A/N: Justin's friends throw him a wedding shower, while Brian gives him one of his own...
Britin – One Month Later – Justin's POV
Brian was in one of his 'rough-sex' moods this morning as he imprisoned my hands up above my head with one of his larger ones and used the other hand at my back to pin my body against the shower wall; we were melded as if we were one as he rammed into me with more force than I could remember in a long time. I tried to catch my breath in between thrusts, but they came out more like grunts each time he deeply plunged back in. Ever since we had started doing it raw, every sensation, every movement was heightened, creating the most intense pain/pleasure I had ever known. My entire body's adrenalin was on high alert as I groaned at the amazing feelings pouring over me under his expert touch. I totally loved these moments when Brian felt the need to possess me so forcefully, body and soul, even though truthfully he had me from that first moment he had walked over to me under that lamp post.
"Aaahhh… Brian!" I screamed out loudly as he repositioned his hips behind me and dove back in, hitting my sweet spot at a different, more intense angle this time. "Yes, God, Yes! Right there! Fuck!" I wasn't sure exactly what I was saying as Brian continued to pound into me, his dick feeling like some molten, steel rod being poked up my ass; I always was the more vocal between the two of us when we were making love, but this morning as Brian rammed into me like there was no tomorrow, I had no real idea what I was saying or if it wasn't even intelligible words. All I knew was that I didn't want it to end.
I gasped as Brian reached up to grab a fistful of my wet hair and roughly yanked my head back as he continued to plunge his cock deep inside my ass; I felt the sharp sting as he bit down possessively on the tender flesh of my neck marking me as his, and I cried out in response, my cock becoming impossibly harder even though he wasn't even touching it yet.
"Mine," Brian growled as he licked the wound, his hot, wet tongue creating a path from my neck up to my ear where he nipped at the bottom of my lobe and then licked around the shell, making my body shiver in response. "You like that?" he demanded to know, his voice echoing off the walls of the shower as the hot, steamy water rained down upon us. Of course, the question was totally unnecessary because I felt like anyone within a two-mile radius would probably know the answer simply by listening to the guttural sounds escaping my lips as Brian slid his free hand around my waist and shoved the two of us together even tighter as he braced his feet on the shower floor and continued to plunge into me. I could hear him grunting each time he slammed back in, his balls making a slapping sound as they came in contact with my ass.
"Oh, Fuck!" I screamed, my throat raw as I felt myself clenching tightly around Brian's cock and my body crying out for release; I could feel Brian's dick throbbing inside me, echoing his rapid heartbeat pounding against my back, and I knew from how perfectly in synch we were by now that he, too, was about to lose control and fall over the edge with me. All it took was for Brian to take his other hand and begin roughly sliding his slick, soapy hand up and down my shaft as he growled, "You're so fucking hot," and I promptly exploded, my cum streaming across the shower wall and cascading downward as I sagged afterward like some spineless jellyfish in the strong arms that cradled me against his body.
I gasped for some much-needed oxygen as my chest heaved in and out, feeling Brian's lips nuzzling my neck affectionately from behind as he held onto me tightly, his hot breath panting against my skin as he, too, tried to regain some sense of control over his own breathing. For several seconds only the rushing sound of the shower's water could be heard over our ragged pants until finally, Brian turned me in his arms, his eyes alive with streaks of green and gold, the pupils large and expressive in post-coital bliss as he nudged our foreheads together briefly. Pulling back, he leaned in to give me a soft kiss on my swollen, well-ravaged lips as I sighed in contentment. "You okay?" he asked softly, worried that he had been too rough with me as one hand gently crept downward to cup one of my ass cheeks and caress it slowly.
I grinned back at him like a sated Cheshire cat, no doubt wearing a goofy look on my face, my eyes closed in contentment as Brian curled his lips under in amusement.
"I take it that's a yes," Brian said with a soft chuckle as I lazily opened my eyes to stare back at his glorious, bronzed face; his skin was glowing from the water droplets reflecting off the recessed lighting above, like millions of tiny diamonds, his hair plastered to his face like some dark, wet bowl, and I thought he had never looked more gorgeous than at that moment as he stared back at me knowingly; he always could read my thoughts without me saying a word. "I thought maybe I might have been a little too rough on your delicate little posterior."
I laughed softly and shook my head as I placed my hands on his chest and luxuriated in the warmth and strength I found there. "I feel just fine… More than fine," I reported dreamily, feeling just a little silly for answering him like some little faggot school kid with a crush; I licked my lips to compose myself before replying, "You realize, though, that you're going to make me late now for my real shower."
"But I had to give you my own version of a wedding shower," Brian countered, his lips curled under playfully with that little-boy look that was so adorable to me.
I smirked. "It's not that kind of a wedding shower, and you know it." I grinned mischievously. "But that being said, this was…" I shrugged before saying, "Okay." I licked my lips playfully. Right back at ya, Kinney..
Brian looked indignant as he reached over to grab a bar of his outrageously expensive soap and throw it at me; I deftly ducked just in time to barely avoid it. "Okay?" He snorted. "It was fucking amazing, Mr. Taylor."
I grinned. "Yeah…," I sighed before admitting, "It was." It never ceased to astound me after all these years, and how many hundreds of times we had fucked or made love by now, how incredible Brian continued to make me feel. Brian would probably still deny it even to this day, but I suspect we both knew the reason – it wasn't just the mechanics of it by now or that we knew every possible inch of our bodies and what we could do to each other to heighten our pleasure; no, it was because it was sweetened with so much deep emotion, so much love, that it made it that much more intense and unforgettable. Of course, being able to make love without any barriers between us now didn't hurt, either.
I sighed again, regretting having to leave this man's embrace so soon, as I reached up to brush some of Brian's hair back from his forehead with my hand. "As much as my ass would love to engage in Round Two with your very impressive cock, Mr. Kinney," I told him as he smirked at me, "I don't think our hot water is going to hold out much longer. And I have a different kind of 'wedding shower' I need to attend, remember?" I couldn't help grinning back at Brian, who seemed to pout at me in response like I was depriving him of his favorite 'toy,' which I suppose I was. "Now don't go giving me that look – if you hadn't given me Woody in the first place I wouldn't have even needed to go to the wedding shower."
Brian snorted as he slowly rubbed circles on the wet skin of my back. I know what he was thinking without him even saying it: Wedding showers were for nelly queens and dykes, not Brian Kinney's fiancé. Perhaps he was right – it was a little too saccharine for even my sentimental taste – but secretly I was touched by my friends and my mom wanting to celebrate in my joy over my upcoming wedding to Brian, and it wasn't actually being heralded as a traditional 'shower' – more like a 'celebratory get-together'. I also knew, though, despite what it was called that while Brian wouldn't be caught dead participating in such a lesbionic ritual, he didn't begrudge me attending one if it made me happy. And sharing in my excitement over our upcoming wedding in two weeks did make me happy – very happy.
"Go on then, little wife-to-be," Brian said sarcastically; I swatted his chest in response as he leaned down to silence my indignation with his lips once more, taking a few moments to nibble provocatively on my lower lip. I had to push away from him as I felt his tongue snaking inside, ready for some more action.
"Stop that," I chided him as I tweaked his right nipple and Brian rolled his lips under in reaction, smiling that little-boy-smile at me. "You're making me horny again and if I don't get dressed right away I'll be even later than I already am."
Brian twisted his mouth up almost in another pout, but his hands kept roaming rebelliously all over my back and buttocks as my cock began to rise again to the occasion. He looked down and smirked smugly. "Oh, no you don't," I told him flatly as I backed away and turned to quickly open the shower door before I lost all modicum of willpower; I yelped as he smacked one of my ass cheeks before I could get away. I could hear him laughing in that wonderfully infectious way of his as I reached for one of our deep-red, Egyptian cotton bath sheets and wrapped it around my waist, making sure to keep my cock AND my ass out of sight and out of his groping range.
I heard the shower head being turned off a few seconds later and the door banging softly behind me as I walked over to the double vanity to run some water to brush my teeth. I watched warily in the mirror as Brian walked up behind me, totally naked and looking like some freshly-scrubbed Greek God as he wrapped his hands around my waist and kissed my neck. "Brian," I pleaded, knowing if he pushed it I would be unable to resist him, even if I WAS outrageously late as a result; not that that would necessarily be any earth-shattering news to either Debbie or my mother, who were co-sponsoring tonight's get-together at Debbie and Carl's house. That meant it would take me a good thirty minutes just to get into town normally, and I was supposed to be there in fifteen minutes. I heard Brian sigh in resignation as his lips gently tickled the purplish bruise that he had managed to brand me with in the shower.
"You realize you are forcing me to wear something with a collar now," I scolded him. It wasn't unusual for Brian to pepper me with love bites from time to time, depending upon what sort of mood he was in, but thanks to his little maneuver of possession tonight I would either have to wear something to cover it up or spend most of the night red in the face as I explained what had happened, although I had a feeling the reason would be obvious. I'm not sure why to this day it made me embarrassed, but I couldn't help it – it did. Sometimes the young 17-year-old twink rose to the surface, and this was one of those times. It wasn't that I was ashamed of it – it was more like an intrusion into our personal sex life and I no longer felt the inclination to tell everyone about what we did in our private lives anymore.
"Mmmm," Brian murmured. "A collar – kinky. You always do look hot in leather."
I snorted as I quickly brushed my teeth and spit out the toothpaste into the sink, holding my toothbrush under the running water to clean it before replacing in the round, cream-colored marble toothpaste holder nearby. I turned in Brian's arms and smiled up at him indulgently. "You're incorrigible," I told him with a grin as I leaned up to kiss his lips once more. "Now I have to go get dressed." I pointed my finger at Brian as he started to follow me. "And YOU and your dick – you stay in here."
Brian rolled his lips under and grinned as he held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Oh, no… I wouldn't want my dick to somehow wind up in your ass accidentally, Sunshine," he agreed with me as I rolled my eyes and walked toward the master bedroom. "Go right ahead."
I could feel Brian's heated gaze on me as I hurriedly threw on my favorite pair of worn jeans and a light-gray, casual linen Armani shirt (with a collar, of course) that he had purchased for me for my last birthday (yes, he finally had given in and actually commemorated it now, along with the obligatory celebratory fuck, of course); jamming my feet into my sneakers and scooping up my keys from the dresser, I turned to leave. I looked in the mirror above the dresser to see Brian leaning against the bathroom's door frame, his hands crossed over his chest as he looked at my purposeful antics with amusement; God, he was so fucking sexy, he still took my breath away... I twisted my mouth up in one corner and shrugged at him, realizing he knew exactly what I was thinking before I turned to leave and called out over my shoulder "Take care of Woody while I'm gone."
"I wish I could," Brian deadpanned as I grinned before disappearing out of sight; he understood precisely what I had meant, and it had nothing to do with me. Despite Brian's prior, adamant vow previously that he was not going to have anything whatsoever to do with our newest resident, it had only taken Woody about two weeks before I caught Brian softly cooing "kitty talk" to him when he thought I wasn't around, and a couple of times I had actually discovered him petting him, cradling the ever-growing white ball of fluff in his strong, tanned arms as he softly stroked the feline's ears and back. Naturally, when I called him out on it, though, he got all huffy and said I was imagining things and needed glasses, but I knew what I had seen and heard. And when I noticed new cat toys showing up mysteriously in the studio while I was out, and then a designer cat bed embroidered with Woody's "initials," WTK, (good thing Brian's last name didn't start with an "F," although some people thought it did at times) lying in a sunny corner of the room soon afterward, Brian had insisted that he was merely trying to ensure that Woody remained firmly entrenched in the studio where he belonged and out of his hair (translation: home office); he argued that plying him with distractions and appropriate sleeping quarters would help to ensure that. I chose to ignore the obvious and play along with him, knowing Brian would never admit that he was actually becoming fond of him. I knew it was just a matter of time, though, before Woody wormed his way down into the main floors of the house.
Brian's POV
I sighed as Justin walked out of the bedroom with a smug look on his face; when did I become so fucking transparent and predictable? That description was so painful to my ears. And even worse, when did I actually become tolerant of a hairy, furball-puking cat? I'm not even sure when it happened, exactly; after all, the closest I had ever come to being exposed to any sort of domestic pet before was when I won a hapless goldfish at the county fair when I was seven years old. I had somehow wrangled an invitation to tag along with a friend and his parents to the event, and had proven fairly adept at throwing ping pong balls at those small, round glass fish containers in the midway. Three throws and a couple of dollars later, I was the proud owner of a goldfish. Of course, 'Rusty,' as I named him, promptly went belly-up three days later when I came home from school one day and found him lying at the top of his bowl, lifeless and floating among the fish flakes I had fed him earlier that day. At the time I had acted like I didn't give a fuck – after all, it was just a lousy, 10-cent goldfish – but after that day I decided I never wanted a pet ever again, or anyone or anything else that could break my outer shell of indifference.
That was long before I had met and fallen in love with a certain blond, however, that made me change my mind about a lot of things, including ever owning a pet again. And now, not only was I (or at least Justin) the proud parent of a big, white, allergy-producing fluff ball, I was also to my horror actually beginning to like the thing. He just had this way of growing on you; every time I entered Justin's studio when he was gone, that cat seemed to know I was coming up, because he would sit there and fucking cry until I opened the door. And it wasn't because he wanted to escape, although most normal cats would have taken advantage of the opportunity. No, this cat just stands there, staring up at me with those big, green, feline eyes and letting out another plaintive 'meow' until I roll my eyes and pick him up. I always find it fascinating, though, when he starts purring in response, his whole body vibrating from the effort. Kind of like Justin when I'm fucking him nice and slow, I thought with a smirk…
I turned and walked over to the window, seeing Justin entering the black, mid-sized SUV that he had purchased about a year ago. As he got in and rolled the window down, he lifted his gaze to the bedroom window where I was standing and smiled at me tenderly in the way he reserved just for me and me alone; as always it made my heart do a flip-flop as I smiled back at him in return. A few seconds later, the SUV slowly crept forward in the semi-circle of the driveway and slowly headed toward the street.
I turned away from the window and walked over to the dresser, pulling out the top drawer to retrieve one of my favorite pair of stay-at-home jeans. Sliding them up my long legs, I located the empty shoebox I had stashed under our massive, king-sized bed before I tread barefoot down the hall toward the staircase, snorting as I heard a loud 'meow' coming from upstairs. Was this cat fucking psychic? "Suck on some more catnip, you little shit, I'm coming, I'm coming," I grumbled as I slowly ascended the steps. At least Woody was cheaply entertained; I had read somewhere that cats liked simple toys like paper bags to hide in, and even shoe boxes filled with tissue paper; anything that made a crinkling sound and Woody wasn't any different. Quite by accident, too, I discovered he liked to chew on plastic straws when I made the mistake one day of leaving an empty paper cup from the town's deli restaurant in Justin's studio, lying on a marble window sill; I had walked downstairs when Justin was away to answer the door for a delivery, only to find my paper cup crumpled on the wooden floor upon my return and Woody reclining nearby, his tail swishing from side to side as he chewed happily away on the remnants of my straw. It was probably then that I decided he wasn't quite right in the head, but I still found it oddly endearing anyway.
I could hear the tinkling of his collar's name tag (I had added it to the Will You Marry Us? tag shortly after presenting him to Justin) as I approached, along with an even louder, indignant type of meow. "You're a bossy little shit, aren't you?" I said. "Just like someone else I know." I walked up to the door and turned the knob to open it, knowing Woody would be standing right by the door waiting for me. Sure enough, as soon as I opened it, there he was, looking up at me intently and meowing softly as I shook my head.
Placing the box down on the floor, I picked him up, noticing how much heavier he seemed just in the few short weeks he had taken up residence here. I nestled him in the crook of my right elbow while I stroked him from head to tail with my left, creating another round of soft quite meows in response. Soon, I could feel the familiar purring of contentment humming along my skin as Woody began to rub his head against my wrist. "You're a real suck-up," I chided him softly. "Just like Taylor. Although not in quite the same way," I chuckled. I stroked the amazingly soft fur for several seconds before gently lowering the cat to the ground, watching as he weaved in and out of my feet like some circus performer.
"Hey, you're getting fur all over my jeans!" I gently scolded him, but there was no bite behind my words. I figured that was what dry cleaners and lint brushes were for; at least it wasn't something like mud or chocolate or blood or something else that was a bitch to remove. "Look what I brought you," I told him as I leaned down and opened the lid of the shoebox to expose the white tissue paper inside. I squeezed the paper to create a crackling sort of noise, watching as Woody's ears perked up in excitement. "What about that?" I asked. "Just like having your own backroom," I joked. "But don't hold out for any company; NO bringing home tricks for you, stud." I scratched behind Woody's ears briefly before watching him walk warily over toward the box, sniffing it to check it out. A few seconds, he was like a pig wallowing in mud as he gingerly stepped inside the box and began to joyfully tear the paper to smithereens.
Smiling at his antics, I told him, "Knock yourself out," before walking over to the door and closing it behind me. I figured he was good to go now until Justin got home; even though I had relented somewhat on my initial rule to have nothing to do with him myself, my partner was still the main caretaker for him. I drew the line at handling smelly cat food cans, cleaning out the litter box, or changing his water bowl. I knew, though, in the back of my mind that it was just a matter of time before Woody's territory increased from beyond Justin's studio. Maybe he could be a nice barn cat…. "First a cat, then a twink husband," I muttered. "Fuck."
Debbie and Carl's House – 30 minutes later
"Sunshine!" Debbie greeted me as she flung the door open; she was wearing her customary, cherry-red nail polish, accentuated by matching garish-red lipstick. But it was her bright green apron with white letters that made me laugh: surrounding a picture of a large dick with a cock ring encasing it were the words, He put a ring on it!
As I pulled back from her embrace, I smiled. "I always knew you were a gay man in a previous life," I teased her as she reached up and pinched my cheek.
"I'll be bequeathing this to you when the party's over," she told me with a grin. "I know how much you love to cook… and how much Brian loves to eat your ass," she cackled as I rolled my eyes, feeling my face warm at her words. Even now, I could still blush to my consternation. I figured in some ways I would forever be that 17-year-old kid standing under that streetlamp, no matter how successful I became or how old…
As Debbie stood aside for me to enter, not surprisingly I could tell that she and Emmett, who had helped with the planning, had gone overboard; there were navy-blue paper maché bells and matching streamers hanging around the entire perimeter of the living room and kitchen; I smiled at the matching colored sex toys that were hanging in bunches in every corner where the walls met, along with 'condom balloons' hanging from the center of the room, right over the coffee table.
"Impressive," I said, laughing as Emmett walked up to me and gave me a big hug. "You found condoms that matched the color of the other decorations?"
"Well, it took me a while to find them online," Em confided in me as he handed me a glass of wine from a nearby brass, wheeled hostess serving table and leaned in to whisper in my ear. "But I knew you didn't need them for any other purpose now."
I blushed once more as Emmett waggled his eyebrows at me; after a multitude of whiskey shots at Woody's one day after Brian and I had become officially engaged again, I had confided in my friend that Brian and I were fucking raw now. It wasn't that we were necessarily trying to keep that incredible fact a secret, but on the other hand Brian and I hadn't really talked about going public with it either. At first, my partner had been incensed to know that the person he affectionately called telephone, teleprompter, tell-Emmett had been told about something so personal, but after a particularly long and hard ride on a certain impressive cock, I had managed to mollify him somewhat. And to my surprise, after pleading with Emmett not to broadcast that fact to everyone else, he had apparently kept his word; at least, I hadn't received any ribbing or questions about it. Truthfully, I think Emmett was more than just a little envious that Brian and I had reached a point where we were monogamous and could do without the condoms; I knew my sentimental, tender friend well enough by now to know that he wanted the same thing. Silently, I hoped that he, too, would achieve the same goal one day; he and Cal seemed happy enough and were talking about moving in together, so there was hope that maybe this would be the guy for him at last.
I was spared any additional comment when Daphne and my mother rushed up to rescue me and lead me further into the living room to plunk me down at the place of honor – an overstuffed, velour, beige-and-flowered chair next to Debbie's crochet-covered couch. "Sit, Sunshine," Debbie instructed me as she pushed gently on my shoulders and I did as I was asked; she promptly rushed away toward the kitchen. "Food first!" she announced. "We're doing it buffet style!" she advised everyone. "Grab a plate! We'll get started while we're waiting for everyone else to get here!" My former waiter/busboy instincts kicked in as I rose to find a plate; I was promptly corrected, however, as Debbie tutted with one manicured finger, "Uh-uh-uh," she reprimanded me, "You stay put!" I sighed as I sat back down, feeling uncomfortable at being waited on but knowing better than to argue with her.
Fifteen minutes later, Lindsay and Mel had arrived with Gus and JR in tow; Gus was immediately distracted by a plate of food, while his sleepy sister was placed in a portable playpen in the adjoining dining room, within eyesight of their mothers but far enough out of the way to promptly fall into a blissful slumber, even in light of the animated conversational level occurring as everyone caught up with what had been going on with each other's lives. Soon, all the invitees had arrived, including Ben and Michael, and the party was in full swing; as the drinks flowed and the food was consumed, the volume level of the room quickly became louder and more boisterous.
"No, Gus!" I heard Lindsey gently scold her and Brian's son as he reached up with one chubby little hand in a futile attempt to reach the large sheet cake on top of the counter; the cake, chocolate with Sunshine-yellow icing, had been decorated with a reproduction photograph of one of my favorite pictures, Brian standing behind me with his arms around my waist as we smiled brightly for the camera. Next to our photo were words written in dark brown icing: Save the date – eat a fig, along with the date we had chosen for what would be a casual, small, intimate ceremony: September 8. I laughed as I noticed someone – Emmett, I suspected – had crossed out the word fig and had written the word 'fag' next to it.
"Nice touch," I commented to my friend as I was finally allowed to rise from my chair so I could have my picture taken by Debbie next to the cake; Emmett's grin was verification enough that I had been right as I smiled for the camera and Emmett tilted the pan at an angle so the masterpiece could be seen better.
Thirty minutes later, Gus was happily playing with a couple of leftover condom balloons on the floor as I was presented with the first of my shower gifts. My mother had purchased a beautiful, rosewood 8 X 10 photo frame and a $100 certificate to a prestigious photography studio so hopefully Brian wouldn't have any excuse not to get dressed up with me and have a portrait taken together before we got married. I had been prodding my stubborn fiancé to do just that; even though I had drawn a few self-portraits of the two of us together, we had never actually had an official photo taken of us. Hopefully this would be the impetus for us to finally get that done.
There were two books from Michael and Ben – a serious one about cooking for me with a Kiss the Cock apron, and another one entitled "Gardening in America: Proper Seeding and Plowing Techniques," that evoked a loud guffaw from Debbie; Michael had apparently told her about the semi-disastrous housewarming dinner that Brian and I had attended at their home when the odd subject of gardening had come up and Brian had felt compelled to put his own unique spin on the subject. My face turned red as I looked at the title of the book they had found, but I was at least thankful that they had not re-gifted me with the infamous swing that Brian had chosen for their own party.
"Open mine next," Daphne told me as she looked at me mysteriously; I stared at her warily, knowing what that broad smile and twinkling eyes meant. My best friend was up to no good. I took a calming breath, trying to prepare myself for whatever was inside the shoe-size shaped box with the elegant gold and ivory paper and matching, sparkly gold ribbon. I meticulously slid my fingernail under the wrapping at the end of the box and slid the package out. It was a metallic, gold-colored box with a lid, just like the paper. I pursed my lips together firmly as I glanced over at Daphne, who merely grinned and shrugged her shoulders as I carefully took the lid off.
I brushed away the silver tissue paper inside to discover a large, one-pound white plastic tub nestled inside with a bright yellow wrapper; the product was turned face down, so initially I couldn't tell what it was. Lifting it from the box, I turned the container in my hand as everyone burst out laughing. My face turned as red as diaper rash this time as I read the label out loud: "Boudreaux's Butt Paste?" Everyone clapped and hooted in approval as Daphne said, "Read the description!" I shook my head as I read the information in smaller type below the brand name: "Developed from the Peruvian balsam by a pharmacist, Boudreaux's Butt Paste helps heal broken skin and provides relief for a variety of conditions. Goes on and cleans off easily, treats and protects with a pleasant scent." I smiled wryly over at Daphne, who was giggling. "Thanks, Daphne… I think."
"Well, at least you'll have an adequate supply for the night of your honeymoon, anyway," Daphne said as I rolled my eyes at her and everyone chortled. "My friend Denise swears by the stuff when she uses it on HER baby," she pointed out helpfully. "And it makes the skin so soft and smooth; and don't forget the pleasant scent," she added helpfully, speaking as if she were the official spokeswoman. She stuck her tongue out at me maturely as I couldn't help grinning back at her.
"Yeah," I agreed deadpan. "I'm sure Brian will just love the baby-powder smell." I quickly placed the butt paste on the floor as Emmett handed me another package.
Several seconds later, I sat there, open-mouthed, as I looked at a beautiful, abstract dark-gray marble sculpture of two men standing, their bodies intertwined as one in a swirl pattern as they embraced. Just like Brian and me, one man was tall and lean, the other one shorter and slim. Expecting something humorous and probably a bit on the bawdy side knowing Emmett, I turned to him in amazement; I was absolutely enchanted with his gift and was already mentally trying to figure out in my mind where the best spot for it would be at Britin. My face broke out into a delighted smile as I turned to look at my friend who was sitting on the edge of the couch next to my chair as the other guests oohed and aahed about it. "Em… This is wonderful! I LOVE it!" I turned my gaze back to the substantially heavy statue, cradling it in my hands as I kept staring at it mesmerized.
"I'm glad you like it, Sweetie," I heard Emmett reply as I turned and impulsively gave him a hug with my free hand.
"Thank you," I whispered, my eyes tearing over just a bit at his wonderful gift choice. I figured the shower gifts today would mainly be humorous ones, which was fine with me; neither Brian nor I really wanted for anything by now and the house was more than fully furnished, so Em's thoughtfulness was even more appreciated. He smiled at me and nodded as he gently took it from my hands and laid it back into its protective box, handing me one last gift for me to open.
"This one's from Teddy," Em told me. "He really wanted to come today, but some asshole boss of his sent him out of town on a business trip this weekend," he said as I grinned. I tore open the silver and white paper that had Congratulations written in flowing script on it to reveal a medium-sized box in a camouflage pattern inside. On the end of the box was written in bold, black, capital letters: Survival Kit. I carefully lifted the flap at the bottom of the box to open it and reveal several items inside: a compass and a camping canteen for use in case I got lost inside Britin's massive interior walls, and a set of edible massage oils once I found my way back to Brian's side for 'sustenance.' Last but not least, in a scene reminiscent from several years ago, there was a small box inside that said, "Honeymoon outfit," which, when I lifted the lid to peer inside, was totally empty. Everyone laughed knowingly as I stole a glance over at Emmett, wondering if he recalled receiving a similar gift when he and George were leaving for their European vacation, but he simply smiled at me and squeezed my arm as if to say it was all right. "Ted thought of everything," I said kiddingly to cover up the bit of awkwardness as everyone laughed and the slightly uncomfortable moment was thankfully forgotten; a few moments later, Debbie sprung up with the announcement that it was time to cut the cake, and I was left alone momentarily with just my mother as the rest of the partygoers rose to go retrieve their dessert.
From her place sitting on the other matching chair next to mine, she smiled at me as she reached over and took my hand. "Well, that was quite a wide variety of gifts," she commented as I grinned back at her.
"Well, would you expect anything less from this group?" I asked as she laughed and shook her head no. "I tried to get Brian to come," I informed her. "But I'm sure you can guess what his reaction to that idea was."
She smiled. "Yeah… I can imagine." We sat there in companionable silence for a few seconds before she observed, "You look so happy, Honey."
I squeezed her slim hand before letting it go. "I am, Mom. I really am. And I'm convinced that this is what Brian wants, too, or I wouldn't have agreed to it." I grinned. "After all, he did get me a cat. That's huge."
My mom laughed. "Yeah, I have to admit I agree with you on that one. I never thought I would see the day…" She smiled at me tenderly. "But then again, I know how persuasive you can be when you want to be."
"Hey, I didn't say anything to Brian about getting a cat," I protested as she arched her eyebrows at me silently. "Okay, maybe I did back when we were living in the loft," I admitted. "But I never said anything about bringing one to live with us at Britin – that was all Brian's doing."
My mother grinned back at me. "Well, we all know that when it comes to you, Brian tends to throw his normal game rules out the window." She huffed out a short breath and smiled at me affectionately as she studied my relaxed appearance. "You do look happy, Sweetheart. Happier, I think, than I've ever seen you; at least if you don't count that one Christmas when you got your BMX bike from Santa."
I rolled my eyes. "Mom… I was nine years old when I got that bike! I knew very well that you and Dad were the real Santas by then." She was right, though; I had been so ecstatic when I had seen that shiny, royal blue racing bike – I had been throwing down hints for months about wanting one for Christmas. And when I saw it perched next to the Christmas tree that morning, I was deliriously happy and wound up spending the entire time outside in the cold, bundled up in my new winter coat as I rushed helter-skelter down the driveway and up and down the cul-de-sac, over and over again, the brisk wind rushing by my face as I rode furiously around the block, showing it off to my friends. I was frozen stiff by the time dinner came, but I was so fucking exhilarated it didn't matter. My mom was right – I was gloriously happy that day, but nothing would ever come close to the feelings I had now.
I smiled a little wistfully, briefly wishing I could go back in time somehow to when my father was actually in my life and proud of me; how I wish I could say that now, but I knew it wasn't going to happen. "Yeah," I told her softly. "That was a great Christmas, with all of us together."
She looked regretful that she had dredged up painful memories as she said, "Justin…"
I shook my head as I heard our friends returning with their cake and ice cream. "It's okay," I told her reassuringly, smiling back at her to make sure she knew I was being honest. "Really." Any more discussion of what was still a painful topic for both of us was interrupted by Gus rushing up to me with his plateful of dessert. "Choc' lit, Jus'n!" he proudly announced as he held his plate out for me to see. I laughed as I noticed smears of brown and yellow surrounding his lips; apparently Gus had already sampled the goods over by the kitchen to make sure they passed muster first.
"Looks good, Buddy," I told him as I reached out affectionately to ruffle his soft, brown hair. He held out his fork to me with a large bite of cake on it for me to sample.
"Taste," he ordered solemnly.
I smiled indulgently as I leaned over to take the confection into my mouth and slide it off the fork, emitting a distinct "mmmm" for him as I relished the sweetness on my tongue. "Thanks, Little Man," I told him as he beamed at me. He turned around and backed up against me as I reached over to help him scramble up to sit on my lap, reaching my hands supportively around his waist as he sat there, holding his small but sturdy, gold-colored cardboard dessert plate in one hand while he used the fork to stab a bite of vanilla ice cream and cake with the other and lift it to his mouth.
I could see the beginning of tears forming in my mother's face as I held Gus on my lap, knowing she and I were thinking the same thing – how great it would be one day to have a child of my own – mine and Brian's. I loved Gus like he was my own son – and I think Gus thought of me as a second father by now, too; but that didn't mean that I still wouldn't like to have a little one of from own DNA some day, one that would reside full-time at Britin. One that I could sing to sleep at night, soothe away his or her fears when a ferocious thunderstorm flashed across the sky, or take with me to explore the wonderful grounds around Britin. I had confided that sentimental wish to my mother a few months ago, swearing her to secrecy at the time, not even envisioning that one day Brian and I would actually be wed. But I still couldn't help imagining the three of us riding horses around the fields and woods of our home, teaching him or her to swim in the in-ground pool, or maybe even grooming a future Serena Williams or Jimmy Connors on the tennis courts. And the long, winding driveway was just perfect to teach a little one how to ride a bike for the first time. I twisted up the corner of my mouth as I looked back at my mother, silently telling her that I understood exactly what she was thinking, but also letting her know that if such a decision ever was contemplated, it would only be with Brian's explicit approval. I had had enough secrecy in the past with Brian and knew the disastrous results that ensued; I wasn't about to undertake such a significant step unless he was right there with me.
"Here you go, Sunshine!" Debbie told me as she handed me a plate of cake and ice cream and the introspective moment was broken. I smiled at the outrageous amount she had piled on top of my plate, but knew better than to protest. Besides, with Brian not here, it was my perfect opportunity to imbibe in a little high-carb heaven as I placed the plate down on the coffee table directly in front of me and used one hand to hold Gus securely while I succeeded with my other in stabbing a bite of ice cream and cake to bring it up to my mouth. Thank God for high metabolisms – and such pleasurable ways to work off the calories, I thought as I relished the wonderful, chocolate taste.
An hour later, all of the guests had left including my mother, leaving the room looking almost forlorn now in its after-party solitude; only the scrape of utensils and an occasional clattering of a few non-disposable dishes being gathered up could be heard as Debbie placed them in the soapy water of the sink. I had offered to help clean up but she would have none of it, insisting that as the guest of honor there was no way she was going to have me do any work.
I leaned up against the kitchen counter, watching her a little guiltily as she began to wash the dishes by hand. It wasn't as if she couldn't afford a dishwasher – Carl has offered to get her one years ago – but she still liked to wash them the old-fashioned way, telling me once that it was oddly relaxing to her. I wondered fleetingly how many revealing discussions had occurred around this kitchen. Vic, Michael, Brian, me… I wouldn't even hazard a guess. I do know that I learned a lot from this 'other mother' of mine and would be eternally grateful to her for the support and acceptance she had given me over the years; it was a debt I didn't think I would ever be able to repay.
"It was a good party, Sunshine," she said as she scrubbed on a large platter that had held her famous lasagna; every last bite of it had been consumed in no time, leaving just the crusty, baked-on shell around the perimeter. I walked over to pick up the rooster dish towel threaded through one of the lower cabinet's handles. "Come on, Deb," I cajoled her as she gave me 'that look.' "At least let me dry." She hesitated for a couple of seconds before she nodded and handed me the rectangular-shaped container, turning her attention to the next dirty dish in the sudsy water as I began to dry it and place it on the dish rack next to the sink.
We were finished with what few dirty dishes and utensils there were in no time, since most of them had been the disposable, plastic or cardboard variety. As I returned a few minutes from lugging the large garbage bag of party remnants out to the backyard garbage can, I spied Debbie coming down from the upstairs floor holding a small box in her hand; it looked like one of those boxes that new blank checks come in, I decided, as I walked over and sat down on the edge of the couch. I was anxious to get back to Brian to show him all the gifts we had received, especially the wonderful sculpture that Emmett had found for us, and something told me that I would be testing out my new butt paste in short order later tonight, too.
I smiled as Debbie walked over and sat down next to me on the couch, still clutching the small, black and white cardboard box in her hand. "This is for you; one more gift," she said mysteriously as I looked at her with a frown.
"What is it?" I asked as I accepted the glossy-looking container; I could see my previous assumption was correct as I noted the name of a nearby bank on the side of the box.
"It's a little something from Vic," she said softly as I eyed her in stunned surprise.
"From Vic?" Debbie's brother had been dead for some time now; how could this be from him, then? I idly ran my fingers along the edge of the box, my thoughts concentrated on the older man who had befriended me so long ago. Despite his illness, Debbie's brother had readily accepted me in their household when I needed a place to stay, had kidded with me, and helped teach me what it meant to be a gay man, not a kid; I was so grateful that Vic had never really thought of me that way. Oh, he teased me from time to time – mainly about how I could pack away tons of food in one sitting or about how I tended to zone out on him occasionally (normally when I was daydreaming about Brian), but he never made fun of me or questioned my courage. In fact, he had often told me that he admired me for how I always doggedly pursued what I wanted and didn't stop until I had it, whether it had to do with my art or Brian or anything else. He always encouraged me to enjoy every new experience I could and told me once that he wished he had been more like me. I think he liked my zest for life and my no-holds-barred approach to whatever goals I set for myself. Along the way, though, he taught me a thing or too, also – like how to live your life with dignity and how to live every day like it might be your last.
I lifted my gaze and tore my thoughts away from my deceased friend as Debbie nodded with a smile; I could see her eyes glistening slightly in remembrance as she whispered, "Yeah. He told me once to keep this until you were ready for it." She glanced down at the box I was holding thoughtfully. "I would have laid odds that Brian would have never allowed any man to creep into his heart and lasso it, but Vic seemed to think if anyone had a chance, it would be you. He could just tell there was something about you that made Brian react differently; HE treated you differently. Eventually I saw it, too, but I think Vic knew pretty much from the start that Brian didn't stand a chance against you."
I blushed in response as she explained, "That was very special to Vic; he wore it all the time. He told me he wanted you to have it. It's not the Taj Mahal," she kidded. "But I think in light of how far you and Brian have come, now would be a good time to give it to you." I noticed Debbie looked a little embarrassed as she admitted, "I really meant to give this to you a long time ago, but frankly I forgot about it after he died so unexpectedly and then with Brian's cancer and all…"
I nodded my understanding as I fingered the lid, finding my hands shaking slightly as I pushed the lid up to remove it. Placing it down in front of me on the coffee table, I looked inside. Nestled on top of white jewelry cotton was a simple, interlocking, soft-leather band, medium brown in color, obviously well-loved and supple from being worn for so long. In the middle of the band was a shiny, brass plate held in place by two matching, round brads that contained one single word in simple script letters: BELIEVE. It was such a simple word but said so much. It had probably meant something different to Vic – perhaps a belief that he could persevere through his terrible illness and live a long life – but to me it meant that as long as I believed in myself, and believed in my love for Brian, maybe our lives wouldn't always be a bed of roses all the time but as long as we had each other, somehow everything would work out okay for us. I took a deep, choked breath before I lifted my eyes to meet hers. "Thank you," I whispered as Debbie smiled at me and leaned over to plant a soft kiss on my cheek, wiping the lipstick residue away tenderly with her index finger.
I grinned back at her mother hen action as she said, "Try it on, Sunshine."
I held the bracelet up in my right hand, draping it over my left wrist as Debbie reached over to help me snap the two ends together; on my slim wrist, she had to use the very last snap button to close it tightly enough to hold together as she leaned back in the couch and I held my hand out to admire how the brown of the leather contrasted against my pale skin. I loved the simplicity of the adornment, how soft it felt against my flesh, but most of all I loved the idea that I was now the owner of something that Vic had cherished so much. It was almost as if a part of him was still living with me, providing me the courage to combat my own demons in life. "I'll treasure this," I told Debbie as I reached over with my right hand and lovingly ran my fingers over the brass plate.
"I know you will," she told me as she reached over and gave my shoulder a squeeze. "And I can't think of a better person to take care of it." She sniffled slightly before standing up. "By the way, Emmett took some of the 'decorations' home earlier – he said he could make good use of them and then muttered something about you not needing them anymore." She snorted, trying to lighten the mood now. "He didn't bother to ask me about keeping the dildos," she muttered as I laughed. She shook her head ruefully. "Oh, well – I guess I'll just have to make do with what we've got." She eyed me intently before saying, "At the risk of being a poor host, Sunshine, I'm supposed to take Carl a plate of the leftovers to the precinct– he's working until midnight tonight."
Even though I was anxious to get back to Brian and show him my 'stash,' my manners prompted me to offer, "I can take it over to him if you want me to, Deb. I'm sure you're pretty tired after doing all that cooking and planning for the party."
To my relief, though, she shook her head. "Thanks, Baby, but I want to go; I'm due to start breakfast shift at the diner tomorrow, so it may be the only real chance I get to spend a little time with my love muffin."
I chuckled at the endearment but quickly sobered as Debbie gave me a steely-eyed glare. "You got a problem with that, Sunshine?"
"No," I quickly told her, stifling a laugh as I, too, stood up, looking around for the cardboard box that Em had packed all my gifts in earlier so it would be easier for me to haul everything out to the car. "No problem at all. I don't think I'll be using that nickname on Brian anytime soon, though."
She guffawed. "No, probably not," she agreed as I walked a few steps over to the chair I had been sitting in earlier and stooped down to retrieve the box with my gifts in it. I ambled back over to her, placing the box on the coffee table as I embraced her tightly, feeling her arms sliding around my waist and giving it a squeeze briefly before we broke apart. "Thanks again for the party, Deb," I told her sincerely. "It was great." I looked down at Vic's bracelet. "And thanks for this, too. It means a lot to me."
She gave me one more kiss on my cheek, again brushing the lipstick away with her finger. "You're welcome. You know you're like another son to me by now."
I nodded, a lump of emotion stuck in my throat as I picked up the box and headed to the door. "Brian and I will be sending out the wedding invitations in a few days," I told her as I reached for the doorknob. "Don't forget – September 8. We expect you to be there – and Carl."
She nodded back as I opened the main, interior door. "I wouldn't miss it, Sunshine. Want me to tell Carl to bring his pistol in case Brian has a sudden change of heart before the ceremony?"
I chuckled in amusement. "That's okay – I think I can keep him under control until then. I'll just withhold what is most near and dear to him – my ass – if he starts to vacillate any before then."
I gave her a smile and a wave as I opened the screen door and made to leave, hearing her last words filtering outside as I walked out onto the porch. "But you have to use all that Butt Paste up somehow!" I shook my head and laughed as I walked down the steps, eager to return to the man I loved.
Thirty Minutes Later – Britin – Brian's POV
I quickly pushed the drapes closed with one hand as I saw what had to be the headlights of Justin's car shining into the living room. "Looks like your daddy's home," I murmured to the ball of fur purring contently in my arms. "Sorry, Furball, time to go back up to that big Lock Up in the Sky."
Almost as if sensing what I was about to do, Woody let out a plaintive, soft meow in response and gazed up at me with his big, light-green eyes. "Now don't go starting that Woe is Me shit," I warned him as we ascended the steps quickly, knowing that it normally only took Justin about one minute from the time he started up the driveway, drove into the garage, and walked into the house before he went to look for me. I had just enough time, then, to make it up to the third floor to deposit Woody back where he belonged before I risked the possibility of detection. It wasn't as if I normally let Woody out of the attic, mind you, but every once in a while when Justin was out of town for any extended length of time and I was left alone in this monstrosity of a house, I found it oddly comforting if Woody and I kept each other company until he got back. Of course, I was never going to tell Justin that, though; I wouldn't give him the pleasure of saying I told you so.
Just as I thought, no sooner had I gently lowered Woody to the hardwood floor in Justin's studio and shaken out a few kitty treats into his food bowl than I heard Justin calling out my name as he searched for me. "Bon appétit," I said softly as I rushed over to the door and opened it, closing it quietly behind me. I hurried down the steps to the second floor just as Justin reached the top, watching as he looked around for me. "There you are!" he said, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement. "Didn't you hear me calling you?" I noticed his face was flushed with happiness for some reason as he stood there with a medium-sized cardboard box in his hands. He must have had a good time at his little lesbian hootenanny…
"Sorry, Sunshine," I told him as I nonchalantly walked over and gallantly took the box out of his hands; Justin shook his hands melodramatically as if he were trying to regain circulation in them as I explained simply, "I was indisposed." Thankfully Justin nodded, assuming I meant I was in the bathroom; of course, I wasn't going to correct him. I looked into the box, noticing all sorts of paper gift bags and some boxes jumbled around inside. "What is all this shit?"
Justin smiled as he placed both his hands on my upper arms and leaned up on his tiptoes to give me a quick kiss on the lips. "Those are for us – wedding shower gifts. Some will be very useful, trust me."
He grinned in that way he had that told me this could be trouble. "How so?"
Justin winked at me. "Come with me to the bedroom and I'll show you." He placed his hand around my waist as we walked toward the massive master bedroom, stopping several steps later in his tracks as he frowned. "Brian, what is this?" he asked, plucking at the dark blue fabric of my long-sleeved tee shirt.
"What?" I asked, trying to twist around to see what Justin was looking at so intently.
"That shit on your shirt." He narrowed his eyes before he looked into mine; I prayed silently that I didn't look as guilty as I felt. "If I didn't know better, I'd say that looks suspiciously like cat fur. White cat fur."
I laughed nervously. "Yeah, right, Sunshine. Woody and I have been bonding while you've been gone. I decided to test how good a mouser he was and took him out to the stables to get acquainted with our other guests out there. Works wonders when he hasn't been fed his dinner yet. Caught a couple of rats and two field mice before I had to pull him off; didn't want him to get an upset stomach by eating too much fatty protein."
I held my breath as Justin stared at me with a look that either said I was fucking out of my mind or I really had done what I said I'd done. He narrowed his eyes and bit his lip, trying to determine if I was yanking his chain or not, before he arched one brow in question at me. "Well, you got that fur somewhere."
I rolled my eyes and sighed as if to admit defeat. "Okay, what the fuck. I did go upstairs while you were gone just to check on the furball. I wasn't sure if you had fed him before you left or not. Do you know how fucking horrible dead cats smell, especially in this heat?"
Justin shook his head. "Brian," he complained. "That's disgusting. You had better left Woody in the same shape that I left him in," he warned, only half-kidding. I knew how much that darn kitten meant to Justin. It wasn't just an animal – it meant a promise to him that I really did want to get married to him, and I would have to guard that fucking cat with my life if I had to. That didn't mean, though, that I had to admit that the damn cat was actually growing on me, though.
"He's fine," I assured him. "In fact, I just checked on him a few minutes ago. He was lapping up milk just like you do when you're fed some cream." I waited for the predictable slap on my chest in response, but he surprised by whacking me upside the head like Debbie does. "Ow!" I growled. "You've been around Debbie too much today!"
He laughed then as he grabbed me around my neck with one hand and pulled me down to his face so he could give me a kiss on the cheek with his incredibly soft, warm lips. He leaned back just enough to stare me in the eyes and exclaim, "I had so much fun tonight, Brian! Wait until you see what I got!" He waggled his eyebrows adorably as he advised me, "I brought you home some leftover cake, too. I thought we could have some fun with that later."
I was about to vehemently protest that he knew better than to expect me to indulge in such an outrageously disgusting treat, but the sexy way he hinted at how we might use it later prevented me from saying it. Instead, I said, "We'll have to see about that, Sunshine. In the meantime, haul your tight little ass to the bedroom and we'll see what we can do with this treasure trove." He giggled at me, swaying his provocative bubble butt back and forth intentionally as I let him take the lead and I knew I was safe for now, at least from the probing eyes of Justin Taylor, Kitty Cop.
As we lay on our bed an hour later, the humongous jar of Boudreaux's Butt Paste open on the nightstand and the two of us lying in a marvelous, tangled heap, sticky and sweaty, I reached down and grasped his left hand, twining our fingers together as I brought them up to my mouth and kissed his palm, savoring the salty-sweet taste I found. "I told you that you looked hot in leather," I huskily told him as I heard him sigh softly with a smile. "Looks good on you." I admired the way his alabaster skin contrasted so sexily with the darkness of the leather band as I fingered the brass plate on top. "I do, you know," I added, the words barely above a whisper.
He twisted his head from where it lay on my chest to gaze up at me, his eyes so large and expressive from our just-completed lovemaking. "You do what?" he asked, his nose scrunched up adorably.
"Believe. I believe in you – and us." I curled my lips under, a little uncomfortable still with baring my soul, even to this man that I loved more and more each day.
He smiled then, one of his trademark, blinding smiles as he craned his neck up just enough to kiss me on the lips firmly before he pulled back and whispered, "So do I. So do I."
