pulse
Their first and only attempt at back alley fucking ends in frostbitten fingers and ears. With his back pressed against a graffiti covered brick wall and his grunts escaping his lips with white puffs of hot air he comes down Justin's throat. Justin gets up and sticks his icy hands in the waistband of Brian's jeans, leaving chilly fingerprints on Brian's hips. He decides November was not the best time to visit if outdoors fucking is on the itinerary.They don't leave Justin's apartment for the rest of Brian's stay.
They spend their time fucking drinking eating and watching old movies Brian insists are of considerable importance to any young man's mental health and development, and although Justin has to keep himself from falling asleep more than once he loves the movies for what they do to Brian. He watches attentively, his lips moving as he silently mimes the lines. And later his lips move against Justin's back and stomach, silently saying what he can't out loud.
Justin finds himself arms pinned to the bedpost and appreciating his low thread count sheets more than he ever thought he would. Brian nips and bites, leaving faint bruises and pronounced hickeys. Draping over him, letting the sweat from his chest rub onto Justin's back as he presses him harder into the bed, couch, carpet, table. Justin's nails digging into Brian's back, Brian's nails digging into Justin's hips.
As Brian buries himself into Justin the sounds of their grunts and moans envelopes them both. The showers rinse the dirt and sweat; they do nothing for the pulsing that seems to seep from their skin.
The pulsing buries itself into Justin after Brian leaves, under his nails and inside his belly; it burns behind his eyes and at the base of his cock. Justin doesn't think of it, it's familiar and it's safe and it's Brian. As it hums beneath his skin he misses Brian a little bit less.