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BITING THE BIG ONE
Justin walks into the loft and drops his art bag
on the new chocolate leather couch. Since Brian has gone back to work, the loft
is looking more like the usual bachelor pad, and less like an empty warehouse.
Justin shuffles over to the fridge to grab a bottled water. He notices that
Brian seems worried or distracted about something. Brian has his hand on his hip
and he's pacing the length of the hardwood floor with naked feet, and every now
and again he places his hand on his mouth, then back at his side.
"What's wrong?" Justin asks, as he takes a gulp of water and then sits down on a
bar stool at the kitchen island.
Brian turns, in a serious manner and takes a deep breath. Justin becomes
worried. "I hate your hair. Or the serious lack of it."
Justin sits up straight, and self-consciously runs his fingers through the
prickly stubble of his new buzz-like hair cut. "What's wrong with it?"
"You look like a Platoon reject," Brian states, pointedly. "And you *know* how I
feel about Charlie Sheen."
Justin bristles, and the hair on his head stands up like a porcupine. "Bitch,
don't even compare me to that talentless, Part Duex, Brat Club reject."
"It's the Brat Pack."
"Whatever. That was *way* before my time," Justin says grinning, wickedly. Brian
bristles, but the only hair that stands up are on his arms, because he has
enough sense not to get an ugly fuckin' haircut.
Justin notices Brian studying the roundness his head. He can tell that the man
is contemplating something. His eyes, squint up, and he bits his lip, then turns
away and tromps up the stairs of the bedroom. Panicked, Justin follows after
him.
"What?" Justin asks, trying not to let the anxious edge in his voice, come
through.
Brian falls into the bed, very dramatically, and then wraps himself around a
pillow. "I can't fuck you," he says, nonchalantly.
Justin climbs up on the bed and lays down next to Brian. Brian turns his head,
so he doesn't have to look at his now, ugly...er...friend. "Look at me."
"I can't," Brian says. "You're ugly, and I don't fuck ugly guys."
Justin frowns, and tries to pull Brian on his back, but he clutches to his
pillow, tightly, keeping his eyes shut. Justin decides he must prove to Brian
that he's still his little fuck machine. "I can still give you an amazing blow
job, Brian. Turn over and let me show you."
"No," Brian pouts.
"Please," Justin pleads, and reaches over to fondle Brian's package through his
jeans. "You can keep your eyes closed."
Brian's dick becomes hard, but he still wavers. He's never actually fucked an
ugly guy before, but this *was* Justin, and he did give the hottest blow jobs.
Maybe he could do it, just this once. "Okay, but I'm not opening my eyes."
"Fine," Justin's says and pulls Brian on his back.
Brian enjoys Justin's blow job. His neck is arched a little so that even if he
does accidentally open his eyes, the only thing he'll be able to see is the wall
and the top of the headboard. His hands are balling the sheets, and as Justin's
strokes on Brian's cock become shorter and faster, he loses himself in the
moment. Without thinking, he reaches over to slide his hands through Justin's
pretty mop of blond hair, but realizes too late that his head now feels like a
stubbly armpit. Brian panics and in one quick jerk pushes Justin away, but
Justin still has a steely grip on Brian's cock, and he accidentally bites down
on the head as his mouth is being ripped away. Brian yelps in pain and covers
his dick with his hands.
"What the fuck, Brian? Why did you push me off?"
"You bit my dick!" Brian growls. He pulls his jeans up and stumbles out of the
bed, being careful not to look in Justin's direction.
Justin crumbles, and starts to whine much like Michael does when he's not
getting his way. "Look at me. I'm still your unconventional boyfriend."
"Not anymore." Brian keeps his back to Justin and searches his closet for
something fabulous to wear. He'll need to go to Babylon tonight and get himself
a new twink: someone prettier, with less teeth.
Justin stands up, frustrated. "You're being ridiculous. It will grow back."
"When?" Brian asks.
"In a couple of months."
Brian has an idea. He walks over to his computer desk, and searches through his
filofax.
Justin waits a beat, and then walks out of the bedroom to see what Brian is up
to. "What are you doing?"
"Looking for a phone number."
"Who?"
"When you left me for that noise maker, I fucked his really hot blond trick.
From the back he looked just like you. I'll hire him to fuck me for the next two
or three months, and then when you have hair again, you can come back. Until
then, pack your shit up and get out. I don't know if I can take anymore of your
ugliness today. I have a weak stomach."
Brian found the number and grabbed the phone. Justin slumped his shoulder,
"C'mon, Brian, don't be like this," he pleaded.
"I don't have any other choice," Brian said, making sure to keep his eyes
averted, and started to dial the phone number.
"I'll do anything, Brian. Don't do this."
"Anything?" Brian asks, as he hangs up the phone.
"Anything," Justin says with determination.
Brian walks back into the bedroom. Justin taps his toes and waits.
When Brian comes back, he has two articles, one in each hand. He holds them out
to Justin. "You have a choice, Justin. The wig, or the paper bag."
Justin scoffs, "That's Emmett's Jackie Kennedy wig. You don't expect me to
actually wear that."
"So, then it's the paper bag."
Justin reluctantly grabs the paper bag and trudges into the bedroom. "C'mon
let's go."
