Oh boy.

@james-reagan-bryne

Official twitter page for J.R. Bryne, political correspondent and head editor for The Aisling Post

428 posts

begdorian:

Long story short—- they fuck. Dorian gets a nice blow job, then to return the favor he gives J.R. an even nicer rim job, and the rest is history. Memorable, amazing history.

Dropping down on the bed, Dorian regrets not bringing a water bottle to the room, before starting this, because there’s no way for him to move now. “So glad you felt bad enough to make a mistake tonight, darling.”

At least Dorian returned the favor. And the sex was good when they finally got around to it. Add Dorian Purcell onto J.R.’s list of mistakes.

He’d have to take the walk of shame out of this place wouldn’t he? His head already hurt. And he was out of breath. So he just flipped Dorian off without turning to look at him.

His free hand ran through his hair while he debated if he could move yet, before reaching for his phone and arranging for an lyft.

begdorian:

Dorian grins down at his date for the evening and reaches to stroke his cheek and slowly slide his thumb inside J.R.’s mouth, testing it’s warmth. Yeah, it looks like the perfect place to stick his dick in. “Please, J.R.” he coos, taking his thumb out and gently pulling J.R. closer, the tip of his cock sliding over the man’s lower lip. “Please enjoy my big fat dick.”

Because Dorian’s finger was there his lips wrap around it, letting himself be pulled forward. He had to keep in mind that he shouldn’t get carried away. Just the bare minimum. Don’t have too good of a time. And if you do don’t let Dorian know.

That wasn’t exactly what he wanted but he let it slide, he could say much anyway with Dorian’s head in his mouth. He let the fingers of one hand wrap around the man’s shaft the other reaching down to to adjust himself.

begdorian:

“Saying that right after kissing me warms my heart, J.R., I gotta say.” Dorian hangs his coat on the spot next to the door and heads for the bedroom, undoing his own tie in the process. “Here we go.” Dorian announces once they’re inside, lighting only half the lights, so the mood in the room can be a bit more romantic. “And this is my dick,” he continues, pulling his cock out if his pants, stroking it to a full hard-on. “Why don’t you kneel down and I’ll give you something else to taste.”

His coat was left with Dorian’s, and when he was finally in the bedroom he was turning to grab at Dorian again when the man moved away to fiddle with the fucking lights, “Mood lighting? What’s next? Smooth Jazz?”

It wasn’t ideal, getting on his knees for Dorian Purcell, but at this point he was just happy to finally get this started. He wet his bottom lip. Damn, it was a nice dick. He had kind of hoped Dorian was compensating for something. Undoing the top couple of buttons on his shirt he took a knee. But he figured he could still fight for some power here, which was typical of him. “Where’d your manners go, Dorian?” moving Dorian’s hand away but not making a move to use his mouth for anything other than giving Dorian attitude, “No please?”

begdorian:

Dorian smiles and kisses J.R. one more time, before taking his hand and leading him to his apartment. “It must have killed you to say that out loud.” He unlocked the door to his place and lets J.R. Enter first. “I don’t know. People usually turn deeply religious when in my company. Do you want something to drink, or do you want a tour to my bedroom?”

All of this felt so... bizarre. Not in a bad way. But surprising. He wasn’t exactly expecting Dorian to be gentle with him, hand holding and smiles and all.

“I still have a bad taste in my mouth.” Came his deadpan response, stepping into the apartment and taking little interest in the decor. He might have moved to kiss Dorian again if it weren’t for the second snort of the night, “Religion isn’t my thing. You keep preaching about your magic dick but I haven’t seen it yet.” Still no ripping off of clothes and tongue down throats. So he took it upon himself to loosen the tie he was wearing, “You can show me a tour of your bed, how about that?”

begdorian:

Thing is that when Dorian promises to deliver — he does. What makes him especially good at it (in his humble opinion) is that he knows what his partners need. Surprisingly, it’s not always what they think they want.

For example. Right now J.R. thinks he wants a hard meaningless fuck (60% true), but what he needs, in this exact moment, is for Dorian to take his chin, turn his face around and kiss him on the lips. Dorian follows through with that plan as instantly as it pops into his head. “We don’t have enough time for me to do that here, plus there’s a surveillance camera, so we better not. I don’t want you damning me for secretly recording you, or whatever it is you think I’ll do.”

J.R. know-it-all Bryne didn’t like when other people, particularly Dorian Purcell, were right. And while he still wanted a hard meaningless fuck, the kiss was appreciated. A hand even rose to brush against Dorian’s shirt.

His lips stayed slightly parted when Dorian pulled back, and he wasn’t too drunk to understand that Dorian was right, again. He wondered how many guys Dorian kissed in this elevator. Forever on tape now in some surveillance room. He didn’t know how he felt about being another name added to Dorian’s little black book but that was something to muse over the morning after. Not now. “Fine. You’re right.” He watched the doors again,

“I’m sure you’ll give me something else to damn you for.”

begdorian:

“Settle down, you freak. We’re here.” Dorian pulls over in his parking spot and turns the car off. “Do you want to wait for the elevator, or would you rather sprint up the stairs?”

He gets out and nods to the doorman, on his way in. The elevator is already there, so Dorian directly walks into it and presses the 9th floor button.

J.R. was seconds away from telling Dorian to pull over when they arrived. “You’re the one that suggested the coat closet. That would have been faster gratification than this.” He didn’t take much notice of the doorman. And hope the doorman wouldn’t take much notice of him either.

“Well that depends on what you’re going to do to me in the elevator.” At this point J.R. needed incentive. He stood next to Dorian watching the numbers light up.

begdorian:

“Why would I want to wait?” They stop at a red light and Dorian spares a second to look at J.R., before turning to face the road again, attention on that light. “I’m not worried about meeting expectations, darling. Don’t worry your perky little ass. It will get what it needs.”

Relationship talks aren’t really how Dorian does foreplay, but J.R. looks like a kicked puppy, so why not? “Was it your idea, or his?”

J.R. was tempted to rub his temples, “Joint -- it doesn’t matter. You asked what was ‘up’ with me it’s that along with, you know, everything else.” He was starting to wish they had just fucked in the coat closet. There was too much talking and not enough making out. “How far away are we?”

Was he being impatient? Yeah. James really couldn’t handle a 30 minute drive where the only sound was Dorian humming along to the radio like this was some carpool. He glanced at the back seat of Dorian’s car. That was always an option if it came to it.

begdorian:

Dorian checked to see just how horny and desperate J.R. was by squeezing his ass discreetly on their way to the door. “I’m really happy you finally came to your senses, J.R. We’re going to have a great night.”

The valet gets Dorian’s car out in the span of a minute and they take off shortly after he gives the guy a large tip. He even turns the radio on and hums to the newest mainstream hit that’s playing.

There was an inhale of surprise at the ass grab, and maybe a little flush, followed by another roll of his eyes, because he should have expected it. James tolerated the contact, “You couldn’t wait till we were at your place could you?”

“My expectations are high,” He took the time to look Dorian over while waiting for the valet, focusing somewhere else when he caught himself looking too intently. They were going to fuck, there was an attraction there, but the last thing J.R. wanted was for Dorian to get cocky.

He was thankful to get in the car, looking out the window, “...We’ve decided to take a break.” He commented, “Not that it’s any of your business.”

begdorian:

Poor JR. Dorian knew he couldn’t take the dry spell, no matter how much love there was between him and his boyfriend. “Just wanted to make sure you won’t start crying in the middle of it, that’s all. Do you want to go to my place then?”

The situation was a little more complicated than that but Dorian could think what he liked. J.R. was buzzed and needed a distraction which came in the form of Dorian Purcell.

“Unless you’re that bad in bed I think I’ll spare you my tears.”

He nodded, “Fine. Let’s go. Before I change my mind. -- And this doesn’t change anything, Dorian.” He was still PR phlegm (PRP™)

begdorian:

Here’s a surprise — Dorian isn’t getting shut down for his advances. He’s so surprised by this, it shows on his face. “You didn’t answer my question,” he says, moving close enough to press his crotch against J.R.’s. “What’s going on with you?”

J.R. tried not to grimace at the look of surprise. He was already starting to talk himself out of this.

His jaw clenched, holding his ground and staying where he was, but glancing around to make sure no one was looking. “What is this? Therapy?” His voice lowered, “Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t like you Dorian. But ‘what’s going on’ is that I need a mindless fuck and you’re here.”

It wasn’t like he and Dorian talked. So J.R. was surprised too, that Dorian was so concerned about what was going on outside of his pants.

“-- You’re finally getting what you wanted why do you suddenly care about the reason?”

begdorian:

Dorian’s smirk is all predatory. “Darling, you’ll always entertaining. Want me to return the favor and entertain you in the coats closet?”

“You’re very classy aren’t you?” like J.R. wasn’t guilty of fooling around in closets. But it wasn’t like he was going to make this easy for Dorian. After a moment’s pause, he swung back the last his drink.

"Is a coats closet really the best you can do?”

begdorian:

Dorian stares at J.R. a little too hard. There’s even a slight head tilt, to indicate Dorian is very deep in thought. “What’s going on? You’re lacking all of your bite. Did you lose someone close to you?”

J.R. looked off to the side. Crossing his arms. It was one thing to have Dorian stare at him like a piece of meat, another to have him feign concern, “Oh please.” a scoff, “As if you care. -- I’m tired. And busy. But what’s new?” He returned his gaze to meet Dorian’s, “I’m sorry. Am I not entertaining enough for you tonight, Dorian?”

begdorian:

“Yes. But not ugly drunk, just until you get into a better mood. Seriously. J.R., you scowl too much for your own good. Is life that bad for you?” Dorian turns a little more towards J.R. so he’s the only thing Dorian can see. “I have and I do. Doesn’t mean I want you any less.”

Dorian doesn’t turn around to see who J.R. is talking about, because he doesn’t want the kid to interpret that as a signal to come over. “As am I. But I have preferences he doesn’t cover, so.”

J.R. was caught off guard by Dorian’s response. A hand involuntarily moved to run over his chin. Had he been scowling all this time? “I don’t mean to.” He didn’t comment on his life.

He could feel his heart beat a little faster. He held onto his dink to keep his hands busy, and to calm these nerves. Maybe the whiskey was getting to him.

“And I meet those preferences?”

begdorian:

“I don’t. These are both for you.” Smirking, Dorian takes the bottle of water from JR’s hands and takes a sip. “You look like you need them. Then a couple more, just to be safe.”

“How was I the one not caring when you were always the one walking away? And being rude while at it, might I add.” JR could say whatever he wanted, but Dorian could tell he did miss it. The virginal boyfriend was probably getting boring.

“Mmm. true.” Just as Dorian was about to take another sip, he saw his pursuer, and without thinking slid closer to JR, so they shoulders and arms were pressed together. “At least we have each other.”

A roll of his eyes, “Are you, perhaps, trying to get me drunk Dorian?”

He laughed at that, “I was the one being rude? After I told you I had a boyfriend.” It was a small slip. Really he and his “virginal” boyfriend were just... taking a break. “Don’t talk about me like I’m the ‘one that got away’ I’m sure you have plenty of men to chase after.

This time he caught sight of the blond, not bothered to move away, “What about him? I’m sure he’d be all over you.”

begdorian:

Dorian goes ahead and orders two whiskeys anyway, assuming JR will drink with him, once they arrive. “I thought you wanted it that way. Unless I read your ‘fuck you, Dorian’s wrong.”

The bartender puts the two glasses in front of them, and goes to serve other people. “You almost sound like you missed the chase, J.R.”

His brow furrowed, “I thought you said you don’t drink?” But Dorian was right. J.R. wasn’t going to let the whiskey go to waste.

“You never cared about what I wanted before.”

He took the glass, and didn’t respond for a while. J.R. felt slightly isolated here. He had work, and that was it, really. Dorian was a sort of distraction from the stress. “I don’t miss it.” He sipped from this drink, changing the subject,

“This party as exciting as watching paint dry.”

begdorian:

“Depends on what I’m paying you for. If it’s just talking, I think 50$ is fair. Considering you barely spare any words when we’re conversing.” Dorian takes JR’s glass and puts it on the near table. “Come on, let’s go get you a new drink.”

"Keep your money, Dorian --” He let his drink get taken from his hands. Fighting was too much work tonight. Or, at least, fighting much. At this point in his life his tolerance for alcohol was maybe too high. And while he wanted another drink he knew it probably wasn’t the best idea. That’s when you make silly decisions after all: when you’re sad and drunk.

At the bar he just got one of those little bottles of water,

“I haven’t gotten a text from you in weeks, what’s special about tonight?”

@james-reagan-bryne

This is one of the dullest parties Dorian has been in a long time. Worst part is — he can’t leave. Not yet anyway.

See, parties are part of his job. He needs to socialize and network with all these people. If only that rich kid wasn’t after his dick. Normally, Dorian wouldn’t mind sleeping with someone for his job, but this kid is so far from his type, it’s kind of scary. The blonde head starts bobbing again, and Dorian can see it moving through the crowd, heading his way. If he doesn’t want to get wrapped in another tiring innuendo conversation, he needs to find a chatting buddy. Stat.

“I’ll give you a hundred dollars, if you talk to me,“ Dorian whispers in the nearest man’s ear. He should have checked to see his face first, because lo and behold — turns out it’s J.R. “Make that fifty.”

james-reagan-bryne

J.R. wasn’t exactly a part animal. But as this was a party his publicist insisted he attend, there he was, nursing something a cup that had once probably been filled with something alcoholic and trying not to get wrapped up in conversation that wasn’t necessary.

He wasn’t exactly in the mood to socialize.

An exhale at the sound of Dorian’s voice, but without it’s usual sass. He was just tired. He barely glanced up at the man, not noticing the skinny blond in the crowd, “So you’re bribing me now? I’m definitely worth more than fifty bucks, don’t be insulting.”

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