Crossing the living room to the front door of their apartment, Ben tossed another look at Michael sitting on the couch in his cross-armed, cross-legged, eyes straight ahead defensive posture.

“I warned you not to get involved. It wasn’t enough to send a message in the story –“

“That didn’t work,” Michael craned back and saw Ben grab the doorknob. “Where are you going?”

“To make myself scarce.”

“What for?”

Ben opened the door to Brian with his rage-face, fist up and ready to knock.

“Brian.”

“Ben,” Brian cracked a dim smile.

“Come on in,” Ben grinned at Michael and let Brian thump past before hurrying out and shutting the door.

Michael jumped to a stand, went from smile to frown. “Don’t start. Ben just gave me enough shit about it.” He turned to the kitchen, Novotny’s haven in times of woe.

“La Bonita. Make it quick,” Brian followed, locked his hands on the doorframe to block escape while he watched Michael open the fridge for a sandwich routine.

“I thought you two needed some time to talk, and neither of you stubborn –“

“ – was gonna budge first. So you helped. Thank you, Debbie Novotny.”

“See? Even YOU know it’s genetic. Want one?” Michael waved a pack of bologna, closed the fridge.

“I had enough boloney for one day. And since when is anything between Justin and me any of your business?”

“goddammit, Brian,” Michael clinked a mayonnaise’d knife into the sink. “Because part of it may be my fault.” He looked away and leaned against the counter. “Because he was looking to me for some truth…and I told him what I thought…instead of what I should have known.”

“Can you be a little less specific?” Brian slouched against the doorframe, raised a faint smile more to relax Michael. A habit from years of experience at getting to the point sanely.

When a side-glance told him Brian was open to reason, Michael looked hard at him. “I didn’t want to believe it, but it’s the truth. He’s good for you, Brian.”

Brian exhaled a long breath. He moved toward Michael, leaned on the fridge. “That was never the part in question,” he said softly and turned to leave.

“Don’t be a fucking idiot,” Michael low-toned.

“I don’t intend to,” Brian answered without looking back then saw himself out.

Taking a moment to unwind in his car, Brian replayed Michael’s weighty revelation and overlaid it with the evening’s events. The kiss. The taste. Scent. Feel. If only…

His cell phone rang. Pulling it from his pocket, Brian forwent the caller id check and simply answered, “Brian Kinney.” He could hear voices and music in the background.

“It’s about time,” Scott griped, phone pressed to one ear, free hand over the other to block out as much of Woody’s as possible. “Don’t you ever check your messages?”

“Well you got me now.”

“How’d it go in Cleveland? With the change.”

“It took a little persuasion, but it’s set. Neville might’ve thought they upped us by advancing their date, but we’ll get one day on them. And they can’t do shit about it. They’re just flat out of time. I’ve got the new specs with me if you want to see them.”

“I’m at Woody’s. But it’s noisy as hell. How about your place? At least it’s more private.”

“Fine. Just let me know if you’re bringing Tweetie Pie. I’ve got a reputation to keep.”

“She’s past history. We can hit Babylon for a couple rep-builders later.”

“I’ll swing by and pick you up in about fifteen minutes. Don’t make me wait.”

“Hey. Piss on you.”

The phone went dead, drawing a big grin from Brian as he started the Jeep. Lately in his cavern of murky emotions, work was his escape and salvation. As was Queen Scott’s amusing half-breeder macho. Or thoughts of hot sex and steamy release. So Justin was at Emmett’s. And where the fuck did THAT thought come from.

Michael stood beside his front door and listened to insistent knocking.

“Next time you desert a sinking ship, take your key,” he finally relented, unlocked the door and jerked it open expecting to see Ben. Instead, he saw Justin in a suit and sneakers, glaring at him. “Doesn’t anybody ever call ahead anymore?”

“I brought back the ledger,” Justin stiffly plopped the briefcase inside the door.

“Okay. I goofed, you’re pissed, and I’m sorry. If you have anything more to say about it, come in so the neighbors don’t call the cops,” Michael took the case. After setting it on the coffee table, he dropped into a corner of his couch and leaned his head against a raised palm.

Justin stared a moment, stepped inside and shut the door. “I’m not thrilled about being set up,” Justin moved across from Michael and sat on the arm of Ben’s chair. “I just wondered why you did it.”

“To be honest? I don’t even know anymore.”

“I know it wasn’t to do ME any favors.”

“Well how do you expect me to feel?” Michael countered. “You don’t know how hard it was for Brian to get this far with anyone. How tough it’s been on him.”

“It can’t just be all about Brian. HIS wants. HIS needs.”

“All I know is…you told him to jump and you’d catch him. Then once he stepped off the edge, you turned around and walked away.”

Justin sucked a breath, held his glazing eyes in check and stared at Michael.

“I would have stood there forever, if he told me he would jump.”

“So would I,” Michael quietly continued, “and he wouldn’t have had to tell me shit.”

“I value myself too much,” Justin toughened. “Maybe that’s why…” Justin winced and looked away, not believing the low blow he’d thrown.

“Why he loves me, but he’s in love with you?” Michael finished.

Justin returned a pained glance, stood up and turned to leave. But he stopped and replayed Michael’s sincerity.

“Is he really? In love with me?”

“More than he’ll ever admit. No. Wait. More than he’s admitted to date, but not what he might…possibly…admit in the future? Whew. I just amazed myself.”

“That WAS pretty good,” Justin smiled. “I want to love him, Michael. But he won’t open up with me. He’s got so much going on I can’t even begin to understand…and I’m afraid of losing myself…of getting sucked so far down into it, neither of us can get out.”

“You won’t,” Michael quietly answered. “I think that’s what he saw in you. And what I hated most about you.”

“Come on, Michael. You hated me for a lot more than that.”

“You’re a blond with a brain.”

“Do you believe I love him?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“Then tell me-”

“Ohhhh, no. If you’re asking me about personal stuff, that’s way off limits.”

“I’m not asking you to betray a confidence. Just tell me what it’s like…to be his friend.”

Michael watched Justin’s unfaltering gaze. This wasn’t just dish on request. This was the essence of his special connection with Brian. His. And Brian’s. Nobody else’s. “Well…the thing with Brian is…I think…”

That’s how he started, guarding certain secrets, but sharing a brief piece of what a real friend would, to help one lover understand the other.

Justin sat cross-legged on the floor, leaned against Ben’s chair and considered the sacrifice to which he was a beneficiary. He listened pensively, searching between the lines for any clues to reaching Brian that Michael might have missed in sixteen years.

Brian’s loft door rolled open to two men, shadows against the hall lighting until Brian flicked a switch, filling the living room with pale lamplight.

“I know I had it on me,” Scott rummaged through his jacket pockets.

Brian pushed aside papers on his desk, set his briefcase there. “It’ll turn up. Make yourself at home,” Brian nodded toward his mini bar. “I like this suit, but not all day.”

Scott hung his jacket on a bar chair, watched Brian strip off his jacket, tie and shirt on his way through the bedroom.

Brian hit the bathroom switch. Nothing. “Now what the fuck is wrong with THIS.”

Scott set down a whiskey bottle and came up behind Brian to investigate his toggling the dead switch. “Got a flashlight and screwdriver?”

“Always ready for kink,” Brian went to the kitchen, leaving Scott testing the switch again. The line flew right over him, hinting that Scott was more into his thing.

Justin lounged across Emmett’s bed and stared at the blue drawing. Mild tapping on the doorframe behind him made him crane back.

“Teddy and I are going out to get a movie. Anything special you want?” Emmett asked and could almost see Brian’s face in the silence before Justin finally shook his head no.

“Whatever you get is fine with me.”

Emmett nodded with a half smile and turned away. He disliked seeing Justin looking like the last pup in the pound.

Justin listened to the closing front door, traced a finger over the writing around the sketch. Mind made up, he rolled off the bed and grabbed Emmett’s phone.

Brian, holding parts in one hand and aiming a flashlight with the other, watched Scott pull the naked switch from its box. “Careful. It’s still hot.”

“I know what I’m doing. Chris and I used to do this all the time. Ah. HERE’s your problem,” Scott touched a finger to a free wire, “Must’ve slipped off the contact.”

Brian’s phone rang. “Figures.” He kept the flashlight aimed, set the parts on the floor, grabbed the wireless off the nightstand and answered “Brian Kinney” just as Scott reattached the wire – “That should do it.” – and pressed the switch.

A loud POP, bright flash. Exploded glass shards chinked against tile and porcelain.

Brian’s hands flew up in shield mode. His phone hit the floor and the flashlight crashed on top of it.

Justin snapped back from the explosion on the receiver, quickly re-engaged a dead line.

“Brian? Brian!”

He smacked the hook switch, dialed Brian’s cell and got a mechanical “The party you are calling is unavailable or out of the area.”

“What the hell?” Scott gingerly stepped into the bathroom, squinted at one of the two mirror sconces still in place and lighting the carnage.

“I’m revoking your dyke license,” Brian followed in quasi shock.

“Must’ve been a defective bulb,” Scott fingered a sconce fixture intact in the sink. “Funny THIS didn’t break.”

“Good thing you were here,” Brian reached beside the mirror, flicked them into darkness, back into light. “It’s a three-way switch. This is the one I would’ve used.”

“You’d’ve had a face-full of broken glass.”

Brian ran a palm across his cheek and shuddered.

“I heard of this happening, but it’s kinda like that one-in-a-million type thing.” Scott returned to the switch while Brian rummaged a hand vac from the linen closet and whirred up as much glass as he could.

Scott’s fingertip traced the neat L-shaped folds of wire. Almost as familiar as an artist’s signature. He pushed the switch back into place and reassembled the parts.

“Brian, I just remembered something important I have to do,” Scott moved back to the kitchen, donned his jacket and headed for the door.

“I thought you wanted to see the finished ads,” Brian set the vac aside, not sure what to make of the sudden change of plans.

“I’ll call you later,” Scott opened the door.

“Wait a minute,” Brian whipped on his shirt, snatched a coat from his closet, joined Scott and returned his quizzical look. “I drove.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Brian followed Scott out and guessed that the one-in-a-million explosion might have rattled Scott more than he showed. Maybe himself as well. He reached for the living room switch, backed off and left the lights on before shutting the door.

Anxious and panting from his two-block run from the bus stop, Justin looked up at the lit loft windows, dashed to the front door and frantically punched in the security code. He shouldered the door so hard it hit the wall then he jogged up the stairs.

“Brian!” he pounded and pushed at the metal door. “Brian! Are you okay? Brian!” He tried kicking at the door to trigger the alarm. “Come ON you fucking…WORK, goddammit!”

“Justin?”

Justin whirled around so see Brian standing on the steps. Adrenaline and relief made him fly into an embrace that nearly sailed them both down the stairs. “I heard this big crash on the phone and I thought something happened to you.”

Brian gripped Justin’s waist tightly with one arm, held onto the banister with the other. “Easy. Easy now.” Brian felt Justin relax and realized that he himself was the one who didn’t want to let go. So they stretched the moment until Justin backed onto the landing.

“What was that loud noise?”

“A could-have-been nasty accident. But you know what?” Brian came whisper close, thumb-smoothed a sweat bead from Justin’s forehead, “At least now I know that somebody would have sped to my rescue.”

“Yeah, well…I, uh, guess I’ll go now,” Justin moved toward the stairs, absently tugged at his crotch.

“Where’re you headed?” Brian swallowed. Deliberate question.

Justin stalled without turning. “No place special.” He heard the lock unlatch, the door rumble open.

“You must’ve called for a reason. Got time for a drink?”

Justin had seconds to weigh an answer.

Chris leaned both hands on the granite bar of his pristine apartment, his back turned to Scott standing a few feet behind him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I know your wiring.”

Chris whirled to face Scott, hands clenching the countertop. “So a bulb blew. Accidents happen.”

“Like Jason in a dumpster?”

“I told you I had nothing to do with that!” Chris glanced off to his left, gripped his arms in a chill.

Scott changed tactic, stepped forward, embraced Chris and got a powerful return.

“We’re a team,” Chris whispered. “You always said we were a team.”

“Brian is only a business contact,” Scott stroked Chris’s back. “Now tell me what else you did to his place.”

“Nothing,” Chris stared over Scott’s shoulder through lifeless, hazing eyes. Even this intimate moment was ruined by thoughts of Brian.

“I can’t handle this anymore,” Scott pushed away. “I can’t handle YOU anymore.”

“No. Stay.” Chris vice-gripped an arm, but Scott wrestled free and stomped out.

Deep breathing the cool air, Scott reached into his pocket for his truck key and felt a new addition. He opened his hand. Brian’s key.

Brian walked into the bathroom and pointed at the broken light.

“Just watch yourself. I think I got most of it, but you know how shattered…glass …goes,” his voice drifted off when he looked back and Justin wasn’t there. He snorted a laugh at himself, doing his best to be a hands-off host and the kid spooked anyway. A legacy of shatter.

Justin, having shed his clothes in the dark, knelt on the bed and groped for the neon blues switch. He was nervous, excited and apprehensive about this decision. It brought back his virgin night like hope for a new beginning. Justin felt the switch. Pressed it.

Brian caught a wash of blue, homed in and gazed at Justin, naked and glowing like a mystical nymph on a dark satin sea. He looked away and back to make sure this was no head game.

Justin started twisting fabric in his hand, not sure how to read Brian’s statue reaction. “Well? Either kiss me or throw me out,” he finally managed.

Brian’s strip-tease exercise in playing cool lasted through two shirt buttons. Fuck it, he thought, tore off his shirt, unzipped his pants and launched half-dressed onto the bed, pushing Justin back and devouring his lips. Cheek. Neck. Shoulder. Any goddamn body part in reach.

Justin sifted his fingers through Brian’s soft hair. Licked and counter-attacked Brian’s mouth and tongue. He moaned and savored every nip and stroke, giggled at Brian’s impatient efforts to get his pants off. Brian was soon on him again, cock like a hot steel tube pressing into his groin alongside his own.

“Brian, wait.” Justin pushed his hands against Brian’s shoulders.

No, no, no, don’t do this to me. “What?”

“I missed you.”

Brian watched Justin’s blue eyes searching his. Would it kill him to try? “I missed you more.” He was still alive. And Justin sparkled like a diamond.

“Can we go easy?”

Brian slow-blinked his yes, kissed Justin’s nose, shifted to the side and guided Justin onto his stomach.

Justin moaned softly as he felt Brian’s kisses skip along his spine, hot then cool when the air hit their damp tracks. He brought a hand to his mouth, bit onto a finger as Brian coaxed his thighs apart. Spread him open. Trailed a silky tongue down his crack, bypassing his hole, down to the base of his balls, up and around again.

“Bri-an,” Justin complained. His cock was going crazy and he had to give it a hand.

“Shhh.” Brian’s warm breath made Justin’s hole flinch. He gently kissed and tongued the intimate spot, blowing and teasing until he could feel its folds give. Brian felt his own back and neck heating and sweating and knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He wet a finger, tongued Justin’s hole and slid his finger over his tongue, straight in.

“Ahhhhh!” Justin arched back, jetting his load and pulsing around Brian’s finger. He did so not want to cum yet. And how the blazes did Brian get his tongue so far in.

The loft door scraped open. Scott dashed in, shouted to a shape in Brian’s bed.

“Brian! Glad I caught you.”

Brian bolted to a stand, “godDAMit!” ; Justin shifted to his side. “Jesus!”

“Don’t turn anything on,” Scott scouted outlets in Brian’s office.

“I WAS working on ONE thing,” Brian growled, grabbed a towelette at the base of the bed, wiped his face and hands and stood in full glory with no attempt to hide it.

“Your phone is dead,” Scott’s eyes narrowed on Justin, just sitting up. “I know you?”

“No,” Brian snapped, moved to block Scott’s view.

“How’d you get in here?” Justin craned past Brian at Scott.

“ Key,” Scott waved it in the air, set it on the desk.

“You have. . .” Justin scooted up to Brian, glared at him. “He has a key? A fucking KEY? Fuck you, Brian.” Justin tramped across the bed, jumped to the floor and picked through clothing. “I can’t believe I was this stupid.”

“Justin –“

“Brian, this is serious,” Scott barked.

“WHAT?” Brian shouted at Scott who was yanking plugs from sockets in his office. “Hey. That’s my computer.” Then over his shoulder, “Justin –“

“Fuck you.”

Justin blazed across the room and out the open loft door. Scott focused on Brian.

“Will you listen to me? We gotta find any bare wires.”

“Then FIND them,” Brian dressed in boot camp seconds. “Is there a fucking full moon out or what.” He darted past Scott only to be grappled back.

“Your whole place can flare up!”

Brian finally read Scott’s face. He glanced at the loft, the door. “Shit.” He wrenched free and ran out the door.

Scott followed Brian down the steps, stood at the closing door and watched him cross the street, right past a parked Turner Electrical van. Scott had just opened the door to investigate when the hall lights suddenly flashed out and emergency dims lit.

Scott looked aside at the stairs leading to the basement.

In the dark basement, Chris, in a lantern’d hardhat, stood before an open electrical box, selected a breaker and switched it off.

“What the hell are you doing?” Scott broke the silence.

Chris swiveled, his lantern blinding Scott before he aimed it aside. “Scott. I’m doing what you wanted, see?” Chris beamed the light on the panel, pointed out a breaker. “This runs to his TV, stereo and office. I shut it down.”

“You told me you didn’t mess with anything.”

“I…I’ll fix it. I came here to fix it.”

“So why is the main breaker off?”

When Chris didn’t answer, Scott pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Chris beamed the light on it.

“What are you doing?”

“What I should’ve done a year ago. Calling the police.”

Chris aimed his light in Scott’s eyes, stopping the call. “I said I’ll fix it. You can help me, just like always.”

Scott rubbed his eyes, turned and walked away, phone still in his raised hand.

“Scott. Please.” Chris reached into the box – “Don’t go.” – grabbed a bare wire, set his other hand on the main lever. “We’re a team.”

Brian almost caught Justin at the bus stop when he saw the bus swing in, pull away from the deserted corner and near-miss a fire truck that wailed down the center line, swerved his direction and whizzed past him. He watched it turn at Tremont where the siren wound down, but flashing lights remained. A second siren closed from another direction.

Brian started walking, broke into a sprint. Something Scott had said about the loft.

Shouldering past a line of gawkers, Brian saw paramedic and fire vehicles. A squad car. He froze and looked up at his home, dark and serene, then down at Scott standing alone, hands in his pockets.

Scott watched paramedics stretcher a covered form into their vehicle, hardly flinched when Brian came up beside him in time to see the ambulance door shut. Brian fought a brief flashback of seeing doors shut from the inside.

“What happened?”

“Chris…had an accident.”

“What was he doing here?”

“I called him out to check a bad circuit…had my back to him at the time. He shouldn’t have been working through it alone…” Scott drew a long breath, let it whisper out,“I guess the team let him down.”

“He’ll be okay,” Brian offered. Then he saw the ambulance leave slowly without lights or alarm, and knew that wasn’t true. He looked at Scott’s stoic face betrayed by a tear glistening in the police strobes.

“Just…uh…don’t plug anything in until I check it out, okay?”

“Yeah.”

It was hardly a Kodak moment where two friends embraced to console the loss of a man who obviously meant more than just a guy on the job. Scott thought it counter-image to express the need. And Brian wasn’t sure how to respond.

So they stood side by side, hands in pockets, until an approaching Officer asked, “You Scott Turner?” and Scott left Brian reflecting one more time on how quickly someone could be gone.

Emmett passed Justin on the couch, casually glanced down at his hand holding a pencil over a blank sketchpad.

“I just looooove that classic Polar Bear in a Blizzard.”

“Artist’s block.”

“Oh…by the way…” Emmett set the plastic-wrapped duvet beside the couch, “Ethan gave the cleaners my number. I picked this up for you.”

“Thanks, Em. I’ll pay you back this week.” Justin glanced down at the package, back to nowhere. “Can you do me a favor and take it to Brian’s for me?”

Emmett bent over Justin and into his face. “No, Honey, that’s one thing you’ll have to do yourself.” Then Emmett headed to the kitchen for milk and oreos.

Justin leaned his head against the couch and replayed Michael’s voice – “. . . he’s had some bad experiences with people saying one thing and doing another. So he kinda doesn’t trust what he can’t see.”

Brian had watched him walk away with Ethan. So Justin had posed his naked body in the blue lights and hoped to recreate a different image. One real and honest like the one in the drawing – by somebody. Only to destroy it by ranting like a dumb teenager. Because he’d let himself be intimidated by Scott.

Determined not to leave it like that, he waited for Emmett’s door to shut.

Woody’s on a Monday night was tame enough to hold a normal conversation.

Brian picked his Beam-on-the-rocks off the bar, pushed a tall ginger ale in front of Vic.

“Thanks for filling us in before we caught it on the news,” Vic answered, swigged the drink. “Are you gonna tell me why I’m here at eleven pm, or do I hafta guess we’re avoiding Sis’s two cents?”

“You’re good.”

“I know,” Vic toasted the air and drank again. “Trouble is…I think you’re here with the wrong guy.”

“Scott is just a client,” Brian turned away exasperated. “And he’s got his own shit to work through right now.”

“You never can tell what life’s gonna hand you. Look at that worker tonight. Look at me. Can’t say I was blameless in the whole scheme of things. But…I can deal with it because I had people I loved, and people who loved me. Still do. If you deny yourself that, then you’re pissing away the best part of your life.”

“I’m not in love with Scott.”

“I’m talking about Justin.”

Brian downed his drink, slapped his glass on the bar and stared at it. Vic leaned closer.

“How many tests are you gonna run that nobody can pass?”

Brian twisted to face him. “If I wanted Debbie, I would’ve invited her instead of you.”

“He’s a lot stronger than you think,” Vic went on, not buying the diversion. “Maybe you should learn from it instead of being afraid of it.” Ignoring Brian’s stare, Vic finished his drink and smiled. “It’s late. Mind dropping me home?” Then he headed for the door.

Brian followed after a quick “I’m not interested” to a bold Trick with a groin fetish.

“You ARE Brian Kinney, aren’t you?” the Trick sniped.

“Yeah. And I don’t need to prove it.”

Vic’s brows went up and he smiled back at Brian. “Well. As a marketing Exec, you probably know what happens when demand exceeds supply. I’d say your stock just went up about a hundred and fifty percent.”

Brian returned the smile. That sounded and felt pretty damned good.

Until he was home. Sat down at his computer and realized he couldn’t use it. Strolled to the stereo and couldn’t turn it on. Looked at the TV and mouthed a quiet, “Shit.” There was nothing left to fill “their time” but a ticking clock, the image of a blue nymph, the sensation of unfinished business and. . . .

His cell phone.

Brian pulled it from his pocket, took a deep breath, dialed. Busy.

Deflated with second thoughts, Brian shut the phone and tossed it on the bed.

Nursing a Jack Daniels, Justin sat in the dark and bit his lower lip as he listened to the busy signal. Emmett’s intrusion made him jump, hang the phone up.

“Can I make a suggestion? Before you two face off again, decide to either stand up and fight, or walk away. He’ll know the difference.” Emmett lifted the glass from his hand. “Another thing? Alone plus drinking are not allowed in this house. ‘night, Baby,” Emmett kissed his forehead, set the drink on the coffee table and disappeared into his room.

Justin heaved a sigh, settled into the couch sleeper and thought more about Michael’s words:“…most of the closest people in his life showed him just the downside of love. You and I lucked out there, I guess, so it’s kinda hard to imagine.”

Brian sighed, slapped his OUT issue on the kitchen counter and stared at the ad: Thursday. Thik Dik Contest.” Babylon always found ways to survive a slow night.

The other guys were tied up with their work and mates and lives, but Brian dressed for the hunt anyway. They weren’t needed for what he had to do. So what if a trick didn’t meet top standards…spark a room with a smile…smell edibly luscious…slink in his arms in ways that drove him to near seizure. So what if the main event would be like ramrodding a vat of warm hamburger. And wasn’t THIS pep talk going well.

Somebody knocked on his door. The one person he could always count on.

“So Mikey. Change your mind?” Brian shoved the door open.

Justin.

That snapped him to ruder attention. Having had a couple days to stew and make the worst of things always triggered his defensive best.

“Brian-”

“Before you say another word, Michael and Ben are a couple. Ted and Emmett are a couple – of what, I don’t know. But Scott and I are NOT a couple. Period. Not that it’s any of your business anyway.”

“I shouldn’t have run out.”

“Why not? It’s becoming your standard MO.”

“I’m not buying your bullshit.”

“And miss the sale?”

Brian escaped to his bar, unsure what gored most:Justin’s ability to leave, or the lingering irritation of another night without him. Then there was his own caustic sarcasm. It seemed justified at the time if not for a twinge that a drink couldn’t fix.

Justin braved the sting, picked up the duvet and let himself in.

“I brought this back,” Justin set the duvet on the floor, watched Brian’s reaction.

Brian looked at it, felt a stab. Nights when he wanted to believe Justin was thinking of him, he’d pictured Justin wrapped in that connection. There was an uncomfortable finality about its return. Glasses collided as his hand groped for the right one.

“I don’t want it. Fucking burn it, for all I care.”

Justin studied Brian’s erratic movements, the inability to make eye contact. Loudest was Brian’s not telling him to leave.

“You don’t mean that. You’re just mad and waiting for me to run out again so you have some excuse to be a drama queen.”

Brian leaned against both hands on his bar, fingers doing a short dance on the edge, his critical decision habit. He eyed Justin standing ten feet away, a hand on his hip.

Justin wouldn’t play safe this time. He’d had a couple drinks and too much time to consider what was really inside Brian. What made him act. Or not.

“I know that there’s a fucking police line-up of people coming between us, and if I want any part of you at all, I’ll have to fight for it.”

“You don’t know fucking SHIT about me!”

“If it’s your father, let ME make up for him. I’ll tell you every day how much I wanted you and how proud I am of everything you’ve done despite me, and how sorry I am I ever laid a hand on you.”

Brian’s wide-eyed stare dared him to go any farther. Justin took the challenge and ran with it.

“Or your Mother. “

“Stop it.”

“I’ll be HER. I’ll beg you to forgive me for being such a fucking martyr and making sure you knew it – at your expense. I’ll hug you and hold you a thousand times a day to make up for every minute of it.”

“You’re not my goddamn shrink. “

“Fuck your excuses and make ME all that matters now.”

“Justin – “

“No. You look at me.”

Brain stared hard at Justin’s eyes, saw he was flushing and serious as hell.

“I can do all that because that’s what you mean to me. What do I mean to YOU? What would you do for ME?”

Brian wasn’t sure what to say, but guessed about ninety-nine percent sure it would be the wrong thing. So he said nothing. Just held his eyes on Justin’s as if a feeling could travel the icy thread and make everything better.

“Do you feel anything at all about us?” Getting no response, Justin broke contact first. He turned and took a step toward the door. It looked too real to be a bluff.

“Yes!” Brian bolted up, shook his head right after. Why was he losing control?

Justin stopped and slowly turned to face him.

“Then tell me-”

“Don’t fucking ask me to do this.”

“Why?”

“Because what if I have nothing you want?” Brian’s eyes dropped away and he ran a hand across the nape of his neck. He’d left himself wide open and regretted it already.

Justin could see the tension and doubt as Brian struggled to reel his words back into hiding. Hardly aware he was moving, Justin closed the distance until he could slide his arms around Brian’s waist and lean his cheek into Brian’s pounding chest.

Brian hadn’t noticed Justin’s movements until he felt Justin’s body weld to his. If there was a doorway, the key was turning in the lock. Brian wrapped himself around Justin, buried his head against Justin’s neck and hung on for all that seemed like life itself.

Justin barely whispered.

“I told you how I feel about you, Brian. But for me, it has to go both ways. Your friends will always take you as you are. Your lover makes you go beyond that. I know I’m a lot more because of you. But if I haven’t done anything to go the other way…maybe. . . I…I should go now.”

Justin sucked in a breath, loosened his hold and leaned away.

Brian steeled his grip, trapping Justin in place, face still firm against Justin’s neck.

“Brian-”

“I’d…make sure that…if you ever got lost, I’d find you.”

“What?”

“And that…you’d always have a place to call home.”

Justin closed his eyes, renewed his hold and listened to Brian go on.

“You wouldn’t have to be anybody else for me but Justin Taylor.” He’s all that matters. But Brian kept that and his face still hidden.

“Brian. You’re crushing me.”

“Tell me what that all means to you.” Brian’s voice was so soft, it nearly cracked.

Justin circled his arms around Brian again, pressed his ear to Brian’s chest and listened to a heart whose frantic beat was in close unison to his own. A tear rolled down his cheek, and he absently wiped it on Brian’s shirt-a move that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Figure it out yet?”

“I don’t want to guess anymore,” Justin dropped his arms and Brian sagged away. “I just want to know one thing.”

Brian looked off, mind wracked with old, sinister emotions that always seemed to come with one word in serious context. He didn’t notice Justin reach into the folds of the duvet or even return.

“It’s your paper. And your writing. Did you draw this?”

Brian looked at the framed drawing displayed in Justin’s hands. His skin tightened as he fought a guilty blush. “How did you get that? It was just a…thing I…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Justin smiled, eyes still tearing. He knew it. He just knew it.

Brian took the drawing from Justin, masked his lost composure with a shrug. “I don’t know why you’d want to keep…something like this.”

Justin palmed the haze from his eyes, headed into the bedroom, went into Brian’s closet and returned with another drawing – “The same reason you kept this one?” – the drawing of Brian sleeping. The only one he sold at the GLC Art Show after they’d first met.

“I always figured you were a snoopy little twat.”

“And you’re a shithead, Brian Kinney,” meaning, I know this romance stuff is freaking you out, so let’s slow it down and just go with what we’ve got.

“How old are you? I’d swear you’re a helluva lot older,” Brian answered. Message understood and appreciated.

Brian took the drawing from Justin’s hands and stood both side by side against the bedroom wall. “That’s us,” he smiled.

“Yeah. I’m awake admiring you and you’re fast aslee-”

Justin was cut short by Brian’s swift embrace and a hard kiss. They moaned and breathed into each other, hands filtering through hair, gripping necks in a needless attempt to keep the other from moving away. They stripped shirts off to free heat and sweat and surrendered to eager hands.

Justin’s hand unzipped Brian’s pants, skimmed under the waistband of his jock, along the tightness of his belly, groped the hard shaft and fisted it, flat-palmed it, caressed it.

Brian deftly undid Justin’s pants. Breaking their kiss for only the briefest moment it took to saliva-coat a finger tip, Brian slid his hand down the back of Justin’s underwear, down the soft round smoothness into the valley between until his fingertip rested on Justin’s hole. When he felt Justin’s hips tilt back and heard his moan resonate into his own chest, he knew the request was granted.

With his tongue still slipping sensually along and around Brian’s, Justin matched the movements to his hand spreading pre cum over, around, up and down Brian’s straining cock. He felt Brian’s dampened fingertip tease and tempt his hole until it finally entered, gently fucking him to the rhythm of their tongues and his hand movements. His own cock, dripping and driven by the friction of his clothing, hung on the edge of exploding.

They separated long enough to cast aside clothing, then pressed full-body into a deep kiss – heat, sweat and hard cocks rising together.

Brian scooped Justin up and flung him onto the bed where he landed bouncing on his back and laughing. He crawled up Justin’s body, kissing and stroking as he edged their cocks together.

Justin’s heart pounded when Brian did something different-stopped and let his fingertips trace the valleys and planes of Justin’s face, eyes memorizing each detail as if for some great masterpiece. Justin could feel Brian’s blood pulsing, breaths coming heavier when he touched Brian’s face in the same way.

“Love me,” Justin panted in a whisper.

Brian wondered how many nights he had wrestled to sleep dreaming of Justin with him again-that they would waft each other’s pheromones and go at each other with primal abandon. Here it was. The real thing. Everything the same, but somehow not.

“Brian?” Christ, no. The L-word is zoning him out.

Brian could see worry settle on Justin’s face. He answered with a reassuring kiss, watched Justin’s smile return.

Brian’s hand reluctantly left Justin to reach into the condom-lube bowl. He stripped the packet with his teeth and Justin took over, rolling it on with such a silky touch, Brian grit his teeth to hold the edge. Keeping eye contact, Brian raised Justin’s legs onto his shoulders and kissed the insides of his thighs.

Justin moaned softly and broke into a sweat at the feel of Brian’s fingers prepping and protecting his intimate entry. “Brian,” Justin hissed, “I’m…not gonna make it. I –“

“Shhh.” Brian’s eyes were closed and he was running on touch alone, positioning his rock hard dick, guiding it in.

Justin cried out through an ecstatic smile when Brian’s cock pinched past his tight ring, expanded and filled him, caressing him inside, deeper…deeper. The heat, the pleasure that was always Brian, filling him at last, making him smile and moan like he was drunk and out of control yet safe and wanted.

Brian had groaned almost as loudly, cock diving into layers of fluxing warm velvet. He didn’t think performance – this was no test of skill. He didn’t think escape from reality, because this was the only reality he never wanted to leave. He didn’t worry about his image. Right now, right here with this beautiful young man, he was and would always be perfect. They would always be perfect.

Brian gripped Justin’s thighs, Justin rocking up to meet each thrust. It was their rhythm. Their style. It was sex defined by more than hot or urgent. Brian kissed, tongued and nibbled Justin’s neck and shoulder. Unconsciously moaned answers to Justin’s melodic tones.

Hands gripping Brian’s arms, Justin stole moments when he could kiss Brian, breathe in his fragrance, taste his salty wetness. He could feel Brian’s teeth and tongue claiming every part of him in reach, Brian’s cock hitting him there again…again…again…again. Then Brian’s hand closed around his cock, riding firmly. Justin sucked a huge breath, cupped his hand over Brian’s fist.

Brian’s whole body shook with the pulse-pulse-pulsing of Justin’s release, the penetrating vibration of his cry, rectal muscles nearly jerking him off. He was so close. So close. He could feel Justin’s body sag and relax, Justin’s hand brush tenderly against his cheek, and a whisper so faint, it was almost lost.

“I love you, Brian.”

Brian’s throat tightened. If he could tear the words out, this was the time. Justin’s ass muscles contracted, sending a shockwave through him.

“Justin – I-”

The wave hit hard. Roared through his veins, funneled to his groin. He threw back his head and rocked so violently, Justin groaned from the attack on his senses, clenched Brian’s hand on his dick, dug his free hand into Brian’s thigh until the climax waned to a last shudder.

They remained there, pressed together in the afterglow, using their warmth to stave off the chill of still air on damp skin, breathing the musky scents of their union.

Justin’s hand, slick with his own cum, left Brian’s hand on his softening cock. He opened his eyes to a wonderful, beautiful lover. But he was also still Brian, a paradox of bright light and brooding shadows.

“We can’t go back to the way it was, you know that?”

Brian shut his eyes, drew and exhaled a long breath. Sometimes as grim and fruitless as it had been, the past seemed to be surer, mapped territory. Something known that just needed a little tweaking. Like a car with a bad plug. But wasn’t it he who once told a certain blond twink to brave an unknown with promise rather than settle for a dismal given?

Justin felt the silence like a fading connection. Together but alone again. This was the point he dreaded – the point at which he’d promised himself he would completely end it, if Brian refused to respond. Justin rolled his own eyes shut and twisted away from Brian, only to feel a strong arm coax him back.

“You’re right. I don’t know what it means yet, but we’ll work on it. Okay with you?”

Justin instant-replayed. Right. We’ll. And was it okay. In his sincerity, Brian managed to integrate him as an equal with just a few words. Justin answered with a kiss.

Brian pulled Justin close, spread soft kisses in his hair, tingled from his sigh as they settled into a familiar bedtime embrace. But what about that confrontation in the living room. What had he promised? What did Justin think he’d promised? One thing was certain. Tomorrow they would talk about it. Talk. Shit. What a fucking daytime nightmare to look forward to.

Justin’s breaths grew deep and long. Brian studied the impossibly young face and conceded that, for himself, “happy”, too, had been just another meaningless word – until tonight.

Song: “(blend)” Liquid Love” by Moon Project (to 3:31)-“Amazing” by Andy Hunter (at 2:39)

(Hope you had a decent time on this journey. London)

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