A Slanted Trajectory
It happened. I couldn't stop it. It was a trainwreck, really. With many thanks to my wonderful beta, Brooklinegirl.
And with many, many apologies all around.
Mouse clicked the television switch off and took in the new silence of the room. He heard the fridge humming and, on occasion, coughing with age. The box was a piece of garbage, but it kept the food and quaaludes from going bad, so he was fine with that. And, anyway, it wasn’t the humming of the fridge that was giving him a headache. He’d come to think of that particular kind of headache as a sex hangover – fun and abandonment at night, killer of a mindfuck in the morning.
Mouse glanced at the clock on the wall. Afternoon, more like. His gaze followed the trajectory it had started and fell on the apartment door. He drummed the surface of the kitchen counter, his nails clicking a beat on the plastic surface in a way that reminded him of the glasses knocking against the lacquered surface of the bar, the night before. Brian would probably be asleep now. Maybe. Or, maybe he was awake, lifting weights, or… or reading some smart book and smoking a joint.
Yeah, like you’d smoked his cock last night, intoned a voice in his head, and he struggled to kill the giggle before it materialized. That broke his weird mood and he grinned.
So, yeah, okay. It had been a mindfuck, bagging a straight guy – his first, at that! – but it’d been damn worth it. Trouble was, of course, he just didn’t know what would happen now. They lived in the same building -- hell, were going to the same Christmas party. Sooner or later, they’d have to see each other, and what if it got weird? On the other hand – Mouse’s stomach did a little flip-flop of anticipation – what if it was a good kind of weird? A fun kind of weird? Unless…unless Brian had freaked out, after all. Was he freaking out? What if he was, would that matter?
Mouse shook his head and firmly told himself to chill out. This was stupid – it wasn’t like he’d never had a drunken one-night stand before. And he wasn’t going to drive himself crazy thinking about Brian when Mouse was still such a mess over losing Michael.
Mouse turned on his heel and left the kitchen. He had better things to do. Like get ready for a fabulous Christmas party, for instance.
some twelve hours earlier…
“So, looks like we both struck out, huh?” Mouse walked out through the bar door and zipped up his jacket against the chilly night air. He grinned at Brian, lurching beside him.
“Appears so,” Brian answered. “Shame. I was really hoping to get laid.”
If Mouse hadn’t been looking, he might have missed the slight leer Brian sent his way right before almost slamming his head into a phone pole.
“Whoa!” Mouse caught Brian by the arm and steered him to the middle of the sidewalk. “Are you really that drunk?”
“Oh, yeah.” Brian was heavy at his side, a kind of looming large…thing. He seemed huge. “I don’t drink that much… anymore… Just smoke weed, you know?” He closed his eyes and smiled at something in his head. Mouse studied his face a bit, lit only by the street lights. Yeah, he was hot, all right. And – Brian nearly stumbled again – and in need of Mouse’s help. It was high time they flagged down a cab. Mouse kept a hold on Brian’s jacket while walking over to the road and lifting his arm for the coming cab.
Once inside, he arranged Brian to sit somewhat comfortably without sliding off the seat. He pressed himself against the opposite door and deliberately looked out the window, and not at the squirming guy beside him. He was trying very hard to ignore his reaction to it all and began to tell himself – like he had before they’d even got to the bar, when it had sounded like Brian was proposing fucking – that Brian was straight and also, very drunk. However, those two conditions seemed to either be canceling each other out or were just not entirely true, because out of nowhere, Brian steered his way toward Mouse and placed his big warm hand on his thigh. He was giving Mouse’s leg slight pats, rubbing here and there, skin rasping against denim.
Mouse tore his gaze away from his leg and looked at Brian’s face. His eyes were closed, and a slightly satisfied smile was playing on his lips. It reminded Mouse of a cat he once had, back home in Florida. It used to chase mice under the porch and later come out with that kind of satisfied smile on its kitty face. Like a victor off a battlefield, it slowly licked its lips, as if tasting the last of the treat. Brian hadn’t won anything yet, but Mouse knew that if his fingers moved only a few inches up, Brian would discover that victory was almost at hand, so to speak.
Gathering all his remaining strength of will, Mouse took hold of Brian’s hand and placed it firmly in the space between them, giving it a little friendly pat, to appease Brian. Or himself. Or maybe both. Brian didn’t open his eyes, and his expression didn’t falter as he sighed and said: “Ahh, Mouse… Shame.”
And that was the moment that Mouse broke. Here he was, trying to do the honorable thing and not take advantage of a hot drunk guy who had only hours earlier professed his heterosexuality but was now groping Mouse’s leg, and it was the straight guy who was saying “shame”? No way. Brian wanted to do him? Then Mouse would make sure that he had the best damn sex of his life.
When the cab screeched to a halt in front of their stairs, Mouse raided his sadly thin wallet and found some money that he shoved in the cabbie’s hand before hustling Brian out of the car. The stairs loomed in the darkness, and it was going to be hell, half-dragging Brian up them all, but Mouse had a goal now, and damn whatever his father had always said, whatever goals Mouse set for himself, he met. It was just that his goals tended to differ a bit from the ones his father wanted him to have.
Currently, his goal was teetering and almost falling over, so Mouse grabbed Brian’s arm, wrapped it around his shoulder, and they set off. Brian grunted in his ear every third step or so, distracting him, and Mouse felt his forehead breaking out in sweat. After a few long, silent minutes, they were nearly there, almost at the top, and he felt his right side burning from where Brian was leaning against him, barely even trying to hold up on his own.
Three steps away, two…one. He shook Brian off and leaned against the wall, panting. Brian actually looked more sober now, and Mouse felt a certain disappointment at that, like maybe a sober Brian would remember that he didn’t actually like dick, and Mouse would have to take his hard-on home and concoct some sort of elaborate fantasy to get off. But Brian fumbled for his keys, unlocked the door, and before Mouse knew what was happening, he was being dragged bodily inside. Mouse remembered to shut the door before Brian fell on him.
Hot, amazing kiss, big warm hands pawing at his shirt, lifting it up until those same warm hands were on his skin, and Mouse knew when to get with the program. He kissed Brian back with the same kind of ferocity, tongue meeting tongue, teeth clashing against teeth. For a straight guy, Brian sure knew what he wanted. He tore his mouth away from Mouse’s and licked down and all along his jaw, nipped and bit a line down his throat. His hands got busy undoing Mouse’s jeans, while Mouse, knowing exactly what he wanted, focused his attention on undoing Brian’s pants. The air smelled of alcohol and sex, and Mouse practically tore Brian’s zipper apart, trying to shove his pants down. When he finally succeeded, they nearly fell to the ground, so yeah, horizontal would probably be best here, he decided. He tugged on Brian’s shirt, and pulled him down to the shag rug. Brian obeyed instantly, and they kicked away the scattered books and headphones and there, now they were horizontal, their pants were down, and they were ready to mambo.
Yeah, Brian was a big guy, in every sense of the word, Mouse was happy to note, and he was enthusiastic, to boot. Mouse hadn’t even gotten Brian’s shirt off when he found himself nearly naked, only his jeans still on, binding his ankles. He shucked his shoes – kind of awkward, lying on the floor, on his side – and finally getting rid of any restraints, including Brian’s shirt. He’d seen Brian nearly naked before, when they were both sunbathing in the yard, but now he could touch and grope, just like he’d wanted to that day, so he scooted closer and grabbed Brian’s ass. He heard Brian grunt in his ear, pressed his erection against Brian’s. They both hissed.
“You like that?” Mouse murmured, licking the soft spot behind Brian’s ear. He realized that those were the first words spoken between them since the cab ride, and that was a little odd, but then again, the whole situation was more than a little odd, so what the hell. He moved a little more.
“Yeah, oh yeah,” Brian answered back, his voice gone husky. It was low and guttural, and Mouse desperately wanted Brian to fuck him, or suck his cock, or do something, now, like, yesterday.
“What else do you like?” Mouse looked at Brian. He still had that cat-in-victory grin going, his eyes looking kind of weird, like he was in a trance. A sex trance. Mouse bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to giggle. Brian spoke again: “Stuff… I like--”
“Yeah.” Brian opened his eyes fully and took sudden hold of Mouse’s dick. “Stuff.”
Mouse gasped and closed his eyes. Yeah, okay, he liked stuff, too. Stuff was- Brian began pumping his cock slowly, squeezing it just right – stuff was real good. But Mouse liked all kinds of stuff, and since he was the queer and sober one here, it was up to him to provide Brian with the knowledge of the various stuff they could do.
“You like –damn, that’s good – you like blow jobs?” Mouse practically gasped that out. Brian was really good with his hands.
“Oh yeah, I like blow jobs. I like getting them.” Brian’s hand twitched a bit and threw the rhythm off. Mouse watched him adjust his arm and start pumping again. The good feeling began building and building. “Never – I’ve never given one, though,” Brian added, almost as an after-thought. Mouse conceded the point through the haze in his head, and offered: “I’m good at giving ‘em…” He felt his eyes roll to the back of his head.
“Yeah?” Brian’s voice was a hot, rough whisper in his ear. “I’m good at getting ‘em.”
The hand on Mouse’s cock slowed down and then stopped all movement. Mouse breathed in deeply and opened his eyes. Brian was grinning down at him. He didn’t even feel disappointment at not getting off. This way was more fun, anyway. He grinned back, sat up and pulled Brian down onto his back. Still grinning, he slid down the warm body and reached for the thick cock, already wet at the tip. He gave Brian one last look – Brian was putting an arm behind his head, closing his eyes, and Mouse would recognize that “about to get a blown” position anywhere – and put his lips around the head.
Bitter and salty, thick and warm in his mouth. He knew his way around a dick, and soon he was deep-throating, blowing Brian’s mind – if the twitching and humping of hips and deep, dark moans were any indication – and yeah, he loved doing this. Brian was actually the kind of guy he loved sleeping with. He didn’t talk too much, only when necessary, and he showed it when you did something right. Mouse was, apparently, doing many things right. He was pacing himself, breathing carefully through his nose, but soon he was lost to everything but the rhythm of his mouth and Brian’s hips. Closer, he could feel him getting closer, and he grabbed Brian’s hip, steadying himself. He felt Brian tensing under his hand, tensing all underneath him, felt his legs freezing, and then Mouse was swallowing around Brian’s cock, allowing his throat to work through the orgasm. He dimly heard Brian gasping above him. One last spurt, and Mouse felt him go limp beneath his hand. He slipped the soft cock from his mouth and licked his lips.
He found Brian looking at him, though not grinning anymore. He was kind of…hungry looking. That was weird, because usually guys only looked like that before they came, not afterwards. For a moment, Mouse actually felt scared. What if now Brian got upset about this whole thing? What if that sobered him up? Mouse sat, totally frozen, and watched Brian moving towards him with trepidation. And then he was being grabbed in a half-hug, half-grope, and pulled down to lie on top of Brian. He felt his breath go out of him from the sudden change, and laughed.
“That,” Brian finally said, “was awesome. I gotta return the favor somehow, right?” Brian licked his own taste right from Mouse’s mouth. A strong thigh parted his legs and Mouse moaned. His cock was pressed against the fold of Brian’s leg, and he began humping Brian’s hip, because he really needed to get off. Brian grabbed his ass and squeezed. Mouse gasped and suddenly wished that Brian wasn’t quite so straight. If only he’d move his fingers more to the middle and just—
As if he’d wished aloud, Mouse felt Brian’s fingers creeping towards the crease and parting his cheeks. He held his breath and dropped his head down into the crook of Brian’s neck. He felt Brian exploring a bit, trying to find where he wanted to go, and then – there, found it, and it – okay, yeah, that hurt, too dry. Ow, ow, no, dammit.
“Wait, wait --” Mouse managed to make his voice heard over his own heartbeat.
“What, you don’t like that?” He felt Brian shifting his head. His finger retreated.
“I do, yeah I do… Just… dry. Spit…lick y-your finger first…” He parted his legs to give Brian more access. His head was swimming. He needed to move, he needed Brian to move, he needed to come, dammit, now, he needed it so bad.
“Ah, gotcha… All right, hang on.” Mouse heard wet sounds and it felt like forever before the finger was back, sliding in more easily now it was wet.
He hissed, muffling any other noises by sucking on Brian’s shoulder. He heard Brian chuckle in his ear, and then he couldn’t hear anything at all, because Brian was fingering him with one hand and encouraging him to move his hips with the other. Mouse was now thrusting between Brian’s hip and finger and he saw waves in his mind’s eye, ocean waves, the kinds you get with strong winds, out on the Bay. He could barely breathe, it felt so good. Brian was damn good with his hands. A minute morphed into an uncertain kind of infinity and Mouse didn’t think he could handle any more. His orgasm was building higher and higher and then, a moment later, it broke over him, and he cried out, still moving on Brian’s finger and against his hip, now wet with his come.
It took him a while to come back to reality and take his mouth away from Brian’s shoulder. They both reeked of sex and spit and beer. Mouse eased himself off Brian’s finger with a wince, then fell to the side, onto the carpet. He rubbed his eyes, learning to breathe again. He felt Brian shifting, moving away somewhere. He couldn’t open his eyes, so he just lay there, feeling cooler now, almost cold.
When he finally opened his eyes, he saw that Brian had wiped himself with a t-shirt, and was lighting a joint. He was still naked. Brian caught Mouse’s eye and silently offered him the doobie. Mouse shook his head and began to look around for his clothes.
“Going already?” Brian asked, smoke escaping his mouth. Mouse nodded, trying not to look at him. Any minute now, Brian might still freak out. It wasn’t every day he stuck his finger up another guy’s ass, after all. “All right. Have a good night, Mighty Mouse…”
Brian closed his eyes and didn’t say anymore. Mouse couldn’t help smiling at the new nickname. He found his errant shirt, and by the time he was done getting dressed, Brian seemed to have already passed out on the floor. Mouse didn’t make a noise as he stepped out of the apartment and went back to his own empty one.
Mouse found himself at a sex store. Well, that wasn’t really shocking – he often found himself in sex stores around here. But he’d been looking for Christmas presents for the party, and he wasn’t sure how sex toys would be received. Anna Madrigal was a forward kind of lady, and grew pot in her yard to share with her tenants, but there was still something very upstanding about her. He figured it best not to try and give her a vibrator. And the thought of giving Mary Ann a sex toy was so funny, he had to restrain himself from laughing out loud. She’d probably think it was a musical instrument and try to play it for guests, or something. He chuckled to himself and walked towards the opposite wall.
Oh. Oh. Well. Of course. That was why he’d ended up here instead of Bloomingdale’s. Cock rings. What if- well, it was an idea. Last night, he’d left without saying a word to Brian, and without getting much input from Brian on where they now stood. But he was getting kind of tired of letting the other guy decide everything. Michael hadn’t even talked to him after he saw him dancing. He just broke it off, and Mouse took it, didn’t say anything, didn’t try and stop him. Well, what if he were to start this upcoming year a different Mouse? What if he were to start taking charge of his own damn life?
He wasn’t a bad person, and he deserved some good, he just knew it. Mona’d left him, but she was just trying to build her own life. He needed to start building his own life, too. And Brian seemed like an okay guy, and he was terrific in bed – a quick study, that was for sure. Mouse’s stomach did that thing again, where it anticipated before his brain did.
Yeah. He definitely needed to be in charge of something in his life. He reached for the nearest cock ring. He remembered the heft of Brian’s cock in his hand and in his mouth. Yeah, this was the right size. A good design. A fun kind of present, right? After all, Brian had expressed some interest, and Mouse knew all about cocks and their rings. He grinned to himself and reached for his wallet.
Yeah. He could teach Brian all about the different kinds of stuff you could do with some metal, leather, and a hard cock. All it was, really, was a different kind of way of thinking. A little slanted, maybe. But definitely not bad.