Brian POV introspectiveness about Justin. Unbetaed. No real spoilers. Possible sap overload. It's oldish and I've now re-worked it, but I'm almost certain I haven't posted it before.


I didn't know anything about him except that he was hot when I picked him up under that street light. But that's how it usually was. The less known, the less chance the details would fuck up a perfectly good fuck. More than one trick has ruined his fuckability by opening his mouth and using it for words instead of for sucking my cock.

But during the course of that one fuck - okay, several fucks, building into triple digits - I started to absorb the details about this little blond kid involuntarily, even when I tried to keep them out. And it was when I realized I was doing it, cataloging his every frown and bratty little remark and sunshine-smile, that he drew sharply into focus and I couldn't look away any more.

At first glance, from the outside of his life, you might say he was spoiled, but I could see through that without trying. Your parent's lives only form the backdrop of what you become, and I was not just some blue-collared alcoholic any more than he was a perfect little WASP. Besides - what is spoiled? Having a bunch of material shit you didn't work to own and didn't want in the first place? That's all he had. A tastefully beige, white-bread home. A country club set of parents. Genes that happened to form him into a hot blond with a talented, if inexperienced, mouth.

It's what he made of those things that made him interesting. Because he wasn't spoiled - I could see what it really was: He was hungry. For everything. For cock, for life, for experience, for stimulation of every kind. And he was more than willing to give up what he had if it meant something better and stronger and more fascinating.

It was that simple to him, and so it sort of became that simple for me. Not that the situation was simple, because it only got more complicated with every move either of us made. It was just that, though he most definitely wasn't a child, he still viewed the world like one - with a sort of wisdom that you lose with age, that he should have lost already.

He could step right over the bullshit and look at the reality. And then he would react to the reality, which would confused the hell out of everyone, who could see only the bullshit. It was the reason I let him stay around for a while. I figured he would see what I really was, and understand why he wasn't going to get what he thought he wanted out of me - couldn't get what he thought he wanted.

The trouble really started when I started wanting him to be hungry for me. When I started craving it like I've never craved any illegal pharmaceutical. And he was so much easier to get than they were, falling into my car and my bed with barely a word from me, though I guess 'easy' is a relative term when you're speaking from hindsight.

He's still hungry. That's what makes him so successful at art, at life, at loving me. And try as I might (and I've been diligent) I can't seem to get enough of him.