That Ragged Old Flag – Dark Blue & Grey

Stretching out in bed like a cat waking from slumber, Justin feels something in his shoulder pop. He groans, massaging the joint, thinking he might be getting old after all. Oh Brian would love this.

He glances to the other side of the bed to find it empty. Which is odd. Sure, they don't necessarily come and go together. With Brian's businesses both being located in Pittsburgh, he tends to stay in the city. And when they meet for clubbing or dinner or a movie (yeah, these things happen now), they still come and go in separate cars. So not arriving at the same time isn't surprising. Waking up alone, however, is.

Turning the other way, Justin fishes for his cell. He has an unread message.

Don't wait up. B

He has to smile at his husband's monosyllabic correspondence. It's typical and endearing at the same time, and Brian would kill him if he knew he was using his name and the word 'endearing' in the same line of thought.

Justin gets out of bed, pulls a t-shirt over his head, and after taking a leak, he goes downstairs to the kitchen. Sometimes walking around this house still amazes him. They've been living here for two years and it's become a home by now, but every now and then, he feels as lost in the... why lie about it... vast halls of the country manor as he did when Brian brought him here for the first time.

They've joked about how they could both be home for weeks on end without ever running across each other. But then Brian had made the excellent point that his dick would serve him as a divining rod and he'd find Justin anywhere. So far, he's been true to his word.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Justin gives a start as he walks into the kitchen and almost runs into his husband.

"Good morning, Sunshine," Brian greets him scarily cheery and presses a quick kiss to his mouth. He tastes of coffee and cigarettes.

"You didn't come home last night." Justin almost cringes at his own words. He hadn't intended to sound like a housewife.

"Don't get your anal beads in a twist. You didn't miss anything."

"Are you sure about that?" Justin asks, spotting the note of discontent in Brian's voice. Was Brian mad that Justin made him suck his dick in his own backroom? "Last time I saw you, I thought you were going after the next trick."

Brian sighs dramatically. He can turn on the queen if need be. "Well, not that I wasn't tempted after your little stunt..."

"You're not pissed about that, are you?" Justin snorts indelicately. He should have known. Even after knowing Brian for eight years and being married to him for almost two, Brian being so territorial still surprises him sometimes. "You gave me that book, you wanted me look up that handkerchief code. It was just a game. And don't tell me you didn't enjoy it, too." And yeah, even after all this time, sometimes Justin can't help sounding like a seventeen year old. Some things will probably never change.

"Will you let me finish, you twat?" Brian glowers at him. "Not everything is about you." As something close to a peace offering, he leans down to kiss Justin, longer this time.

Then he pulls away from him and walks over to the coffee machine. He pushes a button, and the high end thing rattles and puffs and dispenses something that looks like oil but is Brian's "I've had a rough night"-espresso.

"Then what?" Justin leans against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms over his chest. This is not how he wanted his Saturday morning to start.

After downing the death-awakening liquid, Brian pinches the bridge of his nose, obviously fighting a headache. "First," he holds up a finger, "some troll tried to rouse up security out front, thinking he absolutely needed to get into Babylon. And then," he holds up another finger, "some tweaked out twink passed out in one of the stalls and we had to call the EMTs. And to top it off," a third finger, "the cops came by to question me about the incident. So you see, I've had bigger problems than your dick in my mouth."

This is so typically Brian Justin shouldn't even be surprised. "You could have told me. I would have stayed."

"Yeah, you could have," Brian snaps back at him but there is a little glint in his eyes that betrays his foul mood.

"Well...," Justin drawls, sauntering over to his husband. He knows what this is and where it will lead. "What do you say... you go and take a shower while I make us some breakfast?"

"I already ate at the diner."

Okay, so Brian is playing hard, pun almost intended.

Justin stands in front of him now, his hands on either side of Brian's hips, pinning him to the counter. He's close enough to push his knee up between Brian's legs, inching upward. "Then how about you get that shower going, I grab a bite to eat, and then I'll join you." He leans in closer. "You know I don't fuck on an empty stomach."

"What makes you think I want to fuck?" Brian shoots back.

Justin's brows go up in curiosity. He doesn't say anything, just leans into Brian and takes a deep breath along his neck. A slow smile spreads on his lips. "You didn't fuck last night."

Brian shrugs, nonchalant from head to toe. "Why would I take our little... feud out on some innocent ass?"

Justin breaks into a full fledged grin. "What are you going to do? I don't think the code has a color for 'childish revenge for a blowjob'."

Brian sighs his patented 'I'm dealing with a five year old'-sigh, running a hand through Justin's sleep-tousled hair. "Sweet little Justin. So well-fucked and still so innocent. There are not one but two colors." He reaches for Justin's hand and sticks it down the left back pocket of his pants.

Justin produces two neatly folded bandanas. One is dark blue, the other a light grey.

"So you do want to fuck me," Justin concludes at the sight of the blue bandana.

A sly smile spreads on Brian's face. "Actually, what I'd really like for breakfast is the two for one special." He plucks the blue cloth from Justin's hand. "Turn around," he instructs and when Justin doesn't comply, he grabs him by the shoulders and makes him face away.

Then he uses the bandana as a blindfold, tying it tightly around Justin's head.

"What are you doing?" Justin asks, stretching out his hands, ready to maneuver around the kitchen unseeing. While he hates being blinded, Brian's close presence behind him and the prospect of what he might do to him excite Justin. He already feels the blood rushing south, his dick forming a nice little tent in his boxers.

Brian's hands slide underneath Justin's t-shirt, fingertips ghosting along his sides to his stomach before he pulls Justin flush against his chest.

The breath hitches in Justin's throat, but he can't help but smile in anticipation. "Brian..."

"I'm taking my," Justin feels Brian grin against his ear, "what did you call it? Childish revenge."

Slowly Brian pushes Justin's shirt up and then deftly knots it into a make-shift harness between Justin's shoulder blades. Justin knows what this means for him--that while he may not be restrained yet Brian intends to control his every move. Brian pinches his left nipple, the one that used to be pierced. It's still a little more sensitive than the other. Maybe he should put the ring in again.

He doesn't have time to contemplate possible body jewelry when Brian pushes him forward. Brian never lets go of him as he guides him through the kitchen until they bump into what has to be the kitchen table.

"Bend over," Brian instructs and the tone of his voice makes Justin's dick twitch. "Hands behind your back."

Justin does as he is told. They don't usually do it like this, but he definitely likes when Brian gets commanding.

When Brian ties his hands behind his back, he remembers what the grey bandana was for. The impromptu shackle isn't tight enough to keep Justin restrained, but Justin has no desire to get out of it. On the contrary, he is curious as to what Brian is going to do with him. And, he wonders how long it took Brian to plan his revenge. He certainly had enough time last night.

Brian's hand ghosts over his back, and it sends chills down his spine. He arches into the touch, lifts his hips off the table, which elicits a chuckle from Brian. Justin pushes down again and feels Brian's finger hook into the waistband of his boxers.

Slower than he needs to, Brian tugs the garment off Justin's ass, exposing his milky-white bubble butt. He gives it a light smack for good measure, drawing a little moan from Justin's lips.

"You like that?" Brian asks and Justin can hear the grin in his voice.

"Hm-mh." Justin tries to find a comfortable position, shifting on the table that's only rarely used for breakfast.

"Tell me."

It's Justin's turn to grin. "I love it." He draws out that pesky l-word because he knows how much it annoys Brian. And he figures that annoying Brian might turn into something good for a change right now.

"And you loved how I sucked your cock last night." It's not a question this time. "How people were watching us. How you had me on my knees."

"Are you going to make me pay?" Justin feels cheeky. And horny. And he likes how his dick is trapped between his body and the sturdy wood.

"Mmmm," Brian muses, running a finger down Justin's spine and further along his crack, weaseling his way in between those outrageously perfect cheeks.

Justin gasps when he feels Brian's fingertip push against his hole, teasing it. On his own accord, he spreads his legs and lifts his ass, pushing against the welcome intruder.

"Oh, so this is how you'd like to pay me back?" Brian withdraws his hand and Justin feels him lean in close, feels the heat of his body against his back. His husband's voice is so very low against his ear and it hits all the right places inside him. "Payment accepted."

And then he's gone.

Justin cranes his head, trying to push himself up, but he is pushed down again. "Stay where you are," Brian orders and Justin does. "Spread your ass if you can."

As much as his position allows it, Justin digs his fingers into his cheeks, pulling them apart. He spreads his legs further, now laying flat on his stomach.

"Good boy," Brian says, his tone amused.

Justin hears a drawer being pulled open, some rummaging, and then it slides back shut. Oh he knows what the drawer contains. They have a drawer like that in every room of the house. They call it their "convenience drawer".

The lid of a tube pops open and Justin feels the chilling drizzle of lube down his crack. He sucks in a breath at the sensation and the sound turns into a moan when Brian runs his fingers over his opening.

He takes his time preparing Justin, makes sure he spreads the lube all around his hole before pushing a finger in.

Justin loves that first moment when his body gives way to a probing finger, a curious tongue, or a lubed up toy. He closes his eyes against the sensation, enjoying how Brian's finger feels sliding in. At the second finger, sweat starts beading on his forehead.

Brian starts a slow rhythm, steadily pumping his fingers in and out. He spreads them slightly, stretching Justin's opening, preparing him for more. Then he curls his fingers downward, tapping Justin's prostate ever so slightly.

"Fuck," Justin's exclaims with a moan.

"About to," Brian counters, continuing his ministrations for what seems like ages.

"Please."

Again, Brian leans in close. "What did you say?"

"I said, fuck me," Justin presses through gritted teeth, grinding back on Brian's fingers.

"Bossy little shit, aren't you?" Another smack on his ass.

"You love it," Justin shoots over his shoulder, grinning as cockily as he can.

He knows it's punishment when Brian pulls his fingers out, wiping the excess lube on his butt cheek.

The tearing of the condom package makes Justin's toes curl with excitement. Even more so when he feels the tip of Brian's cock press against his hole.

His husband doesn't move, and it takes Justin a second to take the hint. Going on tiptoes, he presses back against Brian's dick, letting it slide in as much as his position allows.

Brian takes over, pushing forward until he's buried all the way inside Justin, trapping him against the table. Brian's hands close on Justin's butt cheeks, over his husband's hands, making absolutely sure Justin doesn't move them.

Then Brian pulls back, leaving only the head inside, only to push back in almost forcefully.

Justin lets out a yelp, skidding a little across the table. Brian pulls him back, meeting the thrust halfway, and sets a steady, hard rhythm.

Justin knows that his husband won't last long. If he really hadn't picked up a trick last night—and he believes that he hadn't—Brian will be even hornier than Justin himself, to the point where Justin might not even get to finish before Brian does. But, honestly, he doesn't care all that much if Brian comes right now. The day is still young...

One of Brian's hands grips his shirt again, hoisting him up as his pace quickens. With the other, he holds Justin's hips in place as he takes him with little mercy.

Justin gasps loudly when Brian's cock slips from his ass.

Brian lets go of his hips, obviously to push back in, but instead, his he slides his dick along Justin's crack for a few long strokes, tapping against his hole. When he pushes back in, Justin all but screams.

With a few deep and unapologetic thrusts, Brian drives himself to his orgasm. It feels too good for Justin to care that he'll have to get his release another way. For good measure, he clenches around Brian and takes satisfaction in Brian's low, animalistic growl as he comes inside him.

One last time, Brian pushes into him to the hilt, and Justin can feel his husband's body quiver against him. Justin doesn't need to see to picture his tightly shut eyes, his face almost a grimace, sweat beading at the base of his throat.

Suddenly his arms come free as Brian loosens the knot on the bandana. Slowly, with Brian still inside him, Justin pushes himself up on his hands. Brian helps him, pulls him against his chest by his shirt. He tilts Justin's head back to give him a sloppy kiss on the mouth.

Then Brian steps away from him, pulling out, leaving Justin empty, gasping, and needy. He also takes the blindfold with him.

With an exhausted groan, Justin leans on the table, supporting his weigh on his hands. The tip of his cock glistens with precum. He turns to Brian with a semi-annoyed glare.

His husband returns his gaze unperturbed like he hasn't just fucked him over the kitchen-table. Wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, he turns toward the hall.

"I'll be taking my protein-shake in the shower."