Brian goes from a euphoric high to righteous fury, all in one night. What is the cause of it?
Later that Evening...
"Is...Is Gus asleep?" Justin managed to breathlessly ask as Brian's lips began a fiery trail from his neck down to his now-bare shoulder; when had Brian managed to unbutton his shirt and push it down his arm?
"Mm, hmm," was the mumbled reply against his skin, the buzz of Brian's lips making him shiver - and not due to the chill in the air this time. Actually, at the moment Justin felt more like his skin was on fire, not cold.
He sucked in a breath as Brian's lips traveled back toward his shoulder blade and then over to his neck to forge a wet trail up to his jaw and then return to his lips. As they kissed, Justin felt himself being pushed down onto the couch lengthwise as the two of them got more comfortable. He decided he could get used to this nightly occurrence. Was this happening too fast, too soon, however? He thought back to the conversation he and Daphne had had several months ago - how he was squirreling himself away at their apartment and working much too hard. How he wasn't making any pleasurable time for himself. Well, he seems to be making up for lost time now. Daphne would be proud of him...
He felt Brian pull back to stare down into his flushed face. "What are you smiling at?" he asked in bemusement. "I happen to think my technique is quite worthy of an Oscar."
Justin grinned, his hands currently gripping Brian's upper arms. He could feel the heat of the other man's skin through the expensive silk fabric of his shirt as he replied, "Oh, it is, trust me. I'm just...happy," he finally decided to say by way of explanation. That about summed it up, anyway.
Brian smirked. "Well, I do have that effect on people," he told Justin, who rolled his eyes at him. He squealed in surprise as Brian began to tickle him.
"Stop that!" he admonished him as he squirmed under the other man's relentless attack. "You want to wake up Gus?" Just as they had anticipated, the little boy had fallen asleep quickly once they had left the park; in fact, he was out like a light in Brian's vehicle before they even got back to the loft. It had been a simple maneuver from there to have Brian carry his son upstairs and gently tuck him into bed. The little dynamo hadn't stirred ever since, and that had been a couple of hours ago.
Brian groaned as he felt Justin shifting under him, causing his body to tingle and his cock to tighten in his pants. He had been fantasizing seeing this particular blond lying sprawled naked across the dark blue of his sheets for some time in his dreams; how he wished at that moment that he could see that vision in the flesh - literally. Something told him the real thing was going to be so much more than his dreams could possibly conjure up; he could just picture how Justin's paler skin would contrast so magnificently against the dark color of his expensive, silk sheets. Only problem was, until he dropped his son off at Mel and Lindsay's house tomorrow morning on the way to work, he was going to have to be content with anticipating it only.
"What?" Justin asked as he heard Brian's groan. He reached up to cup Brian's cheek as the brunet gazed down at him intensely, like he was some special, much-desired toy in the window of Bloomingdale's at Christmas. "What is it?"
Brian sighed. "You know I love my son, right?"
Justin smiled warmly. "Of course," he quickly concurred. "No question about that."
Brian nodded. "Well, Sonny Boy is cramping my style," he confessed with a grimace as Justin giggled. "It's not funny, Mr. Taylor," he told him, his voice stern. But Justin knew he could never actually be mad at his son - or at him. "Next time, remind me to impress upon my son the benefits of sleeping here on the couch instead of in my bed, okay?"
Justin picked up on that with interest. "Next time?" he repeated softly. Was Brian saying he wanted to repeat this on a frequent basis?
Brian reached up to grab Justin's hand in his as he lay them both on his now bare chest, the shirttails flayed out to either side. "Yeah," he responded as he gazed down into his face. "Next time." He leaned down to steal one more kiss before he whispered against his mouth, "But for now...this will have to do."
For the next couple of hours, the two proceeded to wear each other out, just as Brian had predicted earlier, the brunet eventually rising reluctantly to cover his sleeping, exhausted lover with the same throw as the previous night, before he headed into the bedroom to gather a slumbering little boy into his embrace and fall asleep himself.
Three Days Later - Evening - Pittsburgh Advertising Awards Night
Ted tugged at his tuxedo tie; it felt like a boa constrictor was wrapped around his neck, and the stuffiness in the banquet room wasn't helping. Did any of these pretentious-looking rooms ever have proper thermostats?
"Will you quit squirming like some fucking choir boy at his first communion?" Brian groused from his chair next to him as the winner for "Best Public Service Announcement" was announced, the participants politely clapping as a representative from one of the larger advertising agencies rose to accept the award. So far, Kinnetik had won a sprinkling of accolades during the evening, including one for "Most Humorous Internet Ad," and another one for "Most Imaginative Use of Color." While it was gratifying to be recognized in those areas, the biggest fish was yet to be awarded: the one that was always announced at the very end of the evening, and had so far eluded him - the award for "Advertising Agency of the Year."
If Kinnetik could win that award, it would pretty much assure them of a significant increase in business. For the past two years, he had been edged out by his biggest rival - StrataG. If he could just take away the coveted "Advertising Agency of the Year" award - even once - he would be a happy man. Well, he decided as he glanced over at the president of the other agency - a man in his mid-50's by the name of Chad Winslow - that there WAS one more thing that would make him even happier: if he could figure out a way to remove a certain talented artist from the man's employ, and bring him into Kinnetik's fold.
"Very dashing, isn't he?" Ted commented dryly, noticing Brian's scowl as he looked over at their biggest competitor. "And look who's sitting with him - isn't that Palmer? My, how HIS creed has risen."
Brian's face darkened. Fucker. No, scratch that. It should be fuckers, plural. He couldn't believe that Palmer, of all people, was Winslow's partner-in-crime tonight. HE was one of the five best employees he could bring to the most prestigious event for the advertising industry? THAT loser? He wondered how he had managed to finagle his way here. He must have laid one hell of a bullshit speech on him to receive THAT invitation, he decided. It couldn't be because he had sucked the guy's dick; he knew Palmer was strictly a pussy man, and word was that Winslow was the same. No, it had to be some other reason.
But no matter. He knew who was going to be the winner of the big award tonight - and that pompous CEO AND his brown-nosing, no-good slough-off were going home empty-handed this time...or so he hoped. He would never express any of his doubts about that aloud, though.
"Wow," he heard Ted comment as he downed a shot of his Beam and purposely avoided looking over at the StrataG table located at the opposite side of the cavernous room, the event's attendees clapping politely as yet another advertising award was announced. He could care less about the 'Newcomer Award.' His business was several years beyond that stature; now it was time to cement his position as Top Dog in the industry instead.
Brian sighed. "What now, Theodore?" he asked wearily. "Are the waiters scheduled to sing Pavarotti after dessert?" He grinned at Ted's scowl, that remark clearly harkening back to an earlier, not-so-pleasant time for him.
Ted shook his head as his eyes roamed admiringly over the person walking back toward StrataG's table from the restroom area; he smiled. "Joke all you want, Brian. But they might be - if they wind up serving dessert to THAT particular man," he replied with an appreciative gleam. "I might even have to reintroduce myself to that Palmer asshole - if it means I can get an introduction to him. Wonder if that's the new artist they hired?" he mused. He always HAD had a thing for blondes - especially slim, twink-type blondes. And this one was beautiful. "Holy shit," he added as he got a glimpse of the man's suit-clad bubble butt, glancing over at Brian to get his reaction as well. His boss normally seemed to prefer dark-haired types, however.
As soon as Ted's last comment registered, Brian's heart raced as he followed Ted's gaze toward the other side of the room. No...No fucking way; it couldn't be...But it was. It was him.
Ted frowned as he noticed the almost threatening look that suddenly appeared on his boss's face. "What?" he asked, bewildered. "Don't tell me you've done him already." He smirked then. Of course; that made perfect sense. Hadn't Brian done everyone in town by now?
"Shut the fuck up, Schmidt!" Brian snarled, taking Ted aback. His friend could certainly be irascible at times - even hot-tempered, especially when he felt like his employees weren't giving him 110% - but this extreme type of reaction was not normal even for him. He was downright furious at the moment. Over what? What had he said? He remained silent as he carefully studied Brian's face - his boss's eyes were virtually boring into the back of the other man as the slim blond walked over to Winslow and pulled his chair out to sit down next to him and their party of six. As he did so, his eyes fell upon Brian's, and his face lit up in astonished pleasure; that is, until he saw the fiery look on his face. He furrowed his brow briefly in confusion, then, before both men's attentions were diverted by the master of ceremonies announcing the final award of the night: Advertising Agency of the Year.
"And now, the award everyone has been waiting for - the most coveted prize of the evening. Who will be Pittsburgh's Agency of the Year? Will someone finally be able to topple a certain, well-known company from their incumbent perch?" the tuxedoed man was intoning into the mike. He smiled. "I think we all know this is strictly a two-dog fight again this year," he added as the crowd began to murmur in reaction. Yes, everyone knew exactly which two agencies the man was referring to, and everyone was just as curious to see which one came out on top this time. As always, the awards were chosen by a representative sampling of powerful, influential businesses located throughout Pittsburgh, so no one present knew until tonight who had won any of the awards, including this one. Both agencies had increased their business substantially over the past year, and had acquired several, multi-million dollar accounts. So it was anybody's guess which one would triumph over the other.
The crowd grew noticeably silent as the MC reached to accept a white envelope from a long-haired, wispy blond in a tight-fitting, red sequined gown and slid the flap open to read it as the audience waited curiously.
The man smiled with a nod as he lifted his gaze to peer into the spotlights cast upon him. "And the winner...of the Pittsburgh Advertising Agency of the Year award goes to..." Everyone groaned as the man took an inordinate amount of time to read what was on the card, before finally the name was revealed...
"Kinnetik!" he announced as Brian's table erupted in jubilation, Ted and Cynthia giving each other high-fives as the other employees at the table clapped and shouted their approval. "Yes!"
"Way to go, Boss!" Ted praised his friend, as everyone else clapped in the room, a few of them whooping their approval that someone had finally toppled the mighty Goliath of the advertising world. "You did it!"
Brian smiled with a nod, pleased that he had finally caught the big prize. He stood up as Cynthia squeezed his arm from beside him and grinned over at him; she knew perhaps best of all what this meant to him. As he pushed his chair back and stood up, his eyes fell upon Justin sitting next to Winslow, and their gazes locked momentarily. He could see a big smile on Justin's face momentarily - a smile for him - causing a returning smile to break out on his own face, before the smile disappeared as Winslow turned to look over at his dining companion, no doubt trying to see who exactly Brian was looking at. To help deflect any suspicion, however, Brian raised his wine glass and offered a quick, toast to Winslow with a smirk, before he placed it down and hurried toward the podium to accept his much-coveted award. Despite his displeasure and disappointment over Justin working for StrataG, the last thing he wanted to do was create any trouble for him. And he had to admit - he had enjoyed taunting the other man just a little.
As he returned to his table a few minutes later and placed the tall, impressive-looking, crystal award now inscribed with Kinnetik's name down onto an empty seat, he turned to stare over at the StrataG table, noticing that Winslow wasn't there at the moment. He longed to walk over and talk to Justin, but there were other employees of the company still sitting there, including Palmer, and he didn't want to make things difficult for him.
"Brian?"
He glanced down at Cynthia, who had a perplexed look on her face; no doubt due to his sense of hesitation.
"Something wrong?" she asked then as he shook his head and forced a smile on his face
"Why would anything be wrong?" he asked. "I'm fabulous; more than fabulous. I finally beat that fucker Winslow at his own game." He cast one last look at Justin, who was gazing back over at him, before he nodded briefly in return and sat back down, placing the award on top of the table as he forced himself to engage his employees in conversation. His mind was racing, however, with thoughts on how he could wind up taking Justin home tonight. The two of them hadn't seen each other since Monday morning, when he had needed to return to work, and Justin had gone back to work at StrataG. Something had held him back from asking Justin to return Monday night. He wasn't quite sure what it was, since he knew he had missed him terribly since they had parted. Was it because he was afraid of giving any man that much power over him? Was it connected to what he had told Justin before - that he didn't really know HOW to love or that he didn't feel like he could be loved himself? Well, whatever it was, he decided that it sucked at the moment, because he hated being on the other side of the room, separated from him.
Sighing, he brushed some hair back from his forehead; he had accepted untold congratulations from several of his fellow competitors since the last award was bestowed - with one exception: Winslow was acting like some spoiled sore loser who had been deprived of his 'inheritance,' and the man hadn't had the guts or good graces to walk over and acknowledge his competitor's accomplishment. Well, fuck him. It didn't matter. What DID matter is that, finally, he and his employees' hard work had been properly acknowledged and had paid off.
Feeling uncomfortably full after drinking three glasses of wine, he pushed back from the table a few minutes later, announcing he had to visit the men's room as he bid his other employees goodbye; he knew they were happy over what had occurred this evening, but were no doubt anxious to leave due to the late hour. Five minutes later upon entering the conference center's restroom, he was standing at the urinal, taking a piss, when he heard a familiar voice speaking from the bank of urinals located on the opposite side of the sink area. Apparently Winslow didn't realize anyone else was in there at the moment - or was too sloshed to care - as he freely carried on a conversation with an unknown party.
"Can you believe that fucker won my award this year?" Winslow growled with contempt. "And after we won the Starlight Account, too! Damn." He shook his head as Brian slowed his breathing down and quietly zipped his linen pants back up. "And I thought we had an ace in the hole, too, with that intern."
A voice that sounded distinctly like Palmer's spoke up then as the man asked, "You mean Taylor?"
Brian's eyes widened slightly at the sound of Justin's name. "Yeah, the fairy artist." Winslow replied with what could only be described as a derisive snort.
"Why...Why do you say THAT?" the other man replied.
Winslow snickered; a sound that made Brian sick to his stomach. "Isn't all that creative shit inbred in them?'" The older man countered. "It must be in their genes. Oh, he hasn't said anything to me specifically; I can just tell." The man sighed. "I guess I can't blame him directly, though, for losing out tonight; he DID help us win the Starlight account. If it wasn't for his artistic talent, though, I would have never kept him on board," he revealed. "Every time I walk by one of them, I'm always wondering if they want to jump me. Makes me want to vomit just thinking about it." He paused for a moment as Brian could hear the sounds of them finishing up their 'business' at the urinals. "Come on," Winslow urged the other man. "I'm ready to get the hell out of here."
Brian heard them quickly wash up and exit the men's room as he continued to stand there, shaking with rage. He had always considered Winslow a pompous, arrogant ass. But he had never figured him for a homophobe and a bigot, too. He curled his hands into fists, his face turning red with fury over what he had heard. He had to tell Justin about this; he knew there was no way he would want to work for someone like that. He walked over and hurriedly washed his hands, studying himself in the mirror. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he stood there for a few moments to try and calm himself down. At least the asshole was apparently leaving; if he wasn't, and the man returned to Justin's side, he would probably coldcock the guy right there where he stood.
Taking a deep breath and straightening up his jacket, he turned and purposefully headed out the door in search of a particular blond. Acting like he didn't know Justin personally was no longer an option now; he had to tell him what he knew.
Now that the final award of the night had been distributed, most of the crowd was quickly thinning out, leaving just a few stragglers amongst the audience interspersed with the wait staff, who were gathering up the multitude of glasses, cutlery, and place settings, preparing to close up the room for the night. His eyes focused on StrataG's table as his face fell in disappointment; Justin was nowhere to be found. Had he left already? He hadn't thought about that possibility. The chairs sitting around the banquet table were now empty. "Fuck," he murmured. He HAD to find him.