The half-set sun wasn’t visible in the cast shadows of downtown buildings.  But snarled traffic set the quitting-time hour.

Justin, dark pea coat, scarf snaked around his neck led Daphne outside the swank Hilton Hotel to share his last cigarette before she left.  He lit the first drag, offered the next; she accepted, inhaled deeply and spoke it out.

“Awesome show.  Yours was definitely the best stuff there,” she smiled wide, handed back the cig.

“From the GLC to the Diner to a hotel lobby.  Really moving up.  Wasn’t my best stuff, though,” he wryed a grin, passed the smoke back.

“I hardly think Brian would have appreciated nude pictures of himself in a hotel this close to Vanguard.”

“Are you kidding?  He probably would’ve set up an autograph booth.”

“You’re mad he didn’t show yet.”

 “Not mad,” Justin side-eyed Daphne’s smug look, snatched the cig.  “Okay.  A little disappointed.”  Justin took a hit, grinned slightly evil.  “He could’ve said a few things to that one Exec who was analyzing my Orange-Blue work.”

“You mean, the guy who was spouting all that crap about inner conflict?”  Daphne giggled.

“Yeah.  More like inner E and fucking on wet canvas.”

“Ewww,” Daphne smacked his arm.  “Why didn’t you tell me that!”

“And interfere with your artistic interpretation?”  Justin laughed, doused the smoke in an ash urn.  “I just wanted to see the look on Brian’s face when he saw it out there.”

“You know I love Brian to death.  And I thought it was so great you two got back together -”

“THOUGHT?”

“Well I have to admit, I was a little worried he might corrupt you.  But now…I don’t kno-ow.  Seems more like…”

“Daph,” Justin’s eyes twinkled, “If I can’t keep him off-guard once in awhile, how can I keep him interested?”

“Oh, I think I got that figured out.”

“Daphne,” Justin blushed.

“YOU’RE the one filling in the blanks,” she chuckled, nudged his shoulder, glanced at her watch.  “I hafta pick up my Mom.  Want me to drop you off on the way?”

“No…think I’ll just wait around a few more minutes.”

“Okay,” she shrugged.  “Just…you know…”

“I know,” he lifted his head, brows raised, casual smile, “And I’m okay with it.”

Daphne smiled back.  He was.  “See ya later.”

“Later.”

Justin stepped out, watched her stroll up the block.  After she turned the corner, he scanned traffic for a familiar car, exhaled a breath and was about to hike back inside when a late model Lincoln swung to the curb beside him.  The passenger door flew open and a spectacled, well-dressed thirties gent leaned a look up at him.

“I ran a little late.  Get in.”

“What for?”

“Come on.  I haven’t got all goddamned day.”

“Who the fuck ARE you?”

The man jerked back behind his wheel, shot nervous looks around.  “Either get in or forget it.”

“Forget WHAT?” Justin’s face screwed.

Gent’s eyes caught the approach of a kid in a flashy valet uniform, traipsing out for a tip.  Gent leaned over, slammed his door shut and gunned back into traffic to the blaring horn of a near-miss.

Valet scowled at the loss and turned back, almost got knocked aside by the opening door.

Justin, still stunned and standing, snapped toward the thudding footsteps and “Hey!  Wait!” from a young blond guy dashing from the hotel, arms flailing like he was bringing in a jumbo jet.  “Shit!”  he hissed at Justin, glared hands on hips.  “Who the hell are YOU?  And what’d you say to him?”

“I…uh…” Justin lost his thought a sec, eyes scanning a near mirror reflection.  Same height, coloring, hair length and style – eyes a little wider set and maybe looking twenty years older than the rest of him – but…jesus Christ.  How could he NOT have run into this guy before.

“Well?”

“Well it’s obvious he thought I was YOU.”

“Fucking lotta good that does me,” the Blond brushed a hand through his hair, as unfazed by their resemblance as Justin was amazed.  “I’ve been waiting for that call for weeks.”  Blond whipped a cell phone from his pocket and speed-dialed a number.  “Shit.  Busy,” he huffed, slapped the cell shut and re-pocketed.  “What’d he look like?”

“You don’t know?” Justin rolled a look, processor in gear.  Convention.  Hotel.  Call.  Stranger.  “Ohhhh,” he looked off, “I dunno…suit.  Thirties.  Glasses.”

“Not the one,” Blond shook his head, stared back.  “Doesn’t matter.  You STILL cost me an easy three bills,” he stepped close, noticed Justin didn’t back off.

“Look.  I’m just waiting for a friend, not crowding your turf.”  Justin spun on a heel and strode back to the hotel, leaving the hustler to rethink the accusation.

“Hey,” Blond followed, halted when Justin stopped and turned.  “I have to wait for another call.  Buy you a drink?”

Justin paused,  “Sure” until the Blond caught up.  “By the way, I’m-”

“No names,” Blond cut him off.

Justin nodded and opened the door.

Vanguard Conference Room 1.  Brian leaned back with a plaster smile; Vance stared with waning composure; the Ice-Bitch from Eyeconic Optics stood before an easeled orange ad and fingered her chin.

“I’m just…not…sure yet.”  She stepped to the next easel and perused the blue ad.

Brian side-eyed Vance, penned a mark on a notepad on his lap, discreetly tilted it for Vance’s viewing.  Vance glanced at two columns headed Orange and Blue with score pad strikes and had to fake a cough to cover his laugh.

That got her quick attention.  “Is there something funny about this?”

“No.  Not at all,” Vance cleared his throat.  “Take all the time you want.  It’s your money.  Right, Brian?”

Brian hardened a fuck-you smile.  At Vance.

Only two sat at the darkened bar off the main lobby.  Justin eyed the empty glass beside his refill, the bartender at the far end watching the news, then swiveled sideways on his stool so he could see the front door.  His hustler twin, leaning on crossed arms, noted his glimpses.

“I think you’ve been stood up.”

Justin twisted forward and sipped his drink.  “He gets tied up at work sometimes.”

“Oh.  He.  Thought so,” the Blond smiled.

“So what’d you mean by he’s not-the-one?” Justin changed the drift.  “You looking for someone special?”

“I don’t look,” Blond leaned back, eyes intense.  “They look for ME.”

“Oh THAT’S a sure-fire way to get what you want,” Justin snorted.

A cell phone rang, spurring each to his pocket like gunfighters to holsters.

“Mine,” Justin confirmed and answered.

The Blond glanced at the dead phone in his hand, watched Justin’s face glow past “Hi”, his smile widen through “Okay.  No.  Uh-huh” and a soft, sensual “Later” before he closed the cell and slid it away.  “Him?” the Blond asked.

Justin nodded “Yeah.  He’s on his way” to nowhere special before reading the Blond’s gaze – a mix of an image in his mind, and maybe a little envy.  “He never planned on more than just a night.  Lucky for both of us – I DID.”

The Blond set his cell beside his drink, thought a moment.  “I didn’t plan on more than just a night.  But there was something about him.  This connection.  Like we were more than just…touching…fucking…” he trailed off, a finger running the edge of his glass.  “He didn’t kiss.  Not sure why.”

“Yeah?  Well…some guys are slow to start.  Believe me.  I know.”  Justin winced.  Way to go, Taylor.  You’re talking to a hustler.

The Blond twitched a frown.  “I know where he lives.”

“So go for it.”

The Blond cocked his head at Justin’s sincere stare, eyes easing like a decision was easing his mind.  Then his cell rang.  He snatched it up and answered.  “Yeah.  Okay.  Where?  Cool.  No.  That fell through.  Wasn’t me.” He flicked an eye at Justin who got the gist and cast eyes to his drink.

Justin side-glanced Blond’s swivel askance, heard a quieter “Did he call?” pause “You know.  No.  Just wondering if he asked for me again,” and a listless, “Cool.”

The Blond slid from his seat, pocketed his cell, dug a twenty from the same pocket and dropped it on the bar.  Then he resumed a cold-eyed, heartless face.   “Got a job.  Gotta go.”

“Thanks for the drink.”

Justin watched his twin acknowledge with a curt nod then turn and whisk past the lobby display to the opposite corridor.  Justin had never watched himself leave before – walking away with no thoughts of coming back.  And he felt an old jab, like for a second, he was seeing through Brian’s eyes.

The pang only made the relief from it more exhilarating when Justin’s gaze caught Brian standing at the reception desk.  His tie hung loose, jacket open, hair wind-blown out of place, expression sour like he’d bite the first person to say hi.  God, he never looked more beautiful.

Brian panned patrons in the lobby.  Then he saw Justin.  Sauntering slowly with that smile.  And all the strains of the day faded.  The space, the people around him became a blur of hazy forms - nothing else more clear or defined than Justin.

They moved toward each other with casual motions that masked the strain beneath.  This wasn’t Woody’s or Babylon.  And this wouldn’t be easy.  Stopping so close together and keeping so far apart.  They had to kiss with their eyes.  With low tones in their voices.

“Hey,” Justin started.  “Ready for the show?”

Brian looked into Justin’s eyes, had to swallow the excess of arousal.  “You’re the tour guide.”

“You’ve seen most of it already…so I’ll keep it…a decent length,” Justin blinked slow.

“Length is not a problem,” Brian blinked back, rebuttoned his suit jacket over his expanding cock and smiled a wicked one as Justin pulled his bulky sweater lower.

They turned side-by-side, moving to the first work.  Staring and nodding like seasoned critics, except for darting glances and brief, private smiles.  Justin narrow-eyed a grin, rolled his lips in and guided Brian to the third work.  The Orange-Blue work.

He never knew Brian’s humor response to go beyond a snicker or droll comment.  Not at a funny movie.  Not when Ted and Emmett did anything atrocious.  But this time, a deep laugh lit the lobby enough to draw attention.  Justin couldn’t help but join in.  Success.  He inspired Brian to really laugh.

“So there it is,” Brian calmed, unconsciously swung an arm around Justin’s shoulders and squeezed.

They were interrupted by a well-dressed matron attracted to their interest.

“That’s exactly the same way I felt about it,” she gleamed.  “So joyful…exciting-”

Brian and Justin traded looks, shot one at her while struggling for straight faces.

“-so much fun.”

“Not to mention the clean-up,” Brian dead-panned and Justin momentarily lost it.

She smiled terse confusion before turning a quizzical eye back to the piece.  “I can see it’s acrylic.  But…I’m not sure about the method.  It doesn’t look like brush.”

Brian bit his tongue; Justin raised a hand to his face.

“What do YOU think it is?” she turned back.  But they were gone.

At the reception desk, Justin reclaimed his supply bag from the clerk who’d safe-kept it during the show, then took a couple steps to the main door before Brian’s voice stopped him.

“Not that way.”

Justin quizzed a look; Brian cocked his head toward the corridor and they met at the open elevator.

Justin followed Brian inside, “What-” cut his question when Brian shook his head and tipped a glance at the overhead camera.  So they stood silently watching numbers light to the 19^th Floor.  The doors opened.  Brian strolled out with Justin trailing until Brian stopped and slid a card key into one lock, opened the door and motioned Justin inside.

Justin entered, dropped his pack at his feet and stood awed by an elegant suite big enough for a party – lit by fading daylight through a wall of windows that overlooked the rivers, bridges and stadiums.  “Brian,” he smiled to the room until he was spun around and crushed into an embrace that had been restrained too long.

Their kiss was a collision.  Turbulent with tongues gripping and tasting as lips pressed, twisted and angled for maximum coverage.  Hands groped, twined, traveled, pulled at clothing to blaze trails for skin-to-skin contact.  Tie, shirt, sweater flew aside to the rhythm of breaths heating louder and faster.

“I want to fuck you,” Brian hissed into Justin’s open mouth, reached for his zipper fly and roughly yanked.  Then abruptly backed off.

“What?” Justin retreated, followed Brian’s furrowed gaze to his hand.  Pinched in Brian’s  fingers, the zipper pull.  “How’d you do THAT?”

“It just came off,” Brian shrugged, tossed it aside.  “We’ll wing it.”

Justin’s hands were already pushing on the zipper base over his straining cock.  “I can’t get it down.”

“One of your finer qualities,” Brian kissed his temple.

“No, I’m serious.  It’s stuck.”

Brian looked down, jet a hot breath.  “Let an expert at it.”

Justin rolled his eyes and swung his arms aside, head down. 

Brian pressed on the zipper.  Nothing.  Harder.  Nothing.  “You probably caught your shorts,” he clamped one hand on the waistband, “One of the hazards of underwear” jammed the other hand inside.

“Ahh!”  Justin flinched.  “Easy, Brian.  I’m still IN here.”

“Clear,” Brian withdrew perplexed, perched a hand on a hip, scratched the back of his neck.  “Lube.”  He flicked on the light, tracked down his discarded suit jacket, fished the tube and quickly applied it to the culprit.  “This’ll do it.”

Not.  Wouldn’t budge.  Brian backed off with his think-scratch again

Justin slapped his hands on his thighs.  “Great.  Now it’s stuck and we can’t get a grip on it.”

“Can’t you just…wiggle out of them?”

“I’m an artist, not Houdini,” Justin gruffed and turned profile to accentuate his hard cock and full ass.  “And these are new denim.  Even Rage can’t tear through it.”

“Cut it,” Brian thought out loud, rubbed his chin.

Justin’s eyes sparked.  “I have a matte knife.”  He dashed to his bag and scrounged.

Outside their door, a maid with an armload of towels and valet with somebody’s suitcase were passing.  Hearing Justin’s “I’m not letting you near my dick with a razor.  I’ll do it myself” made them stop and stare at each other.

“There’s something really weird going on in there,” Maid whispered.  “Should we call the manager?”

Hearing Brian’s stern “Just get on the bed.  I’ll take it slow” didn’t help matters.  The two employees exchanged another glance before Valet whispered.  “Let’s just wait till the police call us.  Then we know nothing.  Got it?”

She nodded and both quickly moved on.

Legs spread and dangling over the edge of the bed, Justin rested his head on crossed arms and watched Brian, kneeling between his knees, carefully cutting along the zipper seam.

“You’ve never done this before,” Justin breathed through a smile.  “Cut my clothes off .”

Brian cocked a brow, a smirk, refocused on cutting.  “Yes, we’ve reached a new low in foreplay…although you have to admit…it’s fucking hot.”

In a series of quick moves, Brian tossed the knife at Justin’s bag, stood and pulled Justin’s knees together, ran his hands under the waistband and stripped his briefs and pants free.  Then he unzipped and discarded his own pants, bulging cock swaying and desperate.

“Oh god.  This feels so good,” Justin ran a hand over his forehead, groaned as Brian spread his legs again, knelt and mouthed his balls.  Blew and teased.  Tongued his cock to meltdown.  Then worked its tip and devoured it in rhythmic increments – taking it deeper…deeper each time.  Until his lips pressed hard to the base and Justin could feel Brian’s hot throat tighten and relax.  Pull up but not off, firm hand riding behind it.  Making him feel a mile long.  Then down again.

Brian inhaled Justin’s wild scent.  Upped his pace with new urgency.  Knew every vein, twitch…even the tempo of Justin’s hands in his hair, the tones in his voice.  How far he could take him.  Let him ride.  Justin’s knees pulled high, feet on the edge of the bed.  Wide open now.  Ready now.

Brian’s hand took over, riding precum and saliva.  He stripped a condom packet with his teeth, deftly sheathed his leaking hardon…squeezed lube up its length and spread it.  Heated it.  Took Justin back in his mouth and pressed a lubed finger to his hole.  Heard him moan.  Deep throated and upped the pace…two fingers shallow in…then deeper.  Deeper.  Thrusting to each swallow.  Hitting the trigger spot.  Feeling Justin’s rush swelling up.  Give it.  Give it.  GIVE it. GIVE IT!

Justin arched high, head back, loud wide-mouth moan – load pulsing, hands clawed in Brian’s hair.  Fire.  Heat and that sparkle of stars on black that skirt the edge between euphoria and collapse.  Coming down.  Floating.  Rising…like he was being stood on his head.  Then a far-off pressure in his ass and a new wave of pleasure pushed and expanded inside him.  Hardly down, his body sizzled again, reacting to the invasion as if on autopilot. 

Justin wet his dry lips, cracked his eyes open, rode his hands up the arms braced beside him, pulled Brian’s face, and his own legs hooked over Brian’s shoulders, tight to his chest for a kiss that couldn’t wait.

Brian tasted their sweat and flavor on his tongue…his lips.  Then drew back without losing his easy stroke, eyes wide open as both streamed conversation with just a look.  Brian could feel Justin clench and relax in a sensual pattern like no other.  I took you, now take us both.  I’ve waited for this all day.  All my life.  I know your body better than my own.  And I’ll never let you go again.

Justin let his eyes wander the spacious bathroom.  There were no candles, exotic scents, flowers, or any of the other items Brian termed as Lezzie Shit.  But there were two lovers in each other’s arms, resting under clear water in a garden tub.  He couldn’t use romantic, but no other words would fit.

“Brian?” Justin nuzzled his nose against Brian’s cheek.  “You awake?”

“Um-hm,” he answered with closed eyes.

“You feel okay?”

“I don’t know,” Brian rippled water and pulled Justin’s hand to his submerged cock.  “What do YOU think?”

“Perv,” Justin flicked water on his face.

“Brat,” Brian flicked back then pulled him into a brief, light kiss.

Justin palmed off drips, settled his head against Brian’s neck, cheek to his chest so he could listen to his heart.  “Why did you pick me up that first night?”

“I liked your look,” Brian kissed his hair, stroked his shoulder with lazy motions that barely rippled the water.

“Sometimes I wonder…what if I’d stopped by too early…or you came out too late…”

“No more thinking. You’re sounding too brunette.”

“You could’ve picked up anybody who LOOKED like me.”

“Is this going somewhere?” Brian’s warm exhale parted Justin’s hair.

“I met this guy…” Justin didn’t see Brian’s eyes widen under a cloud, but felt his body tense.  “Not like that.  I mean…we looked so much alike…it was scary.  Like we were twins.”

The cloud darkened from Brian’s past recollection of Justin’s absence.  “I knew a few guys who look almost exactly like you,” Brian’s hand lifted Justin’s chin so they could read each other’s eyes.  “But there’s only one you.  And THAT’S who I saw the first time.”  He bussed Justin’s nose.  “You’ve got to be hungry by now.  I WAS planning on room service, but it’s getting late.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Brian looked off, shrugged a don’t-push-it vibe.  “Thought you’d like something different for a change.”

“But you already gave it to me.”  Justin eyed Brian’s knit brows and quietly answered the wordless question.  “I love your laugh.”

Brian looked off again, shook his head, then looked back with a cocked brow that didn’t discourage Justin’s steady gaze.  Still a mystery – why the smallest things mattered most to him.  How could he answer that.  “Liberty Diner okay?”

Justin stretched up and kissed him, sloshing tepid water.

“Settled,” Brian smiled.  “As soon as I figure out…can’t believe I’m saying this…how to keep your pants on.”

“Duct tape,” Justin split a wide smile.  “I carry it with my matte knife.”

Job finished, The Blond buttoned his black coat as he left the hotel room and closed the door.  He stalled to work some bills from his pants pocket, pulled a wad from his coat and leaned against the door to re-count his night.

Startled by another opening door down the hall, he quickly pocketed his stash and flattened in the doorframe.  He saw his twin step out.  Then the tall man.  The One without a name who had haunted many of his nights.

He watched them step close.  Embrace.  And kiss.  Not that thanks-for-the-ride kiss.  One that unified their bodies and blocked the world out of their private universe so well, they never noticed him.

He sagged against the door, gut sinking gray and hollow under the weight of regret.  But he kept watching as they shared low words that made them smile before they turned away.

Through a growing haze, he saw himself leave, arm tight around the Man’s waist – almost felt the hand caressing his neck, mussing his hair.  But it WASN’T him.  And he knew why.  Because he wouldn’t risk rejection.

So someone else took the risk, went for it…

And won.

Song: “Bittersweet Symphony” by The Verve