Bad Sex by Suz Disclaimer - Showtime/RTD own them, no infringement intended. Hee. Brian/Justin, future fic, humour. Rated R for language and sexual situations. Feedback would be terrific! * One night, Brian and Justin had bad sex. Neither one of them was drunk, or high, or suffering from radiation poisoning. And the sex was still bad. "Uh," Justin said as he desperately rolled away afterwards. "That really tired me out. 'Night." Facing away from Brian, eyes wide open, Justin clutched the edge of his pillow with one hand and wondered if this was how normal couple's relationships went south. * The next morning they both acted as if nothing was wrong. In fact, it was perfectly normal - except for the fact that there was no sex in the shower, no blowjobs; no getting rimmed over the back of the sofa. They maintained a discrete distance between each other at all times, and the moment Brian's 'vette pulled out onto the road, Justin grabbed his keys and headed straight for Daphne's. Being 8 o'clock in the morning meant that Daphne was only half-dressed and her hair looked like she was touching a Van de Graaff generator, but it was clear from the pounding he'd given her door and the resigned look in her eye that she understood the full horror of his situation. "So?" she prompted, tying her hair back messily to keep it out of the way. "We had bad sex," he blurted out, throwing himself down onto her sofa. Standing next to said sofa, she squinted at Justin. "You and Brian?" "Yes! Me and Brian! Brian and I!" God, just *thinking* about it was depressing. Frowning, she moved around and lowered herself down until she was perched on the edge of the sofa. "I thought you two were like..." she gestured, "...*incapable* of having bad sex or something." "So did I," he grumped. Life was so unfair. Taking a few moments, Daphne eventually spoke again. "Well, look at it this way - how long have you been together now?" "Don't pretend like you don't know." Daph was such a voyeur. She almost knew more about their relationship than he did. "My point," she said, quickly moving on, "is that it's been eight years, five months, and twenty-three days." Pausing, she glanced at the clock on the wall. "And nine hours." Justin sighed. Daphne ignored him. "*Every* couple goes through a dry patch, you know. Even you guys. Besides, eight years? It's not going to be the same as it was when you first met." "I know that," he insisted. She snorted. "I do! And every time we have sex, even if it's not our hottest fuck, it's still special because...it's him, you know?" Flushing slightly, he looked away. "Except for last night." He nodded. "Justin," she began carefully, "you know what I'm going to tell you to do." He shrank away. "Talk to him?" "Yes." "Fuck." Normally, Justin was all for talking - Brian was the one who didn't like 'talking about shit'. But Justin really didn't know if he wanted to do this. What if they *always* had lousy sex now? Was he really capable of staying in a relationship where he didn't enjoy the sex? A noise made them both turn their heads to see Daphne's latest boyfriend (plaything), standing naked in the doorway to her bedroom. To Justin he looked eerily like Brian, although he'd decided not to mention that to Daphne yet. The guy grunted. "Sure, I'll be right there, Bryant," Daphne replied, standing up and smiling to herself as she glanced at the clock again. "Hmm, maybe I'll be late for work today. My boss owes me, anyway." Standing tall, she winked at Justin before striding towards the bedroom. Justin let himself out before he was scarred for life. * Brian had been doing nothing for the past two hours, when he saw Ted run past his office. Sensing the opportunity, he grabbed it. "Theodore!" Seconds later Ted was rushing into his office, holding three file folders in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. "Yes, Boss?" Brian decided to get right down to business. "Have you and Blake had bad sex?" The coffee almost ended up on the floor. "Excuse me?" "You heard me." Straightening up, Ted cleared his throat. "No offense, Bri, but I'm not about to discuss my sex life with you." Brian thought about that for a few moments - until last night, whose sex life could ever compare to Brian Kinney's? "I can understand your fear, Theodore," he nodded sagely, "but I have no intention of mocking you." Ted eyed him. "Deliberately," Brian added. Ted eyed him some more. Sighing, Brian gave in. "I promise." Apparently deciding Brian was being genuine - he never broke a promise - Ted carefully lowered himself into the chair across from Brian's, depositing the folders - and his cup - onto the desk. "Why do you want to know?" he asked. Pausing for a moment, his eyes suddenly widened. "Jesus, are you saying that you and Justin-?" "Did I say that?" Brian cut off sharply. "Well...no," Ted admitted, "but why else would you ask me that? You can't tell me you usually have any interest in knowing the details of my sex life." Unfortunately, the man had a point. Under normal circumstances, Brian really didn't want to know anything about what kind of sex Ted was having. "Would you just answer the fucking question?" Carefully looking behind him to make sure no one was near the door; Ted leant forward, lowering his voice. "What you need to take into consideration, Bri," Christ, he hated that nickname, "is that at one time or another when Blake and I were together, one of us was an addict or a recovering addict." Hmm. Another good point - that made their situation vastly different from him and Justin's. Sometimes Brian was actually reminded of why he'd hired the guy in the first place. "Well, what about now?" he asked. "You've both been clean for years." "It's good," he confessed. "Very good." Brian really didn't need that image. "Most of the time." Ah ha. "So it's...normal?" Maybe it was. Maybe this happened from time to time, and wasn't a permanent condition (he flat-out refused to believe that was a possibility). "I've never been in a-" He stopped, abruptly. Ted apparently decided to give him a break. "I don't know if I'd say normal, but..." he shrugged. "It happens. And frankly, given the amount of sex you two have, it's kind of amazing it hasn't happened before." Relaxing back into his chair, Ted spoke normally. "Can I give you a piece of advice?" This should be interesting. "Does it come with a price tag?" he asked, even as he nodded. "Not this time," Ted grinned, before continuing. "You're Brian Kinney, right? You've never let anything stand in the way of great sex on your own terms, right?" Brian nodded again. So did Ted. "So don't let this stop you." Standing quickly, he reached for his folders and coffee once again. "I have to get back to work now, so you don't fire me later." Leaning back in his own chair, Brian watched him leave. "Ted," he called out, when he was almost at the door. "I know," Ted said without looking back, "mention this conversation to anyone and you'll have a hit put out on me." "Well, that too," Brian agreed, waiting until Ted had paused and turned around. "Thanks." Blinking, he smiled broadly. "Thanks, Bri." There it was *again*. "Though I do like to think we've become friends of a kind by now, I'm still pleased you thought you could come to me with this. I would've thought you'd discuss it with Michael." Oh, fuck no. Mikey was great, a life-long best friend; had been there for some of the shittiest times in Brian's life. And he had a mouth like a fucking megaphone. One word of this to Mikey and it would've been all over Liberty Avenue in days. Brian Kinney having bad sex? Brian shuddered internally at the thought. "Not a word, Theodore," he reminded, then ignored him for the rest of the day. * He actually had shit to get done at work, so Brian'd been busy for the rest of the day. It was only on the drive back to the loft that he allowed himself to seriously think about the fact that he'd had bad sex. With *Justin*. Maybe they should try something new; shake things up. Or visit a sex shop together to pick out a new toy - they hadn't done that for a while. Maybe even a night at Meat Hook, just for something different. By the time he'd parked and reached the front door, he was absolutely determined. He was Brian Fucking Kinney and he was living with Justin Fucking Taylor. They'd fix this if it fucking killed them. Sliding the door open in one powerful movement, Brian paused when he saw that the dinner table had been moved. It'd clearly been moved for dramatic effect, because he was staring straight at Justin, lying naked on the table with something suspiciously delicious-looking - honey? - drizzled over his cock. "Hi," Justin greeted, leaning up on one arm. "So, I freaked out for about fifteen hours," he explained, jacking himself off slowly with his free hand. "And then I thought - fuck it. This is me and you. We've always gone after what we wanted, and we're not gonna let one lousy fuck keep us down. So to speak," he grinned, glancing at his dick. Lifting the hand he'd been jacking himself off with, he licked clean across the palm and made a loud, satisfied noise as he met Brian's gaze. Brian had already started pulling the door shut when Justin spoke. "Leave it open." Grinning himself, Brian started unzipping his pants as he walked very, very briskly - okay, ran - to the table. "I fucking love you," he laughed, and let Justin get honey all over his $2,000 suit. * "We're back," Justin breathed out, panting as they collapsed against each other on the pile of cushions in front of the TV. "Thank God," Brian panted. Justin smiled his agreement. "I did learn something, though," he continued, nudging his head against Brian's shoulder. "Oh?" Brian asked, looking around - probably fo...
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