Justin Turns Eighteen:  Gap-filler for Episode 14

"You're losing your shirt."

"Well, you almost lost yours."  Justin smiled as Brian picked up his shirt from the floor and tucked it into the back of his pants.

"Yeah.  I still have no idea why he dropped the suit."

"It's a mystery!"  Justin laughed.  He wished he could tell Brian about his encounter with Kip, but he knew Brian wouldn't understand, would only get mad and ruin Justin's happy feelings.

"I guess I'll have to be more careful who I fuck."

"Lucky for you I turn 18 tomorrow." Justin couldn't remember seeing Brian so loose, so carefree and joyful, and without drugs, at that.  He was pretty sure Brian hadn't swallowed anything more potent than a couple shots of Absolut.

Brian's voice grew husky as he murmured, "What do you want for your birthday?"

Moving in close, Justin answered by pressing his lips to Brian's mouth, and was rewarded by Brian's hands pulling him closer, rubbing hard as they kissed.  They only stopped when somebody jostled into them, almost knocking them down.

"What the - " Brian exclaimed, turning quickly around, then Justin exclaimed, "Emmett!  Emmett's here!"

Emmett laughed, grabbed Justin and dragged him into an enormous bear-hug, lifting him off his feet and swinging him around.  "I'm home, baby!" he exclaimed, planting a big kiss on Justin's cheek.  Justin felt Brian's hands on his hips, dragging him backwards, away from Emmett's embrace, and he was secretly pleased - Brian didn't like other guys holding onto him for long.

His eyes twinkling at Justin, Emmett laughed again; Justin knew he enjoyed yanking Brian's chain.  Then Emmett went into his Praise Jesus dance, and the whole gang circled around him on the dance floor, everybody happy and laughing, celebrating Emmett's return to real life.

When they were all out of breath, everyone adjourned to the bar on the second floor, it was quieter there and you could talk without shouting.  Emmett and his friend Heather were regaling them all with the story of their being thrown out of the See the Light group.  Justin turned around to ask Brian if he’d get him a beer, but Brian was not there.  He bit his lip, turned back to the group, and joined in the raucous laughter, though he had missed the joke that spiked it.  He wanted to run to the railing and scan the crowd, try to see if Brian was dancing with somebody, dragging somebody into the backroom.  But he didn’t; he stood smiling like a complete idiot, laughing when the others laughed, hearing nothing, seeing nothing, but determined not to let his misery show.

In a moment Brian was back again, shrugging on his leather jacket.  “I’m off,” he told them, and Justin could feel everyone’s eyes swivel toward him; he hated the group sympathy he felt.  He tried to smile at Brian but his face was frozen.

“Going home to say your prayers?” Michael asked.

“No.  No, Mikey, not tonight,” Brian answered, putting his arm around Michael’s shoulders and hugging him briefly.  He let go, then grabbed Justin’s hand and pulled him a few paces away from the crowd.  “I have to work,” he said.  “Can you get a ride home with somebody else?”

“Sure.”  Justin kept the smile frozen on his face; by now it felt like a glacier about to crack and fall off into the ocean.  He wanted to stop there, and he told himself to shut up, but he heard his voice saying, “Of course, it’s Friday, and nobody works on Friday night.”

“Justin.”  Brian gave him a hard look.  “I don’t have to explain myself, to you or to anyone.”

“I know,” Justin agreed.

Brian stood silent a moment more, then turned abruptly on his heel and walked off.  Justin watched him go, then moved toward the railing and stared out over the dancing, writhing crowd below.  He had been so happy just a few minutes ago and now he was plunged into doom.  Not an unusual occurrence around Brian Kinney. 

He felt a hand on his arm, and turned; it was Melanie.  “He really does have to work,” she told Justin.  “His boss, Mr. Ryder, came looking for him this afternoon, when we were supposed to have the legal conference.  He dragged him off to work on some big project, something with a Monday deadline, Brian said.”


“Don’t think this means I give a shit about Brian Kinney,” Melanie admonished him.  “I care about you, so I wanted you to know.”

“Thanks.”  Justin managed a real smile for Mel.

“Come back now, I’ll buy you a beer, okay?”  When he nodded, Melanie put her arm around him and marched him over to the group by the bar.


When Justin came down for breakfast next morning, Debbie set down a plate with a blueberry muffin topped by a lighted candle in front of him.  She said to make a wish and blow it out.  Justin silently wished he could spend the evening of his birthday in Brian’s bed.  Then Deb and Vic sang Happy Birthday, and they each gave him a present: a new sketchpad from Deb and a Village People CD from Vic, who said, with a wink, that he had PERSONALLY known the Construction Worker AND the Indian.

Justin helped Deb do laundry and vacuumed the living room and upstairs bedrooms, then Jennifer picked him up and took him for a birthday lunch and shopping spree.  He got two pair of jeans and new Nikes.  There was no card or present from his dad, but he couldn’t bring himself to mention it.

By four o’clock Justin was on duty at the diner; his shift lasted till eight.  None of the guys came in for dinner, and he hadn’t heard from Brian, who was apparently working all weekend.  Even Daphne had forgotten his birthday; his cell phone didn’t ring once all day.  Of course he could go to Woody’s or Babylon by himself, but somehow, he didn’t want to.  He was eighteen and legal and he wanted to do something wild and crazy.  Only, he wanted to do it with Brian.

At quarter to eight, one of the cooks, Jeff, pulled Justin aside.  “Sweetie, can you believe it, we’ve run out of fucking mayonnaise!  Would you be a peach and run over to the A&P and pick up a big jar for me?  I know you’re going off duty, but I’d really appreciate it.”

“Okay,” Justin agreed, untying his apron.  “How’d you run out of mayonnaise?”

“Christ if I know, and our condiments shipment isn’t for another week!  Here, sweetie,” Jeff pulled out his wallet and handed Justin two tens.  “Get one of those really big jars, if you can carry it, okay?”

Justin nodded, pocketed the bills and went into the back room for his jacket.  He slipped out the back door and went down the dark alley, then hurried down Liberty Avenue toward the A&P three blocks away.  It was cold and his breath fuzzed the air in front of him.  He almost slipped on the icy sidewalk coming back, trying to juggle the large plastic mayo jar, and he was pissed when he discovered that the back door was locked.  He banged on it a few times but no one heard him.  “Shit,” he mumbled, retracing his steps down the alley and rounding the corner, then pushed open the front door of the diner and stepped inside.

“SURPRISE!” a chorus of voices shouted, and Justin’s mouth dropped open, he almost dropped the mayo jar.  Somebody took it out of his arms and he gazed around the room in amazement.  In the length of time he’d been gone to the store, the diner had been decorated  with balloons and crepe paper and filled with dozens of people.  Deb hurried forward to kiss his cheek, then everyone crowded around him, giving him hugs –  Vic, Ted and Emmett, even Michael shook his hand; he didn’t see Mel but Lindsay was there with Gus, and Daphne was there, too!  And lots of his favorite customers.  Justin had a lump in his throat, he could hardly speak.

Then Jeff wheeled out a kitchen cart with a big round cake on it, decorated with colored icing and stuck with burning candles.  “Eighteen candles!” Jeff laughed.  “Can you blow them all out?”

Justin opened his mouth to answer when he felt an arm go round his shoulders.  He looked back to see Brian, who’d just come in through the diner’s front door.  With a huge smile, Justin turned back to Jeff.  “I’m good at blowing,” he bragged, then blushed; he’d embarrassed himself. 

Everyone laughed and Brian leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “I’ve got a big candle you can blow, later.”  Justin smiled; the wish he’d made this morning was going to come true, after all.  Brian grabbed his shoulders and turned him around to face the cake.  “Blow!” he ordered, and Justin did, not stopping till every candle was out. 

The party lasted about an hour, and it was pandemonium, since of course customers kept coming into the diner and all the staff had to work in between eating cake and watching Justin open a pile of presents.  Brian had only stayed a few minutes; he whispered to Justin that he was up to his neck working on his project, but told him to come over to the loft after the party, if he wanted to.  If he wanted to! 

Justin was given a bunch of CDs, a beautiful gauze shirt from Emmett and Ted, a fabulous journaling book from Daphne, a box of artist crayons from Gus, and many of his customers gave him cards with cash tucked inside.  He made sure to talk to each person and thank them individually as he gobbled three pieces of cake, and he felt almost completely happy.  When the party began dying down, Debbie boxed a piece of cake for him to take to Brian and Daphne gave him a ride to the loft.  Justin pressed one long and two short  beeps on the buzzer to announce his arrival, then used his key to enter the building.  Sliding open the door to the loft, Justin was surprised to see that the place was a mess, with piles of papers on every surface, and drawings and charts spread out on the dining table, the coffee table and Brian's computer desk.

"Just let me save this," Brian greeted him; he was seated at the computer and used the mouse to close the file he was working on.  Then he stood up, stretched, and followed Justin into the kitchen.

"I brought you some cake."  Justin set down the white styrofoam box on the counter, then Brian wrapped his arms around him from behind and squeezed the breath out of him.  "Ooooph!"

"Mmm, good," Brian murmured, "I'm ready to nibble on something sweet about now."

"Did you eat dinner?  Or even lunch?" Justin knew Brian skipped meals when he was busy.  "Let me fix you a sandwich."

"That's not what I want to munch on," Brian whispered in his ear, his breath warm and tickling.  "Don't fuss over me, I mean it."

Justin pulled away and turned to face Brian.  "I'm just being practical," he insisted.  "I don't want you to pass out from hunger before I'm done with you."

"I'm not hungry," Brian insisted, before a noisy rumble from his stomach betrayed the lie.  They laughed.  "Okay, okay," he agreed; "There's a carton of tomato bisque soup in the fridge.  Go ahead and heat it up while I sort some of these papers."  He glanced around the apartment at the mess and made a face.  Brian hated clutter.

While Brian was sorting and stacking papers, Justin heated a mug of soup and made a piece of toast.  He knew the only reason Brian kept food in the house now was for Justin's visits.  He poured himself a glass of milk and opened a bottle of beer for Brian; he put the food on the counter and called Brian to come and eat.

They liked to sit on the barstools and eat at the high counter; to Justin it seemed more intimate and casual than the dining table.  He leaned on one elbow as he sipped his milk, and was pleased to see Brian devour the food he'd fixed.  "Cake now or later?" he asked.

"I want dessert now, but it's not cake I have in mind."  Brian leered over the rim of the mug as he slurped the last drops of soup.  Then he took a drink from the beer bottle and asked, "Were you surprised?"

Justin laughed.  "I was totally amazed.  I hope nobody took a picture of my face, I must have looked like a big dope with my mouth hanging open!"

Brian smiled, but then grew serious.  "You should have had a better party, for your eighteenth.  It was kind of a last-minute thing."

"It was great, Brian." Justin put his hand on Brian's arm.  "Really, I loved it."

Shaking his head, Brian disagreed.  "But I'm really swamped with this new campaign, Marty's on my ass, and I need to prove myself, all over again, after that fucking harassment fiasco."

"It's easy for you to prove yourself," Justin assured him, "You're the best.  Right?"

"Yeah," Brian agreed, "But it pisses me off that I have to prove it, all over again."  He sighed, then shrugged.  "Fuck it," he declared, standing up and carrying his soup mug to the sink.  "I need a distraction.  Are you prepared to distract me?"   

"Absolutely." Justin hopped down off the stool and led the way up to the bedroom.  "Let's take a shower first, okay?"

"What - and wash off that lovely eau-de-diner?"  Brian leaned down and sniffed Justin's hair, said "Mmmmm - onions and grease, what an aphrodisiac!"

Since their first time together, the shower had been a special place for Justin.  He remembered Brian’s hands caressing him with the bar of soap, and the first touch of their slippery bodies sliding together, and the incredible feeling of having his naked body rubbed up against the wet glass as Brian kissed and bit the back of his neck.  

They pulled off their clothes just outside the bathroom door, tossing them onto the ledge by the bedroom screens, and Justin followed Brian into the shower enclosure, moving as far from the direction of the spray as possible till the temperature was just right.  Brian usually took boiling hot showers, too hot for Justin’s sensitive blond skin; he’d actually gotten burned once, then had to listen to a lecture from Brian about making his needs known as Brian smoothed aloe vera gel over his reddened shoulders, back and chest.

“Okay?” Brian asked, and Justin stuck his hand into the spray to test it. 

“Perfect.”  He moved next to Brian and handed him the bar of glycerin soap; closing his eyes, Justin gave himself up to the sensual pleasure of feeling Brian rub his shoulders and chest with the soap.  “Mmmm,” he said, before Brian flipped him around and pushed him gently up against the glass.  He felt Brian slip his hand between Justin’s soapy thighs, and run his fingers slowly upwards, then spread open Justin’s ass cheeks.

“Oh!” Justin exclaimed, as Brian put his hands on Justin’s hips and twisted him around sideways. 

“Can you grab your ankles without falling over?” Brian asked. 

“Sure,” Justin answered, suppressing a giggle; he was reminded of a porn tape he’d watched at Emmett’s one night: a drill sergeant making all the recruits strip naked and grab their ankles before taking turns fucking them.  But Brian did not fuck him; instead, Brian slipped to his knees and shoved his face, literally, up Justin’s ass.

“Mmmph!” Justin exclaimed, then he moaned as he felt Brian’s long tongue slip deep inside him, making slow, circling motions, then jabbing, withdrawing, and jabbing again.  “Oh-oh-oh!” was all Justin could say; his body was trembling and he would have fallen over, if Brian’s hands were not firmly holding his hips. 

Within moments Justin was on the verge of orgasm, and Brian mumbled, against his ass, “Go,” so Justin did just that, letting the climax explode inside him, jolting him like a bolt of lightning, and he yelled out loud, quickly letting go of his ankles to throw his hands against the glass to keep himself from falling over. 

He hadn’t even touched his cock, but Justin knew that it was going to get plenty of attention, and soon.  Brian liked to get Justin off quickly the first time, so they could take things slowly without Justin’s body flying into a million pieces from trying to withhold that first explosive orgasm.  Brian never derided Justin for needing to come quickly; he said he remembered being a teenager; and besides, Justin would be hard again in ten minutes.

When they’d toweled off and moved to the bed, Justin was tempted to ask for a birthday favor: he wanted desperately to fuck Brian.  It was a touchy subject between them, because no matter how many times Justin had asked, Brian would not give in.  Knowing the answer, still Justin had to ask again.  As he and Brian pulled back the duvet and climbed into bed,  Justin said hesitantly, “Brian…if I asked you something, as a birthday favor. . .”  


Justin got to his knees and straddled Brian’s hips, resting his hands on Brian’s chest.  “How do you know what I’m going to ask?”

“Justin.”  Brian grabbed Justin’s upper arms and shook him.  “I’ve told you, it’s not gonna happen.  Let it go.”

Absently Justin began to play with Brian’s nipples.  There were a few tiny dark hairs around each one, and a tiny patch over Brian’s sternum.  They always tickled Justin’s tongue when he was licking Brian’s chest.  “But Brian, I need to learn how to fuck, and who could teach me better than you?”

“I’ve given you a thousand demonstrations by now.”

“That’s not the same as hands-on training.”  Justin was chagrined to see Brian smile.  “Don’t laugh!” he insisted, “I mean it.”

“So do I,” Brian answered, his smile disappearing.  “But if you’re serious about wanting me to teach you how to fuck, I’ll give you two options.  You can take your choice and I’ll make the arrangements.”


“One:  We can pick up a trick at Babylon and bring him back to the loft.  Then I’ll guide you, step by step, one-two-three.”

“No.”  Justin shook his head.  He knew three-ways were supposed to be hot, but he didn’t want to share Brian with anybody.  And if Brian brought a trick home, for sure he’d end up fucking him, and Justin didn’t want to watch.  “What’s the other option?”

“A blow-up doll.”

“Fuck you!” Justin replied, annoyed.  Without thinking, he grabbed Brian’s nipples and twisted them, hard.

“Ouch!”  Brian sat up and flipped Justin over on the bed, onto his stomach, straddled him, raised Justin’s arms above his head and held them there in a tight grip.  “You want to play rough, do you?”

Justin felt a tiny electric thrill run up his spine, but he quickly answered, “No.”

“No?”  Brian repeated, then suddenly he slapped Justin’s ass with the flat of his hand.  Hard.  It hurt.

Justin twisted his head around and looked straight at Brian.  “No.”

Brian let go of Justin’s hands and ran his own hands gently down Justin’s back.  He bent down and kissed the stinging spot he’d just spanked, then raised himself up and told Justin to turn over.  Brian lowered his body onto Justin’s so that they were lying face to face, almost every inch of their bodies touching, but leaning some of his weight on his elbows so Justin wouldn’t be crushed.  He bent his head and kissed Justin, licked Justin’s lips and slid his tongue inside.

“Want to play nice?” he murmured, and Justin slipped his arms around Brian’s neck, returned his kiss, then opened his legs and wrapped them around Brian’s hips, to bring their cocks into closer proximity.  Justin was hard already.  It hadn’t taken ten minutes.


Justin woke up sometime in the middle of the night.  The loft was dark except for a light on the desk, where Brian sat hunched over the computer.  Justin wanted to drag him back to bed, Brian needed to rest; but he knew better than to nag.  Instead he slipped out of bed, pulled on his briefs - only so Brian wouldn't think he was trying to lure him back to bed for more sex - and walked quietly over to the computer corner.

"Go back to sleep," Brian said, without looking up.

"Not sleepy," Justin lied.  "Can I make you some coffee?"

"No.  Yes.  I don't know."  Brian leaned back in the chair and sighed deeply.  "I've hit the wall," he admitted, "I'm drawing a blank on this fucking slogan.  Everything I think of, I can see Bob or Brad saying.  And they are complete idiots."

"What's the slogan for?" Justin asked.  He put his hands on Brian's neck and began a gentle massage.  Surprisingly, Brian didn't shrug off Justin's hands or tell him to stop, so he continued rubbing. 

"It's Liberty Air," Brian explained, "They're going national.  And their president wants a catchy new slogan that highlights their name, Liberty.  Something 'traditional yet trendy,' if you can imagine a grown man saying that."

"Traditional, like, relating to the Liberty Bell?  Don't their planes have a picture of that bell on the side?"

"Yeah. "

"Saved by the bell," Justin murmured.  "Sound as a bell, ringing the bell.  Ringing in the new year.  Of course the Liberty Bell has a crack in it.  You wouldn't want to mention a crack in an airplane, that sounds dangerous.  And how can you make the Liberty Bell sound trendy?"  Justin was stumped.

"Exactly."  Brian frowned.  Then suddenly he sat up straight.  "Ringing in the new year," he repeated.  "Ringing in a new airline.  Ringing in a new era in air transportation!"  Brian fell silent, but Justin could almost hear the wheels turning in his head.  Then he laughed.  "Yeah.  Yeah."  His hands started flying over the keyboard, and Justin stopped massaging his neck, took a small step back.  He waited, aware that Brian was totally immersed in the computer screen; then he went quietly to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee.   When it was ready, he poured a cup and brought it to Brian at the desk. 

Surprised, Brian looked up.  "Thanks," he said.  "And thanks for the inspiration, too.  Now go back to bed."

"Okay," Justin agreed; he was almost asleep on his feet.  He crawled back into bed wishing Brian was sleeping with him, but feeling happy that he'd helped with the slogan.  He'd do anything for Brian.  Anything.  He'd proved it with Kip.  Not that he could let Brian ever find out about that, but it was a secret satisfaction he clutched tight inside, and it put a smile on his face as he drifted off to sleep.