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The
party had been going full tilt when Brian first arrived. Versace-clad
women danced arm in arm with Armani-suited men; lips were pressed
against lips or cheeks in greeting, and all around the room handsome
men held his eyes too long in open invitation.
"Ten years is a long time." Brian repeated those words to himself again and again. The dark-eyed Romeo had been satisfactory, but ultimately boring, and had already been given the boot. "A lot can change in ten years." Brian studied himself in his bathroom mirror. He was older, grayer, and more wrinkled. The hair transplants had covered the balding issue to a large degree, but the thinness was still visible. However, his stomach was still ripped, and his thighs strong--even so, he'd definitely lost his youth. He was solidly a man now, with none of the little boy that he used to sometimes see in his face. "A lot can change." But inside he felt the same. He still liked to party and fuck; he still liked to watch cartoons on the sly, and read comics with Mikey. Brian had told Michael once, "No matter where I go, or who I'm with, I'll always love you." And that was true. He couldn't imagine that ever changing. "Some things never change," Brian said. Like how he felt about Michael. Like how he felt about Justin. Brian never understood how it had happened. It was kind of like when he'd met Michael as a kid. An annoying little brat wormed his way into his life and didn't let go. But Justin was different than Michael, because he challenged Brian's world view, pushed him to be a better man, and sometimes Brian wondered how much more he might have accomplished if Justin had stuck around. Brian had lost Justin three times. At least, that's how he saw it. The first time was due to a baseball bat--a short, sharp crack robbed them both of the innocence and joy that had been Justin's birthright. The second was to a violin player and pack of bullshit dreams--four long months of fighting to breathe, of realizing that it was too late, and that he'd fallen in love. The last time was to Justin's destiny, his future, and Los Angeles--months of delayed pain were finally resolved in a quick phone call, and cut ties; all of it with the finality of a door slamming shut, a window sealing off, or death cutting Justin out for good. Michael once told him that he hadn't been sure that Brian would survive it. Cynthia said that she'd feared for his sanity. But it had all smoothed out in the end. He'd picked up the pieces and moved on, stronger than ever. "A lot can change in ten years." Justin hadn't, though. He'd looked amazing at the party, but Brian wasn't surprised by that. He'd seen the photos in the magazines, kept an eye on his protege, his young ex-lover, and knew that Justin had been a fabulous, fucking success--bedding gorgeous men all over the world, and learning to smile an approximation of the grin that had earned him that old nickname once upon a time, long, long ago, in a diner on the gay side of Pittsburgh. Justin might not be as lean as he once was, but his maturity suited him well, bringing out an almost rugged sexuality that offset his somewhat too-pretty good looks. Brian wondered if his skin tasted the same, if he still groaned in that soft, halting way when he was about to come. "Ten years is a long time." To be in love with someone that he'd never have again. And yet, apparently not long enough for the hurt to go away. Brian had felt the heat and he knew that Justin had, too. The sexy blink that Justin had basically patented was turned on him from the beginning of their conversation, and the way Justin's body had angled toward him, the small give-aways that hid in the set of Justin's lips, the tone of Justin's voice, all said that he wanted Brian, too. But a 'hey, long time, no see' fuck wasn't on Brian's to-do list for the week. Or for his lifetime. Not when it came to Justin. Mainly because somewhere along the way, his body had spoken the words that his mouth had never said, and Brian knew that there would be no way to stop it from saying it again--and no way to stop his heart from hurting when Justin left. And that was inevitable. Or was it? Brian looked at his reflection for a long time. What would Justin see in him? A sexy, wealthy, intelligent man-- "Ten years is a long time. Some things never change. I look fucking hot," Brian muttered, before turning his back on the mirror and heading to bed.
Mark Vanderhalder was on Brian's extension at nine-oh-two a.m. the following Monday morning. He had a pleasant voice, was obviously intelligent, and spoke of Justin as 'my partner' with a tone that made it plain that he was more than Justin's business partner. "Justin has a vision for the company, Mr. Kinney. He is a very hands-on leader, but I think based on Dominique's comments, that what you and Kinnetik have to offer might be of interest to him. We look forward to hearing any suggestions you have for our company. My partner wants to increase profitability this upcoming year, and I don't want to let him down." "He won't be let down, Mark. Kinnetik will see to that." Brian found himself cataloguing any perceived weakness that he could find in Mark, small things like the timbre of his voice, the way he said Justin's name with so much prideful confidence, and the subtle tick when he inhaled, but it wasn't until Brian hung up the phone and found himself muttering, "Enjoy him while you can, Mark," that he realized he'd decided to win Justin back--for good this time. Brian asked his assistant, Amelia, to schedule an appointment for the initial pitch and for Mark to drop by to tour Kinnetik two days prior. He had found that showing his clients around his unique and spacious office, another converted bathhouse (why mess with a winning combination?) gave them a preview of what to expect from Kinnetik as an agency, as well as impressing them with the modern, daring venue. When the phone rang at three o'clock, Brian knew before Amelia told him that it was Michael. That was something else that had never changed, would never change. Mikey, would always be his best friend and confidante. And now Mikey had his own little fortune. The fortune that Rage built. Brian missed him in New York City, but Michael would never leave the Pitts, no matter how much money he made. It was home, and it served as the base of operations for Michael and Ben's family--which had grown over the years when he and Ben fostered more children. In Pittsburgh Michael could stay close to Hunter, his mother, and Vic's grave. He could hold Emmett's hand and be there for Ted when he needed someone to stand by him. And of course, there was Jenny Rebecca, who was only ten. Michael wanted to always be close to her and to the new baby on the way. When Lindsay and Mel had brought up having kids again, Brian had never been so glad that his sperm had been radiated to hell and back during the cancer treatments. Brian picked up the line, saying, "Hey, Mikey. What's up?" "The youngest kid is still shitting in his pants, JR is going to be the lead in the school play, Mel has been put on restriction due to pre-term labor again, and Gus told me to tell you that he wants to come stay for a week." "Sounds like an eventful day." "You could say that. What's up with you? Fuck any hot guys?" Brian leaned back in his chair and played with his pencil. "He was pretty hot, I guess. He was a little too...pretty. Big eyes, big lips. Kind of effeminate. But he sucked cock like a pro." "Well, when you've fucked everyone, I guess your standards are pretty fucking high," Mikey snarked. "And I saw Justin," Brian said, keeping his tone even. Michael was silent for a long moment then said, "Ma talked to him a few days ago. I knew he was in New York." There was another long pause. "How'd you run into him? In a backroom or something?" "Nope. A client's party." Michael sighed on the other end of the line. "Did you fuck him?" "No, I didn't fuck him!" Brian scoffed, paused and added, "Besides, he's in a relationship." "Wait a minute, I know that tone. Brian--" Michael's tone grew high-pitched, on the verge of a drama-queen moment. "--don't do this to yourself. Let it go." "I don't know what you're talking about, Mikey. Besides, I can't let it go--" "Yes, you can. And you will." "He's going to be a client. His partner wants me to pitch for the company. Apparently, the reviews from my current clients have him all in atwitter to get Kinnetik to do their next campaign." "Brian--" Michael's voice held warning. "What are you planning?" "Nothing. I mean, the partner seems pretty secure. I'm sure a little competition won't shake him up too badly." "You should walk away." Michael sighed heavily, and Brian continued to twirl his pencil. Inside, he knew that Michael was right. "It's been how long? Ten years or some shit like that? Is it really so important to your giant fucking ego to ruin his relationship, just to prove that he still wants you? You're Brian fucking Kinney! Of course he still wants you!" Brian was silent. Michael was wrong, it wasn't about his ego. "Brian?" "It's not like that, Mikey." Michael remained quiet for just a moment, and then Brian could hear him rustling in the background, sorting through comic book bins at the comic store he still ran part-time. "Brian, you don't even know him any more. What if he's changed?" "He hasn't changed." "Brian--" "Listen, Mikey, I've got to go. Have fun with the little pants-shitter and get the date of JR's play to Amelia so that her Uncle Brian can send roses on opening night. I was always her favorite, you know." "Brian--" "Later, Mikey." The dial tone was a relief. He didn't need Michael voicing all of his inner-most fears. They whispered to him loudly enough every time he remembered Justin's eyes and lips and voice--and that was approximately every other second.
Less than a week before the initial pitch, Brian was methodically studying up on Justin's company. He knew that the idea for the campaign had to be nothing less than brilliant. There could be no room for error or miscalculation. Justin's campaign might not be his biggest account, but it could end up being his most important one. His first move was to contact Dominique Johansson and, after polite greetings (if one could call discussion of their prior night's sexual escapades 'polite'), he asked her as carefully as possible, "What do you know about Justin Taylor?" "Liked him, did you, love? I saw you talking to him at the bar. You do realize that he's very taken, don't you?" "Why Dominique, is everything about sex when it comes to you?" He smiled as her laughter pealed over the line. "I'm merely asking because his partner is apparently besotted with me based on your rave reviews of my genius and the rumors of my prowess in bed. I just wonder if I need to fear Mr. Taylor's shotgun for stealing his lover." Dominique laughed some more, then said, "Oh, even if that were true, which I know it isn't because Mark is obsessed, obsessed, with Justin, you wouldn't need to fear for your life. They have a very open relationship. Well, on Justin's end of things--or so I understand." Brian stuck his tongue in his cheek and hummed thoughtfully. So, Justin wasn't Mr. Monogamy after all. "How long have they been together?" "Oh, about three years, off and on. Justin has made it quite clear that Mark is not the end-all and be-all of his existence. Sadly, I can't say the same for Mark." "So," Brian tried to turn the discussion back to business on some level before Dominique became too suspicious of his questions. "I suppose that appealing to Mr. Vanderhalder's desires to be associated with Kinnetik will not make all that much of an impression on Mr. Taylor with regards to consideration of our campaign." Dominique chirped in amusement. "Oh, no, dearest. No, no, no. Justin gives Mark nearly every whim his heart desires, so long as it fits into the scheme of Justin's vision for the company. They have a very...symbiotic relationship. A very healthy one in many ways," she clucked in thought. "Although, sometimes, it's my opinion that Justin gets bored. He seems to like a little drama in his life." "I see. And, hey, thank you for the referrals. You keep sending them my way like this and I might have to break down and give you what you want--" "Oh, my love, you know that it isn't Mark that is besotted with you, but I--your very own Dominique--who would ride you until you couldn't be ridden any more!" Brian laughed. "Well, that wouldn't be very long, considering your pussy would make my dick shrivel up and fall off." "Dirty boy! Dirty, dirty boy! Talk dirty to me some more!" When Brian hung up the phone, he leaned back in his chair again listening to the echoing silence in the office. Everyone had long since gone home, and he pondered the shadows on the ceiling. He was tired of feeling like he'd never stop missing someone, tired of that gaping spot in his chest that he could feel when he let himself grow quiet. He thought about calling Lindsay; she had always been one of the few who really knew how he felt about Justin, and had treated him like he deserved that kind of love. There was a time when he hadn't believed that he did, but he was older now, and wiser. And the truth was that no one deserved the kind of love that Justin had once given him, but he wanted it anyway. And he'd have it, because he was, like Mikey said, Brian fucking Kinney.
"Another old bathhouse, huh? Well, never let anyone say that you're inconsistent, Brian." The layouts for Raging Enterprises were splayed over his desk, and his eyes were blurred from trying to figure out just what exactly was wrong with the second image--should he reverse it? Make it black and white? He was utterly unprepared. "Justin," Brian leaned back in his chair and let instinct take over. "I wasn't expecting you." "I told--Amelia? Is that her name?" Brian nodded. "--that you wouldn't mind me not being announced. I have no doubt, though, that she's currently pissing in her panties thinking that you're going to go out there and carve her a new one for letting me in without warning." Justin smiled provocatively, eyelids slightly lowered, blink in full flirt-mode. "Are you?" "No. I'm going to fire her." Justin grinned. "Oh, you were always so sexy when you got tough with your employees. Can I watch?" Brian chuckled, and said, "Is there something I can help you with?" "I just wanted to see who, or rather what, I might be getting into bed with. Raging Enterprises is my baby, you know. I'm rather protective of it and I like to do my research." Brian smirked. "According to my calendar there are several more days before our appointment, and your partner is supposed to tour the agency tomorrow." "I think that surprise visits are much more revealing." Justin stepped up to the edge of the desk, leaned against it and finished in a husky voice, "Don't you?" Brian turned back to the spreads on his desk. "I'm working on your campaign right now." He indicated the second board. "There's something wrong with the image here. Do you think it needs to be reversed?" Justin sat on the edge of the desk and leaned over. "Hmm, not reversed, just more to the left." Brian nodded and made a note. His palms were sweaty, and when he stood up, he casually ran his hands down his pants legs, then clapped them together. "Well, then, shall we do the tour?" "Brian?" "Yes?" Brian looked into Justin's eyes and felt as though he had been pulled in; he couldn't look away, and he knew that his face revealed too much. "Are you seeing anyone?" Brian snorted, crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back on his heels. "Not very subtle, Justin." "I'm not into subtle. Who has time for that anymore? So, tell me...anyone that you fuck more than once?" Brian scratched his chin, trying to play down the fact that his heart was beating double-time in his chest, and the horribly dangerous emotion of hope was soaring through him again. "Hmm, more than once, yes. But rarely more than twice, and never more than five times." He sighed dramatically. "They tend to bore me after that." "We must've fucked thousands of times," Justin whispered. Brian lowered his eyes, felt the heat rising inside of him then looked back up to Justin's intense blue gaze. "You have a partner." "I'm queer. I fuck who I want--" "I know the lines, Justin. I made them up." Brian swept his arm toward the door. "Now, tour?" Justin slid off the desk and nodded, putting his hands in his pockets. Brian noticed for the first time that Justin dressed very well, like an adult, but with a touch of something wild that kept it young, made it artsy. He wondered if Justin picked his clothes himself, or if Mark chose them for him. "Well, this is my office, as you've seen--" Brian began. Justin followed along at his side, murmuring and asking intelligent questions about the architecture, the past campaigns displayed on the walls, joking about the drain in the floor, saying that it really could be handy and that he'd had one installed in his office, too. Brian introduced him to his staff, the individuals who had worked most closely with Brian on the Raging Enterprises campaign, and showed him the view from the rooftop, though he didn't linger there for long. Sure, he wanted to seduce Justin, wanted to fuck him up against the wall right that very moment, but he knew that it had to be done right. He didn't want it to be a fast fuck, but something different, something like they'd been moving toward before destiny and L.A. stole Justin away from him. Still, now in the front lobby, the simple sensation of Justin's hand on his arm, holding him in place, took his breath away, and he had a hard time hearing Justin's words. "I've missed you, Brian." Brian choked on his response, and he didn't know for certain what he'd said. He thought that he might've said, "Me, too." "Do you want to go to dinner?" "Not tonight." Brian tried to sound like it didn't hurt to turn Justin down. "I need to finish up the boards for the presentation." "Thursday?" Brian licked his lips, his heart pounding out warnings, but he didn't listen. Dinner Thursday would be foolish since the pitch would be the following morning, but he found that he'd nodded, saying, "Yes, Thursday." "I'll pick you up here," Justin said firmly. Brian nodded. Justin's hands slid up his arms, and he met Justin's gaze just as Justin's lips closed on his in a gentle kiss. Justin's mouth was warm, tasted like cinnamon gum, and he sighed as Justin's tongue touched his all too briefly. "Brian--" Justin nuzzled his face, and Brian's cock thickened. "I've really missed you." "Justin--" "Thursday. I'll pick you up at seven." "What about Mar--" Justin smiled. "Don't talk about Mark, okay? As for you and me--we're just old friends catching up, right? I'll tell him what I need to tell him. Don't complicate things, Brian. It's too soon for that." Brian felt like a child for the first time in a long time--a chastised child who could do nothing but nod with wide eyes at the man in front of him. His hands felt cold when Justin released them, leaving the building through the glass front doors. Brian turned to see Amelia looking at him nervously, before she ducked her head and went back to her work. He glanced around to see several other employees watching with odd expressions. He turned on his heel and returned to his office.
Brian wore a more casual outfit than usual to the office in preparation for their date. Was it a date? He wasn't sure. He only knew that he wanted it to be a date by the time the evening was over--and so it would be. The absurdity of Brian Kinney wanting something to actually be a date wasn't lost on him, but as he'd been saying in various forms ever since he saw Justin again for the first time, "Ten years is a long time. A lot can change in ten years." Amelia smiled and told him that he looked wonderful and "so relaxed, Mr. Kinney!" He grinned and said, "Don't I always look wonderful, Amelia?" "Of course," she replied, indicating the calendar on her desk. "I see that Mr. Taylor of Raging Enterprises will be here this evening. Is there anything I need to do in preparation for the appointment?" Brian shook his head, thumbing through some written messages she'd handed him when he first walked in. "When did the representative from Tiffany's call?" "Seven-thirty last evening. I was still here to catch the call. I think he was surprised that I answered; he said he'd planned on leaving a message." "Burning the midnight oil again? Be careful, Amelia--all work and no play will get you a raise, but it won't get you laid." Amelia shrugged, blushing a little. Brian recognized the expression and grinned predatorily. "Who was she, hmm?" he taunted. "Nobody you'd know. A librarian--" Amelia bloomed into a happy smile. "A beautiful, wonderful, brilliant librarian, with red hair and an amazing--" "Great," Brian interrupted, dismissing any more discussion of the topic with a flip of his hand. "Happy to hear it. Just keep up the good work around here and maybe you'll get a raise to buy her a nice fuzzy, lezzy wedding ring or something." Amelia rolled her eyes and shoved a folder his way. "The drafts for Raging Enterprises are in there--all they need is your approval and they'll go to the final boards." Brian sat at his desk and tried to concentrate. Everything looked great as far as he could tell, but he was too distracted to feel confident that everything was perfect. But that was what he hired the minions for, right? And it wasn't as if he hadn't held their hand every step of the way-- He picked up the nearest pen and signed off on the designs. They were as good as they were going to get. Time dragged as he waited impatiently for the little hand to get to the seven. When the other employees left, drifting away over the course of a few hours, leaving just him and Amelia to toil away, the office seemed too quiet, so he put on light music as a distraction. The first piece was John Coltrane, and he leaned back in his seat thinking about a time in his life when he'd relaxed to techno music while eating Chinese food on the floor of his loft in Pittsburgh. He closed his eyes, recognizing the tune of "My Favorite Things", and remembered-- --blue sheets and soft pillows, pale skin on dark fabric, red lips open with desire and crooning with need-- He shook himself like a dog, and sat up again, pulling the closest folder toward him and considered the photo of a rather ordinary looking jockstrap. --toes curling from the intensity of pleasure, eyes half-open, glazed and staring into his own-- He shifted and adjusted his cock. Jockstraps were inherently unattractive things, only made sexy by the man who filled them. --the gentle give of a smooth palm under his fingers as he massaged the cramp away, soft lips on his neck, the smell of peanut butter and bananas filling the loft along with the sound of squeaking tennis shoes on the wooden floor-- Brian cradled his head in his hands and took a deep, cleansing breath, like his private yoga instructor had told him to do--right before Brian took hold of him and fucked him silly against a pile of yoga mats. "Christ," he whispered. The longing that filled him took his breath away, making it hard to breathe. It seemed insane that he could want this much after so many years, but there it was filling him up like the tide, just a huge moving body of want, need, and please. "Feeling all right?" Brian's head snapped up, and if Justin didn't stop taking him by surprise, he wasn't going to survive the next startlement. "Just thinking," he said, standing up quickly. "Wondering if you were going to be on time, or be running late like usual. You know how I fucking hate to be kept waiting when I'm hungry." He was absolutely not hungry. "I no longer suffer from chronic lateness syndrome," Justin said, laughing. "Mark sees to that." Brian moved around his desk to gather his coat. He was glad to see that Justin wore blue jeans and a sweater under a casual jacket, meaning that they wouldn't be going anywhere fancy or boring. "And he can get you to pull away from your art, or whatever the fuck you're working on? I applaud the bastard. I never succeeded in that." Justin grinned. "He lies to me about the time. But he's even smarter--" He shoved his hands in his pockets, his eyes wandering over Brian in appraisal. "He never lies by the same amount of time, and sometimes he doesn't lie to me at all about it, so I never know if he's telling the truth or not. He keeps me on my toes." Brian lifted his brows as he tucked his scarf in the neck of his coat. Why Justin was telling him such things, he didn't know--and that sick tightening of his gut was definitely jealousy. Brian patted his coat, making a show of ensuring that he had his keys, before saying, "Let's go." Justin took the lead as they exited the Kinnetik offices, hailing a cab, and pulling Brian in after him. Conversation was of the traditionally polite type. "How was your day?" But Brian felt Justin's warmth across the seat from him, and his heart beat rapidly with the proximity of him. When they pulled up to The Plaza Hotel, Brian frowned. "Not exactly the venue I was expecting," he commented as Justin paid the fare and hopped out. "We're staying here--Mark and I. You don't mind do you? It's just easier this way. We'll have privacy, get to talk, you know--get caught up." Brian asked as he followed Justin into the beautiful, spacious lobby, "So, Mark will be joining us, then?" The disappointment that thought brought to his throat was difficult to swallow around. Justin looked over his shoulder with an expression as though Brian had gone insane. "Of course not. I have several private rooms reserved. We'll be alone." Brian didn't know whether or not he was relieved, so he didn't say much more as they took the elevator to the fourteenth floor. Justin chattered politely about the weather, the hotel, the best place in town to get cupcakes, his preference for The Village, but said nothing that required more than guttural acknowledgements from Brian. The room itself was quite tasteful, as Brian remembered from his prior stays in the hotel, but he wasn't expecting the lowered lights, the dinner laid out nicely on a table, candles, and light music in the background. It was enough to break the ice, though, forcing him to laugh out loud. "What the fuck is this? Seduction Scenes 101, or something? Christ, Justin!" Justin started laughing, too, flipping on lights around the room, and turning the shitty music off. "Sorry, I told my assistants that I was bringing a special friend to the room tonight, and I suppose they just decided to prepare it in the usual way." He turned to Brian, blond hair glowing in the increased light in the room. "I get a hell of a lot of hot ass with this set up." Brian began to unwind his scarf, still chuckling. "This reminds me of a time when this kid I used to fuck tried to convince me to have a picnic on the floor--" Justin grinned. "Yeah, and you know, over the years, you ended up having a lot of picnics on the floor." Brian's heart grew warm and he smiled softly. "Yeah, I did, didn't I? Some little fucker thought it was romantic or some shit like that." Justin moved toward the bed, pulled off the pillows and tossed them on the floor. "Yeah, stupid little fucker." "Your seduction techniques have truly suffered over the years," Brian said, as Justin ripped the coverlet off the bed, and threw it to the floor, too. "Am I supposed to begin disrobing now? Was this supposed to sweep me off my feet? Just the sight of bed sheets is supposed to give me a hard-on?" Justin rolled his eyes, chuckling, and Brian crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Justin made a nest of pillows on the floor, and then as he turned to table and began moving plates to the center of the heap. "Well, are you going to just stand there?" Justin asked. "Or are you going to help the little fucker get the romantic picnic of his fucking dreams?" Brian smirked, turned the lights back down, and joined Justin in transferring their dinner from the table to the hotel room floor.
Two bottles of wine later, Brian was feeling no pain, and time had seemed to rewind. He was having dinner on the floor of his loft with his lover, both of them ten years younger, laughing like they'd never been apart. But then the light from the candles would shift and he would remember that despite their laughter, despite the way his body was responding to Justin's nearness, time had indeed gone by, leaving a spray of crow's feet at the corners of Justin's eyes, and a strength of character that only age can bring etched into Justin's face. "How's Gus?" Justin asked, finally. Brian had been waiting for the question for some time. He knew that it would be the one that would lead to the intimate questions, the ones that would devolve into touching, then kissing, then fucking. It would be the question that said, "Where is your heart in this? Here's a taste of mine." "He's almost fourteen. I think he's gay, but I'm not sure. I've seen him looking at boys and girls, so maybe he likes pussy and cock. I don't know. But he's smart, loving, kind to his mothers and his sister." Brian smiled thinking of his son. "And he fucking knows his designers. The kid's got fucking great taste in clothes." He laughed, before saying quietly, "I couldn't ask for more." "I missed seeing him grow up. That makes me sad. I think of him a lot," Justin said. "I think of how he was born on the night that we met, you know? And then I get bummed that I missed out on a lot of his life when I left. I wish I'd kept in better touch." Brian turned and fumbled in his jacket, retrieving his wallet. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he said, opening it and pulling out Gus' new school photograph. "Tell anyone that I have a fucking picture of my kid in my wallet, and I'll cut your balls off." Justin took the picture and grew very somber as he studied it. He looked up finally after several long minutes and Brian was surprised to see that his eyes appeared damp. "He's beautiful. Wow. I knew he would be, but he's--" Justin stared at the photo again before pressing it into Brian's hand. "He's amazing. He looks just like you. Now I'm even sorrier that I didn't see him grow up." Brian tucked the photo back into his wallet in the ensuing silence. Part of him wanted to say, "Then why didn't you?" But he knew the answer to that. Besides, even if Justin had wanted to stay, had really wanted to give their relationship the good old college try, Brian would never have allowed it. He'd made sure that when Justin left, it was under circumstances that he'd stay away for good. It had nearly killed him to do it. The things he'd said-- He'd always said that sorry was bullshit, but as he'd aged he'd begun to recognize the value of confession and absolution. The day that he'd accepted Gus' apology for calling Brian a fucking faggot, it had occurred to him that forgiveness didn't make a person into a victim, and that asking for absolution wasn't about shirking consequences, that sometimes asking for forgiveness and granting it was the ultimate act of taking responsibility. Not everyone was Jack and Joanie. "Justin, I said some things, a long time ago--" He really wanted to make it right, find a way to let Justin know that this time would be different. "I didn't--" "Shhh," Justin whispered. "Don't go there." They sat, not speaking, and Brian replaced the wallet in his jacket pocket, then took another sip from his almost empty glass. "Brian?" He met Justin's eyes and held the gaze. "Brian, can I--?" "Yes." Justin's mouth was hungry, devouring his with sharp nips and bites. Brian leaned back to the floor, pulling Justin with him as he went.
Justin's calves rubbed against Brian's sides as they rutted together. Shirts, pants, and underwear had been hastily discarded in a heap beside them. The blankets they were sitting on didn't provide much cushion, but Brian couldn't take his hands or his mouth off Justin long enough to try to gentle their movements with pillows or to shift their activity to the bed. Brian felt frantic to get inside of Justin, as though if he could just press his cock into Justin's tight body, he could make everything right, erase everything that had gone so wrong. He knew that nothing could reverse time, but the heat between them, the lust that made him feel insane, could block out the past and make it irrelevant. His hands found Justin's asshole, and his mouth covered Justin's lips to capture the moan when he pressed two fingers inside. It was tight, hot, and silky smooth; his cock jerked with desire, and he twisted his fingers, trying to open Justin, unlock him physically and emotionally; he wanted to look up and see the familiar softness in Justin's eyes, the look of love and affection that he'd missed so deeply, and yet he feared that it wouldn't be there, so he kept his eyes closed or focused on his fingers. "Hold on," Justin grunted, grabbing Brian's hands and stilling his motions. "Lube. Condoms." Justin broke free, pushing Brian's still grasping hands away, moving on his hands and knees toward a black bag placed strategically by the bedside. Brian, impatient and so hard that his cock leaked pre-cum down into his pubic hair, didn't wait for Justin to return, instead approaching him from behind and pushing him to the ground by the side of the bed, the rough carpet leaving red marks on Justin's pale skin. Brian spread Justin's ass cheeks and buried his face in Justin's sweet, hot crack, licking his hole, nipping and shoving his tongue into him, loving the taste, which was absolutely the same, completely familiar to him, and he couldn't get enough. He held Justin's hips, pulling his ass firmly to his lips and sucking him, rimming him hard and fast, giving him everything he could, while Justin writhed and bucked against the carpet, his rough voice crying out from the pleasure of it. Brian didn't stop until he could hear Justin's breath catching in near sobs and then, holding Justin's hips steady, Brian pulled back. He reached into the black bag and pulled out the lube and condom, then quick work of sliding the condom on and squirting lube on Justin's asshole. "Fuck me," Justin muttered. "Fuck me, please." Brian couldn't wait any longer and he drove into Justin, both of them arching and crying out as his cock cleaved Justin open. It was tight and he had to stop for a moment, bend his head to Justin's back and catch his breath. Justin moaned beneath him, obviously struggling to accommodate him and Brian tried to hold back but finally the need to move overrode his ability to resist and he thrust into Justin again and again. The friction of thrusting his cock into Justin's tight ass was nearly too intense, but when Justin pushed back groaning, asking for more, Brian couldn't have stopped if he wanted to. He nuzzled the back of Justin's neck and took deep breaths of his scent, familiar, though strange from different soap and cologne, then slid his hands up Justin's body, wrapped them around Justin's shoulders, panting as they strained together. "Fuck," Justin gasped. "Oh fuck." Brian pulled back, angled his thrust and closed his eyes as Justin shouted and jerked beneath him. Glancing over his shoulder, Brian could see Justin's toes curling and uncurling spasmodically as Brian fucked him harder and harder. Justin's hands gripped at the carpet but couldn't get a good hold of the short threads, and instead his knuckles were skinned and red from the effort. When Justin reached to grasp his own cock, Brian knocked his hand away, pushing his hips into the carpet and forcing Justin to rut against the rough floor. "Brian, oh God, so fucking good," Justin whimpered, his face also rubbing against the floor with each push of Brian's cock into him. Justin's body wasn't as lithe, he wasn't as young, but he still fit Brian perfectly, his body arching under his in exact rhythm, no effort in their joining beyond the simple strain to reach orgasm, or to postpone it for as long as possible. Brian buried his nose in the top of Justin's sweat-damp hair, and slid his hands from Justin's shoulders down to his hands, gripped them, and then pulled his arms closed, wrapping them both together as he continued to fuck with strong, almost vicious thrusts. Justin writhed under him, trying to get purchase to thrust up. "Brian," Justin said, his voice raw sounding. "Fuck, I need to come." Brian couldn't stop thrusting, he held Justin tightly and felt it building hard and fast, his balls tightening, and he jerked as he slammed into Justin. "Fuck," he whispered into Justin's hair as he came, panting hard, and trying to see over the black spots swirling in front of his eyes. He could feel Justin's ass squeezing his dick and realized that the low moans were from Justin's orgasm, and held on as Justin shook beneath him. Finally able to breath, his body feeling wrung out and sore, he rolled them onto their sides and pulled free. His cock was spent, and his condom full; he carefully pulled and tied it off, throwing it toward a trash can he could vaguely make out by the desk across the room. Justin was still breathing hard, and Brian wrapped his arms around him, soothing him with soft strokes up and down his stomach and chest. "God, Brian--" Justin turned in Brian's arms and his eyes were glassy, stunned, and very blue. "In-fucking-credible. I'd almost forgotten--Christ." Brian hummed and cleared his throat, trying to find words. "Fucking hot. That was--" he broke off and changed his mind. "You're fucking hot." It had felt amazing to be inside of Justin. He wanted to be hard again so that he could slide back into Justin's heat and stay there. His lips brushed over Justin's neck and shoulders, and he closed his eyes, just feeling Justin's skin under his fingertips. Justin moved against him and when Brian looked up, he saw the soft eyes that he'd wanted to see, needed to see, for the last ten years had dreamed of seeing again. "Justin--" "I've missed you so much, Brian. Fuck. So much." Brian nodded, slung his leg over Justin's hips and maneuvered them both until his lips were just over Justin's. He breathed the words, "You, too," and took Justin's lips gently, kissing him until he felt heat rising between them again. He pulled away, glancing down at Justin's cock; it was still half-hard, and rug burns from the carpet graced Justin's hip bones and thighs. Looking again at Justin's face, he saw that a red mark was rubbed into his cheek as well. His lips moved across Justin's skin, kissing the marks that he could find, sucking a few more into Justin's inner thighs where his scent was strong and the taste of his come could be detected. Justin was hard and almost begging again, his eyes glazed and his mouth bright red, hanging open and needy. Brian found the lube quickly and slicked three fingers, working them into Justin's ass, and then mouthed his way from the sweet globes of Justin's ass, over his perineum and up to his balls. He sucked and rolled them in his mouth as Justin cursed above him, grasping his hair and pulling him to suck on his straining cock. Brian took the head of Justin's cock into his mouth, tonguing the rim and the slit, using his free hand to hold Justin's hips to stop his natural urge to buck and slam his dick down Brian's throat. He took his time, twisting his fingers in Justin's ass, finding his prostate and tapping it in the same rhythm that he was sucking Justin's cock. He took it in shallowly, then dove down, letting it hit the back of his throat. He felt the spit spill from his mouth, running down and over Justin's balls and into his ass crack, helping to lube Brian's fingers in his hole. "Brian, Brian, oh God, Brian, God, fuck," Justin chanted, his hips struggling to surge up, but Brian held him firmly, sucking as hard as he could, feeling the tight skin of Justin's cock throb against his lips and tongue. "Shit, oh fuck, oh shit, oh!" Justin froze, and Brian sucked harder, the pulse of Justin's orgasm rising under the velvety shaft, and Justin cried out with the harsh yell of coming again too soon on the heels of a strong orgasm, his ass gripping Brian's fingers, and his hands gripping Brian's hair. Brian drained Justin's cock, and then pulled away, ran his hands soothingly up and down Justin's body, before reaching for a condom. Justin's eyes were huge and as Brian lifted Justin's calves up to his shoulders, positioned his cock at Justin's hole, he stared into Justin's eyes and saw home. He pushed in slowly, taking his time, working his way inside, focused entirely on Justin's expressions, the hiss of pain at the stretch, the blink and lip-licking of desire, the murmured words that he hadn't heard for much too long, "I love you. I do." Brian couldn't look away as he gently, firmly, honestly made love to Justin for the first time in ten years.
Hours later they lay in the bed on sweat-damp sheets, Justin sprawled on his back, exhausted, and Brian smoking and watching Justin through half-closed eyes. His brain was too buzzed on endorphins and orgasm to think clearly, but something nagged at him. Something that sounded like, "Don't fool yourself. It won't be that simple." He'd learned a long time ago that not everything can be cured, fixed, or stated with sex. Even if his body spoke more clearly than any words he could find, that wasn't good enough for most people and he'd forced himself to learn to admit his emotions. It had started with Justin and he'd tried to continue with Gus, telling his son that he loved him was an important milestone for him. He hoped that Gus never knew how hard it had been to say it the first time. Still, he couldn't escape the lazy, drugged feeling of having just fucked Justin silly three times--or was it four. And if he counted the time that he hadn't been able to come, but Justin had, then he supposed that it might even have been five. Justin sighed and ran his hands over his face, sitting up and looking around the room with an expression of confusion. "God, what time is it?" Brian glanced at the clock by the bed. "Two-thirty." Suddenly Brian's sense of warm and lazy was replaced with a chill that reached his bones. It was almost three. Rules. He remembered them well. "Somewhere you have to be?" Brian asked, as nonchalantly as possible, but obviously failing because Justin turned to him with a slightly wounded expression. "Yes. I--" Justin ran his hand through his hair and over his face. "I don't want to go. But, I need to go. Well, in about fifteen minutes, so that I can get cleaned up before I go back to--" Brian nodded, stubbed out the cigarette and began to roll out of bed. "Brian, wait. Please. This wasn't just a fuck to you, was it?" Justin pulled his knees to his chest, and Brian thought he looked like the vulnerable seventeen year old that he'd taken home so long ago. "Because it wasn't to me." Brian measured his words for a moment. He knew that if he answered truthfully then he was going to open himself to being hurt--devastatingly hurt, but if he lied, then he would never have a chance to be with Justin in the way he wanted. "You know it wasn't, Justin." Justin nodded, his eyes down and his face sad. Brian relaxed back into the bed and watched him closely, finally saying, "You love him. I know that you love him." "Yeah," he replied quietly. "I do. But--he's not--" Justin met Brian's gaze. "He's not the love of my life. He knows he isn't. I never lied to him about that. He's like, I don't know, my best friend or something, but I don't feel for him the way I feel for--felt for you." Brian swallowed hard and voiced his fear. "Well, nothing feels like first love, but that doesn't mean it's right." Justin didn't seem satisfied with that comment, asking, "Have you ever loved anyone the way that you loved me? Can you look at me and say that what we had wasn't right?" "No," Brian answered, his tongue thick but somehow managing the words. "It was right. I was just a fucking idiot--" "Yeah, well, that's a given." Justin relaxed a little, almost smiling, but tensed again almost immediately. "You hurt me. I knew how much you loved me and yet you fucking pulled out the stops and hurt me so much that I couldn't stay anymore. At some point, self-preservation kicks in." Brian couldn't look at him. He knew what he'd done, what he'd said, and he knew why he'd done it, but the man who had always said that he would never live with regrets had always regretted his choice to sacrifice himself for Justin. As he'd aged he'd seen that it hadn't been necessary, that Justin could have still had L.A., and success, and Brian, too. But it hadn't seemed like that at the time. Not to his fear-clouded mind, at least. "I guess what I'm still pissed about is that now, if I leave Mark, I'm going to be doing the same thing to him that you did to me. And it didn't have to be that way. We could have been together all this time--" "Why didn't you--" Brian started, but quit at Justin's incredulous look. "I didn't think that throwing myself at your mercy for the millionth time was going to fix things, Brian, and it took me a long time to forgive you. A really fucking long time, and by then I was with Mark. But I've realized that I'll always want you, and that maybe it's time to give up some of my fucking pride, and just see if you were still interested." Justin ran his hands over his face and scooted to the edge of the bed. "I can't talk about this now. I have to go." He moved away from the bed, stepping gingerly, and Brian knew that Justin could still feel the fucks they'd just shared. Justin said quietly, "You can stay here tonight if you want. Or you can call a cab. I'll have my assistants pay your way." Brian stubbed out the butt of his cigarette and watched Justin dress, watching as a shield descended over Justin's face, and he felt like it had been a mistake, that he was a random fuck after all. Until Justin turned to him, hand on the doorknob, and said, "I want to be with you. I have to go. In the meantime, you have to know that I'm serious and you have to decide what you want, because this time it's for good, Brian. Forever." Then he was gone back to his lover as Brian smoked two more cigarettes, fighting off waves of elation and panic, before calling for a cab home.
Mark
Vanderhalder sat across from Brian appearing relaxed and excited.
"Justin is looking forward to seeing your work, Mr. Kinney. I'm
sorry that he couldn't be here this morning. He had a late evening
and I insisted that he sleep in. But, please, begin your pitch.
I've been given authority to make the final decision on this campaign,
so you've only got to impress me, and I'm easy." Mark smiled
and leaned forward, his hands clasped on the table. "And please
feel free to make the obvious joke."
"I told you, Brian. This was a huge mistake. What the fuck were you thinking?" The sound of Michael's foster sons yelling in the background was very distracting. Not that Brian minded given the way the conversation was going. "Michael, you've lied to me all these years." "What? What are you talking about?" "You always said you're Italian, but you're really a Jewish mother, aren't you? Admit it." Brian shoved back in his desk chair and propped his feet on his desk. "I'm just being cautious. Remember who had to pick up the pieces last time?" Brian could just imagine Michael standing with his arms crossed over his chest, frown fixed firmly in place. Then Brian had to pull the phone away from his ear as Michael yelled, "Dammit, Matthew! Don't kick your brother!" Brian rolled his eyes. "Listen, we'll discuss it when you don't have a house full of pants shitters." "That's Jarrod. Matthew never shits his pants." "Good to know that a seven year old can use the bathroom responsibly." "He's six." "Whatever. I have to go. Later." Brian disconnected the phone, gathered his things, and prepared to leave. He hadn't heard from Justin since the night they'd...fucked, and it had been nearly two days. He knew that Mark had left town, and he'd been waiting for Justin to call, for some kind of sign that it hadn't been just a fuck after all. He stepped out into the chilly autumn night and headed toward the subway. The train was delayed due to some technical difficulty and he listened to a guy playing a flute on the opposite platform. The heavy scent of human flesh pressed underground without sufficient ventilation filled his lungs. If he were in Pittsburgh, he'd head over to the diner, and Deb would serve him some coffee and some unsolicited advice. He missed Debbie. He almost pulled out his cell phone to call her, but knew that once he had her on the line he wouldn't have the words to explain, and she'd just worry. Brian didn't like to make Debbie worry because then she nagged him about everything--about coming to visit, about seeing Gus more often, about calling Michael. Deb could be a big pain in the ass, and maybe he didn't miss her as much as he thought. When the E train arrived, Brian didn't sit, preferring to stand. Staring into space, remembering soft, pale skin and deep, throaty groans, he lost time and finally became aware that he'd missed his stop for the first time in the four years that he'd lived in New York. He got off at the next opportunity--Fifth Avenue--and for some reason his feet were climbing out the stairs toward fresh night air, and several blocks later he found himself standing at Fifth and Central Park South, staring up at the bright lights of The Plaza Hotel. Brian approached the desk in the lobby with his chin up, fully prepared to fuck the guy behind the counter if that's what it took to get Justin's room number. "Brian Kinney to see Mr. Justin Taylor," he said imperiously, having noted from a young age that an attitude of entitlement often makes seduction unnecessary. "Of course, sir," the young man said, picking up the phone and pressing in a few numbers. "There's a Mr. Brian Kinney here for Mr. Taylor, sir," he spoke into the receiver, met Brian's eyes and smiled. Apparently there would be no need to fuck the guy to get the information he needed. "Right away. Thank you." Brian smiled in return, intending that it appear gracious but not caring if it came across as impatient. The young man ran a key card through a magnetizer and Brian took it from his outstretched hand. "Mr. Taylor will be waiting for you in Room 1410, Mr. Kinney. Have a good evening, sir." Brian nodded; his heart trip-hammering in his chest. Now that he was here, he realized that he had no idea what to say, or if Justin even wanted to see him. It had been instinct, an irresistible impulse that had brought him here. It had been an unplanned move born of the dreadful hope seeing Justin and making love to him had reawakened. The elevator carried him inexorably closer to his goal and his hands began sweating. He had the ludicrous thought that he should have brought flowers to help him plead his case, and he shook his head at the complete and utter lesbian he'd apparently become in the ten years he'd been away from Justin. Still, roses might not have been a bad idea, and he could still turn around, go down the block and buy some. It was a perfectly reasonable thing to do, really. And, maybe he wouldn't buy them after all. Maybe he'd just keep walking, get back on the subway, and-- The elevator doors slid open and he stepped into the hallway, wiped his hands on his pants, and found room 1410. He stared at the number and raised his hand to knock. It wasn't too late to get the roses...or go home. Who was he kidding? Brian snorted. It was far too late.
Justin held the door open, his blue button-up shirt open to the waist, a provocative line of pale skin drawing Brian's eyes. "I didn't think you were going to come," Justin said, leaning against the doorjamb. "I'd nearly given up." "The elevator did seem to take a fucking long time," Brian murmured, stupidly. Justin chuckled. "I meant--" He looked into Brian's eyes and shook his head. "Never mind." Brian followed him into the room, his mouth dry and his cock already half-hard. Justin's hand gesture of topic dismissal suddenly clued him in to the fact that this had been a test of sorts. That Justin had been waiting for days for him to come. "I wish I could say that I was being deliberately obtuse, but I've never been good at fucking relationship games." "Don't insult yourself, Brian. You've always been good at fucking and at games; it's the relationship part that you struggle with." Brian threw off his coat and sat down opposite Justin on the sofa. "That's who I fucking am, Justin. That's who I'll always be." Justin shrugged and picked up the remote control, saying coolly, "I was getting ready to watch some television. Do you want to join me?" Brian blinked in confusion. He sat back and tried to figure out what sort of test it might be. If that was the kind of bullshit that Justin wanted from him, then maybe Mikey had been right after all. Maybe Justin had changed, because ten years was a long time and-- "Fine, Brian," Justin said, putting the remote back down. "Why don't you tell me what you came here for? Did you want to fuck again? Was that what you wanted? I'm sure that I can provide--" "No," Brian spoke quietly. "No. I came here because I wanted to be near you. Though considering the fucking twat that you seem to be, I'm not quite sure why." Justin's eyebrows went up. "I am being a twat, aren't I?" Brian didn't bother answering. "You're right, Brian. I'm being a twat. I wanted you to come running over here the morning after we fucked, and instead you waited two days. Long enough for me to put up what Mark calls my 'infamous defenses'." Brian sighed heavily. It was this kind of thing that he'd always hated about the relationships he'd observed over the years. The manipulation, the guilt-trips...maybe deciding to try again with Justin had been a really bad idea after all. "But, you know what?" Justin's voice was soft now, and Brian looked over to see him smiling warmly. "I'm not really that guy. That's just who I am when I'm scared." "I applaud your therapist," Brian said, sarcastically. Justin grinned. "She's great. Want her number?" Justin leaned back on the sofa and said, "Okay, let's see--we could try talking for a minute. What've you been up to the last few days?" Brian looked up and decided to be honest. "Fucking wondering what the hell I've done and then wondering when the fuck I can do it again." "How about now?" "Justin, I think--" "I may die a young and highly unnatural death if I'm about to hear Brian Kinney say that we need to talk." Brian smirked. "Where's the phone? I'll go ahead and call 911 before I say the words." Justin slid down off the couch, his eyes rolling back and his tongue hanging out. Brian couldn't help but laugh and prodded Justin's body with his foot until Justin sat up, sighed, and waved his hands between them, saying, "Out with it then." Brian took a deep breath. He hadn't planned anything in particular, but the last two days and the sales pitch with Mark had brought hundreds of questions to the surface. "How can you leave what you have with him for God-knows-what with me? When you know that I'm fucking terrible at this?" Justin nodded and appeared to be seriously considering the question. "I've wondered the same thing. Mark and I are very comfortable, and I love him very much, but--" Justin broke off. "Have you ever read anything about Valentino and Giancarlo Giametti? Once lovers, now business partners and best friends?" "Justin if you're getting ready to compare your relationship with Mark to Valentino and Giancarlo, then I'm going to have to go now, because you are clearly fucking delusional." "Give me a minute, Brian," Justin held up his hand. "The thing is, Mark and I will never be devoted at the level of Giancarlo and Valentino, but we have a relationship that isn't impossible to negotiate as non-lovers." "Justin, you live together. He takes care of you. I won't ever be that guy." "I don't actually need that guy," Justin replied seriously. "I can take care of myself, you know." "But obviously you wanted it if--" "No, I fell into it. Mark was there. He wanted to take care of me. I was busy, so I let him." Brian closed his eyes and rubbed his hands together. "I really just want to fuck you and take you home with me." "You could do that." "It can't be that simple." Justin sighed. "No. I guess it can't be." "We don't even know if we can get along, Justin. You have to know going into this that I haven't changed all that much. I'm still the shit-head that I've always been. Jesus, what the fuck are you thinking leaving this guy for me?" Brian wanted to stop his mouth, but his need to protect Justin kept the words spilling out. "After one night? After a few fucks?" Justin stood calmly; the only evidence that he was discomfited was the finger that rose to scratch his ear. "You sound like Michael. You were always about taking risks, Brian. No apologies and no regrets. I won't apologize for the fact that I'm willing to walk away from a relationship that is entirely less idyllic than it appears from the outside looking in. I don't want to regret you for the rest of my life." "You'll regret me more being with me." "After all this time, I'd have thought you would've found something inside that was worthy of being loved, Brian." "Fuck the therapy bullshit, Justin." "I'm onto you. I always have been." Brian moved forward, grabbing Justin's arms and pulling him into a fierce kiss. He wanted Justin, and he wanted him safe, he wanted him close, and feared that he'd ruin everything because he was a fucking idiot who couldn't do anything right. "Brian," Justin said, his head turned to the side as Brian sucked kisses into the curve of his neck. "Let's take it one step at a time. It'll be like fucking." Brian met Justin's eyes. "Like fucking?" "Just like fucking." Brian had no idea what Justin was talking about, but he didn't care. He picked Justin up, carried him to the bedroom of the suite, and flung him on the bed. "I can do fucking."
Justin writhed under him, moaning and running his fingernails down Brian's arms. Every thrust brought Brian closer to orgasm, but he held back, wanting to make sure that Justin came first. He twined his hands in Justin's hair and used it for leverage to deepen the strokes. Justin cried out and Brian lowered his mouth to Justin's neck, lapping at the pool of sweat in the hollow of his throat. He slid his lips to Justin's ear and whispered, "I want to fuck you forever." Justin's reply was to arch his back and come.
Justin curled in Brian's arms, his fingers trembling with exhaustion when he reached to take a hit from Brian's cigarette. Brian ran his hand over Justin's sweat-damp hair and whispered, "Okay, Sunshine?" "Fuck yeah." Brian smiled, sated and tired. "Sleep awhile?" "Yeah." The cigarette was put out and the sheet drawn up over them both. Brian spooned behind Justin and closed his eyes. He felt an odd lump in his throat making it hard to swallow, and a strange burning behind his eyelids. Christ, he couldn't believe what a fucking lesbian he'd become. But it was so good to be home.
Apparently step one in the "relationships are just like fucking" handbook was for Justin to call Mark and tell him to ship the winter clothes and to stay put in L.A. for awhile. Actually, he supposed it was step two, because step one was to fuck--repeatedly. "I'm with someone and I want to see how it goes," Justin said, while Brian listened from the bed. "Of course, I love you, Mark. Christ, I'll always love you, but that isn't what this is about." He sighed and sat down at the little table by the window, his robe hanging open. "It's been over since before it even began, Mark. You know that. I've been nothing if not honest with you." Brian winced when Justin said, "You're right. You deserve better than this and you always have. I agree." There was a long silence and then Justin continued, "I'll have the concierge and front desk keep an eye out for the box. Thanks for sending those things. I'll talk to you about the new project tomorrow, okay?" Justin's face was pale when he climbed into bed, and Brian didn't know what to say, so he reached out and pulled him close. "He was kind of upset," Justin said softly. "I gathered." They sat in silence for awhile. Justin broke it by saying, "I forget how much he loves me sometimes." "You're easy to love," Brian whispered, saying too much. Justin snorted. "I'm a bastard, actually." "Really? I never imagined Jennifer as the getting-pregnant-out-of-wedlock type." Justin chuckled. "You shouldn't make me laugh. It's not nice. I should at least feel bad for a few hours, don't you think?" "Sure, if you want to. Or we could make you feel really good, and then you won't think about it at all." Brian slid his hand down Justin's chest, over his stomach, down to his hardening cock. "I love the way you move under me." "I'm pretty good at moving over people, too. Wanna see?" Brian smirked. "You're taking advantage of the fact that I feel pity for you right now, aren't you?" "Yes." Brian stroked his hair, gazing into his eyes. Justin smiled softly and kissed his lips. It was something that Brian wanted to give. "Okay, well--take it slow. It's been a very long time."
When he said it had been a long time, he meant that it had been ten years. Despite the fact that even Brian Kinney wanted to be fucked every once in awhile, he'd never been able to open himself up in that way for anyone after he'd forced Justin to leave. Somehow the years with Justin made certain parts of sex seem like more than just a physical release. Now on his stomach with Justin's chin digging into his shoulder blade, he concentrated on relaxing enough for Justin to push inside. He wished they were face to face, but the height differential limited the positions they could comfortably assume. When the burn from the stretch forced a gasp from deep inside, and he buried his face in the pillow, he was glad Justin couldn't see his face. He felt too vulnerable to cope with the idea that Justin would read his expression. But he had forgotten how Justin could read his body, and the soothing sound of Justin's voice joined the gentle soothing strokes down his side. "Shh, relax. Relax." Brian sighed and spread his legs wider, his ass throbbing where Justin filled him, and he imagined that he could feel his heartbeat thudding against Justin's dick. He breathed deeply, moaning as Justin slid further in on each exhale. He touched Justin's hip, stopping any forward progress as he tried to catch his breath, his hole twitching and pushing against Justin's intrusion. When he was ready, he moved his hand back to clench the sheets and groaned as Justin pulled slowly back, then thrust forward hard. Brian's head lifted from the pillow and he bit down on his lip, trying not to cry out with the shock of it. Justin's pubic hair grazed Brian's ass, and he lowered his head back down, shivering and stomach trembling, waiting for the final thrust to bring Justin flush. But it didn't come. Instead Justin brushed his lips over Brian's shoulders, lifted his head to reach Brian's neck, and held perfectly still. Brian's pulse rushed in his veins, filling his ears, so that he could barely hear Justin's whispers against his damp skin. "God, you're tight. Fuck, I can feel your pulse on my dick." Justin bit his shoulder then licked it gently. "It's making me crazy." Brian didn't reply, trying to hold on to the moment, not slip away into the sensation. He felt Justin's cock jerk, and knew that Justin wasn't going to last. He squeezed his eyes shut on the smugness he felt, and slid his knees higher, getting leverage to force himself back, taking the last several inches of Justin's dick inside, fast and hard. He threw his head back, and twisted his hips. Justin grabbed his pelvis and tried to force him to stop moving. "Don't. Don't--fuck--" Justin gasped, his cock pulsing in Brian's ass. Brian smiled into the pillow, saying, "You never could wait to come." Justin's breath was heavy against his back, and Brian chuckled when sharp teeth closed on the skin right over his spine in retaliation for the comment. After a minute of rest, Justin pulled out slowly, Brian looked over his shoulder, watching Justin clutch the base of the condom and then dispose of it. Justin grabbed another condom, rolled it on his still hard dick, and Brian's heart beat at a reckless speed when Justin met his eye, slapped Brian's ass, and pulled his cheeks apart. "You're going to pay for that, Brian." Justin's voice was controlled, but he was rough in pulling Brian's hips up. Brian grabbed the pillow to steady himself. Justin's thrust in wasn't careful at all, and Brian's head snapped up when Justin's balls slapped his ass. "Now we'll see who can't wait to come," Justin muttered, rolling his hips with firm, deep strokes. Brian wanted to answer, to make a smart-ass comment back, but all he could see was blackness, and his mouth was unable to form words. Justin's cock was plowing into him without mercy, and with intense, almost rough, thrusts. Justin's hands held Brian's hips steady, his fingernails digging into the grooves of Brian's hips, sharp flecks of pain in the midst of unbelievable, hot, straining pleasure. Brian's fists clenched the pillow and he lifted his ass as much as he could, trying to take Justin's thrusts more easily, and then grunted when the angle forced the head of Justin's cock over Brian's prostate. He tried to gain some purchase with his knees to get some control over the pace, but Justin shifted forward, using his thighs to push Brian's legs further apart, opening him and fucking him even more deeply. The pillowcase tasted terrible, but he couldn't stop biting down, grinding his teeth against the fabric as Justin rode him toward orgasm. Brian could sense it racing toward him, but it kept rushing past, leaving him unfulfilled. He tried to shift to reach his cock, but Justin released his hip to grab his hand. "No." Brian shifted desperately, but Justin's thighs were too strong, forcing Brian's legs apart, and refusing to let him get up on his knees. "Don't come yet," Justin said, fucking him so hard that Brian's teeth rattled, and he had to bite the pillow again to keep from screaming. Justin reached around and grabbed Brian's cock. "Don't come," Justin said. "Justin," Brian managed, shocked that he was even able to get the word out, but the 'please' he'd planned next came out as incoherent noises as Justin fucked his ass with firm, rapid strokes. There was no way he wasn't going to come. "Brian, I said don't come." He closed his eyes and fought for control. He bit down on his lip, trying to keep from shouting, but he couldn't stop the noise after all-- Justin slapped his ass, just as he came and the sharp shock of it exploded with the orgasm over his body. He yelled, his body jerking, as he shot his come on the sheets, and felt his ass squeeze Justin's cock. Brian moaned when Justin pulled out, flipped him over and pushed his knees up to his chest. It was a clumsier position, but Brian was limp and his body pliable. Justin thrust back into Brian, and Brian arched up from the stimulation. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding his breath, until Justin lunged forward and kissed him. Brian moaned as Justin thrust faster and faster, reaching for his own orgasm, and when he shouted out in pleasure, Brian grabbed Justin's ass, pulling him in tight.
Brian's thighs felt shaky when he crawled out of the bed to find his ringing cell phone. When he finally found it in his pants, which had somehow ended up under the sofa cushions, he almost laughed at how rough his voice sounded when he said hello. "Mikey, how's it going?" He sat down on the couch gingerly. He hissed, realizing that he was going to be feeling Justin's cock for days. "What's wrong? Are you hurt? Amelia said you called in sick, and you sound like shit. Are you okay?" "Just fucked out, Mikey. Just fucked the fuck out." Justin snickered from the bed. Brian glanced over his shoulder at him and flipped him the bird. "Oh, yeah?" Brian could almost hear Michael's eyebrows waggling. "Is he hot?" "He's unbelievably hot," Brian said, looking again at Justin and continuing, "he's got the best ass I've ever fucked." "Fuck, it's Justin?" Brian knew the defensive posture Michael had adopted with those words. "Ding, ding, ding. Give the man a prize." "Brian--you've lost your fucking mind. Don't you remember--" "I remember a lot of things--including the fact that this is none of your fucking business." Brian passed a hand over his eyes and shook his head. "I just don't want to see you get hurt again. But I guess it's too fucking late for that, isn't it?" "Yeah, I think that ship sailed, Mikey." "Christ." There was a silence for several moments, and Brian could hear Michael pacing on the other end of the line. "Did JR get the flowers?" "Yeah, she loved them. I'm sure she'll call later to say thanks." "So how was she? A genius? Born for the stage?" "Um, no. I think she's about as born for the stage as her old man, and we all know how disastrous my acting debut was." Brian snorted in laughter. "Someone vomited on her? Christ!" "No, but they might as well have. She tripped on her skirt. It ripped and everyone saw her panties. I thought she'd never stop crying. Mel wasn't the most sympathetic, either, telling her to suck it up and be tough. The only thing that made her smile the rest of the night were those fucking roses you sent." "And that's why I'm her favorite." Brian leaned back as Justin climbed onto his lap, and ran his hand down to cup Brian's cock. "And I've got to go." "Say hi to Justin for me." "Will do." "And--" "Yeah?" Justin kissed Brian's neck, making Brian sound a little breathless. "I hope it works out," Michael said before disconnecting. Brian smiled and hung up the phone
Brian sat humming at his desk as he reviewed the latest boards for the Amira Salons account. He thought that they were just about perfect, a nip here, a tuck there, and they'd be fabulous--if he did say so himself. And of course he did. He smiled as Amelia tripped into the room with a new set of proofs from the latest photo shoot with some young television soap stud that Brian had fucked several weeks prior. He'd rimmed him, fucked him, and then talked him into helping Brian with the ads for the new Polo scent for men. That account had shifted Brian and Kinnetik out of the big leagues into the gigantic leagues. "So, who is he, Brian?" Amelia asked playfully. "I've never seen you so happy." Brian rolled his eyes and took the proofs. "Get Ted or Cynthia on the phone for me, please. Time for my weekly long distance ass-kicking." Amelia stopped by the door, lingered for a moment, and Brian was just getting ready to tell her to get the fuck out when she said, "Really, Brian. I've never seen you like this. It's nice." Then she tucked tail and darted away before Brian could reply. Brian stared at the door for a moment, pursed his lips, finally turning his attention to the proofs. "Well, then let's hope he sticks around for awhile," he said softly.
The first several weeks flew by in a blur of sex and an incredible sensation in the depths of Brian's stomach that made him feel like he was in constant free-fall. Justin's body, his smile, and his laugh, invaded Brian's mind, and he could barely work. He found himself staring into space with a smile on his lips, remembering Justin's warm hand in his as they'd walked to the Museum of Natural History because Justin wanted to see an exhibit on frogs. A part of him was mortified with himself. That was the part that stood guard and told him that love was bullshit, that he didn't do love--just fucking. In and out with the maximum of pleasure and the minimum of-- But then the part of him that believed in no apologies and no regrets would step forward and point out the obvious. It didn't matter if he didn't believe in love, he was in it, and if he didn't want to regret Justin for the rest of his life, then he'd better just go with the free-fall. No apologies, no regrets.
Brian's life was full of Chinese food and old movies on the floor of his penthouse, room service and sex in Justin's hotel suite, a Broadway show followed by a late dinner and a cab ride back to Chelsea to fuck on every surface of Brian's place, just for good measure. And when he wasn't with Justin, touching Justin, talking to Justin, or listening to Justin, he was fending off phone calls about Justin.
"Brian, darling, I have heard the most distressing news," Dominique murmured petulantly. "I heard that my dear friend Mark Vanderhalder has been dumped by one Mr. Justin Taylor, who has apparently taken up residence with your cock." Brian sighed dramatically. "Sadly, your information is bad, Dominique. Mr. Taylor is not cohabitating with my cock, just getting fucked by it on a regular basis." "Well, why on earth am I getting this information from Mark and not from you? Or from Justin? I thought we were friends." "Maybe because it's none of your business?" Brian said cheerfully. "And maybe because I've been too busy fucking him to really take the time to inform the masses." "Oh, you wound me, Brian. Seriously wound me." Dominique chuckled but when she spoke again, her voice was much more serious. "You realize that you've broken Mark's heart with this little affair, don't you? I tried to explain to him that you weren't the type to commit, that Justin would be back with him--" "You presume too much, Dominique," Brian muttered. "I'm just curious what it is that you're up to. You've already got the account--" "Way too much. This isn't a conversation I'm going to have with you. My policy has always been that if I'm not sucking your cock, then it's none of your business." "Oh, Brian, what I wouldn't give to have a cock for you to suck." Brian sighed and ran a hand over his face.
"Fucking hell, Brian! What the fuck do you think you're doing?" "Hello to you, too, Deb." Brian leaned far back in his desk chair and braced himself for the whirlwind. He'd known that it was only a matter of time before Debbie was on his case about Justin. He just wasn't entirely sure what angle she was going to come at him, and he waited, half-interested to discover her line of attack. "Did you really fucking think that I wasn't going to hear about your latest shenanigans with Justin? Christ, breaking up the kid's fucking relationship--" "He's not a kid, Deb," Brian sniped. "--and for what? So that you can fuck his brains out and leave him high and dry like all the times before? And don't fucking give me any, 'He left me' crap, because we all know which way the fucking wind blows, and it ain't up your ass." Brian didn't say anything, just sat slumped in his chair, one hand covering his eyes. "And what about you? Huh?" Deb went on. "How are you gonna fucking handle it? Because the last time you went and got your heart involved, it nearly killed you, is all I'm saying. And don't tell me you don't believe in love, 'cause, honey, you can't fucking fool me, and--" Brian interrupted, "So who are you worried about, Deb? Justin or me? Fuck, it's amazing that Michael came out of childhood relatively unscathed considering your mixed messages." "I gotta tell you, Brian, I love you like you're my own, but you're a fucking asshole sometimes, and you know it." Brian snorted. "Listen to me, kiddo, all I'm saying is that if you fuck this one up, I don't know what's gonna become of you. I really don't." "Deb, Christ! This isn't a fucking soap opera. I'm a grown man and so is Justin and if we want to fuck each other then it's really none of your fucking business." Debbie chomped her gum on the other end of the line finally saying, "You think I don't know you? I know you, Brian Kinney. I know you better than you know yourself. Don't fuck up."
"Mr. Kinney," Mark Vanderhalder sounded very different from the previous times that Brian had talked with him. "I was calling to check on the campaign for Raging Enterprises' latest animated feature. I believe that Marcy faxed everything to you?" "Yes, and I'm pleased to say that you'll be ready to hand over your first born son to Kinnetik when you see what we've worked up." Brian felt unbelievably false talking to Justin's ex as though nothing were going on, as though he hadn't set out to take Justin from the man and succeeded. "Excellent. Is this something we can video conference? As you're aware," Mark's voice was decidedly bitter. "I won't be coming back to New York as originally planned. But if you need my physical presence--" "No, we can certainly set up a video conference. That will be no problem, Mark." There was no way Brian wanted to bring Mark back to New York. He was secure with what he and Justin were building, but it was still too soon to have an ex-boyfriend on the scene with comfortable, familiar arms to possibly tempt Justin home again. Brian closed his eyes. No, Justin was home with him. "Mr. Kinney, may I ask you something?" Fuck. "Certainly." "Do you love him? I mean, truly love him? The way that I do?" Brian swallowed and considered his answer. "Not the way you do. No." Better, always, forever, beyond measure. "Then why?" "Because I love him the way that I do, and that's more information than you fucking need. Goodbye, Mr. Vanderhalder." Brian rubbed his fingertips over his eyes and took deep breaths. He'd said it out loud. But to the wrong person.
"Not you, too," Brian groaned when Lindsay called. "What? Oh, that." Lindsay chuckled. "Oh, no, I'm not calling about Justin, although, I do want to talk to you about him." Brian pulled out his checkbook. If it wasn't about Justin, then it was about Gus. "How much?" "Jesus, Brian, you'd think that all I ever do is hit you up for money for our son. I do call you for other reasons you know." "Yes, like to bother me about Justin. Besides, I don't mind giving it--the money, I mean." "Well, this time you need to give a little more than money. This time you need to give a little time." Brian sighed and leaned back in his chair, fiddling with a pen. "All right, what'd he do now?" "It's nothing he's done, per se, so much as the point he's at in his life. He's fourteen and he's finally really figuring out about sex, and he's confused. He's acting out." "Confused? What's to be confused about? You like pussy then you stick your cock in that. You like dick, then you find one to suck." "Brian, seriously. You know it isn't as simple as that." "So, what's he doing to act out?" "He's dyed his hair black, and the other day he went to some piercing parlor on Liberty Avenue to get a nipple ring, but the guy wouldn't give it to him. Luckily, the owner recognized him as one of Debbie's family. So he called Debbie, who called Mel, who freaked out, and with the new baby on the way, that isn't really the best--" "Yeah, yeah. But did he find someone to pierce his nipple?" "Brian!" "Linds! Get a grip!" "I think that maybe it would be a good idea if he visited with you for a bit. Not a long time. Just a few days. A week maybe." "Great the kid's confused--and coming to stay with his cock-loving, ass-licking father is going to straighten him out, how?" "Brian, consider it, okay? For the sake of your son? He needs a father right now and you're the only one he's got." "What about Mikey? Or Ben?" "They're good men and they love Gus, but they aren't his father. You are." "I'll think it over, Linds." Brian sighed. "Now--am I actually going to dodge the Justin bullet?" "No. I only have one thing to say, though. If you love him, then fucking make it work, Brian. Jesus. No one wants to see you go down again. Everyone's rooting for you. Make it work."
Justin was distracting him from watching the movie. Brian's eyes kept drifting to the left in order to admire the light from the big screen flickering over Justin's face. Their fingers brushed together in the extra-large popcorn--Justin had insisted on butter--and they eventually twined their slippery hands together in the depth of the almost empty bucket. Afterwards, walking through the bright streets of Chelsea, Brian kept his arm around Justin's shoulders, to help ward off the chill. Mark had sent some winter clothes, but no heavy coats. Brian was going to have to break down and make Justin buy one before long. "After all that popcorn you ate tonight, I kept thinking I'd look over and find you'd morphed into a piglet," Brian teased, poking Justin's side where he carried a little weight. "Oh? Is that why you kept looking at me? I thought you were admiring my beauty." "No such luck, Sunshine. I was trying to figure out if your nose was getting piggish or not." "Oh ho ho, fuck you very much." "Okay, sure, but it's your fault if we get arrested" Brian slipped around behind him, and thrust his hips into his back, making Justin laugh. They walked together in contented silence for a few minutes, and when Justin shivered, Brian asked, "Have you considered a winter coat?" "It's a little soon, yet. Don't you think?" Brian shrugged, wondering if maybe Justin wasn't planning on staying for the full winter, and he wrapped his arm around Justin's shoulder, pulling him close. The warmth of his body along his side felt right, and Brian tried to think of something to say, something to distract him, something that would make Justin want to stay. But no words came.
Later, after having dinner in, and a playful fuck on the sofa, Brian asked, "Have you thought about leaving the Plaza? Maybe moving in here?" Justin rolled over and gazed into Brian's eyes, kissed his lips gently. Brian's chest tightened as the seconds ticked by, until finally Justin said again, "It's a little soon, yet. Don't you think?" When Brian turned his head away, his heart clenching painfully, Justin gripped his chin and forced his eyes back. "Hey, it's like fucking, remember? Don't rush it."
The next evening Brian ran his finger along the grain of his dining room table and sighed as his son continued ranting. "But Dad, I wanna come live with you. I have to come live with you. I'm going crazy here, Dad. Crazy, do you understand?" "Sonny Boy, you know that I'd love to have you come visit me, but--" "Crazy, Dad! Don't you get it! Mom's making me nuts! And so is Mom." Brian sighed. It was weird that he could always tell by Gus' vocal inflection which mom he was referring to at any given moment. "Mel's just a little high-strung right now, Gus. Pregnancy at her age can be--" "Oh my God, you sound like Mom! She told you to say that, didn't she? Fuck this. I'm going to go live with Uncle Mike and Uncle Ben, and I fucking mean it." Brian cradled his head in his hands and gazed across his living room at Justin, who was sitting at the coffee table drawing on a sketch pad. "Ben's a hard ass," Brian countered. "In more ways than one." "Dad, please. Just until Mom has the baby." "Gus, have you really thought this through? You'd be switching schools in the middle of the year. I just don't think it's wise, Sonny Boy. Why don't you let me work something out with your Mom? I'm sure we can come to some arrangement--" "Fuck this! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" "Gus--" "Fine." Brian could just imagine the look of impotent rage on his son's face. "Can I at least come up for the week of my fall break, then?" Brian glanced over at Justin who was watching him now, his eyes curious and weighing. "Sure, Sonny Boy. That sounds great."
"What if he doesn't like me?" Justin asked over dinner at the penthouse, and Brian knew just who he was talking about. "Everyone likes you. You're a little ray of Sunshine," Brian replied, his voice honey-sweet, pinching Justin's cheek. Justin batted his hand away, irritably. "The same can't be said of you." "Because being liked is the lowest form of flattery. It's much better to be hated. Or despised. Or loathed." Justin picked at his food. "Really, what if he doesn't like me?" Brian chewed slowly, thinking it over; he knew that Justin wanted an honest answer. "Then I guess you won't come on our annual father-son fishing trips. A great loss, I'm sure." Justin kicked him under the table and chuckled. "You fishing. Now that I'd pay to see." "Then you better hope Gus likes you."
Brian stood with his hands on the back of the sofa in Justin's suite watching Justin work. He was sketching rapidly as he listened to Mark on the speakerphone going over the details of the latest project that he wanted to develop, some animated movie about moles that were actually spies for Russia during the Cold War. It sounded...bleak. "It sounds like it might be interesting. Who do you have in mind for the main artist? And what's the target audience?" "As far as artists go, I think that you would be ideal, baby. The idea needs someone who can add that touch of violence without taking it too far." Brian blinked and mouthed the word "baby", disgust radiating from him. Justin seemed oblivious. "I'll think about it. Send the script to the hotel and I'll see if I get inspired. In the meantime, can you go to the house and see if you can't find that heavy coat I bought a couple of years ago in Prague?" Mark was quiet for a moment and then replied, "I'm pretty sure that you threw that one out after it was...soiled in an encounter with a, uh, trick." Justin scratched his ear, frowning. "Fuck. Yeah. I think your right. Fuck." "Do you want me to order a new coat for you, baby? I could have it delivered--" Justin met Brian's eyes, smiled and said, "No, I'll have Brian help me pick something out." "Oh." Mark sounded as though he'd been sucker punched. In a way, Brian thought he kind of had, and he felt a flare of anger at Justin for toying with the man. Justin continued, "Have you been in touch with Kinnetik about the new campaign for Romeo and Juliet?" "Of course I have. I've got that under control." Justin looked to Brian and lifted his eyebrows to confirm. When Brian nodded, Justin said his goodbyes and hung up the phone. "Sorry about that," Justin said seductively, rising from his chair with a sexy stretch. "But all fucking and no work will make Justin a poor boy." Brian ran his hands down Justin's back, and cupped his ass. "You're also a cock tease." "Oh, I'm not teasing," Justin murmured, his fingers starting on Brian's belt, and his mouth pressing wet kisses to Brian's neck. "I wasn't talking about me." Justin pulled back, confused. "Huh?" "I'm talking about Mark. Stringing him along. It's not nice. If it's over, end it." Justin's mouth hung open and he took a step back, running a hand over his hair. "Are you jealous?" "Of course not, you little twat," Brian said, scowling. Who cared if that wasn't entirely true? "I just think you're not doing him any favors by not making it clear that it's over." Justin tossed his hands up, and rolled his eyes, saying, "He hasn't felt my dick up his ass in well over a month, Brian, I think he's probably noticed." He continued, eyes bright with anger, "Not to mention, I was more than clear that it was over. He is well aware of that fact. I can't believe you're jealous of him." Brian clenched his jaw, trying to get his temper under control. "I'm just pointing out that your behavior isn't very fucking flattering and that you need to take a fucking look at yourself and realize that you're being a selfish prick, and hurting some poor schmuck in the meantime." Brian frowned, a sudden cold chill shooting down his spine. "Unless I'm the poor schmuck here--" "Fuck you. Fuck you." Justin's eyes blazed. "No, fuck you."
As far as come-backs go, it had been one of his most lame. He thought that he must be losing his edge in everything. He pushed his hands deeper into his pockets and kept his eyes on the pavement remembering Justin's eyes before Brian had turned his back and left the suite. And what had he done? He'd gone to get shit-faced, just like his dear old dad. Justin had been right--Brian had always been good at games and fucking. It was relationships that he sucked at. He should have stayed. Or he should have gone back. Or he should have never brought up the thing with Mark to begin with, but he couldn't stand there and see Justin acting in a way that was so completely beneath him. Justin was better than that. A blowjob in the bathroom of the bar hadn't helped, either, just reminded him that Justin gave better blowjobs than three-fourths of gay New York, hell gay USA for that matter. Not that it was all about sex, because-- It wasn't. Never had been. And it sucked to be drunk when he needed to think clearly about why the doorman to his building was trying to get his attention. He'd never pegged him for gay, but he supposed that he could fuck him and be done with it. He'd stop thinking of Justin for at least ten minutes and that'd be a relief, but when he leaned in to kiss the man, he was pushed way, the doorman gasping, "What are you doing, Mr. Kinney?" Fuck. It'd been awhile since he'd fucked up like that. "Fuck. Just...fuck," Brian headed toward the elevator, rubbing his eyes, trying to sober up, so that he could remember what floor he lived on. "Mr. Kinney, I let the young man in. I hope that was all right. Usually I would never have done that, but given who he is to you, and the situation--" Brian pressed the button to close the elevator doors without letting the man finish, and then punched his floor. Justin had come, and it would be all right. He just needed to decide what to say, how to say it. The door to his penthouse was cracked and he pushed the door open, hope fluttering in his chest, ready to forgive and forget, or fuck and forget, and-- "Dad!"
Brian
sat on a stool at the kitchen island opposite Gus watching him eat
a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich pilfered from the small cabinet
of groceries that Justin had purchased to keep at Brian's.
Gus was sleeping soundly on the sofa, sheets tucked around him, his mouth slightly open, and in the darkness Brian thought he looked just like he had when he was eight and not yet a slave to the demon Kinney genes. He made a mental note to feel Gus out about drugs and alcohol--addictions often start young, and with his family history, Gus was a prime candidate. Brian turned back to the window, looking out over the street, and saw two men walking arm and arm. He dragged on his cigarette and looked at the phone in his other hand, trying to decide if he wanted to risk another nightmare phone call tonight. The conversation with Mel and Lindsay had been agonizing, and any buzz that he'd had left over after the shock of finding Gus in his penthouse, had been dispelled by all the shouting. Mel and Linds had started out furious, passed through frightened, visited guilty, and finally arrived at calm and resolute. The final outcome of it all was that he, Brian Kinney, somehow agreed to let Gus stay with him for a week, provided that Gus make up all of his school work, as well as agreeing that Gus could return in a few weeks time to stay for the fall break. "You can't reward him for this behavior, Brian," Mel said. "It isn't a reward, Mel," Lindsay interrupted. "He needs his father." Mel muttered under her breath, but Brian didn't bother trying to find out just how she'd managed to insult him. He didn't give a flying fuck what Mel thought. "He came all the fucking way here to see me. So, he'll see me." "He wants to know his father," Lindsay said, her voice low. Brian waited for the snide remark from Mel, but it never came. Everyone agreed that Gus would not be taking the bus back to Pittsburgh, and Brian would fly down with him the following weekend. Gus was looking forward to three weeks of absolute grounding when he got home, as well as the wrath of two very pissed lesbian mothers, one of whom was pregnant. Brian pitied his son. Still, there was Justin to deal with and it was nearly two in the morning. He stubbed out his cigarette, checked on Gus one last time, and then retired to his bedroom, phone in hand. It was a large room and tastefully decorated. He'd opted for something different from his loft in the Pitts, something that was more traditional, and yet fulfilled his requirements with regards to sensuality and simplicity. The king-sized bed was still unmade from the last romp he'd had with Justin the prior night. He was too tired to change the sheets, so he ditched his clothes and climbed in. He could smell Justin's shampoo on the pillow, the scent of Justin's skin on the blanket, and the musky odor of them together--sexy and raw. He contemplated the phone he still held in his hand and pressed speed-dial four and waited through six rings before hanging up. He glanced at the clock. It was late; Justin was either asleep with the ringer turned off, or out fucking some guys to work out his anger. Brian held the phone against his chest and closed his eyes.
Justin's skin was so smooth and white, gliding under his fingertips like the finest cloth. Brian pulled Justin's back to his chest, and rolled his hips in smooth thrusts, driving his cock deeper into him. Justin moaned and Brian opened his eyes, leaning forward to catch Justin's expression. Justin was moving against him, encouraging him, but he was kissing someone else. Brian adjusted his position in order to get a better look at the man they were having sex with, and felt his stomach twist at the vision of Justin's lips moving with Mark's, as they kissed and fondled one another. Brian fucked Justin harder, trying to draw his attention away from Mark, but was rewarded only with Justin's low halting moans that indicated he was close, and the clenching of Justin's ass around Brian's cock as he came. Brian's chest hurt as he clearly heard Justin whisper the name "Mark" against his lover's lips.
Brian woke up hard and terrified. He instinctively reached to his left to make sure that Justin was there, and found the bed empty. In flashes he remembered their fight, and drinking, and-- Fuck, Gus was here. He struggled to sit up, his head throbbing, and he didn't think it was just because of the alcohol. He slipped into his bathrobe and headed toward the bathroom. He was pretty sure he had some aspirin or some shit like that in there. After his shower, Brian pulled on jeans and a wife-beater, heading out to rouse his son. He'd have to deal with Justin sometime today, too, but it was Saturday and he knew that Justin liked to sleep late. Although, today was obviously an exception. Brian stopped in the kitchen doorway. Gus sat at the island eating cereal that he must have found in Justin's stash. "No fucking way. You were there when I was born?" Justin sat across from him idly sketching. "Well, not when you were born, but the night you were born. I met your dad that night." "And, after you met Dad, that's when you lived with Grandma Deb? And started Rage with Uncle Michael?" "Right." Gus studied Justin carefully. "Hey, fuck, I think I remember you, actually. You used to baby-sit for me sometimes, yeah? Before JR was born." Justin looked up from his sketch, a pleased expression on his face. "Yeah. Your moms were good friends to me." Gus waved his spoon in the air, excited now that he had placed Justin. "I called you 'Jus', right? 'Cause I couldn't say your name." "You were very little. I'm not surprised that you forgot." Brian stood leaning against the doorframe waiting for Gus or Justin to notice him, but Gus was fixated on Justin. "Hey, wouldn't you have been, you know, kind of young to be fucking my dad when I was a baby?" Justin laughed and shrugged. "You gotta start sometime." Then he looked up sharply. "You're not thinking of starting soon are you?" "With guys? I don't know. Maybe with girls." Gus shrugged, took a bite of cereal. "I don't know. How do I know which I should go with?" Justin smiled gently. "You'll know." Brian cleared his throat and both Gus and Justin jumped, startled to find him there. "Oh, uh, hey Dad. Look who's here." Gus smiled weakly. "It's Justin. From the messages." Brian snorted. Gus blushed. "How long were you standing there?" "Long enough." As Gus blushed even harder, Brian motioned to Justin. "I need to talk to you. In the bedroom." It was Gus' turn to snort. "Riiight. You go talk. Just please don't be as loud as my moms." Brian glared at Gus, and Justin wrinkled his nose in disgust, murmuring "Ew," under his breath.
The door was barely shut when Justin began. "Brian, I'm sorry. I called Mark last night and told him that he needed to move out of the house in California, get his own place, and that it was over." Brian curled his lips in a sad smile, and Justin leaned forward, putting his hands on Brian's hips, going on, "I told him that if we are going to work together then there can be no more pet names and no more trying to take care of me. Period. It's done. Fin." "Justin--" "I know you're sorry for what you said. Let's just forget about it." "Actually, I'm not sorry for what I said, but I shouldn't have walked out." Justin nodded, and Brian knew that he understood. "Though, considering who turned out to be at home waiting for me," Brian nodded toward the kitchen, "I suppose it worked out for the best." He didn't feel the need to mention stopping by the bar to get drunk and get a blowjob. Justin's hands rubbed up and down Brian's arms, and he looked over his shoulder as though he could see through the walls, before asking, "What's he doing here? I thought he wasn't coming for a few more weeks?" "Apparently, Sonny Boy got creative with his babysitting money and bought a bus ticket." Justin's eyebrows shot up. "Wow." "Yeah." Justin frowned, searching out Brian's eyes. "So, why?" "I don't know yet. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop...although that may have been it in the kitchen. Sexual identity crisis." Brian covered his face with one hand. "Christ. What the fuck was I thinking having a kid?" Justin wrapped his arms around Brian's waist, and said, "He's just young. Give him another--" "Three years? He'll be seventeen; the same age you were when I fucked you blind the first time." Justin rose on his toes and pressed a kiss to Brian's lips, then rubbed his nose against Brian's. "Thank God the blindness wasn't permanent. It would've really fucked with my art." "There's always next time," Brian threatened.
"Well, that was a lot quieter than my moms. Thanks," Gus said, still shoveling cereal into his mouth, and reading a copy of an old Rage comic that he'd found. Brian sat down next to his son and said, "So, what do you want to do while you're here? Since this is an unscheduled visit, you do realize that you're going to be spending a lot of time in my office, right?" Gus lifted his shoulders dismissively. "Anything is better than listening to Mom bitch at me about my hair." He looked up in excitement and grabbed Brian's arm. "The one thing I really, really want, though, is a nipple ring. I already looked into the perfect place to get it done, but I have to get a parent's written permission. Come on, Dad--" "What? You think I have a death wish? Not on your fucking life, Sonny Boy. Your moms would cut my balls off." Gus narrowed his eyes, withdrew his hand, and said around a mouthful of cereal. "Fine, I'll find someone else to do it and they might not have clean instruments. I could get AIDS and die, and it will be your fault because you wouldn't give me permission to get it done someplace clean and decent!" Brian rolled his eyes. Justin leaned on the kitchen island across from them, put his chin in his hand, and mused, "Such a drama queen. Like father, like son." Brian flipped him off.
Brian stood with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched, and his lip between his teeth. The tattoo-covered, needle-wielding owner of New York Adorned guided Brian's shirtless son into a chair, asking, "So, right or left?" Justin, examining the walls of possible tattoo art, volunteered, "I got my right side done." Brian glared at him. He considered it mainly Justin's fault that they were even here. Justin was the one who'd told Gus all about his own piercing, and no it didn't hurt too much, and he could always take it out if he didn't like it, and Justin never told his mom about it, and on and on. Gus had become more and more adamant, throwing potential health risks in Brian's face until he'd finally agreed to supervise the damn thing. Gus nodded at the piercer. "Right." Brian felt a little queasy as the man brought the piercing needle to Gus' chest. He bit down harder on his lip, and then felt a tug on his arm. Justin pulled him sideways, indicating something on the wall. "What do you think of me getting this on my ass?" It was a small black tribal design of some sort and Brian was about to make a derisive comment about defiling the beauty of Justin's pristine ass, when he was distracted by Gus' sudden yelp of pain. Turning back to his son, he met wide, hazel eyes, hot with excitement. "Cool. So cool," Gus said, laughing and grimacing at the same time. Justin grinned and agreed. "Yeah. It looks good, Gus." Gus' eyes were luminescent with joy when he said, "Thanks, Dad." Brian smiled shakily. He was so fucking dead. Mel would eat his one good ball for breakfast over this.
"Do you like it when he fucks you?" Gus asked, seriously, muting the television and turning to Brian with big eyes. "Does it hurt?" Justin had left for the hotel several hours before. Brian had been relieved that his son seemed to get along so well with his lover. Although, he supposed he shouldn't have been too surprised. Gus had always liked Justin, even as a baby. Still, it gave him hope that maybe his thoughts of a long-term future weren't too ridiculous--no matter how fucking crazy it felt for him to be considering such things. Brian thought hard before answering his son's question. The light from the television flickered across Gus' face, his lips drawn taut with anxiety. "I don't mind answering your questions, Sonny Boy, but do you mind if I ask some of my own?" Gus looked away, shrugging with some show of discomfort. "I guess not. I don't know. Maybe." Brian wanted to pull his son close, tuck him under his arm, and kiss his soft hair, the way he had when Gus was young. Instead, Brian smoothed sweaty palms down his jeans, and sat forward on the couch, gazing down at Gus on the opposite end. "It's okay if you're gay, Gus, and it's okay if you're straight. We're going to love you either way." Gus lowered his eyes and asked softly, "Is it gross? Is it gross to suck cock? The guys at school all say it is. They called me a faggot, and they laughed at me because I didn't get mad; they said it proved that I was." Gus kept his eyes averted. "Am I? Do you know, Dad?" Brian lowered his head, deciding to take it one step at a time. "I don't think it's gross to suck cock, Gus. But some people do. Hell, some straight girls think it's gross. Sex is highly personal. People like different things. It's okay to not like something that someone else thinks is fucking amazing, and it's okay to like something that another person thinks is gross. It's like people have different favorite colors or something. It shouldn't be a big deal." Gus lifted a brow at the analogy, but remained silent. "As for guys at school saying it's bad to suck cock, there will be a day when people don't say those things anymore, and I hope that you live to see it. I probably won't." Brian smiled sadly. "But, the other thing is, fuck 'em, you know? If you like the idea of sucking cock, then who cares what they think? Fuck 'em." "I care what they think." Brian took a deep breath. He could remember the pain of being different at fourteen--of wanting to fuck guys, of having a father who beat the shit out of him, of having to avoid the prying eyes and taunting remarks. He remembered wishing that he could just fit in. But then he'd met Mikey, and he'd had to protect him, because Michael was a weak little queer boy who wouldn't stand up for himself, and despite all his wishing to fit in, Brian started working on the walls that had become his defense, and his prison, for the rest of his life. He didn't want Gus to end up in the same trap, but he didn't want him letting other people tell him how to live his life, either. "I know you do. So, why didn't you get mad when they called you a faggot?" Gus straightened his shoulders and put his chin up. "Most of the men I know are fags and I love them. It's not an insult to me. That's what I said. I told them, 'It's not an insult to me.'" Brian nodded and waited a few seconds. "But, Dad--" Gus bit his lip and looked away. "Dad, I lied. I don't know--I mean, I don't want to be--what if--and--" "It's still not an easy world to be queer in, Sonny Boy." "I was faking it. I felt, when they said that--and when I told them, and--" Gus didn't meet his eye, his voice lowering to a whisper. "I was ashamed. I was embarrassed, Dad. I pretended that I wasn't, but I was, and now I'm scared that they're right, and that I'm a fag, too. What if I am?" Brian sat in silence, completely out of his depth. He was tempted to blaze ahead with his usual quips that he'd perfected over time, with comments like, "Fuck them all," but he bit back the habits of years because this was his son, not Michael, and he was forty-three, not fifteen--even if he felt catapulted back in time at the moment, to the point that he could smell the locker room, see his gym teacher naked and soapy, feel the steam from the showers, and feel the pounding of his own beating heart. "Dad?" Brian cleared his throat. "I can't answer the question for you, Gus. I don't know whether or not you're gay or straight. Only you can answer that." "Sometimes I think about girls," Gus volunteered. "And I get excited, you know? But I've thought about certain guys, too, and the same thing happens. Is that normal? Does that mean I'm just a huge slut or something? What if I just want to fuck everyone?" Brian tried to stifle his smile. He could just imagine Justin's comment if he were here. Like father, like son, indeed. "Only time will tell, Gus. Lots of people are attracted to both sexes. Usually, though, they eventually choose one that they want to be with primarily." "Did you ever fuck a girl?" Brian nodded, looking down at his hands. "Was it Mom?" Brian cut his eyes over to his son and smiled softly. Gus nodded, understanding Brian's unspoken answer. "What about Justin? Did he ever fuck a girl?" "You'll have to talk to Justin about that." "Emmett said that he fucked a girl once and that it was the most disgusting thing he'd ever done, even grosser than dissecting frogs in high school." Brian lifted his brows, stuck out his lower lip, and tried to look bemused, and not amused. Gus continued, "But this guy at school said that if you butt fuck then you get shit on your dick, and that's gross, too. I mean, shit's gross, right?" Brian pursed his lips and wished to God that he had the right words because he was so far out of his depth with this one. Though, he knew now why Gus hadn't been willing to discuss any of this with Lindsay and Mel. He could only imagine their reaction to the idea of shit on dicks. "Well, Sonny Boy, sex is always messy--" Brian ran a hand through his hair. "And, there are things you can do to...prepare. Gus, do you plan to test this out? I can be as graphic as you need, but I have to know what you want here." Brian went for broke. "Son, do you need me to tell you about ass-fucking, condoms, lube, the works?" Gus fiddled with the television remote control, and finally pressed the power button; the room plunged into darkness without the light from the tv flickering over them both. "Yeah, tell me how to do it, Dad. In case I want to try it out." Brian's mouth went dry, and for the first time in more years than he wanted to count he was actually somewhat embarrassed at the idea of discussing sex. But he reached over, flipped on a lamp so that he could watch for Gus' reactions, cleared his throat and launched into a detailed description of anal sex and the accompanying preparations.
Brian sat across from Justin at the diner on the corner that they had started frequenting together. It reminded Brian of the Liberty Diner, and he had smiled when Justin pointed out the resemblance the first time they came. "So, where is he now?" Justin asked, stuffing a huge bite of chicken parmesan in his mouth. Brian frowned, wondering how Justin could eat such disgusting diner food. He picked at his own turkey sandwich and replied, "He's at the video store around the corner." Brian shuddered. "He wanted me to go with him and rent het porn so he could decide if he liked it or not." Justin nearly choked on his food. "Oh my God! What did you say?" "I told him that under no conditions would I, Brian Kinney, be seen renting heterosexual porn. It might ruin my reputation." Justin rolled his eyes, opened his mouth and shoved in another big bite. "You still eat like a cow," Brian observed, smirking when Justin glared at him. "Don't tell me that you let him watch some of your porn," Justin said. "That's just too disturbing for words." "I didn't. He wanted to, but I said no. Of course, he'll probably sneak around and find it while I'm at work tomorrow. I don't care so long as I don't know the fucking details, you know?" "What have you told Mel and Lindsay?" Brian sighed, pushed his plate away, and leaned back in the booth. He tapped Justin's leg under the table with his foot, just to have some contact. Justin smiled at him, and kicked him back. "Nothing. I'm not sure what to tell them. I don't want to betray my son's trust." "You're a good dad, Brian." "I'm fucked is what I am. Royally and completely fucked." Brian's attention was distracted by the sight of his son carrying two bags into the diner, grinning. "Justin! Hey!" "Hiya, kiddo, what's up?" Gus squeezed in next to Justin, tossed his bags on the table, smiled smugly and said, "I showed the guy my fake ID and got porn!" Brian blinked, picked up his water glass and guzzled it.
Twining his fingers in Justin's hair, Brian smoked and stared up at the ceiling. Justin was fast asleep on Brian's chest, worn out from a busy day, and from a romp in the shower before bed. Gus was down the hall, supposedly asleep, but Brian suspected that he was playing games on the computer, or, fuck, watching porn. Brian ran his fingertips over his eyes, remembering earlier, after dinner, when he and Justin had been sitting quietly in the living room working on separate projects. Gus had bounded out of his bedroom, racing down the hall to inform them that the tests were inconclusive; he'd had good orgasms from watching guy-on-guy, girl-on-girl, and guy-on-girl porn. Justin had struggled not to laugh hysterically, but the hand over his mouth, and his watering eyes had pretty much given him away. Brian was glad to have a good enough relationship with his son that they could discuss sex to some extent, but he'd been completely silenced at Gus' announcement, unsure of where to even begin. Gus had said, "I think I might just be a slut." Justin had excused himself at that point, his shoulders shaking violently, as he tore out of the den towards Brian's bedroom. Brian took another long drag, rubbed a lock of Justin's hair between his fingers, stubbed out his cigarette, and flipped out the light. He maneuvered Justin slightly to curl up around him, and wondered how long he needed to wait before he could ask Justin to move in again. If relationships were just like fucking, it seemed like they'd been fucking long enough to move in by now.
As the taxi pulled up to take them to the airport, Gus hugged Justin goodbye, and Brian wrapped his arm around Justin's neck, pulled him close and kissed his forehead. "Sure you don't want to come with us, Sunshine? I know Deb would be thrilled to see you." Justin shook his head. "Next time. I've got some things I have to handle here this weekend. Call me when you get to Mel and Lindsay's." Justin pushed up on his tip-toes and kissed Brian's lips gently, whispering, "Fuck some hot guys at Babylon for old-times sake." Gus stuck his head out of the taxi. "We'll miss the plane! Come on, Dad!"
Lindsay picked them up at the airport, hugged and kissed them both, then said to Gus, "You're in for a hell of a grounding. You know that, right?" Gus lifted his eyebrows in acknowledgement but said nothing. "I'm just warning you. Mel is still very angry about you taking off like that. What if something had happened to you, Gus? It was very irresponsible." "I got a nipple ring," Gus announced, lifting up his shirt. "Guess you'll have to throw in some time for that, too." Lindsay gasped, turned to Brian and whapped him on the arm. "Brian! What were you thinking?" "I was thinking that my son wanted a nipple ring," Brian said casually, dreading the explosion when Mel found out. "Yeah, Justin and Dad took me to a really good place in New York to have it done. Totally clean, Mom. It kicked ass." Lindsay smiled tightly. "I see. Well, let's hurry up." She stalked ahead muttering, "Let's get home and get this over with." Pittsburgh was always...well, Pittsburgh. It never changed. The dreary buildings and familiar roads still clung a little too tightly too him. He shifted in his seat, tugging at his seatbelt. As they approached the turn to Mel and Linds' street and Gus grew more and more sullen. Brian reached over to massage his neck in sympathy. "It'll be okay, Sonny Boy. You'll see." Gus made a non-committal noise and turned to look out the window. Brian drew his hand away, sighing. He understood; Pittsburgh made him feel trapped too. He already missed New York--and Justin.
Michael's comic shop had always been highly organized, a well-run machine, but when Brian walked in with Gus to find Matthew and Jarrod, Michael and Ben's newest foster kids, making a fort out of old boxes and blankets, he just shook his head, noting that time, and kids, changed everything. "Gus!" Matthew shouted, running toward him at full-tilt. The six year old was the oldest of the two children, and Jarrod's natural brother. Their mother had been a crack-dealer and abusive. When she lost custody of the boys, there had been no family to speak of to take them in, and they'd been relegated to the foster system. Ben and Michael had applied to be the foster parents, but they'd been completely shocked when they'd been awarded the children. After all, despite Jarrod's problem with toilet training (something the psychologists chalked up to neglect and probable sexual abuse) the two boys were both young, in good health, and generally easy to place. Still, Child and Family Services decided that Ben and Michael were a good fit based on their past history with foster kids--and Michael's huge bank account from Rage royalties didn't hurt, either. "Gus, gonna babysit?" Jarrod asked, coming over more slowly, obviously wary of Brian. "Maybe," Gus said. "Depends on how much they pay me." "JR babysat us yesterday while Michael and Ben went to the Big Q," Matthew said, sliding his arm around Gus' waist and clinging to him. "She made us cookies." "JR's too little to babysit," Gus said, frowning. "She's only eleven." "She's big enough for an hour or so. I had my cell phone," Michael said, coming out of the office with a grin on his face. Brian hugged him tightly, breathing in Mikey's unique smell, then kissed his lips. "I'm telling Ben you kissed that man," Matthew said, still hugging Gus. Michael laughed, and gently cuffed the kid. "You are, huh? You go right ahead, mister. And that man is Uncle Brian to you." "JR's Uncle Brian?" Jarrod asked; his eyes lighting with interest and turning to measure Brian thoroughly. "And my dad," Gus said, carefully dislodging Matthew's arms. He looked up at Michael saying, "I'll watch them. Go talk with Dad," and waved toward the offices. "Hey, squirt." Gus grabbed Jarrod around the waist and hung him upside down. "Ugh, you're getting too big for this." He dropped him to the ground again, and moved toward the fort. "What're you guys building?" Brian followed Michael to the back of the store and they closed the office door behind them. "Christ Mikey--" "I know, I know." Michael waved his hands at Brian. "Don't get started." Brian pulled Michael close and hugged him again. It'd been awhile since he'd seen him and the comfort of Michael's dusty, comic-book scent made his heart slow in his chest, his breathing grow more regular. He hadn't realized that he was so wired until he felt himself unwinding in Michael's embrace. He sat on the couch, pulling Michael down with him, nearly on top of him, and kept his arm around Michael's neck. "Hey, Mikey," he whispered affectionately. Michael settled in next to him, talking a mile a minute about his foster kids, Hunter's law school studies, Ben's latest novel, Mel's pregnancy, and JR being too pretty for her own good--he was already having to ward off teenage boys who were sniffing around her. "What about you?" Michael asked. "Oh, you know, the same as ever. Fabulous life, fabulous fucking, fabulous city, fabulous job. The usual." Michael rolled his eyes. "What about Justin?" Brian shrugged, not meeting Michael's eyes, and pissed as hell to feel a small smile forming on his lips. "Shit, you're such a fucking goner for him. You always were. Just tell me it's mutual," Michael sighed. "It's mutual, Mikey," Brian said softly, still not looking at Michael, and feeling warmth spread through him at the memory of Justin's kiss by the taxi. "So, why didn't he come with you? Ma's gonna be pissed as hell. She wanted to see him." "He said next time. He had some business to attend to. Not everyone is as happy with their small fortune as you are, Mikey." "Like Ben says, 'Who needs more than we've got?'" Brian nodded, kissing Michael's forehead. He actually understood. Brian had money, power, a summer home in Italy, an unbelievably successful advertising firm, a son to be proud of, and--Justin. For the first time in his entire life, he thought he might have a concept of 'enough'.
Brian
rolled onto his side and listened to the dead silence all around
him. How the fuck could people stand to sleep in all this quiet?
He reached out to the cell phone on the nightstand and resisted
the urge to call Justin again. He'd called twice already--once when
they got off the plane, and once after dinner, but it had gone straight
to voice mail both times. He didn't know when he'd become a Jewish
mother, but visions of Justin passed out in his hotel suite, over-dosing
on some drug, choking on his own vomit filled his mind. Or Justin
injured, in a hospital, and no one knew to call him. Fuck, he was
going insane. It had only been about fifteen hours since he'd seen
Justin; he was being fucking ridiculous.
"Uncle Brian, will you buy me something?" JR asked over breakfast, her big, brown eyes pleading. "JR, that's not polite," Mel said, shaking her head then leaning over to butter Gus' biscuit for him, despite his death glare. "Sure, Jitterbug," Brian said, whapping the back of JR's head affectionately. "What do you want? A nipple ring?" "That's not funny, Brian," Melanie threatened, brandishing her butter knife at him. "Not funny at all." "I'm not taking it out," Gus said, darkly, frowning into his milk. "I don't care what you say. I don't care how long you punish me. I'm not taking it out." Mel rolled her eyes, took a deep breath and a huge bite of biscuit. "No, not a nipple ring." JR laughed. "Gus is weird. No, I want a necklace that I saw at the mall. It has two bright blue stars at the bottom, and a red heart in between, and it will look perfect with my new dress that I got. Please Uncle Brian?" "JR, I told you that it wasn't polite to ask Brian for things. We discussed this. You have your own money--" Gus interrupted, "and your own father--" "--to buy things with. That's why we give you an allowance," Mel looked to Lindsay for backup. Lindsay caught JR's eye and nodded. "Whatever Jitterbug wants, Jitterbug gets," Brian said, cheerfully. Part of his thrill in buying JR anything she asked for, within reason, was pissing off Melanie, who found it unbearable that JR was so infatuated with Brian--he didn't understand why Mel didn't get that. His cell phone rang and he fumbled in his pocket for it, disappointed that the caller ID revealed that it was just Michael. "Where the fuck are you?" Michael asked, already having a queen of a morning if Brian could tell anything by his voice. "Having breakfast with my son and Jitterbug. Where the fuck are you?" "Language, please," Lindsay said softly. "At the fucking diner. Where else? Ma's pissed as hell that you haven't come to see her. You'd better get your ass over here before she has an aneurysm." "Deb would do that? On account of little old me? I'm flattered." "Fuck you. Get over here." Michael disconnected and Brian shoved back from the table. "Looks like I have to run along and be a good son. Take notes, Sonny Boy." "On being a good son? From you?" Mel faked a laugh. Brian ignored Mel's comment, grabbed Lindsay's keys from her purse, and pulled his cell phone out on his way out the door. He pressed the number four speed-dial for Justin--irritated when his call went straight to voice mail again.
Deb clung to Brian with a strength that he'd forgotten that she contained. He stooped so that she didn't have to reach up so far, holding her gently, as she tried to squeeze the life out of him. He finally tried to straighten, thinking that she'd break her hold when he stood up, but instead found himself with her still attached to his neck, and her feet dangling a few inches from the ground. "Christ, are you losing weight again, Deb? What will Carl have to hold on to at night if you keep this up?" he asked, finally managing to pry her hands free. Deb cracked her gum at him, her eyes shining at the comment. Brian loved that about Deb; she was so easy to please. "Everybody, this is my other baby!" Debbie announced to the diner, which was full of an assortment of gay men that Brian didn't recognize. A virtual stable full of new asses to cruise. Yes, the time when he'd been the king of Liberty Avenue was long gone, and only a few faces in the crowd seemed to register who he was; Brian suspected it was more likely due to his interviews in Out and other gay magazines than to his escapades in Pittsburgh's backrooms. The usual suspects were all there, though. Michael and Ben--both of them greeted him with a hug. Emmett who held on too long and pulled back with tears in his eyes, saying, "Oh, baby, it's been an age and a day--and I'm shocked to say that I've missed you." And Ted, who smiled sardonically, moaning, "Well, if it isn't the boss man. Going to bust our balls while you're here? Did you at least give Cynthia a heads up?" Brian scooted in next to Michael. He ordered his coffee and smiled at the boys' banter, feeling not quite comfortable in a place that used to be his second home. Time can make even the smallest difference feel exaggerated sometimes, and the new waiters, the new linoleum on the floor, and the computer to ring up orders bothered him. "So, Brian, tell us about Justin," Emmett said, waggling his eyebrows. "We hear you're hot and heavy again. You two never could keep your hands off each other." "What's to tell? It sounds like Michael's told you everything anyway." Brian sipped his coffee and consulted his cell phone. There were no new messages. "Isn't it romantic, Teddy? Ten years apart and true love conquers all?" "Yes, it's quite romantic, Em," Ted agreed. He patted Emmett's hand. "But have no fear, your prince charming will come and then you, too, can share a dysfunctional love affair that spans decades." "I thought he already did, Theodore" Brian intoned, sticking his tongue in his cheek. The cell phone in his pocket vibrated; Brian slid out of the booth, checked the caller ID and said, "I've got to take this call." He was barely out of the diner when he said, "Where the fuck have you been?" "Hi. I love you, too." "Where are you?" Justin sighed. "I'm in L.A." "What? Why?" "It's a long story, but Mark told me last week that the contracts with Sony for the new feature needed to be signed in person this Wednesday and I was gonna fly out Tuesday--you know, to kiss some respective ass." Justin sighed. "But then Mark called yesterday and said he'd fucked up and the meetings are tomorrow. Because I'm completely unprepared for the presentation, and because I have schmooze to the execs from Sony, I had to cut out of New York last night." "Sounds like someone's balls need to be in a sling." Justin snorted. "Yeah, and not just for that, either. Mark's still not out of the house, you know, and he flipped out when Connor came over last night." Brian was silent, not entirely following. Everyone knew that Connor James and Justin were old friends--there'd been a lot of gossip about the two of them around the time of the first Rage movie, back when Brian was still following Justin's career closely. At the time he'd been insanely...jealous. Justin continued, "I had to fucking remind him that I was in town for work that he'd insisted I come in for, that I'd rather be with you, and that Connor was just extracurricular, but then I got pissed when I realized that I was fucking explaining myself to him--" "Wait, I'm not sure I'm following you, Sunshine. You left New York yesterday, hopped a plane to L.A., fucked your old friend Connor James, and fought with your ex-boyfriend about it, but you didn't have time to fucking call me back?" "It was late. I totally should have called." Justin lowered his voice and Brian heard someone talking in the background. "I was thinking with my dick. Until he sucked it; then I wasn't thinking at all." Brian didn't know what to say, finally swallowing around his suddenly thick tongue, to ask, "I thought you said he wasn't very good?" "Huh? Oh, yeah. The first time. Right. Hold on." Justin chuckled and said loudly, "Con! I'm going to step out back, don't smoke all the pot, asshole!" Brian walked around the corner of the diner, his mind whirring. He felt like he'd been sucker punched. Apparently, Justin was good at doing that to people. "Yeah, well, he was okay that first time, but when we started fucking more regularly during the filming of Rage, he learned the things that I like, and now he's my most well-trained fuck buddy." Brian nodded then realized that Justin couldn't see him. He couldn't think, his heart was thrashing in his chest, and he couldn't breathe right. He finally mumbled, "I've got to go. Later." He leaned against the side of the building, bent at the waist, his hands on his knees, and tried and tried to catch his breath while his cell phone rang again and again in his pocket.
Brian sat on the front swing of Lindsay and Melanie's house smoking his seventh cigarette. He'd cut back a lot over the years in deference to his genetic tendency toward cancer, so the nicotine was making him feel shaky. He knew that he didn't really need to be pumping himself full of chemicals, but he couldn't think of anything better to do with his hands or mouth, not when he'd already fucked himself out of erections earlier in the evening. Castle was no Babylon, but it sufficed. At last count, he had ten voicemail messages, but he'd refused to check them. He couldn't talk to Justin, or listen to anything he had to say, until he'd worked out what he was feeling, until he understood what was choking him. He knew what Deb would say; she'd call it the green-eyed monster, and he knew she'd be right, but why? Why was he feeling this when he'd never been one to get hung up on monogamy? Besides, they'd never laid any ground rules for their relationship, and he knew without a doubt that Justin was emotionally invested in him, but what was happening? Why was Justin in L.A. instead of in the Pitts with him? And why the fuck did Brian care? Because it was so new, so fresh, this desire to build a life with someone, and he'd just gotten Justin back after too many years away from him. How invested could he really be? What would it take for him to think that the weather looked better from someone else's windows? The front door creaked open, and Brian looked up, expecting to see Lindsay. "Dad?" "Hey, Sonny Boy," Brian said softly, taking another drag from his cigarette. "Isn't it kind of late? Shouldn't you be asleep?" Gus joined him, his tall frame, almost as tall as Brian himself, curled up on the swing, tucking his feet underneath him. He watched Brian intently in the dark, shoving shaggy, black hair out of his eyes. "Justin called my cell phone earlier tonight," Gus said with deliberate nonchalance that Brian recognized as his own. "Yeah?" "Yeah. He was looking for you." "Mmm," Brian replied, staring at the streetlight down the road, noting the way the bugs flitted about underneath it, drawn to the light. "I told him you were out with Uncle Michael and the gang." Brian nodded, flicked his cigarette ash, and kicked back in the swing with a sigh. Gus went on, "He said that he'd call you in the morning. He sounded upset." Brian chewed on his lip, then took another draw from the cigarette, closed his eyes and tried to think over the phone call again. Justin hadn't sounded at all like he was concerned about Brian's reaction; he'd been almost conspiratorial in his tone, as though he'd expected Brian to champion him flying across the country and fucking Connor James--mega-star and regular fuck buddy. And Brian knew there was a time when he would have said, "Good for you, Sunshine. Go fuck his brains out." "Are you going to call him?" Gus asked. He sounded nervous, and Brian finally looked at him again, saw that he was scared, and touched his cheek gently. "I'll talk to him, Gus. All right?" "I like Justin, Dad." "I like him, too, Sonny Boy." Brian smiled a little, stubbed out his cigarette and stood into a full stretch. "Let's go to bed now, all right? Your moms will kill me if they find us out here this late." Gus almost didn't fit under the arm that Brian threw over his shoulder; he'd grown so tall. When they reached the top of the stairs, Brian pulled him close and kissed his forehead. "It'll be all right, Sonny Boy. Sleep tight."
"My dad's with Justin, and Justin was the one who drew your dad's comic book. Your dad wouldn't be rich if it wasn't for him," Gus was teasing his sister, poking her, and taunting her in a sibling competition over who had the best dad. JR threw a solid punch to the stomach that left Gus gasping for air, then replied, "My dad and Ben spend every weekend with me, and your dad just sees you a few times a year. So, there." Brian knew that JR and Gus had no idea that he'd walked in on their game, but he was surprised at the viciousness between them. Then he remembered Clare and supposed that all children were cruel to their siblings. Still, it hurt to hear something so true from JR. He didn't see Gus nearly as often enough. Gus said, pinching JR's leg, "My dad paid for me to get a nipple ring, and your dad takes you to the zoo like a baby." "Hey, hey, hey," Lindsay called from the kitchen. "Knock it off. You'll wake Brian." "It's too late," Brian said, striding across the room to collect his jacket from the sofa. "I'm already awake. And I'm headed off to the diner. Want to go Sonny Boy?" Lindsay appeared in the doorway from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish cloth. "Can I, Mom?" Gus asked, widening his eyes and looking pathetic. Brian smirked, knowing that Lindsay would cave. "Well, you know you're still grounded, Gus, but so long as your father is with you, then I guess you can go." Gus dashed past him, up the stairs, saying, "Let me get my jacket!" "What about me, Uncle Brian?" JR asked, smiling sweetly. Brian shook his head. "Not this time, Jitterbug." Lindsay turned to him, lifted her finger in warning and said, "But no piercings or tattoos, Brian. Understand me? I want him back in pristine condition." Brian turned to yell up to Gus. "Hurry up, Sonny Boy. That tattoo artist won't wait all day!"
The gang, minus Theodore, was in the midst of heavy gossip when Brian and Gus walked in. They sat with their heads together looking at something Emmett had spread out in front of him. "What's this?" Brian asked, trying to grab the paper, some gossip rag, out of Emmett's hands. "Nothing," Emmett smiled, tucking it under the table. "Just some celebrity titillation. Stuff that only silly queens like me get excited about." Emmett sounded nervous, and Michael and Ben weren't meeting his eye, but Brian let it drop, assuming it was something that wasn't appropriate for Gus' eyes. God only knew what they'd been looking at, probably pictures of a celebrity's cock, caught on film at a nude beach in France. Brian slid in next to Michael, and Gus next to Em. Everyone's attention turned to Gus. Emmett touched Gus' dyed hair and asked questions about the product he'd used. Michael and Ben sat snuggled together, smiling in amusement as Gus talked about convincing his friend to dye his hair, and the tattoo he was going to get when he turned eighteen. Then Gus lifted his shirt. "Look what Dad and Justin got for me!" "Christ Brian!" Michael exclaimed. "What the hell were you thinking? Did Mel chew you a new one, or what?" "Ate my good ball for breakfast, actually," Brian muttered, signaling for coffee. "Justin's the best," Gus went on. "He told me all about having sex with a girl. He said that it wasn't as gross as some people say." Gus eyed Emmett. "He said it felt good." Emmett pursed his lips and batted his eyes. "Well, if you like to give it then I guess any nice, tight spot will do. But if you're a big old nelly bottom like me, well, girls--they just don't have the equipment, if you know what I mean. And I think you do." Gus laughed. Ben said, "Now let's keep it clean, guys. Gus is still just fourteen." "You don't have to keep it clean, Em," Gus contradicted. "I've watched porn. I know what happens." Brian closed his eyes and shook his head, bringing his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. "Brian, don't tell me you let him--" "Michael, I took him to a sex club in New York," Brian said, exasperated. When Michael blanched, Brian continued, "What the fuck? Of course I didn't!" "There are sex clubs in New York? Can I go?" Gus looked like he might actually beg. "No!" Brian said, sipping his coffee and running his hand through his hair. "Just...no." Emmett's cell started to ring, and he clambered over Gus, saying, "It's Teddy. I re-organized the kitchen last night. I bet he's having a heart-attack. Gotta take this. Be right back." Gus slid over into Emmett's spot, pulling the newspaper that had been between them up on the table, smoothing it out. "I always knew this guy was gay!" Gus exclaimed, pointing at the cover of the rag. Michael reached out to grab it from Gus' hands, and Ben said, "Oh, Gus, you don't want to read that--" Gus held the paper out of Michael's reach. "Why not? I mean, it's not like it's a secret. The guy oozes gayness. I never believed that whole thing about playing Rage just being act--" Gus broke off, his eyes widening, and his lower lip going between his teeth. "Dad--" Brian reached out and grabbed the paper from him.
Actor Connor James, Gay!, the headline shouted, followed by a photograph that left little to the imagination. And just in case it wasn't clear who Connor James was kissing, touching, maybe even fucking, though it was hard to tell by the angle, the caption read: James making love by the pool to his boyfriend of many years, out-and-proud Justin Taylor, CEO of Raging Enterprises, and co-creator of the Rage Comic and Movie. The first several lines of the article declared that the photographs had been obtained without James' knowledge by paparazzi who'd sneaked onto Mr. Taylor's estate in Beverly Hills. Brian quickly skimmed the article to see that Connor James' people were stating adamantly that he and Mr. Taylor were just friends, and that the photos misrepresented friendly affection between two old buddies. Brian snorted when he read that. "Brian--" Michael started. "Brian, I'm sorry," Ben said, solemnly. "What for?" Brian asked, his voice unnaturally tight. "We aren't married. There are no locks on our doors." The words were automatic, rote, hollow. Brian looked up to see Gus' face crumpling, sadness and confusion warring there. "Gus, it's okay." Gus stood up, shaking his head, and starting toward the exit. Brian grabbed his wrist, saying, "Sonny Boy, it's okay--" But Gus jerked away and ran out the door. Brian looked back down at the paper in his hands, folded it carefully, and dropped a fifty dollar bill on the table. Ignoring Michael and Ben's objections, he followed his son outside.
Gus stood on the corner, lighting a cigarette with a trembling hand. Brian snatched it from his lips. "Since when do you smoke?" "Since today." Brian shook his head, and flipped the cigarette around, taking it for himself. "No, you don't. Don't let me catch you smoking again." Gus sniffed, and turned his head away. "Why? What are you going to do? Ground me?" Brian remained silent, rubbing his fingers over his eyes, and trying to think of what to say, how to handle this situation. "That's why you were mad at him yesterday, isn't it? That's why you wouldn't take his calls? He's been cheating on you? All this time?" Gus phrased everything as a question, his hurt obvious in the lift at the end of each sentence. Brian flicked the cigarette, and decided on the truth. "Yes, that's why I wasn't taking his calls, but Gus--we aren't like your moms. We fuck other people." "The article said that he's Connor James' boyfriend, like he'd been his boyfriend for years." Brian shook his head. "That's just the media trying to sell papers. Before Justin and I got together a few months ago, he was living with his business partner, Mark Vanderhalder, not Connor James." "You fuck other people?" Gus asked coming back to that as Brian had known that he would. "It doesn't mean anything," Brian said. Except when it did mean something, and that was what had Brian's stomach in knots about Connor James. "It's just sex, Gus." "How many other people?" Brian took a deep breath. "As many as we want. Anyone we want." "So you're a slut? A whore? Both of you?" Gus seemed to be getting more agitated, his black hair swinging down into his eyes, and his cheeks flushing bright pink. "You fuck anything? Anything at all?" Brian reached out to touch him, but Gus jerked away. "Gus, it's not like that. You're thinking the way you've been taught to think, along the traditional lines of love and marriage and someone with a baby carriage. We're gay men, Gus. That's not how it works for Justin and me." "Take me home," Gus said, shakily, turning his back on Brian. "I want to go home."
Lindsay sat on the couch next to Brian stroking a hand through his hair soothingly. Brian had tossed the gossip rag at her when she'd looked to him for answers as to why Gus had torn up the stairs to his bedroom and slammed the door. She'd looked it over then pulled Brian to sit on the couch, clucking and trying to mother him. He was letting her for the time being, but only because it was either that or scream at her to leave him the fuck alone, and his son was already upset enough without that. He closed his eyes, annoyed that he was now someone who put another person first, missing the days of self-indulgence and acting on impulse. "Brian, are you okay?" Lindsay asked for the fifth time. "Yes, goddammit, I'm fucking fine. It's Gus who's upset." Brian knew that wasn't entirely true, but until he had some time to himself, he wasn't sure that he could tease out the threads of his distress--what part was about Justin, and what part was about the reaction that had been set off in Gus. "Yes, well...I know that he was hopeful that you'd found someone in Justin. He really liked him, you know." Brian ran a hand over his face. "Well, he can keep on liking him. It's just--fucking." His chest felt empty when he said those words, but he needed to believe they were true. "You've been apart for a long time. Ten years. A few months isn't going to make up for all the events that have happened in between, Brian. You've both changed, grown, become men. You have different priorities now. You might not be able to work those out between you." Brian didn't want to hear any more. Lindsay knew him too well, and it was like she'd tapped into his brain, streaming his thoughts out her mouth. He stood up. "I have to go. Christ--" He looked toward Gus' room, and sighed. "Tell him that--I love him. I've just got to go."
Brian sipped a glass of J.B. while he waited for the airline attendant to let him know that he could turn on his laptop. He'd left without stopping by the Pittsburgh Kinnetik offices to raise hell and chew new assholes, and he knew that word would be that he was too distraught over Justin to come by, but he didn't care. He wondered if he was going soft in old age. His fingers curled around the glass again, and he swirled the liquid over his tongue, enjoying the burn as it went down. He could afford to drink more expensive bourbon, but the comfort of the tried and true appealed to him. Brian shifted and pulled the gossip rag out of his briefcase, and read the article for the fifth time. He'd almost tossed it twice during the interminable wait at the airport, but something made him tuck it back in his bag both times. The first picture was clear enough to make out Justin's laughter and Connor James' obviously wandering hands. The next picture was much more compromising, but for some reason it bothered him less than the one where Justin was grinning that sunshine smile that he was famous for. He shoved the magazine back into his briefcase and looked out the window at the sun setting in the west. It was still light where Justin was, all the way across the continent. Brian decided to call him when he got home.
The silence of the penthouse was different from the silence of the munchers' house. It was punctuated by the sounds of the city flowing in from the open French doors that led out to the terrace. Shouts, laughter, and the occasional siren, all broke the silence into manageable pieces, flowing like water over the hours, separating time; it was completely unlike the blanket of suburban silence that engulfed Brian at Melanie and Lindsay's house, and he breathed in deeply, feeling himself relax and release Pittsburgh to the past again. He stood with his shoulder leaning against the door jamb, looking out into the skyline, thinking of the time difference between New York and California--three hours, and so it was only nine o'clock where Justin was, a little early to even get started clubbing. Their last conversation had been exactly what Brian hated most about 'relationships'. He'd acted the part of the broken-hearted fool in love, and Justin had played out the role of the rogue who just didn't know any better than to stick his dick in as many holes as possible. Christ, it made his skin crawl to recognize such weakness in himself, and maybe that was what he'd protected himself against all of those years ago. Maybe part of him has suspected that he'd end up a sucker-punched lesbian, because he'd never managed to do anything half-way in his entire life. So he'd tried for the exact opposite in his youth, and failed miserably in that, too. And perhaps that pissed him off the most, because Brian Kinney wasn't a failure. Brian Kinney was a big, fat, fucking success and to feel like he was losing at something so important to him as Justin infuriated him. He stubbed out his cigarette and stepped out into the night, leaning against the railing that separated him from certain death, remembering the night he jumped up on the ledge of the hospital roof with Michael and promised to show him the world. Brian sighed and rested his elbows on the rail, staring down into the street, always flowing with passers-by, wondering when he'd decided to settle for New York. The phone caught his attention and he nearly stumbled trying to get to it before the person hung up. The caller ID was a disappointment, though, and Brian nearly didn't answer. "Brian, darling, I was just calling to find out how you're holding up under the media deluge that Justin's little escapade has set off." Brian collapsed onto the sofa, cradling the phone to his ear and closing his eyes. "Dominique, what a surprise." "My sources tell me that poor Connor James is hopelessly outed." Brian snorted. "What are your sources? NBC, CBS, Entertainment Tonight? It's every-fucking-where, Dominique." "I told you Justin liked drama, didn't I, darling. Now do you believe me?" Brian grunted in response, not really sure of what he wanted to say in return to that. "What does Justin have to say for himself?" Dominique pushed on. "Very little," Brian said, consulting his cell phone again. Still no message from Justin. "Well, what a tangled web my favorite little artist has woven for himself. Mark, you, and Connor James all in a few months span. Even Justin's head must be whirling from the debris of his personal tornado." "As always, it's been a thrill, Dominique, but I've got to cut you loose." "You used to be a much better source, Brian. Now you're all elusive and aloof. How will I ever convince you to sleep with me if I never see you anymore?" Brian chuckled half-heartedly. "If you want to see me, Dominique, all you have to do is call Amelia to set an appointment. You know that." "You don't want me! You just want my money!" Dominique exclaimed in faux irritation. "Money turns me on like few things on earth," Brian said, recognizing the banter that signaled the end of their conversation. When the phone call finally ended, he closed his eyes and slid down on the sofa, clutching the phone to his chest.
"Brian." Brian squeezed his eyes shut, but a hand ran down his cheek gently, coaxing him from his dreams. "Brian, wake up." Justin's voice reached around his consciousness and snatched him back to the here and now. Brian ran a hand over his face, blinking up at Justin's close-lipped smile. "What the fuck are you doing here? And, fuck, what time is it?" He felt hung over, drugged, and he sat up groggily. Justin sat beside him on the sofa, his coat still on, and the scent of winter New York air still clinging to him. "I flew in tonight. All hell broke loose out there, and besides, I needed to see you. You haven't been taking my phone calls. And now Gus won't take my calls either. It's feeling all too familiar, Brian. I thought we had an agreement, a commitment to make it work this time, not just walk away when things get a little--uncomfortable." "Wait, why the fuck are you calling Gus?" Justin blew out an exasperated puff of air. "Aren't you listening? You wouldn't answer your phone. I knew that you'd taken Gus home to Pitts, so I called Gus. The first time was okay, but when I called this afternoon--" "He wouldn't talk to you?" Justin bit his lip, obviously fighting a strong emotion, finally saying, "He said he never wanted to talk to me again, that he hated me, and that I--" Justin broke off. "I guess he saw the papers." "You could say that. They're kind of hard to miss." "Fuck," Justin pressed his fingertips to his eyelids. "Christ. Fucking paparazzi." Brian stood up, moving away from Justin. "I'm tired. I can't talk about this now." Justin's eyes flashed dangerously, but then he lowered his head and acquiesced, saying, "I'm tired, too. It's late. Nearly two in the morning. There were delays at the airport." "How'd you get in?" Brian suddenly asked, the doorman should have buzzed him. Justin blushed. "I bribed the guy downstairs." "With a blow job?" "Ha! No, of course not." Justin shook his head. "No, I gave him a signed copy of the L.A. Times with me getting fucked by Connor James on the front page. He said he'd sell it online for a shitload of money." "I hope it's a pretty enough penny to cover his bills since he'll be out of a job." Justin sighed, standing up and peeling off his coat. "C'mon Brian. Let's go to bed." "Aren't you being a little presumptuous?" Brian wanted Justin to stay the night, wanted to take his clothes off and fuck him for two weeks straight, but the fact that Justin had manipulated his way into the penthouse, and now seemed ready to climb into Brian's bed for a good night's rest pissed him off. "Um, am I?" Justin asked, his fingers stilling on the buttons of his jeans. Brian crossed his arms and glared. "I think you should go back to the hotel. Call me tomorrow. I'll answer the phone." Justin shifted uncomfortably. "I can't. Well, I could, but not really. I mean, I kind of checked out, and--" Brian blinked, shaking his head in confusion. "What the fuck?" "I told you I had business to take care of in New York this weekend," Justin said calmly, as though those words would clarify things. "But you weren't in New York this weekend." Justin sighed, running a hand over his hair, and scratching at his ear. "Yeah, fuck--but I meant to be. Sometimes I have really fucking bad ideas, and I guess this was one of them." "You?" "I was going to surprise you by moving in while you were gone. You've mentioned it a few times, and--" "And so you just thought you'd move all of your things in here without asking me?" Brian knew he was queening out, but he went with it. "You were just going to surprise me by invading my home with your crap and your bullshit lies--" "I never fucking lied to you!" Justin spat out, instantly angry. "'I have business in New York, Brian. I have business in L.A. that I have to take care of in person,'" Brian mocked. "Well, I did." "Yes, I guess it's rather hard to fuck someone when they're three thousand miles away." "Fuck you." There was silence then. A long, hideous silence while Brian wrestled with the desire to strike where it would hurt, to say something to end everything once and for all, because he wasn't cut out for this shit. Finally Justin said icily, "I was going to surprise you by moving in while you were gone. When Mark called with the change in plans, I had my assistants check me out of the Plaza and box up my things. They're in storage. I'd planned to bring them here when I got back into town." Brian glared at him. Justin went on, his voice slow and hard, "I heard from a friend that Connor was in L.A. I called him from the airport. We fucked." Brian waved his hand. "I've heard this before. Your priorities registered loud and clear." Justin blinked, mouth settling into a thin line. "Fuck you, Brian. I bailed on the meetings with Sony when I realized that you were freaking out and that something was wrong with Gus. I'm here, aren't I? I agree--my priorities are loud and clear." Brian ran a hand over his face and moved toward Justin, surprised when Justin didn't back away. He put his hand on the back of Justin's neck, dipped his head to touch Justin's forehead with his own, and whispered, "Justin, I shouldn't have--" "Apologies are bullshit." "No, they aren't," Brian said. Justin stood stiffly, but didn't pull away. Brian wrapped Justin in his arms, hugging him tightly, forcing the stiffness out of him. "I was angry." "You were jealous," Justin said. Brian was silent, burying his face in Justin's neck, and breathing in. "I like to fuck him. That's all." Brian shrugged, his heart thudding dully. Justin continued, "We've never discussed rules. I didn't think we needed any this time around." They stood together quietly for awhile, practicing synchronized breathing. Brian wanted to stop the conversation, wanted to suck red marks into the pale line of Justin's neck, take off his clothes, push his knees up by his ears, but-- "Things are different this time, you're right," Brian said, pulling away, keeping his hand on the back of Justin's neck. "But they're different because of me, not you. I've changed and what I need in a--" Brian swallowed, rolled his eyes "--a relationship has changed. It's been ten years. I have a son. Gus isn't a baby anymore." Justin jerked away, his mouth wide. "Are you saying you want us to be monogamous? Because, Christ, that's not something I'd even consider." "No. Of course not," Brian replied, rolling his eyes. "Fucking hell no, but--" Justin's hands started flying as he made sweeping gestures with his arms. "But what? You can't deal with the fact that I like to fuck another guy? That I like to fuck him more than once, and that I have no intention of not fucking him when given the opportunity?" Brian stared at him, shocked that Justin's words hit him so hard that he felt sick. "It's not like I'm in love with the guy. I like him. That's about it. I like him and we have fun together, but I'm in love with you. I always have been. I thought you understood this shit! You're the one who fucking taught me, you said, 'We're queer. We fuck who we want, when we want'--" "I know what the fuck I said, Justin!" Brian chewed his lip and turned his back, looking out the window into the night. "Then what?" Justin asked. Brian didn't reply, trying to understand what it was that he was feeling. Justin's arms wrapped around him from behind, and he slid under Brian's arm, kissing the side of his neck. "Then what, Brian?" Brian shoved away, annoyed with himself, and with Justin for putting him in this position, for making him feel these things, for being twelve years younger, and for not understanding. "Then what? Then Gus, Justin. Gus." "You can't even admit that you're jealous?" "Fine, I'm fucking jealous. I acted like a fucking housewife. I know. I disgust myself, too," Brian yelled. "But, that's not where it ends and begins, you little twat. I have my son to worry about now. And fuck, I never thought I'd hear myself say these words, but I want to live a life that he's proud of, and if my lover keeps ending up on the front page of every goddamn paper in America--" "It wasn't supposed to happen--" "Lots of shit isn't supposed to happen, Justin. Babies aren't supposed to be born with AIDS, chocolate isn't supposed to be consumed as an alternative to anti-depressants, monkeys aren't supposed to be used for experi--" "Okay, I fucking get it!" "But, my son has to come first for me, or at least really fucking high at the top of the list, and I can't expect that he should come first for you, too. This--" Brian gestured between them "--is all too complicated. I was wrong to think it could work. I--" "Brian, stop it," Justin said, clamping his hand down on Brian's arm, pulling him close. "No. You can't fucking do this, because you promised me, and I told you--" Justin's voice rose incrementally in a near panic. "I told you this time it was forever, and you agreed. That's a fucking commitment, goddamn it. That's a fucking promise, and this one little goddamn indiscretion isn't going to change a fucking thing, because I don't care what you think, you don't have the first clue--" Brian kissed him, silencing his words by sucking his tongue into his mouth.
Teeth and nails said as much as words. Justin bit Brian's bicep, scratched down his back, and writhed beneath him. Brian thrust solidly, throwing his head back, and pounding Justin into the floor. Justin's back made slapping, sliding sounds along the wood as they rutted together, desperate and needy. "Oh, God, oh fuck," Justin moaned, his toes curling by Brian's ears and his back arching up like a bow. Brian kissed his lips, as Justin shot load after load onto their chests and stomachs. "Oh, God, Brian--" Brian grabbed Justin's wrists, pulled them over his head, and rammed into Justin hard. He came, crying out with the intensity of it, and afterwards they kissed tenderly, as they shuddered through the aftershocks. Sweaty, curled together on the floor, Brian whispered, "Christ, you are such a drama queen." Justin whapped him on the chest with the back of one hand and snorted.
The
next morning they ate at the diner around the corner and played
a negotiation game they'd played once before.
Gus was another matter. Brian didn't think it should be harder to make up with his kid than it had been to make up with Justin. He'd read somewhere, though he'd never really experienced it personally, that a kid's love for his parent was supposed to be unconditional. Brian had just assumed that he'd had his unconditional love beaten out of him, but maybe it was a lie to begin with. "Lindsay, he won't even talk to me," Brian said, leaning back in his office chair and kicking his feet on the desk. "I mean, so I fuck a lot of people? What's the big deal?" He knew what the big deal was; he just didn't want to admit it, hoping that Lindsay would convince Gus to brush it under the carpet, too. "He's already different, Brian. He's already got so much to deal with being a boy with two moms and a gay dad, with no straight man around at all. Except for Carl. Who he's never really liked that much because he says he smells funny." "He does smell funny," Brian asserted. Lindsay ignored him. "So, now, when he's confused, and tired of being different, worried that he's maybe gay, or maybe straight, and he's starting to hope that there isn't that big of a difference either way, that maybe he can be gay and still have a 'normal' life--" "Gays don't have 'normal' lives, Lindsay." "Brian, don't you remember being fourteen and wanting to be normal? Don't you remember how horrifying it was to start to see the ways in which your parents weren't perfect?" "I always knew my parents weren't fucking perfect. I was never allowed that little delusion." "Gus isn't you." "Thank fucking God for that." "You said it," Lindsay murmured. Brian remained silent for a moment, tired of the persona that he had to adopt just to make it through these conversations, pretending that things didn't hurt him that hurt other people. He didn't even know why he did it. Lindsay could see right through him. "So, how do I fix it?" "Give him some time. He'll come around." Brian sighed. "And what about his fall break?" "I'll have to get back to you."
"Blue," Brian said, not looking up from the magazine he'd taken with him into the dressing room where Justin had piled up loads of winter clothes to try on. "I like red," Justin replied, and out of the corner of his eye, Brian could see him holding up a red one. "Blue." Justin pawed through a few more items. "Maybe black?" "Blue."
Justin fit perfectly under his arm as they walked toward the penthouse they now shared. He admired the way Justin's hair flickered gold and blond in the near-winter sunlight. The blue winter coat brought out Justin's eyes, and when he glanced up at Brian, smiling and still talking about the drawings he'd been doing for A Soviet Mole, Brian thought his heart had literally missed a beat.
Brian sat at the dining room table, the phone cradled to his ear as he listened to Gus make a lame excuse about fall break. "I've just got too much make-up work to do from that week I came up before. Maybe I can see you at Christmas. Or New Year's. Or next summer." Justin was pretending not to listen, head down and supposedly absorbed in working out the story board for the movie about the stupid mole who was a spy or some shit like that, but Brian knew Justin was worried and taking in every word. "You could work on that stuff here. Justin and I would be glad to help you." Brian hated that he sounded desperate. He hated even more that Gus knew that Brian knew Gus was lying. "Thanks, but I think I'd better just stay home." Brian chewed on his bottom lip, ran his finger along the edge of the table, and tried to think of something to say that would bring back the kid who'd begged to live with him, who'd fought with JR over who had the cooler dad. He took a deep breath and said, "Gus, you haven't called me 'Dad' since I last saw you. You won't take my phone calls. You won't come see me. It's not the fucking homework. It's what we talked about before I left town. You're angry with me." Gus was silent. "You're angry with me because I said that Justin and I sleep with a lot of other men. Because we fuck other people." "My dad's not only gay, but he's a fucking whore," Gus hissed. Brian cleared his throat, surprised at the pain he felt hearing his son say those words. "Gus, I--" And a dial-tone sang in his ear. He lowered his head into his hands and swallowed around the tightness in his throat. Soon Justin was massaging his neck and shoulders, saying softly, "It's okay, Brian. He'll come around."
"Hey Mikey. What's up?" Brian stood on the terrace smoking a cigarette, staring off into the distance. Justin was asleep in the bed, but Brian hadn't been tired. "You, apparently. Christ, it's after midnight. Something better be wrong, or I'm gonna be really pissed." Brian said nothing; his throat hurt, and he blinked against the stupid wetness that came to his eyes. "Shit," Michael sighed. "Fuck, hold on. I'm getting out of bed." Brian heard him say to Ben, "Something's really wrong with Brian. No, no--it's okay. Go back to sleep." Brian flicked his cigarette ash, and asked, "How can I be so happy and so fucking miserable? This fucking sucks." "Is it Justin? I thought you two had worked it--" "No." Brian sighed, cleared his throat and repeated, "No. It's Gus." Michael let out a relieved sound, almost chuckling. "What'd he say? That he hated you? Hoped you'd die?" "Mm, nothing that drastic, but close enough." "How long can he be angry with you, Brian? Give it some time. He'll come around." "I'm so fucking sick of people saying he'll come around." Brian dragged on his cigarette. "He will!" Michael exclaimed. "Just be patient." "I don't think so, Mikey." "Listen, take my word on it," Michael sounded dismissive. "I've been there. I know first hand what raising a teenager is like. Hunter used to say all kinds of shit." "It's different." The sounds from the street floated up to Brian, and he looked down to watch a man and woman trudge by with a couple of dogs. He took deep breaths, listening to Michael's steady breathing at the other end of the line. "Hey, Mikey?" "Yeah?" "I love you." Michael let out a long sigh. "I know. Always have. Always will."
Justin's body was warm next to him, and he curled in toward the heat, nuzzling Justin's neck and cheek, feeling the drag of stubble over his lips. "You're cold," Justin murmured, rolling towards him and shuddering when Brian pressed his feet against Justin's warm calves. "Were you outside?" Brian made a noise of assent, slowly rolling his hips against Justin's side. He slid his hand down and rubbed gentle circles around Justin's belly button. "Warm me up." Justin pushed up to kiss Brian's lips, cupping his face with one hand, and grasping his hair with the other. "Fuck me," he whispered against Brian's lips. Brian moved down the bed, lifted Justin's legs under the knees, and pushed them high, exposing Justin's ass. Brian sucked hard kisses on Justin's inner thighs, holding him down to the best of his ability when Justin thrashed, half-laughing, and half-moaning with lust and the good kind of pain. His tongue moved toward Justin's hole, lapping hot paths of wetness over the pale skin and the red marks he'd just made. Justin went very still, no longer writhing, holding his breath in anticipation. Brian dragged his tongue slowly, and when he licked over Justin's asshole, he gripped Justin's thighs hard to hold him down. "Fuck!" Justin tensed all over, his body already shaking with want. Brian kissed his ass cheeks then moved in to tongue-fuck his hole, driving in as deeply as possible. Justin bucked, his ass opening under Brian's tongue. "Oh, fuck, fuck me, fuck me--" Brian grabbed a condom and lube, working some slickness into Justin. "Hold on," Brian said, rolling the condom on. "Just a second." Justin reached for him, grabbed his hair, and pulled him up, kissing him hard. Brian tried to pull back, but Justin had too tight a grip on his hair, so Brian lined up to the best of his ability, and pushed against the ring of muscle. Justin moaned into Brian's mouth, intensifying the kiss, and Brian ran his hands soothingly down Justin's sides as he slid in. "Ahhh," Justin whimpered, and Brian held still for just a moment, adjusting his position. "Better?" he asked. Justin answered by grabbing his ass and pulling him flush. As Brian slid all the way in, Justin arched up to meet him, wrapping his legs around Brian's waist, kicking Brian's ass with his heels. Brian began thrusting hard, watching the play of expressions over Justin's face: the open mouthed astonishment, the glazed look of bliss, and the hot, fierce look of love. Brian drove into him, reaching between them to help Justin with stroking his cock. He sped up his motion as he watched Justin draw closer to orgasm, the red flush creeping up Justin's chest and igniting his cheeks. Justin's eyes squeezed shut, and his fingers gripped Brian's arms, nails digging in to leave marks. The low, stuttering noises that sometimes came before orgasm were pouring out of Justin as he writhed. Brian jerked Justin's cock harder, and then slammed into him when he cried out. Justin shuddered and jerked as his come spurted between them. Brian was so close, close enough to taste it, but he slowed down, watching Justin's eyes blink in confusion. "Justin--" Justin reached out to touch his cheek, staring up at him open and giving. Brian stopped thrusting altogether, gazing at Justin's face, memorizing his red lips, his shining blue eyes. "Justin--" Justin put a finger on his lips, halting his words. "Shh." Brian took a deep breath, kissed Justin's finger, and moved it away from his mouth. "I love you." Justin's eyes closed for a moment then opened them again, whispering fiercely, "Prove it." Brian gripped Justin's chin, kissed his mouth with a hunger that he didn't think he'd ever be able to satisfy, driving into him as hard and fast as he possibly could. He felt Justin's body give beneath him, heard the harsh exhalations as Brian pummeled him, giving him everything that he had, pouring himself into it; and as he shook and quivered through his orgasm, he heard Justin whisper, "I believe you."
Brian tried to call Gus again several days later, then once a week after that. But there was never any answer on the cell phone Brian had bought for him, and Lindsay said to just leave it alone for awhile, but it ate at him that his son wouldn't speak to him--that Gus wouldn't even let him try to explain. In the office, Amelia was all smiles and rainbows because she and the beautiful librarian were getting married. Brian kept his eyes focused on his work, listening as Justin feigned interest in the wedding plans. Amelia had just described the ideas they had for wedding vows, and Justin had murmured with appropriately interested noises, when she concluded with, "Now, we just need to get someone to plan the event because neither one of us has the time to do it right." Brian, flipping through contracts for some new accounts, said casually, "Well, there's always Emmett Honeycutt. I'm sure I could pull a favor out of him." Amelia squealed, blushing bright red when she realized what she'd done. "Oh, wow. I'm just--Emmett Honeycutt is the party planner for the whole East Coast. You really think that you could get him?" "Yup," Brian said, frowning and indicating a piece of paper. "What the fuck is this? Why isn't this page signed?" Amelia came around his desk and grabbed the contract from him, her excitement replaced with an all-business demeanor. "Oh, my mistake. I'll rectify it immediately, Mr. Kinney." "Do that and I'll get Emmett for you. If you can't get it fixed by midnight, then you're fired." Amelia stuck out her tongue, and Brian smiled. She was finally getting the hang of working with him. "God, that was hot," Justin said when Amelia shut the door on her way out. "Let's call her back in here, and you can fire her again, then I'll fuck you on the sofa." Brian chuckled. "Go work on something. Don't you have a fucking company to run?" Justin sat down in one of the office chairs that Amelia used for filing; it spun back and forth, giving her the ability to work between two drawers. Justin began twirling around in it, lifting his feet to get better spin. "Mark's got it under control." Brian's eyebrow went up and he leaned back in his chair. "Trust him that much, do you?" Justin stopped spinning and nodded. "Yeah, I talked to him yesterday and he's dating someone now, so--" Justin shrugged. "I guess he's over it. He sounded really happy." "Jealous?" Justin scoffed. "Please, as if there is anything to be jealous about. I'm happy for him, actually." "Go Mark," Brian intoned dryly. "Yeah," Justin agreed. "You know, though. I'm thinking of retiring as CEO and working on my art again. I'd still own part of it, and I could count on Mark as a great replacement for me. He's part owner already, and with just a few more shares of stock in his name, then he'd be majority share owner." Brian frowned. "I thought that Raging Enterprises was your baby, or some shit like that?" Justin shrugged. "It doesn't do it for me anymore. I think it was a fixation born out of sexual frustration." The idea of Justin giving up his business was unsettling, and Brian flipped through another stack of contracts before saying, "Maybe you should try a sabbatical before you give it up completely. Go to Italy. See some Old Masters, kiss the feet of the David, whatever--" "You go with me." "No can do, Sunshine. Not everyone has a Mark to run their lives for them." Brian didn't look up from his papers. "Wouldn't you miss me?" "Madly. Night and day." Brian made it sound sarcastic, but they both knew it was true. "So, come. You know that Ted would love the opportunity to try out his mojo on the New York big-wigs." "Are you insane?" "Come with me." Justin's voice grew excited. "I know! We could take Gus. For Christmas." Brian looked up in amusement. "Are you suggesting that I buy my kid's affection back with a trip to Italy for Christmas?" "Yes!" Brian grew very serious. "It's all right, don't be scared. The men in white coats will only hurt you a little." Justin sighed, stood up, and stretched, his sweater lifting up to show his stomach. "Think it over. It could work. It could be just the thing."
"I've been to Italy," Gus said. "Summer house, hello? Duh." Lindsay had pretty much forced him to take Brian's call, but Brian didn't plan to waste it. "I know, Sonny Boy, but this would be different." "Why?" "Well," Brian tried to think of something fucking amazing that would make this the best trip in the entire world for a fourteen year old. "Because it will be me, you, and Justin--as a family." God, that sounded fucking lame even to him, especially to him. "And what about Justin's boyfriend? Is he gonna come, too?" Brian sighed. "Gus, that's in the past. Justin and I really want you to come. We want to be a part of your life." Christ! He sounded like someone's fucking aunt or something. "What if I don't want to be part of yours?" Brian shook his head. He couldn't understand how the things that Gus said to him could cut him to the quick. He'd thought he had tougher skin than that. The dial tone wasn't a surprise.
Lindsay called about ten minutes after Gus had hung up the phone. "He'll spend Christmas with you, Brian. I'll see to it." It wasn't what he wanted to hear, but he supposed it was better than nothing. Justin began making lists of things they'd need on their trip, and Brian actually flew Ted up to meet with the representatives from Nike, Tiffany's, and Captain Bacon. If he handled the meetings to Brian's satisfaction, then he'd set Ted up at the Plaza hotel to handle things while they were in Italy. He called Michael from the terrace in the middle of a snowstorm to tell him that he was high as hell, and he missed him, and that Justin couldn't be Lois Lane to his Superman, because that's what best friends were for, right? Michael agreed, saying that Superman was fucking Lex Luthor, or Batman, or both--then hypothesizing huge superhero orgies with extra-strong condoms to contain the superhero spooge. When Brian was fucking frozen to the bone, he hung up the phone, went back into the penthouse and fucked Justin over the dining room table, then again in the warm shower, because he was still cold as hell. Two days before he was supposed to pick Gus up at the airport, Lindsay called frantic. Gus was missing. He'd left a note saying that he was going away for awhile and not to worry. Mel was having contractions, Lindsay was having hysterics, and Brian didn't know what to do, so he called Deb. "Don't fucking flip out, you hear me? Gus is a smart boy. He'll be all right." But Brian could hear the doubt in her voice. "Don't fucking lie to me. He's out there somewhere, and I'm going to come to find him." He packed an overnight bag while Justin paced anxiously. "What should I do? How can I help?" "Just stay here and answer phone calls. Maybe he'll call here." Brian tried to forget that Gus hadn't called him in a couple of months. He grabbed items of clothing, and stuffed them in the bag, his heart trip-hammering in his chest.
Pittsburgh was always the same. Brian stalked the familiar streets, fear building in his gut. Melanie was in the hospital, probably giving birth to the new baby right that moment. Deb, Michael and JR were all there to support her, while Lindsay and Carl tried to convince the police to waive the twenty-four hour requirement before they'd start looking for Gus. Everyone had been contacted, and no one knew where Gus had gone. The only missing link was Hunter, who had gone away for the Christmas break with his new girlfriend from law school. So, Brian decided to start at Hunter's place. Maybe Gus had a key...or maybe he'd just broken in. The address was in a not-so-great part of town, and when he looked through the windows and saw a dark head of hair watching television, he didn't know if he'd ever been so relieved, so happy, or so fucking pissed off in his entire life. He knocked on the door, calling out, "Special delivery for the run-away." A long time passed, and Brian heard a door shut on the other side of the apartment. The little shit was trying to escape. He ran around back in time to see Gus scaling down the fire escape, and Brian started up after him. When he could, he grabbed Gus' legs and forced him down next to him, holding him on the stairs. "Don't you try to run away from me, Sonny Boy. I came all the way from New York to find your ass, so don't you fucking run from me." Gus' eyes were large, dark, and afraid. He shook a little in Brian's grip, and didn't say anything. Brian grabbed his arm, and dragged him down the ladder, holding on to him too roughly as he dug his cell phone out of a pocket. "Linds, I found him. I've got him right here. No, he's okay. He's fine." Brian thrust the phone to Gus' ear, saying, "Tell your mother that you're fucking fine." Gus stammered, "I'm fine, Mom." Brian took the phone back. "Now take a goddamn chill pill. I'll bring him home when I'm through with him." Gus tried to jerk away, but Brian still had a height advantage and the strength of a grown man. He tumbled Gus to the ground, wrestling with him there, until he gained the upper hand. "I said don't run from me, Gus. I fucking mean it." Gus nodded, panting on the ground, and Brian finally let him up. They stood and stared at each other, dark hazel eyes grinding into a lighter pair. "Do you really hate me that much that you'd run away from home, scare your mothers to death, just to avoid spending a holiday with me? And for what? Because I've fucked a lot of guys in my time? Because Justin's fucked a lot of guys? I don't understand, Gus." Brian raked a hand through his hair. "Why are you so fucking angry?" Gus' mouth began to tremble and he ducked his head. "What? What is it?" Gus sank to the ground and buried his head in his knees, his shoulders shaking with tears. Brian sat down beside him, resting his hand on Gus' back and waiting. The ground was cold and it seeped into his bones, making him shiver. Finally Gus looked up, wiping tears and snot from his face with the back of a sleeve. "Um, so I fucked this guy at school--" Gus said in a whisper. Brian lowered his head and closed his eyes. "I used a condom, like you said," Gus went on, his breathing erratic. "It was in the locker rooms. After cross-country practice." "When was this?" Brian asked softly, opening his eyes and staring at the bleak Pittsburgh apartment building in front of them. "Last week." Brian nodded, the ground chilling him completely. "And?" "I'm sorry, Dad. I'm so, so, so sorry." "That you fucked a guy at school? Or that you've been avoiding me?" Gus sniffled and half-laughed. "I was so mad at you--I don't want to be gay, but I think maybe I am. And when you said that, about fucking so many people, I didn't want that to be my life, because everything has always been so fucked up for me, and I just got so fucking pissed." Brian touched Gus' hair, ran his finger down Gus' cheek, and turned his chin so that he could look him in the eye. "I love you whether you're gay or straight or undecided. I love you whether you call me a faggot, or a whore, or a slut. Anything you say to me, Gus, I can handle, and it won't change how I feel about you." Gus, all five feet, ten inches of him, nearly crawled into Brian's lap, his arms tight around Brian's neck, and his breathing came fast and heavy as he fought off more tears.
The new baby was a boy, Abraham Michael Marcus, and Gus seemed in awe of him. Brian hung back at the edge of the family, watching his son hold his new little brother. Michael was nearly out of his mind with glee, and Brian spent the afternoon warding off his ecstatic kisses and hugs. When Justin arrived on the scene, having caught the first plane available, Brian wrapped his arm around Justin's neck, and leaned down to whisper, "I need to fuck you. I need to fuck you so hard." Justin smiled, kissed his lips, and said, "God, always such a romantic. Next thing you know, you'll be telling me how you're going to rim me for hours and then fuck me until I pass out." Brian lifted his brows provocatively, but then Justin was smothered in Debbie's kisses, Lindsay's hugs, and he didn't escape Michael's embrace, either. Gus wandered up shyly, hugging Justin with a tentative expression. "Hey, kiddo. I'm really sorry for upsetting you," Justin said. "I never want to upset you." Gus ducked his head, mumbling. "S'okay. I'm a big dork, I guess." "Nah, just a drama queen like your dad. You come by it naturally, don't worry." Justin grinned up at Gus. "Although, you know, I did run away one time--" "Don't give him ideas," Brian said. "He's got plenty of his own." Gus blushed, and Brian suspected he might have a crush on Justin. Brian studied Justin's smile, and shining blue eyes as he talked to Melanie, Lindsay, and Debbie about his life, and promised to be better about staying in touch. Justin was radiant. Brian couldn't fault his son for his taste.
The party was in full-tilt when Brian and Justin arrived. Dominique greeted them at the door with kisses on both cheeks, and already seeking gossip. "So, Justin, my sources say that you're making arrangements to sell enough shares to Mark to make him majority shareholder in Raging Enterprises." Justin smirked. "Is your source Mark by any chance?" "Now, darling, you know I never reveal my sources, but yes." Justin chuckled. "Well, your source is right. Mark has a good grip on things and I'm ready to move on." Dominique turned to Brian. "And how was your trip to Italy? Was your beautiful boy the toast of the town everywhere he went?" "Which one?" Brian joked, pulling Justin close to his side. "Good answer!" Dominique exclaimed. "I meant your son, but perhaps he's still too young to--" She became distracted, her gaze landing on a new arrival. "Oh, that's Miles Monroe. I'll be back. I'm not done with you, yet." Brian ran his eyes over the party, seeing plenty of people that he might have fucked in the past. Instead, he turned to Justin and whispered, "What do you say we hit the bathroom?" Justin seemed to have trouble containing his grin. "Christ, we just got here." "There's no time like the present." Five minutes later, Brian had Justin's dress shirt shoved up, and Justin's pants down around his ankles. He buried his nose in the back of Justin's neck, breathing in his shampoo and soap scent, fucking him over Dominique's bathroom sink, while the party whirled on outside.
Epilogue: It had been in Rome, standing outside the Pantheon, when Gus had asked Brian to tell him about the first time he met Justin. Justin stood ten yards away, sketching rapidly, shaking out his hand every few minutes, and Brian knew that he'd have to insist that Justin take a break soon, or tell him he wanted to stop for coffee, using that as an excuse to make him rest his hand. "He was just a kid. And I thought he was fucking beautiful," Brian said, putting his arm around Gus' neck. "Was it like in the movies? Did you see him and boom--" Brian laughed. "No. Hardly." But then he recalled the night he'd met Justin, the moment he'd first seen him, and the sudden rush he'd felt, as though the entire world, no universe, had suddenly focused in on him and the blond boy under the street light. Gus jogged up to Justin, peering over his shoulder at his work. Brian took his time walking toward them both, thinking that if he had felt anything that night, he'd tried to bury it, and like all shallow graves, it had eventually given up its secret. Yes, he'd known. He just hadn't wanted to know. Brian smirked, hearing Gus ask Justin, "So what'd you think the first time you saw Dad?" Justin didn't look up from his sketch, saying distractedly, "I thought he was everything I wanted. Why?" "Just wondering," Gus answered. "Was he?" Justin grinned, looking up to catch Brian's eye. "Close enough." THE END
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