"How long are you going to be gone?" I asked Brian as he buttoned up the sexy black Western-inspired shirt he chose to wear that evening.

"I don't know," he mumbled, checking himself out in the bathroom mirror one more time.

"Well...." I started to say, but stopped. I didn't want to sound too pathetic or needy.

I had been living with Brian for about a week. He would probably bust a blood vessel if he heard me say that I "lived with him", but that basically was what I was doing. All of my clothes were in his closet and dresser, most of my possessions were either littered around the loft or locked up in his basement storage space, and there was actually real food in the kitchen. I definitely wasn't a temporary house guest.

"Well, what?" he asked as he walked out of the bathroom to grab some shoes from the closet.

I looked down at my lap. "I just... I want to know how long you'll be gone, is all."

God, I was such a pathetic little faggot. I couldn't deny that I had mini-panic attacks every time Brian left me alone by myself, whether it was to go to work, to visit Gus, or wherever he went in the evenings. I had started to work at the diner again that very morning, mainly so I wouldn't have to spend days by myself, staring at the clock until Brian finally came home from the office.

He sighed before taking a seat next to me on the bed and sliding on some designer boots. "A couple of hours. I promise I'll be back to tuck you in for beddie-bie."

I squeezed my eyes closed and exhaled a small groan. I hated it when he talked to me like I was a baby, but I also knew I deserved it.

"You don't have to sit here all alone, you know," he pointed out. "You can invite Daphne over or have her pick you up."

"She has a date tonight."

Brian fake-gasped. "Your fag hag is cheating on you?"

I followed after him as he walked down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"It's some guy she met at the record store," I explained, although he hadn't asked and I'm sure he didn't care.

Brian opened a kitchen drawer, one that held various junk such as extra batteries, twistie-ties, and take-out menus, and picked out a keyring with a gaudy Las Vegas keychain and two keys on it.

"Here," he said, holding the keys out to me.

"What are those?" I asked, like some kind of dumbass that didn't know.

It was the same set of keys he had given me when I stayed with him those glorious few weeks the previous year, before the assholes that robbed the loft when I had forgotten to lock up ruined it. One key was for the main door to the building and the other was for the loft's door. Brian had reclaimed the keys after we returned to the Pitts from my little jaunt to Manhattan.

He sighed again, as he often did when I was testing his patience. "These are called keys, they lock and unlock doors."

I continue to stare at the keys, frozen in shock. "You're... you're giving me keys to your place again?"

Brian grabbed my left hand, since he knew my right one was still all gimpy, and slapped the keys into them. "So you can lock up behind you and get back in, if you choose to go out. The alarm code is still the same as before. You're not a prisoner in here, so you should be free to come and go as you please."

"Holy shit," I whispered as I looked at the keys. My hand was shaking and I felt myself breaking into a sweat.

"They're just keys," he said with a scoff.

"No, no they're not just keys! They're a symbol!"

He looked up at the ceiling, most likely calculating how long it'd take for us to pack up my stuff, take me back to my mother's condo, and drive back to Liberty Avenue. "A symbol," he repeated.

"Yes! Giving me my own keys to your loft means you trust me!"

"It just means that I don't want to get robbed again if you go out when I'm not here, and that I don't want your twinkie ass to get kidnapped if you have to stand out on the sidewalk and wait for me to let you in."

Tears sprang out of my eyes as I threw my arms around his shoulders. He stood there like a tree for a few seconds before loosely wrapping his arms around my back.

"Thank you," I sobbed.

He shook his head. "You silly twat."

I was still having a little bit of trouble being intimate with Brian, apart from a few slow fucks where Brian treated me like a porcelain doll. But if any occasion called for sex, this certainly was one.

I sat the keys on the counter and wiped my tears away with my sleeve. Smiling into Brian's face, I pushed him up against the refrigerator and unzipped his pants before dropping down to my knees. I hadn't blown him since before the bashing, so I hoped that I wasn't too out of practice.

Like the sex god that he was, it took no time for Brian to get hard. I wrapped my left hand around his shaft and started licking the head of his cock. Brian let out a tiny moan and ran both of his hands through my hair, lightly resting them on the back of my head.

I was happy to find that giving a blowjob was like riding a bike. I pulled out all of my old tricks as I licked and sucked his huge cock. He may have only been blowing smoke up my ass, but Brian had told me more than once before that I gave one of the best blowjobs in town. I used to be determined to make it THE BEST in town, diligently practicing on the master blowjob receiver almost daily before being derailed by Hobbs and his bat.

My nose was brushing against Brian's pubes as I continued to service him, his nine inches sliding in and out of my throat with ease. I was gripping his sculpted butt cheek with my left hand while my gimp hand kind of just hung loosely at my side. I knew how much Brian loved to have his balls played with when I blew him, so I decided to exercise my hand by cradling his sack.

Brian was soon gripping my head in his hands, roughly fucking my mouth as his breathing became labored. He let out one of the most erotic moans I had ever heard from him a minute later, his cum coating my mouth and throat as he shot his load. As bitter as his cum was, I had almost missed the taste of it.

I stood up as I licked my lips, smiling when I saw that Brian still had his mouth open and his eyes closed as he recovered from his orgasm. I stuck my tongue in his mouth and let him taste himself, and I nearly came when he started sucking on my tongue like it was a tasty popsicle.

Brian unzipped my jeans and pulled them down while he continued with the glorious tongue sucking. I thought he was going to return the favor and go down on me, but he instead walked me backward until my butt hit the edge of the kitchen island. He then spun me around, pulled out a bottle of lube and a condom out of another drawer, and started to prepare me. I was quite surprised, since we hadn't fucked anywhere other than in bed since the bashing, but it was a welcome surprise.

He had me moaning like a whore as he fingered me, lubing and stretching my hole while using his other hand to roll on a condom. He was so good at multitasking, having practiced that pre-fuck ritual for years.

Brian grabbed my hips and slid inside, with no resistance from my hungry ass. All I could do was hold on to the granite countertop as he rammed into me. Since he had just come, he had no problem holding off while I spilled into his hand. He then used my cum as lube as he stroked my cock, never slowing down as the head of his cock massaged my prostate with every thrust. I came again a minute later, babbling incoherently as Brian followed me with another sexy moan in my ear.

He laid across my back as we caught our breaths. I was vaguely aware of him pulling out, throwing the condom away, and washing his hands before he said goodbye with a pat on my bare ass.