And so it begins

Brian was pleasantly surprised by how much he enjoyed the afternoon and early evening. Mel was a great swimmer, swim team in high school or whatever, and had already started to teach Gus the basics in the summer so he was confident in the water. She reviewed with him what they’d learned, and Gus was tickled pink to show off for his dad.

Gus was in heaven, really. Having both his Dad’s and his Jutsin’s attention was the best. They had him swim between them, getting further and further apart. He did great. Then Brian showed him how to swim between Justin’s legs, and a new game was on. By the time the pizza they had ordered for dinner arrived, sonny boy was exhausted but a very happy boy. He fell asleep with a piece of pizza in his mouth and Brian wrapped him in dry towels to keep him warm.

“We are going to discuss with my partners if it’s all right for Justin to get the job in the Art Department,” Brian said to Lindsay, knowing she would be pleased.

“If I hadn’t heard it myself, I wouldn’t fucking believe it,” commented Mel at the news. “Brian Kinney is going to grow some balls and publicly acknowledge he has a boyfriend.”

How reassuring. He had started thinking maybe aliens had kidnapped the real Mel. “No,” said Brian. “I’m going to tell them Justin is my sex slave.” Lindsay and Justin both cracked up.

Then Justin corrected, “I thought we’d agreed to tell them you were my sex slave.” This time, Mel joined Lindsay in laughing.

“Right,” said Brian, grinning at Justin. “That.”

“We need to get you that collar…”

They smiled at each other. Brian sat behind Justin and wrapped him in his arms, stealing the olives off his pizza. He loved holding him.

“You should see some of his designs,” Brian said to Lindsay. “He is brilliant.”

“And you are embarrassing the hell out of me,” said Justin.

“Wouldn’t it be more embarrassing if I said you sucked?”

“It would,” conceded Justin, laughing.

Lindsay smiled at him. “It’s not as if I'm surprised Justin. If your designs are anything like your paintings, you should take pride in them…”

“I am one of many in Plexus’ Art Department. It's full of gifted people. It will be a great place to work, if they let me.”

“And if they don’t, I plan on using Justin on a freelance basis.”

“You do?” asked Justin surprised, turning around to look at Brian.

“I’d mentioned it to you, remember?” replied Brian softly. “Regarding Ste. Blanche?”

Justin looked at him, shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure I’ll never completely understand you…” he replied, just as softly.

Brian rolled in his lips, looking at his hand. “I don’t always understand myself, Justin.” He looked up at him and wrapped his arms tightly around Justin. “But I do know I want you. I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life.”

What started at a light brushing of the lips soon turned into a full on kiss until Mel’s rather loud theatrical cough brought them back poolside.

“There are children present, you know…” Considering both JR and Gus were dead to the world, Brian gave her the finger, but Justin laughed and pulled out of their kiss.

Mel decided to go swim some laps before eating any more pizza, and Justin joined her. He was a good swimmer, years of lessons at the country club showing.

“You know, it’s funny,” said Lindz, “but when I met Justin at Thanksgiving, I thought, ‘I bet Brian would go crazy for that boy, and that Justin would give him a run for his money!’ and look at you now…”

“So, how are you and Mel doing? Any recurrence of the Lesbian Death Bed?” Brian answered with a smirk.

Lindz laughed. “I like the subtle way you have to tell me to mind my own business. We're doing great, thank you. And I am not so easily deterred. I am glad you found someone, Brian. And I’m glad it’s Justin. He's great, and Gus loves him. Did you really have no idea he’d been here and had met all of us?”

“None.”

“What happened at Debbie’s? You guys just disappeared. Carl said he send you to get some ice, of all things.”

“He did.”

“Brian! Come on! Give a little!”

Brian did not want to talk about it, but this was Lindz.

“Justin finished his internship. We fucked. He left.” Brian looked away. “I…I wasn’t as glad about it as I’d thought.” He looked back at her. “When he opened the door for me at Debbie’s I thought I was delusional. We left. We talked. We fucked. And he’s not a one-night stand anymore.”

“Why do I have a feeling there is much more to it than this?”

“This was the long version, Lindz.”

“The best anyone is going to get, I suppose. Well, regardless. I’m happy for you.”

“Oh, good, now my life is complete.” He got up, holding a dry towel for a wet Justin, who had just gotten out of the water. He wrapped him up, and they sat back down as before, sharing a recliner, Justin nestled in his arms. Lindz looked at Brian with a smile. He ignored her.

When it was time for them to go, Gus was so tired he did not even wake up when his mom put him in his pajamas and clipped him in his car seat.

Lindsay kissed Brian on the cheek. “Thanks. That was a great idea.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow, OK?” He didn’t want a day to go by without seeing Gus.

“Anytime. Gus is in heaven, you know?” She smiled.

Back in the suite, Brian bitched about the level of chlorination in the pool. He stank and it was terrible for his skin and hair. He washed his whole body and his hair twice, and could still smell the chlorine on his skin but then Justin swallowed his cock. His focus quickly changed as Justin had an amazing gift for that task. Concentrating on staying upright as his mind was slowly unraveled by the truly amazing and blissful sensations that led to what felt like an eternity of pure ecstasy, he decided that just now he didn’t give a shit about premature aging.

They got dressed and headed to Woody’s where Brian had time to give Justin another lesson before the rest of the gang showed up. Justin was definitely getting better. He held his own when they all played.

In the course of the evening several guys came cruising Brian, but he dismissed them with a definite, “Not interested.”

The fifth or sixth time, Ted shook his head. “Some things never change,” Brian heard him comment to Justin. “It’s been this way as long as I’ve known him.”

 

 

Brian, who was taking a shot, felt Justin’s eyes on him.

 

 

“Brian’s beautiful,” Justin answered simply, and Brian felt really good.

Then the man from the diner, ‘Slade’, came into the room and smiled at Justin. He was coming over obviously intending to start a conversation, so Brian went and wrapped Justin in his arms from behind. He looked pointedly at ‘Slade’ and said, “Not interested,” and told Justin, “Shit, Sunshine, how many guys am I going to have to chase away from you tonight?”

“What about all those guys cruising you!” Justin said laughing.

“What guys?” said Brian and kissed him. He could see Ted smirking but didn't give a shit.

Close to eleven, Emmett and Drew went home but the rest of them headed for Babylon. Blake, Ben and Justin hit the dance floor, while the rest of them hit the bar. Justin had apparently realized that Brian, Michael and Ted were friends of long standing, and he seemed content to let Brian have some time alone with them.

It was amazing how three years just disappeared. They took up the conversation where they’d left off, Michael and Ted commenting on the hot guys and Brian shooting them down. Mikey talking about Red Cape and new comics, Ted joking about his job at Brian’s old firm (he was actually doing extremely well, having somehow become the right arm of one of the principles) and Brian peppering the conversation with sarcastic remarks.

While talking to Mikey and Ted, Brian kept an eye on Justin, who was in his Club mode, dancing for the sheer joy of it. He had a grace, an unselfconsciousness that made him stand out from Blake and Ben. His perfect ass and his blond hair didn’t hurt. Had he been dancing alone out there, he would have probably already gotten offers of getting blown by guys who just wanted a little piece of him. There was nothing contrived about him. He was just natural, and beautiful. The glitter fell, and stuck to his sweaty body, and he was like some blond angel, glittering under the lights.

Suddenly, both Daphne and Brandon were there, dancing with the three of them. Brandon put his arm around Justin and said something in his ear that made Justin laugh, and Brian couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy and was amused by the unfamiliar feeling. It was self-doubt, not a lack in trust in Justin. Justin was his. He knew that with an amazing certainty. Justin had given him his heart, his body, and they were his to keep unless he himself did something to betray Justin’s trust, or until the day he decided he did not want them anymore. Neither of which were ever going to happen.

“Why is that Bandon guy dancing with them?” asked Michael sounding peevish. “Look at him, he's all over Justin. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“They’re friends,” shrugged Brian, nonchalantly.

“Well, he’s not touching Ben. I’m going out there.” Michael joined his husband on the dance floor.

 

 

“Do you think he’s going to piss on Ben’s leg to mark his territory?” Ted asked Brian.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” answered Brian finding the image particularly funny.

Justin was evidently introducing Brandon to Blake, Ben, and Michael, and at the next change of song, they all came to the bar. Brian was prepared and handed Justin a bottle of water which he took gratefully, tucking himself against Brian’s body. He smelled marvelously of Justin-clean-sweat and Brian licked behind his ear, just to get a taste of it. His cock had gone instantly hard and Justin wiggled his ass against it playfully. Brian reached around Justin's body and tweaked his nipple ring, making him squirm. Justin turned around and grinned at him. As soon as the bottle was empty, Daphne dragged Justin back to the dance floor. They chatted and laughed as they danced.

Brandon had greeted him with a rather friendly, “Hi, Brian. How is it going?” Which Brian had returned and then Blake introduced him to Ted. It sounded as if the three of them started a conversation about opera, of all things. Ted looked impressed which meant Brandon must really know what he was talking about. Wonders never ceased. Michael and Ben were saying their goodbyes. Brian was having lunch with Michael the next day, so he didn’t mind. After a while, Ted and Blake headed out as well. Brian and Brandon leaned side by side against the bar, both drinking J&B and looking at Justin and Daphne, watching other guys watching them dance, other guys watching Justin.

“I’m in love with your boyfriend,” said Brandon, conversationally.

“I’m aware,” replied Brian, in the same tone.

“You are a very lucky man,” added Brandon. “Don’t fuck it up.”

Brian looked at him and said, “I would have rather thought you would want me to fuck it up. Then you’d get your chance.”

Brandon shook his head. “Please tell me you are not really this obtuse, Kinney. Justin loves you. You can fuck up as much as you want and it might break him, kill that smile of his, but he would still be yours. That’s not going to change. I just hope you don’t, that’s all. I love him. I want him to be happy. So take care of him.”

He finished his glass and joined Justin and Daphne on the dance floor. The three of them together made quite a sight. Almost immediately, guys started trying to get Brandon’s attention, just to get the brush off. Brandon was having fun. They would have to wait until he lost his two dancing partners.

Brian only had eyes for Justin. ‘I love him,’ Brandon had said, so easily. ‘I’m in love with your boyfriend.’ So easy for Brandon to admit. Brian took a deep breath. His heart was beating hard in his chest, his palms were suddenly wet and his mouth dry. Justin danced, looking breathtakingly beautiful, smiling and happy.

Brian closed his eyes and thought of their kiss, of Justin making love to him so tenderly, of Justin’s complete surrender when Brian took him. He thought of Justin’s art, of his wondrous gift, of the way he called his bluffs, of Gus on his Jutsin’s hip, like he belonged there.

He opened his eyes again. Justin was laughing, twirling Daphne, sending her spinning into Brandon’s arms, who twirled her back to him. They were having a great time. Justin looked towards Brian to catch his eye and smiled, including him in their fun. And Brian finally was able to think to himself, “I love him… I love him.” And he smiled back at Justin, his usual controlled, amused little smile, while all the while in his head, in his heart, were the words, like a song. “I love him. I love him. I love him.”

After a while, Justin left his two companions alone and came back to Brian who welcomed him with open arms. “Dance with me,” he said, and that was the best offer Brian had had all night. He rested his wrists on Justin’s shoulders and they moved to the music, staring at each other, smiling. The last time they had danced together, Justin had just given him the most amazing blowjob and then had come in his arms, from his kiss, and it had felt like the most precious gift, even as he was trying to convince himself that it did not matter and meant nothing.

Ten days later, and he freely admitted that it meant everything, that that boy-man in his arms was the most important person in his life. He took his mouth in a kiss and it was heaven, his own personal paradise. He pressed their bodies together, his erection hard against Justin’s hip, Justin’s against his thigh. He dropped one of his hands to Justin’s ass, caressing the mounds through the denim and settled it on his lower back. His other hand was cradling Justin’s head as they kissed.

He let his kiss speak for him, telling Justin everything he did not know how to say any other way, and he could feel Justin’s love in his complete and utter surrender. When Justin started to tremble in his arms, he let his own arousal reach its peak and when Justin’s orgasm pulsed against his thigh, he answered with his own, helplessly coming against Justin’s hip, growling his pleasure in Justin’s mouth.

 

 

“Oh, Brian…” Justin looked completely undone, and Brian knew exactly how he felt, how he himself had felt that first time Justin had reached completion just from his kiss and from his feelings for him.

He smiled at Justin, and kissed him some more, softly, lovingly, holding him tight.

“Let’s go home, please,” said Justin, and Brian smiled.

Saying goodbye did not take them long, and ‘home’ they went.

To be continued...

 

 

 

 

An ad exec's job is never done

Justin woke up with his cock deep in Brian’s mouth. He could definitely get used to this. He loved the way Brian suckled on the head for a while then plunged down so it hit the back of his throat. It was fantastic because Brian seemed to derive such enjoyment from it.

There it was again, Brian’s lips tight just below the rim of his glans, suckling deliciously, making Justin keen in pleasure. God, it felt fantastic. Oh god, and now the long slide down, the soft hit at the back and the further slide, snug and tight down his throat, taking in his whole length. Heaven. He knew from experience how long Brian could keep this up, keeping him mewling in a complete state of bliss.

The next time Brian pulled back up he spun his body around and got them both on their sides, so he too could enjoy an early morning treat. Also, that way, he might distract Brian enough to break his rhythm and come before completely losing his mind.

The challenge for those giving Justin head was the size of his glans, which completely blocked their airways as soon as they took him in a little. The challenge with Brian was his length coupled as it was with a non-negligible girth. He had a gorgeous cock really. Justin loved to tease his slit with the tip of his tongue, collecting the precome oozing from it. He loved using the flat of his tongue to massage the spot just below the rim that he instinctively knew was a source of delight.

And he loved that his throat was the perfect size for Brian’s cock to just slide right in, without ever activating his gag reflex or completely blocking his airways. He was able to keep him down his throat and play, as long as he kept his breaths short and shallow. He could run his tongue up and down the vein, or flick it at the base, humming, swallowing around Brian, overwhelming him in sensations.

And here came his reward. The flicking/humming was distracting Brian who had stilled his motions and was now sucking avidly at the top half of Justin’s length held between his tongue and his palate, forgetting his heavenly game of suckle and slide, and Justin’s pleasure was mounting, mounting, cresting… and he moaned loudly as he spilled his come in warm jets into Brian’s mouth.

Whether it was his moan itself, or it’s vibration along the cock deep in Justin’s throat, he wasn’t sure, but he felt Brian’s release, spurting deep beyond his tongue, so far down his throat he did not even taste it. As Brian was licking the head of his cock like a zealous feline, sending shivers down his whole body, he let him soften deep in his throat, swallowing again and again around the spent head. Finally, they let each other go and made their way back to the head of the bed, sharing a king size pillow, smiling at each other.

“Now, I’ve got something to go to confession for,” said Brian.

“Oh, because you didn’t before?” said Justin, laughing.

“No. God and I have an understanding. I start every day with a clean slate. Saves us both time…”

“How convenient. For the both of you.”

“I can see if I can cut you in on the deal, if you’d like…” Brian smirked.

“No need. WASP here. No confession.”

“What a shame. You never get the joy of giving the priest a hard on…”

“How do you know your priest is not straight and totally appalled?”

“I fucked him.”

“WHAT?”

“Fucked him. From behind, on all fours, in the baths.”

Brian looked so evilly mischievous, Justin started laughing and couldn’t stop, especially once Brian started tickling his ribs. Then Brian kissed him on the nose, on the cheeks, and finally on the mouth, playfully, until it turned into their kiss, and Justin wanted Brian to fuck him, right now.

Brian was already reaching for the lube, and as if as an afterthought, for a condom, rolling it on, lubing it generously. Looking at Justin, his eyes warm, he put Justin’s ankles on his shoulders and slid in, slowly, his left hand caressing Justin’s chest, his stomach, his thigh.

Justin just opened up to accept him, like he did when they kissed, thinking of how much he wanted him and loved him, and when Brian was fully in, he let his muscles close back around him, holding him tight.

“God, oh God, Justin…”

Brian started to move, and to Justin it felt wonderful to have him inside, filling him, and to watch him close his eyes, his mouth slightly open, taken away by the pleasure of moving inside him. He was so beautiful when he fucked, so graceful in his motions.

Brian lowered himself onto Justin, found his mouth and pushed his tongue in and out in the same rhythm as his thrusts. Justin’s rational mind shut down as pleasure submerged him, from the cock deep inside him, massaging his prostate, from his own cock, sliding between their sweaty bodies, from Brian’s weight on him like a protective shield, pulling at the ring on his nipple, from Brian’s lips on his, his tongue in his mouth, from Brian’s hands in his hair, groping him lightly, from the feel of Brian’s skin, smooth and warm under his hands… Justin came keening in bliss, nothing left of him but pleasure, feeling Brian’s body tense and release, again and again, to the rhythm of his own orgasm.

Brian pulled out ever so gently and lowered Justin’s legs, massaging them lovingly. He tied off the condom and threw it, with amazing accuracy, into the trash bin, and laid leaning on his elbow above Justin, playing with his hair, kissing him lightly on the lips, smiling. He sighed.

“I need to get ready. I’ve got to pick up the flowers I ordered. What are you doing today?”

“Daphne is coming here. We’re going to swim and we have appointments at the spa. I’ll have my phone with me. Call me when you get back from church. I wasn’t kidding about having fantasies of blowing you in your Armani suit.” Justin smiled at Brian. Right now, he felt completely sated, but he knew that in a couple of hours, the sight of Brian in his suit would definitely have an effect on him.

“You’re on, Sunshine. I’m having lunch with Mikey, but then I’m going to drop by and see Gus. You want to come?”

“Yes, I’d love to. I’ll bring my sketchbook. I want to draw the two of you together.”

Brian smiled. “That would be nice.”

They got up and showered. Before Brian, Justin had never showered with anyone else. He found that he really liked it. He watched Brian shave. That man looked sexy no matter what he was doing. At 22, his own cheeks were still as smooth as ever. His mom was a quarter Cherokee so he’d never have to bother.

In his deep blue Armani suit, his crisp white shirt, his gorgeous Hermes tie, with his Dior overcoat and scarf and leather gloves, Brian would definitely be the handsomest man in church. They left the suite together, Justin wearing one of the hotel’s white terrycloth robes over his togs.

His first appointment, at 9:30, was for a wax. Daphne was due at ten. He had scheduled it that way because ‘Which part of your body are you getting waxed?’ was one conversation they were definitely not going to have. He’d had enough talk about his dick and his sex life with her to last him for a while, thank you.

The elevator had picked up a handful of other people by the time it reached the Spa and pool floor, and Justin smiled at Brian saying, “Later,” before stepping out. The doors were closing when Brian stopped them from the inside, and stepped forward, blocking the sensor and catching Justin by the sleeve. He pulled Justin back against him and kissed his lips, his hand behind his head, before stepping back in again and answering, “Later.” Justin had a smile on his face all the way to the spa.

At a quarter to twelve, as he was just finishing his pedicure, his phone rang. It was Brian’s number.

“Taylor, would you come up to my office, please?”

Justin smiled. Nice. “Yes, Mr. Kinney. I’ll be right up.”

Justin was glad to be alone in the elevator this time, because he was grinning like a loon. He knocked on the door of the suite.

“Yes.”

Justin walked in and dropped his robe. His wet speedo was in the pocket and he had not been wearing anything else. Brian was sitting behind the desk, but got up when Justin entered and came to lean against the front of it, arms crossed. His pants were seriously tented.

“You wanted me, Mr. Kinney?” asked Justin, as he dropped to his knees. Brian undid his belt and unzipped his pants. He was not wearing any underwear and his erection popped free as his pants dropped around his ankles. Justin gave him the most angelic look he could muster and swallowed him.

Brian moaned, and his hands came to play with Justin’s hair, as Justin did all the things he did so well to drive the man insane. Then he took a long breath and started moving deeply and quickly, fucking his throat with Brian’s cock. He put his hands on Brian’s, signaling for him to take control. Brian held his head and thrust a couple of times down his throat and asked, “Is this what you want?” Justin nodded.

“Oh, God, Justin…” and Brian started fucking his throat in earnest. Justin closed his eyes and concentrated on his breath and on relaxing his throat to let Brian slide in and out smoothly. He knew from experience that fucking someone’s mouth was immensely pleasurable, but always accompanied by a feeling of guilt for using another person in such a way. On the other hand, that slightly forbidden side made it all the more arousing. He could just imagine how conflicted Brian must feel doing this to him, and at the same time could tell how turned on he was. Brian did not last long.

“Justin, here I come, here I come…” Some spunk went down his throat, some he swallowed, but he kept the last spurt on his tongue, and when, predictably, Brian fell to his knees and kissed him passionately, they shared it with each other.

Brian held him close and asked, “Did I hurt you?”

Justin backed away from him enough so he could see his smile and said, “Of course not. Did you like it?”

Brian laughed. “God, Justin, I'll let you blow me while I wear a suit anytime.“

Justin laughed as well, his joy at having surprised and brought pleasure to Brian bubbling to the surface.

Brian caressed his face. “I love it when you laugh,” he said, warmth in his eyes, leaning down to kiss him again. Though Justin was still hard, and more than willing, he forced himself to be the voice of reason. Before anything more could happen, he got to his feet, and said, ”I’m going to be late for my exfoliation, and you are meeting Michael for lunch… ten minutes ago.”

Justin put his robe back on and started for the door.

“I’ll tell him it was all your fault,” said Brian with a smirk, walking him out.

“And he’ll believe you, I’m sure,” said Justin, grinning.

“He can be amazingly gullible…” Brian gave Justin a light kiss. “Later.”

“Later.”

 

*****

At 2:30, Justin was back in the room. Daphne and he were all spa-ed out. How much time could one spend being beautified? They had spent quite a bit of money, and had agreed it was worth it once but that they couldn’t imagine making a habit of it. The beautician responsible for Justin’s cleansing facial had actually looked at him under her bright light and laughed, convincing him to switch to a pressure point facial massage, since he had completely flawless skin.

Daphne had gone home to nap and Justin, dressed to go see Gus, was thinking of doing the same when Brian walked in. He was speaking on the phone, in a calm, contained voice that spelled nothing good. He dropped a kiss on Justin’s forehead and sat behind the desk, listening and pinching the bridge of his nose.

He opened his laptop and after a few minutes of typing with his phone wedged against his shoulder, he said: “I can be on the 3:45, be there at 5:15, and come straight in.”

Justin got up from the bed, removed Brian’s bag from the closet and started packing for him, leaving out his suit. Brian, noticing, started to strip out of his casual clothing, still mostly listening, putting in a “Brian here. Don’t cancel it yet. Ask to have till… midnight. If we have nothing by then, cancel it.” A conference call then.

Justin went to the bathroom and reassembled Brian’s kit, zipping it up. He checked the room carefully then moved to the bedroom. He collected and wound the phone charger, the palm pilot charger, and found a tie, deep under the bed. He removed the Gucci ankle boots from their flannel bags and removed the shoetrees, packing them in the suitcase. He collected condoms, lube, extra cash and credit cards from the bedside drawer and put them with the chargers on the desk in front of Brian, next to his small carry-on.

Brian used the hotel pad and pencil to write him a note. It said: “Please come back with me.”

Justin stepped into the bathroom, dialed Daphne and woke her up. “Daphne? Brian has an emergency at work. He’s leaving, and wants me to go with him.”

“What is it?”

“No idea. He's still on the phone. Can you pack for me? We need to pick up my stuff on the way to the airport.”

“Does he want you for company or does he need you at work?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll put your undertaker clothes in your messenger bag, in case you need to change on the plane.”

“Thanks, Daph. Don’t forget the charger under your bed, ok?”

“Got it. It’s in. Are you coming back, you think?”

“No idea. Sorry.”

“Hey, at least, whatever the occasion is, you can be sure you are at your Maximum Beauty Potential,” she said, quoting the Spa lady’s spiel.

Justin burst out laughing.

“Love you, Daph.”

“You better. I hate packing.”

Justin went back into the bedroom just as Brian was hanging up the phone. He was wearing his suit. He looked at Justin, at his packed suitcase by the door, at his carry on open on the desk with all his miscellaneous items ready to go in and took Justin in his arms.

“Are you coming?”

“Daphne is packing for me. We just have to pick up my bag.”

Brian smiled at him and kissed his lips softly. “Thanks. We’ve got to go. I’ll explain in the car.”

They had hardly sat down in the Corvette when Brian’s phone rang again and a new conversation started, once again in the awkward rhythm of at least a three-way call.

“Brian. On my way. Continental flight 29. Yeah…”

Justin opened his phone and called Lindz and Mel’s house. They lived pretty close to the airport.

“Melanie Marcus.”

He remembered Lindsay was working that afternoon. “Mel, it’s Justin.”

“Oh, good! Gus is so excited…”

“Mel, Brian has an emergency at work. We’re on our way to the airport.”

“God dammit! He can’t do this. Gus has been looking forward to his visit all day! Can’t he ever put his son first?”

“Mel, it sounds pretty dire. I’m going as well, and I don’t even know what’s going on. Believe me. If he could stay, he would.”

“Maybe this time he has a good excuse, but what about all the other times? He is such a prick… Why does he have you calling, that spineless piece of shit?”

“He’s still on the phone to New York. I… I was hoping you could meet us at the airport so we can say goodbye to Gus…”

“Oh, Justin. I’m sorry. Why am I bitching at you? When is your flight?”

“Continental 29, at 3:45.”

“Holy shit. We got to hurry. Meet you there.”

“Thanks, Mel.” But she’d already hung up.

Brian was on the phone with his car storage, to arrange for the pick up of the Corvette at the airport. After hanging up, he looked at Justin and said painfully: “Now I have to call Gus. Shit.” He banged the wheel. “Shit,” and started dialing.

Justin stopped him. “Mel’s meeting us with him at the airport so you can say goodbye.”

“She is?” Brian looked stunned.

”Yeah. I called her. She’ll be there.”

Brian looked at him for a few seconds, before concentrating again on the road. He reached across and pulled Justin against his side.

“Sunshine, how did I ever get along without you?”

“Beats me,” said Justin, smiling.

They stopped at Daphne’s. Because she was amazing, she was waiting on the sidewalk with his packed bags. She was eating a Klondike bar.

Justin jumped out. “Not cold enough for you?” he teased, putting his bags in the trunk.

“They were on sale.” She shrugged, and took another bite of the frozen treat.

“I owe you, Daph.”

She smiled. “No. I now own that painting above my fireplace.”

“You already did, you goose.”

She leaned to look into the car.

“Bye, Brian.”

“Bye, Daphne.”

She straightened up. “Gosh. He really is gorgeous.”

Justin grinned. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” And they were gone.

Mel and the children were at the Continental check-in counter, and Gus ran into his father’s arms.

“Why do you have to go, Daddy?” he asked, his arms tight around Brian’s neck, tears threatening. Brian rolled in his lips, and Justin saw him make a decision.

“I’ll be back next Friday, Sonny boy. I promise.”

“Is that a long time, Daddy?”

“Five nights. Can you count to five?”

“I’m five. One, two, three, four, five.”

“Count them. To five, and I’ll be back. And whatever you wanted to do today, we will do then.”

“I wanted to build the tracks and play Thomas the train with you,” said Gus, his voice shaking a little.

“Do I get to be Thomas this time?”

“No, Daddy. You’re Percy.”

“All right. I’ll be Percy, and Justin will draw a picture of us, OK?”

“My Jutsin is coming back too?” Brian looked at Justin, who had gotten the boarding passes out of the machine, unsure suddenly.

“I wouldn’t miss it, Gus.”

“I love you, Daddy”

“I love you too, Sonnyboy.”

Gus reached for Justin.

“I love you, Jutsin.”

“I love you, Gus,” Justin said, and he handed him a drawing he had pulled out of his sketchbook. It was Brian in his camel coat, a small smile on his lips.

Gus looked at it intently then at Justin. “That’s a good one, Jutsin. It looks just like Daddy.”

Their flight was called for the second time. They had to go. As they were saying goodbye to Mel, Justin heard her say to Brian, “If you don’t show up, I’ll cut your balls off.”

“Thanks, and you have a nice drive home, Mel,” Brian answered. “Bye, Sonnyboy.” He ruffled his son’s hair one last time and walked away.

“Bye,” said Justin. “Thank you so much, Mel. See you Friday.”

They walked right on board and settled in first class seats.

“You do know I can’t afford this, right?” asked Justin.

“It’s a business expense, Sunshine. I’m bringing you in as the new Assistant Creative Director. I have a meeting with the guys and the legal department as soon as we get there, then at eight, we’re meeting with Clearlife’s rep.”

“The nutritional supplements stores?”

“Yes. Plexus’ first really big national campaign, which is starting on the first, during the Rose Bowl.”

“The campaign Sam has been working on with you?”

”Yes. The campaign we have been working on for six months, with the rising male skating star, Joshua Raines, the prick who, yesterday, decided to beat his wife so severely that she is in a coma at Columbia Teaching Hospital.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“She’s 23 years old, and was seven months pregnant. That son of a bitch…” Brian’s fists were tight, his knuckles white. He was livid. He took a deep breath and turned to Justin. “She is an ice skater too, a little thing, hardly five feet tall. He’s six foot three.” Brian looked sick.

He took another deep breath. “Obviously, we have to scrap the campaign. We have till midnight to brainstorm and find a replacement campaign we can put together in three days. At midnight, they are canceling the air time, and Plexus loses half a million dollar investment.”

“Can it be done?”

Brian rolled in his lips and didn't answer. That was not a good sign. He got out his laptop and said: “This is the thirty second spot.”

Justin had never seen it. It had been finished early in his internship, and was hush-hush, the spot and the spokesperson to be uncovered only during the Rose Bowl. Brian handed him his small headphones, and Justin plugged them in.

It was very, very good, showing Raines doing the same moves alternatively while training and while skating in some event. He was brilliant. It showed him laughing, working out, the tone of the spot exciting, hopeful. Raines was hot. Tall, a great smile, gifted. The slogan was, “Let your dream come alive.”

His career was over. His marriage was over. His wife’s life might be over, their hope for a child over. What a fucking waste. It was hard to reconcile the smiling handsome athlete with the knowledge that he had beaten a woman half his size to within an inch of her life.

Brian closed his laptop, and rubbed his hands over his face. “We are fucked. The only positive thing is that nothing associates Raines with the product. The secrecy clause was strictly enforced at Plexus, and thank god, at Clearlife as well. We are also lucky the idea of using Raines came from Max Pontif, their CEO. We all thought it was a brilliant choice, though. The guy had everything you could want: a rising star, great looks, that killer smile, a possible contender for both the Olympics and the world championships. I met him. Nice, friendly guy. His wife w…is a doll. Sweet. Cute.”

“What are the chances of finding someone to replace him in the next day or so?”

“Nil. All the skaters are at the Olympics, they all have agents. Contract negotiations alone can take weeks.”

“What about a different sport?”

“Can’t use any team sport. The negotiations are even more complicated for individual members of a team.”

“Tennis? Fencing? Biking?”

“Tennis players have agents from birth, it seems. You have to negotiate with all their other sponsors. Fencing is too unknown, biking not sexy enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“They do nothing but bike, it’s hard to make it exciting, attractive. It just looks like really hard work.”

Justin realized they had not just pulled skating out of a hat. Months of preliminary studies had probably gone into picking the right sport, the right athlete.

He thought of Raines, tall, strong, masculine yet graceful, elegant, charming, individualistic, successful yet still mostly unknown. He thought of skating, perfection made to look effortless, grace, speed and excitement.

He reached into his messenger bag for his portfolio, found the folder he wanted and pulled two drawings out of it, which he passed to Brian. Brian stared at the first one, astonishment on his face. He looked at Justin, who just nodded, smiling a little. Brian looked at the second drawing, deep in thought.

Brian picked up the phone on the back of the seat in front of him, ran his credit card through and dialed, pressing extra digits as the phones were answered.

“Alan?... Paul?... Marcus? I may have something… No. I’m still in the air. Another hour. I need you to check something… Yes. Do ballet dancers have agents? Sponsors?... Marcus, are you sure?... Don’t fucking guess! Call her! … I know it’s Sunday. Who gives a shit?... Yes, I have someone in mind… I have no idea… Yes Marcus… You’re positive? Great. … Tall, gifted, gorgeous, great smile… no, no, very masculine… Yes. I’m calling him now. I’ll call you back.”

Brian turned to Justin.

“Is he any good?”

“First Dancer of the Pittsburgh Ballet Company. He leads the gold cast.”

Brian looked at him, quiet for a moment, and then seemed to snap out of whatever train of thought he had been following.

“Ballet dancers are not big commercially. According to Marcus, they usually do not have agents or sponsors unless they are world renowned,” he said. He started thinking out loud. “We could keep the basic script, the training moves alternating with the same moves on stage, dancing in a show, working out, even the same theme, the same music, the same basic interview… Do you think he’ll go for it?”

“No idea. He’s dancing tonight though. Do you still have contacts in Pittsburgh? Could they get footage? The Nutcracker is really seasonal…”

“But will he do it?”

Justin shrugged. “Call him.”

Brian was staring at him.

“Brian, I don’t even know if I’m going to be working for Plexus, and I won’t … I know how he feels about me. You know how he feels about me. I’m not using that. I’m not using him. Your campaign, your call.”

Brian nodded and Justin handed him his cell phone with Brandon’s number showing. Brian dialed, holding the phone far enough from his ear that Justin could hear.

“Brandon.”

 

 

“…Brandon, Hi. Brian Kinney here.”

“Brian. Is Justin all right?”

“Justin’s great. We are on our way back to New York because I have a problem at work. I'm an advertising executive for a small firm.”

“Yeah. I know. Justin talked to me about his internship. Sounds interesting, but really stressful.”

“Yes, well… the spokesman for one of the products we represent…is no longer available and we need an emergency replacement.”

There was a questioning silence on the line, as Brandon obviously waited for Brian to explain why he should care.

“Brandon, would you be available and agreeable to filming a 30 second commercial spot in the next three days?”

“What?”

“We need to have this spot ready for the Rose Bowl. We have the script, the music, the basic theme; we need an athlete as a spokesperson. We think you would fit the bill.”

“I’m a ballet dancer, Brian. Nobody thinks of us as athletes. What was your original guy’s sport?”

“Ice skating.”

“They all have agents.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t”

“Exactly.”

“Can I speak to Justin?”

“Hold on.” Brian handed Justin the phone.

“Brandon?”

“Is he serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

Brandon laughed. “I bet. They’re so fucked.”

Justin laughed as well. Brandon was no dummy. He repeated out loud, for Brian’s benefit, “Yes, they are completely fucked.”

“Justin, as a friend, do you think I should do it?”

“Could it hurt your career, hurt your position in Pittsburgh? They probably would try to use footage from tonight’s performance, if it was allowed.”

“I think they’d be thrilled by the exposure. I could always use the cash. I’d need help negotiating, though, and the guy who parleyed my original contract here sucked. I’ve renegotiated for myself the last three years.”

“I may know somebody who really kicks ass.”

“They’d have to replace me without cause tomorrow. I’d be fined. No biggy, it happens, but it’s a little steep.”

“You could get them to cover that.”

“It sounds kind of fun.”

“It’s a lot of work.”

“Will you take me out to Essengy?”

“My boyfriend and I would be happy to take you to Essengy for New Years Eve.”

Brandon laughed. “Great. Always wanted to be a third wheel.”

“The only unattached member of the hottest trio there…”

“Hmmm… You sure know how to present things in a good light. You should work in advertising.” They cracked up.

“I don’t think it would hurt my career. I’d have to kiss my anonymity at the club goodbye though. Everybody would know what I do.”

“They will make it look hot.”

“Can you get in touch with the person you know for the negotiating?”

“Yes.”

“You think he’ll do it?”

“She. Not sure. I can call now and find out.”

“Call me back?”

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

“OK.”

Justin hung up, and found Jessica Hammon’s number in his cell phone.

Brian was the one with the bottomless business credit card.

“Could you dial that for me, please?” Justin asked.

Brian did, without comment, and handed Justin the phone. Jessica answered after two rings.

“Mrs Hammon? It’s Justin.”

“Hello, love. Surely if I call you love you can call me Jessica, no?”

“Jessica. How bored are you right now?”

“Dreadfully. 300 channels and nothing to watch, too cold to go out, and no contracts to negotiate for lovely young men.” She laughed. “If I hear one more person wishing me a Merry Christmas, I might commit murder and defend myself, just for a change of pace… What do you have in mind Justin? Please tell me you are calling to confide in me the intimate details of your one-night stand with the ridiculously handsome Brian Kinney. My imagination has gone wild…”

“Sorry, Jessica, I don’t kiss and tell,” Justin answered, laughing.

“But you are a couple now, are you not?”

“How do you know that?” asked Justin, astonished.

“I paid him a visit. The poor man was so taken with you, he didn’t know which way was up…”

Justin looked at Brian, wondering how that had come about. Then he remembered why he was calling.

“Speaking of negotiating contracts for lovely young men. A friend of mine needs expert help, as soon as possible.”

She laughed and asked jokingly, “How lovely?”

“Unbelievably so. In Brian’s league.”

“Oh, my! “ She laughed. “I’ll do it! No, Seriously, what sort of contract?”

“He is a ballet dancer. Brian’s company wishes to hire him for a commercial. They are in a time crunch, it all has to be done in the next 72 hours.”

“A bit out of my normal field, but they don’t know that. I feel a sudden urge to take tea with Mr. Kinney’s beautiful assistant. Would you know her number, perchance?”

“Hold on.”

“Brian, could you give me Cynthia’s number? Mrs Hammon wants to invite her to a tea party.”

Brian wrote on his palm pilot screen and passed it to Justin.

Conflict of interest. You don’t work for Plexus yet, but she does.

Justin wrote back.

Brian, it’s just tea. I think you can trust Jessica Hammon to know the law. Do you want Brandon or not?

Brian handed the palm pilot back, showing Cynthia’s number.

“Jessica, I’ve got it.” He read it to her.

“Is Mr. Kinney worried about conflict of interest?”

“You have ESP, don’t you…?”

“A false rumor, Justin. Don’t go believing such slander on my good character. And remind our handsome friend that I was practicing law before he was born, and not to worry. What is the alleged lovely young man’s name?”

“Brandon.”

“Yes, of course it is. Why burden oneself with a last name? After all, Cher has done all right for herself.”

Justin laughed. “I’m sure he has one. I just don’t know it.”

Brian passed him his palm pilot again. It read, Brandon Matthew Bloomquist

“Uh… Jessica? Apparently, he does have a last name, and a middle name. Brandon Matthew Bloomquist.”

“Thank Mr. Kinney, will you? Now give me his number, and we are all set.”

Justin complied.

“Thank you, Jessica.”

“You owe me a painting. I am joking, of course. But the young man had better be handsome, or I am never taking your calls again.”

Justin loved her laughter. He was quite sure Brandon would be handsome enough… They said goodbye, and Justin hung up. He was burning to ask Brian how he knew Brandon’s last name, but wanted to deal with the matter at hand first.

“Brian, would you mind dialing Brandon again?”

“I live to serve,” answered Brian, dialing. He handed Justin the phone. “Anything else, sir?”

“Well, you could blow me while I… Brandon? Hey. She’ll do it. She has your number. Her name is Jessica Hammon.”

“OK. What the hell. I’ll do it. Can you put Kinney on?”

Justin handed Brian the phone.

“Brandon?” Once again Brian let Justin hear the conversation, apparently not having minded Justin’s keeping his calls private.

“Brian? Ok, I’m in. I talked to the director of the company, asked him if they would mind a crew filming during a performance for a potential commercial. They’re chuffed, like I thought. They just want credit, you know, thank you to the Pittsburgh Ballet Company for their generous participation kind of thing.”

“Hey, thanks. That was very helpful of you. Really. Thank you.”

“You are welcome. You better get that filming crew in place ASAP. The Nutcracker waits for no man. Let me give you the number for the stage manager. He knows they are going to be calling.” Brian wrote it down.

“Brandon?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Just give up your boyfriend, and we’re even, Kinney.”

“In your dreams, Bloomquist”

Brandon laughed. “Been checking up on me?”

“Maybe.”

 

 

Brandon laughed again. “Get your film crew going.”

“Will do.” And Brian hung up.

He reached for Justin playfully and kissed him, smiling and then dialed the phone again.

“Cynthia!”

“Brian!”

“I need you.”

“Color me surprised. What’s in it for me?”

“An extra bonus or me eating crow. You choose.”

“I’ll take both, but start with the crow. I could use a laugh.”

“I removed my head from my ass and admitted to being smitten with young Mr. Taylor, with whom I now have entered into a relationship.“

The line was completely silent. “…Cynthia? Cynthia, are you there?”

“Oh my God. Forget the extra bonus. That was worth its weight in gold. What do you want?”

“I need you to revive your erstwhile contacts and get a camera crew to film tonight’s performance of The Nutcracker by the Pittsburgh Ballet Company, concentrating very heavily on the male lead.”

“Did you say TONIGHT’S?”

“Yes. Here is the stage manager's number. He's expecting their call.”

“The extra bonus is back on. Will do. Got to go. Got a Master to serve. A Master who is dating a cute little blond.” She giggled. “I laugh, but it’s out of love…” She hung up.

Justin grinned at Brian. “Smitten?”

Brian pulled him into a kiss. “Completely.”

The captain was announcing their descent. Brian had one more call to make, to his partners, once again.

“Guys. Problem solved. The ballet dancer is on, the crew to film his performance tonight as good as set up, the contract negotiation in progress.”

He listened to their reaction, a little smirk on his face.

“Yes. Of course I’ll do it. It’s my account. I know it won’t be an easy sell. Alan, I know they will hate it… Oh, for pete’s sake, Marcus, how could I possibly have his portfolio? Is he a model? Did I even think of the guy before getting on this flight?... Paul, aside from telling me all the reasons why this will never fly with them, do you have anything helpful to say?... OK. Listen up, guys. I only have four words for you: Half a million dollars… I will sell them on the idea, they will accept the new concept and the campaign will be a fabulous success. End of conversation. NO, DO NOT cancel our early meeting. I need to speak to all of you and to Phil what’s-his-name from Legal first thing… Paul, I will still have an hour and a half to prepare … Of course it’s not enough! I need two days! Do I have two days? What the fuck difference is a half an hour going to make? Got to go, we’re landing. See you in 45 minutes.”

Brian took a deep breath and turned to Justin. He chuckled. “I swear these guys only have four balls amongst the three of them, and Alan has two of those.”

Justin looked at him, trying to read his face. “You’re not worried?”

Brian put his hand on Justin’s neck and played with the short hair there. He looked him in the eye and said, “Failure is not an option. By the time midnight rolls around, I will have them convinced the change of spokesperson is a blessing, and wondering how they could have ever considered anyone else but Brandon. You paint, he dances, I sell ideas. It’s my gift.

“Of course I’m worried. That Brandon will be a dud, that the filming will be shoddy, that the whole segment will look amateurish and just thrown together, because I have no control over these things. Am I worried they will not buy the idea? Hell no. I got you to fall in love with me, didn’t I?”

Justin laughed. “I did that on my own, and as I recall, you didn't care one way or the other at the time…”

Brian pulled him close, and told him softly: “Ah, Sunshine. That’s what I like you to think…” and then he kissed him, until Justin forgot momentarily what they’d even been talking about.

To be continued...

 

 

 

 

 

Getting his way, of course

A limo driver was waiting for them when they arrived. To Justin’s embarrassment, he picked up both their larger bags. Noticing Justin’s reluctance, Brian smiled at him.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s his job…”

Brian was surprised when the man started a conversation with Justin.

“So, you’re back. How was Pittsburgh?”

“Great. Did you have a nice Christmas?”

“Excellent. The kids got me a new bowling ball, championship quality. Real nice. You?”

“I made out like a bandit,” said Justin, smiling at Brian.

Brian realized the man must have been the one who had given Justin his ride to the airport. He had used their services for three years, and had never paid the slightest attention to the drivers. This man might have driven him a dozen times, and he had never bothered to say more than “Careful with that bag,” to him.

After opening the door for them, and putting the bags in the trunk, the chauffeur started the engine and pulled into traffic unhesitatingly.

“Told my girl I’d be glad to pay for art school if she got in. Never saw her so happy.”

Brian was amazed. How well did Justin know this man?

“That’s fantastic. Make sure she applies to Pratt. It’s a great school. Hey! I got offered a permanent position at Plexus. I’ll know tonight whether I have the job.”

“Good for you! It pays alright?”

“Yeah. And I get medical and dental.”

“You’re still gonna finish school, though, right? You really should finish your education.”

That man actually cared. Justin really had a gift with people.

“Yes. I’m going to go half time. It will take a little longer, but if I get the job, I really can’t pass up the opportunity, you know?”

“Yeah. You bet.”

Justin sat back, his conversation apparently over, and Brian automatically took him in his arms, resting his cheek on Justin’s hair, in the position they had always taken in the cabs at night. Going into the city from the airport on an early Sunday evening was a quick shot. They were almost there already.

“Justin, I need to speak to my partners alone. Can you wait in the lobby? I’ll call you when we’re done.”

“I’ll go down to the Art Department. I’ll use my old desk to work on some drawings.”

“When did you do the one you gave Gus?”

“A while back. You were wearing that coat the first time you gave me a ride back from Essengy.” Justin turned and looked at Brian with a smile that could have melted an iceberg.

Brian smiled back. That had been a very good night. He leaned to Justin, and said in his ear: ”Good boy” and just like that night, Justin chuckled and answered in his neck, ”Asshole.” Brian remembered how happy he had felt going back to the loft that night. How had he ever been able to convince himself that none of it mattered?

They pulled into the Plexus garage.

“Good luck with that job,” said the driver.

“Thanks, and thank you for the ride,” said Justin as the man handed him his bag.

Brian had never, in all his years, thanked a driver for a ride, considering it was their job. He thought of the number of times when clients had thanked him for a job well done, though they certainly paid plenty for his services. When the man handed him his bag, Brian actually looked at him. He had a friendly face, with a crooked nose and very pale blue eyes.

“Good call taking the parkway,” he said. “Saved us some time. Thanks.” The man smiled happily, tipped his hat and left. Justin really was a terrible influence. Brian was turning into a lesbian.

“What are you smiling about?” asked Justin when they entered the elevator. They were both carrying two bags each. Brian walked forward, pressing Justin between himself and the elevator wall, and kissed his lips lightly.

“You,” he answered, and it was so cheesy, he actually laughed.

Justin smiled at him, shaking his head. The doors opened onto the second floor and Justin raised himself on his toes to kiss him back.

“Later.”

“Later.”

Brian got off on the 3rd floor and walked to his office to drop off his bags, and then went directly to the conference room. Paul, Alan, Marcus, and Phil what’s-his-name, from Legal, were already there. Unbelievably, only Marcus was wearing a suit, probably the one he’d worn to church. Alan was in jeans, and Paul was dressed for golf, as if he’d come straight from the range.

“Any coffee?” asked Brian.

The other four looked at each other as if they’d never heard of the beverage. Brian sighed.

“Who else is here?” he asked.

“Betsy,” said Alan. “She’s been calling around to find a classical dance studio we can use.”

Well, at least one of them was thinking ahead. Brian picked up the phone to call her desk.

“Betsy? Brian… Yes, thank you. Would you be so kind as to make us a pot of coffee? We are completely useless here. I don’t think we even know where the kitchen is… We don’t have a kitchen?... The staff room. Oh. See what I mean? Thanks, Betsy.”

Paul looked at him in surprise. “You thought we had a kitchen?”

Brian rolled his eyes. “It’s not Betsy’s job to make us coffee, Paul. Of course I know we don’t have a kitchen. It’s called people handling skills. You should try it some time.”

Brian sat down. Time to get Justin a job… Time for some more people handling skills.

“As you know, the Art Department has been asking for another creative manager. Sam has expressed the desire of having the new employee start with the title of Assistant Creative Manager and work part time. He feels it will be enough to make everyone’s load in that department tolerable. Vangard has been trying to steal Julie away, and Sam has been getting calls from headhunters, so, even though I don’t think either one would leave us, I think giving them the support they need is essential.”

His three partners nodded their heads. They were aware of the issue, and it had been discussed in general terms at the last Principals’ meeting.

“I have the perfect candidate for the job. Familiar with its demands, creative, hard working, happy to start as Assistant instead of full fledged Manager. There is only one problem. He and I are lovers, and I do not want to infringe on the non-fraternization rule in effect at Plexus.

“I have spoken to an independent legal council (Wouldn’t Mel like to hear that? She would probably send him a bill…) and to another party familiar with employment issues. (After all, Ted did interview candidates for employment at his old firm.) Both independently agreed that our non-fraternization policy would not include pre-existing relationships. I just wanted to hear it from our own Legal Department representative, and make sure all three of you were aware of the situation so it would not take you by surprise.

Alan had a huge grin on his face. “Brian? Are you all right? Did you really just use the word ‘relationship’ and the word ‘lover’ in reference to yourself?”

“Yes, Alan.” Brian looked at him as if he had no idea why Alan should be surprised. “I did.” Then he smiled just a little.

Paul added teasingly, “Does it mean we might be able to go to the last bench of the steam room at lunch without finding some guy with your cock in his mouth?”

“Why, Paul, you old perv. I didn’t realize you liked to watch. Will you miss it?”

Marcus interrupted. “Gentlemen? I think the matter of concern here is a legal one. Could you keep your sophomoric conversations for your own time and keep to the subject at hand? Phil?”

Ted and Mel had been right. Phil agreed that the company rule of no fraternization with employees did not include pre-existing relationships, and that it would be perfectly all right for Mr. Kinney to hire his … lover. (Brian did not care much for the word boyfriend, and thought the word partner implied that the parties were living together, so he’d chosen to use the term ‘lover’. He’d not particularly liked the smirk on Phil’s face when he repeated it, but let it slide.)

“Phil, would you be so kind as to draw up a standard contract right now? I would like to put this in motion as soon as possible. Salary is baseline for Assistant managers and it should include Dental and Medical coverage and transportation. 25 hours a week, actual hours of work to be determined between the employee and Sam Rosen.”

He looked at his partners. “This is a confidential meeting, but I would like to nonetheless emphasize the request of our new employee to keep his relationship with me known only to the four of us, due to the common tensions that exist between the 3rd floor and the Art Department. He doesn’t want their behavior towards him to be altered or restrained by a perceived need to protect his feelings, or by worries that what is said in frustration could find its way back to us.”

“You mean that they might hesitate to call you The Asshole around him?” joked Alan.

“Right, His Nibs. That’s exactly what I mean…”

All four of them chuckled. They were all familiar with the nicknames the Art Department used for them, and really didn’t care, as long as their employees came through for them.

They spent a few more minutes discussing the current crisis, and Brian went back to his office to prepare. He called Justin first.

“This is Justin Taylor”

“Hello, Taylor. Brian Kinney here. I am pleased to announce that you will shortly be presented with an employment contract with the firm of Plexus Advertising. Congratulations.”

Brian could hear the smile in Justin’s voice when he answered, “Thank you, sir. I’m sure I will be able to express my gratitude for your support in this matter in an elevator, at some point.”

“Certainly. And I am sure you’ll agree this type of things is best if taken care of in a timely manner.”

“Absolutely. Sir.”

“Excellent.”

Brian hung up and smiled one last time before dedicating his entire concentration to the challenge ahead. At a quarter of eight, Brian was as ready as he would ever be for his meeting with Clearlife. He was waiting for Sam. He’d had an hour and fifteen minutes to figure out the best way to get Clearlife to embrace his idea of going forward with the campaign, using an unknown ballet dancer and getting the whole thing done in seventy-two hours. He had had no problem convincing his partners he ought to go at it alone, though he had called Sam in to support his technical claims.

 

 

Betsy had come to his office at seven-thirty to warn him the Clearlife representative, their CEO and four others had arrived early and were already waiting. Brian did not care. The meeting was at eight. He would be there at eight. Sam arrived, wearing a suit. Thank god, some people had a brain.

“Hey, Sam. Thanks for coming in.”

“It’s my campaign too, Kinney.”

“Yes it is. Whatever I say in there, you know you have to back me up, right?”

“Brian, I’m not an idiot. I know what’s at stake here. I got your back.”

“Thanks, Sam.” And Brian started out of the office.

Sam caught his arm, and said: “We’ve got a few more minutes, and I need to talk to you about something.”

Brian was surprised. He and Sam had always gotten along quite well, and he suddenly realized Sam looked extremely pissed off at him about something.

“What is it?” He wanted to clear the air. They had to be on the same page in there.

“I met Phil in the elevator. He told me, and I quote, about “a bit of fancy fag nepotism” he had gotten to witness. That one of the partners, ‘wink-wink’, and I quote again, “has hired his little cock sucking boyfriend” to work in my department as an Assistant Creative Manager.

“Now, I cannot stand that homophobic prick but that's neither here nor there, Kinney.” Brian could tell Sam was working up a nice head of steam. “Justin Taylor is fucking brilliant. That you didn’t think he was the right man for the job always sounded like a load of horseshit to me. Now I finally understand why you would pass up hiring him: just so you could hire your goddamn boyfriend. Well, let me tell you what I think…”

He was interrupted when Justin walked in the door.

“Bri… Oh, hello, Sam. How is it going? Mr. Kinney?”

“Taylor?”

“I thought maybe these could be of use to you during your presentation.” Justin handed him some sketches. The first two were of Brandon dancing. The next one was of Brandon, in casual clothes, sitting on a couch, laughing. The next one was a close up portrait of his face, looking mildly amused, and the last one a profile, his eyes lost in thought. They were truly amazing. The two drawings he already had, which had been the only visual support to his argument, were good, but these were absolutely fabulous.

“Wow, Sunshine.” Brian looked through them again, and smiled at Justin. “These are really incredible!”

Justin gave him a pointed look gesturing toward Sam with his eyes, reminding him as best he could that he did not want their relationship to be public knowledge in the Art Department. Brian, pretending to misunderstand, turned to Sam, who looked very confused, and said:

“Oh, I’m sorry, Sam. Let me introduce you to your new Assistant Creative Manager: Justin Taylor, this is Sam Rosen. Sam, this is my little cock-sucking boyfriend, Sunshine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make a quick call.”

Sam burst out laughing while Justin looked completely at sea. Brian picked up his office phone and dialed the Legal Department. Phil should still be there, finishing up Justin’s contract. While the phone was ringing, he listened to Sam recount his little diatribe to Brian and assure Justin that he understood his desire not to advertise the relationship. The information was safe with him.

“Phil? Brian Kinney. How is that contract coming along? Good. Please drop it on my desk on your way out… Yes, I understand you are not an errand boy, and that you would like to go home and enjoy what little is left of your weekend. But do it anyway, will you?... Incidentally, Phil, it has been brought to my attention that you seem to have forgotten the meaning of the word confidential in the expression confidential meeting somewhere between the conference room and the elevator, which for an employee of the Legal Department is a little unfortunate, I’m sure you’ll agree. So I would like you to be in my office tomorrow morning a 7:00AM to explain to me, first, why you should remain in our employment, and second, why we shouldn’t sue you for breach of the confidentiality clause in your contract. But please. Don’t let me keep you. After you drop that contract on my desk, do go home and enjoy what little is left of your weekend.”

Brian hung up the phone. Sam and Justin were both staring at him, a bit awed. Brian ignored it and checked his clock.

“Time to go and think on our feet. Ready Sam?” He smiled at Justin. “Taylor, you are welcome to wait here if you’d like. The couch is very comfortable, and I find my painting to be remarkably soothing.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kinney.”

Sam followed Brian out, chuckling.

 

*****

The meeting with Clearlife ended at 10:30PM, with the entire Clearlife delegation in love with the idea of using the incredibly handsome Brandon Bloomquist as their spokesperson, and excited about putting forward a sport which was also an art form, that really had been too long overlooked. Ice-skating was, after all, a little pedestrian. Christie Yamaguchi was on the Wheaties box, for heaven’s sake…

Brian, as it often happened when he had to use all of his impressive skills to bend people to his will, had had a hard on throughout the meeting. It usually dissipated along with the adrenaline rush, and as usual, he ignored it. However, he couldn’t wait to tell Justin how much his drawings had helped, especially the one of Brandon sitting on the couch, laughing. He entered his office, expecting to find Justin asleep on his couch, which he wasn’t.

His cock registered what he was seeing before his brain and suddenly was as hard as a baseball bat. Justin was lying back on his desk, resting on his elbows, fully naked, feet flat on the desk and legs spread apart. His anus was shining with lube, and he held a condom packet between his teeth.

Brian might have growled. He wasn’t sure. There was no blood left in his brain for those insignificant details. He locked the door, undid his belt, unzipped his pants, pushed them down along with his underwear to the middle of his thighs, grabbed the condom pack, ripped it open and slipped it on with the speed of years of practice, and sank into Justin’s welcoming body to his balls with a grunt, in the time of two breaths.

Justin tightened around him and smiled, and Brian almost lost it. He took a deep breath but almost came again watching Justin, who was now lying fully on his desk, take himself in hand and start jerking off. He tried to again relax away enough from his orgasm to start moving, but Justin, still masturbating, grabbed his nipple ring, twisted it, and moaned. It was a losing battle.

Giving up all thoughts of a prolonged bout of lovemaking, Brian moved his hips back and pumped fast and deep into Justin’s ass, staring at the overwhelmingly arousing sight in front of him. On the fifth thrust, he exploded, seeing stars behind his lids. He reopened his eyes just in time to see Justin’s cock erupt and to watch his gorgeous face in the throes of orgasm. As soon as Justin had caught his breath, they both started laughing, and he pulled out gently as Justin sat up.

“I got so worked up waiting for you,” said Justin, “I almost came when you walked in.”

“And you decided to wait for me, fuck ready, on my desk, because...?”

“I was in the John, and Alan and Paul came in. Paul was worried and Alan told him not to be, that you could sell a double amputee a pair of ice-skates in the Sahara. That you got off on the challenge.” Justin used his boxers to clean himself up, and got dressed again, going commando. “And Paul said that you really did, that he remembered that when you had sold Body by Design on the idea of the four-approach campaign he had noticed you had a hard on the entire time. I thought it would be a nice way to help you release some stress.”

Brian got himself straightened out again, and took Justin into his arms. He chuckled. “The condom packet between the teeth was a very nice touch.”

Justin grinned. “Thank you. It’s great to have a boss who appreciates his employees’ efforts. I always knew it would be a pleasure working under you…” Brian smirked at the horrible pun.

"Did everything go as you expected?" asked Justin.

"Was there ever any doubt?" answered Brian.

Justin rolled his eyes, chuckling and gave him a message from Jessica. They would be ready to negotiate the contract at ten the next morning. She’d asked Justin to accompany her to the airport in the morning to pick up Brandon, to facilitate their introduction. His flight was getting in at 7:10, and Justin knew Brian would be in a meeting. Brian thought that was a great idea.

Before heading out, he left a message for Gerard Stanford, Phil’s boss. He should really be there at their meeting, and after firing Phil, which he had every intention of doing, he would need someone from Legal to be present for the contract negotiations with Brandon. He also called in Bower, from accounting, who surprisingly already knew he would be needed... Cynthia and he were apparently coming in together. Brian could not wait to avenge himself of her ‘cute little blond’ remark…

Trying not to dwell on the overwhelming amount of work to be done in the limited time before the Rose Bowl, Brian decided to call it a night. He watched Justin who was reading the employment contract Phil had left on Brian’s desk.

“Take it home,” he said. “We can look at it together.”

“Home?” asked Justin.

“I mean take it to the loft. You were planning on coming to the loft with me, weren’t you?” Brian was suddenly reminded that they were back in New York, where Justin had his own place.

“Yes. Rory’s brother is using my bed until the second. I’m afraid you're stuck with me.”

Though they’d only shared the suite a couple of nights, the thought of sleeping apart from Justin already felt so strange. How was it going to work? Justin’s roommates counted on him for the kitchen clean up, either at the end of the day, or in the early morning… Justin was going to have to go ‘home’ every day. And Brian, though he would not put pressure on Justin, really wanted him in his bed every night. Somehow they would figure it out. Justin was with him until the second. Right now, he had to concentrate on Clearlife.

They took a taxi, Brian smiling inwardly at the thought that he was not dropping Justin off, but taking him home. He told Justin how his drawing of Brandon laughing had been a turning point in the meeting, because though incredibly good looking, the laugh had made him seem approachable, full of gentle self-deprecating humor.

“He is, you know… He is so different than the image he projects at Babylon. Kind of goofy, even.”

“Don’t worry, Justin. I appreciate Brandon more every time I see him, and he is your friend, so even if that weren’t already the case, I’d learn to like him. After all, you put up with my friends.” He was thinking of his less than relaxing lunch with Michael, though Justin could not, would not, know about that.

Justin laughed. “I learned to know and like them when they were Daphne’s new friends, though…”

 

 

“I forget. You do know how weird that is, right?”

“Tell me about it. I will never forget opening that door with Gus in my arms and finding you on the stoop. That was the most unreal moment of my entire life.”

Brian thought it had probably been one of the happiest moments in his. He had been, without admitting it, making the most outlandish plans to force another meeting between himself and Justin, and without any efforts on his part, there was Justin, already ensconced in Brian’s Pittsburgh family.

They were at the loft. He wanted Justin to know his many codes. Might as well start now.

“Justin, this door’s code is 1-D-e-a-d-T-e-d. It’s case sensitive.”

“One dead Ted?” Justin was looking a bit shocked. “Brian, that’s weird.”

Brian laughed. “Not as weird as finding out that one of your friends is counting on you to pull the plug on his comatose ass, believe me…”

“Wow! You have to tell me about that!”

“Long story… The code to call the elevator is 2-A-u-n-t-y-E-m.”

“OK. This is unexpectedly sweet, Brian.”

“Pay attention, Sunshine. To get to the top floor, the elevator code is 3-P-f-l-a-g-M-o-m.”

“Debbie, all right…”

“To unlock the loft is 1-4-M-i-k-e-y”

“Why fourteen?”

“We were fourteen when we met.”

“Ah.”

“To disarm the alarm the code is 5-L-i-n-d-z.”

“All right.”

“To reset the alarm when you are in the loft, it’s 6-S-o-n-n-y-b-o-y. To reset it when you leave is 7-S-o-n-n-y-b-o-y.”

Justin was looking at him, puzzled.

“Brian, why didn’t you go home for Thanksgiving?”

Brian knew exactly why Justin was asking. His codes were awfully revealing of how important these people were to him. He thought back to Thanksgiving, to all the times he had made excuses and not gone home to them.

“The less I saw them, the less I missed them. It was completely selfish. Coming back after a visit was… lonely.“ Brian smiled at him. “Now I’ll have you to come back with, or at least to come back to. I think I’ll go visit more often…” He reached for Justin, and started undoing his pants.

“Brian, wait. I’m starving. I need something to eat!” Brian smiled to himself when Justin went into the kitchen. He opened the fridge. Evian water bottles on one shelf, Dos Equis on another, and poppers in the door.

Justin opened his cupboards one by one.

 

 

Perfectly organized china.

Glasses in gleaming rows.

Bottles of J&B.

Empty cupboard.

Another empty one.

A lone box of Grapenuts cereal.

Multiple bottles of booze.

Diet microwave popcorn.

Bags of coffee beans and 3 one kilogram bags of white sugar.

 

 

That was it.

Justin turned to Brian, appalled. “Don’t you ever eat?”

“I order out.”

“It’s kind of late. I want to go to bed. Aren’t you hungry?”

“Always.”

“What do you mean?”

“My metabolism started slowing down when I was 24. I wanted to keep my looks. Not bulk up like most guys do, even if they stay lean. So I ate less. I’ve been hungry for ten years.”

“How can you stand it?”

“I fuck instead. Want to try it?”

Justin looked at him and smiled. “I can eat dry cereal, or I can eat your ass. No contest.” He started stripping.

Brian’s cock was instantly hard. Justin could eat his ass, but tonight, Brian wanted to top and make Justin come again and again. He was hungry. He would feast his eyes on the expression on Justin’s face as he reached orgasm, and for desert, savor the delicious sounds he made when he lost control. For protein, he would lick the come off his belly. The perfect dinner.

Justin’s blond head resting on his shoulder, hearing his soft breath, smelling his clean hair, having just made sweet passionate love with him, Brian did not want to fall asleep. He wanted to savor the feeling of peaceful joy that filled him. It reminded him of how frustrated he had gotten with Michael at lunch. Hard to believe it was only hours ago. This had been a long day.

“He seems awfully close to that Brandon, and believe me, that guy fucks anyone he wants.”

“Mikey, they’re friends. And I don’t care if they fucked each other once upon a time. I’ve fucked half the guys at Babylon, and Justin doesn’t care.”

“Don’t you think it’s weird that he seems to zone in on both you and that Brandon? Maybe he gets off on the 'power tops.' What’s going to happen when he meets the next one?”

“I guess we’ll have to see, Mikey…” He’d taken a bite of his sandwich, hoping Michael would take a hint and change topics.

“He is young. He is cute. He could have anyone he wants, probably,” insisted Michael, clueless. “Do you wonder why he is with you?”

Brian thought of the first time they touched, of their first kiss, of the intense physical connection they had shared from the beginning.

“No.”

“You make a lot of money, you live in a fabulous loft. Has it occurred to you that could be why?”

“Well, there are certainly no other reasons why any guy would ever want me to fuck them. That’s why I always show tricks my pay stubs before I can convince them to let me fuck them in the back room. I’ve always had problems finding partners…”

“Yes, well, he is a starving student, isn’t he? And just how much money can he hope to make with his little paintings?”

“A hell of a lot more than you make with Red Cape, that’s for sure. Can we get off this subject? You are starting to piss me off.”

“See! He is already alienating you from your real friends!”

“You’re doing a fine job without anyone’s help, Mikey. What the fuck is your problem with Justin?”

“You don’t do boyfriends, Brian. You don’t believe in love, you believe in fucking. You don’t want a boyfriend!”

“Is that what helped you all these years, Mikey? Telling yourself that it wasn’t that I didn’t want you that way, just that I didn’t want anyone that way? Well, I hate to pop your bubble. I want Justin. I want him everyday, in every way. And if he were to suddenly disappear, I still wouldn’t want you. You are married, Michael, to a wonderful man. So you either get over this, or believe me, we won’t be having lunch together very often. Now I’m going to go visit my son, with my boyfriend, Justin. Get a fucking clue, Mikey.”

He had thrown money on the table, and left. Michael had been his best friend for twenty years. He mistakenly had thought Michael would be happy about what was happening in Brian’s life. He didn’t need anyone’s approval, but it would have been nice. It pissed him off a little. Then he thought about Justin, and about how he felt about him and chuckled. God, he really didn’t give a shit what Michael thought.

And now, with the love of his life in his arms, he smiled in the dark. He didn’t give a shit what anyone thought.

To be continued...

 

 

 

 

 

Let's Dance

His growling stomach awakened Justin before the alarm went off. It was 5:30. He thought of the empty cupboard and smiled to himself. This boy needed his protein. He rolled out from under Brian’s arm and pushed him lightly so he would lie flat on his back. Then he found his way under the sheet (the duvet was somewhere on the floor) to Brian’s sleeping cock. The same cock that had made him come three times last night. He loved that cock, and showed it so. The alarm was set for 5:45, so he only had about ten minutes left for ‘breakfast’. Plenty of time. Yum. Oh! Seems Brian was awake now!

He was just sucking the last drop of come out of Brian’s happy dick when the alarm rang. Brian took his hand out of Justin’s hair to reach over and turn it off as Justin made his way up his body. Brian’s hair was messy and his jaw was scratchy with beard, but his smile and their good morning kiss were very nice. In the shower the scratchy cheeks added a lovely dimension to his pleasure when Brian mouthed his freshly waxed balls in the process of returning his blowjob.

Justin had had his first wax when he was seventeen, right before his first foray onto Liberty Avenue, quite uselessly, as it turned out, since he had spend the next few weeks in a coma. After an hour of paging through different magazines he had no interest in, he had bought an issue of ‘Gay Pittsburgh’, trying to act debonair, never mind the fact that his hand was shaking and that his bills were soft with sweat when he’d handed the newsagent his money.

He’d read a very educational article (by flashlight, under the blankets) about the importance of a ‘well tended garden of Eden’ if one expected one’s partner to spend much time in it. The idea of someone spending time there had forced him to delay finishing the article, as of course he’d had to jerk off.

Twice.

Then he had gotten absorbed in the examination of the different pubic trims (the hair allowed to remain around the base of the penis and on the lower belly, a completely bald crotch being generally considered esthetically unsatisfactory) from a narrow band (weird) to a triangular shape (girly) to the more natural rectangle (his preference), or an oval shape (not bad).

Following the article were many ads from salons offering male waxing, including a few that offered scrotal waxing. Believing in being prepared, he had called the next day to make an appointment for what turned out to be a mortifyingly embarrassing and incredibly painful experience. It was, however, well worth it, as that night, he could not get enough of caressing his completely smooth bum, anal area, perineum and scrotum as he imagined someone else doing so.

With the years, the hair in the area had gotten much less coarse, and whether because he had gotten used to it, or whether the hair was less profoundly anchored, the whole experience had lost most of its excruciating edge, especially if one didn’t let things get out of hand. As soon as he detected the presence of some soft peach fuzz, Justin went for a wax, about every couple of month. Brian obviously did the same.

Justin dressed quickly while Brian shaved, but lingered in the bedroom while Brian dressed. His business skin went on with an economy of movement born from years of practice, as he transformed from Brian, Justin’s lover, to Brian Kinney, ad exec, both equally gorgeous in Justin’s eyes.

Brian was fully aware of being observed, but still moved without any self-consciousness, comfortable in his own attractiveness. He smiled at Justin as he tied his tie and Justin smiled back.

“We should go shopping for you,” said Brian. “You look beautiful in black. And you have a real job now.”

Justin laughed. “Half the people in the Art Department wear jeans to work.”

“Not the managers. They often meet the clients.”

It was true. Sam always wore a shirt and tie, though without a jacket, Randy had an artistic New York look, in black turtlenecks and black pants, and Julie seemed to own an endless collection of pretty dresses.

“I hate shopping,” said Justin cringing.

Brian smiled evilly. “I’ll make it fun for you.”

Thoughts of Brian fucking him in a dressing room made Justin suddenly want to run to the store. He smiled back but then said with a heavy sigh and a martyred look, “I guess, if we have to, we have to.”

Brian laughed. He picked up the phone and called a cab, hung up, dialed again and ordered a triple espresso, a tall latte and a muffin and hung up once more.

“I didn’t know Starbucks took phone orders,” said Justin.

“They don’t. But the pusher who loiters at the Starbucks corner does, for a ten buck tip.”

Justin smiled. Life with Brian certainly was interesting. They were sharing the cab to Plexus, and Justin was then continuing alone to the airport. He would meet Brandon in the luggage area, and Jessica would wait for them outside, in her limo.

At the Starbucks, Brian told the cab to pull up to the corner, where a handsome black guy in white do-rag handed him a tray with the drinks, the muffin, and about ten sugar packets in exchange for a twenty. Justin had never been so happy to see a muffin in his life and ate the cap off of it in about twenty seconds.

Brian laughed. “I think we should get food for the loft,” he said as he tore open six packs of sugar in a well-practiced move, and dumped them in his espresso.

“Uhuh,” Justin agreed, his mouth full. He took a swallow of latte. “I can shop at some point today. Is there a grocery store near the loft?”

Brian took out his wallet and handed him a card with drawings of dancing vegetables and a smiling truck, a truly horrible example of advertising gone wrong.

“Go to this site, and have the groceries delivered. They have a special code for the outside door.”

“Don’t the groceries cost a fortune though?”

Brian shrugged. “It’s convenient.”

Justin smiled at him and handed back the card. “I work part time. I can’t afford convenient. I’ll shop and carry.”

Something in the way Brian looked when he took back the card told him this conversation was not over, but the cab pulled up in front of Plexus, relegating it to a later time. Brian got out and leaned back in to kiss him goodbye. It was delicious, all dark espresso and sugar, with his soft caressing tongue. God, he loved that man. “Later” said Brian, smirking, evidently fully aware he’d just given Justin a hard on.

“Later,” replied Justin, licking his lips and tracing his hard on with both hands, making obvious the fact he was going commando. Brian looked at his mouth, then stared at his crotch for a few seconds and backed out of the car, hitting the back of his head as he straightened out. He rubbed it as Justin smirked at him. Two could play that game. Brian chuckled as he turned away.

 

*****

Brandon’s flight was right on time. When he arrived in the luggage area and saw Justin, his face lit up with a smile. Justin’s inside did a little flip. He belonged to Brian, heart and soul, but one would have to be made out of stone not to feel a thrill to know someone like Brandon cared for him as much as he did.

“Welcome to New York,” Justin said.

“What have I gotten myself into?” joked Brandon.

“You’re going to love it,” answered Justin, grinning.

They walked out, and as if by preordained magic, Jessica’s black limo pulled up. She stepped out while her chauffeur put Brandon’s bag in the trunk and extended her hand to him.

“Hello, Brandon Bloomquist. Welcome to New York. Aren’t you indeed an amazingly gorgeous man… “

“Mrs. Hammon, a pleasure. You certainly are a most beautiful woman.”

“And here I thought this was the airport, when it actually is the meeting place for the society of mutual admiration,” joked Justin.

Jessica turned to him, a fake look of concern on her face. “I’m sorry, love. Are you feeling left out?” She smile a patronizing smile. “You are cute too, Justin.”

“Yes, Justin,” Brandon concurred. “Very cute. Adorable, even.”

“That’s it!” said Jessica, nodding emphatically to Brandon. “He is adorable.”

Brandon nodded back. “Cute as a button…”

“I’m so glad I came to ease you two into your first meeting,” said Justin, laughing, “because I can tell already how hard it’s going to be for you two to get along…“

They got in the Limo, and Jessica explained, ”I thought we would go to the Carlton and over breakfast, we can review the contract I have drawn up. I could certainly use a cup of tea, and poor ‘adorable’ Justin looks simply famished.”

“That’s good, thank you,” agreed Brandon. “Apparently, while I wasn’t paying attention, the airlines have stopped serving breakfast, so I could use some food as well.”

 

 

Jessica had ended up having dinner with Cynthia the night before, speaking of advertising contracts in general terms, and gossiping happily about Brian and Justin’s love affair.

“So glad we provided entertainment for the two of you,” said Justin.

“One takes one’s fun where one can find it.” Jessica smiled sweetly. “If you really want to entertain, you could regale me with the romantic details…”

“Jessica,” Justin interrupted, “did you ever see the movie ‘From here to Eternity’? You know, that scene on the beach?”

“Who hasn’t?” She shrugged.

“Well. It was exactly like that.” Justin smiled at her, innocently.

“In New York city…”

Justin nodded emphatically.

“In December…” she continued, and Brandon cracked up.

“Go figure,” said Justin, grinning into his menu.

The conversation returned to business. Jessica had called on a vague acquaintance of hers who wrote contracts for well-known actors to endorse products. She had gotten a lot of information in exchange for an introduction to a friend of hers who might promote the acquaintance’s career.

She had come up with a finished product that she explained to Brandon, as he ate an egg white omelet and non-fat cottage cheese.

“Wow,” said Brandon, noting the large fee she demanded on his behalf. “That’s a lot of money. How much do you actually think I’ll get?“

“Exactly this, minus my exorbitant fees, and Justin’s finder’s fee.”

Justin rolled his eyes. “Brandon, she’s pulling your leg. I don’t get a finder’s fee.”

“It’s all right, Justin, I’d be glad to pay it in services rendered,” answered Brandon, smirking suggestively.

“Really?” teased Justin. “You’d clean my house? All right!”

Brandon chuckled then asked Jessica seriously: “How much are your exorbitant fees?”

“Well, there is a retainer. Then I want to watch the whole thing being made. I think it’s going to be really fun.”

“OK. What’s the retainer?”

“One dollar, and actually, you’d better pay up before we go any further, to make things legal.” Seeing Brandon’s disbelief, she added, “Brandon, I’m retired, richer than God, and bored to tears. Now pay up.”

Brandon looked to Justin for confirmation. Justin had not been sure what financial arrangement would exist between Jessica and Brandon, but since this was exactly what his had been with her, he nodded to Brandon with a smile. Brandon dug in his pocket and got out a dollar. Jessica dropped it in her hard sided purse and snapped it shut.

She went back to the contract. “Your fee for the commercial is non negotiable. We have them by the ba… short hairs, and this is actually fairly middle range.” She looked at him apologetically. “You’re not Brad Pitt…”

He smiled and nodded.

“Under normal circumstances, we would aim for half of this, when the negotiating was over. But they don’t get to do that this time. What we will lose is the chauffeur and limo, they’ll tell you to keep your cab receipts, and your stay at the Plaza Hotel. They’ll put you up at The Carlysle, apparently they have a contract with them. It’s very nice. I just threw those in so they wouldn’t feel completely helpless, but let’s face it… They probably have the camera crew on standby, and a dance studio rented. They’ll sign.

“They will probably ask for unlimited hours. I have you at ten hours a day. We may have to go up to fourteen. They are really in a crunch. How much sleep do you need per night?” she asked Brandon.

“Six to eight hours, when I’m dancing,” he answered.

“Yes. So fourteen is our absolute maximum. Any special food request? I put it in just in case.”

“Yes. No fat, low carb, mostly protein. I’m allergic to shellfish and hate anything in the brassica family.”

Jessica took note, saying, “I’ll try to remember not to call you ‘mon chou’, then. OK. Finally, I have ‘No’ to full frontal nudity, ‘No’ to questions about sexual orientation, and a request for your pre-approval of any images used. We will get the first two. Forget the last one. They never give that one, not even with huge stars.”

“I don’t mind full frontal, or admitting I’m queer,” observed Brandon.

“If they wanted full frontal, which they won’t, we would double your fees. And not talking about sexual orientation means they cannot ask you to lie and pretend you are straight… Which they might otherwise.“ Brandon nodded in understanding.

“I think we are ready. Are you done with your breakfasts?”

Justin had just finished the most wonderful eggs benedict. He felt revived. Brandon was done as well. Jessica smiled at Brandon as she stopped Justin who was reaching into his wallet.

“Brandon gets to pay, and then gets the money back as a business expense,” she said. “Isn’t it great?”

 

*****

 

On the way to Plexus for the 10:00 o’clock meeting, Jessica answered her cell phone. As she started a rather animated conversation, Brandon leaned over to Justin.

“Did you hear that tone?”

Justin laughed. “Yeah.”

They cracked up. Jessica’s ring was AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell”. They both shook their head in wonder.

 

 

Brandon handed Justin the data carrier containing the taping of the previous night’s The Nutcracker. He said he had been amazed at the efficiency of the crew, who had come, talked to the stage manager and set everything up in less than ninety minutes.

“You don’t want to wait until after you sign the contract?”

“Why? We all pretty much know I’m doing this, so I might as well help out. The sooner they review this, the better.”

“They are going to want to film the same moves in “Practice” as you do on stage, from the same angles, and probably with similar light, so I’m sure they’ll be really happy to get their hands on this as soon as possible. How did it go last night?”

“Really well. After a few minutes I forgot they were filming, really. When I dance, I usually lose myself in it.”

“Usually?”

“Well, there was that one time when I kept checking out a guy in the front. It was distracting, so I ended up pretending I was only dancing for him. It was one of my best performances of the season…”

Brandon was looking at Justin with open yearning, and Justin felt himself blush. Brandon shook his head. “I’m sorry, Justin. Ignore me. I won’t do this again.” He took a deep breath and smiled at Justin. “Friends?”

Justin, relieved, smiled back. “Friends.” Brandon was sweet, and gorgeous, and funny and hot, but Brian coursed through his veins like his very blood, present in every beat of his heart. ‘Friends’ was the best and only thing he had to offer. They both noticed a little too late that Jessica had ended her phone call. She was looking at them knowledgeably but carried on, as if she had witnessed nothing.

“That was Jason, Justin. We usually do lunch on Mondays. I told him about the recent excitement in his poor old mother’s life, and he’ll meet me wherever we will be for lunch. He is glad you are back. He wants to speak to you about something. Will you join us?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t know if Sam or Brian will need me for something. Is it all right if I tell you later?”

“Sure. We’ll see what develops.”

They parted ways in the elevator, Justin going to the Art Department to find Sam, and Jessica and Brandon going on to the conference room on the third floor.

Sam was thrilled to get his hands on the footage so early. Their still photographer, Phil Heartman, and Adam Jewett, the director for most of their commercials were there, with their favorite cameraman, Roderick “Spaz” Spencer. Spaz was brilliant, but unless you knew him, his surfer speech and pothead intonations did not make the best impression…

The five of them watched the footage on a large screen computer, very worried at first, since the Christmas party was somewhat out of focus. However, the Pittsburgh crew had taken the injunction to concentrate on the male lead seriously. As soon as he appeared, the focus was perfect, as was the lighting. They had three different cameras on Brandon at all times, with closeup shots when he was alone, and even close in shots of his facial expressions when he was not.

Justin was impressed by the ease with which the four others were able to immediately recognize the best shots, the best angles. The director and Spaz’s technical jargon, interspersed as it was with “Awesomes”, “Dudes” and “Rads”, quickly lost him.

The seven second sequence that would be the end of the commercial was chosen, cut, and “Tanked” in no time, and the shots Spaz would have to reproduce were numbered and classified by shot angles. They had selected twenty, though in the end they would need only six.

Shortly after eleven, Sam’s phone rang. The contract was signed. They were very excited, having expected it to take a lot longer. It was time to go to the dance studio Betsy had rented, and start filming the rehearsal scenes.

“Taylor? Mr. Kinney requested you come along. Bring your sketch pad.”

Justin rode with the Art Department crew, Erica, the make up artist, and enough leotards, leg warmers, footless tights and other dance equipment to outfit a ballet school. The studio had been chosen because it had only two adjacent walls of mirrors. Two other walls, including one with a bar were devoid of them.

They had been repainted early that morning in a quick drying dove grey, which Phil had recommended for background color. Apparently it would emphasize Brandon’s own colorings. Then they had aged the new paint with nicks and marks that made it look as if the studio had been well used since the painting.

They’d also brought in a baby grand, which sat in a corner, and hired an actress who looked like a very proper retired grade school teacher, grey haired bun, pale blue sweater, and white round collared shirt, to pretend playing it.

Brandon, who had arrived in Jessica’s limo, had brought a lot of his own dance clothes as well, and changed quickly into some which complimented the color scheme and satisfied Phil, Spaz and Erica. As they waited for the lighting to be installed, Brandon joined Justin.

“How did the negotiations go?” asked Justin. “She’s brilliant, isn’t she…?”

Brandon laughed. “She's scary is what she is. She told this Bower guy right off that the fee was non-negotiable, though the rest of the contract was, but the guy kept harping on it, so she told him something like ‘Since regardless of my several reiterations that this number is non-negotiable, you continue to act as if it is, let’s make you happy. The amount is, from now on, subject to change. However, it will do so only upward, and in ten percent increments, every time you mention it. We, Mr. Bower, have you by the small hairs. Please be so kind as to stop pretending otherwise, and let’s move on.’ He completely caved in. I can’t thank you enough for hooking me up with her. She’s fantastic.” Brandon had accompanied his imitation of Jessica’s cool tone with the graceful hand gestures that emphasized her speech. He was an amazing mimic, and had Justin giggling.

It was time for Brandon to warm up. They were filming everything he did, just in case it might be needed, as he stretched and went through his normal routine. Brian finally showed up, a Starbucks cup in hand. As soon as he entered, he scanned the room until his eyes found Justin’s and he smiled. Justin smiled back, loving him. Brian spoke to Sam for a few minutes and came to join Justin.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I heard the negotiations went well,” said Justin.

Brian laughed. “Your attorney is a menace to society. We should get her and Mel together. She had Gerard and Bower running scared and chasing their tail. She'd asked that Brandon be lodged at the Plaza. You should have seen their faces… Then she gave this long spiel about why her client refused to do full frontal nudity, knowing full well we didn’t need that anyway. She had them feeling like depraved porn addicts. It was classic. She got everything she really wanted, of course, and was quite sweet backing down from the crap she put in there just so she would appear reasonable. It was an education watching her. I still don’t know how she projects the fact that she is laughing at you without any external signs of it. I’d pay good money to find out.”

“You could just ask her.”

“Where is the fun in that?”

As they spoke, they were looking at Jessica. She was comfortably ensconced in the only chair available, the one that said ‘director’ on the back, as Adam seemed perfectly happy to crouch next to her and explain what was going on.

“How did your earlier meeting go?”

Brian answered, “That, too was an experience…” but did not elaborate, so Justin let it go.

The filming of the sequences they needed started. Brandon was awesome, his grace and control astonishing, as he repeated the same ‘Pirouette’, the same ‘Grand Jete’, the same ‘Fouette en tournant’ again and again to allow Spaz to get the right angles to match last night’s performance.

“He’s amazing,” said Brian.

“Yes, he is.” One could not but agree.

Brandon did a change of clothing, to make it appear as if it was a different day, and started again. They stopped to watch the takes. Brian and Justin joined the film crew, looking at the big screen laptop. They looked fantastic.

“Something’s missing,” said Brian, frowning.

“What?” asked Sam, who always trusted Brian’s instincts. They watched the takes again. Now that Brian had mentioned it, Justin agreed. Something was missing.

“Do you always practice alone?” Brian asked Brandon.

“Yes. Then there are the rehearsals, with the rest of the company.”

They watched the takes again. Suddenly, Justin knew what was missing. When Raines had trained, he’d had his coach present, commenting, chastising, encouraging. Brandon was alone and the perfection of his dancing made him hard to relate to, unattainable.

“We need a ballet teacher,” said Justin. “That’s what’s missing. Brandon is too alone, too self sufficient, too finished.”

Brandon laughed. “I haven’t had a ballet teacher in six years, since I graduated from the academy.”

“This is not reality, Brandon,” explained Adam. It has to do with people’s perceptions. Taylor is right. We need a teacher to replace the coach.”

“Shit,” said Sam. “He is right. We do need a ballet teacher. Damn. I thought we’d thought of everything. We need to call the agency, have them send actors to screen. It’s going to take forever.”

Brian went to look through the dance clothes the Art Department had brought. He picked up black tights, short black leg warmers, and on second thought, another set of black tights. Justin was watching him, puzzled, until Brian walked to where Jessica was sitting. Then he chuckled, and gestured for Brandon to come with him. They joined Brian.

“Mrs. Hammon,” Brian said with his most charming smile. “We need a dance teacher. You are it.”

“Pardon?” asked Jessica, nonplussed.

“Brandon looks too self contained, too unreachable, too perfect. We need a teacher to cut him down to size, make him more human,” explained Justin.

“Thanks,” said Brandon, laughing.

“I’ve never even taken a ballet class,” said Jessica, dismissively.

“Repeat after me,” said Brandon: “Five , six, seven, eight. That’s all you’ll need.”

“Please,” said Brian. “You can keep your lovely black turtleneck on. Put on these tights, tie your beautiful scarf around your hips, and let Erica put these other tights around your head to make some interesting head wrap. Then come in, do the counting thing, and tell Brandon to ‘please concentrate, dear, you look terrible’.”

She was staring at the three of them. “You can’t be serious.”

“Eema, just do as he says. You know you want to!” Jason had arrived at the studio to take his mother to lunch, and caught the conversation. He was grinning at Jessica. She grinned back.

“Oh, all right.” She looked at Brian. “You will owe me for this, Mr. Kinney. And do not think a cup of Earl Grey will suffice, this time.”

She grabbed the clothing from him, and walked to Erica.

“Excuse me, my dear. It seems I am required to become a dance teacher. Would you be so kind as to assist me in my transformation?”

“Of course!” said Erica, grinning. She grabbed her bag, and they headed to the changing room together, chatting away.

“Hi, Jason,” greeted Justin. “Thanks for your help in convincing your Mom.”

“She was just playing hard to get. She was dying to do it,” said Jason, laughing.

Justin introduced Jason to everyone.

“And you may remember Brian Kinney. It was at Pratt when you came to see my paintings.”

“How could I forget? Mr. Kinney. The new owner of your best piece, which you felt necessary to just give away.”

Justin blushed. He’d forgotten the little tug of war between Jessica and Jason regarding the painting, and Jason requesting to at least know where the painting was going so he could try to borrow it back to show it when he got Justin an exposition. As they were standing next to each other, the back of Brian’s hand ‘inadvertently’ brushed Justin’s.

Brian smiled at Jason. “It is a beautiful painting, isn’t it. I love it. Mr. Taylor was exceedingly generous.”

Jason could take a hint and nodded discreetly. Brandon had gone back to stretching, not wanting to cool down too much as he waited for the next takes.

“He is very good, isn’t he?” Jason said to Justin.

“Yes, he is the first dancer of the Pittsburgh Ballet Company. He is amazing to watch.”

Jason seemed to hesitate about something but then asked anyway.

“Mr. Kinney? Justin? Could you come with me? I’d like to talk to the cameraman and the director for a second, and I’m afraid they have no reason to pay attention to what I say, but I think if I don’t talk to them you may miss an opportunity.”

The three of them walked to Adam and Spaz.

“Excuse me, Mr. Jewett? Mr. Spencer?” said Jason.

“Spaz,” Spaz corrected.

“Yes, of course, Spaz. You might want to keep your camera rolling and catch my mother’s entrance. You see, she comes up with her best lines when she is a bit self conscious, which I am sure she will be, coming out. Whatever she says, it might not work for you, but then again it might. You don’t want to miss it.”

Spaz looked to Adam who looked to Brian, who nodded, and was very glad he had when a few minutes later Jessica made her appearance. She looked amazing. Her habitual perfect posture screamed ‘Ballerina’. All in black, except for a gauzy scarf around her waist, she looked thin and fit. Erica had done wonders with the second set of tights, now a broad black headband. She had also made up Jessica’s eyes in a slightly diminished but perfectly recognizable dancer’s makeup, the black kohl making the vivid green of her irises stand out. She stepped into the room, put her hand on her hips, and said to Brandon, who had just finished stretching and just sat on the floor, “Arre you planning to just look beautiful today Brrandon orr arre you actually going to dance?”

And Brandon replied, with a cocky and devastating smile, without missing a beat: “I can do both at once, you know.”

Jessica rolled her eyes, and smiled affectionately. “Arrrrogant whelp!”

“And cut! “ said Adam. “You got the whole thing, Spaz? That was fantastic!”

Jason smirked. Jessica was laughing with Brandon. She walked to her son.

“Look what you made me do, Jason!”

“Eema, that’s grandma Rivka’s accent.”

“Well, she may not have been built like a ballerina, to put it mildly, but she was Russian. I think Brandon’s teacher should come from the Bolshoi, don’t you? After all, they are the best!”

They did several more takes, with Brandon’s ballet teacher in the frame. Then they asked her to “criticize” him, so Brandon told her he was going to be a fraction too slow and heavy on his next jete, and as he was jumping, she made this frustrated gesture and said: “ Nonononono, Brrrandon. What arrre you doing? Arrre you channeling a dancing bearrr?”

Brandon landed and went into a fit of laughter. It took him a minute to recuperate. The next one she had to compliment. He executed it perfectly, and a big smile appeared on her face. When he turned to her, she looked almost bored, and said, “Not bad,” waving her hand dismissively. She was perfect.

After another hour, they called it good. They had everything they needed and more. Everybody’s mood was up. They looked at the takes excitedly. They might get it done on time, and it might actually be really, really, good. After “lunch” (It was already 2:30 in the afternoon), they were going to the gym on the 34th floor for a few workout shots.

Not knowing if he was actually supposed to sketch anything or not, Justin had sat in a corner and added a couple of drawings to his Brandon collection, and several of Jessica, the Bolshoi trained teacher. His hand was getting better, and he was getting much more proficient with the left one, able to do shading and general outlines with it. He could draw almost nonstop, now.

He had not been able to resist a quick sketch of Brian on his cell, as he was speaking to the owner of the gym. He was leaning with his back against the wall, one leg folded at the knee, his phone to one ear, and his hand to the other to block out some of the piano music. Even in this contrived looking position, he seemed perfectly relaxed and self possessed, beautiful.

Jason had to leave, having missed lunch, but thrilled to have been there to see his mother’s acting debut. He looked at Brian’s drawing over Justin’s shoulder, comparing it to its model.

“Can I see your pad?” he asked.

Justin handed it over, a bit self-consciously, but the man was his agent, and he trusted him completely.

Jason chuckled at the drawings of his mother in her ballet best, and flicked back through the drawings of Brandon, a few sketches of Gus, a three quarter profile of Brian, a detailed portrait of Hunter, a profile of Daphne in animated conversation, another one of Daphne with a manic grin, a nude of Brian (which he passed rapidly, thank god…), a portrait of Carl, multiple drawings of Brian’s hands, multiple drawings of his feet, Mel cuddling JR, Brian in profile, asleep, Brian smiling, Brian driving the Corvette… Jason closed the sketch book, smiling.

“’Mr. Kinney’ seems to be a recurring theme, Justin. You might want, for discretion’s sake, to use a different pad at work than you do the rest of the time. Your sketches are exquisite. If you are willing to part with a few, I am sure we could sell them at your next show…”

“It might be a while until I get another one,” said Justin. “The one in Pittsburgh was kind of a stroke of luck…”

Jason looked at him with a benevolent smile. “Your next show opens March the twenty-seventh, at the Brice Kindall Gallery in the Village. You will share the floor with a young sculptor, Heather Stokes, who is very good, and a glass artist from Finland whose name I can neither remember nor pronounce. We will need seventeen pieces, and as many of these as you are willing to sell, because I guarantee you everyone of them will.”

“I have a show? Oh, my God. A show? In a gallery in the Village? Holy shit. Sorry. Fuck! I don’t have seventeen paintings. Oh, my God. I’ve got to paint. Holy fucking shit. Sorry. Oh God. I only have eight. Plus two started, but one is a gift to someone. That’s nine. Oh fuck. Seventeen? Oh, my god…”

“Justin. Breathe. “ Jason laughed. “Come on. Three deep breaths. Atta boy. The gallery allows you to show up to four pieces unavailable for sale. You can borrow Mr. Kinney’s three, and use that other one you plan on giving away if you run out of time. See, it’s already thirteen. Which leaves you with four to paint in three months. You do more than that for assignments alone. You will be fine. I’m quite sure you will paint a dozen of them between now and then.”

Justin nodded, now too stunned to speak at all. A show. In a gallery. In the Village. In New York City. He was so glad he was sitting down. Jason clapped him on the shoulder.

“I have to run, Justin. I’ll talk to you later.” He chuckled. “Once you recover the power of speech…” He walked out, still chuckling.

Seventeen paintings. A show. In the Village. He started grinning like a fool, looking for Brian. He was busy discussing the takes with Sam and Adam. But Justin had to tell him! Now! Then he smiled and got out his cell. No one was paying him any attention; they were all focused on the takes. He dialed.

“Kinney”

“Brian… No! Don’t turn around! Are you heading back soon?”

“Yes. We are finished here.”

“Can we go now, ride together, alone?

“You need someone from the Art Department? Ok. I can bring Taylor back.”

Brian shut his phone.

“I’ve got to go back. I’m taking Taylor. I’ll see you at the Gym at five.”

He walked to Justin. “Taylor, get off your ass. You’re needed back at the office. We're leaving.”

And just like that, five minutes later, they were in a cab together. As soon as they pulled away from the curb, Brian was kissing him, and Justin thought he was going to melt from the onslaught, forgetting everything. When Brian stopped kissing him and smiled, he could only blink slowly.

“I have been wanting to do this since I walked in that door,” said Brian. “This is going to be harder than I thought.”

Justin had found his brain again.

“We don’t ordinarily work in that close proximity.”

“True. Thank you for thinking of calling. I was wracking my brain for an excuse to get you alone.”

The reason for his call suddenly came back to Justin.

“Oh, my God, Brian! Brian!”

“Justin! Justin! What?”

Justin giggled a little hysterically, but could not be bothered to care. Brian was waiting, smiling expectantly, amused by Justin’s obvious excitement.

“Brian! I have a show! In March! In a gallery! In the Village!”

“When did you find out?”

“Jason told me, right before he left.”

“And so you immediately called me on my cell to get me out of there and tell me.”

Justin immediately felt bad. Brian had been working. But apparently he was wrong, because Brian was not acting upset. Quite the opposite, in fact… Brian was kissing him again, and god, it was good. Oh, god. Too good. He could feel his body rejoice, his pleasure build, he really should stop Brian because he wasn’t even wearing underwear, and… oh, bugger that, it was too good, he just let the pleasure rise, loving it, loving it…

“Don’t come,” said Brian against his lips. “We’re going home.”

Justin groaned.

“Then I have no reason not to come, I can change pants…”

Brian, laughing, slid the window open and told the cabbie the change of plans and then whispered in Justin’s ear, “But if you come now, I can’t suck it out of you…”

Justin groaned again, his cock twitching at the thought, and he started palming Brian’s dick through his pants. Brian moved forward on the seat and leaned back, giving himself more space, relaxing and enjoying Justin’s touch. Justin feasted his eyes on his profile, the straight nose, the dark eyelashes, the marvelous lips…

Ten minutes later, they were getting out. Justin dialed all the codes, without problems, and as soon as they closed the door, Brian pushed him back against it, kissing him as he unbuttoned his jeans, and dropped down to take Justin's cock in his mouth. His mouth was warm and wet and sucking and licking and…

“Brian… Brian… oh God, yes, just like that…yes, don’t stop…oh god, fuck, Brian…” and he was coming, feeling Brian sucking out each jet of come as it came and swallowing it greedily and being ridiculously happy to be coming so long and hard and of giving Brian so much of his come to enjoy.

Then Brian was back, pinning him to the door, kissing him deeply as he started stripping off his own clothes. Justin toed off his boots, and wriggled out of his pants. When Brian stopped kissing him for a few seconds, as he took off his undershirt, Justin pulled off his shirt. They were grinning at each other, Brian walking backwards toward the bedroom, kissing Justin again, running his hands up and down over his naked ass and cupping his cheeks.

They climbed the stairs, Brian still walking backwards, and fell into bed. Brian reached under the pillow for a condom and for the lube, handed them to Justin, who was sitting astride of him, and said, “Ride my dick, Justin. I want to lie back and watch you.”

Justin loved this position, because he could watch Brian as he took his pleasure. He rolled the condom on Brian's very ready cock, and slathered lube on it generously. He lifted himself, and grinning at Brian, who was watching him with his hands behind his head, he impaled himself on his cock. Even as completely as he was able to relax to allow Brian in, there was still that delicious burn, and the wonderful fullness that went with it. Then he tightened himself again around Brian, watching Brian’s eyes as he shivered with pleasure. He sat there for a minute, enjoying the sensations, pulsing his sphincter muscles around Brian’s cock, but soon enough, he wanted more and lifted himself up, before settling down slowly again.

Though his cock was hardening anew, his urgency was gone and he could enjoy watching Brian’s face as his pleasure built. His hands on his thighs, he kept lifting up fast, and sinking down slowly, squeezing Brian tight. He loved it when a sheen of sweat appeared on Brian’s body, and when he rolled in his lips, containing whatever sound he might have made. Leaning forward, Justin kept his motions slow and easy as he sucked each of Brian’s nipples in turn.

“Justin, Justin…”

He started moving faster up and down, resting his hands on the mattress for balance, and licking each nipple, one after the other and back again, with a broad swipe of his tongue. Brian keened and Justin felt rewarded. He sped up again, making sure to give his motion as much range as possible, bringing the tip of Brian’s cock to the tight ring of muscle at his entrance before sinking back down as deep as he could go, now sucking on one of Brian’s nipple while rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger.

“Justin, touch yourself, I want to watch…” Brian's voice was raspy.

Justin put his weight on his left arm, keeping his motions fast and deep, and grasped his cock. There was hardly any lube left on his hand, and the head was still sensitive from his earlier orgasm, so the slide of his slightly callused palm over the ridge of his glans was immensely pleasurable but with an edge, like over-scratching a mosquito bite.

Brian had brought his hands to his own chest, and was playing with his nipples, watching intently as the head of Justin’s cock rose in and out of his fist. Justin changed the rhythm and motion of his hips, alternating three short thrusts, massaging the head of Brian’s cock with the tight muscles of his entrance, with one long deep slide, taking him fully in.

Brian’s eyes rolled back as his mouth opened, and on the fourth slide, he came, letting out quiet rhythmic little growls through his throat, his abs contracting almost violently, causing him to lift his upper body from the bed. When he reopened his eyes again, Justin stopped moving, and with Brian still deep inside of him, slicked his hand with spit, and brought himself off, letting his pleasure show for Brian’s enjoyment, tilting his head back and moaning as short bursts of spunk spewed forth from his cock onto Brian’s smooth stomach.

He smiled at Brian, who smiled back, and slowly raised himself off of Brian’s cock, carefully holding the edge of the condom, as his ass had tightened up around Brian’s diminishing girth and he was too spend for the effort it took to relax his muscles. He lay next to Brian.

Brian removed the condom, tied it off and threw it unerringly into the bin before coming up on his elbow and smiling at Justin.

“You have a show at the end of March in a gallery in the Village,” he reminded Justin, who smiled at him blindingly.

“They want seventeen paintings,” he said. “I only have nine, one of them only half done.”

“Are you worried?”

Now that Brian knew, now that they had made love, and that the first shock was over, Justin realized he wasn’t.

“No. You sell ideas, Brandon dances, I paint. It’s my gift.”

Brian smiled at Justin, combing his hair back from his forehead in that way he had, looking at him with so much love Justin’s body was warm with it.

“Justin. I want you to move in. I want you to live here with me.”

Justin’s mind reeled at the unexpected request and he started to say something, but Brian kissed his lips, stopping it.

“I’ve given this a lot of thought, and so should you. And if you don’t want to, it won’t change anything and I’ll understand. You love living at the brownstone. I know that. Just think about it. No pressure. When you decide, just let me know.”

He sighed. “I’ve got to go. I’m supposed to be at the gym at 5:00. You can stay here, or come along, or come later. I’m sure we’ll be working very late.”

They went into the shower together. There really was nothing to be gained from Justin’s presence at the Gym. They would probably film there a couple of hours. He could shop for food, eat something, and join them in the Art Department later when he could learn a ton from watching the pros at work.

“I’ll stay and shop, and join you there between 6:30 and 7:00.”

Brian was drying off, and walked around the loft picking his clothes up from the floor. Luckily the superfine wool of his Prada suit did not winkle easily.

“Sounds good. Buy me some skim milk and some Granny Smiths, will you?”

Justin smiled. “OK.”

“And take a cab to work, Justin. Just keep the receipt. It’s in your contract. You never have to ride the subway to or from work again.”

“Really? Wow! I need to finish reading this thing. God knows what else is in there…”

“You have to blow your boss on demand.”

“Sam?” teased Justin.

Brian laughed and kissed him.

“Later, smartass.”

“Later.”

To be continued....

 

 

 

 

 

The end of a very long day.

Brian couldn’t believe he had asked Justin to move in. Though he had tried not to think too much about it, the thought of spending the night without him once they came back again from Pittsburgh had bothered him, and the logistics of Justin’s responsibilities to his roommates had been nagging at him.

Justin could go home to eat dinner there and clean the kitchen in the evenings, after leaving the studio at Pratt, and come to the loft for the night, going in with Brian to Plexus in the morning, of course. But then what would be the point of his keeping a room there?

Brian loved their ride back to the brownstone after Essengy, but not half as much as he would love the shorter ride to the loft followed by lovemaking…

Of course there were plenty of evenings when he would go out alone, when Justin painted late, or hung out with his friends. Would he rather come home at three in the morning to an empty loft, or find Justin’s warm pliant body asleep in his bed? A no-brainer.

What about Justin’s fattening food in his kitchen, Justin’s messy art supplies left lying on his desk, Justin’s computer and cell phone plugged in under the bed with unsightly cords, his shoes to trip on by the door, his clothes scattered where they fell, his friends hanging out at the loft, his music playing on the stereo, and god knew what else?

They were part of Justin, and he wanted them.

He remembered sitting on Andrew’s bed, working on his computer, hearing the noise of a house with seven people in it. He had liked it, and he could always make one of the guest bedrooms into his own space if necessary.

Another idea came to mind, fully formed. He could make the other bedroom, the one with the larger window, into a studio for Justin. More glazing could be added, and it already had water in the small bath, and it had high ceilings…

He had promised himself he would not bring up the possibility of Justin moving in now, that they could see how it worked with the present situation, and talk about it before his next quarter started. No pressure.

He’d certainly fucked that up.

Patience had never been his forte. He saw something he wanted, he went after it. But this was ridiculous. They had only been together for ten days (so why was it so hard to recall life without Justin?).

It was too rash a decision, much, much too soon. Justin was smart. He would be the voice of reason and ask to wait a little.

God, Brian really hoped not…

He laughed at himself as he alighted from the cab. With Justin, he’d found joy where before there had only been pleasure. Brian had entrusted him with his heart and now he cared, instead of staying aloof. Before, Brian had been satisfied with his life; now, he was… happy. He’d gone completely lesbianic. So fucking what? He was taking a chance on love.

The 34th floor Gym occupied a whole story, yet it seemed quite small suddenly, invaded by the camera crew and the different employees of Plexus needed there for one reason or another, all wearing city clothes. In the middle of it was Brandon, looking a little worn out. Jessica was there also, sitting on a workout bench, making it look like the most comfortable settee, chatting with Erica, looking around at the different apparatus.

Brandon smiled at him when he walked in, and Brian smiled back. He realized Brandon was probably relieved to see a familiar face, but found that he had started to genuinely like the man and think of him as a friend. Brandon was sitting at a chest press, obviously waiting for the filming to start. He went and sat across from him, on the adductor machine.

“Sick of it yet?” he asked with a grin.

“Bored. It’s hurry up and wait. The lighting’s all wrong apparently. Makes me look green.” He chuckled. “Nice gym, though. You work out here?”

“Yes, at lunchtime.” He smiled. “Then I get a blow job in the steam room, and I’m ready for the afternoon.”

Brandon burst out laughing. “Do you always find takers?”

“It’s a big building. The Gym is gentlemen only, and the gay magazine “Homme” has its offices from the twelfth to the fifteenth floor… and of course, I have a magnificent cock.”

Once again, Brandon laughed, hard.

“See the short guy over there, who looks like a miniature Matt Dillon? He has a mouth like a tree frog’s. He’ll take your cock and your balls in there.”

“Brian, that’s not even physically possible!” still laughing.

“I guess that’s for me to know, and for you to find out,” answered Brian, grinning. “Maybe you should have a steam after your workout…”

Brandon was still chuckling when Adam announced the lighting was now OK, that everyone not in workout clothes needed out of the frame, and that Brandon should do ‘whatever one does with those machines’.”

As a male dancer, Brandon needed terrific upper body strength. Ballerinas counted on him for secure, controlled lifts, and in moves like the ‘Pas de Deux’, any weakness could be dangerous, never mind ruining the show. Considering his leanness, the amount of weight he worked out with was impressive.

There was not an ounce of fat on his body and the movements of his muscles could be perfectly seen under his skin. But once again, watching the takes, they realized he looked too perfect, too focused, and too alone. He needed a work out buddy.

They looked around the gym for a potential candidate until Jessica spoke up.

“Mr. Kinney, aren’t you a member of this establishment? Wouldn’t it be more comfortable, and therefore look better on film if Brandon actually knew the person with whom he works out? You two seemed to be having a lovely time together earlier. Isn’t that what’s needed? Someone with whom he can joke and laugh as he does these tedious exercises?”

Once again, she looked absolutely innocent, but he knew she was laughing at him. It was payback time. Everyone was looking at Brian.

“Dude, you’d be perfect. Same skinny ass build, dark to contrast his light. Totally rad,” was Spaz’s take on the idea. “And no worries, mate. No facial shots. You’re too good looking. We don’t want to distract from Brandon. Just the back of your head and your bod.”

Brian knew when to be gracious. He went and changed, picking his darkest workout clothes.

 

 

They ran on adjacent treadmills for a while, asked to go the same speed and use the same stride. It was kind of fun.

“You have a very lithe built,” commented Brandon. “How old are you?”

What the hell. The truth will set you free. “Thirty-four.” God. He was ancient.

“Your body looks ten years younger, you know?” Brandon said, “When tall guys have just finished growing but have not bulked up yet? What do you eat to keep that look?”

“Practically nothing,” answered Brian, and that was the pathetic truth.

Brandon laughed. “I believe it. The early twenties are a hard period for male dancers. We need the bulk, the muscle mass, and it feels like it’s never going to come. It seemed I ate nothing but tuna by the pound and cottage cheese by the quart, while working out like a fiend for three years, to bulk up.”

“Your body is perfect now,” said Brian.

“Perfect for what I do. It’s a work in progress, but nature was good to me. I have perfect symmetry, perfect proportions, nice height, and long muscles. Those things you are either born with, or you never have. Well that’s not true. You can correct symmetry a little.”

“Guys, let's stop the treadmills. Erica is going to sweat you up with her water bottle, and then we will do a sequence at much higher speed, like a four-minute mile, for one minute. Then the treadmill stops and you guys high five. OK?”

Erica came with two bottles: One to spray their clothes in strategic areas, and an Evian mister for their exposed skin and to wet their hair. They looked like they had just finished a long race.

“This is much easier than my usual work out,” joked Brandon to her.

“And I bet you smell better than you usually do, too!” said Erica.

“That too,” he conceded. “Though good clean sweat can smell nice.”

“Such a guy thing to say!” Erica rolled her eyes.

Brian thought about how much he enjoyed the smell of Justin’s clean sweat, the taste of it, the smell of his crotch and the taste of his ass…

As they got back on the treadmills, Brandon smirked at him. “Thinking about Justin’s smell, Kinney?”

Brian was sporting an impressive boner, something he was never embarrassed about. “About the taste of his ass, actually,” replied Brian. “But that’s probably another guy thing…”

The treadmills started and they were running all out, though Brian was grinning, and Brandon was still laughing. A short minute later, they did their high five, and walked away, towels with the Clearlife insignia around their necks, bottles of Clearlife vitamin water in their hands.

“That was perfect, guys. How about some abs?”

It took another hour for them to have all they needed. Brandon and Brian headed to the showers.

 

 

A naked Brandon was a thing of beauty and Brian did not even pretend not to look. Brandon did not keep his eyes down either. Brian was gorgeous in his own right.

“What is it about him?” said Brandon, as they were toweling themselves off.

Brian knew exactly who ‘him’ was. 5’9”, only a shade of muscle definition, a bubble butt and legs more muscular than his torso.

“I’m not sure,” he answered pensively, “but I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful in my life.”

“Me neither,” answered Brandon ruefully.

Brian wondered, not for the first time, what had happened between the two of them. He knew about the blowjobs in the backroom, but had a feeling there might be more than that. Though sexual jealousy did not seem to be much a part of his make-up, he had certainly felt serious twinges of it about Justin. Now, he was interested to note that knowing Brandon and Justin had probably fucked only made him feel more sympathy for Brandon.

They returned to Plexus at 7:00 and went directly down to the Art Department. The movie editing computer and the large screening screen had been brought into the large work room. There was a bit of a spread, with turkey sandwiches, hummus, cottage cheese, and fruits, all of it oriented to Brandon’s requirements, with not a lick of mayonnaise or olive oil in site. That suited Brian just fine and he grabbed half a sandwich.

Justin wasn’t there. Brian dialed his cell number. It rang, then went to voicemail. Perhaps it had been at the bottom of his bag, and he’d not had time to reach it. He pressed redial. Ringing, voicemail. Could he have left it at ho… at the loft? Maybe he had headphones on and couldn’t hear it. But he had it on the ring/vibrate combo. Ringing, voicemail.

He closed his phone, which vibrated immediately and almost gave him a heart attack. He flipped it open.

“Justin?”

“You know Brian, there are other people who own cell phones in the world beside Justin.” It was Cynthia. “I walked over to Mansoor’s to get ice for the drinks (Where the hell is Sarah when one needs a slave girl, by the way?), and I’m stuck in the lobby. One of the elevators is stuck on 3, and you know that’s Alan, blocking the bloody door while he gives Betsy his last minute instructions, for forty-five minutes. The other seems stuck between the lobby and 2. I almost got on that one, but that asshole Phil from Legal let the door close, when I know he saw me coming. I cannot believe I actually went out to dinner with that prick.”

“Phil? Are you sure?”

“Which part of ‘went out to dinner with that prick’ did you miss, Brian? Yes. I know Phil. He is in the elevator, apparently stuck between here and two, and the stairs’ door in the lobby can only be opened from the inside, so get yourself down here and let me in. That ice is cold.”

“How did he get in?”

“What?”

“How did Phil get in?”

“Oh. Justin arrived in a cab and Phil was waiting by the door. He probably forgot his card. Justin let him in. I was across the street but the light changed and I was able to cross. The elevator doors were just starting to close when I got in. Phil totally saw me but closed them anyway. Now he’s stuck. Serves him right.”

“Justin’s in there with him, Cynthia.”

“Poor Justin, stuck in there with that prick.”

“With that extremely homophobic prick whom I fired and had escorted out of the building by security this morning. What's Dwayne’s extension?”

“Oh, shit!…3616, I think. No! 3816. 3816, Brian, I’m sure.”

Brian felt sick. He would not panic. Elevators got stuck all the time (but then people pressed the emergency bell…). Phil did not know who Justin was (but Justin was not answering his phone…).

“Hello?” Oh, for fuck's sake!

“Yeah.”

“Dwayne, this is Brian Kinney from Plexus. I need you to use your override key on one of the elevators that seems to be stuck between the lobby and the second floor.”

“There hasn’t been any bell, or any call. Are you sure?”

“Dwayne, I'm sure. Where do the elevators go when you use the key?”

“Down here.”

“Down here where, Dwayne?”

“Well, the garage, of course.”

“Go to the elevator. Use the key, NOW. I’ll be right down.”

Brian had been jogging for the stair’s door and now started going down, the sole of his Gucci loafers sliding on the bare, smooth concrete. As he passed the lobby, Cynthia was banging on the door and he opened it for her, not waiting to see if she actually got in. He almost killed himself on the last flight, and once in the garage, ran to the elevators, his leather soles still sliding. Cynthia, her pumps in her hands, was right with him. Above a couple of car roofs, he could see the door of the elevator opening, then he heard Dwayne, “Get off of him, get off!” then the sound of a fist on flesh and of a body hitting the cement.

As he came in view of the elevator, his brain took in every detail of what he was seeing.

Justin, lying on his stomach at the bottom of the elevator, pulling his hand out of his carrier bag and standing up on wobbly legs, his unbuttoned pants showing white underwear. His face and shirt were all bloody, crimson running out of his nose. He wiped his hands on his thighs, buttoned his pants and wiped his nose on his sleeve. He was all right. He was all right.

Brian stepped in the elevator and reached for him, but Justin batted his hand away. “Don’t touch me!” he said in a shaky voice.

Cynthia removed the emergency key from the lock and handed it to Dwayne, stepped in the elevator with a trembling Justin and a stunned Brian. Her hand in the middle of his chest, she pushed Brian back, shaking her head “No” and said, “Justin, you're bleeding all over.” Staring at Brian, she added, “Let’s go to the Lady’s Lounge on the 3rd floor. There is an emergency kit, and we’ll take care of that.”

The doors closed. Phil was on the cement floor, out like a light.

“He was on top of that sweet blond kid that always says hello,” said Dwayne. “I think he was trying to take his pants off. D’you think he wanted to… you know? That boy was fighting him like a lion. He may be a pansy, if you know what I mean, but he was not gonna let it happen, and that’s for damn sure…”

Brian dialed 911 to report an assault, and mentioned the perpetrator was unconscious in the garage. They were sending a car, and an ambulance. Brian did not want to wait. He wanted to be on the 3rd floor, waiting for Justin.

He called the elevator, and apparently Alan must have concluded his nightly instructions because it came almost immediately.

Before stepping in, he said, “Thank you, Dwayne. Thanks a lot. Please wait for the police. They should be here any minute. If you can avoid it, could you not mention that Mr. Taylor’s fly was open, and that it’s possible Phil was trying to take advantage of him? I think we should let Mr. Taylor decide whether to mention it or not.”

“Sure, Mr. Kinney. I know how some of them cops feel about pansies. They’d probably say the kid was asking for it. I won’t say nothing ‘bout that. Let the boy decide what to say. You’d be his… good friend then, Mr. Kinney?”

“Yes I am.”

“You’re a lucky man, then. He’s a very nice young fella. Polite. I like the ladies, myself, but I can tell a good guy when I see one, pansy or not.”

“Yes. I’m very lucky.”

The doors closed and Brian started shaking. ‘He’s all right, he’s all right…’ He mentally slammed the door shut on the “what could have happened” chamber of Hell, and concentrated on recalling Justin getting up, a little shaky but looking mad as hell, and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

Justin was only 5’9”, and less than 150lb, Phil was as tall as Brian, 6’2”, 6’3” and big, 190, 200lb. How long were they in there? Long enough for Cynthia to lose her patience and call him. Ten minutes? Fifteen minutes?

The doors opened on the third floor. Contrary to the impression he’d given Betsy, he knew perfectly well where the staff room was. Attached to it was the Lady’s Lounge. When your personal assistant tells you she wants a lounge, and you depend on her as much as Brian depended on Cynthia, or Paul on Emily, you said, “How large?” When the bill for the furnishings topped that for your own office, you said, “I’m so glad you have a comfortable place to relax,” and if there was a weekly bill for Evian water, fresh fruit, fresh flowers, and Godiva chocolates, you just signed it with a smile. These women routinely worked ten to twelve hour-days, and deserved everything they got.

He went into the staff room, and started pacing. The Ladies’ Lounge had a keypad. He did not know the code. Then he noticed the door was held open by the tall heel of a red soled pump. He got close.

“Stop moving, Justin, keep your head back!”

“Sorry, I’m just full of adrenaline. That fucker!”

“I know.”

“He was so fucking big, so fucking heavy!”

“And such a prick. Don’t forget the prick part.”

Justin let out a shaky laugh. She had him laughing.

“You look like you butchered a hog,” she said.

“I was trying for that look.”

“Good job, then.”

“You know what gets me? Now everybody is going to say: ‘Poor little Justin’, like I’m a victim or something.”

“He did attack you, Justin.”

“I know. And I could kiss Dwayne for getting the fucker off my back, but now he… now people are going to look at me differently, see me as weak.”

“You mean Brian.”

“No, I mean… Yes. Brian. Thank god he asked me to move in before this, and got me free cabs on my contract yesterday, because otherwise, how would I have known he wasn’t doing it to watch over me, to protect me?”

A feminine peal of laughter. “He asked you to move in! Oh, I am going to make him eat so much crow!!”

“I’m so glad my woes amuse you…”

“Sorry. He’ll be a little overprotective. You scared the piss out of him; it’s normal. Give him a week, and then, if he’s still doing it, tell him off…”

There was silence for a moment, then, “He’s the same height as Phil, isn’t he?”

“…Yeah.”

“And he is… forceful, his personality is domineering…”

“…Yeah.”

“But he’s not like Phil, is he, Justin? He loves you.”

“I know that Cynthia.”

“I know you know that. In your head. In your heart. But in your gut…”

“Yeah. I pushed him away.”

“You needed space. You needed to calm down. He was tall and he was going to hold you. He’ll understand.”

“That fucking prick!”

“Hopefully, we are back to Phil?”

Justin’s laughter again, more relaxed this time.

“Yeah. We are. I don’t want to fear the man I love because of him. I don’t want the man I love to see me as a helpless victim.”

“Fat chance of that. He saw what I saw.”

“Yeah, me, on the fucking floor, helpless and bleeding.”

“No, you, on the floor, fighting tooth and nail and reaching into your bag.”

“You saw that, eh?”

“What’s in your bag, Justin?”

“My Exacto-knife. The big one.”

“Good thing for Phil that Dwayne opened that door then. Saved his ass.”

“He was pissing me off.”

Another peal of laughter. “Remind me not to piss you off. We’re done. You’re not bleeding anymore. Put this on. It’s Betsy’s.”

“She went to Dartmouth?”

“Yes. Emily and Dianne went to Radcliff.”

“You?”

“Bryn Mawr”

“Wow. The women behind the men…”

“Yep. Half the population, all the brains…”

“Hey!”

“I know, Justin, the truth hurts.”

They laughed again, amidst chair noises, and Brian opened the door just enough to push her shoe all the way in.

Then he went and sat next to the coffee machine. Justin saw him and smiled, a real Justin smile, and then said, “Ouch,” and pressed a Kleenex to his lip.

Cynthia shook her head, “Thanks, Brian. There goes all my hard work.”

Justin was completely clean, not a trace of blood on him, and except for a small cut in his lip, he looked completely unhurt. Brian got up, and Justin walked into his arms, holding onto him fiercely.

“Sorry about earlier. I didn’t want to put blood on your suit.”

Brian went along with it. “I truly appreciate that. It’s my favorite.”

“Cynthia thinks I might have black eyes tomorrow, though we iced the shit out of my nose.”

“Yeah. Good thing I had that ice…” she commented.

Brian looked at Justin’s face. His nose and cheeks were a bit red, but not terribly so. He put a feather light kiss on his lips.

“You can adopt the gothic look for a few days, and no one will notice.”

Justin laughed: “Yeah. My hair color is perfect for goth…”

Brian’s phone rang.

“Kinney.”

“Officer Hamill, sir. We are here about the assault. We talked to Mr. Cussac, he said you witnessed it as well, with a lady, and that you’d know where the alleged victim is.”

“Yes, officer. We are all on the third floor. Please come up to my office.”

“Go on,” said Cynthia, “I’ll bring them in.”

Brian and Justin walked to his office, Brian’s arm on his shoulders. As soon as they closed the door, Brian hugged him tight, breathing in his scent.

“I was so fucking scared…”

Justin just hugged him back.

“I want to kiss you but I don’t want to hurt your cut…” said Brian.

“Well, you could always suck my cock instead…”

There was a knock on the door.

“Damn, one more minute and I had you right where I wanted you,” said Justin.

Brian chuckled as he opened the door.

Officer Hamill was a petite black woman with a no nonsense air about her. Her partner was twice her size, black as well and very dark skinned, but with striking light hazel eyes.

She looked around the room, and her eyes stopped on Justin.

“You're the victim?”

“I’m the one who was attacked,” corrected Justin.

“Well, that big boy in the hospital sure messed with the wrong man, didn’t he?”

Her partner laughed quietly, his big frame shaking.

She took out her moleskin booklet. “I just finished talking to the receiving nurse at Columbia general.” She read off the page. “Three broken metatarsals, a broken astragal, that’s his foot apparently,” she translated for them, “two broken ribs, a broken nose, a broken jaw, Mr. Cussac claims the jaw as his handy work, and my favorite, one burst testis, being surgically removed as we speak… He’ll be in the hospital for at least 72 hours.”

She looked at Justin. “You took a couple self defense classes, didn’t you, son?”

“I was bashed when I was seventeen. I went to the classes sponsored and taught by the Pittsburgh police force for two years after I got better, as part of my therapy.”

“Thought so. I recognize all the injuries.”

She turned her back to her partner who grabbed her from behind and pretended to stamp her foot hard on top of his. He said “foot,” she swung her elbow back, “ribs.” He let go of her and brought his arms protectively to his chest, she turned to kick her right foot crotch height, “balls,” he said and folded his body in half, holding his genitals. Her hands on the back of his head, she swung her other knee up, ”nose” he said, and fell to the floor in the fetal position.

“Your teachers would be proud. You did everything right,” she said, helping the big guy back up.

“He was supposed to be out of commission!” said Justin, annoyed. “That’s why I turned away to ring the alarm. He jumped on my back and flattened me. I fell on my bag.” He pointed to his lip.

Big guy explained, “He would have fainted in a few more minutes, but he had two grams of alcohol in his blood. His brain didn’t know he was hurt yet.” He sounded just like Barry White.

Justin nodded. “I could smell the booze as soon as he came on. I ignored him, figuring he’d leave me alone. He grabbed me from behind, called me a little faggot, ripped my fly open and said I’d gotten my job by sucking cock, and that if I liked it so much, he’d be glad to put his prick up my ass.”

Agent Hamill shook her head. “Well. We’ll pile on the charges.”

“Will it go to court?”

“Truthfully? Probably not. First offense. They’ll bargain it down. But if we charge him with enough he’ll do some time.”

She gave each of them a card. “Please come in tomorrow and review your deposition. We can talk to you then or we can talk to you now,” she said to Brian and Cynthia.

“Now,” said Cynthia.

“Tomorrow,” said Brian.

“Do you need me anymore?” asked Justin. “I’d like to get back to work.”

“No. See you both tomorrow. I’ll be in from one to four if you want to see me, otherwise your case number is on the card.”

“Thanks.”

As they were leaving, they heard Officer Hammil say to Cynthia, “That’s a really nice painting. I like the one in the lobby, too. Feels like the city, you know?”

Justin and Brian looked at each other and Brian said, “A woman of excellent taste.”

In the elevator, he smiled at Justin and caressed the side of his face. Justin turned into his hand and kissed his palm, and Brian, stupidly, felt like crying. He took a deep breath.

“Brian,” said Justin, softly, putting his hand on top of Brian’s, ”I’m all right.”

Brian pulled him against his body and kissed the top of his head.

The doors opened. When they exited the elevator, they found Dwayne, waiting with Justin’s bag.

“Poked my head in there,” he said pointing to the Art Department’s workroom, “didn’t see you there. I figured I’d wait.”

“Thank you so much, Dwayne. That was very thoughtful of you,” said Justin.

“What’s going on in there? You’re all here mighty late,” Dwayne asked.

“We’re making a commercial,” said Justin.

“Like for TV?”

“Yes. For TV.”

 

 

Dwayne looked very impressed.

Dwayne had worked for the building for over twenty years, as far as Brian knew. He had a small apartment on the premises, somewhere in the basement, and was always around. For example, tonight, Brian had had no doubt Dwayne would be available to help open the elevator. He made a quick decision.

“Dwayne, it’s top secret, but if you can keep it to yourself, you can come in and watch,” he said.

“Scout's honor,” said Dwayne looking pleased as punch, crossing his heart.

He walked in with the two of them, looking around. Brian found a spot where he could see the big screen, and not be in anyone’s way. Brandon, who was drinking some water at the impromptu buffet, saw Justin and made his way in their direction. Brian smiled at him, telling Dwayne: “Stay right there. Mr. Taylor will introduce you to the star before they both have to go to work again.”

Brian joined Sam near the large screen where the takes were showing.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“A long and painful story. How is it going?”

“Good. You weren’t missed. We’ve been choosing shots. Not easy, too many good ones. We have enough for a two-minute spot. We’re going to cut it, and then from it make the thirty-second one. You weren’t here. I made an executive decision.”

“I do have a phone.”

Brian looked towards Justin. He was laughing with Dwayne and Brandon.

“Well, considering you weren’t answering, it wasn’t much use. Were you in the garage or something?”

“Yes, actually, I was. And a two-minute spot is a great idea. If it’s really good, I should be able to sell it to them, for use after the Rose Bowl, when minutes are cheaper.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” He added, “We have to tape some “Deep thoughts” from Mrs. Hammon, but we don’t have a writer. You want to take a crack at it?”

“Let me talk to her.”

Justin had come forward and was watching Spaz and Adam working on a computer. He looked fine. Brian needed to relax.

Jessica, like Dwayne, was watching everything from a spot out of the way, except that she was in Sam’s extremely comfortable leather chair, and drinking some Perrier water with ice. Brian called Steven, the sound specialist, over.

“Mrs. Hammon.”

“Mr. Kinney.”

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Immensely.”

“We need you and your Grandmother again, I'm afraid. Steve, here, needs to record voice-overs, general comments about Brandon that have nothing to do with the images per se, but are appropriate in a general sense, mostly about how special he is. In the jargon, we jokingly call them, ”Deep Thoughts”, because they sound good, but don’t mean much. They are the equivalent of the journalists’ sound bites.“ He turned to re-introduce Steve. “You’ve seen Steve working today, along with the cameraman. This is different. He will just be taping your voice.”

Justin and Spaz were talking animatedly, pointing at the screen. Justin looked excited, probably learning something new.

“Brian, we don’t have a script yet,” said Steve, bringing him back.

“I know. I’m supposed to write it, but I think if I give Mrs. Hammon a theme, she can probably improvise. It will sound more genuine.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work…”

Jessica’s eyes were shining. “Oh! Let’s try it, shall we?” To Steve: “I’m an attorney. You would be surprised at the bullsh… the improvised words of wisdom we come up with on demand. I can think on my feet.”

Steve shrugged. Brian said: “Ready?” Both Jessica and Steve nodded.

Brian thought for a second, watching Justin smiling and gesturing to describe something.

“Poetry in motion,” he said.

 

 

“Go!” said Steve.

"Poetrrry in motion! I think always: what a stupid English exprrression! Poetrry is poetrry! motion is motion! Then one day, I see Brrrandon dance… And I think…. Oh! So… that’s what it means! Because that’s what he is: Poetry in motion!

“Cut! ... Eh,” said Steve. “That's really good! Great delivery!”

Jessica smiled. “Thank you.” Then her face lit up. “I have another one! Oh, it’s really over the top!! You’ll love it.”

“Go!”

“The firrst time I see Brrrandon on stage I think: Dance? I neverrr danced. Now this is dance. He rrredefines grace. He rrredefines control. He rrredifines BALLET!”

“Cut!” The three of them laughed.

“It’s the accent,” Steve said. “What you say is totally cheesy, but the way you say it, we think: Oh, it’s that passionate, fiery Russian temperament… That was great. You must be a kick ass lawyer!”

“I had my moments.” Brian was surprised to see her cheeks pink with pleasure at the compliment. “I’m retired, now.”

“You didn’t sound retired this morning,” Brian said. “You had them chasing their tails.”

She laughed. “It was fun. I was this close to getting him the Plaza!”

Brian smiled, “Sad, but true…”

Adam joined them with Brandon. “Tomorrow, we do the interviews. We might need you again if you are willing, Ma’am.”

“It will be my pleasure,” she said.

“Mr. Bloomquist and yourself can call it a night, then. We'll have the set ready, and start at… What do you think, Kinney?”

“We’re doing the set tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Eight then.”

“Is eight all right Ma’am, Mr. Bloomquist?”

“Eight is fine.”

“Yes. Fine.”

“Ma’am, I’m not sure how much we will use you, but it will be nice to have you around if need be. Thank you so much for today. You are entitled to payment for the acting job. There are different scales. A non-speaking extra, like the piano player, is on one scale, small acting parts on another. Monica, over there, can tell you your number of hours, and your pay scale for both your acting bit, and for your voice-overs. If you are already a SAG member, you are on a different scale altogether…”

“I am happy to do it on a volunteer basis, to help out,” said Jessica.

“Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.”

“Then Monica will have a form for you to sign. You were excellent, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

“See you tomorrow, then.” Adam went to join Spaz at the computer.

“Brandon, dear, I would be happy to drop you off,” offered Jessica,” and pick you up at your hotel in the morning, if you wish.”

“I’d appreciate it. I was up early, and it’s been a long day. Give me a couple of minutes? I want to talk to Brian for a moment.”

They walked to the buffet.

“Is Justin OK?” asked Brandon.

“Yes, why?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Kinney. He has a split lip, and you smell like fear. I’ve been watching you. You keep checking on him.”

Brian reminded himself that, though Justin was his, he was not the only man here who loved him.

“He was attacked in the elevator by a homophobic ex-employee with a grudge. Justin beat the crap out of him. The guy is in the hospital having a burst testis removed. He has seven broken bones as well. Justin fell on his bag and split his lip. I’d realized they were in the elevator together. The guy had stopped it between floors. He is 6’2”, 6’3”, 190, 200lb. I was scared shitless. Unnecessarily, evidently.”

“Holy crap!”

“Yeah. The big homophobe picked on the wrong little blond faggot. Justin’s fine.”

“Are you?”

“I will be.”

“Thanks. For telling me.”

Brandon went to say goodbye to Justin, then went back to Jessica, offered her his arm, and they left, having an animated conversation.

Justin was now sitting with Spaz and some other member of the filming crew whose name Brian didn’t remember. Justin was holding the mouse, following the crewmember’s instructions. They were working on a small screen, but what they were doing was showing on the big one. They were cutting and joining scenes together, apposing the rehearsal moves and the stage moves.

The angles were the same, the speed of motion was the same, the lighting direction was the same. It was as good as it gets. Justin was having fun with the Fouete en tournant, changing from one to the other on every turn. Spaz’s colleague looked excited at the idea. Justin was gesturing and asking a question, and pretty soon, Brandon’s clothing was changing color every two turns, yellow scene costume, yellow workout clothes, orange costume, orange clothes, red costume, red clothes. It looked very cool. They switched back to the true colors. It didn’t look half as exciting. They went back and did it for all the jumps, the Jete in blue, the Pirouette in purple, a move Brian did not recall the name of in green. The similar colors emphasized further the similarities between the moves, the perfection of execution. It was brilliant.

He looked back from the large screen to the computer where Justin was working with the cameraman and his colleague. They were laughing. Spaz called the director over, and showed him the difference the color change made. Adam looked happy, and clapped Justin on the back. Brian felt an absurd burst of pride in Justin. Anything visual, Justin could improve.

He hated to disturb him, but he needed his extra sketches of Brandon and those of Jessica, the ballet teacher. He’d had this idea for the interview set, and Sam had liked it. They were using Erica’s makeup station and making it look like Brandon’s changing room at the theater. They needed to reduce the exposed area of the mirror, to give the camera greater range without appearing in the reflection.

It was usually done by putting pictures, programs and so on under the frame all around the mirror, as if the performer used it as some kind of scrapbook. It was such a cliché, people were always surprised when visiting real changing rooms to find the mirrors completely free of clutter. Brian wanted to use Justin’s sketches, and then during the interviews, which were supposed to appear to be unplanned, unscripted conversation, the camera could break the monotony of the shot by focusing on the sketches, with the voices then on voice-over.

It would be quick, the final commercial being only thirty seconds, at least originally, but it was amazing how much you could fit into that time, or at least suggest was there. There would be bottles of vitamins and supplements in every frame, but just as the vitamin drinks at the gym, and the energy drinks at Brandon's practice were seen and used but not spoken of, they would not be mentioned. Only at the very beginning, and at the very end of the commercial would the name Clearlife be spoken, though it would be seen continuously.

“Taylor, sorry to interrupt. We need the sketches of Brandon and of Mrs. Hammon you drew this morning.”

“Sure. They’re in my bag.”

Justin got up, and they went to where Dwayne was still standing, staring at the big screen, fascinated. Justin got his pad out and carefully removed the drawings required. He was about to close the pad when Brian stopped him. He looked at the drawing of himself on the phone, and was reminded anew that he was loved by this amazing young man. He looked at Justin, who was blushing and smiling at him almost shyly, his eyes full of love, and Brian smiled back, wishing he was capable of saying the words that filled his heart.

He and Sam worked on the set, and then he wrote the script for the interview, wondering how Brandon would do. Perhaps they should just ask him the questions and see what his natural answers were like, and only script them if that didn’t work.

Spaz and Adam worked out the camera angles, and filmed the shots of the sketches to be inserted later.

Brian went back to the main room to find Justin still working with the guy whose responsibility apparently was to edit the movie.

They played the two-minute spot, which had forty-seven seconds of blank space interspersed throughout, and the thirty-second spot, which only had nine free seconds left. So far, they were totally amazing. Better than the Raines commercials, which was unbelievable.

Justin pushed back from the computer desk and stood up, stretching. Brian couldn’t wait to get him home. He walked over, remembered the guy’s name just in time and said, “They look great, Chris. Can’t do much more tonight.” Then he asked Justin, “Taylor, where do you live?”

“Uh… Tribeca, for now.”

“Good. I want to talk to you about the St Blanche winery project. Tribeca’s on my way. We can share a cab and talk about it. Meet you downstairs in ten minutes.”

Brian went up to his office, picked up his coat and his computer bag and headed down to the lobby.

 

 

Justin was outside and had hailed a cab. They got in, unconsciously taking their usual position. Brian sighed. He loved holding Justin.

“Do you know what Chris said when you left?” asked Justin. “He said, no wonder they call him the Asshole. He wants to share a cab to talk about work? It’s not as if you haven’t had a fourteen-hour day already…”

Brian had to laugh. “Good. I wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

“Your evil work persona turns me on,” said Justin. ”When we get home, I want you to fuck me. Hard.”

Brian didn’t know which was better. That Justin had just slipped and called the loft ‘home’ or that he wanted to fuck after such a long day. His cock didn’t care. It had heard the word fuck and reacted predictably.

Justin said softly, but clearly, “I’m going to kneel on the bed with my head on my arms and my ass up in the air, my knees spread, and you are going to eat my ass until I can’t take it anymore and start begging for your cock."

 

 

“Then you’re going to slip it in, stretch me, burn me, until you are as deep inside my body as you can go, because I love it that way, and no one is going to make me afraid of being taken from behind. You are going to grab my hips, and fuck me hard and deep and talk to me the whole time, to remind me that it’s you taking me, you, the man I love and no one else, until I come without even touching myself."

 

 

"Then you are going to lie on me, covering my body completely, and kiss my neck, and bite the spot on my shoulder that always feels so good and I will start getting hard again. And you’re going to fuck me the way you like it, deep and long, and jerk me off as you do it, until I come again and pulse around you, and you are going to shoot your come into that condom so hard it might break.”

Brian’s cock was so hard he could feel his heartbeat in it. He had never wanted to fuck Justin as much as he did at that moment, and god knows how much he had wanted to fuck him before.

Justin was asking to exorcise his demon. He had been attacked by a tall man who had got him on his belly with the intention of raping him and he had been afraid, but he did not want it to affect what he liked and did not like in bed.

He wanted to reenact the traumatic scene with the man he loved, changing fear to arousal, pain to pleasure. Brian never talked during sex, or rarely, to whisper arousing words in his ear. Justin wanted him to talk as he made love to him tonight, to reassure him with words. It would be difficult, but Brian would do anything to give him what he needed.

He did not really remember who paid for the cab, or how they got to the loft, but as soon as the door was closed, Justin started walking to the bedroom as he peeled off his clothes. Brian followed, taking his off as well, further aroused by Justin’s striptease. By the time he got to the bed, Justin was naked and took the exact position he had described. Rushing through his last garments, Brian was staring at Justin’s perfect ass, and at his pink asshole. As soon as he was nude, he gloved up and lubed, and fell on that ass as a man starved, spreading the cheeks, and suckling the hole.

He pushed his tongue just past the entrance, and circled around and around, relaxing that first ring of muscle and then held it open with his thumbs as he plunged deeper, loosening the muscular channel with the constant caresses of his tongue. The thumbs followed, spreading, massaging, as he pushed his tongue deeper and deeper into Justin’s ass. Justin's sweetness was everywhere in his mouth, his heady scent was driving him feral, and Justin’s incoherent begging told him it was time.

His long thumbs were holding Justin’s pink channel, with its many folds, open for him to see and plunder. He tilted his hips to line himself up without the help of his hands, and shoved in with a cry, pulling out his thumbs once he was buried in Justin to his balls. He grabbed Justin’s hips and started thrusting, hard, deep and fast. He felt as if his brain was empty of language, of thoughts, except for the overwhelming pleasure of taking Justin, but somewhere he knew he had to find words to tell Justin why nothing else mattered than the two of them, and their shared pleasure. His motions slowed, becoming long and languorous, his cock gliding in and out of that silken velvet that he had to push open again with every thrust.

“You… You are so beautiful. You are a gift… to me. Your smile… lights up my life. I love… the taste of your skin, the scent of your neck… the softness of your mouth… when we kiss. Your hair… your hair is like silk, sunlight, soft, soft and smells of sunshine, fresh air, your skin is silk, moonlight soft, I love touching you, you are heaven, your body, mine, perfection… so good Justin, so good, soft perfect love inside you, inside you love, come my love, yes, come my love…”

Justin’s muscles were contracting in that age old rhythm, “Brian, I love you… I love you.”

As he had requested, Brian covered his body with his own and keeping his thrusts slow and deep, he kissed and teased Justin’s neck and shoulders for a while, then reached for his semi hard cock, caressing it to full hardness. His hand was slick with lube, and slid easily back and forth over the thick ridge at the base on Justin's gorgeous cock head.

When Justin started keening in pleasure, he changed his thrust to the one he liked most, almost coming out of Justin and then pushing back in as deep as his cock could go. He matched the speed of his hand on Justin’s cock to that of his hips, angling himself to run over Justin’s prostate at each plunge.

Every inch of their bodies was in contact and he could smell the citrusy scent of Justin’s skin, the sun warmed scent of his hair, and the musk of Justin’s ass remaining on his lips. He licked the sweat of his neck, adding it to Justin’s sweetness still in his mouth. Justin's keening and purring filled his ears and he opened his eyes to see Justin’s white shoulders, and gorgeous wheaten hair, all his senses filled with Justin as his pleasure mounted, mounted until his balls were tightening, and his cock swelled and hardened for the last few thrusts before orgasm.

Justin’s body commenced trembling beneath him and knowing what it meant, Brian allowed his body to take over, his hips losing rhythm and his thrusts becoming fast and short and completion seeking. Justin’s muscles pulsed around him, adding to the amazing pleasure, and he came, jet after jet after jet of liquid bliss filling the condom, his mind an explosion of white as every cell in his body seemed to take its delight.

His entire dead weight was on Justin when enough sense returned to his brain for him to know it had to be too much, and holding the edge of the condom he rolled off to the side.

 

 

Justin lifted his head from between his arms for a second, to look at Brian with a completely blissed out smile. Then he dropped it back, as Justin chuckled.

“You follow instructions very well,” he said.

Brian rested on his side, his head on his hand. He bent down and kissed Justin’s tricep, and a new path opened in his mind, so easily it was a wonder it hadn’t done so before.

“I love you, Justin.” Brian chuckled, and repeated joyfully, “I love you.”

Justin lifted his head again, looking at him with a wonder filled smile. “I love you too, Brian, so much.”

He backed his body into Brian’s who put his arm around him to pull him even closer, and they fell instantly asleep.

To be continued...

 

 

 

 

 

Race to the finish

Justin was eating his bowl of Grapenuts in nonfat milk at the bar in the loft’s kitchen, thinking how much better 6:30 AM felt if you made love first thing in the morning and had someone else wash your back in the shower.

Brian had asked him to live here. He could have this every morning. He could have Brian’s warm body (smelling wonderfully of hints of that Decleor lotion he put on after his showers and of his own Brian salty burnt scent) next to his, Brian's possessive arm across Justin’s chest, or his leg slipped between Justin’s, or his hand holding on loosely to Justin’s wrist, every night.

He felt he had a fairly good handle on Brian ‘The Asshole’ ‘Rage’ ‘God’ Kinney, the brilliant ad exec. He had seen Brian the Club Boy in action, had watched Brian, Gus’s Dad, play with the boy, and Brian the friend interact with the Pittsburgh contingent in mysterious ways that told of a shared past Justin did not know. Brian, his sex partner, he understood best of all, and he had been for ten days learning about Brian, his lover.

But what he knew full well was that it was only the tip of the iceberg. He was vaguely aware, from glimpses he had seen, from comments he had heard, from stories he’d been told, of a man who drank like a fish, who used and abused controlled substances, who brooded in silence and wallowed in self disgust, who denied his homosexuality when around his parents, who fucked strangers relentlessly, who said and did hurtful things just because he could.

Brian lived in a showplace that revealed nothing about him except that he indulged his taste in expensive Italian furnishings and did not like clutter. There were no photographs, no visible bookshelves, no knick-knacks or mementos of any kind in sight. All the clothes in the closet were of this season’s collection from expansive designers. No old beloved sweatshirts here, worn out jeans or t-shirt collections from college days.

Behind the man dressed for success, who just now bent to kiss the back of his neck, offered him coffee with a gesture and, once turned down, poured a massive amount of sugar directly into the carafe and started to drink from it, there was a man he did not know at all, and to deny that this man existed, to ignore him or pretend he had disappeared forever was just plain stupid. What happened when he was faced with that unknown Brian? The belligerent drunk, the insensitive, stoned Brian? The Brian who would close him out, ignore him? The Brian who would come home smelling of sex with someone else? Who might strike out at him where it hurt the most because he could? The Brian who was so unattached, or pretended to be, that nothing in his living space reminded him of anyone, or anything?

So many questions. Justin was watching Brian speculatively when he walked to a closet full of linens and towel, and from the top shelf removed three packages wrapped expertly in Christmas paper. He brought them to the bar and sat them without comment in front of Justin.

“Christmas presents? For me?”

Brian shrugged, rolling in his lips, his entire expression telling Justin not to make a fuss, that it meant nothing.

“When did you buy these?” Justin asked, nonetheless.

“Same day as all the others” Brian replied, bending down, apparently needing to retie his shoe.

So. Several weeks ago. When Justin had only been a one night stand ‘on hold’, whom Brian emphatically did not have any attachment to, and whom he had no expectation or desire of seeing again after the night of the eighteenth of December, a whole week before Christmas…

Smiling, Justin tore open the first package.

Brushes. A full set of outrageously expensive, exquisite sable brushes that any student at Pratt would die for. He stared at them in wonder before putting them down reverently and opened the second one.

Beautiful supple leather gloves, lined with soft, soft wool. He slipped one on. Brian had gotten Mikey a pair of these. It felt like a second skin, and no doubt these were much warmer than his knitted ones.

He’d kept the biggest package for last and he tore into it excitedly. A gorgeous cashmere hoody, from Christian Dior, in a blue shade that would make his eyes stand out. He immediately stripped off the old grey one he was wearing, and put his new one on. It felt like heaven, even against the bare skin of his arms that usually revolted at the touch of any wool, be it of the finest merino lamb.

Brian was collecting the torn paper, balling it tight and putting it in the compactor. He put the empty coffee carafe and Justin’s bowl and spoon in the dishwasher.

He picked up the phone, called a cab, and after hanging up, finally looked at Justin.

“Ready? We should go down, the cab will be here any minute…”

“Brian?”

“What?”

“Can you come closer?” Justin was still sitting on the bar stool, which was tall enough that it compensated for their difference in height.

With a last look at the door, and, no doubt, an argument on his lips, Brian seemed to realize the futility of fighting Justin and came to stand in front of him.

Justin softly kissed his lips, his hand behind his neck, and kissed them again, for good measure.

“I know it sounds cliché, but I fell in love with you the first time I saw you. I painted “The face of God” the next day. You were so beautiful, and I was so scared of you, but I hoped so much that you would let me love you. Did you feel it, when you saw the painting? My yearning for you?” Brian looked taken aback, probably because he hadn’t known “The Face of God” was about him, but nodded. “I thought so. No one else does, Brian. Everyone else sees the beauty and feels the threat, but no one else feels my love for you in it. I cannot hide these things from you. I cannot hide from you at all.”

Brian’s eyes had been on his lips as he spoke, on the locks of hair on his forehead. Now he looked into his eyes, and Justin went on.

“You have been wanting to give me these ever since we came back, I think,” he said. “You were excited to see my reaction as I opened them, even though you ignored me the whole time, and you want to hear how much I like them, though you pretend not to care one way or the other.” Brian looked away. Justin touched his cheek until Brian was looking at him once more. “Please don’t hide from me, Brian. Let me see you. Let me love you.”

Brian rolled in his lips and closed his eyes for a few seconds. Then he opened them again, took a deep breath.

“That color looks as good on you as I’d hoped, Sunshine. It’s a hoody, just like you always wear… I got the gloves because I thought how hard it is to get cold fingers to move, how clumsy they are, and I want you to be able to paint without having to wait for them to thaw, and I don’t know anything about art supplies, but as expensive as these were, I thought for sure they must be good brushes, and I knew you could not afford them.”

Justin smiled at him gratefully. “I have drooled over brushes like these for years. They’re fantastic. I’m painting a portrait right now, that I’m really excited about, and I cannot wait to try them. The gloves are fabulous. I hate having cold hands and since I was bashed, my right hand aches in the cold and takes twice as long as the left one to warm up. But my favorite is this hoody. It’s so soft. The color is gorgeous, and I can feel how warm it is, though it’s so light. I didn’t even know they made hoodies like this. I might never take it off it feels so good on. I love my gifts, Brian. Thank you. I love that you chose them so carefully, and I love you.”

Brian smiled and kissed him, gently because Justin’s lip was tender, but it was an amazing kiss all the same. Brian’s phone vibrated between their bodies. The cab was here. They parted, and Justin came down from the tall stool. He grabbed his jacket and his new gloves, and they went downstairs.

In the cab, Brian held Justin in a warm embrace. They rode in silence for a while. Then, Brian whispered in his hair, hardly loud enough to be heard, “It’s not easy, Sunshine. I’ve given you the power to break me. A small part of me wants it back, wants to hurt you first, and so badly you’ll leave, just so I can feel safe again. The rest of me… the rest of me would rather die than lose you.”

Justin wondered how hard it would be, after a lifetime of being impervious, to suddenly feel vulnerable. There were so many ways Justin could hurt him, not only by his actions, but by just existing. He could have been raped in that damn elevator. He could betray Brian’s trust. He could walk away.

“Do you still want me to move in, Brian?”

“Yes.” No hesitation.

“There is so much about you I don’t know. What should I do, if I move in, when the Brian Kinney I don’t know comes knocking?”

“You deal with it, Sunshine. Why should I be only one taking a chance?” He kissed Justin’s hair.

“Then it’s all good, Brian. Because I left a message on Rory’s cell phone this morning before I had breakfast, telling him that if he wants it, his brother can have my bed permanently.”

Brian was quiet for a second, worrying him, and then, tightening his embrace, started laughing, and Justin joined him happily, though with a slight edge of hysteria. God. They were nuts. There was so much that could go wrong, so many things they should have discussed first.

“It will be all right, Justin,” said Brian, as if he could sense his misgivings. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

Justin wished they had more time to talk, but the cab pulled up in front of Plexus. There were about thirty hours left before they had to get the commercial to CBS if it was to take its allotted slot in the line up during the Rose Bowl’s half time break, and there was still so much to do. They smiled at each other, and went in.

They were amongst the first one there. Chris was about to start matching the music mix to the images already “in the can”, but before joining him, Justin went to Erica’s transformed makeup room to see Brandon’s ‘changing room’ set.

It was great, cliché all the way, including the Japanese screen with The Nutcracker’s costumes thrown over the top, the large bouquet of red roses, and the mostly obstructed mirror. Taped on, or wedged under the frame, were all the sketches Justin had made of Brandon dancing and of his Russian ballet teacher. His profile, the portrait where he looked amused, the drawing of him sitting on the couch laughing and the older sketch of him as the Club Boy had been framed and hung on the wall. It looked really cool.

There were Clearlife supplements, boxes opened, and a half bottle of Clearlife vitamin water with BRANDON written on it in indelible marker on the makeup table. It gave the impression that so many of the dancers used Clearlife products that they had to label the bottles with their names not to mix them up.

“Can you think of anything else?” asked Brian.

“No,” said Justin. “It looks good. His name on the bottle is a great touch.”

The way Brian smiled, Justin realized it had been his idea.

“I’m going to check out what Chris is doing,” said Justin. “Film editing is really cool.” They smiled at each other before he left.

Chris was busy, but had no problems doing a running commentary of everything he was doing and why, as he went about adding the music to the images they had selected the previous night. It was a tight mix of the trademark Clearlife theme, simple piano music, and Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker, not an easy thing to pull off. They had changed the tones and rhythm to give all three some coherence while still keeping their distinctive features. They were using a sped up, rhythm enhanced version of the Clearlife theme for the workout sequences. Justin started laughing.

“What?” said Chris.

“Sorry. I just now paid attention to the workout takes. Brandon’s workout Buddy is Brian Kinney.”

“Really?”

Chris replayed the run/ high five/ walk away sequence. “Yeah.” He chuckled. “I think you’re right. You never see his face though, so it’s hard to be sure.”

Justin did not need the face. He knew that body, definitely recognized that ass, as Brandon and Brian were filmed walking away.

“The lighting makes it look like he has a huge boner while he’s running,” said Chris, cracking up.

Justin smirked. Lighting, my ass. Brandon was laughing on the take, even though they were running all out. Justin wondered what they had been talking about that could have been both so arousing to Brian and so funny to Brandon.

Chris was still tying the music to that bit when Brandon and Jessica walked in. She stopped to talk to Erica, and Brandon came to look over their shoulders. Seeing the sequence with the music added, Brandon said, “This is really cool! Man, we really look as if we’ve been running for an hour, you know?” Chris got up to plug in the big screen now that people were arriving, so they could observe without crowding him.

Brandon took advantage of his departure to say in Justin’s ear, “And that boner is Brian thinking about the taste of your ass, Justin. That’s why I’m laughing. All it took was Erica mentioning that fake sweat didn’t smell. How he made the leap from fake sweat to eating your ass is anyone’s guess.” He chuckled and walked away, leaving behind a crimson-faced Justin.

Chris and he were still working when new footage starting arriving, sent through the ethernet by Spaz, in the makeup room. The amount of material was overwhelming to Justin. Only a few bits stuck in his mind.

There was a small take of Jessica, in full dance teacher regalia, saying: “Brrrandon is always a flirrrt. The firrrst time I meet him,” there, she looked away from the camera dreamily, shaking her head a little with a wistful smile, “it seems like only yesterrrday,” she looked back at the camera, “the firrrst thing he says to me: You cerrrtainly arrre a most beautiful woman. Can you believe it? What a flirrrt!”

Justin cracked up. The way she said it, it sounded as if Brandon must have been thirteen or fourteen at the time, when indeed it was only yesterday. She was amazing.

Then footage of Brandon, in his Nutcracker costume, the makeup had run a little bit, as if he just came off the performance. “My mother danced in the Chicago ballet. It’s in my blood. It is what I always wanted to do. I’ve been dancing in Pittsburgh for three years. I love it. I am one of a lucky few; I am living my dream. If I take care of myself, I can continue to do so for years to come.” He had made a subtle gesture toward the makeup table, cuing the shot of the supplements.

In the next shot that stayed with Justin, his makeup was removed, and he was taking off his costume top, as if completely unaware of being filmed during some casual conversation, his perfect torso casually displayed. “It’s the quest for perfection that keeps dancers going. It can always be higher, better, more graceful. You never stop trying.”

The last shot that came through was of him leaving the room, looking Brandon-hot in tight jeans and a leather jacket, grabbing the vitamin water bottle on his way out.

Chris went to work scraping almost ten seconds off of yesterday’s ‘Finalized’ version when he realized how well the ‘quest for perfection’ bit matched the footage of the practice session, with Jessica saying, “Nonononono, Brandon!” and then her smiling at the next Jete, colorized, matched then to the colorized jete on stage. “You never stop trying” was inserted behind the fouette en tournant and its constant changes from practice to stage to practice to stage, the continuous color changes suggesting different days, and constant striving for improvement.

Justin was blown away. Chris was amazing, remembering dozens of sequences, and picking the exact one to best match what his vision was. Adam arrived, looked at what he was doing and laughed. “That’s exactly what I was coming to tell you to do.”

Brian came up and sat down with them, making suggestions that would further plug in the product, which was after all the goal of the whole thing. Jessica and Brandon had come up with him. She had returned to the spot she’d occupied the night before, but Brandon was standing, staring out the window looking down on Madison Avenue, seeming a bit unhappy. Justin got up and went to stand next to him, wondering what had caused his change in mood.

“Hey! The interview is really good, Brandon. They are re-cutting almost the whole thing to fit your words.”

“That’s great,” Brandon said, looking at him with a forced smile, his eyes full of pain.

“Brandon, what’s up?” asked Justin, concerned.

“Nothing… Everything… Fuck. Can we take a walk?”

“Sure. Let’s go down to the lobby.”

They walked to the elevators, Brandon looking dejected. On the way down, he hid his face in his hands for a moment, then rubbed it up and down with his palms before combing his hair back with his fingers, taking a deep breath and giving Justin a weak smile.

In the lobby, they went to sit on one of the couches in a sitting area, which was almost never used.

“I tried to call Daphne,” said Brandon, “but she’s not answering.” He looked at Justin. “And talking to you… God, can I talk to you, Justin? Even if it makes you uncomfortable for a minute, even though I said I wouldn’t hint at how I feel about you anymore?”

“Will it help?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Go for it.”

“I like Brian. He is a great guy. I think he and I are becoming friends. I can totally see what you see in him, aside from the obvious, and I was fine with it, really fine, until…”

“Until?”

“God, Justin. Now I’m so fucking jealous of him. After the interview… Fuck. You fucked him, didn’t you. Last night, maybe even this morning? You fucked him. When he was getting up from the chair after the interview, he flinched and then smiled to himself. He flinched because his ass is hurting. Because you fucked him. He’s just like me, isn’t he? Mr. Brutal Top who never, ever bottoms, but cannot get enough of your cock up his ass.”

It was true. That morning, before the alarm went off, Brian, who had been spooning him, had whispered in ear, “Wake up, Justin. Wake up and fuck me.” Nibbling on his neck and shoulders he had lightly stroked Justin’s morning erection before unrolling a condom on it. Justin had smiled and had suddenly felt very wide-awake.

He had rolled into Brian’s hold to face him and kiss him, reminded by a twinge not to overdo the kissing, that his lip was still healing. Kneeling between Brian’s knees, smiling at him, he had taken his time preparing him, pleasing him along the way by caressing his prostate, rolling his balls, and bending down to suck on the tip of his cock.

Justin had slicked the condom with lube and added some at Brian's entrance. Putting Brian's ankles on his shoulders, he had pushed himself inside his tight warm hole slowly, gently, caressing Brian’s thighs encouragingly, running a loving hand on his perfect stomach, telling him, “You look so hot, Brian… you feel so fucking good… your ass is so tight… feels so warm… God, your ass was made for my cock.” Brian had let out the most arousing moan as Justin had gone as deep as he could go, and had started moving.

He loved the feeling of Brian’s hole as it squeezed the head of his cock when he came almost all the way out and then pushed back in fast and deep. He had fucked him long and hard, their fingers interlaced, looking at each other, Brian’s cock twitching and leaking on his belly, the ridge of Justin’s large cock head caressing Brian’s prostate with every stroke, until Brian had said, his voice beautifully deep in his arousal, “Justin, Justin, here I come…” and he had, completely untouched, just from Justin’s cock in his ass. The thought of it had been too much, and Justin, pushing his cock all the way in one last time, had come with a guttural cry.

Brandon was pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t mind that he fucks you. I mean I don’t dwell on it, obviously, but I don’t mind. But that you fuck him… Justin, I want you to be fucking me, not him. You were so… loving when you fucked me, so gentle. I can still feel your hands caressing my back, your lips kissing my spine as you pushed inside. And when you moved, it was so fucking good, so, so good, after hating it so much when I was a kid.

“I actually thought that maybe, now that I was older, I’d acquired a taste for it. I took this guy home, Marvin. He is a top, older, experienced, and I told him, ‘Take it slow, be sweet, make it good’. And he did take it slow and he was sweet and patient and warm and I fucking hated it, just like when I was younger.”

He got up and paced back and forth a couple of time.

“And then your drawings, Justin. All those drawing you did of me. You make me look so beautiful. I can tell how much you fucking care about me, I can see it in those drawings, and if it weren’t for Brian Fucking Kinney, you might even... But he walks in the room, like he did just now, and though there were fifty people coming in and out that door, you know it’s him. And you turn around, and your eyes meet and you glow, like somebody just lit a candle inside of you. And I’m so fucking jealous…”

Brandon looked at Justin, with so much love and sorrow it took Justin’s breath away. He sat down again, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. Justin got up and knelt in front of him, taking him in his arms. Brandon hugged him back, tightly, as Justin’s hand made slow circles between Brandon’s shoulder blades. And that’s how Brian found them, when he came looking for Brandon who was needed for a voice over.

He stopped in his tracks and took in the scene, his jaw tight. Then Justin caught his eye and stared at him, not moving, until he was sure Brian understood exactly what was going on. Brian walked over and after a second of hesitation, he squeezed Brandon’s shoulder. Brandon looked up, horrified, and got to his feet immediately. He started apologizing.

“I’m sorry Brian, it’s my fault, it’s not how it looks…”

“Oh,” Brian said, interrupting. “So Justin wasn’t comforting you because you are upset about something?” He raised his eyebrows. “What was it, then?”

Brandon just looked at him and after a few seconds, started laughing. He ran his hand through his long blond hair, and said, “Ok, then. It’s exactly how it looks.”

“Don’t be an ass, Brandon. I know Justin is your friend. He cares about you.” Brian smirked. “But he‘s a little touchy feely, isn’t he? Tell him your woes and next thing you know, he gets all huggy on your ass… If you want a little more manly restraint in your listener’s response, I’m available. And I can promise you, you’ll get no fucking hugs from me…“

Brandon was chuckling, looking relieved, and Justin thought Brandon was realizing he still liked Brian a lot.

“Now, both of you are needed upstairs for work. You know, that pesky obligation for which we get paid a huge chunk of cash?”

“Speak for Brandon and yourself,” complained Justin. “Mine is more in the realm of smallish chunk of cash."

“Interesting,” said Brian. “I’d not realized they calibrated the size of our checks to the size of our dicks.”

Brandon burst out laughing.

“Pay back will be forthcoming for that cheap shot, Mr. Kinney, sir. And, I may add, it will be painful,” promised Justin.

*****

Steve had Brandon repeat, “You never stop trying,” what seemed like a hundred times, in different intonations, until he got exactly what he wanted. He and Chris sat together and worked, Chris’s fingers flying on the keyboard.

Steve got a “five, six, seven-eight…” out of Jessica, coached by Brandon to get the right rhythm, and changed it’s speed until it matched the images perfectly.

They broke for lunch for an hour. Brian and Justin took a cab to the Police station, Brian scribbling something on a legal pad the whole way. Officer Hamill was there, and gave Justin his deposition to read and sign, and was very impressed when Brian dictated his extremely detailed testimony from what he’d written in the cab.

Phil would be charged with drunk and disorderly, illegal entry, aggravated assault (the simple assault becoming aggravated because of its homophobic motivation), attempted rape, reckless endangerment (for blocking the means of egress of the people present at Plexus at the time), assault (on Dwayne), and, really scraping the bottom of the barrel, behavior unbecoming an officer of the court (since he was, after all, an attorney). The district attorney expected he would get three to five years, and would push to lock in the maximum.

In the cab on the way back, Brian asked Justin how he felt about it. Justin answered honestly, “I don’t care all that much. I put him in the hospital. I’d be fine with that, if they could guarantee I never saw him again… But I guess it’s a nice step up from five hundred hours of community service for trying to kill me and fucking up my right hand for life…”

Brian was holding him, and kissing his temple. Justin took a deep breath, and let it out, and with it any concern about the entire episode. He had a life to live.

The lunch break seemed to have gotten everyone’s creative juices flowing. They decided the piano music was a distraction, and removed the shot of the grade school teacher-looking extra playing it, gaining a second and a half. Instead, they added what sounded like an old fashioned tape recording of The Nutcracker with clicks to denote when ‘play’ was pressed, giving the impression Jessica was turning it on and off. That way they only had two different tunes to mesh together, and it sounded a lot better.

There were about twelve people sitting in the room now, following the progress on the big screen. Some of them, like Erica, Spaz, or Justin really didn’t have much reason to be there, but it had been a team effort, and they all wanted to see it through. Time seemed to skip forward every time Justin looked at the clock. Only twenty-six hours left when the feed had started coming in from the makeup room, only twenty-two hours left when they scrapped the ten seconds, only nineteen hours when they removed the piano…

He was drawing random images on the sketchpad on his lap, and his mind would wander a bit, but the sound engineer, the editor, the director and Brian were intently focused. There were debates about shots, when Justin had thought the choices that had been made were immutable, but Brian did not want more than four seconds to go by without some reminder of the product either through the sound, or through the images.

They added flashes, so quick that one hardly noticed them but that apparently the brain registered, of Brandon drinking the Energy drink, of the open boxes of supplements, of the vitamin water at the foot of the workout machine.

They cut down the last ballet sequence, originally of seven seconds, first to five, then to four seconds, Brandon making them rethink their choice to a different four seconds that was more action packed than the four seconds they had left, cut from the original seven they had chosen.

During that sequence, at Justin’s suggestion, they ended up colorizing his costume the turquoise of the Clearlife logo and containers, another subtle reminder of the product. Brian smiled at him. Almost hidden in the sound tract was Jessica’s comment “He is… Poetrrry in Motion…”

It was amazing how much attention was paid to the smallest detail. They had Jessica back in costume, because they loved the graceful hand movements complementing her Flirt speech, but didn’t want her diamond ring in it. Instead, they borrowed rings from Erica, and one from Spaz, and a couple of bracelets, and reshot just her hand, moving up in the air, a ring on each finger, the bracelets clinking together. They added the rings digitally to the only other shot of her, during practice, that showed that same hand.

They digitally darkened Brian’s hair a couple of shades, and lightened Brandon just a bit during the workout scenes, increasing the contrast between them.

Finally, weirdest of all, they asked Brandon if he was ticklish (his ribs were) and had Erica, who volunteered loudly and excitedly, tickle him while they filmed a close up of his laughing face, and taped his laughter. They spliced a quarter of a second of his real face while he laughed, with the expression that best matched Justin’s drawing, inside the second where they showed the framed picture of him laughing, sitting on the couch. The digitalized sound of his laughter, hardly loud enough to be noticed was added in the background of the whole second, as well as in several other places: Jessica’s flirt speech, the running scene, and the final view of him leaving his changing room. Each second of sound had several layers, each sequence of images had two foci, one of them a Clearlife product. It was truly fascinating to witness.

When the two-minute commercial was finished, with thirteen hours to go, they played and replayed it about twelve times before calling it good. It was 11:00PM. The day had just flown by, and everybody was still there.

A break was declared, and a few people actually left for home, including Jessica. Brandon went to the lobby with Erica to accompany her, but would be returning, just as fascinated as Justin by the whole process.

The technical team would not stop until the thirty-second commercial was finalized as well. Thirteen hours was plenty of time, but none of them felt they could sleep comfortably knowing the noon CBS deadline was non-negotiable.

Justin and Brian were getting water bottles from the buffet that had once again been set up at the back of the room, when Justin became aware of Brian’s arousal, through nothing more than his eyes, as they commented on the complex process of finalizing the project.

Justin said, casually, “I am going to walk up the stairs one floor now, and go to your office. I’m going to remove my pants and underwear and bend over the back of your couch,” and he just left.

He ran up the stairs, getting hard in anticipation, and once in Brian’s office, did just what he’d said, deciding at the last minute to keep his socks on before bending down and fingering himself with lube.

When the door slammed shut and the lock went on, he looked over his shoulder at Brian, who had stopped, apparently hypnotized by the sight of Justin’s finger sliding in and out of his ass.

“Fuck, Justin… You look so hot.”

Justin smiled at him. His lip was much better, there was not even a twinge. In three steps, Brian was behind him, taking down his pants. He rolled on a condom and lubed it, still mesmerized by the motion of Justin’s finger.

He looked at Justin. “I am going to fuck you hard,” he warned.

Justin’s cock jumped in approval. “Yes, please,” said Justin. He stopped fingering himself and concentrated on relaxing for Brian cock. Brian was massaging Justin's cheeks, then running the head of his cock up and down his crack.

“Ready?” he asked.

“For you, always,” said Justin, meaning it.

The head of Brian’s cock breached him, and slid in, slowly but relentlessly, filling him, stretching him. God, it was so good. When he was in all the way, one of his hands grabbed Justin’s left hip, and the other came to rest at the base of his neck, on his right shoulder.

Justin tightened around him and Brian growled as he started to move, fast, deep and hard. Justin took his cock in his slicked hand and let the force of Brian’s thrusts move his cock inside his fist. This was the hardest he’s ever been fucked, and he started seeing stars each time Brian’s cock stroked his prostate. Brian’s grunts, the sound of his hips slapping against Justin’s ass, Justin’s own involuntary cries were incredibly arousing. He could feel Brian’s balls bouncing against him, Brian’s fingers pressing into his flesh, the ridges of his own fingers along his cock, Brian's thick cock stretching him, and he felt the room spin around him it was so good. His whole body was shaking, overwhelmed, having apparently forgotten how to conclude the pleasure attack on his senses, teetering at the edge, removing all coherent thought. It wasn’t until Brian stilled, deep inside him, his cock pulsing that Justin’s orgasm hit him like a shock wave, his come hitting the leather of the couch so hard it sounded like handfuls of pebbles.

He rested his cheek on the couch, and Brian collapsed on top of him, breathing hard in the crook of his neck, his heart beat and Justin’s both resonating in Justin’s ribcage.

“God, Justin… I love fucking you. I love it.” Then Brian laughed. “I can’t move.”

Justin laughed too. “I can’t move either. And not just because you’re on top of me… I can hardly blink…”

They both laughed again. Finally, Brian pushed himself up, and Justin took a deep breath, his chest no longer crushed. He pushed himself up too, Brian’s arms coming around him and holding him, kissing behind his ear.

“I loved the socks,” he said.

Justin turned in his arms and said with a smile, “My lip is better,” and the kiss was heaven. Finally, Justin backed up a little and said, “Go back. I’ll stay a while longer.”

Smiling at him the whole time, Brian put himself back together. “Later,” he said.

“Later,” agreed Justin.

After Brian left, he put his underwear, pants and boots back on and went into Brian’s private bathroom to get a washcloth and clean the back of the couch.

While he was erasing the evidence, his phone gave a short vibration, signaling a message. He wondered who could have called this late at night. After throwing the washcloth in the small laundry bin, he checked his phone. The call had come at 11:17PM, from Todd. Wow. It seemed a lifetime ago since he’d given Todd his number, though it was only a couple of weeks.

He decided to return the call, but first took the elevator back to the lobby. Taylor had no excuse whatsoever for loitering in Mr. Kinney’s office.

Todd answered after a couple of rings.

“Hey! Justin! Thanks for calling back.”

“Todd. What’s up?”

“I’m bored. I’m babysitting again. I thought since you were on vacation, maybe you’d be up. You’re still in Pittsburgh, right?”

“No. Actually, I’m in New York. I got a permanent position in the firm where I was interning, and there’s been kind of an emergency, so I came back and we’ve been working a lot. I’m calling you from there, actually. We're taking a break.”

Justin was pretty sure the break was over, but it didn’t really matter, he was not really needed.

“Are you going to be here for New Year's? Do you want to go to Essengy?”

“Uh… Todd. I’m dating someone.”

“You are? Oh. Wow. That was…quick.”

“It’s kind of a long story. He’s from Pittsburgh as well. And he’s my boss. Shit. That sounds bad. We couldn’t date before, because he was my boss, but then we met up in Pittsburgh, after my internship was over, totally by chance, and well… They wanted me back at work, but we didn’t think I could work here because of the no-fraternization thing that had kept us from going out in the first place, but apparently it doesn’t apply to pre-existing relationships, so they hired me back, and… well, we’re together now.”

“OK.”

“Sorry. Too much information?”

“No. I’m just a little…bummed, I guess. I thought we hit it off.”

“We did, but…”

“Yeah. Anyway. So…”

“Todd? Listen. Brian and I are going to Essengy for New Year's. We have this friend here with us, also from Pittsburgh, and he really wants to go, so all three of us are going. I didn’t mention it before, because it’s another long boring story, but I have a lifetime membership there, which is why I can afford to go so often. It includes a guest. Brian has a VIP membership, and can bring a guest too. You could come with us. New Year's is what? $150.00? Save yourself some money.”

“It’s $200.00, actually. I would have only sprung it because I knew you liked it there, otherwise I wouldn’t spend that kind of cash.”

“Well? Do you want to come?”

“Are you trying to set me up with your friend or something?”

“No, no, I swear. Believe me: He doesn’t need any setting up, he can take care of himself. I just thought, I mean, we’re going, right? You could come along. You don’t even have to stick with us once we get there, though it’d be really nice to see you again. What do you say?”

“What the hell. Why not? I don’t have any other plans. And I’m curious about that boss of yours.” He laughed. “My boss is like, sixty and bald. That’s who I pictured you with when you said you’re dating your boss. Please tell me I’m wrong.”

“Brian’s fifty-seven with a comb-over…” Justin couldn’t keep it up. He had to laugh. “No. He’s gorgeous, thirty something, and I’m so in love with him, it’s ridiculous.”

“Phew!” Todd cracked up. “You scared me for a second. Where do we meet?”

“How about I call you back with the details. We don’t have a plan yet.”

“OK.”

“Hey, sorry to abandon you to your babysitting, but I got to go back and check if I’m needed. I’ll talk to you soon, OK?”

“Yeah. Bye, Justin.”

Justin rode the elevator back up to the Art Department, smiling to himself. Todd was nice. It was good to be able to save him some money. Fifty-seven with a comb-over. He laughed to himself.

In the Art Department, everyone was back at work. Brandon was at the buffet, eating grapes. Justin joined him.

“What are you smiling about?” asked Brandon.

“I spent the break talking to my friend Todd.” A white lie, but the last thing Brandon needed was to think about Brian and him together. This was a good explanation for his absence.

“Yeah?”

“He is a true New Yorker. His whole family is in the Bronx. Get this: He has never been out of New York state… He’s babysitting his nieces, so he’s up and bored. Anyway, he’s saving his money to buy a place, and he was planning on going to Essengy for New Year’s, so I told him we were going, and offered to take him for free as my guest. You’ll be going as Brian’s. He has a VIP membership. Todd made me laugh. When I told him I was going out with my boss, he pictured his sixty year old bald boss. So I told him Brian was fifty-seven with a comb-over.”

Brandon cracked up. “Oh, Brian would love that! Did you tell him the truth?”

“Yes, I did. I couldn’t stay serious. It'll be nice to see him. He really likes dancing. He has this hip swivel thing going that’s sexy as hell.”

“Oh, yeah? Is he hot?”

“Yes, he is. I mean he’s like, normal human hot. Not God like hot, like you and Brian.”

“God like hot?” Brandon laughed.

“As if you didn’t know…” said Justin, grinning. “Todd is probably six foot tall, with a really nice body. He works with paraplegics. He does a lot of lifting them in and out of bed, out of chairs and stuff. He has a nice smile, with really nice teeth, really white, and short dark hair, curly. Well, at least you can tell that if it ever got long it would be all curly, you know what I mean? And he looks tanned. But I think that’s just his normal skin color. I forget what you call it.”

“Olive,” supplied Brandon.

“Which is why I forget, because it makes no sense whatsoever. Olives are green, or black. He is neither. He’s tanned.”

Brandon chuckled. “What does he do with paraplegics?”

“He's a physical therapist. I think he helps them get the maximum out of whatever movement they have left, helps them adjust when they first get hurt.”

“That must be intense.”

“I think so. It’s probably half physical therapy, half psychology.”

Their attention went back to the screen. There was an intense discussion about what to cut and what to keep between Adam and Brian.

“You guys have got to decide. We can’t keep both as they are and we can’t cut them any shorter, neither would make any sense,” insisted Chris.

Brian wanted to keep “If I take care of myself” with Brandon’s gesture towards the table, and “I can continue to do so for years to come” with the camera on the supplements. Adam was defending “You never stop trying” with the Fouette en tournant, saying that it was gorgeous, and though it didn’t plug the product, it would stay in people’s minds and increase their retention of the whole commercial’s message.

Justin hated to admit it, but he agreed with Adam. He knew that in the end, it was Brian’s decision, but so far, Brian had not pulled that card, just trying to convince Adam, which showed how much he respected the man. Brian turned to Sam.

“Sam? What do you think?”

“It’s a toss up.”

“Spaz?”

“The fouette is great, but for product plug, it doesn’t get better than that ‘If I take care of myself’ bit.” He shrugged.

“Phil?”

“It’s the longest shot on the product. Very good plug.”

“Chris?”

“Don’t ask me, man. I just cut and paste.”

“Bullshit. What do you think?”

“The fouette.”

“Steve?”

“Both are excellent sound bites. From my point of view, it doesn’t matter.”

“Taylor?”

Fuck. “I agree with Adam. Visually, the fouette will stay in people’s mind. Following as it is the image of Brandon and his workout buddy with their Clearlife towels and their Clearlife drinks, and just before the shot of Brandon grabbing his Clearlife bottle as he leaves, the dance sequence is kind of a nice break actually, so people don’t feel you’re shoving Clearlife down their throat, and it will spark their imagination.”

Brian sighed. “OK, fine. The majority wins. We keep the fouette.”

Adam couldn’t hide his satisfaction. “Yes!” he said, emphasizing the word with his fist.

Brian laughed. “If you felt that strongly about it, you should have just said something,” he joked.

Adam let out a bark of laughter, considering they had been arguing vehemently about it for over ten minutes. “Oh, OK. Next time I’ll make sure to express my opinion.”

It was late, and everyone had been expecting ‘The Asshole’ to pull rank very soon, so there was general laughter at the relief of tension.

“Do you think he’s pissed at you for not supporting him?” asked Brandon, curious.

“I hope not. I think he was genuinely asking my opinion. I gave it.” Justin smirked. “If he just wants me to kiss his ass, he should wait until we get home.”

Brandon burst out laughing, and a couple of people turned around. Once he calmed down, he said, “Thanks, Justin.”

“What for?”

Brandon shrugged. “For not walking on eggshells around me after earlier. I appreciate it.”

Justin smiled at him and then yawned an enormous yawn, making Brandon laugh again. It was almost one. Eleven hours to go, twelve seconds of the commercial to lock in. He was tired and wanted to go home.

“Brandon? Are you going to stick around till the bitter end?”

“Yeah. It’s fascinating, and I’ll probably never get to be part of something like that again.”

“I’m going to go. I'm really tired. See you tomorrow.”

“See you, Justin. Good night.”

Justin walked toward the elevators and once out of sight, called Brian’s cell.

“Kinney.”

“Hey. I’m bushed. Do you have any major objection to my heading home?”

“None.”

“You’re not pissed that I gave my opinion, right? I figured if you asked, you wanted to know.”

“Absolutely”

“Thought so. How much longer do you think it will take?

“Two or three hours.”

“You are an amazing fuck. I had a totally mind blowing orgasm earlier. I love the feel of your cock inside me. I could feel you pulse in my heat when you came.”

“…”

“It was so good, I’m getting hard just thinking about it. I’m taking out my cock right now and playing with myself. Hmmm. I know how much you like watching when I jerk off. The head of my cock is moving in and out of my slick fist. It feels gooood. Not as good as when I’m in your ass though. When the head of my cock runs over your sweet spot again and again…”

“This…” Brian cleared his throat. His voice had sounded a little funny. “This is regarding my mention of the firm’s pay scale, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Well done.”

“Thank you. See you at home.”

Justin closed his phone, chuckling.

*****

It felt as if he had been asleep for hours when Brian’s body molded itself against his, and Brian kissed his neck.

“Done?” he asked sleepily.

“All done.”

“zit ‘ny good?”

“It’s great. Better than Raines.”

“Good” and Justin was asleep again.

To be continued...

 

 

 

 

Let's celebrate!

Brian woke up in bed alone, the smell of coffee wafting through the loft. A completely naked Justin entered the bedroom, dick half mast, a cup of coffee in his hand. Brian looked at the clock. It was almost a quarter of nine. He had not put on the alarm last night because he didn’t need to be at work till ten. Justin sat next to him on the bed, and handed him the coffee. Brian sat halfway up, and took a sip. The coffee tasted great, strong enough you could almost stand a spoon in it, and very, very sweet.

“Good morning,” Justin said, giving him a kiss on the head.

Brian’s heart soared. Justin was moving in. He would get to look at that delicious lithe body every morning, to sleep with him every night and to fuck him constantly. Justin was giving him an impish smile, and leaned his back on the headboard. He deliberately squirted lube in his right hand and started jerking off.

Brian’s cock was immediately tenting the sheet, but he continued drinking his coffee, watching Justin working his cock just as he had described on the phone the night before, driving Brian crazy.

The large pink head would peek out of his fist, and Justin would squeeze it on the return, forcing the edge up. He teased his slit with his thumb, his motions making the most arousing wet noises. Justin was completely uninhibited, moaning in pleasure, using his other hand to squeeze his balls or play with his asshole, inserting just one knuckle and making little mewling sounds, tweaking his nipples, running his hand up and down his chest, his pink tongue darting out of his mouth. He started panting, eyes closed, his hips lifting off the bed, saying, “Fuck, fuck, Brian, fuck,” as he fingered himself with two fingers, deeper, hitting his prostate, obviously playing a fantasy in his mind.

Brian put down his empty cup, quickly rolled on a condom and slicked himself and his right hand. He moved between Justin’s bent legs, pulled Justin’s fingers out of his ass and pushed in, Justin silky velvet channel surprising him yet again with its tightness and it’s warmth. Justin gasped, and opening his eyes said, “Yesss, fuck yes…”

Brian batted Justin’s hand away from his cock, and captured both his wrists in his left hand, immobilizing them on Justin’s chest. He grasped Justin’s twitching cock in his right hand, and took over pleasuring it.

Soon, Justin’s entire body was glistening with sweat, his face and shoulders pink with arousal, his eyes glazed, as Brian fucked him and jerked him, stopping all motion a few times to keep him from coming. Justin’s voice was shaking as he pleaded, “Brian, Brian, fuck me, make me come, fuck me…” moving his hips off the bed to fuck himself on Brian’s cock, and push his cock through Brian’s fist.

Brian was out of his mind with lust, overcome with his desire for the man writhing beneath him, the pleasure in his cock echoed by that of his slick hand working, squeezing that amazing cock head. “Mine,” he growled, “your ass, mine, your hole, mine, your cock, mine, mine, you’re mine, Justin, mine…”

Justin cried out, arching off the bed, his spunk hitting his face, his neck, his chest, the come glistening on his luminous skin. Brian let go of his cock and of his wrists, lifting Justin’s ass of the bed to line him up perfectly with his cock, and pumped into him, quick even jabs, his eyes locked with Justin’s.

“You are mine, Sunshine, mine,” and he arched back, coming hard into the condom, wishing he was painting Justin’s inner walls with his come, to mark him, to leave some of himself behind, as proof of his possession.

He lay on top of Justin, holding his weight on his elbows, licking the come off Justin's face and neck, taking his lips in a powerful kiss that had Justin purring.

“You drive me insane, Justin. The more I fuck you, the more I want you.”

Justin smiled at him, his Sunshine smile. “And since I pretty much want your cock up my ass twenty-four seven, it works out rather well…”

Brian felt a little embarrassed at how possessive he had sounded, how possessive he felt when they made love. “I didn’t mean to be so… domineering. Well I did but I don’t, OK? Your ass is yours, Justin. I’m pretty clear on that when I’m not fucking it.”

“My ass is mine, my cock is mine, but my whole body is in love with yours, has been from the start. When we make love, I want to belong to you, body and soul.” He blushed crimson and looked away. “I… I love it when you claim me. It turns me on so much.”

Brian kissed him. That yielding mouth, that willing body, that beautiful, kind, gifted, brilliant man, in love with him. He looked in Justin’s eyes, brushing his sweaty hair away from his face. “I love you, Justin. I love you.” It was still a terrifying thing to say, but Justin’s smile was worth it. That man-boy loved him too, fiercely.

He looked at the clock. “Shit Sunshine. I’ve got to jet. I have a meeting with the Clearlife brass in forty-five minutes. You coming?”

 

 

“Definitely.”

 

*****

They got to Plexus with ten minutes to spare, partly because traffic was so light. The large screen was set up in the conference room. Brian was in Armani, looking as if he just stepped out of the pages of Esquire, never mind that he had gotten from naked and covered in spunk to this look in fifteen minutes…He felt loose and happy, thanks to his morning’s activities, but also gratified and stoked. He had convinced the Clearlife people, on bullshit and charm alone, to take a huge chance, putting his reputation on the line, trusting in the full support of his team. Now he was going to blow their socks off.

Brandon arrived, in a black turtleneck and black corduroy pants, looking artistic and, well, gorgeous as only he could, his blond hair in a ponytail, his light blue eyes smiling. Brian grinned at him. He really did like the man. Once he had committed to this job, out of the blue, and on super short notice, he had given it one hundred percent, being a true pleasure to work with, treating everyone with respect, showing a great deal of self deprecating humor.

Sam wore his best suit, looking tired, but pleased. As head of the Art Department, he got a lot of credit for the loyalty of his people. A lot of them had been called back from their well-earned vacation and family time. That they had all showed up and worked like dogs was to his credit.

 

 

Everybody else would be waiting for the results of the conference downstairs, including Jessica Hammon, at the insistence of the entire team.

The Clearlife people arrived right on time, tense and worried. The CEO, Greg Panitch, was an old hippy, now at the head of a rapidly growing company providing quality nutritional supplements and vitamins. The only trace of his wayward youth was a rather skimpy ponytail, and a glass bead necklace. Though tieless, he did wear a rather nice suit. His representative reminded Brian of KD Lang. Her name was Karen Spitz. She was bright, and tough as nails. Though he had met a few of the others, he’d only dealt with Greg and Karen.

He did note a new face, a serious young man with ATTORNEY written all over him. They were obviously prepared for the worst. They had had time to reconsider their decision away from Brian’s influence and had been wondering if they hadn’t make a huge mistake not calling the whole thing off.

Brian, projecting his usual absolute confidence, welcomed them and introduced the star of their new commercial. Meeting Brandon helped right away. He was so good looking, so charming. He was very hard to resist.

Brian, expecting their anxiety, had figured the sooner they showed the commercial the better. He’d asked Chris to send the feed after eight minutes. With forty-five seconds left, Brian said, smiling, “I am sure you are all anxious to see what we have been working nonstop for three days producing. The entire Plexus team has taken up the challenge, and I will let the results speak for themselves. It has reminded me how lucky we are, here at Plexus, to have such incredibly talented and dedicated people working for us.”

He sat down, crossing his legs (he had his usual positive stress induced hard on), a smile on his lips, the very image of cool and carefree self-assurance. He did not have to work too hard to achieve it. The commercial was brilliant. As if answering his will, it started on the screen.

The slogan had been changed from “Let your dream come alive” which had been Karen’s contribution to “Live your dream”. The music, outside of the established Clearlife tune, had changed from a cool hip-hop medley to Tchaikovsky. The theme, from the incredibly popular sport of figure skating, to the rarified world of ballet. That all sounded bad, until you saw the results.

The commercial played four times in a row, to give the people in the room a chance to catch most aspects of it. Brian knew he had them when after the last run there was a few seconds of silence, and Greg said, his voice full of contained excitement, “Let’s watch it again.” Brian could relate. He had seen it and the two minute version a hundred times and had yet to get sick of it. He dialed the Art Department, and just said, “Resend the feed.”

The commercial played another four times. Afterward, the Clearlife people started excitedly talking all at once, like kids leaving a Disney movie, about this scene, that shot, that joke, the colors, the dance teacher, with adjectives like gorgeous, amazing, magical, terrific... Brian let it go on for a few minutes, and then addressed the CEO. “We need your final approval before we courier it to CBS. It is due in…” He checked the wall clock, “Ninety-eight minutes. I think we should make sure it gets there in plenty of time, don’t you agree?”

Greg laughed. “Hell, yeah!” He was thrilled. “You guys did an amazing job. It’s even better than Raines. Where do I sign?”

Brian passed him three legal size pages, covered in tight print, with those annoying, but oh so useful little post-it arrows that said, “Sign Here,” pointing to all the right places.

Greg did not pretend to read any of it, and signed, despite the little dry cough suddenly afflicting his attorney. As soon as he was finished, Brian called Chris again, and just said: “It’s a go.” He could hear some loud cheering as he hung up the phone.

He had four minutes before Chris sent in the feed for the two-minute spot. His hard on was back in a vengeance. If he did his job right, Plexus was set to make a great deal of money.

“Considering the hours and the effort that went into making this commercial in the less than ideal conditions we had to work with, I am, as I am sure the rest of our team is, gratified that you are so enthusiastic about the results."

“Thanks to Brandon’s amazing presence on camera, and the incredibly gifted support cast, we actually ended up with enough excellent footage to produce at least an hour PBS special…”

He let the laughter die down. “It occurred to our creative manager, Sam Rosen here, that it would be a shame to let so much fabulous footage go to waste, and die unseen on the cutting room floor. We therefore took the liberty to create a two minutes commercial spot, that could be aired in the much less expensive market of normal daily TV viewing. Played instead of the thirty second spot, it would take advantage of the public’s infatuation with Brandon and all things ballet, which we are sure will follow the three viewings of the Clearlife commercial during, and right after the Rose Bowl. Here it is.”

He sat back down, once again with perfect timing. He loved this longer version, where there was more of everything good about the thirty second spot: more Jessica, more dance, more interview showing Justin’s sketches with voice-overs.

It started with the fabulous, “Arre you just going to look beautiful orrr arre you going to dance” dialogue, which guaranteed that the entire straight female population, (and gay male one) would fall in love with Brandon.

The every four seconds minimum product plug was a lot less noticeable, though still absorbed by the brain, as people had time to become engaged with the characters. It also showcased all the colorized dance moves, which were completely breathtaking in their own right.

The full “Brandon is a flirrrt” bit of Jessica-genius was there, showing her, lovely and graceful, and showcasing Justin’s non-dance related drawings of Brandon. And of course, Brian’s favorite plug of the product, the “I’m living my dream, and if I take care of myself, I can do so for years to come” which they cut from the thirty-second spot, was back.

Just like the thirty second commercial, the two minute one played four times in a row. At the end, Greg turned to Brian.

“I think this could easily qualify as unethical business practice,” he said with a smile. “After seeing it, there is absolutely no way we could pass it up, and you know it. You people did an amazing job. I just saw the damn thing four times, and I can’t wait to see it again.”

Karen nodded in approval and added, “I looked for the Clearlife references on the fourth viewing, and they are what, every seven or eight seconds?”

“Every four seconds,” corrected Brian, smiling.

“God. That’s unbelievable. I mean I was looking for them, and missed half…”

A short blond woman, the director of marketing, Brian thought, added, “It’s like brainwashing, and you’re so happy to be looking at Mr. Bloomquist here, you don’t even mind it.”

Greg joked, “I have the sudden urge to run out to the closest Clearlife store and buy a basketful of my own products…” He laughed happily. “The stores are going to be overrun…”

A rubicund man with round glasses added, “A two minute spot, placed judiciously, can cost as little as twice the price of a thirty second one, and with this, we will reap much more than twice the benefits.” Brian smiled. Even the accountant approved.

Striking while the iron was hot, he got them to buy the product at full price, which was completely to his credit, considering that had he not had them under the Kinney thrall, it might have occurred to at least one of them that the fact the spot was already made and was only worth what they were willing to pay gave them a huge bargaining chip and that they could have gotten it at a huge discount…

After the Clearlife people left, Brian, Sam and Brandon just stood there for a minute, all three of them grinning.

“I have a feeling there might be a bit of partying going on in my department,” said Sam finally. “Shall we go down and join in?”

He was right. You could hear the celebration from the second the elevator doors opened. How twenty or so people could make that much noise was anyone’s guess. The buffet was back, with a cake decorated with Brandon doing a Jete, a bottle of Clearlife water in each hand. Obviously, Justin had been hard at work…

It quieted down a little when they entered, until Brian said, “They bought it, full price!” which was followed by high fives amongst the team, and the pop of Champagne bottles being opened. Alan came and clapped Brian on the back, and Paul lifted his glass saying, “Kertching, kertching!”

In the midst of the excitement, Chris and Spaz got everyone’s attention by the simple process of Spaz whistling loudly through his fingers.

“With all of our extra time,” said Chris, “Steve, Spaz and I put our own little spot together.” People laughed at the extra time crack, though not sure what to expect.

Brian had not even noticed that they had brought the large screen back, until they started their “Show.” It was a series of candid shots, remarks accidentally caught on film and bloopers. It had evidently been put together that morning, by those three, after the commercial had been put to bed, and everyone else had gone to bed.

It started with the candid reaction of Erica, when she first saw Brandon: “Oh, dear Jesus! I WANT him!” That set the tone and got everyone laughing. Brandon put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

There was a shot of Adam, who could not remember the names of dance moves to save his life, asking Brandon for “one more of these”, and executing his version of a Jete, with all the grace of a drunken bear. It was completely hilarious.

There was a funny cut of Jessica saying, “I’m an attorney. You would be surprised the bullsh… the improvised words of wisdom we come up with on demand.” Followed by “bullsh…bullsh…bullsh…” Jessica hid her face in her hands, laughing.

There was a shot of Brandon and Brian running, before the move to the angle that showed Brandon but only the body of Brian was made, with Steve saying, “Is that a boner?” and Spaz’s camera doing a close up of Brian’s crotch and Spaz confirming, “Dude! that is a boner!” Brian laughed with everyone else. His boners were not something he was ashamed of…

A quick shot of Brandon followed, with him landing a pirouette on the Clearlife Vitamin Water bottle that they were trying to fit into the shot, totally exploding it, and saying, “Oops!” while looking adorably like a five year old that spilt his milk. He was the first one to laugh saying, ”Oh, God, there goes my tough guy image!”

Another shot of Erica, after she’d figured out Brandon was gay, sniffing Brandon’s costume, saying, “He even smells good. It’s sooo unfair! I want to be a maaaaan!” had everyone howling.

There was a shot of Steve, looking completely worn out, trying a microphone, saying to Spaz, “It was working fine yesterday. Piece of crap! Costs a fucking fortune and just stops working for no reason!” followed by Spaz’s quiet remark. “Huh, Dude. You gotta plug this end in, right?” and Steve carefully putting down the mike, walking away, and banging his head against the wall.

The last shot was of Brandon doing curls, Adam off camera saying, “We need more sweat,” Erica coming in with her bottle, and saying to Brandon, “I don’t want to put water on your barbell,” Adam reaching for it, Brandon passing it to him like it was a feather, and Adam falling sideways, brought down by the weight, a completely stunned look on his face, and saying to Brandon, in an accusatory whiny tone, “That’s heavy!” It took a while for the laughter to die down.

Interspersed had been still photos of people hard at work, individual portraits of each of them doing their jobs, of people yawning, of Chris fallen asleep at the keyboard, of people laughing, of people leaving for the day looking beat, of the line at the coffee urn, and smiling portraits of everyone. It had none of the slick perfection of the commercial, but it made everyone laugh, was really sweet and a great testimony to the effort put into the past three days.

Sam thought it was the perfect opportunity to pass out the T-shirts he’d had made for the Art Department team that said: I survived the 2005 Clearlife shoot.

Marcus tapped his glass to get everyone’s attention. “I have more good news,” he said. “It seems the anally retentive member of this outfit,” and there, he gave a deep bow, “had the foresight, dubbed as paranoia at the time by his esteemed partners,” he raised his glass to the said esteemed partner, “to insure Plexus, in case Mr. Raines became incapacitated in the four weeks separating the conclusion of filming and the showing of his commercial. Of course, I was thinking of a broken ankle,” he had the grace to add, shrugging.

“However, I got words from our insurance agent that the rather vague wording of the contract,” and here he raised his glass to Gerard Stanford, the head of Legal, who had worked on it with the insurance underwriter, “makes Mr. Raines present predicament an incapacitation. Therefore, Plexus will be reimbursed of …eighty percent of the cost of production of the Raines commercial, all expenses included!”

There was very loud whooping and clapping. Most of the longtime employees were on the profit sharing program, and the scrapping of the Raines commercial had made a huge dent in the 2005 profits. This was really, really good news.

Apparently a lot of people had asked if there was any chance they could have one of Justin’s drawings. Justin had used the amazing Art Department copy machine to reproduce them, and gave each person a full set. With a smile, he gave Brandon the full set of the originals, and gave Jessica the originals of the Dance Teacher.

It was two o’clock, and suddenly Brian felt completely worn out. Using Justin’s technique, he discreetly went into Sam’s office, closed the door, and dialed his phone.

“This is Justin Taylor,”

“Hey. I’m suddenly dead on my feet. I need a nap.”

“I’m done. I’ll be leaving shortly.”

“Yes, so will everyone else. We may have to take separate cabs.”

“Oh.” It was so sweet. He sounded so disappointed. “You’re right, of course.”

“See you at home then.”

“Later.”

“Later.”

Brian yawned and stretched. He left Sam’s office and said goodbye to Jessica and Brandon, telling him he would call with firm plans for the evening at about eight. He said a few words to his partners, and to Sam, and headed out. Apparently, Justin had already left. Two other people were waiting for cabs already. Luckily, taxis seemed hungry for business at 3:00PM on New Year’s Eve.

Five minutes later, he sat in his own cab and gave his address. They had gone five blocks when he noticed a familiar jacket, blond head of hair, and fantastic ass walking at the edge of the sidewalk. He laughed, and asked the cab to pull over, picking up a grinning Sunshine.

“I could have been looking on the other side, or even had my eyes closed, you know,” he said.

 

 

Justin cuddled into his embrace. “It was definitely worth a shot,” he answered happily.

They did not talk on the way home, both of them pretty tired. Once at the loft, Brian set the alarm for eight, and having taken off his suit, watched Justin, who was on the phone, struggling one handed to get his jeans down over his bubble butt. It was a delicious spectacle. He went to brush his teeth and Justin came in the bathroom the phone still in his hand.

“Hey, I kind of spaced out on telling you, but I spoke to a friend of mine named Todd, yesterday after our break. I invited him to come to Essengy with us to save him the 200 bucks.”

“Nice guy?”

“Yes, real nice. Likes to dance when he goes there, mostly, and cannot afford to go that often because he’s saving for a down payment for a place.”

“Between him and Brandon, will I get to spend any time with you at all?” Brian said in a light joking tone. Probably because he was so tired, he did feel peeved that he’d have to share Justin with what he expected to be yet another lovelorn ex all evening.

Justin looked… funny. “I just assumed…” he said. Then, waving his hand he added, “Never mind.”

“Justin?”

“Nothing. I'm just tired. Let’s go to sleep, ok?”

Justin was always much wiser than him.

“Justin, tell me, you assumed what?”

Justin looked embarrassed. “Well, I’d assumed you and I would be together the whole time. That we would dance with them, or we’d hang out with them. It's stupid. We’re not fused at the hip, right? There are always plenty of guys who want to dance with you and whatever… “

“Justin, we talked about this. There isn’t going to be any ‘whatever,’ not without you.”

“Yeah, yeah… I know. Let’s go to sleep, ok?”

What the fuck was wrong? Brian had no intention of going to the lounge without him. Surely he knew that by now. It was the two of them with tricks, or no tricks at all.

He turned to Justin to try again to figure out what his problem was, but he was asleep, or faking it really well. None of his body was in any contact with Brian, and Brian hated it. He moved close, on his side, and put his arm over Justin’s chest. A minute later, as he had started to doze off, Justin moved against him with a sigh, curling into his arms in their habitual spooning position, Justin’s back molded to his front, hugging Brian’s arm to his chest. Brian fell asleep with a smile.

 

*****

He woke up alone in bed. Again. It was a quarter to eight. The loft was dead quiet and completely dark. Where was Justin? He was not on his computer with his headphones on, not watching TV on mute, not there at all.

“Justin?” Brian called out, to immediately feel like an idiot. Did he expect Justin to be hidden under the bed? He wasn’t there, period. He picked up the phone and dialed Justin’s number, and heard it ring, muted but there, in the loft. He’d left his fucking phone. Brian found that infuriating. He had made it clear he wanted Justin to have his phone on at all times. He was mentally preparing a scathing message when he heard a joyful voice answer, both in his ear and through the front door.

“I’m right here, Brian.” A laugh. “My fingers are too stiff to remove my glove and I can’t dial properly…”

Brian opened the door to find Justin, pink cheeked and bright eyed, in his running clothes, his knitted gloves holding the phone clumsily, giggling.

He looked like a big kid, totally adorable. The phone fell from his hand and he kicked it back up like a hacky sack. Brian caught it in mid air, and pressed end call before closing it. He shut the front door, and asked, “Why aren’t you wearing your new gloves?”

“I didn’t want to get them all sweaty. Did you ever notice how much smaller the keys are on this door’s pad than everywhere else? I’ve been trying to get the door open for five minutes.” He giggled again. “And then I couldn’t open my phone! My fingers are frozen. Help me take these off, please?” His gloves were tucked in the sleeve of his sweatshirt, and inside the Velcro closure of his running jacket. Brian took them off. Justin’s fingers were icicles.

“Let’s rinse them in warm water,” said Brian. “They’ll warm up.”

“No! That always hurt!” whined Justin, now sounding like a big kid too.

Instead he put his hands on Brian’s toasty, right-out-from-under-the-warm-covers belly. Brian howled, and backed away, laughing.

“No fucking way!”

Justin started chasing him around, grasping what he could with his icy hands. “It’s the only way,” Justin pleaded, laughing, “or I might lose an extremity to frostbite! I’m an artist! Save my career! Sacrifice yourself!”

Because he was laughing, and not trying too hard, Brian backed himself into a corner. He was bating Justin’s hands away until Justin fell to his knees, and took Brian’s cock in his mouth. The lips were icy, but the inside was hot and wet and fantastic, and Brian only squirmed a little when the ice-cold hands grabbed his ass and brought him closer.

It was one of Justin no-holds-barred blow jobs, the kind that made Brian pant, then moan, then cry out as he came, taking him down at the knees every time. Fuck. It didn’t get any better than this, even with Justin’s barely warmer hands now tucked in Brian’s armpits.

He raised Justin and himself off the floor, and pushed Justin backwards on the bed. He took off Justin’s running shoes, his socks, his sweats, his running tights and his boxers, and pulled him to a sitting position to strip off the jacket, a thick hoody, a long sleeve t-shirt, and surprise, surprise, one of his own wife beaters.

He had intended to get the both of them into the shower, but sweaty Justin smelled too good. He plunged his nose into Justin's blond crotch, breathing deeply, loving that scent. He pushed Justin’s legs up and apart and, his nose in the fragrant balls, started licking his hole. It was heaven, God, he wanted to stay there all night.

 

 

Justin was mewling in pleasure, “Brian, Brian, Brian, your tongue, so soft, so hot, so good, fuckmewithitfuckmewthitfuckmewithit. Yeah, yeah, oh god, oh fuck…”

Brian’s tongue was all the way in the softness of his hole, circling it, fucking it, kissing it, sucking it, caressing its walls, the tip wiggling deep inside, in and out motions stimulating the outer rim again and again, lapping broadly at the sensitive skin around it, plunging back in. Justin tasted as sweet as ever, like candied pecans, how could anyone’s ass taste so good, so sweet? He was avidly sucking the juices out yet again, preparing to plunge in and renew his assault, when the intercom buzzed…

Justin, only half conscious with pleasure was mumbling, “Fuck, shit, fuck, before run, phone, Todd, Brandon, directions, internet, nine o’clock, drinks, don’t stop, please don’t stop, so good, so good…”

 

 

His tongue still in Justin’s ass, Brian looked at the clock. How in the fuck was it nine? He must have been eating Justin’s ass for over an hour, and still he didn’t have his fill. Neither of them was showered, neither was ready. He was in heaven and Justin was incoherent in his bliss. He told Justin, “Don’t you dare move,” and went to the door. When he pressed the intercom button, he could hear laughter, Brandon’s and someone else’s.

“Brandon,” he said, and then he thought, ‘What the hell’. “Brandon, is that Todd with you?”

“Yeah, we arrived exactly at the same time.”

“Listen, we’re in the middle of fucking. I’ve been eating Justin’s ass for an hour, and I don’t want to stop. Go to the corner bar, or come up and watch or come up and fuck. Your choice. I’m releasing the door. You decide. If you want the bar, let the door close again, we’ll join you there eventually.”

He pressed the Open button that would automatically open all doors and send the elevator down to wait until someone got on and pressed up. He heard the click signaling the outside door had opened, setting the automation in motion.

He went back to the bedroom. Justin had not moved. He was holding his knees, his perfect ass exposed, his glistening pink hole pulsing in anticipation, his cock hard and stiff, his whole body shivering like that of a race horse. Two steps and his tongue was back up that hole, his nose once again in Justin’s musk scented balls, and twenty seconds later he’d forgotten the interruption.

He was tongue fucking Justin again, as he was babbling, “Hot, soft, so soft, oh, Brian, so good, yeah, yeah, suckitsuckitsuckit, yessssss, goooood,” then mewling, or purring that purr of his, panting, and talking again, “Soft, in, in, in, yeah oh god yeah, fuckitfuckit, don’t stop, so soft, so hot, good, fuck,” and then finally, though Brian would have happily kept it up all night, “fuck, soft, love it, love it, Brian, love it, fuck me please, cock, please want you to fuck me, fuck me please, please, Brian, please fuckmefuckmefuckme…”

Brian pushed his cock in the velvet depths, completely open for him, the pleasure indescribable, each fold of Justin’s walls caressing the tip of his cock, the heat, the wetness, the perfection, incredible, and then pulled back out with a cry of fury, realizing he didn’t have a condom on. He grabbed one, rolled it on, lubed it thickly and pushed back in, feeling as if he was seeing in black and white, the vista still breathtaking but not half as beautiful as it had been just a moment ago.

 

 

Justin’s strong legs were around his waist, and he dropped forward, his weight on his elbow, his hands on Justin’s face, kissing him to oblivion, fucking the ass he loved, the body he loved, the man he loved, watching the pleasure on Justin’s face that was echoing his own, driving his own, until they both came, breathing words of love onto each other’s mouth.

Next to them, his perfect body glistening with sweat, Brandon was fucking Todd, whose ankles were on Brandon’s shoulders. His dark skin was a beautiful contrast to Brandon’s paleness. One of Brandon’s hands was on Todd's cock, expertly milking it, the other on his cheek, caressing his face, his thumb tracing Todd’s lips. Todd’s hands were holding his silky blond hair back from Brandon’s gorgeous face.

“You’re so tight, Todd, so tight, you feel so fucking good… You are so beautiful, your skin, your hair, so dark, so soft…”

“God, so big, so fucking good, Brandon, Brandon, here I come…” And Todd's cock erupted in thick white ropes, Brandon saying, “Look at me, look at me,” and coming deep in Todd’s ass as they stared into each other’s eyes.

Brandon gently lowered Todd’s legs to the bed, and, as if he weighed nothing, pulled him up against his body, and kissed him long and deep, and then sweetly, gently, said, “That was so incredibly good, Todd, so, so, good. I don’t even know what to say.”

Todd answered with a chuckle, “Just say you’ll do it again…”

“Fuck, yes… But I want you to fuck me next. I love your cock. I want to know how it’ll feel inside me…”

“Brandon, I’ve never topped. I wouldn’t fucking know how. I don’t want to hurt you…” Todd took his turn kissing Brandon. “But I will suck your cock, eat your ass, and offer you my ass anytime you want it.”

Brian and Justin had been so absorbed in each other, they had not even noticed Brandon and Todd coming in or fucking next to them until they had emerged from their post coital bliss.

The two had looked hot together, beautiful and erotic.

Brian whispered into Justin’s ear, “Fuck me, Justin, like the first time. Show Todd how it’s done.”

“Some people have refractory periods, Brian,” answered Justin, laughing. “Give them a minute…”

So Brian, the perfect host, said to the kissing couple, “Guys, how about a shower, then a drink, then another fuck, then another shower, and then the club for some dancing?”

Justin rolled his eyes, but Todd and Brandon just looked at each other and burst out laughing.

 

 

Brandon looked at Brian and smiled. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

“Great. The shower's through there.”

There were two more showers in the loft, but this one was big, had two heads, and there really was not much wrong with four gorgeous guys occasionally accidentally rubbing against each other while they soaped up, in Brian’s opinion.

He washed Justin from head to toes, sucking his cock a few times here and there just because, and Justin returned the favor, both the washing, and the sucking. Brian took advantage of his time in Justin’s care to check out Todd.

He had the wiry body of a man who would stay thin all his life, his abs beautifully defined. Though he was probably only six feet, he looked taller, everything about him long and lean, his shoulders only slightly wider than his narrow hips. His cock was like the rest of him, long but not thick, and his face reminded Brian very much of Adrian Brody, though his hair was very dark, short and probably curled into ringlets as soon as it grew. He had a great smile, the whiteness of his teeth a nice contrast to his dark olive skin. Though not beautiful in the classical sense, he was very attractive.

Brian questioned for a moment the fact that neither the David-like perfection of Brandon, nor the attractiveness of Todd made him in anyway want to swap partners in this little fuck fest. He looked critically at Justin but even as he was trying to concentrate on his imperfections, his cock was filling, rising to full hardness with his desire for Justin. When Justin looked at him with love in his eyes, he suddenly understood the awkward moment earlier that afternoon, before they fell asleep.

Justin could not imagine wanting to trick when Brian was around, because with him there, no one held any interest for him. And he had been embarrassed to have wrongly assumed it to be the same for Brian. Except that now, Brian realized it was true for him as well, and that feeling this way, if Justin had suddenly talked about them tricking together he would have felt very awkward indeed.

He grabbed his absolutely perfectly beautiful (though too short, imperfectly proportioned, muscle-definition lacking, thick thighed, bubble butted) lover and kissed him long and hard, feeling Justin’s body go boneless in response to the invasion to his soft, yielding mouth.

Brian whispered in his ear, “When you’re around, I can’t even imagine wanting to fuck someone else, wanting anyone else to suck my cock or eat my ass. I hope your heart wasn’t too set on us tricking together, because I simply, completely lack the interest…”

He loved that Sunshine smile. “I’m glad you mentioned it,” Justin said. “It would have been stupid for the two of us to force ourselves to do it thinking to please the other. I’m not interested either.”

So that had been his plan: To go against his own desire, and trick with Brian if that’s what Brian wanted. ‘Justin, you twat,’ thought Brian.

Brian said seriously, ”Justin, don’t ever do something you don’t really want to do just to please me. It’s you I want. It’s you I… love. The real you. You may piss me off at times, but the way I feel about you is not going to change.” He kissed Justin’s wet hair, hugging him tight.

They all got out of the shower, dried off with Brian’s wonderfully thick towels, and had a drink. Todd was happy with J&B, and Brian automatically poured one for Brandon, who said, ”Actually, Brian, with my profession, I can never drink alcohol. I’ll have the Evian.”

Brian was confused. “You drank J&B at Babylon the other day…”

Brandon looked a little sheepish. “The bartender there, Jimmy, mixes this tea, coffee and water concoction for me and puts it in a bottle of J&B. It looks just like the real thing. I pay full price for it, which he collects as a tip for his efforts. Drinking only water would blow my bad boy image…”

Brian smiled and nodded in complete understanding, but Justin just shook his head, laughing. “You studs are so weird!”

“What do you do for a living?” asked Todd, curious.

“Huh…”

“Starting tomorrow, your cover is blown anyway, Brandon…” Brian reminded him. “Just fess up.”

Brandon sighed. “I’m a ballet dancer.”

Todd looked totally in awe. “No shit. Really?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, my God!” said Todd, “I love ballet. Ever since I was a kid and my sisters danced. It’s one of my favorite things!”

He must have noticed their dubious look, because, laughing, he got up and went to find his wallet in his pants. He said, “This has been my Christmas-Birthday combo present from my family since I was eighteen. They all chip in, because it’s so damn expensive, but they manage to swing it every year.” He pulled out a thin booklet from his wallet and passed it to Brandon. It was Orchestra seating season tickets to the New York City Ballet. “I haven’t missed one show in nine years…” He added, “You thought I was full of it, didn’t you?”

Brandon looked at him and smiled. “Yes, I did,” he admitted. Todd bent down and kissed him. “Just for that, I should fuck you inexpertly and have you feel me in your Jetes for the next two weeks…”

“Speaking of which,” cut in Brian, always the opportunist. “It’s time to fuck.” He turned to Todd. “My ballet loving friend, you are in luck… You see, I am a top. Hate bottoming. Hadn’t done it in fifteen years, until Justin’s lovely cock tempted me into it. And with him, I love it. He has a gift. And so, if you are willing, you can follow along, and give the other ‘Top only’ in our little gathering what he so surprisingly asked for of you: A good fuck.”

Brandon was looking at Justin, and Brian’s gut twisted a little. He had been pretty sure they had fucked, but now he learned something he would have never expected. Not only did Brandon get on his knees in public to suck off Justin, but apparently, the ‘power top’ had also taken it up the ass from him, and had, just like Brian, loved it. Why had Brandon asked Todd to fuck him? Brian wondered.

If Brandon was like Brian (which Brian strongly suspected), and hated bottoming for anybody else… But bottoming for Justin was so, so good. He couldn’t get enough. Was Brandon hoping someone else could make him feel what he’d felt with Justin? Shit. He was… Now that he understood, he could only hope Brandon would know he had had no idea how incredibly insensitive what he’d just said to Todd was…

Brian gave a mental shrug. No point in worrying now. The idea of Justin fucking him again like he had that first time had his cock like a flag pole. He walked over to Justin, and took his hand pulling him to the bedroom.

He whispered to him, ”Sorry. I’m an ass. I didn’t know.”

Justin smiled at him and shrugged.

Todd and Brandon were still sitting, talking quietly. Then they got up, and joined Justin and Brian on the bed. Brian lay on his stomach, so Brandon did the same. Justin, kneeling between Brian’s legs, ran his hands on his broad smooth back, on his small ass, on his thighs.

Brian turned his head to see Todd doing the same, his expert physical therapist fingers adding pressure where it felt the best. Continuing to mirror Justin’s moves, he lubed his finger, and gently ran it up and down Brandon’s crack, passing lightly over his anus. Watching Justin’s technique carefully, he added more lube, and played with Brandon’s entrance, circling it with the pad of his finger. Finally, he pushed in to the first knuckle, swirled it lightly, to relax the rim.

When he added more lube and pushed in the whole finger, Brandon sighed, with pleasure and relief that there was no pain. It felt good. Justin was so careful, so gentle and now, so was Todd.

More lube, and a second finger joined the first, and Brian loved that burn, and that jolt of pleasure, as Justin reached for his prostate and lightly caressed it.

“Do you feel his prostate?” asked Justin.

“Yes”

“Be real light when you caress it. Brandon’s not used to that stimulation.”

Justin kissed Brian’s back as he moved the two fingers in and out, and scissored them. Brian relaxed.

“Fuck him with your fingers really gently, and scissor them to open him. Kiss his back, his spine, caress his back until he relaxes.”

Soon Brandon was sighing, at ease.

“Do the same with a third finger, be gentle when you go in, it burns… Be light when you caress his prostate to remind him that it’s good, and gently finger fuck him, take your time, kiss him, caress his back, his thighs, let him know that you care, keep doing it until he loosens up around your fingers.”

Todd was caressing Brandon’s back, kissing his spine, loving him, and moving his fingers in and out slowly, gently. Once again, Brandon sighed, relaxing.

“You’re ready for me”, said Justin to Brian.

“You’re ready now, Brandon,” said Todd

Brian heard the condom packets rip, the flip of the lube lid. Todd was mirroring all of Justin’s movements. Justin put more lube on Brian's hole, and said, “Here I come”. Todd did and said the same to Brandon. Kissing Brandon’s back, caressing him with one hand, Todd lined himself up with the other and gently, gently, he pushed in.

Brian loved the first seconds after Justin penetrated him. That fullness in his ass was Justin. The hands on his back, caressing, soothing, were Justin’s. The mouth that placed kisses along his spine was Justin’s, and Brian loved it all. Then Justin started to move, and Brian could feel the ridge of the large head of his cock as he moved. It was Justin’s cock, unmistakable.

“Wait till you feel him relax again. Kiss him, caress him, love him… Then, when you move, be gentle, be tender. Find his prostate but be light and slow at first, and reach for his cock with your lubed hand, and be gentle and slow there too. It’s so many sensations at once… Is Brandon hard?”

“Oh, yeah…”

“Good, so just keep going. Progressively go faster and harder, but stay really light on his cock, mostly to make sure he likes what your cock is doing.

“If you jerk him off too well, he’ll concentrate on that and forget how good his ass feels, full of cock, full of you. You can even let go of his cock and play with his nipples, his balls, and then, whatever he asks for, you give it to him…”

 

 

“Todd,” said Brandon, sounding in awe. “Your cock feels so fucking good. God… I never thought I would feel that again… Thank you, oh God, thank you… Fuck me now. Fuck me for real. Don’t touch my cock, I want to come from just you inside my ass.”

Todd started moving with intent, still caressing Brandon lovingly. “You are so beautiful, Brandon. Your back is a sculpture, your ass is perfection, and your pink hole, stretched around my cock is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. You are so tight, this is heaven. So tight, so soft, so wonderful, so beautiful. I want to fuck you harder, love, can I fuck you harder?”

“Yes… Yes! Oh, fuck! sooo good, harder, yes, harder, oh god yes, yes, oh my God, Todd, so fucking good, Todd, yes, Oh God! yes, I’m going to come. I’m going to come! ….aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

Todd’s eyes were closed and his whole body was pulsing with his orgasm, deep in Brandon’s ass. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on Brandon’s wet back.

“I had no idea…” he said. “No idea…” He kissed Brandon’s back lovingly, tenderly.

“Hold onto the condom when you pull out,” said Justin.

 

 

Todd did, pulling out gently. Brandon flipped onto his back and reached for him, and held him in his arms, tightly. He flipped the both of them over so he was on top and kissed Todd for all he was worth.

Justin smiled at Brian, and pulled out of him. Brian turned onto his back, smiling back, and fastened his legs around Justin’s back. They had both watched the other two fucking, a beautiful erotic show, but now, it was their turn.

“Fuck me hard, Justin,“ said Brian, “Like I did to you last night.”

Justin smiled, “Oh yeah…” and he proceeded to fuck Brian into the mattress, probably harder than he had ever fucked anyone. Brian was meeting his efforts, and the sensations were beyond what his brain could process while still thinking rationally. He became just a pleasure seeking machine, wanting more, taking more, watching the echoing rapture bloom on his lover’s face, hearing grunts and moans, and cries and not caring where they came from.

Justin reached for Brian’s cock and held it loosely enough so that it slid through his fist, and after two thrusts, Brian’s orgasm exploded out of him. Through the haze of his ecstasy he could feel his ass tighten around Justin’s cock rhythmically as he was shooting his come, and he felt Justin stop, deep, and heard his victorious cry as he filled the condom.

Justin collapsed on him, and Brian wrapped him lovingly in his arms, their lips meeting without apparent forethought, just a continuation of the perfection of the moment. They were smiling at each other when there was a moan next to then and they looked up just in time to see Todd come in Brandon’s mouth. Brandon, kneeling between his legs, had obviously been jerking off the whole time, because he raised himself on his knees and they were all treated to the gorgeousness of the perfect body, the perfect cock and the perfect face in the throws of orgasm.

He collapsed on the bed with a groan, and they all started laughing.

“And this concludes 2005 very nicely,” said Brian. “Let’s shower and go dancing and welcome 2006!”

To be continued...

 

 

 

 

 

Getting to know you

Justin looked at the clock. It was 8:30. He stretched, loving the feeling of his clean skin on the clean sheets. He smiled. Even after the shower in the middle of the night, there were still some sparkles on his skin. One of Brian’s arms was across his ribs and one of his legs on top of his.

Brian had been so cute last night. A bit drunk, and high too, and totally in love. All over him all night, telling guys who he thought came too close to Justin, “My Sunshine. Find your own,” even though most of them were trying to hit on him and not Justin.

He had actually dropped to his knees in the middle of the dance floor to give Justin a blowjob, and it had been so fucking good. Brandon and Todd had laughed and kept dancing, one on each side of Brian, until Justin had come down his throat. Brian had gotten back up, and kissed him deeply. “I’m going to keep you so satisfied, you’ll never want to fuck another guy…”

Close to midnight, all four of them had gone to the lounge where Justin, for the first time ever, had gotten fucked in a public place. Justin had closed his eyes to forget his surroundings, concentrating on the man he loved, and had come in the middle of the last ten seconds countdown, feeling Brian follow him immediately. Todd had sprayed the wall at “Happy New Year”, and Brandon must have been right with him because soon they were kissing, just like Justin and Brian.

The four of them had kept dancing and goofing off till 1:30 in the morning, when Brian had told Justin, incredibly early by his normal standards, that he wanted to go home. They had taken a cab, Brian holding Justin for the short ride, had kissed and rubbed against each other in the elevator and had fucked in the shower, face to face, Brian holding Justin up under his ass with Justin’s legs around his waist, kissing him the whole time, pumping into him fast and furious, and coming with a growl as soon as Justin did.

They had changed the sheets and gone to bed, Justin feeling so sated he thought he might never want to fuck again.

Now, six hours later, he woke up with his usual morning wood, but his ass was pretty sore. He looked over at Brian, gorgeous as always despite last night’s excesses, yawned and went back to sleep.

At ten, when he woke up again he was alone in bed. He could hear the pages of the newspaper being turned in the living room area. He got up, put on some boxers and some sweats, an undershirt and his blue hoody. The loft felt a little chilly.

He padded quietly into the living room, where Brian, also in sweats, was reading the business section of the New York Times, drinking his coffee out of the carafe, as apparently was his habit.

Justin went to the kitchen, took two half bagels out of the freezer and toasted them.

“Are those bagels?” asked Brian.

“Yes. Do you want one?”

“Do you have whole wheat?”

“Yes.” He had noticed, the only time he’d had breakfast here, that Brian’s bagels were whole wheat. So that’s what he’d bought.

“Great.”

Justin retrieved two more halves from the freezer. “I have nonfat cream cheese.”

“You do?” This time Brian put down the paper and turned.

“And I’m going to slice a tomato and some cucumber for mine. Want some?”

Brian put down the paper and joined him in the kitchen.

“Sounds good.”

Two minutes later, they were each sitting in front of toasted bagels, with cream cheese, tomato and cucumber. Justin was starving. They had skipped dinner and though Brian’s meal replacement technique was fun, he needed to eat.

“I’m getting the art and leisure. You want the business back?”

Brian chewed and swallowed his bite, pulled Justin to him and gave him a kiss.

“Good morning, Sunshine.”

Justin smiled. “Good morning.”

“I’m just going to concentrate on how good this tastes. I’ll read again after I’m done. Keep me company?”

“Sure.” Justin actually was not keen on reading while he ate, but had not wanted to prevent Brian for doing so. Why was it so easy for Brian to say what he wanted, and so easy for Justin to sacrifice his preference to try to please Brian? He remembered what Brian had said to him in the shower yesterday. He had to cut that shit out.

“Any plans, today, Justin?”

“I haven’t even thought beyond breakfast yet,” he said, pouring himself some cereal and milk, his bagel gone. Brian was still on the first half of his, savoring each bite. “You?”

“I thought we could move you in.” Brian drank some coffee.

“You mean get all my stuff from the brownstone and bring it here?”

“Yes.”

Justin looked around. The place was spotless, perfect. He didn’t have much, and what he had furniture-wise was second hand stuff he was not particularly attached too. But there was the rest of his clothes, his schoolbooks, his art supplies, his CD collection, his books, his bike, his drawings, the quilt Nehama had made him when he was in the hospital, his skis and ski stuff, his camping gear…

“Huh… Where are we going to put it? I don’t want to mess up your place. It’s so… pristine.”

“Justin. I asked you to move in. You said yes. It’s our place. You tell me you don’t like white and chrome, the stuff is gone. OK?”

“But you own it. I’m sure my entire salary at Plexus doesn’t even cover the mortgage.“

“Ratio.”

“Come again?”

Brian had whipped out his palm pilot and was doing some calculations. “My mortgage payment is… 17% of my monthly income. Charges, electricity, water, sewer, gas, cleaning service, cable, Internet, phone, another… 14%. That's 31%.”

He looked up at Justin to make sure he was following. “Your income is $ 37000 per annum, $3083 per month. 31% is $956. You pay that per month and we’re even.”

“I make more than that. I sell paintings once in a while.”

“And the months that you do, you can throw 31% of that into the rent. We both know that even if you sold a lot of paintings, right now, you still couldn’t go 50/50. A ratio system is as fair as we can get as this time.”

$956 was pretty steep. That was two and a half times what he’d been paying at the brownstone, which had included food. But he could afford it, and this would be his home. Not just Brian’s. At least psychologically.

Justin smiled. “OK. I like the white and chrome. Is it ok if I add some stuff though?”

“It’s your place, Justin. You have complete amnesty for anything you already own. Whatever you buy after that, or I buy, we have to both like. OK?”

“Can I hang some pictures?”

“We have to hang mine first,” said Brian, smiling. “But yes, of course you can hang some pictures.”

“We’ll need to stop at Pratt. There is one I like, there.”

Brian was done with his bagel. “Come here,” he said, walking to the bedroom. Justin’s cock jumped in his sweats, eager little thing. But in the bedroom, Brian just opened some drawers. Empty drawers. And a portion of the wardrobe. Empty as well.

“Brian, where are your clothes?”

“I had Jam, our cleaning lady, put my overcoats in the entrance closet and reorganize things a little.” He opened his portion of the wardrobe and his drawers. Nothing looked crowded or out of place.

“Also,” he said, “I’ve been thinking.” He walked with Justin to the largest guest bedroom, which had been the master until he had his platform bedroom, similar to the one he’d had in Pittsburgh, carved out of the main loft. “We could add extra windows here, and here, and skylight all along there, and make this room a studio.”

Justin was blown away. The space was large with very high ceilings, and with extra light it would be a perfect space for a studio. But he really didn’t need it. He had the studio at Pratt.

“I have the studio at Pratt, Brian. Sure it would be nice to have one here, but…”

Brian wrapped his arms around him from behind, and kissed his neck. “You are only going to be at Pratt for less than two years, Justin. We might as well plan ahead.”

Justin’s heart started beating fast. Brian was looking two years down the road and seeing them together, in this place. Brian wanted him here in two years. Brian loved him. He really loved him. Suddenly, Justin wanted to make love. Not fuck, but make slow beautiful love with this man.

“Brian. Let’s make love. Please.”

And from the kiss that melted his heart, through the loving caresses, and the tender penetration, through the slow and passionate motions and their achingly sweet orgasms, there was never anything but the expression of love.

Justin called his housemates to tell them he was coming for his stuff. Rory’s brother Dean had already packed all his clothes away, neatly and carefully, and Andrew had packed his supplies from their common desk, and his drawings. Cassie had packed his CD's, which had been in the general collection, and gone around the house to retrieve most of his stuff. She had boxed it all for him.

By the time Brian and Justin got there, there wasn’t much left to do. Justin took a careful tour of the house, picking up the few things Cassie had left behind, not sure of their provenance. He took the portrait of Florence, one of his classmates, that had hung on the wall, his first foray in portrait painting. It was full of flaws, but he loved it nonetheless. It had been a timed exercise, so it was pretty raw, but somehow that made it better.

Lilah still wasn’t back. He left her a note asking her to call him. They went to the basement to get his skis and bike and camping stuff, though Rory said there was no big hurry. Brian apparently had some storage space, a basement or something. He called the cab company for a large multiple traveler cab, they put everything in it, and after Justin promised to have them all to dinner at his new place, they left. They stopped at Pratt to pick up one painting, called The Colors of my Heart and headed home.

It made Brian laugh when the first thing Justin wanted to do was hang his art. He got The Kiss out of its hiding place. It was the same size as The Colors of my Heart. They hung them each on one side of the dining area window, the colors a relief from the white. They even made the naked man, on the adjacent wall, look happier.

From one of the boxes, Justin removed a sketch framed in primary colors. He apparently had made one of each of his housemates, and offered for them to keep them if they wanted, and they all had, except Lilah who hadn’t been home. He’d also had extra frames. Working quickly, he framed his favorite drawings. Daphne, Gus, Emmett, Blake, Daphne again, Gus with his moms, Hunter, Karl, a cute one of Emmett and Daphne, Michael and JR, Gus again, Ben, Ted, a laughing one of Debbie, one of Gus and Hunter, and three of his favorites of Brian, including the one of him speaking on the phone.

Brian had been very dubious about the cheap IKEA frames, but en masse, they looked great. They took some measurements and put all twenty frames on one wall segment, in five rows of four, covering the whole wall. Justin had put them in the frames at random and turned them all face down. As he placed them, he just called to Brian: Blue frame, and Brian handed him a blue frame at random, so at the end, the portraits that cohabitated did so without rhyme or reason.

Once finished, Brian had to admit it looked fantastic. His loft was little by little being invaded by color.

The portrait of Florence, which Brian really liked, went on the kitchen area wall. It looked fantastic.

Justin was surprised to discover than behind two sliding panels in the wall, Brian did have a library. There as well, room had been made for Justin’s books. Brian had removed a lot of his books on advertising and taken them to the office. While Justin put his books away, Brian merged their CD collection, alphabetizing them with the ease of long practice. He laughed when the only CD they had in common was the soundtrack of The Sound of Music.

“Either we are going to learn to like each other’s music, or there is going to be a lot of yodeling in the loft,” he joked, and started singing, “The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Music…” in a surprisingly good voice.

“A song they have sung, for a thousand years…” replied Justin. “Oh, God, put something of yours on, or this is going to stay suck in my brain all day!

Instead, Brian put in the dance tune compilation Blake had given Justin for Christmas, which turned out to be the perfect unpacking music.

After a trip to the storage area, on the ground floor, and putting the boxes with his clothes in the wardrobe for Jam to worry about at her next visit, they had sat down together to order another modular set of drawers for Justin’s art supplies that matched Brian’s, the two empty drawers having proven woefully insufficient. And they were done.

Brian looked around and smiled. “You have done physically to the loft what you have done figuratively in my life,” he said teasingly. “You have added color and warmth.”

“That was so cheesy, I may have ruined you as an ad God…”

Brian was about to respond when the phone rang. Justin headed to the kitchen. It was late afternoon. He was starving again. He could hear Brian’s half of the conversation, though he was not paying much attention. He was making himself a salad, and a cheese omelet. He thought it was one of the partners, Alan, maybe? Calling with some good news. Wow, they’d been so busy, they hadn’t even thought to turn on the TV for the Rose Bowl’s half time commercials lineup. Oh, well.

He heard vaguely tuxedo, incredible marketing opportunity, hundreds of key people…and Brian’s answer that of course he’d be there, wouldn’t pass it up for a million bucks, and See you tomorrow…Tomorrow? They would be in Pittsburgh tomorrow. Surely Brian had not forgotten…

Brian came back to the kitchen area with a big smile on his face. “You’re not going to believe this, Justin.”

“What?”

“Through his connections Alan snatched invites for the four partners to the Mayor’s Shakers and Movers dinner tomorrow night. The best business opportunity we’ve ever had, coming right on the heels of the first airing of our commercial. Talk about golden. We are meeting at noon tomorrow to talk strategy.”

“Hm, Brian, I hate to have to remind you, but we’re going back to Pittsburgh tomorrow. We promised Gus.” He felt bad for Brian. He could see this was big.

“I know, I remember. But surely you can see that I can't pass this up. It’s important. It’s business.”

What the fuck? Was he saying what Justin thought he was saying? “You said, ‘Five nights, Gus. Five nights. Count them, I promise.’ You can’t turn your back on that!”

“Justin, you have to see the big picture, here. Gus is five. I’m sure he’s forgotten all about that already. He’s just a kid. He’ll get over it. This is the kind of opportunity that will allow me to send him to college anywhere he chooses, to buy him anything he wants.”

Justin looked at him, completely disbelieving what he had just heard. “You can already do that, so don’t try to bullshit me, or him, that you are doing this for his sake. He doesn’t give a shit about college. He doesn’t care about what you can buy him. You made him a promise. He wants you, his Daddy, to love him, to be there for him. This is the kind of betrayal that means he might never trust you again.”

“Don’t be a drama queen, Justin. I’ll make it up to him.”

Justin rinsed the knife he had been using, and put the beginning of his salad in a Tupperware container. He could not stay there a moment longer without losing it, which would be completely pointless.

“I’ve said my piece, Brian. You do as you see fit. I’m going for something to eat. I’ll be back in an hour or so. I have my cell phone. See you.” He put on his jacket, his gloves, his scarf, and left, without making a fuss. There was no point. What more could he say?

As soon as he was out on the street, he tried to call Daphne. Her phone was busy. He called Brandon. He needed a friend to talk to.

“Brandon.”

“Hey, it’s Justin. How are you?”

“Great. Fabulous. Did you watch half time?”

“No, sorry, we didn’t.”

Brandon laughed. “We didn’t either. God, Justin, Todd and I have done nothing but fuck and talk. He is a really special guy.”

“I’m so glad. Where is he now?”

“Asleep. I really like him. I hate to leave tomorrow, but I’m dancing tomorrow night.”

“So take him with you. He’s on break, isn’t he?”

“Isn’t that a bit… forward? To ask him?”

“Brandon. You know you are going to be mobbed as soon as people figure out who you are. Every fag in America is going to want you. If he is special enough that you prefer being with him than with the hundreds of tricks that are going to beat down your door, you kind of have to decide now…”

“I’m not in love with him. I’m not free that way. I’m not trying to make you feel bad or anything, but Justin, the way I feel about you is not going to disappear overnight. But he makes me laugh, and he knew me before, so to speak, and God, we are really good in bed together.”

“Talk to him. Tell him. Ask him.”

Brandon laughed. “That’s what Daphne said too.”

“Well, there you have it.”

“How are you? Brian was so cute last night. Talk about a guy in love…”

“Yeah.”

“What’s up? You don’t sound thrilled.”

“Have you got a minute?”

“For you, always.”

“Thanks. We moved me in this morning.”

“Well, that’s cool.”

“Yes. That’s not it. When the original commercial fell apart, we were in Pittsburgh. We were supposed to spend the day with Gus, Brian’s son. The boy adores him, and it broke his heart when we left.”

“How old?”

“Five.”

“OK.”

“So his Mom brought him to the airport to say goodbye. Brian was really upset to let him down, and promised to be back this weekend. Like a solemn promise. He said, ‘Five nights, Sonnyboy, five nights. Count them and I’ll be back, I promise.’ And now he’s not going. He’s been invited to the Mayor’s Movers and Shakers dinner, and he’s just blowing off Gus so he can go. I told him what I thought, it made no difference. So tomorrow, I’m going alone, because I promised too, and fuck if I not going to keep it.”

“Hum…”

“You think I’m overreacting?”

“Hell no. I was starting to really like Brian. This… really does not reflect well on him, does it…”

“He blew him off at Thanksgiving and on his birthday, too. It made no sense to me because he was so loving to him when we were there. It’s like, out of sight, out of mind.”

“Do you think it says something about whatever understanding exists between you two? As, if he doesn’t follow through with his son, he may not follow through with you?”

“Truthfully, I had not thought of it that way. But you’re right. There are things he said he could not have meant any more seriously than he meant what he said to Gus.”

“Like what?”

“Like not fucking any tricks at the loft. Like not kissing tricks. Like no repeats, no name, no numbers, though that's a rule he had before I came along. Like no tricking when we are together.”

“What would you do if he broke any of those?”

“Fuck. It never occurred to me that he might. But why shouldn’t he? It’s not like I can do anything to stop him except get pissed, and why should he give a shit? He knows I love him so much, he’d get away with it. This sucks. It really does. I don’t know that I can trust him anymore than Gus can. I need to think. I need to get away from him for a while. I guess it’s good I’ll be in Pittsburgh tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve made things worse.”

“No. You just made me think ahead. I would have gotten there eventually. Call me when you get to the Pitts. I’m going really early. I want to be there when Gus wakes up and make him pancakes.”

“He is lucky to have you.”

“I loved him before I knew he was Brian’s. It’s a long story. I guess I’m going to keep my relationship with him separate from his father’s, so he knows he can count on me.”

“Call Daphne. It helps.”

“I know. Calling you helps too.“

“Thanks.”

“Say hi to Todd.”

“Will do.”

Justin’s stomach was aching. He was not hungry anymore. Did the fact that Brian could so easily betray a promise to Gus say something about what his statements to Justin were worth? He’d based his decision to move in with him on trust, to work with him on trust, to open his heart so completely to him on trust.

He’d trusted Ethan, and God knew what that had gotten him. The problem was, when Ethan had been proven untrustworthy, Justin had been able to walk away. He could never walk away from Brian. He was fucked.

He dialed Daphne.

“Justin! Oh my god, the commercial is incredible! I taped it, but it’s already on Youtube. It’s fantastic. I was at Lindz and Mel's, with Emmett and Drew. Drew was explaining the game to Gus. He was so excited. Then the commercial came on and we’re like: ‘Your Daddy made this!’ and he was so proud. He is sure it’s Brian running with Brandon. Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Oh! I can’t wait to tell him he was right! He can’t wait for you guys to get back.”

“Brian’s not coming.”

“… What?”

“Brian’s not coming. He was invited to dinner at the mayor’s, and he’s not going back to Pittsburgh.”

“Mel said he promised. She said he actually promised, and she believed him, this time.”

“I know. I was there. He promised. I believed him. Mel believed him. Gus believed him.”

“Gus is going to be crushed. I mean that. He loves you, but… Oh god. How can he?”

“I have no idea. Don’t tell anyone, please. I’ll deal with it when I get there.”

“It’s not your job.”

“I know, but I feel it is. I’ll try to… I don’t know. I’ll try to figure something out.”

“It’s like there are two of him. The guy who loves you, and a bastard that doesn’t give a shit about anyone else.”

“Yes, well, let’s hope for my sake that that’s true, shall we? Because if there is only one Brian Kinney, and he can treat his son like this without losing sleep, it doesn’t bode well for my heart, does it?”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“What do you think?”

“Until two hours ago, I would have never believed he could act like this towards Gus, so what the hell do I know?”

“Maybe you should hold off on moving in with him.”

“A little late for that. We got all my stuff to the loft this morning.”

“Oops.”

“We had such a great time, too. We were so… happy, I guess. Relaxed. Having fun doing it. I've got to go back. I just needed to get out for a while so I went to get something to eat, but I spent all my time talking to Brandon, and you.”

“Brandon’s new friend sounds nice. Good going, Justin.”

“I just invited Todd to Essengy. Whatever else happened I had nothing to do with…”

“Well, according to Brandon, watching Brian eat your ass was erotic enough to get monks to fuck…”

“Oh, my god, he told you about that?”

“And about your ‘How to top a top’ lesson. I am in awe. The things I learn about you…”

“I’m going to kill him…”

“No! Don’t! I loved all the details. And he told me about Brian’s ‘My Sunshine! Find your own!’ Which until I heard he wasn’t coming made me want to hug him… Now I want to kick his manly bits.”

“I’ve got to go. Can I stay at your place?”

“Duh.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Justin made his way back to the loft. Brian was not there. He packed for the next day, and got on the internet to book the earliest flight. He would get to Pittsburgh at 7:00AM, and hopefully be at the girls’ early enough to make Gus pancakes. He looked at his subway ride. To be at the airport at five, he had to leave at … ten to four. That gave him plenty of time to make it to the station, and would get him to the airport half an hour before his flight.

He set the alarm on his phone. It was close to seven, already dark outside. He was still tired from the night before, and wanted to get some sleep. He decided to wait up till 8:30, and if Brian wasn’t back, to just go to sleep.

At 8:00, the door opened and Brian came in. Justin had just come out of the shower. Brian came over and kissed him, his breath fragrant with J&B.

“You’re back,” said Brian with a smile.

“I was only gone for an hour.”

“Get dressed, we’re going out.”

“Huh… I’d rather not. I have a really early flight to Pittsburgh tomorrow.”

“You’re going.”

“Of course I’m going.”

“I see. Trying to make me feel guilty? Because I don’t, Justin. And what I do or don’t do with my son is none of your business.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel anything. I made a promise to Gus, I’m keeping it. As you say, what you do with your son is none of my business, and what I do with Gus is none of yours. Go out. Have fun. I need to get to sleep. I’ll be back Sunday late afternoon.”

“Is this going to come between us, Justin?”

Brian was looking at him, and he could see real worry in his eyes. He was disappointed in Brian, but was it going to change the way he felt about him? No.

“Brian. You shouldn’t do something you don’t want to do just to make me happy. You may piss me off, but it’s not going to change the way I feel about you.”

That’s what Brian had said to him the day before. Brian smiled at him, and brushed the wet hair away from his face. He started caressing Justin’s body, and he responded, right away. He kissed him, and it was as good as always. Brian pushed him down on the bed, and turned him on his belly. He lubed his fingers, and prepared Justin the old fashioned way, before sliding inside of him, covering his entire body with his own. He fucked him deep and slow, kissing his neck and shoulder, whispering in his ears nonsense words of pleasure and affection. The friction on the sheet, and Brian inside him were almost enough, but not quite. Justin grasped his cock and Brian moved faster, deeper, until Justin came. Then Brian pulled out without coming. He pulled up his pants.

“I’m going out. I think I’ll save this for my first trick. See you later.” And he left.

God. That hurt. And knowing he had done it to hurt only made it worse.

Brian was mad that Justin had spoken his mind about Gus. He was mad that Justin was going to see Gus without him. He was mad that Justin had left earlier to avoid fighting a useless fight. And this was his way of paying him back…

It didn’t hurt any less that Justin thought it really was pathetic. He got up, ignoring his traitorous tears, and showered again. He felt ashamed, dirty. He put on an undershirt, boxers, and socks. His jeans and his hoody were there, next to the bed. His bag, his boots, his jacket, scarf and gloves were by the door. He went to the medicine cabinet and took a quarter of a xanax. He never took the stuff, but knew it made you sleep. Right enough, on his empty stomach, it acted quickly. Ten minutes later, he was asleep.

When the alarm went off, Brian was spooning him. He felt revulsion, thinking that he was holding him after holding some trick, but he could smell Brian’s Decleor on him. He had showered. Thank god. Still, he couldn’t stand Brian’s touch. Justin got up, put on his jeans and his hoody, went to the bathroom to pee, wash his face and brush his teeth, and left, as quietly as possible.

The walk to the subway was cold, and he felt bad that he had not even kissed a sleeping Brian goodbye. Oh well. He’d never know, and after last night, probably didn’t give a shit. Justin wondered, sitting in the train, where Brian had been, how many guys he’d fucked. What did it matter? They had an agreement. The fact that Justin couldn’t even imagine fucking someone else, or even getting head from someone else was not Brian’s problem.

He got to the airport only twenty-five minutes ahead of his flight and had to hustle a little. He sat in his seat, and rested his head against the back, eyes closed. It was only two weeks ago that he’d made that trip crying all the way, and frankly, this morning, he did not feel a whole lot better than he had then.

“I think I’ll save this for my first trick.” That had been so nasty, so demeaning.

He concentrated on Gus. He would make him little Mickey Mouse pancakes. It wouldn’t compensate for his father’s absence, but hopefully it would make him smile. Since Gus had like the commercial, maybe he’d call Brandon and have him drop in, to meet him. Gus would like that.

The plane had taken off and they were five minutes into the flight, when a pretty flight attendant came to talk to him.

“Mr. Taylor? I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but would you mind coming with me please?”

“Is there a problem?”

“No, not at all. There was a mix up in your seat assignment. Nothing for you to worry about. We just need to move you. Sorry.” The flight was very full so they must have assigned his seat twice.

“It’s all right. I need to get my bag.”

“I’ll come back for it, sir. Don't worry.”

Justin got up. He could not see any other free seats except one, on the other side of the plane, a window seat, which he had requested originally. Maybe someone wanted his aisle seat. They would have to go all the way forward to cross. He was following her when she stopped in first class and said, “Here you are, sir.” Justin was about to protest that he definitely was not traveling first class when walking further forward he saw Brian, sitting in the adjacent seat. He sighed and sat down. He suddenly felt exhausted. He just looked at Brian, unsmiling, and waited.

“I’m sorry about last night,” said Brian.

Justin shrugged. As far as he was concerned, Brian could take his sorry and shove it. He was not about to let him fuck him again, and that was for sure.

“I feel I broke something, and I don’t know how to fix it,” added Brian.

Justin agreed, and was of no help at all. “Did that first trick enjoy himself? Did you enjoy shooting that come up someone else’s ass? Was it as good as you expected, Brian? Was it worth it to you? I hope so. I hope you enjoy tricking for a while too, because you are never doing this to me again, you understand? Never. And until I can trust you again, you can take your cock, and your fucking, and your come somewhere else. And if fucking you is a condition for my residence in the loft, I’ll be happy to move out, and then you can even bring your fucking tricks home, and I don’t give a shit.”

He undid his seat belt.

“I don’t know what the fuck you are doing here,” he continued. I can only hope you came here for Gus, and not to subject me to your bullshit apology. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going back where I belong, in economy, with the rest of the suckers. I don’t really feel like your company at the moment.” Justin had been so focused on dealing with the pain Brian had caused, he had not realized how pissed off he was.

Brian grabbed his wrist.

“Justin, please, sit back down and hear me out. Give me ten minutes. After that you can leave. OK?”

“Give me one good reason.”

“I love you. Better yet, you love me. Please sit.”

Justin sat down.

“I didn’t fuck anyone else last night. I never even meant to. After I left the loft I went and walked around. I… God. I was mad at you. For walking out earlier. For not understanding how important that dinner is. For being right about Gus, right about promises.

“While you were out I went to the bar at the corner and had a lot to drink, and I came home and you were going without me. When I told you what I did with my son was no business of yours, you didn’t even protest, like we’re not a couple, like we’re not both… Like we’re not in it together.

“I wanted to hurt you, because I didn’t like what you showed me about myself, because you are too nice a person to withhold sex to get what you want like I expected, and you were letting me make love to you.

“As I was walking I started to think about what I’d said. I cannot explain why I would say and do such a painful, gratuitous thing. And I realized what breaking faith with my son might mean to you. That none of what I say ever has any value. That when the moment comes, I will just do whatever I want regardless of what I told you. I decided to forget the fucking dinner, and come back to the Pitts with you.

“I came home after an hour to tell you I was sorry, that you were right, that I was coming with you, but you were already asleep. You had tear tracks on your face and I wanted to cut off my fucking tongue. I showered, so that if you woke up you wouldn’t think I still had some other man's sweat and come on me. I went online and bought us tickets, and ordered a car.

“When your alarm went off, you slipped away without saying goodbye and I couldn’t believe I could have alienated you that much, hurt you that much just out of petty resentment. I let you go, hoping it would give me time to think how to explain myself.

“On the way to the airport, it occurred to me that I can do both. Do the right thing and do the business thing. I am leaving tonight on the 7:00PM flight, in my tux, going to the dinner, and coming back again on the redeye, at 2:00AM. I’ll be back in your arms by 4:00AM. It’s a short night, but I’ve had worse, and we can spend every minute with Gus.

“And I will do whatever it takes for you to forgive me. Forgive me for even thinking of blowing Gus off. Forgive me for pretending it wouldn’t matter, and forgive me for hurting you, in the worst way possible, betraying your trust where we have both always been completely open and vulnerable to each other. I love you, Justin. I love you so fucking much.”

 

 

“It’s a really good solution,” said Justin. “Too bad we didn’t think of it earlier.”

“Yeah. Really too bad.”

“What was I supposed to say, Brian, when you said the way you dealt with your son was none of my business?”

“I expected too much too soon, Justin. I’m sorry.”

“Just tell me please.”

“I wanted you to tell me he was your son too. And that as his father, the way his other father dealt with him was very much your business.”

“You want me to be Gus’s other father.”

“We are a couple, Justin, aren’t we? Lovers, partners… He asked if he should call you Papa. I told him you could be his Justin, and then we’d see. Now we live together. I’d love for you to be his father. And your instincts are so much better than mine.”

It was so absurd, that Brian would think such a thing, and deal in the next breath the kind of pain he had dealt the night before.

“Remember what you said to me in the cab, Brian? That I have the power to break you? It goes both ways, except we both know, I think, that I would never use that power against you. You, on the other hand, as you demonstrated last night, will not hesitate. What do I do, Brian? What do I do to protect myself when you don't think twice of hurting me that much, just because you can?”

They heard the landing gears come out. They were almost there.

“It hurt so fucking much, Brian. You treated me like… something dirty. Unworthy. You made a mockery of my love and my need for you. When you tucked your erection back in, it was worse than a slap. And when you said what you said… I wanted to turn myself inside out and scrub any proof of your presence away. I wanted to cut off my cock for having enjoyed it. It hurt so bad, for a second, I wished I was dead. I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you found a way to make it work. But I will be sleeping at Daphne’s while we’re in Pittsburgh. I still feel… dirty. I don’t want you to touch me. When I woke up in your arms this morning, I felt revulsion, where my body used to sing. You have broken something Brian. I don’t know how to fix it either.”

Tears had been running freely down Justin's face, and he didn’t care. He was only now discovering the depth of the pain and betrayal he had felt. Did it matter that Brian had not really gone tricking? It did make it a little better. But it didn’t change what he had done, and his intent in doing it. Justin lifted his blue hoody, and wiped his face on his white undershirt.

Brian looked horror stricken.

“Justin… Justin. Don’t. Please. Don’t shut me out. Don’t tell me I can’t hold you, touch you. We don’t have to make love for a long time, if you don’t want to, but please let me… let me touch you. I need your touch. I need to hold you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, Justin. I beg you. I love you.”

Justin was looking at Brian’s beautiful face, seeing guilt, regret, fear, remorse, shame, need, and love, so much love. He reached for Brian’s face with his hand and cupped his cheek. Brian turned into his hand and kissed his palm. The plane had landed. It was time to get off. The flight attendant handed him his bag, and Brian retrieved his from the overhead. Loaded, they left the plane, and walked to the taxi area.

Before they reached it, Justin stopped, putting his duffel down on a waiting area chair, as well as his courier bag. He took Brian's suit bag off his shoulder, and his carry on and added them to his bags. Then he looked at Brian, and said, “Show me you love me, Brian. Show me what you said was a lie. Show me you wish you’d come inside me. Show me you like to, that I don’t repulse you.”

“Oh, Justin, love,” said Brian. “You do not repulse me. Two days ago, I spend two hours eating your ass, and I would gladly do it now if I could.” He reached for Justin and held him close, but Justin felt his body stiffen in the hug. “You are beautiful, Sunshine. So beautiful I cannot think of you without getting hard. I love your scent, your soft skin, your taste, your cock, everything about you.” Justin was listening to the words, and loving them, but his body stayed wooden in Brian’s embrace.

“Close your eyes. Listen, Justin. Do you hear it? The thumpa-thumpa of Essengy?” Brian started swaying to the beat, like they had done so many times before, and Justin could hear it in his mind. He relaxed to the music. Brian’s arms were around him, one hand at the small of his back, the other behind his head, and Brian's lips were on his, his tongue tracing his lips. It felt good.

Justin opened his lips to his kiss, and it was Brian’s possessive tongue, sweet and loving, but staking its rights, and Justin melted against him, accepting his claim, accepting his love. He could feel Brian’s erection against his hip, big, and hard, and Brian's kiss, hot and devouring, and as Brian was pressing their bodies together, he said to Justin, his voice deep and raspy, “This is yours Sunshine, yours and no one else’s,” and Justin felt Brian’s cock pulse against his hips, as Brian came in long spurts, kissing Justin with unrestrained passion.

Brian had given him back the orgasm he had taken from him. It was so stupid that it should feel so right, but Justin could not help but start crying again, sobbing with relief in Brian’s neck, Brian holding him tight, saying, “Never again, I swear to you, Justin, I’ll never do anything like that ever again. I love you, Justin, I love you.” He let Justin cry for a long time, rubbing his back, kissing his forehead.

When Justin had calmed down, Brian kissed him one last time and asked. “Ready, Sunshine? I know a little boy who needs some pancakes.” Justin took a deep breath, wiped his face on his t-shirt again, smiled at Brian, and said, “Ready.”

In the cab, on the way to Mel and Lindz, he wondered what it meant that he felt he had so completely forgiven Brian, as he rested in his arms as usual. Brian had apologized. He had explained. He had promised never to do it again, and in a way, had given back what he had taken. What more could he have wanted?

Once again, Justin’s body felt perfectly in tune with Brian’s. Yet, in his heart, there was a weariness that had not been there before. He was no longer completely trusting, completely open. His love hadn’t diminished. It was just more guarded. Justin wasn’t sure if this was good or bad.

When they knocked and Mel answered the door, she was in her PJ’s, obviously not long out of bed. She laughed. “Why are you two here so fucking early? Did they kick you out of New York?”

“My fault,” said Justin. “I wanted to make Gus some pancake if that’s ok.”

“Come in. It’s only OK if you make some for the rest of us too… Lindz is in the kitchen. Go scare the shit out of her, I doubt she heard you knock. Brian, that commercial was fucking brilliant. I’m sorry I gave you a hard time about leaving. And I’m glad I helped Gus count the nights. For some reason, I knew you’d come through this time…”

Justin came into the kitchen where Lindz was standing in front of the coffee machine while it brewed, her cup in hand, looking like a blond zombie.

“How about I make some pancakes,” Justin said.

She let out a scream and then started laughing. “Holy shit! You scared the hell out of me!” She looked wide-awake now. She started pulling the ingredients out of the cupboards. She asked lightly, as if she didn’t really care. “Is Brian with you?”

“Of course. He’s talking to Mel.”

Her sigh of relief did not escape Justin. “Did you expect him not to come?” Justin asked.

“It’s not that. It’s just… It’s the first time Mel actually believed he would keep his promise to Gus. Usually, she prepares him for a letdown, and well, she’s right. This time, she was so positive… I got a little worried. Not just for Gus, but for her too. God, I’m so glad you guys are here.”

She gave Justin a hug. Brian came into the kitchen, and took Justin in his arms as soon as she let go. “My Sunshine,” he said. “Find your own,” and he hugged Justin, who giggled. Brian held him from behind the whole time he was making and cooking the pancakes. It was a little crazy, but they both needed it. Finally they were done, just in time for a little voice coming from the stairs, asking, “Mama? Is Mommy making pantakes?”

Mel answered. “I don’t think she is… Why don’t you go check.”

“Smells like pantakes.”

Gus came into the kitchen and his sleepy face literally lit up. “Daddy! You came! You said you were gonna come and you did!” and he jumped into his father’s arms. Then he saw Justin, taking the last of the pancakes off the griddle. “And you brought my Jutsin with you! And he makes pantakes!”

That boy was in heaven. They had a great breakfast, Gus sitting on his father’s lap and laughing at Justin’s whimsical creation, Mikey Mouse, a cat, a penguin, a flower, a “Love heart”, a car. When the completely stuffed boy rested with a sigh in his father’s arm, his head tucked under Brian ‘s chin, Brian looked at Justin, smiled, and mouthed, “Thank you.”

Brian told Lindz that Justin was now an employee of Plexus, and when Mel asked which one they had finally decided was the sex slave, Brian just said nonchalantly that they didn’t have to go that route, since Justin had moved into the loft. Justin decided to concentrate on how perfect the moving day had been, and smiled at Brian, who sang “The hills are alive with the sound of music…” obviously also wanting to remember the fun part of the day. Mel and Lindz looked at each other as if Brian had lost his mind, and Justin cracked up.

After breakfast, once Gus was dressed, he and Brian built these elaborate tracks, and played Thomas the train. As usual, Brian got to be Percy, and do stupid things Thomas had to come and rescue him from. Justin got to sketch father and son playing together, cuddling, laughing. And occasionally, Brian would look at him with a thank you in his eyes. He was obviously so happy to be there. How could he have even considered not coming?

Justin felt they needed to spend some more time together to completely heal the breach Brian had caused. They were all right, but it would take some doing to return to where they had been before. He realized he didn’t like the guarded feeling in his heart. It might be prudent, but it went against his nature. Brian would be gone tonight. Maybe there would be a chance to talk the next night.

To be continued...

 

 

 

 

 

 

Purgatory

Alan had been waiting for Brian at the airport. He totally understood Brian’s need to keep his word to his son, and had been eager to help out, making Brian feel even more like a jerk.

Alan had given him their strategy. They were not going to talk about the commercial, except in small snippets, as unrevealing as possible, to force people to hang out around them and actually ask questions, therefore making it the hot topic of the evening. Brian was all for that. He excelled at this type of game.

Alan had brought 4 by 6 laminated cards, made up by Betsy and Cynthia over the years, with photos, names and details about a lot of the other invitees. Some had post-its describing their latest success, their latest big news, or their latest flops. The details these two women had collected over the years went from their favorite sport, name of wife and/or mistress, number of kids, sexual kinks, political affiliation, number of employees, annual salary, religious observance, education and so on. He was glad they were on his side. All the gay men, in or out of the closet, were marked with a B for his attention.

They would hang out two by two, he with Alan, and Marcus with Paul, working the room as a team. There were about ninety invitees, thirty that Plexus was particularly interested in acquiring as new clients. However, they would not give out their business cards. They wanted to be sought after. Plexus was in the book, easily found by potential clients. They would not appear eager for business.

As luck would have it, Celia Secton was in attendance with her father. She talked freely to several of her girlfriends about Brian’s ‘genius’ and introduced him, kissing him lightly on the cheek, implying he was single and available, never making reference to his sexual orientation. He exchanged her seating card for the one originally next to his, that of an older gentleman who neither needed nor was interested in advertising. Brian did it discretely enough to not attract the ire of the mayor’s majordomo, but publicly enough to make Celia the envy of all her friends… and therefore attract the attention of all their husbands.

The Secton campaign was a great lead in for people to hear what they wanted to hear, details about Clearlife’s commercial and its star. As agreed, Alan and Brian were ridiculously closed mouthed about it, and the center of much attention. By the end of the evening, when all four of them reconvened in the limo, it appeared they had made positive contacts with twenty-seven of their main targets, which was much better than expected. Brian and Mark had phone interviews scheduled with three each, at the client’s request, and Paul was meeting two in person at his office. He worked much better ‘live’. Alan was having dinner with four different ones. It was the old fashioned approach he favored, and his beautiful wife was an amazing asset in that environment. They considered the evening a fantastic success, and dropped Brian back at the airport, thanking him for making the dinner despite his family obligations.

On the flight, Brian thought again of that morning’s conversation with Justin. Justin had been so angry at first, Brian had been shocked. He had never thought Justin had it in him. After he had explained himself, and pleaded his case, it had actually been much worse, because then the depth of the hurt hidden behind the anger had been revealed.

He had done what he did, aiming to hurt. It had been a last second decision, pulling out just before his orgasm, saying what he had said. He had never intended to seek relief with a trick. Just to put Justin off balance.

The result had been so much worse than he had imagined. He had not counted on Justin feeling violated, dirtied, emotionally transformed by the experience. Which showed how incredibly stupid and thoughtless he was. Justin repulsed by his touched, Justin wooden in his arms.

Thinking of Essengy, of their beginnings, had helped, and having Justin melt against him had been so good, his mouth open to their kiss such a relief, Brian’s orgasm had been just there. He’d hesitated, but letting himself go, letting Justin feel how much he wanted him and loved holding him had been right, Justin’s tears of relief a gift he did not deserve. How could he have made that beautiful man ever feel undesirable?

Their day with Gus and the girls had been fabulous, Gus so happy to see him, mentioning again and again in surprise, ”Daddy, you said you were gonna, and you came!” making Brian understand finally how close he had come to losing the child’s faith. There had big a big poster in his room, with 1,2,3,4,5, crossed out in markers. What would have happened if he hadn’t come? It did not bear imagining.

He thought back to Justin’s arguments when he had found out Brian’s intentions, all well founded as it turned out. He thought of Justin refusing to hear any more excuses and leaving rather than continue a fruitless fight. Why had it enraged him so that Justin should be so reasonable? To just let Brian keep to his decision? But it had. Nobody walked out on him. He walked out on others.

How would he handle their fights in the future? Would he go again for the jugular, striking to hurt most, no matter what the cost? He hoped not. Acting without forethought, in the heat of the moment, was not something he planned on doing ever again.

They had left the girls’ house at six, so Brian could go change into his tux before heading out, and Justin had ridden with him in a taxi to the hotel, had kissed him and said, ”Good luck, tonight. Knock their socks off!” and had continued on to Daphne’s where he was spending the night.

When the airplane landed, Brian’s car was waiting in the short-term parking. He drove it to the hotel, where he took a shower and went to bed. He was in his usual suite, home away from home, remembering making love to Justin after having found him again, having their boyfriend talk, Justin efficiently packing for him before their return to New York; Justin proposing Brandon as a solution, Justin enrolling Jessica in their adventure, Justin working on the sketches that would tip Clearlife’s decision in favor of giving Plexus a chance to put out their best commercial ever, Justin suggesting the colorization of the jumps…

There was also Justin naked on his desk, a condom packet between his teeth, Justin leaning on the back of his couch, fingering himself, Justin needing Brian’s love to feel whole again, helping Brian express his feelings at the same time. Justin showing Todd how to make love to a top. How could he have done what he did? How could he have marred this joyous, trustful, flawless aspect of their relationship? And for what? To prove to himself he had the power and the will to hurt the man he loved?

They were meeting at the diner for lunch the next day, and spending the afternoon with Gus again, taking him to a movie. They would probably go to Woody’s and to Babylon that night. What would that be like? Would Justin come home with him? He missed him so much. His body missed him. He wanted to make love to him, and Justin was not there.

He went to sleep feeling sad and guilty. Even after their afternoon, he had the feeling he had destroyed forever something beautiful. He wished he were home and could look at his painting and remember better days.

He took great care in what he wore the next day, wanting Justin to find him beautiful. He arrived a half-hour early at the diner to find Brandon and Blake sitting together. He sat with them.

“Where is everyone?” he asked, actually asking Brandon if Todd was around.

“I had to work,” said Blake, “and I had rehearsal,” said Brandon, “so Ted took Todd to breakfast, then to the gallery to see Justin’s work.”

So Todd was here. It made Brian really glad for Brandon.

Blake was looking at Brian intently. “Brian? Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“What’s wrong with Justin?” Brandon was also looking at him as well, waiting for the answer.

“What do you mean?”

Blake shrugged. “There is something… missing. We were at Babylon last night, and he hardly danced.”

“Drank like a fish, as well,” said Brandon. “I’d never seen him drink before. Not a happy drunk, either. Just leaned on the bar, staring into nothing. Everybody assumed he missed you. But he was… weird. Emmett put his arm around him, and he pushed it off. Nicely, but he looked like he was freaked out by the touch.”

Brian’s throat was tight. Was this his fault? Was this because of what he’d done?

He looked at Brandon. “Do you remember when you told me not to fuck it up?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I fucked it up. Big time.”

“Brian, I talked to him yesterday and he was fine. Disappointed you weren’t coming, worried about what your word was worth, but normal Justin, not the weird guy from last night. When he said you were here, I was thinking everything was cool, that you’d come to your senses and his worries were over…”

“Yeah, well…” Shit. If only it had been that easy. If only…

“Brian, I’m a psychologist,” said Blake. “I specialize in addiction, but if you tell me what happened I might be able to help…”

Brian felt sick. This was between Sunshine and him. But Justin not dancing? Justin drinking? Justin not wanting to be touched? Fuck. Maybe he needed help to help him undo what he’d done.

“I’m just going to say it, OK? I was wrong, and a complete bastard, and I know it. So just listen. Justin left our loft, to avoid fighting about Gus. Apparently to talk to you, Brandon, and probably Daphne. It pissed me off. I went to the corner bar and had a lot to drink.

“When I came home, Justin had packed to come here, and I took it as a personal insult and criticism that he should still come when I wasn’t. I asked him if my decision was going to come between us, and he said my attitude pissed him off, but didn’t change the way he felt about me.

“To prove to myself that he was full of shit, I started making love to him. I expected he’d hold back, show his disapproval. But he didn’t. He’d meant what he said. He was his usual beautifully responsive self, and it made me want to hurt him, because… because I am a fucking jerk. So after he came, I pulled out right before my orgasm, pulled my pants back up, and said I was going out and saving that one for my first trick, and I left.”

The other two were looking at him in complete disbelief.

“I thought he was all right, that we were all right, that we made up yesterday, but now, you say he didn’t dance, and he drank, and wouldn’t take a hug from Emmett, and I think maybe he’s not all right…”

Brandon got up, and walked out of the diner. He just stood in the cold with nothing but his shirt on.

“Brandon is in love with Justin,” explained Brian.

“I know that, Brian,” said Blake. “I’m not blind. He’s not going to forgive you easily for this. He trusted you to take care of Justin, and what you did... I think you may have lost him as a friend.”

“I fucking deserve it.”

“Yes, well… It’s as I thought yesterday, though of course I thought it couldn’t be. Justin is exhibiting mild symptoms of post rape behavior. Dislike of being touched, substance abuse, withdrawal from previously favored activities.”

“I didn’t rape him!” How could Blake even suggest such a thing?

“You took an act of love and turned it into a weapon, an act of violence,” explained Blake. “For all intents and purposes, you raped him. Had he known what your intent was, do you think he would have engaged in the act? No. The fact that he didn’t discover it to be abuse until after the fact does not change his perception. And he blames himself for letting you do it to him, for trusting you.”

“Fuck, Blake, that’s just crazy! I’d never… Fuck. I just meant to hurt his feelings, not… this! What the fuck do I do now? How do I fix this?“

“You have a big problem, Brian. You have done incredible damage to your relationship, both its physical and its psychological aspect. I don’t know how deep your feelings for Justin run. It may be better for the both of you to make a clean break. I don’t know if it’s possible for you to rebuild what you lost.”

That wasn’t right. That could not be right. No. No, no, no, no, no.

“I would rather die than be without him, and that’s not just words.” Brian suddenly realized he was telling the absolute truth. “And I know he feels the same way. And our bodies… Our bodies need each other, love each other.” How could he have betrayed that? What the fuck was wrong with him, to go and do such a thing? “I will regain his trust, no matter what it takes, and I will heal what I damaged, no matter what it takes. And we will be as we were, and I will never, ever hurt him again.” He was talking to himself as much as to Blake. Please God, let him be right.

Just then, Justin, Ted and Todd arrived at the diner and came in, Brandon’s arm around Todd’s shoulder. They looked great together.

Justin saw Brian, and his face lit up. Brian stood up and opened his arms and Justin walked right into them, lifting his face up for a kiss. Brian obliged, Justin’s face cold but his mouth warm and delicious, yielding to him as Justin melted into his arms, a hard on growing against Brian’s thigh. Thank you God, thank you God. Justin stopped the kiss, his eyes dancing.

“I missed you last night. Both at Babylon and later.”

“God. You have no idea how much I missed you, Sunshine.”

Blake was looking at them with a smile. “I see what you mean,” he said to Brian. “I may have been hasty in my conclusions…”

Justin was looking at him questioningly.

“That most people don’t even notice a night apart,” lied Blake smoothly.

“Justin,” said Brian, “Can you order me a turkey sandwich, whole wheat, no mayo with salad but no dressing? I need to run an errand really fast.”

Justin looked surprised but said, “Sure.”

Brian went out and walked to the flower seller at the corner. He bought a bouquet of red roses and put them in the trunk of the Corvette before returning to the diner. Looking in from the outside, he noticed Justin, eyes lost and far away, sitting there without participating in the conversation. Blake was looking at him with concern on his face. Brian came in, and as if a button had been pressed, Justin returned to life, smiling at him as he got up to welcome him.

“You looked so lost when I was watching you from outside,” said Brian in Justin’s ear. “Where were you?”

Justin looked at him, hesitated and asked, “The truth?”

“Of course, I want the truth.” Brian sat them in a different booth, away from the others.

“I was reliving that moment when you tucked your cock back in your pants, and said, I think I’ll save this for my first trick.” He looked down at the table, and added, his voice soft, “I try not to let it, Brian, but it plays in my head again and again, you know? It hurts every time but I can’t seem to stop.”

“What I did and said was unconscionable, Justin. I wanted to hurt your feelings because I’m a jerk, but not like that... What I did… I might as well have raped you, Justin. It’s the same thing. I turned an act of love into an act of violence against you. I didn’t know what it was I was doing, I swear to God.”

Justin’s eyes filled with tears. “That’s how I felt. Violated. Ra…raped. That’s how I feel, still. It’s so stupid. I know why you did it, I understand your twisted reasoning even, I believe your apology, I know you mean it when you say you’ll never do anything like it again, whether you’ll be able to keep that promise or not. And my body still loves yours. You hold me and it’s happy, you kiss me and it melts. But the image of you tucking yourself in, and the words you said won’t get out of my head, and the feeling that I should have known, that I shouldn’t have made you so upset with me keeps coming back.”

“Justin, listen to me. Are you listening? You did everything right that night. You left to avoid a fruitless fight, you shared you decision without recrimination, you separated your disappointment from our love, and you tried to show me you meant it. And you could not have known what I was going to do because I didn’t know myself.”

“You’re saying it’s not my fault? And that there is no way I could have known not to trust you?”

“That’s right. And that image in your head, if it won’t go away, we are going to surround it with so many beautiful images, so many blissful images, so many unforgettable happy moments that it will be lost, buried in the rest. And my voice, saying these cruel words, will be overwhelmed by memories of laughter, by words of love and you won’t be able to hear it anymore.”

He caressed Justin’s hair back with both hands and kissed him, holding his head in his hands. He wanted to make love to him so badly. But would Justin let him? When would Justin trust him enough for that again?

Brian’s lunch arrived. He was surprised Justin had only ordered water.

“I had a big breakfast,“ Justin said. He watched Brian eat. Brandon and Todd were leaving. Brandon was dancing in a special matinee show for the Children’s Hospital, and Todd was going, of course. Brandon touched Justin's shoulder to say goodbye, and Justin noticeably flinched. Brandon’s look to Brian was not kind. “Bye, guys,” said Todd, unaware of the undercurrents.

It was time for them to leave if they wanted to be on time to see the re-release of The Jungle Book at the old Rex Theater. They went and picked up Gus, who was beyond excited to be going out with just the two of them. Justin teased Brian about driving Mel’s Subaru, since the Corvette only had two seats, and Brian raised his collar, put on his sunglasses and Justin’s cap, pretending to hide his face behind his hands at all the red lights so as not to be recognized. It was all to make Gus laugh.

Justin loved The Jungle Book, which he had only seen on video as a child. They ate popcorn, Klondike bars, and had a great time. On the way back, in the mom mobile, they sang all the songs they could remember, Gus’s voice amazingly pure and in tune. They ate dinner at Mel and Lindz', and stayed after putting Gus to bed, talking about the commercial, the wonderful news about Justin’s expo coming up in March, and Mel’s current case load, which was not easy to handle with a little one at home.

Brian and Justin left way past eleven, and once in the Corvette, Brian asked, “Where to, Justin?” He wanted to forget Babylon and go to the hotel to spend the evening making love, but did not want to be the one to suggest it.

 

 

Justin looked at him and smiled. “Let’s go to the hotel,” he said, and Brian’s heart soared…

In the parking garage, Brian removed the roses from the trunk and gave them to Justin, who he could see was blown away by such an uncharacteristically romantic gesture.

“I love you, Sunshine,” he said. “So very much…” Justin’s eyes filled with tears and he said, “Sorry, Brian. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You are overwhelmed by my charm,” said Brian, trying to make light of it.

“That must be it,” said Justin, laughing.

They kissed the entire length of the elevator ride, lucky enough for once to have it to themselves, and Justin put the roses in the ice bucket filled with water when they got to the suite before going back to their kiss. They undressed each other playfully, both very hard and ready. Brian just wanted to be inside Justin. He needed that connection, needed to reaffirm that Justin was his, and wanted to make him scream in pleasure.

Justin looked so beautiful, lying on his back, his ankles on Brian’s shoulders. Brian put on a condom, slicked it with lube, and asked, “Are you ready for me, Justin?” And Justin’s smile was like a gift, melting his heart. He pushed himself inside Justin’s warm silken velvet, closing his eyes for a moment at the perfection, and felt Justin tighten around him, as only he could.

He started moving slowly, and something was wrong. Justin was stiff and rigid instead of his soft and pliable self. Brian opened his eyes to meet panicked blue ones, as Justin was biting his lip. Justin’s erection had completely disappeared, and he was trembling.

“Justin, am I hurting you?”

Justin shook his head no, and tried to smile, rubbing himself to try to get hard again. “Move, Brian, I’m all right,” he said. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Watching Justin, Brian moved again tentatively. Justin’s trembling got worse, a pearl of red, red blood appeared on his lip and his eyes were filled with fear. Brian pulled out immediately and took Justin in his arms, holding him, caressing him.

“There, Justin, it’s all right, everything’s all right…” and Justin just burst into tears, his sobs tearing at Brian’s heart.

‘I did this, he thought. I did this. I raped him. I broke him. I destroyed the most beautiful thing in our life.’

He was holding Justin against his heart, like a child, rocking him, as Justin wailed in utter misery. “Oh, my love, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I love you, Justin… I love you…”

“I… love you… too… Bri… Brian. I’m… sor…sorry. I rui…. ruined everything. I want you to co… come. I nee… need you to… to come…” and once more, Justin started sobbing, hiding his face in his hands.

“Justin, it doesn’t matter. There’s no hurry. We’ll take it slow. I just want to hold you, I just want to love you. I’m yours, forever. I hurt you. It’s not your fault. I hurt you. I’m sorry…”

Brian held him and rocked him for a very long time, Justin’s sobs quieting. Brian thought maybe he had fallen asleep. But after a while, Justin sat up and pushed him down on the bed. He wiped his face on the sheet, and then kissed Brian’s belly, caressed his thighs, his balls. Brian’s cock had softened but now responded to the caresses.

“You don’t have to do this, Justin,” said Brian.

Justin looked at him, tears still leaking from his eyes, and a tremulous smile on his lips. “I want to,” he said. “I need to. Please.”

He took Brian in his mouth, and no matter that Brian felt like a murderer, no matter that he wished so very much that he could pleasure Justin instead, it was Justin’s mouth on him, Justin who had always known exactly how to please him, exactly how to love him. Justin pulled off and looked at him, his smile more real this time. “God,” he said, “I love sucking your cock.”

It was assuredly the best blowjob Justin had ever given him, and God knew there had been good ones. It lasted for what felt like an hour, and when Brian finally came he thought for sure part of his brain must have melted since he was completely incapable of coherent thoughts or speech as Justin kissed his face and neck. Once his upper brain function finally returned, Brian smiled at Justin, and kissed his way down Justin’s body. Justin’s cock was completely flaccid, and stayed that way no matter what Brian did, until Justin said, “Stop Brian, please. Please stop.”

Brian buried his nose in Justin’s soft pubic hair and breathed in the man he loved, his eyes stinging, remembering New Year’s Eve. What a difference three days made. What a difference one minute of completely gratuitous cruelty made. There was nothing he would not do to make this right. Nothing.

He lay next to Justin, on his elbow, caressing Justin’s beautiful face, his cheekbone, his lips.

 

 

“I’m going to go spend the night at Daphne’s,” said Justin, killing him. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning at the diner with everyone, OK?”

“Please, Justin. Please stay with me.” He needed to hold him, to smell his scent, to touch his skin.

Justin kissed his lips and caressed his face. “I love you, Brian. But I’m going to Daphne’s. I feel safe there. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He got up and started dressing.

“I’ll drive you,” said Brian, sure he was going to be turned down.

“Thanks. That’ll be nice.”

Brian got up and dressed quickly. They were quiet in the car, until Justin said, “You looked beautiful today. You are so beautiful, Brian.”

They got to Daphne’s much too quickly for Brian’s taste.

“I know you didn’t want me to leave. I’m sorry. I love you very much. But I need to be here. Please forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Justin. You do what you need to do. I’ll see you tomorrow. I hope you still believe that I love you too. In a way I never would have thought possible before I met you.”

Justin smiled. “Of course I believe it. I feel it in your kiss.” He leaned over, and Brian put his hand behind Justin’s neck while they kissed, their sweet wonderful piece of heaven kiss, Justin’s mouth soft and willing and offered, his own tongue possessive, caressing, loving. It was the kiss of the painting, the kiss that had started it all.

Justin took Brian’s hand and put it on his now very hard cock. He laughed and said, “There’s hope for me yet. The love I feel in your kiss does this. We’ll be fine, won’t we?”

“Yes, Justin.” Brian smiled at him. “Everything is going to be all right.”

Justin gave him his Sunshine smile and ran up the steps. Brian waited until he was inside to head back to the hotel for another lonely night. This one was much, much worse. He had not been aware the night before of the extent of the destruction he had wrought. For the first time in over twenty years, his face buried in his pillow, he cried.

 

*****

Arriving at the diner, Brian was very annoyed to find Justin and Daphne sitting with Michael and Ben. The last thing he needed was to have to deflect Michael’s remarks. The diner had been a huge mistake, but everyone had wanted to meet there to say goodbye. Daphne got up and changed sides allowing Brian to sit next to Justin, whom he wrapped in his arms with unbelievable joy. Justin turned to him and smiled, and they kissed, a little longer than Michael had patience for apparently, since he said, “Enough already!” Justin laughed, but Brian wanted to hit him.

“If you miss each other so much,” Michael added, “why didn’t you sleep at the hotel, Justin?”

Now Brian really wanted to hit him. He was just about to say something scathing when Justin’s hand came to rest on his lap.

“Well, I’ve moved into the loft with Brian,” Justin said. “So I get to spend every night with him. I won’t be seeing Daphne for months though, so I wanted to spend as much time with her as I could. And after a night apart, the sex is sooooo good…”

Michael turned bright red while Daphne and Ben both laughed. Brian kissed Justin’s head, chuckling.

“So, you moved into the loft,” said Michael.

“Poor Brian needed help with the rent,” answered Justin, shrugging, “and since we work together, it also cuts his cab costs in half. Then I go to school, and when I come home, after a half a day apart, the sex is sooooo good…”

Ben cracked up again. Daphne pretended to look in Justin’s glass of water. “What the hell have you been drinking?” she asked, laughing.

“Sorry, Michael. I’m in a goofy mood this morning.”

“Goofy is good,” said Michael. “I like goofy. Brian needs more goofy in his life. He takes himself much too seriously.” Michael smiled at Brian. “And I am glad he finally found someone with a heart big enough to love him despite his repulsive physique. We all are better people when we’re in love, you know?” He turned to Justin. “Please tell me you’ve added some colors to that fridge he lives in.”

Justin grinned. “A bit. You can see what you think when you come to that convention.”

“It will be fun to hang out with you two in New York. Will you give us a preview of your expo?”

“You bet.”

“You guys should plan on coming to the convention at least for a little while. After staring at all those sexy superheroes in tights, the sex is sooooo good!”

They all laughed this time. Brian looked at Michael and smiled. He could never stay mad at him, and God knew whatever Michael had said a few days ago about Justin had been nothing compared to what Brian had proven to be capable of.

The girls arrived, and with them Michael’s pride and joy, and Gus. As both children joined them, the booth got pretty tight, but Brian didn’t care. Gus was on Justin’s lap. He had brought some of his drawings to show him, and Justin and he were seriously discussing perspective.

Justin had shown Gus the concept of things looking smaller the further away they were. Brian had thought it might have gone over Gus’ head, but the different sizes of the dinosaurs in his drawing demonstrated that he had perfectly understood the concept.

Justin had also showed him the general proportions of the human face. Gus had used his new knowledge to draw a portrait of Justin. Compared to the self-portrait he had given Brian, which of course Brian loved just as it was, it showed amazing improvement. At the bottom, it said, ‘i luv mi jutsin’. Brian thought it would be a sad day when Gus learned to pronounce Justin’s name right.

When the time came to say good-bye, Gus started crying, though he was trying hard to be brave. His tears just broke Brian’s heart. He was so grateful he’d come. He held his son tightly and whispered in his ear, “Daddy loves you, Sonnyboy. Daddy loves you so much.”

Gus hugged Justin too, and Justin said, “I’ll see you at the wedding, little man. It’s only a few weeks away. It will still be winter, even.”

“Will Daddy be at the wedding too, Jutsin?”

“Your Daddy works hard, Gus. Maybe, maybe not. We’ll ask him when it gets closer, OK?”

“OK. I love you, my Jutsin.”

“I love you too.”

Gus came back once again to his father’s arms. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, Sonnyboy.”

They just waved at the rest of the assembly, everyone understanding that prolonging the moment would just make it harder on Gus. Once in the car, Justin started to cry. He got himself under control, and dried his eyes and blew his nose in a Kleenex from a pack in his pocket.

“I’m a complete emo wreck,” he said disgusted. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. Brandon came by to say goodbye this morning and I ended up crying on his shoulder for fifteen minutes. Thank God he takes it all with a grain of salt. And what is wrong with me, spouting all that crap to poor Michael. A good thing he is your friend and willing to cut me a bit of slack…”

“I thought you were really funny, actually” said Brian, smiling.

“Really? I wasn’t rude?”

Well it had been a tiny bit rude, but after the things Michael had insinuated about Justin at their lunch, Brian figured it was not worth mentioning. “Not at all.”

“Well. That’s a relief.”

On the plane, Justin sat in the window seat, and spent the first half hour of the flight looking silently outside. Then he turned to Brian.

“Brian?”

Brian had been looking at the same article in Time magazine the entire time, and had no clue what it was about. He had been wondering what Justin was thinking. He put the magazine away and turned to Justin.

“Yes?”

“I…uh…I’ve been thinking.”

“About?”

“I lied. I know exactly what’s wrong with me. Why I cry all the time, and act stupid and rude, and got drunk. Why I lost it when you were inside me, and why I can’t get it up. That fucking image that replays constantly in my head. The words I hear in my sleep. I feel like such a wimp that it affected me so. I’m a fucking mess. I didn’t tell anybody, not even Daphne, I’m so ashamed. I need to get my head back on right.”

“I’m sorry, Justin. I did this to you. I’ll do anything to help you.”

“Do you mean that, Brian? Anything?”

Brian did not even hesitate. “Anything.”

“Thank you.” Justin sighed.

“What do you need, Justin. Just tell me.”

“I need time to work this out for myself. I need to do this on my own. I need you to stay completely out of my life for a while so I can face this and conquer it on my own terms. Can you do that?”

This was his test. He had said, ‘Anything’ and meant it. Yet his answer was the hardest thing he’d ever had to say.

“I love you, Justin. You love me. It’s only time. Take as long as you need.”

“Thank you,” said Justin, again. He kissed Brian’s lips and rested his head on Brian’s shoulder for the rest of the trip. Brian put his cheek on Justin’s head, desperately trying to store the feel of his hair, the warmth of his scent.

When they got to the airport, a limo was waiting to take them to the loft. The driver wasn’t Justin’s friend, and Justin would not be coming. Brian held Justin in his arms and couldn't let go for a long time. Justin cried.

 

 

Brian said, “Please, Sunshine, please, don’t forget that I love you,” and Justin whispered, “I love you too, Brian, so much…”

And Brian was in the limo, speeding towards his empty loft, uncomprehending of how something so incredibly painful could be survived, how he could still sign the Limo’s voucher, remember his codes, turn on the lights, hang his coat when his world had ended.

He did not want to get drunk. He did not want to fuck. He did not want to get high. He wanted to go to sleep, and never wake up. He looked at the colors in the loft like a drowning man looks at a float. He would love. He would trust. He would wait for Justin for as long as it took. He wrapped himself in Justin’s colorful quilt, the one made for him by Daphne’s Grandmother, put on The Sound of Music CD, lay on the couch and started to wait.