|notreallyme10 (notreallyme10) wrote,|
@ 2007-08-20 10:21:00
Post 513 Series
Beta: wowkelseysgreat with special thanks to _alicesprings
Originally posted: 1/25/07 LJ
I knew this was going to take some explaining, and that pissed me off.
I don’t like explaining myself to others. I usually figure that if someone has a problem with what I'm doing they can just fuck off. But this was big, and I knew that the amount of shit I was going to get was worth at least trying to explain myself to avoid.
It makes perfect sense to me but I knew the others, Debbie, Mikey, and Lindsay wouldn’t see it as clearly as I do. And then there was Justin. Half the time he can see right through me, knows me better than anyone. The other half, well it’s like he’s walking around with his eyes closed. Always all or nothing with that one, and that pisses me off almost as much as explaining myself. Add to that the nearly three years we have been apart, and who knows how he will respond to anything. I decide to save him for last because apparently I’ve turned into a fucking pussy.
At this point, the only people that know anything at all about what’s going on are Ted and Cynthia because it affects them the most directly, and because how the fuck could I sell Kinnetik without them knowing?
These past few years have been fucking phenomenal in terms of business. I must say that it probably hasn’t hurt the business having Justin gone. I worked fucking hard, and I played hard too, but I did nothing that was any sort of real distraction, the way Justin can be at times.
In the last year alone I have landed three major accounts, two domestic, and one international, not to mention countless smaller accounts from all over the world. But the three biggies are what got the attention of a large New York firm. They had been looking to acquire a "boutique" (I fucking hate that term) firm, and although Kinnetik is a newer firm than they were hoping for, they couldn’t pass up our client list.
The sale alone is going to be a hard pill to swallow. I can just hear it now… "But Kinnetik is your baby. How can you just give it to some big corporation to do with it what they will?" As if the business is a real infant that I’m passing over to some money grubbing pimp. For starters, it’s not my baby, it’s a business, and I’m not exactly giving it away. In the years since I’ve opened Kinnetik, I’ve made a small fortune and in selling it, I’ve made a huge fortune.
Secondly, I have been assured that my "baby" will be in good hands. "Good hands you say? And by that you mean yours of course. Right Brian?" Well no. Here comes the second pill kids. I’m retiring from the business, but I have set it up so that Ted and Cynthia will continue to run the day-to-day operations. This is the big one. Let the freak-out of all freak-outs begin. "But Brian you’re a workaholic. You love working. It’s your dream to own your own firm. You’re probably just going to curl up and die if you sell Kinnetik." Fucking drama queens.
My "dream" was to be a big fucking success. And I am. There is really nowhere else for me to go in the advertising world. I’ve done it. I’ve accomplished it. Now I’m going to do something new. Why is that so fucking hard to understand? I’m not going to take up fucking golf or volunteer work or some shit. I’m not moving to some condo in Boca. Actually, I’m moving to New York. Cover your ears to block out the screaming. This is the point in the conversation where I decide I would have been better off telling them all to mind their own fucking business. "Pittsburgh is your home. How can you abandon your family like this? Are you just going because of Justin?"
I’ve always, my entire life, wanted to get out of Pittsburgh. I’ve always wanted to live in Manhattan. I’m not abandoning my family. I’m a fucking adult, and I should be able to move where I want. Michael moved to Portland, and no one accused him of being a selfish prick. Not to mention the fact that the girls and the kids are currently living a happy and healthy life in fucking Canada with everyone’s blessing. And I’m not going to discuss what Justin may or may not have to do with this. Jesus Christ, will you all just FUCK OFF!
Yeah yeah they love me. It could be worse; they could all just not give a shit like my actual family. And in the end it wasn’t really all that bad. Mikey has really grown up (about fucking time), and I think he has finally realized that he doesn’t need to depend on me for everything. Deb will always overreact to everything, but I’ve learned how to talk her down without pissing her off more (so I guess I’ve grown too). And Lindsay has always wanted me to be happy, so once I forced a little sincerity into my voice (not an easy task) she jumped on board. Justin…well I haven’t quite gotten there yet. He’s probably not going to accept the fact that I won’t get into how he fits into all of this, which makes talking to him a little more difficult. Fucking nosy bastard.
I’m not sure even I understand how we went from broken up to back together, I fucking love you, we’re engaged to living in different states. To say I wasn’t myself is a fucking understatement, but I guess a bomb will do that to you. And as terrible as it sounds, the bomb made my life easier in a lot of ways. God, I am a fucking prick. See, the thing is, I knew I wanted to be with Justin. I even knew that I loved him. Sometimes Justin even knew. I think the lack of communication on my part made it harder to smooth over the rough patches. Look at me, Brian Kinney, relationship expert. Only it doesn’t take an expert to see this shit. Justin was OK with the tricking, but he wasn’t wild about the syphilis. If I had just sucked it up and used my words we might have been able to avoid a lot of shit; but I didn’t, and we didn’t. I guess my point is that even though we wanted different things, I probably could have made things a whole fucking lot easier if I just tried to talk to the kid.
While we were apart I started to realize that I was going to have to get over myself and fix things. I didn’t tell anyone, but my trip to Australia was really for the purpose of getting my head together about the whole Justin thing. Don’t question me. I do some of my best thinking when I’m fucking.
I needed to figure out a way to fix things without making myself nauseous. I don’t like sentimental bullshit, and I fucking hate romance. On the other hand, if I went to Justin and pitched him our relationship like he was one of my clients he would have told me to fuck off. I needed to find a happy middle ground - not exactly one of my strong points.
Anyway, this was right about the time the bomb saved my ass. Shitty I know, but the bomb gave me license to say exactly how I was feeling in a way I never normally would have. Unfortunately, it also made me do stupid shit like saying I was going to stop fucking around. Asking him to marry me wasn’t a mistake, but assuming that it meant we had to do things a certain way was. I kind of forgot who we were. But I blame that all on the bomb. So it saved my ass and fucked things up all at the same time. Excuses? Maybe, but bombs are like cancer and getting hit in the head with a baseball bat, you deserve some slack after them.
In the long run, even me acting like a fucking twat worked out for the best. Without New York looming over our heads we would have worked out my fucked up ideas about what our marriage, our relationship, should have been like. But New York was there and Justin needed to go. We both knew it and had for a while. I think we even knew before we broke up. New York had always been a goal of mine, and I had always been a dream of his. But New York never worked out for me, and it just fell in his lap. At some other point in my career I would have gone with him, but I knew what Kinnetik could be, and I knew I had to do that for myself the same way he needed to do New York for himself.
Most people would say I’m an unromantic asshole, but I think being apart was great for our careers. As I said, it let me focus completely on Kinnetik (and occasionally on Mikey’s whining about god knows what), and it gave Justin a chance to make his own way. Good not only for his career but for him too.
Being in Art Forum isn’t a small thing.
It's funny to me to think back about how we took that at the time. I feel a little bad that we swept the whole thing under the rug because of what was going on in our relationship. Art Forum is fucking huge, and it should have been something we celebrated with our friends and family. It should have been more than just a side note. The attention that article brought Justin paved his way in New York. His pieces sell for substantial sums, and he was able to move out on his own and afford a studio space shortly after moving there. Not that he doesn’t have a long way to go; he is still relatively small in the art world, but he is in the art world, and in New York no less and that is a big deal at his age…at any age, most artists never make it there. Justin is doing quite well in New York and on his own.
The family wanted to hear that we talked every day; that we whispered love poems into the phone late at night. The reality was, we didn’t talk much. My head was starting to clear from the post bomb fog, and lets be real, I was never much for talking. Yes I love him. I can say it now, but that doesn’t mean I want to talk for hours, or even you know, at all. What the fuck is there to say? We emailed some (we would send each other links to good porn or just really kinky stuff we thought would turn the other on or really freak them out), talked less (very drunk phone sex can be pretty entertaining. I wish I had tapes of some of those conversations), and fucked like crazy whenever we saw each other, which I think totaled all of maybe nine or ten times.
We saw each other about a month ago when he was in town for a visit. The deal was already in the works, but I kept my mouth shut. As had become our habit, we spent two full days and nights in a hotel. The thought was that we couldn’t possibly get any privacy at the loft with everyone dropping by all the time. But I think we also liked to keep his visits as removed from real life as possible. Being at the loft might mean having to talk about what was going on between us, or I guess really just anything having to do with our lives. In a hotel we could fuck and avoid everything else. And Christ did we fuck. After two days with him I felt like my dick was going to fall off, and I can't say my ass didn‘t hurt a little too.
All of the avoidance shit aside, I think we were comfortable enough with our feelings that we figured talking about shit just wasn’t necessary. There was no guarantee that everything would work out in the end, and we weren’t counting on fate or some stupid shit to bring us back together, but we did know that we loved each other and beyond that there wasn’t much we could do at the time. So we enjoyed being together and then went on with our lives.
Now that everyone knew but Justin, I knew I had a very limited window of opportunity before the shit hit the fan…meaning before Justin heard from someone else. I had asked them all to keep their mouths shut, but that does about as much good as asking Emmett to keep his legs shut. Needless to say, I was now on a time crunch. Truth be told, I considered letting him hear from someone else then avoiding him for a few days until the storm passed. The problem with that is anyone who knows Justin also knows that it is impossible to avoid him. One or two unanswered calls and the little fucker would just jump on a plane. Besides, I guess I respect Justin a little too much to deal with him like that. He deserves my personal explanation of the situation. My only problem…I’m not sure I will have the answers to the questions he is going to ask.
My whole life I have had a plan. Get out of my fucking parent’s house, get a college degree, get a good job, become partner, own my own firm. In short, I’ve been working towards becoming a success my entire life. Sure there have been some bumps in the road, like getting fired from Vanguard, but even that just helped lead the way to the next step of my plan.
I’ve accomplished my goals. I’m more successful than even my own wildest dreams. Only now I’m 37 and I’m not completely sure what to do with my life. The thought scared me when the initial offer came through on Kinnetik. My first impulse was to turn it down because what else would I do if I didn’t have Kinnetik? But Kinnetik isn’t a challenge anymore, and I know if I stay I will become bored and bitter and worst of all, old.
When everyone asked what I plan to do with myself I told them not to worry their pretty little heads about it, but Justin’s more persistent…and smarter. He can tell when I’m blowing him off, and honestly, I don’t want to blow him off. But I’m not sure I can explain to him what I want and why.
I’ve decided to do this face to face because email just isn’t an option, and I suck on the phone. Plus, if he gets real wound up I can probably distract him with a fuck, which is really the only distraction that ever works with him.
Via email we make plans to meet for a few days at a hotel in Manhattan. This isn’t unprecedented, several of our visits over these last few years have taken place when I have had business in New York and once when we had gone a particularly long time between visits I came just to see him (I was desperate for a good blow job). The only difference with this visit from all the others is the fact that we saw each other so recently. He no doubt thinks this is good luck and nothing more. I consider all the options for breaking the news from a romantic candle lit dinner in the suite (I figured he would be too busy trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me to even hear what I am saying) to meeting him in the bar so I can tell him right off without having the bed as a distraction, not to mention an audience might keep any freak outs to a minimum (who am I kidding?). In the end, I decide starting out in bed isn’t such a bad idea. Fucking will relax us (me), and from there I will just wing it…my new life plan.
The night before my trip I get the oddest email from him. No links, no new perversions, just the message, "I miss you." Justin has never had a problem sharing his feelings, but since he moved away this sort of message doesn’t fit in with our avoidance of real life. We both know we miss each other, but since there is nothing we can do about it, we keep our mouths shut. It makes me wonder if he knows something is up, but I made sure my email gave nothing away. Plus, if any of our friends broke down and told him I would sure as hell get more than an "I miss you" email.
That night I dream about his ass, about my tongue in his hole. In my sleep I rim him for hours on a continuous loop. In the morning I jerk off to the realization that in a few short hours my tongue will actually be in his ass. That after we have come a few times, and the urgency has died down a little, I’ll tease his hole with my mouth and fingers until he’s worked up and ready to go again.
The plane flight is uneventful, and in no time I find myself trying to kill time in a hotel room waiting for him. I’m bored out of my mind, and I start to wonder if this is what my new life will be like. It used to be that I would use my time waiting for him to prepare for whatever meeting I was in the city for, or whatever other work I had at the time, but soon I won’t have anything to do, ever.
I only spend a few minutes freaking out. I know it is a normal side affect of making such a huge change in my life, and even I worry sometimes, but I also know I am making the right decision.
When Justin finally arrives the ritual begins. He comes in the door, and the minute our eyes meet he breaks out in a huge smile. He drops his bag and makes his way over to me on the bed. I’m propped up on some pillows where I had finally settled to read the paper. He crawls up until he is straddling my legs and we are face to face. Wasting no time, he begins undoing my pants all the while holding my eye and grinning like an idiot. When he has finally pulled my pants half way down my hips, he proceeds to give me one of his famous blow jobs.
This ritual began on his first visit home. That first visit was at the loft, before we realized the importance of neutral ground. He slid the door back, and when I looked up from my place on the couch, he gave me that smile, the one he gave me today, the one that tells me he is genuinely happy. He came over to me, and for some reason neither of us spoke. Within sixty seconds of walking in the door he had my dick down his throat. After I came he crawled up my body and whispered in my ear that my taste is what he missed most. He said the feel of my cock in his mouth is what he dreamed about, that just the thought of my come on his tongue made him come when he was all alone. He tasted every part of my body that night. Who was I to complain… I’ve never really been able to tell Justin no anyway. Which is probably how he got his dick in my ass before I had mine in his that night.
Those few days taught us that talking about how hard it is to be apart doesn’t make being apart any easier, but it can be a depressing way to spend the time we do have together. We also learned that Mikey will never stop just walking into the loft whenever he pleases (he walked in on us fucking twice in three days), and thus began the tradition of hotel rooms. Needless to say, the one thing we did hold onto from that visit was the opening blow job. I like to think that when Justin sees me, he can’t control himself, he just has to get his lips around my dick. Until someone gives me another explanation, that’s what I’m going with.
Once he has had a nice little snack I feel much more relaxed, but I figure I should find some way of returning the favor before I start dropping all the big news on him. Fucking his beautiful ass is the first thing that comes to mind, and doing so will no doubt relax me further so it’s the perfect plan. I cannot stress enough how much he loves getting fucked. I get him naked as fast as possible and then get right to it. Later, there will be teasing, licking, soft touches, pinching and whatever else you can think of, but the first time after a separation is always rough and fast. Justin has always liked a little pain. From what I remember of his first time he adapted to the pain quickly and learned to love it and that hasn’t changed since.
I think I surprise us both when I blurt out "we need to talk" while my dick is still in his ass. Those words go against pretty much everything I believe in, but it’s too late to take them back now. I pull out, and when he turns towards me, I can tell right away he is nervous about what I want to talk about. I’m not really the type to soothe or calm, but for him I manage to muster up a bit of a smile to let him know it's not supposed to be bad news, and then I jump right into it.
All in one breath I say, "I sold Kinnetik and I’m moving to New York." He’s quiet for a few seconds before he smiles and says, "is that all?" Little fucker thinks he’s so funny. I can be funny too.
"Yeah, no biggie, bring your ass back over here, I‘m ready to go again."
"Will you still be involved with Kinnetik?"
"I’ve worked it out so that Ted and Cynthia will be in charge, but I told them I’ll be
available for some consulting. We haven’t worked out the specifics."
"What are you going to do with yourself?"
"Honestly, I’m not completely sure. I know that sounds crazy, but I think my new challenge is going to be figuring that out. It scares me a little, but I want to live without a plan for a while."
"In other words you are going to drive me crazy trying to run my life." He smiles, and so do I because he is letting me off the hook, at least for the time being and because he is probably right. I kiss him, and his body is completely relaxed, which means he really is as cool about this whole thing as he is acting. I don’t have any doubts that he is going to have more questions, but I guess he trusts me enough to know I didn’t do this without really thinking it through. I imagine he wants a few minutes to wrap his brain around this whole thing too. It probably seems pretty much out of the blue for him. I’m just about to fuck the shit out of him again, I’ve got his arms pinned down over his head and his legs are wrapped around my waist, when he uses his legs to flip me over and roll on top of me…he only manages it because I let him. He leans back and says, "So is this a done deal?"
"Not yet, but everything is in place."
"So what’s with not telling me about this sooner?"
"Look, I’m sure its not the right answer but I didn’t tell anyone, not even you, because I had to be sure that I was doing the right thing for me regardless of what anyone thinks about it. I know I’m a selfish bastard, but I just had to do this on my own."
He pauses for a minute, thinking about what I said. "I get it. I don’t know how I would have responded to the idea. I wish we could have talked about it... but I guess I understand why you wanted to figure this out for yourself." He grins, "plus, if you’re miserable it’s your own fault." Little shit. "And if you’re happy, I’ll take credit because it will be from spending more time to be with me." Then he grins again. "As understanding as I am, I still think you need to be punished for not telling me sooner." This means the conversation is over for the time being.
He used my tie to tie my hands behind my back and then positioned me with my face on the bed and my ass in the air. I hate being so vulnerable, but I knew he wouldn’t let me think about it for long. He ran a spit soaked thumb right over my hole a few times and then tapped lightly, sending a jolt right through me. Sometimes I hate that the kid knows me so well, it pisses me off that he can get to me so fast… that is, until he is actually doing it, and then I almost feel relieved to just let him.
I know he is about to rim me, and the anticipation is nearly killing me. A while ago I stopped letting anyone but Justin stick their tongue in my ass. It wasn’t a rule of ours or anything; I was just tired of the disappointment. Sexually, Justin is pretty much the best I have had in all areas… or at least damn close, but a tight hole and a warm wet mouth are pretty fucking great even when they aren’t that good. A rim job is a different story; and after getting pissed and throwing a few guys out of the loft, I decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. Fuck their ass or their face or maybe both and send them on their way and save the rim jobs for Justin. As with everything else in bed, he throws himself completely into the task, and at this very moment my ass and no doubt his face are dripping with spit, and I am an embarrassingly incoherent moaning mess.
He pulls back and stokes me a few times with his fingers, letting me relax some. He knows just how far to push me and when to pull back and let me get control of myself. He’s rubbing me just on the outside of my hole right now, but I know that’s not going to last. Again he has me anticipating. This time I’m waiting for him to push his fingers inside. I’m sure he would love to hear me beg, but we both know that’s not happening, at least not today (I would be lying if I said he hadn’t been able to push me that far in the past, or that he won’t be able to do it again), so he just holds me on edge like this for a minute before pushing two fingers in at once. It’s too much for me (which he knows), and the fucker will pay for that later. Only it’s no time before I forget that train of thought and everything else but wanting his dick inside me right fucking now. The kid is good.
"So you haven’t said anything about me moving to New York."
"I didn’t know you were interested in what I have to say about that." The words are harsh but his tone and face let me know he is just teasing…for the most part. "What do you think of Gramercy Park?"
"I love it, but I would have figured you’d want to live in Tribeca or Chelsea or something."
"I thought you would be happier in Gramercy."
"Oh so you’re just assuming I’ll be hanging out with you?"
"Hanging out, stalking, whatever you want to call it."
"I’m over stalking you… but you know who lives in Gramercy, Rufus Wainwright."
"You’re a freak. I can’t believe you’d give up stalking me for a guy named Rufus."
"I saw him there once, I took his picture on my cell phone. Didn’t I send it to you?"
"You sent it to everyone. You know some celebrities don’t like having their picture taken, especially without their permission…What the fuck are we talking about? Did I not just ask you to move in with me?"
"You asked in the vaguest possible way, which is how I’m answering."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"You’ll just have to figure it out."
"How about you come live with me so I can play with your pretty little ass anytime I want? Is that clear enough for you?"
"What a hard offer to refuse."
"Why would you want to refuse? You love it when I play with your ass." I can no longer hold back the smile. "Hmmm, maybe you should remind me how much I love it."
The rest of our visit was great, and Justin did seem genuinely happy about my plans to move to the city. I would be lying however, if I said I knew what his plans were. I tried to nail him down about it the entire weekend. True to his word he was as vague as possible, and I couldn’t help but wonder if my "punishment" for keeping him in the dark about my plans wasn’t really over when he pulled his dick out of my ass.
I tried to stay calm, but the whole thing had me a little worried, a feeling I don’t enjoy much and one that I seemed to be experiencing a lot lately. It was about three weeks after our visit, during which time things had gone back to how they were before my visit between us- dirty emails and little other communication, when I finally got an email from him that just said, "If we are going to be living together, do I at least get to help pick the place?"
Within the hour I responded with the time and date of our first meeting with a realtor. I also let him know that I would be bringing his mother along for the trip seeing as she was my preferred realtor; and while she didn’t know the area enough to do this for us, I wanted her opinion on anything we might be considering. I heard nothing back for a few days. This game of his was starting to piss me off. Then, when I was just about to fly to New York for the sole purpose of strangling him, he sent an email that simply said "No hotels this time. You’re staying with me. Just book someplace for my mom." Bossy little shit, now I want to strangle him all over again.
Unfortunately, it worked out so that when Jennifer and I flew in we had just enough time to get to our meeting with Justin and the realtor. What I really wanted to do was go to his apartment, hold him down, fuck him, and then make him talk to me. On a positive note, he seems happy to see me and excited about a few of the apartments. That night when we finally got back to his place I didn’t even fuck him before asking what the hell was going on. He just giggled a little, and I thought I was going to have to kill him for real. "I was a little pissed at you, but yelling doesn’t work with you, it just turns you on. So I figured the best way to torture you was to act like…well, you. Give you a bit of your own medicine. Worked quite nicely from the looks of it."
"Ha ha youre real fucking funny. So knock it the fuck off, and tell me what you’re thinking about this whole thing."
"Are you kidding? I’m fucking ecstatic. I was just about to go crazy being here without you. I even broke down and told you I missed you right before your last visit. I thought you were going to be pissed at me… in fact I thought that is what you wanted to talk to me about when you told me all this other shit."
"Fuck you." But I’m smiling, and then I do, fuck him.