Jun. 5th, 2005: 06:40 pm - BURN, Chapter 1

Swamp Gang, I decided to drop in a Boyd and Brian update. I will NOT be posting every day because I really am working on my novel. But I would like to shoot for at least once a week. What do you think? Will that be enough to hold your interest? If I have time, I'll shoot for more. Interested in your thoughts. Big B (PS, Big THANKS to Heather for the great icon!)
“Come on, Daphne, you know you want it,” Brian’s voice was low and intimate, the telephone amplifying the sensuality in his tone. Daphne giggled and responded,
“I’m scared, Brian.”
“I know you better than that. Nothing scares you. You’re fearless. It’s here, waiting for you, Daphne. All you have to do is reach out and grab it.”
“I wouldn’t know what to do with it if I did grab it, Brian.”
“I’ll help you. I’ll show you what to do. You can learn a lot from me. I’ve grabbed more than my fair share. Come on, it’s ready for you and you’re ready for it. It’s hot, it’s filthy, it’s boiling over. Grab it, Daphne. Grab it with both hands and pull hard.”
“Brian, I don’t know…”
“Come on, Daphne, do it. Don’t tease me, don’t make me beg, you know you want it, too.”
“Brian…”
“Do it!”
“I’ll grab it, I’ll grab it!” She finally relented.
He smiled. “That’s my girl. A ticket will be waiting for you at the American counter. See you soon. Dress for the heat.”
When he hung up, Boyd laughed and shook his head. “You’re sick, you know that? That was the filthiest job solicitation I’ve ever heard.”
Brian rolled over on the bed to be closer to his partner. He took the book from his hands. “You have a dirty mind.”
“And you love me for it.”
“I love you for something. Is that it?”
Boyd’s glasses were shed, deposited on the table beside their bed. He knew he wasn’t going to be allowed back into his book that night. “Why Daphne? She’s just a kid.”
“I’ve always admired her… dare I use the word, ‘spunk’? She just got her degree in marketing, so she’ll work cheap. I need an apprentice to run the promotional side for me, because I’ll be damned if I’ll pay some advertising agency to promote Burn when I know the game so much better than they do. But I can’t do it all. She may not be gay, but she has youth and enthusiasm on her side. Besides which, Daphne was always loyal to me when no one else bothered.”
“Loyal in what way?”
“In supporting me with Justin, when he was going through his post-traumatic stress phase and even when he left me for Ethan. She believed I cared for him when others who had known me a lot longer and who knew me a lot better just shrugged me off.”
“Ok, Brian. Your call. I trust your judgment.”
“You’ll love her. She’s very loveable. A doll, too.”
“I love her already.”
Brian chuckled at his lover’s sarcasm. “Don’t love her too much. You do have those latent breeder tendencies. I don’t want to encourage that perversion.”
“Latent?” Boyd reached under the sheets to let his hand rest low on Brian’s abdomen. His fingers traced up, along the faint ridge that remained of his scar from the bullet wound that saved Belle’s life. Touching this scar had become a ritual with them. It was an acceptance, a quiet pronouncement of their shared commitment to each other and to the three kids who had been combined into their family. One of those kids, Brian’s son, was long distance, but no less a part of their dynamic. “So latent that I can’t even remember what it feels like to fuck a woman.”
“Wet,” Brian reminded him. Boyd winced and spread out on top of his lover, pinning his wrists to the bed.
“It’s been even longer for you. How do you know?”
“I have a better memory.”
They kissed and then Brian whispered, “Isn’t it kinky to fuck with the bedroom door open?”
Boyd’s sister Lisette, and her partner, Petra, had taken Boyd’s two kids to the beach for a long weeked. The mother of his children had been dead for almost two months, now, the victim of a greedy, deranged man who also shot Brian. The time had been tough for everyone. Brian was recuperating from his physical wounds, as well as the mental stress of having been charged with serious crimes he never committed, since dismissed. Boyd and Brian as a couple, were tasked with putting a relationship together under intense public scrutiny and the stress of helping two small kids understand the loss of their mother. Boyd was principally charged with having to meld all these aspects of his life together into a seamless working unit. Added to that, Brian was putting together a business in New Orleans.
Many couples with far more experience at being partners and at being custodial parents would have buckled under much less challenging circumstances, but so far, their union was stronger than ever. As Brian put it, “We survived the hurricane, the rest is just a strong breeze.”
They were facing huge decisions that had to be made quickly. They approached each one as a team, open to differing viewpoints and searching for compromise. What began as a fiery sexual infatuation, had matured into love, and was now solidifying into a strong partnership. And yet, underneath it all, the sex still fumed and bellowed. The sex was the glue that mended the inevitable rips.
“I love having some time alone with you, Brian, but I do feel uneasy with the kids being so far away. I know that’s stupid, that Petra and Lis are wonderful and competent, but since Bonnie’s death I feel like I have to be there for them every minute.”
Brian reached up and pushed Boyd’s fair hair off his forehead. “To make them crazy, you mean? Because that’s what you’ll do if you smother them. We’ve had this conversation before. The shrink has had this conversation with you. The best thing you can do for those kids is to help them understand that a sense of normalcy is possible. That you’ll be around, even if you aren’t in their face every second.”
“I know, but…”
Brian shook his head. “No ‘but’. Open up that fist a little, Dad. Let them breathe.”
“And you? Am I holding you too tightly in my fist?” Brian leered at that remark causing Boyd to roll his eyes. “Stop. You know what I mean.”
“Trust me, I’d tell you. Are you going to make yourself crazy when I stay over in New Orleans? As I’ll have to do from time to time? Imagining I’m tricking or whatever the fuck you have in that creative brain of yours?”
“I thought we settled this. The shrink thinks its best for the kids that we leave them in this familiar environment and school for at least a semester. That means you and I have to be grown ups about the fact you have a business in New Orleans and you’ll have to go there, sometimes for more than a day or a couple of days. Believe it or not, Kinney, I trust your skinny ass.”
Brian shrugged. “Your character flaw, not mine.” Boyd slammed him with a pillow and Brian slammed it back. “Hey! I’m an invalid.”
“I think you’ve milked that one as much as it can be milked.”
Brian pulled him into his arms. “You’re going to look for a place in the Garden District, right? I mean we aren’t going to be commuters forever, are we?”
“I told you. As soon as the shrink thinks it’s good, we’re moving. I’m already looking at schools. I just don’t think I can have the kids living on the same property with Burn.”
“I understand and I’m not asking you to do that.”
“In the mean time, I don’t see why you won’t stay with Lisette. They have all that room.”
“Because I thought it might be uncomfortable for her and for Petra when I bring tricks home.”
“Brian, that is so not funny.”
He smiled the innocent smile of a naughty child. “What?”
Boyd reached down and grabbed Brian’s cock, squeezing until he winced. “You may not be needing this thing for long.”
“You hurt that thing, what are you going to do for a hobby?”
Boyd released him and then stood up and motioned for him to follow. “We have the place to ourselves. Let’s go fuck in the living room.”
Brian laughed and crossed an arm behind his head. “But I’m all comfy…”
“My ass is going to be in the living room. If you want it, come get it.”
“Christ, there is nothing worse than a bossy bottom,” Brian pretended to complain as he threw off the sheets and followed after his lover. On the way out of the bedroom, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the bureau and paused, staring at the narrow red line that zipped one side of his abdomen. It was fading, but still visible. His vanity regretted the flaw, but his ego was proud of it, because it represented a heroic moment in his life.
While Brian talked a good line, he was terrified of where they were now in their relationship. He had no guideposts to help him gauge if he was stumbling. His one prior love affair concluded in a sad ending for him. Except for Boyd, neither did he have a role model of how to be a father. He was worried about his ability to remain faithful, even though he didn’t want anyone but Boyd. Would he always be that strong? Nothing mattered more to him than making this work, nothing, but was he man enough to accomplish that goal? He wondered. The scar gave him hope that he had hidden depths he’d never plumbed. Before the shooting, would he have believed that he’d take a bullet for a kid he hardly knew? Maybe, but when it happened, he felt no hesitation at all.
“What the hell are you doing?” Boyd complained from afar.
“Nothing,” Brian left the bedroom and walked over to where his lover was stretched out on the couch. “Does it bother you?” he let his long fingers trail the scar. “Tell me the truth.”
Boyd reached up and pulled him closer, pressing his cheek to the line and then tracing it with his tongue. Brian shuddered at the sensation. “It’s become my favorite part of you. It’s the one visible sign of what a good guy you are underneath all your Irish bullshit.”
Brian smiled and buried his hands in Boyd’s hair as he let his face move down Brian’s body, his tongue lacing the pubes before he began to suck him. Brian closed his eyes, letting the sensation carry him. No matter how often they did it, it always felt brand new. Boyd buried his fingertips in the crack of Brian’s ass, his thumbs cradled in the flesh of his buttocks as he reeled him in and sucked him deep.
“I want to come this way,” Brian pleaded. “Don’t stop.”
Boyd knew there was always more where this erection came from with Brian, so he had no regret about getting him off, even though he wanted desperately to feel him inside his own body. Just before the moment when Brian lost it down Boyd’s waiting throat, the phone rang. “No fucking way,” Brian warned him, tightening his grip on the back of Boyd’s head as if he were afraid that Boyd would withdraw.
Boyd had no intention of stopping until he felt that geyser spray the deep palette of his mouth and throat, swallowing it as it came. When he leaned back, and smiled up at Brian, Brian said, “Okay, go look at the caller ID. I know you’re worried that it was the kids. By the time you walk back over here, I’ll be hard again,” he demonstrated by giving his cock a yank and Boyd rushed to the phone.
“It isn’t…” but before he could conclude that thought, it rang again and he impulsively picked it up, causing Brian to curse.
“Boyd? It’s Ted.”
“Not a good time, Ted.”
“Tell Brian the Christians are restless. The Republicans are stirring shit up. There’s a move afoot to prevent the deconstruction of the church into Burn.”
“Perfect,” Boyd said and hung up, grimacing at the thought of one more pressure point in their life.
“What’s perfect?” Brian asked, leaning back on the cushions with one foot on the floor, the other on the back of the sofa, his fist wrapped tightly around his cock as he stroked it into a firm erection. Boyd stared at that sight and decided that the Republicans would just have to wait.
"Your cock."
Brian smiled, letting Boyd have that one.
Current Mood:flirty
Jun. 10th, 2005 07:18 am - BURN, Chapter 2

Hi, It's Randall in my editing and posting role again! BWAHAA! Have fun! (P.S. Brian and I both send good, healthy karma and healing wishes out to Susan)
Brian was awake, and yet not awake. The sound of rain hammering the roof and the windows was soothing to his ear. He could smell the moisture in the air, trapped by the heat. The scent lingered as a cloying miasma that even state of the art air conditioning couldn’t completely overcome. He was learning that the atmosphere of the swamp was a demanding mistress. Keeping her at bay was a constant challenge. She seeped in to peel wallpaper off walls and turn salt and sugar into solid clumps, while depositing a thin layer of mold on shoes left too long in the bottom of a dark closet.
She could take your breath away on a hot day, making you feel as if you were trying to breathe underwater. But on that rare day when the humidity was low and a Gulf breeze blew in, she could make you feel as if you were basking in the afterglow of great sex.
He turned on his side and reached for Boyd, feeling the pleasant tingle of morning wood weighing heavily at his groin. All he touched was sheet, and he squinted one eye, confirming that he was alone.
“Brian,” he heard the soft voice of another man. Perhaps not so alone, after all. He smiled and threw back the sheets, displaying his erection as he said,
“Does this give you any ideas?”
“None that you’d let me complete.”
Ted.
Brian groaned and covered himself up, glaring at the man standing over him. “What the fuck? Where’s Boyd?”
Ted wore a wistful expression. Brian wasn’t sure if it meant Ted was longing for a piece of Brian’s dick, or whether he was longing to be hung like Brian. Maybe both. There were times when Brian felt uneasy over Ted’s superficial envy/lust. “Boyd let me in and said he had an early court appointment. He said he’d told you about it last night, but that you’d have forgotten, since you slept. He asked me to wake you up. He didn’t warn me that you awoke with your batteries fully charged.”
Brian lit a cigarette and exhaled with a cough. Smoking wasn’t nearly as much fun as it was before he had been shot. Something in his blood chemistry changed. If he had half a brain, he’d quit, but that seemed like such a concession to the norm. “Don’t worry, Theodore. Seeing you acts as an instant battery drain.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Brian shrugged, annoyed that Boyd left without a morning fuck. They always liked to take advantage of early wood. He knew it was Boyd’s way of ensuring that Brian got more rest, but it still annoyed him. “Why are you here?”
“We have an appointment in New Orleans. We’re meeting with the contractor. Given that we seem to be in the midst of a monsoon, I thought we’d better allow ourselves some extra time.”
Always the clock puncher, Brian observed to himself. He didn’t repeat that thought aloud, because he needed Ted, so he had to retain some level of civility if he wanted to keep him here. Money only went so far. It seemed to be very important to Ted that he be viewed as Brian’s friend. Ted enjoyed his de facto job as gatekeeper between Brian and the Pittsburgh gang. It gave him a certain amount of power and some credentials as an insider in Brian’s world. Pathetic, but then, in many ways, Ted was his friend and Brian reminded himself often of that fact. Especially when Ted was needy and annoying. Brian noticed his cock hadn’t lost much of its tumescence, which he attributed to a raging need to piss, not to the company. He got up and walked past Ted to the bathroom, kicking up the lid on the toilet and forcing a stream past his engorged tissues. The blood seemed to retreat as the urine emptied.
“Stop staring at my ass,” he said, glancing over his shoulder to where Ted stood in the doorway. It was a joke, but when Ted turned burgundy, Brian realized, with a grimace, that he had been, in fact, staring at his ass. He flushed the john and turned on the shower, instructing Ted, “Why don’t you make some coffee and I’ll meet you in the kitchen?”
A shower and shave later, Brian pulled on a robe and walked into the kitchen. Ted handed him a mug of fresh coffee. Brian accepted it and plopped down on the couch where he and Boyd had engaged in more interesting activities the night before. “What’s our schedule, Theodore? How far behind are we? By the way, what are the Christians and the Republicans up to?”