Disclaimer: Nothing's mine. ;.; Not the song, not the characters, not the show. Well… the idea for the story is but that's it.
Genre: Humor
Warnings: Weird, fun song! Dancing Justin in tighty whities. Small spoilers for season 4. Swearing, arousing, etc. The normal stuff on that part.
Author Notes: I'm trying to make this shorter so it's not as long as the story. xD My friend sent me a look-up with a song. I listened, got hyper, downloaded and wrote this story. I just finished season 4, so it's a while after it, no season 5 spoilers since I haven't seen more than 7 minutes of 501. If anyone wants the song, e-mail me because you need to hear the song to understand. And yes, it is short.
Key: "text" - talking or singing
"text" - words from the song that Justin decides not to sing
text - normal actions and what not
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As he stepped out of the elevator, all Brian Kinney wanted to do was sleep. Maybe a bit of fucking and eating in between, but mostly sleep. After Ted screwed up a few numbers, and Cynthia reminded him fifteen fucking minutes before a presentation that he actually had it that day, and not the day after, he just wasn't his happy self. Not that Brian was ever giddy-happy.
The faintest sounds of music hit his ears, and he made a small note to kick the tenant under him in the balls the next morning for playing music that fucking loud. But as he got closer and closer to the large door, it got louder.
Fumbling with his keys and pulling the door open, the last thing he expected was Justin in his underwear, shaking his ass some as he made stir fry. Especially to that song.
The blonde heard the door open – even over the sound of the music, it was still loud enough to hear. Just as the words started, he grabbed a nearby wooden spoon and put it to his mouth then turned to look at Brian, who had a brow raised.
"What the f--" But the word was never finished as Justin began to sing along with the words. Slowly he shut the door, not wanting any neighbors to hear this. He was sure it wasn't going to be pretty.
"If you're blue and you don't know where to go to, why don't you go where fashion sits. Puttin' on the Ritz."
And as the freehand came out to grab Brian's tie, the artist dragged him over to the counter, pushing him into a chair. A small voice noted that this was not what he needed right then, but as Justin quickly climbed up onto the counter and began to dance to the song, he didn't know if he minded anymore.
Leaning down to be eyelevel with the older man for just a moment, Justin continued to sing. "Different types who wear a day coat, pants with stripes and cutaway coat, perfect fits. Puttin' on the Ritz." He clapped his hands with the song, the wooden spoon a few inches from his mouth as he stood back up. "Dressed up like a million dollar trouper. Trying hard to look like Gary Cooper."
Another voice asked what the hell any of these lyrics even meant, but Brian was too interested in watching Justin dance to the almost-techno beat to give a damn. Somehow, like every time Justin danced, it enticed him - enthralled him, even though he made sure to never show it.
"Come let's mix where Rockefellers walk with sticks, or um-ber-ellas in their mitts. Puttin' on the Ritz. Have you seen the well-to-do up and down Park Avenue." Justin's hand ran across Brian's cheek, smirking a bit as the faintest feel of five-o'clock shadow hit his hand. "On that famous thoroughfare with their noses in the air. High hats and Arrow collars; white spats and lots of dollars. Spending every dime for a wonderful time."
Smirking some, Brian's hand went into his pocket, fingering his wallet as he contemplated something.
"If you're blue and you don't know where to go to, why don't you go where fashion sits. Puttin' on the Ritz." The blonde continued to dance, not much different from the time when he had shown Brian his go go boy skills. Slowly and sensually he moved, a large smile on his face that truly lived up to his nickname. "Different types who wear a day coat, pants with stripes and cutaway coat, perfect fits. Puttin' on the Ritz."
As the next set of lyrics started to play, Brian watched Justin stop singing for a moment to lick the spoon as if there was some treat on it and he was trying to savor every last bit. It was obvious the younger man was trying to arouse him, and it was working. Watching him dance more, Brian made no move in hiding his building arousal.
"Dressed up like a million dollar trouper. Trying hard to look like Gary Cooper." Truly, Justin knew this was a ludicrous song, with lyrics that he didn't truly understand, yet he didn't mind it. He loved the beat, and continued to dance. "Come let's mix where Rockefellers walk with sticks, or um-ber-ellas in their mitts. Puttin' on the Ritz." As the words stopped and a random beat began to play, he was glad.
Brian watched Justin move with the music in such a way that it would make any queer jealous and wanting at the same time. And as Justin moved his hands over his head, slowly doing a circle as he shook his ass some more, Brian took out a ten dollar bill and stuck it in Justin's waistline with a smirk.
Okay, so he hadn't been expecting that. But in appreciation, he grabbed the waistline of his tighty whities and moved it to his hip to show enough skin to get a whistle of admiration from his lover. "Dressed up like a million dollar trouper. Trying hard to look like Gary Cooper." Running the spoon over Brian's cheek for a second, he smirked at the lust he saw in his eyes. "If you're blue and you don't know where to go to why don't you go where fashion sits. Puttin' on the Ritz."
The words began to repeat, but Justin ignored them as he moved closer to Brian, moving dangerously close to him. A hand slapped his ass, making him almost give a small shriek of surprise before he just shook it a bit more.
"Puttin' on the Ritz. Puttin' on the Ritz. Puttin' on the Ritz."
Slowly the blonde moved into Brian's lap, still moving his body just enough to show he was dancing, but now that he had his legs draped over Brian's, it was harder. Faintly he noticed that the 'dancing' he was doing now was arousing himself, grinding up against Brian's already hard cock. The layer of cloth didn't seem to affect them in the least.
"Move. I want you to move." The music played a beat for a moment that Brian would normally point out sounded like a fucked up Disney World tune, but as Justin moved against him, most of his thoughts left, replaced by a smirk. "Gotta dance. Gotta dance."
And that's what Justin did, for all of three seconds before Brian grabbed his bottom, supporting him and moving towards the bedroom.
"Sure an old man like yourself can do this?" Justin asked as he wrapped his arms around Brian's neck, about ready to drop the spoon to the ground.
Rolling his eyes, Brian replied, "Hold onto that spoon. We'll put it to good use."
As they reached the bed, Justin heard the last few lyrics of the song.
"If you're blue and you don't know where to go to, why don't you go where fashion sits. Puttin' on the Ritz. Puttin' on the Ritz. Puttin' on the Ritz."
Though, the lyrics fell on deaf ears for Brian.
As Justin let his blue eyes close later on, sheet wrapped around Brian's and his nude bodies, he heard the raven-haired man dial some numbers. A smirk appeared on his lips as he heard Brian go, "Mikey, Sunshine may be resigning from being an artist. I don't know about his singing but his dancing sure is pleasing to the eye."
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There are mistakes, I know. I am so close to giving up correcting this version as I keep fuckingit up and there's no 'edit chapter' button, but a 'replace' button.
And this should go without saying - love it? Like it? Hate it? Despise it? Notice some ludicrous mistake? Then tell me!