The Secret to Success


When it comes to tips, Justin usually makes out like a bandit. But on those occasions when Brian fucks and sucks him in the diner bathroom, he emerges to clean up royally.

Maybe it’s the high flush in his cheeks or the hair curling damply at his neck. Maybe it’s the graveled honey in his voice or their mingled, heated musk. Maybe it’s the way he repeats, “peaches with extra cream.”

Lounging, Brian watches Justin rake it in. And when Justin nears, Brian snatches him onto his lap, squeezes his still-sensitive cock and announces, “looks like I’m good for business.”




Hot Plate Included I had to include the words: flame, shout and table


Sweat-soaked and panting, they collapse, the draft from the broken window cooling them as it sends one of Justin’s sketches skittering across his work-table.

“Was that a rat?”

“Shut up,” Justin laughs, swinging his legs onto Brian’s stomach, “and massage.”

“Shitty mattress.”

“Please. You fucked me for over two hours."

He grunts blissfully as Brian digs in, fingers expertly working his thighs.

When he’s done tending, Brian lights up, the flame briefly illuminating the ruined sheets - Justin's housewarming gift.

In the hallway, there’s a drunken shout and Justin scoots down quickly, swallowing Brian whole before he can utter another word.




The First and Last Time Chico the Chihuahua Ever Licked a Candy Apple Red Dildo


Moving day was nearly over and Brian, Justin and Jennifer were sprawled on the front stoop, resting as Tucker carried down the last box. Suddenly, to Justin’s horror, it split open and dozens of his dildos tumbled out, onto the steps, all over the sidewalk. Before Brian could break the stunned silence with a witticism, old lady Cavendish, the building’s misanthrope was there, back from walking her ancient Chihuahua. She pointed a bony finger in Justin’s face. “Pervert! Deviant!” Brian picked up a silver-studded, three-headed dildo, silently and thankfully agreeing with the old bat as Mother Taylor went to town.




Justin 2, Dildo 0


When Justin wakes, he’s surprised by the ache in his ass until he remembers. Smiling, he walks into the bathroom to piss and spies the culprit drying on a towel, innocent as you please. Brian is fastidious about their toys and the twelve inch dildo sparkles and gleams. Justin narrows his eyes. “Thought I wouldn’t be able to take you, huh? I’ll take you and ten more like you, you purple fucker.” Finished pissing, he turns and shakes his dick at it, marking it with his urine. Shows it who’s boss before turning both cheeks and strolling down to breakfast.





Roman Orgy


“Is that the pheasant?”

“The peacock.”

“Barbarian,” Justin pronounced, pressing a cluster of grapes to Brian’s lips. “You have to cleanse your palate before you kiss me again.”

Laughing, Brian knocked the fruit away and forced Justin onto his back, pushing him into the jewel-colored pillows, kissing him roughly.

“Was that a decree from on high, young Caesar?” Brian licked at Justin’s mouth and slid a hand past the hem of his toga.

“I could have you flogged for disobedience.”

“You could,” Brian breathed, “but you won’t.”

“No,” Justin agreed with a sigh, and let his thighs fall open instead.





*Warning* The following two drabbles are B/J vampire AUs. That means blood and biting.


Night Games


Tonight, Brian decides to make Justin wait. He wants him hungry, deadly. It’s a dangerous game, but Justin plays along, circling the divan, skin past pale in the moonlight.

An eternity passes before Brian releases his prey and opens his arms.

Justin leaps then, grinning fiercely before sinking his teeth into Brian’s neck. He abandons his customary finesse, wanting Brian to feel it.

“Manners,” Brian growls, yanking Justin’s head back, then lunging forward to bite just as hard. Ecstatic, Justin pushes closer, cock rock-hard, moaning, rutting, sucking, until the first of his orgasms takes him.

It’s hours before they’re interrupted.




Loyalty Is Its Own Reward


“Excuse me. Master?”

Ted stands at a respectful distance, hands clasped at his groin.

“Master?”

Snarling, Brian looks up. “What?”

“The guests are here.”

Ted counts six heartbeats before Brian responds.

“Tell them an hour.”

But Ted is rooted. Justin is scooping rose-colored come off Brian’s chest and spreading it across his own body, eyes closed, smiling blissfully.

“Theodore,” Brian warns.

“Uh . . . sorry . . . I . . .”

“Yes. We know. You were distracted. So you’ve stammered in the past.”

And then Justin’s up, rescuing and leading Ted to the door. After three hundred years of service, it’s the least that he can do.




After one of critic75's Gale picspams, fansee and I became insanely excited because in one of the pictures, there was a hint of a black wife beater.

fansee wisely concluded that "a glimpse of his 'beater is the next best thing to catching him going down on Randy", and I was compelled to write her an RPS drabble.





“Where?”

Gale’s reply is drowned out by the roar of a passing train, the crowds pounding up the stairs, and Randy doesn’t resist when Gale drags him across the platform to show him instead.

At the far end, Gale opens a door and Randy sees wires and blinking, red lights.

“We’ll be electrocuted.”

“No, we won't. I have a lightning rod.”

Laughing at Gale’s madness, his madness, he steps inside. And when Gale takes him into his mouth, he stops thinking about death and high-voltage, slides his hands under the straps of Gale’s undershirt, closes his eyes and hangs on.