Pink Yarn Is So Gay - 1. Pink Yarn is so Gay

“Yes, Michael. No, Michael. I am listening, Michael, honestly.” Brian shifted the phone from one ear to another, shooting a quick glance at the report that had just been handed to him by a quivering subordinate. He turned his withering gaze to the unfortunate young man, never bothering to cover the phone. “What am I supposed to do with this? Wipe my ass?” He tossed the paper toward the intern, who stuttered ineffectively. “Go on, get out! And don’t come back ‘til you have something worth reading, not a minute before.”

Once the door had closed, Brian leaned back into his chair, swiveling away from his desk. “Michael, it’s not that. Why on earth would I want to attend a housewarming for those two? Seriously? I’ll get them something nice and send it, they won’t notice the difference. Trust me.”

He pressed one hand against his temple, massaging it. The ache refused to go away.

“Look, Michael, I’m tired and I’m going home, it’s been a long day—” Michael’s indignant sputters seeped through the cell phone. Brian held it away from him, rolling his eyes. He counted to ten and put it back to his ear. “No! I am n-o-t going to Babylon. And if I were, that’s m-y fucking business. Yes, that’s right. Call me later when you find out where the queens are registered.”

He slid his phone into his pocket, as he looked over the items on his desk, deciding which he wanted to work on tonight. It wasn’t that he was unsympathetic to the fact Ted and Emmett had done the ultimate couple thing and bought a house together, he just wasn’t all that interested in it. And he had work to do. A concept which so few of them actually understood.

He’d love to go to Babylon, actually, but working on his new client was a real bitch. He had to showcase the conservative mayoral candidate in a bright and interesting light or his campaign would go right down the toilet. And it would be Brian’s hide that would be nailed to the wall.

Brian picked up Thai food and returned to his loft. Ignoring the echoes of his solitary footsteps in the space which was his and his alone ever since Justin had left him for that pathetic little violinist, Ethan Gold. Oh there was no doubt that Ethan had talent, but Brian suspected that, where it counted, the young diva was sorely lacking. Well, no skin off his nose. It had been Justin’s choice. There was nothing that Brian could do about it. Nothing that he would admit to wanting to do, either.

He pored over some pictures on his laptop, thinking, pondering, and envisioning. Trying to present the homophobic fascist in an appealing light was not proving to be easy. Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, he closed his weary eyes for just a moment. Or so he thought.

When he opened them again, something felt different, but he wasn’t sure how or why. He pushed himself up from his desk, trying to wake up. Something fuzzy was brushing across his knee. It wasn’t until he reached for it that he realized he was naked, and that the something was a piece of yarn.

More than a piece, it was a length of yarn. Curious. When had he taken off his clothes? He must have been more tired than he thought. He pulled on the yarn, intending to toss it into the trash. When several inches lay in his hand, he realized it was longer than he’d thought. What the fuck?

He took a good look at the yarn in his hand, wrapping it about his fingers. It was a hideously bright shade of pink. Something only Emmett Honeycutt might wear. All right, I’ll bite. Let’s see where this little bit of yarn goes and then get rid of it. Forever.

The yarn looped over and around his monitor, and from there onto the floor. Brian followed the trail, which led toward his bedroom. Maybe the powers that be were trying to tell him to go to bed, and maybe that wasn’t the worst idea he’d heard all day. No, actually, that honor went to his miserable subordinate.

When Brian reached the bed, he saw that it was occupied. That alone wasn’t news—although entrance to the loft was limited, and occupation was by invitation only. What made this different was the man who was lying across Brian’s big platform bed—none other than Justin Taylor himself.

Brian’s first reaction was to tell him to get the fuck out. But he didn’t. Basically, because he was actually speechless for just a moment, although that was bound to be a short-lived moment.”Well, look what the cat dragged in,” he commented drolly, “remind me to shoot that pussy.”

Justin laughed, a melodic sound that went straight to Brian’s heart. He rolled onto his side, as naked as Brian was, propping his head on his hand, the other coyly placed over his cock. “You’re happy to see me, I know you are. You can’t hide it.”

Brian glanced down. Well, imagine that, he had a hard-on. “That only proves that I’m horny. You have a very high opinion of yourself, junior. Now get out of my bed and get the fuck out of my apartment.”

“You know you want me,” Justin continued, as if he hadn’t heard a word that Brian said—or was he simply not listening?

Brian still held the yarn in his hand. He hadn’t realized before but it trailed onto the bed itself, and seemed to end somewhere beneath Justin’s well-placed hand. “What’s this, a new look in bondage? I don’t think it’ll catch on, it’s too gay.” He didn’t release his end of the yarn, though. And he was still quite hard.

“C’mere,” Justin beckoned him in a breathy whisper, giving him the full benefit of his come hither eyes.

“What happened? Did your pretty little violinist throw you out already? I’m shocked. You two made such a cute couple.” Brian made no move to come closer. Without thinking, he reached for a cigarette, then realized he had no pockets, and he didn’t feel like going after them, or looking for his clothes.

“I left him,” Justin said simply, “I realized he wasn’t what I wanted or needed. That’s you, Brian, only you.” His smile vanished, a look of intense longing replacing it. “It’s you I love, only you. I made a mistake. I’m sorry.”

“I know you did, but it was your mistake to make.” Brian shrugged. “I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen to me. And now here you are. With the mistaken assumption you can step right back in where you were and continue blithely on your merry way, like nothing happened. Well, you’re very fucking wrong, you can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Justin’s lower lip trembled, his blue eyes glistened. “You want me too, I know you do. I know you love me, Brian, even if you’ve never said it. I can feel it in the things you do, it’s there. I was just too dumb to realize it before. I know it now, and I want to make amends. In any way I can.”

“Stupidity has its price,” Brian commented, “and not everything that’s broken can be fixed. Besides, what makes you think I want your dumb ass back? Or that I haven’t replaced you with a better, newer model?”

“Because you haven’t and I know it. I know that I was the best thing you ever had, and that since I’ve been gone, you’ve made a point of fucking only guys that look like me. I know that much. Deny it, if you want, it doesn’t matter. I’m here and I’m yours. Take me, Brian. Please.”

“You have a pretty fucking high opinion of yourself,” Brian scoffed. “You’re the best thing I ever had? You left me for that third-rate wanna-be Heifetz, and what did he have to offer you? Only empty words and empty promises. I was real, and I was solid. I paid for you to go to school. He gave you flowers? You can’t get an education with flowers and sweet songs, Justin. I hope you’ve learned that, that’s the only education he can offer you.”

“I have learned that,” Justin replied solemnly, his eyes firmly fixed on Brian. “I was a fool. I let him dazzle me with his siren song. Never again. I’ll never leave you, Brian. I’m yours. Come here and let me show you just what you mean to me.”

Against his better judgment, Brian found himself on all fours, crawling toward Justin like some sort of feral jungle cat. Justin moved his hand; the yard ended in a loop around his hard cock. “I want to be the end of your line,” he whispered huskily, “I want to be it for you, whatever you want or need it to be. I’m yours—come and take me.”

Brian unlooped the yarn and tossed it aside, his hand palming Justin’s hardness, squeezing it. “I don’t play games that I don’t make the rules for, just to remind you. You left, that was your choice. I see no reason to take you back, knowing that you’ll just leave again.”

“No, no,” Justin hastily assured him. “I won’t. I made a mistake and I know better now. Please, Brian.”

Brian stopped his protests with his mouth, melding their lips together in a heated kiss. Brian moaned at his touch, a sound that went straight to Brian’s cock. He increased the pressure on Justin’s erection, the younger man pushed against him eagerly. He pumped it in sure swift strokes, his other hand tightly clenched in Justin’s blond locks. Brian brought him up just to the point of release, then abruptly let go.

“Not yet,” he whispered. “Only when I say so.”

He pulled Justin into his embrace, rolling them both, keeping the bottom position for himself—for now. He looped one leg over Justin’s, arching his body so that their hardnesses made close personal contact with one another. He pushed himself into Justin’s body, hard. His hands traveled the length of Justin’s back, the fingernails leaving trails in his flesh. When Justin would touch Brian, he said simply, “No.”

Brian could feel the need in Justin; it was evident in his voice, his eyes, his body language, in the way that his cock wept pre-cum. But he didn’t care. Justin wanted forgiveness, he wanted to be taken back, to go back to the way they were. Well, everything had its price. This would be no exception to the rule, and the price would be a high one.

“Grab the headboard. Now!” Brian commanded. Justin obeyed with alacrity. Brian reached into the drawer of his bedside table and brought out a tube of lube. Opening it with one hand, he covered himself with the scented gel before tossing it back. He got upon his knees, positioning himself just behind Brian. He reached one hand around and grasped Justin’s cock again, pumping it, his own erection pressed against Justin’s tight bubble ass.

Justin leaned his head back, toward Brian. “Fuck me,” he pleaded, “fuck me hard, please, Brian.”

Brian tightened his grip. “But do you deserve me to fuck you? Why should I be lenient with you when you were far from caring what I thought when you traipsed off down Happiness Trail with that little Fuckface? Can you explain that to me?”

Rather than make a reply, Justin wiggled his ass against Brian’s cock. “Fuck me,” he repeated, provocatively, “fuck me like only you can. Ethan’s a boy, he doesn’t know how to make love. No one can fuck me like you can, Brian.”

Brian shot two fingers inside of Justin, eliciting a deep moan. He twisted the fingers, Justin moaned again. “Damn straight, sonny boy,” he commented. “Too bad you didn’t figure that out sooner.” Despite his words, he made no move to get up, and after loosening Justin, he removed his fingers and replaced it with his own aching cock.

Justin gasped as Brian filled him. “Yessssssss!” he cried out in sibilant pleasure. “Oh God, Brian, I’ve missed this and I’ve missed you—”

Brian stemmed the torrent of words with a kiss. He drove himself inside of Justin, hard. He nipped at his lower lip, his hand pumping Justin’s slick cock. He could feel the need inside of the boy, the desire to release, but he was obedient, following Brian’s orders. He writhed beneath Brian in the sweet agony of surrender, giving himself up to the lust which consumed him.

Brian suddenly tumbled them both onto the middle of the bed, Justin on bottom. He positioned the blond’s legs on his shoulders and drove himself inside of him. Hard. Harder. Hardest. He wanted to make sure that this was one lesson Justin Taylor would not forget.

“Say my name!” he commanded.

“Brian!” was the automatic response.

“Again!”

“Brian!”

“Who am I?”

“Brian!”

He forced Justin to repeat his name, over and over, timing each thrust with each utterance. Justin’s piteous moans rent the air. Brian finally gave him the permission which he sought. “Come,” he said, and Justin did—hard and fast.

Brian continued to stroke inside of him, his eyes fixed upon Justin’s, observing every nuance, every shade of his expression. And when he was ready for his own release, he came, and not a moment before.

They collapsed together upon Brian’s bed. He reached out and pushed back a lock of hair which had fallen into Justin’s face. Justin gazed at him adoringly. “I love you, Brian,” he whispered.

“I know you do.”

A self-satisfied smirk graced Brian’s face as he graciously permitted Justin into his embrace once more. “I hope you’ve learned something,” he murmured into his ear.

“I have,” Justin promised, “I really and truly have.”

“Good, get some sleep now. Some of us have to get up in the morning.” Justin rolled over, and Brian spooned up against him, arms tightly around him. “I love you, Justin,” he murmured, very softly.

Brian’s hand slipped, flopping onto his lap. Frowning, Brian raised his head, to be met with the sight of his screen saver dancing across the computer monitor. His hand was numb from where he’d fallen asleep with his head cradled on it.

The apartment was empty, save for himself. And there was no pink yarn.

And no Justin.