"Here's a target for you, Brian," Justin teased wiggling his butt by the corner pocket. It was an old joke and should be tired and predictable, but Brian still smiled. He shot his cue hard, sinking the solid red ball easily.
"What, are you practicing now? Trying to improve your game so you'll have a chance against me next time?" Harvey asked as he sidled up to the pool table, tumbler of scotch - neat - in one hand and a cue in the other.
"Not really. Mostly just a titillating game of foreplay," Brian replied and Justin snickered. "Harvey, this is Justin. Justin, Harvey," he continued, motioning between the two; they shook hands, murmurs of 'nice to meet yous' exchanged.
As they released hands, Justin looked over Harvey's shoulder at the approaching figure. "Mike?"
"Justin? What the hell are you doing here?!" Mike greeted Justin enthusiastically, pulling him into a hug.
"I'm just here getting my ass kicked in pool by Brian," Justin replied, embracing Mike without hesitation and with a familiarity that hadn't faded with time.
"Man, what's it been, like 4 years?" Mike asked.
In the meantime, Brian and Harvey shot each other confused looks, wondering in a city of nearly eight and a half million how it can still sometimes feel like a small town where everybody somehow knows everyone.
Mike and Justin used to live across the hall and the pizza guy delivered Mike's pizza to Justin's door. Justin had gladly accepted the prepaid pizza, but pretty much figured it belonged to the occupant across the hall, what with all the not so mysterious scents that were wafting out into the hall.
That was how they met, a connection made over a pepperoni pizza and some really great weed.
There was also some sloppy making out and even a quick and dirty blowjob, after which Mike thought that if he died without ever getting head again, he could die a happy man. Fuck but Justin knew how to use his mouth and tongue to tease an orgasm out of a man in the most perfect of ways.
After that first night, which lasted into dawn, they started a casual friendship that was more than neighborly but less than boyfriends. They had a lot of good times together, but once Brian came to New York to win Justin back and Justin moved, they lost touch.
"Lucky shot!" cried Mike.
"Pure skill," Brian countered. He had just won the final game by sinking the 8 ball in the side pocket after banking the cue ball off two sides of the table in order to miss all the striped balls that weren't his.
Justin and Mike had teamed up against Brian and Harvey. All parties knew one team was much stronger than the other, but they had fun nonetheless with lots of teasing and taunting and sexy distractions.
Justin and Mike even managed to squeak out a win when Mike went on an insane run after Harvey had missed a shot. He'd tried a rather difficult combination, trying to show off a bit, but he miscalculated the second ricocheted angle. (Or maybe he'd been distracted because Mike pulled Justin in for a heated kiss just as he was about to strike the ball.) This had all set up Mike's next turn perfectly. But the boys ended up losing four out five games.
In the cab ride home, a very tipsy Justin tried to convince Brian that a 4-way with Mike and Harvey would be fantastic idea.
"Rule number one, Sunshine, don't fuck your friends."
"I've already fucked Mike and your rules are for shit, Brian. When was the last time we even followed one?"
"I've always followed our rules. You're the one who's always breaking them."
"Are we really going to do this now?"
"Fuck. Fine. Make the date. But just don't be surprised if it ruins everything."
"Don't deny you haven't been dreaming about it. You've been dying to get into Harvey's designer suits for awhile, haven't you? And I don't mean getting the number for his tailor," Justin teased.