I was shading the side of Rage’s face, in a scene where he thinks JT, who has been drained of all his powers trying to help Rage fight off an army of attackers, is dying. I looked at the image for a minute, wondering what had ever made me think turning all the worst things that had ever happened in our lives into a comic book was a good idea.
and
I took a deep breath. “I think we need to add a section about you not lashing out at me when you feel cornered.”
I made myself not look at him, but he didn’t say anything for a long time. I finally turned my head around, and he was just standing there. I was too tired to really get angry, but I felt a little rush of it, down deep.
I got up and started to leave the room. I felt everything just kind of crash in on me, and I was fucked if I was going to let him see me cry again. I was done.
But he followed me out of the room, and he reached out and grabbed my left wrist. I stopped, but didn’t turn around.
“God, Justin, do I get one minute to answer?”
I just shrugged. I was pretty sure I couldn’t talk. I didn’t feel like I had anything to say, beyond what I’d already said. I thought, it’s always going to be like this with him, he’s always going to be a little feral.
And then I felt his arms wrap around me from behind, and his mouth on my hair, and then on the back of my neck, and I turned around inside his arms and kissed him.
I told Brian fucking wasn’t always the answer, and it’s not. But that night, that moment, it was. I didn’t want to talk, and he didn’t know how, but I knew from his hands, and his mouth, and the press of his cock into my stomach, what Brian was telling me.
I told myself a long time ago, when I was leaving Brian for someone and something else, that I’d just imagined it. That I didn’t really hear the things he said without talking, those nights at the loft, under that blue light, his hands tracing down my spine, his fingers feathering over my thighs, his mouth hesitating before he kissed me.
But I did. I always had. And I did that night, too. I let Brian tell me what he wanted to tell me, the way he could tell me: That he loved me, that he was sorry, that he wanted me. I heard every word. I took him upstairs, and lay under him, and let him fill me with his tongue and his cock and his come, and curved myself up under him, so I could kiss him while I came.
I fell asleep with him inside me. I woke up with his leg thrown over mine, and his breath in my face. And I knew what he meant by that, too.
Just lovely. Also, this:
Ted looked at me thoughtfully, an expression of his that I’d grown to hate and fear. “You know, Brian, I’ve only met them a few times, but your mother and sister are cunts. You’re the best boss I’ve ever had, a not entirely shitty friend, and for whatever reason, Justin and Michael appear completely impervious to your efforts to excise them from your life the way you’ve done with your mother and sister. Who are, let me repeat, cunts.”
“I know, I’m fired.” He picked up his laptop and the architect’s proposal, and went to the door. “See you in the morning.”
I adore Ted's dry sense of humor and the way he & Brian have become real friends.
“My Corvette’s ready.”
I laughed. “Thank god, I know how lonely you’ve been without it.”
“My Corvette doesn’t make fun of how I feel about you.”
LOL
“How is dear old mom?” He finished his beer and tossed the bottle into the recycling bin.
“She’s a little pissed.”
He raised an eyebrow. “About….”
I held up my left hand. “She wanted to know if we eloped.”
He laughed. “What did you tell her?”
“I told her it was a small, private ceremony, just you and me.”
“What did she say to that?”
“Not to expect a gift.” I grinned at him.
More with the LOLing. :)
He stopped in front of the one Justin had called “Night,” that wasn’t for sale. Armand had asked for twelve pieces for the show, and this was the thirteenth. Kalli and I both convinced Justin it should be shown as from the artist’s collection.
“Jesus.”
One of my favorite things in your series is reading about Justin's paintings. You know I want to own them all. :)
no subject
I was shading the side of Rage’s face, in a scene where he thinks JT, who has been drained of all his powers trying to help Rage fight off an army of attackers, is dying. I looked at the image for a minute, wondering what had ever made me think turning all the worst things that had ever happened in our lives into a comic book was a good idea.
and
I took a deep breath. “I think we need to add a section about you not lashing out at me when you feel cornered.”
I made myself not look at him, but he didn’t say anything for a long time. I finally turned my head around, and he was just standing there. I was too tired to really get angry, but I felt a little rush of it, down deep.
I got up and started to leave the room. I felt everything just kind of crash in on me, and I was fucked if I was going to let him see me cry again. I was done.
But he followed me out of the room, and he reached out and grabbed my left wrist. I stopped, but didn’t turn around.
“God, Justin, do I get one minute to answer?”
I just shrugged. I was pretty sure I couldn’t talk. I didn’t feel like I had anything to say, beyond what I’d already said. I thought, it’s always going to be like this with him, he’s always going to be a little feral.
And then I felt his arms wrap around me from behind, and his mouth on my hair, and then on the back of my neck, and I turned around inside his arms and kissed him.
I told Brian fucking wasn’t always the answer, and it’s not. But that night, that moment, it was. I didn’t want to talk, and he didn’t know how, but I knew from his hands, and his mouth, and the press of his cock into my stomach, what Brian was telling me.
I told myself a long time ago, when I was leaving Brian for someone and something else, that I’d just imagined it. That I didn’t really hear the things he said without talking, those nights at the loft, under that blue light, his hands tracing down my spine, his fingers feathering over my thighs, his mouth hesitating before he kissed me.
But I did. I always had. And I did that night, too. I let Brian tell me what he wanted to tell me, the way he could tell me: That he loved me, that he was sorry, that he wanted me. I heard every word. I took him upstairs, and lay under him, and let him fill me with his tongue and his cock and his come, and curved myself up under him, so I could kiss him while I came.
I fell asleep with him inside me. I woke up with his leg thrown over mine, and his breath in my face. And I knew what he meant by that, too.
Just lovely. Also, this:
Ted looked at me thoughtfully, an expression of his that I’d grown to hate and fear. “You know, Brian, I’ve only met them a few times, but your mother and sister are cunts. You’re the best boss I’ve ever had, a not entirely shitty friend, and for whatever reason, Justin and Michael appear completely impervious to your efforts to excise them from your life the way you’ve done with your mother and sister. Who are, let me repeat, cunts.”
“I know, I’m fired.” He picked up his laptop and the architect’s proposal, and went to the door. “See you in the morning.”
I adore Ted's dry sense of humor and the way he & Brian have become real friends.
“My Corvette’s ready.”
I laughed. “Thank god, I know how lonely you’ve been without it.”
“My Corvette doesn’t make fun of how I feel about you.”
LOL
“How is dear old mom?” He finished his beer and tossed the bottle into the recycling bin.
“She’s a little pissed.”
He raised an eyebrow. “About….”
I held up my left hand. “She wanted to know if we eloped.”
He laughed. “What did you tell her?”
“I told her it was a small, private ceremony, just you and me.”
“What did she say to that?”
“Not to expect a gift.” I grinned at him.
More with the LOLing. :)
He stopped in front of the one Justin had called “Night,” that wasn’t for sale. Armand had asked for twelve pieces for the show, and this was the thirteenth. Kalli and I both convinced Justin it should be shown as from the artist’s collection.
“Jesus.”
One of my favorite things in your series is reading about Justin's paintings. You know I want to own them all. :)
TBC