jane2005 (jane2005) wrote,

Swept Away 7-9 - Jane!fic

Swept Away 7-9 - Jane!fic

Swept Away Chapter 7 –

Brian sat in the shade, lazily whittling. Lazy. Whittling. Definitely two words he had never thought to ever associate in the same thought train with any activities of his.

He wasn’t very good, as Justin delighted in telling him. Actually, most of his creations didn’t resemble much of anything. Justin used them as excuses to make up stories. Brian would shape out something that vaguely resembled some sort of creature (there was meant to be a tail on the thing, but it ended up looking as if it’d grown a fifth leg out its maybe ass). And Justin would say, “Hey, did I ever tell you the story of the time I was at MOMA and there was this painting of this pig farmer or something…” and off he would go, weaving another one of his endless stories. Maybe about meeting some guy in front of that painting and ending up scouring Chelsea with him for a drag queen, for some stupid treasure hunt his fraternity sent him on. Or maybe it had been the Louvre, and he ended up with some guy from the Foreign Legion. And then fucking him. Justin always fucked them. “The end.”

“In the end?” Brian would ask.


“Didn’t take you for a top dog.”

“You don’t know a lot about me.”

He was learning. Such as, Justin was a fantastic story teller. There were always plots, searches, quests, drama, tension in his tales, and the people he fleshed out had character, shape, even the idiot frat boy whom Brian would bet would fade into the paneling at any social function. In Justin’s words, he became the unsung “everyman” at the heart of a fantastic quest. Fantastic story teller. Not bad company. Could swim like a fish. Managed to find that cove with all the crabs. Learned where the vines were, exactly how far they could be separated before they became useless. Had grown calluses, and didn’t complain.

“What, didn’t take on the whole frat house?” Brian had teased, not wanting the frat boy fuck be the end of the story.

“Yeah, hard to do them all when you weren’t there to lend a hand… or a dick, as it were,” Justin had teased back.

Oh, yeah, he’d also learned that Justin was, at heart, basically a really great guy, and that smile… yeah, kinda like the one he got in return to that smart-ass question, and that low voice softening in just that way, that tone that meant he really really wanted to feel Brian on his lips… “One boy at a time…” and then he would press closer, and there would be another kind of story telling, a physical story two bodies told to each other.

But why did he always have to fuck them in those stories? Why not just suck them off? Brian kept that particular frustration to himself. He did not want Justin to know how much he yearned, yeah, he said it, yearned, like a stupid fucking pussy. Came way too close to “needing.” But there it was. He wanted to fuck Justin… shit, sometimes he wanted to be fucked BY Justin.

But yeah, he had to admit it to himself. He paused in whatever it was he was working on. Apparently, he was whittling the stick into… a smaller stick. Eh. Didn’t really matter; Brian kept shaving away at it. He wasn’t really paying attention to what he was doing, he was remembering that one morning, what? two weeks ago? ten days? It was the morning he’d stopped counting days. That morning, it had been fifty-two days since he’d gotten on the boat with the brat.

And now he was on this island with this man.

Justin had hardened up, fairly quickly. They had found the depression in the rock face, a natural alcove, and had managed to set up a fairly decent shelter, with bamboo held together with those vines found deep in the forest. Justin had been right about the mangoes, and there was some other fruit that Brian didn’t recognize. Justin seemed to. Still, Brian bet his sushi days were over. Enough fish! They’d both lost weight, and Justin’s muscles had begun to clearly define themselves with the hard work, all that traipsing around the island. They’d made it all the way to the top of the highest point of the rise; the flat, slightly depressed opening in the jungle-like growth at the top announced that this was indeed a volcano. Brian had gotten no small amount of satisfaction from telling Justin all about volcanoes that night (he wasn’t as good at stories as Justin, not by a long shot, but he’d started taking his turn). He served up the story of Krakatoa and the death of thousands in the volcanic eruption. Later, when kissing and touching had begun to take on more urgency, Justin had whispered, “I don’t care, if we’re going to die, then, fuck me anyway.”

And Brian had whispered back, “No,” as he always did, every time Justin found a new way to tell him without telling him how desperately he wanted the one thing they could not have.

“If it starts spitting up ash like Krakatoa, and raining fire, will you fuck me then?”

This time, Brian whispered back, “Yes…” He nipped his way down Justin’s back, scraping his tongue at the dip in the small of the back that was arching toward him, down to the crack at the top of his ass, “I’ll stick my tongue in you, just like I’m about to do now…” He nipped the top of one cheek, placing his hand to soothe the spot he had just wounded, then pulling the muscle there so Justin arched further, completely exposed to him. “I’ll loosen you up, get you wet…” He placed his tongue beneath the opening before him, licking at the base of the balls, then the tender flesh at that spot just between the legs, back up, touching his tongue as Justin’s muscles relaxed and he opened to the man touching him. Brian’s tongue teased the most sensitive nerves, and Justin held himself perfectly still, his breathing coming in shallow gasps… “and then I’ll move up your back, while you’re on your hands and knees, ready to take me, and I’ll lay my body over yours, every inch of our skin touching, I’ll bury my face in your hair, my dick heavy against your ass, rubbing against you, leaking, so filled with desire and need, and then I’ll penetrate you…” and he penetrated with his tongue, and Justin came with a ragged gasp, unable to stop. Brian chuckled as he moved back up, rolling Justin onto his back, taking Justin’s hand and placing it on his own hard dick. “You are so easy.”

Justin smiled. No more tantrums over Brian’s careless words. Justin knew he didn’t mean anything by them.

Besides, he had told Justin enough about himself during story time, that Justin knew Brian Kinney outfucked him by far.

They built their potential bonfire on day thirteen, at the top of the beach. In the little shelter was the engine from the boat, its chamber still full of gasoline to ignite the fire. On day fourteen, Justin had looked from the bonfire to the nearby palm trees. “What if they catch on fire?” he had asked nervously.

“I don’t give a fuck if the whole island goes up, if it gets us off of here.”

“Some people might say that’s a pretty unenlightened view, torching nature in your service, leaving only destruction in your wake.”

Brian had looked over sharply at that, but Justin had merely turned his gaze to the horizon, as if a ship would magically appear. “Some people can blow me.”

Justin had laughed.

“No, seriously. Blow me.” Gotta love the boy, Brian thought as Justin turned toward him, saying, “Fine, you first. This time.” And dropped to his knees. Brian had come to believe that he was abandoned with the only other human being on the face of the planet as consistently horny as he was.

The Krakata story had been day twenty-seven. Brian had fretted, and fed, and watched for ships, and sucked, and touched, and slept, and sucked some more, for fifty-one days.

On day fifty-one, he had woken up at the top of the beach. They had taken to crashing just about anywhere, usually in sight of the ocean, if it were nice out, and nice days were far more common than bad. Thank god it wasn’t typhoon season. He had woken up, and rolled on his side, not feeling the need to get up, or do anything at all. It was early. The sun was rising, and sparkling on the water, where the calm ocean was sending small wavelets up onto the sand. He was still half asleep, looking out over the ocean, when Justin, who had been engaging in his usual early morning swim, rose out of the water.

The morning sun was rich and golden, and it caught the bronzed body’s fine hair so the skin seemed to glitter. Sunlight sparkled off the water, so that Justin seemed to be standing, up to his thighs, paused for a moment in a pool of pure light, his body, gold against it, not dark, the whiteness of the water’s reflected light dancing with the sparkle of the direct sunlight shining on the fuzz against his skin.

He shone.

Brian blinked, overwhelmed for a moment. Justin had not seen him watching him, and he placed his hands on the top of the water, cupping it, then raising his arms overhead, stretching, while letting the water spill down. It was a movement with such unconscious grace, such pure joy, such life…

“Fuck,” Brian whispered, unable to look away.

Justin turned slightly, feeling Brian’s eyes on him, and smiled, softly. Not the wide smile, but the small one Brian had seen Justin wear when he caught him just watching him.

They watched each other for a long moment, and finally Justin turned, and dove back into the ocean, leaving just the sparkling surface behind him. Brian lay there for a long moment, before rolling on his back, looking up at the tree tops overhead, and groaning.

That night, Justin had asked Brian for a story. “Your turn,” he’d said, after laughing at the penis Brian had carved that day. Now that looked like a penis. His whittling talent finally discovered.

So Brian had leaned his head back against Justin’s thigh, and began. “Once upon a time there was this guy who was in charge of the best advertising company in the entire world…”

“Was it located somewhere specific in the world?”





“Yeah, but shut up and listen. So this guy had his whole life and it was good. He would work hard all day, and at night he would go to his favorite hangouts, bars, baths, clubs. He went with his best friend in the whole wide world…”


“Michael. He had two other friends, Emmett and Ted. Ted was boring, Emmett was pretty interesting. He wore tangerine and pink. Ted and Michael and the guy…”

“Does the guy have a name?”

“Uh… no…”

And Justin was certain at that moment that Brian was finally telling him something about himself. All the other stories, there were names, descriptions, exaggerations. Besides, he just knew, and he vowed to shut up and let Brian just talk.

“He would fuck three guys a day.”

Well, that vow went right out the window. “A DAY!!”

“Not every day. He liked to fuck. A lot.”

“Bet he had condoms,” Justin grumbled.

Brian sighed. “Are you going to let me tell the story?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Justin replied, placing his hand in Brian’s hair, doing the nightly ritual of raking his fingers through the lengthening strands. They had no comb or brush, and Brian insisted on getting every snarl out, every night.

“Well, the guy fucked and sucked and worked and he was happy. He did what and who he wanted. And Mikey was always there to talk to, and hang out with, and even though he gave shit to Ted and Emmett, he liked that they were their own little exclusive group.

“So one day this guy named Stockwell, the chief of police, decided to run for mayor. And because Pennsylvania was such a swing state, he hopped right on the Republican bandwagon, and targeted Pittsburgh’s gay community as the Enemy to target so people could know he was fighting the good fight against evil, against every club and fuck zone the guy played in. The guy was pretty well known and way out of the closet, and he made clear this was fascism, as far as he was concerned. So he fucked more at home, because the police were everywhere. Well, except when it came to protecting gay people.. Stockwell promised everybody he’d make the streets safe. He said nothing about which streets. Crimes against gay people rose exponentially. He closed the baths, he closed as many of the clubs as he could, he closed the fuck room at the bar the guy liked to go to. But it wasn’t until the guy’s two lesbian friends had the front of their house painted with the words ‘Dykes burn in hell,’ that the guy decided this shit could not go on. See, his friend Mikey was the father of the lesbian’s 4-year old daughter. And Mikey came to the guy in tears over everything. Bad enough, politics, repressive atmosphere. But this was fuckin’ scary shit. This was really real bad shit. It wasn’t just words.”

Brian’s voice was hollow. Justin had gone very still. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the ending. He already heard it in the tone.

“So…” Brian continued, looking up at the stars, desperately wishing for a cigarette, “the guy threw all his money behind the opponent. The people who supported Deekins weren’t nearly as rich as those who supported Stockwell. And Deekins was telling people the truth, that we’re in tough times, and the solutions wouldn’t be easy. Stockwell was telling them, the godless sex-crazed liberals are ruining our god-fearing community and infesting it with godless gays, we get rid of them and all our problems are solved.”

Silence. “So, what happened?” Justin whispered.

“Stockwell won. There was talk of a fixed election, but nothing came of it.”

“And the guy?”

Snort. “He had put too much money into it, lost perspective, had taken it very, very personally. Well, it was personal. It wasn’t just about principles. It was about protecting his friends. And himself. Crimes against the gay community rose eight percent in the six months Stockwell did his worse. The local paper pointed that out, supported Deekins, got called a fag rag and lost a huge amount of its advertising support. Had to lay off a bunch of people. But Stockwell didn’t care about Pittsburgh’s citizens, as long as his politics protected Pittsburgh’s citizens. ‘Course, because the guy supported the wrong side, Stockwell came after him. Hard. Not really after him. After his accounts. And business men go where the money is, where the power is. It’s all about the money, all about who owns the play book. And that wasn’t the guy. He was forced to declare bankruptcy, lay off sixteen people. No one in the city would touch him. He couldn’t get employed as a dog walker. Within six months, he had lost his business, his home, his reputation. He had been the stud of that part of the city, but that blow knocked him out of the running. Everyone with a grudge, every trick he’d pissed off, kicked him when he was down. He was the world’s punching bag. No more top dog. Tricks wanted him to bottom for them.”

“But… that’s awful! Why… you’d think the community would support him!”

“If he’d won, maybe. But he’d lost. People were angry, they needed a target. Couldn’t target Stockwell and the police, too powerful. So…”

“But that’s just not right!”

Brian chuckled humorlessly. “That is life, though. But his friends stuck by him. More or less. He was sleeping on Mikey and his husband’s couch when he woke up one morning and said, ‘I’m getting the fuck out of here.’ And went on line, looking for any job he could escape into, hopefully something involving travel to exotic locations, anything to escape, since whiskey and self-pity just wasn’t cutting it anymore.”

“I can’t see you the self-pitying type.”

“Who said this is about me?” Brian’s voice was soft, and Justin stared down at him. He’d known Brian for less than two months, but everything about him radiated control, and power. He couldn’t imagine how frustrated he must have been to find himself so abruptly out of a position of control. And to end up on Ethan’s yacht…

“I’m sorry, Brian.” Justin finally said, stroking the other man’s cheek.

Brian’s eyes opened, and he looked up. “What? Why?”

“I said I’m sorry. After all that… you did everything in your power to do the right thing, to protect your friends and yourself. To protect your community. And got kicked in the nuts for it. So you decided to take a break and regroup, and met me. I had to be the most…” Justin trailed off, his hands falling away from Brian’s body.

Brian sat up, and took Justin’s hand; it was balled up, on the ground at his side. “You didn’t know me, Justin. You have nothing to be sorry for. Those were all my decisions. My problems.”

“Yeah, but that’s precisely the point, I *didn’t* know you,” Justin replied, angry with himself. Man, he’d known he had been a shit, but how much of one… “So it’s even worse that I treat someone I don’t know like shit, without any consideration at all for what their story might be. Like they’re objects. To just play with for amusement, without any sense of them as human beings, just objects for personal use. I really am my father’s son.” He looked away, clenching his jaw, his lips firmly shut between his teeth.

Brian grabbed his jaw, turned him to face him. “Look, so we misjudged each other. And you are not like that, anyway, not here. We were both going through a bad point when I came on board.”

“But it’s not just you. You really care about your friends. I don’t really have friends. I mean, I had party buddies, like those people on the yacht. It’s not that I don’t have anyone who cares about me, I’ve never really cared about anyone else. Never cared *for* anyone else. Care, like, an action. You know? I wonder how many other people I’ve hurt by being such an asshole, not even thinking…”

“You can’t change that, don’t think about the past. Listen to me, Justin, you can move in another direction in the future. Take this as an opportunity to change yourself, if that’s what you want.”

“Oh, god, so this whole lost at sea thing is a life lesson from the powers that be?”

“If you don’t learn from the things that suck, what’s the point of trying to move past them? Why not just roll over and die?”

“What did you learn from Stockwell, Brian?”

“I learned,” Brian answered him, “That taking a stand for what you believe in may get you fucked, and not in the healthy, life affirming way, but it makes you understand your own humanity. It makes you understand who your friends are. And it makes you understand what’s really important.”

“Then why’d you run?”

“Maybe I needed to just get away from it all with beautiful blonde boy ass.”

“Like you’re god and planned this.”

“Hardly god. What god runs away?”

“What if god was one of us?”

But Justin was laughing at him, as Brian intended. And then Justin had stopped laughing, and turned that small smile onto him.


“You really are beautiful.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Now I know you’re an ad man,” Justin answered, moving forward to kiss him, pressing feather-light touches down his body, “you’ve been tossing clichés at me until something works.” And he licked Brian’s waist, right over the hip where he had a major erogenous zone, and talk was done for the night.

The next morning was day fifty-two. When Brian woke up, he had stopped counting.

So it was probably somewhere around two months they’d been washed up on shore, the day Brian was whittling his little stick out of his bigger stick, sitting on the beach, watching the horizon through pure habit. Somewhere on day fifty-two, he realized, he had relaxed. He had lost the tension in needing a ship to appear. Whatever. However long. He had never felt this way before. Relaxed. Letting himself just float. Go with the flow. A big… okay. I can just be.

And Justin. It was… well, weird that he never got bored with him. Probably the tension of not being able to actually fuck that kept the interest up. Among other things. They’d explored ways to prolong sex, and they both became experts at the perfect erotic massage of the other. Lasting forever, not that time mattered. Starting at the scalp, moving all the way down to the toes, teasing every erogenous zone on the way, coming back, each attentive touch a little less teasing as the massage deepened, taking forever to reach the most sensitive areas… after these marathon sessions of foreplay, at the end of which muscles were turned jelly, every cell having individually reached its own height of erotic pleasure, spread out, bodies lying against, on, under each other, reaching to penetrate as they could, to stroke each other to the final peak in an unbelievable series of them…

Or quick, swimming and suddenly a mouth from under the water surrounding the cock and bringing to sudden, hard, quick release, on waking, or even just on walking, to turn and see that look, and just on each other…

Innumerable possibilities. Everything except that one act.

Yeah. Bored? Not even close.

And yeah. He yearned. He yearned to bury his cock up that perfect ass, to push into the body writhing beneath him, to feel the surrounding warmth and the gasp of desire and fulfillment, to fill Justin with himself, to watch the body under his shudder, to hear him beg for more, more, more…

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, no matter how many times he told himself not to go there, he just couldn’t help it. He focused his gaze, away from the stick and on the horizon, on the greyish shadow of a ship that was cresting the edge where water blended to sky.



Holy fuck.

Holy fuck.

“Holy fuck!” he yelled, jumping up, running to the banked embers of the fire that they never let go out, that glowed in front of their little shelter. He thrust a waiting stick into the embers, muttering, “come on come on come on come on” until it caught, then running down the beach, to the small rise where they’d built the bonfire. The engine with the gasoline was gone from the shelter, that meant Justin had to have seen the ship, and would meet him there. They’d discussed this.

He got to the huge pile of sticks. Justin indeed was there. But he hadn’t tossed the gasoline onto the wood they’d built up. He was just toying with the fuel tank cap.

“You saw it, right! Well!” He waited. Justin just looked out at the ocean, then down at the engine. But not at him. That’s when he realized something was wrong.

“Justin. There’s a ship. It might go away. We haven’t seen one in all this time. Throw the gasoline on the fire.”

“You sure you want to go back?”

Justin looked at him, then, and Brian felt… well, his own excitement died down, quickly.

“We’ll get our lives back.”

“But…” Justin looked back. “What if I don’t want mine back?”

Oh, hell. “It’s not going to be the same life. Change it, if you want.”

“I don’t know if it’s going to be that easy.”

“Nothing is.” Brian tried to keep his impatience in check, not terribly successfully. “But you can do whatever you want.”

“I want you. And here, I have you. And… and, I have myself. I’m good at this. I don’t know… I don’t know if I’m good at anything back there.”

Brian moved over to him, keeping the burning stick well out of the way. He stroked his cheek. “You are good here. But we have to go back.”

Justin looked away.

“Justin, I really need a drink. I have for a while.”


Okay, wrong tactic. “Soap, Justin, we’ll get this stink off us.”

“You like the way I smell.”

Couldn’t argue that. Okay… big guns time. “Justin. There are condoms on that ship.”

Justin looked up swiftly. He huffed, once. Then he shook his head, grimaced, and grinned over at Brian. “I’m kind of being a twat, aren’t I?”

“Only if you choose to. Now cut it out, and pour.”

Justin yanked open the fuel cap, and dumped half of it on the stack of wood. Brian kissed him hard, and asked, “Tail ready, puppy?”

“Woof!” Justin replied with a grin, and Brian threw the burning stick onto the woodpile. It became a bonfire with a whoosh.

Chapter 8

Justin spoke perfect Italian to the boat hands who had come to retrieve them, and bit his lip at their reply.

“Justin?” Brian asked.

“Yeah. It’s Countess Gemini’s yacht.”

“You know her?”

“Sort of.”

Sort of. When they climbed on board, they were greeted by a tiny whirlwind of a woman, silk scarves billowing about her. There was a small gathering of six people looking up from their positions on the deck chairs behind her. The sailors had merely climbed back on board, and went about their business.

“Justin!!” She launched into rapid Italian, but Justin held her off as she would move to embrace him.

“No, I’m filthy, please don’t. Maria, this is my friend and fellow strandee, Brian Kinney.”

“Ah…” She turned her large black eyes on him, glancing up and down, a small smile. “What are you… No, no, it is enough. The rumors were you had run off together! What, to a deserted island?”

Brian quirked up an eyebrow, as Justin looked confused. “What? No… no, we were on our way onshore when the boat threw a blade and we drifted for days, ending up here. Thank god you came by.”

“Threw a blade…” The woman looked puzzled.

“The engine broke,” Brian supplied, “in the middle of the ocean.”

“Ah… well. Hm. This is indeed strange. We thought… well, never mind!” She turned back to her friends, who had all straightened, unsure what the protocol was for greeting strangers who had just been rescued. “Roman! Come here.” A tall man, probably Brian’s size, stood. “This is my friend, Roman Gregorov, Roman, my friend Justin and his friend, Brian.” They all nodded at each other. “Formal introductions after you clean up, I’m sure you’d like that, no?”

“God, yeah,” Justin replied, as Brian watched Roman size him up.

“Roman, you are about Brian’s size, no? Can you volunteer some clothes? and supplies for toilette?”

“I think I’d kill for good conditioner right now,” Brian smiled, thinking of hot water.

“I’m about your size,” someone else called. Justin turned to look at a young woman, who grinned at him. “Sorry bout the gender, but my stuff’s basically unisex. If you don’t mind?”

Justin laughed. “Yeah, hardly. Anything for a change of clothes…”

“Christina,” the girl supplied. She stood gracefully. “I’ll go grab some stuff for you. Meet you below.” She walked off.

Justin glanced over at Brian. Maria saw the direction of his glance, and said to Roman, “Show them the empty cabin. Justin, you can use Christina’s bath? You’ll have to share the other room, d’accord?” And she turned to Justin, saying something else, this time in French.

Justin turned bright red, hesitated, then grinned and shrugged.

“Hm…” Maria looked Brian up and down. “Take as long as you need. I understand, such an ordeal… We’ll be here when you’re feeling social again.”

Then she moved to rejoin her friends.

“What was that all about?” Brian asked as they followed Roman into the lower portion of the yacht.

Justin shrugged. “I don’t think anyone else there speaks French, she was giving me some privacy to ask if it was okay we had to share space after being forced together for so long.”

“Bullshit. She wanted to know if we were fucking each other.”

Roman faltered in a step, but recovered his balance almost perfectly. Brian noticed.

“So. Just a shrug?”

Justin looked at him. Before he could reply, Roman interrupted. “Here’s the cabin. Go right in, I’ll bring you razors, soap, whatever. Be right back.”

“Hey, Justin, down here!” Christina called, sticking her head out of the doorway.

Brian was still staring at Justin, waiting.

“Later,” Justin told him, and walked away to where the girl was beckoning him.

Roman left Brian in the cabin, but returned scant minutes later as Brian was waiting for the water in the shower to heat. He was loaded down with shaving supplies, shampoo and conditioner, soap, a comb, towel, skin lotion, even a new toothbrush and toothpaste. He dumped that, along with a pair of black pants and a white shirt on the bed.

“You look like an Armani man,” he grinned, gesturing at the clothes.

“How’d you know?” Brian answered, moving to the bed, and examining the label. “One size smaller than my usual… but I’ve probably lost weight.”

“You look…” Brian glanced up, caught the appreciative once-over, “…healthy. You need anything more…”


“What?” Roman caught himself in mid-stride, turned back. He was not sure he’d heard properly.

“I need at least three condoms. I’d like about twenty. Three will do, for now. You got any?”


“Not for you,” Brian smirked.

The man actually blushed, but then shrugged, and nodded his understanding, smirked a bit in return, even. “Ah. Desert islands are not exactly convenient.”

“You have no idea.”

“Just a moment, then. I’ll leave them out here if you’re in the shower.”

Brian would ask him to be discreet, but he figured it wasn’t worth wasting his breath. He didn’t care if the entire boat knew, he planned to have Justin screaming his name in less than an hour anyway. The rest of the people on board could get their own rocks off; his had waited way too long.

“Hey, Brian, you want…” Justin stopped, just inside the door, and stared. Brian returned the intent gaze.

Both cleaned up. They had forgotten the impact the other man could have. Or maybe they just hadn’t looked at each other through the fully appreciative eyes of the lover before, back on the yacht — but the moment suspended, as they drank the other in.

Brian was the first to speak. “Come in. Shut the door.” He turned from the tiny closet, where he had actually been about to fold the filthy clothes he’d been wearing all this time. Hearing Justin’s voice, he’d let them drop on the floor. He slid the closet door shut.

But Justin didn’t move for a moment. He was too busy sweeping his gaze up Brian’s black pants, the white shirt open at the throat, the sleeves rolled back, the freshly shampooed hair, the skin of the jawline smooth from a real gelled-up shave…

Hearing Brian’s chuckle, he shook himself, casting his eyes around the room, anywhere but on the knowing look in Brian’s eyes, and stepped into the room, leaving the door open. “Uh… Christina let me know they usually have cocktails topside around five, that’s around now… bet you’d love a drink, I sure… uh …” As he spoke, Brian had reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a familiar flat, foil-wrapped object. He held it between his thumb and forefinger, and flicked it. Justin stared at the object in Brian’s hand, then finally up into his eyes. Brian cocked an eyebrow. “Close the door.”

His mouth suddenly dry, he complied.

“Come here.”

He walked over to Brian, his stomach feeling as if it would rush up and out of his mouth any moment. He reached a few feet from where Brian stood.


Justin snapped his gaze up, from where it had drifted to the muscle cords in Brian’s neck. He could see the pulse beating, hard, in the indent at the base of his throat. That made him feel better. Slightly.

“Is something the matter?” Brian asked softly.

“Um, uh, I seem to be unbelievably nervous, and I don’t know why,” Justin answered, cringing as he heard the words come out of his mouth. But before he could say anything more, fix that, he felt his mouth crushed beneath Brian’s, Brian, who had swooped down to kiss, nip, bite at his lips until he gasped, Brian taking advantage of their opening to reach into his mouth with his tongue, Brian demanding a response as Justin was swept up against him and into him, and curled his own tongue upward into the relentless, rhythmic stroking, as Brian fucked him with his mouth, in a promise of what was to come. Coming, now. No cocktails, screw the cocktails. Fucking, now. Need, need and desire, unleashed, knowing they did not need to stop, and now Brian, unable to wait, not allowing any compunction over the fact that they were on board with a bunch of strangers, not allowing something as trivial as that to get in their way, nothing, clearly, was about to get in the way of this, this urgency, this now. Justin found himself borne backward with Brian onto the bed, into Brian’s lap, Brian’s hands at his waist, forcing him to straddle the other man’s hips and brace himself with his hands on Brian’s shoulders.

“Nervousness? from the guy who woke me up sucking on my dick,” Brian chuckled, before moving his mouth to Justin’s neckline, putting his hands under the cream cable-knit cotton sweater, and drawing it over Justin’s head. His mouth moved to the bared collarbone, traced it from one end to the other, alternating nips and licks, his arms moving fully around Justin’s waist and pulling their bodies flush up against each other. Pure sensation where his mouth touched, shot straight to the juncture at Justin’s thighs, sparks firing, and Justin arched back as his hips rocked forward, okay okay, forget the drinks, mouth quite happy with this, his aching hard-on was quite happy with rubbing up against Brian’s strong thigh, nestled between his legs. He heard a strange mewling noise, realized it was coming from himself.

And then he was flat on his back on the bed, the black draw-string pants he had just put on pulled off, Brian’s weight disappearing to be replaced by the sudden mouth engulfing his dick, moving lower, and Justin gasped, arched as that long tongue delved deep into him, strong, brown hands encircling his cock, touching, stroking, pulling, all for the preliminaries as Brian’s mouth left him… right now, just too much need for release, this was it, finally, finally, touching in the most intimate way, Justin knew this was all the foreplay there would be, the urgency was too great, the need too immediate. Wetness left in the wake of Brian’s mouth as he rose to his knees, yanked his pants open, his cock surging out. One tear of foil, one condom was rolled on.

“Clothes,” Justin panted, his hands moving to frantically begin unbuttoning Brian’s shirt, managing to push it off his shoulders but only to his elbows, as Brian failed to cooperate, too busy spreading Justin’s legs, placing his calves over his shoulders, then moving into position, pulling Justin’s ass up and toward him, exposing the smaller body to his need to have him, now. Justin felt the tip of Brian’s dick at the point of entrance to his body, and a frission, electric, raced through him.

“Can’t wait,” Brian muttered, and he pushed forward. “Sorry, it’s lubricated, best I could do… Fuck… you’re tight… So fucking tight…”

“Oh, god,” was all Justin could muster in response, “good… god…” Felt the fullness of Brian’s entrance, the exquisite pain on the heels of the exquisite pleasure, and he shut his eyes, so damn good, but, but, just a second… Brian’s second thrust forward, so hard on the heels of the first, buried Brian more fully within him, so full, too much… he couldn’t stop the hiss of indrawn breath as his whole body tensed.

Brian stopped at that sound, and with an effort, he opened his eyes, looked down at the young man beneath him, whose eyes were squeezed shut. “Fuck, Justin, I forgot, you’re not really a bottom.”

“I am now,” Justin answered, his eyes remaining closed.

Brian chuffed a laugh, and held his body still, even as the nerves in his legs and dick screamed for movement, hips twitching with the effort not to push forward again, immediately. He somehow resisted their demand, resisted the urge to bury himself completely, to collapse on the body beneath his and tear into it like a wild animal. He moved slightly backwards, shifting his weight from Justin’s legs, and moved the hand that had been clutching at Justin’s hair back, to stroke the calves, knees, thighs that slowly relaxed under his touch, turning his head to kiss the side of a knee, his other hand moving to pet Justin’s stomach, before trailing his forefinger over the tip of the dick beneath him, his palm opening, slowly stroking the velvety hardness… gentling him, waiting…

Justin didn’t open his eyes, but Brian could tell the moment he relaxed, the large intake and release of breath that accompanied the back’s bowing forward to move the lower body closer, the urge for pleasure outweighing the pain. Under his hand, Brian felt the accompanying surge of blood as the sex urge rose to the fore at the masterful touch. Justin’s eyelids finally drifted up; he met Brian’s gaze, and smiled.

“Okay?” Brian asked.

“Fuck, Brian, just shut up and fuck me…”

So long, so long, he had waited for this for so long, he did not want to cause pain and that had kept him in check, but on this command, he leaned forward and caught Justin’s lips with his own, sinking down, hard, in a final, sweet push that brought him flush up against the beautiful body finally opening, finally accessible, beneath his. He pulled Justin’s hands from finishing with the last button on the shirt which hung open to his waist, and anchored Justin’s hands above his head, intertwining the fingers with his own. He didn’t think he could stop again, and Justin didn’t ask him to, just took the weight, the friction of Brian’s thrusts into his body, the urge to rub his erection against Brian’s torso, and no more talking, just the sounds of sex filling the room, until Justin began to chant with the gathering sensation that began tingling where Brian was a part of him and spread outward, to his thighs, his ass muscles, tingling in his balls, spreading upward to the tip of his dick, and he chanted, “Brian… Brian… Brian… Brian, oh, god, Brian, Brian, oh god… oh… god…” and then that odd whimpering noise again, his thigh muscles slackening as the wave of sensation gathered itself and temporarily shut down any higher control over his body. Brian took advantage of this fully helpless state through which Justin’s orgasm gathered itself, to pull back and with a final deep rut lodged himself in as far as allowed. Calves clamped down against his shoulder muscles; with a series of gasps and a strangled final holding of breath ending in a harsh, drawn-out, guttural groan, Justin came hard. Brian rode the pulsations clenching at him, Justin’s orgasm providing the final stimulation to trigger his own, and he moaned, low in his chest, his back arching, shooting release. He held that position for a very long time, until he felt Justin’s legs slide down to his waist. Then he lowered himself to lay his head against Justin’s chest, hearing the rapid heart rate begin to slow. Justin’s legs fell further, to wrap around his.

“I can move,” Brian whispered.

“I don’t want you to,” Justin replied.

Silence, while they lay against each other.

Justin finally broke into the quiet. “I think we’re going to have to shower again.”

“But then we’ll only get dirty again.”


“Yeah, in, like, one minute…”

“Isn’t it kind of rude to stay down here and fuck before we’ve even met everyone?”

“It’s rude to deprive my dick for two months. Besides, Roman can give our excuses.”

“What? Why?” Justin was quickly leaving the post-sex haze with the mention of this, but Brian would have none of that. He leaned down, captured Justin’s lips, undid the last button of his shirt and shrugged out of it, tossing it to the side. He lay his naked chest down on Justin’s, and moved his lips to the nearest shoulder, to that spot at the base of Justin’s neck that drove him crazy. Yup, there it was.

“You’re hard again.”

“Yeah, so are you…” Justin responded, moaning a bit as Brian pulled out of him.

“Mm… yeah.” He took the condom off, tied it off, dropped it in the trash. Then he pulled Justin against him, drawing him in for a long kiss.

“Thought you,” Justin said when Brian stopped licking, sucking on his mouth, “wanted more…” Brian’s tongue reached out to trace the line of his upper lip, pulled back, “than once…” Long kiss as said tongue returned to lead into Justin’s mouth, another long silence but for deeply drawn breaths…

“Hm,” Brian finally said, hands roaming down his back, hips, ass, “Want it to last this time. Had to be inside you… this time, I want to feel you, all of you, not just my dick in your ass… besides, if I stayed there, I’d blow out that condom with another load and waiting would have been for nothing.”

“You are so romantic,” Justin replied with a snort.

“Nah, romance would be your dick, my ass.” He saw Justin’s eyes light up. “In your dreams, puppy.”

Justin wasn’t going to push, not with Brian’s hands lazily roaming everywhere. Well, not at the moment.

Chapter 9

“So,” the Countess Gemini said, waving a drink in Justin’s direction. “The rumors were almost right. You did take off on some wild illicit sex romp, it’s just that it was incidental, not intentional.”

Brian could have picked the woman up and dumped her over the side and into the ocean for her complete lack of tact. And her characterization… He stole a look at Justin, expecting to see complete mortification spreading across his lover’s transparent features, but Justin’s only response was a frozen smile. “Really, Maria, it wasn’t like that.”

Brian rattled the ice cubes at the bottom of his whiskey, wondering why Justin’s response made his stomach clench. It was close to what Brian himself had been thinking, after all. He had thought there’d be a different response from Justin. That was all.

“Ah, well, what was it like?”

“None of your goddamned business,” Brian snapped, gaining the gaze of the other five people still on deck at this late hour. “And if everyone was so concerned about what we were doing with each other, why wasn’t anyone looking for us?”

Roman jumped into the conversation at that point, distracting Brian from Maria’s shrug. “Actually, Ethan inquired, and one of his hands, Andy? told him that Justin had left a message that you and Justin had decided to part company with the yacht. Your clothes were gone, Justin’s things were gone…”

“My things were… gone? What do you mean?” Justin asked.

Maria answered. “Who knows? Ethan just said your things were gone. Passports, all of Brian’s clothes and his…” She floundered.

“Duffel bag,” Roman grinned, reaching over and patting her hand.

“Hm, yes. That,” Maria answered. “Anyway, Ethan will be meeting us at Marseilles. We called him to let him know we had found you, while you were, occupied, earlier this afternoon. He was a bit, hm, upset when you’d disappeared, so I wanted to let him know it was not intentional.”

“So he’s meeting us in Marseilles?”

“Oh, yes!” That tinkling laugh from the woman, was really starting to grate on Brian’s nerves. “He feels terrible that he misunderstood the situation.”

“Misunderstood? Maybe he should feel bad that he’d listened to a homophobic deck hand whom I’d just threatened that afternoon after he’d raged about the faggots on board,” Brian bit out, drawing the startled looks of the others. “Let me guess. The ever so helpful Andy disappeared at the next port. Probably with all of my stuff, and Justin’s.”

In response, a shrug. “Oh, people come, people go, I don’t know what happened to that man…”

“And there are always replacements to pick up the slack,” Brian laughed bitterly. He glanced over at Justin, who had turned, and was moving off, down the deck, trailing his hand along the rail, to stop a ways off, where the shadows of the night concealed his expression. The wind was blowing through his hair, pushing it into his face, further obscuring the features Brian couldn’t make out from this distance. He stood, and walked over, to join the other man at the rail, while the conversation, after a startled silence, picked up, fading behind him. He could just imagine, behind his back, Maria’s Gaelic shrug. People come, they go, they snark, there are always others to replace the one who stomps off… Great friends you got, Justin, he thought. He reached out with a hand, pushing Justin’s hair off his forehead so he could see his face. “What’s wrong?” he asked in a low voice.

Justin glanced over briefly, and smiled half-heartedly. “Oh… nothing.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been acting weird since we got on board.”

“Weird… oh. Well. I’m fine. Really.” The gaze moved out across the water, again.

Brian caught his chin, looked at him. “No, you aren’t. Is it Ethan?”

Justin looked away.

Well, Brian thought. Here it comes. He should have known… he should have known. When they were on the island, Justin needed him. They’d worked out that truce… but the conditions requiring the truce were over. And they were back in the real world. Time to face that little fact. “Looking forward to going back to your lover?” Brian taunted softly. He couldn’t seem to help himself, knowing this sign of jealousy was stupid. Really stupid. For one, he didn’t do jealous. For another… well, it wasn’t like he and Justin were going to stay together. The island was one thing. This was the real world. The truce was over. They had moved East of Eden. He knew all this. He knew it.

“Yeah…” Justin replied, leaning against Brian’s body. Brian stiffened, completely thrown off by the mixed signals between the touch and the affirmative response. Feeling his reaction, Justin turned a startled glance upward, then laughed slightly. “Oh! You mean… No, no, Brian, I’m not looking forward to seeing Ethan, I meant I’m looking forward to going back with you. I’m… fuck, this is so hard.”

Brian had relaxed, and he moved his hand onto Justin’s neck, stretching his fingers to curl into the hair at his nape, so soft and silky with its recent washing. Damn, he felt he couldn’t get enough of that. “Yeah, it’s hard,” he murmured, pressing his leg against Justin’s. He didn’t want to address Justin’s little fantasy of their staying together.

“No, Brian,” Justin continued, pulling back slightly. “I mean… it’s just, I feel so weird. Roman’s Ethan’s godfather. He and Maria, they’re, well, kind of together…”

One eyebrow raised at that. “Really? My instinct must be really off, I didn’t realize we were away that long.”

Justin smiled. “No, he’s bi. So your instinct’s still working. She’s married… not to him. They just get together on these vacations…” Justin shook his head, as if to stop himself from rambling. “The point is, they both know Ethan. And they know about me with Ethan. I mean, that Ethan wanted me, and I acted like a complete asshole to him. And then showing up in thrall of someone else… even if it didn’t start out that way. The reason no one came looking for me, for us, was because they thought I actually would just disappear with another man to fuck, on a whim.”

“And that bothers you?”

“Yeah, that bothers me. Mostly because it’s accurate. I mean, I really acted… well, pretty bad.” He dropped his gaze, somewhere around Brian’s chest.

Brian studied him, unsure of how to respond. His hand massaged the skull underneath his fingers, and finally he said, “What do you care? With all that money, you can tell them all to fuck off.”

Justin’s eyes swiftly flew to Brian’s face. “It has nothing to do with the money. It’s just… I suddenly don’t know who I am. Or even, who I was. And that fucking terrifies me. Especially since it’s being played out in front of an audience.” You, he thought, but he didn’t say that. He felt raw enough, far too open, too vulnerable. The defenses he’d had to this point were stripped away; they had been stripped on the island, but on the island, that hadn’t mattered. Here, back in the real world, was where the danger lay. He felt like an open wound, far too exposed to any attack. Before, it hadn’t mattered; all of his defenses had rallied to repulse any pain from without. Suddenly, they were gone, and he was caught out in the face of a brave new world, in the open, exposed to the mercy of the tempest.

Oh, shit, Brian thought. He dropped his hand from where it had moved to caress Justin’s neckline. Despite the psychological bullshit he’d impressed Justin with on the island, he was not equipped to deal with this. And hell, he wasn’t going to be this kid’s counselor. No, uh uh. He had enough problems of his own. So he probably could have softened his response, but oh well. “Don’t worry there, puppy, a couple weeks in a penthouse apartment in New York, and you’ll be back to feeling your oats in no time.”

But Justin did not pick up the bantering tone. “You think… You really I’m going to do that? Go back to what I was like before? Act like none of this happened?”

As he stared down into the wide eyes gazing up at him in incredulity, Brian thought of his ongoing impression, that this was one kid who knew how to take care of himself. Master of the game, Brian thought. Now that we’re back in the real world… Well. Well, yeah, that’s exactly what he’d figured. Still, something in that expression appealed to him, made his chest tighten. Maybe he was wrong. Shit. There it was again. Hope… He had learned what happened when you allowed hope into the battle with realistic expectations. The world ends up kicking you in the ass. Still… fuck.

So he chose his next words more carefully. “No, I think it’s just… we were somewhere strange. And now we’re back in the real world. And I think you’re still feeling the effects of that strangeness. But that’ll fade. In time.”

Justin was silent for a moment. Then he said, “So you think I’m just gonna turn right back into that little dick I was on Ethan’s yacht?”

“You’ll never be a little dick.” He caught Justin’s glare, and sighed. “Oh, hell, how the hell do I know? I don’t know. What I do know, is money is important. You might not go back to being that little shit totally, but yeah, you’ll relax into the privilege all your money gives you. Why shouldn’t you? But… look, there’s nothing wrong with that. But… yeah, I think you’d go back to your comfort zone. Money is everything, power, privilege. You can’t just give all that up, it comes with the kind of privilege you have.”

“But…” Justin hesitated, then squared his shoulders, turning fully to face Brian. “The money’s not important. You are. This… this, what I am when I’m with you.”

Brian stared at him. Then his eyes darkened. “It’s not that simple, Justin.” He held up a hand as Justin started to speak. “We’re not on the island anymore. You have to be realistic. Romantic fairy tales don’t survive out here.”

“Because of the money,” Justin sighed.

“Things are different here. We’re different.”

“So you don’t think this is me? Who I am, now? Who you are to me?”

Brian grew impatient. “What, are you going to set me up in your private penthouse suite? Gonna set me up in a cushy job at one of Daddy’s companies? Could you really respect me? Shit, I wouldn’t respect myself. I’m not going to be your lapdog, Justin.”

Unfortunate choice of words. Justin choked out, “Puppy… that’s why you still call me that, to remind yourself. Not that I crawled for food at your command, but to remind yourself of who I am, what I represent. All that unearned money. All my father’s money. You can’t respect me, and you think I don’t have the character to overcome it.” He laughed, bitterly. “And you know, there’s absolutely no reason you should think so.”

Brian stared at him, not saying anything, just stared as Justin studied his face, looking for something. The younger man seemed about to say something, then his lips clamped together and he shook his head. The dismay over his face hardened into something else, some decision, but he didn’t say anything.

Brian didn’t ask. The situation was what it was. “There’s nothing to overcome,” Brian said softly. “You’re lucky you’re as fortunate as you are. But we live very different lives…”

“And I’d use my money to make you my lapdog. Or you couldn’t respect my character, which you assume will just slide back into decadence, weak as it is…”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen. That’s all I’m saying,” Brian cut him off, sensing a rant on the way.

“It was all a lie?” Justin whispered, looking back out to the ocean. “There was nothing to any of it?”

Brian turned him back toward him, pulling his body against his. “There’s this,” he ground out, before he crushed Justin’s lips under his own.

Again, the oh so familiar touch, as he arched his back into Brian’s caress once they’d reached their cabin, actually managing to separate long enough to make their way below. Those beautiful lips molded to the skin of his clavicle, moving down, the tongue playing out to catch a nipple, moving down to trace the bare trail of hair pointing a line straight to his dick, standing at attention, waiting. He doesn’t believe in me, Justin thought, watching Brian’s head lift up, nudging his cheek against Justin’s cock as he nipped and then sucked on his hip. Justin shifted, pushing toward Brian’s mouth. The answering laugh was low, rumbled against Justin’s thighs, and he felt a warmth that was more than physical flood him at the sound. Fuck, he thought. I’m in love with him, and he doesn’t have any faith in me, none at all. He felt tight all over, wound up for sexual release, wound up and needing emotional release even more. The latter wouldn’t come, not tonight, he knew, even as the first was assured as Brian’s mouth opened to swallow the head of his straining cock, moving his firm tongue down the shaft, eliciting a gasp as Justin’s thighs flexed in response, raising him slightly off the bed before settling back on the sheets to just absorb the attention. They would be at port in Marseilles sometime soon, later this week, and then… no more of this. And he’ll let me go, back to the little shit he’s sure I’m going to return to, no, is sure I never really stopped being, only took a vacation from. And there’s nothing I can do to but tell him it’s different. That I’m different. But that’s just words, anything I say. And there’s no reason to believe me. There’s no reason anyone should believe me.

“Brian…” he whispered, unable to say more, and the other man looked up at him, paused at what he saw, and gently nudged Justin onto his stomach. Justin raised himself onto his knees, gripping the pillow tight under his head, expecting to hear the sound of a condom wrapper ripping open, but instead jumped slightly at the firm touch of Brian’s tongue, his hands cupping his ass to still Justin’s initial surprised movement away.

“Sh… hold still…” and Brian’s mouth moved down to capture one of his balls, sucking on it, suckling for a moment, before turning to the other, then back up, licking upward, nipping on each cheek before moving between them. Justin’s body trembled with the effort to stay still under the physical need coursing through him, singing along his nerves to the place where Brian’s tongue touched him, probed within, lingered, pushed, prepared Justin’s body for what was to come. And then lips kissed their way up Justin’s spine, to his shoulders, “Making you wet, opening you up, ready for me…” For a moment, Brian’s body lifted from his, and now he heard the welcome tearing sound, then the hard body descending to cover his back, “Just like this, on your hands and knees, you’re ready to take me, aren’t you, Justin?”

“God… yeah…” Justin breathed back, spreading his legs wider as he felt Brian’s hard member rub against his inner thigh.

“You’re ready for me to fuck you, open to take me, my body touching every inch of your skin…” Brian’s hands lay themselves over Justin’s, entwining his fingers through the younger man’s. Brian’s face came down, burying itself in Justin’s hair, at his neck. “My dick is so full, so hard, can you feel it? god, you’re so…”

Fuck, could he feel it… Brian shifted his hips, the top of his cock moving to press itself into the opening in Justin’s body, and Justin relaxed his muscles, wanting, needing more than just the pressure from without, needed to feel the hard presence from within…

“I’m so heavy with my need to fuck you, to fill you up, to be deep inside you…” the rasping whisper in his ear as Brian pressed into him, so fucking slowly that he began to whimper in protest and push back, eliciting the beautiful sound of amusement from the man over him as Brian moved his left hand to Justin’s hip, slowing him. “Sh… slow down, puppy, we have all night, I want you to remember this, I want you to remember how fucking me feels…” And that “puppy” sounded like a caress instead of the damning reminder of who he was, who he wasn’t to this beautiful man. He cried out as Brian thrust forward, moving deep within his body. God, I love you, Justin thought, and the thought echoed so strongly through his consciousness that he froze for just a moment, sure he had spoken the words aloud, terrified he had let slip, that his admission would make only too clear how he had been penetrated by far more than the mere physical presence of his lover within him, that Brian would recoil from the raw need the words revealed. But he had not spoken aloud, thank god; Brian continued to surge into him without pause, his arms gathering Justin’s body to brace him, holding him in place, and Justin surrendered himself to the feeling, to remembering, vowing to himself before the physical sensation took over completely, that he would find a way to prove the words he could not speak, should not have to speak. He would find a way. And then the sensation began gathering deep within him, forcing all thoughts away, and he surrendered himself to this moment, this moment of being taken by the man he loved.

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