Email address: pplesko@hotmail.com
Series/Sequel: none, although it seems to follow "The Look on His Face" as part of the post-Season3 hiatus.
Pairings: Brian, Justin, & OMC
Category: Angst, Drama
Rating: NC-17
Date: December 21, 2003
Summary: Once again, Justin plays the role of "hero's sidekick" and supports Brian when he's down. Brian copes with adversity in his usual way...
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Author's Note: The title refers to the popular misconception (based upon a Biblical mistranslation) that Lucifer was a favored angel who was cast out of Heaven. Brian fits the true meaning of the name... the gifted, successful prince brought-down through no fault of his own.
of
the Dawn
by Paul Plesko
"How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! How art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations!" Isaiah 14:12
Click HERE for the story of Lucifer...
"You're lucky they didn't carry you all the way to the river," I said finally breaking my silence and putting the magazine down.
"Well, I couldn't be any wetter," he said, shaking the wet shirt in my direction. He climbed the steps to the bedroom and paused to remove his Levis. Had he turned intentionally to show me his slim ass through the clinging, gray, baggy briefs? He pulled them down quickly and strode to the closet to retrieve a dry, equally-gray pair. The boy still wore the underwear his mother had picked-out.
I rose and followed him into the bedroom. As he turned toward me, I took his hand and pulled him toward the bed. I sat, and drew him down beside me. "Let me warm you up," I said, pulling back the duvet. He smiled knowingly and walked around the bed to enter it from the other side. By the time I had removed my jeans, he was snuggling deep into the bed's warmth. I slipped in beside him and pulled him close. With my first touch, he shivered. Was it the wet chill, or was it my touch, like that first night?
...............................
"I'm sorry," he said. "I can't stop shaking."
I had rolled his knees toward his chest after the initial, slow penetration and I had begun the slow, but powerful, thrusts to show him how it felt to be ass-fucked. After the initial tenseness and the deflation of his erection, he had begun to rock with the rhythm... and his cock had engorged, too.
"That's okay," I said. "It happens to a lot of guys. The deep stimulation causes a reflex..."
"My thighs are shaking so much, I can't control 'em," he continued, reaching for my shoulders for support. "I never knew it could feel this way. There's something that happens inside that... that just drives me crazy." He tossed his blonde forelock from side to side. I smiled unintentionally, remembering that feeling of lack-of-control. His inner thighs fluttered against my obliques as he tried to grip me. He was a natural.
............................................
He was still re-living the battle. "We were making snowballs like a fucking machine," he said, looking away. "The snow was perfect." He smiled almost imperceptibly and paused as if recalling a pleasant memory. "And I met someone."
"Who was it?" I said, trying not to sound too interested.
"He was a Carnegie guy. I had seen him during the snowball fight. I hit him with a few good ones. But he was the one who pulled me out of the snow-bank and brushed me off." He paused again, not knowing whether to continue.
"How noble," I said, knowing what was coming.
"He was so different from other guys. You know what I mean? Very straight-forward... knew just what he wanted. I didn't hear the first thing he said to me because my cap was over my ears, so I leaned closer. But he said it loudly enough for other guys to hear. 'Do you fuck guys?' Now isn't that about the most blatant pick-up line you've ever heard?"
I had to admit it was unusual, although I had occasionally been as blunt when I saw what I wanted at Babylon. "And you said...?"
"I was so surprised, I blurted-out the truth. 'I've been known to.' It was a great way to start a conversation."
"Is that all it was? A conversation?" I said, realizing that he hadn't had time to do much else if he was home before dinner.
"He was with someone," Justin replied. "He couldn't get away. But he wants me to come to his dorm room tomorrow night... for drinks." His eyes fell at the final words. He knew what the invitation implied.
"And are you gonna go?" I asked, trying to sound like a mentor and a friend.
He lay back and looked at the ceiling. "I haven't decided. His name is Jeremy. I have his number. I didn't give him yours." Justin had voluntarily cut off his cell phone service as a way to save money. We were using one phone now. "What do you think?" he said, fixing his eyes on mine for the first time in a few minutes.
It was a test, I thought. A test of ownership. A test of commitment. A test of feelings. If I said "no," then he'd want an explanation... a justification. Why could I seek pleasure elsewhere while denying him the opportunity? And I couldn't explain it, really... I, who valued brutal honesty, couldn't handle gentle honesty. These feelings violated everything I'd believed for the last nine years. "No fetters. No baggage. Travel light." And he was asking me to change that.
"You're free to do whatever you want," I answered meeting his gaze. The words came out of my mouth as if I were conditioned to say them. Perhaps the darkening of his eyes was only in my imagination…or in the sting of the memory of hearing those words. Did my eyes darken then?
...........................................
"You're free to do whatever you want," John said as we sat forehead-to-forehead over the pizza in our usual booth. "You're a mature young man... overly-mature in some ways. You can make your own decisions."
I always hated it when he said things that sounded logical and mature but were not expressing his true feelings. I could tell... and he knew I could tell. We played this game often. He, the teacher, the guide, the mentor, the "Erastis"... I the student, the novice, the follower, the "eromenos."
I had met someone by happenstance... someone so inconsequential I don't remember his name. There had been some chemistry... a spark, a little combustion... and I had wanted to share my excitement with John. My introduction to sexual experience at Penn State seemed to be one of his missions. Experience beyond the usual boys'-play. He talked about it, but on-the-other-hand, when the opportunity arose, be never provided the appropriate shove to move me into it. There was always the hint of hesitation, the scintilla of regret. Either he was testing my feelings for him... or he was setting himself up for disappointment. In both there was a degree of self-hatred. He primed me for sexual experience without providing much in the way of actual instruction. He watched more than participated. He used words to describe what lips and tongues and muscles and cocks could do. He was neutral... while this new guy was ready for pleasure.
"Your mouth says 'yes' but your eyes say 'no,'" I said, pushing the pizza toward him to indicate a sudden lack of appetite. "Sure, he looked at me like a piece of raw meat ready to devour. But I like that, actually. I like the fact that he wants me. I like it that I can bring him pleasure. I'm not accepting an engagement ring,... just an invitation to smoke some pot and listen to music. But, I admit there'll be more than that. I promise it'll be safe. Don't worry about me."
He gazed out the window... or, perhaps he was looking at my reflection in the window... able to speak more easily to it than to me directly. "I just don't want you to get your heart broken," he said after a pause. "Someone will come along one of these days and steal that heart of yours... that big, wonderful, innocent heart... and then not recognize its value. I can see it coming."
[In retrospect, the biggest sorrow would come from him in the months to come.]
"Well, that doesn't mean that we don't try...that we don't open-up to opportunities. Especially something so inconsequential as a one-night-stand. Jesus... you can sure make something out of nothing." I was angry because I had expected encouragement, and I wasn't getting it.
"You just need to make good choices..." he began.
"If I let you make my choices, I'd end-up a 50-year-old virgin taking care of a widowed, aging lover who just wants to draw my picture." I regretted saying it as soon as it left my lips.
"My hands are tied. You know that," he said in his usual, quiet, controlled way. He was showing me the difference between petulance and nobility. I knew I had hurt him by asking the impossible. "I can't change the situation... and even if I could, I can't change myself."
.....................................
The next day, I could tell he was going out when he started changing clothes after dinner. Nothing fancy. Just one wardrobe-step above jeans and a tee-shirt. But it was clear that he was going to meet Jeremy.
He finally broke the silence. "Why don't you go out, too? Go to Babylon... or the baths. You haven't been out for weeks."
I gave him the look that said "No. Not tonight. And don't tell me what to do."
He persisted. "You won't be shunned... even though most of the gay community is still celebrating Stockwell's defeat. Just go and have a beer with Ted and Emmett, then. They'd love your company."
"Have fun," I said as he swept out the door.
.....................................
The jostle. That moment when you're awakened from a sound sleep and you sense someone's presence. The reach. The touch of a smooth flank... a softly-haired forearm. I felt him slide in beside me as I rolled to engulf him in my arms as I always did. Legs trapped in mine. A face buried in the curve of my neck. A firm grip on my triceps. It was Justin.
"How was it?" I moaned in a harsh whisper as the reality of the moment dispelled the sleep-driven fog. He was still damp from a shower... presumably to remove the smell of sex from his skin.
"We don't have to talk about it, if you'd rather not," he said quietly, moving closer.
I could tell that he had enjoyed it by his quiet restraint. If it had been unsatisfying, he would have told me immediately. "Oh, come on. You know you want to tell me," I rasped, giving him a squeeze.
"Well, you're the one who's always talking about gaining new experience... to broaden my horizons... to expand my technique."
"That's probably not the only thing that got broadened or expanded," I said, managing a moment of humor. He ignored it. I reached down between us to find his soft cock tucked against my lower abs. I coaxed it from its nest and held it like a frail bird against my belly. He squirmed a little, as if feeling pain rather than pleasure.
"Don't...," he said. "I'm a little tender."
I gripped him tighter and slipped my thumb over the soft, velvety head. He squirmed again, this time with more pleasure.
"He wasn't better than you, that's for sure...but he was different... almost as intense... maybe even more-so." He paused to see if I would complain. "He was all over me like a hot shower. He knew what he wanted and he took it. He was the perfect example of the 'bossy-bottom' you've told me about... always running the show, which was more like a three-ring circus. I've been away for..." He looked at his wrist in the darkness, but his watch was apparently in the bathroom. "...maybe four hours... and I've cum six times... three of 'em in the first hour. He was like a machine." I noticed he was counting, just like I do. His exuberance was starting to show, so he toned it down a bit. " I liked it." He stretched his torso as if to get out some of the kinks from over-activity.
I ducked down to kiss his left nipple. "Will you see him again?" The important question.
"When I left, he said 'Next time, at your place.' I didn't tell him I lived with you now, so..." His voice trailed off leaving only two choices.
I stroked the complex curvature of his back with fanned fingers, caressing as much of his skin as possible. Down into the hollow of his lower back... the two dimples... the rise of his smooth, rounded ass. My fingertips traced the center of his cleft, delving deeper as I approached the "treasure-spot." He pressed forward, trapping his cock between us. I pressed deeper into the warm depths. I held him still for a moment, then pressed my fingertips deeper. "He didn't fuck you, did he?" I whispered.
"No," he murmured, "I..."
Without waiting I lay back and pulled him toward me, turning him belly-down on the mattress. With one sweep, I flung the sheet toward the foot of the bed.
"I'm kinda tired," he said, digging his fingers into the crumpled undersheet.
"That's okay. I don't need for you to do a thing," I said. "Just lie there. I'll do all the work."
He turned his head to the side as if to speak to me over his shoulder as I applied the condom and moved into position, but instead he simply smiled and stretched his torso beneath me. I was in him in a single thrust... and used him slowly and sensuously to remind him that his ass was mine. He moaned softly as I came, but otherwise he was silent and passive.
...................................
I was doing sit-ups when he returned from the Diner the following evening. Without a job, I had more time to spend on physical self-improvement. Long hours in the Loft were filled with grueling workouts on the treadmill. My bare torso still gleamed from the most recent. He dropped into one of the dining chairs to watch me finish.
After the final, gut-tightening, prolonged jack-knife, I settled back onto the mat to feel the burn.
"Jeremy came to the Diner tonight... to find me," he said, breaking the silence. I turned toward him without saying anything. "I didn't know what to tell him."
"Do you need my permission?" I said, louder than I intended. Without most of its furniture, the Loft echoed the words.
He ignored the question. "I told him that I live with you," he continued. "He said, 'the more the merrier.' So I told him I'd ask you." He paused, waiting for my response, and, getting none, continued. "Well, if you're not gonna go out like you always did, I thought I might bring him home for you. Not that you're not perfectly able to go out and get anything you want... and not because I want you to..." He paused again, not knowing how to remind me that I usually used sex to wipe away the problems when I was depressed. He could satisfy all my needs except the anger... and he was simply trying to give me an outlet for that anger.
"Boy-ass to-go, like Chinese take-out," I replied, getting up off the floor. "And three hours later, you're hungry again." I started to button the top two buttons on my jeans, but decided instead to let them hang open as an invitation.
He smiled, knowing that was the kind of hunger he could satisfy.
"I'm not trying to push this," he countered. "I just told him I'd ask." He looked down, not meeting my questioning gaze.
"I'll bet he's waiting with his cell phone downstairs, right?" He looked shocked that I had guessed and nodded his assent. "Then invite him up." I bent down to pick-up the towel.
Only two minutes later I could hear the pounding steps, taken two-at-a-time. Justin met him at the door. Silhouetted by the bright light of the landing, he seemed to fill the doorway... legs spread in a broad, almost defiant, stance... arms stretched downward at his sides... fingers spread ready to grab Justin as the door clanged to a halt. His short jacket flared to reveal a slim waist. His dark, curly hair glistened with some kind of gel. With his first step he gripped Justin around the waist and kissed him hard and noisily. I stood beneath one of the overhead lights, patiently waiting to be noticed.
"This is quite a place," he said, releasing Justin and striding past him to the corner of the kitchen counter. His head tilted back as he perused the expanse of the arching ceiling. His pronounced Adam's apple looked ripe for the picking. "And you,..." he said, turning his eyes to me. "I've seen you before. At Babylon... with that cute, black dancer on his knees in the back room. Who could forget THAT?" He stepped closer, extending his hand. "Hi,... I'm Jeremy... Justin's friend." His grip was firm and enthusiastic... large hands for someone of his stature, about an inch taller than Justin with the same build and youthful body-language. "And you were with that police-chief... what's-his-name?... Stockwell? I'm glad that bastard lost." He wasn't afraid to state his opinion. Justin stepped forward to cut off that line of conversation.
"This is Brian," he said. "I've told you about him."
"But you didn't say you were living with a legend," Jeremy interrupted. "I've heard the stories," he said, turning to me. "The night you fucked seven guys in a row... the time you left that undercover cop gagged with his underwear... the night you broke..."
"You must be thinking of someone else," I interrupted, suppressing the smile of remembrance. "You know how stories grow and grow."
"Something else is growing," Jeremy said as his fingers moves softly over the bulge in my left pant-leg. "I've heard about this, too." He dropped to his knees as he shucked off his jacket. "Let's see if the stories are true." Justin took his jacket like a good host, then returned to find my cock in Jeremy's throat. Justin knelt beside him and waited his turn. Together they stripped the jeans down my thighs, and, as they feel to my ankles, I stepped out... the first one naked. I pulled Jeremy's shirt up over his shoulders and under his throat. He had to release my cock to get it over his head, giving Justin a chance to replace him on my hard shaft. Together they sucked me... one on the shaft, the other on my balls or belly or inner thighs. Then, finally willing to share, they surrounded my shaft with wet lips on either side as I thrust the shaft through their hard kiss. Fingers in hair... one handful curly, one handful straight. Hands stroking the curvature of my ass and hip. Soft moans as Jeremy clutched his own shaft, unable to wait. I remember one of them diving to catch the glistening thread of pre-cum that sagged from the reddened head of my cock. They both wanted it... and I was determined to satisfy them... and more-so.
I pulled Justin's shirt over his head. Both of them managed to remove their pants and underwear without losing contact with my shaft. Clutching hands, stretched fabric, twisted limbs... a flurry of contortions and a littering of clothing tossed onto the wooden floor.
It was hard to disengage from such hungry mouths, but I wanted my turn. I pulled each of them to a standing position, side-by-side, with arms over each other's shoulders, then sank to my knees for a taste of young-cock. I maneuvered them gently with a hand on each ass, as I sucked first one, then the other. Oh, the pleasure of a youthful cock... extra-rigid with anticipation, jutting upward against soft bellies... so stiff that, when moved to the side, they wobbled back-and-forth like an inverted pendulum before coming to rest...so defiant of gravity that, if you pulled them down to fit deeper into your throat, they rubbed against the rough roof of your mouth with sharp jabs... so engorged that the thin skin slipped easily along the core like stretch-satin. So willing. Old enough to know what to do with it... young enough to do it all night. Youthful cocks give youthful vigor to those who suck them.
I took each boy to the limit of his arousal, then switched to the other. Jeremy almost swooned when I pulled off of him; he clutched Justin for support. Justin, in-turn, reached for the post for support as he swayed into my throat. Soft pubes against my nose. I nipped at the stray hairs at the base of the shaft as if to say "Give me more." A stiff finger into the ass of each told me they were both ready. Pulling them closer together, I took both heads into my lips and sucked them rhythmically. They moaned in unison.
We moved to the bed, Justin and I both guiding the guest who showed no reluctance. We settle on either side of him... Justin on the left, his usual side, and I on the right. Jeremy rolled atop Justin, kissed him passionately while digging between their bellies for Justin's rigidity. When he found it, he gripped it tightly, then, without skipping a beat, he reversed his direction, sucking Justin hungrily... and Justin took the cock dangling above his face into his ready mouth. Both reached for me simultaneously, pulling me into their inverted embrace. With his ass in the air, Jeremy made an excellent target. I climbed behind him, spread his knees wider, and arched over him, holding my cock in my fist. He release Justin's cock long enough to whisper over his shoulder, "Go for it," and rocked his ass back against my pelvis. With the two of them moaning softly, I applied one of the condoms I kept by the bed for just such an occasion, then began to guide my shaft into his tight hole. At the first pressure, he twisted his head from side-to-side, pulling Justin's cock roughly. I felt Justin increasing his intensity; his hot breath brushed my scrotum on the in-stroke. I could imagine his nostrils flaring as his chest rose-and-fell and the cock pumped in and out of his mouth. Jeremy was either pre-stretched or pre-lubed. My shaft sank to the hilt in the first, hard thrust. He moaned, giving Justin's cock a buzz.
My fucking motion set-up the rhythm as the two of them rocked chest-to-belly. Jeremy gripped Justin's ankles for support, and Justin wrapped his arms around Jeremy to grip my hips as if to say "Give it to him the way you fuck ME." I heard Justin gag as Jeremy came down his throat... a premature response to the pummeling of his prostate. I pulled out. It was Justin's turn to fuck him. I pulled Jeremy off before he finished convulsing and lifted him to a seated position on Justin's belly. Justin smiled. He knew what I was planning. "What did I tell you?" he said to Jeremy who sagged forward against Justin's upraised palms. "Time for Round Two."
I lifted Jeremy high enough for Justin to slip his cock into the slender ass-crack, then lowered him as Justin drove upward with a hip-thrust. I kept my arms around Jeremy's chest from behind and began lifting and dropping him as he was skewered on Justin's upturned shaft. In a few seconds, Jeremy figured out the scheme and leaned forward with his hands on either side of Justin's shoulders. He rode the rod like a pro, arching his head back in a grimace of pain/pleasure. I let the two of them fuck for a few minutes, watching the youthful bodies and lean muscles working together to maximize the pleasure. Justin pulled him down lower as Jeremy splayed his legs outside Justin's. The sharper angle let Justin rock his pelvis, driving his shaft along the smooth interior of Jeremy's rectum is sharp, quick jabs. With eyes closed, both of them were in the pleasure-zone.
I climbed back into position, straddling Justin's legs and inside Jeremy's and stroked myself to full hardness. Justin was in for a treat... but I wasn't sure that Jeremy would enjoy it quite as much. Leaning forward over Jeremy's back I brought my cock into position at his entrance, just above, Justin's, and pressed forward. Jeremy sensed the pressure immediately and looked over his shoulder. "Just hold on, boy," I said. "This is one you'll remember." He started to tense, but I leaned onto his back, pressing him against Justin's chest. Justin, in-turn, gripped Jeremy between his forearms, holding him in-place. I opened him up and compressed Justin's cock as well, making room for my well-lubed shaft to enter. He gasped as the flared head passed the sphincter, then tensed again as my length slid into him. Without letting him get comfortable, I began the slow in-and-out motion... my cock sliding the length of Justin's shaft, milking him and sliding his shaft as well. Two cocks joined as one, sharing the tightness and the pleasure. Justin, who was already so close to cumming, shot first. I could feel the surge of his fluids along the length of my urethra... wave upon wave as he uttered the guttural noises of uncontrolled pleasure. I gripped Jeremy tightly and thrust into him full-force, making him cum again in a spray that oozed between their rubbing bellies. The waves of muscle contractions in his pelvis drove me over the edge as it milked my cock; I filled the condom to overflowing.
As we lay there, trembling in each other's arms, the boys shared one last, passionate kiss...but Justin's eyes were on mine.
Later, when heart-rates had returned to normal and Justin had left the bed to relieve himself, Jeremy snuggled closer. "You can fuck me that way anytime you want," he said. "I'm sure I'm better than he is." He nodded toward the bathroom door.
I rolled onto my back and reached for my cigarettes. "It's not a contest," I said. "I'm not the door-prize. You've got a well-trained and well-used little ass... but Justin gives me more than that," I said. "Get your clothes on and get out of here, before I tell Justin how you tried to take-over his side of my bed." He looked at me in disbelief.
"I just meant that..."
"I know what you meant," I said. "But it's all over. And keep your fucking hands off Justin or you'll get more than a fucking from me. Understood?" I exhaled smoke in his direction as he crawled off the bed to gather his clothes.
Justin returned just as Jeremy was leaving. He waved at him, a little surprised to see him departing so soon. He looked at me questioningly. I gave a shrug and a head-shake. What could have gotten into that boy?
"He didn't look that happy. Why did he leave so quickly?" Justin climbed into bed and rearranged the sheets that were in a heap at the foot of the bed. "You'd think he'd have a just-fucked smile on his face after THAT." He turned and smiled... as if he'd enjoyed it.
I reached for him and pulled him closer, rolling his back against my chest and surrounding him with a tight, constraining embrace which told him to lie still. He relaxed against me as he brushed his hair against my cheek. The soft hairs of his leg brushed mine as he moved his ass against my hip. He covered my arms with his and held them tight against his torso. We lay there quietly for a moment, enjoying the closeness of being a couple again. He felt me inhale to speak and turned his head in anticipation.
"I know why you did it," I said.
"Why I went to Jeremy's place? I thought you wanted me to. And he was nice."
"No. Why you brought him here. To me." He turned to look away from me again, without replying. "You know that, when things are troubling me, the one thing that can blot them out of my mind is a hard, brutal fuck or the sensory overload of the Baths. I do it all the time... it's like a reflex." He nodded silently. There had been a lot of shit lately... the campaign, the memories of the bashing and the murder, losing my job... and almost losing him... It was gnawing-away at my guts. The Loft was stripped of practically everything. How far the Mighty had fallen... and he knew it.
"That's the one thing I can't do for you," he said softly. "Meet that need. Sometimes I wish you could fuck me like all the others... to get it out of your system." His head sagged in resignation.
I leaned closer and whispered into his ear. "I'm onto you." I could feel the muscles in his cheek tightening into a smile. "But you didn't want a three-way. You just did it for me. I know that. And it's just one more time when you've caved-in and done something for me that's against your own desires and best interests." I kissed the soft hair on the back of his neck to punctuate the sentence.
"Doing something for someone else is part of sharing," he began, gripping the back of my hand in a tight grasp. "I thought it might help. I was willing to try anything."
"Just stand up for what you want. And make me stand up, too. That's the kind of sharing we need…not sacrificing your principles for what you think is best for me." I gave him another squeeze to reinforce what I was saying.
He struggled gently and I released my embrace. He rolled to face me and touched my cheek with his fingertips. "I love you," he murmured, pausing to let the words sink in. "And you love me too,... in your own warped, tortured, Brian-Kinney way. You love me. And we'll get through this thing. You're not cast-out because you did something wrong,... but because you did something RIGHT. And you're a hero... only no one knows it. A hero that struggled against everything, and yelled into the wind but no one was there to watch, ...no one was there to hear. And the hero dies, unseen, unheard? A hero is not a hero without a witness, without a mark, without a legacy. Only a corpse. But I was there to see you and to hear you. And even when I didn't agree with what you were doing, I knew you were doing it for good reasons." He paused as his eyes welled-up with tears. "I just don't like seeing you blame yourself for it. I don't like to see you suffer."
I felt my face harden into a tight-lipped, gentle frown as I looked away avoiding the sight of a tear running down his cheek. "Don't get your tights in a knot, J.T.... there's still plenty of wrongs to right in Gayopolis. And we're the dynamic duo to do it." I pulled him closer once more, stroked him with reassuring caresses, and kissed the tender spots as we lay together in the engulfing darkness.
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