Brian turned the key in the lock, casting a wary glance over at his partner. Justin had been silent the entire drive back to the loft, which meant he was perfectly primed to explode at the slightest provocation. This situation would call for calm, delicacy, finesse…

“Well, as they say, like mother, like son.”

Justin shoved Brian into the loft. “Fuck off!”

Yes. Calm, delicacy, finesse. Not three of Brian’s finer qualities.

No, so long as they were safely home, it was best to just remove the pin from the grenade and let it blow.

A philosophy Jennifer would also likely agree with, judging from the day’s performance.

Brian tried his best to suppress his grin, but apparently wasn’t quick enough for Justin.

“I don’t know what kind of innuendo is running through your head right now, but you can stop it right now,” Justin snapped, throwing his coat onto the couch. “That’s my mother.”

“Yes, and she seemed to be having a fabulous afternoon rendezvous,” Brian said.

“I don’t see how you can joke about this,” Justin said. He began pacing about the room, one hand grasping the back of his head. “I will never, I repeat,never unsee that.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little melodramatic?” Brian asked.

“Your mother is dating the man who is probably the only hot science teacher on the planet. You didn’t think they’d be fucking?”

“Brian!”

“Oh, please,” Brian said. He headed to the fridge, grabbed two beers, and popped off the caps. “You had your tongue up my ass before you even had your coffee this morning. Don’t act like a pearl-clutching virgin because I said ‘fuck’ instead of ‘fornicate.’”

Justin snatched one of the beers out of Brian’s hand and threw himself on the couch. “She could have at least locked the door.”

Brian laughed. “I think you lost the right to that argument by the third time your mother caught us.”

“That’s different,” Justin said, and took a long swig from his bottle.

“You’re right,” Brian said. “We were in our home, she was in her home, we have sex at least five times a day, she’s in her sexual peak…”

“Brian!”

Smiling a little, Brian sat on the couch next to Justin and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. When Justin’s mutinous expression didn’t soften, he squeezed him a little tighter and pressed his lips to his cheek. “C’mon, Sunshine. Everybody’s walked in on their parents at least once in their life.”

“Tucker’s not my father.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “When you were younger?”

“As far as I’m concerned, my parents had sex exactly twice,” Justin said, taking another drink. “Once for me, and once for Molly.”

“Well, I’m sure Jennifer wishes that were the case,” Brian said. He nudged Justin’s shoulder with his own. “Are you going to sulk all day about your mother’s lost virtue? Because if so, I’d like to restock the liquor cart first.”

Justin sighed. “It’s stupid, I know. It’s just that whenever I close my eyes, I see…”

“Your mother’s tits?” Brian asked.

Justin scrunched up his face. “You’re not making this any easier, you know.”

Brian heaved a great sigh. “No, I’ve never been one to make anything easier.” He ran his hand down the front of Justin’s jeans. “I've always much preferred making things as hard as possible.”

Justin laughed. “Sorry, Brian. I think seeing my mother blowing her boyfriend has put me off sex for at least 24 hours.”

“Bullshit,” Brian said. “You said all you can think about when you close your eyes is your mom fucking? Simple solution: keep your eyes open.” He stood up and walked over to where Justin’s iPod was hooked up to the speakers, and quickly scrolled through the music. “Time to put your ‘fuck me’ playlist to good use.”

“You’re not --” Justin began as the music, a low, seductive melody, began to play.

“Seems to me the only way to get rid of that unfortunate visual in your mind,” Brian said, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, “is to replace it with another sight you’ll never forget.”

Justin shook his head in disbelief, but there was, much to Brian's relief, a genuine smile forming on his face. “You always said you’d die before giving a striptease.”

Brian removed the beer from Justin’s hand, then straddled his lap and drew his tongue in a long, slow line up his neck. “Consider this a one-time, very special performance.”

“In that case,” Justin said, smacking Brian’s ass, “I’ll definitely keep my eyes wide open.”

Smirking, Brian stood and headed back to the speakers, adding a little extra sway to his step as he went.

It was slightly humiliating, and not an act of foreplay he had any intention of ever repeating. Brian far preferred gyrating to his own beat, so to speak, and not be forced to comply with the tempo of a cheesy, sax-filled ballad. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

Truly, his job as the doting, attentive partner of one Justin Taylor was never done.