It's the Big non-date!!!
Title: Justin's Baby
Genre: Bad!fic, crack!fic - I dunno - take your pic - I don't really give a shit.
Warnings: God, where do I even begin? Sacrilege, demon worship, mPreg, bad language, drugged sex, bad!fic, crack!fic and mentions of the high cost of housing.
Summary: Based very loosely on Rosemary's Baby. Justin gets more than he bargained for when he moves into the apartment of his dreams.
Disclaimers: I do not own Cowlip. Ames Perdues does not exist. I apologize to all Japanese tourists and roast piglets.
Thanks go to fiercediva for the icon and poster. Thank you babe! *smooches*
Chapter 1 - Justin follows a lead
Chapter 2 - Justin Moves In
Chapter 3 - Justin Meets Brian
Chapter 4 - Justin Gets Ready to Eat Dinner
Chapter 5 - Justin Gets a Heavy Dose of the Folks
Chapter 6 - Justin goes to work
Chapter 7a - prelude to the big non-date
Thank you to critic75 and Megan for helping me with the accents. :)
As Justin entered the French restaurant, one step ahead of Brian, he wondered, and not for the first time since entering that strange apartment complex, what he could possibly be getting himself into.
"And here is your seat sir," the maitre 'd informed the young man as he pulled a seat out for him, Justin sitting down quickly. He noticed right away how many eyes were on him and his 'date.'
Brian held his hand up, indicating he could get his own chair, then sat down in said chair opposite of Justin. "Menus please. And I think a White Burgundy to begin would be good."
"Excellent choice sir," the man declared as he walked away.
"I can't believe we're here," Justin whispered excitedly as he gazed around the very posh dining establishment. Only the crème de la crème could be seen eating at Ȃmes Perdues on any given day. Reviewers had reported that the only reason the restaurant was a five star eatery was because that was as high as the rating system went. If they could give it more stars, they would. Gladly.
Ȃmes Perdues was at the top of the food chain, no doubt about that.
"I know the owner," Brian remarked off handedly as he sat back in his seat.
And know him, Brian did. He had to hand it to Marty Worshack, who now went by the name of Martin sans last name, a poor kid from the wrong side of the tracks who had a fondness for good food and wine.
Not only had he sold his soul to be able to serve the finest French food the world of haute cuisine had to offer, but he had the balls to call it Ȃmes Perdues, which literally translated into 'Lost Souls.'
And lost souls were exactly who it catered to Brian noted as he scanned the dining room. All of Pittsburgh's elite were there, people Brian knew on an intimate level, and not because he had fucked them. Well yes, in a manner of speaking, he had fucked them, as their souls were now all forfeit.
Each and every one of the souls Brian had acquired over the years, in their race for greed, fame, or power, (and other things, some too strange to admit) these people rushed headlong into their contracts, never once bothering to know what the consequences of their actions might possibly mean. Their soul, as Brian realized, was worthless to them. They were so quick to part with it, Brian felt that what he had procured had lost its true value.
So there was always a catch involved in the contract.
And just like Martin, aka Marty Worshack, found out the hard way, there was indeed a catch.
Yes he had a premiere restaurant, that was capable of catering to the elite and the discerning of palette. It could serve both the corporate and world leaders, kings and other forms of royalty and the upper-class.
But it was still located in Pittsburgh.
This was one of the reasons Brian had chosen to stay in this city, the one they had aptly dubbed 'the Pitts.' Some of the souls he had amassed now resided here and he enjoyed watching their torment. They were kings in their fields, but they were kings of, as Brian liked to call the city, a cesspool.
"Ah Mr. Kinney!" a large man exclaimed proudly in a poor imitation of a French accent as he approached Brian's table. "How lovely to see you."
"Martin," Brian nodded without looking at the man.
"I have brought you the finest and oldest from our wine cellar. Shall I?" Martin asked as he proceeded to align the corkscrew with the top of the bottle. Before the man opened the bottle, he handed two menus over to the gentlemen seated, Justin immediately opening his.
"They put a calorie counter next to all the food," Justin asserted, while furrowing his brows.
"Those aren't the calories, those are the prices," Brian confirmed as he perused his own menu.
"Oh," the young man swallowed audibly, closing the menu as if it might reach out and bite him.
Trying not to sound patronizing, Brian leaned over and whispered into Justin's ear. "Don't worry about it. I'll order." Both men gazed at each other, Brian smiling fondly before returning to his usual smirk.
Martin looked over at Brian and then Justin. "A potential client? Maybe another sale, Mr. Kinney?" Martin asked, a knowing grin gracing his smug face.
"No, he's my date," Brian proclaimed.
The cork popped out of the bottle and landed with a loud thud on the table, while Martin looked on in quiet astonishment, a hush descending over the tables within hearing distance.
"Date? Your date?!" Martin asked incredulously, his accent going back to its Chicago roots. "You're fucking with me, right?"
"No, this is my date. And later, I'll pretend to have to yawn and stretch my arm over him to cop a feel. Hopefully he'll let me kiss him good night right after that awkward moment under the porch light and before him saying 'I had a nice time tonight,'" Brian finished in a high falsetto while batting his eyelashes.
Martin continued to stare. "A date...huh..."
"We'll start with the pate en croute and the Escargots Curnosky," Brian glared back at the man who still held the wine aloft. "You can pour that now."
Martin poured the wine into the crystal flutes provided, said someone would be right back with their food and walked away still muttering the word 'date.' Brian took that moment to look around at the other patrons in the dining room. The ones that had been within hearing distance were staring at their table while the other tables were oblivious to him and Justin.
But from the way people were now gossiping in hushed whispers that were not all that hushed to begin with, it wouldn't be long before the whole room knew.
Justin peeked around and noticed people staring at him.
"Am I doing something wrong?" Justin implored.
"No, it's not you. It's me," Brian stated matter-of-factly.
"You do realize how arrogant you just sounded, don't you?" Justin scoffed. "Do you always think it's about you?"
"Actually...yes. So tell me," Brian said as he tried to steer Justin off the current topic, "I was going to get you traditional flowers. You know, six dozen long-stem roses, red of course. But I physically could not do it, the same way you physically could not gargle with a combination of broken glass and hydrochloric acid so then I thought about buying you a boutonniere that would match the color of your eyes and then I came to my senses after I stopped hitting my head against the wall for thinking that either one of us was a lesbian and I went with the plant instead."
"Yes, it's...nice. What kind of plant is that by the way?" Justin asked.
"It reminded me of you. Succulent," Brian smiled while he elongated the last word, drawing it out slowly.
Justin shivered as he gaped at the leer directed at him.
It was the kind of smile Jack Nicholson directed at girls below the age of twenty-one right before he asked them if they liked candy and wanted to see the inside of his van.
Justin took a huge gulp of his wine and swallowed, "well thank you...for the plant."
Watching Justin drink his wine, images of tracing his own tongue along that graceful neck, made Brian readjust his trousers. "Where is the waiter with our food?"
"You just ordered!" Justin chuckled "Do you always get what you want immediately?"
"Well...yes. What was your point exactly?" Brian asked in complete wonder.
He was evil incarnate. He was the supreme power...next to Whats' His Name. People bowed down before him and worshiped in his name. Who was this boy to question that?
Where the fuck was that waiter with his food!
"So what is it you do Brian?" Justin asked, also now finding a way to steer the conversation to his liking.
"Oh yeah. Date conversation. Okay. Well I'm a Leo, a fire sign you know. I don't like putting out on the first date. Oh wait," Brian said as he looked up coquettishly, "I do."
"Brian," Justin warned then laughed. "I meant for a job."
"I'm either A, in the Septic Tank pumping industry and drive around in one of those smelly trucks all day long with the really long hoses or B, advertising."
"There's a difference between the two?" Justin asked with a smile.
"Actually, not much," Brian acknowledged before he imitated the sound of a buzzer. "Time's up. Answer's B. I own Kinnetik," he finished seriously.
"Oh, so not only do you shovel shit to the public, but you're the master shoveler," Justin answered smirking.
"That sounds so dirty and...kinky when you say it," Brian replied seductively.
"I can't believe it. Your agency has some of the worst morals when it comes to lying to the public. You represent pesticide companies," Justin started as he ticked off one finger at a time.
"They still haven't proven Zygot-184 caused all those mutations," Brian defended.
"Suspect pharmaceutical companies..."
"Better living through chemicals, and I'm sure all those lab animals that gave their lives for the pursuit of science didn't suffer much."
"And let's not forget the cigarette companies," Justin finished.
"More people die in freak plasma screen explosions every year than by lung cancer," Brian shrugged. "Okay, that was a lie."
Just then, a waiter approached the table. "Your escargots and your pate...Brian?"
"Oh it's you," Brian replied in a bored manner as he looked the handsome young man up and down. "Justin meet Jason. Guy has a mouth like a Dyson. Want to give him a go?"
"Um...no," Justin laughed while blushing.
Jason rolled his eyes. "Client?" the waiter asked as he sized Justin up, the same smug smile on his face as Martin's.
"My date," Brian said just a bit louder to make sure more of the patrons knew.
"When pigs fly," Jason sneered. "And what would you both like for your main entree tonight gentlemen?"
Just then a man stood up from a table against the far wall and started yelling frantically, "he's really on a date?!?! Oh God! It must be the Apocalypse!!!" He then ran from the table and bumped into another waiter who was bringing out a flaming roast piglet. The entree toppled over catching another patron on fire while the whole table stood up trying to put their friend out. While they were doing that, the pig had fallen on one tray and the tray had sent the flaming pig through the air.
"You were saying?" Brian asked, one eyebrow raised as he looked at Jason.
"Shouldn't you go and do something?" Justin asked.
"Not my table," the boy droned.
"I'll have the Crevettes a La Mode De Provence and for my young companion, the Cailles Farcie," Brian read off as he closed the menu and handed it back to Jason.
"Very well sir," Jason bowed as he grabbed the menus, winked at Justin and walked away, chuckling to himself.
"Brian," Justin asked warily. "Why was that hysterical man saying those things? Is there something I should know?"
"I happen to know most of the people in this room...clients of mine...and this thing here...this date...is a bit unusual for me."
"Brian, exactly how many dates have you been on?" Justin asked suspiciously.
"When was that?"
"Well, right now. You do remember walking into this very restaurant with me, right?"
Justin sat back in his chair. "That man is on fire..."
"He's out now. They've come a long way with skin grafts you know."
"He's on fire because I agreed to go on a non-date with you."
"So do you always think it's about you? You do realize how arrogant you just sounded, don't you?" Brian finished with a grin.
Justin sighed. "I should be more freaked out by a man being on fire but strangely, after what happened to poor Ethan..."
Looking pointedly at Brian, Justin lamented, "I guess I'm a bit jaded."
"That happened awfully quickly," Brian mock pouted.
"Living in your apartment building will do that," Justin shrugged. Looking down at the escargots, the young artist beamed. "It has been so long since I've had this dish."
Brian watched as Justin tore off a slice of the crusty baguette, took one of the snails out of their shell, and drizzled the garlic butter mixture over the whole thing. He finished it off with a squeeze of lemon and popped it in his mouth. The look of utter bliss etched across Justin's face sent another bolt straight to Brian's groin.
"You look like an old pro with the way you handled your snails," Brian mused.
"My mom took me to this Bistro like, once every two months back home. This was my favorite dish."
Spreading pate on his own piece of baguette, Brian continued to watch Justin savor the delights of the dish.
"You know, when my dad found out I was gay, he blamed my mom. He said it was because she always told me to indulge my artistic side and well...probably even for the little things, like this."
"Wait, I just had an image forming in my head," Brian laughed. "Next gay pride parade, you need to wear a t-shirt that says EATING SNAILS MADE ME GAY."
Justin laughed and in laughing, some of the garlic butter dribbled down his chin. Brian had to hold back wanting to lick the sauce off of him. "You have some...butter." he said as he pointed to his chin.
Grabbing the linen napkin quickly, Justin wiped his chin and blushed, "sorry."
"Just for the record, I've never seen anyone get so excited about eating snails," Brian muttered.
"Shut up and eat your chopped liver," Justin smirked playfully.
"It's chopped liver."
"At these prices, its pate."
"At these prices, they can call the chopped liver whatever the fuck they want and send it to college," Justin snickered.
Just then a group of Japanese tourists came up to their table and started snapping pictures.
"Brian, why are they taking our picture?"
Really, this was just too much.
Brian could hear the Japanese word for 'date' and 'not in fucking in hell' pop up occasionally.
"Ignore them. Most people do," Brian sighed. "So, Justin, what do you plan on specializing in at the institute?" He rolled his eyes as the Japanese tourists walked away.
"I haven't decided yet. I was accepted in because of my sketches," Justin divulged as he spread some pate on his baguette. "But I don't want to limit myself to that. I've come to appreciate the Impressionists. To be able to create art that shows what you perceive the subject as and not the subject itself, which sketching has always limited me to, would be amazing!" Justin beamed as he explained with a passion that affected Brian. "I know its cliche but I do love the works of Claude Monet..."
"Ah Claude," Brian murmured while nodding his head.
Brian remembered Monet only all too well. He had him in line for his soul. He promised him the recognition his art deserved.
Well, to be truthful, his art hadn't deserved it as of yet.
It wasn't until Joe, who had come along with Brian, had observed one of the Monets and declared, 'you know, this ain't half bad. They're a bit too dark though. Maybe if they had some light shone on them.'
Brian had watched with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as the lightbulb had come on over Claude's head.
The artist had added some washed out yellow paint to his artwork. Monet had become famous and Brian had lost that soul.
Brian had considered hanging Joe upside down in a vat of scalding hot saltwater if he hadn't known the fucker would get off on it.
Brian brought his attention back to the present and his charming companion who had started speaking again. "I also like abstract expressionism. I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet though. But if I could express my thoughts and emotions through my artwork...well...to me, that would be the pinnacle of my career. To actually have something out there and someone could know what you were thinking and feeling while creating it." Justin sighed yet again in longing. "I would love to be the next Jackson Pollock."
Brian also sighed, in remembered grief.
His soul too was almost in Brian's grasp. Or so he liked to think. He brought Joe with him yet again.
While talking to Jackson in the diner, Joe had ordered a hot dog and a basket of fries. When the food came out, Joe immediately took the squeeze bottles of condiments out and proceeded to drench his dog in mustard and his fries in ketchup.
Pollock took one look at what Joe was doing, sprung from his stool, told Joe he was a genius and had run out of the diner.
Brian had lost acquiring yet another soul.
Casting the evil eye over to Joe who was chewing on his hot dog, the eating man swallowed his food and asked innocently, 'what? I didn't say anything!'
There were times Brian had wished he had just parted ways with Joe back during the Black Death.
Brian had snapped out of his thoughts when he realized everything Justin had been telling him. "That would be important to you, wouldn't it? To be the best?" Brian asked, sincerely wanting to know.
He needed to know what Justin's price was exactly.
And if he had one.
"No, I didn't say the best!" Justin nodded quickly in the negative. "I said to get my point across to people. To create something that the public would get. That they could understand without being too pretentious."
"And what would that be worth to you exactly?" Brian queried.
Frowning, Justin asked, "what do you mean?"
And just as Brian was about to tell Justin exactly what he meant, their main entrees, along with that silly, smirking waiter, arrived. "Your Crevettes sir," Jason said as he placed a plate of scampi in front of Brian, "and your Cailles Farcie," the waiter smirked at Justin as he placed a plate with two quails in front of him. "Tender, young birds prepared to perfection," he grinned cheekily with a final wink.
"That will be all," Brian ground out as he watched the young waiter smile and walk away. He was getting really sick of the man's flirting with Justin.
And where in the hell did that thought come from?
Looking at a very uncomfortable and blushing Justin, Brian broke into the young man's thoughts. "They're not that young you know. They just look it because they're small. They're quails. They might even be old. For all we know, they were ready for the quail resting home."
Throwing a luminous smile in Brian's direction, which the older man noted hit some particular spot somewhere deep inside him that he wasn't even aware still existed, Justin finally relaxed while looking down at his food. "This looks delicious Brian!" the young man gushed as he stabbed his fork into a particular spot on one of the quails and lifted the morsel of meat to his lips. His tongue snaked out to grab the lucky delicacy and chewed.
The look of divine hedonism that crossed over Justin's face as he indulged himself and then swallowed also went straight to Brian's groin.
This was getting ridiculous.
"So, as we were saying, what would becoming an artist, an artist whose work was appreciated by the public at large, be worth to you?" Brian asked yet again.
"I don't think I could assign a value to something like that," Justin responded as he bit into another piece of the poultry.
"Okay, purely hypothetical..."
"Okay?" Justin inquired guardedly.
"Wants me to sell my soul in return for my art's recognition, right?" Justin suggested, his lip curving upward.
"Oh you know the story?" Brian retorted in surprise. The kid was quick.
"No you don't know the story?" Brian looked at Justin in confusion. "But you had the plot down so well."
"Yes, I do know the story and no, I wouldn't sell him my soul."
"And why exactly is that?" Brian really wanted to know how Justin answered his query.
"Well, first off, I want to be known for my achievements, for my abilities as an artist communicating to people. If it was just because a supernatural being were to gift me with the ability to do so, then it wouldn't be me. You get that, don't you? I mean, you're in a highly creative field."
Brian knew all too well what Justin meant. There were of course the artists who didn't give a fig about their own talent and just wanted to be famous, at whatever costs.
But the true artists, such as Justin and others, wanted more. And their souls couldn't be bought at any price. Writers, composers and musicians were included in this little group.
And that made him think about Ethan.
Yes, of course he knew his name. The boy couldn't be bought. He wanted to be the best violinist but only because of his own hard work and his own love for the instrument and music.
Brian had wiped the boy"s memory of their conversation and had disliked Ethan from that day forward. It wasn't because he held no respect for the violinist. He did. He admired people who had strength in their convictions and confidence in their abilities.
He just hated failure.
Brian came back to himself when he suddenly remembered something his charming young companion had mentioned. "You said 'first off,' was there another reason you wouldn't want to sell your soul?"
"Well, duh," Justin proclaimed as if it were so obvious. "It's my soul! It's very important to me. You can't just sell what makes you...well, you."
Brian looked up quickly.
A person who actually valued their soul. Who didn't see it as a bartering tool.
This just made Brian's job that much more of a challenge.
And Brian loved a challenge.
It was at that moment in time that Brian took notice of the table one over where everyone had been staring at him. He hadn't noticed before how he had been looking in adoration at Justin the whole time they had been conversing.
He could put a spin on it and say it was all merely business but that wasn't it.
Justin held his attention. He was interested in what Justin had to say. He liked the way the lad ate, the way he became so passionate about whatever he was babbling about at the moment. He liked the way he said the word 'fuck.' He liked the way his blond hair fell into his eyes when he bent his head down.
In short, Brian was so fucked.
But he couldn't allow anyone else to know that.
Casting another glance at the table, he could tell by the looks on their faces that they knew they had been caught talking about him. But it was obvious they had more to say to each other, so the entire table ducked below the tablecloth to continue their clandestine conversation.
The same distraught man who had shot out of his seat before, raving about the Apocalypse looked over at the table of people who had just seem to evaporate into thin air. "Oh God! The people! They just vanished!!! It's the rapture!!! Oh God!!" He then fell to his knees in prayer, "Oh heavenly Father. I renounce Satan and all his wicked ways."
"It's a little late for that buddy," Brian growled. He then turned to Justin, "they wouldn't know if it was the rapture. No one in this fucking room would suddenly disappear, that's for sure."
Justin looked at Brian in confusion once again before Jason came back to clear their plates. "Would the gentlemen like any dessert?"
Dessert! Brian thought. That was all he needed while he was acting like a lovesick schoolboy.
Justin getting some chocolatey confection, licking his fingers free of the cocoa delight, the sauce clinging to his upper lip. Or strawberries! Visions of Justin sucking on a strawberry, his lips staining a bright red...
Brian readjusted his trousers once again. "We'll have the crème brûlèe."
Crème brûlèe was safe. It had a hard shell you had to crack open with your spoon. A violent dessert if there ever was one. It was custard. It clumped on your spoon. It wouldn't spill, stain or in any way, shape or form be looked upon as sensual.
"What did you mean by all that Brian?" Justin pressed as he took a sip of his wine.
"What?" Brian asked, still in a daze thinking about Justin eating chocolate-covered strawberries.
"All that stuff about the rapture and 'no one in this room would suddenly disappear,'" Justin finished as he tried to imitate Brian's authoritative voice.
Oh, did he say all that out loud?
Sloppy. Very sloppy.
"It's just that, the people in this room, they're non-believers," Brian lied.
Actually, it wasn't that far from the truth. They were believers. They had to believe in God or else they would never have believed in him. They just don't seem to get the Big Picture.
"So, you think that because people are non-believers...wait," Justin stopped. "Brian? Do you believe in God," he smiled at the last word.
"Yes," Brian stated without room for argument.
"But how can you?" Justin snapped. "You're an intelligent, well-educated man..."
"I just do. But the real question here is do you Justin?" Brian asked as he lifted one eyebrow.
"No. I don't. I believe in myself. I believe in the people around me."
Brian sighed. He was relieved on one side that Justin was not a religious man. But he was frustrated on the other.
If you didn't believe in God, then how could you believe in Satan? He hated not being believed in. It was almost as if he didn't exist.
"So, if logic follows correctly, then you don't believe in m...the devil," Brian almost slipping in his haste to get an answer.
"No, I only believe in what is in front of me."
Brian let out a loud bark of laughter. "Oh if only you knew the true irony of that statement."
Justin didn't believe in him. Oh he believed in the deception he saw before him.
But he would never believe in him.
Well, he would eventually. There was no way around that.
"Brian? Have I offended you? I didn't know your faith was so strong..."
Brian held up one finger. "I said I believe in God. I didn't say my faith was strong. I didn't say I worshiped him. I just," he stopped and looked around him. "He gave these talking monkeys free will, and yet they still don't believe." Brian chuckled. "And He said I was arrogant.</i>"
Justin contemplated the bewildering man in front of him. "I'm not sure who you're talking about when you said 'he said'..."
Brian waved his hand in the air, "it's not important. Just sour grapes."
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don't believe in Santa Claus either," Justin smirked.
Oh joy. Now his young date was lumping him together with a jolly old, fat man. Exhaling, Brian decided to put it behind him and just continue to enjoy the moment. He put his attention back on Justin and contemplated him with such tenderness, the young man had to smile back.
Just as Brian was to be caught out yet again for looking dopey-eyed, as he would later call it to Joe, Jason came by with dessert.
Justin grabbed his spoon, and like a small child eating the brûlèe for the first time, jabbed at the hardened crust several times. He scooped a spoonful into his mouth, delighting in the rich taste of the custard. As he withdrew the spoon from his mouth, licking it clean with his tongue of course, a small piece of the crystallized caramel stuck to the peak of his upper lip.
Just the exact place Brian had been hoping to avoid seeing anything stick to.
And he would later, while retelling the incident to Joe, say it was in no way his fault. The boy had no right having such sensual, kissable perfect lips. Because that was exactly what Brian did. He leaned over the table and licked the piece of caramel from the lad's lips. They tasted sweet. And it wasn't because of the dessert.
He couldn't stop there. His tongue dove into the boy's mouth, hoping to find any traces of the dessert and that other flavor. A flavor that couldn't be found on any of Martin AKA Marty Worshack's food.
It was so sweet. It was innocent. Pure, sinless, unblemished, uncorrupted and undefiled.
There were probably more 'un' words but he couldn't think of any as his tongue was searching for more within Justin.
Breaking apart, Justin gazed wordlessly into Brian's eyes. "I had a nice time tonight," Justin pitched in the same falsetto voice Brian had imitated earlier.
The tension broken, they both laughed.
Brian looked up at Jason who had been staring mesmerized at the two men only moments before.
Of course he wasn't the only one. The whole dining room had been too.
"Check please," Brian commented as he continued to ogle Justin.
He once again shifted in his seat. His cock was now rock hard and wanted to explode out of his trousers.
Not the explode as in 'there'll be cum splashed across the fabric pissing off his cleaning lady,' but as in 'it wants to explode into tiny pieces if it doesn't get satisfaction right the fuck now.'
Getting the check, paying for the check, a grateful Marty happy to see the couple go as his paranoid patrons were starting to get on his nerves, Brian rushed Justin out of the restaurant and into his Corvette that was waiting for them in the valet parking lot.
Brian went through a few red lights and as luck would have it, had been stopped by a policeman. The officer had taken one look inside the car, said, 'sorry sir, I didn't know it was you,' and had let them go.
They arrived in record time back at Brian's loft.
Justin stood just outside the large steel door, looking down the hallway to his own door and then back again.
This was a crossroads in his life and he knew it.
He took a look at Brian who was leaning against the doorway, a wide grin on his face, his captivating eyes trying to seduce him into his lair. Justin knew the minute he entered, he was to be pounced upon. The dinner in the restaurant had been for his benefit. He was now at the dinner and prey and the mighty hunter would claim him now. He would be ravished quite thoroughly and with someone like Brian, his heart no doubt would be possessed and owned by the man when he was done. He would not leave the loft the same man, no boy, because that was what he still was.
Swallowing his fear, Justin stepped through the doorway, Brian closing the large door soundly behind him with a loud thud, the lock catching and enclosing him in.
He knew what he was getting himself into this time.
And he was in way over his head.
The next update will be chapter 7c - and of course, it will be about the sex. Duh!
Hope you liked. Feedback is really appreciated.
BTW, Escargots used to be my favorite too. :)