Ten Tremont - Chapter 7
In which Adrian e-mails Marc....




Subject: See Ya Later
From: AJLantz@listendeeply.com
To: MSpenc1@c_m.med.edu

Hey –

It’s 4:15 in the morning…can’t sleep. You know I hate to fly, and I’m starting to freak out. I know it’s stupid, and I can already hear you telling me how much safer I am in a plane than driving to work each day. But since my office is 23 steps from our bed that kind of rationalization doesn’t do shit for me. This is the last fucking time I’m going back there alone. If another one of my siblings decides to get married and they want me to attend, they had better clear the date with you first.

Anyway – I just tried calling your cell, but I went right to voice mail. I’m assuming that means you’re in surgery. Either that or you’re screwing some intern in one of those little hospital flop rooms. :) Does that shit really happen?

Since we may not talk before I have to leave, I thought I’d burn some time and write. This way I’m sure you will see it tonight, tomorrow or whenever the fuck you wake up. Call me then, OK? I don’t care what time it is. It will get me out of all that rehearsal crap for a few minutes at least.

I’m dreading the next four days; can you tell? While you’re here fucking interns and probably getting blown by that hunky chiropractor, I’m going to be with all of my relatives in a church. There is no justice in this world. Seriously, I know you will be good so don’t get all bent out of shape thinking that I don’t trust you. I’m going to miss you though, so you better be someplace private by 11:00 on Saturday night for phone sex.

Speaking of sex, God, I wish you could have seen what I witnessed tonight. Brian Kinney is so screwed; and not in the way he likes. He got home a little after midnight, and Justin was with him. Brian’s still playing up the ‘being hurt’ business. Christ, the guy is such a drama queen. Tonight he was holding his right side like his ribs were broken. They walked in, and he immediately tossed his jacket on the couch and took off his shoes and socks. Then he headed to the bathroom and Justin followed him like a puppy.

I was a little worried they might be having sex in there without me, but they emerged a few minutes later fully clothed. Brian went to the refrigerator, and it looked like Justin was going to leave. He was almost to the door when he quickly turned around and started walking to the bedroom. Kinney got a hold of his shirt and redirected him to the couch. This is one of the things I can’t figure out. Twice now Brian has brought Justin home to have him sleep on the sofa. Then, in between times they’re burning up the sheets. The guy’s got a weird sexual appetite when it comes to that kid.

Anyway, Brian goes in his room, takes his pants off and gets in bed while Justin is stripping to his briefs in the living room. Once he sees that Brian has settled in, the kid tiptoes into the bedroom and crawls in too. I grabbed the binoculars, but there was no activity after that. Brian simply let him get in and turned over to sleep.

So, no big deal, right? Wrong.

I went to bed and tossed and turned for a few hours. I really should have taken one of those Lunestas you brought home, but I was afraid I’d sleep through my alarm. I finally got up a little after 3:00 to get a drink and saw a light on over there. Justin was back out on the couch, and I thought he was sick. He was curled up in the fetal position and appeared to be shivering or something. Naturally I had to get a better look, and when I did, I could see that he was crying. I think he was attempting to muffle it so as not to wake Brian.

Jesus, I actually felt bad for him. He looked pretty pitiful, like his dog just died or something. Then I noticed a movement in the bedroom, and I crouched down next to the desk where I could be sure they wouldn’t see me. It’s strange, if they ever caught me watching them having sex…no big deal. But this seemed more intimate, you know? This wasn’t two guys fucking, or it least it didn’t start out that way. This was personal…and I know I’m a dick for spying so you don’t have to tell me…over and over again.

Brian walked out, stood over the back of the couch and looked down at Justin. The man moves like a cat. Justin never heard him. I saw Brian mouth, ‘Hey,’ and Justin looked startled. He sat up quickly and was wiping his eyes with the palm of his hand when Brian came around and sat down next to him. Justin was turning away so Brian couldn’t see his face but when Kinney pulled him into his arms, the kid just melted. He was sobbing. Brian wrapped his body around him like a blanket.

I wonder what set Justin off. Did he and Brian have one hell of a fight? Brian didn’t really act guilty or apologetic, but who knows? Anyway, something upsetting happened between the get-together the other night and this evening.

At first, Brian just held Justin, rubbed his back a little, nuzzled his neck and appeared to say a few words while Justin clung to him and cried. At one point Brian looked straight over here, but because their place was lit and ours wasn’t, I know he couldn’t see a thing. I wish I could accurately describe the look on his face. It was like a cross between helplessness, terror, and love. I think he really cares for this kid…who doesn’t fit into his life style at all…but he doesn’t want to. He knows he’s fucked.

Next Brian leaned forward and, by doing so, pushed Justin back onto the couch. He was lying flat when Brian stood up and removed the wife beater and briefs he had been sleeping in. Then he bent down and took Justin’s underwear off too. Fuck, Marc, he was so gentle, not at all like the guy we’ve seen before. Not that he’s been rough or anything, but the times I’ve had the pleasure to watch, Brian definitely appeared to be a man on a mission and in control. He knew what he wanted and he was going about it the most efficient way possible. Maximum pleasure, minimum foreplay. This time, his major concern was the kid.

He spread Justin’s legs, bringing one of his feet down on the floor and crawled up to kneel between them. Like me, Justin was just watching his every move; letting Brian position him anyway he pleased. Kinney bent down and took Justin’s cock into his mouth. The kid immediately arched his head back, scrunching his face up. Brian sucked on him for a couple of minutes to get him good and hard - all the while winding his fingers in and out of Justin’s, or grabbing his wrists, or moving his hands up and down his forearms. It looked like Brian couldn’t seem to get enough of him.

The cock sucking led to rimming and I realized that’s not something I’ve ever seen Brian do for anyone else. I don’t even think I’ve seen anyone rim him, have you? Our Mr. Kinney seems really protective of what comes near that ass of his. Justin didn’t try anything in that department either. He was the perfect, compliant little boy toy, letting Brian direct the show.

They took their action to the floor for the rimming session and when Brian finally decided it was time to fuck, he turned Justin over again, grabbed a pillow from the couch, put it under his hips and put his legs up on his shoulders. They were looking into each other’s eyes and smiling when Brian entered him and still, there was no rush. He just took it slow, and easy, and gentle until they both came. When they were done, Brian pulled Justin to his feet and they walked back into the bedroom.

And here I sit, still wide awake, 45 minutes later, thinking about it. I know you’ve got a problem with their ages and I’m not trying to sway your opinion. Hell, I don’t even know what I think about it except that it’s fucking hot and when Brian is with Justin it’s…I don’t know…just different. What I do know is that what I saw tonight sure doesn’t constitute any kind of child abuse. I would have given my left nut for somebody who looked like Kinney and treated me like that at 17.

But enough about them. I’ve got that now, and that’s all that matters! While I am gone, don’t forget to water the plants on the ledge in the bathroom. They were fine tonight when I checked them but by Saturday they will be parched. Also, your dry cleaning needs to be picked up by 5 on Saturday or you won’t have that green shirt you wanted for the lecture you are giving on Monday. Chad called and said you are supposed to be there by 10:15 so he can go over some shit with you before the class starts. I’m flying United and I put my flight number and return time on an orange sticky on the refrigerator. Don’t be late, OK? Call me.

Love you,
Adrian

Go to Chapter 8.