Risks, Chapter Two
This is the second chapter of Risks, the fourth story in the series that began with Plans and continued with Decisions and Desires. Chapter 1 is here.
Beta'd, with handholding and tough love, by
gmta_nz. Commas, and a little handholding of her own, by
vlredreign. Acupuncture by
intensefemme. Banner and icon by
roc_abs (KT). This chapter is dedicated to my darling wife
happier_bunny. She is the fandom muse.
You know what I want: What everyone wants. To watch Brian and Justin fuck Feedback.
Risks, Chapter 2
By Xie
“Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.” -T.S. Eliot
Brian’s POV
It was the hottest, most humid day we’d had all summer, but late that afternoon, it started to rain. Ted came back from a meeting, and I frowned as he walked across the office, dripping all over the floor.
“Good thing this place has a central drain, although when I bought it, that wasn’t what I thought I’d be using it for.”
Ted went into my bathroom and came out with a towel, and used it to rub his head. “I doubt this is what you had in mind with the towels in the private bathroom, either.”
I smirked at him. “So, how did it go?”
“I’d say it went well. Jennifer says she can have the offer to us sometime tomorrow for our review, and then she’ll present it as soon as possible. She’s optimistic.”
I drummed my fingers on my desk. “I hate the fact that they know it’s us, we’re at a disadvantage.” I wanted to expand Kinnetik to the warehouse next door, which had just come on the market.
Ted nodded. “Jennifer says no problem, we can set up the offer a number of ways so they won’t know.”
“Good. So, Theodore, what will we do with all that space?”
Ted looked at me speculatively. “First, I’m guessing you’ll spend at least twice what I’d like you to, redesigning the space. Then, let’s see, you’ll move the art department as far, far away from your office as possible, so you won’t have to hear their screams for mercy or the sounds of the whips as the overseer lashes them into submission.”
I got up and clapped him on the shoulder, although I regretted it as a little cloud of water droplets splashed out around my hand. “So, why don’t you go dry off in your own office, and then we can talk about hiring a guy with a whip. I’m sure you can find someone.”
“Brian? It’s five o’clock, I was actually thinking about going home.”
I looked at him blankly. He sighed. “Right. I’ll be right back in, let me change into something dry.”
When Ted got back to my office, I’d ordered pizza, and we ate it at the conference table while we went over the details of a counter-proposal a client in Chicago had made. It was a start-up internet company, which normally was something I’d run from, but it was a guy who’d sold his last internet start-up for a few million dollars, and was starting a non-profit organization to coordinate funding for lesbian and gay causes. He wanted to advertise it both in the gay media, and in the high tech media, with a single campaign geared to both instead of a separate campaign for each.
I needed Ted to make sure that the do-gooder discount didn’t eat the bottom line entirely. At around 7, Blake pushed open the door to my office.
“You guys just about done?” His hair and jacket were a little wet from the rain.
Ted smiled, and Blake came over to the table and leaned lightly against him. “What are you working on?”
I didn’t let Ted answer. “I’m trying to donate my company’s services to a worthy gay/lesbian/bisexual/transgender non-profit internet startup database company, and Theodore is trying to convince me not to, so as to preserve his lifestyle of excessive consumer consumption and season tickets to the opera.”
Blake laughed, and Ted shook his head. “Don’t joke about opera tickets.”
I ran my hand through my hair. “Are we done?”
Ted hesitated. “Not really. Do you want to come back to this tomorrow? We have a pretty full day.”
“Remind me again why I wanted to own my own company?”
“Two companies, three if this real estate thing goes through.”
“Remind me again why I wanted to own two, possibly three, companies?”
“I think it’s the money.”
I nodded. “That’s right, I’m a shallow, materialistic shit.”
Ted looked thoughtful. “I find that comforting, somehow.”
“Oddly, Theodore, so do I.”
Ted walked Blake out, and I got up and poured myself a scotch from the bar in the office. I still sometimes hesitated to drink in front of Ted, ostensibly to support his life of sobriety, but in reality because he liked to get me drunk and pry information out of me about my personal life.
Three hours later, we’d structured a deal that we thought would work for both the new company and Kinnetik. I stood up and stretched, and squeezed the back of my neck. I was starting to get a headache, and I needed a cigarette. I walked over to my desk, and then looked up at the high windows.
“It’s still raining.”
Ted glanced over, and nodded. “Drive home carefully, you wouldn’t want to damage the ‘vette. Or, you know, yourself.”
I shook my head. “Justin’s in New York, I’ll just stay at the loft tonight.”
Ted looked like he was about to say something, and I raised my eyebrow while I poured a drink.
He shook his head. “I know if I ask if you want to go to the diner or even come to the house, I’ll just get a sarcastic dissertation on how you can get along fine with Justin being out of town.”
I took my drink over to the sofa and leaned back and closed my eyes. “Do you really think I can’t stand him being away for a couple of nights? Just because I finally fell in love doesn’t mean I’ve turned into a complete pussy.”
Ted sat down. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that word before.”
”What, pussy?”
“Love.”
I drank the last of the scotch in my glass. “Don’t you have a husband to get home to?”
Ted took the hint and stood up. “I’ll see you tomorrow, hopefully we’ll have doubled Kinnetik’s square footage, not to mention its overhead and debt load, by the end of the week.”
I frowned. “There must be a better way to phrase that.”
Ted laughed. “Goodnight, Brian.”
Justin’s POV
I was sitting on Kalli’s sofa, sketching. She was in her bedroom, trying on black skirts.
She walked in, wearing black boots and a short black skirt. “Well?”
I looked at her appraisingly. “Did you mean to look like a hooker?”
She frowned at me and went back to her room. I went back to my sketchpad.
An hour later, we were heading down the stairs of her building. She was wearing a black silk trench coat over a knee-length black skirt, and a pair of black pumps. We were meeting some people from the collective at a diner around the corner, and then going to the opening at the gallery. I’d checked out of my hotel and left my bag and laptop at her place.
I rotated my hand and flexed it backwards while we walked down the block. Kalli slanted her eyes at me.
“How is it?”
I shrugged. “Fine, unless I draw something.”
“Well, good thing you’re not an artist or anything.”
“Yeah, it really is.”
“You should stop drawing the comic and focus on your art.”
I laughed a little. “You sound like Brian.”
We were a little late and everyone was already eating. I ordered a burger and coffee, and Kalli got what she always got at diners, breakfast. Kalli introduced me to the only two people there I didn’t know, a sculptor named Rick who’d taken over my old space, and a performance artist/videographer named Jen. We were arguing over the artistic merits of combining performance art with visual art when my cell phone rang. It was Brian, so I turned away slightly and answered it. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
I heard sounds in the background, noises from his computer and papers rustling. “You’re at the office?”
“Yeah, we have a big presentation tomorrow, and I’m still breaking in this new art director Cynthia found.”
I smiled. “Your art department is all totally traumatized by you. You should just stay away from them.”
He sounded amused. “You can’t coddle the artists, the next thing you know, they think they’re indispensable.”
“So, what did they do now?”
“Tell me, Justin, in your intermittent attendance at PIFA, between interludes of recreational drug use, sex, social activism, and destroying the internship program, did anyone ever attempt to teach you anything about perspective and proportion?”
I smiled. “I vaguely recall something about that.”
“I think my entire art department was absent that day. I have a graphic here from one of them, in which, if the figure in it unfolded his arms, they’d reach his knees.”
“Are you sure that’s not a form of artistic expression?”
Brian snorted. “Ape art?”
I smiled again, then bit my lip. “I should go, we’re eating.”
“Somewhere glamorous, I hope.” I heard his computer shutting down.
“A greasy diner, actually.”
He laughed. “Why am I not surprised? Tell Kalli I said hi.”
“Later.”
“Later.”
I turned back towards the table, and realized everyone was staring at me and no one was talking. I felt my face get hot. “What?”
Rick laughed. “You should see your face.”
“You should see the guy who put that look on his face.” It was Kalli, laughing at me. “How’s Brian?”
“He said hi.” I took a sip of my coffee, but it was cold.
Kalli switched into her gallery persona the minute we went through the door, and after saying hello to Armand, I wandered around looking at the installation. I’d wanted to see this artist, because he was working on transparent sheets of fiberglass with emulsified acrylic paint, and I was curious about it. They were hung slightly out from the wall, so light came up behind them.
I was sipping a glass of wine and staring at a predominantly burgundy painting.
“Justin?”
I turned, and then looked down. “Adrienne?”
Adrienne Bennett smiled up at me from her wheelchair. “Lindsay told me you’d be here, and I’d been wanting to see these, so I thought I’d come tonight.”
I squatted down next to her. “Are you living in New York now?”
“I lead a bit of a nomadic lifestyle, spend part of the year here, part in the Pitts, part in Europe or wherever I feel like going. Life’s too short to be where you don’t want to be.”
“Yeah, I’m figuring that out myself. I lived here for a while, but I’m back in Pittsburgh now.”
“And so is Lindsay. For a less-than-world-class town, it seems to have its own peculiar gravitational pull.” She laughed a little. “So, Lindsay also said you were looking for an agent. I think that’s the right next move for you. I’ve seen your work here, it’s extremely impressive.”
I couldn’t keep from smiling. “Thanks. I saw a show you did here last year, but they said you were in Africa.”
“Ah, yes, my safari phase. That’s out of my system now.”
“Good. Sounds dangerous.”
She grinned at me. “Photo safari.”
We moved to a bench so I could sit while we talked, and after a little while Armand came over to us.
“Adrienne, lovely to see you here, thanks for coming. I see you’ve met Justin?”
Adrienne smiled at him. “Justin and I are old friends.”
He looked surprised. “You are? That’s right, you’re originally from Pittsburgh, too, aren’t you?”
“I still call it home, as much as I call anywhere home these days.”
I sat there quietly while Armand and Adrienne chatted, and then he asked if we’d met the artist. He left, saying he’d bring him back to meet us.
Adrienne looked at me for a few minutes. “So, how’s the hand?”
“As long as I pace myself, I’m pretty much okay.”
“And you don’t feel like complaining to me, because I’m so much worse off than you, but I manage to soldier on and make everyone admire my tremendous courage and nobility of spirit?”
I looked at her, and realized she was laughing at me. “Something like that.”
She sighed. “Be as pissed off as you want to be, kid. It’s not a competition. My car crash doesn’t trump some guy hitting you in the head with a bat and screwing up the rest of your life, and my wheelchair doesn’t mean you don’t get to piss and moan about your hand. Just as long as you keep working, the rest is a waste of time.”
I didn’t answer her right away. “I’m completely pissed off and I hate it, and there isn’t one single day I don’t hit some kind of wall where I want to do something that I can’t do with my art because of my hand.”
Adrienne smiled. “Much better. Now, give me a shove over to the buffet table, I need some food and another drink before I have to make nice with this artist.”
Adrienne left about an hour later, and Kalli swooped down on me and introduced me to someone she thought I should meet. I felt the muscles in my face getting sore from too much smiling. It almost felt like being back at the diner.
At around 11, things were winding down, and I found Kalli to say goodnight.
She kissed my cheek, still firmly in her power gallery mode. “Are you sure you need to go tonight? Why don’t you go home in the morning? My air conditioning’s working now.”
I shook my head. “Brian’s leaving tomorrow morning for the rest of the week, I want to see him before he goes.”
She slipped me an extra key to her place, and I kept the cab waiting while I grabbed my bag and my laptop and ran back down the stairs. I didn’t even want to think about how much this cab ride was costing.
I got into Pittsburgh at 2, and by the time the car service picked me up and got me out to the house, it was past 3. Brian had taken advantage of my absence to turn the air conditioning down to minus twelve, and I was shivering with cold and a desperate need for sleep by the time I got upstairs. I set my bag down by the closet door, stripped off my clothes and shoes, dug an old, stretched out, faded blue turtleneck sweater out of my drawer, and climbed into bed while I pulled it on.
Brian rolled over and wrapped himself around me, then lifted his head up and looked at me, confused.
“Why the fuck are you wearing a sweater in bed?”
“I’m cold.”
He slid his hands up under the sweater and pulled it off over my head, and then tugged me in close to his chest and wrapped his arms around me. “Keeping you warm is my job.”
I smiled and sighed against his shoulder. “I love you.”
He kissed my hair. “I know. That’s your job.”
I laughed and jabbed him with my elbow. “Asshole.”
“And yet, you love me.”
I kissed his throat. “It’s true. I do.”
His hands felt big and warm on my back, and his voice was low. “I love you, too.”
I lay there inside his arms, listening to his breathing slow down, feeling his heart beating, the warmth of his body spreading around me under the duvet. And after a few minutes, I fell asleep.
Brian’s POV
I didn’t want to wake Justin up that morning when the alarm went off, but even if it was the most lesbianic thing I ever did, I wasn’t going the rest of the week without fucking him. I was lightly kissing his eyes when they started to open. He smiled. “Hey.”
I nuzzled his cheek. “Hey yourself.”
Justin kissed me. “We should have just met at an airport hotel.”
I laughed. “You’re probably right.” I went back to kissing his eyes, and he made a sleepy purring sound. He shifted against me, and I moved on top of him while his legs wrapped around me and his arms went around my neck. I kept the duvet over our shoulders and he smiled and pulled it over our heads, and I laughed and pushed it back down with one hand. He pulled my head in close and kissed me.
I closed my eyes while I went into him, and I felt his hand on my hair, pushing it off my forehead. I opened my eyes and looked at him, and he smiled.
I kept my eyes open and pushed in a little more, and he opened up underneath me, and I groaned as I went all the way in with one more thrust. His hand was on my face again, tracing my eyelashes, touching my lips.
And then he smiled. Just a small smile, but I had to kiss it, touch it with my tongue, feel its shape under my own lips. And then his hand again, softly touching my cheek, resting on my neck, tracing the curves of my ear.
I barely made my flight, and Cynthia was sitting in the aisle seat reading a magazine, pretending not to see me.
“I’m pretty sure it’s a violation of some kind of FAA regulation for you to sit in a seat other than the one on your boarding pass.”
She didn’t even lift her eyes from the pages of Vanity Fair. “Really? I thought you must be one of the standby passengers, since it was pretty clear that the guy whose seat this was supposed to be missed the flight.”
“I’m doing this on one cup of coffee, Cynthia, so I’d suggest you just move.”
“That’s frightening.” She shifted to the window seat, and then looked at me appraisingly. “Should I ring for emergency caffeine?”
I dropped into the seat and leaned my head against the back. “Just have them syringe it in while I sleep.”
We spent the day in LA meeting with two prospective clients, and the next morning, Cynthia headed back to the office and I went to Washington to meet with Lawrence Remson.
I had a plausible reason to meet with him. He’d been trying to get his new drug through the FDA process, and the last meeting with his attorneys had pretty much bagged most of the wording from the campaign we’d originally designed. But the truth was, there were other people I could have sent to handle that.
When I got to Washington, I turned my cell back on, and stopped and got a drink at an airport bar before going to the hotel. Too much sparkling water and iced tea in LA.
I was heading outside to meet my car, when my cell phone rang. That hadn’t taken long.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” I could hear Justin’s music in the background. “Where are you?”
I saw my driver, and handed him my bag and followed him to the car. “I just got off the plane in DC.”
“So, not a good time to ask what you’re wearing?”
I smirked as I got in the back of the car. “Good to see you learn from your mistakes.” I heard the trunk slam, and then the driver got in and pulled out into traffic.
“Michael came over today, we worked on Rage for a while.”
“How’s your hand?”
“Same as usual. I didn’t push it.”
“How’s Michael?”
“He’s good.”
Another one of those silences that make me love phone conversations so much. “So…”
“Yeah.”
I waited.
“I miss you.”
I smiled. “Me too.”
“Later.”
“Later.”
My appointment with Remson was first thing the next morning. After we hashed over the language for the ad again, I sat back in my chair and paused for a minute.
“Trying to think how to hit me up for more support for one of your projects?” He looked resigned.
I smiled. “No, Theodore assures me the foundation is amply funded.” Remson and Kinnetik were jointly underwriting the hospice. “This is personal.”
He looked surprised. “What can I do for you?”
“I have a friend who has HIV, and he’s had recurrent therapy failures and interruptions due to chronic pancreatitis.”
Before I finished talking, Remson was nodding. “You want to get him on the trial protocol.”
“Yes.” I hoped Remson was in the mood for the direct approach.
“Did he apply?”
“He was rejected for the study because he was in Pittsburgh. His doctor suggested he look into Treatment Investigational New Drug access. I was hoping you could facilitate that.”
“This is a good friend?”
“The partner of my best friend.”
“What regimens has he failed on?” Remson had opened his laptop and was typing while he asked me questions.
“ddI when the pancreatitis was first diagnosed, but he’s been on Hydrea and Combivir in the past.”
“Great, a recipe for pancreatic problems.”
“Apparently.”
He asked me a few more questions, typing while I answered. He printed something out and handed it to me. “Have his doctor call. As long as there’s no medical reason to deny him, he can get access.”
I glanced at the paper in my hand. “He’s not sick.” I’d done my research, TIND was usually reserved for people who were seriously ill and had no other options.
Remson shook his head. “Yes, he is. Chronic pancreatitis, HIV, three failed drug combinations accompanied by repeated bouts of high viral load and low t-cells when off his meds? He’s sick.”
I didn’t answer.
“Brian, odds are he’ll be fine, but this is a serious treatment issue. It’s one of the reasons I want to get approval for this new protocol. What good is having all these great drugs to make HIV manageable, if the patients can’t manage to take the drugs?”
I shook his hand and thanked him and went downstairs, and sat in the lobby of his Washington office building and stared out the glass doors at the street outside. I wasn’t really sure how long I’d been sitting there when I finally got out my phone and called Michael.
“Brian. Did you ask him?”
“Yeah, he gave me the contact information for Ben’s doctor, he said it should be no problem.”
I heard Michael give a sigh of relief. “Good, great, thank you…”
“Yeah. Shut up.”
“I can thank you.”
I sighed. “Buy me something expensive.”
Michael laughed. “What can I buy you that you don’t already have ten of?”
“Good point.”
"Hang on." I heard the cash register in the background and him thanking someone, then he came back on the line. “So, when do you come home?”
“I’m going to Chicago first, and then I’ll be home on Friday.”
“In time for the party?” The Rage release party was on Saturday.
“I wouldn’t dream of missing it, you know how I live for these events.”
He laughed. “You sound like Justin.”
That made me smile. “Hey, I have to go.”
“Okay, and Brian, I’ll shut up forever now, but thank you.” And he hung up.
Justin’s POV
I squinted at the sunshine glaring off the surface of the pool.
“Justin has a great ass and perfect hair, but he’s like a vampire, he can’t let the sunlight touch his skin.” Daphne sounded smug.
Alfe glanced over to where I was sitting curled up on a lounge chair in the shade, clutching a cup of coffee, and back at Daphne. “What’s wrong with your hair?”
We both burst out laughing, and Daphne smacked at his arm. “Nothing’s wrong with my hair, my hair is perfect! What about my ass, you asshole?”
Alfe used his feet to splash water at Daphne, who was sitting next to him on the edge of the pool. “I’m aware that there’s no way to dig myself out of this.”
“Morning.” It was Brian, wearing a pair of baggy sweats. “Justin, there’s no coffee.”
I sighed. “It’s in the thermos. Sit down, I’ll get it.”
He looked bewildered, so I got up and pushed him into a chair. “Sit. Wait. Coffee.”
He crossed his arms on the table and buried his head in them.
When I got back, Daphne and Alfe were swimming, and Brian was right where I’d left him, the sun shining on the muscles of his back. I felt like drawing him, or fucking him, but I put the mug down on the table, and knelt next to his chair. “Why don’t you go back to bed?”
He sighed. “Mmmm. We have company.”
I patted his shoulder. “I can entertain them. We have a party tonight, you should sleep some more.”
He groaned. “Rage party.”
I nodded. “I know. But Michael wants us to go, so we’re going.”
He sipped his coffee and glared at the liquid in the cup. “I’ve never liked Michael. He’s a very bad influence on me.”
“I know. Drink your coffee. Then go back to bed.”
Brian was too tired to argue, and I promised to wake him up in an hour. He looked at me accusingly.
“You won’t, though. I’ll wake up an hour before the party, with the drapes drawn and the clock missing.”
“Most likely.”
He went inside anyway, and Alfe looked at me. “You guys really do have a weird relationship.”
Daphne laughed. “I told you.”
“You did. And I believed you. Mostly.”
“And I haven’t even told you the really freaky stuff.” Daphne pulled herself out of the pool and lay down on a lounge chair. “God, I wish the summer wasn’t over.”
I looked at her. “It’s only the end of August.”
She made a face. “I went back to school this week.”
I laughed. “I’m sorry. Higher education bites, doesn’t it.”
“Dropout.”
“Intellectual elitist.”
Alfe stared from the pool. “You two are exhausting.”
Daphne ignored that. “We should set up a time for you to be interviewed for my thesis.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
Alfe got out of the water, picked up a towel and dried off, and then came and sat next to Daphne. “I have a feeling once she starts writing that thing, I’ll cease to exist.”
Daphne smiled at him and patted his arm. “Not as long as you bring me food and drag me out dancing now and then.”
I laughed. “That sounds sort of like the Justin Taylor relationship manual.”
“Fast foods and clubbing. The Justin Taylor teen years.”
Alfe shook his head. “I can’t believe the two of you used to go to Babylon when you were in high school.”
“It was mostly Justin.”
“Yeah, but you would have loved her Judy Jetson look. It was hot.”
Daphne threw a pillow at me, which I took as a sign of victory. She must have, too, because she changed the subject.
“So, should I give up on Brian talking to me for my thesis?”
“Yes.”
“That was short and sweet.”
“You asked.”
She rolled her eyes. “You sound like him.”
I shrugged.
“Your mom’s going to talk to me.”
I groaned. “Jesus, Daphne.” I’d had a feeling that was going to happen, after I saw them talking together at the party. “Who else, the head of St. James? Hobbes?”
She looked at me strangely. “I did ask the board at St. James to let someone talk to me. They’re considering it. It’s about public health issues, Justin… it’s about the systems’ failures, and their impact on society. And no, I’m not fucking going to talk to Hobbes. I’d probably strangle him with the microphone cord.”
“You have a wireless mic, and I don’t recommend violent retribution. It’s not the relief you think it’s gonna be.”
“Yeah. I know.”
I remembered Alfe was there, but he was looking at the pool and pretending not to listen. I was glad Brian had gone back to bed. And I decided it was my turn to change the subject.
“So, are you two coming to the party tonight?”
Daphne nodded. “Yeah, we’ll be there. Alfe has to work at Babylon so we’ll be there early.”
They left after lunch, and I went into the studio and worked for a few hours. I painted steadily for a while, then worked on Rage until my hand started to cramp.
I went upstairs, and sat on the edge of the bed looking at Brian. He was sleeping so deeply I hated to wake him, but it was getting late. So I rested my hand on his bare shoulder and started to stroke down his back.
At first he didn’t respond, but I made my touch a little firmer, and he opened his eyes and looked at me. I blinked and smiled, and leaned down and touched my nose to his, and he reached up and pulled me down, and kissed me.
“What time is it?” His voice was rough.
“It’s 4:30.”
“Shit.”
“We have time, the party’s not until 8.”
“I know, but I want to fuck you.”
I smiled. “I told you, we have time.”
I nudged him with my hand, and he pulled me backwards into his arms and reached around me, and started massaging my hand.
He sighed. “I really don’t want to go tonight.”
“I know. Neither do I.”
“How come we do so much shit we don’t want to do?” He was working the muscle at the base of my thumb. It felt good.
I shook my head. “No idea.” I turned around and kissed him, running my hands through his spiky, messy hair and breathing in his smell. I smoothed my hand down his side, under the blankets, and around the curve of his ass.
“You’re feeling lucky.” I looked at his face, and he had a little smile on his lips.
I sighed and buried my face in his neck. “I don’t care what we do.”
Brian rolled me over and looked at me, his hand in my hair. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
I shook my head, and pushed my head against his hand.
I heard him huff a little sigh. “Don’t think about it.”
I looked up at him. “Don’t think about what?”
His voice was rough and quiet. “Anything that would make you feel that way.”
I laughed a little. “Does that work?”
“Sometimes.”
“And when it doesn’t?”
Brian smiled at me, but he didn’t look happy. “Then, Justin, you’re completely fucked.” And he bent his face down, and kissed me.
When he started to kiss my neck and shoulders, I turned in his arms, and let his mouth trail down my back. His tongue was tracing my spine, and his hands were gently stroking my ass and the backs of my thighs. I let him push my thighs apart, his tongue and wet fingers playing at my asshole.
I tried to push towards his mouth, but he let the weight of his shoulders keep me flat on the bed. His hands were holding my cheeks apart, and I could feel the stubble on his face against my skin while his hot tongue snaked into me. When he slid a finger in alongside his tongue I knew he was going to fuck me, and I wanted it so much that I gave a little cry, muffled in the pillow and my arms.
I felt him pull his head away while his finger stroked inside me, and then he reached across me for the lube. He still didn’t let me get up on my knees, pressing against me with his cock, his knees on the outside of mine, keeping them from spreading.
He dropped his head down onto my back and moaned hard when he slid into me. It felt tight, almost too tight, and I tried to move but he held me still and I heard myself whimpering. I pulled his hand underneath me and he let me lift up a little bit, and I started to stroke myself against his lubed palm, biting on my lip and feeling his weight on my back.
When he came he bit me where my neck and shoulder met. I gripped his wrist and started to come, too, jerking against his hand. He pulled out of me and buried his face in my ass, licking my thighs and my hole, finally letting me lift myself up and open myself up to him.
I was lying with my head on his chest, tracing my finger on the outline of his abdominal muscles. “We should shower.”
He kissed my hair. “Mmm hmmmm.”
I smiled and kissed his chest, and then got out of bed. When the shower was hot, he appeared behind me, and we washed each other’s hair and backs and stood there under the water for a long time.
“You know…”
He looked at me with one eyebrow raised.
“At the loft, we always knew we’d been in here too long because we ran out of hot water.”
He smiled. “Well, eventually we’d run out of hot water here, too.”
“I love this house.”
Brian didn’t say anything at first, and then he kissed me. “Me, too.”
Usually, Brian sex therapy was all I needed to feel happy again, but I still couldn’t shake my mood as we parked near Red Cape. Brian frowned at me while he locked the car. “We really don’t have to go.”
“We really do.”
“Is your hand bothering you?” He sounded frustrated.
I shook my head, and looked away from him.
He surprised me by walking over to my side of the car and backing me into it, his arms on either side of me. I leaned back, and let him press his forehead against mine.
“Justin. What the fuck?”
“You know, I hate it when you decide it’s time to talk.”
“Welcome to my world.”
I stood and looked at him for a long time, then shrugged.
Brian smirked and stepped back from the car. “That’s my line.”
I started walking towards the store, and Brian grabbed my arm from behind me. “Justin. I’m serious.”
“You want to talk. I get it.” I turned around and looked at him. “What?”
He ran his hand through his hair, and then sighed. I just kept looking at him, and finally he looked away and we went to the party.
When we got there, Melanie was standing with Michael by a life-sized cardboard figure of Rage, flipping through the new issue. I heard her burst out laughing, and Brian raised an eyebrow at her.
“Fuck, Brian, what are they trying to do to you?”
“I’m not Rage.”
Mel rolled her eyes. “Right. I forgot. So, Michael, how are you and Justin getting him out of this one?”
Michael grinned at her. “We’ll never tell.”
Brian looked down at me and frowned. “Promise me you have a plan.”
Michael laughed. “Sure, we have a plan. Tell him, Justin.”
I shook my head. “You’re in charge of the plot, I just draw.”
“Yeah. Right. You’re such a good obedient little artist, you never have any opinions on anything.”
Brian squeezed my shoulder. “That’s Justin. Obedient and no opinions.”
I saw Emmett standing with Ted and Blake, and made a detour past the food before going over to join them. I gave Emmett a quizzical look as I ate a crab puff, suspecting Brian had augmented the budget Michael and I had given him. I was fairly sure crab and champagne weren’t on Emmett’s bargain menu.
“Sweetie, you know how Brian is. He’s an unstoppable force. I never even try to resist.”
Ted laughed. “Don’t waste your breath on Justin, he wrote the book on unstoppable forces meeting immovable objects.”
I smiled. “Yeah, I did. You just have to be really firm with Brian.”
Emmett looked at me curiously. “Why, though?”
I felt hands on my shoulder, and tipped my head back. It was Brian. “Having fun, girls?”
I flicked my foot backwards at his shin. “Behave.”
He looked around. “Why? Eli and Monty aren’t here.”
“Yet.” It was Ted, darkly.
I looked at him. “Are they coming?”
“So Mel told me. They asked them to watch the kids, and they said there were going to be here.”
Brian groaned. “Justin, really. Don’t you think it’s time we left?”
I turned around and looked at him. “I didn’t even want to come in the first place.”
Blake looked surprised. “Why not?”
No one answered right away, and then Emmett did. “Justin’s kind of superstitious about Rage release parties.”
Ted spoke up then, too. “Due to certain confluences of events that seem to schedule them around various catastrophic occurrences.”
Blake looked lost. “Such as….”
Ted and Emmett looked at each other, then at Brian and me, and then back at each other. “Never mind.”
“Wise answer.” It was Brian, his hands still on my shoulders.
“Hey!” It was Daphne, with a little sparkling mist of raindrops on her hair and face and clothes. I gave her a hug, and Brian pecked her on the cheek. “Sorry I’m late, we got stuck in traffic, there’s a huge accident downtown.”
Emmett nodded. “It’s the rain. Every time it rains, it’s like it’s never rained before, and people just skid all over the place.”
Brian snorted. “Amateurs.”
Daphne was bouncing up and down on her toes in a way I’d learned meant she wanted to tell me something extremely, critically important right away, so I let her pull me over to the quietest corner of the shop.
“So, where is it?”
“What?”
She rolled her eyes. “THE COMIC, stupid. I want to see it.”
I found her a copy and while she was reading it, Alfe came in, leaving his wet jacket with the others by the door.
He spotted us, and came over and kissed Daphne’s cheek. “So, is it good?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m still reading.” She turned a page.
I took Alfe over to get some food and a drink, and when we came back, Daphne was on the last page.
“That’s it? YOU ENDED IT THERE?” She swatted me with it. “You asshole. What happens next?”
I smiled at her. “Stay tuned.”
“That’s evil.”
I shrugged. “It sells comic books.”
“That’s REALLY evil.”
Alfe had taken it from her and was starting to read.
“He’s read all the ones before at my house.”
I laughed. “X-rated gay comic books, just what every guy likes to read at his girlfriend’s house.”
Alfe glanced at me, smiled, and went back to the story.
Daphne’s eyes got all dreamy. “Alfe is special.”
He didn’t lift his eyes from the comic, but he shifted it to his right hand and slid his left arm over Daphne’s shoulders.
Then I heard a familiar voice by the door. “Oh, fuck.”
“What?” Daphne looked confused.
“Eli and Monty.” I nodded towards the door.
She glanced over her shoulder, then back at me. “So?”
I’d scanned the room for Brian and didn’t see him. Maybe he’d gone out to smoke. “Never mind.”
Daphne and I left Alfe with Rage, and went and checked out the second wave of food Emmett was putting out. It involved brownies, so Daphne was happy.
She swallowed, and carefully licked a few crumbs of chocolate off the surface of her lip-gloss. “So, are you and Brian coming to Babylon tonight?”
I shrugged. “That’s the plan, but I’m kind of tired.”
She tipped her head to the side. “You look tired. Brian keep you up all night with hot reunion sex?”
I choked on a mouthful of brownie. “Daph.”
She rolled her eyes. “I forgot, you’re shy.” She got another brownie from the counter. “So seriously, tell me, how are you and Michael going to get Rage out of trouble? I won’t tell anyone.”
I smiled mysteriously. “We have a plan, but until we actually write it and draw it, anything can happen.”
“Good answer.” It was Michael. “Can I steal it? Hey, Daphne.”
“Hey, Michael. The story’s great, I’m just trying to get Justin to give me a little hint about the next issue. He’s being stubborn.”
Michael looked at me, then her, then back at me, and grinned. “Imagine that. Justin, stubborn.”
Alfe came up and congratulated us both, and he and Michael started talking about sales, marketing, and the Rage website. I still didn’t see any sign of Brian, and I wondered if he was still outside.
“Daph? If Brian’s looking for me, tell him I walked up to the diner, okay?”
“Sure. Alfe and I are going to have to head for Babylon soon, if you and Brian decide to go, come find me in the DJ booth, okay?
I hugged her goodbye and went outside.
Brian’s POV
I was sitting on the sofa when Lindsay dropped down on one side of me, and Mel on the other. I groaned.
“To what do I owe this lesbianic invasion?”
“You’re on the only comfortable place to sit in the store?” It was Melanie, a plateful of cheese, crab, French bread, and pâté on her lap.
I heard a familiar voice and looked at the door. Mel groaned. “Fuck.”
Lindsay sighed and got up and went over to greet Eli and Monty. I looked at Mel, and reached down to the floor and handed her my bottle of scotch.
She took a good-sized swallow and backhanded her mouth before handing it back. “I’ve always said you’re not a total dick.”
“And I’ve always thought you weren’t as big a cunt as everyone says.”
Ben came over and gave Mel a kiss on the cheek. “So, how’s JR?”
“She’s fine, Lindsay found a sitter she really likes, since I thought Rage was a little NC-17 for two pre-schoolers.”
He sank down in Lindsay’s vacated spot next to me. “Brian, I want to thank you for…”
“No thanks needed, Professor.” I shifted slightly away from Mel and tried to use my powers of mind control to get him to shut up.
Ben didn’t say anything more, just clapped his hand on my shoulder and got up and left.
“What was that about?”
I reached over and took a crab puff off Melanie’s plate. “Nothing.”
“Michael will tell me.”
I shrugged. “Let him. Not my thing to tell.”
“You must have done something nice. Why else would you be trying to hide it?”
I smiled and took another drink from the bottle.
Just then I noticed Eli and Monty heading our way, so I grabbed the bottle and Mel’s hand, and pulled her into the back room of the store and barricaded the door. We slid down against the wall, laughing and passing the bottle back and forth.
Melanie took a bite of pâté-smeared bread. “I know it’s wrong, but every time I’m in their house, I want to use foul language and spray paint graffiti on their walls.”
“I’ll pay you good money if you do.” I took another drink from the bottle.
When we came out looking for more food, Lindsay was glaring so hard at Mel she apologetically slunk off. It was definitely time to leave the party, but when I looked around, I didn’t see Justin.
“Brian! Justin went to the diner, I think he thought you’d gone up there.” It was Daphne, on her way out the door with Alfe.
I followed them out, walked with them to their car, and then headed back towards the diner.
Justin was sitting on the bench under the awning in front, smoking a cigarette and staring at the rain. I sat down next to him and took it from his hand and took a drag. “I thought you’d quit, since your acupuncturist told you smoking narrows your blood vessels and restricts blood flow to your tissues and nerves.”
He took the cigarette back from me. “I thought you’d quit since you’ve had cancer and your father died of lung cancer.”
I took the cigarette back from him and tossed it out into the gutter. “Oh, yeah.” I looked at him for a minute. “You don’t seem in the mood to go dancing. Alfe’s playing tonight.”
“I know.” He kept staring at the wet street.
I stood up and held out my hand. “Let’s go home.”
He looked up at me. “Do you want to go to the loft?”
I thought about it for a minute. “Do you?”
He took my hand and stood up, and kicked at the sidewalk with his foot. “I don’t know.”
I let go of his hand and squeezed the back of my neck. I was getting a headache. “Give me a clue. Am I missing something?”
He was quiet for a minute and then he sat back down again. I was getting tired of bouncing all over, but I sat down next to him. “Justin.”
He sighed, and turned towards me, burying his face in my shoulder. “I don’t know what’s wrong, Brian. I’m just, I don’t know…”
I put my arm around him, but I didn’t say anything right away. I felt a lot of conflicting impulses, to ask him if it was something I did or said, or something that had happened when I was gone, but I just sat on the bench, holding him.
After a little while I felt him relax. He turned his head into my neck and whispered so I had to bend my head to hear him. “It’s not you.”
I wrapped my arms tighter around him, and we sat there for a while, waiting for a break in the rain.
When we got home we went to bed. Justin fell asleep before I did. I lay there for a long time, stroking his hair and staring at the ceiling. I finally closed my eyes.
I woke up suddenly. Justin was on the other side of the bed, and he was making noise in his sleep, and he jerked his right arm sharply. I sat up and looked at him, and said his name. “Justin.”
He didn’t wake up, just made a choked sound. I took a breath and put my hand firmly on his bare shoulder. “Justin.”
Sometimes when I touched him when he was having a nightmare he would hit at me before waking up, so I’d learned to touch and then get out of the way. I grabbed his wrist. “Justin.”
This time he opened his eyes, although it was a few seconds before they focused. His forehead was beaded with sweat, but he had goosebumps on his arms.
He sat up. “Fuck.”
I turned on the bedside lamp. “It’s been a while.”
He nodded. He still looked kind of dazed.
I slid closer to him and pulled him into my arms. He resisted for a second, but I pulled the duvet up over our shoulders and he let out a deep breath and relaxed. I tucked his head under my chin. “Same old thing?”
He shook his head. “Different.”
“What was it?”
He didn’t answer right away. “I’d been in New York, and I came home and was looking for you, but no one would tell me where you were. I looked for you and couldn’t find you, and then I knew you’d died of cancer but no one would tell me. And I was wandering all around Pittsburgh trying to get someone to tell me. But no one would.”
I just lay there for a while, and then I kissed him gently on his head. “I’m right here, Justin. And I’m fine.”
“I know.” His hand was on my chest, right over my heart. I thought about all the times I’d felt his hand resting there, or that he’d rested his head on my chest with his ear pressed there. I sighed.
Justin lifted his head and put his hands on either side of my face. He kissed me slowly and gently, his tongue soft inside my mouth.
I pulled away from the kiss and whispered into his ear. “What do you want, Justin? Tell me what you want.” I could hear the rain beating down on the roof.
His mouth was against my jaw. “I want you inside me. Brian, Brian…” He was thrusting up against my hip. I smiled and he started to turn in my arms while I reached over him to get the lube.
I stopped him and knelt between his legs. “This way. I want to see your face.”
I watched his eyes while I lubed his ass, and then put lube in his palm and held his hand in both of mine while I slowly stroked my cock against it. He was biting his lip, and his face was flushed.
I kept watching his eyes while I pressed into him. I never paused, but I went in so slowly it seemed to last forever, and he never closed his eyes or looked away. I felt heat wash over me, my chest and face and arms, and I almost felt like I couldn’t breathe.
I finally stopped going into him, and just held myself still, feeling him tight and hot on my cock. I didn’t move, not a muscle, and after a minute he gripped at me with his ass, and reached for my wrists, and made a sound, a cross between a moan and a breath. I started to fuck him then, but shallowly, never pulling out too far and never pushing in too deep, prodding at his prostate. I moved my hands so I was gripping his wrists, and his legs were up around my waist, and his heels were digging into my back.
“Brian…” his voice sounded choked, but I ignored it and just kept moving on that one spot inside him. I knew what it felt like, to have the pressure never let up, never stop, and I knew he was feeling like he was going to fly apart when he came. And he was.
He was lifting his hips up and his legs tightened around me, and I shifted more of my weight forward to hold down his hands. He said my name again, and then again, and then I saw his chest get blotchy and red and I smiled.
“Do you like that, Justin?” I was stroking against him, inside him, and he kept his eyes on mine and nodded, and bit his lip, and I kept moving. His breath was coming in shallow gasps and he tried to get his hands away again, and I didn’t stop and I didn’t let him go. I wanted to make him come like this, I wanted him to explode from inside.
He started to say my name again but he couldn’t even get it out, just moaned and tightened his legs around me even more. I gritted my teeth against my own orgasm, and willed it back.
“Justin…. I love fucking you bare like this, I love feeling it.” He gave another gasp and I almost smiled, but instead I leaned down close to him and pressed my mouth against his throat. “I love knowing I’m going to come inside your ass and you’re going to be full of my come…”
His legs jerked on me and his heels pressed painfully into me, and he actually got one of his hands free and grabbed the back of my neck. I could feel his throat straining against my lips, and he arched his back and I felt him start to just dissolve all around me, every muscle in his thighs and arms going rigid and then giving out, while his orgasm washed over him.
His legs had fallen off my back and were lying on either side of me, and he was still shaking underneath me when I started to come. I let myself go, flooding into him, my hands gripping his hair and my weight on my elbows. I choked out his name and finally knelt there breathing hard, covered in sweat and Justin’s come, listening to the rain.
Continued here…
Beta'd, with handholding and tough love, by
gmta_nz. Commas, and a little handholding of her own, by
vlredreign. Acupuncture by
intensefemme. Banner and icon by
roc_abs (KT). This chapter is dedicated to my darling wife
happier_bunny. She is the fandom muse.
You know what I want: What everyone wants. To watch Brian and Justin fuck Feedback.
Risks, Chapter 2
By Xie
“Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.” -T.S. Eliot
Brian’s POV
It was the hottest, most humid day we’d had all summer, but late that afternoon, it started to rain. Ted came back from a meeting, and I frowned as he walked across the office, dripping all over the floor.
“Good thing this place has a central drain, although when I bought it, that wasn’t what I thought I’d be using it for.”
Ted went into my bathroom and came out with a towel, and used it to rub his head. “I doubt this is what you had in mind with the towels in the private bathroom, either.”
I smirked at him. “So, how did it go?”
“I’d say it went well. Jennifer says she can have the offer to us sometime tomorrow for our review, and then she’ll present it as soon as possible. She’s optimistic.”
I drummed my fingers on my desk. “I hate the fact that they know it’s us, we’re at a disadvantage.” I wanted to expand Kinnetik to the warehouse next door, which had just come on the market.
Ted nodded. “Jennifer says no problem, we can set up the offer a number of ways so they won’t know.”
“Good. So, Theodore, what will we do with all that space?”
Ted looked at me speculatively. “First, I’m guessing you’ll spend at least twice what I’d like you to, redesigning the space. Then, let’s see, you’ll move the art department as far, far away from your office as possible, so you won’t have to hear their screams for mercy or the sounds of the whips as the overseer lashes them into submission.”
I got up and clapped him on the shoulder, although I regretted it as a little cloud of water droplets splashed out around my hand. “So, why don’t you go dry off in your own office, and then we can talk about hiring a guy with a whip. I’m sure you can find someone.”
“Brian? It’s five o’clock, I was actually thinking about going home.”
I looked at him blankly. He sighed. “Right. I’ll be right back in, let me change into something dry.”
When Ted got back to my office, I’d ordered pizza, and we ate it at the conference table while we went over the details of a counter-proposal a client in Chicago had made. It was a start-up internet company, which normally was something I’d run from, but it was a guy who’d sold his last internet start-up for a few million dollars, and was starting a non-profit organization to coordinate funding for lesbian and gay causes. He wanted to advertise it both in the gay media, and in the high tech media, with a single campaign geared to both instead of a separate campaign for each.
I needed Ted to make sure that the do-gooder discount didn’t eat the bottom line entirely. At around 7, Blake pushed open the door to my office.
“You guys just about done?” His hair and jacket were a little wet from the rain.
Ted smiled, and Blake came over to the table and leaned lightly against him. “What are you working on?”
I didn’t let Ted answer. “I’m trying to donate my company’s services to a worthy gay/lesbian/bisexual/transgender non-profit internet startup database company, and Theodore is trying to convince me not to, so as to preserve his lifestyle of excessive consumer consumption and season tickets to the opera.”
Blake laughed, and Ted shook his head. “Don’t joke about opera tickets.”
I ran my hand through my hair. “Are we done?”
Ted hesitated. “Not really. Do you want to come back to this tomorrow? We have a pretty full day.”
“Remind me again why I wanted to own my own company?”
“Two companies, three if this real estate thing goes through.”
“Remind me again why I wanted to own two, possibly three, companies?”
“I think it’s the money.”
I nodded. “That’s right, I’m a shallow, materialistic shit.”
Ted looked thoughtful. “I find that comforting, somehow.”
“Oddly, Theodore, so do I.”
Ted walked Blake out, and I got up and poured myself a scotch from the bar in the office. I still sometimes hesitated to drink in front of Ted, ostensibly to support his life of sobriety, but in reality because he liked to get me drunk and pry information out of me about my personal life.
Three hours later, we’d structured a deal that we thought would work for both the new company and Kinnetik. I stood up and stretched, and squeezed the back of my neck. I was starting to get a headache, and I needed a cigarette. I walked over to my desk, and then looked up at the high windows.
“It’s still raining.”
Ted glanced over, and nodded. “Drive home carefully, you wouldn’t want to damage the ‘vette. Or, you know, yourself.”
I shook my head. “Justin’s in New York, I’ll just stay at the loft tonight.”
Ted looked like he was about to say something, and I raised my eyebrow while I poured a drink.
He shook his head. “I know if I ask if you want to go to the diner or even come to the house, I’ll just get a sarcastic dissertation on how you can get along fine with Justin being out of town.”
I took my drink over to the sofa and leaned back and closed my eyes. “Do you really think I can’t stand him being away for a couple of nights? Just because I finally fell in love doesn’t mean I’ve turned into a complete pussy.”
Ted sat down. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that word before.”
”What, pussy?”
“Love.”
I drank the last of the scotch in my glass. “Don’t you have a husband to get home to?”
Ted took the hint and stood up. “I’ll see you tomorrow, hopefully we’ll have doubled Kinnetik’s square footage, not to mention its overhead and debt load, by the end of the week.”
I frowned. “There must be a better way to phrase that.”
Ted laughed. “Goodnight, Brian.”
Justin’s POV
I was sitting on Kalli’s sofa, sketching. She was in her bedroom, trying on black skirts.
She walked in, wearing black boots and a short black skirt. “Well?”
I looked at her appraisingly. “Did you mean to look like a hooker?”
She frowned at me and went back to her room. I went back to my sketchpad.
An hour later, we were heading down the stairs of her building. She was wearing a black silk trench coat over a knee-length black skirt, and a pair of black pumps. We were meeting some people from the collective at a diner around the corner, and then going to the opening at the gallery. I’d checked out of my hotel and left my bag and laptop at her place.
I rotated my hand and flexed it backwards while we walked down the block. Kalli slanted her eyes at me.
“How is it?”
I shrugged. “Fine, unless I draw something.”
“Well, good thing you’re not an artist or anything.”
“Yeah, it really is.”
“You should stop drawing the comic and focus on your art.”
I laughed a little. “You sound like Brian.”
We were a little late and everyone was already eating. I ordered a burger and coffee, and Kalli got what she always got at diners, breakfast. Kalli introduced me to the only two people there I didn’t know, a sculptor named Rick who’d taken over my old space, and a performance artist/videographer named Jen. We were arguing over the artistic merits of combining performance art with visual art when my cell phone rang. It was Brian, so I turned away slightly and answered it. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
I heard sounds in the background, noises from his computer and papers rustling. “You’re at the office?”
“Yeah, we have a big presentation tomorrow, and I’m still breaking in this new art director Cynthia found.”
I smiled. “Your art department is all totally traumatized by you. You should just stay away from them.”
He sounded amused. “You can’t coddle the artists, the next thing you know, they think they’re indispensable.”
“So, what did they do now?”
“Tell me, Justin, in your intermittent attendance at PIFA, between interludes of recreational drug use, sex, social activism, and destroying the internship program, did anyone ever attempt to teach you anything about perspective and proportion?”
I smiled. “I vaguely recall something about that.”
“I think my entire art department was absent that day. I have a graphic here from one of them, in which, if the figure in it unfolded his arms, they’d reach his knees.”
“Are you sure that’s not a form of artistic expression?”
Brian snorted. “Ape art?”
I smiled again, then bit my lip. “I should go, we’re eating.”
“Somewhere glamorous, I hope.” I heard his computer shutting down.
“A greasy diner, actually.”
He laughed. “Why am I not surprised? Tell Kalli I said hi.”
“Later.”
“Later.”
I turned back towards the table, and realized everyone was staring at me and no one was talking. I felt my face get hot. “What?”
Rick laughed. “You should see your face.”
“You should see the guy who put that look on his face.” It was Kalli, laughing at me. “How’s Brian?”
“He said hi.” I took a sip of my coffee, but it was cold.
Kalli switched into her gallery persona the minute we went through the door, and after saying hello to Armand, I wandered around looking at the installation. I’d wanted to see this artist, because he was working on transparent sheets of fiberglass with emulsified acrylic paint, and I was curious about it. They were hung slightly out from the wall, so light came up behind them.
I was sipping a glass of wine and staring at a predominantly burgundy painting.
“Justin?”
I turned, and then looked down. “Adrienne?”
Adrienne Bennett smiled up at me from her wheelchair. “Lindsay told me you’d be here, and I’d been wanting to see these, so I thought I’d come tonight.”
I squatted down next to her. “Are you living in New York now?”
“I lead a bit of a nomadic lifestyle, spend part of the year here, part in the Pitts, part in Europe or wherever I feel like going. Life’s too short to be where you don’t want to be.”
“Yeah, I’m figuring that out myself. I lived here for a while, but I’m back in Pittsburgh now.”
“And so is Lindsay. For a less-than-world-class town, it seems to have its own peculiar gravitational pull.” She laughed a little. “So, Lindsay also said you were looking for an agent. I think that’s the right next move for you. I’ve seen your work here, it’s extremely impressive.”
I couldn’t keep from smiling. “Thanks. I saw a show you did here last year, but they said you were in Africa.”
“Ah, yes, my safari phase. That’s out of my system now.”
“Good. Sounds dangerous.”
She grinned at me. “Photo safari.”
We moved to a bench so I could sit while we talked, and after a little while Armand came over to us.
“Adrienne, lovely to see you here, thanks for coming. I see you’ve met Justin?”
Adrienne smiled at him. “Justin and I are old friends.”
He looked surprised. “You are? That’s right, you’re originally from Pittsburgh, too, aren’t you?”
“I still call it home, as much as I call anywhere home these days.”
I sat there quietly while Armand and Adrienne chatted, and then he asked if we’d met the artist. He left, saying he’d bring him back to meet us.
Adrienne looked at me for a few minutes. “So, how’s the hand?”
“As long as I pace myself, I’m pretty much okay.”
“And you don’t feel like complaining to me, because I’m so much worse off than you, but I manage to soldier on and make everyone admire my tremendous courage and nobility of spirit?”
I looked at her, and realized she was laughing at me. “Something like that.”
She sighed. “Be as pissed off as you want to be, kid. It’s not a competition. My car crash doesn’t trump some guy hitting you in the head with a bat and screwing up the rest of your life, and my wheelchair doesn’t mean you don’t get to piss and moan about your hand. Just as long as you keep working, the rest is a waste of time.”
I didn’t answer her right away. “I’m completely pissed off and I hate it, and there isn’t one single day I don’t hit some kind of wall where I want to do something that I can’t do with my art because of my hand.”
Adrienne smiled. “Much better. Now, give me a shove over to the buffet table, I need some food and another drink before I have to make nice with this artist.”
Adrienne left about an hour later, and Kalli swooped down on me and introduced me to someone she thought I should meet. I felt the muscles in my face getting sore from too much smiling. It almost felt like being back at the diner.
At around 11, things were winding down, and I found Kalli to say goodnight.
She kissed my cheek, still firmly in her power gallery mode. “Are you sure you need to go tonight? Why don’t you go home in the morning? My air conditioning’s working now.”
I shook my head. “Brian’s leaving tomorrow morning for the rest of the week, I want to see him before he goes.”
She slipped me an extra key to her place, and I kept the cab waiting while I grabbed my bag and my laptop and ran back down the stairs. I didn’t even want to think about how much this cab ride was costing.
I got into Pittsburgh at 2, and by the time the car service picked me up and got me out to the house, it was past 3. Brian had taken advantage of my absence to turn the air conditioning down to minus twelve, and I was shivering with cold and a desperate need for sleep by the time I got upstairs. I set my bag down by the closet door, stripped off my clothes and shoes, dug an old, stretched out, faded blue turtleneck sweater out of my drawer, and climbed into bed while I pulled it on.
Brian rolled over and wrapped himself around me, then lifted his head up and looked at me, confused.
“Why the fuck are you wearing a sweater in bed?”
“I’m cold.”
He slid his hands up under the sweater and pulled it off over my head, and then tugged me in close to his chest and wrapped his arms around me. “Keeping you warm is my job.”
I smiled and sighed against his shoulder. “I love you.”
He kissed my hair. “I know. That’s your job.”
I laughed and jabbed him with my elbow. “Asshole.”
“And yet, you love me.”
I kissed his throat. “It’s true. I do.”
His hands felt big and warm on my back, and his voice was low. “I love you, too.”
I lay there inside his arms, listening to his breathing slow down, feeling his heart beating, the warmth of his body spreading around me under the duvet. And after a few minutes, I fell asleep.
Brian’s POV
I didn’t want to wake Justin up that morning when the alarm went off, but even if it was the most lesbianic thing I ever did, I wasn’t going the rest of the week without fucking him. I was lightly kissing his eyes when they started to open. He smiled. “Hey.”
I nuzzled his cheek. “Hey yourself.”
Justin kissed me. “We should have just met at an airport hotel.”
I laughed. “You’re probably right.” I went back to kissing his eyes, and he made a sleepy purring sound. He shifted against me, and I moved on top of him while his legs wrapped around me and his arms went around my neck. I kept the duvet over our shoulders and he smiled and pulled it over our heads, and I laughed and pushed it back down with one hand. He pulled my head in close and kissed me.
I closed my eyes while I went into him, and I felt his hand on my hair, pushing it off my forehead. I opened my eyes and looked at him, and he smiled.
I kept my eyes open and pushed in a little more, and he opened up underneath me, and I groaned as I went all the way in with one more thrust. His hand was on my face again, tracing my eyelashes, touching my lips.
And then he smiled. Just a small smile, but I had to kiss it, touch it with my tongue, feel its shape under my own lips. And then his hand again, softly touching my cheek, resting on my neck, tracing the curves of my ear.
I barely made my flight, and Cynthia was sitting in the aisle seat reading a magazine, pretending not to see me.
“I’m pretty sure it’s a violation of some kind of FAA regulation for you to sit in a seat other than the one on your boarding pass.”
She didn’t even lift her eyes from the pages of Vanity Fair. “Really? I thought you must be one of the standby passengers, since it was pretty clear that the guy whose seat this was supposed to be missed the flight.”
“I’m doing this on one cup of coffee, Cynthia, so I’d suggest you just move.”
“That’s frightening.” She shifted to the window seat, and then looked at me appraisingly. “Should I ring for emergency caffeine?”
I dropped into the seat and leaned my head against the back. “Just have them syringe it in while I sleep.”
We spent the day in LA meeting with two prospective clients, and the next morning, Cynthia headed back to the office and I went to Washington to meet with Lawrence Remson.
I had a plausible reason to meet with him. He’d been trying to get his new drug through the FDA process, and the last meeting with his attorneys had pretty much bagged most of the wording from the campaign we’d originally designed. But the truth was, there were other people I could have sent to handle that.
When I got to Washington, I turned my cell back on, and stopped and got a drink at an airport bar before going to the hotel. Too much sparkling water and iced tea in LA.
I was heading outside to meet my car, when my cell phone rang. That hadn’t taken long.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” I could hear Justin’s music in the background. “Where are you?”
I saw my driver, and handed him my bag and followed him to the car. “I just got off the plane in DC.”
“So, not a good time to ask what you’re wearing?”
I smirked as I got in the back of the car. “Good to see you learn from your mistakes.” I heard the trunk slam, and then the driver got in and pulled out into traffic.
“Michael came over today, we worked on Rage for a while.”
“How’s your hand?”
“Same as usual. I didn’t push it.”
“How’s Michael?”
“He’s good.”
Another one of those silences that make me love phone conversations so much. “So…”
“Yeah.”
I waited.
“I miss you.”
I smiled. “Me too.”
“Later.”
“Later.”
My appointment with Remson was first thing the next morning. After we hashed over the language for the ad again, I sat back in my chair and paused for a minute.
“Trying to think how to hit me up for more support for one of your projects?” He looked resigned.
I smiled. “No, Theodore assures me the foundation is amply funded.” Remson and Kinnetik were jointly underwriting the hospice. “This is personal.”
He looked surprised. “What can I do for you?”
“I have a friend who has HIV, and he’s had recurrent therapy failures and interruptions due to chronic pancreatitis.”
Before I finished talking, Remson was nodding. “You want to get him on the trial protocol.”
“Yes.” I hoped Remson was in the mood for the direct approach.
“Did he apply?”
“He was rejected for the study because he was in Pittsburgh. His doctor suggested he look into Treatment Investigational New Drug access. I was hoping you could facilitate that.”
“This is a good friend?”
“The partner of my best friend.”
“What regimens has he failed on?” Remson had opened his laptop and was typing while he asked me questions.
“ddI when the pancreatitis was first diagnosed, but he’s been on Hydrea and Combivir in the past.”
“Great, a recipe for pancreatic problems.”
“Apparently.”
He asked me a few more questions, typing while I answered. He printed something out and handed it to me. “Have his doctor call. As long as there’s no medical reason to deny him, he can get access.”
I glanced at the paper in my hand. “He’s not sick.” I’d done my research, TIND was usually reserved for people who were seriously ill and had no other options.
Remson shook his head. “Yes, he is. Chronic pancreatitis, HIV, three failed drug combinations accompanied by repeated bouts of high viral load and low t-cells when off his meds? He’s sick.”
I didn’t answer.
“Brian, odds are he’ll be fine, but this is a serious treatment issue. It’s one of the reasons I want to get approval for this new protocol. What good is having all these great drugs to make HIV manageable, if the patients can’t manage to take the drugs?”
I shook his hand and thanked him and went downstairs, and sat in the lobby of his Washington office building and stared out the glass doors at the street outside. I wasn’t really sure how long I’d been sitting there when I finally got out my phone and called Michael.
“Brian. Did you ask him?”
“Yeah, he gave me the contact information for Ben’s doctor, he said it should be no problem.”
I heard Michael give a sigh of relief. “Good, great, thank you…”
“Yeah. Shut up.”
“I can thank you.”
I sighed. “Buy me something expensive.”
Michael laughed. “What can I buy you that you don’t already have ten of?”
“Good point.”
"Hang on." I heard the cash register in the background and him thanking someone, then he came back on the line. “So, when do you come home?”
“I’m going to Chicago first, and then I’ll be home on Friday.”
“In time for the party?” The Rage release party was on Saturday.
“I wouldn’t dream of missing it, you know how I live for these events.”
He laughed. “You sound like Justin.”
That made me smile. “Hey, I have to go.”
“Okay, and Brian, I’ll shut up forever now, but thank you.” And he hung up.
Justin’s POV
I squinted at the sunshine glaring off the surface of the pool.
“Justin has a great ass and perfect hair, but he’s like a vampire, he can’t let the sunlight touch his skin.” Daphne sounded smug.
Alfe glanced over to where I was sitting curled up on a lounge chair in the shade, clutching a cup of coffee, and back at Daphne. “What’s wrong with your hair?”
We both burst out laughing, and Daphne smacked at his arm. “Nothing’s wrong with my hair, my hair is perfect! What about my ass, you asshole?”
Alfe used his feet to splash water at Daphne, who was sitting next to him on the edge of the pool. “I’m aware that there’s no way to dig myself out of this.”
“Morning.” It was Brian, wearing a pair of baggy sweats. “Justin, there’s no coffee.”
I sighed. “It’s in the thermos. Sit down, I’ll get it.”
He looked bewildered, so I got up and pushed him into a chair. “Sit. Wait. Coffee.”
He crossed his arms on the table and buried his head in them.
When I got back, Daphne and Alfe were swimming, and Brian was right where I’d left him, the sun shining on the muscles of his back. I felt like drawing him, or fucking him, but I put the mug down on the table, and knelt next to his chair. “Why don’t you go back to bed?”
He sighed. “Mmmm. We have company.”
I patted his shoulder. “I can entertain them. We have a party tonight, you should sleep some more.”
He groaned. “Rage party.”
I nodded. “I know. But Michael wants us to go, so we’re going.”
He sipped his coffee and glared at the liquid in the cup. “I’ve never liked Michael. He’s a very bad influence on me.”
“I know. Drink your coffee. Then go back to bed.”
Brian was too tired to argue, and I promised to wake him up in an hour. He looked at me accusingly.
“You won’t, though. I’ll wake up an hour before the party, with the drapes drawn and the clock missing.”
“Most likely.”
He went inside anyway, and Alfe looked at me. “You guys really do have a weird relationship.”
Daphne laughed. “I told you.”
“You did. And I believed you. Mostly.”
“And I haven’t even told you the really freaky stuff.” Daphne pulled herself out of the pool and lay down on a lounge chair. “God, I wish the summer wasn’t over.”
I looked at her. “It’s only the end of August.”
She made a face. “I went back to school this week.”
I laughed. “I’m sorry. Higher education bites, doesn’t it.”
“Dropout.”
“Intellectual elitist.”
Alfe stared from the pool. “You two are exhausting.”
Daphne ignored that. “We should set up a time for you to be interviewed for my thesis.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
Alfe got out of the water, picked up a towel and dried off, and then came and sat next to Daphne. “I have a feeling once she starts writing that thing, I’ll cease to exist.”
Daphne smiled at him and patted his arm. “Not as long as you bring me food and drag me out dancing now and then.”
I laughed. “That sounds sort of like the Justin Taylor relationship manual.”
“Fast foods and clubbing. The Justin Taylor teen years.”
Alfe shook his head. “I can’t believe the two of you used to go to Babylon when you were in high school.”
“It was mostly Justin.”
“Yeah, but you would have loved her Judy Jetson look. It was hot.”
Daphne threw a pillow at me, which I took as a sign of victory. She must have, too, because she changed the subject.
“So, should I give up on Brian talking to me for my thesis?”
“Yes.”
“That was short and sweet.”
“You asked.”
She rolled her eyes. “You sound like him.”
I shrugged.
“Your mom’s going to talk to me.”
I groaned. “Jesus, Daphne.” I’d had a feeling that was going to happen, after I saw them talking together at the party. “Who else, the head of St. James? Hobbes?”
She looked at me strangely. “I did ask the board at St. James to let someone talk to me. They’re considering it. It’s about public health issues, Justin… it’s about the systems’ failures, and their impact on society. And no, I’m not fucking going to talk to Hobbes. I’d probably strangle him with the microphone cord.”
“You have a wireless mic, and I don’t recommend violent retribution. It’s not the relief you think it’s gonna be.”
“Yeah. I know.”
I remembered Alfe was there, but he was looking at the pool and pretending not to listen. I was glad Brian had gone back to bed. And I decided it was my turn to change the subject.
“So, are you two coming to the party tonight?”
Daphne nodded. “Yeah, we’ll be there. Alfe has to work at Babylon so we’ll be there early.”
They left after lunch, and I went into the studio and worked for a few hours. I painted steadily for a while, then worked on Rage until my hand started to cramp.
I went upstairs, and sat on the edge of the bed looking at Brian. He was sleeping so deeply I hated to wake him, but it was getting late. So I rested my hand on his bare shoulder and started to stroke down his back.
At first he didn’t respond, but I made my touch a little firmer, and he opened his eyes and looked at me. I blinked and smiled, and leaned down and touched my nose to his, and he reached up and pulled me down, and kissed me.
“What time is it?” His voice was rough.
“It’s 4:30.”
“Shit.”
“We have time, the party’s not until 8.”
“I know, but I want to fuck you.”
I smiled. “I told you, we have time.”
I nudged him with my hand, and he pulled me backwards into his arms and reached around me, and started massaging my hand.
He sighed. “I really don’t want to go tonight.”
“I know. Neither do I.”
“How come we do so much shit we don’t want to do?” He was working the muscle at the base of my thumb. It felt good.
I shook my head. “No idea.” I turned around and kissed him, running my hands through his spiky, messy hair and breathing in his smell. I smoothed my hand down his side, under the blankets, and around the curve of his ass.
“You’re feeling lucky.” I looked at his face, and he had a little smile on his lips.
I sighed and buried my face in his neck. “I don’t care what we do.”
Brian rolled me over and looked at me, his hand in my hair. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
I shook my head, and pushed my head against his hand.
I heard him huff a little sigh. “Don’t think about it.”
I looked up at him. “Don’t think about what?”
His voice was rough and quiet. “Anything that would make you feel that way.”
I laughed a little. “Does that work?”
“Sometimes.”
“And when it doesn’t?”
Brian smiled at me, but he didn’t look happy. “Then, Justin, you’re completely fucked.” And he bent his face down, and kissed me.
When he started to kiss my neck and shoulders, I turned in his arms, and let his mouth trail down my back. His tongue was tracing my spine, and his hands were gently stroking my ass and the backs of my thighs. I let him push my thighs apart, his tongue and wet fingers playing at my asshole.
I tried to push towards his mouth, but he let the weight of his shoulders keep me flat on the bed. His hands were holding my cheeks apart, and I could feel the stubble on his face against my skin while his hot tongue snaked into me. When he slid a finger in alongside his tongue I knew he was going to fuck me, and I wanted it so much that I gave a little cry, muffled in the pillow and my arms.
I felt him pull his head away while his finger stroked inside me, and then he reached across me for the lube. He still didn’t let me get up on my knees, pressing against me with his cock, his knees on the outside of mine, keeping them from spreading.
He dropped his head down onto my back and moaned hard when he slid into me. It felt tight, almost too tight, and I tried to move but he held me still and I heard myself whimpering. I pulled his hand underneath me and he let me lift up a little bit, and I started to stroke myself against his lubed palm, biting on my lip and feeling his weight on my back.
When he came he bit me where my neck and shoulder met. I gripped his wrist and started to come, too, jerking against his hand. He pulled out of me and buried his face in my ass, licking my thighs and my hole, finally letting me lift myself up and open myself up to him.
I was lying with my head on his chest, tracing my finger on the outline of his abdominal muscles. “We should shower.”
He kissed my hair. “Mmm hmmmm.”
I smiled and kissed his chest, and then got out of bed. When the shower was hot, he appeared behind me, and we washed each other’s hair and backs and stood there under the water for a long time.
“You know…”
He looked at me with one eyebrow raised.
“At the loft, we always knew we’d been in here too long because we ran out of hot water.”
He smiled. “Well, eventually we’d run out of hot water here, too.”
“I love this house.”
Brian didn’t say anything at first, and then he kissed me. “Me, too.”
Usually, Brian sex therapy was all I needed to feel happy again, but I still couldn’t shake my mood as we parked near Red Cape. Brian frowned at me while he locked the car. “We really don’t have to go.”
“We really do.”
“Is your hand bothering you?” He sounded frustrated.
I shook my head, and looked away from him.
He surprised me by walking over to my side of the car and backing me into it, his arms on either side of me. I leaned back, and let him press his forehead against mine.
“Justin. What the fuck?”
“You know, I hate it when you decide it’s time to talk.”
“Welcome to my world.”
I stood and looked at him for a long time, then shrugged.
Brian smirked and stepped back from the car. “That’s my line.”
I started walking towards the store, and Brian grabbed my arm from behind me. “Justin. I’m serious.”
“You want to talk. I get it.” I turned around and looked at him. “What?”
He ran his hand through his hair, and then sighed. I just kept looking at him, and finally he looked away and we went to the party.
When we got there, Melanie was standing with Michael by a life-sized cardboard figure of Rage, flipping through the new issue. I heard her burst out laughing, and Brian raised an eyebrow at her.
“Fuck, Brian, what are they trying to do to you?”
“I’m not Rage.”
Mel rolled her eyes. “Right. I forgot. So, Michael, how are you and Justin getting him out of this one?”
Michael grinned at her. “We’ll never tell.”
Brian looked down at me and frowned. “Promise me you have a plan.”
Michael laughed. “Sure, we have a plan. Tell him, Justin.”
I shook my head. “You’re in charge of the plot, I just draw.”
“Yeah. Right. You’re such a good obedient little artist, you never have any opinions on anything.”
Brian squeezed my shoulder. “That’s Justin. Obedient and no opinions.”
I saw Emmett standing with Ted and Blake, and made a detour past the food before going over to join them. I gave Emmett a quizzical look as I ate a crab puff, suspecting Brian had augmented the budget Michael and I had given him. I was fairly sure crab and champagne weren’t on Emmett’s bargain menu.
“Sweetie, you know how Brian is. He’s an unstoppable force. I never even try to resist.”
Ted laughed. “Don’t waste your breath on Justin, he wrote the book on unstoppable forces meeting immovable objects.”
I smiled. “Yeah, I did. You just have to be really firm with Brian.”
Emmett looked at me curiously. “Why, though?”
I felt hands on my shoulder, and tipped my head back. It was Brian. “Having fun, girls?”
I flicked my foot backwards at his shin. “Behave.”
He looked around. “Why? Eli and Monty aren’t here.”
“Yet.” It was Ted, darkly.
I looked at him. “Are they coming?”
“So Mel told me. They asked them to watch the kids, and they said there were going to be here.”
Brian groaned. “Justin, really. Don’t you think it’s time we left?”
I turned around and looked at him. “I didn’t even want to come in the first place.”
Blake looked surprised. “Why not?”
No one answered right away, and then Emmett did. “Justin’s kind of superstitious about Rage release parties.”
Ted spoke up then, too. “Due to certain confluences of events that seem to schedule them around various catastrophic occurrences.”
Blake looked lost. “Such as….”
Ted and Emmett looked at each other, then at Brian and me, and then back at each other. “Never mind.”
“Wise answer.” It was Brian, his hands still on my shoulders.
“Hey!” It was Daphne, with a little sparkling mist of raindrops on her hair and face and clothes. I gave her a hug, and Brian pecked her on the cheek. “Sorry I’m late, we got stuck in traffic, there’s a huge accident downtown.”
Emmett nodded. “It’s the rain. Every time it rains, it’s like it’s never rained before, and people just skid all over the place.”
Brian snorted. “Amateurs.”
Daphne was bouncing up and down on her toes in a way I’d learned meant she wanted to tell me something extremely, critically important right away, so I let her pull me over to the quietest corner of the shop.
“So, where is it?”
“What?”
She rolled her eyes. “THE COMIC, stupid. I want to see it.”
I found her a copy and while she was reading it, Alfe came in, leaving his wet jacket with the others by the door.
He spotted us, and came over and kissed Daphne’s cheek. “So, is it good?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m still reading.” She turned a page.
I took Alfe over to get some food and a drink, and when we came back, Daphne was on the last page.
“That’s it? YOU ENDED IT THERE?” She swatted me with it. “You asshole. What happens next?”
I smiled at her. “Stay tuned.”
“That’s evil.”
I shrugged. “It sells comic books.”
“That’s REALLY evil.”
Alfe had taken it from her and was starting to read.
“He’s read all the ones before at my house.”
I laughed. “X-rated gay comic books, just what every guy likes to read at his girlfriend’s house.”
Alfe glanced at me, smiled, and went back to the story.
Daphne’s eyes got all dreamy. “Alfe is special.”
He didn’t lift his eyes from the comic, but he shifted it to his right hand and slid his left arm over Daphne’s shoulders.
Then I heard a familiar voice by the door. “Oh, fuck.”
“What?” Daphne looked confused.
“Eli and Monty.” I nodded towards the door.
She glanced over her shoulder, then back at me. “So?”
I’d scanned the room for Brian and didn’t see him. Maybe he’d gone out to smoke. “Never mind.”
Daphne and I left Alfe with Rage, and went and checked out the second wave of food Emmett was putting out. It involved brownies, so Daphne was happy.
She swallowed, and carefully licked a few crumbs of chocolate off the surface of her lip-gloss. “So, are you and Brian coming to Babylon tonight?”
I shrugged. “That’s the plan, but I’m kind of tired.”
She tipped her head to the side. “You look tired. Brian keep you up all night with hot reunion sex?”
I choked on a mouthful of brownie. “Daph.”
She rolled her eyes. “I forgot, you’re shy.” She got another brownie from the counter. “So seriously, tell me, how are you and Michael going to get Rage out of trouble? I won’t tell anyone.”
I smiled mysteriously. “We have a plan, but until we actually write it and draw it, anything can happen.”
“Good answer.” It was Michael. “Can I steal it? Hey, Daphne.”
“Hey, Michael. The story’s great, I’m just trying to get Justin to give me a little hint about the next issue. He’s being stubborn.”
Michael looked at me, then her, then back at me, and grinned. “Imagine that. Justin, stubborn.”
Alfe came up and congratulated us both, and he and Michael started talking about sales, marketing, and the Rage website. I still didn’t see any sign of Brian, and I wondered if he was still outside.
“Daph? If Brian’s looking for me, tell him I walked up to the diner, okay?”
“Sure. Alfe and I are going to have to head for Babylon soon, if you and Brian decide to go, come find me in the DJ booth, okay?
I hugged her goodbye and went outside.
Brian’s POV
I was sitting on the sofa when Lindsay dropped down on one side of me, and Mel on the other. I groaned.
“To what do I owe this lesbianic invasion?”
“You’re on the only comfortable place to sit in the store?” It was Melanie, a plateful of cheese, crab, French bread, and pâté on her lap.
I heard a familiar voice and looked at the door. Mel groaned. “Fuck.”
Lindsay sighed and got up and went over to greet Eli and Monty. I looked at Mel, and reached down to the floor and handed her my bottle of scotch.
She took a good-sized swallow and backhanded her mouth before handing it back. “I’ve always said you’re not a total dick.”
“And I’ve always thought you weren’t as big a cunt as everyone says.”
Ben came over and gave Mel a kiss on the cheek. “So, how’s JR?”
“She’s fine, Lindsay found a sitter she really likes, since I thought Rage was a little NC-17 for two pre-schoolers.”
He sank down in Lindsay’s vacated spot next to me. “Brian, I want to thank you for…”
“No thanks needed, Professor.” I shifted slightly away from Mel and tried to use my powers of mind control to get him to shut up.
Ben didn’t say anything more, just clapped his hand on my shoulder and got up and left.
“What was that about?”
I reached over and took a crab puff off Melanie’s plate. “Nothing.”
“Michael will tell me.”
I shrugged. “Let him. Not my thing to tell.”
“You must have done something nice. Why else would you be trying to hide it?”
I smiled and took another drink from the bottle.
Just then I noticed Eli and Monty heading our way, so I grabbed the bottle and Mel’s hand, and pulled her into the back room of the store and barricaded the door. We slid down against the wall, laughing and passing the bottle back and forth.
Melanie took a bite of pâté-smeared bread. “I know it’s wrong, but every time I’m in their house, I want to use foul language and spray paint graffiti on their walls.”
“I’ll pay you good money if you do.” I took another drink from the bottle.
When we came out looking for more food, Lindsay was glaring so hard at Mel she apologetically slunk off. It was definitely time to leave the party, but when I looked around, I didn’t see Justin.
“Brian! Justin went to the diner, I think he thought you’d gone up there.” It was Daphne, on her way out the door with Alfe.
I followed them out, walked with them to their car, and then headed back towards the diner.
Justin was sitting on the bench under the awning in front, smoking a cigarette and staring at the rain. I sat down next to him and took it from his hand and took a drag. “I thought you’d quit, since your acupuncturist told you smoking narrows your blood vessels and restricts blood flow to your tissues and nerves.”
He took the cigarette back from me. “I thought you’d quit since you’ve had cancer and your father died of lung cancer.”
I took the cigarette back from him and tossed it out into the gutter. “Oh, yeah.” I looked at him for a minute. “You don’t seem in the mood to go dancing. Alfe’s playing tonight.”
“I know.” He kept staring at the wet street.
I stood up and held out my hand. “Let’s go home.”
He looked up at me. “Do you want to go to the loft?”
I thought about it for a minute. “Do you?”
He took my hand and stood up, and kicked at the sidewalk with his foot. “I don’t know.”
I let go of his hand and squeezed the back of my neck. I was getting a headache. “Give me a clue. Am I missing something?”
He was quiet for a minute and then he sat back down again. I was getting tired of bouncing all over, but I sat down next to him. “Justin.”
He sighed, and turned towards me, burying his face in my shoulder. “I don’t know what’s wrong, Brian. I’m just, I don’t know…”
I put my arm around him, but I didn’t say anything right away. I felt a lot of conflicting impulses, to ask him if it was something I did or said, or something that had happened when I was gone, but I just sat on the bench, holding him.
After a little while I felt him relax. He turned his head into my neck and whispered so I had to bend my head to hear him. “It’s not you.”
I wrapped my arms tighter around him, and we sat there for a while, waiting for a break in the rain.
When we got home we went to bed. Justin fell asleep before I did. I lay there for a long time, stroking his hair and staring at the ceiling. I finally closed my eyes.
I woke up suddenly. Justin was on the other side of the bed, and he was making noise in his sleep, and he jerked his right arm sharply. I sat up and looked at him, and said his name. “Justin.”
He didn’t wake up, just made a choked sound. I took a breath and put my hand firmly on his bare shoulder. “Justin.”
Sometimes when I touched him when he was having a nightmare he would hit at me before waking up, so I’d learned to touch and then get out of the way. I grabbed his wrist. “Justin.”
This time he opened his eyes, although it was a few seconds before they focused. His forehead was beaded with sweat, but he had goosebumps on his arms.
He sat up. “Fuck.”
I turned on the bedside lamp. “It’s been a while.”
He nodded. He still looked kind of dazed.
I slid closer to him and pulled him into my arms. He resisted for a second, but I pulled the duvet up over our shoulders and he let out a deep breath and relaxed. I tucked his head under my chin. “Same old thing?”
He shook his head. “Different.”
“What was it?”
He didn’t answer right away. “I’d been in New York, and I came home and was looking for you, but no one would tell me where you were. I looked for you and couldn’t find you, and then I knew you’d died of cancer but no one would tell me. And I was wandering all around Pittsburgh trying to get someone to tell me. But no one would.”
I just lay there for a while, and then I kissed him gently on his head. “I’m right here, Justin. And I’m fine.”
“I know.” His hand was on my chest, right over my heart. I thought about all the times I’d felt his hand resting there, or that he’d rested his head on my chest with his ear pressed there. I sighed.
Justin lifted his head and put his hands on either side of my face. He kissed me slowly and gently, his tongue soft inside my mouth.
I pulled away from the kiss and whispered into his ear. “What do you want, Justin? Tell me what you want.” I could hear the rain beating down on the roof.
His mouth was against my jaw. “I want you inside me. Brian, Brian…” He was thrusting up against my hip. I smiled and he started to turn in my arms while I reached over him to get the lube.
I stopped him and knelt between his legs. “This way. I want to see your face.”
I watched his eyes while I lubed his ass, and then put lube in his palm and held his hand in both of mine while I slowly stroked my cock against it. He was biting his lip, and his face was flushed.
I kept watching his eyes while I pressed into him. I never paused, but I went in so slowly it seemed to last forever, and he never closed his eyes or looked away. I felt heat wash over me, my chest and face and arms, and I almost felt like I couldn’t breathe.
I finally stopped going into him, and just held myself still, feeling him tight and hot on my cock. I didn’t move, not a muscle, and after a minute he gripped at me with his ass, and reached for my wrists, and made a sound, a cross between a moan and a breath. I started to fuck him then, but shallowly, never pulling out too far and never pushing in too deep, prodding at his prostate. I moved my hands so I was gripping his wrists, and his legs were up around my waist, and his heels were digging into my back.
“Brian…” his voice sounded choked, but I ignored it and just kept moving on that one spot inside him. I knew what it felt like, to have the pressure never let up, never stop, and I knew he was feeling like he was going to fly apart when he came. And he was.
He was lifting his hips up and his legs tightened around me, and I shifted more of my weight forward to hold down his hands. He said my name again, and then again, and then I saw his chest get blotchy and red and I smiled.
“Do you like that, Justin?” I was stroking against him, inside him, and he kept his eyes on mine and nodded, and bit his lip, and I kept moving. His breath was coming in shallow gasps and he tried to get his hands away again, and I didn’t stop and I didn’t let him go. I wanted to make him come like this, I wanted him to explode from inside.
He started to say my name again but he couldn’t even get it out, just moaned and tightened his legs around me even more. I gritted my teeth against my own orgasm, and willed it back.
“Justin…. I love fucking you bare like this, I love feeling it.” He gave another gasp and I almost smiled, but instead I leaned down close to him and pressed my mouth against his throat. “I love knowing I’m going to come inside your ass and you’re going to be full of my come…”
His legs jerked on me and his heels pressed painfully into me, and he actually got one of his hands free and grabbed the back of my neck. I could feel his throat straining against my lips, and he arched his back and I felt him start to just dissolve all around me, every muscle in his thighs and arms going rigid and then giving out, while his orgasm washed over him.
His legs had fallen off my back and were lying on either side of me, and he was still shaking underneath me when I started to come. I let myself go, flooding into him, my hands gripping his hair and my weight on my elbows. I choked out his name and finally knelt there breathing hard, covered in sweat and Justin’s come, listening to the rain.
Continued here…