This is Chapter Five -- "The Princeton Rub."
Go back to "Chapter Four -- The Paradise Hotel" the previous chapter in the series.
The other stories in the "Wayfarers" series.
Other recent stories in the "Queer Theories" series.
Features Brian Kinney, Justin Taylor, Sara, Others.
Rated R and contains no warnings or spoilers.
Summary: An early Saturday morning's diversion. December 1858.
Disclaimer: This is for fun, not profit. Watch Queer As Folk on Showtime, buy the DVDs, videos, and CDs. Read the stories and enjoy.
Pittsburgh, December 1858.
"Prodigal! you have given me your love! Therefore I to you give love! Walt Whitman, 'Song of Myself.'
O unspeakable passionate love!"
Walt Whitman, 'Song of Myself.'
Justin opened his eyes just as he heard a key turn and the door of the room creak ajar. He burrowed under the bedclothes, pressing close to the sleeping Brian, scarcely daring to move or breathe. What would happen if they found him there? Would his father be summoned? Would they drag Brian off to the jailhouse for kidnapping -- and worse?
Someone was prodding his shoulder through the bedclothes.
Justin poked his head out from under the spread. "What?"
"You want for me to light the stove?" It was a squint-eyed woman, looming over the bed.
"I... I don't know," answered Justin, his blue eyes wide.
"It's cold in here -- and it ain't gonna get no warmer. Now, young fellow, you want for me to light the stove?" The woman pointed to the cast-iron Franklin stove in the corner of the room.
"Yes. Please," said Justin.
"Shoulda said so right away. I ain't got no time to play guessing games." The woman limped over and began laying wood in the stove.
"Are you the maid?" Justin asked.
"Maid? I ain't no maid. I'm the serving woman," the woman sniffed. "I light the stove, among other things." She lit the tinder and stoked the flame a bit until it was burning handily in the bowels of the iron stove. Then she took the metal pitcher from the dresser and refreshed it with clean water from a barrel she was pulling on a small wagon in the hallway.
"Could I have some hot water? To wash up with? Please?" said Justin, sitting up. There was no use hiding -- the woman seemed to take his presence in the room quite lightly.
"Hot water? You want me to be hauling HOT water up here?" The woman glared at him and shook her head. "God Almighty! Hot water!" She went to the window, pushed up the sash, and emptied the dirty water out of the basin. Justin shivered as the freezing air from outside came rushing into the room. She slammed the window shut again and it rattled fiercely. Brian groaned and dug deeper into the pillow at the noise.
"Sorry, ma'am," said Justin, pulling the covers up to his chin. He was naked and suddenly very aware of that fact with this strange woman in the room.
"The boy will be by later to empty out your chamber pot. Is that fine with you, Your Highness?" she sneered.
"Yes, ma'am," said Justin, sinking back down in the bed. "Thank you, ma'am." He wished that Brian would wake up now. But the man seemed to have settled back into a deep slumber.
"Breakfast is at 8 o'clock sharp. Don't be late or you'll get the leavings." And the woman lumbered out, shutting the door behind her.
The woman and all her talk of the chamber pot reminded Justin that he badly needed to use that pot, but the room was still teeth-jarringly frigid. And the bed was so warm. And Brian was so warm....
The tall man mumbled and turned over towards him, instinctively wrapping his strong arms around Justin's slender body. Justin sighed with deep contentment and moved against him, reaching down and rubbing at Brian's long cock. It was very stiff first thing in the morning. Justin's often was, as well. He'd thought there was something strange about that! His cock sometimes woke him right up from a sound sleep, telling Justin that it wanted immediate service. Brian's certainly seemed to be craving Justin's care. And so Justin continued his attentions.
"Stop it, Billy, or I'll mess the bed up," Brian muttered, pushing Justin's hand away, but only half-heartedly.
"Do you really want me to stop?" Justin whispered. "And I'm Justin. Remember?"
"What?" Brian lifted up his head. His chestnut hair was sticking out at crazy angles, like the fur of an unkempt terrier, and his handsome face was peppered with dark stubble. "Huh?"
"It's me -- Justin. Remember?" said the boy.
"Oh," the man said, blinking. "That's right. Justin." He sighed. "Go back to sleep."
"Brian, there was a woman in here!" he said, shaking the man gently.
"What woman? What are you talking about?" Brian grumbled.
"She lit the stove. And said not to be late for breakfast."
"That's just Sara." Brian opened his eyes again. "Did she get the pot?"
"She said the boy would be around directly."
Brian exhaled softly. "Well, use it now, before he comes."
"But Brian -- that woman!" said Justin, shaking him again. "She saw me!"
"So? She won't call your old man. She doesn't know who in thunder you are -- and neither do I, to tell the truth."
Justin had no answer to that. But he did get up and pull the chamber pot from behind a small Chinese screen and relieve himself into it. That took care of one problem, but he found that the other thing came right back. His organ came to full attention once more. Justin thought of splashing cold water on himself, but that did not seem a desirable solution. The room was still chilled, so he scrambled back into the warm bed as soon as he had replaced the pot.
Brian was lying on his back, his arm over his eyes. Justin reached over and tried to smooth his hair down a bit.
"It'll take more than THAT to tame my mop," Brian said without opening his eyes. But a small smile played on his lips.
"It doesn't look so very bad," Justin said, helpfully.
"You are a gallant flatterer," Brian responded. "Luckily, I don't have to face the world until I get it into a more presentable state. But it isn't easy. I suppose I should be happy I'm not a woman. You should see what THEY have to endure to get their locks in order. It's pure torture."
"My mother's maid dresses her hair. Every morning," Justin offered.
"I'll remember to tell the maid when she gets here," Brian answered, yawning. "Oh, I just recollected -- she's already been here. But this room doesn't seem very warm."
"The woman also opened the window and a gust of freezing air came right in!"
"Blast that stupid woman!" Brian swore. "What's the point of lighting the stove, then? It's colder than a witch's tit in here!"
There was a knock on the door and Justin hid under the bedclothes once more.
"I don't know who you think is coming to get you, Justin. But that should be that no-account boy to pick up the pot," Brian reminded him. He got out of bed and strolled to the door, as naked as the day he was born. Justin watched him in amazement, feeling his already firm erection growing even more rigid. He had never beheld such a straight and glorious figure outside of an art book before. And Brian seemed shamelessly unconcerned. The knocking was getting louder. "Keep your shirt on, you damned fool!"
Brian unlocked the door and glared at a slackjawed youth pushing a cart. The kid didn't seem the least bit surprised to be greeted by the naked and glowering man. "I'm here for pick up," he said, flatly.
"Oh, I thought you were a census taker. How hasty of me," Brian said sarcastically, but the youth just stared stupidly. Brian got the chamber pot from behind the Chinese screen, pissed into it, and shoved the pot at the slackjawed kid. "And give me a CLEAN one -- not one you've just emptied into the privy."
The youth handed over a fresh chamber pot, which Brian perused carefully. "It'll do," he said, and he slammed the door shut and locked and bolted it. "No wonder I can't get any rest in this place! I might as well be sleeping in the middle of the Commerce Building!"
He ditched the pot behind the screen, rinsed his hands with some clean water from the pitcher, and got back into bed. It felt warm and smelled of their mingled bodies.
Justin snuggled closer to Brian's lean form. "That woman said that breakfast is at 8 o'clock sharp -- or we'll only get the leavings," Justin mentioned. His belly was beginning to rumble.
"That's what Sara SAYS -- but that's because she wants to get you in there and out as fast as possible. I'm in no hurry. When I go down to eat -- she'll feed me!" Brian said firmly. And then he rolled over again and closed his eyes.
But Justin was well aware that his member's early morning rising was not going away at all. Especially not after watching Brian stride about the room in the all-together. And then the feeling of the man's smooth skin, so hot and close under the bedclothes. Justin moved over again, pressing himself squarely against Brian's pale back, his cock wedging itself even lower.
Brian sighed and turned over. "Are you always so... persistent in the morning?"
"Do you mean me or my cock?" Justin asked, slyly.
"Is there a difference?" Brian said sternly. But then he smiled. "So far you seem completely ruled by that organ. That is something that you will need to master if you don't want to get yourself into great difficulty in the future."
"I know," admitted Justin. "But I can't help it. Especially when I'm... inspired."
"Oh, now I'm a source of inspiration. That is a new one for me!" Brian laughed.
"I don't believe that!" Justin replied. "I think you would inspire anyone who saw you! I wish I had my sketchbook and pencils so that I could draw you. I have drawn men from life, but never nudes. Only those from books. I've copied some pictures of statues. But I think that I could make a fine portrait of you -- in the flesh!"
"That is just what I need!" Brian groaned. "Naked portraits of myself in your possession. That will certainly give your father something to contemplate as he's having me dragged off to the penitentiary!"
"Oh," cried Justin. "I'd never let my father see my drawings! He's not the least bit interested in Art."
"That is a relief to know. Next time bring your paints -- be my guest!" Brian said, rolling his eyes. But he surprised himself even to think that there would BE a next time. Brian's voice softened. "You may immortalize my prick for future generations. That is not quite the legacy I expected to leave in this life, but I suppose there are worse ones."
"I wouldn't draw just your cock," Justin explained. "Although it IS a fine specimen. I would want to draw everything! I think I could learn quite a lot by making a study of you."
"I'm certain that you could. I'm quite a study, if I may say so myself." Brian stretched. "Now that you have managed to wake me up completely, we might as well dress and go down and eat. I can hear your belly making rude noises."
Brian leaned back on the pillow and yawned again. He was still tired and had hoped to sleep in at least a little on a Saturday morning. He hadn't been getting much rest recently and when he did sleep he was plagued by sinister dreams. It was an old complaint, but had become worse in recent weeks. In fact, this last night's repose, as short as it was, was the first untroubled slumber he had had in many days. He wondered how much of that was due to the presence of the beautiful boy lying next to him.
Absently he reached over and stroked the boy's fair hair. It felt like silk between his fingers. Even Miss Lindsay did not have such delicate locks. And Justin drew even closer, wrapping his arms around Brian tightly and pressing his face against his shoulder. Brian suddenly had the overwhelming desire to draw away. He wanted to get up and leave the room that very minute. Because he felt a movement in his heart that he did not like. A strong, penetrating emotion. And Brian did not like emotions. Especially not an emotion such as this -- an all encompassing passion, a deep sentiment, a longing. No, he did not want to feel this, especially not for this fetching, tenacious boy.
"Kiss me again," the boy whispered, drawing Brian over to him. And before Brian could stop himself he was on top of Justin, covering him like the bedclothes. Like the sky covers the Earth. He leaned down and brushed Justin's lips with his tongue. He felt the boy shudder beneath him. Shudder and arch up to meet the larger body, instinctively.
And so he kissed him. The boy's lips parted immediately, welcoming him in. The kiss was long in duration, both hard and soft at the same instant. He seemed to drink some kind of new energy through those plush lips. He lapped up the boy's innocence with his tongue and marked that stark, white, untouched body with his teeth, possessing it.
"Have you ever heard of the Princeton Rub?" Brian asked, softly, when he finally disengaged himself from Justin's lips.
"No," answered the boy, his voice veiled with desire. "Is it a Mathematical Principle?" Justin knew that Princeton was a place of great Intellect.
Brian smiled. "Not exactly. But it will make you harder than a Geometric Equation."
The boy's eyes widened in delight. "I'm quite hard already!"
"Just you wait."
Brian inched over to the edge of the bed and took a jar off the small table at the bedside. It was the rose water and glycerin that he used to ease his chapped hands and lips in the Winter months. In truth, he used it all the year round for many different things. He knew that it was an affectation for a man to have such silky hands, but he had gotten in the habit of using the stuff to soften the rough edges of his body in earlier days.
He rubbed some of the lotion into the palms of his hands and then moved over on top of Justin once more. He smoothed it across Justin's chest and the boy gasped at the cool touch on his skin. But the lotion warmed as he rubbed it down along Justin's fair torso. And he slicked it over the boy's cock, now standing firm and surprisingly thick for such a slight lad.
"Ah! That feels like... like I'm being covered in fresh cream!" Justin breathed.
"And you will be before we are finished," Brian said, grinning wickedly.
Brian wiped the remnants of the lotion on his own organ and then he laid himself directly on top of the boy. Then he began to slide himself, ever so slowly, up and down the length of Justin's tender body, his own long body brushing and touching and then parting and moving back up to begin again. Their cocks -- Brian's lengthy and white and carved of pure marble, Justin's thick and blunt and as pink as the boy's plush lips -- fit together and moved against each other with perfect and excruciating ease.
Justin had never felt anything like this before. The combination of the pressure of another body on top of him along with the movement of that body against his sensitive skin and his trembling member. The slickness of the lotion as it melted between their two torsos. The creaking of the wooden frame of the bed in rhythm with their movement. Brian's panting as he shifted relentlessly and forcefully against the smaller body under him, holding himself steady with his strong arms.
Justin had never known his senses to be so alive. Sight, sound, touch, smell -- and then taste as the tall man bent and flattened his full lips against Justin's. Justin instantly opened his mouth to meet Brian's tongue. For a boy who, a mere day before, had never kissed, he found that his hunger for those kisses was unquenchable. He could taste the tobacco from Brian's pipe and the whiskey that he had drunk and another salty taste that Justin finally recognized as the taste of his own emissions. And that realization began to drive him over the edge of sensibility.
Justin put his hand down between their bodies, attempting to grasp his organ and give himself relief. But Brian seized both his hands and held them up over Justin's head. He wouldn't allow the boy to touch himself. Wouldn't allow him to remedy his exquisite suffering.
"Brian!" he wailed. "Stop! Stop." The boy was attempting to catch his breath.
But Brian would not stop. Instead he ground himself against Justin even harder. Even deeper. Even more relentlessly. The sweat from their bodies under the heavy wool blanket mixed with the sickly-sweet odor of the rose water. But Justin's nose was filled with the scent of a passion that he had never known existed. This was a fragrance that seemed to rise from the two men and their movement and their intensity.
"I think I'm dying!" Justin gasped.
"Shall I stop then?" whispered Brian, not stopping.
"No! Don't stop. Don't ever stop! I'm... I'm...." And Justin lost his breath completely as his cock expelled itself with a force he did not know he possessed. And he heard Brian, on top of him, let out a sound halfway between a groan and a cry as he also spent, their organs twined together between them and their fluid mingled forever.
Brian collapsed on Justin's limp form and lay there for a few moments. The room was now fully light with the cold, bright sun of December.
"What WAS that, Brian?" Justin said, lifting his head slightly. The rough brush of Brian's unshaven cheek rasped against his neck.
"You are now a Graduate in good standing of the Princeton Rub," Brian whispered, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes in deep satisfaction. He rolled onto his back and took Justin into his arms once more.
And neither of them had the desire to move again until it was absolutely necessary.
"The poems of the privacy of the night, and of men like me, Walt Whitman, 'Spontaneous Me.'
This poem, drooping shy and unseen, that I always carry, and that all men carry,
(Know, once for all, avowed on purpose, wherever are men like me, are our lusty, lurking, masculine poems,)
Love-thoughts, love-juice, love-odor, love-yielding, love-climbers, and the climbing sap,
Arms and hands of love -- lips of love -- phallic thumb of love -- breasts of love -- bellies, pressed and glued together with love,
Earth of chaste love -- life that is only life after love,
The body of my love ...."
Walt Whitman, 'Spontaneous Me.'
Continue on to "Chapter Six -- The Bath House" the next chapter in the series.
©Gaedhal, May 2003.
Send Gaedhal any comments, critiques, suggestions. I welcome all of your comments on "Wayfarers." Without your feedback I don't know if you are enjoying this new series!
Posted May 12, 2003.