As Brian parked the Lexus in front of the Loft, Justin recognized the Corvette ahead of them.

“You have TWO cars now?”

“You didn’t expect me to leave you stranded in the Boonies.  This rental is yours while you’re here.  It’s big enough to haul paint, hardware, lumber…all those nasty items I don’t want in the Vette.”  Brian tossed the keys to Justin and swung outside.

Justin caught the keys and slid out. “Mine. You mean I didn’t hafta cum in my shirt?”  He reached in for his bag but Brian stopped him.

“Leave it there.  You’re following me down.”  He headed for the front door, unlocked it and glanced at Justin beside him.  “I just need a few things…check my messages.”  He discreetly glanced up and down the block, saw nothing suspicious and went inside.

Justin followed Brian through the hall and up the stairs, touched the wood and walls.  Still comfortably the same.

Brian unlocked and shoved the Loft door open, headed for his answering machine.  Only one message.  “If you want a drink, you know the way.”

Yeah.  I know everything about this place, Justin smiled as he shut the door, unbuttoned his shirt.  “I could use a shower, though.  Got a tee shirt I can borrow?”

“On the bed,” Brian pointed, hit the playback and took pleasure in watching Justin’s back as he shed his shirt on his way up the steps.  An ordinary thing hardly noticed in the past, now a major turn-on. 

Which was interrupted by Debbie’s crass message: “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me Sunshine’s coming in!  And I better hear from you the minute he does.”  CLICK.

In the bedroom, Justin chuckled and shouted, “I think we’re in trouble.”  He picked a white tee from the few items on the bed beside a half-packed bag.  Made him smile to know that Brian had planned to stay at the house.

When Brian entered the bedroom, Justin was already gone.  The shower started.  Brian finished packing and listened to the changing pitch of the water, reminders of the first shower Justin had taken there.

Debbie was frump-cozy on the couch with Cheese Puffs, tissues and Casablanca when her phone rang.  “Hello?” she sniffled then lit with a raucous, “Sunshine!” and a quick look to the kitchen, “Carl, Honey?  My Baby’s home!”

“Michael’s back already?” Horvath trooped in.

“My OTHER Baby,” Debbie shined, then quiz-faced back to the phone, “Are you at the Airport?  What the fuck is all that noise?”

In the Loft shower out of the spray, Justin cupped his hand around the cell to block the hiss.  “I’m at the Loft in the shower.  We’re -”

“Never mind.  I can guess,” Debbie flattened, “Can you put the Black Sheep on?”

Justin chuckled, craned at Brian soaping his back, “She wants to talk to you.”

Brian hung his head over Justin’s shoulder, let Justin hold the phone to his ear because his own soapy hands found a new job lathering Justin’s cock.  “Hi, Mom.”

“Don’t Hi Mom me,” Debbie grinned.  “When you two are ready, I got leftover ziti I can get ready in a flash.  It’s hardly a party but -”

“Deb,” Brian cut,  “Thanks, but hold that thought for later?  We’re eating in tonight.”

With one hand behind him and working Brian’s cock, Justin snapped the phone to his own ear.  “I’ve got two weeks before I hafta go back so we’ll definitely get together this week.  I’ll call, okay?”

Debbie’s smile fell slightly.  “Make sure you do.  You don’t know how much I’ve missed you,” then toughened, “Now go have fun rinsing off.  I’ll see you this week.  I love you.  Bye.”

Horvath watched her hang up, bite a fingernail.  He sat beside her and rested his arm around her shoulders. “Honey?  What’s wrong?”

“It’s just that I thought…well, Emmett didn’t say it was just for two weeks.”  She watched Bogie and Bergman in a mist of separation.  “I fucking hate this ending.”

In steamy connection in the shower, Justin was plastered back against the warm tile, head up, eyes closed and mouth open.  Panting.

On his knees, hands gripping Justin’s thighs, Brian savored Justin’s dick with lusty vigor.  Felt it swell and pulse and took him deep until his lips pressed hard into Justin’s dark blond nest.  He heard Justin’s short cry.  A hand twisted his hair.  Another clamped his shoulder.  Felt Justin’s legs tremble as cream spurts hit his throat.  Brian swallowed the load, released the spent cock and finished off with several tonguing kisses.  Then he stood up and hugged his delirious mate, turned them both into the spray and hand-washed off the spit.  “I think you’re clean enough now.”

“Not quite.  You missed a spot,” Justin grinned, reached over to the ledge where his cell phone sat with a couple condoms.

Brian gripped Justin’s wrist.  “I’m saving that for a nightcap.  Go get dressed.  I need a quick shave.  I’ll be out in a couple minutes.”

They stepped from the shower, each grabbed towels, dried off and hung them with unconscious synchronized motion.  As Justin strolled out, Brian reflexively reached to straighten Justin’s towel.  Halted.  It was neatly flat.  An unexpected change that made him smile first with approval then with bittersweet reality that Justin had other influences of which he was no longer part.  Brian raised a brow to his mirror self as he checked his five-o-clock.  So Justin got neater.  Fuck.  He could’ve gone the OTHER way.

Justin stood at the bed ready to don Brian’s tee shirt.  Stopped a moment to look around at the familiar place, unchanged since he last saw it.  Chips of memories.  Dark and bright as the art piece over the bed.  The first place we made love…yeah, Brian, jerk that you are sometimes…it was fucking love, and you know it.

Brian hurried from the bathroom with, “It’s about a half-hour drive,” and froze when he saw Justin naked on his side in bed.  “What’re you doing?”

“It’s too late for a drive.  I’d rather just stay here tonight.”

Brian watched Justin’s sultry blink, felt a dick-twitch and climbed in beside him.  Stretched long and into an embracing arm.  Circled his own arm around Justin and let his hand glide over silky skin, tracing the curves and angles.

Justin’s hand did the same to Brian as they rediscovered all the great pleasures of form, feel and touch.  Stared into each other’s eyes awhile, making up for lost time.  And kissed with a thrill and quiet passion neither sought or wanted with any other.

Justin cradled his head on Brian’s neck, closed his eyes and vised an arm around Brian’s shoulder.  “god, I missed this.”

Brian nuzzled Justin’s neck, kissed it lightly.  “You always did add a lot more to this place.”  Cock near critical, Brian rolled away, grabbed a condom and lube bottle in one hand, rolled back and dropped the bottle between them, handed the condom to Justin.  “How about that nightcap?”

Justin smiled, took and ripped the packet open, capped the rubber on Brian’s cock and rolled it down easy.  “Slow.  Okay?”

Brian nodded agreement. Greased just his cock tip with an index finger so the slide would pack more feeling.  He watched Justin turn away, nestle comfortably on his side, back arched and knees bent.  Wanted to touch his hair but one arm was slid under the pillow at Justin’s neck and Justin’s hand clasped it.  His other hand flowed over Justin’s ass in smaller and smaller circles until his thumb and fingers spread the crack, and his lubed index settled on target.

Justin moaned at the touch of Brian’s fingertip drawing tiny circles around his hole.  Foreplay that always made every nerve from rear to cocktip sizzle.  Like a proxy rim from someone he could trust for not too much or too little – just enough.

Brian heard Justin’s breaths shorten.  Curved his body into position, aimed his cock into the guide of his hand, kissed Justin’s hair and pushed.  Justin’s vocal mixed with his own.  Tight.  It was tight before and just as tight now.  Brian swung his arm around Justin, held him close and chose not to stop at the little involuntary resistance but drive all the way.

Justin gripped Brian’s arm, panted and smiled from the steady, slow assault with its sweet burn and bulk stretching him, filling him.  Until it stopped, and they were locked together, not moving. “Mm.  Feels good,” Justin squeezed Brian’s arm.

Brian kept his lips buried in Justin’s hair.  “Let’s…just stay like this for awhile.”  He could power-fuck whenever.  But times like this were rare and limited to the only one who treasured them as special.  So for now, this felt just fine.

By late morning, the Corvette pulled up to Britin mansion far enough for the white Lexus to park behind.

Justin was out first and stood hands-on-hips awed by the lush landscaping and immensity of the building against a sapphire sky. New York had accustomed him to giants, but here the scenery didn’t whirl with crowds and activity.

Brian popped his trunk and was already digging his overnighter and garment bag out when he noticed Justin’s stall.  “Don’t forget your bag.  I only have two hands.”

“You mean there’s no butler?” Justin quipped, wrenched his duffel from the back seat.

Brian hauled his load to the front door, fiddled for the key.  “You should have told me you wanted a threesome.”  He threw the door open and exaggerated a wave in. “After you, Mr. Taylor.”

“Thank you, Jeeves,” Justin nodded very cordial, stepped in and looked around.  A lot cleaner than he’d expected.

Brian trailed in carrying one bag, the other slung over his shoulder.  Then played tour guide, walking through the first level rooms.

The Living Room was sparsely furnished with just a period couch, armchair, coffee and end tables, two lamps, all arranged on an area rug so it looked like a little conversation oasis in a vast room. 

Brian parked his bag, laid the garment over it and arced an arm around. “Most of the original furniture sold, but this should be enough.  There’s electric, but no TV or Internet access yet. Weirton’s close and has a Starbucks if you need to get online.  I left a map in your glove compartment.”

“I think it’s perfect,” Justin beamed, set his duffel on the coffee table.  “And I’ll be mostly painting anyway, so it’s good not to have a lot of distraction.”

Brian added, “There’s no phone so you might want to keep your cell charged.  Now let’s move along, folks.”  He walked through the doorway to...

The Dining Room.  Empty except for a simple oak table with four chairs and a long buffet against the back wall.

Justin ran his fingertips on the table top, grinned, “Is this the Friday Night Poker Room?”

“Close.  It’s the orgy pit.  This buffet is full of sleeping bags.”  Brian wickedly smiled at Justin’s grunt and frown, stepped to the buffet and opened a door.  Four bottles of wine.

Justin punched his arm.  “You asshole.”

Brian swung his arm around Justin’s shoulders, kissed his cheek, “I fully intend to keep Britin separate from Babylon,” and guided him to....

The Kitchen.  Country, unspectacular and more function with just the basics, although a coffee maker, toaster and microwave added some update.  A table with two chairs looked even smaller in the L-shaped design.

Brian motioned to the refrigerator.  “There should be enough to last a few days.”

Justin peeked inside the fridge and smiled.  “I see Emmett’s been here.”  He opened the door wide took the rainbow ribbon’d Welcome Home note off the top plate. “Care for sushi?”

“Not before a hike.  Back this way.  I’ll take you up to the bedroom.”

They stopped in the living room to collect their bags and headed through the Den.  Justin stopped to gaze at the high ceiling, rich chandelier, the huge fireplace where they’d spent a fairytale evening.  No likely repeat.  Wrong season for a blazing fire.  Justin caught up to Brian on the wide, ornate staircase.  A step creaked under the runner.  “Ah.  The burglar alarm still works.”

“It still works on most of the doors, too.  But I’ll take care of that later.”

At the top of the stairs, Brian turned down the hall, walked past a double door but Justin stopped there.  “Isn’t this it?”

“Next one,” Brian called over his shoulder and opened the end door.  “Right here.”

Justin slowed his pace.  “I’m in the guest room?”  The GUEST ROOM?

“It has a private bath,” Brian smiled and went inside.

“So does the Master,” Justin countered, followed Brian in and looked around.  Like a mini version of the Loft with a low king-sized bed, two nightstands, an upholstered chair.  Still… “It’s nice, but who’s in the Master?  You?”

Brian set his bags down, took Justin’s hand and grinned, “We can play fantasy games.  Sneak into each other’s room like cat burglars, tie each other up, fuck to the sound of approaching sirens,” as he led Justin back down the hall, pulled out a key, stopped and unlocked the double.

“Well, I hope I get a key,” Justin muttered then gaped when Brian opened the doors. “jesus.  You did all this?”  He slowly moved past Brian.  Panned the spacious upgraded version of his old studio then cased it with amazement and approval.  Pre-stretched canvases in large sizes were stacked upright against one wall.  Large easel, light table, drafting table, chairs and stools, long bench table lined with paints and equipment. 

Brian trailed close, “You said you wanted to do some work.  Most of this was at the Loft.  Except for the antique Wal-Mart Collection.” He pointed to a clunky curio full of odd glass bottles.  “I would have preferred Murano myself.”

Justin defended with a smile, “I like them for light direction,” touched a large tube of paint.  “And you remembered my brand.”

“I moved it around the Loft enough times,” Brian shrugged, watched Justin stop at the French Doors – two sets leading onto a railed balcony.  “The best light is in this room.”  He watched Justin open one set of doors, cross the eight-foot wide balcony and lean staring over the rail.  Brian followed, stopped in the doorway.  Justin hadn’t said much.  Are you changing your mind?  Do you miss New York?  Maybe you would rather have gone to Seattle. “So.  Do you think you can work here?”

“You didn’t have to do all this…for just two weeks,” Justin said quietly to the trees.  It’ll only make it harder to leave.

Brian closed in, leaned on an arm beside Justin.  “Who knows,” he looked off, hid a reality pang, “Maybe next year if you need another geta -”

“Let’s take a walk,” Justin cut, grabbed Brian’s hand and led.  I don’t wanna think about that right now.

Outside, they hiked to the stable and stared at the closed doors of the empty stalls.  Justin quizzed, “What’re you gonna do with this?”

“Turn it into a garage,” Brian answered, grabbed Justin’s hand and shoved it against his crotch.  “And what’re you gonna do with THIS?”

“Nothing,” Justin backed away with a fiendish grin, “Not until you catch me!”  And he took off with Brian in a pursuit that lasted twice around the building, up the road and into the trees.  Until Brian lured Justin close by faking a winded slump against a big oak, then launched an arm snag that turned into a game of who could get whose pants down first.  It ended in a draw with both sweaty, thirsty and swatting off deer flies back to the house.

They filled a bathtub, climbed in together.  Brian washed Justin’s back and put a love bite on his neck; Justin listened to Brian bitch about how tub baths were like soaking in the dirt you just washed off.  “Miiiister Romance,” Justin sighed with a smile.

They dined on sushi, cold chicken, salad and beer.  Went out onto the back veranda and traded blowjobs against a pillar at the stairs.  Then grabbed a couple wine bottles and spent the fading light talking jobs, city differences, latest fucks and Britin.

By dusk they were lazily slouched together on the veranda swing, a little drunk and beat, two wine bottles and glasses near a citronella candle on a small patio table beside them.

“So that’s Theodore’s big plan,” Brian finished, leaned forward unsteady on the moving swing and stabilized it with a leg as he reached for a bottle.

Justin absently grabbed the swing arm to keep from tipping over.  “I think it’s a great idea.  You moving out here to oversee?”

“Fuck no,” Brian grimaced, shook the bottle, realized it was empty, plopped it down and leaned back.  “I think Calvin and Emmett will.  He’s more Green Acres anyway, and Emmett can make a career out of redecorating all this.”

Justin yawned, “Emmett always wanted to be Queen of a Palace,” grunted, jostled to a stand and pulled on Brian’s arm.  “Come on.  It’s getting late and you hafta work tomorrow.”

Brian groaned, reluctantly stood and wrapped an arm around Justin so they could support each other’s awkward steps back inside.

In bed, cool moonlight fell on Justin’s head resting on Brian’s chest.  “Those nightlights were a good idea.  I didn’t realize how dark it gets out here.”

Breathing slow and mellow, Brian thought he heard some apprehension.  “Are you sure you’ll be alright here by yourself?”

Justin squeezed Brian’s waist.  “I survived WeHo, the wilds of Hell’s Kitchen and Liberty Avenue.  What makes you think I can’t survive this.  Or that I might not even enjoy it.”  True.  The peaceful surroundings were a pleasant reprieve.  So was Brian’s presence.

“Just fair warning.  I’ll be working late and probably staying at the Loft this weekend.  But I’m sure the boys…and Debbie…will be out to annoy you.”

“I’ve got plenty to do,” Justin firmed.  That’s why I’m here…mostly…I think.

“If you get lonely, you can join me at the Jazz Club Saturday night.  I can guarantee you all the black-tie bullshit and high-priced glitter you’ve probably come to know and love.”

“Your other life,” Justin smiled warmly, shifted onto his back and ventured further with a confidence-desire mix. “You would really shine on the New York scene.  Have you thought more about moving Kinnetik’s head office there?  I know you talked about it a few times.”

Brian turned his head. “And leave our little Pittsburgh stronghold at the mercy of the Stockwells, Vances and breeder terrorists?  There’s more to life than just making a buck.” Then he softened, “See what a bad influence you are on me?” and kissed Justin’s temple.

Justin moved his forehead against Brian’s cheek, spread a hand on Brian’s chest and caressed a nipple between his fingers.  Now I’m caught up in making a name for myself and landing that perfect commission. “Yeah.  We’re just evil for each other.”  Finally on the same track, the same direction.  And still miles apart.

But Brian didn’t hear that.  Between the driving, chasing, wine, beer, drone of night insects in the cool air through the open window, and the comfort of Justin’s closeness, he’d dozed off.

Justin eased back to watch him.  Listen to him breath.  Touch a wisp of hair on the pillow and pack into his memory that it was still coarse and straight and soft and dark.  I could go to sleep with you every night.  Wake up with you every day.  Hasn’t changed since day one.  Hasn’t changed at all.

A few hours later, Brian awoke and shut the alarm off just before six.  Watched Justin in dim early light, sound asleep on his side and facing him, about the same position he was in last night.  I wouldn’t fucking marry anyone but you.

Then Brian carefully stole out of bed, crept to the door and took his garment bag off the hook, left the room and went down the hall to a guest bathroom at the far end.

Justin awoke to the car engine start, cleared focus on the emptiness beside him, glanced at the clock and realized Brian had left for work.  Not enough time to run downstairs.  Justin jumped out of bed, hustled to the Master bedroom and made it onto the balcony in time to glimpse the last of the Vette peeling up the road.  He smiled a moment then went back inside to start his own workday.

On the balcony, Justin watches the Vette disappear behind the tree line.  In the car, Brian smiles at the house in the rearview mirror, doesn’t see the balcony hidden by the trees.

Song: “Need To Feel Loved (Thrillseekers Remix)” by Reflekt ft. Delline Bass

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