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The End Done Right
by Vamphile
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“I want to go to the airport with you.”
“No.”
“Brian…”
“No, you’re gonna sit around and mope for the rest of the day anyway, you’re not going to do it in a cab heading back from the airport alone.”
Justin stopped. He realized the logic there. It might be easier to say goodbye here. He just wanted as much time with Brian as he could get at the moment.
Brian hoped his argument had worked. Saying goodbye was one of his least favorite things to do, he wasn’t sure he could take the cab ride. And then the entire flight knowing that Justin was sitting in the back of a cab trying not to cry. He watched Justin nod and wrapped his arms around his waist.
“I’ll be back on Friday, less than a week, and then we’re going home together. “This is our last goodbye.”
Justin leaned his head against Brian's chest. “Promise?”
“Well, until you go to Europe in the spring, but I’ll probably be able to get two months away, so yeah, for a while, this is our last goodbye.”
“This sucks.”
“Don’t be famous.”
“Shut up, I can’t help it if I’m unbearably talented.”
“No, you can’t, and yes you are. Now I’ve got to go…I’ll call you from the house.”
“Call me from the airport. And then from the Pittsburgh Airport. And then from the house. And then from the office.”
Brian laughed. “Justin, you’ll be fine.”
“Will you be?”
“I will be fine too.”
“Does this mean we can use that word again?”
“No, I can use it in regards to you, but you’re still not cleared for assessing your own level of fine.”
“You’re on a weird power trip with this.”
“And you love me for it.”
Justin stood on his toes his hands pulling Brian’s head down and their lips meeting. “I love you.’
“I know.”
Brian left and Justin closed the door behind him. He lay back on the bed, wearing just a pair of sweats. He had no plan on leaving the room again 'til tomorrow.
He tried not to cry but it wasn’t working. He cried and at some point dozed off. He woke up not feeling much better. Brian hadn’t called but it had been less than an hour, he probably wasn’t even at La Guardia yet. Justin opened the mini-fridge.
There were post-it notes all over the thing. The Whisky bottles were marked clearly “NOT FOR TWINK CONSUMPTION!”
Justin reached for a gin when he noticed the note by them “not for use when taking medications.”
Smiling Justin thought maybe a bottle of water and an obscenely expensive Tobelerone might be what he needed. There was a note on the candy “not 'til you’ve eaten real food.”
He was finding the notes less amusing now, there was a knock on the door.
Brian had apparently ordered room service at the front desk before leaving. There was fruit and bagels, a chicken salad sandwich, soda and juice.
Justin signed the tab, tipped the guy and put the sandwich in the mini-fridge, he had no desire to eat much, but if it meant he could have a gin or two, or even a tequila, he’d have a fucking bagel, maybe even some fruit.
He was chewing when his cell rang. “You at the airport?”
“All checked in, waiting for boarding…it’s gonna be a vicious flight, I count three babies already.”
“What did you take?’
“Nothing major, I’ll be fine to drive by the time the plane lands… if the plane lands.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“I’m just…”
“Bugging me. Thanks for the food by the way.”
“Figured you should eat something.”
“You always think I should eat something.”
“Well, between my always and your never, we seem to keep you from starving to death.”
“The notes on the bottles were not necessary.”
“I thought you might need a little reminder.”
“And I don’t need a note on my Tobelerone.”
“You do if you saw it. You were gonna eat candy and drink gin for dinner.” Brian tsk’d “That’s not taking care of yourself sunshine.”
“You don’t know everything.”
“When are you going to accept that I do?”
“When you stop being wrong all the time.”
“You really know how to make a guy miss you.”
…………….
“Don’t stick your tongue out at me.”
“How do you know… never mind. Anyway, I’m eating…. Mmmmmm fruit and bagels and soda. Yum.”
“I sent up a sandwich.”
“I’ll have that later. I’m gonna spend some quality time with the TV tonight I think.”
“You need it, you and the TV need to bond.”
“Shut up, I’ve been running around all week, I just want to relax. Tomorrow is going to be hell.”
“What’s particularly hellish about tomorrow?”
“Last I heard, Ranston’s not dead, so I’m going to be dealing with him all day.”
“They’re calling my flight. I’ll call you in an hour when I’m in Pittsburgh”
“Okay. Fly carefully.”
“Funny.”
Justin hung up, taking a third tequila bottle out of the mini-bar and downing it quickly. He then kept his promise and sat in front of the television catching up on all the crap he hadn’t been missing, and glad that he had better things to do with his evenings that watch TV on a regular basis.
Brian did call from Pittsburgh airport, and they talked through most of his drive back to the house. When he got home they said their goodbyes. Justin took his meds, with water, and Brian sat in the den, drinking vodka, eating chocolate and hoping that Justin’s recovery was as far along as it currently seemed to be.
Brian gritted his teeth through the meeting the next morning. The clients had requests that might seem reasonable to them, but as they didn’t know jack shit about advertising, time lines, budgets or…well apparently anything they were wrong. He held his tongue and smiled, using the patented Kinney charm to get through the meeting and make the necessary arrangements.
Justin was more frustrated than Brian. The small details of an art show were something he really didn’t want to bother with. It wasn’t as if Ranston was asking his opinion on catering menus or traffic flow, it was just the little tiny details of where to hang what, how high to hang them. How should a set be shown? Should the heights be staggered or uniform? Justin’s head was pounding and it was only noon.
Tuesday was easier. Most of the major and minor decisions made, it was spent simply choosing a few auxiliary pieces as contingency plans (in case someone needed something taken off the wall immediately.) This almost never happened, but Ranston liked to be prepared.
Wednesday was spent looking at the pieces that probably weren’t going to be in the show, and discussing when Justin might be able to make it back to New York for a weekend so that these works might be shown in a group display. Justin avoided the question. He knew he’d have to come back to New York, but he just wasn’t up to thinking about it yet.
Brian got through the days on autopilot. He had dinner with Lindsay on Tuesday and on Wednesday night ate at the diner before heading home. Killing time without Justin around wasn’t all that different than when the artist was obsessing in the studio.
They were both doing fine, they were both counting the days until Friday, when Brian would be back in New York.
Wednesday night hit Justin hard. There wasn’t a particular reason, and it didn’t result in a full-fledged anxiety attack. He simply felt uneasy from the moment he opened the door to the suite.
He knew it was insane but he checked all the closets, behind the shower curtain, even under the bed. He tried to laugh at himself but the feeling wouldn’t go away.
“Hey there.”
“Hi.”
“You done for the day?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not allowed to use that word, and you’re shaking.”
“No I’m not.”
“Stop lying.”
“It’s nothing, I just feel…”
“What?”
“I don’t know, nervous. Something’s wrong.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t fucking know, if I knew, I’d do something about it.”
“What do you think is wrong?”
“Someone’s hiding in the room waiting to kill me?”
Brian laughed. “No they aren’t”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.”
“Why am I so fucked up?”
“Because you’ve been hanging around me too long.”
“Maybe I should stop doing that.”
“Maybe not.”
“Yeah, maybe not.”
“How was your day?”
“Boring.”
“Did you have dinner with Lindz?”
“Ate at the diner.”
“How’s Deb?”
“Excited about the trip to New York.”
“Maybe it’s a bad idea to have everyone at the show.”
“You think they’re going to embarrass you?”
“No, I KNOW they’re going to embarrass me, that’s not the point. What if the show tanks? What if no one comes? What if nothing sells? It’ll be humiliating. Can’t we just tell everyone to stay home?”
“No.”
“Brian?”
“Mmmmmm?”
“Are you really sure it’s going to be okay, I mean, how do you really know?”
“Because even if it isn’t okay, it’ll be okay. Your work is amazing. If the people who come to the show can’t see that, it’s their loss. And either way, you’re coming home with me, so who cares what they buy.”
Justin tried to smile. “I care.”
“I know you do. And just about everything you’ve shown has sold, why do you think this is gonna be any different?”
“Because my stuff looks good compared to the other crap Ranston hangs in the gallery. On it’s own…it looks…”
“Perfect.”
“Pfft, hardly”
‘Well, except for that stupid painting of my knee.”
“Yeah, no one wants that one, what if everything else I have is just a bad as the painting of your knee?”
“It isn’t.”
“You don’t know everything.”
“Pretend I do, it makes us both happy.”
“Brian.”
“Mmmmmm?”
“Feel like driving to New York for the night?”
“You’re doing fine without me. You keep up this whining though and I’m gonna have to punish you when I do get to New York.”
“Promise?”
“How ‘bout I promise to punish you if you STOP whining.”
“That might get me to stop.”
“Something has to, you’re getting worse than Michael.”
“That’s just mean.”
“It’s also true. You have talent and you know it, now breathe and relax, no one is coming to kill you.”
“Okay.”
“You eat today?”
“Grrr.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Yeah, I had soup.”
“Why don’t you go out, burn off the excess energy, maybe it’ll calm you down.”
“I don’t want to, I’m too tired to dance, and if I drink one more gin and tonic I’m gonna crash.”
“One more, how many have you had?”
“Three.”
“With your meds.”
“It’s 11:30, I took my meds.”
“With gin.”
“And tonic.”
“You need to sleep.”
“Can’t sleep.”
“I’ll stay here with you till you do.”
“Why can’t you really be here?”
“Because then KinnetiK would fold and we’d be broke and you like the house, I’d hate to lose it.”
“You know we’re going to have to talk about splitting the finances more equitably, it’s insane that I make money on my art and you don’t let me pay for stuff.”
“It’s insane that you want to.”
“I just feel…”
“What?”
“Kept.”
“Good, cause I’m keeping you.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“You want to pay some of the bills, go ahead, I’m not stopping you.”
“They’re mailed to your office and Ted writes the checks.”
“Yes, but I’m not stopping you, I’m just making it inconvenient.”
“Like anything in our lives is convenient.”
“I don’t know, lately, things have been pretty…”
“STOP!”
“What? Christ, what’s with the yelling?”
“You’ll jinx us. Don’t say another word.”
“Okay, I won’t say a thing if you’ll do something for me.”
Justin sighed, “What?”
“I want to hear you come. Come for me Justin.”
And he did, stroking himself, picturing Brian's hand’s Brian's mouth, Brian's cock touching him in all the right places. He came, loud. And when Brian heard his breath become even against the phone he waited another minute and then hung up. He knew Justin would be okay for the night. And tomorrow, he’d think of a new way to take the kids mind off of the upcoming event.
Thursday flew by in a blur for the both of them. Too much to do before Brian got there. Too many last minute decisions.
Brian had some planning and arranging of his own to do before he left. His plane was scheduled to depart at seven PM on Friday, he couldn’t concentrate on work he was too nervous for Justin. Eventually, after reaming out most of the staff, Cynthia sent him home where he drank and packed.
By ten thirty on Friday night Brian was inside the suite in New York. By Ten Thirty one they were both naked.
“I’ve missed you”
“It’s been five days.”
“That’s too many”
“You’re whining again.”
“Am I?”
Brian ran his hand down Justin's recently revealed thighs, “you are”
”I’m sorry”
Brian sighed.
“Sorry, I’m not allowed to, shit, I did it again. Christ. Some words just can’t be removed from my vocabulary”
“Just. Stop. Talking.” Brian said as he slid his body over Justin’s until their eyes met. “Don’t say another word.”
“I won’t, I just wanted to tell you that I missed you and…mmmmmm that feels really good. Ranston was such an asshole today, fluttering around worried about having the gallery closed tonight. I swear sometimes all I want to do is bury him behind the lake with Hunter.”
Brian sighed and lifted himself off of Justin. He lay on his back and fished a joint out of the duffle bag beside the bed.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“Letting you finish. We’re obviously not going to get anywhere until you get everything you have to say out.”
Justin pouted a little. “No, I’m done now, I swear, I just…” he took a drag from the joint and held it, not finishing his sentence.
Brian took another deep inhale and was about to put it out when Justin exhaled and started talking again
“…Wanted to remind you that I’ve been working hard and I need to relax and that I’ve been thinking about you. I guess what I wanted was…”
Brian leaned in to kiss Justin, transferring the smoke from his own lungs to the blondes. Then he did it again. Justin was starting to felt he effects. He began kissing down Brian's chest. Nuzzling and nibbling, and chattering away at the same time.
Brian let it go for a while but almost five minutes later Justin had barely stopped for a breath, and was still going on about nothing in particular.
Brian sat up. “C’mere.”
“What?”
“You said you wanted to be punished.”
“Brian.”
“And that’s whining.”
“I’m not whining I’m just.”
“You’re just shutting up.”
He pulled Justin over his lap and smiled. He was breathing hard but he’d stopped talking. “You know, normally, I don’t mind when you yammer, but your head is spinning.”
Justin nodded “I know, I can’t stop thinking, every time I try to focus on something I think of another…Ouch.”
“You need to stop thinking.” Brian swatted Justin's perfect pale ass cheeks again. “Now, are you going to cooperate and be a good boy?”
Justin remained silent this time, raising himself up on his knees, spreading them apart. Brian ran his hands over his back and ass appreciatively. “Good boy.”
“I just…”
As Justin started to say something Brian began in earnest. His hand coming down hard against the sensitive flesh. Justin pushed his face further into the covers, moaning. His brain was starting to slow down.
Brian continued Justin’s punishment in silence, letting the sound of his hand connecting with Justin's skin do the talking for him. He felt him leaking on his leg, and knew he was probably beyond words at this point but Brian didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down. He took his little blonde past the point where he usually pulled him back. He needed Justin to relax, to concentrate on something other than the million reasons why he was terrified of tomorrow.
Justin was crying outright now, begging Brian to stop, but not using his safe word, or moving particularly forcefully away from Brian's non-stop assault on his thighs. Brian stopped for a moment, rubbing reddened skin and Justin arched up again, not truly ready for the punishment to stop.
Brian lubed his finger and pressed it into him. Justin moaned. He was lost.
Justin tried to remember what he had been so intent on telling Brian, something about Ranston and the gallery, and…he couldn’t think. There was nothing but the amazing feel of strong hands, holding him in place, punishing his ass with hard sure strokes, between his thighs, on the delicate skin where his ass met his legs, directly on his round cheeks. Each time he tried to move the blows became harder and more accurate. He thought he might pass out if Brian didn’t let him come soon. He was so hard, and each slap against his ass pushed him forward but not enough to give him the friction he needed.
He tried to lower his body but then the sensations stopped altogether and he arched his back before he even realized he was doing it, his legs spread, his ass up, offering itself. He wanted more.
When he felt Brian's fingers inside him he cried out. And as one hand worked itself into him, the other continued to rain blows upon his ass and thighs. He couldn’t think, couldn’t talk, could barely breathe.
When Brian's hand found it’s way between his legs, massaging his balls, rubbing lightly against his hard cock he shot ropey spurts of come. He buried his head, embarrassed that all it had taken was a single touch at that point.
He relaxed a little, his breathing starting to return to normal, his body almost collapsing over Brian's lap. Then he heard Brian speak for the first time since he’d started. “We’re not done yet.”
“Brian.”
His hand came down again…but it wasn’t his hand. Justin turned his head sharply and saw the paddle out of the corner of his eye. It was black, and that was about all he could tell. The pain was different. Sharper, but less concentrated. It spread over his ass, and he could feel it throughout his body. He moaned and lifted himself back up on his knees a bit. “My very good little pain slut.” Brian said, rubbing his hands through Justin's hair.
At that moment, it’s all Justin wanted, to be here, letting Brian have him, hurt him, punish him, clear his mind of everything. He was a pain slut, he’d known that since he’d first gotten his nipple ring but this was new, and…thought left him again as a set of sharp blows from the paddle came quickly one after the other.
He gasped, and gave in to feeling and not thinking.
Brian watched him come, and start to relax, but the moment he stopped his ministrations with his hands Justin’s body tensed back up, just a tiny bit, but enough that Brian knew he wasn’t done yet. He pulled the paddle out. He’d never used anything but his hand on Justin before; he wasn’t really big into props. If you couldn’t get off with Justin in your bed you were doing something very wrong. But tonight wasn’t about him getting off; it was about bringing Justin to a new place, someplace where Ranston, and the show, and what happens next didn’t exist.
So he began with the paddle and was gratified to watch Justin pull back up, arching himself towards the blows. He let him get accustomed to the feel of the new toy, let him wrap his brain around it, but then he felt that tenseness again. He was back to thinking, to analyzing. He brought down several hard fast blows that pulled Justin out of wherever he was and pushed him where Brian wanted him…. over the edge.
He could see his red face, the tears streaming down, and knew that he was almost there. Brian doubled his efforts, keeping an unsteady rhythm with the paddle, driving Justin insane, not knowing what to expect next, or when next might be. He’d spend a full minute rubbing and caressing his hot red skin, only to start up again. Finally Brian pushed Justin against his legs, letting his leaking cock fall between his thighs. He continued with the paddle while Justin rutted into him and as Justin came Brian brought the paddle down again, square against his ass, he continued several more blows until the blonde was completely spent.
Brian threw the paddle to the side and slid out from beneath him. “I’m gonna fuck your hot little ass now.”
Justin moaned. He could barely move. He felt Brian on top of him and as he buried himself deep inside he pushed back, feeling the heat of his own recent punishment burn against Brian's pelvis and thighs.
Brian wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him up 'til they were both on their knees. He licked and bit at Justin's neck while he continued to pump hard into the boy, feeling the heat and the desire as he thrust back at him.
Brian was sure Justin's mind was clear now, and his was close to empty. There was nothing at this moment but the two of them, their bodies, their need, their skin, their scent. And finally he came, moving his hand down to jerk off his little twink. They came together. Brian growled, pushing hard into Justin's spasming body. Justin whimpered, the glorious feeling almost too much after everything he’d just been through.
When they were finished Brian lay back down, and Justin practically collapsed onto his shoulder, his arm flung over his chest. He slept. Brian was asleep soon after. Both glad that tomorrow was their last day in New York.
Send feedback to vamphile @ gmail.com