Morning after.  With grating fanfare.

Justin groaned, “You wanna shut that off already?” and rolled to face an empty mound of covers.  He crawled over, killed the alarm, noticed the paper cup with the spent condom.  Not a very good night.  Cue a better morning.  Justin crushed and trashed the cup, left the bed and stood naked in the doorway, cased the scene until he saw Brian standing shirtless at his computer.  Justin flashed an inviting smile then flinched when Brian whacked the top of the monitor.  “Does that improve the speed?”

“The interface must be fucked up.  I can’t get the office database.” Brian watched Justin snatch and flow on a robe.  “And I don’t want any more water spots on my robe.”

“I’ll take a rain check on a fuck until you’ve had your coffee.”

Brian heaved a breath, raked a hand through his hair, watched light ripple on the silk over Justin’s form as he headed for the bathroom.  Fuck.  Don’t need this.  Not after last night.

Standing at the toilet, robe hanging open, Justin yawned and blinked to clear a cloudy eye while his stream died to a trickle.  So much for a better morning.  He dabbed off.  Flushed.  Felt a sizzle of scrutiny.  Then heard Brian’s soft whisper over his shoulder.

“I already had coffee.  Up against the wall and spread ‘em.”

“In your robe?” Justin brightened, braced both hands on the wall, took a wide stance and angled his back for peak access.  Felt the robe rise and drape across the valley of his waist for sensuous reveal.  “It won’t stay there.”

“That’s where the tape comes in.”

“Tape?”  Justin twisted back, saw Brian remove one of four foot-long tape strips dangling from his braced left arm.

“Post op leftovers.  If it’ll hold a gauze pad on…” Brian laid a strip up the center of Justin’s back and across the silk folds, patted it down on skin and fabric.  “That should do it.”

Justin did a test shimmy.  Cool silk teased his thighs, lightly tugged the tape and sent a pleasant sensation up his spine.  “What about the other pieces?”

Brian leaned close to Justin’s ear. “That’s my left hand.  I want your ass spread, and YOUR hands are occupied.”  If I had both hands, I’d just fucking DO it and not spell it out.  Brian backed off, attached a tape end to his left fingertip to steady it while his right hand pressed the loose end low into Justin’s crack below his left cheek.  “My sister Claire once tried to dazzle Satan for a date…” he pulled the tape for lift then secured it up Justin’s hip, “…so she gave herself a boob-lift.”

“She TOLD you that?” Justin chuckled.  He felt Brian add another piece, more lift and pull, a draft of nasty exposure and erotic restraint that tingled up his dick.

“In a moment of panic.  I caught her stealing my lube to get it off, told her to use her fucking cold cream and leave duct tape to higher life forms.”  Brian finished the last strip, did his one-hand condom routine and pocketed the small lube bottle before pushing his sweatpants down to his thighs.  “I’ll let YOU pull the tape back off.  I already know what it does to hair.” He leaned across Justin’s back for a kiss.

Justin twisted to meet the kiss, exhaled into Brian’s mouth when he felt a hot hand complete a spread that fully exposed and stretched his hole taut, drawing all focus to the entry.  When Brian moved back, Justin braced for cock only to suck a breath at the unexpected touch of a tongue, its lazy focused circles, darting center hits.  He hadn’t been rimmed in awhile.  And a morning rim was a new treat.

Brian kept it brief.  Just enough to get Justin hot, wet and wanting.  Rising quickly, he leaned over Justin’s back, positioned, probed and eased in with a low moan through a smile.  Holding the spread.  Going deep.  Savoring the thrill.  The grip of Justin’s response.  Throaty grunts, swaying silk to matching moves.  Over a toilet, wrapped in elastic, trussed in tape –  Fuck how it looks.

At Mel and Linz’s, open doors and windows, lingering strains and worries.

Mel set a plate of fresh apple slices beside Gus, on a blanket in front of the TV and laughing with the Muppets.  She watched Linz drag a trash bag toward the front door.  “Would you stop?  Justin said he’d help if we needed it.”

“We can’t impose on him. You saw how tired he was last night.”

“From worrying about Brian, not mopping floors.”

Linz flared a look, nodded toward Gus and kept her voice low.  “Don’t start on Brian.  It’s getting old and I don’t want to hear it anymore.”  She snapped up the trash bag, opened the screen door and went out.

Mel bit her lip deciding whether to apologize or drop it.  The phone rang, and Gus sprang to action with his one speed – fast.

“I can get it!”

Mel beat him to the receiver.  “I got it.  You don’t want to miss your program, do you?” She watched him run back to the TV then answered the caller. “Hello?  Hi.  Really?  Ben did that?” she brightened,  “That is great.  Yeah, we really could use the help.  See you soon.  Bye.”

Stepping back inside, Linz heard the tail end of the conversation and hurried over with an icy, “Was that Justin?”

Mel reignited.  “No, it was Michael.  Ben organized some students to help clean.  I told them yes, we would like their help, so Michael’s on his way over to meet up here.”

Damning her misunderstanding, Linz recanted with a faint, “I’m…sorry.  I thought -” 

“Don’t explain,” Mel cut, rubbed an arm from a sudden chill and moved to shut the inside door. “There’s no reason why you have to wait until we sell the house.  If you find a place you like, take it.”

Linz snapped off her rubber gloves and stopped Mel with a firm, “How are you going to take care of Jenny, pay for all the repairs and go back to work?”

“I don’t need a shiksa martyr, if that’s what you mean.”

Linz flung her gloves on the floor, started to shout but pulled back when she heard Gus’s laugh.  “That is so low.”

“And telling me I’m incapable ISN’T?”

“I was only trying to be realistic.”

“The reality is, we’re not getting along, we shouldn’t HAVE to get along, and dragging this out any longer won’t make it any better.  I’ll get a loan to fix the house, and we’ll do what we agreed.  It’s time, Linz.  We’re over, and it’s time we split up.”

Mel grabbed the inside door to shut it, startled and gasped loudly at the unexpected face on the other side of the screen.  “Michael.”

Cell phone still in hand, he stared in shock.  “You’re…splitting up?”  Their exchange of pained looks confirmed the worst.

At the Loft…

Justin, in jeans and a tee, shagged a hand through freshly showered hair then sat on the bed platform to pull on socks.  “Wanna go over to Kinnetik?  Maybe somebody knocked a connection loose or something.”

Brian ruffled his own damp hair, closed his brace over his bare chest.  “Electronics wizards, we’re not.  I’ll just do the research there later.”  He zipped up his jeans, fingered the top button.  It had been much easier leaving it open by choice.

Justin yanked on tied gym shoes, “I’ll call Deb, Mel and Linz. See if they still need some help,” stood up and skipped down the steps.

Brian trailed barefoot to the kitchen, lifted the cockroach postcard off the counter and perused it, noticed Justin select a large mug for coffee and pour it full. “Didn’t you once tell me I drink too much coffee?”

“That’s before you became such a bad influence on me.” Justin stole a kiss, sipped the brew then set it down and went to the fridge.  “I thought since the Diner’s closed, we could do dinner here.”  He checked for Brian’s response, saw him staring at the card.  “Nothing over four legs, though.  Any ideas yet?”  Justin pulled frozen steaks from the freezer, glanced at Brian’s arm, shoved the steaks back in and chose hamburger.

“They want me to find a market,” Brian thought out loud.  “Their product isn’t cheap.  And they want it shown up front and honest.”  He shook his head, tossed the card on the counter, stared off.  “That doesn’t leave much room.”

“Then why did you take it?”

“The money, of course.”

“Of course.”

“And…it was something avant-garde.  Unique.  Vangard would have backed off in a blink.  Kinnetik can’t think like that.”

Justin set out the meat, grabbed his mug, “Tell that to Michael,” sipped and stared darkly past the rim.

Was that literal?  Or figurative?  “You’re partners.  You’ll work it out.”  Brian poured himself another cup, doused it with sugar and walked it to his desk.

“Yeah.  I’m sure we will.”  We have to.

Justin watched Brian attach his phone headset, dial a number.  Following the lead, Justin pulled his own cell, touched a button, strolled around the counter and slid onto a stool.  “Hi.  Deb?” He heard loud finger-snaps, “Deb, wait a minute,” cupped a hand on the receiver and leaned out to face Brian.  “What?”

Brian pointed to the bedroom.  “Can you take the hen party outside for a few minutes?”

Justin exhaled loudly, hopped off the stool and took his time talking his way to the bedroom.  “Sorry, Deb.  No, nothing’s wrong.  It’s just Brian on the rag.”  Big grin at Brian.  Go ahead and glare.  You KNOW it’s true.

Brian snapped attention to the phone.  “Theodore.  It TOOK you long enough.”

And the phone line grapevine continued with…

Ted, stretched on his couch, heating pad on one arm – “I can’t, Bri.  No I seriously…No, I’m NOT kidding.  I’m supposed to be at Sophie’s at…not a drag queen.  Another friend of my Mom’s.  You expect me to believe that you’d let me throw you to wolves?  Oh.  ME being thrown to wolves.”

Debbie at the Diner and dressed in a sweatband, Sweetest Gramma tee shirt – “No, Honey, I think we have enough help to…wait a minute.  I SAID DUMP THE FUCKING WATER OUTSIDE!  Now where was I?  Shit.  Got a call waiting, and it better be the owner.  He’s supposed to BE here to meet the health inspector.”

Cynthia groggy in bed - “Brian, I know what time it is.  No.  Because I’m busy.  Really.  Very.  Busy.”  A man’s hand took the phone from her hand and hung it up.

Linz wiping an eye and numbly walking along a sidewalk piled with rubble  – “Yes.  You can help me.  Is your Mother still in real estate?”

Conversations done, Justin closed his phone away, drifted from the bedroom down the stairs and over to the desk.

Brian slouched back in his chair and lightly touched his shoulder to check the soreness level.  “Are you frowning because everyone needs you?  Or because they don’t?”

“Deb’s okay.  Linz isn’t.  She wanted my Mom’s number so she could find an apartment.”

“We expected it to happen.”

“Yeah, but I really hoped it wouldn’t.  So how was YOUR blitz?”

“I guess I’m an army of one.”

“Two.” Justin paced around the desk and sat on the edge in front of Brian.  “What time should I meet you?”

Brian stood up, shook his head no and towered close.  “Save your energy for the Rage debate.  Mikey may seem like a pushover, but he has rare moments of resolve, usually played out in dramatic Italian fashion.”

“I know.  I work with him.”

“I know HIM.”  And that’s all I’m giving you.

Justin nodded, pushed to a stand and stretched up for a kiss.  Brian dove in, slid his arm down Justin’s back, cupped his ass and squeezed.  Charged, Justin swung his arms around Brian’s neck, felt him gasp and duck, quickly whipped his arms down.  “Shit.  I’m sorry.”

“I’m okay,” Brian grit, saw Justin bite a lip.  “I said I’m fucking okay.”  Recovered more couth, softly repeated, “I’m okay,” and chased it with a gentler kiss.

Justin touched Brian’s good arm.  “Think I’ll head over to Daphne’s for awhile.  Need anything while I’m out?”

“A decent computer tech…preferably hot.”

“If I find one, I get him first.”

“Good.  I like them to…come…highly recommended.”

“What about worn out?”

“If I have to take you that way.”

“Fucker,” Justin stuck his tongue through a grin.  “I’m going.”

Brian watched Justin swagger to the foyer, smile over a shoulder then disappear.  Listened to the door open, close.  He dropped his head in calmer thought, leaned on the desk and relished how well Justin could play banter games that often stymied friction.  Imagined those games always being there.  Tried not to think of them gone.

Outside the Diner, Debbie clenched a rag and rubber gloves in one hand, held the door open with the other and tried to kick a doorstop wedge.  Big rubber overboots didn’t help.

Justin rounded the corner.  “Let me get that.”  He stooped and shoved it under by hand, saw her feet.  “Are those Michael’s?”

“Carl’s.  It was all I could get on short notice.  And what are you doing here, Baby?” she smiled.  “I told you we had enough help.  Shit.  The place is practically spotless already, except for a few dirty tables, and that had nothing to do with the flood.” She diverted to a Young Man heading for the doorway.  “Hi, Honey.  Are you here to help?”

“No.  I’m here for lunch.”

“You can do that Monday when we’re open.  But as long as you’re here…” she shoved the rag and gloves into his hands.

“But -”

“Don’t worry.  Just look for Kiki.  She’ll show you what to do,” Debbie gripped his arm and pushed him inside, turned to Justin.  “See?  It’s been fucking unbelievable how great the community’s been pulling together,” then saw Michael with two shopping bags hike from across the street.  “Michael!  Did you find more gloves?”

“Hey, Michael,” Justin greeted, noted his somber face.

“Justin,” then to Debbie, “Gloves AND rags.”  He handed them over.

“What’s wrong?” Debbie asked.

“Nothing with the house.  It’s just about all scrubbed down.”  He turned to Justin.  “Is Brian still home?”

“Yeah, but I think he’s going over to Kinnetik to -”

“Thanks,” Michael chopped.  “I’ll see you later, Ma.”

“Wait a minute.”

“I have to go.  Justin?  Don’t forget about tonight,” Michael called over a shoulder while thudding away, hands in his pockets.

“I won’t.”

“What the fuck was THAT,” Debbie griped as she watched Michael cross the street.

“Tired, maybe?”

“I’d go after him if I didn’t have to wait for the fucking health inspector.”  She turned in time to catch a Lady heading into the Diner.  “Hi, Honey.  Are you here to help?”

“No.  I’m the Fucking Health Inspector.”

Debbie’s grin froze; Justin winced a “See ya later,” and briskly moved on.

Daphne’s place, Justin’s room. 

Daphne stood in the doorway, bright Spring tee and hip jeans contrasting her somber eyes as she panned the emptiness.  Stripped bed, bare dresser top, empty clothes rack.  It wasn’t like he was there most of the time anyway.  But the idea of his moving to a new life hinted another kind of distance.  She forced a cheery smile and bounced into the living room.

Justin zipped the last inches of a full duffle on the futon.  “I guess that’s about everything.”

“Can you look a little more excited than that?  He actually asked you to move in!  You’ve only talked about it like a million times, and now it’s really happening.”

Justin spun and dropped hard onto the futon, rubbed the back of his neck.  “I don’t know, Daph.  The timing’s all fucked.  Brett might call about that job any day now and -”

“Brian knows that, and he still wants you,” she crouched into his downcast view, “So what’s the REAL reason why you’ve been putting it off for over two weeks now?”

Justin slid to the floor, circled arms around his knees as Daphne sat cross-legged in front of him.  “It’s just…between the cancer thing, and now his shoulder…it’s been…” Justin’s face crunched, searching for some right words.

“Um-hm,” Daphne saved.  “Mr. Ultimate Top is feeling a little…”

“Roughfucked,” Justin spit out.  “That’s about the best way I can put it.  And it’s not just him.  When we’re around each other it’s like he thinks he has to do more than he should, then I start trying to watch out for him…which, by the way, tends to piss him off…and I don’t know if he really thought that all out when he asked me to move in.  Or if I did either,” Justin faded, dropped his chin against his knees.

“Oh.”  Daphne hunched low in thought.  “Have you two, like, talked about it?”

“Some,” he muffled against his knees then sat straight.  “That’s why I’m going ahead with it.  If we’re gonna be together, something like this is gonna happen SOMETIME, and if we can’t deal with it now, how are we EVER gonna deal with it.”

Daphne smiled.  Looked, sounded more like Justin.  Until he died down again, face to his knees.

“It’s not easy, though.”  He leaned his head back, stretched one leg long, “God I miss throwing my arms around him. I really have to concentrate to keep from doing it,” relaxed an arm, expression dreamy, “And having him grab me and roll us all over each other…”

Daphne grinned wide, watching Justin’s body open loose, eyes and smile gleam like they did whenever he talked about sex with Brian.  God.  You two are so right.

“…all the stuff we like to do and can’t…” Justin darkened,  “I can tell it’s frustrating the shit out of him, too.”

Daphne perked, “I have an idea.”  She jumped up, grabbed Justin’s hand and pulled.  “C’mon.”

Justin blew a breath and let her tow him to the kitchen.  “The Ice Cream Binge solution?”

“Two of my famous Cranberry Spritzers?” she made a haughty face, dropped his hand, “You can get the glasses.  Aaaaaand…”

Justin dug a couple wine glasses from an upper cabinet, winced when he saw her rustle through the garbage can.  “And last night’s lasagna?”

“This,” she sparkled, held out a magazine.

Justin accepted.  Sexy hunk on the cover.  WildFlower.  For Women of Adventure. Feature: Gear for Hot Bedroom Action.  “Daphne,” he blushed,  “You READ this stuff?”

“Girls like to have fun, too,” she defended while mixing cranberry juice and ginger ale. “I just skim it once in awhile,” then glanced back, “Page thirty-four,” and sliced a lime.

He paged, muttered, “This isn’t the kind of thing that really appeals to – whoa.”

Daphne looked back to see Justin staring wide-eyed at her.  “Think he’ll like it?”

Silence.  Then, “You are really weird.”

“Oh, come on, Sister Christian.  Surely you’ve seen one,” she perched a hand on a hip, grinned, “And I know you haven’t done it or you’d’ve told me by now.”

“I don’t know,” Justin tilted his head at the mag, scratched an ear, sheepish smile.  “Straight girls really DO this?”

Daphne clipped a lime slice on each glass, picked up both. “My dear,” she handed one to Justin, “Nothing you’ve told me beats what I’ve heard at the women’s gym.  In fact, the lady who sells these works there.  I can get it for you half price.”

“Well in THAT case…”

“To your homecoming celebration,” Daphne smiled and clinked her glass to his.  Nothing like helping out a friend.

Justin sipped his drink and smiled over his discomfort.  You’re right.  I’ve seen one before.  But I never told anyone.

Song: “Deep” by Nine Inch Nails

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