Out of the Shadows

Chapter 1

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Brian was at his desk putting the finishing touches on he latest proposal when a knock at the door broke his concentration. "Yeah," he called, already knowing who it would be.

Cynthia opened the door and breezed in. "This just came for you," she said. "Hand delivered." She handed him a fancy linen envelope and watched him expectantly.

Brian looked at it with little interest then raised his eyes once again to meet his assistant's gaze. "What is it?"

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Just an invitation to the launch of Pendleton's new line this coming Saturday night at the Hyatt."

Brian leaned back in his chair and groaned. "I did the fucking campaign. I've seen the fall line. Give me one good reason why I should spend my Saturday night mingling with Pittsburgh's upper crust."

"Uh, because you're one of the crumbs that make up that crust?" she replied

"Like Hell I am," he muttered as he opened the envelope and read the invitation.

"You're 30 years old and already own your own successful ad agency. Like it or not, Boss, you're Pittsburgh's very own golden boy."

Brian scoffed audibly at the notion.

"And besides, Prescott Pendleton invited you himself."

Brian rolled his eyes. Prescott Pendleton. A rich fag who liked to keep his business among the 'right kind of people'. Classic heterophobe if ever Brian had seen one.

And he'd seen plenty.

"This invitation is for two," he said with a disdainful frown.

"Guess he thought you might want to bring a date," Cynthia said with a small smirk.

"I don't do dates," Brian replied absently. "Think he'd mind much if I brought a couple of tricks?"

"He probably wants to see what type you go for since it's obviously not his," Cynthia suggested. She hadn't missed the looks Mr. Pendleton had regaled Brian with when he thought no one was looking. Neither had she missed the way Brian kept it strictly professional without so much as a flicker of interest.

"Yeah, right," he snorted. "He's old enough to be my father."

She knew that wasn't quite accurate, but wisely decided against pointing that fact out to her boss. Instead, she asked innocently. "So, who are you going to take?"

"And exactly how is that any of your business?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

"It's not," she admitted with a small shrug. "Unless you're taking your invaluable assistant who desperately needs to start meeting men of more financial substance, if you know what I mean."

He smiled a little at that. One of the things he liked about Cynthia was her direct approach.

She had proved to be a big asset during the development of the campaign and knew she'd earned far more than her regular salary just dealing with Pendleton and his minions. "Want me to pick you up? Or is it vital that you show up looking decidedly unattached?" he teased.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Brian was still dreading the event by the time Saturday rolled around. His plan to show up, linger for a short time and make an early getaway was threatened when Pendleton made a beeline for him the minute they stepped into the lavishly decorated ballroom.

"Brian!" the man exclaimed with a smile that was a little too wide for Brian's liking.

"Prescott," Brian said in reply as he shook the other man's hand. Turning toward Cynthia, he said "You remember my assistant, Cynthia Parker?"

"Yes, of course," he said, taking her hand. "Nice to see you again."

"This pleasure is mine, Mr. Pendleton," Cynthia assured him.

The trio continued making polite conversation for a few minutes before a young blond man joined them.

Brian's senses came to immediate attention the moment the newcomer joined the group. He was nothing short of beautiful with the light from the various chandeliers overhead glinting off his blond hair and a smile that rivaled the sun itself. He was dressed impeccably in a black tuxedo, the dark blue silk cummerbund and tie accentuating the bright blue of his eyes.

"There you are, Justin," Prescott said with a smile as he touched the young man's upper arm in a gesture that seemed oddly intimate. "Brian, Cynthia, this is Justin Taylor. Justin, Brian Kinney and his assistant, Cynthia Parker."

"Nice to meet you," he said politely as he shook each of their hands in turn.

"Brian owns Kinnetik, the agency in charge of our latest campaign."

"I'm impressed," Justin said with a smile. "The campaign was brilliant, especially the way you incorporated the use of shadow and light in the print ads. Very striking."

Brian's eyebrow quirked slightly. "You have an interest in advertising, Justin?"

"Not really," he admitted, wrinkling his nose slightly in a gesture of apology for the admission. "But I am interested in art. I'm hoping to attend PIFA in the fall."

"Quite a school," Brian replied. "Good luck with that."

"Justin doesn't need luck," Prescott assured them, slipping his arm casually around the younger man's waist. "He's got more talent in his little finger than most of the graduates PIFA turns out in any given year."

Brian noticed the blush that crept into the blond's cheeks and wondered if it was the praise or the older man's obviously possessive behaviour that was the cause.

"Is that a fact," he said with a small smirk. "In that case, I'm sure PIFA will be glad to have you."

The smile he got in response was far from the radiant one he'd sported when he'd first joined the group and only intrigued Brian more. "Thank you," Justin said politely.

A brief frown crossed Pendleton's face as he took in the way Brian was looking at his companion, but like a gracious host, he brushed it off and replaced it with another exaggerated smile. "Well, Brian, Cynthia. Enjoy your evening. I'm afraid we really must mingle with our other guests. Justin?"

The blond glanced quickly at the man who still had his arm around him and forced a smile. "Yes, of course," he said. Turning back to Brian and Cynthia, his smile was more genuine. "It was very nice to meet you both. I hope you have a good time this evening."

Brian nodded in acknowledgement of the words and watched as the two men moved away.

"Oh my God," Cynthia breathed once they were out of earshot. "If he's old enough to be your father, then he's practically old enough to be his grandfather."

Brian was still watching as Pendleton continued to introduce his young blond companion to the other guests. The older man reminded him of a kid showing off a new toy.

Which, he thought cynically, was probably not too far off.

"Or worse," he murmured under his breath.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

They'd been at the party for nearly an hour and Brian figured he'd already put in a respectable time. Cynthia was busy in the corner chatting it up with a good looking brunette and he couldn't contain a small smile. He suspected that if she had her way, his assistant would be snagging herself one of those 'men of financial substance' before the night was out. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone saying his name.

"Brian Kinney."

He turned toward the voice and saw his former boss, Martin Ryder.

"Marty," he said with a surprised smile. "Don't tell me. You're back in the game and drumming up a new client list."

Marty laughed. "Not on your life. Prescott and I play golf together. Have for years." He smiled slyly at Brian. "I was never able to land his account though. Congratulations on another winning campaign, Brian."

Brian smirked. "Thanks. Though as the only gay owner of an agency in town, I didn't exactly have a lot of competition."

"Don't sell yourself short," Marty warned amicably. "Prescott may have given you the opportunity because he thinks you're kindred spirits, but he wouldn't have settled for a substandard job on that basis."

Brian nodded, knowing there was a lot of truth to that. "True. Lucky for him, I don't do substandard."

"I know what happened with VanGard," Marty said. "I'm sorry, Brian."

Brian shrugged. Who hadn't heard what happened? He'd compromised an account because the client was a rabid homophobe bent on shutting down what he considered to be the 'seedier' side of Pittsburgh. Since the so-called den of iniquity also happened to be Brian's Liberty Avenue playground, it had become somewhat personal. He'd lost his job and had been blacklisted by every agency in town. Wisely, he'd never signed anything precluding him from starting his own business, and as his other options had run out, he'd done just that. Kinnetik had become the most successful agency in the city in a relatively short time.

"It was the best thing that ever happened to me, Marty," he said with a smirk.

"I warned him," Marty said, shaking his head slightly. "Gardner talked to me about you before he made his final decision. I told him if he cut you loose, he'd be cutting his own throat."

"Thankfully, he didn't listen," Brian smiled, raising his glass in a mock toast.

"Marty!"

Pendleton approached the two men, Justin trailing just slightly behind and looking a little less enthusiastic than he had an hour ago. "I'm glad you could make it," the older man greeted his friend.

"Wouldn't miss it, Prescott," Marty replied, smiling and extending his hand. "Especially when it's you picking up the tab."

Pendleton laughed and once again slid his arm around the young blond's waist. "Justin, I'd like you to meet Marty Ryder. Marty, Justin Taylor."

"Yes, I know," Marty smiled, reaching to shake Justin's hand.

Brian saw the brief look of panic that crossed the blond's features, probably thinking he'd rudely forgotten a previous introduction. Relief was evident in his blue eyes when Marty put him out of his misery. "We've never been formally introduced, but I saw you at the New Year's Eve party at the club."

"Right," Justin smiled politely. "It's nice to finally meet you. Prescott's told me some amusing golf stories."

Brian watched the interaction between the three men. Prescott seemed once again to be staking claim to the young blond and Justin didn't seem to mind. Since he obviously knew Ryder was straight, he assumed the gesture was more for Brian's benefit and that thought intrigued him. Did Prescott feel threatened merely because of Brian's reputation? Or was it something more? When Justin eyes rested on his briefly, he had his answer. Being Brian Kinney, he easily recognized interest when he saw it. Before he had a chance to decide what he wanted to do with that little bit of information, Pendleton was speaking once again.

"We didn't mean to interrupt," he said with that annoying smile. "I just wanted to say hello and introduce you to Justin. Have a good time."

"Nice to meet you," Justin said sincerely. Brian wondered how many times he'd said that since the night had begun and how many times he actually meant it.

"You too, Justin," Marty said with a smile.

After they'd left, Brian mused, "I would have thought Prescott would have introduced you to his little playmate at the New Year's Eve party."

"I don't think they met until that night," Marty replied. "Justin was there with someone else."

Brian raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. Marty, however, continued. "It was the most scandalous thing to hit the country club set since Miranda Withers ran off with that guy from the pro shop."

"Scandalous?" Brian repeated, even more intrigued.

"Hell yes," Marty chuckled. "Craig Taylor was out of town on business at the time and Justin shows up at the New Year's Eve party, not only with a male date, but the son of one of Craig's top execs."

"Craig Taylor is his father?" Brian asked, genuinely surprised, though he was trying hard not to show it.

"Yep," Marty answered, taking a sip of his drink. "Probably the richest, most influential man in Pittsburgh."

Brian's eyes sought out Justin as he digested that bit of news. He finally spotted him at Prescott's side, smiling politely though Brian was sure the conversation was probably boring the young man to tears. As he watched, Justin's eyes looked up and met his, a brief spark flashing between them before the blond tore his gaze away to once again concentrate on the investment broker who was talking to him.

"Interesting," Brian murmured, raising his own glass to his lips.

 

Chapter 2

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

"Excuse me a minute," Brian said, getting up from his chair to make his way to the restroom. He was entertaining a client in one of Pittsburgh's nicest restaurants and the half bottle of wine he'd consumed was playing havoc with his bladder. Hoping to sign the account before the meal was over, he pushed open the door to the well-appointed bathroom and walked over to one of the urinals. Glancing to his side, he was surprised to see the blond from Pendleton's party the month before.

Justin's eyes registered similar surprise as they landed on Brian's. "Hey," he said with a small smile.

"Hey," Brian responded in kind. "Fancy meeting you here."

Justin dragged his eyes away to look straight ahead as he relieved himself. "Everyone has to eat," he said simply.

Brian smirked. "I'm surprised Prescott let's you out of his sight long enough to take a piss," he teased.

Justin blushed a bit and hastily zipped his dress pants. "Nice seeing you again," he murmured as he moved past the other man toward the sinks. By the time Brian finished and turned, the blond had already washed his hands and left the room.

"Yeah, you too," he muttered.

As he made his way back to the table where his client waited, Brian's hazel eyes casually scanned the restaurant looking for the blond. When he finally spotted him, he understood the man's reaction to his harmless teasing. He wasn't with Pendleton, but another man, older than Brian and fairly well to do if the clothes he wore were any indication. When he saw the older man reach across the table and take Justin's hand, he looked away, unsure why the innocent gesture had bothered him so much. As he reached his table, he pushed the blond from his mind and concentrated on the task at hand.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

During the next three weeks, it seemed as though Brian saw Justin Taylor everywhere. One night it was at Popagano's with a wealthy real estate magnate, and then it was at the Silver Pagoda with a lawyer Brian recognized as being with Pittsburgh's top firm. Upon seeing him with yet another older man at the bank where he dealt, Brian was starting to get pissed. The fucking kid seemed to get around more than Brian did. At the root of his annoyance was the fact that he couldn't seem to get the blond man out of his mind, even when he wasn't seeing him at every turn. Every time their eyes met, Brian could see that same spark of interest before Justin would quickly look away. It was an unusual feeling for Brian, knowing he wanted something and not having the opportunity to act on it. He realized one probably hinged on the other. He likely wanted the blond more because he hadn't had the opportunity to have him.

And Brian planned on solving that particular dilemma the first chance he got.

Fate seemed to be smiling on Brian when that chance presented itself on his own turf of all places. Until that time, he'd only seen Justin when out with clients or at stuffy business functions. It took him a moment to realize what he was seeing when the blond walked into Babylon a week or so after their last chance meeting.

He watched the younger man walk up to the bar and order a drink. While he'd always looked good in formal wear and dress clothes, the man was absolutely hot in a tight blue tee and jeans that molded themselves to his ample butt. He surveyed his prey from the other end of the bar, oblivious to whatever Mikey was whining about as he watched the object of his recent obsession slam back a couple of shots of tequila before turning to survey the dance floor.

Brian continued the discreet surveillance as the blond zeroed in on a hot dark-haired man on the dance floor and moved in for the kill, capturing the attention of not only his target, but most of the men within view. As Justin began to dance, he seemed to lose himself in the music and Brian watched, transfixed as he moved his hips enticingly to the seductive beat.

"So, what would you do, Brian?" Michael was asking. "Brian?"

Brian turned to his best friend and flashed his trademark smirk. "Hold that thought," he said before making his way through the throng on the dance floor.

Justin had his eyes closed when Brian reached the dancing couple. One glare and the would-be trick backed off without a word. Brian took his place, dancing with the oblivious blond man and slipping his arms around the trim waist.

"Mmm," Justin moaned as Brian pulled him closer, grinding their hardening dicks together.

When he threw his head back, Brian couldn't resist leaning in to taste the creamy skin at his neck.

"Backroom," Brian murmured in his ear.

Justin opened his eyes halfway to reply, then wide as he realized who he'd be replying to. "Brian?"

"In the flesh," Brian smirked. "And you're about to feel every inch." He took the young man by the wrist and started pulling him toward the backroom. Just before they entered the darkened hallway, Justin pulled back.

"No," he said quietly. "I don't want…"

Brian felt his anger building as the younger man's voice trailed off. "What?" he demanded quietly. "I'm not old enough? Not rich enough?"

A brief flash of pain registered in the blue eyes before he turned and pushed his way through the crowd toward the door.

"Good fucking riddance," Brian muttered under his breath. A moment later, he grabbed a hot looking man with dark hair and eyes and led his new, willing conquest into the backroom to work off the frustration.

As he pushed into the pliant body, he closed his eyes and immediately pictured the blond, much to his annoyance. In an effort to rid his mind of the elusive young man, he concentrated all his efforts on the one he was fucking.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Cynthia was used to Brian's attitude, but he'd been even more difficult to get along with in the past two months. After snapping at her for the third time that morning, she decided to take a more direct approach. Knocking on his door, she waited for him to call her in before taking a deep breath and entering the lion's den.

"Well?" he asked impatiently.

"What the hell crawled up your ass and died?" she asked, getting straight to the point. "You've practically taken my head off three times in as many hours."

"You don't like the working conditions; you know where the door is."

"Fine," she snapped. "Good luck finding someone else to put up with your bullshit."

She stood her ground, knowing that both of their threats were empty ones. Finally, he sighed. "It's that fucking Justin Taylor," he muttered miserably.

"From the jewelry store launch?" she asked, confused.

Brian nodded, "And every other society function in this fucking town. Not to mention every restaurant I go into."

"You have a stalker?" she asked with a grin, taking a seat in front of his desk. "Do tell."

He glared at her. "He's not a fucking stalker. Every time I see him he's with a different guy. All of them older and all of them rich. He's a fucking spoiled rich brat who only dates men who can lavish the same kind of money on him that daddy does."

"He seemed nice enough," she said with a small shrug. As his words sunk in, she frowned. "You tried to date him?"

"You like your paycheck?" he shot back. "I don't fucking date; you know that."

"Then why does it bother you?" she asked, genuinely confused.

He thought about that for a moment and thought an honest answer was warranted. "I wanted to fuck him," he replied arrogantly.

"Ahhh," she nodded as understanding dawned. "He is hot, no doubt about that."

"And I haven't had him yet," Brian smirked. "Not a lot of hot men I can say that about in this city."

She shrugged. "So fuck him. What's the big deal?"

"Apparently he's too good for a backroom fuck," he sneered. "He thinks his ass is worth a $300 dollar meal first."

"So invite him out to dinner and then take him back to your place. Get it out of your system."

"Were you here for the 'I don't date' part of this little discussion?" he asked sarcastically.

She rolled her eyes. "All I know is, it's obviously making you even less charming than usual. Do what you have to do and get it over with. Either that or forget him."

Brian had already tried that. Forgetting him didn't seem to be a viable option, though he was sure that would change after he'd managed to snag the ass he'd become so obsessed with. "I'll get it over with," he replied absently. "And I'll do it without permanent damage to my credit card."

"Well, then," she said, getting to her feet. "I hope it works out ... and soon." With that, she turned and left the office.

Brian found himself hoping the same thing.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

As Brian donned his tux, he couldn't help thinking about the last time he'd worn it. It had been the first night he'd seen Justin and he hadn't been able to get the blond out of his head since. He'd been angry the night Justin had turned him down at Babylon and had tried to drown it in an endless parade of tricks through the backroom, but all he'd ended up doing was wearing himself out before heading back to the loft with the frustrating blond's memory still planted deep in his mind.

Since then, he'd resigned himself to the fact that it wasn't going away anytime soon. He was sure he'd get another chance and when he did, he planned on doing it right. By the time he was finished seducing the blond, the kid wouldn't know what hit him. He'd be begging for Brian's cock before the night was out and Brian would finally be able to put the whole frustrating mess behind him.

As he headed out the door of the loft, he hoped that time came sooner rather than later.

While he detested the formal functions, he never lost sight of the fact that many a useful contact had been made during just such occasions. He didn't really care how much money the senator raised for her campaign. All he knew was that Pittsburgh's most influential people would be there. A $5,000 donation was nothing compared to the millions he could make on one account alone.

He played the part of the rising young executive to the max, charming wives of potential clients and impressing their husbands with his knowledge of their business. Brian Kinney always did his homework, after all. By the time dinner was about to be served, he'd already lined up two meetings and had high hopes for at least three more. As he made his way toward his assigned seat at one of the tastefully decorated tables, he caught sight of familiar shock of blond hair. "Fuck," he muttered to himself. Justin was just entering the ballroom with yet another man, one Brian didn't recognize but who was obviously as wealthy as the others and just as old. Didn't the kid ever go out with anyone his own age?

"He gets around, doesn't he?"

Brian turned to see Marty Ryder standing beside him, also watching Justin with the other man. Turning back to where the blond was smiling up at his companion, Brian grumbled, "Fucking kid thinks the A-list is his own personal toy box."

Marty chuckled. "From what I've seen, maybe he's got it right. None of his toys seem to be complaining, though."

Brian watched the way the older man looked down at his young companion. No, he wasn't complaining a bit.

 

Chapter 3

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

All through dinner, he found his gaze straying to where the blond sat at another table with his much older companion. He took note of how they leaned toward one another when one of them would speak and the way Justin's blue eyes sparkled when he looked into the other man's face. During the brief lull between the main course and dessert, the young blond excused himself from the table and headed toward the restrooms.

Not one to let opportunity pass him by, Brian immediately followed.

"Well, well, well," he drawled upon seeing the blond standing in front of the sinks. "Just when I thought the evening couldn't get any more… interesting."

Justin watched Brian's reflection warily in the mirror. "Hello," he said politely.

Brian smirked. "After all this time, running into you almost everywhere I go, and that's the best you can do?"

Justin turned slowly to face the other man. He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful man Justin had ever seen. Auburn hair styled just so, hazel eyes that bore into him with an intensity that was both arousing and dangerous, and full raspberry lips that begged to be kissed. Trying to will his obvious interest away, Justin cleared his throat.

"I should get back," he said simply.

"To your date?" Brian asked, distaste dripping from his lips at the very word. "Haven't seen this one around before. You importing them from out of town now, Sunshine?"

The tone of voice turned what could have been an endearment to insult. Unwilling to let the other man see the way the words had cut, he straightened his shoulders, meeting the flashing eyes steadily. "Not that it's any of your business," he stated dryly. "But Lawrence is an investment consultant here in Pittsburgh."

"Ah yes, investment consultant, lawyer, successful entrepreneur. Doesn't much matter as long as they have money, huh? What's the matter, Daddy cut back on your allowance, little boy?"

Brian knew he was being cruel, but couldn't seem to stop himself. The kid was driving him crazy without even knowing it. Looking into those deep, blue eyes, he wanted nothing more than to get lost in them for hours at a time.

And the prospect both excited and scared him.

"You don't know anything about me," Justin hissed.

"I know you have money," Brian countered. "I know you can be seen at the most exclusive functions, usually with a different old goat each time. What I don't know is why. What can you possibly see in someone old enough to be your fucking father? Or is this all just a big game to you? Seeing how fast you can work your way through Pittsburgh's social register? Do you and your snotty little high-school friends have a bet going? Which one of you can fuck your way through the rich and famous in the shortest time?"

Justin had paled considerably as Brian rambled on. "Fuck you," he whispered through clenched teeth.

Brian laughed mirthlessly. "I don't think so, Sunshine. I'm not your type, am I? I still have all my own teeth and don't need any chemical help getting it up and keeping it there." He smirked cruelly as he moved toward the blond man. "Or is that what you're afraid of?" he prodded.

Justin backed into the hard vanity and quickly glanced around. There was no place for him to go. As his eyes darted back to the hazel ones regarding him so intently, he wondered if he actually would escape if he could. The man's close proximity was setting off signals through Justin's whole body. His breathing grew more ragged, his throat constricted, his heart beat a little faster.

And his cock twitched inside his expensive tailored slacks.

Brian saw the combination of lust and fear in the blue eyes and smiled wickedly. "What's the matter? Afraid someone young and virile might be too much for you?" he taunted quietly.

Justin opened his mouth to protest but nothing came out.

Brian had planned to taunt the kid and then let him leave, but being so close to those full, pouting lips, looking into those clear blue eyes, his body betrayed his mind. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against those of the blond, reveling in the sweet, fleeting taste. Before he had a chance to pull back, Justin was leaning forward, pressing their mouths together, his hands reaching around to pull the taller man even closer.

With a low moan, Brian enveloped the younger man in his arms and pulled him close. As his lips descended once again, he put everything he had into the kiss, deepening it as he felt the other man responding to his ministrations. When they parted a few moments later, they were both out of breath.

Justin was staring at him with a combination of surprise and longing.

"Come on," Brian urged in a whisper, leading the smaller man toward one of the stalls.

It only took Justin a moment to regain his senses. "No," he protested weakly. "I need to get back."

Brian looked at him for a moment. He wanted this man, there was no doubt about that, but he wasn't about to force him into something he didn't want. He stroked his hand idly across the blond's crotch, smirking at the hardness hidden beneath the clothing. "I think you want it," he whispered into the shell-like ear. "And I think you want me to be the one to give it to you."

Justin's knees nearly buckled at the sensations the other man was creating. The touch on his dick would have been enough, even without the hot breath on his ear and the seductive words. "I can't," he whispered hoarsely.

Brian pulled back and looked into his eyes for a moment. What he saw there was real regret. "Fine," he said, taking a step back to leave the other man standing on his own. "Run along, little boy. Go back to daddy or grandpa or whoeverthefuck. Just get out of here."

Justin looked as though he'd been slapped. Before the tears had a chance to spill, he whirled and hurried from the bathroom, leaving a very frustrated Brian behind.

"Fuck," the ad exec muttered under his breath. He glanced down at the erection tenting his pants and knew that he couldn't return to the table in such a state. Resigning himself to having to take care of it without help, he stepped into the nearest stall and closed the door.

When he rejoined the party a few minutes later, his physical problem had been solved, but his mental frustration remained intact. Nobody ever turned Brian Kinney down, but this little blond twat had done it … twice! And twice was more than enough. It was time to forget about the irritating little slut. Brian might not have been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, but he'd worked damned hard and had made a successful life for himself. If he wasn't good enough or rich enough for the spoiled blond brat, that was his problem. There was no way Brian Kinney was going to let a piece of blond boy ass make him feel like he wasn't enough.

He'd already had enough of that to last a lifetime.

By the time dinner was over and the speeches underway, Brian was feeling pretty proud of himself. He hadn't glanced the blond's way once since returning from the bathroom and had managed to convince himself that he didn't care if he ever saw those damnable blue eyes again.

That resolve proved short-lived, however, when he heard the sound of slightly raised voices coming from the direction of the blond's table. Looking over, he saw an irate man standing beside Justin's chair. Smirking, Brian couldn't help but feel vindicated by the scene. Young Justin had obviously stepped on some toes while playing his little games. The angry looking man was older, just like the rest of the blond's companions, and the perfectly tailored Armani suit he wore hinted at substantial means. He looked vaguely familiar to Brian, not someone he'd ever actually met, but someone he'd undoubtedly seen pictures of. When Justin got angrily to his feet and stormed toward the hotel lobby with the older man in pursuit, something urged Brian to follow. By the time he got to the lobby, the verbal battle was already in full gear.

"What in God's name are you doing here with Lawrence McGuire of all people?" the older man demanded.

"Exactly what you think I'm doing," Justin shot back.

"Parading yourself around town on the arm of any faggot rich enough to buy your time?" the stranger fumed.

"I'm a whore, remember?" Justin yelled back furiously. "That's what we do!"

No one saw the hand coming until it connected sharply with Justin's face, sending him stumbling into the nearby wall.

"Hey!" Brian shouted, no longer willing to remain a spectator. Seeing Justin held accountable for his little games was one thing, but when it came to physical violence, Brian drew the line. "I think you've had your say," he said to the other man. "Let's leave it at that, shall we?"

"This doesn't concern you," the man sneered.

"Hit him again and it will," Brian warned quietly.

The man looked from Brian to Justin and back again. "He's not worth it," he hissed before pushing past the ad exec to return to the ballroom.

Brian watched Justin for a moment as the young man steadied himself and straightened his clothing. "Is it true?" he asked shortly.

When Justin's eyes met his, they were full of anger and defiance. "Is what true?" he snapped.

"They pay you?" He was so livid he could barely get the words out. Hustling on the street for food money was one thing, but a kid with Justin's means wasn't doing it out of necessity. That made all the difference in Brian's books. He was selling himself for the sheer thrill of it and that realization only made Brian angrier.

Justin was silent for a moment. "Yeah, they pay me," he finally said angrily. "So, what?"

Brian remained silent, studying the blond man. He couldn't believe the angelic face and bright smile that had captivated him belonged to nothing more than a high-priced rent boy. "Fine," he finally said, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. He drew out two hundred dollar bills and held them out to the blond. "Here."

Justin's initial shock quickly turned to anger. "So you want to buy me now?" he demanded. Then, with a harsh laugh, he added, "Well it's not enough. Not nearly enough."

"That's for the kiss," Brian said in a dangerously quiet tone as he allowed the bills to drop from his fingers. "Brian Kinney doesn't sponge off another man's dime."

Without another word, he turned and left the building.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

The next day, Brian was in his office, still brooding over the events of the previous night, when Cynthia buzzed him. "What?" he demanded harshly.

"Justin Taylor is here to see you," she said through the intercom.

"Tell him I'm busy," Brian replied without hesitation.

A minute later, his door flew open and an angry Justin stormed in.

"I'm sorry," Cynthia said, hurrying in behind him. "He got by me somehow."

Brian sighed. "Leave us alone, Cyn," he said quietly.

Once alone, Justin took the two hundred dollars from his pocket and slammed it down on the desk with the palm of his hand. "Keep your fucking money. I didn't earn it." Without another word, he turned to leave the office.

Brian was on his feet in an instant, grabbing the young man's arm. "Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.

"Because it's none of your fucking business," Justin retorted. "It's not like we've ever had an actual conversation. You don't know the first fucking thing about me so what makes you think I owe you any explanations?"

Brian's own anger refused to dissipate in the face of the younger man's. Though he hated seeing the bruise that marred the creamy white cheek, he couldn't forget the circumstances that had put it there. "I don't need a fucking conversation to know your type," Brian sneered. "Let me guess. Daddy doesn't give you enough attention. You need a father figure in your life." His voice had taken on a mocking tone that he abandoned for one of disdain as he continued. "Or maybe you just derive some sort of thrill from thinking that rich ass of yours is worth more than any street hustler's."

The words cut, just like he'd intended. "Fuck you," Justin snapped, angrily wrenching his arm from the other man's grasp. He opened the door violently and then turned one more time to face the angry ad exec. This time his voice was a broken whisper. "Fuck you."

Brian didn't even have time for a sarcastic response before the other man was gone.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Justin refused to allow the tears to fall until he was out of the building. Even then, he quickly brushed them away with the back of one hand.

"Justin?"

He turned to see Prescott Pendleton heading toward him. "Hey," he said miserably.

"What brings you here?" Prescott asked.

Justin glanced up at the building then replied in a flat tone. "Business."

Prescott frowned. "Something wrong?"

Justin hadn't planned on saying anything, but the man's compassionate voice, combined with the anger and frustration he was feeling had the words spilling from his lips before he could stop them. "My dad showed up at the senator's fundraiser last night. He was supposed to be in Milan until next week."

"Ahh," Prescott nodded sympathetically. "I take it he wasn't too pleased to see you there."

"We don't exactly travel in the same circles these days," Justin scoffed. "You know I never would have gone if I'd known he would be there."

"I know," Prescott soothed with a comforting hand to the younger man's shoulder. "Was it ugly?"

Justin barked a harsh laugh. "He practically called me a whore in front of …"

"Your date?" Prescott asked when the blond's voice trailed off.

Justin shook his head. "Lawrence didn't hear it."

"Then who?"

Taking a deep breath, Justin let it out on a sigh. "It doesn't matter, now," he said quietly.

Now? That implied that it had mattered at some point. He saw the anguish in the young man's eyes and felt a stab of sympathy for him. What he knew about had been rough enough; who knew how much there was that he didn't know. He lightly touched the bruise on Justin's cheek. "He gave you this." It was more statement than question.

Justin pulled away from the touch. "It's not the worst I've had," he said quietly. "I have to go."

"Want to go for a drink later?" Prescott asked hopefully. "It might make you feel better to talk about it. I'm a good listener, you know."

Justin managed a small smile. He did know. Prescott had been the only one Justin had ever talked to about what happened. He'd also been the first man to pay for Justin's company. "Just a drink?" he asked shyly. "My treat?"

"Deal," Prescott agreed with a smile. "I'll meet you at the Silver Pagoda at 4."

Justin nodded then continued on his way. Prescott watched him until he rounded the corner before turning to enter Kinnetik.

The last thing Brian was in the mood for was a meeting with Prescott Pendleton, but the fact that the man had millions of advertising dollars to spend overruled what he thought of men who paid for sex. More precisely, what he thought of men who paid Justin Taylor for sex. He was glad he didn't have a lot of time to ponder the difference before Cynthia announced Pendleton's arrival.

"Come in, Prescott," Brian greeted him, gesturing toward a chair.

"Brian," Pendleton said, shaking the other man's hand before taking his seat. "It's been a while."

The clenching of Brian's jaw didn't go unnoticed as the ad exec took his own seat. "Yeah, the launch," he said flatly.

Prescott thought of the launch party and the beautiful young man he'd had on his arm that night. The same young man whom he'd just seen leaving this building. A small smile graced his lips as the pieces began to fall into place. "Yes," he said with a nod. "The launch. I do so enjoy those formal affairs, don't you?"

Brian grimaced. "They're more what I'd call a necessary evil."

"I was deeply regretful that I wasn't able to make it to the Senator's fundraiser last night."

"You didn't miss much," Brian said, his jaw clenching so hard Prescott expected to hear teeth crunching at any moment.

"Oh, so you were there?" Prescott said, feigning surprise.

Brian's eyes narrowed. "What's the Senator's fundraiser got to do with anything?"

"Nothing, nothing at all," Pendleton replied, shaking his head slightly. "Though I hear there was a bit of drama involved. I'm sorry I missed it."

Brian couldn't get the vision of the man slapping Justin out of his head. While he'd hated to see it, maybe it would be enough for the blond to realize what a dangerous game he was playing. "Like I said," he intoned. "You didn't miss much."

"I'm sure Justin would disagree."

Brian's eyes flashed. "What happens between Justin and his tricks is none of my concern," he said flatly.

The other man was slightly taken aback at the fire in the hazel eyes. Brian Kinney, stud of Liberty Avenue, was jealous!

He was quiet for a moment as he thought about how to play it. As much as he'd enjoy watching Kinney squirm, he hated the despair he'd seen in Justin's eyes. If he could somehow erase that, it was worth passing up an opportunity to get back at Kinney for his decided lack of interest. "Are you sure he was a trick?" he hinted.

Brian smirked. "Whatever it is you're calling yourselves these days."

"When I was with Justin at the launch, he was my companion, just as I suspect he was Lawrence's last night."

"I don't need a name by name rundown," Brian snapped irritably. "Like I said, it's none of my business what he does or who he does it with."

"It's none of his father's business either, but that didn't stop him from leaving that bruise on Justin's face last night," Prescott said as a matter of fact.

He saw the flicker of surprise in Brian's eyes before the usual mask of indifference took over. "That asshole was Craig Taylor."

"One and the same," Pendleton replied with a nod.

While the image of Justin being slapped remained the same in Brian's memory, the feelings it now provoked were far different than they had been. It was one thing to believe it was an angry client, but quite another to know it was the boy's father. He'd suffered enough beatings at his own father's hands to know that the physical pain was fleeting but the emotional damage could never really be repaired.

"I take it Daddy wasn't too happy with his son's choices," he muttered angrily.

Pendleton considered how much he should reveal to the man before him. While his association with Justin had started out to be strictly business, he found himself actually caring about the kid. "That would be putting it mildly," he finally said in reply, enough to hint at more but without divulging details that weren't his to discuss.

"You seem to know a lot about it for a paying customer," Brian quipped cynically.

Pendleton smiled. "Yes, but I didn't hear any of it from a third party. Everything I know, Justin told me himself. If you want details, you'll have to get them from him."

Brian leaned back in his chair, trying to maintain an air of indifference. "Why should I care about the details?"

"Why, indeed," Prescott replied, a knowing smile touching the corners of his mouth.

All talk of Justin and his father was set aside as they got down to the business at hand. Halfway through Brian's initial proposal for a new campaign, Pendleton's pager vibrated. Taking it out of his pocket, he read the number and frowned. "My secretary," he mused thoughtfully. "She wouldn't bother me in a meeting unless it was important." As he took his cell phone out, he looked at Brian. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all," Brian replied. "Feel free to step into the conference room if you need some privacy."

Prescott waved his hand in dismissal of the notion and then punched in the number of his head office.

Brian made a few adjustments to the layout on his computer screen while he waited for his client to conclude the call. When that happened a couple of minutes later, he could see concern on the other man's face. "Everything OK?"

"Actually, no," he replied, getting to his feet. "There's been a robbery involving one of my stores. I need to get a flight as soon as possible."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Brian offered politely. "Call my office once things calm down and we'll reschedule."

Pendleton nodded and shook Brian's hand. "I'll do that," he promised. He was halfway out the door when he remembered the meeting with Justin. Just as he was pulling his cell to call the young man, another thought occurred to him. Turning back to face Brian, he said, "I wonder if I might impose on you for a favour."

Brian raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"I have an appointment later this afternoon that I'll obviously not be able to keep."

"So call and cancel," Brian suggested simply.

"Justin doesn't have a cell phone and I have no way of reaching him."

Brian's expression hardened.

Seeing the change in expression, Pendleton added, "He was upset about what happened last night. We were going to meet for a drink and talk about it, that's all."

Brian considered that for a moment. "How does this concern me?"

"I'm supposed to meet him at the Silver Pagoda at four. If it's not too much trouble, would you call and have him paged? Just tell him that I send my most sincere apologies and that I'll call when I get back."

"Fine," Brian acquiesced after only a brief hesitation. "I'll tell him." He would have suggested the man have his secretary make the call, but in light of what he'd learned, he had an urge to speak to the young blond himself.

Prescott tried to temper the satisfied smile that threatened to emerge. "Thank you. I'll be in touch."

Brian waited until the man left before lowering himself into his chair, the whole time wondering why he'd agreed to be Pendleton's messenger boy. As though in response, his mind produced an image of Justin leaving his office earlier in the day, the blue eyes filled with pain and sadness rather than the anger that had been evident when he'd first arrived.

He had to talk to him. And the phone just wouldn't do.

 

Out of the Shadows

Chapter 4

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Brian entered the Silver Pagoda a few minutes before four and spotted the blond almost immediately. He sat alone at a small table, staring out the window with obvious disinterest in what was happening on the other side of the glass.

Taking a deep breath, Brian approached the young man with an air of confidence he was far from feeling. "Hey," he said quietly upon reaching the table.

The blond head turned quickly, Justin's face registering first surprise, then anger. "What are you doing here?" he demanded coldly.

"Looking for you," Brian replied. "Mind if I sit?"

"I'm expecting someone," Justin said, turning to once again stare out the window.

"Pendleton can't make it," Brian informed him. "He asked me to tell you."

Justin looked at him again, eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Brian raised an eyebrow. "Why can't he make it? Or why did he ask me to tell you?"

"Pick one," Justin retorted.

Taking a seat even though it hadn't been offered, Brian sighed. "We were in a meeting when he got a call about a robbery at one of his stores. He had to leave right away and said he didn't have any way to reach you since you don't have a cell phone."

Justin frowned slightly. Prescott knew his cell phone number.

"He asked me to call here at four and have you paged," Brian concluded.

"So, why didn't you?" Justin asked suspiciously.

Brian took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you in person," he finally admitted. "I know that guy last night was your father."

"Prescott told you that?"

Brian nodded. "Not in so many words, but yeah."

"What else did he tell you?" Justin asked warily.

"Nothing," Brian assured him.

Justin processed that information before getting to his feet. "Well, thanks for delivering the message."

"Wait a minute," Brian urged, getting to his feet and grabbing Justin's arm in a light grip.

Justin looked pointedly at where Brian was touching him and the older man dropped his hand. "What's your hurry? The least you can do after I dragged my ass all the way down here is buy me a drink."

Justin threw a twenty on the table. "Here. Knock yourself out."

"Jesus Christ, Justin," Brian said, his anger building. "I don't want your fucking money."

"Then what do you want, Brian?" Justin demanded, just as angry. "You made it quite clear what you thought of me this morning in your office. I'm the same person now that I was then."

Brian tried to rein in his temper. "You were right," he finally said. "I don't know anything about you. I shouldn't have said what I did without knowing all the facts."

Justin's chin lifted slightly in defiance but he didn't say anything. He suspected that was as close to an apology as he was going to get.

They stood there silently staring one another down for another moment before Brian spoke again. "I don't know about you, but I could use that drink."

Justin's expression didn't change, but after a brief hesitation, he nodded and returned to his seat, watching Brian warily as he did the same.

Brian signaled the waitress who was at their table almost immediately. "Beam," Brian said before looking over at his companion.

"Two," Justin said simply.

"So, tell me about your father," Brian said once she'd left to retrieve their drinks.

Justin huffed a wry chuckle. "You read the papers. You probably know as much as I do."

"I know he's a successful land developer that has his fingers in a lot of pies."

"Unfortunately, family isn't one of them," Justin scoffed.

"You two don't get along," Brian surmised.

Justin had to think about his response. "He was never around much," he finally said. "When I was younger, he did the family thing, I guess, but I think it was more my mom's influence than any real desire to spend time with me."

"And now?"

Justin smirked. "Now he's still traveling more than he's home and when he is here, he has a lot more free time on his hands since he no longer has a son."

Brian frowned slightly in confusion.

"You see," Justin explained sarcastically. "The great Craig Taylor couldn't possibly have a gay son. It's better not to have a son at all."

"He said that?" Brian asked.

Justin barked a harsh laugh. "No. His exact words were 'as long as you continue with this disgusting lifestyle, you're no fucking son of mine'."

Shaking his head, Brian let out a weary sigh.

"He kicked me out with the clothes on my back and twenty bucks in my wallet."

"That sucks," Brian commiserated. "Where did you go?"

Justin ran his finger along the rim of his glass, staring into the amber liquid as he answered. "Prescott Pendleton was at the house that night for dinner. He and Craig have some common investments they were discussing." He paused for a moment before continuing in a distant voice. "Maybe if he hadn't been there, things might have been different."

"How?"

Justin looked up and him and smiled wickedly. "He was showing Prescott the addition to the pool house and caught me fucking the shit out of the groundskeeper."

They shared a brief laugh before Justin sighed and continued. "Anyway, I think he was more embarrassed because Prescott was there and witnessed the whole thing. Craig threw a fit. Demanded to know what the fuck I thought I was doing." With a shrug, he went on. "There was no point hiding it by then. I told him I was gay. He suggested Prescott wait in the study while he had a little 'talk' with me. A black eye, a concussion and two cracked ribs later, he told me to get out and not to bother taking anything his money had paid for. Which, of course, was pretty much everything I owned. Even the money I made working for him during the summers was Craig Taylor money."

"Asshole," Brian muttered.

Justin allowed a wry smirk in agreement. "I just started walking. I didn't know if I needed a doctor but I did know I didn't have the money to pay for one. Prescott picked me up about an hour later."

"He went looking for you."

Justin nodded. "Prescott said there was blood on Craig's jacket when he got back to the study. He asked if everything was alright and Craig told him how he handled things with his former son was nobody else's business. They managed to conclude their business and Prescott found me stumbling down the street on his way home."

Brian pictured the beautiful young man before him, bruised and bloodied with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. "I'm glad he did," he said softly.

Justin's eyes darted to the other man's in surprise before allowing a sad smile. "Anyway, Prescott took me to his place, cleaned me up, had his doctor check me over. He let me stay there for a few days while I healed up."

"Then what?" Brian asked, genuinely interested in the rest of the story.

Justin sighed. "I had no money, no job and no place to live. Prescott offered to let me stay there but I knew that would cause problems for him if my father found out. Instead, he loaned me enough to get a small apartment." He lowered his eyes to his glass as he continued. "And helped me get a job."

"Hustling," Brian said flatly. "With all his stores, he couldn't have given you a job selling jewelry instead of peddling your ass to every rich fag in Pittsburgh?"

Justin's eyes turned cold. "I have to go," he said, getting quickly to his feet.

"Justin…"

"Thanks for delivering the message," Justin cut him off, his tone polite but icy. "Now stay the fuck away from me."

Brian watched the blond storm from the bar and shook his head wearily. When would he learn to keep his mouth shut?

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Justin lay on the single bed in his cramped apartment. Hours after he'd left the Silver Pagoda, he was still unable to get the sexy, auburn haired man out of his mind. He couldn't believe how much he'd told the virtual stranger, but something in the depths of those hazel eyes had compelled him to reveal himself in a way he seldom did to anyone.

He emitted a harsh, scoffing sound as he remembered the result. Hearing the circumstances hadn't made a bit of difference where Brian was concerned; he still saw him as a whore.

He closed his eyes against the reality of the situation. That's what he was now. A few months ago, Brian might have seen the confident, happy teenager he'd once been. He might have seen the guy who got 1500 on his SATs and had his heart set on attending the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts. He might have seen the boy his mother adored, the kid who never gave up, the young gay man so in touch with his own sexuality that it never occurred to him to try to be anything other than what he was.

But that was then.

When the phone rang, he hastily rubbed a hand over his eyes before reaching for the receiver. "Hello?"

He closed his eyes once again upon hearing the voice on the other end of the line. "Yeah," he said after a moment. "I'll be there."

He lay there for a moment longer before pulling himself wearily from the bed. Walking to the small closet, he opened it and took out the sports jacket and slacks he'd bought with the first money he'd earned totally on his own. Looking at the outfit, he breathed a resigned sigh. "Show time."

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

After leaving the Silver Pagoda, Brian had tried to work out his frustrations with two willing asses at the baths, then with a few drinks and two blow jobs at Woody's. Nothing had worked though. The blond was as ingrained in his memory as his own name. Stripping off his suit, he allowed his mind to wander to the kiss they'd shared. The feel of the silky blond strands through his fingers, the softness of the full lips parting to allow his tongue entrance to the warm recesses of his mouth. He closed his eyes as the memories engulfed him. What the hell was it about that kid that affected him so strongly? Sure, he was hot, but a lot of guys were hot, and Brian didn't have any trouble getting them when he wanted them. So why did he want Justin Taylor to the point where the man occupied nearly his every spare thought?

The answer came to him in a vision of the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. Eyes that could sparkle with mirth one moment and darken with anger the next. Eyes that could draw you in with warm promises of pleasure or cut you to the quick with spears of sheer iciness.

Add those eyes to that brilliant smile, the creamy smooth skin and the perfect bubble butt and the combination was enough to bring a grown man to his knees.

"Fuck," Brian breathed, shaking his head slightly as he realized he'd been standing there thinking about the blond. "Get a fucking grip, Kinney," he muttered as he headed for the shower.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

As usual, the plan called for Justin to be picked up in front of his building by the agency limo and then driven to a spot pre-arranged with his 'date'. From there, they'd go to dinner or to whichever function Justin had been hired for. Since the agency had suggested the sports jacket and slacks, he had to assume the current engagement wouldn't be a formal affair. As he leaned back for the ride, he couldn't help wondering who would be picking up the night's tab. He hoped it was someone he already knew. It always made it more difficult to play his role if he knew nothing about his companion. When the limousine stopped, he let out a long breath and waited for Gerry to open the door. Flashing the driver a smile, he thanked him and looked up at the building before him. "Is this it?"

"No," Gerry informed him. "You're to wait for another car."

Great. Another fucking closet case worried about being seen meeting the agency limo. Not that anyone could tell, of course, but he'd discovered a whole new meaning of paranoia since he'd started with the agency.

"There you go," Gerry said, pointing to a nondescript sedan rounding the corner and slowing down.

"Thanks," Justin said with a smile. "See you later."

Gerry nodded and got into the car, pulling away from the curb just as the other one pulled up. The driver got out and opened the back door for Justin. He was just about to get in when he recognized the man in the back seat. "No fucking way," he hissed, pulling back. The driver was directly behind him, blocking his escape and a large hand reached out from the back seat to drag him in. He found himself sprawled half on the seat, half on the floor, the meaty hand still grasping his wrist in a painful grip. "Let go of me," he demanded, wrenching his arm free with little resistance.

The man laughed. "All you had to do was ask, Mr. Taylor," he sneered.

Justin righted himself in the seat, his back to the door, his eyes glaring hatefully at the other man. "What do you want?"

"It's not a question of what I want, Mr. Taylor," the man replied sarcastically. "It's what your father wants."

"You can tell my so-called father to go to Hell," Justin hissed.

The man laughed. "I'm sure he's already booked us all tickets on that particular train."

Justin looked past the man and out the window on the other side of the car. "Where are we going?" he demanded. He saw they were heading in the direction of Liberty Avenue and knew there was no way his father would be caught dead there.

"Come now, Mr. Taylor," the man crooned, the name dripping off his lips like acid. "Surely you recognize your surroundings. Isn't this where you and all your fag friends hang out?"

"Where's my father?" Justin asked, ignoring the question.

The man shook his head in mock sadness. "Now you know your father is too busy to handle every little detail himself. That's why he surrounds himself with loyal employees such as myself."

Justin swallowed hard. He'd seen the man with his father on several occasions and suspected what his job was. At close to six and a half feet and over two hundred pounds, the man was a solid mass of hard muscle. He'd always made Justin feel nervous in his company but never more so than he felt now.

"What's he paying you for this time?" he asked flatly.

"You understand he can't be made a laughing stock, Mr. Taylor. His position just doesn't allow for that sort of role."

"What's that got to do with me?" Justin asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.

The man grinned evilly. "He knows you've been whoring your ass out to some of his most cherished business associates. That has to stop, you see, and since he doesn't want to risk his association with them, he's decided that maybe it would be best if you weren't quite so … attractive to them."

Justin's mouth went dry at the words.

"Don't worry," the cruel man laughed upon seeing Justin suddenly pale. "You'll live through the exercise. You just might find it a little harder to attract the clients you're used to in the future."

Justin fumbled with the door handle, but to his dismay it wouldn't open.

"Quite the handy safety feature, don't you think?" the man asked. "Wouldn't want little kids opening the door and falling out while the vehicle's in motion now, would we?"

Justin's panic level rose as the car turned into an alley and he glanced furtively out the window. He recognized the buildings on either side, but it was of little comfort to him. One had long been deserted and the other was already locked up tight for the night. Silence permeated the immediate vicinity though voices could be heard in the distance along with the distant thrum of techno music whenever Babylon's doors opened to admit another patron. Babylon. It was only a block away through the alley but it might as well be a mile.

The car stopped and Justin's eyes flew to his large companion. "We're hee-eeere," the man sing-songed cruelly as he grabbed Justin by the arm and pulled him toward the opposite door already being opened by the driver. "Just another dark alley, another senseless gay bashing. Nothing new on Liberty Avenue."

Justin tried to scream as he was dragged from the car, but a meaty hand covered his mouth as the man whispered hoarsely in his ear. "Scream and I will kill you, got it?"

His only response was a renewed struggle against the man holding him.

"You're going to anyway, right?" the driver asked urgently. "I mean, the kid can ID us."

The man only chuckled. "If we do our jobs right, the kid here won't remember a fucking thing, let alone be able to tell anyone about it."

Justin's heart sank as the full gravity of the situation settled over him. Escape wasn't an option, not with two of them, one being the size and strength of the man holding him. He was in for the beating of his life.

Or worse.

 

Out of the Shadows

Chapter 5

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Brian entered Babylon and quickly spotted the gang at the bar. Even in the short trip to meet them, he picked out three potentials for the back room.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd dropped off the face of the earth," Michael moped. "I left you like ten messages."

"Busy, busy, Mikey," Brian replied, signaling the bartender for his usual.

"Now Michael," Emmett purred, putting his arm around the shorter man's shoulders. "You can't expect Mr. Corporate America here to have time for us peons as he's climbing that ladder to success."

Brian smirked. "Climbing, my ass," he replied. "I'm already at the fucking top."

"Where else," Ted quipped.

"Jealousy doesn't become you, Theodore."

"So, Brian, tell us all about the senator's fundraiser," Emmett gushed. "I hear it was the social event to end all."

"It was all right," Brian said with a shrug. "You know how much I hate that shit."

"But you have an image to uphold now," Michael said, never able to stay angry with his best friend for long.

"There's only one image he's interested in," Ted interjected. "That of the stud of Liberty Avenue." He raised his glass and Emmett and Michael joined in the toast.

"Ha ha," Brian retorted, slapping Ted lightly on the back of the head.

Emmett rolled a cocktail napkin into a makeshift microphone and shoved it in Brian's face, only to have the other man bat it away in annoyance. That didn't deter the flamboyant man, however. "Tell us, Mr. Kinney, how exactly do you plan to balance these two very different lifestyles? That of Pittsburgh's rising star executive and that of the backroom's rising dick stud."

The others laughed and Brian grinned. "By paying very good attention to detail," he murmured as a good looking redhead walked by. "And there's a detail that's about to receive some very, very good attention. Excuse me, boys."

The others shook their heads in amusement as their friend grabbed the trick by the waistband and led him into the backroom.

"You think he picks up tricks at those high society functions?" Emmett mused wistfully.

"Nawww," Michael replied, turning back toward the bar. "I bet he's all business at those things."

"Yeah," Ted agreed thoughtfully. "I can just picture him. Scanning for new clients like a shark before sweeping in for the kill."

"That explains why he's so good at it," Emmett said with a shrug. "He's had years of practice here at Babylon."

Brian returned a short while later and smirked at his friends.

"Any good?" Michael asked.

"He was dreamy," Emmett said on a sigh.

"He was Ok," Brian answered nonchalantly.

They all knew that was the highest form of praise coming from Brian Kinney and watched the trick emerge from the backroom with a hint of admiration.

"Wanna dance?" Michael asked his best friend.

"Always," Brian replied, throwing his arm around the dark haired man's shoulders. Looking at Ted and Emmett, he smirked. "If you ladies will excuse us."

Brian danced with his friend, trying to keep his mind on where he was and who he was with. Not even the above average blowjob he'd received in the backroom had been able to draw his mind off Justin for long. Every time he caught a flash of blond hair out of the corner of his eye, he turned, hoping it might be him.

"Something wrong?" Michael yelled over the din of the music.

"Not a thing," Brian replied with his trademark smirk.

"Looks like you're looking for somebody."

He hadn't realized he'd been so obvious. He had been looking for someone, hoping that maybe Justin would grace Babylon with his presence once again. Realizing that he was probably 'working', he doubled his efforts not to think of him. Smirk still in place, he replied, "I don't go looking for them, Mikey, they come looking for me."

Michael rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "Let's just finish the dance and then you can be the looker or the lookee all you want."

Brian smiled and continued to dance, but his mind was still far removed from the crowded floor of Babylon.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Justin was still struggling against the man who held him. His screams were muffled behind the large hand over his mouth, but his legs flailed wildly and he felt a sense of satisfaction when he felt his left foot make contact and heard a pained grunt from somewhere in front of him. A moment later, a hard fist to his stomach chased away any thoughts of even small victories and he doubled over in pain, at least as much as he could with the larger man still holding him.

"Here," the man growled as he shoved Justin toward the driver. "Hold him."

Justin no longer had any urge to scream; it was enough of a chore just to draw air into his lungs at that point. He felt his arms pulled behind his back and pinned there as the driver held him tight. Bracing himself against the man's body, he kicked out with his feet in an attempt to ward off the man who could do the most damage.

A blow to his jaw left his head reeling and it took him a few seconds to once again orient himself. The distinctive sound of a switchblade flicking open brought him harshly back to his senses.

"Hold 'im," the large man grumbled. "Taylor wants that pretty face marked up good."

Justin's eyes widened in terror as he saw the man with the knife advancing toward him. It took his fevered mind a moment to realize he could hear laughter close by.

"Shit," driver man said. "Someone's coming."

Justin's eyes closed in relief. The alley was a popular shortcut to Babylon and he'd counted on his abductors not knowing that.

"Stay here," the larger man growled angrily. "We don't need a fucking audience for this." With that, he moved down the alley to dissuade the potential witnesses.

Justin knew he'd be back as soon as he'd scared off whoever had happened to wander into the alley. Recognizing his only chance at escape, he brought his left foot up, scraping the heel of his shoe down the other man's shin before stomping as hard as he could on his foot. The man immediately pulled his foot back, cursing at the pain in his leg. Taking advantage of the brief lapse in his grip, Justin wrenched free, turned and kneed him hard in the groin. Without bothering to see how effective his efforts had been, he turned and fled down the alley as fast as he could.

His head reeled from the force of the blow he'd taken, but the sound of footsteps in pursuit only urged him to go faster. The fucking alley had never seemed so long. Just as he emerged onto the more crowded street, a hand grasped his hair, pulling him back and eliciting a piteous yelp from his throat.

"Hey!" someone called. "What the fuck's going on over there?"

Through eyes blurred from tears, Justin saw a group of men crossing the street to investigate.

"Fuck," the large man exclaimed. Yanking Justin's head painfully by the handful of hair he still held, he hissed angrily into his ear, "This isn't over, Taylor." Justin had barely registered the words when he felt himself being flung forward, sprawling face down on the cement sidewalk.

The relief flooding through him was peppered with the sounds of running feet and shouting. It took a moment for him to realize someone was at his side, carefully rolling him onto his back.

"You OK, kid?" The Good Samaritan then looked over his shoulder and shouted, "Call 911."

"No!" Justin barked, triggering a painful coughing fit as his abused abdomen protested. "No cops," he finally breathed weakly.

"You need to go to a hospital," the man informed him.

Justin shook his head slightly. "No… no… hospital."

"You can't stay here," the man said somewhat impatiently. "We need to call someone."

"Brian… Brian Kinney," Justin managed, the auburn haired man being the first one to come to mind.

"Kinney's at Babylon," someone said. "I'll get him."

Letting out a breath of relief, Justin closed his eyes. His head throbbed and his muscles screamed with every breath but he felt a strange sense of peace knowing Brian was close by.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Michael, Ted and Emmett were at the bar when a young blond man hurried up to them. "Where's Kinney?" he asked urgently.

"Where else?" Ted quipped, nodding toward the backroom.

"What do you want with Brian?" Michael frowned.

"Some kid got hurt. He's asking for Brian."

"A kid?" Emmett frowned, glancing at Michael before looking at the stranger for more of an explanation.

"Looks about 16 or 17, blond hair," the man described.

Michael scoffed. "Not Brian's type."

"What's not my type, Mikey?" Brian asked, clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder as he joined the group.

"A kid got hurt in the alley across the street," the newcomer explained in a rush. "He's asking for you."

"Why me?" Brian asked, genuinely confused. "Call an ambulance or something."

"He refused," the man replied, shaking his head. "No cops, no hospital. He just wants you."

"Don't they all," Ted quipped dryly. "Though I'm surprised even you're recruiting them that young."

"I told you, blond twinks aren't his type," Michael interjected.

As soon as Brian heard the word blond, his expression hardened. Without a word to his friends or the man who'd come looking for him, he left the bar and made his way quickly toward the door.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Justin heard voices all around and realized they were probably talking about him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Only when one familiar voice broke through the crowd did he attempt to force his eyes open.

"Justin?" Brian called, kneeling by his side. "What the fuck happened?"

"This big guy was chasing him in the alley," answered the man who'd first approached Justin. "I saw him grab him by the hair to pull him back in and we headed over to see what was going on. When he saw us coming, he threw the kid down and took off."

"We chased him," another voice chimed in. "But he got in a car with another guy."

Brian was barely hearing them. His focus was on Justin. "Justin?" he asked quietly, "Can you hear me?"

Justin nodded slightly. "Yeah," he managed in a hoarse whisper. "Hurts, Brian."

"We need to get you to a hospital," Brian told him patiently.

"No," Justin gasped around the pain. "He'll know."

"Who?" Brian asked, frowning.

"My father."

Brian clenched his jaw. Around them he could hear people murmuring.

"That guy was his father."

"His father did this."

"Asshole."

Brian turned to where Mikey hovered close behind him. "Get the Jeep," he said, digging in his pocket for the keys. "I'm taking him to the loft."

"He needs a doctor, Brian," Michael pointed out reasonably.

"I said, I'm taking him to the loft," Brian repeated firmly. "Now go get the fucking Jeep."

Michael hurried off and another man pushed his way into his place a moment later. "I'm a doctor," he stated.

Brian glanced at him briefly then did a double take, one eyebrow raised. The man was dressed head to toe in black leather and was one of the most menacing bears he'd ever seen.

"Dr. Scott Malcolm," the man identified himself before turning all his attention on Justin. "Where exactly does it hurt, son?" he asked gently.

Brian shifted to give the man room to work as the large hands tentatively traveled Justin's body looking for broken bones.

"Head," Justin said, gasping as the doctor touched his jaw. "Stomach."

He hissed as the man prodded his abdomen and cried out when he pressed on his lower ribcage.

"I'd guess you've got some bruised ribs there, maybe even cracked," the doctor murmured.  "Nothing seems to be broken though."

"Can you do anything for him?" Brian asked. "He doesn't want to go to a hospital."

"Few people do," the man replied. "But that's the best place for him right now. He needs an x-ray to be on the safe side."

"No hospital," Justin muttered, trying to sit up. "I'm okay."

"You're not okay," Brian countered, gently pushing him back down.

"Brian," Justin whispered urgently. "He'll be expecting me to go there. He sent those guys to… to cut me up."

Brian's blood ran cold, either from the words or the hitch in Justin's voice as he said them, he wasn't sure. Looking at the doctor, he said decisively, "No hospital."

The doctor sighed and returned his attention to Justin. "Tell me exactly what happened. Did they hit you with anything? Did you hit your head?"

"He punched me once in the stomach and once in the face," Justin recalled. "I ran down the alley and he grabbed me by the hair. He pushed me down on the sidewalk when he took off."

The doctor felt his abdomen. "No sign of internal bleeding at this point," he said. "The muscle wall probably took most of the force of the blow." He transferred his attention to Justin's jaw where a dark bruise was already beginning to form. He gingerly moved the lower jaw back and forth while Justin moaned at the pain. "It's going to be sore for a while," he said, "but it's not broken. Did you lose consciousness at all?"

Justin shook his head slightly. "No. My head hurts, but I've had worse. I know my name and the date and I remember everything that happened."

The doctor nodded and turned to Brian with a sigh. "I think he'll be all right, but someone has to stay with him for a while. If his abdomen begins to distend and gets firm, get him to an emergency room right away."

Brian nodded. "What about his head?"

"He's maintained consciousness and he's lucid," Malcolm replied. "If anything changes in that respect…"

"Get him to an emergency room," Brian finished for him. "Got it, doc."

"Where are you taking him?" the doctor asked.

"My place," Brian answered.

Malcolm nodded. "The loft on Tremont?"

Brian looked at him with a modicum of surprise, but nodded.

"I'll follow you there," he said. "I'd like to check him over once more."

Michael arrived with the Jeep and Brian and the doctor helped Justin to his feet.

"Put him in the back seat," the doctor ordered. "I don't want any more strain on his abdomen than is necessary."

The crowd slowly dispersed as Brian maneuvered Justin toward the jeep. Getting in first, he braced his back against the door and helped the doctor position Justin so that he was reclining back against Brian's chest. "How's that?" Brian breathed into the injured man's ear.

"Fine," Justin murmured.

Satisfied, the doctor closed the door and headed for his own vehicle, promising to meet them at the loft. "Ready?" Michael asked, looking at Brian in the rearview mirror.

Brian wrapped his arms around the younger man as securely as he dared. "Let's go," he said.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Brian walked the doctor to the door of the loft after he'd checked Justin once more for signs of concussion. "What do you think?" he asked.

"He'll be fine," Malcolm assured him. "Those muscles will be sore for a while, but I gave him something for the pain. That should help a little."

Brian nodded. "Thanks."

"I think you should call the police and report the assault," the doctor suggested. "They can't keep ignoring what goes on down there."

"This was personal," Brian explained. "His father doesn't like the idea of a gay son."

"All the more reason," Malcolm said, his expression grim. "I'm required by law to report any and all cases of suspected abuse. He's just a kid, Brian."

"He looks young, but he's an adult," Brian assured him. "Craig Taylor's gay, adult son."

Understanding dawned in the doctor's dark eyes but was soon replaced by anger and disdain. "I see," he said simply.

Brian nodded. "I'm not going to make things worse for Justin. If he wants to press charges, I'll take him down to the station myself, but that has to be his decision."

The doctor nodded. "Understood. Remember what I said. Any signs of disorientation or a hard, distended abdomen, get him to a hospital. I don't care if you have to lie about his identity, understand?"

Brian smirked. "Yeah, I got it. Thanks."

With a small smile and a nod, the doctor left the building.

"Craig Taylor is his father?" asked Michael who'd heard the whole conversation from where he'd been standing a few feet away. "What the fuck, Brian?"

"Keep your voice down, Mikey," Brian admonished, glancing toward the bedroom where Justin was resting. "Yes, Craig Taylor is his father."

"How'd he manage to drag you into a fight between him and his old man?" Michael demanded. "Craig Taylor isn't somebody you want to mess with, Brian."

"What was I supposed to do, Mikey?" Brian snapped angrily. "Leave him lying on that sidewalk?"

"I guess not," Michael pouted. "But, Brian…"

"Enough, Michael," Brian cut him off.

Michael's mouth snapped shut. Brian only used his full name when he meant business. "Fine," he said after a moment. "You stay and play nursemaid to the poor little rich boy. I'm leaving."

"You don't have to leave," Brian said, his tone softening somewhat. "I just don't want any lectures right now."

Michael took a deep breath, allowing his own anger to subside. "How long have you known him?" he finally asked.

Brian shrugged. "I don't really. I mean, I see him around at different functions and stuff, but we only really talked once, and not very long at that."

Michael's frown deepened and Brian could almost see the question forming in the dark haired man's mind. "It's complicated, Mikey," he said quietly. "I really don't want to get into it now and most of it isn't my story to tell. I just couldn't leave him out there like that."

Glancing toward the bedroom, Michael's expression softened a little. "His dad did this because he's gay?" he asked in a small voice.

Brian didn't bother telling his friend that Craig Taylor had more than likely intended it to be worse. "Yeah." He didn't feel like he was breaking a confidence in admitting that; Justin had as much as told the whole of Liberty Avenue himself. He wasn't about to voice his suspicions concerning Craig's motives though.

"That fucking sucks," Michael concluded with a small frown.

"Yeah," Brian replied, unable to resist a small smile. Mikey could be annoying at times and often tried to overstep his bounds as Brian's best friend, but he had a heart of gold.

"What?" Michael asked, pouting at Brian's smile.

Shaking his head, Brian brushed off the moment of sentimentality. "Nothing. Do you want a beer?"

"I should go," Michael replied. "Let you tend to your houseguest." There was only a hint of resentment in the tone and he was smiling.

"I'd offer you the Jeep, but…" Brian shrugged almost apologetically.

"Yeah, I know. You might need it if his abdomen gets distended or he gets disoriented. I heard." He glanced toward the bedroom again. "I just hope you know what you're doing."

Brian smirked. "Don't I always?"

Michael rolled his eyes but chose not to respond to that. Heading for the door, he called over his shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow."

 

 

Out of the Shadows

Chapter 6

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Once Michael had left, Brian set the alarm and headed to the bedroom to check on his guest. Whatever Doctor Malcolm had given him for pain had put him out and he looked even younger asleep than he did awake. The blond hair fairly glowed against the dark bedding and the relaxed features hinted at an innocence that belied the dark bruise on his cheek.

An unfamiliar ringing pulled Brian from his thoughts and he dragged his gaze from the sleeping young man to look around the room. Picking up Justin's jacket, he reached in the pocket for the ringing cell phone.

"Yeah," he said simply.

"Justin?"

Brian glanced at the bed and made his way down to the living room so as not to disturb the blond. "He can't come to the phone right now."

"And who might this be?"

Brian's jaw clenched slightly as he recognized the voice. "Pendleton. It's Brian Kinney."

"Brian." Prescott sounded surprised. "Where's Justin?"

"Asleep in my bed," Brian replied simply.

"I see."

"No, I don't think you do. He should be in a hospital, but he refused to go."

"Hospital? Is he alright?" Pendleton sounded genuinely concerned.

"About as alright as he can be considering his father sent two guys to pay him a little visit," Brian ground out. "He got away before they managed to do any lasting damage." At least of the physical variety, he added silently.

"I can't believe he would stoop to that level," Prescott murmured in disbelief.

"Apparently, good ol' Craig isn't too happy with your idea of a good job for his son."

"Brian, I …"

"Justin told me what happened the night his dad kicked him out," Brian cut him off. "He also told me you were the one who got him started in the business."

"I introduced him to a friend of mine," the other man defended himself. "The choice to work for the agency was all Justin's."

"Yeah," Brian scoffed. "I'm sure he had a shitload of prospects to choose from at the time. Don't tell me with everything at your disposal you couldn't have come up with something better. They could have killed him tonight and it would have been on your head."

"Brian?"

Brian turned to see Justin standing on the bedroom step wearing only his briefs. He hesitated a moment, then walked over and handed him the phone. "Pendleton," he said grimly.

"Prescott?" Justin said quietly into the phone. After a moment, he sighed. "I'm fine, really."

Brian glanced sharply in his direction at that, but didn't say anything.

"I'll call you tomorrow," Justin was saying into the phone. "Yeah, ok. Bye."

Justin snapped the phone shut and stood looking at Brian for a moment. "You had no right to talk to him that way," he finally said. "What happened had nothing to do with him."

Brian barked a harsh laugh. "He's the one who got you that fucking job, Justin," he pointed out. "Don't tell me your hustling had nothing to do with what happened. I'm not fucking stupid, you know."

"What I do is nobody's business but mine," Justin countered defensively.

"Wrong, Justin," Brian snapped. "You're standing in my loft because you're too fucking afraid of your old man to go to a hospital. That makes it my business whether I like it or not."

Justin's expression hardened. "Not anymore," he said flatly. Moving as quickly as his injured muscles would allow, he started gathering up his clothes.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Brian demanded.

"I'm going home," Justin replied. "I'll be out of your loft in a couple of minutes."

Brian stalked toward the bedroom. "I don't think so. I'm not going to be responsible if you keel over in the fucking street, so get your ass back into that bed."

"You can't keep me here," Justin stated, glaring daggers at the other man.

"Wanna try me?" Brian asked, his gaze just as angry. After long moments spent trying to stare down the defiant blond, he heaved a heavy sigh. "Look, Justin," he said, his voice devoid of the earlier anger. "The doctor said you need someone with you tonight. I won't stop you if you want to leave, but I really would feel better if you stayed."

Justin eyed him warily. "Why?"

"Because I don't want that bear of a doctor coming after me if something happens to you, for starters," Brian replied.

The corner of Justin's mouth turned up in a ghost of a smile at that. "So it's your own ass you're trying to save."

Brian smirked. "Of course."

Justin studied the other man's face for a moment then nodded once. "Fine. I wouldn't want to see you in trouble with the doctor on my account."

Smiling in amusement, Brian replied, "I appreciate that. Now would you get that ass of yours back into the bed?"

Hesitating only briefly, Justin gingerly moved toward the bed and climbed in. Brian waited until he was covered before sitting on the edge beside him. "How are you feeling?"

Justin grimaced a little. "Like I went ten rounds with Dr. Malcolm," he muttered.

Brian chuckled. "Somehow I doubt you'd still be talking after ten rounds with him."

They were silent for a moment before Justin looked into the hazel eyes. "Thanks," he said softly. "You didn't have to do all this."

Uncomfortable with the gratitude, Brian looked away for a moment before turning back to Justin. "Want to tell me about it?"

While he didn't, he realized that he owed the man some sort of explanation after he'd put himself at risk. "My father doesn't like what I do for a living," he said coldly, lowering his eyes and pulling the duvet up closer to his chin.

Brian thought of his own infant son. "I don't suppose most fathers would."

Justin glanced at him sharply. "What would you know about it?"

"I have a son of my own," Brian replied without hesitation. "He's only a few months old, but I don't want to think of him doing what you're doing 18 years from now."

"It's not exactly the career path I envisioned either," Justin retorted flippantly. Wincing, he pushed himself to a sitting position and leaned back against the pillows. "But I need the money."

"There are other jobs out there. Safer ones."

Justin laughed at that. "What? Bussing tables in some greasy spoon?"

"It's a living," Brian countered.

"I need more than that," Justin informed him intently. "I need more than just food on the table and a roof over my head."

Brian's eyes flashed. "Why? Because you're used to having so much more than the bare necessities? A life without luxury isn't worth living?"

"You don't know anything about me," Justin spat angrily.

"Then tell me," Brian demanded. "Tell me what it is that's worth risking your life for."

Justin glared at him for a moment before turning away.

"Drugs?" Brian sneered. "Is that what you're working to support? A habit?"

Justin's head snapped back so they were facing one another again. "I want to go to art school, OK?" he barked. "What's so fucking wrong with that?"

Brian was slightly taken aback. "Nothing," he finally said. "Nothing at all."

"Not according to my father," Justin spat. "Two days after he threw me out, Prescott convinced me to call him. My old man graciously offered to let me back into my home if I agreed to give up my 'disgusting' lifestyle and attend Dartmouth." Justin took a breath, the strain on his stomach causing him to wince at the pain. "When I told him I wanted to go to art school, he told me I'd better get a damned good paying job because he wasn't forking over one red cent to send me to some sissy fag school."

Brian's anger toward the elder Taylor grew. "I see," he said dismally.

"No minimum wage job is going to pay for PIFA," Justin continued flatly. "So I took dear old dad's advice and got me a damned good paying one." He emitted a wry laugh. "You'd think he'd be happy that I listened. So what if I derived my client list from some of his most affluent business associates? He was the one who taught me to reach for the top."

The words and the derisive way in which they were delivered explained a lot. "So your choice of career is basically an elaborate 'fuck you' to your old man," Brian surmised.

Justin opened his mouth to protest then snapped it shut in frustration as he realized it was true. "So what if it is?" he finally snapped. "He deserves it for what he did to me."

"He deserves worse," Brian concurred. "But you don't, Justin. You deserve more than this." He gestured toward the dark bruise on Justin's stomach and the blond pulled the cover up higher.

"I make $1000 a night," Justin replied angrily. "And I'm going to need every cent if I get into PIFA. Tell me one other job where someone barely out of high school could make that kind of money."

Brian knew he couldn't and turned away in frustration.

"That's what I thought," Justin said coldly. He was silent for a moment and when he spoke, his voice was quieter, almost sad. "Another job might have paid for rent and food, but I never would have been able to save enough for school. It's my dream and I'm not letting anyone take that away from me, not even my father."

Brian turned back to face him. "What about a loan?" he asked in a subdued voice.

Justin laughed. "With the money my father makes, I'd never get a student loan and it's not like a bank would take an eighteen year old kid with no collateral seriously."

"But I would," Brian stated without hesitation. "I'll loan you the money. You can pay me back with interest after you graduate."

Justin stared at him in shock for a moment. "You don't even know me," he finally said.

"I know as much as I need to."

Justin shook his head. "I wouldn't take Prescott's money and I won't take yours. I need to do this on my own, to prove to my father once and for all that I don't need him."

"Bullshit," Brian said. "You're not doing this to prove a damned thing. You're just trying to hurt him like he hurt you."

Justin obstinately remained silent and Brian continued. "And you did that. He wouldn't have bothered sending those guys tonight if he wasn't affected by what you're doing."

"Those guys were sent to make me less attractive to the clientele," Justin shot back angrily. "He had a knife, Brian. A fucking knife! And my father was paying him to use it on ME!"

Justin's voice broke on the last word and Brian instinctively put a hand on the blond's shoulder to calm the distraught man.

Turning his head away, the younger man struggled to rein in his emotions. "What kind of father does that?" he whispered harshly.

Taking the other man's chin gently in his hand, Brian turned the blond head to face him. "The kind who doesn't deserve to be a father," he said quietly.

Justin's pain filled eyes met the hazel ones regarding him intently and he swallowed hard. "I'm tired."

Brian knew that meant the discussion was over. "Ok," he said, getting to his feet. "Get some sleep. You can decide what you want to do in the morning."

Justin nodded and slid carefully down in the bed until he was in a more comfortable position for sleeping. Without another word to Brian, he closed his eyes.

Brian stood looking at him for a moment before turning off the light and leaving the room. He went over to his desk and lowered himself wearily into the leather chair with a heavy sigh. What the fuck had possessed him to let the kid recover at the loft? The last thing he needed was to be involved in Craig Taylor's mess. A slight moan from the bedroom caught his attention and he looked in that direction, sighing again.

Like it or not, that's exactly what he was - involved.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Justin awoke to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Moving carefully, he got out of the bed and made his way slowly to the bathroom. After relieving himself, he stood at the sink, washing his hands and staring at his own reflection in the mirror. The bruise on the side of his face had turned an ugly blackish purple and made the rest of his skin look even paler than normal by comparison. His eyes seemed dull and lifeless and there was a tightness around his mouth he wasn't used to seeing. Shaking his head slightly, he lowered his eyes, no longer able to look at the pathetic image that looked back. When he exited the bathroom, he began gathering up his clothes.

"Here," Brian said, handing him a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. "No sense putting dirty clothes back on."

"Thanks," Justin murmured, taking the proffered clothing.

Brian simply nodded and returned to the kitchen. Once Justin was dressed, he joined him, tentatively climbing onto one of the stools with only a small wince as the injured muscles protested.

"Feeling any better?" Brian asked, putting a mug of coffee on the counter in front of his guest.

"That depends," Justin muttered. "Better than what?"

Brian smirked. "I guess that answers my first question."

Justin took a deep breath, gleaning from Brian's comment that it was the first of many. "What else do you want to know?" he asked miserably.

"What do you plan to do now?" Brian asked without preamble.

Justin looked up at him with a sheepish expression. "Finish my coffee in peace?"

A raised eyebrow was his only response. Sighing, he lowered his eyes back to his mug. "I don't know. He's obviously been in contact with the agency, so he probably knows where I live. Probably has his faithful employee staking the place out so he can finish what he started." He stared thoughtfully into the dark liquid for a moment. "I guess I'll just try to lay low for a while. If he thinks he scared me into leaving his colleagues alone, he might lose interest."

"And has he?" Brian asked. "Scared you into leaving his colleagues alone?"

Flashing blue eyes snapped up to meet hazel. "Despite what my father thinks, I'm not some scared little faggot."

"No," Brian said with a small smile. "You're not." His expression sobered as he continued. "But knowing the lengths he's willing to go to, giving it up may not be such a bad idea."

"Just because he wants me to? I don't fucking think so," Justin retorted. "He lost any right to tell me what to do when he kicked me out of his life."

"But if you stay in it out of spite, you're still doing it because of him, not because it's what you want. How's that any different?"

Justin couldn't argue with that logic and turned his head sharply away so as not to have to see the intense eyes staring into his. After a long moment, he closed his eyes. "It may have started out that way, but…"

"But what?"

He turned to face the ad exec once again. "You're right," he admitted. "At first it was to hurt my father. But then, once I started, it was like, I don't know, so different from anything I'd ever felt before. I've lived my whole life in the shadows, always Craig Taylor's son, the heir to the Taylor money, the faceless kid who'd someday take over his father's vast holdings." His eyes took on an even sadder look as he spoke. "For the first time in my life, people are seeing me, Justin. The guys I go out with see that I'm smart and funny and talented. They like being seen in public with me; it makes them feel good about themselves and… and it makes me feel good too. They ask for me because they want me. Me, Justin. Not Craig Taylor's kid. They don't care about the money; they only care about being with me, even if it's just for one night. Do you have any idea how incredible that can feel when you've never had it before?"

Brian watched a single tear roll down the pale cheek and had to swallow the lump in his own throat. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I think I do."

Justin was embarrassed when he realized how much he'd revealed. Doing his best to mask his emotions, he turned away, clearing his throat.

Seeing the kid's unease, Brian offered a little of his own honesty. "My own father never wanted me and he didn't miss one opportunity to remind me of that, usually with his fists."

Justin turned back slowly, regarding the other man with obvious interest.

It was Brian's turn to focus on his coffee mug as he continued. "I spent most of my childhood knowing that nobody really wanted me," he said quietly. A wry smile touched his lips as he thought back. "Until I had my first sexual encounter when I was 14."

"That's really young," Justin said softly.

Brian nodded. "My high school gym teacher. It was the most famous shower scene since Psycho." He paused a moment, then cleared his throat. "Anyway, even if it was only for a few minutes, I felt like someone really wanted me, like maybe I was more than just Jack Kinney's mistake."

Silence reigned for a moment before Justin spoke. "So you know what it's like to live in the shadows," he said quietly.

Brian's gaze flickered up to meet his briefly. "Yeah," he said. "I worked hard, went to college, got my degree. I went from being the kid nobody wanted to the man everybody wanted. It's a powerful feeling."

Justin nodded in agreement, but didn't say anything.

"I never told my parents I was gay," Brian continued, looking up in time to catch the surprised look on Justin's face. "I could have. It would have been the perfect way to get back at Jack, to let him know he had a fag for a son."

"So, why didn't you?"

"Because it was none of their fucking business," Brian replied evenly. "It's my life. I never mattered enough to them to show interest, and now they don't matter enough to me to know how I live or what I do."

Justin considered that for a moment. The parallels between Brian's story and his own life weren't lost on him, but there were also one glaring difference. Justin's father was a very powerful and dangerous man who was used to getting what he wanted in life. And at the moment, he wanted nothing more than to remove the blight from his family name.

Even if that blight was his only son.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of someone banging on the loft door.

Brian opened it to find a breathless Michael on the other side. "Mikey," he said. "Shouldn't you be at the gym?"

"There's trouble," Michael replied, making his way into the loft. He stopped briefly when he saw Justin. "Hey," he said, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"Hi," Justin replied with a small smile. He hadn't missed the look on Michael's face when he'd seen him. "I should leave the two of you alone," he suggested, slipping awkwardly from the bar stool. "I'll just go take a shower if that's all right."

"You should probably stay," Michael said, meeting the younger man's eyes only briefly. "This concerns you."

"What does?" Brian asked.

Michael took a deep breath. "There have been cops all over Liberty Ave. this morning. They came into the diner while we were having breakfast." He looked at Justin once again. "They're looking for you."

"Me?" Justin frowned. "What for?"

"They wouldn't say," Michael replied grimly. "But I think this pretty much explains it." He held out the morning paper and Justin took it. His eyes got wide as he read the lead story and Brian moved to look over his shoulder.

The headline read 'Suspect Sought in Overnight Stabbing' with a picture of Justin Taylor prominently displayed.

"Fuck," Brian breathed.

Justin looked confused. "They think I stabbed someone?" He turned to look at Brian while the older man took the paper from his hand and continued reading. "Why would they think that?"

Brian read a little further. "The victim was a guy by the name of Steven Wyatt. You know him?"

Justin shook his head. "No. No, I don't think so."

"Says here he was an employee of your father's." He flipped the paper over to continue reading. "There's a picture," he said, holding it out for Justin to see.

"That was the guy who was driving last night when they picked me up," Justin explained. "I didn't know his name."

"Well, now he's in critical condition at Allegheny General and a witness supposedly saw you do it."

"What witness?" Justin asked, still in shock. "How could someone see me do it when I didn't?"

"The best defense is a good offense," Brian muttered, finishing the article and throwing the paper aside in frustration.

"You think his father is behind this?" Michael asked, surprised.

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. "If he thought Justin was going to report the assault, he'd want to destroy his credibility. I'd say he's done a pretty good job."

Michael digested that information. "But there were witnesses last night," he pointed out. "They saw that guy chasing Justin."

"A bunch of fags, Mikey," Brian reminded him. "You think the cops are going to take their word over Craig Taylor's?"

Justin spoke for the first time since Brian had tossed the paper aside. "I need to go."

Brian watched with a frown as the young man headed toward the bedroom. "What? Go where?"

Justin was gathering his clothes hurriedly as he called out an answer. "Lots of people know you brought me here. It's only a matter of time before the cops show up looking for me."

"He's right," Michael agreed.

Brian shot his best friend a look before turning his attention to Justin. "And your face is in every fucking house in the city by now. How far do you think you'll get before someone spots you and turns you in?"

Justin returned carrying his clothes. "I don't want you to get into trouble because of me."

The phone rang before Brian had a chance to respond. "Yeah," he said answering it after the first ring. Grimacing, he held the phone slightly away from his ear. "Calm down, Deb. I can explain."

"Then start explaining, asshole," Deb demanded. "I've had two people in here telling me you took that kid in the paper home last night."

"I did," Brian admitted.

"What!?" Deb exclaimed. "Brian, do you know who this kid is? Do you know what he's done?"

"He hasn't done anything," Brian replied somewhat defensively. "And yes, I know who he is. His father sent two guys to rough him up last night and he got away. Now one of those guys is in the hospital and I'll bet a month's salary the other one is the 'oh so reliable' witness."

"I don't understand, Brian," Deb complained. "Why would his father do that?"

"Because Justin's gay and Craig Taylor's too good to have a gay son," Brian grated.

"Shit," Debbie breathed.

"Yeah," Brian agreed quietly. "I've got to go, Deb. Too many people know he's here. I've got to figure out what to do before the cops start banging down the door."

"Take him to my place," Deb said without hesitation. "I'll call Vic. They won't think of looking for him there."

Brian smiled in obvious relief. "Thanks, Deb," he said softly.

"Never mind thanking me, just get that kid out of there." Though the words sounded harsh, Brian easily recognized the compassion beneath them.

"I will," he promised. "Michael's here. We'll leave right away."

"Just be careful," she warned with concern.

"Always am," he said with a smirk. "Bye, Deb."

"What was that all about?" Michael asked once he'd hung up the phone.

"Your mom says he can stay at her place."

"No way," Justin exclaimed, shaking his head. "She could get into a lot of trouble."

"Trust me," Michael intoned, "It'll be Brian and me in trouble if we don't do as she says. You don't know my mom."

"Brian…"

"Mikey's right," Brian cut him off. "Deb would have our balls on a plate if we let anything happen to you now that she knows your story. And if we don't leave now, we may not get the chance."

Looking from one man to the other, Justin sighed. "Fine," he finally relented. "But this is only temporary until I figure something else out."

"Don't worry, Boy Wonder," Michael grinned. "I wasn't looking to adopt a baby brother."

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Brian and Justin arrived at Deb's shortly after Michael did and Vic greeted them at the door.

"You must be Justin," the older man smiled. "Funny, you don't look like public enemy #1."

"Thanks," Justin smiled wanly. "I think."

Vic laughed and put his arm around the blond's shoulders. "Don't worry about a thing, Justin. You can stay here as long as you need to."

Justin's smile was more genuine. "Thanks," he said again. "I really do appreciate this."

"It's our pleasure," Vic assured him. "We haven't had a young stud around the house since Michael moved out."

Michael rolled his eyes at his uncle's obvious teasing. "Come on, Justin, you can stay in my old room."

Justin glanced uncertainly at Brian, but when the auburn haired man nodded, he followed Michael up the stairs.

Once they were out of earshot, Vic led the way to the kitchen. "So, tell me, how did the stud of Liberty Avenue end up housing a fugitive from justice?"

Brian took a seat at the table while Vic poured coffee. "He wasn't a fugitive at the time, Vic. He was a victim. His dad sent a couple of goons to rough him up and he was afraid to go to the hospital, so he asked for me."

"Why you?" Vic asked, returning to the table with two cups of coffee.

Brian shrugged. "We've seen each other around at different events. Talked once or twice. He was attacked near Babylon and probably figured I'd be there. It's not like he could have called his family."

"So I hear," Vic said, shaking his head sadly. "Who knew Craig Taylor could be such an asshole?"

"Justin did," Brian replied grimly. "Unfortunately, no one is going to take the word of an 18 year old gay man over a wealthy businessman."

At that moment, Michael returned looking somewhat uncomfortable.

"Where's Justin?" Brian asked.

"Still upstairs," Michael replied, helping himself to coffee. "Everything seemed to hit him all at once so I thought I should give him some privacy while he pulled himself together."

Brian thought for a moment, then got up without a word and headed for the staircase. Once he was gone, Michael lowered himself into a chair across from his uncle. "Poor kid," he commiserated. "He's pretty upset."

"Being attacked and then waking up to learn you're the subject of a city-wide dragnet will do that to you," Vic said solemnly.

Michael glanced up toward the second floor and sighed. "Yeah," he agreed glumly.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Brian knocked on the familiar door then entered without waiting for an invitation. Justin stood with his back to him, his arms wrapped tightly around himself as he stared out the window.

"You OK?" Brian asked.

It was a moment before Justin acknowledged the question. When he did, it was with a slow shake of his head.

For a brief moment, Brian was torn between leaving him to his privacy and taking him in his arms. He hated what was happening to the blond, especially knowing it had all started because his father leaned he was gay. When he saw the young man hastily wipe at his eyes, his decision was made. Without a word, he made his way toward the window and placed his hands gently on the other man's shoulders, turning the blond to face him. He closed his eyes when Justin wrapped his arms around his waist and buried his face in his shirt. "We'll work it out," he promised in a quiet voice as he rubbed slow, soothing circles on the smaller man's back.

Justin didn't answer, but Brian felt his head move slightly as he nodded. After a moment, the blond pulled back slightly and raised worried eyes to meet Brian's. "What if they don't believe me, Brian?" he asked quietly. "I don't want to go to jail."

"You won't," Brian assured him, stroking a tear stained cheek. "You've got the truth on your side."

Justin snorted in dismay. "My father can buy an awful lot of truth."

"He's just a man, Justin," Brian reminded him gently. "Despite what he thinks, his money doesn't make him invincible." He saw a glimmer of hope in the blue eyes and offered a small smile of encouragement. "Have I ever lied to you?"

Justin adopted a sad smile of his own. "Considering the fact that we barely know each other, I can't say as you have."

"Then trust me; everything will work out."

Justin pressed his cheek against the other man's chest, listening to the strong heartbeat beneath his ear. "I hope so," he whispered.

Tightening his hold slightly, Brian kissed the top of the blond head. Me too, he silently thought.

 

Out of the Shadows

Chapter 7

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

When Brian returned to the kitchen a few minutes later, two pairs of eyes looked up at him questioningly. "He's asleep," Brian informed them. "He's pretty wiped out."

"So, what do we do now?" Michael asked.

"I'm going to the police station," Brian replied. "I'm going to tell them exactly what happened last night and who was behind it."

"What if they don't believe you?" Vic asked.

"They might not as a denizen of Liberty Ave., but as one of this city's more successful businessmen, they'd better at least fucking listen."

Michael and Vic shared a smile.

"What?" Brian asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," Michael replied, still smiling. "We were just wondering how long it was going to take for the superhero persona to kick in."

Brian grimaced. "Save the superhero shit for your comics, Mikey. Think of me more as a concerned citizen."

"Ahhh," Vic mused, raising his coffee cup to his lips. "A citizen concerned about a certain hot blond, perhaps?"

Brian glanced toward the stairs and then back at the other two men. "What he's going through would have most grown men shitting bricks," he said with only a hint of a proud smile. "He's got a lot of guts."

"That's not all he's got a lot of," Vic murmured under his breath, only to have Michael nudge his foot under the table. Looking up, Vic raised his eyebrows at Brian. "Any message in case he wakes up before you get back?"

Brian smirked. "You wish. Any message I have for Justin, I'll give him myself."

"I'm sure you will," Vic replied with a knowing wink.

Rolling his eyes, Brian headed for the front door.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Brian glanced at the clock above the door and breathed a frustrated sigh. He'd spoken to the desk sergeant twenty minutes ago and had been waiting for someone to take his statement ever since. Just when he was about to return to the desk to ask how much longer he'd have to wait, a man in a slightly rumpled suit approached the area where he waited.

"Mr. Brian Kinney?"

Brian got to his feet. "Yes."

The man extended his hand. "Detective Carl Horvath. Sorry to keep you waiting. If you'll follow me, I'll take your statement now."

Brian followed him to a small room with a table and two chairs.

"Have a seat," Horvath said, nodding toward one of the chairs. Once Brian was seated, he lowered his sturdy frame into the other chair and retrieved a pen from his pocket. "So, I understand you have something to report regarding an assault last night."

"Yes," Brian replied. "An assault on the same young man you consider a suspect in last night's stabbing."

"And that young man would be?" the detective prodded.

Brian smirked, knowing that the other man was concerned about putting words in his mouth. "Justin Taylor," he answered.

Carl made a note on the legal pad on the table in front of him. "Did you see Taylor last night, Mr. Kinney?"

"If you mean Justin, yes, I saw him."

"Where and when?"

Brian took a deep breath. "I was at Babylon on Liberty Avenue." He paused when Carl looked up with a raised eyebrow.

"Go on," the detective urged, returning his eyes to the pad before him.

"As I said," Brian continued, his voice slightly colder. "I was at Babylon and it was about 11:30 when a guy came in and said there was an injured kid outside asking for me. I went out and found Justin lying on the sidewalk. He'd been hit in the abdomen and in the face."

"Did you see who hit him?"

Brian shook his head. "I didn't," he admitted. "Some other witnesses claimed they chased the guy down the alley but lost him when he took off in a car with another guy."

"So you couldn't describe these alleged assailants," Horvath surmised.

"No, but I can describe what they did to Justin and what Justin said to me."

"Just what did Mr. Taylor say?"

"He said that his father had sent those to men to … to cut him up."

Horvath looked up with a frown. "Cut him up?" he repeated. "Any idea what he meant by that?"

Brian considered how much he could tell the men while still keeping Justin's profession out of it. "He's a good looking kid and he's gay," he answered. "He'd recently been seen at certain functions with at least one known associate of Craig Taylor's. Apparently, the old man didn't like that and decided it would be best if his esteemed colleagues didn't find Justin quite so attractive."

Carl winced a little and cleared his throat. "I see," he said simply.

Brian leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table. "Do you?" he challenged. "Do you realize what could have happened to him if he hadn't escaped when he did? Do you have any idea how sick a man has to be to send someone to do that to his own son?"

Horvath met his eyes with a steady gaze. "Believe me, Mr. Kinney, I've seen more sick people in this job than I care to remember and some of the most horrific brutalities are those inflicted by family members."

Brian saw the sincerity in the other man's eyes and leaned back in his chair. "So what are you doing about this particular brutality?"

"We've talked to Mr. Taylor. He denies knowing anything about an assault on his son."

"I don't doubt it," Brian scoffed. "I suppose he also convinced you that Justin was capable of stabbing that man."

Horvath leaned back in his chair and regarded the man across from him thoughtfully for a moment. "He hinted at the fact that the kid had some emotional problems."

Brian barked a wry laugh. "Yeah, being kicked out of your home with nothing but the clothes on your back will do that. Any emotional problems he's got stem from learning that his father would rather have him sliced up than accept who he is."

The detective nodded once in sad acknowledgement of those words. Returning to his notepad, he continued the questioning. "After you saw Justin Taylor on Liberty Ave., did you see him again?"

"He didn't want to go to the hospital so I took him to my place," Brian informed him.

Carl looked up. "Is he still there?"

"No, he isn't," Brian said truthfully. "He left as soon as he saw this morning's paper."

"And you have no idea where he went from there?" the detective pressed.

"I came down here to report a crime," Brian reminded him. "Am I being interrogated now?"

A hint of smile touched Carl's lips. "No, of course not, Mr. Kinney. So, you say Justin Taylor was at your place of residence from 11:30 until some time this morning?"

"That's right," Brian concurred.

"Can anyone verify that?"

"Justin can. There was a doctor who examined him at my loft around midnight, but he left shortly after that. So did my best friend, Michael."

Horvath perked up at that. "A doctor treated his injuries?"

Brian nodded. "Yes."

"And this doctor's name?" Carl asked, pen poised.

"I'd rather not say," Brian told him. "If he wants to attest to the fact that he saw Justin, that's up to him."

"How am I supposed to corroborate your story if I don't know who he is?"

"That's not my problem," Brian informed him flatly. "But I'm sure you can understand why he might not want it to get out that he was on Liberty Ave. when Justin was hurt."

Carl nodded reluctantly. "I can," he admitted. "But if I can verify that Justin was at your place and injured, it will go a long way in clearing him of suspicion in the stabbing of Steven Wyatt."

"Justin identified this Steven Wyatt as one of the men who abducted and assaulted him. I'm betting your star witness is the other." Brian could practically see the wheels turning and suspected the detective was coming to the same conclusion he had.

"The paper said the stabbing occurred around 3 a.m.," Brian continued. "I can assure you Justin was at my loft, out like a light, from shortly after midnight until nearly six."

The terminology piqued the detective's interest. "Did this doctor give him something?"

Brian smiled slightly. "For the pain, yes. Between the medication and the ordeal itself, he slept like a log."

Horvath's expression was thoughtful as he let out a long breath. "For what it's worth, I believe you, but Chief Stockwell might be harder to convince."

Brian's eyes narrowed, knowing that the chief of police had very little regard for Liberty Avenue and its residents. "Why, because he's a homophobic asshole just like Craig Taylor?"

Horvath smiled wryly but didn't respond. "Anything else you have to tell me?"

Brian shook his head. "That's all I know."

Horvath slid the pad over to him. "Read what I've written. If you agree that these are your words, please sign at the bottom of the page."

Brian read the transcript carefully and signed the sheet. "Is that it?"

"For now," Carl replied, getting to his feet as Brian did the same. "If I have any further questions, I'll be in touch."

Brian handed him a card with his personal information. "Thanks."

Just as he reached the door, Horvath said, "We'll still need to talk to Justin."

Brian turned, one eyebrow quirked. "If I see him, I'll be sure to tell him that." He left the room without noticing the small smile that crossed the detective's face.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Brian's intention was to head straight to Deb's after leaving the police station, but the sight of a dark car in his rearview mirror made him change his mind. His suspicion grew as he neared the loft and he smirked as he watched the car park behind his in front of the building. He was getting out of his vehicle when two men in suits approached him.

"Brian Kinney?" the shorter of the two men asked.

"Yes," Brian said simply.

They each flashed a badge. "Detective Munroe and this is my partner, Detective Williams. We have a search warrant for your loft, Mr. Kinney."

"We've had several reports that you brought a young man, a Mr. Justin Taylor, home with you last night," the second detective said. "Is he on the premises?"

"No, he's not," Brian replied. "But you're going to look anyway, aren't you?"

"Your cooperation would make it easier, but it's not necessary," Munroe said.

Brian gestured wearily toward the door and the two detectives followed him into the building.

Once in the loft, they asked Brian to take a seat. Williams headed toward the bedroom area while Munroe took a notebook and pen from his pocket. "When was the last time you saw the suspect?"

Brian's jaw clenched slightly at the label, but he answered truthfully. "He stayed here last night and left this morning after he saw the article in the paper."

The phone rang and Brian's heart sank. Praying it wasn't Justin, he started to get to his feet.

"I'd rather you didn't answer that, sir," Munroe said.

"Why not?" Brian asked with a frown.

Williams came out of the bedroom and walked over to the phone. "There's a machine," he informed his partner.

"Then I think it best you let whoever it is leave a message," Munroe said to Brian.

Brian swallowed. The last thing he wanted was for the two detectives to overhear the message, especially if it was from Justin or Michael.

After the third ring, the machine picked up. "Kinney here, leave a message."

Munroe glanced at Brian who only shrugged.

"Brian, this is Dr. Malcolm. Please call me when you get this message…"

As the doctor went on to leave his number, Munroe turned his attention back to Brian.

"My proctologist," Brian explained, tongue in cheek.

Munroe cleared his throat and continued with his questioning. "Any idea where Mr. Taylor went when he left here?"

"I already gave my statement to Detective Horvath," Brian said.

"We don't know anything about that, sir," Munroe responded. "Our orders come straight from Chief Stockwell."

That figures, Brian thought. Aloud, he said, "For the last time, the kid was hurt, I brought him here around midnight, he slept until around 6, woke up, saw the paper and took off."

Williams joined them. "There's nobody else here," he reported.

Munroe turned back to Brian. "Do you expect him to return?"

"Fuck no," Brian scoffed. "The kid was scared shitless when he heard about that phony stabbing accusation. If he's got any brains at all, he's in the next state by now."

Getting nothing else out of the ad exec, the detectives left a few minutes later. Brian looked out the window until he saw them get into their call before going to the phone. Playing back Malcolm's message, he jotted down the number and returned the call.

"Scott Malcolm,"

"Brian Kinney. You called?"

"I read about Justin in the paper. What's going on, Brian?"

Brian took a deep breath. "From what I can figure, Craig's trying to discredit Justin so that he doesn't go to jail himself."

"Was he at your place all night?"

"Yes," Brian replied.

"OK," Malcolm responded. "I'm going to report what happened last night. I wasn't going to, for Justin's sake, but I think it'll do him more good than harm at this point."

Brian let out a breath of relief. "Ask for a Detective Horvath," he suggested. "I gave him a statement about an hour ago. I told him Justin had been seen by a doctor, but I didn't give him your name."

"I appreciate that," Malcolm chuckled, "but this is more important than what I do in my free time. Where's Justin now?"

"He's safe," Brian said evasively. "The cops were here looking for him when you called."

"If you talk to him, tell him I'm going to talk to the police right now."

"Thanks," Brian said with a small smile. "I will."

He disconnected the call and placed another to Deb's house.

"Hello."

"Vic, it's Brian."

"How did things go?"

"Fine. I was going to go back there, but I had two cops follow me from the station. They had a search warrant for the loft."

Vic sighed. "Michael told me they were asking a lot of questions around Liberty Ave. this morning. I'm sure more than one person told them he went home with you, but they probably didn't realize why they were asking at the time."

"Don't worry about it," Brian assured him. "How's Justin?"

"He slept for about an hour. Michael's up there with him talking comics while I fix lunch."

Brian chuckled. "Good ol' Mikey. Tell them I'll get there when I can, OK?"

"Do you think the cops know you know where he is?"

"I think they suspect, anyway," Brian answered. "Don't worry; I'll take care of it."

"Be careful."

"Yes, Deb," Brian replied with a smirk.

Vic chuckled. "Asshole."

"Bye, Vic."

Brian hung up the phone and grabbed his keys. He was almost to the door when he returned to his bedroom and grabbed his gym bag out of the closet. They were still looking for Justin, he knew that, and they probably thought that Brian would eventually lead them right to him. Smiling to himself, Brian drove to the gym and parked the Jeep out front.

"A little later in the day than usual," Tony, the gym manager, greeted him.

"No time to work out, today," Brian informed him. "I need a favour."

Tony flashed a blinding smile. "Anything."

After listening to Brian's story, Tony gestured for the other man to join him and headed toward the office in the back of the building. Handing Brian his keys, he said, "My car's out back."

Brian traded the Jeep keys for the ones Tony held. "Thanks," he said. "I appreciate this."

After leaving through the back exit, Brian took Tony's vehicle and left the gym. He drove aimlessly for a while, making sure he wasn't followed, before he finally made his way to Deb's house.

Michael and Vic were in the kitchen eating lunch when Brian walked in.

"Hey," he greeted them with a small smile. "Where's Justin?"

"Upstairs," Michael answered.

"He said he wasn't hungry, but I made Michael take him a sandwich anyway," Vic added.

Brian nodded and headed for the stairs. When he got to the familiar door of Michael's old room, he knocked softly.

"Yeah," came a subdued voice from the other side.

Brian opened the door and took in the scene before him. The lunch tray sat untouched on a table by the window and Justin lay on his side on the bed, staring at the wall.

"You should eat," Brian said, entering the room and closing the door.

"Not hungry," Justin replied in a listless tone. "Besides, I hear they don't feed you that well in prison. I figured I might as well get used to it now. That way it won't be such a shock to my system."

Brian couldn't resist a small smile of amusement. Crossing the room, he stretched out his long frame alongside that of the other man and propped himself up on one elbow. "Nobody's going to prison," he said quietly, rubbing his hand up and down the blond's arm.

It was a moment before Justin rolled onto his back. "Face it, Brian, I'm fucked," he said in defeat as he stared at the ceiling. "I always knew that he was unrelenting when he went after something but I never thought that something would be me, you know?"

"Well this is one time Craig Taylor isn't going to win," Brian assured him, reaching up to brush the hair off the other man's forehead. "I told the police what happened and Dr. Malcolm is probably down there as we speak."

Justin turned his head to face him. "Really?"

Brian nodded. "He called me. When I told him what was going on, he told me to tell you he was leaving right away to file a report."

The blue eyes held a combination of hope and trepidation. "Do you think that will help?"

"Wyatt was stabbed around 3 a.m. according to the so-called 'witness'. I know you were at the loft then and Malcolm knows what kind of shape you were in when he left. Between your injuries and whatever he gave you for the pain, he'll tell them there's no way you could have done it."

Justin considered that for a moment. "But will that be enough?"

Brian rolled his lips between his teeth. "They're still going to want to talk to you," he finally said. "They want your version of what happened last night."

Justin's eyes widened slightly. "If I go down there now, even to file charges, they'll lock me up. It could be months before they can prove what really happened."

Brian had been thinking similar thoughts. Even with his statement and that of Dr. Malcolm, there would have to be an investigation. Someone stabbed Steven Wyatt and that person had to be held accountable. Justin, as the prime suspect thanks to the bogus eye-witness testimony, could very well find himself spending time in jail until the truth was confirmed - if it ever was.

"I'll do whatever I can to make sure that doesn't happen," he said quietly, knowing he could promise no more than that.

Justin stared at him for a few seconds. "Why do you care so much what happens to me?" he asked.

Hazel eyes searched blue as though looking for an answer. "I don't know," he finally answered honestly.

Slowly, almost tentatively, Justin raised one hand to touch Brian's cheek. His eyes roamed over the other man's features, lingering briefly on the inviting coral lips. Sliding his hand to the back of the other man's neck, he pulled his head down for a long, tender kiss. Brian gently pulled him closer until their bodies were touching, chest to chest, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. When their lips finally parted, Justin looked up into the warm, hazel eyes. "Whatever the reason," he whispered. "I'm glad."

Brian's small smile was genuine as he replied. "Me, too."

They were silent for a few minutes while they thought about their predicament. "I appreciate everything you did for me," Justin finally said in a quiet voice. "No matter what happens, I'll never forget it."

"Whatever happens, we'll deal with it," Brian promised, cutting off the word 'together' before it had a chance to escape.

He wasn't sure what it was about the blond man that made him want to even think such words, let alone say them. Brian Kinney was the king of non-commitment, after all. He couldn't care less what was going on in a trick's life, so long as he had a willing ass and competent mouth. That's where his interest ended. Most of the time he couldn't even be bothered to learn their names, much less remember them.

But the name Justin Taylor had stuck with him since the first night they'd met at Pendleton's launch party. Sure, the kid was hot and had a great ass, but Brian could take his pick of hot guys any day of the week. What made Justin Taylor so different? What was it that made Brian feel so damned good just holding the man in his arms?

As though reading his thoughts, Justin began to pull out of his embrace. "Where are you going?" Brian asked with a small frown. He hadn't actually said any of that aloud had he? As tired as he was from all the excitement and lack of sleep the night before, anything was possible.

"Bathroom," Justin said with a small smile. "Be right back."

He managed to contain a sigh of relief and just nodded. When the younger man left the room, he closed his eyes to await his return, idly thinking about how empty his arms felt without Justin in them. He was still pondering just how dickless that made him when he drifted off to sleep.

 

 

Out of the Shadows

Chapter 8

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Justin returned from the bathroom down the hall to find Brian sleeping. Knowing the man had most likely been up most of the night and feeling responsible for that, he quietly moved to the table by the window and retrieved the tray sitting there. At the door, he turned for one last look at the sleeping man and smiled before making his way toward the stairs.

Michael was in the kitchen flipping through a comic when Justin appeared carrying the tray.

"Where's Brian?" the dark-haired man asked.

"Asleep," Justin informed him as he sat the untouched lunch tray on the counter. He picked up the plate with the sandwich and carried it to the table where he took a seat.

Michael took the one across from him and watched as the younger man picked at the sandwich.

"It'll do you more good if you actually eat it," he finally said.

Justin shrugged. "Sorry, I'm just not very hungry, I guess." He picked up the sandwich and took a small bite anyway.

"I guess that's understandable," Michael commiserated. "Been kinda rough, huh?"

Justin nodded slowly. "I knew my father hated the idea of me being gay, but I never thought he'd take it this far."

"What do you plan to do now?" Michael asked.

Justin shrugged again. "I don't know. I guess I have to talk to the police at some point. Hopefully they'll be able to find out what really happened; I don't want to go to jail."

"Does Brian think that's still a possibility?"

Justin sighed. "More like a probability." A sad smile touched his lips as he thought of Brian's words. "Though Brian is determined to do what he can to prevent it. I know he might not be able to, but I've never really had anyone willing to try so hard before. He's … nice."

Michael took note of the familiar look in the blond's eyes. "He has his moments," he replied. "Look, Justin, I'm Brian's best friend. I've known him since we were in junior high."

The words came through as a sort of warning and Justin frowned slightly. "So?"

"So I know what he's like better than anyone. Brian is trying to help you because he doesn't like the idea of your dad getting away with what he's done, but don't read any more into it than that."

"What do you mean?" Justin asked warily.

Michael sighed. "I mean don't take it to mean that he cares about you more than he does. Brian isn't the type to get involved with anyone. He doesn't do relationships or anything like that. He likes to fuck, period. He has two or three different guys a night sometimes." He saw the effect his words were having on the blond and regretted the pain he saw in the blue eyes but figured it would be less painful in the long run to know the truth from the start. "He took you home last night because you had nowhere else to go," he continued gently.

Justin's expression turned neutral as he tried to mask the feelings Michael's words invoked. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

"Because I don't want to see you get hurt any more than you already have been," Michael explained quietly. "And falling for Brian Kinney is one sure way to do that."

Justin was silent as he stared down at the sandwich before him. "He kissed me," he said after a while, his voice barely audible.

Michael felt a stab of sympathy for the kid. "Just don't read too much into it, OK? Brian doesn't believe in love or relationships. He believes in fucking but doesn't do repeats. Once he's had you, you're yesterday's news. He's never going to change, not for you, not for anybody."

Justin's eyes flashed as they rose to meet Michael's. "Did he fuck you?"

"We're best friends," Michael defended himself. "You don't fuck your friends."

Justin sneered. "So that's it. You don't want to take the chance of someone else getting what you can't have and so obviously want."

"Look, you little shit," Michael retorted angrily. "I was just trying to do you a favour. Brian may want to fuck you, but he's not about to change his lifestyle for a piece of blond boy ass."

Justin got to his feet, nearly knocking the chair over in his haste. "Fuck you, Michael," he hissed.

"Where are you going?" Michael demanded as he followed the blond.

"This piece of blond boy ass is no longer any concern of yours," Justin retorted as he reached the front door. Involuntarily, he looked toward the stairs briefly, before turning icy blue eyes on Michael. "Tell your best friend thanks." With that, he flung open the door and stormed out.

Running a hand through his hair, Michael tried to decide on the best course of action. Vic had gone out to pick up his meds which left only Brian and him in the house. He knew his friend would be pissed that the kid had left, but it was probably for the best. Slowly, he headed up the stairs to fill Brian in on the recent developments. The sooner the Taylors were out of their lives, the better off they'd all be.

He paused in the doorway to his old room, his gaze taking in the peaceful, sleeping form of his best friend. Seeing Brian like this, it was almost like they were teenagers again. Many a time Brian had camped out in his room after being beaten by Jack Kinney. When he slept, there was no sign of the battered teen he'd once been, no sign of the carefree stud he'd become. There was only Brian, his best friend and the most beautiful man Michael had ever seen.

Sitting down on the side of the bed, he touched Brian's shoulder gently. "Hey."

Brian murmured something then rolled onto his back cracking one eye open. "Mikey," he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. "What are you doing here?"

Michael smiled. "It's my room, remember?"

Brian opened his eyes and looked around, taking in the familiar yet tacky décor. "Right," he said. "Where's Justin?"

Michael hesitated only a moment. "He's gone, Brian."

Brian sat up quickly. "Gone where?"

Michael shrugged. "He didn't say. He just said he was no longer our concern and to tell you thanks."

"Fuck," Brian cursed, pushing Michael aside to get off of the bed. "How long ago did he leave?"

"Not long ago," Michael replied. "Why?"

"Why?" Brian stared incredulously at the other man. "Because I have to fucking find him, Michael. There are cops combing this whole goddamned city for him."

"All the more reason you should just let him go," Michael said, getting testy. "You don't need that kind of trouble, Brian."

Brian looked at his friend for a minute. "Why did he leave?" he asked in a quiet voice, one Michael recognized, though he never thought he'd hear it directed at him.

He shrugged uncomfortably. "We were talking and then he just left."

"Talking about what?"

He didn't really want to answer that, but knew better than to lie. "About you," he finally managed in a small voice.

Brian closed his eyes in frustration. It was like pulling fucking teeth. "What about me?" he prodded impatiently.

Michael had had enough of being the bad guy. "The kid was fawning all over you, Brian. 'He kissed me'," he mimicked cruelly. "I just told him what he needed to hear. That you don't give a shit about him except as maybe a potential fuck."

The words stung coming from his so-called best friend. He might show that persona to the world, but those he cared about should realize he was capable of more. The thought stunned him. Was he really? More to the point, did he want to be? He'd always been just as Michael had described him. Why, all of a sudden, did it matter to him that Justin saw him as something more?

"You should be glad he's gone," Michael concluded.

The words brought Brian out of his self-analysis. After shooting a glare in Michael's direction, he wordlessly left the room.

"Brian, wait," Michael called after him on the stairs. "Where are you going?"

Brian turned on him once he reached the door. "Where else?" he smirked. "To find a potential fuck. That's all I'm good for, right?"

"I didn't say that," Michael defended himself. "I thought I was doing you a favour. You don't need a kid like that getting hung up on you. Next thing you know he'll be stalking you wherever you go. And this one has already proven he's more trouble than he's worth. I thought you'd be happy to have him out of your hair."

Brian stared at him for a moment. "Don't bother doing me any more favours," he said flatly before leaving the house.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Justin was walking through the unfamiliar neighbourhood, looking for any sign that he was nearing his destination. He knew from the drive over that it wasn't too far from Liberty Avenue, but his mind had been so busy trying to wrap itself around the fact that he was wanted by the police that he hadn't paid attention to the direction. Once on familiar territory, he was sure he'd be able to find a place to hide out for a while. He couldn't go back to his apartment and he was afraid to try withdrawing money in case the police could somehow determine his whereabouts from ATM records. His best bet was to just lay low until he could figure out what to do next.

He'd finally made it to a street he recognized when he heard a car approaching. Not recognizing the vehicle, he quickly ducked into an alley and hid behind a dumpster, hoping that he hadn't been seen. He made himself as small as possible, closing his eyes in a silent prayer that the car would keep going. Breathing a small sigh of relief when he didn't hear anything, he decided to wait a few minutes just to make sure the coast was clear. Looking around the dim alley, he briefly touched on the fact that he'd likely be seeing a lot more of such accommodations in the days to come. He jumped when a voice yanked him out of his reverie.

"Still in the shadows, I see," Brian drawled, looking down at where the younger man sat huddled.

Getting to his feet, Justin shot him a dirty look before trying to push his way past.

"Not so fast," Brian said, grabbing his arm. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

"None of your business," Justin shot back, yanking his arm from Brian's grip. "You've done your good deed. Or are you here to collect payment? Is that it, Brian? You figure I owe you a freebie for all your trouble?" He started to undo his belt, his eyes flashing with anger.

"You don't owe me fuck all," Brian snapped.

"Fine, have it your way," Justin muttered, turning away once again.

"You're going to get yourself fucking arrested," Brian barked. "Or worse. Is that what you want?"

"Who gives a fuck what I want?" Justin retorted. His voice was angry, but his eyes looked pained. "You think I wanted any of this? You think I wanted my father to come after me? To fucking frame me for a crime I didn't commit? You think I like having to hide like some scared faggot because I can't even go home to my own place? I don't, Brian. It fucking sucks, all of it. But I don't have a choice right now, so why don't you go back to your fucking best friend and leave me alone!"

"I'm trying to give you a choice," Brian said, his tone having lost some of its anger in light of the other man's obvious anguish. "Will you let me do that?"

Justin eyed him warily. "Why?" he demanded. "So you can fuck me then dump me like yesterday's trash? No, thanks."

"I know what Michael told you, but…"

"But what?" Justin challenged flatly when the other man's voice trailed off. "He was lying? It's not true? You don't fuck anything that moves just for the thrill of it?"

Brian rolled his lips between his teeth in an effort to quell the angry retort rising in his throat. He wasn't in the habit of having to explain his lifestyle to anyone, but somehow he resented the fact that Justin had believed the worst. "I don't have to explain anything to you," he finally said.

Justin looked hurt for a moment. "Fine."

"Just like I didn't have to explain to Michael why I went after you when I'm always telling him never to go after anyone."

The words had been spoken in a softer tone than the others and gave Justin pause. After staring at the other man for a moment, he asked, "Why did you come after me?"

Brian took a deep breath, looking off down the alley as though the words he was looking for could be found there. When he finally turned to face Justin, his expression was more open than Justin had ever seen him. "Because I wanted to," he said quietly. "You're right; what's happening to you right now sucks and for some reason, I hate the idea of you going through it alone."

Justin was surprised by the words, but pleasantly so. "You do, huh?" he prodded with a hint of a smile.

Brian shrugged half-heartedly, though he was trying to hide his own smile. "Pretty fucking pathetic, right?"

Justin's expression sobered as he closed the distance between them. Reaching up, he gently kissed the other man's lips. "Wrong," he whispered. "It's probably the least pathetic thing anyone has ever said to me."

The obvious sincerity in the blue eyes embarrassed Brian even more than his uncharacteristic admission had. "Do you think we could get out of the fucking alley now?" he asked, the words coming out slightly harsher than he'd intended.

Justin huffed a small laugh as he took a step backward, giving the other man his space. "Sure, we can get out of the alley." His expression turned hard as he continued. "But I'm not going back there. I appreciate Michael's mom offering to put me up, but it's not worth having to listen to his shit."

"Did you have another destination in mind, Sunshine?" Brian asked, quirking one eyebrow.

Justin smiled slightly at the nickname only Brian used. "No place special," he said softly.

Brian parked his tongue firmly in his cheek. "I could change that."

After a moment, the blond nodded. "Yeah, I bet you could."

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

There was no sign of anyone watching Brian's building when they arrived and they were able to get into the loft without encountering anyone.

"I've got to take Tony's car back," Brian said, having already explained the reason behind him having it on the drive over. "You'll have to stay here in case they're still looking for you."

"Fine," Justin agreed dismally, settling down on one end of the sofa with his head in his hands.

Brian studied the younger man for a moment. "Are you OK? Do you need a pain pill?"

Justin shook his head and but didn't raise it. "I don't think that's going to help."

Taking as seat beside the blond on the sofa, Brian took a deep breath. "Look, I know it looks bad right now, but it can only get better, right? Once they find out you didn't have anything to do with the stabbing, you can go back to … doing whatever you want to do."

Justin looked up. "Back to being a whore, you mean."

Holding the blue-eyed man's gaze steadily, Brian replied. "Don't put words in my mouth. What you do when this is over is up to you."

"Except it's never really over," Justin said sadly. "Did you know my mother died five years ago in a car accident?"

Brian had read the story in the local paper. "Yeah," he said quietly.

Justin nodded. "Mom and Dad had gone to a benefit in New York. They'd planned on making a week of it, taking in some shows, seeing the sites."

Brian remained silent, sensing the other man's need to talk.

"While they were gone, I ended up winning some stupid art contest at school. Mom was the one who always encouraged my art; I couldn't wait to tell her. When I called with my news, she insisted on coming home for the assembly so she could see me accept my award. Dad didn't seem to think it was a big deal if they missed it, but Mom insisted. They ended up arguing about it and in the end, she rented a car and started driving back by herself. I only know what happened because I overheard Dad telling someone else after the funeral. To this day, he's never talked to me about it." He was silent for a moment as the painful memories came forth. "It was such a freak accident. Some 18-wheeler lost a tire and it went through her windshield, killed her instantly." He turned to look at Brian. "He could barely look at me afterward. I know it was because I look so much like my mom, but it still hurt, you know?"

Brian nodded, unable to say anything of comfort.

"I kept thinking that once he'd dealt with the grief, he'd slowly come around and we'd be a family again. Instead, he immersed himself in his work and I just got pushed further and further into the background." He barked a wry laugh. "Shit, if it weren't for finding out I was gay, he probably would have forgotten about me completely."

Brian couldn't help thinking about his own childhood and wishing his father could have forgotten his presence once in a while.

"During the years after mom died, I knew we were growing more distant, but I thought once I was old enough, he'd stop thinking of me as a kid and we'd be able to relate to one another as adults. Instead, he found out I was gay and kicked me out. Then it was about making ends meet until he came to accept that I was still his son." He was silent for a moment before looking up at Brian with sad blue eyes. "I'm tired of waiting it out, Brian. He was never going to be the father I needed after mom died, he was never going to accept that I was gay and now he's never going to give up trying to make me pay for humiliating him. It's time I stopped kidding myself."

Brian thought about all the young man had said. "First," he finally offered. "I'm sorry he wasn't there for you after what happened with your mom, but you don't have to live your life waiting for him to accept you. If he can't, that's his loss. As for what's going on now, he's the one in the wrong here. He may think you humiliated him, but he's doing more harm to his own reputation than you ever could just by being gay."

Justin allowed a wan smile. "I wish he saw it that way."

"Fuck 'im," Brian said. He waited in silence to see if Justin would say more. When he didn't, he got to his feet. "I've got to get to the gym. Do you need anything while I'm out?"

Justin shook his head.

"When I get back, we can order something to eat and talk about where to go from here, OK?"

The smile he got in response was a combination of gratitude and relief. "Ok."

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

There was no sign of the detectives' car when he returned to the gym and Brian wondered if they'd been called off in light of Dr. Malcolm's statement. He hoped so. Justin could use a break right about then. He was headed back to the loft when his cell phone rang.

"Kinney," he answered.

"Brian?"

"What do you want, Mikey?" Brian sighed.

"Did you find him?"

"Do you care?"

"A Detective Horvath was here. I guess someone told him I was with you last night and he tracked me to Ma's."

"What did you tell him?" Brian asked, concerned.

Michael sighed. "I told him I was with you when you took Justin back to your place and I hadn't seen him since he took off this morning. Jesus, Brian, did you think I'd turn the kid in?"

Feeling slightly guilty for thinking just that, Brian paused for a moment. "No," he murmured. "Not really."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Michael intoned. "So, is he with you or not?"

Brian didn't want Michael to have to lie if he was asked again. "No," he answered truthfully. "Look, Mikey, I've got to go. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Want to meet at the diner for breakfast?"

"I don't know," Brian replied. "Depends on how I'm feeling in the morning."

"Oh," Michael responded, obviously disappointed. "Brian, about before, I …"

"Yeah," Brian said when words seemed to fail his friend. "I know. Bye, Mikey."

Brian disconnected the call and returned the phone to his pocket. He wasn't really angry with Michael, not anymore, but he was still a little … hurt, he finally acknowledged. He wasn't helping Justin because he thought he could get a fuck out of it. If that was all he wanted, he could get that anywhere with a lot less trouble than he'd been going through the last few days. Of course, he did still want to fuck Justin, but that was no longer his lone goal. He wasn't sure exactly what it was he wanted, but he was starting to accept that it was more than just a one night stand. The question was, did Justin feel the same way?

He only hoped he'd get the chance to find out once the current nightmare was over.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

When he arrived back at the loft, it was to find Justin in the same spot on the sofa where he'd left him. "You are free to move about the premises, you know," he said, trying to elicit a smile.

The one he got was a far cry from the one he'd hoped for. "Yeah," Justin replied. "I know."

Brian went to the fridge for two bottles of water, handing one to Justin as he joined him on the sofa. "You hungry?"

Justin shook his head as he opened the bottle. After a long drink, he leaned back with a sigh. "I just want this all to be over."

"I know," Brian commiserated. "But if you starve to death in the meantime, it might detract a little from the victory."

"My father would finally be happy," Justin retorted wryly.

"If I thought either one of us cared about his happiness at this point, that might make more of an impact," Brian pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

Justin was quiet for a moment. "What if he dies, Brian?"

"Your father?"

"Wyatt," Justin elaborated. "It's bad enough they think I stabbed him, but if he dies…"

The blond shuddered and Brian instinctively reached for him, pulling him close. "He's not going to die," he assured the smaller man, hoping he was telling the truth. "And we both know you didn't stab anyone. It's only a matter of time before the police know it, too."

Justin allowed himself a moment to draw comfort from the strong arms around him before pulling back slightly to look into Brian's eyes. "Do I have to talk to them today?" he asked quietly.

There was fear and sadness in the blue eyes, but it was the hint of desperation that most touched Brian. "No," he replied, matching his tone to that of the blond. "Not today."

Relief flitted across Justin's boyish features before being replaced by a touch of uncertainty. "This could be my last night as a free man," he whispered.

Brian swallowed. "Did you have something special in mind?"

Smiling shyly, Justin reached up to brush his lips against those of the other man. "More like someone special."

As luck would have it, the phone rang. "Hold that thought," Brian whispered hoarsely. With much reluctance, he released the blond beauty he held in his arms and went to retrieve the phone from the island. "Yeah," he answered impatiently.

"Mr. Kinney, Detective Horvath here."

Brian glanced at Justin. "Detective Horvath. What can I do for you?"

Upon hearing the words, Justin got to his feet, looking expectantly at Brian.

"I'm afraid the news isn't good," the detective began to explain. "We were able to question the victim when he woke from surgery."

"And?" Brian pressed.

"He identified Justin Taylor as his attacker."

"Fuck," Brian breathed. That made two so-called witnesses, one of whom was the fucking victim. "What does this mean?"

Horvath sighed. "As much as I hate it, we're going to have to book him on suspicion of assault with intent to kill."

Brian closed his eyes against the words.

"Mr. Kinney?"

"Yeah," he said in a tired voice. "I'm here. You know this is all bullshit, right?"

"That's not my call to make," the detective replied. "If you know where Mr. Taylor is, it's in your best interest to tell me."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Brian let out a long breath. "I need some time," he said. "I don't want to tell him this over the phone." He hoped that the detective would assume that meant Justin was somewhere other than the loft.

"I understand," Horvath answered. "Explain to him that it will be better if he comes in on his own."

"I'll do that," Brian replied grimly. "Thanks."

"What is it?" Justin asked once Brian had disconnected the call.

He didn't reply until he was standing directly in front of the smaller man. "It's Wyatt."

"Oh, my God," Justin exclaimed. "He's dead isn't he? Fuck, Brian! What am I going to do?"

"Calm down, for starters," Brian said, placing both hands on Justin's shoulders. "He's not dead. He's out of surgery and he's going to be fine."

Relief flashed over Justin's features only to be replaced almost immediately by concern. "What, then?"

"The police questioned him and he named you as his attacker."

"Fuck," Justin said, unwittingly mimicking Brian's reaction. "That makes things worse, doesn't it?"

"Let's just say they expect an alleged assailant to lie, but a victim usually doesn't have reason to."

"And in this case, they're both lying," Justin lamented, running a hand through his hair. "And I'm fucked."

"Not yet," Brian tried to reassure him.

Justin shot him an incredulous look and Brian elaborated. "That's two witnesses who say you did it. Ok, one of them is the victim and that's not good, but there were a lot more people who saw you after you'd been attacked last night. If we can get them to swear to that, it should help tip the odds in your favour."

"You think Stockwell's going to listen to a bunch of fags?" Justin asked. "You know how he feels about us, Brian, he'd just as soon we were all dead."

"But we're not," Brian reminded him firmly. "And even Stockwell can't dismiss us if we stick together."

Justin took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Ok, what do we do first?"

"*We* don't do anything," Brian answered. "You can't leave this loft, do you understand me? They've already searched here once. I'm going down to Liberty to round up what witnesses I can. You lock the door behind me and don't open it for anyone but me, got it? Not Mikey, not the cops, no one."

Justin nodded after a brief hesitation.

"And don't answer the phone," Brian added. "Let the machine get it. If it's me, pick up, otherwise, let whoever it is leave a message."

"Ok," Justin agreed in a small voice.

Brian cupped his cheek gently. "I won't let you down," he said quietly. "If I have to drag ever queen on Liberty Avenue down to the station myself, I'll do it."

Justin tried for a smile, but failed miserably. "I know," he said instead. "Thanks."

Kissing him on the forehead, Brian whispered. "You can thank me properly when this is all over."

He couldn't help a small smile that time. "Deal," he whispered, slipping his arms around the other man's waist as though afraid to let him go.

Brian returned the embrace for a moment, knowing that the blond needed to know that he wasn't alone in everything that was happening. When at last he reluctantly pulled away, he kissed Justin's lips gently. "I have to go," he said. "Remember what I told you."

"Don't answer the door or the phone," Justin said glumly. "I got it."

"I'll bring something to eat when I come back," Brian promised. "Help yourself to whatever's here, but I warn you, it's not much."

"I'll be fine," Justin assured him. "I might take a shower though, if you don't mind."

Brian had to chase the thought of a naked, wet Justin from his mind before he could reply. "Sure. I've got clean t-shirts in the second drawer, sweats in the third. Everything else you need is in the bathroom. I've got a supply of toothbrushes in the cabinet under the sink."

Justin smirked slightly, but nodded. "Ok, thanks."

Knowing any further conversation would fall under the heading of stalling, Brian took a deep breath and headed for the door. Justin followed and locked it behind him just as he'd been instructed. Leaning against the cool metal, he looked at the empty loft and briefly wondered if art school was worth what he was currently going through. With a shake of his head, he tried to dispel the doubts and headed for the bathroom.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Feeling marginally better after a long shower, Justin was pulling on a clean t-shirt and sweats when someone started banging on the loft door. Holding his breath, he remained silent, hoping whoever it was would eventually give up and leave.

Any colour he had in his face disappeared when he heard the voice calling to him from the other side of the heavy, metal door.

 

Out of the Shadows

Chapter 9

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

"I know you're in there, Justin," Craig called through the closed loft door. "You can save us both a lot of trouble by just opening the door."

Justin bit his lip, frantically trying to think of what to do.

"I know Kinney left and you're in there alone," Craig continued. "Open the door, Justin."

Glancing furtively around the room, his eyes settled on the phone beside the bed. Moving carefully, so as not to make a sound, he made his way to it and picked it up. When he pressed the talk button, however, he received no dial tone.

"Unless, of course, you'd rather I just wait out here until Kinney comes back," Craig called.

Those words jolted Justin into action. His cell phone was in his jacket pocket on the sofa. Moving quickly, no longer concerned about being heard, he retrieved it and powered it on, dismayed to hear the low battery warning. Hoping he'd have enough time, he quickly dialed 911.

"911," came a female voice on the other end of the line. "What is your…"

"Fuck!" Justin hissed, tossing the phone aside.

"I can promise you it won't be pretty if we're still out here when he gets back," Craig went on.

"What do you want?" Justin demanded, moving toward the door. "Haven't you done enough damage already?"

"Now, Justin," Craig replied, adopting a soothing tone. "I only want to help you with this difficult situation you've gotten yourself into. We'll go back to the house and discuss it. I'm sure, between the two of us, we can come up with a solution."

Justin heard another voice and pressed his ear against the door in an effort to make out what was being said.

"Time's running out, Justin. Kinney's on his way here as we speak. What's it going to be?"

Justin closed his eyes in resignation. "If I go with you, will you leave him alone?" he asked, his voice barely carrying through the metal.

"Of course," Craig promised. "I have no desire to see anyone hurt needlessly. Not you, or Mr. Kinney … and especially not that darling little boy of his."

Justin was horrified. His father wouldn't really threaten an innocent child, would he? Reminding himself what Craig was capable of toward his own son gave him his answer. Slowly, he unlocked the door and slid it open.

"There now," Craig grinned maliciously. "I knew you were smart enough to see reason."

Justin made a move to join his father on the landing, only to be pushed back into the loft by the large man who'd attacked him in the alley.

"I thought we were going home," Justin snapped as his father joined them inside and slid the door closed.

"Oh, we are," Craig assured him. "Just as soon as we settle things with your host."

"You said you'd leave him alone!" Justin accused, taking an angry step toward his father. "You promised!"

Craig backhanded him and Justin fell to the floor. Slowly, he picked himself up and lifted his chin in defiance, ignoring the trickle of blood escaping from the corner of his mouth.

"Now, you listen to me," Craig seethed. "We're not going anywhere until you clean up this mess you've made."

Justin looked at him with incredulity. "Me?"

Taking a deep breath, Craig reined in his temper. "You're the one who dragged Kinney into this," he reminded him. "The others were associates of mine. I could have bought their silence if I had to, but Kinney's like a goddamned dog with a bone. He's not going to give up as long as you keep playing the role of the damsel in distress."

"Distress?!" Justin barked. He jabbed his finger in the large man's direction. "You sent *him* after me with a fucking knife!"

"What happens within our family is nobody's business but ours," Craig insisted angrily. "Now, when Kinney gets back here, you're going to tell him that it was all a big misunderstanding, that we've worked out our differences and you've decided to go out of state to school while I take care of this mess with the police."

"How?" Justin shouted. "Thanks to you, they have eyewitnesses who say I stabbed that guy!"

Craig shook his head sadly. "You're not a stupid boy, Justin. Surely you know that eyewitness testimony is among the most unreliable. You're not the only blond faggot peddling his ass on the street."

Justin's mind reeled with the implications of those words. His father was willing to set up another innocent kid to take the fall for the stabbing. All Justin had to do was agree to his terms to go out of state, probably to Dartmouth like his father had wanted all along.

"You're a Taylor," Craig said as though reading his mind. "We're businessmen. No Taylor has ever gone to a sissy faggot art school and you won't be the first, do I make myself clear?"

Justin heard the elevator approaching and looked toward the door anxiously.

"You'd better be convincing," Craig warned him. "For his sake as well as yours."

Justin didn't have time to reply before the loft door slid open and Brian stepped inside. Upon seeing the two men standing with Justin, he stopped in his tracks. "What the fuck's going on here?" he asked, setting down the bag of Chinese food he carried.

"Mr. Kinney," Craig smiled, walking toward Brian with his hand outstretched. "How nice to finally meet you."

Brian ignored the hand and looked at the blond still rooted to the spot in the middle of the room. "Justin?"

Justin took a few tentative steps toward the man speaking to him. "Brian," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Uh, this is my father, Craig Taylor. We've been, um, talking and I think we have things all worked out."

"Worked out?" Brian repeated, taking note of the red mark on Justin's cheek and the blood at the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah," Justin replied, forcing a small smile. "It was all a misunderstanding; I know that now. Thanks for everything you've done; I really appreciate it."

"Misunderstanding?" Brian asked angrily. "He sent men to assault you! How is that a misunderstanding?"

Craig chuckled self-consciously. "I assure you, Mr. Kinney, no harm would have come to him. Teenagers can be difficult at times. It's not unusual for a parent to sometimes have to resort to scare tactics. He was never in any real danger."

"They just about broke his fucking jaw and his ribs," Brian spat back. "What exactly do you consider harm if not that?"

"That was my own fault," Justin interjected quickly. "I should have just gone with them and not tried to get away."

Brian's eyes narrowed as he studied the younger man. "And what about the stabbing? You going to tell me you did that?"

"Of course not," Craig replied for his son. "Justin could never hurt anyone, we all know that. I knew there had to be a logical explanation why those men would identify him and I assure you I worked tirelessly until I found it."

"And?" Brian quipped sarcastically. "What did you come up with?"

"The young man who stabbed Mr. Wyatt looked remarkably like Justin, here. Having seen Justin on more than one occasion at my home, they obviously mistook the assailant for him. Memory transference is apparently quite common in these situations, especially where a violent crime is concerned."

Brian didn't believe a word of it and his eyes never left Justin. "So that's it?" he asked quietly. "All the shit you've gone through the past few days, Hell, the past few months and suddenly it's all forgiven?"

"He's my father, Brian," Justin pointed out firmly. "You had to realize we would have worked it out eventually." He paused, swallowing hard before continuing. "You're not stupid."

Brian's blood boiled at the comment. Pasting a wry smile on his face, he turned to Craig. "Well, since everything seems to have worked out for the best, here, you won't mind if I have a final word with Justin." His gaze settled once again on the blond. "In private."

"By all means," Craig said, smiling confidently. "Come, Tony, we'll wait by the elevator."

Brian and Justin watched as the two men moved toward the door. Grabbing Justin by the wrist, Brian practically dragged him up to the bedroom.

"All right, what's going on?" Brian hissed. "Did he threaten you?"

Justin yanked his arm out of Brian's grip. "No," he lied, trying to sound convincing. "I told you, we worked it out."

"Just like that," Brian said cynically.

"Yes," Justin fired back. "Just like that."

Brian's cell phone rang and he proceeded to extract it from his pocket. "Yeah," he barked into it, his eyes still fixed on Justin.

"Mr. Kinney? Detective Horvath."

"Dad," Brian replied into the phone. "I can't talk now. I have company."

The detective was silent for a moment. "Is there someone there with you?"

"Yes, I can call you back in a couple of minutes."

"Dad? Justin's dad?"

Brian had to refrain from sighing with relief that the man had made the connection. "Yes, that's right."

"We'll be right there."

"I'll talk to you later."

Brian snapped the phone shut and stuffed it back into his pocket. "So, now what?" he asked Justin.

Justin steeled himself. "Now, I'm going home where I belong."

"No more working for the agency?"

Justin's gaze lowered as he shook his head. "No."

"And your father is suddenly willing to pay for art school?"

"I'm…" Justin stammered, not sure he could say it in a convincing tone. "I'm going to Dartmouth."

"What?" Brian barked. "What about PIFA?"

Justin's gaze snapped up, angry that Brian thought he was caving to his father's wishes. Angrier still at himself because it was true. "It's my life, Brian," he pointed out flatly. "It's none of your fucking business where I go to school."

Brian wanted to end the conversation out of sheer frustration, but he knew he had to try to stall until Horvath arrived. "Justin," he said, softening his tone. "I don't understand. Earlier you said you were through with waiting for him to be a real father and now you're just going along with him?"

Justin couldn't stop the tear that tracked its way down his cheek. "Just stay out of it, Brian."

Brian was quite aware that Craig and his minion could hear every word through the open loft door. "So that's it," he said, raising his voice slightly. "You fucking used me and now you're just going back to your country club life."

Justin swallowed hard, surprised at the harsh words. "I didn't mean to …"

"Didn't mean to what?" Brian demanded. "Didn't mean to drag me into your little family drama? Didn't mean to turn my life upside down? Didn't mean to have the cops searching my home and hassling my friends? What exactly didn't you mean, Justin?"

"I'm sorry," Justin whispered, his heart breaking as he listened to Brian detail how he'd fucked up his life in the last few days.

"The cops are on their way," Brian whispered, barely audible.

Justin's eyes widened.

"You're sorry?" Brian continued his angry rant, hating the pain he saw in the blue eyes but knowing he had to make it believable if they were to get out of the situation unscathed. "That's all you have to say for yourself after everything you've put me through? You're sorry?"

Tears streamed freely down Justin's face as he tried to come up with an appropriate response.

"Justin?" Craig called from the doorway. "You ready to go?"

He turned to look at his father. Nodding once, his gaze returned to the angry one Brian still wore. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew to stall any longer would only make his father suspicious - or worse. "Good bye, Brian. Thanks for everything."

Brian had to clench his hands at his sides to keep from grabbing onto the younger man as he slowly followed his father toward the door. They were nearly there when the large man hurried inside. "Fucking cops," he growled. "They're all over the place."

Craig whirled to face Brian. "You!"

Brian steeled himself against the murderous anger in the other man's eyes. "Yeah, me," he admitted.

"Dad..." Justin tried to placate his father.

Craig whirled around and landed a solid blow to Justin's jaw, sending the younger man flying. "Don't call me that!" he bellowed.

"Justin!" Brian called, racing toward the fallen man. Carefully, he helped him to a sitting position and touched his abused cheek. "Are you all right?"

Justin nodded as though in a daze. "Dad?" he said, looking up at his father in bewilderment.

"I told you I won't have a fucking faggot for a son!" Craig was screaming.

"Police!" A strong male voice was calling from the stairway as a uniformed officer slowly entered the loft, gun drawn. Horvath was right behind him with his own weapon at the ready.

"Put your hands behind your head," Carl instructed the large man standing to the left of where Brian and Justin were on the floor. Turning to Craig, he added, "You, too."

Craig glared at the detective, but complied. "Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?" he asked arrogantly. "I'll have your badge in the morning."

Horvath ignored him, directing his next words to Brian. "Is he OK?"

Brian helped Justin to his feet slowly. "I'm fine," Justin muttered, glaring at his father.

"Now we're all going down to the station to straighten this out once and for all," Horvath dictated. Gesturing toward Craig and the large, menacing man in the room, he instructed two of the uniformed officers, "Cuff 'em."

Before anyone had a chance to realize what was happening, the large man had Justin in a hold with a knife to his throat.

"Now, take it easy," Horvath tried to placate the agitated man. "You're only going to make things worse for yourself."

"I'm not going to jail for this stinking faggot," he sneered, yanking Justin back roughly. Turning to Craig, he said, "You promised me!"

"Shut up!" Craig hissed angrily. "Don't say another word until I contact my attorney."

"What are you afraid of?" Justin managed around the fear coursing through him. "That they'll find out you stabbed Wyatt?"

The large man seemed confused by those words. "No!" he bellowed, tightening his hold on the blond and pressing the point of the knife to his throat.

Brian swallowed as a trickle of blood ran down the creamy skin. "Justin," he whispered desperately in an effort to keep the younger man quiet.

But Justin had already said enough. The man holding him turned on his employer in desperation. "It was all your idea. Tell them!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Craig spat.

"Tell them, or so help me, I'll kill him!" he shouted.

Instead of responding to the threat, Craig focused on Horvath. "The man is obviously deranged," he said angrily. Turning back to the large man, he lowered his voice in feigned regret. "I've covered for you in the past, Tony, but not anymore. I suggest you get yourself a good lawyer."

The man was quite obviously stunned by that response and his grip lessened on his captive.

Brian watched the next events unfold as though in slow motion. He could barely hear his own voice calling Justin's name as the blond lunged to the side, away from the blade and out of his captor's grip. When Tony moved to regain his hold, one of the officers opened fire, felling him with a well placed bullet to the shoulder.

As soon as Brian's feet would obey his command to move, he was at Justin's side. "Justin!" He pulled the smaller man into a tight embrace, relief flooding through him as he felt Justin's thudding heartbeat against his own chest.

"I'm sorry, Brian," Justin was murmuring over and over. "I'm so sorry."

Brian pulled back, framing the blond's face with his hands. "Hey," he scolded softly. "Enough. You have nothing to apologize for."

Justin hands clutched at Brian's shirt repeatedly as though afraid to let go. "I didn't mean it," he said, tears streaming from his eyes. "I didn't want to go. He said he'd hurt you, maybe even your son. I didn't know what else to do, Brian."

"That's a lie!" Craig shouted from the spot where an officer was handcuffing him. He was glaring at Horvath. "Are you going to believe this fucking faggot over me?!"

"You'll have a chance to tell your side," Horvath assured him quietly. Nodding toward where an EMT was treating Tony, he smiled wryly. "Sounds like your friend here is more than ready to tell his."

Tony was frantically explaining the whole thing to the police officer standing over him. "It was all Taylor. He sent us after the kid. When he escaped, he said it was up to us to make sure nobody could find out so that's when I set up the stabbing. Ask Wyatt. He'll tell you. It was all Taylor."

"He's crazy," Craig hissed.

"No, he's not," Justin said, getting to his feet and looking sadly at his father. "Why, Dad? How could you send them after me like that? You'd already made it clear you didn't want me in your life; why couldn't you just stay out of mine?"

"They were laughing at me!" the man exploded, unaware in his rage that he was implicating himself. "Every rich fucking fairy that had your ass was laughing at me behind my back!"

Justin's face reddened and Brian's blood boiled. "Your fucking reputation is more important to you than your son's life?" he demanded harshly

Craig turned a hateful look in his direction. "What do you care, Kinney? You got what you wanted. What they all wanted. Something to hold over Craig Taylor because you knew that none of you would ever be *anything* compared to me!" He shifted his gaze to sneer at Justin. "You didn't really think it was you they wanted did you?" He laughed, shaking his head slowly. "Your mother was the only one who ever really wanted you," he said coldly. "She wanted a baby more than anything in this world and in the end, it killed her. Can you live with that? Can you, Justin? Because I've had to for five fucking years."

Brian took a step toward him, glaring angry daggers at the despicable man. "You sonofabitch!"

"Kinney!" Horvath barked, placing a restraining hand on Brian's arm. "Let the law deal with him."

Brian looked at Carl who nodded his head compassionately in Justin's direction.

As the officer led a still angry Craig from the loft, Brian returned to Justin's side. "Justin?" he prodded gently, unnerved by the vacant stare on the blond's face. Haunted blue eyes eventually rose to meet hazel. Without a word, Brian took the trembling young man in his arms.

Horvath hovered near the open doorway once Tony and Craig had been escorted to patrol cars. "We'll need to take your statements," he said into the silence after a moment.

Brian felt the blond tense in his arms. "That's all, right? Just a statement?" he asked, directing his words over Justin's head at the detective.

"In light of what we've learned here, you won't be facing any charges, Justin," Carl replied, answering the question Brian was really asking.

"We can go in the Jeep if you want," Brian assured Justin quietly.

Justin nodded once and without a word pulled out of Brian's embrace and followed the detective slowly out of the loft.

 

Out of the Shadows

Chapter 10

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Brian had finished with his statement in a fairly short period of time and was waiting for the detective to finish with Justin. The blond obviously had a lot more to offer in evidence having lived under the same roof as Craig Taylor for most of his life, not to mention that Justin had been the one to actually hear Craig's most recent threats. By the time Brian had arrived, there really hadn't been much for him to report on.

He'd been alone in the small room for an hour and was beginning to grow impatient when Horvath entered along with a very pale Justin.

Brian was at the blond's side in an instant. "Are you OK?"

Justin shook his head slightly but didn't say anything.

"Ready to get out of here?" he asked, expecting another silent response.

"Yeah," Justin whispered instead.

"I appreciate you coming down," Carl said kindly. "I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you right now."

Justin nodded and tried unsuccessfully to manage a smile. "Thanks," he said half-heartedly before turning toward Brian. "Can you give me a ride?"

Brian nodded and glanced at Horvath who returned the nod. Leaving the station, Brian led the way to the Jeep noting the cool silence that seemed to come off the blond in waves. Once they were buckled in, Brian started the engine and pulled from the parking lot heading in the direction of the loft.

When the vehicle stopped, Justin looked out the window at the now familiar building. "You didn't have to bring me here."

"Yeah, I did," Brian countered, turning off the engine. "I spent a fucking fortune on Chinese food that nobody's had a chance to eat yet."

Justin seemed to consider that for a moment before wordlessly getting out of the car to follow Brian into the building.

Once in the loft, Brian picked up the bag of Chinese food he'd abandoned earlier, taking out the cartons in preparation for re-heating. "Want something to drink?" he asked Justin who just stood in front of the sofa looking toward the window.

Justin shrugged and lowered himself to the sofa, staring at the floor in front of him.

After putting the food into the microwave, Brian opened two bottles of beer and joined Justin on the sofa. Handing the blond one of the bottles, he took a long pull from his own. "Want to talk about it?" he asked.

"Not particularly," Justin said flatly before taking a drink.

Brian nodded and they sat in silence until the food was ready. Getting to his feet, Brian prepared two plates and headed for the dining room table. "I wasn't sure what you liked so I got a variety," he said as he placed the plates on the table and took a seat.

"Anything's fine," Justin said as he moved to take his place across from Brian.

While never much of a talker himself, the silence while they ate was unnerving to Brian. "So, what happens now?" he finally asked quietly.

Justin shrugged again. "I don't know. Horvath said he'd call when they knew what was going to happen with my… with Craig."

The amendment didn't go unnoticed by Brian. "Despite what he said, I hope you know what happened to your mother wasn't your fault."

Justin practically dropped his fork and got up from the table. "I should go," he said in a strained voice.

Brian was on his feet immediately. "Wait a minute," he said, grabbing Justin's arm as he moved past him toward the door. "Go where?"

"Home," Justin replied, pulling his arm from Brian's grasp with a slight flinch.

"You think it's a good idea to be wandering around alone?" Brian asked, refraining from touching the other man.

Justin barked out something akin to a harsh laugh. "Didn't you hear?" he challenged. "I am alone. I've been alone since the day my mother died only I was too fucking stupid to realize it."

"You're not stupid," Brian interjected.

Justin's voice broke as he continued, oblivious to Brian's comment. "He's blamed me all this time; how could I not have seen that?"

"Because he's your father," Brian pointed out quietly. "You can't blame yourself for wanting him to act like one."

Justin shook his head sadly. "I really should go."

"It's your call," Brian said, trying to keep his voice casual. He really didn't want to think of Justin alone in his apartment thinking about all that had already happened and what was still to come.

Meeting his gaze, Justin studied the hazel eyes for a moment. "I dragged you into this because I didn't know who else to call," he said. "It wasn't your choice to have me here."

"It's my choice now," Brian pointed out. "Well, half mine anyway."

Justin allowed a small smile at that. He continued to study Brian's features. "What do you want, Brian?" he finally asked.

Brian's eyes widened slightly as he rolled his lips between his teeth. "I'm not sure," he finally admitted.

"You want to fuck me?" Justin challenged. His voice was quiet though there was a glint of defiance in his eyes.

Brian looked toward the window for a moment as though the words he needed might be written there. When he turned back, it was to find Justin still watching him carefully.

"When I first saw you, yeah, that's what I wanted," he admitted. "Hell, it's all I seemed to be able to think about for weeks."

"You thought I was a spoiled rich kid who got his kicks selling his ass to the highest bidder." Justin's voice had taken on a bitter quality.

In light of all he'd learned, Brian was reluctant to admit that was how he'd felt, but he wouldn't lie. "Something like that," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"And now?" Justin challenged.

"Now I know why you did what you did," Brian said simply.

Justin's eyes clouded. "So, now you feel sorry for me?" he demanded. "Fuck you!"

Brian grabbed his arm again as he tried to head for the door. "Wait a minute! What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Let go of me!" Justin snapped as he once again wrenched his arm from Brian's grip.

Brian held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I won't touch you, I promise. Just tell me what the fuck is going on, Justin."

"I don't want your fucking pity, Brian!" Justin's eyes blazed with anger. "Poor little Justin," he mimicked. "The only reason anyone wants him is because he's Craig Taylor's son."

"That's bullshit," Brian spat. "I want you in spite of the fact that you have an asshole for a father, not because of it!"

Justin's eyes grew rounder. "What did you say?"

Brian took a deep breath, trying to rein in his anger. "Maybe I shouldn't have called him that, but it's the truth and I won't apologize for pointing it out."

"No," Justin said quietly. "Not that. You … you still want me?"

Brian frowned in confusion. "What?"

"You said you want me in spite of my asshole father. Not wanted… want."

"So?" Brian asked incredulously. "I haven't exactly kept that a secret, have I?"

Justin was silent for a moment. "The first night we met," he began softly. "I thought you were the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. Later, when I felt you watching me and looked up, it was like we were the only two people in the room."

"As I recall, there were a shitload of people in that room at the time," Brian said, uncomfortable with the kind of sentiment Justin was so freely expressing.

"I didn't see them," Justin said with a small smile. "There was only you."

Brian had to refrain from reminding the blond of the man who was paying for his time that night.

"Prescott kept introducing me to different people," Justin continued as though reading his mind. "But your face was the only one that stayed in my mind when I turned away."

Brian wanted to look away, but the blue eyes held him mesmerized.

"Then you found out who I was and what I did," Justin went on in a quiet voice. "I knew you'd never want me after that."

"Justin…"

Justin shook his head slightly to stem any words, wanting to get it all out. "After I saw you at the bar, I tried to convince myself that I was better off without you, even though I'd never really had you to begin with. I told myself to forget you, but when I was hurt, you were the first person I thought of."

Brian wanted to say he was glad Justin had thought of him when he needed someone, but the words wouldn't come.

"And you looked after me and tried to protect me," Justin continued. "From the cops, from my dad." He paused for a moment. "In the space of a few hours I went from being someone you wanted to fuck to someone you felt you had to protect."

"That's not true," Brian protested.

Justin raised one eyebrow in challenge.

"I never actually stopped wanting to fuck you," Brian smirked.

Justin smiled at that, but it was more sad than amused. "My dad may have been right about why those men wanted to be with me," he said quietly. "I'll probably never really know for sure, but that part of my life is over now. The next time someone wants me, I want it to be for me, all of me. Not just because I'm young or have a nice ass. Not just because I'm Taylor's son or because my family has money."

"I don't care about your money or who your father is, you know that," Brian bristled.

"And not because I'm some scared, injured, little faggot who needs to be protected," Justin concluded in a hushed voice.

Brian was about to argue that as well, but the sadness in Justin's eyes gave him pause. "I didn't think of you as a scared little faggot," he said honestly.

"Maybe not," Justin said with a small smile. "But I did need your help and that's the reason you took me home."

Unable to argue with that, Brian huffed in frustration.

"I know you fuck a lot of guys who don't mean anything to you," Justin continued. "I don't have a problem with that, but I can't be one of them, not right now. In the short time I've been with you, I've felt things I never thought I could. I'd rather walk away now and hold on to that than have it shattered by a meaningless one night stand."

Brian's jaw clenched and he swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry," Justin whispered, tears building in his eyes. "I wish I was stronger, but I'm just not."

With that, he hurried from the loft leaving a stunned Brian alone in the middle of the room.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Justin looked at the call display even though he was pretty sure he knew what number he'd see. Brian had been calling all morning but Justin just couldn't bring himself to answer. He'd already said all he had to say the night before. He didn't want Brian's concern or his pity, he just wanted… Brian. More than he'd ever wanted anything in his life.

But he wasn't willing to be just another trick and everything he knew about Brian Kinney told him the man wasn't interested in anything more.

He let out a long breath once the phone stopped ringing, feeling both relieved and disappointed. Flopping down on the sofa, he tried to muster the strength he knew he'd need the next time the phone rang.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Brian walked into the diner to see Michael sitting in a booth at the back.

"Brian!" the dark-haired man exclaimed as his friend approached. "What are you doing here?"

"It's called lunch, Mikey," Brian quipped, sliding into the seat across from the other man.

"Yeah, but, it's Sunday," Michael pointed out with a small frown. "You're never here this early on a Sunday."

"Well, I am now," Brian replied shortly. "Deb! Can I get some coffee over here?"

The flamboyant waitress approached the table with gum snapping and coffeepot in hand. "What happened with that kid?" she asked Brian without preamble. "Michael told me he was at the house and then took off."

Michael looked down at his plate when Brian glanced his way.

"He's fine, Deb," Brian replied, turning his attention back to the waitress. "The cops know he wasn't the one who stabbed that guy."

"So, you found him," Michael said, looking up with a combination of relief and surprise.

"Yeah, I found him," Brian said flatly, raising the full coffee cup to his lips. And then I lost him again.

"Well you don't sound too fucking happy about it," Deb groused. "Where is he now?"

"He's home where he belongs."

"Not with that asshole father of his!" Debbie exclaimed.

"No, at his own apartment. For all I know, his asshole father is still in jail. Can we drop this now? I came in here for lunch, not the fucking third degree."

Debbie huffed. "The usual?"

Brian nodded and took another sip of his coffee as the waitress went off to place his order. Michael had been watching the exchange between his mother and his friend and had a few questions of his own.

"What's going on, Brian?" he asked once they were alone.

"What makes you think there's anything going on?" Brian asked nonchalantly.

"I know how worried you were about Justin yesterday and now you act like you don't give a shit."

"I don't," Brian informed him flatly. "He needed my help and now he doesn't. End of story."

Michael watched him for a moment. "Oh my God," he finally breathed. "He was right, wasn't he? You do care about him."

Brian grimaced. "I didn't want to see him go to jail for something he didn't do," he admitted. "But that's it."

"Bullshit," Michael said with a small smile.

Brian shot him a warning look. "As I recall, you weren't too happy when you heard what his father had done either."

"But I didn't kiss him," Michael pointed out.

Brian was silent for a moment as he remembered the kisses they'd shared. "Yeah, well, the kid's hot, what did you expect?"

"I expected you to fuck him when you had the chance, but instead, you curled up with him and went to sleep," Michael challenged.

"I was up all fucking night," Brian reminded him. Then, in a petulant voice, he uttered, "And I don't 'curl up' with anyone."

Michael was fighting to keep the grin from his face. "You were up all night because you were worried about him," he countered. "And you so do curl up. I saw you."

"Is there a point to all of this, Mikey?" Brian asked irritably. "Or are you just trying to drive me insane with your fucking delusions?"

"Oh, I think I made my point," Michael said smugly, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. "You like him."

Brian rolled his eyes and shook his head.

But Michael wasn't through. "And I know he likes you, so what's the problem?"

Sighing in defeat, Brian hoped to put an end to the topic once and for all. "The problem is, he's looking for more than a quick fuck. Not my style, Mikey, so let's just drop it, shall we?"

Michael was quiet for a moment and Brian thought he'd finally given up. Of course, he should have known better - Michael was Debbie's son, after all.

"You've known guys who've wanted more before," he reminded Brian. "Usually you laugh them off and file them under 'pathetic lesbo wannabes'."

"So?" Brian snarked, one eyebrow raised. "That's what they are."

"So, you're not laughing now," Michael pointed out. "And I don't think you think Justin's all that pathetic."

Brian sighed heavily. "Look, Mikey, he's had a rough time of it lately. He's looking for something more stable, more reliable in his life. We both know I can't be what he needs. Hell, you're the one who told him that."

"I didn't say you couldn't," Michael corrected. "I only told him you weren't the relationship type." He paused and his voice took on a softer tone when he continued. "I always thought that would change for the right guy."

"Mikey…"

Michael raised a hand to cut him off. "I know," he said with a sad smile. "That guy isn't me. For years I thought it could be, but now I know we'll never be more than friends."

"Best friends," Brian corrected with a small smile.

Michael nodded, chuckling softly. "Best friends." His expression sobered somewhat as he watched Brian with sad eyes. "And as your best friend, I can see that things are different with Justin. The way you looked when I told you what I'd said to him yesterday. You've never looked at me like that before, Brian."

"Like what?" Brian asked, genuinely confused.

"Like I'd hurt you," Michael replied quietly. "I know now that I did and I'm sorry. I was too busy telling Justin the way you were that it never occurred to me that you might have been trying to show him something else, something the rest of us don't usually see."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Brian said tersely, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance. "I don't believe in relationships and all that bullshit, I believe in…"

"In fucking, yeah, I know," Michael finished for him, having heard the Kinney credo often enough. "But just because you don't believe in mosquitoes doesn't mean one can't bite you in the ass."

"Who's biting whose ass?" Debbie asked, placing Brian's turkey sandwich in front of him. Fixing a scowl on the ad exec, she asked, "You into the rough stuff now?"

"You have no idea, Deb," he smirked, still thinking about Michael's words and how they might apply to Justin.

Debbie chuckled and left to serve another table. Michael allowed his friend to pick at his sandwich in peace, knowing he was mulling over everything that had been said between them.

"You're coming to Sunday dinner tonight, you hear?" Debbie had returned and was pointing a long red fingernail in Brian's direction.

Brian looked from her to Michael and back again. "Sorry, Deb. I've got other plans." With that, he dropped some bills on the table and left the diner, his sandwich virtually untouched.

"Asshole," Debbie muttered as she watched him leave.

Michael grinned, pulling Brian's plate toward him. "Don't be too hard on him, Ma; he's got mosquito problems."

Debbie looked at her son, but when she saw no explanation was forthcoming, she rolled her eyes in exasperation and walked away.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Brian returned to the loft and headed straight for his computer. Bringing up his client files, he found the number he was looking for and dialed before he had a chance to change his mind.

"Pendleton."

"Prescott. Brian Kinney. Remember that favour I did for you?"

Pendleton was silent for a moment. "The Silver Pagoda. Yes, of course."

"Well, I think I've just found a way you can return it," Brian said with a sultry smile.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Justin was dozing on the sofa when he heard a knock at his door. Frowning, he glanced at the clock and noticed it was already early evening. A second knock brought him to his feet and he made his way to the door cautiously. Very few people knew where he lived and he hadn't received any calls from the agency since that fateful one his father had set up.

"Who is it?" he asked, stopping at the locked door.

"Brian."

His frown deepened as he unlocked the door and opened it. The man standing before him looked downright gorgeous in a deep red shirt and black jeans. "How did you get here?" he asked in way of a greeting.

"The Jeep," Brian replied.

"But how did you know…I didn't…"

"You told me Pendleton helped you get this place. I called in a favour."

"Why?" Justin asked.

"We need to talk," Brian replied. "So, are you going to invite me in or what?"

Justin immediately stepped aside, horrified that he'd forgotten his manners. "I'm sorry. Come in."

Brian stepped into the small but well-kept apartment and waited while Justin closed the door.

"Um… have a seat," Justin suggested, gesturing toward the sofa. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Beer would be good," Brian said, though he was thinking he might need something stronger.

Justin nodded and retrieved two beers from the fridge. He was still puzzled about the reason for Brian's visit. Once he'd handed Brian the bottle and taken a seat at the opposite end of the sofa, he voiced the question uppermost on his mind. "What did you want to talk about?"

Brian took a long drink and fidgeted with the label for a moment before replying. "It's time we finish the conversation we started at the loft," he finally said.

Justin closed his eyes for a moment. "I thought we were finished."

"No, you said what you wanted to say and then you left," Brian reminded him sharply. "You can't just throw that shit at me and walk away without giving me a chance to reply."

"I didn't think I had to," Justin said. "I know what you're looking for, what I'm looking for. What else is there to say?"

Brian laughed wryly.

Justin frowned. "What's so funny?"

Taking a deep breath, Brian laid all his cards on the table. "Look, you were right about me. I fuck a lot of guys and they don't mean anything to me. Half of the time I've forgotten them by the time I leave the room."

Justin nodded in acceptance of that. "I wasn't judging you, Brian…"

"I know," Brian said quietly. "It's just the truth. That's what I am, Brian Kinney, stud of Liberty Avenue. It's what I know, what I'm comfortable with."

"Ok," Justin said slowly, unsure where this was going.

"I don't do repeats and I don't exchange names or numbers. It's fucking, period. In and out with a maximum of pleasure and a minimum of bullshit."

"Why are you telling me this?" Justin asked quietly. Brian's words only made him feel worse and he didn't want another tear-filled scene like they'd had at the loft.

He couldn't tell him that Mikey was right, that there was something different about Justin. He couldn't voice the fact that he liked the way the blond felt in his arms or the way his body responded to a simple kiss. He was Brian Kinney for fuck's sake.

But Justin was still waiting for an answer. "You were right," Brian admitted. "When I took you to the loft the first time it was because you were hurt."

Justin looked down at his hands and nodded slightly in acceptance of that.

"But you said it yourself, I didn't have to take you there when we left the police station," he continued, hoping it would be enough.

Justin raised his eyes to look at him, his expression showing nothing. "But you did. Why?"

Brian considered that. "It just didn't seem right dropping you off at some empty apartment after all you'd gone through."

Justin sighed. "Brian, I …"

"I know, you don't want my pity," Brian said, effectively cutting off the words he knew he was about to hear. "I don't do pity, Justin. It makes my dick soft."

Justin's eyes narrowed slightly. "If that's not pity, what is it?"

"It's knowing how it feels to realize the only family you have doesn't give a shit," Brian said evenly.

Justin stared at him a moment and then acquiesced with a nod. "I appreciate everything you're saying," he said quietly. "But it doesn't change anything. I still don't want to be one in a long line of tricks."

"I've never let a trick spend the night at the loft," Brian pointed out. "I've never hid one from the cops, and I sure as hell never tracked one down through a fucking client."

Justin smirked slightly. "So if I'm not a trick, what am I?"

Brian didn't have an answer for that. He still wanted to fuck Justin, so that left him out of the 'just a friend' category, and everyone knew Brian Kinney didn't do boyfriends.

"You're Justin," he finally said, hoping the blond would pick up on the meaning.

Justin smiled slowly as he remembered the words he'd spoken to Brian the previous morning.

...For the first time in my life, people are seeing me. They ask for me because they want me. Me, Justin...not Craig Taylor's kid

"I can live with that," he said softly.

Brian allowed a small smile, knowing that Justin had heard what he couldn't say. "You hungry?" he asked.

Justin feigned a groan. "Don't tell me you still have that Chinese."

Brian barked a laugh. "No, but I know a place that serves great Italian."

"Like a date?" Justin asked, eyes twinkling mischievously. "And here I would have bet my last dollar Brian Kinney doesn't do dates."

"Like a meal," Brian corrected him, though he couldn't totally erase the smile from his own eyes. "And you're right, I don't."

"I've never either," Justin said, his eyes clouding slightly. "At least not one that I wasn't hired for."

The sparkle had only been gone from the blue eyes for a second, but already he missed it. If this kid ever found out what he was capable of doing to him, he was fucked.

"Well, I'm in the mood for Italian, I don't want to order in, I don't want to go out alone and I'm sure as hell not paying you, so you call it whatever you want."

He had to hold back a smile as the luster returned to Justin's eyes. "That, Mr. Kinney, is what they call a date."

Brian rolled his eyes.

"My first date," Justin said with a grin, unable to resist teasing the other man.

"So can we go now?" Brian asked, one eyebrow raised as he tried to keep the smile from his face. "Or were you planning on getting a little more lesbionic first?"

Justin laughed then nodded. "Just let me change and I'll be ready," he said, leaning in to place a quick kiss on the other man's lips before bounding off the sofa toward the bedroom.

Once the only witness had disappeared from the room, Brian finally felt free to let the smile show.

 

Out of the Shadows

Chapter 11

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Brian had chosen a quiet, Italian restaurant where they could talk while they ate. By the time Justin had finished dessert, they'd made a good start at getting to know one another. Brian had told him all about his friends and how he'd donated sperm for Lindsay and her partner, Mel. Justin had to smile at the love he saw in the hazel eyes when Brian talked about Gus. In turn, Justin told him a bit about what it was like growing up in the Taylor house. He had many happy memories of his mom and Brian was glad for that. He was also quite impressed to learn that Justin had graduated high school at the top of his class with a 1500 on his SATs.

"That was perfect," Justin said as they left the restaurant two hours after arriving. "Thank you."

Brian put one arm around the younger man's shoulders and kissed his temple as they walked down the street toward where the Jeep was parked. "The night's still young, Sunshine."

"Oh?" Justin asked, eyes sparkling. "You have something else planned do you?"

"I have a bottle of wine in the backseat," he replied. "Lindsay's always telling me you should never go to someone's home for the first time empty handed."

Justin craned his neck to look at the other man. "But you did show up the first time empty handed," he pointed out.

"I didn't want to look like a dickless fag standing there with a bottle of wine if you slammed the door in my face," Brian admitted with a smirk. "Lindsay never got that part."

Justin laughed. "First, I would never slam the door in your face, and second, I don't think anyone could ever mistake you for a dickless fag."

"I know," Brian smirked, "but it's always nice to hear."

Justin smacked him playfully in the stomach and Brian turned him and pushed him up against the passenger side of the Jeep. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment. Merely basking in what he thought was the other man's undivided attention, Justin was totally oblivious to the battle waging in Brian's mind.

They'd passed a flower vendor on the way from the Jeep to the restaurant and Brian hadn't missed the appreciative way in which Justin had glanced at the fragrant bouquets. He hadn't said anything and Brian had pretended not to notice. On the way back to the car, Justin hadn't even bothered to look. It was obvious from his initial reaction that the blond liked flowers. Had he just stopped and looked at them for a moment, Brian might not have thought anything of it. The fact that he hadn't was what bothered him - it bothered him a lot. As a hired date, he was probably used to going where the client wanted to go, doing what the client wanted to do, even eating what the client wanted to eat. What about what Justin wanted? The teen's words from the alley came back to him with painful clarity.

… Who gives a fuck what I want? …You think I wanted any of this? You think I wanted my father to come after me? …

As much as he hated to admit it, Brian gave a fuck. He wasn't renting the kid like some fucking tuxedo on prom night. As much as Justin didn't want to be another trick on Brian's list, Brian wasn't about to be like another client on Justin's.

"Any of those hired dates ever buy you flowers?" he finally asked quietly.

Justin shook his head slightly, unable to tear his eyes away from Brian's. With a kiss to his forehead, Brian whispered. "Don't move." He made his way to the vendor and returned a moment later with a bouquet of red roses and baby's breath. "I've never done this before," he said seriously. "And I'll likely never do it again, but …but I want there to be no mistake that tonight is different. For both of us."

Justin smiled and took the flowers, tears forming in his eyes. "Don't worry," he whispered hoarsely. "I'll never forget this as long as I live. It's been the best night of my life."

Brian planted his tongue in cheek, grateful for the light in Justin's eyes. As often as he'd seen Justin with one of his 'dates', he'd never seen that look of pure joy on his face. Who would have believed a few fucking flowers could make such a difference. "Even if it was ridiculously romantic?" he teased.

Justin nodded. "Thank you," he whispered.

In response, Brian leaned toward him, pausing only slightly to savour the moment before their lips finally joined in a sweet, tender kiss. "You're welcome," he whispered when they pulled apart.

Justin smiled and inhaled the roses' scent deeply. "Another first for both of us," he said happily.

"Come on," Brian said softly, not wanting to address that particular comment. "There's a bottle of wine with our name on it."

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Once back in Justin's apartment, he retrieved two glasses and proceeded to put the flowers in water while Brian opened the wine. Brian headed for the sofa, but Justin pulled him toward a spot in front of the fireplace.

"It's electric," Justin explained as he flicked the switch to start the artificial flames. "It doesn't give off any heat, but it's great for ambiance."

"Ambiance, huh?" Brian teased.

"Shut up," Justin chuckled as he arranged pillows on the floor and pulled Brian down beside him. Taken slightly off guard, Brian landed half on top of the other man, their faces scant inches apart. Justin swallowed hard. "Ambiance is important," he said in a throaty whisper.

"So I see," Brian replied, his voice equally hushed. Blue eyes locked with hazel for a long moment before their lips finally met in a deep, passionate kiss. When they parted for air, they were both breathing heavily. "Jesus," Brian gasped.

Justin didn't trust himself to speak. Instead, he pulled Brian down for another soul-searing kiss. He whimpered as their already hard cocks ground together and Brian groaned into his mouth in response.

"Justin," Brian breathed as he pulled away. "If we go any further, we're not going to want to stop."

Justin studied his eyes for a moment. "Will you still want to see me tomorrow?" he whispered reluctantly.

Brian smiled and kissed his forehead. "Tomorrow…" He kissed one eyelid closed, "And the next day…" and then the other, "And the day after that…" He planted the last kiss on Justin's trembling lips. "For as long as you want me," he finished on a whisper.

Justin opened his eyes and smiled softly. "Then don't stop," he murmured in a sultry voice.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, watching Justin's expression carefully.

Biting his lower lip, Justin nodded slowly. "I'm sure," he finally managed in a matching whisper. "Just go slow, OK?"

Brian smirked. "Been a while, Sunshine?"

The colour rose slightly in Justin's cheeks. "Yeah… like, um… never."

Brian pulled back, frowning. "What?"

"I've never…"

"Bottomed?" Brian supplied as the other man's voice trailed off self-consciously.

Justin nodded.

"But…" Brian stammered, uncharacteristically surprised. "What about the agency?"

"It's an escort service," Justin explained quietly. "Sex wasn't always a part of the deal." He swallowed nervously before continuing. "And when it was, I never… I mean, I … I fucked them, never the other way around."

Brian knew of the agency and also knew that there were most definitely 'escorts' who never bottomed for anyone. Of course, they were usually well-established draws who'd been in the business longer than Justin. Most often, they had to earn that status by starting at… or in this case, *on* the bottom. He couldn't help but wonder if Justin realized Pendleton had more than likely made the arrangements.

"Not even before the agency? What about the guy you supposedly caused such a scandal with at the New Year's Eve party?"

Justin smiled sheepishly and mouthed the word 'bottom'.

Brian grinned. "And the groundskeeper?"

Shrugging slightly, Justin's smile grew.

"Bottom," Brian concluded, chuckling softly when Justin once again bit his lip and nodded.

"So," Brian said after a moment, stroking Justin's cheek as he stared into the sparkling blue eyes. "I guess this will be another first for you tonight."

"That's what it is, right? A first for us? This doesn't change anything, does it, Brian?"

Brian barked a short laugh at the uncertainty in the other man's eyes. "Yeah, Justin," he drawled, his tone both sarcastic and gentle at the same time. "I absolutely hate the fact that I'll be your first."

Justin recognized the teasing for what it was and smiled in relief. "I know what you thought and I should have told you but …."

Brian leaned down to kiss him gently. "It wouldn't have made a damned bit of difference to me," he assured his lover, "but I'm glad you told me. I want your first time to be special."

Justin had to swallow the lump in his throat. "It already is," he rasped.

Brian slowly leaned in for an even deeper kiss as his hands made their way under Justin's shirt and across the smooth, fevered skin there. When he released the slightly swollen lips, he took a moment to gaze at the beauty beneath him. Slowly, his fingers began tracing a path down the long column of the teen's throat to his chest, pausing at the neck of his tee before skating lightly down his sides to grasp the hem of the garment. He pulled it up and over the tousled, blond head, casting it absently aside as his eyes mapped every inch of skin for the first time.

Fingers followed his line of sight, moving delicately, a mere dusting of sensation as he slowly caressed the warm skin. His lips returned to those of his lover, the kiss both tender and possessive, claiming and surrendering at the same instant.

Even as their lips parted, their gazes met. Silently looking into each other's eyes, they undressed one another, their unhurried movements heightening the desire flowing between them.

Once they were both naked, Brian took a moment to drink in the beauty stretched out before him. The other man's cheeks were slightly flushed, lending a brighter intensity to the deep, blue eyes. Lips, swollen and moist from his kisses beckoned wordlessly to him and he had to fight the urge to plunder them with his own. Justin could feel his skin warming as Brian's eyes caressed him as thoroughly as any hands ever could.

When the need to touch became too strong, Brian reached out slowly, his hands stroking the youthful face. He kissed the fluttering eyelids reverently before moving on to trail his lips gently over the high cheekbones and down to the curve of the younger man's jaw.

Only when he'd covered every inch of his lover's face did he continue his downward journey, hands following lips as they paid homage to the teen's throat, his shoulders and chest as Justin began to writhe beneath the man so slowly seducing him.

"Brian," he whispered on a sigh as his new lover's lips found their way to the base of his twitching cock.

But Brian didn't stop there for long. After placing a gentle kiss on the head, he moved on to the taut ballsac beneath, tonguing the full globes and then blowing softly over the moistened skin.

Justin fisted his hands in the pillows, his head pressed back as the sweet assault continued. His entire body thrummed with anticipation, torn between wanting to end the delicious torture and wishing it could go on forever.

Brian gently stroked his way down the strong, lean legs taking time to kiss each toe and the slender arch of each foot before making his way back up to the throbbing member awaiting him. After placing another soft kiss on the leaking head, he rose up onto his knees, hazel gaze holding blue for a moment in silent promise.

Gently, he turned the other man over and began another trail of kisses down his spine, pausing at the top of his crack to tease with his tongue.

"Brian," Justin moaned. "Brian, please."

"Patience, Sunshine," Brian murmured, taking the firm globes of Justin's ass in his hands and kneading them gently. "We'll get there."

"But will I still be alive when we do?" the younger man panted.

Brian laughed softly and lowered his head to lick slowly along the length of Justin's crack, eliciting a long moan from the man beneath him. He repeated the action then traced the rosy opening with his tongue, grasping Justin's hips tighter when the man's body bucked upward. Once the hole glistened with his saliva, he pointed his tongue and thrust it into the virgin tunnel.

"Christ!" Justin gasped, bucking uncontrollably at the sensation.

Brian grinned as much as he could while still thrusting his tongue in and out of the sweet ass. When Justin's desperate movements signaled he was close, he reluctantly withdrew and turned the man over once again.

"Wha…?" Justin objected, his eyes glassy and dazed.

"I want to see your face," Brian explained gently. He leaned in and kissed the strawberry lips as he reached for his discarded jeans and withdrew a condom and a small tube of lube.

He slowly lifted Justin's legs to rest on his shoulders before coating two fingers with the cool gel. His eyes never left Justin's as he traced the puckered opening slowly before slipping the first digit inside. Justin's eyes widened slightly as his soul seemed to take flight, soaring high beyond the limitations of physical pleasure. He vaguely wondered if such pure, unfettered bliss was meant to be experienced by those still bound to earth.

Brian stroked slowly in and out a few times before adding a second finger. "Relax," he encouraged when Justin tensed slightly. Justin nodded once and grasped the man's biceps.

Continuing to work his fingers in his lover's tight ass, Brian watched the emotions playing on Justin's face with a hint of awe. The man was nothing short of beautiful to start with, but in the throes of passion his natural beauty combined with an eroticism that took Brian's breath away.

"Fuck me, Brian," Justin pleaded, bringing the other man out of his trance-like state.

After withdrawing his fingers, Brian sheathed his cock and lubed it before positioning the head at Justin's prepared opening. "Take a deep breath," he instructed softly. Once Justin had complied, he began to push gently. "Now let it out."

Justin did, wincing slightly at the sudden pain as the head passed the tight ring of muscle. "Hurts," he panted. "Does it always hurt?"

"A little," Brian said truthfully. "But that's a part of it. Just relax."

Justin nodded slightly and willed his body to relax against the intrusion. The pain quickly turned to an incredible sensation and he moaned softly, Brian's signal to continue. Slowly, he continued pushing his way inside until he was buried to the hilt. "So fucking tight," he murmured, his jaw clenched as he gave them both time to adjust.

"In … credible," Justin breathed, shifting his hips slightly and gasping as the head raked his prostate. "God!"

Brian grinned and pulled out slightly, only to push back in stroking the same spot.

"Brian!"

"Feel good?" Brian asked, lengthening his strokes.

"God, yes," Justin panted. Pulling Brian's head down, he kissed him hard and deep, raising his hips to meet each of Brian's thrusts and pulling the other man even deeper inside.

"Christ," Brian gasped against Justin's lips as the smaller man rocked against him. "You sure… you've never… done this … before?" he managed to get out between thrusts.

"Not from… this end," Justin grunted back. "Faster, Brian!"

Brian increased the pace until they were both on the brink.

"Oh, God!" Justin exclaimed. "God, Brian."

Brian grabbed the younger man's rock-hard shaft and began to stroke in time with his thrusts. Justin clung tightly to his neck and called out his name as he erupted between their sweaty bodies.

The feel of Justin's spunk in his hand and the sound of his name on the tempting lips was enough to send Brian over the edge as well. With one final, deep thrust, he growled out Justin's name and emptied himself into the condom.

"Fuck," he gasped as he collapsed beside the younger man. He pulled the blond to him and kissed the top of his head before tucking it under his chin. "Unfuckingbelievable."

Justin stretched out his legs and sighed in pure contentment. "You weren't so bad yourself," he said with a satisfied grin.

Brian laughed and smacked one pale ass cheek playfully before removing the condom and tying it off. He dropped it beside the makeshift bed and took Justin in his arms once again, smiling gently as the young man snuggled close, resting the blond head on his chest.

They both basked in the afterglow, hands stroking cooling skin as heartbeats and breathing returned to normal.

"Brian?"

"Hmm?"

Justin turned his head and rested his chin on his lover's chest so he could look into the handsome face. "What you said earlier… about tomorrow and the day after that. I understand if…"

Brian smiled as the words trailed off, reaching out a hand to brush a lock of hair from the blond's sweaty brow. "I never say anything I don't mean," he said quietly.

Justin's responding smile seemed fragile and Brian suspected he was still struggling with some of the things his father had said. At that moment, he would have gladly beaten Craig Taylor to a pulp given the chance, but reassuring the young man he held in his arms was more important.

"Justin," he said seriously. "You are smart, talented, strong…. not to mention incredibly hot and an amazing lover."

The words got the slight blush and embarrassed smile he'd been hoping for and he continued. "Give me one sane reason why anybody wouldn't want to be with you?"

Justin searched the hazel eyes and saw only sincerity there. "I can't think of one off hand," he finally admitted with a shy smile.

"I can't promise I won't fuck this up," Brian said. He wanted to admit that he was willing to try, but the words seemed foreign to him. He hoped Justin knew it by the mere fact that he was there.

"I can't promise either," Justin replied after a brief silence. "I just .. I've never had anything like this before."

Brian pulled the young man on top of him so that their foreheads were touching. Wrapping his arms around the lithe body, he whispered, "I've never wanted anything more than a quick fuck." He wanted to leave it at that, to keep his reputation as an uncaring stud intact, but there was no denying that since he'd met Justin, he'd become increasingly dissatisfied with that. Justin made him want to be more and rather than feel pressured, he felt somehow comforted by that. Swallowing the last of his reservations, he added, "Until now."

"What changed?" Justin asked, stroking his fingers idly through Brian's hair as he stared intently into the hazel eyes.

Brian smiled. "My best friend convinced me to get my head out of my ass and take a chance."

"Michael?" Justin asked, pulling back slightly in surprise.

Brian nodded, rolling his lips between his teeth. "He told me that not believing in love doesn't keep it from existing."

Justin raised one eyebrow. "Michael said that?"

Brian laughed. "Actually what he said was 'not believing in mosquitoes won't keep them from biting you in the ass'."

Justin laughed as well and shook his head. "That sounds more like Michael." The laughter died and they stared at each other for a moment. "Did you get bitten, Brian?"

Brian took a deep breath and held it for a moment. "I think… they might be getting ready to land," he finally said, his voice tinged with awe.

Justin dipped his head to kiss his lover gently. "Definitely the best night of my life," he whispered against the other man's lips.

Brian rolled them until he had the blond tucked safely beneath him. "And it just keeps getting better," he murmured with a smile.

Conversation dwindled to a collection of soft moans and breathy whispers as they once again lost themselves in each other.

 

Out of the Shadows

Chapter 12

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

"It's breakfast, not a fucking firing squad," Brian teased his young lover. "Relax."

Justin took a deep breath and tried to do just that. It had been almost a week since their 'date', though Brian still refused to call it that out loud. They'd spent as much time together as possible, ordering take-out, hanging out at the loft or at Justin's apartment, even talking.

And, of course, lots and lots of fucking.

Sometimes Brian had work to do at the loft and Justin would sit quietly and sketch until he was done. Brian had been quite impressed with the sketches and Justin had beamed with each and every 'not bad'.

"But they're like your family," Justin lamented as Brian parked across from the diner.

Brian huffed a short laugh. "Believe me, they're nothing like my family." He looked over at Justin still sitting in the passenger seat. "Or yours."

Justin looked toward the diner and took another breath. "Ok, let's do it," he said, sounding decidedly unconvinced.

Brian chuckled, shaking his head slightly as they got out of the Jeep.

"Brian!" Michael called as soon as they walked in the door.

Brian smirked and headed to the back of the diner where the gang was gathered just like they were every Saturday morning.

"Mikey," Brian said, leaning down to plant a chaste kiss on his friend's lips. He sat down across from Michael and pulled Justin down onto his lap in the crowded booth. "Justin, this is Ted and Emmett. You've already met Michael. Guys, this is Justin."

"Hi," Justin said with a reserved smile.

"Ohhhh, aren't you just adorable," Emmett gushed with a friendly smile. "No wonder Brian's been keeping you hidden away."

"I'm not keeping him anything," Brian pointed out as Justin's blushed slightly in response to Emmett's words. "We've just been extremely busy."

"I'll bet," Ted intoned eliciting another blush from the blond.

"It's good to see you again, Justin," Michael said, unsure how his comments would be received after what had been said between them.

"You too, Michael," Justin said with a sincere smile causing Michael to offer one in return, though his was tinged with relief.

"So, Justin, I hear you've applied to PIFA," Ted said. "When do you expect to hear from them?"

"They said I should know in six to eight weeks. It'll be too late to get into another program by then, but I can always work for a year and apply again."

"Well good luck, sweetie," Em cooed. "I think they'd be crazy not to take you."

"You've never even seen his work," Brian pointed out.

"Come on, Brian," Emmett replied. "You wouldn't be with a no-talent hack."

"I'm with a couple right now," Brian said with a sarcastic smirk.

"Ah, you see, baby," Emmett responded, directing his remarks to Justin. "That would be Teddy and me. Michael's immune because he's Brian's best friend, so that means you must have talent." He looked over at Ted. "Am I right?"

"That's some fucked up logic, even for you, Em," Brian said, though he was smiling slightly.

"Fucked up or not, it works for me," Emmett said, shrugging his shoulders and popping a piece of bacon into his mouth.

Justin smiled, feeling more at ease as he watched the friends interact.

"Deb, can we get some service over here please?" Brian called.

"Keep your pants on," came a loud voice from behind the counter. A moment later a woman in a red wig was standing at the table ready to take their order.

"Ohh, hi, cutie," she said with a smile when she spotted Justin. "You must be Justin."

"This is my mom," Michael made the introduction. Leaning forward he whispered conspiratorially, "Don't worry, she grows on you."

Debbie swatted him on the back of the head with her order pad and Justin grinned.

"It's nice to meet you," he said with a smile. "And thanks for offering to let me stay at your place."

Debbie looked around at the others in the booth. "Now that's what I call a smile, not like the bunch of you dragging your asses in here morning after morning barking out orders like a bunch of fucking drill sergeants."

"It's hard to smile after a long night of drilling," Brian replied with a smirk.

"You watch your mouth in front of Sunshine here," she warned, wagging a finger in Brian's direction.

Justin turned to look at Brian upon hearing the now familiar nickname. "Don't look at me," Brian chuckled. "I didn't tell her to call you that."

"What else would I call him?" Debbie asked incredulously. "He practically lights up the fucking room."

"You could try 'Justin'," Brian suggested. "That's his name."

"Right," Debbie murmured. Turning to Justin with a smile, she asked, "So, Sunshine, what can I get you?"

Justin smiled, already resigned to the fact that Debbie would call him whatever she wanted. "Um… bacon and eggs, please, with a side of hashbrowns, an extra order of toast and orange juice?"

"That's what I call a breakfast," she said with an approving smile. "And you?" she asked, looking at Brian. "Dry toast crumbs, as usual?"

"Ha fucking ha," Brian smirked. "Egg white omelet, no toast, and coffee, black."

She rolled her eyes and didn't even bother writing down the familiar order. "Coming right up."

"So, Justin, what do you plan to do until school starts?" Michael asked.

"I'll need to get a job, save some money," he replied. "My asshole father refuses to pay for anything unless I go to Dartmouth."

"Dartmouth's a good school," Ted pointed out.

"But I'm no business major," Justin countered. "I'd be miserable."

"Follow your dreams, honey," Emmett said, lifting his coffee mug in a mock toast.

"You think you'll be able to save enough?" Ted asked, always the accountant.

"Kinnetik's books don't keep you busy enough, Ted?" Brian asked.

"Geez, just asking," Ted grumbled. "It's an expensive school."

"I worked summers while I was in high school," Justin said, discreetly avoiding the topic of his most recent employment. "I've got a little saved and if I can get a job until school starts, I should be able to cover the first year. After that, I might be able to get a loan."

Brian and Justin shared a small smile that didn't go unnoticed by the others, but no one commented.

Debbie returned to the table with coffee and juice. "Sorry about the wait, guys, but we're a little shorthanded here."

"Really?" Justin asked with interest.

"Justin's looking for a job," Michael chimed in.

"Is that right, Sunshine?" At his nod, Debbie beamed. "How are you at bussing tables?"

Justin shrugged. "I've never done it, but it can't be too hard to learn, can it?"

"Bussing tables in some greasy spoon?" Brian teased, throwing Justin's own words back at him.

Justin smirked back at him. "Shut up. It's a job and it could be fun working here."

Debbie snorted. "Well, I don't know about the fun part, but it's work, I can tell you that. When can you start?"

"Monday would be good, wouldn't it, Sunshine?" Brian asked with a knowing smirk.

Justin looked at him and thought about the plans they'd made for the rest of the weekend. Plans that didn't involve leaving the loft until Monday morning with any luck.

Blushing slightly he turned back to Debbie. "Is Monday OK?"

"Monday's just fine," she said. With a wink, she added, "Give you a couple of days to rest up."

"Don't worry, Deb, I know for a fact he plans on spending most of the weekend in bed."

Justin elbowed Brian in the ribs and turned a sweet smile on Debbie. "Monday it is."

Debbie chuckled at their antics as she walked away.

The others had been watching the playful interaction between the two men. "So, Brian," Emmett cooed, elbow on the table, chin in hand. "You guys have known each other what, a week now?"

"Something like that," Brian shrugged nonchalantly, not bothering to point out they'd actually met before the drama with Justin's dad.

"Being the no repeats guy you are, what does this mean exactly?" Emmett was feigning a confused frown, but his eyes were sparkling mischievously.

"Yeah," Michael joined in the teasing. "Is the unattainable Brian Kinney saying he has a boyfriend?"

"You know I don't do boyfriends," Brian replied.

Justin only smiled and enjoyed the banter, uncaring how Brian chose to label what they had.

"Then who's the guy in your lap?" Ted joined in.

Brian held Justin's gaze and smiled. "That's Justin," he replied, knowing the others wouldn't get the inside joke.

"And Justin would be…." Ted prompted.

Brian looked at Ted then back at Justin. "How would you define it?" he asked, adopting a mock serious expression.

Justin contained his smile and pretended to ponder it seriously. "How about the guy you fuck more than once," he suggested.

Brian turned back to Ted. "He's the guy I fuck more than once."

Debbie brought their orders and Ted squeezed over as far as he could so that Justin could sit on the bench beside Brian to eat. Conversation centered around the latest Liberty Ave. gossip with Emmett, as always, the main source of information. Though no one said anything more about Brian's relationship with Justin, the occasional knowing smile escaped as the friends got a first hand look at what the two men shared.

"Coming to the gym?" Michael asked Brian as he drained his second cup of coffee. Ted and Emmett had left only moments earlier, promising to meet Michael at the gym after a quick stop at Torso.

"Not today, Mikey," Brian replied. "I'm planning to be involved in a much more enjoyable form of exercise."

Justin nudged him with his shoulder and got to his feet. "Be right back," he said, with a small smile before heading toward the bathroom. Brian watched him leave and was about to follow when Michael put a hand on his arm.

"Let the kid piss in peace," he said good naturedly.

Brian only smirked and sat back in his seat.

"You look happy," Michael said after studying his best friend's face for a moment.

Brian rolled his eyes but didn't respond verbally, choosing instead to take a swallow from his coffee cup.

"He seems like a decent guy," Michael continued.

"But..." Brian prodded, sensing his friend's hesitancy.

"I just …." The other man shrugged as his voice trailed off.

Brian was quiet for a moment as he studied his friend's face. They'd been friends a long time and Brian knew Michael worried about him, as annoying as that could be at times. After everything he'd put the man through over the years, the least he could offer was some reassurance. "Stop worrying, Mikey," he said softly.

Michael's puppy dog expression slowly transformed to an affectionate smile. "I wasn't worrying, asshole," he defended himself unconvincingly. "And if I was, it wouldn't be you I was worried about. I know you, remember?"

Brian allowed a small smile. They did know each other and therefore had no trouble reading the real meaning beneath the seemingly trivial banter. Michael knew what a huge step it was for Brian to let Justin in and was trying to offer support without sounding like one of the dickless fags Brian was forever making fun of.

Of course, just because Brian realized that didn't mean he felt comfortable responding to it verbally. "You're pathetic, you know that?" he said, his voice filled with affection.

Michael heard the unspoken words of reassurance. Brian was fine and more importantly, happy. While a part of him would always secretly wish it had been he who'd put that sparkle in Brian's eyes, he was just glad to see it there. "Yeah," he said smiling. "I know."

Any further conversation was cut short as the bell above the door signaled the arrival of another patron. Glancing up, Brian was surprised to see Detective Horvath entering the diner.

"Mr. Kinney," he said as he approached their table. "Mr. Novotny."

Brian nodded. "Detective. What brings you to these parts?"

Carl glanced self-consciously at the red-wigged waitress serving a nearby table and Brian was sure he saw a slight blush in the ruddy features. "I've … uh… been coming here for breakfast the past week or so. They serve a good western omelet here."

"Carl!" Debbie exclaimed, joining them. "You want the usual?"

"That would be great, Debbie, thanks," Carl replied with a slightly embarrassed smile.

Brian smirked at Michael whose eyes were wider than Brian ever remembered seeing them.

"Detective Horvath," Justin said, returning from the back. "What brings you here?"

"The western omelet with the red wig," Brian mumbled under his breath. Michael kicked him under the table and Justin looked at them both in confusion.

"Just breakfast," Horvath answered Justin's question. "Though I am glad I ran into you. How are things going?"

Justin shrugged. "About as well as could be expected, I guess."

"Good to hear it," Carl said with a small smile. "Remember what I told you."

While Tony and Wyatt had been charged in the bogus stabbing as well as Justin's assault, there hadn't been any evidence to implicate Craig Taylor aside from the testimony of the two former employers. There was no way the word of two low-life suspects was going to trump that of a man in Taylor's position with no evidence to back it up. He'd brushed them off as disgruntled employees and claimed they were trying to damage his reputation as payback for being terminated and trying to use his son to do it. Horvath had explained to Justin that his hands were tied unless something else came up, but he'd assisted him in getting a restraining order against his father and encouraged him to call should Craig try to violate it.

"I will," Justin promised with a smile. "But I think it's a moot point."

Brian agreed. He doubted Craig would try to come after Justin again, knowing that the kid was willing to fight back. He'd more than likely written Justin out of his life completely by now. While he knew that part of his lover was saddened by that, Brian couldn't help but be glad that Craig was out of their lives. Justin was smart, determined and incredibly talented and Brian was confident he'd make a success of his life without any help from Craig Taylor or his money.

And he was prepared to do whatever he could to make that happen.

"Ready to go?" he asked, getting to his feet.

"Yeah," Justin replied with a smile as he turned to the dark haired man still sitting in the booth. "Bye, Michael." Extending his hand to Carl, he said. "Thanks for everything."

Horvath smiled as he shook the young man's hand. "You're welcome. Good luck."

Justin smiled and nodded before allowing Brian to lead him toward the door.

"See ya Monday, Sunshine!" Debbie called out.

Justin turned and waved to the waitress as she hurried to seat Carl in her section.

"I get the feeling we might be seeing a lot more of the good detective in the future," Brian quipped as they stepped out onto the street.

Having missed most of the interaction between Deb and Carl, Justin frowned at him slightly. "You expecting trouble?"

Brian barked a short laugh. "Only the kind that comes from having him at Sunday dinners."

Justin looked from Brian to the diner and back again as the words he'd heard Brian mumble earlier finally made sense. "You mean…? Debbie and Carl?" He thought about it for a moment and scrunched up his nose. "Ewww!"

Brian chuckled, throwing one arm around the blond's shoulders as they headed for the Jeep. "Ewww, indeed, Sunshine,"

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

It was six weeks later when Justin barreled into the loft, calling out Brian's name before he even had the door closed.

"Where's the fucking fire, Sunshine?" Brian asked, stepping down from the bedroom.

Before he knew it, his arms were full of one very excited, very happy young man. "Whoa," he laughed, wrapping his arms around the lithe figure and steadying them both. "What's up?"

"It came," Justin exclaimed with a face-splitting grin. "It fucking came!!"

Brian grabbed the open envelope Justin was waving excitedly and glanced at the postmark. "The Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts," he read, unable to keep the smile from his face. Without reading the letter, he wrapped his arms around Justin again, pressing their foreheads together. "Does this mean I'll be fucking a college man from now on?"

"Yep, it's official," Justin replied, kissing Brian hard. "I'm so excited, Brian. I wasn't sure I'd get in."

"I was," Brian assured him softly.

Justin saw the sincerity reflected in Brian's eyes and his smile softened. Pulling his lover closer, they shared a long, deep kiss, one in which Brian was free to express all the pride he felt for his young lover's accomplishments without having to say the actual words. When they finally came up for air a few minutes later, they stared silently into one another's eyes before Justin's grew round. "Shit, I have a million things to do!" he exclaimed, the tranquility of the previous moment returning to the excitement that had preceded it. "I've got to send a cheque to cover the rest of the first semester, and buy supplies, and work out my schedule for classes…"

Brian silenced him with a kiss.

"And the diner," Justin continued, once his lips were free. "And figure out bus routes, and …"

Brian watched in amusement as the words trailed off though he could see the wheels still turning. "You've got lots of time," he assured him. "All that stuff can be taken care of in a week, tops."

"You think?" Justin asked worriedly.

"I know," Brian replied with a laugh. "It has to be in order for us to have two weeks to celebrate before I send you off for your first day of school, lunch bucket in hand."

Justin swatted his stomach playfully, but chuckled. "You know," he said, sliding his arms around his lover's neck. "We could start celebrating now and save the other stuff for another week."

Brian smiled. "Thinking like a college man already, Sunshine." With that, they both moved toward the bedroom and the celebration awaiting them.

They lay together afterward, Justin's head pillowed on his lover's chest, Brian's hand drawing idle circles on the younger man's back.

"That was amazing," Justin whispered.

"I never fail to amaze," Brian replied, tongue in cheek.

Justin pinched his side playfully and then smoothed the abused skin with his hand. "I hope I've got enough saved," he worried aloud after a moment. "The diner doesn't really pay as much as I'd hoped."

Brian knew it was a big drop compared to what he'd been making with the agency, but he was glad Justin had never expressed any regret at giving up his former job.

"You miss it?" he asked quietly.

Justin turned his head to rest his chin on Brian's chest. Scrunching up his nose slightly, he replied. "Just the money. And I only miss that now that I know how much I could use it."

Brian ran his fingers through the blond hair. "You'll be fine," he assured him. "You've already saved quite a bit and you can still work part time when you're in school."

"Yeah," Justin said with a small smile. They'd talked finances on more than one occasion and Brian had once again offered to loan Justin the money for school. While Justin had finally agreed that he might need help down the line, it was important to him that he be able to pay the first year's tuition himself.

Brian considered the situation for a moment. He'd been thinking about something for a while, but had never been able to voice his thoughts. "You know," he finally said, "There is a way you could save even more money."

Justin turned to look at him again, his interest obviously piqued. "How?" he asked.

He nearly bailed at that moment. It would be so easy to throw out some lame second-job suggestion to divert attention from what he really wanted to say, but he couldn't do it. He was surprised to discover he didn't really want to. "Give up the apartment," he finally said quietly.

Justin frowned. "Anything cheaper would be a real hole, Brian," he pointed out.

"Not necessarily," Brian said after a moment.

Slightly puzzled by the intense look in the hazel eyes, Justin pondered that for a moment. Brian knew the exact second that realization dawned as the blue eyes widened. "You mean here," he said, more statement than question.

Brian shrugged, slightly uncomfortable now that the offer was on the table. "You're here more than you're there anyway," he said reasonably. "Doesn't make sense to spend that money on rent for a place you're rarely in when you could use it toward your tuition."

It was true. Since they'd been together, Justin had been spending less and less time at his own apartment. "That's true," he mused thoughtfully.

Brian noted the reluctance in the other man's voice and began to regret the suggestion. "It was just an idea," he said, feigning nonchalance. "Either way, it's no big deal."

"It's an incredibly big deal," Justin corrected, sitting up beside his lover. "Do you really want me here?"

"I wouldn't have suggested it if it was a major inconvenience," Brian pointed out. "I work all day, you'll be in school. It's not like we'd be here together 24/7."

"But we'd be living together," Justin pressed. "Are you sure you're ready for that?"

Brian considered that for a moment. "You've slept here the past 13 out of 14 nights," he pointed out. "What would be the difference, really?"

"That one night," Justin said reasonably. "We were angry and needed some space. We wouldn't have that if I moved in."

"Sure we would," Brian smirked. "I happen to have a very accommodating sofa in my office, as you well know."

Justin blushed slightly, thinking about just how accommodating it was and how he'd come to know that.

"I'm sure you'd be quite comfortable there," Brian teased.

Justin shook his head slowly but couldn't resist a small huff of laughter. After a moment, his expression turned more serious. "Are you sure about this, Brian?"

"If you don't want…"

"No," Justin cut him off quickly. "It's not that. I …" He paused as the colour once again rose in his cheeks. "I miss you when I'm not here," he finished on a quiet whisper.

"Well, it's not often you're not here as it is," Brian replied, stroking his hand idly up and down Justin's bare arm. "As for the times you're not, I wouldn't particularly mind if you were."

He finished on a quiet note and Justin studied his features for a moment before allowing a wide smile to spread across his face. "You wouldn't, huh?"

"Not really," Brian replied, struggling unsuccessfully to hold back his own smile.

Justin stretched out atop his lover, pressing their bodies together from chest to thigh. "In that case, Mr. Kinney, you've got yourself a roommate."

Brian scowled in disdain at the term. "Sounds so college-boy."

Justin chuckled, "I am a college boy."

Brian rolled them until his was looming atop the surprised teen. Grinning wickedly, he dipped his head for a quick kiss. "So, college boy, ready for round two?"

Justin kissed him. "And three…" another kiss… "and four."

"You think my dick can handle all that?" Brian teased.

"I figure yours can handle two or three," Justin replied, eyes twinkling mischievously.

Brian huffed a short laugh. "And I suppose you'll be there to take up the slack."

"I'm willing to give it the ol' college try," Justin replied, his body shaking with suppressed laughter.

Brian stared into the twinkling eyes for a moment, a soft smile on his face. Without a word, he reached over for a condom and handed it to the man beneath him. "Go for it," he whispered, kissing the tip of Justin's nose.

Blue eyes widened in surprise briefly before filling with affection. He kissed his lover deeply, twining his arms around the smooth hard back and carefully rolling them until he was once again on top. Looking down into the hazel eyes, he smiled and proceeded to lavish warm, wet kisses down the expanse of his lover's chest. He took great care to cover every inch of the flushed skin with his lips, paying special attention to the two dusky nubs that beckoned to him.

He continued the exploration with his lips, moving down over the hard, flat stomach and taking a moment to dip his tongue in to the well of his lover's navel.

When he got to the hard cock jutting from the bed of wiry curls, he paused a moment to place a soft kiss on the head before taking the entire length into his mouth.

"God," Brian gasped, arching his back and fisting his hands in the sheets.

Justin smiled around the mouthful of flesh, reveling in the affect he had on the man who usually exhibited such control. He took the pulsing rod deep and swallowed, stroking the hard flesh with the muscles in his throat and eliciting a harsh gasp from the trembling body now at his mercy.

He continued his ministrations, alternately sucking and swallowing until he felt his lover's hips begin to buck in uncontrollable spasms. Raising his head, he gazed lovingly into the other man's flushed face, gently stroking a strong thigh with one hand while reaching for the lube with the other.

"Trust me," he soothed, squeezing a generous amount of clear gel into one hand before tossing the tube aside and coating both hands. "I'm going to make you feel so good."

Brian could only blink wordlessly in response. His body was on fire, desperate for his lover's touch. When Justin began pushing his legs back gently, he rallied what sense he had left to help, pulling back the long limbs and planting his feet firmly on the bed.

Kneeling between the trembling thighs, Justin used one hand to gentle his lover, stroking one strong leg gently while his other hand reached for the puckered entrance. He slowly circled the opening before pressing one coated finger inside.

Brian's back arched off the bed, his breath quickening in anticipation as he was breached. When the finger began moving slowly in and out, he moaned quietly.

Licking his lips, Justin added another finger, stroking deep and scissoring, gently opening his lover. His own body was thrumming with barely controlled need, but he held it in check, determined to make this as good for the other man as he could. When he felt the muscles begin to relax, he added yet a third finger, swallowing hard at the gasp of pleasure that reached his ears.

"Justin," Brian panted, thrusting down to take more of the teasing digits into his body. "Now."

Jsutin took the word to heart and removed his fingers, quickly sheathing and lubing his cock before positioning it at the pulsing entrance. "Oh my God," he whispered hoarsely as he pressed forward to fill his lover with one long, slow motion.

Brian groaned at the initial fullness, his head tossing restlessly from side to side as his body adjusted to the sweet intrusion.

"God, Brian," Justin echoed his groan. "You feel so good."

Panting softly, Brian met the fevered blue gaze. "Get on with it, college boy," he breathed with a teasing smile.

Justin chuckled and leaned forward to kiss his lover gently. When he pulled back, he ran his hands along the length of Brian's arms until their fingers met, twining together in an intricate grip. Squeezing his lover's hands gently, Justin pulled slowly out of the heated channel, catching his bottom lip between his teeth as the sensations flowed through him. When he pushed steadily back in, he felt the body beneath him shudder with pleasure and gripped the hands even tighter.

Brian appreciated the gesture, certain that only the hands holding his were keeping him grounded against the feelings threatening to engulf him mind, body and soul.

They quickly established an easy rhythm, Brian thrusting upward to meet his lover's every downward stroke, clenching his muscles in resistance at every withdrawal.

As the tempo increased along with their heightening desire, Justin released one of the other man's hands to grasp the weeping erection between them.

Brian gasped and pressed his head back into the pillow as the strong fingers wrapped around his aching cock, stroking him in time with the hard length that filled him. He rarely bottomed and when he had, he'd never felt as good as he did with Justin filling him.

"God, Brian," Justin breathed, mirroring the other man's thoughts.

Brian's back arched as the first strains of orgasm flowed through him. "Christ!" he hissed as his seed began to pump over the younger man's fingers and onto his own heated flesh.

The heat and scent of his lover's release was enough to push Justin over the edge. With the other man's offering still spurting over his hand, he pushed in to the hilt and held, his hips undulating as he emptied himself into the condom.

Once spent, he collapsed weakly onto the sated body beneath him. "Brian," he gasped.

Brian encircled the lithe body atop him with rubbery arms. "You go to the head of the class, Sunshine," he chuckled.

Justin smiled, kissed him lightly, and rolled to his side, Brian's arm still around him as he snuggled close. "Thank you," he said after a moment.

Brian looked down at the tousled blond head and chuckled. "I probably enjoyed it as much as you did."

"Not for that," Justin laughed, smacking his stomach lightly. "For … this. Us, here, together."

"Oh, that," Brian murmured tiredly. "Don't mention it."

Justin turned to look at him. "Speaking of that, what are we going to say to people? You want to keep it a secret once I move in?"

"That'll be kinda hard with your shit strewn everywhere, don't you think?" Brian teased. His eyes were closed, but there was a small smile on his face.

"I'm serious," Justin prodded gently. "What if someone asks why I gave up the apartment? What do you want me to tell them?"

Brian opened his eyes and regarded his lover. "Tell them Sunshine doesn't belong in the shadows," he finally said quietly. Realizing that he'd said it aloud, he shrugged nonchalantly. "Or just tell them we're together because we want to be and it's none of their fucking business."

Justin smiled. "I can do that."

Brian smirked and pulled the blond closer. "Yeah, you can."


THE END