. "Okay, okay. We get it! No more graphic detail in mixed company. But, in my defense, I didn't realize you were here already."
Mikey agreed. "Yeah! That was totally unfair!"
Justin lamented, "I can't even eat anymore! And that was the best bacon I've had in a week!"
I nodded and rubbed his shoulder. "It really was delicious."
Daphne just smiled.
Looking over at poor nauseous Justin, I couldn't help but smile. This morning was, thus far, a morning like every other for the last few years. We'd all fallen into a pleasant routine. I slid my arm along the top of the booth behind Justin. He unconsciously moved a little closer to me.
Just after that thought had passed through my mind, however, something unusual happened. A young man about Justin's height with a mess of brown curly hair and a dreadful goti approached our table. My eyes widened when I saw that he was smiling at someone. I followed the line of his gaze, but I didn't need to. I knew he was smiling at Justin.
He said, "Hi, Justin" in what I assume he thought a sultry voice. I looked on in horror as I saw Justin flush with pleasure.
He replied a little shyly, "Hi, Ethan."
Ethan glared at me and asked Justin uncomfortably, "Is he your boyfriend?"
Then Justin said something that made me more nauseous than all Daphne's vagina talk over the years put together. "No, he's just a friend. My best friend."
Just????
