Author’s Note: This story takes place during episode 411. Brian’s remark about Justin withholding sex was a surprise to me and I couldn’t figure out where it came from. Then I decided that something unusual must have happened to cause him to say it. This is my version of the back story. I know that ‘my’ Brian is much more romantic than what we see on the show and I don’t care; in my stories, it’s my prerogative to make him as ‘mushy’ as I please.
PS: I wrote most of this story while sitting outside the box office of the Gershwin Theater, waiting to see Randy, for the third time, in Wicked.
The Value of a $2000 Barcelona Chair
by Cathy
It was late when I got home from work. At the last minute, I
decided to stop by Jeffrey Pendergrass’ hotel. Since I first saw him last night
at
It only took me ten minutes of googling to find out about
Pendergrass and
I was actually doing him a favor by going to him directly, rather than exposing him to the tightass homos at the Center. Not that they’d believe me about anything more important than the cost of a newspaper. As far as they were concerned, Pendergrass was golden and nothing I told them would change their minds.
After five minutes alone in the room with him, I knew he wouldn’t crack, so I left. All I wanted to do was go home, take a long shower and crawl into bed with Justin. Correction: on top of Justin. Or he could be on top. I wasn’t choosy, as long as sex was involved. Since I’d regained my ability to ‘perform’, I couldn’t get enough. Okay, that wasn’t unusual. What *was* unusual was the fact that I only wanted to fuck Justin. And suck him and have him suck me… I had the occasional urge to go out in search of anonymous sex, but it wasn't as much fun as it used to be. Was I growing old or simply growing up? Who needed the thrill of the hunt when the hottest and most satisfying sex I'd ever had was as close as the other side of the bed?
As I leaned back against the wall of the elevator on the ascent to the top floor, I could feel myself getting hard. I wasn't aware that I was thinking about Justin, but this wasn't the first time I'd gotten turned on at the thought of imminent sex with him. Maybe I was thinking about our last time, the night before. He had Thai delivered just before I got home from work and was spooning it out of cartons as I walked in. We ate off each other's plates and tumbled together onto the pillows before the last bites were swallowed.
I was willing to stay there on the floor for the rest of the night, but Justin made us get up and take a shower. He'd promised to help out at the kickoff party for the Liberty Bike Ride and I was expected there as well.
I hardly saw him at the party; he was running around signing up riders for the race. I had to amuse myself by watching him work his magic over and over again. His first hello was polite. Almost shy. The guy responded favorably, of course. That's when the smile appeared in all its glory. The young man moved closer, surreptitiously, as they chatted. By this time, the unsuspecting prey was lost. He didn't know it yet, but it was over. Whatever was asked of him was the very least he could do for the hospice. Ted told me later some guy had donated a thousand dollars just because Justin showed him his dick.
I assumed he'd go back to the loft with me afterwards, but he declined. He said he had to go home and finish a big project for class. I pointed out that it was after one in the morning and that he'd be better off if he went to bed - my bed - as soon as possible. Kissing me softly, he said he'd see me later.
*&*&*&*&*
It's quiet in the loft as I open my door and go inside. Justin is lying on the floor in the living room, sketching. I can see the broad outlines of Rage and JT. He must be working on the first story board for the next issue. I take off my coat and unbutton my shirt on the way to the fridge to get a beer, walking past him as I go to the bedroom to change.
Justin hardly looks up; that means he’s deep in thought. I don’t want to fuck up his creative process; I want to fuck him. I undress quickly, silently, and head for the bathroom. I’d never known him to be able to resist sex in the shower. Stepping under the hot spray, I listen for his footsteps.
Two minutes later, I give up on him and grab the soap. If I’m not going to get sex, I might as well get clean.
Back in the bedroom, I wrap the towel low around my waist and pick up my half empty beer. I decide to take another shot at the inscrutable one in the living room. Walking through, I sit down on the Barcelona chair, throw my head back and drape my forearm over my face so I can watch him without his knowledge. My legs are splayed open; he’s sitting about a foot away from me.
Justin’s concentration is complete. I’ve seen that look on his face a thousand times, during our lovemaking. Whether he’s underneath me or on top, riding me, his eyes are narrowed, a half-smile playing on that perfect mouth as he struggles to maintain his self-control for as long as he can.
I’m thinking about sex again. Sex with Justin, and it’s making me hard. Again. Reaching under the towel with my free hand, I stroke myself once. I could almost come from just thinking about him. A low moan shatters the silence. I freeze and Justin looks up at me in surprise, a cheeky grin on his face. ‘Why don’t you go ahead and say it?’
Moving my arm, I look down at him in feigned nonchalance. ‘Say what?’
‘That you want to fuck me.’ He lays his work aside and moves slowly toward me. The first touch I feel is of his mouth on my bare stomach. Gasping involuntarily, I feel, rather than hear, his soft laugh. I want to pull him down and take him immediately without condom, lube or thought.
Justin is having none of it, though. He’s already telegraphed his desire to take charge and to take his time. I could easily overpower him, throw him on the floor and fuck him until we both pass out.
But I don’t. Justin has a definite objective in mind and I can’t wait to see, and feel, what it is. I decide to sit back and enjoy it.
After all this time, my partner knows just what to do. He trails a line of kisses up my torso. He sucks gently on my neck as I feel his hands pull the towel away. My cock hardens again; I close my eyes and impatiently await the wet heat of Justin’s mouth.
To my surprise and disappointment, he doesn’t start sucking me. When I open my eyes, I see his face just above mine; he’s smiling down at me. I try to push his head down to my crotch but he resists. ‘You know,’ he says, casually, ‘this is a really nice chair.’ I look up at him in disbelief. ‘Didn’t you pay, like, two thousand dollars for it?’ I don’t answer him; I’ve lost the ability to speak.
Totally nonplussed, Justin nibbles my earlobe and then whispers softly, ‘I know where it would look fabulous…’ He pulls back, smiling. ‘In the living room of the Liberty Hospice.’
‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ Not only have I found my voice, I’m raising it.
Justin jumps back, as if he’d been slapped. ‘I was just thinking that *I* know how kind and generous you are…’ He’s resorting to flattery and I’m still listening. ‘Wouldn’t it be great if you demonstrated your generosity by making a substantial donation to the hospice?’
He wants money. No problem. ‘Okay. I’ll write them a check. Tomorrow.’ Once again, I try to push his head down to my erection. What’s left of it.
Once again, he avoids following through on my unspoken request. ‘A check is so impersonal. I think you should give them a *real* gift.’ He sits down on the floor and looks up at me.
That’s when I finally figure out what’s going on. And I laugh. ‘This is blackmail, you know.’
He’s smiling again. ‘I prefer to think of it as a very effective form of persuasion.’
I still can’t believe what’s happening. ‘Do you expect me to exchange a two thousand dollar chair for a blowjob?’
‘Not just a blowjob,’ he replies. Moving forward again, he runs his tongue down my stomach. The journey stops just north of my dick. ‘Anything you want…’ He pauses again. ‘For the next week…’
This time, I’m too quick for him. ‘I already get anything I want. How can you improve on that?’
He sits down again. ‘You only *think* you get anything.’ He looks smug. ‘I can do really *special* things; things that will curl your hair… That you’ll never forget as long as you--’
‘All right,’ I stop him. I’ve heard enough. I sit for several seconds more, gazing at him: his taut little body, the short-cropped hair. His smug look has changed into one of bemused confidence. I like to think some of that confidence came from me and that makes me proud. If he never did anything ‘special’ for me for the rest of his life, I’d still consider myself the luckiest bastard who ever lived.
What he’s asking isn’t much, I decide. I never liked the damn chair anyway. Standing up, I walk to the bedroom to dress and use the phone. I return five minutes later to find Justin sitting in the same place, looking confused. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Where are we going?’ He remains on the floor.
‘Are you going to make me drag it downstairs by myself?’ I don’t explain further and he still doesn’t move.
‘What?’ He’s standing slowly.
‘The chair.’ I try to look defeated. ‘You win, Justin.’
‘I do?’ He’s still confused. ‘What did I win?’
‘Cynthia and her brother will be here in fifteen minutes.’ I start walking toward the object of our discussion. Justin stands by, still watching. ‘Do you think it’ll fit into the elevator?’ He’s still looking at me and not moving. ‘Put your shoes on, Sunshine,’ I kid. ‘Let’s go.’
I wait for him to join me before I try to pick up the chair. I could pick it up by myself, but I’m not going to let Justin get out of helping. After all, it was his idea.
We’re almost to the door when he finally speaks. ‘You didn’t have to do this tonight,’ he says, quietly. ‘We could have waited--’
‘Until tomorrow?’ I interrupt. ‘Why should we?’ I open the door and we inch out into the hallway. ‘I don’t know how the hospice has survived this long without a designer chair.’ He looks sufficiently contrite. ‘Besides,’ I continue, ‘the sooner we get back, the sooner we get to begin our week of nonstop sexual adventure.’ He doesn’t look up, but I can see the grin on his face. He knows I’m kidding him.
Cynthia’s brother’s truck is open in the back. I’m afraid the chair will tip over so I crawl into the bed and sit beside it. Justin scrambles in beside me. It’s dark, thank God, and we don’t see anyone we know during the short trip.
Until we get to the hospice. There are a couple of guys I recognize from the diner. They’re coming down the steps as we’re pulling the chair out of the truck. I want to pretend we don’t see them so they can laugh as they walk away. Justin has other ideas. ‘Hi, John. Matt. Look what Brian is donating to the hospice.’
The two guys come closer, examining the gift. ‘That’s a great chair, Justin.’ One of them speaks.
‘Yeah,’ the other one agrees. Neither of them has anything else to say, so they continue walking down the street. Justin and I keep walking.
‘Hey, Gene.’ Once we’re inside, Justin catches the attention of the hospice administrator. ‘I got Brian to donate his two thousand dollar Barcelona chair.’
‘Withholding sex has worked for centuries,’ I say, quickly. Gene looks surprised by what we’re carrying. Or maybe it was what I said.
We were back outside a few minutes later. I’d told Cynthia that she and her brother could leave; that Justin and I would walk home. ‘Do you want to stop by Woody’s for a drink?’
‘Huh?’ He seemed deep in thought. ‘Yeah. Okay.’
At Woody’s, Justin found a table while I bought the beers. When I sat down, he wasn’t looking at me. I thought I knew what he was thinking about, but I decided to let him tell me when he was ready.
It only took a few minutes. ‘What do you think they’ll do?’ he asked.
‘Who?’ I wanted to be sure of who he was talking about.
‘The hospice. How will they get the money, if Pendergrass is gone?’ He looked so sad. That’s my Sunshine - he still takes all the hurt and injustice in the world seriously.
‘There are some good people at the Center, like Ben and Melanie. They’ll figure out something.’ I didn’t want to discount his concerns, but I didn’t have any answers for him either. ‘Besides,’ I leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the mouth. ‘You need to start thinking about what you’re going to do to me when we get home.’
The smile reappeared on his face. ‘Don’t worry - I’ll have you begging for mercy by midnight.’
‘Me?’ I laughed. ‘Beg? You obviously have me confused with one of your other conquests.’
‘No,’ he shook his head. ‘There’s no confusion.’
Suddenly, I didn’t want to be where I was any more. I wanted to be alone with Justin. Inside him. I swallowed the remainder of my beer and stood up. ‘Come on.’ I started walking away. Without looking around, I knew he was following me.
*&*&*&*&*
Several hours later, Justin and I lay together in bed. I hoped he was as exhausted as I was, but I didn’t think he was. Our first time had been frantic and rough, like it often was. Our second time was slower and much more tender. I took a nap before our third time; Justin woke me up by swallowing my dick and sucking softly. I was hard again before I was completely awake.
I can feel myself drifting off again. Justin moves close, laying his head against my neck and throwing an arm across my chest. I place a soft kiss on his head. ‘That was a wonderful thing you did, with the chair.’
‘Even if it wasn’t totally my idea?’
‘It wasn’t your idea at all.’ We laughed. ‘Are you mad at me for suggesting it?’
‘No.’ I was telling the truth. ‘Besides, I can always go back down there tomorrow and buy it back.’
Justin’s head popped up and he looked down at me. ‘What makes you think they’ll sell it to you?’
‘If I tell them how much the chair means to me…’ I paused for a few seconds, for effect, ‘and I write them a check for ten thousand dollars, I think I’ll be able to persuade them.’
Without saying anything else, Justin lay his head back down. He kissed my chest as I wrapped my arms around him and closed my eyes.
~ the end ~