Queer as Folk :: Brian/Justin fiction
PART TWO (2/3)
Rated: Adults Only/NC-17
Summary: AU. Not much to be said. It's about Justin embracing his artistic side and being a lovely girl named Lola, whom Brian Kinney begrudgingly meets one night at Babylon...
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Cowlip. Unbetaed. And please JUST GIVE IT A CHANCE! [I mean, you trusted me with straight!Brian, why not trust me with drag!Justin?]
Inspired by: The incredible rhiannonhero's fic 'Fairy Dust' in which Justin wears a dress; my darling JT LeRoy and his brilliantly beautiful gender confusion; the song 'Cherry Lips' and 'Androgyny' by Garbage and 'When My Boy Walks Down the Street' by the Magnetic Fields; a conversation in the_baptists chat with the squidgable riddlev about Justin-in-Drag; and the fact that Randy Harrison is pretty.
Thank-you to: _pocket_rocket_ for providing thirteen+ hours of inspiration, and being in love with Lola before she even stepped into the spotlight.
- - -
Emmett ends up driving Lola's car: an old 1987 BMW that Brian approves of. It suits both sides of Justin's chaotic personality, and when Brian stumbles into the back seat, he finds himself thankful for the cool leather against his flushed face.
Lola drops down next to him, surprisingly ungraceful.
"It's been forever since I've sat in the back seat of my own car," she slurs just a little bit, laughing as she throws her little red sneakered feet over the back of the passenger side seat.
"I'm always in the back seat of my own car," Brian practically snorts, head rolling back onto the head rest. He sighs and runs his hands through his hair, all drunk and tingling.
"That's because we're always taking you home drunk, high, and fucked-out," pipes Emmett from the driver's seat. He opens the sunroof for some fresh cool breeze, and Lola leans over to stare out of it, head on Brian's shoulder.
"You're not always taking me home, Honeycutt. You don't have a car. Fuck, do you even have a license?" He scrunches up his face and tries to lean forward to interrogate Emmett some more, but the heavy weight of blondness and a red plastic barrette weighs him down. "What the fuck are you on?"
The question shakes Lola out of her daze, and her eyes fall back to Brian. "What?"
"What are you on? You're staring out the sunroof like it's the most fascinating fucking thing in this god-forsaken town, and we both know that's not true because that title belongs to me."
Lola's face is slack and pink and bright and childishly entertained. She licks her lips and talks against Brian's jaw, "I'm not on anything. I'm just watching the street lights flash by. They're gorgeous and fast like electricity."
Brian rolls his eyes and slings his arm over the back of Lola's seat.
"That's because they ARE electricity, kid."
"Don't spoil his fun," Emmett warns, changing lanes like a pro, "Our Lola sees things in this world no one else can. That's why she's such a successful artist."
Brian doesn't hear that whole sentence because Lola has taken his left hand and put it between her - no no no. Strike that, that's definitely a 'his' - legs. The glitter on the denim makes the bulge there shine in the street lights. Brian starts to stroke.
She lifts her hips in time with his stroking, her eyes hooded as she licks the fruit-scented gloss off her lips. And in that one instant, just a second where her lashes open enough, and her eyes are blue, and sharp, and aware, and fucking turned-on, and the hot swollen hardness pulses under Brian's hand, all of it combined makes this aching need inside of Brian to lick that fruit-scented gloss off of Justin's pretty little Lola-lips for her.
So he does.
It's a man's mouth, everything about it. The faint bristly feeling of his chin, the width of his lips, the strong angle his tongue takes in Brian's mouth - it's all familiar. But there's the smell of strawberries between them, and Brian is pretty sure that his lips are going to have the barest tint of red on them once Lola pulls away.
Only he doesn't want her to.
Because Lola is one fucking great kisser... encouraging and aggressive. Beseeching. She searches Brian's teeth, and gums with her tongue, sucks at his bottom lip like it's the sustenance that Lola needs for Justin to go on. Or maybe it's the other way around, and just thinking about Lola needing Brian to survive makes him stroke this fucking artist's cock a little harder. God, he wants skin.
Emmett hasn't noticed the make-out session that has begun in the back seat, but he DOES hear the sound of Lola's zipper being yanked down. The ears of a bottom, jesus christ, to them a zipper is Pavlov's Bell.
"Whoa, easy boys!" he calls, swerving a bit from distraction. "Justin, you'll never forgive me tomorrow after you've had him if I let there be cum-stains on your vintage leather."
Lola pulls away gasping, and Brian thinks her ear looks positively delectable, under all that blond mess of hair. She tries to respond to Emmett, but can hardly get the words out, and Brian fucking loves the fact that he turned this proud, saucy little princess into a quivering, horny little boy toy.
Yeah. That's what he thought.
Lola's still a joke.
When they pull up in front of Brian's building on Tremont, Brian is more than ready to get Lola's ass into his loft. She's been princessing out all over the place for the last ten minutes of their ride, arguing with Emmett about stupid issues that Brian couldn't care less about; but he stays quiet and behaves because his hand is still resting on brief-covered hard, damp handful of groin between her legs, and his arm is slung around her quaint little shoulders. And her earlobe tastes good, all soft and fleshy and tiny.
"Emmett, don't fucking crash Lola's car taking it back to your place, okay?" Brian warns, pushing open his door and sliding out. Lola's fingers are in his belt loop and she follows quickly.
"Wait wait," Emmett gasps, leaving the car running as he jumps out onto the sidewalk. "I'm supposed to take her car home, while you take her up to your loft and fuck her brains out?! Lola... Justin, are you sure you wanna do this? Brian is an asshole... even more than you. He doesn't even like boys in drag."
"It's no rules for the rest of the night, Honeycutt," Brian repeats Lola's words as he jabs a finger (gently) into Emmett's spandex-covered chest, "She's coming with me. And coming, and coming and coming."
He walks backwards away from his friend, with big spooky eyes and waves with both hands. He really needs to stop doing shit like that in front of Lola. She rolls her eyes at him and puts her hand on Emmett's shoulder, whispering words Brian can't hear. But whatever it is, Emmett nods, and gives Brian one last withering glance before he drives Lola's shiny little blue beemer away.
And they're left alone on the damp sidewalk as the eery sound from a blind crosswalk warning echoes through the streets.
- - -
Lola looks severely out of place, and uneasily hot standing in Brian's loft of white light and smooth stainless steel lines. Usually there are older twinks, or muscle queens, or Abercrombie and Fitch models standing on Brian's glossed wood floor, staring around his haven with curious eyes and boners under their pants.
But tonight, it's just her. Red toes emerging from a silvery hem, and her arms folded neatly over her soft polyester gauze blouse. She looks around with an artist's appreciation, and can't help but comment on the windows.
"This place is amazing," she says, impressed. "You must get awesome light."
"I guess so. I'm not here much in the day. Gotta make a living to afford my kingdom."
She shuffles like a petulant teenager to the window and pulls aside the curtain, city light framing her body.
"And a beautiful kingdom it is, King Kinney."
A flirtatious smile thrown over her shoulder is all Brian gets, and he decides that enough time has gone by. Enough blithering chit-chat, and definitely enough childish foreplay. It's time to get this show on the road.
Lola's body tenses up when he presses his chest to her back. Nervous laughter. Lola's hands reach up to clutch the windowsill.
Where the fuck did that pet name come from? Jesus christ, Kinney.
"A bit, all of a sudden," she admits in a reedy voice, "It's been a long time since I've gone to someone's place."
"Oh yeah? Prowl the back room's instead?" Her skin is like a magnet. Brian closes his fingers over her biceps, and she shivers, almost imperceptibly.
"Something like that."
"Come on, I thought you were supposed to be seducing me, here. The great drag princess was gonna show poor little King Kinney what's what."
She laughs, body loosened by the break in tension, by the dry little joke Brian managed to throw in there, when all he really wants to do is rip off her little Lola outfit.
He wants Justin, damnit.
That boy underneath the get-up that is so completely comfortable with himself, so completely sure who he is, that it manifests itself in an iron flower - a little girl with a firm jaw. He's man boy girl woman artist Lola Justin.
And fuck, yes, Brian will admit it: it's hot.
"You're right," she says with finality, and turns... all traces of shyness are gone, and suddenly the prowling cat, the fucking minx from Babylon is back. One hand flat against Brian's chest, the other undoing his belt.
Yes, yes, fuck yes.
Come on, Lola, prove something to me.
Brian leads the way up to the bedroom by his pants, knowing that Lola won't let go even if someone offered her the world, and all the pretty make-up and jewelry in it.
"I was hoping the night would end up like this," she admits, pushing him back against the bed. He falls on it, his knees open and ready to intercept her body.
"Oh? I had great doubts that it would... then I saw you give that twink a hand job under the stairs, and I had to see what all the fuss over you was about." Brian cocks an eyebrow at her, and she smiles. Fucking smiles like she hasn't got a care in the world - and like she knows something that Brian doesn't.
Her hands flutter over his body, desperate but controlled, and remove Brian's clothing with surprising strength. And with each article of Lola Justin removes from himself, his voice becomes deeper and kind of rough like someone who smokes. Brian thinks it's intoxicating, but when Justin reaches up to remove the red plastic barrette, Brian puts his hand over it and stops him.
"Leave it on."
Justin hums under his breath, knowing eyes pale against the black of his mascara, and replies, "Gladly" with a bit of a whisp in his voice that makes Brian even harder.
A soft hand cups Brian's cock, palm sliding up and down the length with even strokes, and Brian throws his head back against the pillows of his bed, savoring the feel of Justin's naked body on his thighs.
"Your cock is so hard... and hot...mmm'n so wet," Justin leans forward to purr against his ear, making the words breathy and tangible. Brian's consciousness unravels.
"Fuck foreplay... I'm going to slide a condom onto it, just... like... this..."
A condom packet rips open, and Brian waits for the rubber to unroll over his dick.
And when it never comes, he opens his eyes to see where it went.
... it's on fucking Lola's fucking dick.
Fuck that, this wasn't the plan.
He's about to protest, opens his mouth to bitch at her, queen-out, be outraged - when Justin continues, still stroking Brian as his hips begin to grind against Brian's body. "And then you'll lube me up, so my ass is wet and slippery and desperate for you to shove your cock into it. God, will I want it..."
"Justin..." Okay, his voice sounds breathy, and not fucking pleading, lest someone think otherwise.
Wet masculine fingers slide down Brian's balls and to his ass, gently prodding in and up... opening.
Four fingers, suddenly full. Oh my fucking god.
Justin whimpers a bit as his fingers scissor apart the muscles of Brian's hole.
"And finally, when I can't take it anymore, I will beg for you to fuck me. I'll practically cry for it, because in that moment...nothing, nothing can beat being fucked in the ass by a man."
Brian suddenly remembers how that feels. "Fuck, Justin..."
The fingers slide out and are replaced by Justin's cock - blunt, hard, and pushing in. And like a fucking slut, he pushes back, spreads himself, brings his knees up around Justin's trim little waist, and opens his mouth against the gasping one above it. More more more moremoremore.
Yeah, way to show him about being leader of the pack, Kinney. Christ.
- - -
To be continued...