"This is new."

Brian groaned and opened his eyes. Standing right above him was Cynthia, arms crossed, a huge grin on her face. Brian sat up on his arms and sighed. Justin, who had been snuggled up on Brian's chest, rolled over onto his back, exposing his erect cock. Cynthia raked her eyes over Justin's naked form. Hungrily.

"Mmmm…He really is hot! I mean, I knew he had a great ass, but man, he sure is packing! Just scrumptious."

Brian clenched his jaw and growled, "Get the fuck out."

Cynthia smiled and tilted her head. She snarked, "Jealous much?"

Brian said nothing. He just glared.

"Tell me…are you pissed because I was staring at your boyfriend's cock or because I wasn't staring at yours?"

If Brian hadn't been so annoyed, he would have admitted that that was a fair question. But he was extraordinarily annoyed. Not only had Cynthia called Justin the b-word, but she had also forced Brian to examine his anger, which had led to the (disturbingly quick) realization that he just didn't want her, or anyone else, staring at his….well at Justin. Especially not when he was naked and hard.

Brian stood up, so fast that his erect cock bounced a little, and started ushering Cynthia out the door, none too gently. She laughed and protested, "Alright, alright. No need to push. I'm going." Then she stepped through the door. Brian slammed it.

Then he turned around. His expression immediately softened. Justin was rubbing his back against the bearskin rug, his hands over his head and his legs open, spread out wantonly. A droplet of precum was glistening on the head of his cock. Brian begrudgingly acknowledged that, though he never would have used that word, Justin's cock did look scrumptious.

Brian moved closer and then kneeled and leaned over. He swiped his tongue over the head of Justin's cock, lapping up the aforementioned droplet, and then sucked on the head hard. Justin moaned and spread his legs wider. Soon Brian was sucking Justin's cock in earnest, drawing its entire length into his mouth, while Justin thrust upward, pushing the tip of his cock into Brian's throat on every downstroke, and moaned. Loudly.

When Brian felt Justin stiffen (because he was coming close to cumming), he pulled back. Justin whimpered, even squeezing his eyes closed more tightly and furrowing his brow. Brian chuckled. He quickly sheathed his cock and slicked it with lube. Then he pulled Justin's legs up around his waist and started pushing his cock inside Justin. Justin's eyes flew open then. A moment later, they fluttered half-closed again, and he moaned softly, "Brian."

In short order, both Brian and Justin were panting and grunting, Brian swiveling his hips and thrusting and Justin pushing back on Brian's cock and clawing the rug.

Suddenly, Brian and Justin heard a crackling, and Cynthia's voice came over the intercom. "Wrap it up! Mr. York is on his way down."

Brian cursed, and Justin froze. He stopped pushing back on Brian's cock, opened his eyes, and sat up on his arms. He expected Brian to stop fucking him and shove him in the bathroom or something. But Brian had no intention of pulling out until he had cum, so he yanked Justin's legs so that he was lying down again and pushed them up onto his shoulders, continuing to thrust, but more quickly.

Justin moaned, "Oh…fuck" and squeezed Brian's cock from the inside, even as he pushed back on it. Brian closed his eyes and threw back his head, cumming immediately, with a half-moan, half-growl. Justin bit his lower lip and exhaled a shuddery breath when he felt Brian's hand on his cock, thrusting upward into it and grunting. He'd been so close for so long. Then, staring into Brian's eyes, he cried, a little breathlessly, "Brian" and arched his back as his cock exploded.

Before Justin knew it, Brian had ditched the condom and stood and was now pulling Justin to his feet. He threw Justin's clothes at him and directed, his voice all growly urgency, "Into the bathroom…" Then he opened the office door and pushed the catering table out. He ordered, "Get rid of this," not even waiting for a reply before shutting the door again. Then he was in the bathroom with Justin, dressing in an extra suit he kept in the bathroom closet. Justin couldn't believe how quickly (and efficiently) Brian clothed himself. He didn't even look worried. A couple minutes later, walking perfection (Justin thought), Brian exited the bathroom and shut the door.

Justin dressed quickly and then sat back down on the toilet. He was so freaked out, though he was trying to remain calm. Brian tended to remain cool under any amount of pressure. Who else would have finished fucking the intern when his boss was on his way down? Brian could be fired if they were found together. Then Justin would be next (not that he'd want to stay if Brian weren't here). Justin should have been more worried about himself...after all, he needed to save money to pay for next year (his scholarship was only for the first), and though Justin was preparing to apply for other scholarships, there was no guarantee he'd get one. His internship and King & York, on the other hand, could guarantee that he'd be able to finish school. It paid so much more than his job waiting tables, which he had promptly quit after his first day here. He hadn't even given notice. He was tired of the owner's straying hands and sexual innuendos. He'd considered letting the much, much older man fuck him; the owner had implied that doing so would get him better shifts, but he just couldn't. Justin wasn't sure why, but he'd had no urge to bottom for anyone, not since his first time, well, not until Brian. In fact, as stupid as it sounded, or was, Justin had liked the idea that the mysterious man who'd taken his virginity, the man who, until very recently, had haunted his dreams, was the only one who'd ever fucked him. For Justin, that connected them in some special way.

Suddenly…Justin felt a little ashamed…or, rather, like he should feel ashamed. He hadn't thought about his mystery man since the night he'd met Brian, and, from jump, Justin had wanted Brian to fuck him. Why was Brian different from every other guy who'd patted, squeezed, or otherwise caressed his ass and propositioned him? Justin didn't know. The only thing he was certain of was that letting Brian fuck him, desperately wanting Brian to fuck him, meant that Justin was no longer waiting to encounter his mystery man. After a year and a half, he'd finally given up his crazy fantasy…one that had kept him awake some nights and invaded his dreams on others. Justin was a little sad. His mystery man had been an unknown but ever-present force in his life, the idea of him, of one day meeting him again, pushing Justin forward when he would have preferred to give up…when he was tired and frustrated and filled with rage or panic. If not for his muse, as Justin liked to think of his mystery man, he wouldn't have pushed himself the way he had in rehab or worked so hard to get into the Art Institute and then after. Justin had wanted so much to be worthy of him…for his mystery man to one day admire him. He hated himself a little for abandoning him so easily, but more, for not regretting it. Justin was most definitely in love with Brian; he'd felt it the night before, and so keenly his chest had ached painfully.

Justin took a deep breath. He wouldn't be sad. He wouldn't hate himself. Not even a little. As wonderful as the fantasy had been, as much as it had helped him in the past, reality trumped fantasy (as Daphne had tried to tell him a million times). He had finally, as Daphne had often urged him to do, rejoined the real world, and it was fucking amazing.

TBC…as soon as I can (I already started the next part, but work keeps interfering, and I didn't want to keep you all waiting any longer than I already had).