You know the shape my breath will take before I let it out

~ Belly

Brian woke up slowly, the sun from the hotel room windows rousing him relentlessly from his much needed rest.

Between flying from Pittsburgh to L.A., partying at some club that Justin had insisted he go to, and fucking Justin's brains out, he was pretty fucking exhausted. He could almost hear Ted's taunting voice now, throwing his own words back in his face about the poor dead people over thirty. He turned his face into the pillow and thought about Justin's ass instead.

He shifted, tried to roll onto his back, but couldn't, something was holding him in place, and he jolted awake. Terrycloth robe ties bound his hands to the head of the four poster bed, and another tied his left ankle to the footboard, his right leg was still free.

The scent of coffee and breakfast food hit his nostrils and he jerked his head up. The sun forced him to squint but he could clearly see Justin sitting at the small table by the bed, wrapped in an open robe, drinking coffee and leisurely reading the paper.

"What the fuck?" Brian sneered.

Justin folded the paper carefully and turned to him with a happy smile. "Well, look who's finally awake!"

Brian jerked at the ties binding his hands and growled, "Undo these."

Justin leaned back in the chair, lifting the front feet from the ground, and mouthed a long, silent, "Nooo."

Brian pulled even harder, but struggling only seemed to tighten the material's hold on him. "Fucking hell, Justin. I'm fucking serious. Get these the fuck off."

"Did you know that you can use the word fuck as every word in a sentence and it can make sense? Like, fuck the fucking fuckers."

"You used 'the', now fucking get these fucking--"

The bed dipped under Justin's weight and Brian snarled, snapping at Justin's hand that reached out to touch his hair. Justin snatched his hand back, and just smirked. "Down, Simba. Just relax."

"I will not relax, and you will fucking untie me, before I fucking--"

"Do what? You're a little incapacitated at the moment. I suggest you just chill out and enjoy the ride. Or--" Justin let his voice drop menacingly. "--I'll have to spank you."

Brian went completely still, his breath quieting in his chest as Justin's words sank in, then he began to pull violently, trying to get free. Justin clucked his tongue and jumped out of the way, barely escaping a kick from Brian's one loose leg.

"This isn't funny, Justin. Listen to me, you little shit, unfuckingtie me right this fucking second."

Justin calmly sat back down at the table, picking up some toast and unfolding the entertainment section of the paper.

"You can't just keep me here! You're going to have to untie me sometime--"

"Not unless you're good."

"--and then you're going to fucking pay, you little fucking brat." Brian struggled valiantly for a few minutes, but Justin wasn't even paying any attention, just eating his breakfast and reading the paper, only his open robe and his hard cock arched up against his stomach, gave away that he even had any ulterior motives beyond getting a full stomach, and finding out what the stars would be wearing to the Oscars.

Brian finally settled down, chuckling into the pillow. He was going to kill Justin for this, murder him, fuck him seven ways to Sunday, then spank his pert ass until he screamed to be fucked again, and then Justin would remember who was in fucking charge around here.

He looked up warily at the sound of the paper folding; Justin sat with his legs spread, hand gripping his cock, slowly stroking as he gazed at Brian on the bed.

"If you think you're fucking me with that thing, you can think again."

Justin eased his way over to the bed, running the tips of his fingers along the bed sheets just alongside Brian's body, but not touching his skin. "When's the last time you had a cock up your ass?"

"Six weeks ago. It was yours. I'd think you'd remember." Brian huffed, and tried to get leverage to lift up so that he could see what Justin was doing; he'd disappeared from his line of sight.

"I do remember. I thought maybe you'd forgotten since for some bizarre reason you seem to be expressing an aversion to doing it again. I seem to remember you enjoying it."

"Fuck you. You know you can fuck me whenever you want; you don't have to tie me up to get it." Brian glared over his shoulder at him. "If you think I'm going to let you get away with this little fucking power trip--"

Justin smiled and climbed on the bed, straddled Brian's thighs, fished around in his pocket, and pulled out another length of terrycloth tie. "I hope I don't get away with it. I hope you teach me a lesson. But, in the meantime, you're talking too much--"

Brian clomped his mouth shut and tried to buck Justin off, but the little fucker was too strong, gripping his back with his thighs and riding him easily. Brian used his free leg to kick Justin in the small of his back, and felt only a little guilty when the noise Justin made indicated that it had actually hurt.

Struggling to keep Justin from shoving the terrycloth into his mouth wasn't easy with three of his limbs tied to the bed, and when Justin's open palm came down on his ass with a sharp cracking noise, Brian gasped in pain. He gagged at the terrycloth shoved against his tongue.

"There. Much better," Justin panted, out of breath from their battle.

Brian's butt stung from where Justin had spanked him, bright and shocking--surprisingly hot, too, and he let his head drop back into the pillow when he realized that his cock was hard, and it had been for awhile.

Justin's hand smoothed over his back calmingly. "That's better. Just relax."

Brian snorted through the gag, trying to catch his breath, and had just started to calm down when Justin shifted. He heard the rush of air preceding and had just tensed when Justin's hand landed again, startling and intense, red needles of pain blooming from the spot. Brian was sure that he could feel the outline of Justin's fingers.

"I told you I'd spank you."

Brian grunted, and tried pulling free again, but gave in, letting his body collapse, when Justin straddled his back, leaned up to whisper in his ear, "Don't make it worse for yourself."

The soft drag of Justin's lightly furred balls over Brian's back sent a chill down his spine, and Brian shuddered when Justin purposely dragged them over his ass, too. He settled into the bed, trying to breathe, biting down on the gag, and bracing himself for the next slap. He knew that Justin wasn't done yet.

"Relax and just ride it," Justin said softly, and Brian's cock grew harder at a sudden spike of memory: Justin on his hands and knees, wrists bound, legs far apart, and moaning as Brian worked his thumb in alongside his fingers, whispering to him, "Relax. Ride it." Justin had come three times that day, but they'd never fisted again. It was too labor intensive, and too damaging to the body. Brian liked Justin tight for reason. Still, it had been--intense.

He took a deep breath and let it out, fought the urge to tense as Justin's hand whistled through the air, and the harsh rush of pain over his skin caused him to exhale hard and fast.

"That's it. Two more."

Brian looked over his shoulder, his tongue pushing at the wet gag, and Justin smiled at him. He closed his eyes and let his head drop down, sighing as Justin's fingers mapped the edge of handprints on his skin.

Brian grunted when the next blow fell, jerking a little. Justin rubbed the spot gently, murmuring under his breath, but Brian was trying to breath around the pain and didn't hear the words. The next slap was harder than the rest; the pain shot through his body, and reverberated as pleasure in his cock. Brian thrust against mattress, and rubbed his face against the pillow in an effort to offset the intensity of the sensation.

Justin stretched out on top of him, and the slow drag of his pubic hair along Brian's lower back, and the wetness of his mouth on Brian's ear were deliberate attempts to distract in case he'd pushed too far.

Of course even amidst the rush of current and impending physical pleasure, Brian was aware that he would have to take thorough revenge, or Justin would think he could get away with this kind of thing whenever he wanted, and that would shift the power so completely that Brian's pride could never survive it.

Justin pressed wet kisses along the back of his neck and shoulders; Brian relaxed under the weight of Justin's body, rolling his hips a little to get some friction on his cock. When Justin's hand eased under the knee of his free leg, and lifted it steadily up, exposing Brian's asshole, he simply turned his head more firmly into the pillows, and when Justin shifted to put on the condom, then rubbed the lubed head of his cock over Brian's hole, he lifted his hips to offer a better angle.

Justin's right hand smoothed down his side, grasped his hip. Brian took a deep breath and let it out, bearing down as Justin pushed in. His head lifted of its own accord as he struggled to accommodate Justin's cock, the stretch always hot and difficult to take at first, but Justin's hand caressed his side, easing him into it, and his head fell to the pillow again, relaxing for the strong, steady thrusts that would bring Justin flush against his ass.

Brian's jaw was slack, and he felt the beginnings of drool gathering at the edge of his mouth, but he couldn't help it with the gag, and the deeper that Justin got inside of him, the harder it was for him to do anything but feel, and that was why he didn't like to do this. The mind-numbing, all-encompassing fuck of being fucked always left him shaken and vulnerable, and even now he was afraid of how open he felt, how easily Justin could hurt him.

"Shh, shhh," Justin hushed him, gentle hands running down his side, while the sharp point of Justin's chin dug into his shoulder blade. Brian hadn't realized he'd been crooning, his head was nothing but white-noise and the television snow of sex. He sometimes wondered if it was like this for Justin, or if somehow Brian was more susceptible to being taken over in this way, and if that was why Justin was actually the stronger one, because he could take someone inside and still retain his sense of self.

But not now, no--now all he could do was shift up and back in hopes that Justin would take hold of his cock and bring him off. He shuddered with relief when Justin slid a hand around and began to jerk him at the same tempo as the fuck.

Brian chewed on the terrycloth in his mouth, trying to stay grounded, but already lost in every way. Chills rushed from his anus over the length of his body, and Justin's cock in his ass became the focus of his entire being. If he hadn't been gagged, he knew he would have been begging, and he wanted to thank Justin for having had the mercy to stop such words from coming out of his mouth.

Justin shifted back, then forward and Brian humped the mattress in ecstasy--the right angle, the best thing about being fucked up the ass, the near-blinding intensity of having his prostate stimulated. His eyes rolled back in his head, drool ran down his chin, and moans came from deep in his chest--he was so close.

"Come on, Brian. Come on," Justin whispered, his breath hot against the skin of Brian's back. "Fucking come on."

That's when the realization wormed through his fuck-induced haze that Justin's hips were stuttering, his cock was jerking in Brian's ass, and his hands were gripping the sheet on one side, and Brian's cock with the other--he was about to come.

Brian focused on the sensations coursing through his body, from his ass, from his cock, the wet breath on his back, the urgent building in his balls, and he relaxed, let go for a moment and fucking flew--

He cried out as he hit ground again, orgasm slamming into him hard, and spurting out beneath him on the bed. He choked against the gag as he struggled for breath, aftershocks wracking him as Justin rammed into his ass over and over seeking release, and when Justin froze, cock swelling inside of Brian's ass, he let out a low moan that made Brian want to come again.

Brian lay quietly, sapped of strength as Justin untied his hands and foot. When he was free, he rolled onto his back, and pulled the gag out of his mouth. He tried to glare at Justin, muttering, "You're fucking dead."

But based on the smile he got in return, it wasn't all that intimidating.

"Good," Justin replied. "I look forward to death by Brian Kinney. When can I expect it?"

"Fuck you," Brian whispered, trying to cover up the huskiness of his voice, rough from crying out.

"Yes, when exactly can I expect that?"

Brian pushed his way up, ignoring the pain in his ass, and landed a smack on Justin's ass.

"Oh, that's good, too," Justin laughed, dodging Brian's attempt to grab him and wrestle him to the bed. "But, I'm going to shower first."

Brian fell back, reached for his cigarettes and watched Justin's ass waltz across the hotel room to the bathroom. As he lit up, he worked on getting his mind back, then scratched his chin as he imagined just how red Justin's pale little ass was going to be by the time they left to go clubbing that night.


THE END