A/N: Unbetaed. I'll fix mistakes that any nice people point out for me :)
“You know, at some point you’re going to poison yourself with that,” said Justin, eyeing the bottle of Jim Beam dangling from Brian’s fingers. He closed the loft door behind him.
“Ah, the return of my personal public service announcement,” said Brian. He cocked his head at Justin and then took a drink.
“Your liver thanks me, even if you don’t,” said Justin. Brian ignored that.
“You came over just in time,” he said, instead. “It’s been at least twenty-four hours since my last orgasm.”
“Why? What happened to the trick that looked like a monkey from last night?”
“I do not fuck tricks that look like monkeys,” said Brian. “And I kicked him out because he obviously missed the memo about who tops.”
“My heart bleeds for you,” said Justin, indulgently. He threw off his bag, walked over, stood on tiptoe, and kissed Brian. Thoroughly. At some point--Brian wasn’t sure when--Justin managed to divest him of the bottle and feel him up at the same time. Brian couldn’t help but admire that sort of talent.
Justin shoved off his own coat and shoved down Brian’s pants, with his mouth still doing distracting things to Brian’s mouth. By the time Brian could formulate a fitting response, Justin was on his knees with Brian’s cock in his mouth.
This was why it was really hard to get angry at Justin. In fact, everything was hard when Justin was around.
He reached down and threaded his fingers through Justin’s hair, liking the feel of the curve of Justin’s skull under his hand, and the back and forth motion that sent waves of heat up through his dick, and impressions of softness and solidity up through his hand. Justin had a really clever tongue that did complex, swirly things all over his cock in ways that made his brain blink in and out of coherent thought.
His brain, he found, was way behind his body. He threw his head back, open-mouthed, and involuntarily thrust forward. His pulse stuttered, his hips jerked, and he forgot to breath, waiting, waiting, building and there. He came: mind-blowingly, brain-shatteringly hard. His limbs felt a little like jelly. Justin gave his dick a last friendly little lick, causing him to twitch, and pulled away.
“What was my name again?” Brian asked. Justin grinned, smugly, as he rose to his feet and brushed his lips across Brian's. Brian collapsed backward onto the futon cushions to recover. He heard Justin’s feet wander away, but didn’t bother to open his eyes.
“I came over to find my sketch book with the blue cover. I think I left it here. I hope I left it here.”
“It’s on the nightstand,” Brian said, lazily. The footsteps traveled up the stairs into the bedroom and there was a triumphant sound. Then they meandered around the room for a while until Brian finally opened his eyes to see what the hell Justin was doing. By then Justin was barefoot and looked as if he was staying awhile, which suited Brian since he’d been thinking about a shower, and fucking Justin in the shower was one of the finer things in life.
Unfortunately, as soon as he thought about finer things, he remembered that all of his favorite and most carefully chosen possessions were gone, and this inevitably led back to how fucked he was, and how nice a drink would be.
“Where did you hide the Beam?” he asked.
“Why would I tell you now, after I went to so much effort to get it away from you?”
“Because I’m jobless, possessionless, and soon to be houseless. I’d rather be numb than think about how fucking far in debt I am.”
“Self-pity isn’t like you.”
“Who said anything about pity?” Brian couldn’t keep the annoyance from his voice. “I just want a drink.”
“Too bad. I don’t want you trashed. I have other plans.” Justin set his sketchpad down on the kitchen island, walked back over to where Brian lay, and collapsed next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “I haven’t been fucked in forty-eight hours.”
Brian raised his head to look over at him in disbelief. “Why the hell not?”
“School work,” said Justin. He barely got the words out before Brian rolled on top of him. Brian went boneless and deliberately heavy as he pinned Justin’s wrists to his sides, crushed him into the cushion, and smiled a slightly feral smile. Justin gave one back.
Brian allowed himself to be diverted.